<?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-940493366319183688</id><updated>2012-02-01T02:30:23.822-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Strange World</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</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>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-3870361510126205185</id><published>2007-09-08T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T14:16:49.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dads Blessings</title><content type='html'>A young man was getting ready to graduate from &lt;a onmouseover="window.status='Search for: college'; self.lm_skeyphrase='college'; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); if(window.event) self.lm_sevent=window.event.srcElement; self.lm_timeout = setTimeout('lm_doMouseOver(1)', 1500); self.lm_isOverLink=true; self.lm_isOverTip=false; return true;" style="BORDER-BOTTOM: 3px double; TEXT-DECORATION: none" onclick="window.status='Searching for: college...'; self.lm_skeyphrase='college'; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); self.lm_isOverTip = false; lm_closeiframe(); window.open('http://www.srch-results.com/lm/dir_rxt.asp?si=19902&amp;k=college&amp;amp;ref='+window.location,'_blank','toolbar=yes,location=yes,directories=yes,status=yes,menubar=yes,scrollbars=yes,copyhistory=yes,resizable=yes'); return false; " onmouseout="window.status='Search for: college'; self.lm_isOverTip = false; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); setTimeout('lm_closeiframe()', 1500);" href="http://www.indianchild.com/dads_blessings.htm#"&gt;college&lt;/a&gt;. For many months he had admired a beautiful &lt;a onmouseover="window.status='Search for: sports car'; self.lm_skeyphrase='sports%20car'; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); if(window.event) self.lm_sevent=window.event.srcElement; self.lm_timeout = setTimeout('lm_doMouseOver(1)', 1500); self.lm_isOverLink=true; self.lm_isOverTip=false; return true;" style="BORDER-BOTTOM: 3px double; TEXT-DECORATION: none" onclick="window.status='Searching for: sports car...'; self.lm_skeyphrase='sports%20car'; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); self.lm_isOverTip = false; lm_closeiframe(); window.open('http://www.srch-results.com/lm/dir_rxt.asp?si=19902&amp;k=sports%20car&amp;amp;ref='+window.location,'_blank','toolbar=yes,location=yes,directories=yes,status=yes,menubar=yes,scrollbars=yes,copyhistory=yes,resizable=yes'); return false; " onmouseout="window.status='Search for: sports car'; self.lm_isOverTip = false; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); setTimeout('lm_closeiframe()', 1500);" href="http://www.indianchild.com/dads_blessings.htm#"&gt;sports car&lt;/a&gt; in a dealer's showroom, and knowing his father could well afford &lt;a onmouseover="window.status='Search for: it'; self.lm_skeyphrase='it'; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); if(window.event) self.lm_sevent=window.event.srcElement; self.lm_timeout = setTimeout('lm_doMouseOver(1)', 1500); self.lm_isOverLink=true; self.lm_isOverTip=false; return true;" style="BORDER-BOTTOM: 3px double; TEXT-DECORATION: none" onclick="window.status='Searching for: it...'; self.lm_skeyphrase='it'; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); self.lm_isOverTip = false; lm_closeiframe(); window.open('http://www.srch-results.com/lm/dir_rxt.asp?si=19902&amp;k=it&amp;amp;ref='+window.location,'_blank','toolbar=yes,location=yes,directories=yes,status=yes,menubar=yes,scrollbars=yes,copyhistory=yes,resizable=yes'); return false; " onmouseout="window.status='Search for: it'; self.lm_isOverTip = false; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); setTimeout('lm_closeiframe()', 1500);" href="http://www.indianchild.com/dads_blessings.htm#"&gt;it&lt;/a&gt;, he told him that was all he wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited &lt;a onmouseover="window.status='Search for: signs'; self.lm_skeyphrase='signs'; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); if(window.event) self.lm_sevent=window.event.srcElement; self.lm_timeout = setTimeout('lm_doMouseOver(1)', 1500); self.lm_isOverLink=true; self.lm_isOverTip=false; return true;" style="BORDER-BOTTOM: 3px double; TEXT-DECORATION: none" onclick="window.status='Searching for: signs...'; self.lm_skeyphrase='signs'; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); self.lm_isOverTip = false; lm_closeiframe(); window.open('http://www.srch-results.com/lm/dir_rxt.asp?si=19902&amp;k=signs&amp;amp;ref='+window.location,'_blank','toolbar=yes,location=yes,directories=yes,status=yes,menubar=yes,scrollbars=yes,copyhistory=yes,resizable=yes'); return false; " onmouseout="window.status='Search for: signs'; self.lm_isOverTip = false; if(self.lm_timeout) clearTimeout(self.lm_timeout); setTimeout('lm_closeiframe()', 1500);" href="http://www.indianchild.com/dads_blessings.htm#"&gt;signs&lt;/a&gt; that his father had purchased the car.  Finally, on the morning of his graduation, his father called  him into his private study. His father told him how proud he was to have such a fine son, and told him how much he loved him. He handed his son a beautifully wrapped gift box.  Curious, but somewhat disappointed, the young man opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible, with the young man's name embossed in gold. Angry, he raised his voice to his father and said "With all your money, you give me a Bible?" and stormed out of the house, leaving the Bible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many years passed and the young man was very successful in business. He had a beautiful home and  wonderful family, but realized his father was very old, and thought perhaps he should go  to  him.  He had not seen him since that graduation day.  Before he could make arrangements, he received a telegram telling him his father had passed away, and willed all of his possessions to his son. He needed to come home immediately and take care of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he arrived at his father's house, sudden sadness and regret filled his heart.  He began to search through his father's important papers and saw the still new Bible, just as he had left it  years ago.  With tears, he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages.  And as he did, a car key dropped from the back of the Bible.  It had a tag with the dealer's name, the same dealer who had the sports car he had desired. On the tag was the date of his graduation, and the words PAID IN FULL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many times do we miss Spirit's blessings and answers to our prayers  because they do not arrive exactly as we have expected?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TODAY'S's affirmation:  &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;"Today I look beyond the obvious and allow miracles to be created in my life."&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.indianchild.com/dads_blessings.htm"&gt;http://www.indianchild.com/dads_blessings.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-3870361510126205185?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/3870361510126205185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=3870361510126205185' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/3870361510126205185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/3870361510126205185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/09/dads-blessings.html' title='Dads Blessings'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-7327589127526292207</id><published>2007-09-05T13:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-05T13:13:49.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Though the beginning of love bringeth delight, the end bringeth destruction. For, as the first drought of wine doth comfort the stomach, the second inflame the liver, the third fume into the head, so the first sip of love is pleasant, the second perilous, the third pestilent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: John Lyly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-7327589127526292207?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/7327589127526292207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=7327589127526292207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/7327589127526292207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/7327589127526292207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/09/though-beginning-of-love-bringeth.html' title=''/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</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-940493366319183688.post-5207836221676410684</id><published>2007-07-16T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T11:07:56.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alexander Fleming</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to eke out a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran to the bog. There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slowand terrifying death. The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman's sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved."I want to repay you," said the nobleman. "You saved my son's life.""No, I can't accept payment for what I did," the Scottish farmer replied, waving off the offer. At that moment, the farmer's own son came to the door of the family hovel."Is that your son?" the nobleman asked. "Yes," the farmer replied proudly."I'll make you a deal. Let me take him and give him a good education.If the lad is anything like his father, he'll grow to a man you can be proud of."And that he did. In time, Farmer Fleming's son graduated from St. Mary's Hospital Medical School in London, and went on to become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin.Years afterward, the nobleman's son was stricken with pneumonia. What saved him? Penicillin.The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill.His son's name? Sir Winston Churchill.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Someone once said what goes around comes around.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.indianchild.com/alexander_fleming.htm"&gt;http://www.indianchild.com/alexander_fleming.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-5207836221676410684?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5207836221676410684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=5207836221676410684' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/5207836221676410684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/5207836221676410684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/07/alexander-fleming.html' title='Alexander Fleming'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-948903310376010020</id><published>2007-07-16T11:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T11:06:27.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Box Full of Kisses</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box was empty. He yelled at her, stating, "Don't you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They're all for you, Daddy."The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness. Only a short time later, an accident took the life of the child. It is also told that her father kept that gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In a very real sense, each one of us, as humans beings, have been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses... from our children, family members, friends, and God. There is simply no other possession, anyone could hold, more precious than this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.indianchild.com/a_box_full_of_kisses.htm"&gt;http://www.indianchild.com/a_box_full_of_kisses.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-948903310376010020?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/948903310376010020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=948903310376010020' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/948903310376010020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/948903310376010020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/07/box-full-of-kisses.html' title='A Box Full of Kisses'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-4364066106232587640</id><published>2007-07-03T02:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T02:46:00.231-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The 4 Wives</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a rich merchant who had 4 wives. He loved the 4th wife the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated her to delicacies. He took great care of her and gave her nothing but the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;He also loved the 3rd wife very much. He's very proud of her and always wanted to show off her to his friends. However, the merchant is always in great fear that she might run away with some other men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;He too, loved his 2nd wife. She is a very considerate person, always patient and in fact is the merchant's confidante. Whenever the merchant faced some problems, he always turned to his 2nd wife and she would always help him out and tide him through difficult times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Now, the merchant's 1st wife is a very loyal partner and has made great contributions in maintaining his wealth and business as well as taking care of the household. However, the merchant did not love the first wife and although she loved him deeply, he hardly took notice of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;One day, the merchant fell ill. Before long, he knew that he was going to die soon. He thought of his luxurious life and told himself, "Now I have 4 wives with me. But when I die, I'll be alone. How lonely I'll be!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Thus, he asked the 4th wife, "I loved you most, endowed you with the finest clothing and showered great care over you. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?" "No way!" replied the 4th wife and she walked away without another word.&lt;br /&gt;The answer cut like a sharp knife right into the merchant's heart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The sad merchant then asked the 3rd wife, "I have loved you so much for all my life. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?" "No!" replied the 3rd wife. "Life is so good over here! I'm going to remarry when you die!" The merchant's heart sank and turned cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;He then asked the 2nd wife, "I always turned to you for help and you've always helped me out. Now I need your help again. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?" "I'm sorry, I can't help you out this time!" replied the 2nd wife. "At the very most, I can only send you to your grave." The answer came like a bolt of thunder and the merchant was devastated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Then a voice called out : "I'll leave with you. I'll follow you no matter where you go." The merchant looked up and there was his first wife. She was so skinny, almost like she suffered from malnutrition. Greatly grieved, the merchant said, "I should have taken much better care of you while I could have !"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Actually, we all have 4 wives in our lives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;a. The 4th wife is our body. No matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look good, it'll leave us when we die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;b. Our 3rd wife ? Our possessions, status and wealth. When we die, they all go to others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;c. The 2nd wife is our family and friends. No matter how close they had been there for us when we're alive, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the grave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;d. The 1st wife is in fact our soul, often neglected in our pursuit of material, wealth and sensual pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Guess what? It is actually the only thing that follows us wherever we go. Perhaps it's a good idea to cultivate and strengthen it now rather than to wait until we're on our deathbed to lament. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.indianchild.com/4_wives.htm"&gt;http://www.indianchild.com/4_wives.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-4364066106232587640?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4364066106232587640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=4364066106232587640' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/4364066106232587640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/4364066106232587640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/07/four-wiveshttpwwwindianchildcom4wivesht.html' title='The 4 Wives'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-8215374586572235969</id><published>2007-05-28T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T12:03:30.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>As long as...</title><content type='html'>As long as we've got water, where the fish swims&lt;br /&gt;As long as we've got land, where the deer goes to and glazes&lt;br /&gt;As long as we've got jungles, where the wild animals can hide themselves&lt;br /&gt;Are we safe on this earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the hide place is gone and the planes are destroyed&lt;br /&gt;- Where shall we be then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our own land, our living bread, has got smaller&lt;br /&gt;Mountain waters have sunk&lt;br /&gt;Rivers have dried out&lt;br /&gt;The streams are singing with sorrow in their voice&lt;br /&gt;The fields are getting black, the grass is withering&lt;br /&gt;The birds are quiet and flying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things we've earned&lt;br /&gt;Don't touch our hearts&lt;br /&gt;The thing that was supposed to make everything so easy&lt;br /&gt;Have no value.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Painfull, is walking&lt;br /&gt;On hard stoneways&lt;br /&gt;Silently, are mountain people crying&lt;br /&gt;While the time hurries&lt;br /&gt;Dilutes the blood&lt;br /&gt;The language doesn't ring anymore&lt;br /&gt;The water stops waving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poem by: Paulus Utsi (1918-1975)&lt;br /&gt;Translated by: Atousa Gharvan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-8215374586572235969?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/8215374586572235969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=8215374586572235969' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/8215374586572235969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/8215374586572235969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/05/as-long-as.html' title='As long as...'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-5415084260055389769</id><published>2007-05-22T02:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T12:06:51.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Find Out Whether You Are Spoiled or Not!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Check each that applies: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Do you have:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Mother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Father&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Step-Mother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Step-Sister&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Step-Brother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Half-Brother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Nephew&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Niece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Cell phone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Own bathroom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Own room&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Swimming pool&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Hot tub&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Guest room&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Computer in a Computer Room&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] TV&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TOTAL SO FAR: {?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Fullsize or bigger bed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] More than 8 pairs of shoes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Sunglasses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Watch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] MP3 Player/iPod&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] PS2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Xbox&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Nintendo DS or PSP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Gameboy/ Advance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Gamecube&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TOTAL SO FAR: {?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Basketball hoop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Air hockey table&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Pool table&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Ping pong table&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Fooseball table&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Trampoline&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TOTAL SO FAR: {?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Nightstand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Stereo in bedroom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] DVD player&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Have something from Abercrombie and Fitch or Hollister&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Parents give you credit card&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TOTAL SO FAR: {?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Job &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Goes shopping at least once a week&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Expensive cologne/perfume&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] AIM/MSN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Camera or phone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TOTAL SO FAR: {?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Electric or gas scooter/motorcycle/car&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Guitar/Drums/Bass guitar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Piano/Keyboard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Any other instrument&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been on a cruise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Travelled out of the province&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Had a personal trainer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Expensive jewellery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Met a celebrity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TOTAL SO FAR: {?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Straightener/curling iron&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Have been to a batting cage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Have $100 on you right now (in mixed currency)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Credit card or bank card&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been to Europe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been to Hawaii&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been to NYC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been to LA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been to Florida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been to Las Vegas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been to the Bahamas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been to South America&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TOTAL SO FAR: {?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Parents have a car&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Jet Ski/boat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Camper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been to 5+ countries in the Europe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] 100+ buddies on your cellphone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] More than one house (appartment is same as house, as long as it's home)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TOTAL: {?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Home cooked meal almost every day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been in a limo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Been in a helicopter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Own a camcorder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;[ ] Own a laptop computer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TOTAL: {?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;1 - 22 = Ghetto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;23 - 33 = Average&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;34 - 44 = Spoiled&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;45+ = Upper Class/R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ccccff;"&gt;Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-5415084260055389769?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5415084260055389769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=5415084260055389769' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/5415084260055389769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/5415084260055389769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/05/find-out-wether-you-are-spoiled-or-not.html' title='Find Out Whether You Are Spoiled or Not!'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-4842842807747203448</id><published>2007-05-15T05:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T22:40:39.097-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Relation Between The Way of Sleeping And The Personality</title><content type='html'>People who curve their body like an infant while sleeping, are tough but at the same time, very soft and kind in the inside. They might seem a little shy when they first meet some one they don't know, but that shyness will soon be over and they will be ralxed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who sleep on the sides with their hands down and parallel to their body, are very social and good at communicating. They trust strangers easily and they like to participate in big meetings. They would also be cheated faster and easier than others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people who sleep on the sides, keep their hands outward. These peopple are playful, but still sceptical, grumbling, and caviller. they might hesitate in making decisions, but once they've made up their mind for doing something, nothing can stop them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who sleep on their back, with their hands parallel to their body, are usually quiet and self-possessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;Translated by: Atousa Gharvan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-4842842807747203448?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4842842807747203448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=4842842807747203448' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/4842842807747203448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/4842842807747203448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/05/relation-between-way-of-sleeping-and.html' title='The Relation Between The Way of Sleeping And The Personality'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-1090711097496931379</id><published>2007-05-15T04:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T23:14:21.768-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ant-Eater</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Some wealthy folks from U.S.A,&lt;br /&gt;Who lived near San Francisco Bay, &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/Rk_nKfgZxTI/AAAAAAAAACo/Y1fDrXtsRC0/s1600-h/ant-eater.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066522273257211186" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/Rk_nKfgZxTI/AAAAAAAAACo/Y1fDrXtsRC0/s320/ant-eater.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Possessed an only child called Roy,&lt;br /&gt;A plump and unattractive boy –&lt;br /&gt;Half-baked, half-witted and half-boiled,&lt;br /&gt;But worst of all, most dreadfully spoiled.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever Roy desired each day,&lt;br /&gt;His father bought him right away –&lt;br /&gt;Toy motorcars, electric trains,&lt;br /&gt;The latest models aeroplanes,&lt;br /&gt;A colour television-set,&lt;br /&gt;A saxophone, a clarinet,&lt;br /&gt;Expensive teddy-bears that talked,&lt;br /&gt;And animals that walked and squawked.&lt;br /&gt;That house contained sufficient toys&lt;br /&gt;To thrill a half a million boys.&lt;br /&gt;(As well as this young Roy would choose,&lt;br /&gt;Two pairs a week of brand new shoes.)&lt;br /&gt;And now he stood there shouting, "What&lt;br /&gt;On earth is there I haven't got?&lt;br /&gt;How hard to think of something new!&lt;br /&gt;The choices are extremely few!"&lt;br /&gt;Then added, as he scratched his ear,&lt;br /&gt;"Hold it! I've got a good idea!&lt;br /&gt;I think the next thing I must get&lt;br /&gt;Should be a most peculiar pet –&lt;br /&gt;The kind that no one else has got –&lt;br /&gt;A giant ANT-EATER! Why not?"&lt;br /&gt;As soon as father heard the news,&lt;br /&gt;He quickly wrote to all the zoos,&lt;br /&gt;"Dear Sirs," he said "My dear keepers,&lt;br /&gt;Do any of you have ant-eaters?"&lt;br /&gt;They answered by return of mail.&lt;br /&gt;"Our ant-eaters are not for sale."&lt;br /&gt;Undaunted, Roy's fond parent hurled&lt;br /&gt;More messages across the world.&lt;br /&gt;At last he found an Indian gent&lt;br /&gt;(He lived near Delhi, in a tent),&lt;br /&gt;Who said that he would sacrifice&lt;br /&gt;His pet for an enormous price&lt;br /&gt;(The price demanded if you please,&lt;br /&gt;Was fifty thousand gold rupees).&lt;br /&gt;The ant-eater arrived half-dead.&lt;br /&gt;It looked at Roy and softly said,&lt;br /&gt;"I'm famished. Do you think you could&lt;br /&gt;Please give me just a little food?&lt;br /&gt;A crust of bread, a bit of meat?&lt;br /&gt;I haven't had a thing to eat&lt;br /&gt;In all the time I was at sea,&lt;br /&gt;For nobody looked after me."&lt;br /&gt;Roy shouted, "No! No bread or meat!&lt;br /&gt;Go and find some ants! They're what you eat!"&lt;br /&gt;The starving creature crawled away.&lt;br /&gt;It searched the garden night and day,&lt;br /&gt;It hunted every inch of ground,&lt;br /&gt;But not single and it found.&lt;br /&gt;"Please give me food!" The creature cried,&lt;br /&gt;"Go and find an ant!" The boy replied.&lt;br /&gt;By chance, upon that very day,&lt;br /&gt;Roy's father's sister came to stay –&lt;br /&gt;A foul old hag of eighty-three&lt;br /&gt;Whose name, it seems, was Dorothy.&lt;br /&gt;She said to Roy come let us sit&lt;br /&gt;Out in the sun and talk a bit."&lt;br /&gt;Roy said, "I don't believe you've met&lt;br /&gt;My new and most unusual pet?"&lt;br /&gt;He pointed down among the stones&lt;br /&gt;Where something lay, all skin and bones.&lt;br /&gt;"Ant-eater!" He yelled. "Don't lie there Yawning!&lt;br /&gt;This is my ant! Come say good-morning!"&lt;br /&gt;(Some people in the U.S.A.&lt;br /&gt;Have troubles with the words they say.&lt;br /&gt;However hard they try, they can't&lt;br /&gt;Pronounce a simple word like AUNT.&lt;br /&gt;Instead of AUNT, they call it ANT,&lt;br /&gt;Instead of CAN'T, they call it KANT.)&lt;br /&gt;Roy yelled, "Come here you so-and-so!&lt;br /&gt;My ant would like to say hello!"&lt;br /&gt;Slowly, the creature raised its head.&lt;br /&gt;D'you mean that that's &lt;em&gt;an ant&lt;/em&gt;?" it said.&lt;br /&gt;"Of course!" Cried Roy. "Ant Dorothy!&lt;br /&gt;This ant is over eighty-three."&lt;br /&gt;The creature smiled. Its tummy rumbled.&lt;br /&gt;It licked its starving lips and mumbled,&lt;br /&gt;"A giant ant! By Gosh, a winner!&lt;br /&gt;At last I'll get a decent dinner!&lt;br /&gt;No matter if it's eighty-three&lt;br /&gt;If that's an ant, then it's for me!"&lt;br /&gt;Then, taking very careful aim,&lt;br /&gt;It pounced upon the startled dame.&lt;br /&gt;It grabbed her firmly by the hair&lt;br /&gt;And ate her up right then and there,&lt;br /&gt;Murmuring as it chewed the feet,&lt;br /&gt;"The largest ant I'll ever eat."&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile our hero Roy had sped&lt;br /&gt;In terror to the pudding-shed.&lt;br /&gt;And tried to make himself obscure&lt;br /&gt;Behind a pile of horse-manure.&lt;br /&gt;But ant-eater came sneaking in&lt;br /&gt;(Already it was much less thin)&lt;br /&gt;And said to Roy, "You little squirt,&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll have you for dessert."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Rolad Dahl&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-1090711097496931379?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1090711097496931379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=1090711097496931379' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/1090711097496931379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/1090711097496931379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/05/ant-eater.html' title='The Ant-Eater'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</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/_e-z64jRIJDk/Rk_nKfgZxTI/AAAAAAAAACo/Y1fDrXtsRC0/s72-c/ant-eater.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-838217829735446409</id><published>2007-04-28T16:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-28T16:17:50.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Should There Be Copyright?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RjPVsnGqU-I/AAAAAAAAACg/FRM5adFDajs/s1600-h/copyright.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058621768855081954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RjPVsnGqU-I/AAAAAAAAACg/FRM5adFDajs/s320/copyright.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In my opinion copyright is a very good law that prevents people to abuse an artistic work such as a film or a book.&lt;br /&gt;Having copyright, a writer or a film maker can be sure that his/her work will be presented to people without any changes in the quality or in the content. Nowadays all around the world, in many countries, this law is being obeyed and it can be a good help to the society of arts.&lt;br /&gt;When some profiteers break this rule and copy someone's work illegally, they hurt the economical and mental situation of its owner. It also disappoints him/her a lot for doing the future works. But if everybody obeys this rule, the rights of the artistic work's owner will be reserved and every thing will be as it is predicted.&lt;br /&gt;Another point that I can make is that this law will result in products with higher qualities and without any changes. So both the producers and the ones who buy them are satisfied with it.&lt;br /&gt;Totally, it is very good to have this law in a country and check every body to obey it. So there will be more films, books, etc. and we can be sure of the products presented to us.&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/940493366319183688-838217829735446409?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/838217829735446409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=838217829735446409' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/838217829735446409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/838217829735446409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/04/why-should-there-be-copyright.html' title='Why Should There Be Copyright?'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</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/_e-z64jRIJDk/RjPVsnGqU-I/AAAAAAAAACg/FRM5adFDajs/s72-c/copyright.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-8552190244885822560</id><published>2007-04-11T12:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T12:38:11.649-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Unforgettable Day</title><content type='html'>I was only a few hours away, sitting in the car, thinking about how it would be to meet him for the first time. I had never been this much stressed for meeting someone. He had been living in Austria for the last 37 years. I was curious. I wanted to know how he looked like and how he behaved. Would he be like me? Would he like me? Did he look forward to meet me? Of course not! Silly me! He didn't even know that I was going to be there. It was supposed to be a surprise. A big one if you ask me. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't understand the passing of time. Suddenly I heard my mom telling me to get out of the car. I didn't want to be the first one to get in the house, so I stood behind my mom and told her to knock. It was my cousin who opened the door; it was his house after all. I went in right after my mom, kissing and hugging my aunts and cousins and their kids. I couldn't believe that they had become this big. I turned around to enter the sitting room and there he was, standing in front of me. Even though I had never seen him before, but he seemed so familiar. It was like looking at my father, only that he was smaller than my father. We stood there staring at each other for a few seconds. Then one of my aunts came and said "Mr. Gh, I present you Atousa, your niece."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-8552190244885822560?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/8552190244885822560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=8552190244885822560' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/8552190244885822560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/8552190244885822560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/04/unforgettable-day.html' title='An Unforgettable Day'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-3138683263135653933</id><published>2007-04-04T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-04T13:36:19.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Norouz Customs</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Khane Tekani - House Cleaning&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first step in getting prepared for Norouz is khane tekani or house cleaning. In the past, Iranians believed that in Norouz their dead relatives would come and visit them. That is the reason why they clean their houses. The word khane means house and tekani means shake. So khane tekani means that you clean your house by shaking it, the way you clean a rug. During the khane tekani, every room in the house is cleaned, the curtains, carpets and rugs are washed, the silverware are polished and old things are renewed. Even the look of the family is renewed by new clothes. The houses will be filled with the smell of flowers such as narcissus and hyacinth, and something which is called esfand and is burned in order to keep the evil spirits away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049659149059923346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RhP-PeiEnZI/AAAAAAAAACA/XLITTu3J8jI/s200/2.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chahar Shanbe Suri - Red Wednesday Bonfire Festival&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;On the eve of the last Wednesday of the year, Iranian people celebrate chahar shanbe suri. Chahar shanbe means Wednesday and suri means red. The celebration starts early in the evening, when children wrap themselves in white sheets and act like the dead spirits, running around in the streets and banging on pots and pans with spoons. This is called ghashogh-zani or spoon banging. They also go to the neighbors and knock on their doors and ask&lt;br /&gt;for sweets, like in Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;The main event of chahar shanbe suri is making seven little fires on the ground, jumping over them and singing "sorkhi-e to az man, zardi-e to az man", it means "your fiery red color is mine, and my yellow paleness is yours", or better to say you want the fire to take your yellow paleness, sickness and problems, and give you its redness, warmth and energy.&lt;br /&gt;It is believed that in this day wishes will come true. So people who have made wishes hide behind the walls and listen to the passenger's conversations. If the conversations heard are positive, their wish will come true. This is called fal gush, meaning listening to one's fortune.&lt;br /&gt;Finally the celebration ends with fire work and the family gathering for a joyful meal. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049660166967172530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RhP_KuiEnbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/41Ms_ERaQjs/s200/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sal Tahvil - New Year's Time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;sal tahvil is a very important moment. It is the time for forgiving each other, leaving the differences behind and building relationships. The countdown of sal tahvil is usually followed on radio or television. During the countdown the family gathers around the haft sin wearing the new clothes. When the countdown is finished and New Year has arrived, family members kiss each other and greet each other by saying "sal-e no mobarak" or "eyd-e shoma mobarak", meaning happy new year. Then the gifts, which is usually money placed inside the Koran are exchanged. The older give gifts to the younger ones.&lt;br /&gt;It is also believed that the first visitor in New Year will bring luck with him/herself. So usually the youngest member of the family, who is the most innocent, will be sent outside with sweets and knock and come in and pretend to be a visitor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Haji Firuz - Persian Wandering Singer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Haji Firuz is a traditional character that wears colorful clothes and by singing and dancing &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RhQI3OiEncI/AAAAAAAAACY/QrVRLzpPDO4/s1600-h/4.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049670827076001218" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RhQI3OiEncI/AAAAAAAAACY/QrVRLzpPDO4/s200/4.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;through streets spreads the news of the New Year. He symbolizes the rebirth of the Sumerian god of sacrifice, Domuzi, who was killed at the end of each year and reborn at the beginning of the New Year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sofreh Haft Sin - The S's of New Year&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Sofreh haft sin is spread for the family to gather around it at Norouz. The word haft means seven, sin is the "s" in alphabet, and sofreh means table-cloth. Sofreh haft sin contains seven special things that star with the "s" sound. In addition to those seven things, one may also place other things that represent renewal, happiness, wealth, good health, and other things which is desired for the new year. These are what a typical sofreh haft sin have:&lt;br /&gt;1) Sabze (spring sprout), is made from wheat or lentil and signifies rebirth and renewal.&lt;br /&gt;2) Senjed (a sweet, dry fruit of a lotus tree), signifies love and affection.&lt;br /&gt;3) Sib (apple) represents health and beauty.&lt;br /&gt;4) Samanou (wheat pudding) represents sweetness and fertility.&lt;br /&gt;5) Serke (vinegar) signifies age and patience.&lt;br /&gt;6) Somagh (crushed sumac berries) represents the spice of life. Some say that it also represents the color of sunrise and with the sun all evil is defeated.&lt;br /&gt;7) Sir (garlic) is a sign of good health.&lt;br /&gt;8) Sekkeh (coin) is a symbol of wealth and prosperity.&lt;br /&gt;9) Sonbol (hyacinth flower) represents life and beauty.&lt;br /&gt;10) Sangak (a kind of bread) represents prosperity for the feasts.&lt;br /&gt;11) Mahi (gold fish) in a clear white bowl represents life.&lt;br /&gt;12) Ayne (mirror) brings light and brightness is the New Year.&lt;br /&gt;13) Sham (candle) is a symbol of fire and energy.&lt;br /&gt;14) Tokhm-e morgh (decorated egg) symbolizes fertility.&lt;br /&gt;15) Koran is for blessings and faith in New Year. Some also put Divan-e Hafez or other books of faith.&lt;br /&gt;16) Esfand (wild rue) keeps the evil eye away and brings on health. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049659874909396386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RhP-5uiEnaI/AAAAAAAAACI/FNwXLsv-HDE/s200/table.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Did-o Bazdid - New Year's visits&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The eve of the sal tahvil is usually spent at home with family. But from the day after the did-o bazdid starts. This means to visit and to be visited back. This tradition usually starts with visiting the oldest person of the family like the grandmother or the grandfather, and goes to youngest person. This tradition is a way of paying respect to the family and visiting those we normally can't visit during the year because of being busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sizdah Bedar - The Day 13 Outing&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sizdah bedar is the last holiday of norouz. Sizdah means thirteen and bedar means away or out. Since 13 is an unlucky number, this day is spent outside the house and with the nature. At the end of the celebration of this day, young single women tie the leaves of the sabzeh, symbolizing their wish to get married before the next year's sizdah bedar. When tying the leaves they whisper "sal-e digar, khuneye shohar, bache be baghal", meaning "by next year married with my child in my arms".&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049658071023132034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RhP9QuiEnYI/AAAAAAAAAB4/4jWGquOQctM/s200/1.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-3138683263135653933?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/3138683263135653933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=3138683263135653933' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/3138683263135653933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/3138683263135653933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/04/norouz-customs.html' title='Norouz Customs'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</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/_e-z64jRIJDk/RhP-PeiEnZI/AAAAAAAAACA/XLITTu3J8jI/s72-c/2.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-4790769669187595798</id><published>2007-03-29T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-29T11:56:08.136-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Norwegian Poeple</title><content type='html'>One in eight Norwegians lives in their country's capital, Oslo. Ask any of them if Oslo is a good place to live in, and you will almost get the same answer from all of them: "Why yes! Just a short half-hour ride on the underground and you can be in the middle of the forest!&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;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047407982123371538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/Rgv-0ULvTBI/AAAAAAAAABE/1aT-21cb4z0/s200/oslo-c.jpg" border="0" /&gt;If you take a tour out on the underground one Sunday afternoon, you will find out that Norwegians really feel at home in the forest. In winter if you don't go skiing, you can't consider yourself a human. The country has many slalom skiers, but cross-country skiing through the woods, over the frozen lakes, and up and down the hills is most popular.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047408476044610594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/Rgv_RELvTCI/AAAAAAAAABM/auYc-6fp5rI/s200/bilde-folgefonna.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Necessary things to be taken with on these tours are an orange and something called the &lt;em&gt;matpakke&lt;/em&gt;, meaning "food-package". This so called "food-package", consists of two or three slices of buttered bread with cheese or sausage. This package is also taken to work on weekdays as lunch and is eaten in the silence half-hour called lunch-break.&lt;br /&gt;Norwegians aren't used to speak to strangers at the bus stop or at the table next to them in a restaurant. But in the forest and in the summer life is different. People greet and smile to each other, even to strangers. But they also may be nice in towns depending on the weather.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047409558376369202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RgwAQELvTDI/AAAAAAAAABU/6q0CemovvPA/s200/1000082686.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Norway is very long and divided into many parts. People living in different parts are very different from each other, even though there are only four million of them. They have their own regional features in behaving. Some would say that there are more variations between the northern and the southern Norwegians than there are between the Norwegians living in Oslo and other capitals in Europe.&lt;br /&gt;The reason why Norwegians drink alcohol so much is perhaps their shyness. Norwegians don't drink to have fun, but only to get drunk. That's why the sale of wines is strictly controlled and is only sold in special shops with limited opening hours.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047410155376823362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RgwAy0LvTEI/AAAAAAAAABc/P87QihSAbdw/s200/oslo-by-night.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;Norway has the highest sale of news papers and books than of any other European country. Although most of the books are sold just before Christmas and is used for presents, but at least some of tem has to be read. There are a lot of books written in Norway too- although Ibsen used his first scholarship to buy a one-way ticket to get out of the country and didn't come back before 26 years. But on the other hand Jostein Gaarder's &lt;em&gt;Sophie's World&lt;/em&gt;, the best-selling book in the world in the 1990's, was written in Norway. And when it comes to newspapers, according to some researches every day, out of 1,000 people, 520 will read a paper and there are 152 daily newspapers in Norway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047410765262179410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RgwBWULvTFI/AAAAAAAAABk/PSIE29EeNA8/s200/fredrik-oslo_by_night_l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Norway has a lot of oil and according to their politicians, it is one of the richest countries in the world. It has a tradition of giving large amounts of money, collected by public request, to humanitarian aid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047411100269628514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/RgwBp0LvTGI/AAAAAAAAABs/t2LFpqYwglo/s200/bilde-hardangerfjord.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&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/940493366319183688-4790769669187595798?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4790769669187595798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=4790769669187595798' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/4790769669187595798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/4790769669187595798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/03/norwegian-poeple.html' title='The Norwegian Poeple'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</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/_e-z64jRIJDk/Rgv-0ULvTBI/AAAAAAAAABE/1aT-21cb4z0/s72-c/oslo-c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-6224609740948156982</id><published>2007-03-13T16:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T12:36:39.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who am I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;This is my fourth entry, and it's going to be about me. I wanted to introduce myself earlier but I just didn't know what to say. Thankfully the first assignment dr. Marandi has given us is to introduce ourselves. So here it goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am Atousa Gh, a 20-year-old iranian girl living in Mehrshahr in Karaj. I am a sophomore in Alzahra university in Tehran and I study English literature. I have lived in Norway for six years, so I know norwegian, and for the moment, I'm trying to learn french.&lt;br /&gt;In order to introduce myself better, I asked some of my friends to help and describe me. They think that I'm happy, lively, naughty, relaxed, a little bit insecure about everything, friendly, stubborn, impatient and funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess this is it for the intoduction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-6224609740948156982?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/6224609740948156982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=6224609740948156982' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/6224609740948156982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/6224609740948156982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/03/who-am-i.html' title='Who am I?'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-6871506119850108949</id><published>2007-03-07T16:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T16:20:26.345-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Work</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/Re9WYQgv4_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/SkwWCVjM29o/s1600-h/DH_Lawrence_1906.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039341482800047090" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/Re9WYQgv4_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/SkwWCVjM29o/s200/DH_Lawrence_1906.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/Re9WHwgv4-I/AAAAAAAAAAc/jurkGEfu2Ek/s1600-h/DH_Lawrence_1906.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Work&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There is no point in work&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;unless it absorbs you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;like an absorbing game.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If it doesn't absorb you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;if it's never any fun,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;don't do it.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When a man goes into his work&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;he is alive like a tree in spring,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;he is living, not merely working.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;By D.H. Lawrence&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/940493366319183688-6871506119850108949?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/6871506119850108949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=6871506119850108949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/6871506119850108949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/6871506119850108949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/03/work.html' title='Work'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</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/_e-z64jRIJDk/Re9WYQgv4_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/SkwWCVjM29o/s72-c/DH_Lawrence_1906.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-5224996953255973424</id><published>2007-03-04T10:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-04T10:20:54.301-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Alone</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/ResNpa6e2kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/TrhO7cnn_EA/s1600-h/AngelouColor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038135613394442818" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e-z64jRIJDk/ResNpa6e2kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/TrhO7cnn_EA/s320/AngelouColor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lying, thinking&lt;br /&gt;Last night&lt;br /&gt;How to find my soul a home&lt;br /&gt;Where water is not thirsty&lt;br /&gt;And bread loaf is not stone&lt;br /&gt;I came up with one thing&lt;br /&gt;And I don't believe I'm wrong&lt;br /&gt;That nobody,&lt;br /&gt;But nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;Alone, all alone&lt;br /&gt;Nobody, but nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;There are some millionaires&lt;br /&gt;With money they can't use&lt;br /&gt;Their wives run round like banshees&lt;br /&gt;Their children sing the blues&lt;br /&gt;They've got expensive doctors&lt;br /&gt;To cure their hearts of stone.&lt;br /&gt;But nobody&lt;br /&gt;No, nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;Alone, all alone&lt;br /&gt;Nobody, but nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;Now if you listen closely&lt;br /&gt;I'll tell you what I know&lt;br /&gt;Storm clouds are gathering&lt;br /&gt;The wind is gonna blow&lt;br /&gt;The race of man is suffering&lt;br /&gt;And I can hear the moan,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause nobody,&lt;br /&gt;But nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;Alone, all alone&lt;br /&gt;Nobody, but nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;by &lt;a href="http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/87"&gt;Maya Angelou&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-5224996953255973424?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5224996953255973424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=5224996953255973424' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/5224996953255973424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/5224996953255973424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/03/alone.html' title='Alone'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</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/_e-z64jRIJDk/ResNpa6e2kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/TrhO7cnn_EA/s72-c/AngelouColor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940493366319183688.post-6700993271657596465</id><published>2007-03-04T09:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-04T09:42:46.141-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Exixtence of God</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Eksistens&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne kom fra skolen og&lt;br /&gt;Sa at på skolen sier de at&lt;br /&gt;Gud ikke eksisterer. Jeg sa&lt;br /&gt;At det skal du ikke tro på.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jamen eksisterer Gud da?&lt;br /&gt;Ikke for den som ikke tror,&lt;br /&gt;Sa jeg, men ellers eksisterer&lt;br /&gt;Gud. Er ikke det rart da, sa&lt;br /&gt;Anne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jo, sa jeg, det er rart.&lt;br /&gt;Går det an, sa Anne, å ikke&lt;br /&gt;eksistere og eksistere.&lt;br /&gt;Ja, sa jeg, det går an for Gud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ernst Orvil (1898-1985)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Existence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne came from school and&lt;br /&gt;Said that at school they say that&lt;br /&gt;God does not exist. I said&lt;br /&gt;You shouldn't believe that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes but does God exist?&lt;br /&gt;Not for the one who doesn't believe,&lt;br /&gt;I said, otherwise&lt;br /&gt;God exists. Isn't it strange?&lt;br /&gt;Said Anne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I said, it is strange.&lt;br /&gt;Is it possible, said Anne,&lt;br /&gt;To not exist and exist.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I said, it is possible for God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poem by: Ernst Orvil (1898-1985)&lt;br /&gt;Translation by: Atousa Gharvan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940493366319183688-6700993271657596465?l=1strangeworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/feeds/6700993271657596465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=940493366319183688&amp;postID=6700993271657596465' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/6700993271657596465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/940493366319183688/posts/default/6700993271657596465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1strangeworld.blogspot.com/2007/03/exixtence-of-god.html' title='Exixtence of God'/><author><name>Atousa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16540063712972045346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
