Monday, 6 October 2014

I always did something I was a little not ready to do. I think that’s how you grow. When there’s that moment of ‘Wow, I’m not really sure I can do this,’ and you push through those moments, that’s when you have a breakthrough.

Sunday, 5 October 2014

I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.  

Gilda Radner

Friday, 15 August 2014

wishing and hoping

Much needed amenities right now:

-Good music
-Central air-conditioning
-Bottle full of water
-Fast internet connection
-Comfortable PJ's
-Episodes 17 and 18 of Gossip Girl
-My bed

Heading to Dubai from Karachi tomorrow, where I will, hopefully, find what I need.

Monday, 14 July 2014

You know what I like about tumblr?
I like that it makes my life sort of what I want it to be.
Kind of like when you watch a movie and everything is the same, the weather is always cloudy, the girl is still depressed, monotonously walking around town. And she seems reconciled to it.
But like life is never like that.
Life is ups and downs and constant unrest and changing weather and feeling like your heart will fall apart and your mouth will start saying his name again.
[That was my attempt at being poetic]
And whereas I would like to reconcile myself to the real world, I cannot...
Because reality is different and inconsistent.
I'm just looking for some sort of stability. 

Monday, 30 June 2014

I'm sorry, you guys. I've been away for so long.
(5 months?!?!?!)
I just sort of believed I was better off not writing about sad shit on my blog.
The last time I posted, I seemed to have forgotten that life was not always sunshine and butterflies, and the eventual realization has prevented me from posting.
But as soon as I reclaim the blogger in me, I shall be back.
I have a lot to tell you guys.

Tuesday, 28 January 2014

What I want to look back on when I'm old and brittle

Instead of writing about dick-ass tonight, as I promised on Twitter earlier today, I'm posting something that's been rotting in my drafts forever.
A piece of marriage.
Well, kind of. Sort of.
[Disclaimer: Writer is a complete romantic, thus: thoughts may be clichéd, cheesy, and portraying what some people claim is only found in movies and books. And if you're a judgemental piece of shit, I don't want you reading this.]

For those of you who may not know, I'm just going to give you a little brief note about what Pakistani marriages are like.
Pakistani marriages are mostly arranged marriages; arranged of course by the parents who judge a suitor by his family background, income, age, and of course, looks. As drab, boring, and insulting as it sounds to the poor kids who have to spend the rest of their life with complete strangers because their parents think they've made a good match. Usually, the fiancées gain each other's acquaintance before they get married by sneakily meeting each other without their parents knowing, and phone calls that no one can know about (but it's kind of obvious this happens, it's just supposedly looked down upon or whatever).
The wedding celebrations consist of 5 main events over the course of a month or so. First, of course, comes the engagement which usually comes a couple of months before the actual wedding. Then there are the dholkis that the immediate family (we use this term very lightly, mind you) celebrates, with festive clothes, music, dancing, dhols (a kind of traditional drums), and mostly yellow clothes.
Next comes the maayoun, which is also celebrated by the immediate family, but is, noticeably more festive, where again people typically wear pinks, blue, purples, yellow, and greens.

(This is just some random cultural bullshit I'm throwing in and has no real relevance as to what I have to say about Pakistani weddings)

There's the mehendi, which consists mostly of dancing. Both the bride and groom's family attends this event, and they collectively celebrate. Mehendis are actually supposed to be about the application of mehendi on the hands of the girls of the families, and the bride, but that doesn't really happen anymore. Now it's mostly about prepared dance routines, dressing up (yet more festive), and some silly rituals that only concern the immediate relatives and those who enjoy having a good time and butting in.
Then there's the wedding where the bride leaves her parents' home and goes to live with her husband. The whole wedding vows and everything are usually taken during this ceremony, unless they've been said and done earlier. The wedding is basically about saying goodbye to the bride who's now going to live with strangers. Boohoo.
Then there's the valima which is basically a wedding reception, and this, like all the other ceremonies, is one where the bride and groom sit on a podium as people pose for pictures with them, eat, and sadly, there's not even any dancing during this boring old ritual.
And then, well, the couple spends the rest of their living lives together, or hope to anyway, and give many kids to their parents who will prove happy grandparents and can say, "Oh, what a good match we made, ha ha ha," and feel their sole purpose in life is done - their kids are now wed.

Now that you're acquainted with how Pakistani weddings usually go, let me give you my verdict:
I think all of this is bullshit.
First of all, arranged marriages are the scariest fucking things ever. I know many people (read: the better half of the Pakistani population) are okay with them, but I am certainly not one of them. If I'm going to have to share my bed with somebody for the supposed remainder of my life - I want it to be somebody I love. Somebody I can wake up to and say, "Thank God I married him. Aren't I lucky?" I want looking at his face to brighten my day, and I want it to be the best part of it.
The whole family background, income, age thing doesn't matter to me. I don't want to know where the man comes from, I want to know where he wants to go. I want to know that I want to be there with him, and that he wants me with him. I don't want to be a supporting character to his main-lead movie, I want to be the damn love of his life that drags him around his life making him thankful for every single bit of it. Income... As long as I wake up, and feel content about my day ahead, I don't care if it's in a mansion or a damn hut by the beach.
Age... okay, age matters. I take that back.
Thank God I do not have to worry about this part of the whole thing, because my parents aren't the arranged marriage kind, and who also had a love marriage.
Second - the sneaking around behind your parents to meet the person you're going to spend the remainder of your life with. I want to be acquainted with the guy, before I show up in his room on our wedding night, and then proceed to bang before we've even had our first consecutive conversation.
Third - which is actually part of the first, but oh, well. Organization was never my forte. Pakistani parents seem to raise their kids not so that they can grow up and live their lives, but so that they can get married and follow the exact same path in life that they've followed, and so have all their ancestors. This is where I plead my parents guilty too. I want my parents to know that they've raised a strong, independent young woman who does not need a man to take care of her. Same goes for boys. Their parents shouldn't raise them like pigs for slaughter, who need to grow up, go work, make money for them, get married, and make a lot of babies so they can continue the whole marriage process all over again.
I mean, what the hell is that about? What are we even trying to do? And why?
What's the purpose of this viscous cycle?

Saturday, 25 January 2014

Of dick-asses and nauseous car-rides

Hey, guys.
So I was out on a walk today when I realized how much of a procrastinator I am and that this post could not further be delayed. Also, I realized, that I have waaay too many bad qualities to add bad blogger to the list.
So, um, hi.

Here's the thing... I've moved to Dubai.

And here's a picture of a hot guy way older than me.

Feel free to post this on Tumblr with the caption "IM SCREAMING" or "i can't" or "how"
Now that we're over the initial shock of either me moving to Dubai or the absolutely gorgeous man in the picture, let's move on.
So, yep, I've moved to Dubai from Karachi. It's not a great big change, though. I mean, I'm still processing it and stuff, so whatever.
But I do have some things to tell you guys that I've been putting off telling you and let's just say I'M HOPING THIS POST WILL MAKE LIFE EASIER FOR ME AND HELP ME GET OVER THE PERFECTION THAT IS DICK-ASS (I will introduce you to him later in this post).
So, let's periodically talk about everything in my life that has changed. Starting... NOW.

The City
Dubai's a great city, with proper roads and everything. It's a beautiful city, good people. 

The People
There are loads of Indians here. And Arab people not from the UAE (because there are hardly any locals here at all), places like Palestine, Syria, Lebanon. Yeah, Pakistanis, Indians, Italians, Colombians. Very diverse.
There are all these people you see here who are so unimaginably attractive, and it's kind of hard not to feel bad about yourself here, haha. But for real - hot people.
Also, a lot of my family is here. My dad's cousin lives here and I'm super close to her and her family so that's great. Her parents are visiting right now, so we're meeting up everyday and stuff. It's going good.

The House
We've got a pretty cool villa in Springs in Dubai, and it's pretty cool. We're still settling in, because we've only been here for around 3 weeks but it's been good so far.

The School
The school is pretty great, actually. It's growing on me. The people are really cool, as well as the teachers. The studies aren't too intense. I've got my own locker, which you don't have in schools in Karachi, so, that's good. I'm still getting used to shuffling from class to class every 40 minutes, especially because the building is huge, and all the halls and classrooms are identical so you have no idea where you're going.

I kept trying to think of other things I could add to the list of things I could tell you guys, but then I thought, fuck it, I'm not shitting anyone. So here's the real reason I'm posting right now...
There's a boy.
He's a couple of months younger than me.
*more gasp*
He's so hot, OMG. You guys don't understand. He's got brown eyes, as deep as the fucking pacific ocean and they're so beautiful, and bright. And brown hair that sticks out all the time. His voice is cracking so it's kind of soar and manly, but totally hot. And he's hilarious. Everybody loves him. He's not scared or anything, he's just so out there, he makes everyone laugh. He's such a flirt. He flirts with everybody but me. Douche-bag. I spend the whole day groaning and screaming because of him not noticing me.
Here's the worst part - he's had like 10 girlfriends.
He's 13. 
I've never had a boyfriend, guys. Ever. In my life. 14 years.
I don't know, man.
He's ruining my life.
He's popular but he's not typical and I want to be a part of his life. And talk to him. And listen to him. And joke with him. And laugh with him. And hold his hand a little. And smile. He's a riddle I badly, badly want to solve. Because I know there's more to him than his nonchalant vibes, and flirty ways. 
But then again - 'What a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person.'

Ew. Adeena's grossing myself out right now.

So now that I've got that I've got my recent life mapped out on a blog that isn't even read by anybody. I'll take leave of y'all.
Pray for me.


He's ruining my life.