If you want to read something inspirational or emotional, preferably a novella, then Mitch Albom’s “For one more day” is definitely on the list.

I read it in three days, while I took an hour long ride to the university and even though, I thought it was a bit sappy and syrupy at a few places, it had its lovely moments too. The mother/Son bonding moments were beautifully written, It also kept me fuming at the instances how “Chick” – the protagonist -  never stood up for his mother. However, It dawned upon me that many of us fail to see the love behind a mother’s actions and when time turns against us, guilt is all that is left behind.

This guilt is exactly what Albom plays with in his novel. He gives his protagonist one chance – one day to spend with his dead mother. To confess. To understand. To Love. If you’ve read Albom’s other works “The Five People You Meet in Heaven”  or “Tuesdays with Morrie” then this one is pretty similar. The same plot has been utilized again in this story so if you’re someone like myself, who would probably read used plots in different stories and not mind (unless, the characters make me want to slaughter a squirrel) then this novella is short, fast paced and interesting to read on long boring drives with intermittent traffic jams.

  “But there’s a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes, the stories are simple and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother’s story because hers is where yours begin.” – For One More Day.

Doesn’t that quote from the book makes you all emotional and sentimental and hold on to your fictional/ real teddy bear? I was literally bawling my eyes out (On the inside of course. I wasn’t going to show my sensitive side to this cold world after all)

So what have you guys been reading?

Some of you who are very well acquainted with this girl know that my born day passed by just a month ago :

How I tried to be on my birthday in my head

HEY! NO NOSE! This is how I actually felt on my birthday. The abnormal growth of my arms here are due to teh lulz.

and since it was a day which I don’t share with anybody (Actually I do. When you have family half the population of my country. By God, there is little you can’t share. But whateves. I’ll pretend I have amnesia) So, It begged me to prolong the celebration and thus no happy posts on your munchkin screens! *highly dramatic gasp*

I do believe, I’ve gotten wiser and more beautifull-er.

^LAWL! I think I might have bust a nerve  just by joining the two sentences together.

The ratio of my having an awkward encounter with some stranger has jumped – that includes eye contact (why hellloooo extremely attractiv – Omg! He just looked! Turn Turn! Dang! He’ll think I’mma stalker. WAI IS LAYFE SO HARD?)

–>Awkward conversation

(In a godawful meeting where I was trying to self- induce a coma)

Person on my right: I really do think that Aragorn could have been fleshed out a bit more.

Me (all of God’s heavenly light suddenly energizing my bones): I know right! Plus, J.R Tolkien never gave out Aragorn’s depth of emotions! I mean, okay, we know Arwen was hot but really? Did Aragorn stoop to this level of superficiality? if he could only see I could- (clearing throat) I mean, someone else could have been perfect for him. 

Person (suddenly realizing I was speaking, and turned around): I was talking about Eragon. Not Lord Of The Rings.

Me: Oh…

–>Awkward Hug:

Me: well, bye

Friend: Bye!

*both trying to hug but ensued with me head butting her*

See, I pull awkwardness towards me. Do you?

But first your mouth, beta.

Since, I’m such a sensitive person attuned to nature’s beckon and call, my ears pricked up like Bambi’s when I picked up the magical, dulcet tones of innocent children in a wrestling match and danced my way towards this ethereal sound-

In actual reality: I was honing my brooding face, to make it seem less like I had a lobotomy, while listening to my mother tell me that I’ll be the size of Punjab once I had unglued myself from the chair. I was drawn to the chatter of children outside my window which overlooked the lawn. Apparently, one of them had misplaced the ball and was now being verbally assaulted by the others.

Bacha#1: Yaaar! Aik he ball thee! Ab yahan kahan dhonday! $&*^ Hogae hay!

What caused me to cock an eyebrow, just one, was these boys were hardly 8 or 9 years old. Now, it all seems very normal. This kind of conversation with that particular four letter word being thrown out casually isn’t something out of the ordinary. In fact, I hear it everyday.

Age doesn’t matter. Children say whatever they want, say colorful words that aim to make a person blush or at least throw up their liver in horror and very few parents/guardians/siblings/other humbugs try to actually take this seriously. It’s just ridiculous to see no one gives a flying truck about it. I believe, I see some chubby 7 year olds sputtering delightful prose sprayed on walls here and there, most of them not even knowing what it means and it’s hilarious to see that most people think it’s cute. I’m sure that wouldn’t be cute when she/he’ll burst the bomb around your aristocratic guests while you’ll be sipping whatever noble people drink these days and exchanging stories about how intellectually(and linguistically) superior your children are.

Four year old cousin churned out a complicated Urdu profanity and clapped his hands happily.

Me: You do not say that! That’s bad! VERY BAD! Aunty, ap b kahain, please. Did you hear what he just said?

Aunt Dearest: Hawww! Chalo, he doesn’t know what it means.

Some random woman: Hayay, ainna cute lag raha tha.

Me (assuming my lobotomy face): …

It’s not even my own kid that I’m trying to chastise over this, you know.

The causes swirl around you. Yes, Television is possibly a wild and fecund place where the munchkins can devour all the good (and bad) and then spew the bad all over you but you can definitely limit what they watch and how much they watch. You can blame the media all you want but at the end of the day, if your kid learns something off the TV – you’re to blame. You’re not doing the right thing letting him/her watch this suspiciously rated flick besides you. No, he/she won’t magically forget what he/she saw or heard. In our days, at least we were taught to automatically close our eyes and change the channel – and I’m not that old.

Second cause is something you can do little of. As soon as the kids start to read, you know reality is going to give you a hit. All the unsavory things sprayed on the walls don’t stop children from proudly displaying their amazing reading abilities to you. “____ kay bachay… Ammiiiii, __ kya hota hay?” Awk-ward. Social interaction also has a lot to do with what they and how they learn. Like it or not, we all let one slip (Intentionally or unintentionally) when we’re around children who then make you their lovable idol and try to mimic you.

The point is that since our children are going to take the reins of this world after us. It’s best to impart some of the lingering etiquettes, manners and good behavior that are left, upon them. Maybe some of you might disagree with my steadfast belief in reinforcing positive behavior but if you could please imagine a society, where respect is scarcely given, role models are rarely placed in high positions, people run amok and care is hardly imparted – A dangerous, dangerous dystopia indeed; Hyperbole? I don’t think so.

This post was originally posted in Static and Voice Of Youth.

I have come up with the assumption that Cook had an emo phase in his life and I am certainly in need of professional help to be listening to this (Not that he isn’t a talented artist – I prefer my music a little meatier) but then I opened face-the-book and read about some witches writhing in pain and agony in a status open to the world and suddenly, I felt God pouring happiness and sunshine and sparkly unicorns inside me. Wow, I’m a misogynist. Okay then.

Anyway, I promised you, fabulous stars that I’ll give you the in depth showdown to the comment I came across. You can see it in this post (I’m just doing it so you can read more of my stuff even though the comment is only one tantalizing line – You know you want to?) Anyhooo, ”Inner beauty sh!t” It’s actually sad that even in today’s surreal world full of high pitched cries of “Everyone is beautiful”, “Love your body”, “Okay Okay! Brains are somewhat  good too – Please don’t kill me or steal my kidney or whatever!!11″ – and modern Rishta Aunties. You still find people lurking around raining on someone’s ecstatic parade. What makes me double over and snort in derision is that these people actually think they get to decide what is beautiful. No, I shouldn’t just target this category of lovely humbugs. It’s all of us. It’s slightly amusing to find people automatically assume which thing should be called beautiful and which thing should be not.

The most tragic thing is while the chick who wrote the “inner beauty sh!t” comment seemed completely vile and could never be my BFF ever, she forgot that one day (I hope it’s soon) she wouldn’t be young and bold and risque. She can’t flaunt her face and whip those silky strands in a typhoon every time because deep down, she knows that she’s just being a tad bit bitter and you still need some ”Inner beauty sh!t” to have a person like you, want you and need you like Helloza? You can’t have real insulting friends without some inner prettiness(Unless you’re Altaf Hussain – then you only need thugs to do that for you)

Love me?

And you know what: What a person is like inside reflects outside on his face as well. Maybe it’s the arch of the eyebrows that shows a certain blunt edge, The high cheekbones that emphasis a reticent side or maybe just the crooked smile. You definitely don’t want people to not want socialize with you not because of your gaping sweaty pit stains but because you be so mean and self absorbed.

Maybe that’s why I look like a cross between Amitabh Bachan, the Navi from Avatar and Veena Malik.

So, everyone of you is perfect and gorgeous just the way you are. Let no one tell you otherwise. And people who want to be your friend will be your friend no matter who you are and what you look like.

Brains and a good personality are sexy traits too, kay? Don’t hate. Appreciate.

1. I got married/ eloped. (The lucky person I nabbed, has a face closely resembling Johnny Depp/ Hayden Christianson/ Chad Michael Murray/ The guy who’s lead vocalist for Abused Romance – and we lived happily ever after. My mum doesn’t know this yet.)

2. My backside accidently got glued to the bed – and for some reason, so did my arms and hands. Oh, I used my head and tongue to peck the keys and navigate my way across the world-wide web which was very tedious, ya ka-no. Masochistic vibes.

3. Someone tried to shoot me and this rendered me emotionally traumatized, enough to make me lock myself in my room and threat anyone who dares come in with a katana in my hand. (Okay, I got it from a movie! Chill. I always wanted a Katana. Dare to dream.)

4.

I can’t rack my head for number 4 excuse which goes to show that I need to hone my excuse skills because they are bordering on pathetic and desperate but y’know, with awesomeness cometh the tendency to awesome out sometimes or something equally heroic like that. It doesn’t make sense. I know.

Except Excuse # 3 is partly correct since I did almost got shot by a bunch of drunkards who were serenading the streets late at night. My cousin and I were walking down the street, just a bit far from her humble abode when we were rudely interrupted by a car which went zipping past us. A flash of light, a loud sound that made us jump back in alarm before the car swerved around a corner. Then my cousin’s horrified voice broke me out of my stupor.

“They had a gun! They shot at us.”

Pretty scary stuff. Maybe it was another technique to woo us? Surprise Surprise! I’m not sure if we were impressed. At All. This has taught me a lesson: Don’t go frolicking in the night – even near your house which is presumably safe because some fudgetarts drunk to their buns might try to point a gun at you and not the one which squirts out water, unfortunately.

U iz drunk, no?

Anyway, that was my happy blog! Next time, I’ll discuss some of the books I’ve been reading and one narcissistic comment I happened to come across while stalking face-the-book.

“they give more preference to the brain(inner beauty shit), rather than looks. =P suckers!”

Really? Sounds like some injustice took place here? But this all – next time. Cheers.

Hope, Ramadan is going absolutely brilliant for you. <3

KeWL

So, I decided to analyze some music videos since I had nothing better to do. It’s Summer, whaddaya expect? I’m sorry, I won’t be taking my yacht along with my private jet to spend some quality vacations in Venice or Sydney, sipping a drink this time.

Anyhoo, I watched Katy Perry’s  bright, cringe inducing video of T.G.I.F which was supposed to have Katy Perry’s alter ego ”Kathy Beth Terry” a fictitious, nerdy 13 year old trapped in Katy Perry’s body (This is already giving me palpitations.)  Remember, she’s only 13. Thirteen.

00.03 – Oh, how charming! Serene suburbs with light filtering in through the windows, a boy pedaling away  - Yeah, Borrrrriiinggggg!

00.21 – A chicken?

00.26 – Whoa! Her room is worse than mine. Bunch of random dudes lying comatose with festoons of paper thrown all over the walls, the closet, over the bed. Yeah, definitely worse than mine. Oh, and a guy sitting in the corner with tape wrapped around him looks dead.

00:30 – She speaks! Good God! Don’t speak, Kathy Beth Terry. For the love of God!

00:32: OMG! it’s the guy from Glee! HOMGHOMGHOMGHOMG!

00:46 – “Best party ever, WHOO! “ 

00:52 – Shot of dead guy wrapped in tape again – only, there’s a pink stuffed toy on his lap and a yellow lion on his shoulder – ILLUMINATI REFERENCE! *Gasp*

Nah, I’m just kidding Or maybe…

00:57 – There’s a stranger in my bed…I thought she was 13?

01:05 – I smell like a mini bar … I thought she was THIRTEEEN?!

01:13 – Oh Gawd No…That’s disgusting and did I mention she’s supposedly 13.

01:29 – Partaaaay time, y’all! and Kathy is doing Suduko puzzles.

01:47 – It’s Rebecca Black! Like that friday girl ! :O Like that ”which seat can I taaaakkeee?” girl ! Like that …okay, I know you got it.

01:59 – Black doesn’t look like a 13 year old either. Heck, does anyone here look 13 years old?!

02:01 – It’s Artie from Glee! who indulges in several disturbing fantasies which include Kathy.

02:48 – Makeover time! How ironic.

03:10 – Nerdy to Hottie – Grown Woman Hottie that is. She looks like one of the kids’ mum walked in – looking ridiculously out of place; also with sparkling braces on.

03:40 – I still can’t grasp the fact that that is Rebecca Black right there. A Friday reference, I suspect.

04:21 – Vomiting and fighting ! How absolutely adorable. Meh.

05:12 – Her parents are awfully supporting. Is this all a dream? Could it be the figment of her imagination? Nope. Totally real.

I can’t see any more of this. I’m afraid, I have lost the power to go through with this fest of color and underage drinking and you-know-what. Songs are all about Fridays now, sadly.

Friday hay, kuriyun!

Today was a particularly sweltering day. It is May of course, and my skin had started to change color because of the heat so this means that summer is in full flow but today the sun blazed a fiery yellow and seemed to holler, “Special Day! Human cakes!” and yes, today is very special indeed – and not just because of the extra heat beating down our heads.

Yes, unless you’re hiding in a cave, y’all must know that the symbol of terror – Osama Bin Laden was killed in the wee hours of the morning by a U.S raid on a house near Abottabad, Pakistan. Rejoice all. What an end.

Except that he was found in Pakistan makes me sweat like an animal. His death meant little, perhaps because uh, we were in deep shiz before already and seeing his terrorist labelled body being found on our land, well that doesn’t sound very promising, does it? Thank you, You made our lives a whole lot more amazing than they were before.

Oh God, the song playing on YouTube just suddenly changed into a funeral march. Creepy. Ghost of Osama lingering around?

Mother dearest had interesting views. She doesn’t care. All she does care is, well… it’s a little too explicit to put here. So, I’ll give a clean summary of it.

“Ab toh chalay jayein yeh yahan say, Inhay Osama mil gaya hay, ab humari jaan chor dain!” (they found Osama, they should let us be now.)

Sadly, I don’t think that’ll be the case. We’re so lucky to have foreign forces lurking around, doing our job for us while we’re chillaxing…soaking up the ultra violet, merciless rays of the sun…Oh, there was another drone attack? 70 people killed? SNOOOOOOZE. Thanks, Bin Laden. There were a couple of other places – Antarctica, hello? – but noooo, you found us terribly hospitable and decided, ”Hey, this is my jam. Whatevs, peeps, Imma crash here…until someone shoots me.”

and while, we’re on the subject of geography, I was surfing a couple of channels namely CNN, BBC etc and there I found something very irk some. The anchors kept saying Islamabad in place of Abottabad, where our favorite terrorist was found. Abottabad is NOT Islamabad ! Go get a map, and look it up before you croak faux facts. One anchor had the audacity to say why didn’t the forces just bomb the place instead of taking things “slow”?

Oh yeah, I forgot. This is BOMB-STAN. LAWL.

Listening now – Bilal Khan- Taare

Yo, Hit me up!

I should be studying, so I don’t end up staying up all night and having ultra raccoon eyes. I say ultra, cuz’ y’know I already have raccoon eyes and I don’t want to look as if someone punched two purple holes in my face. Life is so hard. I even tried to edit them out – the dark circles, not my eyes – and it ended up as if I have alien, creepy skin blots on my face. so I’m like ‘suck it’. Whatever.

I think we had another baby in the family. It’s like pretty soon, my family will take over Pakistan. I’m pretty sure, we account for half of Pakistan’s population already and with the census going on, I shall be proved correct. I never knew I had so many cousins, man. It’s like mushrooms.

Listening now: Shawn Desman – Shiver

(I can not believe I’m listening to this. )

Erm, I hope there is actually someone out there.

Anyway, the reason for my absence was because I suddenly lost all wish to write something-anything. The thing that motivated me to get my lazy ass moving was the fact when I checked my email. What surprised the socks out of me was that I got a new subscriber! which got me heaving sobs that Dear Lord, some people actually in this world read this blog.

Yes, This blog. Don’t be so cynical.

What got me around to choosing ‘No’ as a subject were a series of events that culminated in a number of pleasant and unpleasant situations. ‘No’ is such a precarious word with its various implications and for some people like me, it’s hard to just say No to someone.

I have a friend who agreed to proof read couple of people’s  work even though she herself had to finish her assignment with a deadline looming over her head. She just couldn’t say ‘All hope abandon ye who think I’ll do their work’

The same thing happened to me in a very different way.

Extremely evil chick whom I despise: Hey, Blah blah blah can you do it?

Me: …uh, I don’t..know.

EEC: Oh please! please! Please!

Me: (trying hard not to kill myself with the pen) All hope abaa - S..sure?

I should have said ’All hope abandon ye who think I’ll do their work’. I should have been strong-ah ! Humph ! Though since I’m such a nice person, I have a certain regard for other people’s feelings (that’s pointed at you, Extremely Evil Chick whom I despise) but then I end up getting used by people such as EEC. See, the problem here.

Anywhoozers, I propose that y’all practice saying ‘No’ to people like EEC because not many people will actually be grateful of whatever you done for them and these people will continue to use you even when they write you nice messages on fb. IT’S A LIE!  IT’S ALL A LIE.

OhMyGoodness, I found a song today which I heard two years back but I couldn’t remember the name. This always happens. I always find forgotten songs by accident. This means…This means, I HAZ THE SUPER POWERS.

Listening now: just for now – Imogen Heap

You infuriate me.

Repeat after me.

Actually, I really don’t need any more rain as I’m already drowning in the tides of work.  *shudders* I won’t write down the sordid details here. Anyway, some rain would be welcomed in my city since flu-cough season has been around for ages and it needs to go – NOW. I had flu twice over the period of three months. INSANE, I tell ya. That never happened. NEVER. It’s like Barney is emerging right from under my skin since I sound exactly like the creepy purple dinosaur.

Also, so sleepy all the time. It’s the fault of those stupid books they want me to cram. Tyrants. Eat Boggers.

And there is plenty of political drama going on. I swear, I’m so up for the idea that there should be soap operas chronicling the lives of our politicians (Kyunkay Saddar b kbhi masoom tha, Kali tumhari party, PPP say PML(N) tak,  Sharif-Zordari - Aik prem kahani,  Meray bank balance ko mil gaye Roshni,  Humari Partiun ka Vivah)

Why?  because they’re just so awesome. No? well, you suck then. It’s also because it would cure my mother’s complaining that she doesn’t get to see any desi drama anymore since Pops lovingly holds the remote and switches it on to the latest analysis show airing on the T.V and he only backs off as it strikes 11.

Mother: Main nay apna drama daekhna hay!”

Father: …..

Mother:…Ghar anday saath he ay wekhnay beth janday o !

Father (Very busy staring at some dude aggressively answering the anchor’s question) : Huuuuhh…