With love, Non-mountain climber.

In the middle of the night I was running down a mountain trying to catch a bus when it occurred to me that how brutally adventurous this year has been. I was holding my baby brothers hand and waving goodbye to my sister and thinking that this year could not have ended more beautifully.
Obviously I don't know much about that feeling of feeling-at-home, because up there on foreign land after the longest time I finally felt at home. Maybe the most notoriously sad holidays on my planner don't always suck so bad after all. I mean I sure learnt quite a few things this week while I was visiting the mountains up north. Gravity for one is a fat bitch when it comes to climbing mountains. Oh and never try to catch up with anything with wheels and a pashto speaking driver. Also, never ever crawl down your hotel lobby - even when your legs refuse to cooperate - especially if you're nineteen but look way younger than your actual age, it gives people terribly wrong ideas.

Other than that, lets face it - it is the last day of 2011. Last day of this past year. Don't look back and don't think again? But wait. Think about the person you were with last year on new years eve, if they're still around then maybe you're not doing so bad. And if they're not still around then you're doing great - be proud that you made it through anyway.

Writing gig.

So get this, I bitch about celebrities for a living.
Now I'm confused. This one was always my personal rule: Don't talk about them when you can just talk to them. But technically I can't talk to them so does that make talking about them okay?

The point is, I bitch about celebrities for a living. Ten years later, that's what I'll tell my children.

Like you like an arsonist.

"She was a compulsive talker. He knew that by now. But for him it was still amazing - and disturbing - to hear her verbally spinning out of control, like some errantly thrown football that started off in one direction, then spiraled away from its target as if it had a mind of its own. Her conversations were like creatures she brought to life only to have them run amok, destroying everything in their path. Now and forever, she could not shutup.

Not him, though. There was a disturbing calmness about him. Cause she'd never heard silence quite this loud."

Rush of blood to the head.

So maybe love and hurt are - after all - hopelessly intertwined. And this morning, in the middle of trying not to feel too much or too little, I happened to realize that I have a desperate weakness for hurt. So part reason why I'm attracted to him is cause I want to save him.
Loving someone can't be easy cause if it is then it's not worth it. Maybe I'm used to loving people who're not easy to love. Maybe I get my rush from terrible disasters and hopeless challenges. Maybe normal is just not my thing. Maybe I like working for love.

Just because.

This page is so blank and I'm temped to say something. Thoughts are playing in my head like a movie being fast-forward. It's hard to pause and fish for something useful to say. So I won't try. Make a very conscious effort to not bother to read this. Tyvm.
I think I'm superstitious. Something I didn't know about me until now. They are very extremely lame too, as a matter of fact. Almost all these superstitions I carry around are made-up (personal beliefs?). Like not putting on nail paints supposedly brings bad luck for me. Or just because I've predicted something bad, it has fair chances of actually happening. That's one reason why I emphasize on not actually ever predicting something bad out loud.
Have you noticed that the things you hate most are the ones always hovering over you? Something to do with life being a bitch. I hate people talking about me, let alone making secretive plans to make my life hell. How lowly and pathetic, don't you think? Of course it bothers me to death but after all this time I think I've reached a certain understanding to this whole episode. I know there's a big fat reason behind it all. I feel tiny because I can't look at the bigger picture as yet. It exists, though. It always exists.
I didn't have time to think and all of a sudden I have too much time. Funny, isn't it? Anyway. I want to go to a film school and study photography and journalism. And I wanna get myself a sketch book and draw again. And for fun I want to climb up a mound of dirt and slide down. Just because. Come to think of it, I don't think about what I want as often as I should.

November, 2010.

Say what.

Me: You like the tattoo? I think I'm gonna be a tattoo artist.
Him: So you're gonna tattoo peoples asses?
Me: No. You can do the dirty work for me.
Him: What if they're girls?
Me: I'll put a blindfold on you.
.


An egg every morning, two doctors appointments scheduled for the next month, excitement junkie, glass of milk everyday, balancing issues, insomniac-by-choice, overly fearless, music freak, so much less complaining, no books in the whole of last month. And I thought to myself: So. Not. Me.
.


Standing on the tips of your toes and hugging tighter. Laughing on mute with tears in your eyes. Standing under the railway tracks and making train sounds. Attempting to hide your face with a pair of men's sunglasses. Whispering only because you think it makes you sound sexy. Coloring under the blanket like you're four years old again. Trying to make a drained-battery cell phone work on your way home because you're that much impatient. Falling asleep in less than a minute knowing that you'll wake up with someone still next to you. Making tattoo's with pens and writing hidden meanings in them. Waking up to an almost-sent text. Pictures you can't help wanting to jump into.
.

"Hey, I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Freddy Krueger."
.


Will always remind me of that summer in California.

photocred Mariam.

Tipsy as hell.

I was on guard and in balance. Full-time. Don't be sad. Don't think too much. Keep a distance from him, him and him. Eat healthy. Distract yourself. Answer emails. Sound happy. Smile. Sleep early. Stay balanced. And then, when I actually stopped pretending and thought I'd got the hang of things, I fell off the scale headfirst, legs in the air. Really really horrible timing, you see. Especially now that everybody wants a piece of me. But I guess you can't always draw definite lines and make compartments and refuse to budge beyond them. There comes a time when you fall out and learn to crawl back up. I realized that it's not about having everything in your circle, its about moving forward without destroying the shape and rhythm of that circle.

photocred Mariam.

"..and I wondered if, in the end, this is how all disputes are settled, with a shared silence as things become equal. You take something from me, I take something from you."

Magic.

I've fallen in love with this blog. It means so much to me. Feels like I've put out a part of my myself here and I guess I have. Writing can be magic. When you're just a kid and you have so many dreams, you talk about em and you write about em, hoping one day they'll all come true. And even if they don't, just the feeling of having dreamt is amazing to look back on.

"Every accomplishment large and small begins with the same decision: I'll try." -Ted Key

Photo cred Mariam.

These lines are running in my head. They're from one of my favorite songs.

Turn the key and spark the wire

Chasin' down a feelin' runnin' on desire

The future was an open road

Gone in a cloud of smoke

Leavin' a trail of flames behind these tires

Settin' the world on fire

I don't give.

I fell asleep sometime during the day and I woke up thinking that I've become so paranoid and so conscious and so cautious and now it seems so impossible to let down my guard. It probably won't be soon till that happens and am I really okay with it? Could that be a part of growing up- letting go of your crazy spontaneous self to a quiet on-guard at all times self? Two things I now know, phones aren't safe no more, and people can't be trusted- either they become too intrusive and ruin your life or simply leave cause that's just how much they bother about your feelings. Wait, fuck feelings- nobody really actually ever gives a shit about that so that's just irrelevant at the moment. I'll get over it soon and laugh about this a few months from today and maybe forget it, too. But for now I know that I'm not scared anymore. Though someone is prob still keeping tabs on me and since the last couple of nights I wake up in the middle of the night with that feeling of being watched and it makes my hands go cold. And even though each time I get a call I start to pray that he's okay. Yet I'm not scared because someone somewhere felt threatened by love and I feel sorry for em. But I'm not scared, just recovering from the shock of how people have a major inability to mind their own business.

Because you see, I'd made my mind that very night when in mid conversation I bit my lip and smiled, thinking that he was that someone who didn't care that I was incapable of sitting still or that I couldn't grasp the concept of cooking and that I refused to be nice. Someone who realized that half the things I say and the decisions I make are usually ones I regret and that I over-react at any given moment. He was someone who knew how completely insane I was and still loved me.
And sometimes you need that one person who will let you talk and ramble, listen to you complain and sound like a complete idiot and still love you all the same. So tabs or no tabs, doesn't change how I feel, only makes me value love even more.

Save yourself from dumb advise and just listen to your heart. And if you really want to then go ahead and suck on those lemons and eat the damn chocolate cake, screw your diet plan, take a risk, play in the rain and get your hair wet, play in those muddy puddles, love someone, do that crazy dare, hug your best friend tighter, tell someone off, sit on the roller coaster, write a letter or draw a picture with crayons like you're still 6 years old and give it to someone who means a lot, pack your bags and take a vacation, paint each nail a different color, make up your own recipe, go to a party in a t-shirt and jeans, stay up all night, laugh at a corny joke, beat a guy at a video game, paint a self-portrait, love the un-loved and live your life to the fullest- even if you have stalkers and intrusive family members keeping tabs on your ass- so that at the end of the day you'll have no regrets, no sorrows and no disappointments, just lots of happy moments.

911? Creepy asshole alert.

So the government allows the tapping of phones as long as it all falls under the category of "Threat to their Nation"- or some bullshit like that. I don't know why my phone is being tapped. I'm only just a normal nineteen year old, trying to make the most of life for crying out loud. There comes no point in life when it actually ever hits you that absolutely anything is possible. In my world all this stuff existed only in movies! And now I have to live with the fact that somebody somewhere is an overly intrusive bastard who can't seem to mind his own business and has apparently bugged my phone. No exaggeration. All so very creepy. And I just can't figure out who it might be. Count my enemies? None who sound like they're in their mid-thirties.
The scary thing is that anybody can just bug any body's phone? Just like that. Hello illegal? Hello privacy? I'm scared. Help.

Different place.

But I've changed my mind overnight; I am happy. Over-thinking helps in no way, nor does being over-careful. I've learned to love new people and forgotten those who no longer matter. Sometimes old books hidden deep in shelves remind you of a distant time- who you were and who you've become. This one saved my life:

But love is always new. Regardless of whether we love once, twice, or a dozen times in our life, we always face a brand-new situation. Love can consign us to hell or to paradise, but it always takes us somewhere. We simply have to accept it, because it is what nourishes our existence. If we reject it, we die of hunger, because we lack the courage to stretch out a hand and pluck the fruit from the branches of the tree of life. We have to take love where we find it, even if that means hours, days, weeks of disappointment and sadness. The moment we begin to seek love, love begins to seek us. And to save us.

Fall in love when you're ready, not when you're lonely.

Planet power?

"Change is on the way, and thanks to Neptune in Pisces, the world is soon to become a softer, kinder, and gentler place to be.." -Susan Miller

You believe in zodiac signs and all this planet shit? A palmist once told me that I'll get married somewhere between 22 and 28. And I said to him, doesn't everybody? But then he told me what year I was born in- lucky guess? I looked him in the eye, told him he was a fraud and walked away. I was creeped out for crying out loud. I still remember the old palmist dudes face though. I even had a dream about him once. What got me thinking about all of this? Well, last week this lady told me that according to planets or something 2012 is gonna be a really good year for me. I was bored just now so I looked up on it. Turns out she was right, I mean that's what they're saying. Gosh only if we could fast forward into the future. Lol. Oh well. I'll keep you posted. ;)


Anyway. I've been trying to study for my English Literature class since morning today. It's kind of not working out.

It's okay to wish impossible things. :)

In the middle of answering a horribly annoying sociology question I paused and stared at my purple nail paints, and chewed on the ignored flavorless chewing gum still living in my mouth for the second hour now. In that one endless moment everything seemed so pointless- plans, dreams, destinations. And all of a sudden I wanted to walk out and sit on the black marble steps where we had laughed once with plans and dreams hidden deep in our laughter. I wondered how long it had been? Long enough.
And maybe I wouldn't have bothered to finish that last question on my exam paper today if that boy hadn't interrupted me to ask for an eraser. I handed it to him unconsciously. After hardly a minute he dropped the eraser back on my desk with a carved heart in it. LOL.

tralalamiraclelalala.

Lemons don't work. After sucking on 12 you just feel a little thirsty but that's about it. Popsicles give me nose bleeds. Books only work temporarily- certainly not good enough. Music makes me cry. You give me major addictive issues. The tv plays nothing worth my time. Candy gives my brain a high and it starts to think- definitely a no no. Bad day? Bad week? Definitely just a bad year with one day of too much happiness to stomach. Check out the deal: to counter one day  half a day of good news, you get 364.5 pathetic days. Be thankful.

Lets shut up, be thankful, and work on the plan. Shh.

Blame it on September.

Time that never sides with plans. Plans that never side with happiness. People who never side with the truth. And I fall in love with all the wrong things.
You know that feeling when you glance over your shoulder and smile at the world behind you because you're there and you've been so strong? Yeah, I'm craving that feeling.

Its okay to cry.

Tired and rose red with all that kohl seeping into them. Unintentionally, like always, I dabs 'em and stain my tan with that black.

A multitude of crap.

I think I have a good feeling about this. But I could blame the candy.

There used to be a time when I could only study with the radio turned on. Now I want the quiet. Signs of getting old everyday?

Too many birthdays. I need money. I need a new phone. I need winter. I need to start crossing out days on the calender. I need a big black marker.

You like the new fb? I don't like the new fb. I don't even like the blue kiddy seesaw staring me in the face right now. I don't like the ground on which its sitting either.

I should be happy. But it'll only make me sad now. Lets gang up and hate on soccer balls.

Septembers come and go way too soon. It's not even funny anymore. Septembers are mean.

Last time I said I had a good feeling about it.. um, my intuition sucks? Shutup. Change topic. You don't have the guts to follow yours. Boo you.

I think I'll just blame the candy.

Terrified.

I'm scared. I'm scared because things are slipping away. But maybe that's how people are; ice cubes in the summer that burn your hand if you hold 'em for too long. So when I tell you I'm being too clingy, remember that it'll only hardly last minutes- I'm scared.

 Maybe everyone is scared, scared they'll never get what they want or, if they've got it, scared that somebody will come and take it and if nobody does, time will. -Evergreen

Hi. I'm loopy.

It's of those days when you wish someone wipes off your whole to-do list so you can sleep for the whole of next week (with Francine, of course). I'm so tired. A few days of intensive sociology has bored me enough to fall in love with my bed. I'm turning into a lazy cow, though. I got breathless that day after barely walking a few steps in lums. (Notice that I'm only just nineteen!)

I lost my phone in the blanket and then I threw the blanket around till it fell out. Does that ever happen to you?

I saw an old friend yesterday, almost just accidentally. And I just wish people were more honest and just say, "Hey I'm coming into your life and we're gonna become best friends but I have no intention of staying long." That would make life so much easier. Seriously, what is with people and waking up one day and just deciding to walk away?

I have a really bad habit of imaging bad things happen to people I hate.

I hate you. I hope you step on a lego brick, barefoot. Or,

Omg remember that time? I hope you fall off the chair and break your back. 

Oh. God. I told you I was sleepy.

I am weird.

A tiny moment when I was studying with a friend and something I always just skimmed through suddenly made sense. Or that long hour on the phone when I realized I miss Aisha so much. Or how I can be laughing one minute in the middle of the night and be asleep the next. Or how for one moment when I woke up today, everything looked so beautiful. And that moment of rush when I formatted my phones memory card. You know how that feels? It's like that feeling when you're eating a lemon icicle and it's so cold that your brain freezes and your lips go numb and your nose starts to bleed and out of all that, you get a high.

Oh and when I have my high/loopy moments I laugh like an idiot and talk like I'll never shutup. I mean if I were sitting behind me in a movie or something, I'd totally tell myself to shutup and leave.

Must read.

http://bourgeoispigsrandomosities.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-find-myself-realizing-that-this-man.html#links

nostalgia

Has it been a week? I dunno. Can't remember how long. I fell asleep on my book and I dreamed about home. I used to say I carry my home with me each time we move. But that's not true. The house with the mirror walls and the creaking wooden floors, and the leaking ceiling, and the rectangular window's over-looking the forest I never fully explored will always be my home. It breaks my heart to realize that two years weren't enough and I let go so easy. So if I have to buy a ticket with every penny I own and board a plane half way across the globe just to stand out side my home one last time, I will. And as much as I'll want to, I won't ask the owner's to let me in because if I can't find that red bunk bed in my room and my barbies scattered on the floor or my grandma sitting at the kitchen table or my uncle sleeping somewhere in the upstairs bedroom, it won't feel like home anymore. And I can't let go of the way I remember it.

The places you have come to fear the most.

Red or pink? I can't decide.

This page is so blank. The way you are sometimes. Like you're staring into space without really focusing on anything and all of a sudden someone asks you: Hey! What're you thinking?!
But that's exactly the point. You're not thinking anything. You're just lost in an unthinking stupor clouded by things that hardly make sense and things that haven't yet registered and that's that.

"I stare at the printed page and repeat the lines in my head over and over again. I don't understand what they mean but I like the way they're said. I write em down on my hand- paper is far away and I'm lazy. My phone buzzes and someones talking about cakes. It buzzes again and someone's saying remember that time? I want to answer, and it buzzes again, and I tap the back button; a friend of a friend says hi. And it buzzes once more, something about plans for tomorrow. And I repeat the lines again. I don't get it. The phone buzzes. I ignore it. I think I'm half dazed. I wonder if I got enough sleep last night. It was the ball. Yes, each time it hit the ground, it took with it a little bit of my sleep. And I repeated the lines again because they still make no sense."
           
           "Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained."


I'll go with pink.

Texting you back.

I am laughing. I know you so well, it's funny. And I don't hate you. I just don't care about you.

Spirit in the night.

I did not stop talking, aware of the fact that he was trying to stare a hole in my face. He wasn't beautiful. Not even close. Very expectantly average. The details of his face sunk in: His features, posture, height, and his ogling eyes that never left me, showed signs of insomnia.

".. and maybe I thought I didn't know but I did! I was so stupid, you know? But I'm over it so it doesn't seem to bother me anymore. And, don't stare."

And now I met his gaze. He didn't look away and I held onto it- I've missed you so much look- and my intention bounced off of my eyes and hit his face. Obviously, I was uncomfortable. And obviously he was awkwardly inconsiderate. And just when I thought he would never, he looked away to his right, smiling to himself as if in agreement. And then he spoke, now looking down at his shoes in blunt denial.

"I'm sorry. It's just fascinating."

"What is? "

His eyes greeted mine again and I read his mind.
"Um, it's fascinating; your inability to let other people talk. Could you turn your energy down a notch or five so the rest of the world can try to keep up with you?"

"Yeah yeah. Ever occurred to you that maybe you're just slow?"

We both laughed out loud, remembering this very same conversation the first time we met, except that now it meant something different. He moved toward me and grabbed me in a hug. At one point I used to think that nothing in the world could, but right there he made up for all those past months.

Just for a moment.

Some days you feel sad without knowing why. Like you lost something very precious, but forgot what it was, or like you miss someone you never met.

Between order and randomness.

So I finished reading Eleven Minutes. I fell in love with a lot of lines from this one. I want another nice book. A nice dragging one that I can spend weeks reading and fall asleep on every night. That's one reason I don't like reading borrowed books cause you actually have to take care of them. Not that I don't take care of my own but like I can't underline my favorite quotes or sleep on 'em and stuff, you know? And when I fall in love with the book and a gazillion quotes from it, and then have to return it to its owner, it just makes me really horribly sad.

Oh and once I have time, Imma explore the city. Go to all the places I haven't been. Also, make a conscious effort to learn my way around. I seriously suck at directions. (and I have been living here for a pretty pretty long time now!)

Did I tell you that I'm so used to lemon that I can't have food without it? I can't help it. Without lemon food is tasteless! And my throat is fine, too. Really. Win win. :)

Lalalalalalalalalalalala.

I promise I'll study after this one blog post. I want to tell you a story. But I don't know any story. None that are worth telling at least. I had a bad an annoying day. It started off with people waking me up for very extremely unnecessary reasons. And I've had to listen to my mom's non-stop complaining that I don't spend enough time with her. Um, I dunno maybe I live with you mom? God. But I guess I've had way more annoying days/moments than today. Can I tell you? It'll make me feel better.

1. Turning the radio station to the end of a song.
2. A cancelled plan I had been waiting for.
3. Not getting enough sleep cause a random prank caller woke me up and then I couldn't go back to sleep.
4. That "I'm fine" text and the other person actually believed me.
5. Running like a ninja to pick up that phone call and having missed it anyway.
6. Going about the place thinking I'm looking all pretty and then finding a mirror and realizing I'm not.
7. Randomly bumping into a person, remembering them but not knowing their name.
8. Not getting a text back.
9. The Internet dying at the wrongest time. 
10. Burning my taste buds.
11. Brain freeze after two Popsicles.
12. When the pizza guy showed up an hour late and how anger took over the hunger.

Before this post gets lamer, Imma go study. :)

Shit.

Know why I cried today?
Because I realized half the people in my phones contact list didn't live in the same country as me anymore. And still, I couldn't get myself to delete their numbers. And there I was talking about denial issues, pfft.

Them.

            "He's seeing my soul, my fears, my fragility, my inability to deal with a world which I pretend to master, but about which I know nothing."

He walks around, his head held somewhere way up high in a world that only makes sense to him. Squared shoulders, and he walks on it as if he owns the ground. His curious eyes, never off guard. You think you're scared of him. I think I'm scared of him, too. And that's all right. Now he has a hiding place; you and I gave him a hiding place. So he sits there. Alone. Insecure. Scared. Very scared.

__

Shoulders just a little slump and horribly bony. Look at her face. I know I said something. So I cuss my inability to shutup when I should. I ask what's wrong. She blushes and turns away. "Fine, be like that." But I really should've just hugged her.

__

I'm bored. I grab Eleven Minutes and read the first page for the third time. I love how it begins. Then I shut the book and slip it under the pillow because I have a sudden urge to listen to Jenny. Adam sings me this one. It's catchy so I sing along.

__

Look at him. You can, I try not to. Tell him he needs a haircut. Long hair on him makes me wonder if he'll get bald real soon, like his father. I feel sorry for him; He's such a loner so he plays his music that nobody appreciates.

Sealed.

                    "One moment you have nothing, the next, you have more than you can cope with."


I was trying really hard to concentrate, promise. But then I genuinely got distracted and noticed something written in the top corner of the page. It said, "Listen. But he won't let me get a tattoo."
It sounds so funny now. And I remember how it used to be so easy before. Just get up in the morning and go to school. Get late for class cause you're too busy fixing your hair in the bathroom. Not know what the literature lady's on about till you get picked on and know the answer anyway or sometimes get chucked outta the room, accused for not knowing angrazie. And going to school parties and spending the whole day deciding what to wear. Begging mum and dad to let you out for just a little too late. Going an hour late for the psych mid-term and acing it anyway. And getting too emotional debating over making abortion illegal  in GP class and then cracking up when the teacher cuts in to calm you down. And running away to McDonald's from school after classes. And writing fake sick notes and then getting caught.

I can go on forever but I'm holding Eleven Minutes in my hand and it says here:

              "Anyone who has lost something they thought was theirs forever, finally comes to realise that nothing really belongs to them."


So this is my last post on memories, not because I'm letting go, but because I'm okay with knowing that things don't last forever and that's all right.


And yes Shahrose, this one's for you. :)

Dear me.

If I could write a letter to me and send it back in time to myself at 17, first I'd prove it's me by saying look in your closet there's a champagne bottle sticker no one else would know you hid. And then I'd say I know it’s tough when people hurt you. All I can say is pain like that is fast and it's rare. But I know at 17 it's hard to see past Friday night. 

When mum and dad fight, stay in your room and plug in the earphones, in an hour they’ll be fine. When it gets worse, don’t cry. And still you feel like there's a knife sticking out of your back and you're wondering if you'll survive. You'll make it through this and you'll see that you're still around to write this letter to me.

Always stop after one glass of coke. And on that afternoon in 12^th grade, don’t have two Popsicles at one time. On second thought forget it- that was kinda cool. And don’t spend all your money on a prom dress. Tempted to wear those six inch heels? Don’t.
Each and every time she gives you her long lectures just assume you're wrong and mum’s right. And you should really thank her. She spent so much extra time. But I know at 17 it's hard to see past that one night.

Tonight's the concert but you're staying home instead because if you fail Math mom and dad will kill you. Trust me you'll squeak by and get a C and you're still around to write this letter to me

You've got so much up ahead. You'll make new friends. You should see Mariam and Shahrose. And I'd end up saying have no fear. These are nowhere near the best years of your life.
I guess I'll see you in the mirror. When you're all grown up.

I wish you'd study. I wish you'd take French classes. I wish you'd listen to Brad Paisley more. I wish you wouldn't worry, let it be. I'd say have a little faith and you'll see.

p.s - Go hug Nahal and Mujtaba every chance you can.

From,
You.

Moment of truth.

"I am convinced that no one loses anyone, because no one owns anyone.

           That is the true experience of freedom: having the most important thing in the world and not owning it."

It sucks to cling to things, so this summer I fell out of love with so many people and so many things. So many impermanent things.

Collecting moments.

When you look back at all the tiny things in your life like that day my grandparents bought me my first Barbie. Or that Tuesday when my 5th grade teacher read my story out loud in class. Or that train ride to California. Or that surprise birthday party that left me screaming with excitement all day long. Or that day at the fashion show when I walked the ramp for the first time. Or that time I ran through the 2 ft deep snow, throwing snowballs at my teachers.Or that day we thought we were going to get drunk. Or the time when we went for ice-cream after school to make me feel better. Or like that day at the beach, sitting in the sand and watching my parents swim out into the gulf of Mexico. They remind you that life is so big. You don't need change or that rush or excitement to be happy. You need little moments and you'll be okay even if you're sad right now because you were happy then and that's the deal.

Hey retard.

Summer of 2011.

"But in time I stopped thinking that. In time I came to view that event the way you view a faded vacation photo. It's just someplace you went a long time ago."


The void? It's when you can almost-completely feel the edges of that empty hole inside of you, growing wider. It sucks because you're happy. And you like being used to happy. And simply the idea of going home to normal seems to have punched a hole in your chest. An empty hole.

Alright, I'll quit sounding so pathetic and stop whining about not being on the road anymore. But what can I say, I loved waking up in a different city every morning. I loved our stupid fights on the road. I loved pointing out the window and gasping at the sight of the prettiest places I could ever dream of seeing. I loved the feeling of standing in a shop and spending all the money I had saved up. I loved the feeling of just standing in the randomest places to pose for a picture. I loved chasing my best friends car on the mountains. I loved car racing. I loved the rush and excitement of doing something new everyday.
See, I should be a photographer and travel the world and send you millions of pictures. My official dream job :D other than being a radio jockey.
Anyway, I was telling you, I hate normal. I'm sad to be back home to boring. But, I'm glad it all happened nonetheless.

I am somebody.

Someone once told me that the things I said mattered and made a difference in their life. It was the best feeling. And I got obsessed with making it matter.

Terry McMillan

Why I write?

"This writing stuff has saved me. It has become my way of responding to and dealing with things I find too disturbing or painful to handle in any other way. It's safe.
Writing is my shelter. I don't hide behind the words; I use them to dig inside my heart to find the truth. Plus, writing seems to be the only way I've been able to garner any real control over a situation or at least try to understand it. I guess I can say, honestly, that writing also offers me a kind of patience I don't have in my ordinary day-to-day life. It makes me stop. It makes me take note. It affords me a kind of sanctuary that I don't get in my hurried and full-to-the-brim-with-activity life.
Besides that, I'm selfish, and self-absorbed. But I discovered that writing makes me less so. It has made me more compassionate. In fact, it's all what I've always prayed for: to have more compassion. For everybody. I've learned that every human being has feelings despite the fact that sometimes I have my doubts and everybody thinks no one understands how they feel and that no one could possibly feel what they feel. It's simply not true. Shock, shock, shock.
I'm also nosey, and I want to understand why I do some of the things I do and why we're so stupid, and in order to come close to empathizing, I had to learn how to get under someone else's skin. Writing has become my in and out.
If I understood half of what I do or feel, I probably wouldn't waste my time writing. But I like that probing. I like being scared sometimes. I like worrying about folks. I want to show what can happen when we err, and when we "do the right thing" because as they say, no matter what you do sometimes, "shit happens". I like how we handle the sh-- when it does hit the fan- especially when we throw it into the blades ourselves.
I just want to pay attention to the details of everyday life. I want to be a better person. I want to feel good more often. I want to know when I don't, why I don't. Writing gives me this.
Painting as accurate a picture as I can of our behavior as I see it. I'm not trying to "air dirty laundry" at all; I'm just trying to get us to hold up a mirror and take a long look. Most of us don't think about what we do; we just act and react. Many of us don't reflect or wonder what larger issues are really at stake.
Writing is helping me mature as long as I'm not bull-shitting myself, the act itself forces me to face and understand my flaws and weaknesses and strengths and if I'm honest- really honest- then writing is like a wake-up call. I become my own therapist. Because nobody knows me better than me, and if I do my job, I can ease my heart inside another character's until I feel what they feel, think what they think, and when I'm able to become- say, a chronic liar and begin to lie, and as the writer come to know and understand why this person uses lies as a way to defend him or herself, then I  know i'm on the right track because i cannot write about someone I do not in real life respect or admire but whom I've come to understand. Writing has taught me not to be judgmental, I usually write about people I don't usually favor, who do things I would either never dream of doing, and, therefore, I sort of have to make myself undo my own senses of thinking and being. It can be exhilarating, freeing, a real eye-opener, and painful as hell.
Maybe I'm weird, but I want to know what it feels like to die. To have your heart broken. Why do people hurt each other intentionally? Why do folks lie? And cheat? What kind of person can kill another person and sleep at night? What does a man feel when he beats his wife? Why does she stay? How do women like this tolerate the pain alone? How do children learn to hate? Their parents? What is a good parent? What does it feel like to discover that you're gay and you're twelve? Why do some people not have the capacity to forgive?  How long can I hold a grudge? And why are some people nicer and likable, more responsible than others?
I could go on and on- but the bottom line is that I didn't make a conscious decision to become a writer. I never did it for the money. I never did it for fame. Who knew? Who ever knows? I think somehow the craft chose me. The words have given me ownership and a sense of security. Writing is the only place I can be myself and not feel judged. And I like it there."

Erm, fire?

I just sat staring at the raging flames. The horrible stench burned my nostrils and I knew this wasn't a dream. Bright yellow sparks rebounded from the ceiling and kept disappearing into the carpet. It happened in less than a minute while I was lost in an unthinking stupor that kept me even from the slightest flinch. And then I heard Shanzay scream. My heart stopped and then broke into a crazy sprint. We screamed for help.

Moral of the story? Instead of freezing, run away when you see fire. That way you have more chances of staying alive :)

Ignorance is your new best friend.

Ever thought about what defines us? Is it who our parents were? Where we grew up? What friends we made along the way? You can ask all these questions and try to figure it out. But it's actually what we choose to take from all of it. Good or bad.

Because it's important so I'll tell you the difference between good and bad.

We all do things we regret. Tell me you've never hurt someone you loved? Tell me you've never lied? Tell me you've never broken a promise? Tell me you've never made a mistake? Tell me that you don't have any regrets, and maybe then I'll let you judge me.

The truth is, you cannot define a bad person. And if you think you can, take the liberty of finding out what led them to it. Everybody has an opinion but you need to think before you tell yours because it may be impossible to define a bad person but it's simple enough to define a good one. A good person is one who knows that when you point a finger at someone, four point right back at you.

Sorry?

You'll definitely have to forgive me for being AWOL all the time now. But here's the deal, I'll promise you that I do have a good reason and you'll love me for it later.

xo

Its the 'forever' they're all scared of.

I'll tell you guys a story today. I've only just read it recently and I think you need to hear it, too. :)

     
      "So, Once upon a time, there was a boy who was in love with a girl and they said forever and always and decided to get married. When the boy told his family, a searing look from his mother's eye's scared him and halted his tongue. He worried suddenly that some ancient quarrel existed between the two families. But it quickly became clear to him that the problem was that his mother simply disliked the girl!
"But I like her." He told her. But his mother didn't get it. And it just made her angrier. She had issues with the girl having been lived in America. From the start, his mother suggested, this line of conversation did not augur well. The girl had tricked him! Aah, the girls of this generation! How awful they were! And aah, for her young, green son- she never would have expected him to fall into the trap of a girl such as this! So finally, the boy's mother decided to bang the door shut for good on this fruitless dialogue around this utterly ridiculous topic. So, like countless mothers before her, she resorted to the oldest trick in the book:
"Quick, son! Get up, hurry, get my blood pressure medicine! My heart, oh, my heart! I think I'm dying..."
The boy tried hard. It must be said that he really tried hard to convince her, to get her to see the girl's many exceptional qualities, or, in horse-trading language of mothers looking to make a match, her 'fine attributes'. He went on and on about things that meant nothing to his mother. The girl he loved was a cultured, educated girl whose pot-pourri of Eastern and Western thinking he really liked and admired. The girl understood him; the girl was sophisticated and not vain or arrogant  like all the other girls he had met or those his mother had hinted strongly about marrying him off to. The simple truth of it was the one thing that he could not say plainly to his mother: the girl loved him and he loved her. He loved her even more than she loved him, he was sure.
But the boy's mother gulped down her pills. (If they didn't help, at least they didn't hurt.) She wept hot tears and she stroked his hair gently as she talked about her great hopes to marry her eldest son to the best of girls, to give him the best home there ever was, and the best car, plus all-expenses paid tickets to spend the best honeymoon ever.
Poor miserable boy! He cried, too, poor little boy under the feet of his cherished mother. He loved no one in the whole entire world more than his mother, and he had never opposed  her, never ever, never in his life. He wept also for the sophisticated girl, his beloved who understood him and whom he understood, more than any two people in this world could understand each other, the young girl with her unique beauty and American personality, who would not be his.
And, the boy lived happily ever after, with his mother.

The End." -Girls Of Riyadh

Unless you're looking for reasons, too..

• There's nothing like eating pineapple straight outta the can.
• There's nothing like the feeling of losing someone you love.
• There's nothing like having pizza and playing monopoly with your best friend.
• There's nothing like a friend who makes you smile when you're crying.
• There's nothing like the feeling of getting a text from the one person you were missing just now.
• There's nothing like the feeling when you beat a guy at NBA on xbox.
• There's nothing like listening to a song that touches your heart and floods your eyes.
• There's nothing like the feeling when something you write makes a difference to someone.
• There's nothing like the rush you feel on a crazy ride.
• There's nothing like a hug when you're feeling alone.
• There's nothing like a yellow Popsicle at anytime of the day.

Keep your country clean :)

Forgive yourself for your faults and your mistakes. Throw them in the trash, and move on.

Don't judge.

Yes there are days when I threaten my computer, tell the t.v what to do, yell at my hairbrush, and talk to things that can't talk back.

Awesome auditory learner. Who knew.

Too much psychology. Not to brag or anything but I make an awesome psych tutor. Contact me if you need help ;)

NBA

Wow. Its like one of those times when your friend says that your hair has gotten longer and you realize how pathetically long its been since you last met. But beating the Lakers and the Houston  Rockets on xbox and arm wrestling with guys (who let me win outta pity) did boost my ego, nonetheless. So I'll apologize later for being AWOL. 
Its raining outside. The pathetic heat disappeared for the day and its all windy now. The hail storm only lasted for ten mins. At least I was lucky enough to be sitting outside?
I have so much to say, I don't even know where to start from. But this is probably just my excuse. Maybe next time, alright?
I'm going to see a basketball game later this week. If they don't suck so bad, I'll make you a video. No promises, though.
Summer is almost here but I'm dreading it this year and I'm starting to think that maybe I ought to have been a little more thankful last summer. But heck, I even spent that one complaining.
Dreams? Well, after I saw Final Destination 3-D, they kinda just got worse. But lets not bitch about the unconscious mind right now, it has its way of getting back at me. Okay, what else?  Oh art work. Just made two drawings since. I like them, you won't. Guess that's it. Later then. Miss me. And if you end up missing me too much, blame blogger. They won't let me log in from my html account.

xo

And if this world runs out of lovers, we'll still have each other.

She cried as she danced with me over all those songs that had made her heart skip a beat twenty years ago. The lyrics reminded me of how I feel. How the same songs now touch my heart the same way they had touched hers. But she said it right. "Love fades away. And I don't mean to break your heart or that bubble", she said. "You don't have to believe that. I know I didn't. But I have to tell you because if I didn't it'd be unfair". 




Daddy sang this one for her. 1990. They were married after a year.

Numb. Numb. Numb. Shit I jinxed it!

Ever wake up from a really good dream and try to go back to sleep? Or you got the flu and you promise yourself that you'd appreciate normal so much more if you could just get back to it?



Because your words broke my heart. I mean, in a good way:

"I was randomly going through my email..read messages from fb.. you were so happy last night.. i don't know..made my heart feel funny in a sad way.. it's so fragile...your happiness...your heart...you? But you are strong. Like the carton that carries fragile glass."

Hollow years.

"Emotions are like wild horses. Reason can never tame them."

Been busy drawing lately. I dunno what got me started again. Probably boredom?
I woke up today to realize how much I've started avoiding people; not answering texts, going offline the min somebody says hi, falling asleep after promising a friend that I'd stay up with him, letting my phone ring when somebody calls just cause I like listening to the song on my ring-tone. Social suicide? Guess I'm just having problems letting the same people in again. Its just not like before anymore.
Strangers are better. I could spend my perfect day with a stranger and open up to them in a way I never have with anyone. Talking about my hopes and dreams and all of my fears. Talking without being afraid of being judged. And hearing their story not because we have to care but because both of us only need someone to be actually listening. And it won't matter or make me sad not knowing if I'll ever see that stranger again. Because I don't expect to. Without expectations life is good. Its easy.

Spoiler alert?

• I officially agree that everything good in life is either illegal, immortal or unhealthy.
• Its bad enough to have problems in life and worse to live in a horribly hot place with a shortage of electricity.
• Somebody I slapped in my head countless times appeared at my doorstep. Yeah good morning to you too. Bummer.
• It sucks to have somebody you hate become that annoying song that can't get outta your head. 
• You should know that you become officially socially retarded when you can't stop laughing in public without a reason.
• If you fish for a compliment and all you can come up with is pathetic then you're just as pathetic as I am.

The life I couldn't erase.

My art teacher once told me that when you draw something you put in a lot of effort, you give it your best. You give it a part of who you are. You amend it, play around with it because its your picture. You add color to it in whatever medium you like. You shade it and blend abstract. Change reality. Create something new. Discover and explore your imagination. But you cant erase it. So he'd never let us use an eraser in his class. All the drawings he accepted were the ones we only had one go at. Things couldn't be scribbled at cause art work was supposed to be pretty. So we had our mistakes put out on display on each final draft. We learnt to be more careful. Some kids thought it was a pathetic idea but I threw away all of my erasers.

Define someone? Lol. Okay.

Someone who won't care that I'm incapable of sitting still. Or that I can't grasp the concept of cooking. And that I refuse to be nice. Someone who realizes that half the decisions I make are usually ones I regret. And I have the right to overreact at any given moment. Someone who knows how completely insane I am and wouldn't want me any other way!

Donkeys and cannibals and nightmares and dying people.

Know what's worse than getting your picture taken with wet hair and looking like you haven't showered in four weeks? Bumping into a pregnant donkey outside your front door. Know what's even worse? Crying all night over a dead stranger. Because, well, I saw black water touched by death. I saw footprints and the shape of a human body in the pool.
And thanks to the news, I dreamt of lose cannibals in Lahore hunting me in those two hours when I actually slept. Hm, cannibals. Still sounds too Texas-chainsaw-massacre-ish, no? Yeah, trust me, vampires are next. But that's all okay. If killing other people has been socially accepted then why not eating people, too. There's not much difference anyway.

Kahlil Gibran once wrote:
 "Your reason and your passion are the rudder and sails of your seafaring soul. If either be broken, you can but toss and drift.. Or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas. For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining. And passion unattended is a flame that burns to its own destruction."


If you still don't understand why I do what I do then you're just plain stupid. :)
And excuse me for being a poetry junkie. Been reading awesome stuff lately.

Confession:

 I cried like a baby because I officially got fired today. I'm such a girl.

Premonition.

Just sitting and moping. My computer was effed since a while. Still is, this ones borrowed. But not because of that. Remember how I told you that this year’s going to be full of miracles? Some intuition. But I dunno, doesn’t seem so much anymore. I’m not a very patient person. I hate waiting; for you, for life, for miracles. Right now I’m breaking every rule I set for myself because I’m giving up.

I miss my brother.

Just want to say that wherever you are, remember that I love you. Always.

Crybaby.

The dude in the white over-coat dabs a needle into my arm. Once. And the syringe only sucks out air. Twice; A maroon-ish liquid. And just when I don't expect it, once again. Till he fills all of his four test tubes. Like they say, it's one thing to feel it and another to see it. And since it's alright to not have daddy to hold my hand, it's alright to see it, too.

I have officially surrendered to the fact that everything is symbolic. And that every act is fully loaded with irony. So, I'll stop pondering over seeing the two inch needle go into my arm and call it a bittersweet pinch from reality.

Tennessee Williams once wrote:

                           "When so many are lonely as seem to be lonely..
            It would be inexcusably selfish to be lonely alone."

Smack-dab in the middle of a slum.

Scary? I thought so, too. Only at the first glance, though. I pass by this place almost everyday. Only that yesterday as I walked down the street, my eyes glued to the phone screen. I was busy texting when a heart-rending shriek shook my insides and the phone fell outta my hands. Instinctively, alarmed, I glanced to my left. A used-to-be-white building stood alone. Second glance, I was genuinely curious. But then I saw three kids, half-clothed. They were running around, playing inside the building. Their childhood wasn’t one that I could call familiar but the ring of their laughter substituting the pain, as it echoed through the building, made me smile. I picked up my phone off the road and snapped a photograph.

It's the Joshua Tree's struggle that gives it it's beauty.

It wasn't just any tree. It was an ancient Joshua tree. It stood in a crease of land where the desert ended and the mountain began, forming a wind tunnel. From the time the Joshua tree was a tiny sapling, it had been so beaten down by the whipping wind that rather than trying to grow skyward, it had grown in the direction that the wind pushed it. It existed now in a permanent state of wind blownness, leaning over so far that it seemed ready to topple, although, in fact, its roots held it firmly in place.  -Jeannette Walls

And together that night, we cried.

But sometimes you have to run away just to see if someone cares enough to follow you.
You can laugh this one off and call me a stupid teenager. But he had reason enough. I saw the scars.

"And girls who cant cook and admit it are sexy too? :p"
Yes. Yes they are!

Curtains. Lights. Action.

Just saw The Trials of Brother Jero. Nice play. Still, nothing can match up to Chicago. Not even Bombay Dreams.

Mind-numbing headaches. Going blank during random conversations. Very few hours of disturbed sleep. Early work hours. I finally realized that I'm exhausting myself beyond repair. I desperately need me-time. Don't confuse me-time with alone-time. I don't want alone-time.
I don't mind everyday drama. I don't mind not knowing how crazier tomorrow will be. I don't mind gluing back their broken hearts. That doesn't exhaust me. These are my reasons to live. Stop confusing my reality with something else. I'll be okay. I'll be okay if you stay. Stay.

 He won. A trophy, they said. I want to hear his voice. I want him to tell me himself so I can tell him how proud I am.

This one broke my heart.

"Imagine for a second that you're carrying a backpack.I want you to feel the straps on your shoulders. Feel them?Now I want you to pack it with all the stuff that you have in your life. You start with the little things, the things on the shelves and in drawers, the knickknacks, the collectibles. Feel the weight as that adds up. Then you start adding the larger stuff; clothes, tabletop appliances, lamps, linen, your t.v. The backpack should be getting pretty heavy now. And you go bigger. Your couch, bed, your kitchen table. Stuff it all in there. Your car, get it in there. Your home, whether its a studio apartment or a two bedroom house. I want you to stuff it all into that backpack.. Now try to walk. It's kinda hard, isn't it?This is what we do to ourselves on a daily basis. We weigh ourselves down until we can't even move. And make no mistake, moving is living.Now, I'm going to set that backpack on fire. What do you want to take out of it? Photos? Photos are for people who cannot remember. Drink some ginko and let the photos burn. In fact, let everything burn and imagine waking up tomorrow with nothing. It's kind of exhilarating, isn't it?
Lets try again.
Now, this is going to be a little difficult. Stay with me.You have a new backpack. Only this time, I want you to fill it with people.. Start with casual acquaintances, friends of friends, folks around the school/office.  Then you move in the people that you trust with your most intimate secrets. Your cousins, your aunts, your uncles, your brothers, your sisters, your parents. And finally, your husband, your wife, your boyfriend or your girlfriend. You get them into that backpack. Don't worry I'm not gonna ask you to light it on fire. Feel the weight of the bag. Make no mistake, your relationships are the heaviest components in your life.Do you feel the straps cutting into your shoulders? All those negotiations and arguments and secrets and compromises. You don't need to carry all that weight. Why don't you set that bag down? Some animals were meant to carry each other, to live symbiotically for a lifetime. Star-crossed lovers, monogamous swans. We are not those animals. The slower we move, the faster we die. We are not swans. We are sharks."

Not lectures. Not charity. Especially not pity. When I give, I give myself.

Outside the court room..

in broad daylight, a car almost ran over me. And the bastard wasn't even blind.

bail bonds.

12th March 2011. Looking into a jail cell, sitting smack in the middle of five uniformed men. Hearing them exchange vulgar jokes and dirty looks. I quickly rummaged through my brain, transforming the image of a police station in my head. The decent image from before had altered, shattered. This, right here was reality. The Thaana, they called it. Why I had to go there has now become a part of who I am.

The train line was something. But this one was my favorite: Downwards is the only way forward.
I agree.

wake up call?

This one gave me goosebumps. Stop wasting time.

         A worker inspects a caved-in section of the Joban Motorway near 
Mito, Ibaraki, following the earthquake in Japan.

A woman is like a teabag. You never know how strong she is until she's dropped into hot water.

Got my very first paycheck today. It was a small room, simple even, but one that I'll never forget. Because there, today, for the first time after all this, I felt proud of me. Looking out the window, a smile split across my face as I searched the blue skies, thanking God.

Anyone can become angry- that is easy. But to be angry with the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, with the right purpose, and in the right way, that is not easy. ~ARISTOTLE

The Leech.

Gritting my teeth with a little too much force, still, I could not stop the trembling of my lips. I tried to choke down the sobs that constantly threatened to escape, but they slipped out despite my best intentions. As did the tears, without permission. The hurt had me. And once again numbed my feelings, paralyzed my thoughts and re-opened my wound. From that moment on, I became just Saniya.


So, despite the fact that everything contradicts this, despite my sadness and my feelings of impotence, despite being almost convinced at this moment that nothing will ever get better, I cannot lose the one thing that keeps me alive: hope.

Also, because her voice never stops telling me, "Allah he kaafi hai".

"And if Allah touches you with harm, there is no one who can remove it but He; and if He intends any good for you, there is none who can repel His favor which He causes to reach whomsoever of his slaves He wills." ~ Qur'an, Surat Yunus (chapter of Jonah) verse 107

How did I become a writer? I became a writer because I was a writer, because wherever I looked there was a story to tell.

Ate too many chocolates. Party left-overs. This is what happens when you're home alone; You fail to indulge yourself in anything useful and start eating like a pig, instead. I thought of cleaning my closet. Ended up reading old greeting cards. Reminded me of elementary school. Mrs.Western, she gave us painted shoe boxes on Valentines day. By the end of the day they were flooded with all sorts of Disney greeting cards. I kept them with me for the longest time. Today I want to run back into that old Dairy Ashford apartment and find my shoe box.
It's easier to live, go to school and grow up in the same place. But when you've moved around a lot and one day all of a sudden when you start to miss something, it's scary to look around and realize that it once happened on the other side of the globe, on another continent. In another world. More than a lifetime ago. It's very very scary. It alerts you, once again, to your not so new surroundings. The sight wasn't pretty today. You might as well have slammed the door in my face along with the accusations and judgments. So in my own way, I hid. Took refuge. I made use of those two books that I got me the other day. I'm reading three at a time. Lol?

Its not where you are, its who you're with..

Been so tired and hopelessly sleepy lately. Excuse me for not blogging about this earlier.
I dunno where to start from. I'll try, but I doubt that I'll ever be able to put out all that down here for you. I can only tell you but I wish I could make you feel it; The happiness, I felt that day.
I told you I didn't like surprises. My nineteenth birthday changed that. The birthday surprise I got was one crazy gift to stomach. The 24th was a gazillion special little moments that made my day big. But it all started even before that. Like my seventeenth birthday, this time, you broke all traditions. My birthday started at 8, the night before. When I rushed to open the gate, expecting the annoying neighbor lady but found you, instead. I was so happy, I almost-completely broke you with that hug. My apologies :)
I fell asleep early, after an orange Popsicle, to an Indian movie, on Shanzays bed. With you by my side. You made sure that I wasn't alone. And that's all I want you to remember, Mariam.
And, you guys, the calls at twelve that woke me up; Nahal, Ehab, Rabia, Shahrose. And Iman, for being so excited for me. I love you all.
Thinking that was that. I was happy enough. But you guys stole me for another surprise. Menahil, you ought to pursue a career in acting :p I love you.
So somewhere in the craziness, the screaming, that cherry-flavored soda, our wild car ride, my orange Popsicle, our funny pictures, the hugs, Sarah's Moco Loco, and that heart-shaped creek where we cut my cake with a key, and the lighter flame was my candle. I fell in love with my friends.
And Shanzay and daddy, for making the surprise never-ending. I love my iPhone4. I screamed all day long, in over-excitement of course.
Thank you Hassan, for the best day ever.
I love life.

Notice the key in my hand :p

p.s I put waterfall in my phone, because I liked it that much.

Hi. My name is Saniya. And, I am nineteen.

Best day ever. Must elaborate tomorrow. Do remind me!

p.s Nahal, those were chalk pastels. Not oil ones :p

Hi. My name is Saniya. And, I am eighteen.

In the morning, today, I didn't wanna leave home. I wanted to stay back and blog. Cause it would've helped. But I was running late and somewhere in the rush and hurry, I took with me that haunting dream that woke me today. You might refer to it as a nightmare. I've had my equal shares of nightmares. This, I assure you, was a haunting dream. What helped? Probably those two sips of coke that were almost-completely impossible to gulp down. But nonetheless, it's all good.
Wow, look at the date. Just nine hours left. At least being 18 sounded cool. 19, hmm.. I dunno. You can wish me at 12 tonight. That'll make me happy. Happy enough. I don't wanna party. I wanna spend tomorrow wearing old jeans and sweats. I wanna have lots of Popsicles lined infront of me to choose from. I'll eat the yellow ones first. And then the orange ones. And then green. And like today, I want it to rain tomorrow, too. I wanna sit on the rooftop and have chai with Hassan. And maybe watch an Indian badly-casted, overly typical lovestory and fall asleep by the heater on Shanzays bed. Yes, I'll sleep early. That'd be a treat to myself. Because I haven't slept properly in so long. And then, I'll call it a day.
It's okay, I know what you're thinking. But it's the small things that you fail to notice. A smile. A tear. The hidden hurt behind a pair of sparkling eyes. The words of a silent person. Those pauses. How that gold star can make a kindergarteners day. How a hug can comfort a scared soul. How a Popsicle can brighten my day. Try to look just a little beyond what you see. Sometimes, its simple, effortless and inexpensive. Don't go for the big things, they don't matter. Hours, days, years.. it's the tiny moments that make them up. So remember, simple moments put together are what make life big.

p.s Lol at Italy.

Rabbits. Cats. Birds. Fish. Turtles. Jimmy. Spikey. And, Me.

Today I fell in love with them all. Jimmy, she was the cutest. Who knew I was such a big animal lover, excluding cats of course. I know I got it from Mujtaba. He would have liked Spikey the best. Or Mo?
One thing I know for sure is that he would've had more fun today than I did. And I wish I had taken him with me.

It rained yesterday :)

Things you ought to do before you die:

• Torture yourself with an ice-y shower when it's freezing cold outside.
• Suck in helium from one of the balloons at the party. And then, sing the birthday song.
• Carry a fish bowl full of water and two goldfishes while the driver decides to drive like a maniac.
• Put a tiny baby turtle on your palm and wait for it to slowly stretch its legs out.
• At the peak of a kodak moment, realize that the camera was on the video mode.
• Barge into a fashion show, walk across the ramp and bump into the weird tall model. My bad?
• Arm wrestle with him. Knowing that he let you win, still get overly excited at your victory.
• Fall in love with a car-shaped cake. (Specifically, Lightning McQueen).

See the horn on top? Yeah, we called it Horny :)

lmao

So he gets the first court notice on his anniversary and the second one on Valentines day. I cracked up. Guess life is funny after all. Sometimes, emphasis on sometimes, you can't help but fall in love with such incredibly ridiculous coincidences. I sound cruel? In my defense, it is 3 in the morning and I have had two Popsicles by now. Brain-freeze +Loopyness+hunger+Insomnia+The-cold = Whatever crap I'm saying. Excuse me, please. I'm just going. I'll let this book put me to sleep tonight because all else has failed. But whats the point if I have to wake in another three hours. That would simply be torture if I sleep now. Nonetheless, Imma go sleep. Or try to, at least.
Too bad Valentines day sucked big time for him.
I had a heart-shaped meal.

14th feb 2011

Hey y'all, Happy Valentines Day!

ItalyItalyItaly

I sorta enlarged the picture. This is Sicily, Italy. Lets go?

This one I found while going through some random pictures. I'm into photography okay. The point is, this picture is the reason I want Italy. Now. Take me to Italy for my 19th birthday. This year, this is my only wish on my birthday-wish-list.

All these years in Pakistan has perverted my judgement. So I will misread his niceness and kindness as LOVE.
Yeah. Goodnight x

Shit. Im late for school! Erm, no. Its 7 in the evening. Oh.

It was one of those naps that you wake up from, not remembering if its day or night. And then you check your phone to realize that's it's only been fifteen minutes since you fell asleep. But I feel better. Fresh, too.
Anyway, this one I'm posting for you. Because then I wont be the only one in love. If not that, At least I'll make it get stuck in your head. And that's satisfying enough. I listened to it on repeat last night and let it put me to sleep.
The nightmare that woke me after, is not related. Emphasis on not related. Because well, I was humming to this one in my dream. The nightmare, I mean.

                 Because of you,
                I never stray too far from the sidewalk,
               Because of you,
               I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt,
              Because of you

I want to tell you. I want to tell you why I woke to ice cold hands, the uneven breathing and the a sweaty forehead.. but Ehab once said that I shouldn't tell people about my ugly dreams. I never asked him why. So I'll get back to you on this one. Good thing you aren't a terrible curiosity-freak like me :) 

Lets bargain?

Hi. I'm tired. Very very sleepy, too. I just came to tell you that I'm happy. That rotten mood died after the longest time. The sickness died, too. I actually feel better. It wasn't doctors or your stupid medicine. Nope, none of that. In the end, shopping did what you couldn't. Take me shopping more often and I'll try to be a little less cranky.
Lemme go have some coke and we'll call it a day.
Night :)

I can feel the sharp and threatening challenge of your inspection. You might as well just say, I’ve worked out who you are, but you don’t know who I am.

Okay. I accept your views. And I also don’t. As you can see, and as you will see, I am an ordinary girl (okay maybe a little crazy, just a little!). I don’t analyze every move I make, and I don’t worry about every act possibly being taboo and against social and religious laws. All I can say is that I do not claim to be perfect (as some people do).

My stupid everyday stories are standard examples, and they are pretty good ones, of who we all are. Some of us might purposely ignore what our stories show us about ourselves, while others are just blind to them. I am forever hearing people say to me, “You will not reform the world and change the people. You are simply trying to seek attention.” They have a point, a very good point, but what I WONT do is to give up the attempt, like everyone else does. There is the difference between me and other people.

May God consider my writings as good deeds, as I only have good intentions.

Let me say it again in case someone didn’t get it the first time around:  I do not claim perfection! I confess to my ignorance and flaws. I work hard to correct my errors and to cultivate myself. If only those who find fault with me would turn around and straighten themselves out before they start agitating to straighten me out.

May all discover some hidden tumors and extract them after having been shown some ugly examples under a microscope. I see nothing wrong in telling my stories and problems on my blog so that others will benefit. The true and shameful wrong, the reality of things that we tend to ignore very often, the sometimes-sad moments, even the happy ones and simply the way I see things.

Concrete Girl.

For the very first time, I don't know what to say. I can't explain. I'm very tired. Exhausted, too, because that movie made me cry. Just a little too much.
So I wont say anything. Only just that, I am just like everyone else who listens to their heart. Don't judge just yet.  I'm still figuring it out. I still have sixteen days, till then I still am only 18.

You tell me it must've been crazy. I laugh thinking crazy is just an understatement.

                              


                                  Mole-like burrowing in the darkness,
                                 Grasping for the spiders thread,
                                 Always thwarted in ambition,
                                Until the living join the dead?


In hardly a five minute long conversation, with almost a complete stranger who knew a little too much about me, who wondered out loud that how crazy it must've been for me, moving half way across the world one too many times.Yes, I have changed 9 schools. I have lived in more than five houses by now. Packing and unpacking never went out of season. School admissions. New friends. New people. New neighbourhood. Yeah all that.
But you know what? All this time I carried my home with me. In my heart; The backyard where I learnt to walk, here in Pakistan. The windows overlooking the forest in Houston. The rooftop of this house, from where I look down on the street, the life down below being a little too close than they ought to be. That small bedroom in New York, twenty stories high. The staircase up to that apartment in Cali, flooded with orange leaves. I carried it all with me. And I fell in love with traveling.

I wrote that earlier today. Around 12 in the afternoon. I wasn't done. I went away for lunch, leaving this in my drafts. And then I forgot about it. I don't usually forget things. Especially not ones like this one. I never even forget dates, you know. Birthdays, anniversaries and random events stay with me, with precise details. Made me a good history student back in eleventh grade.

Anyway, I came here to say that you call me transparent. Even proved it? Well, I dunno how that works. Only people who bother to look close enough can see through me. But I have to say that I only agree to the part where you say I'm good at hiding it.Or good at trying to hide it? The hurt. I'm good at blocking things out, the things I don't want to know. I can be with you and go away in my head. And you wouldn't even be able to tell the difference. I'm good at protecting myself like that. So I am not vulnerable okay. Not anymore. Remember that.

Today was my day. I even had an orange Popsicle. And some sorta throat soother right after.
I need a new book now. I actually saved up for my next visit to the bookshop. This time I'll get more than two.
And Valentines Day is in nine days. I want a my-size teddy bear, okay? And lots of cards. Because I love cards.
For Monday, I might just get Tangled. Then we'll watch it together, Mariam, after class.
Now I'll go sleep.

p.s I miss my cup of chai, the not-so-cold-night. And of course, you.

Its pms okay. You add to it by being a retard. Let me have chai in peace.

Says Saint.

This one wont come in as a shocker. It's nature. The bright sunlight in my face making me squint, the faded-green of the grass, the cool air as it blows away wisps of hair off of my face. The red swing that reminds me of a hot afternoon in New Jersey: kicking the ground beneath us, leaning back a little too much, letting our hair touch the ground. Shanzay I miss us. But as I close my eyes, I can feel it. I can relive it through nature. It never changes: the sun and the stars, the sky above us, the ground beneath us and the air around us. Yet it changes so much. Nature is a time machine in itself. This very winter afternoon is my ride today. Either it's mums kindergarten class, this swing, the school building, or children? Maybe it's the mere essence of this afternoon. Whatever it may be, it reminds me of a long ago childhood.
You never read my blog. Not even when I beg you too. I know it doesn't interest you whatsoever. But I really wish you'd read this one.
I want to be a kid again with you. Back when I'd laugh at somebody in their face just because something stupid seemed funny. Back when Barbies clothes mattered to me more than my own. Back when a quarter and a candy machine was all it took to make my day. Back when hurt could be forgotten in a matter of seconds. Back when daddy rode us to school and mama was a little too enthusiastic about our bedtime.  Back when I'd scream at the top of my voice simply at the sight of a cat.. Wait, I still do that :o
The point is, scabbed knees are easier to mend than  broken hearts.
I let go of that kid in me a little too early. I had to. Because I wanted you to live like one for as long as you liked. I grew up trying to divide the hurt among us, trying to steal as much of it as I could. Because I owed you. For every single one of those memories of my childhood. For you I'd do it again. A million times over. Know why? Because, of all people, you were the first one to proof-read my silly little stories. The only person I let pull my hair. You were my first best friend. Even though you never let me do your hair, it was on your head that I learnt to make ponytails.
So today as I sit here, I miss our childhood together. So this one I wrote to Thank you.

Sorry Ehab, I got distracted. It's nature that inspires me to write. Next hang out? Erm, see you at the mountains?