<?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-7571613357915363179</id><updated>2012-02-16T20:17:49.274-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One Hundred Love Stories</title><subtitle type='html'>As part of Josie Long's project '100 Days to Make Me A Better Person', I pledge to write one love story, once a day, for one hundred days.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lina</name><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>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-7540726935170644766</id><published>2011-01-03T08:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T08:25:57.099-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 100 From Algiers with Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/TSH3pCBAzSI/AAAAAAAAAUg/RXMmBMRIJeQ/s1600/algeria-happy-camel-Jared-Kelly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/TSH3pCBAzSI/AAAAAAAAAUg/RXMmBMRIJeQ/s320/algeria-happy-camel-Jared-Kelly.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557995699439717666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I without control? How do moments add up to life? Purpose. Purpose. Always searching for purpose. Any purpose will do. As long as I can cage it. Atomise it. Label it. Explain it. Because everything happens for a reason. So I’m always on the look out for the reason. Now. Immediate. Understand. Process. Make peace with. Change. Find myself in it. Relentless search for reason purpose end result. Understanding and changing. Almost obsessive. What if there was no purpose? What if there was no search? I will search the no-search. Find purpose in the no-purpose. Make a circle and measure whatever it is I can measure. What if there is no measure? No instruments? What if there are no alphanumeric measurements? Can it be? How can it be? My body – what does it hold? Relentless search. Outer measurements. Form. Body weight. Hair colour. Place of origin. Places of formation. Language. Languages. Parents. Heritage. Travel. Change. Pain. Disruption. Measurements. What if you’ve measured and you’ve measured. And you’ve come up with 165cm , translates into 5’4 maybe 5’3, 127lbs, 56kgs – give or take and right now I want to take, tricultural, trilingual, well-educated, good job in a bad economy, broken hearts, dreams chased, gut followed all over the world, co-habiting – not single, not married, no children – yet. Measurements – all true. Some have physical form. Some have memory – almost physical. Some joyful, some hurt. There’s a kid behind me kicking my seat. Measurement. Under. Inside. When the measurements stop. Not stop. Don’t serve. Because the search for measurements can go on. Even what you can eventually measure you can’t plan for. You can’t measure in advance. Holy shit. A beautiful, explosive, heart-opening realization. What emerges for you to measure if you need to, if you are so driven, is like magic – unpredictable, unknowable, uncontrollable, not yours, stunning, a mystery – immeasurable, even as you measure it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-7540726935170644766?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/7540726935170644766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2011/01/day-100-from-algiers-with-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/7540726935170644766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/7540726935170644766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2011/01/day-100-from-algiers-with-love.html' title='Day 100 From Algiers with Love'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/TSH3pCBAzSI/AAAAAAAAAUg/RXMmBMRIJeQ/s72-c/algeria-happy-camel-Jared-Kelly.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-6832645063444398754</id><published>2010-03-09T14:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T14:58:52.125-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 99 Tray and Lisa or The Love That Never Was</title><content type='html'>Tray and Lisa ran in the same Chicago social circles. At first, which was two years ago, they were indifferent to one another. Lisa thought was Tray was aloof and weird, and Tray thought Lisa was superficial and annoying. After about a year of hanging around the same group of friends, and not being friendly with one another, the ice began to thaw. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They bonded over dancing, which they both loved to do. It may have been someone’s birthday, and it may have been Danny’s Bar, but there was definitely dancing involved. Lisa began to think Tray was funny and unusual, in that endearing kind of way, and Tray began to think that Lisa was cute and interesting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither one of them made a move. They would hang out with their friends, moderately flirt with one another, and then part ways. It may have been inertia or it may have been shyness. Either way, life went on and Lisa started dating someone else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Within a month of Lisa starting to date someone else, Lisa and Tray found themselves dancing together at Danny’s. All their friends had gone home, they had one too many Vodka and pineapple juice and it was a full moon. Tray, after months of mild flirtation made his killer move. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a few days, Tray and Lisa didn’t exactly date, but spend a good chunk of time together. Tray gave Lisa a piggy back while riding his bicycle. They walked on the beach at night. And they went swimming in Lake Michigan during the day. And that was it. Lisa decided to spend her energy and time on the other guy she was actually dating; who at the time she thought looked much better than Tray on paper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, of course, things with that guy didn’t work out and Lisa realised how much fun Tray was. She kept hoping to run into him, but of-course, she didn’t. She saw a lot of their mutual friends, but Tray seemed to have disappeared. She finally called him and nonchalantly suggested they go dancing. Tray agreed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before Lisa had a chance to confess her growing affection, Tray announced that he had a new girlfriend, and Lisa went home, hopes dashed, convinced the universe had played a cruel trick on her. And life went on.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four months later, Tray broke up with his girlfriend. In that same week Lisa, completely unexpectedly, came across someone who felt special beyond words. Sometimes things between two people really aren’t meant to be. And life goes on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-6832645063444398754?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/6832645063444398754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-99-tray-and-lisa-or-love-that-never.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6832645063444398754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6832645063444398754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-99-tray-and-lisa-or-love-that-never.html' title='Day 99 Tray and Lisa or The Love That Never Was'/><author><name>Lina</name><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-7571613357915363179.post-1348207904798425395</id><published>2010-03-08T16:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T16:18:28.354-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 98 Lora and Eddie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S5WTwvQAPAI/AAAAAAAAATo/RbR9kktiQB8/s1600-h/6133_136691392245_503187245_3241542_218710_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S5WTwvQAPAI/AAAAAAAAATo/RbR9kktiQB8/s320/6133_136691392245_503187245_3241542_218710_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446421789901077506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lora (see Day 10 Lora and Lina) first heard about Eddie from Yoni (see Day 12 Yoni and Mere) and she was dubious. Yoni was an Israeli friend of Lora’s who was always pushing her to get more connected to Jewish culture, especially to klezmer music, which she hates, so she was suspicious of his politics and his friends. The first time Lora saw Eddie, she noticed his beard,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lora: there were all these very anti-religious secular Arabs and Jews around, and they all had the same damn beard as though they were religious. This was very funny for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During their first conversation, at one of the artsy parties they frequented, Eddie remembers looking down Lora’s shirt, and Lora remembers that he told her he was a political writer and she was like, “ew, political writer”. Lora is a political writer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They got talking about Gaza. It was January 2009, a month after what the Israeli government were calling Operation Cast Lead. Eddie asked Lora to go for a drink with him, and Lora declined. Instead, she said “let’s make a pact to get to Gaza in the next 6 months” and he said “okay”. A week later, out of the blue, Lora was invited to join a humanitarian delegation to Gaza, and she called up Eddie to let him know of the opportunity. Eddie had an ohshitmoment,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eddie: like oh shit I can actually send myself to Gaza, oh shit I might be in Gaza really soon, oh shit GAZA, oh shit homeland, oh shit hot girl+gaza = joy+pain wow wow wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eddie kept changing his mind about going, and didn’t buy his plane ticket till three days before they were due to fly out from Chicago to Cairo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Egypt, they waited for five days at the Egypt/Gaza border, camping out, before they were let in. After the delegation’s work in Gaza was done, Lora decided to stay in Gaza for an extra month to do translation work for a human rights organisation. And Eddie decided to stay in Gaza for an extra month to work on what has now become a film project. Their friendship deepened, but Eddie was seeing someone else back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back home, in Chicago, some few months later, Eddie found himself single and things between Lora and Eddie blossomed. Lora had always felt very natural around him. They opened up to each other pretty quickly. Eddie started spending hours working with Lora on her book, making very detailed edit suggestions. He owned land in Taybeh, a village in the West Bank north of Jerusalem, which was very sexy to Lora. Very quickly, within a couple of weeks, Lora knew in her gut that this was for real. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being with Eddie has taught Lora not to be so neurotic. She calls it “happiness by obligation”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lora: If you care about the person you’re with, you soon realize that if you’re sad, it will affect them, and your relationship, and everything. So you have to figure out how to deal with your emotions in a healthier way. I’ve really put emotional stability as a priority because of Eddie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eddie has learnt what it feels like to REALLY be listened to for once and it feels great, “I didn’t realise that a relationship could be so easy, but when you really listen to the other person you can really understand them”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A month after they got together, Lora was accepted to teach English in Paris and after much discussion, Eddie accepted to follow her across the globe a second time. Lora knew she had found someone special and it seemed dumb to drop it for logistical reasons like geography. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now it’s Lora’s turn to do the following across the globe so she’s following Eddie to the West Bank this April where he wants to make art. For the next two years, they will be between Paris and Palestine. For their anniversary, Lora got Eddie bulbs for flower bushes for him to plant on his land.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-1348207904798425395?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/1348207904798425395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-98-lora-and-eddie.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/1348207904798425395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/1348207904798425395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-98-lora-and-eddie.html' title='Day 98 Lora and Eddie'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S5WTwvQAPAI/AAAAAAAAATo/RbR9kktiQB8/s72-c/6133_136691392245_503187245_3241542_218710_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-3759952322481769789</id><published>2010-03-01T15:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T15:34:51.834-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 91 Louis and Petra</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S4xPFBRx8MI/AAAAAAAAATg/IO1BIAStRMo/s1600-h/seahorse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S4xPFBRx8MI/AAAAAAAAATg/IO1BIAStRMo/s320/seahorse.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443812997245038786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis and Petra met in 1998 in Environmental Science class at the University of East London. Petra flirted with Louis and Louis found her annoying and off-putting. She was too loud and exuberant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After getting to know her more, and finding that her zest for life was real and not a put-on, he started falling for her. By the time he had started to fall for her, she had moved on and was dating someone else. But Petra still had a soft spot for Louis and so they started an inappropriate friendship. Petra eventually broke up with the guy she was dating and she and Louis started a relationship proper. It lasted three months. Louis broke up with Petra because being in love was new to him, because it freaked him out and because he didn’t realise that love was not a smooth ride. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Petra finished her degree and moved back to Greece. Louis went on with life, relationships and political activism. Ten years later in November 2008, Petra got in touch with Louis out of the blue. She called him from Greece and told him she was planning to be in London during the Christmas vacation, and they should meet up. Later, she would tell Louis that she had called him in the naïve hope that something might be rekindled between them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something did rekindle between them. Louis fell in love with Petra all over again. Hard. They met up the day after Boxing day (which is the day after Christmas day) and had the best date. They met in a pub in Camden Town, had dinner in a Brazilian bar, and then went dancing at Madam JoJos, a funk club. It was the best six hours Louis had ever spent with a woman. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of her vacation Petra went back to Greece. Louis didn’t pine away. Instead he made a plan to spend the summer with her. Plan A was that Louis was going to spend a month in Zakinthos, where Petra lived. After agreeing to that, Petra got cold feet and the plan became that Louis would spend a month in Greece, but only a week of that would be in Zakinthos with Petra. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a long, difficult winter for Louis. But finally summer came round and it was time to go to Greece. He opened two separate bank accounts giving him access to ₤1,250 in overdraft and sold all his books for ₤800. Two weeks before he was due to fly out, Petra told him she had started dating someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis went to Greece. He had to know what had happened, and if there was still a glimmer of hope, which there always is, he was going to hold on to that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After spending two awkward days with Petra in Zakinthos, her boyfriend showed up with a menacing undertone. Louis spent three more awkward days with Petra, Petra’s boyfriend and Petra’s mum in Zakinthos. Louis eventually left Zakinthos and went on to other Greek adventures. He had fallen in love and he had followed his heart. He may have been heartbroken, but he had no regrets.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-3759952322481769789?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/3759952322481769789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-91-louis-and-petra.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/3759952322481769789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/3759952322481769789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-91-louis-and-petra.html' title='Day 91 Louis and Petra'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S4xPFBRx8MI/AAAAAAAAATg/IO1BIAStRMo/s72-c/seahorse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-4068210213822595137</id><published>2010-02-28T11:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T11:21:48.785-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 90 Adam and Rachel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S4rB8PkPi7I/AAAAAAAAATY/O9V6WX19vSo/s1600-h/Adam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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&lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Adam and Rachel met in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Grinnell   College&lt;/st1:city&gt;, &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;Iowa&lt;/st1:state&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; in 2004. The first thing Rachel said to Adam was that she was pretty enough never to have to work for a living, and he told her she was no where near pretty enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;They would run into each other at various parties without paying much attention to one another until the spin the bottle party. Rachel asked Adam to leave with her so she could avoid the advances of another Grinnellian. That may or may not have been a sorry excuse to leave with Adam. They spent the night wandering around campus looking for somewhere to make out and eventually settled on the TV common room in one of the dorms until they were thrown out by the security guard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And so began a relationship that was not so beautiful. They lasted for two years and they laughed a lot together, but in the end Adam was in his early 20s. He wanted to sow his oats and so Rachel left him. Adam eventually moved to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:city&gt; and Rachel moved to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;San Francisco&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;They stayed friends and there was that one fateful trip that Adam made to the Bay Area. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to win Rachel back or not, but he was open to it. In the first day, he found out that she had started to see someone else. He said nothing to her about the way he felt, and instead had a miserable time pretending to be her friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;For four years Adam languished in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. He tried dating other women. Many other women. In the beginning it would be exciting, but then problems would surface and he would always think of Rachel. For four years, he drove his friends crazy talking about her. He would call her family every Christmas and Rachel’s little brother in particular was always happy to hear from him. Rachel moved in with the guy she had started to date and it did not go well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After four years of pining away, Adam was in a spiral and the only thing left to do was call her. It was August 2009. Adam couldn’t have picked a better time to call. Rachel had broken up with her live-in boyfriend and was mourning the end of a doomed relationship. Adam invited her to come to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:city&gt; and Rachel, wanting to get the hell out of &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;San Francisco&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;, said yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The day Rachel flew into &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:city&gt; they drove out to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Lake Michigan&lt;/st1:place&gt; and made out. Rachel needed the distraction. Adam had carefully planned what he needed to say to win her back. Things did not go as planned. He ended up blurting out his undying love for her in the middle of making out by the lake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It took Adam a few more days and a few more trips to win Rachel over. They are planning to move to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;New York&lt;/st1:state&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; together this spring. For Rachel, the timing isn’t exactly perfect, she’s still reeling from her last relationship, but she says, “if we’re going to do this, let’s do this”. For Adam, he’s learnt that when you’re in a relationship with someone, your job is to make them happy, not chase after women and expect the person you’re with to put up with it because that’s just who you are. Reading more Socrates and less Nietzsche has helped Adam be a better person. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-4068210213822595137?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/4068210213822595137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/02/day-90-adam-and-rachel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/4068210213822595137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/4068210213822595137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/02/day-90-adam-and-rachel.html' title='Day 90 Adam and Rachel'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S4rB8PkPi7I/AAAAAAAAATY/O9V6WX19vSo/s72-c/Adam.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-3914659720967537138</id><published>2010-01-27T21:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T21:34:38.317-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 58 The Story of Yousef</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S2Ehy6vf_wI/AAAAAAAAATQ/CGfIitHUZpw/s1600-h/youssef.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S2Ehy6vf_wI/AAAAAAAAATQ/CGfIitHUZpw/s320/youssef.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431659784231190274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was little I would write made-up stories about the people around me. I would read the story out loud to the person it was about and then give it to them. When I was ten years old, I wrote The Story of Yousef, which was about my very good friend's dad. Athar, who is still my very good friend, was recently going through his dad's stuff and found this. It was 1988 and I had used a typewriter. Link is to a scanned pdf file of the original copy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://docs.google.com/fileview?id=0BwuCziznDWEiZDY2MGFhNTItMGE2MC00MWUzLWI2ZGItMTU2NDJlNWQzYWRh&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;https://docs.google.com/fileview?id=0BwuCziznDWEiZDY2MGFhNTItMGE2MC00MWUzLWI2ZGItMTU2NDJlNWQzYWRh&amp;amp;hl=en&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-3914659720967537138?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/3914659720967537138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-58-story-of-yousef.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/3914659720967537138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/3914659720967537138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-58-story-of-yousef.html' title='Day 58 The Story of Yousef'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S2Ehy6vf_wI/AAAAAAAAATQ/CGfIitHUZpw/s72-c/youssef.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-6232507338175929232</id><published>2010-01-26T08:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T09:02:42.004-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 57 Jenn and Tony part trois or The Problem with Keeping on</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S18gC-PFkRI/AAAAAAAAATI/15D-3_pxla8/s1600-h/Tony.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S18gC-PFkRI/AAAAAAAAATI/15D-3_pxla8/s320/Tony.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431094911070212370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jenn and Tony were first featured here on Day 17. On Day 29, we had a beautiful and honest reflection from Jenn on the struggles of being married, being a mother and being an artist. Today's post is an entry from Tony's blog on doing what you love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenn and I had a fight yesterday, all the stress built up and led to the kind of fight normally happy married couples have all the time. Stress builds, it leads to an argument which leads to a bi-annual fight, which leads to talking about what's really bothering us, which leads to six more happy months until the next time we get frustrated with each other. (I'm 32, so I'm hoping we have about 136 more six-month fight-ups.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I wonder what the kids see. If Jenn and I disagree about something, Tony Jr. immediately tries to get us to stop. We have to tell him, it's okay, mommy and daddy are just talking. We just disagree about a play. He gives us a weird look to see if we're telling the truth, then moves on to the next thing he wants to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think back to when I was a kid. I never saw my parents happy unless it was something to do with us kids. With everything going on, do I stop moving long enough for my kids to see that I actually am happy?  That I love their mom. Not in some abstract notion, but in the I can't imagine a day without her kind of way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can they see that amid all the frustrations, that I love what I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that my parents didn't. They worked so we'd have food and a roof over our head. I know the difference. But what happens if I get so caught up in the minutia that my kids don't ever see that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's difficult for me to keep it all straight sometimes. Jenn's joked that the past festivals have gone up primarily by my willpower. The festival and the reason behind it are things I'm extraordinarily passionate about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the first time I got the sense that anything besides us kids had made my mom happy. I was out west on this backpacking trip/class that my high school and two neighboring schools did. (Not the whole schools, but there were around thirty kids and faculty from three schools.) We stopped in a town and there was a care package waiting for me with some goodies, snack etc, and some mix-tapes to listen to that my mom had copied for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking of that a lot lately. The cancer's back. She's in chemo again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the bottom of that care package was a stack of poems she had written. I was seventeen and had no idea my mom had ever written anything more than a grocery list. She'd been squirreling them away for God knows how long. It was the first time I'd sensed any true joy on her part. Writing made her happy. I was seventeen before I had seen anything make her happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we're so busy keeping on, how can our kids even tell the difference between what we do for them, to keep food on the table, and what we love? How can we tell the difference?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amongst all the pain in the ass things around us, I have to remember to not gloss over the reason that I do it. When I'm filling out stacks of paper work, or reviewing a grant application, or trying to help directors cast fifty plus roles, I have to remember that I'm not doing it for money. That all the work I do on the festival is my way to connect my mom's dream, what made her happy, with my daughter's potential, what might make her happy. I love what I do, who I do it for, and who I do it with. I hope my kids can see that. And I hope my mom has a chance to see the future festivals and can see that too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;The Alcyone Festival 2010 opened last weekend and runs through February 27. This year's festival celebrates the work of Maria Irene Fornes, featuring four Chicago premieres and a Pulitzer finalist in rotating repertory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.halcyontheatre.org/blog/tonysblog/the-problem-with-keeping-on"&gt;http://www.halcyontheatre.org/blog/tonysblog/the-problem-with-keeping-on&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.halcyontheatre.org/productions/seasonfour/alcyone10"&gt;http://www.halcyontheatre.org/productions/seasonfour/alcyone10&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-6232507338175929232?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/6232507338175929232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-57-jenn-and-tony-part-trois-or.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6232507338175929232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6232507338175929232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-57-jenn-and-tony-part-trois-or.html' title='Day 57 Jenn and Tony part trois or The Problem with Keeping on'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S18gC-PFkRI/AAAAAAAAATI/15D-3_pxla8/s72-c/Tony.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-180134969210954839</id><published>2010-01-24T23:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T23:23:15.439-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 55 Eddie and Mary</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S11Fbgb85iI/AAAAAAAAATA/1FUP4jURl1E/s1600-h/tiny32+web.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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&lt;![endif]--&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Eddie is a great comic artist and fellow 100-day pledger. This is the story of how Eddie and Mary got together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Eddie and Mary met when they were 16 years old. They were both taking a creative writing class during the summer at &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Edinburgh&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;University&lt;/st1:placetype&gt; in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Scotland&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Eddie: We were from two different schools across town. Me from a well-to-do middle class school (called Boroughmuir), her from a slightly less well-to-do middle/working class high school in Portobello, &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Edinburgh&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;’s seaside area.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Eddie wore baggy jeans and long curly hair, and looked to Mary like a sexy hobbit. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Eddie: We got on well, chatting about films and music. It was that time in your life when you’re discovering all these cool things. I was raving about bands like Eels, The White Stripes and The Pixies, Mary about The &lt;st1:street st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:address st="on"&gt;Manic Street&lt;/st1:address&gt;&lt;/st1:street&gt; Preachers and Radiohead. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When Eddie introduced his current girlfriend of six weeks to Mary as a ‘friend’, it became obvious to everyone that he really liked Mary. Eddie and his girlfriend at the time spent all their time making out. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Eddie: It was extremely physical, though never arrived anywhere (I was promised Bra removing lessons, but never survived that long). But Mary and I just clicked on some other level. We were friends first, and I was really attracted to her. Mary was the kind of girl I wanted to be around.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Eddie’s girlfriend realised what was going on before Eddie did and dumped him, telling him he should go out with Mary. Eddie and Mary continued to hang out as friends. Eddie was hooked on Mary’s kindness and her intriguing personality. She was a mystery to him. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Eddie, at sixteen, was socially awkward and had no self-esteem, but he did have a game-plan. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Eddie: I had this long-game dating technique where I segwayed from being friends to going out. All it took was to spend time with a person and flirt and then one day hold their hand!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And so Eddie courted Mary. True to form, they spent time with each other, flirted and one day after talking about Eddie’s family and his grandpa’s mental illness, they held hands. A few days later, Eddie went in for the kill.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Eddie: On the beach, in the October cold I decided to make my move and kiss her. I was nervous and inexperienced and made a complete mess of it. Mary kind of scarpered off, probably shocked by exactly how awful a kiss it was.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Mary liked Eddie a lot, but it was nothing compared to the intense feelings she had for her ex-girlfriend who had broken her heart. Mary had never forgotten her and had almost come to the conclusion that she didn’t like men. Eddie, who had come to like Mary a whole lot by then and who was up for a challenge, persuaded her over the course of a few hours to give him another shot. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Eight years later, Eddie and Mary are living together in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Edinburgh&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. Over the years, they’ve discovered just how much they have in common and have grown to become best friends who really like being around each other. Mary introduced Eddie to comics. Eddie helps keep Mary happy, and he’s become a great kisser. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Mary: we mesh together in a really great way, and our relationship always feels really special. I often get those bursts of love, you know when you just realise you love someone soooo much, even though they are doing something really mundane, like eating broccoli.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;check out Eddie's very cool 100-day pledge to illustrate a tiny moment from his past, present or future &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://100tinymoments.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://100tinymoments.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-180134969210954839?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/180134969210954839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-55-eddie-and-mary.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/180134969210954839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/180134969210954839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-55-eddie-and-mary.html' title='Day 55 Eddie and Mary'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S11Fbgb85iI/AAAAAAAAATA/1FUP4jURl1E/s72-c/tiny32+web.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-5615534873731240817</id><published>2010-01-20T23:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T21:05:26.691-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 52 Chez and Bill</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S1gHg6SgMQI/AAAAAAAAASw/-pRlXFhHcBg/s1600-h/Chez+and+Bill.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S1gHg6SgMQI/AAAAAAAAASw/-pRlXFhHcBg/s320/Chez+and+Bill.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429097612779204866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chez and Bill went on their first date eight years ago this week. They had met two years earlier in Illinois Wesleyan College in Bloomington. They had mutual friends and would occasionally hang out in college, but didn’t date then because Bill always seemed to be in a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After graduating from college, they both moved back in to their respective parents’ homes which both happened to be in the southwest suburbs of Chicago. They continued to hang out with their mutual friends, and this time Bill was single. When they were together in a group, Chez and Bill would tease one another and be sarcastic, but would have intimate, on-line chats on instant messenger well into the night. Chez would come home and look forward to signing on instant messenger, hoping Bill would also be signed on. One night, he made an off-hand comment that if Chez knew how to throw a Frisbee forehand, Bill would have to marry her. Bill took Frisbee seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their on-line conversations got longer and more frequent. Bill confessed to Chez that he normally messes things up when he likes a woman, which could be a problem because he was getting to like her. That set the tone for their communication, open and honest. They went out on a date and things between them got pretty serious pretty quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chez remembers telling him that her favourite book was Catcher in the Rye. By the time she had gotten home from work the next day, Bill had gone out, bought Catcher in the Rye and had read the whole book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although things were going well, Chez didn’t trust it would last. She thought the first six months was the inevitable honeymoon period and after that it would all go to crap. It didn’t all go to crap and over time, things started to feel solid. Two and half years into their relationship, Chez found herself lost and uncertain about everything in her life except Bill. She was working in a domestic violence shelter and it was wearing her down, she was thinking of going back to school, but wasn’t sure what to study. Bill was the only thing that felt stable to Chez, and that’s when things between them started to feel solid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Chez, it was important to be with someone who understood the kind of pressure she was under working in a domestic violence shelter. When a car would cut into her way in the street and she’d get angry and shout, ‘The way white men drive is representative of the hierarchies in our society’, Bill would understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was also important that there was very little drama in their relationship. It doesn’t mean there wasn’t sadness or difficult moments, but there wasn’t any drama. When Chez’s little sister, who was 14 years old at the time, crashed Bill’s new car into a dumpster Bill’s reaction was to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chez and Bill were married in 2007. Chez has Bill’s initials ‘WJF’ tattooed on her ring finger, and Bill has ‘Chez’ tattooed on his ring finger. Bill taught Chez how to throw a Frisbee forehand and Chez has complete trust that their relationship will last.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-5615534873731240817?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/5615534873731240817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-52-chez-and-bill.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5615534873731240817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5615534873731240817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-52-chez-and-bill.html' title='Day 52 Chez and Bill'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S1gHg6SgMQI/AAAAAAAAASw/-pRlXFhHcBg/s72-c/Chez+and+Bill.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-2503746878404401113</id><published>2010-01-17T17:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T17:20:30.261-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 48 Christopher and Jill</title><content type='html'>Christopher had married his college girlfriend. They were together for seven years, and were divorced in 2008. This story is not about them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After getting legally separated in September 2008, after spending a quarter of his life devoted to the wrong person, Christopher decided to brave on-line dating. Match.com was not a good experience. Chemistry.com was better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the women he met on chemistry.com was Jill. Their first date was a year to the day his wife asked for a divorce. Christopher and Jill met in a bar in Union Square, New York City. It was too noisy so they tried a different place across the street which was even nosier. So, they went back to the original bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They bonded over bad chemistry.com dates and decided to have dinner in a Vietnamese place in the same neighbourhood. Christopher knew Jill liked him when she started finding silly excuses to touch his arm. Christopher leaned across the table and kissed her in the restaurant and she told him, ‘I wonder what the hell took you so long’. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christopher found Jill really easy to be with. She was very funny, she liked herself without being arrogant, and she seemed to like him a lot. In true Christopher-style, after dating Jill for two weeks, he was in love with her. He loved that she had an interesting job that inhabited a completely different job from his. He was a community organiser in East Brooklyn, she was a handbag designer in Manhattan. He loved that she didn’t take herself too seriously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But because Christopher was hesitant to become serious with someone new, hesitant to negotiate the inevitable tensions that come with an intimate relationship, he held back. For Christopher, holding back meant reminding himself that this wasn’t that. And it meant waiting for three months to tell Jill he loved her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jill is someone who brings out good things for the people around her, which is exactly what Christopher needed. And it helped that she got him to dress better. Since meeting Jill he has better glasses and even occasionally wears contact lenses, and has jeans that are not circa 1995. He even lets Jill take him out shopping, as long as he has veto power. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christopher has learnt to listen to his gut, to take things as they come and to be open to what the world throws at him. If he was being honest with himself when his marriage broke, he wouldn’t have been surprised that it did. So, he’s learning to be honest about what is going on around him, to listen to Jill, and to listen to himself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-2503746878404401113?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/2503746878404401113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-48-christopher-and-jill.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/2503746878404401113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/2503746878404401113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-48-christopher-and-jill.html' title='Day 48 Christopher and Jill'/><author><name>Lina</name><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-7571613357915363179.post-3644375911148433008</id><published>2010-01-14T20:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T20:08:08.741-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 45 Justin and Beth</title><content type='html'>Justin first saw Beth eighteen years ago on Michigan street in Dearborn wearing indoor soccer shoes and thought to himself, ‘Who is that cute girl?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beth: I don’t remember that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Justin: That’s because we didn’t talk then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beth: Well, it’s because you were desperate for a girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Justin’s college roommate was dating Beth’s college roommate so they would frequently find themselves in the same social circles and ended up working together on a Detroit community service project. Justin tried to make a play for Beth, but Beth had just come out of a three-year relationship with a narcissist and wasn’t ready for anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Justin tried playing with her hair while they watched a basketball game. He tried chasing her to her bedroom one night at a party. Nothing worked. She told him as nice as he was, she didn’t want to start anything with anyone. Justin backed off. At a Take Back the Night rally on campus, Justin didn’t pay much attention to Beth and Beth was disappointed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During that summer in 1991, Justin moved to Chicago to do an internship with the Chicago Reporter and Beth stayed in Michigan to work in Detroit. One weekend that summer, their college roommates were planning a big get-together. Justin wasn’t too sure about going, but his roommate convinced him by telling that Beth would be there. ‘Well, you never know’, thought Justin to himself and drove to Michigan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They got together that weekend on the understanding that it would be a casual relationship. What convinced Beth to finally date Justin is that they were going to be living in different cities. Beth was graduating and moving to Chicago, while Justin still had a year to go in Michigan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things between Justin and Beth didn’t remain ‘casual’ for very long, but the distance between their different cities gave Beth the space she needed. Six years after they started dating, Beth suggested they buy a house together. ‘I’m not buying a house with you unless we get married’, Justin told her. And so even though Beth didn’t believe in the institution of marriage, and Justin was Catholic. And even though Beth didn’t want to be with anyone who was not pro-choice, and Justin was Catholic. And even though Beth wanted to have children and raise them Jewish, and Justin was Catholic. They, somehow, figured it all out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the last eighteen years, they have grown together and gone through different phases in their relationship. They’ve lived through their 20s together, through a death in the family, and through the ordinary tribulations of life. Their relationship is the stuff that reality is made of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beth: I’m sorry that’s not much romance for your blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Justin gives Beth a playful and gentle punch on the chin.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are married, living in their Chicago home with their two beautiful daughters who are five and three years old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-3644375911148433008?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/3644375911148433008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-45-justin-and-beth.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/3644375911148433008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/3644375911148433008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-45-justin-and-beth.html' title='Day 45 Justin and Beth'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-53531166249919572</id><published>2010-01-02T19:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T17:00:09.762-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 33 Aboud and Tamara</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S0ATsJ3urGI/AAAAAAAAASo/aka4UeIoThY/s1600-h/Day+33.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S0ATsJ3urGI/AAAAAAAAASo/aka4UeIoThY/s320/Day+33.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422355600638913634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:612.0pt 792.0pt; 	margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; 	mso-header-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It was the summer of 1998 and Aboud was traveling around Europe with college friends after graduating from &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Georgetown&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;University&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. At the end of their European trip, after his college friends flew back to the &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;United States&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, Aboud continued on to J&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;ordan&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; to visit for a few days.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Aboud, who was born and raised in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:city&gt;’s suburbs, had frequently visited his family in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Palestine&lt;/st1:city&gt; and &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Jordan&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. But he had never seen &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Jordan&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; as an adult. He wanted to spend a few days in the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Middle  East&lt;/st1:place&gt;, but he didn’t want to be confined to family where all they would do was feed him. So, he snuck into &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Jordan&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; without telling any of his family members. At the advice of his mother's, Aboud decided to stay with Aunty Samar, an old friend of his mum’s because he didn’t know her and she didn’t know any of his family.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Aunty Samar had two daughters and a son. On the day of his arrivel to Amman, Jordan, Aunty Samar's eldest daughter, Tamara, showed up from work and told Aboud he had two hours to get ready. She’d be back to pick him up so she can show him Jordan’s nightlife. ‘Oh my God, she’s beautiful’, thought Aboud, showered and got ready meticulously. He couldn't wait to hit the town with this beautiful and mysterious woman he just met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Two hours later Tamara came back to pick him up, boyfriend in tow. Aboud’s heart sank. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Regardless, that night and for the next four days, Tamara and her boyfriend showed Aboud around, and he had a great time. They flew to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Aqaba&lt;/st1:city&gt;, &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Jordan&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;’s coastal town, for a day where Aboud was tortured by Tamara in her bikini all over her boyfriend. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When the boyfriend wasn’t around, Aboud and Tamara would have hours of interesting conversation. He found out she was born in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Beirut&lt;/st1:city&gt;, had lived there during the civil war, moved to &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Cyprus&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; when she was very young, and then later to &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Malta&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; when she was a teenager. He had never met anyone like her. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Aboud’s four days were up and he flew back to the &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;United States&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;New York&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt;, precisely, where he had landed a job. Aboud and Tamara kept in touch via email. Tamara stayed with the boyfriend and Aboud started dating someone else. And then two years later at exactly the same time, they broke up with the people they were dating. As soon as Tamara wrote to Aboud that she had stopped seeing the boyfriend, Aboud made up some story about needing to travel to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Jordan&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; and booked a ticket. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It was October 2000 and Aboud made his long awaited move on Tamara in the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Dead Sea&lt;/st1:place&gt;. On the second day after arriving in Jordan, he asked her to date him exclusively. He was certain she was the right woman for him, she told him he was crazy. But he was so smitten and managed to talk her into a long-distance relationship. First came the $1,000 phone bills. Then the multitude of trips to see each other. They met in Paris for a weekend in November. Tamara flew to &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;New York&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; to spend a month with him in December. He then flew back to &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Jordan&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; in March to see her. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Aunty Samar, by this point, was getting agitated. ‘Are you going to propose?’ she demanded. Aboud made a proposal. He proposed that Tamara move to the &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;United States&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; with him, without them getting married. Aunty Samar flipped out. Aunty Samar finally agreed on the condition that Aboud and Tamara move in with Aboud’s mother in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So Tamara moved from &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Jordan&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:city&gt; and Aboud moved from &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;New York&lt;/st1:state&gt; to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; where they lived together. Three months later, Tamara’s visitor visa ran out. And so Aboud and Tamara decided to get married to keep her in the country. They got married in City Hall with Tamara in jeans on Aboud’s lunch break. And they didn’t tell anyone. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A year later, December 2001, they were visiting &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Jordan&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. Aboud, without telling Tamara had booked tickets to &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Hawaii&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; for February where he was planning to propose for real. Aunty Samar had other plans. ‘You’re getting married or you’re not going back’, she told Tamara. Aboud, behind Tamara’s back, tried to explain to Aunty Samar that he was planning to propose in &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Hawaii&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt;. Aunty Samar was stubborn, ‘I don’t care about romance, you’re getting married before you take her out of the country again’.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And so they decided to get married in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Jordan&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. When it was time for the Sheikh to marry them, he asked to see evidence of Aboud being single. On his way to the US Embassy to pick up evidence of him not being married, he remembered that he &lt;i style=""&gt;was&lt;/i&gt; married, to Tamara. Aunty Samar was very happy that they hadn’t been living in sin all this time after all. The Sheikh, after some confusion, gave them an Islamic blessing. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The trip to &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Hawaii&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; turned into a honeymoon and the best two weeks of their lives. Aboud and Tamara, twice married, are living in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Boston&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; with their two and half-year old daughter, Jenin, named after the city in Palestine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-53531166249919572?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/53531166249919572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-33-aboud-and-tamara.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/53531166249919572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/53531166249919572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-33-aboud-and-tamara.html' title='Day 33 Aboud and Tamara'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/S0ATsJ3urGI/AAAAAAAAASo/aka4UeIoThY/s72-c/Day+33.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-6079822763418876275</id><published>2010-01-01T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T19:46:16.524-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 32 From Letters to a Young Poet by Rilke</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sz7BWjF-gqI/AAAAAAAAASg/fW22UjqGsRM/s1600-h/Day+32.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 190px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sz7BWjF-gqI/AAAAAAAAASg/fW22UjqGsRM/s320/Day+32.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421983594522247842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart&lt;br /&gt;and try to love the questions themselves ...&lt;br /&gt;Don't search for the answers,&lt;br /&gt;which could not be given to you now,&lt;br /&gt;because you would not be able to live them.&lt;br /&gt;And the point is, to live everything.&lt;br /&gt;Live the questions now.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps then, someday far in the future,&lt;br /&gt;you will gradually, without even noticing it,&lt;br /&gt;live your way into the answer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-6079822763418876275?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/6079822763418876275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-32-from-letters-to-young-poet-by.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6079822763418876275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6079822763418876275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-32-from-letters-to-young-poet-by.html' title='Day 32 From Letters to a Young Poet by Rilke'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sz7BWjF-gqI/AAAAAAAAASg/fW22UjqGsRM/s72-c/Day+32.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-6859130373170716561</id><published>2009-12-31T16:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T15:20:26.998-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 31 The Occupation or Two Weeks that Would Change their Lives</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sz09431Qw2I/AAAAAAAAASY/_srVmIh5Tv4/s1600-h/Day31.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 387px; height: 99px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sz09431Qw2I/AAAAAAAAASY/_srVmIh5Tv4/s320/Day31.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421557573693260642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:612.0pt 792.0pt; 	margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; 	mso-header-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The time was May 1998. The place was Dagenham. The institution was &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;University&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;  of &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;East London&lt;/st1:placename&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. The people, well at first anyway, were John, Carla the socialist, Garry, and Lina.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;John was studying Italian and heard from one of his lecturers that cuts were being made to the Languages Department. Because John was toying with the idea of becoming a socialist and because the cuts didn’t seem fair, he told Carla the socialist. John and Carla the socialist marched to the student union and demanded that something be done.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Lina, who held an official student union position at the time, happened to be there and happened to be the first person they spoke to. Garry, who wanted an official student union position and was always up for a bit of trouble, joined their conversation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After some more research, they found out that there were ₤1.3 million cuts being made across departments, 24 lecturers were going to lose their jobs and the university had one of the highest paid vice chancellors in the country. They were angry, but they weren’t sure what to do. Carla the socialist had the answer. Occupy!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;They gathered 100 signatures to call an emergency general meeting of the student body, and 250 students showed up. They invited Frank Gould, the fourth highest paid vice chancellor in the country, to make his case. Luckily for them, Frank Gould was patronising, arrogant, had an all-year-round tan, had a shower in his office and talked about his ski thumbs. The students voted unanimously to occupy the building.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;They occupied the two main buildings and shut down the administrative side of the university for two weeks. Someone, maybe Dagmar, had the brilliant idea that they would continue to hold classes for students, but only if the lecturer supported both ‘the aims and means of the occupation’. And so classes ran, more or less, as normal. The students unfurled a banner outside the main building that proclaimed: ‘Under New Management!’ &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ryan and Massimo became the brains of the operation. They came up with the name, ‘Autonomous University of East London’ and wrote a manifesto. Fred who was nifty with graphics became in charge of propaganda/publicity. Committees were formed: the academic committee that made sure classes ran, the food committee that fed the 100 or so occupiers on a daily basis, the security committee that made sure all entrances were covered and nothing was broken, the cleaning committee that cleaned. The occupiers had two general meetings a day to make all decisions publicly and democratically &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;One dawn in early June, the occupiers were evicted by 200 riot police. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;No-one was arrested or hurt. They formed a negotiation committee that was able to save the jobs of those lecturers who didn’t sign ‘voluntary’ redundancy agreements and they struck a deal that no student would be penalised for taking part in the occupation. Frank Gould, the fourth highest paid vice chancellor in the country, was forced to resign a year later.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;John, Garry, and Lina are still the best of friends. The whereabouts of Carla the socialist are unknown. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-6859130373170716561?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/6859130373170716561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-31-occupation-or-two-weeks-that.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6859130373170716561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6859130373170716561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-31-occupation-or-two-weeks-that.html' title='Day 31 The Occupation or Two Weeks that Would Change their Lives'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sz09431Qw2I/AAAAAAAAASY/_srVmIh5Tv4/s72-c/Day31.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-502588219891237901</id><published>2009-12-29T19:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T19:28:18.082-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 29 Jenn and Tony part deux or Am I becoming the Cliche? By Jennifer Adams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzrGP05G6kI/AAAAAAAAASQ/kz0RoKAt4Tg/s1600-h/Day+17.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzrGP05G6kI/AAAAAAAAASQ/kz0RoKAt4Tg/s320/Day+17.2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420863076692322882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jenn and Tony were first featured here on Day 17. This is an honest, beautiful reflection from Jenn on being married, being a mum, and being an artist. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a cliché out there about how when a woman gets married and has kids she loses her identity, forgets her own passions, and focuses so much on what everyone else needs that she casts her own needs aside. P'shaw, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not so sure...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I may have begun to whittle myself into a model of that cliché, though I've been fighting it every step of the way. . . Tony and I have always semi-jokingly used the phrase  "Us against the World" to describe our approach to life. We started Halcyon as a way to do something great together, and we always meant to continue that approach when we had kids. When Tony, Jr. was 3-6 months old, Tony was rehearsing &lt;em&gt;Yerma&lt;/em&gt; and he really wanted me at rehearsals. There were a lot of nights when I sat nursing in a corner while they rehearsed, thinking "Why did I come?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew Tony wanted my feedback and wanted me to be involved, but it was pretty rare that I actually got to watch what was going on. Yet, I never decided to stop going. I knew Tony wanted me there, and in theory I wanted to be there. I wanted to be like the families I grew up with who always had their whole family in the show, and would take turns watching each others kids while a scene was being rehearsed. However, growing up I did shows in a &lt;a href="http://www.schoolhousearts.org/" target="_blank"&gt;schoolhouse that was turned into an arts center in the middle of the woods&lt;/a&gt;. . . When you rehearse in a room at Sheil Park, or a room in a church with an AA meeting next door, there's nowhere for the kids to go and no other kids to watch them. (Insert a plug for our own space with babysitting services HERE).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During performances of &lt;em&gt;Yerma&lt;/em&gt;, when Tony Jr. was in the dream scene at the beginning, Tony would go to the theatre after work and open the doors for the actors, and I would go to our house and get Tony Jr., take him to the theatre, nurse him while we waited for his "Big Scene" so he wouldn't disturb the performance, then bundle him out and take him home on the bus. It was 9 p.m. before we got home, sometimes not much earlier than Tony, and there were a few times where neither of us were dressed for the weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night, the temperature dropped from 55 to 40 degrees between leaving the theatre and getting home, and it started to rain. I was in a short sleeved shirt with an old navy trench coat and Tony jr. was in a long sleeve shirt and pants, a light coat but no hat that I remember . . . I put my coat around him and prayed for a bus that never came. I ended up walking from Irving Park and Damen to Foster and Damen, and stopping at CVS on Lawrence to buy a fleece blanket and one of those weird winter hats with the hard cardboard bill in the front to warm him up...That was one of the first moments when I thought "What's more important? Theatre or my family?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since the kids were born, it has felt as if Tony and I have worked better with a "divide and conquer" approach to our lives. It has made sense that the "divide" would be him at the theatre and me at home. He can run tech, and I can nurse...and honestly, a lot of times it just feels better to stay home. The kids get a bedtime routine, I get to be with them and feel needed by them, and it's important to me to be a mom that is THERE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the same time, Tony's writing and online presence has really helped Halcyon grow. While I have always been involved artistically, and have actually directed more shows for Halcyon than Tony, I haven't maintained a presence (or done the work) of the...Executive-isory-ness. . . As a result, I have felt less and less connected to, and less and less needed by, this amazing company that was started by us as equals. He was doing more of the producing, reading of scripts, being the one there for tech weeks. . . It made sense for him to take on the role of Artistic Director and me to become Associate A.D. That's the roles we were playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that led to me feeling even less needed by Halcyon, and more needed by the kids, which made it even more appealing to be the one that stayed home. I would go to rehearsals or shows, and not really know what to do there. Or have to call Tony to fix the problems. . . At home, I always had the answers, the kisses and hugs, and yes, the milk!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "Divide and Conquer" has been feeling more and more like "Divide, and Tony Conquers." Its been no one's fault; up until now it has been the best way to proceed. And I'm sure he feels pretty conquered when the kids want me to do bedtime... and bath-time... and everything else :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I love this company just as much as he does, and I want it to succeed just as much as he does. The same way he wants our kids to succeed. Thankfully they are getting old enough now where we can really do more of the Kid Stuff 50-50... I am back to tackling the Theatre Stuff 50-50 as well. If I want to be an equal voice in this theatre company, I have to be an equal voice... the same way I am in my marriage and with my kids. I have to do the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first step, a small one though it is, is to change the name of my blog... &lt;em&gt;The Life of a Theatre Wife&lt;/em&gt; used to sound kitchy and fun to me. Now it sounds like "A Cute Little Wife in the Corner, writing a Cute Little Blog to have something to share with her strong, hard-working husband".  (Boy, that sounds bitter. But that Bitter Woman is who I DON'T want to become.) If you have a Blog Name you think might be good, let me know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second step will be taking a newly found love of marketing I have acquired, and really trying to use it to Halcyon's benefit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll see what comes third... I'll keep you posted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.halcyontheatre.org/blog/theatrewife/am-i-becoming-the-cliche&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-502588219891237901?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/502588219891237901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-29-jenn-and-tony-part-deux-or-am-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/502588219891237901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/502588219891237901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-29-jenn-and-tony-part-deux-or-am-i.html' title='Day 29 Jenn and Tony part deux or Am I becoming the Cliche? By Jennifer Adams'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzrGP05G6kI/AAAAAAAAASQ/kz0RoKAt4Tg/s72-c/Day+17.2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-739870133636554597</id><published>2009-12-28T23:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T12:07:22.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 28 Tom and Suzanne</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzoaFExq3dI/AAAAAAAAASI/4bZZqhGphQo/s1600-h/Day+28.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzoaFExq3dI/AAAAAAAAASI/4bZZqhGphQo/s320/Day+28.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420673775977553362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are three acts to this story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Act one. Tom and Suzanne meet at the University of Notre Dame in South Bend, Indiana in 1973. Luckily for both of them, and for women everywhere, Notre Dame started accepting female students two years before that. They each had roommates who happened to fall madly in love with each other in their first week of college and become joined at the hip. And so, by default, Tom and Suzanne became friends. There is an unresolved dispute between them on whether they went on a couple of dates or not. Tom thinks they went on a date or two. Suzanne does not think they were dates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Act two. They graduated in 1977. Tom moved to Berlin and Suzanne moved to California. They kept in touch through their old roommates who ended up getting married straight out of college. Tom would send the occasional postcard from Berlin, and they would sometimes talk on the phone. They were both seeing other people at the time, and had no romantic interest in each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By 1983 they were both living in Chicago, Tom having got there four years earlier. When Suzanne moved to Chicago, Tom organised a long, thorough tour for her. There still wasn't any real romantic interest at this point. Tom is just a really nice guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Act three. It’s December 1985 and Suzanne needs a date for her office Christmas party. She needed to take someone who would be good company, someone she wouldn’t need to baby sit, and someone who wouldn’t embarrass her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom: The bar was low.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suzanne: That’s a high bar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suzanne asked Tom to go with her and Tom accepted. He showed up at her house with a small gift; a red cup with cocoa for hot chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter 1985 was the coldest Chicago winter in recorded history. That's pretty darn cold. So when they left the party, which went fine, they couldn't walk anywhere. Tom and Suzanne ran into the first bar they saw. They warmed up with mulled wine and conversation. They talked till the bar closed. And by the end of the night, they developed a closeness that may or may not have been brewing for the last twelve years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took Tom and Suzanne that long to get together because they had to become who they were going to become first. Tom remembers two things that made him see Suzanne more clearly. One was the way she handled her father’s untimely death; with dignity and strength. The other was her growth and excitement after coming back from a trip to Europe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were married in 1988. They have three boys, an 18-year old, a 16-year old and a 13-year old. Every year in December, Tom gives Suzanne a red cup with cocoa for hot chocolate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-739870133636554597?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/739870133636554597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-28-tom-and-susan.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/739870133636554597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/739870133636554597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-28-tom-and-susan.html' title='Day 28 Tom and Suzanne'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzoaFExq3dI/AAAAAAAAASI/4bZZqhGphQo/s72-c/Day+28.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-7057384130769173848</id><published>2009-12-27T15:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T15:31:52.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 27 Magda and Stathis</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzfuC7446eI/AAAAAAAAASA/duSptZDd81o/s1600-h/Day+27.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzfuC7446eI/AAAAAAAAASA/duSptZDd81o/s320/Day+27.2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420062410767133154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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&lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Magda and Stathis met in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Athens&lt;/st1:city&gt;, &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Greece&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; in the summer of 2002 and didn’t like each other very much. They were both working at the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Byzantine&lt;/st1:placename&gt;  &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Museum&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. Stathis was head of the educational programmes at the museum and Magda was in the public relations office. He thought she was a dumb girl with no politics. She thought he was rude, arrogant and degrading. The source of their tension had something to do with Yugoslavian children, Marxism and a charity event the museum was organizing. Anyway.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It was February 2003, after many tentative conversations, most of them involving politics, before they decided they had &lt;i style=""&gt;some &lt;/i&gt;things in common. So when Bill Clinton came to town and there was of-course a demonstration, Stathis asked Magda if she wanted to go with him. She told him she’d be at the demonstration and then ended up, for one reason or another, not being able to go.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The next day Stathis told Magda that he’d looked for her and couldn’t find her. He asked her out to dinner. Stathis had an ulterior motive. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, but he thought Magda was gorgeous and wanted to sleep with her. Magda, although she didn’t really fancy him, agreed to go out with him. She had recently broken up from a long, arduous relationship and was looking to take her mind off things.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;They went out. Magda didn’t follow the no-sex-on-the-first-date rule and she didn’t hear from Stathis for the next two weeks. Magda was indifferent. She was fed-up with men and had resolved to have no expectations when it comes to them.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But Stathis eventually did call and they went out 15 days after their first date. Since their second date, unless, they are in different cities, they’ve spent every night together. Stathis had been suffering from insomnia for years. He wouldn’t be able to fall asleep till 5 or 6 o’clock every morning. But when Magda was around, he could sleep. And because she cured his insomnia, he couldn’t do without her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Magda has been completely in love with him since their second date. Stathis has given her everything she’s ever wanted, and he makes her want to be a better person. She likes that he’s comfortable in his own skin and can laugh at himself.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Magda and Stathis officially moved in together in September 2004. They were married in March 2007. Magda’s best friend and housemate from her college days in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; was their maid of honour. A great time was had by all. Magda and Stathis are living in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Athens&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; with their almost-one-year old baby boy, Aris. They were not married in a church and Aris is not baptised. Magda and Stathis do not like to follow rules and conventions. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-7057384130769173848?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/7057384130769173848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-27-magda-and-stathis.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/7057384130769173848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/7057384130769173848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-27-magda-and-stathis.html' title='Day 27 Magda and Stathis'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzfuC7446eI/AAAAAAAAASA/duSptZDd81o/s72-c/Day+27.2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-1041395946844247596</id><published>2009-12-26T16:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T13:38:04.162-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 26 Angela and Matt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Szau7DqGc0I/AAAAAAAAARw/zpdnzH2Nr1g/s1600-h/Day+26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Szau7DqGc0I/AAAAAAAAARw/zpdnzH2Nr1g/s320/Day+26.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419711531204375362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angela and Matt met in May 2006 at a festival in London’s East End. The borough was Hackney, Europe’s crime and grime capital, and the festival was Paradise Gardens, where you go to see Victoria Park magically transformed into a modern day Pleasure Garden. It is a mystery how the young lovers found themselves to be in the same time, in the same place, talking and drinking, but they did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though Matt was living in South London and Ang, who is in the Top 5 Funniest People, was on the right side of the river, she decided to give him a chance. They met at the festival, got drunk and talked non-stop all day. There may have been some crazy magic funky fairy dust in the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the Paradise Gardens Festival, they have an old-fashioned funfair, powered by steam instead of electricity. Ang and Matt rode the steam fair dodgems, played on the penny arcade machines and had good banter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang would soon learn that Matt was uber reliable and would never let her down in any sense of the word. When Ang was going through some tough times, Matt was there for her unfailingly, always saying the right things no matter the time of day. Matt has been to every kiddy musical Ang, a primary school teacher, has put on. They spent last Christmas in Rome and went to see the Pope’s speech, during most of which Matt held up Ang’s class toy stuffed bird so she could take a picture for the kids at just the right angle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, despite their irreconcilable taste in films, they are moving in together after Christmas. Ang loves Karate Kid, Point Break and Lost Boys. Matt loves Aliens, Clockwork Orange and Goodfellas. She is not moving south of the river, but Ang will be moving to Bedfordshire. There are slight misgivings,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angela:  aw or .... shit! i'm living in the middle of nowhere with a bloke who is refusing to watch karate kid again!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But these misgivings are minor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year, Ang and Matt go back to the Paradise Gardens festival for their anniversary. But this year the festival has been moved to June.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-1041395946844247596?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/1041395946844247596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-26-angela-and-matt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/1041395946844247596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/1041395946844247596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-26-angela-and-matt.html' title='Day 26 Angela and Matt'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Szau7DqGc0I/AAAAAAAAARw/zpdnzH2Nr1g/s72-c/Day+26.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-334079234501654472</id><published>2009-12-25T22:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T08:52:51.421-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 25 Wesley and Richard</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzeQy1iAHSI/AAAAAAAAAR4/b2fMFca49p8/s1600-h/Day+25.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzeQy1iAHSI/AAAAAAAAAR4/b2fMFca49p8/s320/Day+25.2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419959879601233186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Meeting Richard (see Day 2 Crystal and Richard) would change Wesley’s life, but he didn’t know that at the time. At the time, Wesley thought it meant he would have someone to carpool with from work. They were both living in Conway, Arkansas’ college town, and working in a school in a town neither of them liked very much. Wesley was a science teacher and Richard was a history teacher-in-training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were many teacher trainees that lived in Conway Wesley could have asked to car pool with, but there was something about Richard that he warmed to. As Richard was driving Wesley home for the first time, he followed Wesley’s directions to Richard’s own house. It turned out they lived, not right next to each other, but behind each other with adjacent backyards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first, Richard’s wife didn’t trust Richard’s new friend and didn’t want him in the house. He was too clean cut and that was fishy. But Wesley had the superpower to make Richard’s newly born twins stop crying and fall asleep so he became indispensable to the family. Before long, Wesley would make a habit of walking into Richard’s house unannounced in his pyjamas and ask what was for breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they first met, Wesley was a Republican or as he put it, one of the prisoners in Plato’s cave. The less that is said about ties to a right wing militia the better. Meeting Richard exposed Wes to things and ideas he’d not been exposed to before. His horizons were broadened, his worldviews shifted, and he escaped from the cave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard still lives in Arkansas and Wesley now lives in Minnesota. They get to see each other on holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas where they stay up till 3am talking, and watch Across the Universe on Christmas Day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-334079234501654472?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/334079234501654472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-25-wesley-and-richard.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/334079234501654472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/334079234501654472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-25-wesley-and-richard.html' title='Day 25 Wesley and Richard'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzeQy1iAHSI/AAAAAAAAAR4/b2fMFca49p8/s72-c/Day+25.2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-2076805745978044292</id><published>2009-12-24T16:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T16:03:51.725-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 24 Sonia and Mike</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzQA01Id6DI/AAAAAAAAARY/VZUxYwDn-zQ/s1600-h/Day+24.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 201px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzQA01Id6DI/AAAAAAAAARY/VZUxYwDn-zQ/s320/Day+24.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418957159249340466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sonia went to high school with Richard (see Day 2 Crystal and Richard), and Mike went to college with Richard. And so Sonia and Mike met at Richard’s birthday party in northwest Arkansas years and years after their school days with Richard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing that struck Sonia about Mike was that he had the confidence to introduce himself as an artist. They ended up talking for hours at the party about obscure artists that only they knew. People would join, and quickly leave their conversation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sonia first invited Mike to join her regular Sunday potluck group, and then invited him over to her house for dinner. What’s that? Always let the boy make the first move? That wasn’t Sonia’s style. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before their first kiss, Sonia told Mike straight up – she wasn’t looking to spend her time with someone she couldn’t get serious about, she was too busy, she was starting her own business and two non-profits so was he in or was he out? Mike was in. He liked Sonia’s style. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three months in Mike knew he wanted to marry Sonia. And she knew she wanted to marry him. Sonia had wasted a lot of time on boys in the past. By her mid-30s, she was done wasting time. She knew what she wanted, and was glad that she hadn’t found Mike earlier. Finding Mike at the time that she did meant that she knew exactly how special he was and how lucky she was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year, Sonia held a benefit party for the non-profit organisations she set up. That year, surprising everyone, they got married at the benefit party. They vowed to be together “for richer and poorer; for profit and non-profit”.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-2076805745978044292?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/2076805745978044292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-24-sonia-and-mike.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/2076805745978044292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/2076805745978044292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-24-sonia-and-mike.html' title='Day 24 Sonia and Mike'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzQA01Id6DI/AAAAAAAAARY/VZUxYwDn-zQ/s72-c/Day+24.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-5294691306560581373</id><published>2009-12-19T11:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T11:54:39.165-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 19 Your task</title><content type='html'>Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rumi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-5294691306560581373?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/5294691306560581373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-19-your-task.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5294691306560581373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5294691306560581373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-19-your-task.html' title='Day 19 Your task'/><author><name>Lina</name><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-7571613357915363179.post-5756233961544735173</id><published>2009-12-17T22:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T22:24:35.246-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 17 Jenn and Tony</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sysf9Ab2PyI/AAAAAAAAARQ/x7iXTOB5boE/s1600-h/Day+17.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sysf9Ab2PyI/AAAAAAAAARQ/x7iXTOB5boE/s320/Day+17.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416458109792436002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily for Tony, Jenn liked short, bold men on the stocky side. They met in a bar on Addison and Broadway in Chicago. But before they met, Jenn noticed Tony across the bar and thought, “Oh my God, who is that guy”. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lina: What made you notice him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tony: Because I’m hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenn: Because he reminded me of my uncle Bruce. He looked like a quiet, strong man with strong morals. The kind of man that if you ever needed anything he’d be there. And then he came over and sat at the adjacent table!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It was their first time in ‘Jay’s’ (Joe’s, corrects Tony). They were both hanging out with their respective theatre companies and it so happened that someone from Jenn’s theatre company knew someone from Tony’s theatre company. And so they got talking. They got talking so much they closed the bar that night. And then Tony gave Jenn his business card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenn was directing a show about strippers, so she emailed Tony the next day and asked him if he would be her sound designer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lina: Did you have ulterior motives?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenn: Yes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tony: Workplace harassment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crew had their first production meeting in a strip club. The set designer was stressing Jenn out, and she remembers thinking if she could keep her foot touching Tony’s foot, it would be ok. Tony didn’t notice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They got together that night after it took Tony four hours to kiss Jenn, and it was like nothing Jenn had ever felt before.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They dated and broke up three times that year before they could make it work. Tony was working a part-time job that was sucking his soul, and he was homeless, trying to make it as a theatre artist. Jenn was struggling with undiagnosed depression. They were the right people for each other at the wrong time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenn had been life-searching for two years before she met Tony. The apex of her self-discovery coincided with her meeting him. Having the right person in her life made her realise how wrong everything else was. So it didn’t work between them again and again. But they kept finding ways to be in each other’s lives through theatre productions and Tony didn’t judge Jenn through any of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And eventually it all came together. Once they were happier people alone, they figured out how to be happy together. Jenn and Tony married in 2005 and founded their own theatre company, Halcyon, in 2006. They have a three-year old, Tony Jr. and a one year-old, Charlotte.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-5756233961544735173?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/5756233961544735173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-17-jenn-and-tony.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5756233961544735173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5756233961544735173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-17-jenn-and-tony.html' title='Day 17 Jenn and Tony'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sysf9Ab2PyI/AAAAAAAAARQ/x7iXTOB5boE/s72-c/Day+17.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-5131443962745093395</id><published>2009-12-16T21:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T18:09:29.756-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 16 Sara and Adnan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SynASNAVUgI/AAAAAAAAARI/Z654cZewjgA/s1600-h/Day+16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 191px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SynASNAVUgI/AAAAAAAAARI/Z654cZewjgA/s320/Day+16.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416071445850968578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was Ramadan 2007 in Damascus, Syria and Sara was watching television. TV is big during the holy month of fasting for Muslims. A California-based video blogger that called himself ‘Baba Ali’ was being interviewed on television. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara thought he was funny and relevant and checked out his blog. Baba Ali had posted an appeal to Muslims from all over the world to help out on a film. Being the month of Ramadan, where every good deed is multiplied ten-fold, Sara, a musician and sound engineer, responded to the appeal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara agreed to create the score for the film and became part of the team. She quickly became friends with the producer, who happened in passing to mention he was thinking of starting up a Muslim matrimonial site. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara’s ears perked up. Her first instinct was to be too shy to say anything. Her second instinct was to ask the producer if he knew anyone that would be suitable for her. She was tired with her options in Syria of men who wanted traditional wives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lina: You just straight up asked?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara: Well, the Prophet’s wife was the one who initiated things with him, so I just thought of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The California-based, producer-friend did have someone in mind for Sara. Actually, he had four people in mind. The first guy was spoken for. The second guy wanted someone local. The third guy’s family wanted a Pakistani girl for him. And the fourth guy. Well, the fourth guy was Adnan, who was also part of the film crew. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The producer-friend approached Adnan and told him he had a girl in mind for him. Adnan told the producer-friend he would think about it, or more precisely pray about it, the prayer of Istikhara/guidance. Adnan prayed. And then he told the producer-friend to hook him up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s when the Syria-California courtship began. Sara and Adnan started off with IM chat, graduated to voice chat, and then eventually to video chat. And then they found themselves talking to each other for eight hours a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara marshaled the resourcefulness of her relatives on the East Coast and the West Coast. Her cousin’s husband went to meet Adnan’s family in New York to check them out. Her second cousin in California somehow managed to come up with pages of information on Adnan. We don’t know how, but we know the information was halal.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Lina: So, when did you actually meet him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara: Three days before our wedding day in Syria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara trusted her instincts. She had another suitor asking for her hand at the time, and her instincts told her to turn him down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara had no doubts about Adnan. When she saw him for the very first time, she remembers noticing her heart felt comfortable. Her second reaction was: “he’s dreamy”. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adnan comes from a Pakistan family and was raised in New York. Sara comes from a Syrian family and was raised in the United Arab Emirates. They were married in Syria in June 2008 and are now living in Canada.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-5131443962745093395?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/5131443962745093395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-16-sara-and-adnan.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5131443962745093395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5131443962745093395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-16-sara-and-adnan.html' title='Day 16 Sara and Adnan'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SynASNAVUgI/AAAAAAAAARI/Z654cZewjgA/s72-c/Day+16.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-3736003634045007859</id><published>2009-12-15T19:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T20:05:42.429-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 15 Zach and Hannah</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyhcGUar4nI/AAAAAAAAARA/oZwhHxFslI8/s1600-h/Day+15.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyhcGUar4nI/AAAAAAAAARA/oZwhHxFslI8/s320/Day+15.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415679815542628978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While not exactly high school sweethearts, Zach and Hannah went to the same high school in small town Madison. Hannah was 16 years old and Zach 17. Hannah’s friend thought Zach was cute, but Hannah didn’t think he was all that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One fine day during summer break, Hannah was in her car at a stop sign. At the exact same time, Zach pulled up to the stop sign on the opposite road. “Hmm, he is kinda cute”, Hannah thought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After noticing him at the stop sign, Hannah began stalking Zach. She would leave him little notes and gifts in his car and his locker. She noticed he wore friendship bracelets so she thoughtfully made him a friendship bracelet out of colours she noticed he liked to wear. Zach didn’t know who the bracelet was from, but he thought it was kinda cool so he wore it around his ankle. His ankle was not visible to Hannah so Hannah thought he never wore it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hannah remembers signing her notes with her name and number and asking Zach to call her. Zach remembers that he had no idea who these notes and gifts were from. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone else might have given up at that point. But Hannah was going to grow up and become an aggressive community organiser, so she didn’t let Zach’s silence stop her. She recruited help and organised an action. She got the German exchange student who was staying with her family to call Zach and convince him to go out with her. Zach remembers thinking Hannah was whiny and politely declined.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone else, crazier than Hannah, was also after Zach and she threatened to beat Hannah up if Hannah didn’t back off. Hannah backed off. Zach went off to college in Colorado. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During her high school senior year, Zach was visiting Madison and noticed Hannah. “Hmm, she is kinda cute”, thought Zach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Hannah went off to Knox College in Galesburg, Illinois they began a once a week platonic email correspondence. Hannah was dating someone else and now the tables were turned. Zach found an excuse to visit Hannah by dragging his younger brother on a ‘college visit’; he drove through a foot of snow on winter break from Colorado to Galesburg; he took an internship in Chicago to be closer to Knox College and Hannah. And that’s when things, finally clicked. It was summer 2000 and they were at last in the same place, at the same time – metaphorically and literally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not for long. They separated when Hannah went off to Russia to study Russian and Zach went off to Mexico to study Spanish. In the five months they were apart, the only contact they had was one eight minute phone call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But study abroad programmes come to an end, and Hannah and Zach eventually returned to the United States. If you’re guessing Chicago, you would be right. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hannah and Zach were married in 2006 and are now living in Chicago with their one and a half year old baby boy, Mateo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-3736003634045007859?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/3736003634045007859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-15-zach-and-hannah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/3736003634045007859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/3736003634045007859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-15-zach-and-hannah.html' title='Day 15 Zach and Hannah'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyhcGUar4nI/AAAAAAAAARA/oZwhHxFslI8/s72-c/Day+15.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-3141050097947740605</id><published>2009-12-14T20:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T20:52:00.957-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 14 love/ logic by Kristiana Colon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SycVb91m53I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/COaqEWhKPHQ/s1600-h/Day+14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 172px; height: 234px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SycVb91m53I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/COaqEWhKPHQ/s320/Day+14.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415320647136372594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The train stops running at midnight&lt;br /&gt;and I am half past twelve&lt;br /&gt;but the night is warm&lt;br /&gt;and I am safe&lt;br /&gt;Music from the street&lt;br /&gt;hums up through the platform&lt;br /&gt;so I will wait awake&lt;br /&gt;let darkness prick my skin&lt;br /&gt;and watch sun rise&lt;br /&gt;till the morning train comes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am waiting at a station watching&lt;br /&gt;tumbleweed popcorn in the distance&lt;br /&gt;A gust tugs at my straw sun hat&lt;br /&gt;Alligator suitcases collect dust at my feet&lt;br /&gt;and I shade my eyes to squint down the tracks&lt;br /&gt;believe I see its smoke swelling closer&lt;br /&gt;not knowing this train will never come&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;poem originally published in chickenpinata; a journal of poetry&lt;br /&gt;http://www.chickenpinata.com/I4--Colon.html&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-3141050097947740605?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/3141050097947740605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-14-love-logic-by-kristiana-colon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/3141050097947740605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/3141050097947740605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-14-love-logic-by-kristiana-colon.html' title='Day 14 love/ logic by Kristiana Colon'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SycVb91m53I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/COaqEWhKPHQ/s72-c/Day+14.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-9059940447441124080</id><published>2009-12-12T16:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T14:40:09.029-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 12 Yoni and Mere</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyQ8nfHeNKI/AAAAAAAAAQo/WDXQyeLxiHU/s1600-h/Day+12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyQ8nfHeNKI/AAAAAAAAAQo/WDXQyeLxiHU/s320/Day+12.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414519301071582370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There wasn’t an exact point at which Yoni and Mere met. This non exact meeting point happened in their junior year at the University of Michigan. At this non exact time, they were both dating other people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yoni thought of Mere as someone you have a good friendship connection with, you know, the type of person you meet who you’re sure you would be great friends with. Mere thought of Yoni as the soft spoken, Israeli long-haired kid whose name means vagina and worked behind the film equipment counter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mere held a porn and fondue party, a party where you watch granny porn, tranny porn, lesbian army porn and eat fondue of-course. She invited Yoni, who was friends with her girlfriend at the time. She remembers him reacting wonderfully – relaxed, curious with a good sense of humour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they didn’t become friends. Not then anyway. They became friends a year later in their senior year, and then Mere left for Ecuador for 18 months. They exchanged a few emails over the next year and a half about film making and cultural identity ideas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around the same time that Mere got back from Ecuador, Yoni started making a documentary about Ecuador. It was a no-brainer. He called her up and Mere became co-director of his Ecuador documentary. At this point, they were both living in Chicago because everyone moves to Chicago eventually. For the next two years, they worked on several documentaries and film projects together. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;There was an attraction between them, but it was the kind of attraction you feel for someone while being in a long-term relationship. An attraction that you know is there but you know you won’t act on. Until Yoni’s seven-year relationship ended. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yoni and Mere got together under a clear, deliberate agreement of an open relationship, which lasted for eight months. “I think it was eight months, Mere might tell you it was longer”. During the eight months, they saw other people, had mini romances and experimentations. Yoni wanted to be sure that what he was feeling wasn’t just infatuation for Mere. And Mere wanted to give him the space necessary to heal from a break-up of a major relationship. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was summer 2007. Mere went to Alaska to fish and work on a salmon tender boat for two months, and Yoni went to Prague to study art history and insect animation. Yoni never gets culture shock and he never gets homesick, but he missed Mere and would think about her all the time. Mere missed him too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They made an appointment to talk on the CB radio phone while Mere was out at sea and Yoni in Prague. They decided to start officially dating when they both got back to Chicago. Yoni picked Mere up at the airport and remembers their embrace as a resolution to start a committed relationship. That day they got two parking tickets and one speeding ticket. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their first fight was about conspiracy theories. Mere was repeating what she had heard from her boat captain in Alaska – crashing a plane into a building will not raise the temperature of steel to melting point. Yoni thought conspiracy theories were counter-revolutionary. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yoni and Mere are living happily in Chicago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-9059940447441124080?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/9059940447441124080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-12-yoni-and-mere.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/9059940447441124080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/9059940447441124080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-12-yoni-and-mere.html' title='Day 12 Yoni and Mere'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyQ8nfHeNKI/AAAAAAAAAQo/WDXQyeLxiHU/s72-c/Day+12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-1791775168702597681</id><published>2009-12-11T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T20:32:11.565-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 11 Hugh and Ismaeel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyMbHQ6wAQI/AAAAAAAAAQg/kfrShHcfwqE/s1600-h/Day11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 283px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyMbHQ6wAQI/AAAAAAAAAQg/kfrShHcfwqE/s320/Day11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414200988643885314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismaeel was Hugh before Hugh converted to Islam. Hugh was Catholic and had always believed in God as far back as he could remember. It was the image of God asking each person in the afterlife how they treated the poor and the hungry amongst them on earth, that drew Hugh to God. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half Sri Lankan, half white, he’d always been somewhat of an outcast growing up in Harlesden, a poor, inner city neighbourhood also known as London’s Reggae capital. When he was 11 years old, Hugh was sent to an exclusive boarding school in the beautiful English countryside that offered tuition fees on a sliding scale. That meant that Hugh got to go for free because he was clever and poor, and it also meant he got to live. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It meant he didn’t get knifed in a London school, “I had a very quick temper when I was young and I used to get in a lot of fights. I would have probably been dead by now”. Instead he got called ‘darkie’ and was punched in the face on occasion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a teenager, he read about Martin Luther King and Gandhi, listened to Bob Marley and Bob Dylan. When he was 19 years old he went to India to walk in Gandhi’s footsteps and become a Hindu. He didn’t find the Hinduism of Gandhi on his travels. Instead he found a Hinduism that was caste and village based and one that wasn’t very welcoming of prospective converts. In India he bought a Qur’an, but never read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He returned to London and went to Law School where he opened the Qur’an, got scared witless and promptly put it back on the shelf. And then he fell in love with a Muslim. A Pakistani-American woman who told him he had to convert to Islam if they were to marry. So Hugh opened the Qur’an again and began to read. Their conversations about Islam led her to break off the engagement and go on pilgrimage, while Hugh was left in the middle of his quest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was convinced intellectually, but it didn’t stick in his heart. Until one of his friends took him to see their family Imam. “The problem you are having is that you don’t know who the Prophet (Peace and Blessings be upon him) is”, the Imam told him. Hugh started reading about the Prophet Muhammad, his life and his teachings and that’s when Hugh fell in love, when Islam became alive to him and he became Ismaeel.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Everything I do I try to do what the Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) did or would have done in my situation, doing so I remember him and by remembering him I remember God”. Dhikr, remembrance of God, replaced impatience and frustration.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Ismaeel recently graduated with a Masters in Islamic Law and Theology. He is an Imam and teaches at Hijaz College Islamic University in the beautiful English countryside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Ismaeel’ means the fulfillment of a divine promise resulting from prayer being heard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-1791775168702597681?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/1791775168702597681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-11-hugh-and-ismaeel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/1791775168702597681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/1791775168702597681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-11-hugh-and-ismaeel.html' title='Day 11 Hugh and Ismaeel'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyMbHQ6wAQI/AAAAAAAAAQg/kfrShHcfwqE/s72-c/Day11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-6006354515037007573</id><published>2009-12-10T21:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T21:18:48.593-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 10 Lora and Lina or My First Jewish Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyHUeTIoopI/AAAAAAAAAQY/FYte8-UysQM/s1600-h/Day10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyHUeTIoopI/AAAAAAAAAQY/FYte8-UysQM/s320/Day10.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413841844073702034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They met in Jerusalem at the renowned Faisal Hostel (see Day 1 Shannon and Noah). Lina remembers their first meeting; Lora does not. Lina remembers because she knew Lora had been with Tom when he was shot. “She seems so young”, Lina remembers thinking. Lora had just come from Gaza and she was taking a break from international activism in Jerusalem. Lina was on her way to Nablus from London, having missed her international activist orientation. They made small-talk about whether you should drink the tap water or not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They saw each other again in Gaza a week later. Lina was part of a Nablus-contingent visiting Gaza. When it was time for the contingent to return to Nablus, Lora decided to go with them. Gaza was getting too overwhelming. On their way out of the Strip they were shot at. Bullets hit the sandy beach, a few feet away from where they were walking. It was the first time Lina had been shot at and she was scared. It was the kind of fear that focuses the mind on all the little details around you. Lora had been shot at many times and was not scared. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Nablus, Lina asked Lora if she could interview her on being Jewish in the International Solidarity Movement. Lina still has the tape and will get round to transcribing it one day. It’s been five years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it was time to say goodbye, they exchanged emails and promised to keep in touch. You know how you do, when you meet someone great but never think you’ll actually seem them again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one reason or another, Lina spent that summer in the States. Baltimore, to be exact. And for no apparent reason, Lora who was in Pittsburgh visited her. They ate good food and laughed a lot, and then caught the China bus to New York. They exchanged books. Lora gave Lina a book of Iraqi poetry, and Lina gave Lora The Life of Pi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They saw each other again in London where Lina was living at the time. Lora was traveling to Paris and stopped over to fry some plantains and talk about Haiti. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two years later, in the same week that Lina accepted a job in Chicago she got an email from Lora saying that &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Lora&lt;/span&gt; had just moved to Chicago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest, as they say, is history. Sure they had their ups and downs like that time that Lora almost killed them in a car accident in New Orleans. Or that other time, when they dated the same guy by accident. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lina is still in Chicago, while Lora now lives in Paris. Lina thinks Lora should come back to Chicago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-6006354515037007573?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/6006354515037007573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-10-lora-and-lina-or-my-first-jewish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6006354515037007573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6006354515037007573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-10-lora-and-lina-or-my-first-jewish.html' title='Day 10 Lora and Lina or My First Jewish Friend'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyHUeTIoopI/AAAAAAAAAQY/FYte8-UysQM/s72-c/Day10.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-5310684764696240934</id><published>2009-12-09T18:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T18:41:33.853-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 9 Titilayo and Sunny</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyBfCSSBDfI/AAAAAAAAAQM/DUZmKSM5sas/s1600-h/Day9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:612.0pt 792.0pt; 	margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; 	mso-header-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Titi had grown up in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Vienna&lt;/st1:city&gt; and Sunny was currently living in &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;Indiana&lt;/st1:state&gt;, but that night they were both in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; celebrating Nigerian Independence Day. He was due to fly back on Sunday. They met on the Friday. The Friday that is two days before Sunday. The group they were out with had such a good time together; they all decided to have brunch together the next day. On Sunday, Titi offered to drive Sunny to the airport, “because that’s what you do for friends”. This is &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. Nobody drives anybody to the airport. I think she had ulterior motives. He gave her his phone number. She didn’t keep it. “I couldn’t see the point”.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But he kept her email address. They emailed back and forth, they chatted on yahoo and occasionally they’d talk on the phone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;They built a friendship over 7 months and the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Atlantic Ocean&lt;/st1:place&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Her first visit to &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Indiana&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; was in December. Technically she was visiting friends in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; but she was really there to see him. A friend of Sunny’s advised him that if you really want to see how you get on with a woman – go on a road trip together. And so off they went. They drove to &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Canada&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;New York&lt;/st1:state&gt;, and &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Georgia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Titi went back to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; and their communication became more frequent. Sunny was working nights and would talk to her before he went to work from 11pm to 11.45pm every night. She went back to &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Indiana&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; for his birthday in March. That’s when things took a romantic turn.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He warned her that he wasn’t interested in getting married or having a family. He’d been married, divorced and burnt. Titi was getting to a place in her life where she did want to get married. Despite their differences in opinion on marriage and despite the approximately 3999 miles between them, they started dating.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Titi was back in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;, but was feeling listless. It didn’t feel right to be there. Sunny convinced her to pack her things and spend 3 months with him in &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Indiana&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt;. This would be her third trip there in a 5-month period.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;At the end of the three months, Sunny proposed. She was lying on the couch on her last night before she was due to fly back to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. He sat at the edge of the couch and said “marry me”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sunny and Titilayo are now living in &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Indiana&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; with their 8-week old baby girl, Joy. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-5310684764696240934?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/5310684764696240934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-9-titilayo-and-sunny.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5310684764696240934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5310684764696240934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-9-titilayo-and-sunny.html' title='Day 9 Titilayo and Sunny'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SyBfCSSBDfI/AAAAAAAAAQM/DUZmKSM5sas/s72-c/Day9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-6932320119988383303</id><published>2009-12-08T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T22:08:43.121-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 8 An Invitation by Oriah</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sx89-vwtwfI/AAAAAAAAAQE/_xMB5ycqsqE/s1600-h/day8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sx89-vwtwfI/AAAAAAAAAQE/_xMB5ycqsqE/s320/day8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413113425304601074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;In memory of Dee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; It doesn’t interest me&lt;br /&gt; what you do for a living.&lt;br /&gt; I want to know&lt;br /&gt; what you ache for&lt;br /&gt; and if you dare to dream&lt;br /&gt; of meeting your heart’s longing.  &lt;p&gt;It doesn’t interest me&lt;br /&gt;how old you are.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know&lt;br /&gt;if you will risk&lt;br /&gt;looking like a fool&lt;br /&gt;for love&lt;br /&gt;for your dream&lt;br /&gt;for the adventure of being alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;It doesn’t interest me&lt;br /&gt;what planets are&lt;br /&gt;squaring your moon...&lt;br /&gt;I want to know&lt;br /&gt;if you have touched&lt;br /&gt;the centre of your own sorrow&lt;br /&gt;if you have been opened&lt;br /&gt;by life’s betrayals&lt;br /&gt;or have become shrivelled and closed&lt;br /&gt;from fear of further pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I want to know&lt;br /&gt;if you can sit with pain&lt;br /&gt;mine or your own&lt;br /&gt;without moving to hide it&lt;br /&gt;or fade it&lt;br /&gt;or fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I want to know&lt;br /&gt;if you can be with joy&lt;br /&gt;mine or your own&lt;br /&gt;if you can dance with wildness&lt;br /&gt;and let the ecstasy fill you&lt;br /&gt;to the tips of your fingers and toes&lt;br /&gt;without cautioning us&lt;br /&gt;to be careful&lt;br /&gt;to be realistic&lt;br /&gt;to remember the limitations&lt;br /&gt;of being human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;It doesn’t interest me&lt;br /&gt;if the story you are telling me&lt;br /&gt;is true.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you can&lt;br /&gt;disappoint another&lt;br /&gt;to be true to yourself.&lt;br /&gt;If you can bear&lt;br /&gt;the accusation of betrayal&lt;br /&gt;and not betray your own soul.&lt;br /&gt;If you can be faithless&lt;br /&gt;and therefore trustworthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I want to know if you can see Beauty&lt;br /&gt;even when it is not pretty&lt;br /&gt;every day.&lt;br /&gt;And if you can source your own life&lt;br /&gt;from its presence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I want to know&lt;br /&gt;if you can live with failure&lt;br /&gt;yours and mine&lt;br /&gt;and still stand at the edge of the lake&lt;br /&gt;and shout to the silver of the full moon,&lt;br /&gt;“Yes.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;It doesn’t interest me&lt;br /&gt;to know where you live&lt;br /&gt;or how much money you have.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you can get up&lt;br /&gt;after the night of grief and despair&lt;br /&gt;weary and bruised to the bone&lt;br /&gt;and do what needs to be done&lt;br /&gt;to feed the children.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It doesn’t interest me&lt;br /&gt;where or what or with whom&lt;br /&gt;you have studied.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know&lt;br /&gt;what sustains you&lt;br /&gt;from the inside&lt;br /&gt;when all else falls away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  I want to know&lt;br /&gt; if you can be alone&lt;br /&gt;with yourself&lt;br /&gt;and if you truly like&lt;br /&gt; the company you keep&lt;br /&gt;in the empty moments.&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;It doesn’t interest me&lt;br /&gt;who you know&lt;br /&gt;or how you came to be here.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you will stand&lt;br /&gt;in the centre of the fire&lt;br /&gt;with me&lt;br /&gt;and not shrink back.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-6932320119988383303?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/6932320119988383303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-8-invitation-by-oriah.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6932320119988383303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6932320119988383303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-8-invitation-by-oriah.html' title='Day 8 An Invitation by Oriah'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sx89-vwtwfI/AAAAAAAAAQE/_xMB5ycqsqE/s72-c/day8.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-15044195296933495</id><published>2009-12-06T22:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T22:58:10.277-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 6 You are what you love not what loves you</title><content type='html'>So perhaps this is a cop out, but I've been traveling today and had no time to write a story. Also no time to figure out how to upload a youtube video to the blog. But I like this clip a lot and think you might too. xoxo gossip girl. wait that's not right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9ELwvhjMG4/"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9ELwvhjMG4&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-15044195296933495?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/15044195296933495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-6-you-are-what-you-love-not-what.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/15044195296933495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/15044195296933495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-6-you-are-what-you-love-not-what.html' title='Day 6 You are what you love not what loves you'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-6739216994999095282</id><published>2009-12-05T21:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T21:34:30.012-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 5 Kristiana and Alistair</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SxtCSlzHOHI/AAAAAAAAAPc/706VmRqPhco/s1600-h/Day5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SxtCSlzHOHI/AAAAAAAAAPc/706VmRqPhco/s320/Day5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411992264367356018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alistair: We’re on week 49.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lina: But what about the earlier parts? You met when you were 17 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristiana: Yeah, we don’t count those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alistair: Yeah, those don’t count.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristiana and Alistair went to Whitney Young High School on the Near West side of Chicago. Michelle Obama also went to Whitney Young, but she was in a different year. Even though they were the same age, Alistair was a year ahead,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristiana: Because he’s a nerd!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, because Alistair is a nerd they didn’t know each other in high school. They met – well, not exactly met; Alistair noticed Kristiana at a spoken work event and began to stalk her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alistair: Before on-line stalking became something all the cool kids were doing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristiana: Let’s just say, we don’t how but you found out what my aol chat name was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alistair: Ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They became what they’re calling ‘intimate friends’. They were both seeing other people at the time. They graduated from Michelle Obama’s high school and went off to their separate universities. Kristiana went to the University of Chicago (which she decided to graduate from a year earlier because of Alistair’s taunts), and Alistair to University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristiana had cause to visit U of I. We’re less sure if she had cause to call Alistair and ask if he had a spare place for her to stay the night. But she did, and he did. But they didn’t. Alistair, the gentleman, gave Kristiana his bed while he slept on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After several months, Alistair finally broke up with his girlfriend of five years who he didn’t like very much. And our young lovers had a shot. But not for long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something Bad happened. We don’t know what. All we’re told is that there was “a difference of opinions” followed by a period of a 20-month-long silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During which Kristiana was dating someone she didn’t like very much and argued with a lot. In the middle of one their many arguments he accused her of never having forgiven anyone in her life. This made her think, and she thought he might be right. Kristiana decided to start forgiving people so she made a list of everyone she was angry with and not talking to. Top of her list was Alistair. She got in touch with him by writing him three haikus. And he responded by skyping her from Germany.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now, our young lovers had both graduated from college and Alistair was back in Chicago. They reconnected, and the rest is the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristiana: Alistair is my best friend. We’re like two ants discovering morsels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lina: Am I the morsel in this analogy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alistair: Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristiana: No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alistair: Wait why are you asking so many questions? Is this for your little stories?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-6739216994999095282?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/6739216994999095282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-5-kristiana-and-alistair.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6739216994999095282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/6739216994999095282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-5-kristiana-and-alistair.html' title='Day 5 Kristiana and Alistair'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SxtCSlzHOHI/AAAAAAAAAPc/706VmRqPhco/s72-c/Day5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-5269416894196737186</id><published>2009-12-04T08:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T08:58:19.927-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 4 Nickyy and Alex</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sxk9e-ZAQVI/AAAAAAAAAPU/usP_AxGpdZg/s1600-h/Day4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sxk9e-ZAQVI/AAAAAAAAAPU/usP_AxGpdZg/s320/Day4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411424029615604050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:612.0pt 792.0pt; 	margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; 	mso-header-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;She was escaping &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;East London&lt;/st1:place&gt; and a broken heart. She escaped all the way to &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Thailand&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. Nickyy had a six-month return ticket. She’d go to &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Thailand&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, she’d find herself, she’d mend her broken heart, she’d return to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;East London&lt;/st1:place&gt;. That was the plan.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Nickyy has a knack with the boys. Put her in a room full of people, chances are someone’s likely to fall in love with her. It doesn’t mean she chooses well, or wisely, but she always has choices.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Unhappy with the choices in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;England&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, she would frequently jaunt off to the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Far East&lt;/st1:place&gt;. At first a month at a time, then three months. She’d hang out at ashrams and stand on her head. She’d get up at 4.30am to meditate at the Zen Buddhist centre in Tamil Nadu. That kind of thing. And there was that one time that she got rabies from a dog.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Her latest jaunt was to be &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Thailand&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; for six months. She mixed it up a little. She’d spend some time on Am on Koh Phangan, a party island, collecting boys’ phone numbers; and then spend some time in a wat/monastery, sleeping on a concrete bed, getting up at 4am and meditating for the day in silence. In between her monastery stays, she’d have flings with beautiful men from different parts of the world.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Then two months into her &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Thailand&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; adventure, she met an Australian man, Alex.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;“Off to the retreat for xmas and then maybe going to Oz. Have met a man but its a secret. He wants me to go to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;australia&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. Im thinking about it”, Nickyy wrote in an email to her friends back in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;East London&lt;/st1:place&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;While she thought about it, two more men declared their undying love for Nickyy. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;A week later, a second email came through:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Im off to OZ - tomorrow - have a man waiting who is desperately in love with me, has paid for a ticket to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;melbourne&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; and wants me to have his babies. Hopefully he wont bury me under the floorboards”.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Three years, one death in the family, some heartache and much laughter, later Nickyy and Alex are still living together, happily in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Australia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. “He is the best man in the world. I’m going to be with him forever”, Nickyy writes to her friends back in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-5269416894196737186?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/5269416894196737186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-4-nickyy-and-alex.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5269416894196737186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5269416894196737186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-4-nickyy-and-alex.html' title='Day 4 Nickyy and Alex'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/Sxk9e-ZAQVI/AAAAAAAAAPU/usP_AxGpdZg/s72-c/Day4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-5388820278590588951</id><published>2009-12-03T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T11:01:07.789-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 3 Wendy and John</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SxgKh1On5KI/AAAAAAAAAPM/BcSeIzb5oEo/s1600-h/Day3.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SxgKh1On5KI/AAAAAAAAAPM/BcSeIzb5oEo/s320/Day3.2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411086528626025634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I have it figured it out. It’s like I’m working on an assembly line”. Wendy had been internet dating for the last eight months. “I get ready, I go out, we make conversation, I come home. Repeat as needed. I’m averaging four dates a week. It’s like I have a second job”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wendy didn’t count how many dates she’d been on total. But she could count on one hand the guys she actually wanted to see a second time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She accidentally found herself in a relationship with one guy for three months, for no other reason than she couldn’t think of why she shouldn’t see him again. It wasn’t chemistry, exactly. More like process of elimination. But even when nothing is wrong with someone, it doesn’t make them right for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The accidental relationship ended and Wendy’s only regret was that she had to start internet dating again. Two weeks and five dates into a new round on match.com, Wendy stumbled across John.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides the small detail that he was a Lebanese Maronite from New York and she was a Jew from Nebraska, they seemed to be made for each other. They were both professors. Her research was on the Middle East. His was on Latin America. They could have conversations in which she spoke Spanish like a Spaniard and he spoke Portuguese like a Brazilian. They both preferred Arabic as the language for terms of affection. A five minute walking distance separated their apartments. They had probably crossed paths at the gym a dozen times without ever noticing each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn’t just that they seemed to match on paper. There was an easy quality to their interaction, immediately, intuitively. “Even if it doesn’t last, I’m just glad to know that I can still feel this kind of excitement for someone.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wendy was John’s first match.com date.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-5388820278590588951?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/5388820278590588951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-3-wendy-and-john.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5388820278590588951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/5388820278590588951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-3-wendy-and-john.html' title='Day 3 Wendy and John'/><author><name>Lina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SxgKh1On5KI/AAAAAAAAAPM/BcSeIzb5oEo/s72-c/Day3.2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-8444351249854960546</id><published>2009-12-02T09:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T22:38:01.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 2 Crystal and Richard</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzWu3gA6YLI/AAAAAAAAARg/NQlaD7YkdtU/s1600-h/Day+2.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzWu3gA6YLI/AAAAAAAAARg/NQlaD7YkdtU/s320/Day+2.2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419429995120058546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt; 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	margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:612.0pt 792.0pt; 	margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; 	mso-header-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Richard looks like and is as funny as Jack Black. This piece of information is irrelevant to the story. Richard and Crystal both majored in History in central &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Arkansas&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt;. But they didn’t meet then.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;They met seven years later in northwest &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;Arkansas&lt;/st1:state&gt; at a Sushi restaurant where &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Crystal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; worked and Richard ate. They thought one another looked familiar and it didn’t take them long to figure out they’d graduated from the same program in the same school.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Since graduating Richard had gotten married, had twins and gotten divorced.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Richard started visiting the sushi restaurant more and more often. He showered, he wore clean flannel shirts, but he never quite worked up the nerve to ask for &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Crystal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;’s phone number.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Until he had a lucky break. One day, she got talking to him about an unfinished bronze sculpture she was working on that she needed a Dremel tool for. He snatched the opportunity and offered to lend &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Crystal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; his. When he went home to look for his tool, he couldn’t find it. He bought one; then decided it looked too clean. She’d be able to tell that it was brand new, and figure out he’d just bought it to get to know her, and come to the conclusion he was a crazy stalker. Richard took his new Dremel tool out and rolled the parts around in dirt. &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Crystal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, she even asked for his phone number so she could return it to him. But she was not interested in a divorced man with two kids. They decided to be friends.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Several months later, recovering from another break-up, Richard told &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Crystal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; he had decided he’d rather be alone than be with the wrong person. That was the turning point. That night they sat out in the porch and watched the thunderstorm. Richard hid his visceral fear of thunderstorms and sat outside with &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Crystal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. It took him till 5am&lt;span style="color:red;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;to work up the courage to kiss her. A year later they eloped.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-8444351249854960546?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/8444351249854960546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-2-crystal-and-richard.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/8444351249854960546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/8444351249854960546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-2-crystal-and-richard.html' title='Day 2 Crystal and Richard'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SzWu3gA6YLI/AAAAAAAAARg/NQlaD7YkdtU/s72-c/Day+2.2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-110412426144131100</id><published>2009-12-01T15:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T16:42:04.378-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 1 Shannon and Noah</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SxWlharb-wI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/xwaT750Idr4/s1600/Day1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SxWlharb-wI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/xwaT750Idr4/s320/Day1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410412520871295746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They met in occupied Palestine. Noah was working with the International Solidarity Movement and Shannon was working with the International Women’s Peace Service. They crossed paths in a war zone and got talking. Noah was living in Canada at the time and Shannon in Chicago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noah: So what do you do in Chicago?&lt;br /&gt;Shannon: Well I’m trying to figure out what to do next. I was working in theatre, stage managing, directing, but I’m not doing that anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Noah: Why not?&lt;br /&gt;Shannon: I can’t stand actors. What do you do?&lt;br /&gt;Noah: I’m an actor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Shannon’s day off from peace work, and on Noah’s last day in the Holy Land, they found themselves spending the day together in East Jerusalem. So far, so platonic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, Shannon woke up and couldn’t stop thinking about Noah. He was due to fly out later that day. At Rabbi Sarah's urging ("If you're brave enough to face tanks, and guns, and tear gas, you should be brave enough to tell a boy you have a crush on him") Shannon went to find Noah at the renowned Faisal Hostel, where he was staying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn’t find him. He had gone to the Austrian Hospice where she was staying to say goodbye. She went back to the hospice, dejected. He went back to The Faisal. He may or may not have been dejected. He decided to try one more time, and walked to the hospice again. And there Shannon was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told him she liked him. It was more terrifying than tanks, guns or tear gas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, four years later, Shannon and Noah are together in Chicago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-110412426144131100?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/110412426144131100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-1-shannon-and-noah.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/110412426144131100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/110412426144131100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/day-1-shannon-and-noah.html' title='Day 1 Shannon and Noah'/><author><name>Lina</name><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/_1v4VeyQxT9g/SxWlharb-wI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/xwaT750Idr4/s72-c/Day1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7571613357915363179.post-753346485352914053</id><published>2009-12-01T15:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T21:51:21.471-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Introduction</title><content type='html'>I’m interested in human relationships, and I’ve always been fascinated by love. How one finds it, how it grows, what happens to love after a relationship ends, how one loves well, why one loves badly. I also like to write, and I’ve been trying to make a conscious effort to write more lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for the next hundred days, once a day, I will document a love story. To start off, I want to write about people around me who are in love and how they met. I’m not sure how this will develop in the next hundred days, but I’m excited to found out. The next hundred days will not exclusively be about romantic love. I want to explore the full spectrum of human love. So, if you have an idea, or want to share your love story, please get in touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Dominic for the inspiration. Check out Dom’s very cool 100 Days http://dominicmckenna100days.blogspot.com/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother ship blog: http://www.hundreddays.net/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7571613357915363179-753346485352914053?l=linajamoul100days.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/feeds/753346485352914053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/im-interested-in-human-relationships.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/753346485352914053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7571613357915363179/posts/default/753346485352914053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://linajamoul100days.blogspot.com/2009/12/im-interested-in-human-relationships.html' title='Introduction'/><author><name>Lina</name><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>
