<?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-6740252147173588266</id><updated>2011-04-22T01:11:43.052-04:00</updated><category term='Casinos'/><category term='pop culture'/><category term='Stop and Frisk'/><category term='California Wildfire Hurricane Katrina'/><category term='school stress'/><category term='physical contact'/><category term='United States'/><title type='text'>Anoushka's Blog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6740252147173588266.post-1825739821976004738</id><published>2008-02-08T16:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T16:49:01.208-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#66ff99;"&gt;Top ten foods I would never ever ever EAT!&lt;br /&gt;1. Octopus/ Squid&lt;br /&gt;2. Tortoise&lt;br /&gt;3. Humans&lt;br /&gt;4. Ostrich&lt;br /&gt;5. Quail Eggs&lt;br /&gt;6. Fish Head&lt;br /&gt;7. Kangaroo&lt;br /&gt;8. Snake&lt;br /&gt;9. Frog Legs&lt;br /&gt;10. Cow Brains, Eyes, etc…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6740252147173588266-1825739821976004738?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/1825739821976004738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=1825739821976004738' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/1825739821976004738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/1825739821976004738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/02/top-ten-foods-i-would-never-ever-ever.html' title=''/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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-6740252147173588266.post-8459894035334323697</id><published>2008-02-07T17:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T17:17:22.384-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6uDbODggqI/AAAAAAAAABQ/IwweGuPC0c8/s1600-h/flowe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164365901362922146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6uDbODggqI/AAAAAAAAABQ/IwweGuPC0c8/s320/flowe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ffcccc;"&gt;I am a sister encouraging all the time.&lt;br /&gt;I am a daughter caring everyday.&lt;br /&gt;I am a granddaughter loving from a far.&lt;br /&gt;I am the memories.&lt;br /&gt;I am the laughs.&lt;br /&gt;I am the tears.&lt;br /&gt;I am the sleepovers that I wished never ended.&lt;br /&gt;I am the dances that made my heart skip a beat.&lt;br /&gt;I am the parties that created everlasting moments in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;I am the burnt cookies in the oven.&lt;br /&gt;I am the interminable piano practices.&lt;br /&gt;I am the messy room that never seems to be clean.&lt;br /&gt;I am the future looking ahead.&lt;br /&gt;I am the inspiration and hope of today.&lt;br /&gt;I am what the world believes in.&lt;br /&gt;I am ME!&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/6740252147173588266-8459894035334323697?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/8459894035334323697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=8459894035334323697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/8459894035334323697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/8459894035334323697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-am-sister-encouraging-all-time.html' title=''/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6uDbODggqI/AAAAAAAAABQ/IwweGuPC0c8/s72-c/flowe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6740252147173588266.post-4223060830994422890</id><published>2008-02-07T17:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T17:04:28.430-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33ffff;"&gt;Crew.  A cult they say. Once you’re in, there’s no getting out. These were the rumors I heard when mentioning crew as my spring sport. “Wait, you’re doing crew?” they would ask me. “Aren’t you a little too... small?”. I would consider this standpoint, but then defend myself and say “Not to coxswain….!” And so I attended the meeting for crew one Wednesday lunch. As Mrs. Konopka began her speech, my stomach began to turn inside out. Intense. Commitment. Hard work. These were the only three words I heard as I braced myself for the worst. When the girl captains took all the novice girls outside to have a talk, I was almost about to change my mind. But then they said something that changed my mind. “You can only have fun in crew, if you dedicated yourself to it. You have to love it” one of the varsity members said. After this moment I promised myself to push to my limits and not give up. So crew season…here I come!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6740252147173588266-4223060830994422890?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/4223060830994422890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=4223060830994422890' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/4223060830994422890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/4223060830994422890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/02/crew.html' title=''/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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-6740252147173588266.post-2214818363971648</id><published>2008-02-07T16:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T16:54:22.062-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6t7_uDggpI/AAAAAAAAABI/OdAdnS7253w/s1600-h/our+fam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164357732335125138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6t7_uDggpI/AAAAAAAAABI/OdAdnS7253w/s320/our+fam.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6t7WeDggoI/AAAAAAAAABA/hhhVEYajwko/s1600-h/the+cousins.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164357023665521282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6t7WeDggoI/AAAAAAAAABA/hhhVEYajwko/s320/the+cousins.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6t6zODggnI/AAAAAAAAAA4/auVTRcrug_w/s1600-h/the+grls.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164356418075132530" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6t6zODggnI/AAAAAAAAAA4/auVTRcrug_w/s320/the+grls.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6t6U-DggmI/AAAAAAAAAAw/hfxK1wkRJNo/s1600-h/the+fam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164355898384089698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 293px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px" height="230" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6t6U-DggmI/AAAAAAAAAAw/hfxK1wkRJNo/s320/the+fam.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ccccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In December 2007, I had the pleasure of attending my cousin’s wedding in Calcutta, India. Because I was from the groom’s side, the wedding festivities were full of excitement and joy. The first day consisted of a short cruise and Sangeet in the evening. The boat ride, unfortunately that I missed due to my flight, was filled with music, good food, and recollections of the past from old friends. Everyone of my cousins who told me about the cruise said it was so nice and that the water and scene was gorgeous and serene. That night however, the Sangeet, or traditional dance party, primarily for the women of the wedding, was held at the ITC Sonar, one of the nicest hotels in Calcutta. However, since this wedding had so many important family members, the Sangeet was held for both the males and females of both the families. There I saw my cousin, also the groom, for the first time in about 4 years. He looked older, heavier, and really happy. I was more than overjoyed to see him! Soon after he came the rest of the families began coming in and I began to examine the lovely outfits of the women. As my aunt had said that this was going to be the most posh night of them all, the women and men dressed to their best. After most of the guests had arrived the beautiful bride arrived in her orange and pink lahenga, a traditional, 2 piece Indian garment worn by women. For a moment I was in denial that my cousin was getting married because the whole event seemed so fairy tale-esque. All of a sudden the DJ began to start the Hindi music and within seconds my aunt and I were on the dance floor. As we became the center of attention many of our relatives and close friends joined us. The night continued as I convinced more and more people to come out and dance, including my cousin Rahul, who would not dance unless a specific song was requested. Because of the intense dancing my cousins and I quickly decided to go to the buffet and pig out. There were so many choices that more than one trip was required. After multiple courses of naan, butter chicken, dal, and many vegetable curries, the many dessert variations looked heavenly. Finally, after somehow managing to fit in the delectable sweet treats, the dance floor was once again filled with our complicated dance steps and voices singing the latest tunes. Once my family and I realized that it was two in the morning we decided to return back to the guesthouse we were staying at. As my head hit the pillow, dreams of the next day’s festivities filled my mind as dozed off almost immediately. At around 10 am the next morning my mother woke me up from my needed sleep. She told me it was time to get ready for the Mehendi, or the day when all the women of the bride and groom’s side put henna on their hands. Being the first ones to arrive at Sunny Park, the venue for the Mehendi celebrations, we had ample time to admire the beautiful decorations. As the guests began to arrive, reuniting with old friends and cousins, all whom we had met the previous night, ironic huh? Well as the line for the Mehendi artists began to grow I took my place in the line. As I sat for 15 minutes as the artist drew intricate designs on my hand freehand, I became accustomed to the delicious smells of the chaat, dosa, and pani puri cooking only a few feet away from me. Because the henna needed at least 20 minutes to dry, I miserably sat at a table wishing for it to dry as quickly as possible so I could eat. The next 20 minutes were the longest of my life, I guess because I was waiting and counting each passing second. Once my henna was dry I ran to the food buffet fearing that all the food would be gone; but boy was I wrong, the supply of food seemed endless. After many rounds of food and picture taking, we were interrupted by a cousin of the bride. He made an announcement saying that he was hosting a party that night at a club in the park hotel. Everyone jumped with excitement. We retuned to our guesthouse for a quick afternoon nap. At around 6 in the evening we began to get ready. We reached the party at 8:30, quite early for a party in India. The venue of the party was very strategically designed; the minimal seating forced everyone to dance. After about two hours of dancing, dinner was served, once again filling me up with amazing foods. Dinner was followed by another 3 hours of dancing bringing us to 3 o’ clock in the morning. Finally, my parents somehow managed to drag me out of the rocking party, as I sadly waved goodbye to my cousins. You must be wondering, when was the actual wedding, don’t worry that’s next. The next morning was quite relaxed. I went to the mall with my cousins and to a Chinese restaurant called Red Hot Chili Pepper. The food was amazing, especially the crispy shredded lamb. We returned to our guesthouse and rested. Soon we got ready for the barat, or when the bride goes out of his home to get the bride. We reached my cousin’s house, and the men were immediately required to put on a turban. The women just gossiped and admired each other’s outfits. Once the picture taking and actual ceremonies were over the groom got on a horse and the band began to play tradition Hindi marriage tunes. We danced and sang our way to the end of the street, where the band stopped and the groom got off of the horse and into his beautifully decorated car. Once at the wedding, we were dazzled by the beauty of the bride, who was wearing a beautiful pink lahenga heavily decorated with embroidery and rhinestones. I hate to admit this, but my cousins and I spent more time talking then actually watching the marriage ceremony, this was because of the ringing voice of the priest and the omens he said were in an unknown language to me. Once the wedding was over, the hard part finally came. A few girls from the bride’s side stole his shoes and were demanding money from his side of the family. After about an hour’s worth of arguing and waging, the girls of the bride’s family left with 50,000 rupees, approximately $ 1,150. This event was followed by dinner and dessert. Finally once many of the guests had left, family remembers from the groom’s side went back to the house of the groom, in order to welcome the new bride into her new home. She was welcomed by all of us and blessed by her parents. At around midnight we returned to our guest house and packed, since we were leaving in two days. The next day most of my family members slept in to catch up of the loss of sleep. That night we attended the final event of this week long wedding, the reception. The venue for this was the Royal Calcutta Golf Club, a country club known all over the world. It was the final night for saying good-byes and exchanging contact numbers and email addresses. At last at about 11:30 at night, no one remained except for close family members. This was the first time during the course of the entire wedding that we were finally sitting together and talking. Unfortunately the night ended and we were sent back to our guesthouse. The next morning we woke up early and headed to the airport. And so, all good things come to an end. &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/6740252147173588266-2214818363971648?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/2214818363971648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=2214818363971648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/2214818363971648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/2214818363971648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/02/in-december-2007-i-had-pleasure-of.html' title=''/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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/_8Ntll8EPO5I/R6t7_uDggpI/AAAAAAAAABI/OdAdnS7253w/s72-c/our+fam.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6740252147173588266.post-6481596413834898145</id><published>2008-01-31T16:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T17:02:46.917-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://blog.bookeazy.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/10/taare-zameen-par.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://blog.bookeazy.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/10/taare-zameen-par.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The latest Hindi movie I saw was &lt;em&gt;Taare Zameen Par&lt;/em&gt;, staring Aamir Khan and Darsheel Safary. This movie is about a dyslexic child in modern day India who has to fight the denial of his parents. Even after failing 3rd grade once, he is sent to the same school and forced to learn even with his disability. Because his parents, particularly his father, think that Ishaan is acting up and not being able to concentrate, they decide to send him to an all boys boarding school. There is he left, without the aid of a motherly figure, to grow up and become a young man in a matter of a few months. Hard teachers calling him stupid and idiotic because of his way of thinking and learning, peers calling him the new boy, and homesickness added to his bad beginning at this school. However, although Ishaan could not read well or write as suitably as his classmates, he had a strength many of his peers did not, the ability to see his world in color. Ishaan was an amazing artist, using all his free time to color, paint, and draw anything in his imagination. His whole world changes when a new art teacher Nicumbh Sir helps Ishaan cope with his disability and telling his parents of his condition. So the story continues and the relationships between teacher and student grow as well as the love of a father for a son. This movie is really great, but very emotional. It makes you want to make a difference in the world you live in. But most of all it makes you love everyone for who they really are inside and out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Photograph courtesy ofShuz World Blog &lt;a href="http://shuz.wordpress.com/2008/01/15/my-top-5-bollywood-movies-in-2007/"&gt;http://shuz.wordpress.com/2008/01/15/my-top-5-bollywood-movies-in-2007/&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/6740252147173588266-6481596413834898145?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/6481596413834898145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=6481596413834898145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/6481596413834898145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/6481596413834898145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/01/latest-hindi-movie-i-saw-was-taare.html' title=''/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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-6740252147173588266.post-1455877150885877028</id><published>2008-01-31T16:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T16:37:59.508-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school stress'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#66ffff;"&gt;Do you ever feel like school is taking over your life? And that your social life is going down the drain day by day because you can’t hang out of your friends when you want to because of your busy schedule? Yes, yes, YES would be the answer most high school students would respond with. Today’s teenagers are overworked, over scheduled, and overstressed. Homework, sports, tests, and projects are the primary things to worry about day in and day out. With each coming morning teens dread the early classes that include long discussions about boring topics. As the day continues and teachers begin to pile on homework, as each class passes students must plan their nights around these due assignments. After a series of hard classes and mind boggling tests, the most awaited period arrives, LUNCH! This is the only time in the day when most students get to see their friends and to debrief their weekend plans. However this period is not nearly as long enough. Soon after lunch students are required to go to 45 minutes classes and wait until 3:00 for perhaps a moment to breathe. After the two ending classes sports is sure to follow. After a grueling practice consisting of various drills, workouts, and competition with other rival schools, student turned athletes are mentally and physically drained, leaving minimal energy for completing homework. Once at home students are required to finish their homework, study for tests and prepare for presentations. Once into the late hours of the night kids are expected to eat their dinner, take a shower, and do daily chores. Students often find themselves wishing there were more than 24 hours in a day. Finally once midnight or later hits, kids force themselves to sleep, only waking up a few hours later to begin this dreadful cycle once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/6740252147173588266-1455877150885877028?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/1455877150885877028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=1455877150885877028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/1455877150885877028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/1455877150885877028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/01/do-you-ever-feel-like-school-is-taking.html' title=''/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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-6740252147173588266.post-121273134059712621</id><published>2008-01-25T17:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T17:08:21.558-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='physical contact'/><title type='text'>Opinions on Physical Contact @ School</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt; I think the idea of banning physical contact at school is HIGHLY ridiculous!! I mean come on…who does this?? I mean unless the contact was seriously really too close for comfort then I understand a limit on what a person can do, but not banning it!! PDA’s as people like to call them are a way of greeting friends in this generation. Before waving at someone was the way, today hugging and high-fives are the normal. Also these PDA’s institute a friendly atmosphere thus preventing harsh feelings towards others. I mean if you’re having a bad day and then if someone comes and gives you a hug, things become a lot better. If I wasn’t able to hug Swanson everyday life would not go on. Hugs always brighten people’s days and are a great way of showing people that you care.&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/6740252147173588266-121273134059712621?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/121273134059712621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=121273134059712621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/121273134059712621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/121273134059712621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/01/opinions-on-physical-contact-school.html' title='Opinions on Physical Contact @ School'/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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-6740252147173588266.post-1307633526972663746</id><published>2008-01-25T17:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T17:06:18.042-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Casinos'/><title type='text'>Should Casinos Be Built in Philadelphia?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I do not think that the casinos should be built in Philadelphia. Firstly because it would ruin our reputation as the “brotherly city” because gambling, drinking, and prostitution can often turn even brothers against each other. Also, if I were living on the waterfront and woke up every morning looking at a miniature Las Vegas, I would not be a happy person. It would also increase the number of crimes in the Philadelphia such as robberies, rape, and drinking and drug problems with younger people, due to the fact that a school is right across from one of the casinos. Also, even though many people think that the casinos will increase jobs, the jobs will not be sufficient enough to provide for a family. In general the casinos will create more problems than benefits.  Because the costs of creating and maintaining will outweigh the income the benefit of the casinos will be slim to none.&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/6740252147173588266-1307633526972663746?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/1307633526972663746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=1307633526972663746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/1307633526972663746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/1307633526972663746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/01/should-casinos-be-built-in-philadelphia.html' title='Should Casinos Be Built in Philadelphia?'/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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-6740252147173588266.post-2577333330891526292</id><published>2008-01-25T16:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T16:58:51.678-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stop and Frisk'/><title type='text'>Opinions on "Stop and Frisk"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ffcccc;"&gt;I really do not really care if stop and frisk is enforced or not. It would be better if they did because it would prevent a lot of crime, however I think that people should be equally stopped and frisked because every person has an equal ability of carrying a weapon not just blacks and Hispanics Although the stopping and frisking would bring up a lot of sexual tension amongst people I believe that can be the price to pay for the many deaths every year due to weapons. I am not saying that sexually assaulting is a good thing, but it won’t be as common as people dying and losing their lives due to weapons.&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/6740252147173588266-2577333330891526292?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/2577333330891526292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=2577333330891526292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/2577333330891526292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/2577333330891526292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/01/opinions-on-stop-and-frisk.html' title='Opinions on &quot;Stop and Frisk&quot;'/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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-6740252147173588266.post-1119224711377465133</id><published>2008-01-25T16:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T16:57:00.767-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Should Parents Give Permission to Give Out Condoms in School?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;I do not believe this is a good idea because the idea of offering contraceptives is promoting the idea that sex at such a young age is alright. It tells the students that they should all of a sudden grow up and do things that will not have severe or any consequences, whereas before having sex at such a young age was a shame on the family and indirectly the community in which the people belonged. Sex at such a young age is a dangerous and bad idea because it means kids can do things some adults haven’t done yet.  If this were to happen at my child’s school I would not give consent to having contraceptives at school, and would strongly advocate a health seminar that would teach the kids about sex and all the information they want to gain through actually experiencing sex.  If my child wanted to have sex, I would sit down with him or her and ask her the reasoning for her feelings and give the best advice I could. I would make sure he or she told me about what was going on. However, if my own sister was using contraceptives during her middle school years, I would not tell my parents, because I feel as though some things should be kept away from them, and also the fact that if they found out my little sister was having sex with someone, they would hit the walls. NO JOKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They would seriously consider kicking her out of the house.  I would not tell them and help my sister as much as I could.  First of all in middle school I was too naïve to even think about doing these things, it occurred to me as disgusting and I was definitely not ready to have sex.  Also I believe I have my whole life to do such things, and if I do all this now, what will I do when I am older??!!&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/6740252147173588266-1119224711377465133?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/1119224711377465133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=1119224711377465133' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/1119224711377465133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/1119224711377465133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/01/should-parents-give-permission-to-give.html' title='Should Parents Give Permission to Give Out Condoms in School?'/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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-6740252147173588266.post-3680842623512219900</id><published>2008-01-25T16:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T16:54:50.264-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Would You Do If You Had 5 Minutes Before You Had to Evacuate Your House?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;If the entire area around my house was on fire, and suddenly at 3:17 in the morning a firefighter came knocking on my door to tell me that I had 10 minutes to grab those things which were most important to me, I would panic.&lt;br /&gt;            The first things I would take care of are my brother and sister. I would make sure they have all that they need before taking care of myself. After making sure that they are safe and sound, I would sprint into my office room and take the wallet out of my dad’s drawer. I would then run into the kitchen and grab the list of emergency numbers posted on the bulletin board.  After that I would go upstairs and take as much of my mom’s jewelry. I would grab it and dash to my room. I would go into my closet and grab the biggest bag I saw and dump the jewelry into it.  I would then take a pair of sneakers, a set of clothes, and other basic necessities. After that I would put my cell phone in my bag and get my toiletries while gathering my yearbooks and pictures from the past. I would then take my iPod, camera, and squishy pillow. I would stuff my bag with my blanket and hair ties.  I would find my hairbrush and first aid kit. I would run as fast as I can downstairs to the basement and grab as much of food and water as I could, and put it into a suitcase I managed to find in the storage room. I would make sure there was enough food to keep us from starving for a while. I would somehow manage to get my Mac computer and run.  The very last thing I would take is my book bag and finally make my way to the door while desperately trying to recall the memories of the past in my house. &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/6740252147173588266-3680842623512219900?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/3680842623512219900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=3680842623512219900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/3680842623512219900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/3680842623512219900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/01/what-would-you-do-if-you-had-5-minutes.html' title='What Would You Do If You Had 5 Minutes Before You Had to Evacuate Your House?'/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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-6740252147173588266.post-7830332196359664339</id><published>2008-01-25T16:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T16:53:01.326-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='California Wildfire Hurricane Katrina'/><title type='text'>Response to the California Wildfires and Hurricane Katrina</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ccccff;"&gt;The response to the California fires and Hurricane Katrina was very different. The California fire victims were attended to much quicker than those of Hurricane Katrina. I think the primary reason for this is because of the money situation in both these regions. California is more of a posh area, whereas Louisiana is more of a poorer place. However, I also think people did not realize how serious the damage in Louisiana was for a long time. But in CA new reporters were on the fires 24/7 showing people how much damage there was. However the United States has done a good job in helping the families of both these regions.&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/6740252147173588266-7830332196359664339?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/7830332196359664339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=7830332196359664339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/7830332196359664339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/7830332196359664339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/01/response-to-california-wildfires-and.html' title='Response to the California Wildfires and Hurricane Katrina'/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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-6740252147173588266.post-807543354508549408</id><published>2008-01-25T16:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T16:40:50.741-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='United States'/><title type='text'>What Would You Do If You Had the Attention of the United States for 5 Minutes?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ffcccc;"&gt;If I had the attention of the US for 5 minutes this is what I would say, “Umm Hi everyone. Hope you all are having a fantastic day. Well I am thrilled to be talking to 300 million people right now, I thought the kids at my school were a lot of people, I guess not. As the New Year begins I want everyone to make resolutions to have a healthier and smarter life this year. I want everyone to be more accepting of those around them. Everyone should try to make someone else’s day better. Take part in community service, tell someone you love them, and write a card for someone in the hospital. Anything! Thank You for your time…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6740252147173588266-807543354508549408?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/807543354508549408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=807543354508549408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/807543354508549408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/807543354508549408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/01/what-would-you-do-if-you-had-attention.html' title='What Would You Do If You Had the Attention of the United States for 5 Minutes?'/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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-6740252147173588266.post-2427019681526300514</id><published>2008-01-25T16:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T16:38:06.874-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pop culture'/><title type='text'>Should Pop Culture Be Used in Schools?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#00cccc;"&gt;I believe that pop culture should be used in class rooms as examples because many of today’s teens can relate to pop culture. Whether it be music, pictures, or any other multi media project, pop culture grabs the attention of students and helps them learn. However the pop culture experience should be age appropriate so youngsters are not exposed to anything they are not ready for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6740252147173588266-2427019681526300514?l=noushbarpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/feeds/2427019681526300514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6740252147173588266&amp;postID=2427019681526300514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/2427019681526300514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6740252147173588266/posts/default/2427019681526300514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noushbarpa.blogspot.com/2008/01/should-pop-culture-be-used-in-schools.html' title='Should Pop Culture Be Used in Schools?'/><author><name>NoushBarpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00500688820781266695</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>
