Even the best fall down sometimes.

You are so tired of settling. Its about time that you go ahead and make amends. You so want to just say it and get it out. Its harder to live with everyone knowing than living with the fear of your close ones finding out some way. You always walk with the corner of your eye over your shoulder and even after making sure that all corners are covered, how do you ever be sure?You contend yourself with life, an empty life where you are living day-by-day and getting absolutely nowhere. You can't cry in the day because you are always out. You can't cry in the night because you can't afford to wake anyone up. So, you up this wall. This wall you hide behind all the time. Behind the big brown couches in the guest room, you roll up in the corner and you cry your heart out. You don't scream but weep, and weep and weep. You don't care for how puffy or red your eyes will be the next day. You find comfort and pain, both, in that time when your neck is drenched with saline tears and there is more to where that came from. You bow down your head and still the images of all those dreams and expectations flash by past you. You are a mess, a certified, spineless mess and you have no way to go. You don't know what to do. You can't ask anyone, you can't tell anyone. You are expected to just flatten up your perfect little skirt, get up, wash your puffy. pale face with cold water and go to bed. You sleep on it, on anything, on everything and nothing at the same time. You lie in bed for atleast an hour, flipping your pillow over, turning your head around, counting how many times you have done that. Its not a sleepless night, no being awake is far too painful. You force your circadian to bed.

Maybe just maybe, tommorow, this would all feel like a dream: as if it had never happened. You wish, pray, it never happened.

We burried truth under playgrounds.

oh yes!

edit.

Temporary peace, somewhat.phew.

Drift away.

This song, oh man. I have been hearing this at different places for the past four years. Every mall that I have ever been to(okay maybe not ALL of them but most of them) have played this. I only knew the chorus and after finally googling it, I finally found it=D. I thought today would be hell, it was hell, hell at work. Argh. But school was awesome, haha, not such a great sleep bio lecture followed by an awesome 2 hour physio haul, I came out feeling relieved/happy/smarter. Hehehe. Tuesdays are such the hell.

And oh this song!!!It feels like warm white chocolate mocca on 7am winter mornings:):)

confessions of a kaamchor.

Ramzan and days are flying past me like a total blur these days. Wake up for sehri, eat, get ready for work, go to work, go to class, come home for iftar, homework and then off to bed. WTH, what happened to being lazy:( ??!!

I need to start praying, at least now. seriously.

labour day weekend.

This long weekend was lovely. Cousins came by and we went over. Finally went to demetres and had 75 dollars worth of desserts(yikes!, shopped for back-to-school. It was a nice relaxing weekend with lots of telly, granola bars, ludo and failed attempts at learning chess. Since my talk with Abu and M that day, I am trying to keep my head leveled and myself calm. Things have a strange way of unfolding themselves so I/we shall see what happens next. For now, I am a little calm. I just finished watching The Hills, washed my hair and seen that the girlies are ready for school tommorow. I absolutely love the time for back to school, I just hope that this year isn't any different from all the other years:).

Oh no I've said too much.

Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up

This is the fourth blog post I have started writing in the past two days. I don't quite know how to say I feel. I had a chat with M after a very long time yesterday and she made me realise something, something I knew forever but never acted on. I just HAVE to stop drowning in self pity right about now. Whats done is done eh, and can't do anything to mend the past so fucking move on better, brighter things. Ofcourse, that doesmn't mean that moving on overrides your guilt of what you could have stopped but to look past it and not let it come in the way of the life you need(and want). Repeat: get over it, get over it. I am listening to REM's losing my religon and I know that I can't be sure of what happens until I try to live beyond whats happened. The song ends now. I still feel the way you feel after you cry your eyes out and your eyes are burning red and your nose is puffy and stuffy. I start the start over again.

Life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up

I haven't said enough.

I am exhausted and can definitely do with a vacation right about now.

I hate how we have all become fragments.

We burried truth under playgrounds.

At the end of the day, you are alone with the things you have done.

(asofterworld)

Not stuck in reverse!

Yesterday, Poshi got her O level marks. She did brilliantly, that girl. She deserved it and SO much more. I remember it like yesterday when I went home after IB and there she was running around Mara Api and I debating between doing Matric or its british equivelent. She couldnt make her mind up, heh. Deep down, though, it was obvious that she was bound to do the Os and pass them flying colours. Never did she nor I think that years later, when she would be done, she would be in Islamabad and not Muzaffarabad in the comfort of her Upper Chattar home, getting phone calls and best wishes from cousins, aunts and friends, alike. We would have been driving around in Chachu's or Masood Uncle's gaari, going down to Madina Market, spending the last of every penny in our pockets for junk we didnt need and then going up to Chinari and pigging out while watching our serene little town.

Now our houses are rented out by NGOs who have been sitting on their asses and not doing anything to mend the cracks(literal ones) in our walls, roads, schools. Islamabad is (apparently) the new home now. The thought of it being home was nice before the earthquake, but now, we all just want to be back home. For now, Poshi is settling for a video I-pod, lots of phone calls and happysad tears all around. My youngest phupo is a trooper, she made all the difference.

:)

greysisdefinitelynotmedicinebutthisisit.

"Too often, the thing you want most is the one thing you can't have.Desire leaves us heartbroken, it wears us out. Desire can wreck your life. But as tough as wanting something can be...the people who suffer the most,are those who don't know what they want."

- Grey's Anatomy

I live for yesterdays.

If you know me, you would know how I love to rant about/think about my life currently compared to what it used it be.

You live for yesterdays

, a friend once pointed out to me. I wish that we could go back into that tiny window of time and live some of the good, some of the bad and even some of the nasty, just so that the life we are in today doesn't seem so aweful. I spend hours thinking about how one decision changed our course of life and then another one changed it more and then another brought us through twists and turns and led us to this. My mind has gotten used to multi tasking/thinking now. I can think about 'yesterday's debate' while doing whatever it maybe: work, read, study, panick, have a conversation with a friend about how her ex- and her were just a wrong fit or how your low gpa from first year will not completely screw up your chances of getting into Med School or even how I should be using the tredmill lying uselessly in the garrage.

I feel the change that I have gone through in the last 8 or so years. From being that shy little kashmiri girl to being a loud, outspoken, often corky and (seemingly) well- centered girl. I don't like what the transformation has led to and seeing all this change makes some people very happy and often proud of me. But this change doesn't seem to me as major as people around me feel it to be. I am still the same in-secure person who could(/does) cry at the drop of a hat. I still can't say what I feel and still keep everything botteled up in me. I hate how this 'exterior' change is something that people love to compliment and so I love to dig into old memories, times, things to make myself feel better. Life isn't horrible. Its just me, who can't stop complaining. I hate how post secret has to have the right postcard at the time when my mind is over worked, worried and too tired to let me sleep.

Maybe I should stop- here- now.

make sense?NO!NEVER

I wish I knew how to say what I feel.

I wish I was not a coward and could just say it, despite the consequences that would surely be very un-ordinary. Its scary when you are sitting alone in a brightly lit room, yet see/feel grey around you.


You are as sick as your secrets.

Potter!

Rowling has all of us dancing on the ink of her pen. Even khana can wait whilst we finish chapters and digest each word to the fullest. MCAT prep on hold until the weekend. Work and HP this week:D

666=zero.

The cool basemeet in the Khan household was used to the loud clacker of the ludo dice against the orange tyelenol bottle. It was a noise that was a regular one during sleepless summer nights, full of sloppy indian movies, re-runs of friends and the OC, ludo, cards and ofcourse tonnes and tonnes of junk food.

The ludo posse consisted of the somewhat fantastic and fanatical foursome; Zoya, Hina, Zainab and Mano. The four cousins would spent hours going around those tiny little boxes on a ludo board that they miraculously found at the start of what might have been a boring/quiet summer break. Each game of pawns and dice would be followed by snack time/nap time/ venting time. The most frequent loser, Zoya, would bitch at the other three to the point where the group would rather sleep(like thats any use in the summmer) than play ludo with partners with any of the remaining three in the group. Hence, the only way forward would be individual game, where all four would go head to head against each other.

Cut, cut, cut, cut, runnn mann, runnnnnn, double ko paas ni kar saktay, ohh meri star peh hai, and, the the crowd pleaser, single pawn cutting a triple was everyone's fav. except the one who would get cut. It got an aplause every single time it happened and happened all so very often to Zoya, who previously beleived that ludo was HER thing.These four cousins would battle it out every night all throught the dry and humid june till july. No one kept count of how many times they played but the pile of wrappers of 5 rupee ki jet sport and empty pepsi bottles would be evidence enough of the magnitude of the intensity in the room. Finally, it would be Chachi's scream from the third floor that would send the girls running and off to bed, leaving behind the dice where it was and the pawns lined up exactly the way they were to be picked up again next night.

3 am was the time that Chachi would call out to them. 'Utho warna mein aati hoon' would the curfew and then the loud party room would be left silent and dark. The only sounds getting the room through the rest of the night would be the zrrrrs of all of the individuals ACs that would be on in each of the bed rooms and the drops of water that would drip down from the tiny exit pipes at the back.The formerly lively living room would await life that would come back with nightfall and end to begin the cyle again at sehri.

Get away!

You know that you are beyond helpless when the tv show,you spent your teenage years despising and venting against, becomes the main activity of your time. I never knew that kids in Newport beach would make me re-consider my life. I am stuck in a spiral.

Tearing up to fictional teenage drama!Is this what I am bargaining for now?

twenty.

Its going to be a brand new year and I mean that. I always make promises, which I never end up following through. This year, no more promises - actions. Actions speak louder than words. Its always great to have something old and familiar when you are putting yourself out on the line. The year of the twenty:)

Repentance.

You're only as sick as your secrets
But the truth will set you free
The truth is the truth
And all you can do is live with it

- Dream Theater.
(22/6/2007)

1:09 am.

Its another night and I am back home now, again with a heavy heart.

Good bye Glenn?

There is but much to say about life and how things are here, but that can wait. The day, Saturday, April 24th '07 was all of Mr Glenn McGrath's. I wish to say more words about the happysad end of world cup 2007 but less is more during exam time. Good luck you:D

AHHH!

Stop haunting me already, I am tired of being sadtired. Tired of being sad tired.

And now all the good kids are messing up.

exams.

I am going out of my mind now. Read, read, Read, read, Read.

I don't even know if I can do this. Help me!!

Time Time Time, Oh bloody time.

Well into a wednesday.

Long, long day today. Felt totally useless for the most of it but GREEATTTT last Zoo252 lecture of the year. Beautiful course(I hope I do well in:D) and the proff is sucha funny man. He looks like one of those old (mean looking) german football(soccer coaches) but he has the funniest sense of humour. He is like me in a way, tells the most awkward jokes at the wrong times. But he is smart, maha smart. I jelous.

Right now, I am listening to Sarah, Aemon and Momina's school stories. They are so adorable and funny. It makes me feel like an aged aged person. Meh, its cute that I can relate to so much of it. Girls are such funny people when they are growing up, well minus Sarah who is already 17.

I felt very awkward when I went to shop for friday's dinner. I found nothing, actually didnt look hard enough. Eaton Center is too damn big, plus I would rather shop at Winners and not bother going from store to store. Ergh, such an awkward feeling. really strange.

I am listening to Anesthetize from PT's album. Its my first listen. First impression, love love love the begining. 16:44 mins. to go. I should update my mp3 player soon.

Back to zoo reading. cardiovascular=fascination=D.

If only it was easy to say it the way it is, we would all be at a warmer place.

forgive me?

YAY

This was ownage=D.

Nicole go next!!

friday is the love.

Today is my first friday off after so long. I always have class and or work and hence I am never home till 10 pm. I have missed so many jummas that I can't even count but not today(YAYAY!). Praying jumma makes me so happy. It gives a good conclusion to a hectic week and has us go into lazy/crazy weekend mode. I have had a weeek from hell this week. But, all of my labs for the year are finished now and have no more essays or quizes to worry about. Yes, its crazy that second year is almost over. I have exams between april 24th to may 2nd. I HAVE HAVE HAVE to ace them this year. Need NEED NEEEEEEEEEEEEED good GREAT gpa:(

I am scared but happy. Since I gave yesterday's essay in, there is a certain silence in my head. Its strange. One more week of classes and then exam prep time.

and then there is cricket!!=D
fightfightfightfight!

kaam karo pagal!

Note to self: Can't screw up this paper!All the sleep and the lazy/wasting time can be done post 12:30 pm tommorow. Imli is such a distraction. I have been pigging out on that plus cricket all day toady, I don't want to pull in an all-nighter tonight. MUST GET DONE NOW!

and

http://www.fin.gov.on.ca/english/publications/salarydisclosure/2006/univer06.html


this is pagalpan:O

Say na Say na!

After researching on Lahore for the last 5 hours, I deserve some msn/blog time. I hate how the router at home blew up yesterday. Zainab and Shazi's fighting key karnaamay, I am stuck working from here. I shouldn't mind it. The mausam is nice and I have a nice table and I have coke. The weather is nice. A little drizzle too. Pretty grey/blue sky and just the right wind. yum!

I am a procastinator. Jahanumi insaan!!.

Perfume: The Story of a murderer

Aila gave me this link, which has a crap loads of movies and shows online. Saturday night had us girls lazy and so we searched around on the site and stumbled upon Perfume: The Story of a murderer. I will be the first to admit that I didn't totally understand the end of it but it was a good watch nevertheless. The acting was amazing, subtle yet so powerful. I lovedd the role of the protagonist who ended up being the antagonist too. It was a beautifully done film. It was a little long and dry(in the middle of the film) as the story dragged along from the birth of Jean-Baptiste till well his end. Even despite the shameless nudity in some parts, the movie was brilliant. The actor, Ben Whishaw, is a gem of an actor-such a powerful(bordering on dark, according to Sarah) character done in such a tasteful manner. Superb!I wish I understood the end well but from whatever I did end up gathering, the movie was nothing short of excellent!

Urbanisation lecture(march 30, 2007): aftermath.

There is more to come.
Shift Happens.

realisation #986572798098398

In the past, I lived in and for the future. In the present, I have been trying to re-live the past that once was. I think this right here is why I lost my way.


There, I said it.

To blossom blue is to blossom without you.

Its such a different spring, this spring. I am uninspired, lost and definitely not focused. The fact that I miss all of you sucks even more, makes it harder. It definitely does. These are the hardest days of our lives and for what its worth, its all blue despite this warm, bright sun.

I need grace. I am lost without it.

audioslave.

Audioslave put things into perspective on the train ride from home to campus. There is so much going on. You try to make it through all that jazz, trying to stand up and be brave. You put yourself in this cold, stone-hard shell where you seem to be this perfectly strong person who can carry their world on your shoulders.They are convinced so they load you up with expectations and aspiration. You put on that strong act, you try to follow through with it. You keep up that cold exterior and then you see someone saying that they HATE you and it hits you. Now, you feel cold and alone on a sidewalk at the bottom of a hill. You are too sad and scared to go up, but you can't show it. You just can't.

Even Sadaf baji can break down, you knnow..

!

saturday and sunday:D

Alhamdulilah

I am so relieved right now. Oh God, Thank you so so so much.

wow.

o'my.

the world is crashing down, I can feel it. I can.

this is

torture.

hope.

Everybody's got a hold on hope It's the last thing that's holding me

- Hold on Hope - Guided by Voices


(postscret)

Oh No!

I am scared shitless now.

At my most beautiful: part 2.

I get overwhelmed when I go into Gerstein. I think its because of my insecurity when I am in that place. All the people who are in Life Science study at Gerstein. You got to the computers, the person next to you has the same Human Bio course book as you, hence in your class. You look at them and then on the screen they are looking at, they are reviewing lecture notes, or listening to lecture recordings or even on Biome.

It scares you so you move and get yourself to a corner spot. A couple of people on the next table spend the whole day reading The Bio text book and annotating their slides, memorising, reading, learning. You look at yourself, the fool that you are, the over ambitious dumb ass who hasn't yet seen a sight of a 4.0 gpa at uoft. You feel so disgusted with yourself, You hate your life. You don't hate life sciences but you hate the school you are at. You feel heavy, you feel like crying. You rush to the ladies room. You lock yourself up in a stall and have a good cry. You are still conscious of the others in the washroom, so you hurry out, wash your face with ice cold water and get out of there before anyone sees your puffy, bloodshot eyes. You are walking out when you run into people from your classes. You see Wess, you try to avoid him but you say hi. Then you see Alina and Raza walk out and Alina stops you for a little chat. You open the door to the stairs and you see Usman with his bunch of friends who know your other friends(who are all life sciencers). You make small-talk with them while your head is pounding.

You finally get out, breath the cold winter air. You see Con Hall in front of you. You feel happysad. You know that this is/was your first choice. You loved it when you came here for the first visit. You are happy because you feel warm knowing the giant commonly known as Uoft but you feel sad at the lack of work you do, even though you are here. You feel so gutted. The aweful feeling of being at Gerstein returns when you are crossing King's Circle and approaching Knox.

Your head is heavy and so you decide to go home. After a two hour commute later, you are home with your books open but you feel too tired to work so you go to sleep. You wake up the next morning, get ready for class, pack up your books, print off the lecture slides and head out. You decide to work at woodsworth today and you go into the study space, find a table, lamp and chair and sit your ass down for the longest, grueling 9-6 studying period before your HMB midterm in Kruger Hall. You study during the day, taking a long an hour and a half lunch with Aila where all you can think about is how you will screw up the midterm. Your food tastes like nothing but you eat it because you are hungry and you get back to work. You give your midterm and you come out. You feel weirdly numb(comfortably, perhaps?). You feel lighter. You don't know the outcome yet. You think that you gave it your best.

You feel lighter. The ride home from campus doesn't feel so long anymore. You actually feel happy inside your head. You try to compare it to something you have felt before. You remember it and you smile. It was always this. This was exactly what you were missing. The high that you have after you feel like you have genuinely gotten some work done is where you feel most releived. The warmest in your own skin and definitely as your most beautiful.

At my most beautiful.

My parents are the best thing that has happened to me. I am indeed a very lucky person to have them on my side, all the time. I, on the other hand, am still trying to make them happy/proud/lucky that I am on their side. I feel that I used to have this one spark in me that died in the past year. The spark reassured me that I was good enough to be part of this family, my family. Every passing day, I try to find that spark again. And yet, I give up on it by the end of the day. I won't stop trying though. Try everyday, everyhour.

My parents really are the best and I pray for them everyday. I pray that we all can grow old together. My family of four is brilliant, we are even better in the bigger picture when we are with our chachu, mamus, phupos, etc. I actually have a functional family unlike some people I know. I actually LOVE to hangout at home with my folks than out in some party or a mall with friends. Maybe because I am at my happiest with them that I never wanted to give into the peer pressure of the clubbing/drugs business. I like being clean and I am doing my level best to get rid of the wrong kind of socialising in my life. The socialising whereby you spend hours trying to fix up the other person's life. You go as far as losing sleep over them and making international calls at weird hours of the day. All for what?For people, you haven't met, nor will ever meet but just know through someone or something in many cases(re: forums,msn). What a waste I am. What a waste.

Abu and Ami talked the other day and he asked her a few things about Sarah and I. It broke my heart, it really did. I hate how ami broke into tears when she talked to me about what he said. All he asked about was school and to tell us that 'bachay parho aur kuch nahi'. They deserve better, everyday. I can't change history but I can make/change whats to come. I going to be that better for them. I will do anything and everything to be that better. That better that I should(should've already been) be and the better that they deserve.

InshAllah!

I'm going to die.

Reading week was a waste thanks to yours truly. I got next to nothing done. All the bio that I was supposed to do, the writing project, the geography essay, Human bio ki assignment and neurobio. OH MAN and the tops of it all...I realised that march the 2nd was indeed this friday and NOT NEXT WEEK. This meant that my eversohard and uberlyimpossible genetics midterm is this week. Yes, I, the dumbass, forgot that february has 28 days and NOT 30 damn days. March starts this week. wtf?

Total Dumbassness. Its not bad enough that I have a Haemoglobin lab kal subha, I have to prep my midterm too.As the famous Sadaf panic line goes, " I am going to DIE".

Monsoon.

She sat in her bed while watching the glass window in front of her sweat. Condensation in this chilly winter afternoon caused the glass to be all misty and grey. It was a sad shade of grey that the window became. It acted like a filter and everything seemed grey through it. It was beautiful, in a blurry, depressed way. There wasn't much you could see but the sound of honking and the loud noise that the pouring rain would make against the steel roofs of the houses next door. After listening to the same sounds, she picked up a pattern of sounds amist the madness of the Pindi traffic.

She was smiling after a week. It had been a week since it last poured like that. She hadn't slept in a week and the laid back ambience of the warm room in the cold afternoon made her drowsy. Ambreen loved the silence of the appartment on a rainy day. It reminded her of her mother. She had fallen sick in the monsoon season when Ambreen was thirteen. She had caught malaria when she left Pindi to see her family in Bagh. Since she came back, she had been sick for the whole monsoon season. Ambreen remembered sitting by her Amma's bedside and telling her about what happened at school everyday. She would talk her heart out to her mother, who lay in bed quietly. The room would be quiet as Ambreen paused between each story/account of the day she told her mother. All she would hear in those pauses was rain on rooftops, the traffic and her mother’s slow but sure breaths.

Asif, her dad knew of his wife's approaching death and he was shattered by that fact. He couldn't have afforded to buy her medications that she needed to get better. He could barely afford Ambreen’s school fees and house rent. Living in the big city was hard, much harder than the simple life in Bagh. He moved to the city with big dreams and hopes of making it big and giving his family a good life. He had a daughter and he wanted to give her the best future ever. He wanted to educate her and have her choose a life partner that she could be proud of and not some middle aged villager who was interested in dowry and a young(er) wife. He refused many proposals in the village knowing the men were the kind who beat their women, had multiple wives and spent their days ordering women around/objectifying them.

Ambreen smiled at the memories that rain brought back_ The memories she still liked to visit once in a while. She saw her reflection in the mirror and it broke her heart. It wasn’t bad enough that she missed her mother or that her habits resembled her. She was also a mirror image of her mother when she was her age. She was tall and slender, had long brown hair that she always wore in a black paranda and wore the nose ring that her mother had passed down to her. It was the same nose ring her grandmother had given her mother. It was the only thing of her mother’s that she got after she passed away.

Ambreen put her head down on the bed for a little while. She was tired of all the nostalgia and didn’t want to cry yet another time that she decided to go down memory lane. She was about to fall asleep when she heard the door bell ring. Ambreen ran to the door while covering her head with her shawl. She was in such a rush that she knocked over a vase of her way to the door. She opened the door to Karim, her husband, who had just come home from work. Upon seeing the broken vase on the floor, he threw the water in the glass right across Ambreen’s face. He grabbed her slim self by the arm and pushed her on to the bed, where he kept his cane. What followed next was not pleasant. She spent another afternoon getting beaten up. Her semi-healed bruises became sore again. This time, the pain was just a tad more than the last time.

After Karim was done, he would go and take a shower while she dragged herself to the kitchen to heat his food.

Yes, she found it ironic how she ended up being with the same kind of a man that her father had refused to get her married to in the village. He was no village fool but rather her (smart?) husband from the city who still picked his cane over any conversation with a woman.

Postsecret.

Postsecret hit a home run with this postcard. I check the site once or twice a month and never has anything felt so close to heart. I find a lot of the 'secrets' posted to be very different from anything in my life. Most of the times, things that people confess here scare me but not this time.

This particular postcard is basically everything rolled into a one liner that describes it all- nothing more, nothing less. As good as it feels to not be alone in this feeling, its also sad that someone else is going through what I'm feeling. Its sad that I still haven't learnt to be able to say it on my own. Its hard when you feel this awkward in your own skin. Everyday, I live a life that I could've never imagined. Even with all its posiitives, its still a life very foreign to me. Yeah, its a strange life and this strange feeling that I've never felt before.I do miss the way I used to feel.

Cinamon Dolce.

The kitchen smelled of spicy cinnamon and warm espresso under the blanket of snow on Christmas eve 1976. Alex had finally arrived home from a long six years away in Vienna.He remembered leaving Milan while he was a young boy - a mere twenty year old. He had big dreams of seeing the world outside Milan and outside Italy. He wanted to be the Italian chef in the foreign city who people talked about for miles and miles. He wanted to be the Italian that the whole of this foreign city dined with and now six years later, he finally got what he wanted. He was on fire in Vienna with everyone loving him and his food.

In Vienna, he was the champ, the Iron Chef of the country but back home was a different story. His mom, his mentor, his Tita-bella made more miracles in the kitchen that Alex had ever seen. She taught him to cook, to love food and to bring life to seemingly lifeless ingrediants. She was the only keepsake that he took with him when he left Italy and the only one that he came back home for.

He had a smile on his face when he entered his mother's kitchen. Tita was sitting in chair by the shelf and mending dough for her special christmas pizza. She had her toppings worked out. It was going to be red onions, olives, prachuto, mozarella, a hint of feta along with spinich, sun-dried tomatoes and pecans. Bruchetta with cheese and a garlic drizzle were on the side pan while her spiced cinnamon flan was baking in the oven.

Alex watched his mother while she finished the dough and finished putting the tomato sauce on the pizza dough. She got up to wash her hands and was walking towards the sink when She saw Alex walk towards her with open arms. She ran towards her son with an open embrace and tears in her eyes. She cried louder now that he hugged her. Without saying a word, she sat him down on the chair, poured some him some of her home brewed espresso and cut him a piece of his favourite flan. Her damp eyes sparkled when he called her mama. She had tears of joy in her eyes when bit right into the heavenly flan that he adored when he was growing up.

She just saw him eat and sobbed silently. He couldn't help smiling. It was great to be home. He could smell the cinnamon dolce in the air around him. There was silence in the air which smelled of cinnamon from the flan.So what if she was a mute, he could see all she was saying and wanted to say in her eyes.

Since christmas eve 1970, this was the first time that Tita didn't throw away all the christmas food that she had prepared. The flan had never tasted sweeter. This year was the first year in six years that her flan didn't go salty because of her saline tears. It was a nice, warm christmas even amist the mounds of snow.

I am an ass. She is my best friend. Poor girl=p

says:
shama
shama says:
hello
. says:
when do you have off this week?
shama says:
all week
shama says:
working on weekends
. says:
as in work
. says:
ok ok cool
. says:
kal miltay hain thorncliffe mein
shama says:
y thornecliffe?
shama says:
y not my house?
. says:
I need to get a doctor's appt so I will go there and get that done and meet you at the same time
. says:
come over to my place:?
. says:
haha
shama says:
nahi...get ur appointment and then come to my house
. says:
nai, tu meri taraf aa
. says:
this house thing won't work hah
shama says:
y not?>
. says:
why not my place?
shama says:
i've already come to ur house so many times and its been over a yr u didnt come over
shama says:
u know my mom wont let me come over to ur house
. says:
honey, you came to my house once and that too for aunty
shama says:
but i did didnt i?
. says:
i dont want to come to your place(not to sound bitchy)
shama says:
u hvnt even come for me or for anyone else
shama says:
then fine am not coming to thorncliff either (not to sound bitchy either)
. says:
okay
. says:
another place or we just not meeting?
shama says:
first tell me wht problem u hv wid my house ?
. says:
its not your house
. says:
i have no problems whatsoever
shama says:
then?
. says:
guess
shama says:
hes my dad sadaf
. says:
i know
. says:
and i just wouldnt feel comfortable there now that he is here
. says:
it sounds really aweful of me to say that but thats why i didnt want to bring in the house thing
shama says:
he wont be here all day tomrro
. says:
I would love to see you but I don't feel comfortable coming to your place
. says:
its not much to ask. i will just say hi and go
. says:
you won't even have to waste your day with me
shama says:
fine then tomorrow i am going downtown to proncess margaret hopistal and will be back arnd 10:30ish
shama says:
so i'll meet u in mall
shama says:
is tht ok?
. says:
no
. says:
what time do you get home?
shama says:
10:30
. says:
what time should i come by?
shama says:
u said u hv to make doctors apontmt na
shama says:
so i'll be at the mall by 10:30
shama says:
come then
shama says:
coz ek bar ghar chali gayi toh i wont be able to get out
. says:
come by to your place bandi
shama says:
oh
shama says:
change of plans???;p;z
shama says:
lolz
. says:
unless you want me not to
shama says:
come anytime
. says:
understandable hai
. says:

shama says:
he wont be home til late nite arnd 10
shama says:
shut up
. says:
yaar, i was playing with you
. says:
tu mujhay serious samjhi
shama says:
ya ya
. says:
kassam
shama says:
ne need
. says:
i m sitting here laughing
shama says:
i hate u
shama says:
then
. says:
i was like yeh kab break hogi
shama says:

. says:
i was waiting for something like ' sadaf, you and i dosti khatam speech'
. says:
HAHAHA
shama says:
khadi duffer
shama says:
lolz
shama says:
u think i am like tht?
. says:
I have your birthday present too
shama says:
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
shama says:
my b'day present
. says:
no, but i was making my bitchy move
shama says:
u remembered???????????
. says:
aur tuney usko bi pick ni kia
. says:
dumbass I have known you for seven yrs
shama says:

. says:
you expect me to forget
shama says:
u do
shama says:

. says:
pagal
. says:
why you going to the hospital?
shama says:
u forgot th year b4 last
. says:
are you living there aaj kal?
. says:
psycho ward mein?
shama says:
haan yaar
. says:
hey, i m not perfect okayy

I think Shama needs new friends and soon.HAHAHA <3.

Frankie is my homeboy=D

Frank Lombardi(aka Frankie):

Frank Lombardi, a 27-year-old contracting company founder from Bronx, New York

Frank was raised in Bronx, New York, attending Westchester Community College and graduating from the POHS Institute of Insurance. Eager to make his mark in the world, he launched his own company when he was just 21 years old and turned it into a multi-million dollar construction firm. He also helped launched a high-tech computer company that can connect remotely to any computer on the internet to fix personal computers in minutes without consumers ever having to leave their home or office. With a true passion for construction, Frank spends his spare time looking for new real estate development opportunities, and also enjoys spending time with friends. "I should be the next Apprentice," Frank says, "because I possess the confidence to rise to any occasion and my charismatic personality allows me to handle any situation with ease."

(NBC)

He will win!He better win!HAHAH I love online TV. Watching 5 episodes of Apprentice in one day still having time to clean the dusty ol' room. Ahh, Reading week is a blessing!heh.

And Tim and Nicole=So cute, so very cute.

Set the fire to the third bar.

He poured some cognac into his glass. It was third drink in the last hour. Memphis was a lonely place on summer nights. Bars would be empty past 11 and this night was no exception. Frank was the first one in and the last man out every july night.He would look at people walk in and walk out of the bar whilst he waited for Christine.

She was a dancer and he was a US Marine. He would spend summers in Memphis where he would bask in Elvis' everlasting music and see his sweetheart. He was a musicain at heart and a Marine by profession. He was a tough soldier and razor sharp with the gun but he was a sucker for Christine. She was his highschool sweetheart and his 'girl back home'. She was a ballerina and taught most, if not all, of aspiring dancers in town since she returned from Julliars.She went to Julliars Dance Academy in order to leave town and go away when he was concripted into the Army. She was nineteen and he was twenty one when the war changed their plans of getting married and raising a family.

It had been six years since the july they were picking out tuxedos and wedding gowns. Even after six years during which they saw each other for a total of only six months combined, they were still madly in love like before. Jerry, the bar owner, remembered their youth and he always said that for these two, 'it was as if the war had never happened'. They would meet every fourth of july, skip the fireworks and meet at Jerry's bar where they would recap the whole year, share christmas and birthday presents and listen to Elvis. July four was like new years for them as they would rejoice with each other to their heart's content. They would talk for hours and then finish the night by playing to an empty bar. He would crack open the old piano while she strutted her stuff around the dance floor with a mic in her hand. They would go through classics like 'she's not you' and 'Who I am' while the whole country celebrated independence day.

The night would end with them setting fire to the third bar as they would dance under the starlit july sky. He would give her all the love she missed all year and he would get to be the same nineteen year old Frankie with Christie in a bar.

listening to: Set the fire to the third bar by Snow Patrol

Hollow.

“There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness.”


- The Count of Monte Cristo

this is it.

edit:(<3:$, thankyoooo)
When you are living a very hectic academic week which is also the week right before reading week, you can't afford being lazy or tired. After being on campus for over 25 hours in the last two days, my mind is toast.You commute for two hours. You come home, you say salam to everyone, you dump your bag and books down and you run to change out of layers and layers of clothes you wear to stay warm. You eat, you take a painkiller, you wash your face with cold water and settle down onto your laptop. You pull up the Bio Primary Papers and print it off. You read, you highlight, you type notes. You 'try' to understand. You then do your lab which is bound to keep you up for the night(again). You hate your computer now, it gives you a headache.So you take a break, minimise your word documents, close excel and you rest. You lose all the fatigue when you see the man, GlennMcgrath on your computer background. You smile now. You are happy(er). You wish for the most badass world cup ever, you day dream about hatricks, centuries, boundaries and larger than large sixers. You can feel the crowd and the adrenaline. Thats the sport. He is the sport.

You look back to being twelve and watching him on the screen for the first ever time. You liked his hair back then. You didn't understand the sport but you watched, quietly. You didn't know you would live to love cricket for the next seven years and more. He inspired you to watch and even want to play cricket. Alas, if you had a brother, he probably would have taught you but Sarah and I are fans nevertheless and will remain. All because of this one man! He will retire this year though, no more ODIs with him. Test cricket will always miss him. We will always miss him. He will always be the man we always prayed for even if he could make or break our very own home team. He is a star, a superstar=).

One more day and this week is over!and 25 days till greatness!=D

Normal Days.

I still think Teri Deewani by Kailash Kher is one of the bestest love songs I have ever heard. I love his voice, the words and ofcourse the video. I am not one who has stories of romances to tell, nor do I have stories of romances gone 'bad', but I do beleive that when love will happen, it would feel like the song. Pure and powerful. It sounds foolish but meh, I stand by it.

Till then Valentines is just a day. Any day. Any normal day.

Love will tear us apart.

When the routine bites hard
And ambitions are low
And the resentment rides high
But emotions wont grow
And were changing our ways,
Taking different roads
Then love, love will tear us apart again

(Love will tear us apart / Susanna and The Magical Orchestra)


Breathtaking. Must see/listen.

brave days.

I am so uninspired today. It better not ruin my monday. I have a zoo lab report along with a bio pre lab to finish before I hit the sac tonight. Lots to do! Mondays are brave days. To sit through an hour of Zoology followed by 3 hours of Bio in the same room is the mauttt. ESC1024 is the devil. I live in the earth sciences center from 5-9 on mondays and the 2 hour commute after so is evil. evil.
I want massala fries for lunch!Mayo+fries+chaat massala+big bad glass of coke=YUM. I eat like a 'man' as Aila says. So untrue:$

Muniba is off to Sydney in 8 days. She is from the UAE. She came to Canada and now off to Australia for 4 years. That kid has rockets under her heels hence she is perfect for her aerospace engineering program. May she find Glenn McGrath and steal him for me. Amen!

World cup next month!OWNAGE month:D
(despite the assignments and other 'stuff')haha.

Sunday nights.

Sunday nights are such a lonely time in the after hours. When you can hear the radiator's rythm and hear your breaths under the silence of the night, its a daunting feeling. School work isn't much company. No No.

Sorry seems to be the hardest word.

Elton John said,

It's sad, so sad
It's a sad, sad situation
And it's getting more and more
absurd
It's sad, so sad
Why can't we talk it over
Oh it seems to
me
That sorry seems to be the hardest word

I beleived him when he said that so I always found it hard to ever apoligize to anyone(despite of being right or wrong). I always thought that I was right in my way. I followed it for long(almost 20 years of my arrogant life) and then suddenly today, something in me changed. I said sorry, not once but three times to three different people. People that I had been hurtful to and for a long time, over and over again. I am not a bigger person today because I said sorry to them. I have a lot more apologies to go before I reach home, reach closure. Its a long way to go but I wll live. I will kill the hurt I caused or try to mend it somehow.

I don't want to live in my regrets anymore. I won't always live in regrets. I won't.

For once..

I wish, I wouldn't get angry.

:(

vintage times: in the name of love.

I just found my journal from six years ago and it brought back such a bitter harsh reality. Although it seems like I have grown so much since that kid who used to write in her own journal in third person with an alias to cover her own identity, afraid someone found the book and read it.

Sarah, my sister, did read it though and it was bad. It was worse today though. I thought that I was all grown up for that 13 year old. I was supposed to laugh at that kids's confessions, entries, her header(Dear/dearest diary). Hah. Its the complete reverse though, the almost twenty year old in me is jelous/envious/some what embarassed of that 13 year old. Its like looking into a mirror that tells you the truth and shows you all your short comings.

I used to be that girl in that book who let all her secrets out into every page of that book despite covering herself under that alias. Even after almost 2 years of blogging, I haven't conjured half the courage that that kid had.

Resolution for future blogging: No more secrets.

I am glad that I found it today and that I read it. Now, I don't need anyone to tell me who I was/am/supposed to be, its all there.. in my little green book with yellow pages and blue ink. All of it and I won't burn it. No, siree!

edit: wow, it does feel good :)

Feb. 7, 07.

I put pins on my knapsack. Thats how important this is!
Its the day to make changes. I am off to Queenspark. Voting, campaigning, petitoning and freezing to freeze tuition fees. Its one heck of an important day for us in Toronto. For all of us students and more, lets get this freeze on!

Italian.

I want to go to Italy sometime in my life. The sooner, the better actually. I will apply for a few journalism or FAO internships for the summer just so that I can have a (tiny if so) chance of breathing the air under the Italian sky. Its technically the same sky that we have here in Toronto, or that we had in Nepal or Kashmir but something about Italy is so welcoming.

Abu says its gorgeous but its very expensive. He says that the food is awesome and people are so well dressed. People are more well-mannered and cultural there. Its about time I go there and find out for myself and ofcourse part of that gorgoeus tour would be renting a car(any car) and driving it through the streets of Rome, Milan, Naples and ofcourse Venice(sigh). I want to see The Vatican before going anywhere else though.

I wish I had money though to afford all the stuff that I want to see in Italy. Either I get one of those summer internships or I am starting to save lunch money and go for my perfectest European Vacation. This time I want to see more than London and Paris. I want to drive all through Italy and then go to Southern france and walk through a vinyard with my brown fendi scarf on my head(for fun's sake). I want to make homemade cheese and window shop at all the Chanel stores in Champs Elysees.

Or .

Maybe I should quit dreaming with my eyes wide open and sighing at the thought of Italy and Europle. Forget about the summer now(Godforbid who knows the number of atrocities that might bring/may be followed by). I think its the weather thats making my mind wander or just the fact that I have a hyperactive imagination. For now, I will settle for ceaser salad with italian dressing but I am not giving up on Italy just yet:)

Somehow this is the only way it doesn't seem to be overdone.

back to basics.

rock n' roll, baby!?!

I love my haircut and I will brag about it because I am, from what I beleive, a mutant carrier(with 100% penetrance) of the premature balding gene. HAHA I have thin hair but Uzma Aunty's scissors are awesome.The hair looks half decent. I have short hair but its very rock and roll. Fringes ftw:D

It has so much more insaniyat in it. Yay.

And midterm one for the semester in less than 2 weeks. yikes!:(

Mantra: I wish.

"Live with intention. Walk to the edge. Listen hard. Practice wellness. Play with abandon. Laugh. Choose with no regret. Appreciate your friends. Continue to learn. Do what you love. Live as this is all there is."

- Mary Anne Radmacher

eww

ewww blogger is so evil. it 'forced' me into using the new blogger. I can't even use my old id anymore. sucks. stupid blogger. Not to mention that the dashboard looks so gay:S

so yesterday was shit. I called 3 cab companies and one came after about an hour. The excuse ' traffic'. screwed up. Got home late. Footsprains make you slaves to these taxi joints. God give them brains for taking down instructions. and the 'right' instructions.

so my foot hurts and I wan't to skip Zoology. There is no way in hell that I can walk down the hill, get to the stop, commute all the way downtown and then come back and walk up the hill. I can't. My foot is swollen and painful and God, I have a 9 am lab tommorow. Great, just effing great.

Its almost 12 am here on a wednesday morning and I am having nashta. Its all bad. Stupid weather, footsprain and what seems to be a nasty flu running through my family. Started with dada ji, then to ami, then to zainab, then momina, then sarah and now Aemon. I have been sneezing since I woke up. I hate, hate. NOOO I can't be sick. I have to go to work and study and not skip classes:(
PLEH

So it begins.

This is the week from hell. Its not even monday yet and I already want/need the weekend. Die DIE DIEEE!

breath. breath. breath. And don't die till you finish lab 5 and that genetics prep. Not to forget the bio quiz:(

argh. don't blog, you blob!!

On guilt.

“One of the good things I had leaned from my superiors was that guilt could be pure self-indulgence, a wallowing in the ego. Guilt, I was told, usually sprang from misplaced pride; it might simply be chagrin that you were not as wonderful as you hoped.”

Karen Armstrong’s The Spiral Staircase.

Puts a whole new perspective on it. I can never leave the 'old' whiny ways. I thought that I was out of it already but this just puts it under a new light. A clearer light.

heh. inaction and boredom. gaah

The past is gone.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.
forgive and forget.


I would think/hope/pray that this should be the end of this. No more.
OKAY!!

:)

I slept well after so many days. It felt good. A lot of it has to do with the 'reading' and the new diet I guess. Here's so growing some brain cells and losing weight and being happy:)

psf formal was a success. I am glad its over.
Note of self: Organising is not fun.

I don't quite know
How to say

How I feel


-chasing cars, snow patrol.

wow.

How can I ever doubt God, even for a second, when he, despite his 80 years of hardship, doesn't complain?Its made him stronger. I should learn from him and not let this weak shell enclose me within.

I should learn. now.

How To Save A Life

Step one you say we need to talk
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
And you begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

Let him know that you know best
Cause after all you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
Without granting innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you
And pray to God he hears you

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

As he begins to raise his voice
You lower yours and grant him one last choice
Drive until you lose the road
Or break with the ones you've followed
He will do one of two things
He will admit to everything
Or he'll say he's just not the same
And you'll begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

How to save a life
How to save a life

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

How to save a life

(The Fray)

Tasha gmailed me so much by these folks for the past few months. I, being an ass, didn't listen to much of it. But today, I stumbled on this song by accident and I don't yet know whether or not I am glad. But it made me open limewire after so many months of being under the dust on my computer. The guilt that I have for that one wish and for what I have become since then is my hell I guess.

Lost too many loved ones to give up now. Yes, back to the line. Back into the line. By hook or crook. I am not a bad person, never was and will not let this change get to me. Need to 'up' the intent on that. I couldn't do anything to stop that walk Boba took and saw her die a few hours later but no one will have to do that again. Suffer that again, ever. Maybe, I will dream of you now?

much love.

He,with all his strength,had come to pull his brother's only son out of the rubble. The might and the determination fell 6 feet under when he heard that his daughter had already breathed her last breath. With collapsed lungs, a head injury and a major heart attack, she lay under the heap. The heap that was once the very room she had grown up in, slept numerous nights in and now was the grave she didn't deserve. How can you blame the broken father unable to move the warrior in him?That 20-year old angel didn't deserve to die. She really didn't.

So much time has passed since that october but just knowing the fact that the closer we would ever be is not in this life still crashes the universe over my head. I wish I hadn't lost my best friend/cousin/mentor/ that day. I wish I hadn't wished you bad luck that one time. I still wish that it was me rather than you who had to leave that day. My city was not a bad city. It was the anchor of my soul. My only constant in life. The constant that isn't constant anymore. Change. All changed. Now I am that constant and you are the change. This innate pain and remourse will last a life-time. Yes, even my smile will stay broken for the rest of my days. I have to come to terms with living without the city, the thought of which kept me alive through the hardest of times. The longest of days and more.

I miss all of you and the fact that I don't feel any desire to come back is because I can still picture home the way it was. The same narrow streets with the tallest of homes, with the warmest of people and the wildest of the rivers. Now, I probably won't even recognize the smell that once woke me up even after 32 hours of travel, severe jet-lag and headaches. I can't even imagine home anymore.

Fix You.

When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse.

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you loose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Where is home?


coldplay

.

Either its hormones or some nasty virus in my system thats making me restless and so on the 'edge'. I have butterflies in my stomach about start of the next semester. I am very nervous and I feel sick. I am still waiting on that vacation that was supposed to start at the end of last month and end today. I have been so busy with things at home with Abu visiting and weird moods, work and anxiety, I feel so drained. Tired to the core and chocolate cravings. argh.
I do feel somewhat unimpressed. I need a good night's sleep, a long warm shower, cold milk with frosted flakes and a good conversation. Is that really much to ask?

On 2007.

I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair."

(Yeats)

Here's to the big '07.

Almost 20 years, its about time that I learn. Yes, yes.

Romance, Catharsis, Thought: Snow

Today, we had the first proper snow of this year/session. To say the least, its gorgeous. An exquisite art work in the making. It makes me sigh and brings out that silly little romantic in me. Oh yes, if you know me well, it is impossible for me to ever admit it, but I am. Despite the fact that it hasn't happened to me yet(HAH and nor is it time for it to happen abhi)and haven't seen real romance as of yet, I still do fully beleive in romance. Its out there somewhere, just don't know where. Pshh, cheesy. But anyhow, snow is romantic.

I think it makes everything seem so nice. The brown leafless trees seem alive in the white colour(almost like virtue). All the streets seem nice and clean. All the dust from the wear in the day is all gone. Snow covers up the nasty, all of it. All the different front porches of all these homes are covered to make them look the same. Snow covers up my sorrows and guilt at least temporarily. It makes me feel strong. Empowering snow is the best. It motivates me. It makes me hope. Hope for the better. It makes me have faith in change and this time change for the good. Yes, change for the good.

For the while that I was walking outside in the street and in the cold, I felt warm. It didn't ease that hollow but it did keep me warm. Its weird though, I am just passing my days and not living them. I am not suicidal but I don't mind death. Its a weird state of mind, this and the fact that I can be at this state without any illegal/legal sedatives makes it even funnier. I don't know where my words have gone or my actions. Even with less words, I used to be able to have an influence and now with more words, it seems as though all the action is lost. I am indeed dazed and confused. The two aliases I used to go by and Lord do I hate them and that time or well atleast part of that time sucked. I am in the puddle of weirdness. I just don't know. Maybe, I will go and sleep now. Sleep deprivation during the holidays is just pure sadness.

(hollow days- DT)

.She masks it under her mask.

Under those powdered white cheeks,
Lay that young girl,
At the street corner,
In her humble sanctuary
Under the sparrow’s nest
Who would watch the sky in hope of a drop of rain.

She would dream of clouds,
Of monsoon,
Of puddles,
Among the giant craters in the ground below her tiny,
Precious feet.

Eyes wide open,
And fixated upon the screeching sunlit sky,
Waiting, watching, waiting, watching
She would fail, yet never sigh.

The past would call out louder,
But the present would deafen it.
The embraced symphonies of the past,
Would be overtaken by the cacophonies of reality.
The screams, the terrors, the ordeals.
Her smile would now fade.

She would turn back to becoming that doll
The one with powdered, white cheeks and red lips
The smile of an empress,
The smile for the millions
Yet the mask would hide,
Yet the mask would mask,
That permanent frown, the frown of a courtesan,
Never witnessed by a layman.

Its 1:34 am and I am waiting.

I was talking to my sister upstairs when we somehow started talking about how people await change. They are always waiting for some kind of a change. She laughed at the idea but I do find the idea of 'waiting on a miracle' to be quite true. Are we not always waiting for something, either its big or small is of not much importance. Its a cycle, we wait, we get, we wait, we get and we wait for more. For something 'new', anything 'new' everytime. I may be out of my mind here but I am waiting everyday, everyhour, every minute. Waiting.

There is a picture I found from last fall on my computer that I captioned 'waiting'. Its not a nice picture but it says 'waiting' to me.

Chapter 2

Taking her arms out of her jacket, Nayab placed it on the back of her chair as she sat down on the chair opposite to Ali’s. He was still oblivious of the fact that Nayab had already seated herself, taken out her novel and about to kick Ali’s shin (the only way to catch the bloke’s attention is to aim for his funny bone). As soon as the front of her loafers hit his leg, he knew that Nayab was already there and that she had been waiting for his attention for over five minutes. The thought about Nayab and being at the end of his puzzle suppressed the pain response (which would/should have been a loud shriek) and he was back to his normal sense within a few minutes.

They started off with drinks. Italian Lemon Soda, Limonata, was her usual while he wanted a big bad class of peach iced tea. Despite eating out during happy hour, which tempted everyone to order a Cosmopolitan and get the other, free, the two stuck to their rather ‘soft’ beverages that allowed them to last the entire evening of conversation/revelation and of course a safe drive/subway ride home.

After two rounds of drinks, the hydrochloric acid level in their stomach was high enough to devour large courses that Capocacia served, have space for desserts and to avoid gaining much weight. It was something Nayab stuck by all through high school, university and now work; she would chew gum or drink lots of fluids to get the acid level in her stomach high up and then eat a tonne of food. There would be enough to digest the bulk of food and she wouldn’t gain much weight. Appetite induction was what she called it. It was good though. She needed it. A petite brunette with almost 4% body weight was anything but ‘healthy’ according to her GP. Ali, being the foodie he was and someone with a super high metabolism, could eat as much as he wished and still not gain a pound. So, Fridays were the perfect chance for the two to share everything including their own mini food-fest.

They finally ordered food which didn’t take much thought. They ordered their usual of a pasta and a pizza. They would mix and match it to their fancy and hence avoiding Nayab’s potential outburst on wasting food and leaving it unfinished. Ali, on the other hand, didn’t bother much. It was a leftover, it was to be disposed off and not be used another time. This week’s choice was a classic Margarita pizza along with salmon and Penne cooked in almond sauce drizzled with olive oil.

Food was in process when Nayab began by reviewing her week, which had been a long one. With due dates, presentations and internship reviews, she was quite tied up. The lack of sleep showed on her pale face too. The brunette whose appearance, that usually paralleled perfection, was down today. Dark Circles under her eyes, semi un-plucked eyebrows, her side bangs un-straightened lay flat on either side of her head. She obviously didn’t condition her hair nor did she straighten the frizzy mess commonly knows as her shoulder length brown hair. She needed to sleep but had it not been their regular Friday thing, she would have been curled up in her bed. Rather, she was here with Ali, smiling a little bit, worried, frowning at the state of affaires. Her probationary period at her internship placement was over and she had been through a few reviews. Each and every article that she had submitted had been reviewed to the core and she had been slammed (verbally/metaphorically) many a times. The girl was still working to get a regular slot as a news reporter for The Toronto Star. She wanted to be one of those elite writes in the paper whose articles would be highly awaited by everyone in the households and offices and others. As an anthropology and journalism major, she was a very well read individual yet with time management, she was still a sucker.

In comparison to Ali who was a king at getting things done on time and not stressing too much even in the midst of the biggest of the messes. A ‘laissez-faire’ personality was his identity and he did follow ‘carpe-diem’ in all aspects of life. Women, life, work, school, family, relationships and his car were a reflection of his spontaneous-ness. He was awesome at his job as being a marketer wasn’t only his passion but was also something he was born with. His speaking skills always got him through what would get others to break and fall and his wit was apt always made him stand out in a crowd of young entrepreneurs who were willing to do whatever it took to make it to the top(even if it meant dropping their pants or their morals six-feet under). Nayab was the only one person who was a constant in his life. Somehow despite constant disagreements, they did get along and very well too.

He snapped his finger to make Nayab come out of her daze. She was concentrating so hard on the space between her fork and the spoon in front of her that it amused Ali. He understood her state being under the workload that she was under. He did want to lighten the situation and so;

Ali: Wake up, Einstein! (While pinching Nayab’s cheek)
Nayab: I am awake, don’t fire me!(Petrified)
Ali(laughing): Awesome, the food is here. Eat up, daahlin’. We have plenty of talking to do.
Nayab (smiles): You make my day y’know
Ali: And she makes mine (drooling over Liza walking past the restaurant window while being engaged in some sort of an argument over the phone).

(And she sighs silently)

Even the winter nights are not the same.

We don't have any snow this year and nor do I have that awesome 16th floor balconey/window to snap a picture everytime I felt like it.Secondly, in this new house, we don't have a balconey. We have an awesome french window looking over one of the most beautiful parks ever. Moving can have a toll too. I find that I was more creative back there in Thorncliffe but the north isnt bad either. At least the noises outside don't/can't make it into your house/room/head. Good that I left you all there.

I am on chapter 3 now and I like italian food.

Chapter 1

Vanilla Crème with Nutmeg Sprinkles was his Friday regular at Capocacia. Due to his regular weekly visits, he was familiarized not only to the venue but also too well versed with the serving staff. The dropping of the keys of his sleek blue Volkswagen Golf on the table indicated that he was there to stay. He would tuck away his black wool knee length coat at the coat check, while tipping the coat-taker generously. His table would have a reserved sign until and up to the landing of those car keys. After so, the table was open, open for Ali and, of course, the date he awaited.

During his wait for the friend who arrived at four, he took out his personal copy of the day’s Financial Post and Globe and Mail. He would line them up on the side whilst he pulled out his pocket crossword book and started where he left off last Friday. Ali was a geek for those road-side puzzle books. Even after having completed and mastered hundreds of them in the last thirteen years of his life, his fascination lived on and so did the business of the Gateway’s shopkeeper, who would get enough new and different puzzles that made Ali a regular.

Upon the arrival of his drink, Ali looked at the clock at the opposite end of the restaurant and read the time off it. It was fifteen to four. This gave him enough time to finish off his concurrent puzzle, a quick freshing-up visit to the loo, let his drink cool down to the temperature he liked and turn his blackberry bureau off. In the next fifteen minutes, he would be perfectly ready to face his date, who he hoped to lord would be late.

‘Timely-ness’ was Ali’s obsession. He would be on time wherever he would go and sometimes even went to his rendezvous before time, just so to reduce and eradicate any possibility for late-ness. But when it came to his Fridays, he liked his date to be late. It would buy him more time to get through his puzzle book and of course watching the centrepiece of Capocacia (Let alone Capocacia, the centre of young street), while filling away the black and white boxes.

His mighty luck didn’t support him though where as soon as the clock struck four, in walked his date, carefully running on her Suede Aldo loafers. Her beige overcoat followed as she turned on the walkway into the restaurant. Amongst the mist of the cold November rain, Nayab smiled as she walked up to the table where Ali sat fixated upon his teenage mania.

It just reiterates the point:

Hell is other people- Jean Paul Sartre

In closure to the last post. indeed:)

So what is it that I wanted to say?

Lay Down with me .. Whisper your lies .. says:
so what happened to that webcam you were getting
. says:
o yeahh, haven gotten it
. says:
i m kinda trying to swear off msn
. says:
so i dont need it
Lay Down with me .. Whisper your lies .. says:
not gud

You have successfully received C:\Documents and Settings\SF\Desktop\Rahat Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan - (Paap) Mann Ki Lagan[1].mp3 from Lay Down with me .. Whisper your lies ...

. says:
well
. says:
i m kinda anti social aaj kal
. says:
which is like my new thing now so yeah
Lay Down with me .. Whisper your lies .. says:
have u noticed
. says:
?
Lay Down with me .. Whisper your lies .. says:
how saying i am anti social is just saying im busy n dunt want to make an effort nymore
. says:
i dont know. when i say anti social, i mean that I really dont socialise much no more. its not that i dont make an effort. i m selectively social now
. says:
thats probably more 'right'
Lay Down with me .. Whisper your lies .. says:
well there
Lay Down with me .. Whisper your lies .. says:
u r choosy about who u like
. says:
its not that if I dislike you, I wont talk to you
Lay Down with me .. Whisper your lies .. says:
do u dislik me ??
. says:
NO doh silly
. says:
i have no reason to dislike you
. says:
some ppl do bad things to you and it messes you up, those are the people,. i m avoiding
. says:
they make you more of not yourself, those i m avoiding

And Then I sat there thinking what exactly I wanted to say and what came out and what I was thinking.Do I need to have a reason to not be a socialite fool(yes, so me)anymore and isn't that term just reason enough? Basically, speechless. bull-shit.

Earth, Fire and Water: Preface

They would meet at four almost every Friday afternoon of the year unless one or both of them were out of town. In the South east corner of Capocacia, Nayab and Ali would show up for their regular rendezvous’'. The last table on the South East side would be their place to eat, meet, greet and everything in between. In the short span of approximately a year, the two had grown fond of each other and had become 'best friends'. They talked about everything from life, to food, to books, to music, to people, to family, friends, clothes and even jobs. The funny thing was that other than passion, the two didn’t have anything in common. They had opposite views on everything, now be it food, clothes, books, music, women/men and even politics. Yet despite the deadly differences that led to heated debates, they still cherished the company of the other and stuck like glue to each other through good and bad times.

Friends, they were and adapted to every difference they had amongst them. Ali wouldn’t mind Nayab’s obsessive compulsiveness about table manners, anti smelly socks-ness and constant panic attacks, while she 'tried' to ignore him smoking during courses while eating, wreck less driving and even flirting with any and every woman in a 5 meter radius. In some ways, they were like a couple. They would finish each other's sentences, know exactly what the other person would say and look out for each other be it Sundays, Mondays or any days. They read to each other, be it menus, books, newspapers and even traffic tickets. To her, he was the only 'HE' in existence. To him, she was great. She knew he was the one for her but even after trying so much, she just couldn’t be that woman he wanted. That slightly older woman, who he longed for. That maturer woman, who emanated class, beauty, and success. To him, Nayab was a companion, a friend and no more.
Liza was the woman he wanted.

Liza, an ex-diplomat. Currently on self-proposed retirement, she was every aspiring economist's wet dream. With her petite figure, snuggly wrapped in white chiffon Saree, bronze colored stilettos, lush black hair tied poised in a French twist, and Smokey kajal smeared almond shaped eyes; she walked like she owned the world. Power-house woman she was, with men of all ages oozing lustrous gazes at her. She walked like Younge Street (the Manhattan of Toronto) was her runway and she alone was the one and only model on it. Her strut was uptight enough to show touches of finishing school, and showed enough pride as to not over-do and be seen as an ignorant rich snob. Using her brain as her weapon and her presence as gun-powder, she was the perfect-one-woman-power-house.

And of course in the midst of the hopefuls, stood Ali. The one who could punch numbers and theories in and out of the computer at the speed of light, with a show-man life style of any successful metro sexual twenty six year old. He oozed passion and drive, which showed all too much when Liza would be around. Of course, the ‘Eye-sex' thing she did with him got Nayab tied up in tangles and knots that would take infinity to untie. In Liza, Nayab saw competition; she saw both predator and prey. She saw what she needed to be if she wanted to be in Ali's world. But, alas, the irony of it all prevailed. The one that was everything he wanted vs. the one who wanted everything he was.

Ali, the love-struck fuck who was looking for that last inch of perfection in women that would make him drop to his knees and pop the question.
Nayab, the 'good-girl' with the bad-boy best friend/crush/first and last love.
Liza, the vixen as sleek and velvet and red wine. Let’s just say she won’t be running short of Chanel and Versace dresses and perfumes any time soon.

Toying with destiny and zodiacs, the three warriors representing earth, fire and water. There is much to come, much more than eye-sex, book-readings, brunches and day-dreams.

Saturday.

Today is my first saturday off from work since september. The reason being my Zoology final on tuesday, which I need to start preparing as soon as I am done with this blog and doritos.Its so awesome to be home on a saturday. I got lots of stuff done that was pending for what seems like forever. I(finally) cleaned my closet, organised my clothes, hung them neatly and ofcourse sorted out the ones I needed to give away to charity. Even though, I don't shop for too many clothes(I make an effort to avoid buying too many clothes) but the pile of clothes that I have chosen to give away is HUGE. There are pants(some of them never worn), some worn out T-shirts that my mom despises and others that have been ruined because of too much bleach. But anyhow, my closet is cleaner, more compact and its easier to look through when you think something has disappeared off the face of the earth. But yeah, I am content. I like giving charity during the holiday season because of the whole holiday season thing. But its nice so good. good.

Another lovely thing about this saturday is new music. Yayy, thankyou Poet. I am downloading all of the Blackfield and I feel very greedy but so happy inside. I like nice, new music.I am pretty much hooked on Open Mind and Perfect World. Very daunting to say the least. I am actually done downloading all of the blackfield and now am moving on to No Man. Good music always makes my day along with a big pack of doritos and saaf suthri working space. So now, I will go and finish up my downloads and start on some Zoology.

Thankyou again poet:)
Give me another hour or so and I should be done and THANKYOU AGAIN:)

Cold Water it is.

Such a weird feeling_This odd one at the back of my gut. Feels like we are stuck in the midst of cold water with a bridge of guns connecting the two shores. It was hard enough to breath, now balance and walk?What shit!

Anyhow, yeah. I should check my voicemail and organise the meet-up next wednesday. Sania Aapa is getting engaged, FINALLY!After all the drama starting from mizraab forum mod forum to London and to now, I am happy for her. Despite the fact that he is a jerk.And I want to write so much but this stupid PC is so odd to use, when you have been using a faithful laptop, day in and day out for four years. I need my cord back ASAP!

sublime.

The rest is just water under the bridge

.

Simple.

Action is eloquence.
-William Shakespeare

Tear down these walls for me now

This is so hard for me
To find the words to say
My thoughts are standing still

Captive inside of me
All emotions start to hide
And nothing's getting through

Watch me
Fading
I'm losing
All my instincts
Falling into darkness

Tear down these walls for me
Stop me from going under
You are the only one who knows
I'm holding back

It's not too late for me
To keep from sinking further
I'm trying to find my way out
Tear down these walls for me now

So much uncertainty
I don't like this feeling
I'm sinking like a stone

Each time I try to speak
There's a voice I'm hearing
And it changes everything

Watch me
Crawl from
The wreckage
Of my silence
Conversation
Failing

Tear down these walls for me
Stop me from going under
You are the only one who knows
I'm holding back

It's not too late for me
To keep from sinking further
I'm trying to find my way out
Tear down these walls

Every time you choose to turn away
Is it worth the price you pay
Is there someone who will wait for you
One more time
One more time

Watch me
Fading
I'm losing
All my instincts
Falling into darkness

Tear down these walls for me
Stop me from going under
You're the only one who knows
I'm holding back

It's not too late for me
To keep from sinking further
I'm trying to find my way out
Tear down these walls for me now

Tear down these walls for me now
It's not too late for me
Tear down these walls for me now

(These Walls_ Dream Theater)

This song is MY song. It feels like Petrucci and his men are playing it to me. It fits so-so well. I have been hooked on it since last summer when the album came out. It was my playlist in London, when I went back to kathmandu and ofcourse, the last time I stepped foot in Muzaffarabad, the city that we/I had seen/known it to be(before it became a massive burial ground). It send off all these noises in my head that should make me scream out loud, but rather I am numb and unable to do anything. The fact that I am not the same passionate person I once was. This passive aggressive bull that Maynard kept on mentioning might have gottten to me along with that darn earthquake that had to kill the wrong people and leave ones (me) to hear about the rubble. Fuck man, I don't even talk to anyone anymore. I have these lovely new friends, but the old ones,the ones I was crazed about last year?Hardly, ever talk. Its good though, less drama. But everytime anyone wants to know whats in my head, I keep on thinking about my friends back home. I haven't heard what happened to any of them after the earthquake. It wasn't fair man. Not all of them.Here, I can't understand why one left and if all of them are gone, what the fuck am I doing here?and WHY?

Exams are killing me. I really don't know what is wrong with me.I am overwhelmed, restless and silent. wtf?I was never this. No, actually I do speak- just the wrong things. Screw that, I am going to go cram bio now. Hope that I can keep myself from falling apart.Need prayers and miracles for these exams. AMEN

Winners at Winners:P

Long day today. Good time at work. Saturdays are good to work. A good pace. Not many line-ups. No need to change multiple rolls, one is enough. Tony, Mona, Roderick, Helqa and Me(upstairs)=40% of today's sales. Awesome shit. Area 2 is the win(no pun intended).heh.

I come home in an odd mood today though. A mix of happy and sad and confused and very worried. Its okay though. Its just the fact that finals start tuesday and I hear some music and it just speaks what my mind is saying/thinking/feeling:s.



Now I got that feeling once again.
I can't explain, you would not understand.
This is not how I am.
(Pink Floyd,Comfortably Numb)

dinner and then organic chem all-nighter. Chapters 10, 11, 15 and 17. Yes, yes.

Cold.

This temperament is seriously going to be the death of me. I would have been better off deaf, dead or atleast mute. Sometimes you love someone so damn much that you cant bear them being anything but perfect. Why?

What makes a 'good' love-song?

Words that compliment each other like honey and lime on butter-drenched crepes.With articulation of some unsaid and untold emotions-the ones which everyone can relate to(yet denies any relation or agreement to). The vows that are out the world; the ones so conceitedly metaphorical that reality seems to be seven skies away. Pouring of desire from the eyes of one to the other in that one look that is enough to bank the rest of one's life on.

Its not only about holding hands, PDAs and love letters. There is more. Plenty, much more.There is simplicity in it and there is beauty in that simplicity.

(Anathema: J'ait Fait Une Promesse)

Save my day!

Today was one of the days that starts off quite okay and then goes to worse and finally to being one of hair-pulling disgust/restlessness/feeling nasty. And then one phone call to mom, even if it was to tell her how my debit card is lost, is enough to kill all that nasty blue on this raindy day. Ami saves the day, for real!

And ahem the stranger on the subway. HAHAHAHA
we j-walked together. got onto the same street car. off at the same platform.got onto the same train and got out at the same stop. stood next to each other, all the way there and went to EXACTLY the same place to eat. HAHAHA. mein barri waili hoon, i notice too many things about random people. listening to Dr. Chang's recording for the last nine hours doesn't help eh, plus the fact that you can hear her breathing and her slightly weird pregnant-person waalay jokes. My mind is quite on the off-side today..heh.

Back to the next 5 lectures before Dr. (Corny)Malcolm's 13 kick in. God help me!These recording make me yawn like I haven't slept in centuries. heh.

Winter mein.

I love frosted cornflakes. These kellogs people are so smart. Cornflake ka invertor person is very smart too. Cornflakes rock so much. ohkay, so now that-that is out of my system, I can come back to some sanity(or not).

My neck is sorta better but feels so ajeeb si. Its almost annoying to have these stupid spasms last so long. I just finished my cup of kashmiri chai and my head feels lighter, which should help me get rolling with my biology lecture recordings. I have to get atleast 5 more done before I call it a night. I am so cold, sick and behind. It sucks. eek. O yeah, it snowed today while I walked home from the bus stop. It was so nice to see snow after aaagess. Plus, its so different to see the first snow in the suburbs compared to downtown. There is so much serenity in the air here, compared to Thorncliffe which bustled even at 2 am. But yeah, snow was nice. Puurtty.Under the red christmas from peoples' homes, the white snow on the road looked majestic. I wish I had a camera. But even if I did have one, I wouldn't have taken a picture because I am lazy and umm I am not very spontaneous that way.

Also, I am inspired to getta haircut after the exams. I remember that I had my dramatic cut last year around the same time. I am thinking of something similar. Haircuts are fun but they always make me miss having longer hair.

sleep, drugs and rock n'roll.heh.

I need to fix the way I sleep. I need to sleep like a civilised person, multiple 360 degree turns are not the bestest for my back, which is still fucked even after 20 physiotherapy sessions. And now my neck(again) is in pain and TILTED. I slept around 2 am on friday and woke up 3 hours later with a piercing pain(I seriously thought that someone was drilling a hole into my neck and fitting screws in it). Bloody horror. Woke up with that stiff neck. Cired/wailed like a dumbass kid and woke ammi up.The product=Neck Spasm. ARGH!AGAIN!The last one was in kathmandu, when I was in grade 9 and passed out by the tv, to be woken up for dinner and in the baddest(most badass) neck pain. erk

I can't tilt my head to the left. I cannot turn my neck so if I want to look to my left, I need to turn my body around and then my right side faces the side that was my left before. Now, it sounds retarded but its true.

Bleugh. I am tired of strangling myself with a wool scarf and hats.No amount of advils and tyenols are anygood so I am on these muscle relaxants.They are good though.My neck feels more mobile since I drugged myself up with 'em pills. But they sound so sketch. Muscle relaxants?hehe. The funny thing is that the warning on the box says that kids under 6 can be seriously intoxicated lethaly if they took all the pills at once so I wonder barron ka kia hota hoga. hehe:P

i find my urge to blog plentily about everything to be sad. sad, sad.

The Magic is Lost.

I was planning to write something of my take on a romantic story but then I realised I can do that later too. I was talking to a friend today and realised how much I actually missed highschool. No, I don't miss it because of the friends, or the fact that it was small enough for all us to know each other and nor do I miss it because of the good ol' stclair/thorncliffe days. I miss it because I miss how I used to work. Yes, I used to work like ass. I would not lie and tell you that I didn't because I never took a day off, apart from fridays when we hit country style or Tims and talked TOK.I miss how I was so much keener. I was more honest. I was fucking happy despite the fact that pearl and tam beat my ass to higher grades more often that not. I was happy because I knew how much I worked and how much I didn't and hence all my grades were my responsibility.

I hate how I slack to much now. I hate how people are so different at my uni. Every effing person is a keener but me. Darn, I miss being able to feel awesome about something I handed in. The Allnighters, The reviews at Tims/Country/Toronto Ref/Deer Park/Rosedale reservoir/TTC/Thorncliffe park/Valley/starbucks/st Clair-Yonge. God, I miss it all.

Now, I m here, where I WANTED/DREAMT to be and I am letting it all go. The magic is fucking lost. Fuck that, I need to work till the 19th. 18 days and then I can do whatever the fuck I want. Stay of msn or not, blog or not, sleep all day or not, drive like a maniac or not, watch movies or not and most of all: BE HAPPY.

It better come back, eh. And we are machines at making it come back, just need to find/follow and stick to the right way.

Ok, I think I feel releived. Maybe, I will write about romance because HBC is celebrating it this winter. Then, why not?!

And then chem lab after followed by bio recordings.

moeeeeen*