Oh, The Things I Write About

An Emotional Spiel?


I had a particularly bad month: My phone has a virus and it’s destroying the system from within and the three hours I wasted on the net, searching for an appropriate anti-virus, with my eyes squinting and the screen glowing on my face, seemed every bit excruciating. Also,  my sleep pattern refuses to change even with my mother threatening me that she’ll wake me up at six (Six! Lol! That’s the time when I sleep) even if I now look like a raccoon human hybrid or Panda hybrid or whatever.

So that means, when the vacations end, I’ll still be going to sleep in the wee hours of the morning and then waking up like a tortured inmate. Lovely.

Anyway, the point of this blog begins now: I’m a skeptic so when my friends started going to their different universities while I lay in my bed all day long listening to angst ridden tunes, I thought whether we could still be the same tight bunch of friends that lived every moment in the past two years.

When I discussed the ‘nonchalance’  of one of our friends that only occasionally shows her face now to X, she replied:  “They have new social lives now and we have to accept that we can not share everything the same way we used to. Sure, I’ll love to tell you all about the chick who wears purple lipstick but you don’t know her so you won’t understand. It’s about proximity which we don’t have anymore.”

I have to concede here though I did spun off into my lengthy diatribes which Nix patiently listened. Maybe I have a lot of time, thus the reason I spent so much time thinking about it and it’s driving me peanuts.

I wonder if I would drift away too when I join college in a couple of months, whether I, too, would have a cool swagger that would stumble when my old friends would poke fun of it and I would give a haughty ‘I am the shizz’ look and boast about how badass I’ve become. In my head, that sounds pretty far-fetched.

I’ve learned that you can’t chase after people to stop them from leaving but it would be a cold day indeed when YOU would leave. Now, I’m beginning to think if there was ever a ‘forever’ in our BFF.

Listening now: Quoth the Raven by Eluveitie.

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Oh, The Things I Write About

Spaghetti dreams!


I had a lucid dream last night that I was being killed by Selena Gomez (of Wizards of Waverly Place fame) Naturally, the absurdity of the situation rang a bell in my head and I thought as she stabbed me a few times, “Hey…What is she doing here of all – ” and then I woke up.

So fine, I consulted an online dream dictionary (just for the heck of it) and it told me that my request had no match. Apparently no one ever saw Selena Gomez in their dreams but a lot of the major population glimpsed Madonna (the pop singer) strutting her stuff on the hazy other side even singing ‘Papa don’t preach’. Why don’t I have zany dreams like that? Most of my dreams revolve around me cutting myself, being cut, cutting other people or cutting…trees. Lots of blood, gore, bark and leaf residue. Someone please tell me the significance of leaf residue in a dream? Am I going to own an orchard soon?

Anyway, my little sister made an experimental spaghetti meal while my mother cringed at the thought of her spotless kitchen looking like a toxic dump. It was really experimental since she didn’t knew what it would turn out and well…she didn’t like the result because she poured in a lot of chili sauce in the gravy, and thus it burned my throat when I tried to slurp the spaghetti in haste. Fiyaah in mah mouth, peoplay! Nevertheless, I managed to eat all of it with some boiled rice scattered on top. My sister, Fatty, mournfully sat beside me during the show.

“It sucks. Why are you eating it? ” She inquired.

“No, No! It’s awesome,” I replied thickly. “See I’m eating all of it,” I twisted a few strands of the spaghetti with my fork.

“Yeah, You’re eating the rice,”

I blanched.  I couldn’t just say it’s awful and diminish whatever chance my sister-ling has of making gourmet food. NO. NEVER. Cue: Emo-ness.

I swallowed and composed my self. “The first try didn’t work but it was decent enough. It was edible and people in Mexico would probably dig it. Think of what would happen on your 2nd or 3rd try -”

Never had I felt so wise and sage-like in my life, I felt God draining his energy into me, energizing my bones –

“Why are you being nice?” Fatty cried, eyeing me critically and then jumped, “Are you mocking me?”

Wait! What?! I was being nice fo’ real! Fine. STFU.

It didn’t really matter how my sincere words were taken. It did matter that at least she stopped to delve in the spaghetti mess. Dreams are a lot like spaghetti, None of them have a real beginning and ending. You just pick up the parts and go along with it…and also because you don’t really have a choice. Enjoy.                                                         

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All Your Cakes Are Mine

Mostly I Just Sit Around All Day, And Act Awesome


Summer is here. Hellz Yes. The best part about Summers?

Summer Vacations. Duh. Nothing better than sitting in the cool interior of your house. I know many people are considerably less lazy than I am (What in the world?) and show agility and bouts of excitement as they meticulously plan their summer vacations .

Not me. No, Sir. I rather sit and let my rear expand then go tripping outside in this heat. Although, I can’t remember one summer vacation where I wasn’t going to set doing something…Anything!

That never happened.

But like any other year, I have written another list:

1. Learn an instrument. (the triangle is a noble instrument )

2. Art classes. (Maybe I’ll become the Picasso of the 21st century. Maybe I’ll use my dazzling skills to prove my country – Pakistan – isn’t entirely consisting of gun totting barbarians, and we don’t have terrorists hiding under our Shalwar Kameez,  then there would be someone else to blame for all the shit out there. OhMyGod, I’m practically a hero already)

3.  Write a script, sell it for millions of dollars. ( Okay, No? I should just continue writing to some millionaire about adopting me then. Hi, I’m adorable and broke – 100% non-demon like. You won’t have to worry about strange demonic staring or fascination with objects that can be used to kill you from this gal. I understand though, it’s the fault of Hollywood. Just loveeee me, s’all I ask)

4. I’m working on this one…

Eventually, this summer too will end, and I wouldn’t be able to complete anything  one or two things that I wanted to do. I’m still happy that at least I tried, unlike the other summers where I lazed around eating junk, watching junk, listening to junk and maybe even daydreaming about junk.  Oh wait, that’s what I’m still doing.

What are you doing this summer? Something way more exciting than sitting?

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