<?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-21076867</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:59:59.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Merkava</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-115021456000898358</id><published>2006-06-13T08:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T09:02:40.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Watching</title><content type='html'>I saw a couple tonight.&lt;br /&gt;They looked indifferent yet they were together.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe they are young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a student hugging someone today.&lt;br /&gt;I slowed the car and almost hit the car infront.&lt;br /&gt;I was lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is in the air?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-115021456000898358?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/115021456000898358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=115021456000898358' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/115021456000898358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/115021456000898358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/06/watching.html' title='Watching'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114901269232108909</id><published>2006-05-30T11:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T11:11:32.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HIs Room</title><content type='html'>and his room had satin red curtains that covered the old tattered windows squarely.&lt;br /&gt;His bed was obviously new and had been slept on only one side.&lt;br /&gt;His floor was too clean for his own good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His life like his room was neat and sterile. nobody had been in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight he sleeps like he has slept a thousand nights before. &lt;br /&gt;In the company of familiar loneliness.&lt;br /&gt;He hates himself for what he has become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he must resign and submit to the dark consuming room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114901269232108909?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114901269232108909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114901269232108909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114901269232108909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114901269232108909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/05/his-room.html' title='HIs Room'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114855308185162011</id><published>2006-05-25T03:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-25T03:31:21.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6608/1466/1600/Picture%20139.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6608/1466/320/Picture%20139.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This guy is really cool.&lt;br /&gt;He is from HK. Meet him during my recent competition.&lt;br /&gt;Love his delivery and speech idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114855308185162011?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114855308185162011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114855308185162011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114855308185162011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114855308185162011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/05/new-friend.html' title='New Friend'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114840377886493554</id><published>2006-05-23T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T10:02:58.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going to Washington DC in Aug.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6608/1466/1600/Ramesh2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6608/1466/320/Ramesh2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah... the tough training worked.&lt;br /&gt;I get to represent this region in USA for the Intl Speech Contests in AUG&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114840377886493554?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114840377886493554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114840377886493554' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114840377886493554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114840377886493554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/05/going-to-washington-dc-in-aug.html' title='Going to Washington DC in Aug.'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114761384585935281</id><published>2006-05-14T06:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T06:40:33.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep Still</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6608/1466/1600/a8a5re2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6608/1466/320/a8a5re2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The air was crisp.  Hearts calmly pulsating. One cannot forget if the event had left an indelible impression in their life. &lt;br /&gt;Together. Everyone together. One check bang. Kiri pusing. Kebekang Pusing. &lt;br /&gt;Drop check, roll roll UP! roll roll Left,right, left. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you recall such unique events in your days as a student that has shaped some of your beliefs?&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6608/1466/1600/a266re2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6608/1466/320/a266re2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114761384585935281?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114761384585935281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114761384585935281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114761384585935281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114761384585935281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/05/keep-still.html' title='Keep Still'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114729298007002166</id><published>2006-05-10T13:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T13:43:35.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love. The Elusive intoXication</title><content type='html'>DO you take this dum ho dumb to be your sorta lawfully breaded mice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been in love before? Think you have?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emm let's ponder &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think of her all the time, &lt;br /&gt;Food tastes better, &lt;br /&gt;Heart racing all the time&lt;br /&gt;Can't stop thinking of the future with her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do we just settle down? like grains of tiny sand in a quieter part of the whirlpool? Do the peeling calender days make you just put a downpayment on a marriage and a mortage on your singledom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see so many friends around me "attached" Oh... it's the  trinklets of love, and the messages tat puts an inbox into paralysis.  It's like watching a a thigh being severed with the nerves whipping around till it dies down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to say really. Don't get me wrong here. I have done my fair share of "attachment" and have come to learn 3 things abiout this whole Love Business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You must have a healthy delusion that the future is gonna be great&lt;br /&gt;2. Absolute lack of observation, especially to the tiny annoyances of the other person. such as her tendency to throw potted plants out a 10 storey building because it makes her "happy" &lt;br /&gt;3. Learn to plaster an smile on the face. If not she is gonna ask you, "Is everything ok?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know wat. You want the truth? huh huh ? punk? I tell you the TRUTH. It is all  so listen up. With your chest all poofed up to like Captain Crunch you feebly exhale and say...&lt;br /&gt;...nothing... I am ok... just tired. (and a mutter trails; oh sod off.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage is a like getting  a coupla septic splinters on the surface of your  brain.&lt;br /&gt;It hurts real bad but there is nothing that can be done cos brain surgery is only for the medically infirm. You are just mental. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You my friend shall continue seeking the this elusive intoxication till the ends of your time. Seek not mere love but an inspirator.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114729298007002166?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114729298007002166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114729298007002166' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114729298007002166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114729298007002166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/05/love-elusive-intoxication.html' title='Love. The Elusive intoXication'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114711465329367481</id><published>2006-05-08T11:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-08T12:03:22.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Liberation</title><content type='html'>Today, I has in a training session with two students from AJC and it struck me.&lt;br /&gt;I was having a great time. Seriously, a really good time. Though the numbers were really small it was the learning that excited me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21st of May 2006 is my District speech contest. Mixed emotions on tat one.&lt;br /&gt;Choosing my speech topic. Betrayal is one that I am considering. Ah...&lt;br /&gt;U will never understand until it strikes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways. Things are great currently. HAve more opportunity to do pro bono work. Finally, I am doing it. Not just saying that I would. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends just because there are snakes in the garden doesn't mean that we should not have fun in the grass. don't blame the snakes either. Snakes know better not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114711465329367481?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114711465329367481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114711465329367481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114711465329367481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114711465329367481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/05/liberation.html' title='Liberation'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114585182059608974</id><published>2006-04-23T21:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T21:10:20.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>incorruptibility of the system</title><content type='html'>I think it would be nice if it is so. &lt;br /&gt;But can we cast that in stone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sure do pray it is so&lt;br /&gt;But can there be forces beyond this world ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Legal Action: What's the purpose? For Justice?&lt;br /&gt;Who decides what is right and wrong?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114585182059608974?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114585182059608974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114585182059608974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114585182059608974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114585182059608974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/04/incorruptibility-of-system.html' title='incorruptibility of the system'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114492561974205753</id><published>2006-04-13T03:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T03:53:39.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It is an Unfair World</title><content type='html'>When you see people no more competent than a rock are in positions of more power&lt;br /&gt;When you experience the repercussions of someone else's oversight.&lt;br /&gt;When you lay your head to rest and the neighbour starts banging his wife's head on the adjoining wall&lt;br /&gt;When a rapist sues the raped for cooperating too much&lt;br /&gt;When a "friend" never had you on their agenda &lt;br /&gt;When a boss turns a blind eye to injustice&lt;br /&gt;When cronies rule &lt;br /&gt;When the rain starts to peel away your flesh&lt;br /&gt;When a butterfly spreads infectious diseases&lt;br /&gt;When a camera kills when it is shot&lt;br /&gt;When you are sent to battle with a gun with no barrel&lt;br /&gt;When the mouse in the house sits at the dinner table &lt;br /&gt;When the muscular are weak &lt;br /&gt;When the weak are weakened&lt;br /&gt;When the written is rightly wronged and&lt;br /&gt;the citizen is forced to be patriotic&lt;br /&gt;When the time comes for us to go&lt;br /&gt;When the time comes for us to see others go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So go ahead be riled for all I care.&lt;br /&gt;It's a darn unfair world out there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114492561974205753?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114492561974205753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114492561974205753' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114492561974205753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114492561974205753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/04/it-is-unfair-world.html' title='It is an Unfair World'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114452995995888327</id><published>2006-04-08T13:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-08T13:59:19.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poly Courses 2006 Cut Off Points</title><content type='html'>Here u go kiddos.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Film, Sound &amp; Video (NP) &lt;br /&gt; Course offered outside JAE, under JPSAE &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Optometry (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 9&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Mass Communication (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 10&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Communications and Media Management (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 12&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Dental Therapy (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 12&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Music &amp; Audio Technology (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 12&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Media and Communication (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 12&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Chinese Studies (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 13&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Hospitality &amp; Tourism Management (TP)  &lt;br /&gt; 13&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Media Studies &amp; Management (NYP) &lt;br /&gt; 13&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Aeronautical Engineering (SP) &lt;br /&gt; 13&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Aerospace Technology (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 13&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Digital Entertainment Technology (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 13&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Creative Media Design (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 13&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Visual Communication (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 13&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Chemical &amp; Biomolecular Engineering (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 14&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Apparel Design &amp; Merchandising (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 14&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Accountancy (NP)&lt;br /&gt;Accountancy (SP)&lt;br /&gt;Accountancy &amp; Finance (NYP)&lt;br /&gt;Accounting &amp; Finance (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Early Childhood Education (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Law and Management (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Applied Food Science &amp; Nutrition (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Chemical &amp; Pharmaceutical Technology (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Chemical Engineering (SP)&lt;br /&gt;Chemical Engineering (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Chemical Process Technology (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Aerospace Electronics (SP) &lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Biomedical Engineering (NP)&lt;br /&gt;Biomedical Engineering (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Biomedical Informatics &amp; Engineering (TP) &lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Digital Media Design (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Interactive Media Design (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 15&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Business Administration (SP)&lt;br /&gt;Business Management (NYP)&lt;br /&gt;Business Studies (NP)&lt;br /&gt;Business/Logistics &amp; Operations Management/Marketing (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 16&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Retail Management (TP) &lt;br /&gt; 16&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Sport &amp; Wellness Management (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 16&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Horticulture &amp; Landscape Management (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 16 &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Bioelectronics (SP) &lt;br /&gt; 16&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Interior Architecture &amp; Design (TP)&lt;br /&gt;Interior Design (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 16&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Architecture (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 17&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Landscape Architecture (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 17&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Banking &amp; Financial Services (NP)&lt;br /&gt;Banking &amp; Financial Services (SP)&lt;br /&gt;Banking &amp; Financial Services (NYP)1 &lt;br /&gt; 17&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Logistics Management (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 17&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Marketing (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 17&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Biomedical Science / Biomedical Laboratory Technology (NP)2&lt;br /&gt;Biomedical Sciences (RP)&lt;br /&gt;Biomedical Science (SP)&lt;br /&gt;Molecular Biotechnology (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 17&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Computer Engineering (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 17&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Digital Media (SP)3&lt;br /&gt;Multimedia &amp; Animation (NP)4&lt;br /&gt; 17&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Biotechnology (NP)&lt;br /&gt;Biotechnology (RP)&lt;br /&gt;Biotechnology (SP)&lt;br /&gt;Biotechnology/ Biomedical Science (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 18&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Product Design &amp; Innovation (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 18&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Business Informatics (NYP)&lt;br /&gt;Business Information Technology (NP)&lt;br /&gt;Business Information Technology (SP)&lt;br /&gt;Business Information Technology (TP) &lt;br /&gt; 18&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Internet and Multimedia Development (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 18&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Marine Engineering (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 18&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Maritime Transportation Management (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 18&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Industrial Design (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 18&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Product &amp; Industrial Design (TP) &lt;br /&gt; 18&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Facilities Management for Business (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 19 &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Property Development and Facilities Management (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 19&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Business Process &amp; Systems Engineering (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 19&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Real Estate Business (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 20&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Information Communication Technology (Broadband and Security Services/Server Management and Services) (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 21&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Quality Management &amp; Engineering (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 21&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Info-Communications (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 21&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Multimedia &amp; Infocomm Technology (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 21&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Marine &amp; Offshore Technology (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 21&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Materials Science (RP)&lt;br /&gt; 22&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Information Technology (Mobile Computing) (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 22&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Internetworking &amp; Communications (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 22&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Intelligent Building Technology (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 23&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Computer &amp; Network Technology (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 23&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Civil &amp; Environmental Engineering (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 24&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Engineering Common Year Programme (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 25&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Telecommunications (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 25&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Business Applications (RP)&lt;br /&gt; 25&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Civil &amp; Structural Engineering (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 26&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Biomedical Electronics (RP)&lt;br /&gt; 26 &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Electrical Engineering (NP)&lt;br /&gt;Electrical &amp; Electronic Engineering (SP)&lt;br /&gt; 26&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Communications &amp; Automation Electronics (RP)&lt;br /&gt;Electronics (Aerospace Electronics) (TP)&lt;br /&gt;Electronic &amp; Computer Engineering (NP)&lt;br /&gt;Electronics, Computer &amp; Communication Engineering (SP)&lt;br /&gt;Electronics, Computer &amp; Communications Engineering (NYP)&lt;br /&gt;Electronics / Telecommunications / Computer Engineering / Microelectronics (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 26&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Industrial &amp; Operations Management (RP)&lt;br /&gt; 26&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Manufacturing Engineering (NYP)&lt;br /&gt;Mechanical Engineering (SP)&lt;br /&gt;Mechanical Engineering (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 26 &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Mechatronic Engineering (NP)&lt;br /&gt;Mechatronics (SP)&lt;br /&gt;Mechatronics (TP)&lt;br /&gt;Mechatronics Engineering (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 26 &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Business Computing (RP)&lt;br /&gt; 26&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Engineering Informatics (NYP)&lt;br /&gt;Engineering Informatics (NP)&lt;br /&gt; 26&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Information Technology (NYP)&lt;br /&gt;Information Technology (NP)&lt;br /&gt;Information Technology (RP)&lt;br /&gt;Information Technology (SP)&lt;br /&gt;Information Technology (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 26 &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Mobile and Wireless Computing (TP)&lt;br /&gt; 26 &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;New Media (RP)&lt;br /&gt; 26&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Health Sciences (Nursing) (NP)&lt;br /&gt;Nursing (NYP)&lt;br /&gt; 28&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114452995995888327?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114452995995888327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114452995995888327' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114452995995888327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114452995995888327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/04/poly-courses-2006-cut-off-points.html' title='Poly Courses 2006 Cut Off Points'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114441699570257335</id><published>2006-04-07T06:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-07T06:36:35.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If I Could Tell You</title><content type='html'>If I Could Tell You&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;  Time will say nothing but I told you so,&lt;br /&gt;Time only knows the price we have to pay;&lt;br /&gt;If I could tell you I would let you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we should weep when clowns put on their show,&lt;br /&gt;If we should stumble when musicians play,&lt;br /&gt;Time will say nothing but I told you so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are no fortunes to be told, although,&lt;br /&gt;Because I love you more than I can say,&lt;br /&gt;If I could tell you I would let you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,&lt;br /&gt;There must be reasons why the leaves decay;&lt;br /&gt;Time will say nothing but I told you so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the roses really want to grow,&lt;br /&gt;The vision seriously intends to stay;&lt;br /&gt;If I could tell you I would let you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suppose all the lions get up and go,&lt;br /&gt;And all the brooks and soldiers run away;&lt;br /&gt;Will Time say nothing but I told you so?&lt;br /&gt;If I could tell you I would let you know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W.H. Auden&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114441699570257335?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114441699570257335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114441699570257335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114441699570257335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114441699570257335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/04/if-i-could-tell-you.html' title='If I Could Tell You'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114433254223802037</id><published>2006-04-06T07:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-06T07:38:16.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When it is time.</title><content type='html'>Someone asked why my blogging is dark and damp like a rotten cellar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is people is we forget.&lt;br /&gt;We forget many things and that's what allows history to repeat like a hopeless vinyl on a turntable of manic thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see none of us are really any better than the next BUT we think we are.&lt;br /&gt;We are indoctrinated through political lies and parental misguidance that there is a social order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the filmsy straw infastructure upon which these systems are leaning on.&lt;br /&gt;And what is core consequence? Think about it.&lt;br /&gt;When one ball bounces in differently it is screamed at! and if fear isn't pummelled into it's every cell then brutality reigns. Fear, pain and shameless brutality smiles at every turn of this boul·e·vard of shattered mirages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh... Borrowed time in a borrowed world. But isn't it odd we see chest thumping insanities walking in two thousand dollar suits to offices high above everyone else who think they will live forever?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's sickening to stomach the fact that some people think they  are smarter than the rest of us. It is the rash that itches near the ankles of humanity.&lt;br /&gt;It's spreading.&lt;br /&gt;Fast.&lt;br /&gt;with fervour and fury.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forget me not. Forget me not Forget me not.&lt;br /&gt;IT is when you forget that we are mere flesh that will melt in heat.&lt;br /&gt;It the tardiness that makes us rule a world we don't own.&lt;br /&gt;For it owns us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rivers will flow will flow will flow to where they must.&lt;br /&gt;The eagles will fly will fly will fly to where they can.&lt;br /&gt;We humans will cease will cease will cease when it's time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114433254223802037?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114433254223802037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114433254223802037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114433254223802037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114433254223802037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/04/when-it-is-time.html' title='When it is time.'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114313093692868860</id><published>2006-03-23T08:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T08:24:03.710-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rich Fraud</title><content type='html'>Fraud Fraud Fraud. &lt;br /&gt;That is all it is.&lt;br /&gt;Stupidity, Greed and Lala land.&lt;br /&gt;Richy rich Frauder.&lt;br /&gt;Tat is all it was. &lt;br /&gt;Lies Coverups and treating others like idiots.&lt;br /&gt;Fraud Grouch smiling slime.&lt;br /&gt;Fraud.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114313093692868860?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114313093692868860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114313093692868860' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114313093692868860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114313093692868860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/03/rich-fraud.html' title='Rich Fraud'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114269641558651447</id><published>2006-03-18T07:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-18T07:40:15.596-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taken care of</title><content type='html'>That's what I was told.&lt;br /&gt;The ash was blown from his palm.&lt;br /&gt;And looked sternly into my eyes and said. &lt;br /&gt;They have been taken care of.&lt;br /&gt;and they will I am sure.&lt;br /&gt;Fury hath no bounds. &lt;br /&gt;May the lord have Mercy on your soul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114269641558651447?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114269641558651447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114269641558651447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114269641558651447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114269641558651447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/03/taken-care-of.html' title='Taken care of'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114209935838500044</id><published>2006-03-11T09:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-11T09:49:18.396-08:00</updated><title type='text'>4 U N I</title><content type='html'>Ah... Every face has a story behind it. Every eye with a slightness of the inner self.&lt;br /&gt;I did work pretty hard for this bunch. But you know wat. I feel it is worth it. &lt;br /&gt;I will continue to pray for these kids and wish them well in their journey ahead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114209935838500044?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114209935838500044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114209935838500044' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114209935838500044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114209935838500044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/03/4-u-n-i.html' title='4 U N I'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114111244241483881</id><published>2006-02-27T23:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T23:40:42.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Professional Differences</title><content type='html'>Ah... words. I love your choice of perculair words.&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing professional about it. So stop calling it tat.&lt;br /&gt;Some just choose a life of missing logic. &lt;br /&gt;Tis Ok. Carry on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114111244241483881?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114111244241483881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114111244241483881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114111244241483881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114111244241483881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/02/professional-differences.html' title='Professional Differences'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-114105957954687096</id><published>2006-02-27T08:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T08:59:39.560-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cost of  a Great Lesson</title><content type='html'>"You see here, I don't give a rat's posterior about loyalities anymore!" and announced like a braying beast. I am thankful for the most valuable lesson yet. People. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a small sum, you have showed who you are.Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-114105957954687096?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/114105957954687096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=114105957954687096' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114105957954687096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/114105957954687096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/02/cost-of-great-lesson.html' title='The Cost of  a Great Lesson'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-113991296215419385</id><published>2006-02-14T02:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T02:31:33.023-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pansy Smansy</title><content type='html'>I saw a book today which connected with me.&lt;br /&gt;It had one perculiar theme that was resounding.&lt;br /&gt;Of how circumstances forces a person to compensate for&lt;br /&gt;orientations that they would otherwise not have.&lt;br /&gt;I was told once, that I could not.&lt;br /&gt;Misleading and utter betrayal.&lt;br /&gt;The truth is out.&lt;br /&gt;Fortifying the swelling banks&lt;br /&gt;doesn't mean I am   safe are you?&lt;br /&gt;Becoming more alone. &lt;br /&gt;d&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;r&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;iti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                            ng &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;into a cold endless chasm of delusion from which one can never come back from.&lt;br /&gt;Misjudgement. Severe misjudgement. WAkey wakey. &lt;br /&gt;BEars aren't gonna be there much longer.&lt;br /&gt;A twack with a 4 by 4 is in order.&lt;br /&gt;Some blood. no no no &lt;br /&gt;make it reddeningly more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sordid soul of pseudo presence in &lt;br /&gt;convulsing pretence.&lt;br /&gt;People aren't nearly as beneath you as you would like them to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hated existence of betrayal and misleading others.&lt;br /&gt;A price to be paid. &lt;br /&gt;No dollars will ever fulfill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to the grown up world of realism.&lt;br /&gt;Just crawl back into the hole &lt;br /&gt;crawl crawl &lt;br /&gt;crawl &lt;br /&gt;extinguished.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-113991296215419385?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/113991296215419385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=113991296215419385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113991296215419385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113991296215419385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/02/pansy-smansy.html' title='Pansy Smansy'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-113984798659314067</id><published>2006-02-13T08:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T08:26:26.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Severe</title><content type='html'>That is because u are not starving yet.&lt;br /&gt;U turn is coming.&lt;br /&gt;Wati.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-113984798659314067?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/113984798659314067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=113984798659314067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113984798659314067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113984798659314067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/02/severe.html' title='Severe'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-113959711848651132</id><published>2006-02-10T10:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-10T10:45:18.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Originality. "one kilo how much huh?"</title><content type='html'>A boy a girl and a snail climbed in a computer and started copying everything.&lt;br /&gt;The snail died inside the computer because its slime got caught&lt;br /&gt;between the latch and catch.&lt;br /&gt;Lying in the pool of caramelised snaily entrails was the boy and girl. &lt;br /&gt;Enter Marshymellow man. &lt;br /&gt;Doom dum doom dum dimmy dim dumb.&lt;br /&gt;Started expousing &lt;br /&gt;and did not stop. &lt;br /&gt;started plowing the girl and boy with a sharp rake till their nerves started spewing out on the streets. &lt;br /&gt;The girl screamed,"Oh no more of this enterprise. shall I endure. ensure will I a better potty for me to sit on."&lt;br /&gt;Everything. she did.&lt;br /&gt;Perceiving perceiving. u know it has to come to a conclusion at some point right.&lt;br /&gt;It's like there is a magic pen of peril in her hands. She writes about Mr.CAterpiLLar. Of how he is dearly green with cheeks powdered and chin double.&lt;br /&gt;Goobledy &lt;br /&gt;Stuff your face with more. More more more. &lt;br /&gt;Just when your stomach seams tighten, threatening to explode&lt;br /&gt;Turn on the pudding pipe and let in some more.&lt;br /&gt;Corn I think it was.&lt;br /&gt;But her hunger is demonic. &lt;br /&gt;So she ate the poor caramel coated boy too....&lt;br /&gt;Bow wow. woofy woofy. Games have come to the end. &lt;br /&gt;The gas inside boils.&lt;br /&gt;PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSZZZZZZZT......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whew... Holy cows, sweet goats of mother ducks. What a farmish smell....&lt;br /&gt;Chickens, goose and whose ends are feathered.&lt;br /&gt;People are running away. Far. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the snail knows taht the boy isn't really eaten. She swallowed him whole. &lt;br /&gt;He is punching his way through her swollen veiny gut.&lt;br /&gt;Now. Lips engorged and crackling, skin morbid and shrinking....&lt;br /&gt;It's now the curtains close. &lt;br /&gt;The lights are switched off.&lt;br /&gt;The thoughts of the doctor stop.&lt;br /&gt;The icy cold tiles are mopped.&lt;br /&gt;The doors are shut on the &lt;br /&gt;Unoriginal Morgue of Life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-113959711848651132?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/113959711848651132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=113959711848651132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113959711848651132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113959711848651132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/02/originality-one-kilo-how-much-huh.html' title='Originality. &quot;one kilo how much huh?&quot;'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-113903566287122654</id><published>2006-02-03T22:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T22:47:42.876-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I saw you and I feel</title><content type='html'>Not so long ago I visited my uncle and aunt who lived&lt;br /&gt;in a village. &lt;br /&gt;Haunted by the death of all their children. They too died unhappily.&lt;br /&gt;When I walked into the dark hut &lt;br /&gt;I feel miserable that they didn't have the sense to bury themselves after they were done.&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. Look now, little nothing. Stop the prancing. Settle down.&lt;br /&gt;I saw the fly and felt pity for that is it's role.&lt;br /&gt;I saw the sand and felt nothing for it is everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;I saw the roof of the hut and felt sick for it is where the bodies hang.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-113903566287122654?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/113903566287122654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=113903566287122654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113903566287122654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113903566287122654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-saw-you-and-i-feel.html' title='I saw you and I feel'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-113863747926643362</id><published>2006-01-30T07:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T08:11:19.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Still</title><content type='html'>We will never gain by adding.&lt;br /&gt;Subtract and take away &lt;br /&gt;and blessed ye will&lt;br /&gt;be more. &lt;br /&gt;in the light of&lt;br /&gt;less.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-113863747926643362?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/113863747926643362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=113863747926643362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113863747926643362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113863747926643362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/01/still.html' title='Still'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-113850754899018937</id><published>2006-01-28T20:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-28T20:05:49.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Subtext</title><content type='html'>aS a certain fisherwoman passed by a palace carrying her fish, the Queen appeared at one of the windows and beckoned her to come near and show what she had. At that moment a very big fish jumped about in the bottom of the basket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is it a he or a she?" inquired the Queen. "I wish to purchase a she-fish."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On hearing this the fish laughed aloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's a he," replied the fisherwoman, and proceeded on her rounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Queen returned to her room in a great rage; and on coming to see her in the evening, the King noticed that something had disturbed her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you indisposed?" he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No; but I am very much annoyed at the strange behaviour of a fish. A woman brought me one to-day, and on my inquiring whether it was a male or female, the fish laughed most rudely."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A fish laugh! Impossible! You must be dreaming."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am not a fool. I speak of what I have seen with my own eyes and have heard with my own ears."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Passing strange! Be it so. I will inquire, concerning it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the morrow the King repeated to his vizier what his wife had told him, and bade him investigate the matter, and be ready with a satisfactory answer within six months, on pain of death. The vizier promised to do his best, though he felt almost certain of failure. For five months he laboured indefatigably to find a reason for the laughter of the fish. He sought everywhere and from every one. The wise and learned, and they who were skilled in magic and in all manner of trickery, were consulted. Nobody, however, could explain the matter; and so he returned broken-hearted to his house, and began to arrange his affairs in prospect of certain death, for he had had sufficient experience of the King to know that his Majesty would not go back from his threat. Amongst other things, he advised his son to travel for a time, until the King's anger should have somewhat cooled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young fellow, who was both clever and handsome, started off whithersoever Kismat might lead him. He had been gone some days, when he fell in with an old farmer, who also was on a journey to a certain village. Finding the old man very pleasant, he asked him if he might accompany him, professing to be on a visit to the same place. The old farmer agreed, and they walked along together. The day was hot, and the way was long and weary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't you think it would be pleasanter if you and I sometimes gave one another a lift?" said the youth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What a fool the man is!" thought the old farmer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presently they passed through a field of corn ready for the sickle, and looking like a sea of gold as it waved to and fro in the breeze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is this eaten or not?" said the young man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not understanding his meaning, the old man replied, "I don't know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a little while the two travellers arrived at a big village, where the young man gave his companion a clasp-knife, and said, "Take this, friend, and get two horses with it; "but, mind and bring it back, for it is very precious."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man, looking half amused and half angry, pushed back the knife, muttering something to the effect that his friend was either a fool himself or else trying to play the fool with him. The young man pretended not to notice his reply, and remained almost silent till they reached the city, a short distance outside which Was the old farmer's house. They walked about the bazar and went to the mosque, but nobody saluted them or invited them to come in and rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What a large cemetery!" exclaimed the young man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What does the man mean," thought 'the old farmer, "calling this largely populated city a cemetery?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On leaving the city their way led through a cemetery. where a few people were praying beside a grave and distributing chapatis and kulchas to passers-by, in the name of their beloved dead. They beckoned to the two travellers and gave them as much as they would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What a splendid city this is!" said the young man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now, the man must surely be demented!" thought the old farmer. "I wonder what he will do, next? He will be calling the land water, and the water land; and be speaking of light where there is darkness, and of darkness when it is light." However, he kept his thoughts to himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presently, they had to wade through a stream that ran along the edge of the cemetery. The water was rather deep, so the old farmer took off his shoes and paijamas and crossed over; but the young man waded through it with his shoes and paijamas on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well! I never did see such a perfect fool, both in word and in deed," said the old man to, himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, he liked the fellow; and thinking that he would amuse his wife and daughter, he invited him to come and stay at his house as long as he had occasion to remain in the village.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you very much," the young man replied; "but let me first inquire, if you please, whether the beam of your house is strong."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old farmer left him in despair, and entered his house laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There is a man in yonder field," he said, after returning their greetings. "He has come the greater part of the way with me, and I wanted him to put up here as long as he had to stay in this village. But the fellow is such a fool that I cannot make anything out of him. He wants to know if the beam of this house is all right. The man must be mad!" and saying this, he burst into a fit of laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Father," said the farmer's daughter, who was a very sharp and wise girl, "this man, whosoever he is, is no fool, as you deem him. He only wishes to know if you can afford to entertain him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh! of course," replied, the farmer. "I see. Well, perhaps you can help me to solve some of his other mysteries. While we were walking together he asked whether he should carry me or I should carry him, as he thought that would be a pleasanter mode of proceeding."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Most assuredly," said the girl. "He meant that one of you should tell a story to beguile the time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yes. Well, we were passing through a corn-field, when he asked me whether it was eaten or not."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And didn't you know the meaning of this, father? He simply wished to know if the man was in debt or not; because, if the owner of the field was in debt, then the produce of the field was as good as eaten to him; that is, it would have to go to his creditors."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, yes, yes, of course! Then, on entering a certain village, he bade me take his clasp-knife and get two horses with it, and bring back the knife again to him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are not two stout sticks as good as two horses for helping one along on the road? He only asked you to cut a couple of sticks and be careful not to lose his knife."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I see," said the farmer. "While we were walking over the city we did not .see anybody that we knew, and not a soul gave us a scrap of anything to eat, till we were passing the cemetery; but there some people called to us and put into our hands some chapatis and kulchas; so my companion called the city a cemetery, and the cemetery a city."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This also is to be understood, father, if one thinks of the city as the place where everything is to be obtained, and of inhospitable people as worse than the dead. The city, though crowded with people, was as if dead, as far as you were concerned; while, in the cemetery, which is crowded with the dead, you were saluted by kind friends and provided with bread."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"True, true!" said' the astonished farmer. "Then, just now, when we were crossing the stream, he waded through it without taking off his shoes and paijamas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I admire his wisdom," replied the girl. "I have often thought how stupid people were to venture into that swiftly flowing stream and over those sharp stones with bare feet. The slightest stumble and they would fall, and be wetted from head to foot. This friend of yours is a most wise man. I should like to see him and speak to him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Very well," said the farmer; "I will go and find him, and bring him in."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tell him, father, that our beams are strong enough, and then he will come in. I'll send on, ahead a present to the man, to show him that we can afford to have him for our guest."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Accordingly she called a servant and sent him to the young man with a present of a basin of ghee, twelve chapatis, and a jar of milk, and the following message:--" O friend, the moon is full; twelve months make a year, and the sea is overflowing with water."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half-way the bearer of this present and message met his little son, who, seeing what was in the basket, begged his father to give him some of the food. His father foolishly complied. Presently he saw the young man, and gave him the rest of the present and the message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Give your mistress my salaam," he replied, "and tell her that the moon is new, and that I can only find eleven months in the year, and the sea is by no means full."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not understanding the meaning of these words, the servant repeated them word for word, as he had heard them, to his mistress; and thus his theft was discovered, and he was severely punished. After a little while the young man appeared with the old farmer. Great attention was shown to him, and he was treated in every way as if he were the son of a great man, although his humble host knew nothing of his origin. At length be told them everything--about the laughing of the fish, his father's threatened execution, and his own banishment--and asked their advice as to what he should do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The laughing of the fish," said the girl, "which seems to have been the cause of all this trouble, indicates that there is a man in the palace who is plotting against the King's life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Joy, joy!" exclaimed the vizier's son. "There is yet time for me to return and save my father from an ignominious and unjust death, and the King from danger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following day be hastened back to his own country, taking with him the farmer's daughter. Immediately on arrival he ran to the palace and informed his father of what he had heard. The poor vizier, now almost dead from the expectation of death, was at once carried to the King, to whom be repeated the news that his son had just brought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Never!" said the King.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But it must be, so, your Majesty," replied the vizier; "and in order to prove the truth of what I have heard, I pray you to call together all the maids in your palace, and order them to jump over a pit, which must be dug. We'll soon find out whether there is any man there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The King had the pit dug, and commanded all the maids belonging to the palace to try to jump it. All of them tried, but only one succeeded. That one was found to be a man!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus was the Queen satisfied, and the faithful old vizier saved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, as soon as could be, the vizier's son married the old farmer's daughter and a most happy marriage it was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-113850754899018937?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/113850754899018937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=113850754899018937' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113850754899018937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113850754899018937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/01/subtext.html' title='Subtext'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-113837816319742437</id><published>2006-01-27T08:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T08:14:16.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What must it have taken?</title><content type='html'>Blood is thicker than water.&lt;br /&gt;Interests change so do relationships.&lt;br /&gt;For those have made your conclusions about my cowardly entries&lt;br /&gt;which I take down after I have ranted understand this. &lt;br /&gt;Wordshed is far better than bloodshed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how you would you feel if you were in my position of being maniuplated?&lt;br /&gt;At least I say  what I feel. So go ahead. Make your judgements. I can't stop you.&lt;br /&gt;I will live with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But ask this. What must it have taken? Is it fated?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-113837816319742437?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/113837816319742437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=113837816319742437' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113837816319742437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113837816319742437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/01/what-must-it-have-taken.html' title='What must it have taken?'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-113795111284438886</id><published>2006-01-22T09:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T09:31:52.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandmother.</title><content type='html'>My grandmother passed on the the 17th of Jan 2006. I was in the ambulance. &lt;br /&gt;It will take some time to heal. &lt;br /&gt;She is a good soul. Anbe Sivam.&lt;br /&gt;Will not be blogging for a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-113795111284438886?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/113795111284438886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=113795111284438886' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113795111284438886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113795111284438886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/01/grandmother.html' title='Grandmother.'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076867.post-113746939733153683</id><published>2006-01-16T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T19:43:17.340-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merkava</title><content type='html'>The red dust rising asunder in welcome of the regal sword. &lt;br /&gt;The mares disquiet with steely gazes. &lt;br /&gt;This divine merkava gold and pure. &lt;br /&gt;It rides with the command from upon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21076867-113746939733153683?l=merkavarian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/feeds/113746939733153683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21076867&amp;postID=113746939733153683' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113746939733153683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21076867/posts/default/113746939733153683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merkavarian.blogspot.com/2006/01/merkava.html' title='Merkava'/><author><name>legacy trail</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11749450707569864544</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/32/43736058_0f70e58da6_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
