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Saturday, April 30, 2005

dear diary

This is the third time I’ve tried writing here. I need to write about:
(1) my flat tire and how I can change one (in theory anyway)
(2) working, and how if I have to crunch some numbers from this database we maintain and analyze results A, B and C, I will inevitably use a million worksheets, several obscure excel functions no one knows about, thoroughly comment and record all procedures, make process maps, make a new color coded file and update it, and then automate all the bottlenecks till I have one smooth operation which can be updated in five minutes the next time either A, B or C are required. I do this every single time, justifying the initial time investment because of all the time I’d save later. But really, do I really need to be so efficient all the time? I’ve come up with this word “technolge” (the verb form of technology. My question is: “to technolge or not to technolge?”. Next time, I’ll just waste time blogging and orkut-ing, catch up on my emails, do the job in some old fashioned inefficient manner that abuses the beauty of excel, and just give the thing in. just not be so personally invested in everything.
(3) finally got an email from “best” friend M. (saying the word best friend makes me feel like I’m in class 2). We used to be alike; think being mistaken for sisters, finishing the others sentences, having exactly the same opinion, the works. Post ivy league and NY life, she’s become this total absolute, self involved americanized BURGER (I hate that word), who wants to do nothing other than live off daddy’s money and party/shop in NY, with absolutely no motivation to come back home and try to make the difference she can with her resources and education. Its people like her, my best friend, who selfishly chose to waste important potential by living in a world only because it has better clubs. She could use her stupid architectural degree and help design the stupid millions of hideously made town houses and apartment blocks that are clearly made by mazdoors who’ve only lived in palm tree jhompri’s their whole lives. She could do the fund raisers she’s so good at, or just stay in NY and paint and because famous like she would if she only wanted to, and just bring up Pakistan’s name in some context other than bombs and death. But no, her only mission in life is to get married because she’s about to be put “on the shelf” at 24. She thinks I’m gay for not wanting to settle into a relationship with the first rich fuck who proposes. Did I mention a self involved american burger anywhere?
(4) hung out with good old N, J and T. asked J if he has any sisters (ARGH.. WHAT is WRONG with me – his sisters death thingie is tomorrow). Sat for three hours over one cup of hot chocolate as I went on my soap box about how we’re all children of a fucked up education system that gears us to go abroad, leaving us with the mentality of clerks, forever trapped in the paradox of yearning for white skin and good english speaking skills because of one massive ass colonial hangover. J makes totally stupid naïve statements like we’re a nation of law less people because “we have self esteem issues because we were downtrodden from post mughlai era” and I feel like smacking him because that’s some U of W development econ professor talking who’s clearly never stepped foot in the third world. We also talked about our exes, and nearly depressed ourselves into a coma, till T came and shrieked us out of melancholy. The Caffeine sofa’s are really comfortable, if a little incondusive to passionate debate :).

Have a training session on a Saturday :(, till 8 pm. They’ve tried to make it sound fun and funky, but that’s still a Saturday, and its still a five hour training session. Can I mention Saturday again?
And yes this is self involved, but hey, this thing is supposed to be a diary substitute right?

Friday, April 29, 2005

you got mail

random update 2: got my first flat tyre today. had six men stop and offer to help. God bless this country and its men (what can i say: today was a day of firsts). i vow not to find the uncle who talks to my chest sleazy anymore, he was very polite and well brought up to offer to help in 50 degree heat with his friday prayers on the line. i watched some random driver change the tyre and i think i can repeat the process, except wrestling it off might take more strength than i have. oh well. another strange thing: i'm turning down my TGIF plan to go for dinner with my parents. i'm actually willingly subjecting myself to quality time. wow.

i got an email from M. we were inseperable in school, to a point where our clique was almost unhealthy. we always knew what the other was thinking, and we both placed each other above even family. she helped me survive the terrible Teenage Angst years.
and for the first time, after seeing it in black and white, i couldn't ignore the fact that we were SO different now her i actually found her thought processes absolutely incomprehensible.

the only contributor to change: her ivy league education, my desi degree.
she's started viewing the world through the incomprehensible lens of an all-american idiot. i'm the all pakistani desi. the twain shall never meet again i guess. sad.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

random update vomited out into the recesses of cyberspace: today all the whitespaces on webpages are coming up as gray. all the printers are on the blink. my cd rom drive is a big toothless hole in my pc. i cut my nails last night and typing is satisfying again.

we went bowling yesterday (didn't have the worst score thank God - i love N), and i invited JAS to the saturday night party but then remembered that N told me that saturday was going to be the day his sister died 6 years ago. oops. i remember we all went to the janaza even though we weren't shia and we didn't know him too well, and then J and M proceeded to have a giggling fit till they cried because an old aunty next to them fell asleep amid the chest thumping and snored really loud.

we tended to do that. the times we were supposed to be most reverent and silent were the times when we always broke into helpless manic giggle fits.
J's mamoo had just been shot because he was about to testify against zardari (in anti PPP glory days), and everyone had stepped out of the social pages to come to the soyem. J was there totally unfazed, stuck a pin in my ass when Aunty came over and i was saying my salaams and some sorry-for-your-loss type line. then we sat down under the oil painting of Jamil's pigeons and wife, and M took a hair pin and pretended to put it up her nose, and all four of us cracked up, then tried to muffle it, and the more we tried to stifle the giggles the more we laughed, till we were crying in pain and hilarity. and then some aunty came by to J (who was in helpless hysterical giggles), and thought J was upset over the death and crying about that, and hugged her against her pointy conical bosom, making J go "ouch, my EYE!" really loudly. and that made us explode into a vicious cycle of never ending side splitting PAINFUL heaves which we tried to hide (i bit on my fist - even that didn't really work).
then i only heard about the time when K's mom passed away. and N got the giggle fits on that one (thank GOD i wasn't there), to a point where she was hiding under a dupatta, silently shaking, looking like she was getting electrocuted or something, and A came up and lifted her dupatta to see what the hell was wrong with her and she ended up spitting up a fountain of rooh afza through her mouth and nose all over him, herself and some poor bystander.

i would like to think that i now have more control over my funny button. i have to confess i almost had a bad moment a couple of weeks ago in the middle of a meeting, but i bit the inside of my cheek till i practically tasted blood. so i guess its been four years, eight months and twenty eight days since my last manic giggle fit, and i'm proud of it :)

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

"The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts. "
Bertrand Arthur William Russell

NB: this is *so* going to be my new mantra
I’m back to not sleeping again. I know I’m going to snap again. Its like being locked in a rollercoaster in a waking dream, knowing its going to end in disaster, unable to stop it.

I’ve gone through the scene so many times I’m almost sick of it. I’m in a room full of glittering strangers, and I have naked feet. Actually, I’ve kicked my shoes off so they can get the fitting right. Theres a whole entourage of them, they're all six feet tall and skinny and beautiful and have this AURA about them that speaks of their navy blue blood lines, fithly disgustingly stinking wealth, and their georgeous georgeous bubble encased lives. I obviously look horrendous because I’ve only just barely managed to sneak out of work, and instead of having the luxury of my car (my mother is having some lunch at our place) I come downstairs to find my father, ten miles and forty minutes out of his way just to pick me up from work, take me to the fitting, wait outside, then drop me back and then go on his way. Its so sweet, I can’t even say anything about his repulsive cigars choking me. I briefly mourne the days of arrogant youth, where I took such kindnesses as de rigeur. Maybe I have grown up a little.
They’re all having some bitchy conversation in between wasted and underutilized apple laptops and ciggarettes, and my fitting is all wrong, and the fucker of a tailor deliberately misses the zip and brushes my breast, then “accidently” fumbles with the measuring tape and gropes my ass. The third time he tries to bend his stupid white haired bony head to an inch of my chest, I tell him to back off. But I say it through gritted teeth, and in a low voice. Because I’m paying 25 grand for this bloody outfit, and he’s the bastard who has to stitch it. Because I don’t want to make a scene in front of the bitch parade. Because i need to come back here in the summer, and stand in line to order stuff for next year.
I almost wish he did something more concrete than shadowly fumblngs so I could then REACT and kick him in the balls or something. But he’s obviously been doing this a long long time, and I’m way out of my league.

I get dropped back, I’ve missed my lunch hour, and feel filthy beyond the humidity and general sweatiness of the weather.

And its yet another night where I lie awake, thinking.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005


I’m obsessed. I’ve started thinking in paragraphs.I need to stop. I need to sleep.

I have another reason fueling my sociopath-ism. I had a pretty good day today, was all happy, well fed, smugly exercised, was looking forward to the book I had gotten sucked into. my kid brother gets online, and I’m looking forward to talking to him.
then T calls.
to go any further I need to give a little background on T. first off, she has this really SHRILL voice. its like she's permanently on helium. second, she’s a megalomaniac. she only talks to me to have a person on the other end of the phone. I tried having a conversation with her once, and she thought I was picking a fight with her. as long as I make the requisite hums and haws and yeses (hoping she just shuts the hell up and finally leaves me alone), get her invites and chauffer her to social occasions with MY friends, our relationship miraculously stays on good terms. third, she's genuinely stupid. she's one of those people really medium high on text book learning, but doesn't have an ounce of sense otherwise. she's one of those people who is the WORST combination of stupidity and gigantic disproportionate ego. but since she has my phone number and knows where I live, I’m nice to her because I’m a non confrontational type of person. plus I’m generally tolerant of people's flaws, because eventually she's not a nasty person. that goes a long way with me.

she vomits out her entire day. like literally she says: "I woke up at 7:45. I said, OH MY GOD I’m late for my meeting... I got dressed.. I drove to work.. I was ten minutes late for the Monday morning meeting.. I was carrying folders.. I put the folders on the table and everyone looked at me...." (I’m not kidding) and she goes on and on and ON about her day and her job and her work buddies, and I hem and haw at the appropriate moments in good humor because hell, I’m in a good mood why not.
then after wasting a good amount of my time (I am NOT a phone person, anyone who cares to know me knows that.. in six years she hasn't bothered to find out... or she knows and doesn't care.. ), she's FINALLY down to nine thirty and she's finally leaving work and driving back exhausted (yeah.. SHE was exhausted.. ), and then she suddenly changes the topic so fast I kept hemming and hawing till I realized she had actually spoken a statement and required my response.
T: "I’m really pissed off at you for leaving early from my dinner"
me: "hmm"
after a pause
me: "oh. but O had to drop me home. everyone was leaving" (I’m totally confused here, because FOUR of us left together, and we were the last fuckers to leave the damn place, and umM WHY is this an issue!?)
T: "I’m not pissed off at them. actually I am. but I’m more pissed off at you. why did YOU leave. you should have..." (and she continues her monologue of my flaws)

speechless, I continue to hem and haw out of habit, but then get a little annoyed and tell her that my brother has been waiting for me come online for ages now, and I have to leave. And I mentally shake my head, because now by hanging up on her I just gave her fodder to not talk to me, then bitch me out to our mutual friends, then make a bitchy phone call to me demanding an apology a painful long drawn out process map later. this will haunt me for the rest of the fucking week.

My god. the more I expand my social circle, the more I remember why I was such a snob about hanging out with only my friends in the first place.

And I’m still a little speechless. why do women as a species have so many danda’s up their asses?

Monday, April 25, 2005

"I went into a McDonald's yesterday and said, "I'd like some fries." The girl at the counter said, "Would you like some fries with that?"
Jay Leno

i take it back, we are all NOT the same (re: building a mystery).

i remembered why i don't like people. its because the more you meet, the more you realize that there are some truely ridiculous idea's out there, and there are people who base their entire lives on them.

and that just makes me feel tired.

i'm going back to screening my calls and msn.

Sunday, April 24, 2005

I Believe

I stayed up the whole night after a very long time. this marks the true circle I have completed since I moved away from this house a very long time ago. the pattern is now complete, the thread is now tied, the lines have now been redrawn.
I have re-realized that I believe a lot of strange things:

(1) I believe my entire being can be divided into two elemental wholes. One related to art, I am consumed by it, I am it. the center of my being follows the line of that pastel. a part of me breaks off and is forever encased in the medium I choose to use. Gulgee once said that he doesn’t pray, that he doesn’t need to because “with every stroke of his brush he worships the Almighty”. I think I can understand that.

the other half of my being: numbers. the mental click of rightness when you reach QED. Like a complex dance, the click of the heels, the gesture of the arm, the tilt of the head. The epiphany of reaching the end, bending down, throwing your head down and taking an elaborate bow. That is what I remember of this other part of my being.

These are both fissures that constituent me. Writing is a byproduct, a skill I have learnt by being a lover of words. It only deserves a footnote to who I am.

(2) I believe that there is method to the madness in the universe, that if anyone cares to look there is a hand driving it all, that there are left so many clear cut signs our own insignificance in the cosmos becomes frightening. That we are all part of a cliched massive cosmic struggle of good and evil, which rules every single decision we ever make in our lives if we could just laser off our myopia and see the Whole.

(3) I believe that our habits, personalities and decisions are so ingrained in us that if we woke up with total amnesia we would still think say and do exactly how we do it now without the knowledge and bigotries we have picked up along the way. Because the knowledge and the bigotries reflect us, we shape them, not vice versa.

(4) I believe that people are either Good or not. That it is possible to be flawed and stupid and have several personality defects yet still be Good. There are people behind whose words lies the hiss of a serpant, behind whose gaze lies the black pits of rotting evil. I believe that they can hide behind empty gestures of goodness, but not for long.

(5) I believe (and this one is difficult to say out loud because of the sheer naiveté, the sheer ingénue-ness that is so not me) that someone out there has been labelled as Mine. I will find him. Its not the mission of my life or anything, but it will happen when the time is right. I have seen Too Much to not believe this.

(6) i also believe it is a bad bad idea to eat strawberries right after brushing your teeth :)

Yeah, I do believe in a lot of strange things.

Saturday, April 23, 2005


i went to a jewellery store to check out some stuff, and accidently walked out with a sample diamond bracelet worth 2 lacs or so.
no alarm bells went off, in fact, i strolled through two armed guards and three triple locked doors to get out.

i didn't notice it till half an hour later on the other side of the city.

i realized i had picked up an extra trinket, freaked out, like, FREAKED OUT. i cannot explain the utter horror, embarassment and panic i felt when i saw those rocks calmly nestled in my watch and wrist band type thingies i wear. my heart stopped, my vision shrank to the blinding glitter of 10 pointers. my first instinct was to rip it off and THROW it out the first window because of the sheer embarassment at having been such an idiot. i SHOT up from the chair i was sitting in, upsetting the second jeweller i was at. i immediately wanted to return as FAST as i could so i could get the damn thing off my hands ASAP. my mother stuck around to finish the deal with the second guy while my heart literally stopped in horror as i paced up and down the lobby. i DRAGGED my mother to the car, and drove as FAST as i could back to where we had come from. i was furious at that idiot man at the store for not noticing the bloody thing on me. the irresponsibility! the gall at putting me through the humiliation! the EMBARASSMENT. the STUPIDITY.

i got to the store, practically ran in, overwrought with emotional turmoil, and the jewellery guy is totally unfazed. he hadn't even noticed it was missing. he smiled, calmly took the bracelet, and looked at my freaked out expression and said "don't worry madam, hota hai ".

my mother just looked at me extremely amused by the strange strange daughter she'd raised.

i'm not strange! THEY'RE STRANGE!! karachi is strange!!!!

it never even occured to me to keep the damn thing. maybe i AM strange.

the problem: men

the description (stolen from T): men want women to be pamela anderson's in bed and mother teresa's out of it.

the situation: the character traits that would go with either personality types are in opposition.

the question: will the twain ever meet?

Friday, April 22, 2005

you lying cheating fork tongued REFLECTION of a man
i can't BELIEVE i was EVER that desperate
the problem: the main issue arises when you have two different criteria for being attracted to someone (Attraction) vs. someone you want to marry (Husband).

the description: the very nature of being an unstable non-husband person is what makes you most Attractive. i.e. opposite of Attraction is Husband.

the situation: we spend our early years looking for Attraction and find only Husbands, and then start looking for a husband and only find Attraction.

the question: will the twain ever meet?


they were sitting in the bed together, his 6 2 lanky frame intertwined with her stunning 5 10. i had stolen the blanket because i was freezing, and was vegging out on the bean bag and the floor. i love her room, her walls are flourescent orange and look like they're out of a magazine (the rest of it is out of a bad college dorm but anyway). we had a girle bitching out session over cold thin crust pizza with extra jalepenpos and mushrooms, where i confessed my annoyance at my family and she confessed her fear of "settling" with N.

then of course N came over and they both settled their lazy asses on the bed and *refused* to get off to go get a drink or a second helping unless the other promised to go the next time round. they both had enough alcohol to floor an elephant, and were *still* more sober than me even though i only stuck to Nestle. (i'm getting this one hideous beginnings of a zit -survive adolescence without a blemish only to get one NOW- the TRAGEDY!).

we're watching jay leno, i'm drooling over ashton kutcher (who is SO beautiful it hurts to look at him), and N is impressed by the fact i know the ecuador president got kicked out today. i'm wearing my red capris, and the color just makes me smile everytime i look at the sheer fun of it.

we do nothing, absolutely nothing, and it was one of the most fun evenings ever.

i miss all of us being together! T, N, F if and when you read this, COME BACK SOON and STAY FOREVER. its terrible of you guys to happily abandon us. i lowe yew all *muah*

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

scavenger hunt

we ran into another team when we were hunting for the second last item on our list - the orange bra.
it was a trainer bra at a toy store (go figure) and it was a beigy shade that had been left out in the sun so had become a browny orange hue. we were desperate. we drew straws and S had to go buy it, but another group saw our car in the parking lot and plagiarized our idea. there was a brief scuttle, sana was cornered by 4 enemy boys, but then she broke through, tossed the bright orange lingerie as hard as she could, and A broke all records dodging families, shopkeepers and cars, picked it up mid flight and that was that (people thought we were mad and gave us wide berth).

we had to literally kick A in the butt to get him to go get condoms from the nearby store.
peer pressure glaring at him from behind, he closed his eyes, ducked his head, and made a run for it:

A(puffing and panting, shoves housewife out of way): "mujhay condoms chahiyay.. ABHI"

shopkeeper: "hain? woh kiya hota hay?"

A: "condom! CONDOM! kaun-doom"

housewife giving A dirty look

A: "woh cheez jo log pehntay hain jab woh .. jab wo.. WOH kar rahey hotay hain"
shopkeeper: *blank look*

A makes universal gesture of banging a woman with one hand and a hip thrust

horrified aunty leaves the store, shopkeeper shows illumination

two girls from school walk in at inopportune moment, say hi to A.

we all collapse laughing from our hiding position in the cereal aisle.

A is mortified, about to run out store but they're blocking the exit

storekeeper: "bhai sab, yeh lo, rough rider" hands A an unmistakable box of a local flavored version

A grabs the box, throws all the money he has, and RUNS

we're still laughing in the aisle.

A takes off with the car and leaves us in the store.

we have to call M's latest beau to take us to the house. he brings his stupid RED CONVERTIBLE (to impress her no doubt - idiot boy) which is from some previous century and keeps stalling after every five minutes. the wolf whistles and horrendous cat calls (convertibles have that effect on Karachi pedestrians and bus passengers) echo in our ears long after we reach the rendezvous point.

and we didn’t even win because we didn't get a REAL hijra (we dressed A up, in lipstick and orange bra and everything, but apparently that didn't count).

:) it was a fun time.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

i'm cursed with the ability to think
thinking ruins everything

Monday, April 18, 2005

why not

We were in a courtyard at the back of his house. We’d come in through the back entrance, it was dark, we were trying to keep it quiet. It felt naughty, yet completely right. It always felt completely right with him. The bastard.

It was November, the perfect month. The stars were out, Orion twinkling its blessing. I had my LV bag in my hand, and we had to lean against the wall in case someone glanced out the first floor window. My last coherent thought was about how the white might rub off onto my grey t-shirt, and how my bag should NOT get on the floor because damn, it was bloody expensive.

Then I stopped thinking, because he had that effect, even though I tried to keep my eyes open and my mind working, even though I tried to keep from leaning too hard against the wall and even though I tried to think about holding onto the bag. I tried. When we came up for air, £100 of my savings were squashed somewhere at our feet.
He was breathing so hard I had to smile. He got aggrieved at my lack of reverence.
“Its infuriating that you can laugh, when my knees are weak”
Which of course made me laugh even more.
From an inch away I saw his yummy brown eyes widen as I grabbed him and turned him against the wall. And of course I had the giggle fits by then, even though we managed to do a pretty good job despite that.

Then the beautiful dog started barking, and then it wanted to play as well, so we both laughed and then I had to leave.

That’s why not. That’s what happened the last time I decided to be selfish. I was the one that had to end things and simultaneously felt like I had taken a crowbar to my chest. As we get older crushes get more dangerous, and unimportant things start becoming important. In the long run we might all be dead, but its what the short run becomes all too soon.


I'm actually thinking about it. I'm sitting abosolutely bored at work, because everyone is somewhere else, and I'm thinking about it.

Is it because i'm getting desperate? Is it because the more time I have to think, the more I feel I need to fill in the blanks with a picture of happily ever after starting with a maroon glitter shamiana and ending with a mansion with a pool and tennis courts and three boys and one girl?

Is it simply because I can? Why not? Why bother having standards or expectations? Why think about the future its going to suck anyway. Why not just get self centered and think short term and just close my eyes and dumb my mind and play this right and manipulate like i know i can. Why not just not think about it?
Why not just enjoy the moment, enjoy the attention, just not feel guilt, not feel obligation, not feel the need to be honest, just stop thinking so i can feel?


Building a Mystery

I snuggle in anonymity. I like it that way.

Pick a blog, any blog, and you feel an instant connection. Not because of some miracle of nature, but by default status of nurture. All the clichés are true. All human beings are alike, have been for centuries. We are just children of the same blanket marketing campaigns that determine what we should want think and feel.
That is why you connect with me, we are all aliens in our own skin. We carry around our inferiority because we ourselves don’t fit anywhere in our own minds.
Absolutely alike, feeling absolutely alone.

If you’re not there already, you will eventually. Time is a patient teacher.

the nutcracker

raw beauty. haunting. grace. power. perfection.
twisting and contorting bodies in positions that should look unnatural, but make your breath become shallower and your heart pound as you sit at the edge of your seat because you can FEEL because you can IMAGINE because you can LEAP right along side him IGNORE the embarassing tights into a grande plie and arabesque.

how long has it been? petit jette, grande bantmound, bantmound taundue, change moun, jete. arms in third, feet in first, thumbs tucked in, back straight!, BEND, SHOW JUST ONE EMOTION with your body, just one!, Two Four beat, on the count of four, take it till eight, HOLD, back again to starting position in eight. bend and POINT. hours and hours in different levels and shades of insinuation.
just one emotion. exhilaration.
just one emotion. happiness.
just one emotion. awe.
just one emotion. suffocating nostalgia, tensed adult muscles, confusion at forgotten dreams, childlike yearning, black and white spliced to grey.

my god. its been too long.

Sunday, April 17, 2005


There are old wounds here. Very old. They date far back to adolescence, as far as I can remember.
I have always dressed in style and good taste. That is what you have taught me. How can you not trust that? Why do you always make me feel ugly, indecent, vulgar? I’m not. The vast majority far outnumbering me are clad in their backless tops with knee length skirts. I know I achieve better effect with far better taste. How dare you accuse me otherwise? I hate you, I hate you for making me what I am and I hate you for realizing what you do and not caring what it does to me. I hate you. This goes far too deep, because your opinion counts the most. I hate you for hurting me with inconcrete callous words so I do not know with what tools to fight back.

I hate you. I hate myself.

Saturday, April 16, 2005

sometimes, i think i would do anything, just anything, to have that.

Friday, April 15, 2005

stress + caffiene = fun
stress + caffiene + panadol extra = high
stress + caffiene + panadol extra + meeting with CEO = insanity

Thursday, April 14, 2005

the story of black and white

yin yang, love hate, mars venus.
are they really opposites?

it was my first real internship, we were all pretty much the same age, and it was the great days of TGIF, Pizza Express and when all roads led to the Point.
he was interning at another office at the same building, and i'd once gone in and asked to use the phone. my GOD he was cute. kept bumping into him on and off, hormonal enough to feel my blood freeze, breath stop and feet stumble if he was within eye sight.
i was walking towards the large glass entrance doors one day, and he was around ten feet in front of me. I could recognize the back of his head by then. he pushed open the door, gave a backward glance and saw me. and instead of letting it swing shut he waited, and held it open. when i caught up to him, he turned back and smiled, and then walked off towards the parking lot.

it was Indescribable. rock climbing, bungee trampoline, first kiss, nothing, nothing has ever even come close to it.

i wonder if i'm still capable of feeling like that again?

Tuesday, April 12, 2005


It was dark. The manouever was fairly simple: I’d parked behind my dad’s car, had to go downstairs, reverse it so the parents could leave, and then park it back in. Got in, started the car, didn’t bother turning the lights on (the lane we live in is rarely used). Backed up, waited for my parents to get into their car. Watch three kids on their bikes zoom past me. Pretty fast, stupid little buggers. Whizz past my side view mirrors. I watch my rear view mirror and three adolescent bottoms wiggle furiously with the exertion of pedalling. Did I ever go that fast? The red back lights of my dad’s SUV flash on. I remember the days on my pink bike, pedalling at night, letting go of the handlebars. The white reverse lights glow as my dad hits the car into reverse. Feeling the wind whoosh past my ears, feeling like I was on top of the world. The SUV is finally reversing. We even used to play tag on our bikes. The kids have turned around, and are now heading back up the street. I take a breath, the SUV rolls back.

The timing is almost flawless. My dad is still reversing, the bikes, coming fast with no reflectors at a beautiful tangent. The point of intersection, my driveway, seven feet left of my car hood. dy/dx = 0.

And stupidly, I just watch it all happen. I forget to exhale.

My dad always had fast reflexes. He breaks right after the first kid zips by, Second and Third still pedalling past. Third has been trying to tag First, and is a little to the right, exactly in the path of the back wheel. Somewhere in the fifth dimension guardian angels of the seven people present all rush forward. I can see the ineveitable crunch, and close my eyes. I hear the thunk, the crunch, the scream. Then I realize that was just my imagination.

I open my eyes, and let go of the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

First, Second and Third are already at the end of the street, father is starting to reverse again and mother is still clutching her heart and has probably just finished saying “hai Allah”.

I can’t believe I was too stupid to honk. Why didn’t I think of it?

Sunday, April 10, 2005

Silence. Comfort. Three people watching the glimmering waves crash to shore, recede, then crash again. A few people strolling in the shimmering sand, silhouettes blurring with the reflection of the sun. 6 boats at the horizon. A beautiful line of electricity poles behind me arching, merging into one silent grey smudge into the far distance. From the haze rise some buildings, hopes of construction, perfect ridges to the sky line. The aria in the background perfect. Everything perfect. I sat with them, and for the first time since I left for college 6 years ago my mind was at peace. We shared a couple of old memories, laughed at a couple of jokes, told each other stories we’d forgotten. And we prolonged our eating, our food, our time sitting there, because we knew that whatever our lives, whatever our differences, this is what families are about and this is the oasis where we must shelter and seek nourishment. I return, a little stronger, glad that I touched upon happiness.


It was the nicest afternoon. Woke up, had a great talk with N after the longest time, ate the best strawberries after a long time, then went grocery shopping at my favorite supermarket where the prime commodities purchased included brie (yummy), special K, and croissants for tomorrows breakfast. Then we went to the drivethrough, then stopped at really secluded spot that looked out at the sea. We sat there, the perfect amount of silent and conversation, absolutely comfortable, absolutely RIGHT. This is what I look for in all my socializing, this is what I find lacking. This is what I wish I could have with others my age, with others I interact with. Intelligence, wit, humor, unconditional love. By asking for nothing from them, do I ask too much of myself?
It almost 4 am and I’m hungry. I’m not getting the nando’s cake I’ve stashed in the fridge for some reason.

Why 1) What did he think? I’d just up and say “yes of coarse I’ll go out with you I barely know you and have spoken to you on three occassions in the last 6 years. We were in school together and spoke a grand total of three sentences then too. so that’s a total of 6 sentances in 16 years, and yes that sure as hell is enough for me to know, just know, that I’m in love with you, that I want you to be the father of my children, that I want to share something as sacred as a band of going out to label us. I was speechless at your audacity, at your stupidity, at your sheer annoyingness at putting me in such an awkward position which I SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN PUT IN. we’re NOT in school anymore, we’re ADULTS, in the REAL WORLD. GET REAL.

Why 2) why do you not understand that I genuinely do NOT want to get out this saturday? I KNOW you’re literally twisting my arm because YOU want to go out but you don’t know N and J that well and you need ME there so you can hang out with them.

Why 3) WHY do you not understand me after knowing me since we were 6? When I say NO I MEAN NO. you just forced me to go along because you wanted me there, you wanted safety in numbers, you wanted backup.

If you guys were truly my friends you wouldn’t try to make me dance to your internal agenda. I only listen to you because I know I’ll need to use you at some point in the future, and I’m so going to call in this favor. I miss the days when I had M, who I’d do anything for, for absolutely no reason with the knowledge that she would do anything for me. Why did I lose that? When did selfishness and chootianess become priorities on the agenda?

Why 4) dancing hurts. Even wearing flat shoes. I can’t do it. hello, I have TITANIUM in there. i don’t have fun dancing anymore. When I sit, I don’t know anyone there. No one can have a conversation. I’m sick of small talk. I’m not INTERESTED in interacting with random people I don’t know and don’t WANT to know. Sitting around is not fun, talking is not fun, dancing is not fun. In fact, all activities mentioned above are actively painful. HOW do you say you’ve had a great time after hours and hours of all of the above?

Is it the same ability to just simply shut down your mind that makes you good at routine repetitive work that gets you promoted? Is it the same lack of a brain that makes you so easy to get along? Why do the stupid ones have the most uncomplicated hence happy lives? Why is the outcome of thinking such a miserable unhappy life?

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

hell revisited

he's one of those guys who always has a girl in his life. and he's so rich, i don't think he's ever been rejected. and she came along, and all she cares about is how much her best friend hates him, how disgusting his pot belly is, and how she'll never convert and how their kids will grow up confused. she says no, very late in the evening so drink and ego fuel his denial.
he's actually sweet and caring, along with all the bad stuff. and i genuinely believe he's a love addict, so it must be painful for him to constantly see her, be all hands on friendly with her, and have some subconcious level acknowledge that it'll stay platonic forever no matter how much he'll try. it doesn't help when the blonde girl grabs him, and propels him forward (think choochoo train style) smack dab flat bang into the dance floor door that should swing OUT but actually opens inwards. 48 bored as hell bitchy people bend their heads down, bring their hand to their mouth and bite on their lips to keep from cackling out loud as their host peels his face away from a glass door.

there are the two girl best friends from school that married to two boy best friends not from school. straight out of A levels. they both ignore the poor bastards who shuffle their feet in a corner where no one talks to them. its been what, 4 years? 6? the boredom that was there from the wedding night still goes strong against all statistical probability. one poor girl child, one unfortunate make out session with a bi sexual (from school) and a guy (from school) later, the glassy eyed stares haven't changed a bit.

the tinker, the tailor, the candlestick maker, rich man, poor man, beggar man thief. the jock, the whore, the bitch, the climber. the nerd, the banker, the doper, the loser. we all happily bounce between conversation, isolated ships hoping for an ice burg to relieve the monotony, some stupid enough to be able to dumb themselves down and think that this is fun.

the world is strange.
line of the day:
"you looked like you were having so much fun catching up with all your old friends."

i take it back, depression is not the epidemic of the 21st century. stupidity is.

Sunday, April 03, 2005


woke up with this in my head (all paragraphed and everything).

it was a purported dinner on behalf of a birthday, but typically become a black tie catered for fifty event with a dance floor and an open bar. i sat there till some ridiculously late hour in the morning, completely stone cold sober (because i don't drink - or smoke - or smoke up), and was absolutely totally defenseless against the onslought of spending a night with people i had known for 16 years, who i didn't really know at all.

we all dress our outer selves hoping to disguise our inner ones, but no amount of perfume or glitter can hide the inner being that comes through like a pugnent smell. like BO we try very hard to hide with aqua di gio. a frilly insignificant scent to cover the excrement we feel we are.

i have known these people for most of my life, and i have absolutely nothing to say them. well nothing except for several prose pieces and even a poem (refer to source of name nakedfeet). there i was in a room full of glittering strangers, with too much time on my hands to think.

It was all fine till grade 6. Then stupid boys came into the picture and ruined everything. Ruined by mass raging hormone syndrome which ensured that boys would ruin friendships by having crushes on girls, be rejected, and then be horribly bitter (and childish) about it.
Then it became cool to get over the crushes and manage to have platonic friendships with opposite sex. Except no guy wanted to be friends with me because i'd either managed to piss them off by rejecting them, or they were pissed off on behalf of their friend who i had rejected. i spent THREE years, grade 7, grade 8 and grade 9, with my primarily (ok - solely) girl gang, and it was fun. great fun. but we all had our issues. two of them would have slit my throat to have gotten ASA to talk to them. While i chose to tell him he was a moron etc etc every time he was managing some lame pick up line my way, they would giggle and bat their eyelashes at him, and throw their valentines at him in the deep hope he would toss a crumb their way. i ditched them soon enough and got back "together" with my buddies from pre class 6. So then i spent the next three years hanging out with 3 of my best friends, and their 3 guy friends, NONE of which spoke a direct sentence to me for three years. can i say this again? the guys didn't speak a direct sentence to me for THREE years. and i actually blamed myself because there was this whole nasty scene about thirty odd people suddenly surrounding me and shoving him into the circle and he was forced to ask me to dance (it was some stupid sind club gala type thing). and i was horribly conscious because i was wearing borrowed shoes with a GIANT (or so i thought) heel, and i wasn't wearing makeup like the other girls, and i didn't really know HOW to dance, so i said a very public no. It was the stuff junior high nighmares are made off. i think i scarred him for life, because he *still* can't get a straight sentence out to anything female.
Then after the three years there was minor fued about something or the other, and girls went their seperate ways, and all was fine again. we would get invited pretty much everything because some boy or the other would at that time convieniently have a crush on me/one of my friends and we would hence be top of the invite list. Except for that mortifying halloween 'bash' right before which one of us had turned some johnny come lately down (why did they bother after all those years? really!?) and then we got black balled. mortifying.
Then there was a fued within the group. three of us went one way, one of us willingly went the other. needless to say mass sympathies were with her for some reason. she thought we weren't cool enough to hang out with, and by gosh she'd had enough of not knowing whether she'd be invited to the next shebang or not. we watched as she pathetically humbled herself into a gang who's prime source of entertainment seemed to be torturing her/making fun of her to no end, and worse, we watched her take it and still run after them showering them with everything she could throw. we might have been a clic, but at least we weren't bitchy (to each other at any rate). loyalty supreme. us against them. blah.
then we thankfully went our ways, into the friendless college and post college years. much has changed, but really, too much hasn't.

so this little thing last night was tantamount to a reunion. i was invited because the birthday boy had a massive crush on my best friend. and she was in a terrible position because she turned him down, and his drunken mind really had not accepted that. for the last three weeks. but anyway. no one really wants to talk to me, except for the guy who pirouetted me to death at the yatch club ball last week, or the other guys who really can't have a conversation with any any other girl on account of them being 24 years of stupid. schooling, college, marriage, work, nothing seems to help the epidemic of stupidity.
but i digress. so against all will some boy or the other would drift my way and we'd greatfully share a moment to DO something (albiet insignificant) like engage in small talk because the alternative was to be suffocated with boredom. none of the girls bothered to talk to me, and my ex best friend was there pointedly ignoring me surrounded by her gang of alley cats who still were making fun of something she did at some coffee thing they all did yesterday. their main fodder for conversation was this poor chick not from school (and hence beyond reprehension) who was an unfortunate shade of blonde, and was cringingly drunk and dancing with some lecherous bastard taking full advantage of the fact. no one made a move to stop her. neither did i for that matter, didn't think she knew she needed saving. but they sat and made fun of her every move. i was trapped nauseated on the chair in the middle of them, none of them really talking directly to me, eating the damn chips and dip like my life depended on it because i don't drink i don't smoke and i don't smoke up. my best friend was somewhere behind me battling off the birthday boy.
once again i wake up, like on days after countless other occassions, and i think, never again.
but i know there's something happening next week, and there i'll be again.