I don't think I'll be awake past midnight today and so will probably not be able to do the whole countdown thing that's become such a cliche.
As it is, I'm not sure how many minutes past 11 it was that I started writing this post. It's currently 11.22 PM and for reason's unknown (read: I hate PIA and Delta), my mother's flight to NYC was delayed and the flight landing in PK will be arriving at least an hour later. Hateful airline! After Emirates and KLM, the one advantage of a non-stop, direct flight hasn't really balanced the scales at all. Not to mention, business class passengers! A little R.E.S.P.E.C.T here, please...not asking for much...just for you to grow a pair and have the passengers deposited on their home turf and into the arms of their loving families. Gah!
In a little less than 2 months I'll be celebrating my 24th. Not exactly looking forward to that day; birthdays have unceremoniously been having an adverse effect on me lately. I'm not entirely sure of the reason.
As it is, Dec 31, 2008 is just the same as any other day with one minor exception: I started work early, catching up on pitching ideas to would-be clients. The best thing about a relatively small company is that you know enough to make a difference. And I like being involved in the Greater Good for no other reason perhaps then that it helps me sleep at night.
One thing that may be keeping me up, however, is the fact that although I started writing about 5 odd pieces, I've only finished just the one which will be readable some time in Jan when our fourth e-zine issue hits the virtual sphere, nearly a year after it was written. Oddly enough, it was written a day or two before my birthday. I love the coincidences here!
Happy New Year, everyone! For my part, I hope I hold true on my new year's resolution to write at least 3 complete shorts next year.
G'night...
December 31, 2008
December 30, 2008
Day Fourteen: The Day After Tomorrow
I have to admit: I'm looking forward to returning to work. Let this be known: it came to be two days before I was scheduled to return.
That said, it's been a blissful two weeks away (and it has a thoroughly nice twelve days away...12 because for the first two initial days, I hadn't completely relinquished the reins just yet. Control issues, what can I say?). Besides, the time off has helped me get my thoughts and general life philosophies in order. In other words, it's allowed me time to think.
Except this time around, that actually turned out being a good thing.
:)
That said, it's been a blissful two weeks away (and it has a thoroughly nice twelve days away...12 because for the first two initial days, I hadn't completely relinquished the reins just yet. Control issues, what can I say?). Besides, the time off has helped me get my thoughts and general life philosophies in order. In other words, it's allowed me time to think.
Except this time around, that actually turned out being a good thing.
:)
December 29, 2008
Day Thirteen: Blind Faith
Many of my earlier posts have dealt with faith; in the human race, in God, and in oneself. That said, I don't believe in pursuing it blindly either, having written the following in one of my earlier rants:
"Faith is a terribly misleading thing. If you believe in something blindly, without reservation is it really fair to say you really know what to believe in? Are they your beliefs or ones you've been imbued with since birth? To fail to argue on them because of your absolute belief that the Prophet (SAW), was born innocent and could do no harm. That isn't a sufficient argument; to convince others you have to tussle on their terms. Closing your eyes won't make the monsters go away. They're still going to be there in the morning."
I think the important thing is to ensure we don't stop asking ourselves questions and aren't afraid that those questions are going to yield answers that threaten what we believe in. How strong would our beliefs be if they couldn't suffer through a little dialog and discussion? I mean, there are so many things that are culturally, socially or religiously taboo and so aren't put forward in traditional and mainstream media, because of the consequences. Consequences being the impact they would have on the young and impressionable minds of tomorrow, but if we have such little faith in the people we've brought into the world, what does it say about us? Again, judging from the work presented in the Lounge, I think my generation is much less conscious than preceding generations, about what is socially "appropriate" but are still struggling to break out of that box and it's a Struggle worth suffering through, if it results in true freedom of thought and expression for succeeding generations.
Maybe some would consider this idealistic, but if we have nothing to believe in; a lack of faith in ourselves, the world around us and in the possibility of something higher than us, can we really be expected to make a true difference in the world? If it wasn't for the belief that people can be influenced by words, deeds or actions, no one would try to leave their mark on the world. Of course, there are others who would just like to make it through this life, but in so doing they manage to impress themselves on someone else (though whether in terms of good or bad, is debatable). It is an inherent part of human nature.
Moving back on topic, however. Blind faith is both endearing and thoroughly dangerous especially taken in light of the above italicized paragraph, which concerns itself with the religious aspect which is really a bulk of what goes on in this country. I suppose by preying on the need to believe in something so absolutely and without question, we begin to believe that it defines who we are. But our beliefs don't define us, what we do with them maybe but not them in of themselves. For instance, I am a Muslim. But whether or not I am a practicing Muslim, in that I follow each and every one of the tenets of my religion or even in part, some of them, is open to debate. I am not defined by being a Muslim; it's something I've been imbued with since birth, absolutely, but I've questioned my beliefs repeatedly often finding them and the God that oversees them, waiting for me on the other side. But this has been my journey, these have been my struggles. It isn't right to oversimplify or universalize them. They are what they are, for each individual, separate and intertwined.
When it comes down to it, I am defined by what I have done, what I have accomplished and essentially, who I am.
"Faith is a terribly misleading thing. If you believe in something blindly, without reservation is it really fair to say you really know what to believe in? Are they your beliefs or ones you've been imbued with since birth? To fail to argue on them because of your absolute belief that the Prophet (SAW), was born innocent and could do no harm. That isn't a sufficient argument; to convince others you have to tussle on their terms. Closing your eyes won't make the monsters go away. They're still going to be there in the morning."
I think the important thing is to ensure we don't stop asking ourselves questions and aren't afraid that those questions are going to yield answers that threaten what we believe in. How strong would our beliefs be if they couldn't suffer through a little dialog and discussion? I mean, there are so many things that are culturally, socially or religiously taboo and so aren't put forward in traditional and mainstream media, because of the consequences. Consequences being the impact they would have on the young and impressionable minds of tomorrow, but if we have such little faith in the people we've brought into the world, what does it say about us? Again, judging from the work presented in the Lounge, I think my generation is much less conscious than preceding generations, about what is socially "appropriate" but are still struggling to break out of that box and it's a Struggle worth suffering through, if it results in true freedom of thought and expression for succeeding generations.
Maybe some would consider this idealistic, but if we have nothing to believe in; a lack of faith in ourselves, the world around us and in the possibility of something higher than us, can we really be expected to make a true difference in the world? If it wasn't for the belief that people can be influenced by words, deeds or actions, no one would try to leave their mark on the world. Of course, there are others who would just like to make it through this life, but in so doing they manage to impress themselves on someone else (though whether in terms of good or bad, is debatable). It is an inherent part of human nature.
Moving back on topic, however. Blind faith is both endearing and thoroughly dangerous especially taken in light of the above italicized paragraph, which concerns itself with the religious aspect which is really a bulk of what goes on in this country. I suppose by preying on the need to believe in something so absolutely and without question, we begin to believe that it defines who we are. But our beliefs don't define us, what we do with them maybe but not them in of themselves. For instance, I am a Muslim. But whether or not I am a practicing Muslim, in that I follow each and every one of the tenets of my religion or even in part, some of them, is open to debate. I am not defined by being a Muslim; it's something I've been imbued with since birth, absolutely, but I've questioned my beliefs repeatedly often finding them and the God that oversees them, waiting for me on the other side. But this has been my journey, these have been my struggles. It isn't right to oversimplify or universalize them. They are what they are, for each individual, separate and intertwined.
When it comes down to it, I am defined by what I have done, what I have accomplished and essentially, who I am.
December 28, 2008
Day Twelve: The End is Near
I've been finding myself greatly looking forward to Thursday which will effectively be my first day back at work. I suppose it was going to happen eventually, and better it happened in the last few days of my vacation.
In other news, read the cover page article on Dawn's Books & Authors issue (this one, entitled "To the University Students of Pakistan", written by a former UT professor, Zulfikar Ghose) and it got me thinking. In my acquaintance which in terms of literary circles and general stimulating discussion and intellectual debate encompass the members of the Desi Writers Lounge, aren't writers first and readers second. I think we've all (or mostly all) been attracted to writing after reading extensively. The argument of the writer in question is that young writers put ideas and content over the aesthetic need and beauty of the words themselves, which really is one third of the entire writing experience for anyone that's read Orwell's essay (linked on the right) would know.
However, the man's a teacher so I'm guessing he probably has a little more experience and expertise in the area than little ol' me. However, the length of his arguments not withstanding, there are parts where I found myself nodding in agreement, most notably the following:
"People in Pakistan often ask me why I do not write more about Pakistan, why my novels are not set here. If I may offer a personal explanation: I was born in Sialkot and spent my first seven years there, the next 10 in Bombay. The rest of my life has been spent in the West. Most people in Pakistan see me as someone who has become disconnected from Pakistan, and they point to several of my novels as confirmation of my alienation because the novels are set in South America. But look again. Yes, the surface is that of South America (though not always). But look a little more closely at the language, at the images. Most, if not all, of the stories are inventions and the characters are also inventions. But still my attempt to create a fiction, because the transmission of the story is coming via my brain, is necessarily going to have layers of meaning that come out of my unconscious. And my unconscious is filled with a great deal of reading and with those images which are the archetypes particular to people where I was born. And what are they?
You’ve only got to review the history of the Punjab to answer that. A Punjabi’s history did not begin in 1947; as with any other human being on the planet, his history began thousands of years ago, and where I was born it would be the height of ignorance to think that among my ancestors there were no Greeks, Mongols, Buddhists, Hindus, Sikhs, Mughals, Persians, Afghans, and God knows who else. You don’t have to be a Jungian to believe that a Punjabi’s collective unconscious may well have traces of some or all of those sources. Just look at the crazy, surprising, wildly improbable, and often inexplicable images in your dreams. A good deal of such unconscious matter is there in my novels wherever they are set.
If you look at my novel, The Triple Mirror of the Self, you will, even when you might be looking at an Andean view, be seeing something else. I describe a strange episode in that novel in a strange place called Kailost. Look again, dear reader; so far only one person I know has noticed that the letters that make up the name Kailost also make up the name of another city.
In the same episode I have a character whom I call Mokhwa Jaghès; the accent on the e might distract the reader, but you might notice that the first name ends with ‘khwa’ and the surname begins with ‘ja’, and the combination produces ‘Khwaja’; at this point you might remember that the author’s surname is spelled ‘Ghose’, and that might alert you to the presence of those letters in ‘Mokhwa Jaghès’, which will thus give you ‘Khwaja M. Ghose’, which happens to be my father’s name, the ‘M’ standing for ‘Mohammed’. All of this was not pre-planned, it just developed as I was writing.
These archetypal images are there in all of us, but how are you to access them in your poems and stories? The worst approach is to do so self-consciously. That is like going around with a label on your chest telling people who you are. The best approach is to concentrate on the imagistic content of your language. You let it happen naturally, spontaneously. If you make a deliberate attempt to fill your lines or your sentences with sharply drawn and fresh images (as opposed to dead metaphors) the unconscious part of you will naturally come into play and suggest surprising and unexpected ideas, and that is where the richest part of literature is to be found, that is when we are dazzled by a luminescence so intense it is a sort of spiritual beauty."
I find the last paragraph most especially relevant and it remains my only complaint with Pakistani writers in general, most especially those from Gen X. The most fascinating element of writing for me, has become the general study of human nature and for making the story as believable as it can be given in its general circumstances. It doesn't have to be set in Pakistan to be identifiable to Pakistanis or to people at large. Hence the possibilities of pursuing Pyschology as a postgrad course, although since most degrees require you having done undergrad work in the same field, don't see that as an opening. Besides, I don't think I'd have the heart of pursuing it as a full on degree when my truest nature would call towards another field entirely. Doesn't stop me from reading about it however.
The most abhorred piece of advice I've received is also the most common "writer's rule": write what you know. But I think Plath said it best: "And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” So why restrict yourselves within a perimeter of thought and writable action? It's balderdash...
wouldn't you agree?
In other news, read the cover page article on Dawn's Books & Authors issue (this one, entitled "To the University Students of Pakistan", written by a former UT professor, Zulfikar Ghose) and it got me thinking. In my acquaintance which in terms of literary circles and general stimulating discussion and intellectual debate encompass the members of the Desi Writers Lounge, aren't writers first and readers second. I think we've all (or mostly all) been attracted to writing after reading extensively. The argument of the writer in question is that young writers put ideas and content over the aesthetic need and beauty of the words themselves, which really is one third of the entire writing experience for anyone that's read Orwell's essay (linked on the right) would know.
However, the man's a teacher so I'm guessing he probably has a little more experience and expertise in the area than little ol' me. However, the length of his arguments not withstanding, there are parts where I found myself nodding in agreement, most notably the following:
"People in Pakistan often ask me why I do not write more about Pakistan, why my novels are not set here. If I may offer a personal explanation: I was born in Sialkot and spent my first seven years there, the next 10 in Bombay. The rest of my life has been spent in the West. Most people in Pakistan see me as someone who has become disconnected from Pakistan, and they point to several of my novels as confirmation of my alienation because the novels are set in South America. But look again. Yes, the surface is that of South America (though not always). But look a little more closely at the language, at the images. Most, if not all, of the stories are inventions and the characters are also inventions. But still my attempt to create a fiction, because the transmission of the story is coming via my brain, is necessarily going to have layers of meaning that come out of my unconscious. And my unconscious is filled with a great deal of reading and with those images which are the archetypes particular to people where I was born. And what are they?
You’ve only got to review the history of the Punjab to answer that. A Punjabi’s history did not begin in 1947; as with any other human being on the planet, his history began thousands of years ago, and where I was born it would be the height of ignorance to think that among my ancestors there were no Greeks, Mongols, Buddhists, Hindus, Sikhs, Mughals, Persians, Afghans, and God knows who else. You don’t have to be a Jungian to believe that a Punjabi’s collective unconscious may well have traces of some or all of those sources. Just look at the crazy, surprising, wildly improbable, and often inexplicable images in your dreams. A good deal of such unconscious matter is there in my novels wherever they are set.
If you look at my novel, The Triple Mirror of the Self, you will, even when you might be looking at an Andean view, be seeing something else. I describe a strange episode in that novel in a strange place called Kailost. Look again, dear reader; so far only one person I know has noticed that the letters that make up the name Kailost also make up the name of another city.
In the same episode I have a character whom I call Mokhwa Jaghès; the accent on the e might distract the reader, but you might notice that the first name ends with ‘khwa’ and the surname begins with ‘ja’, and the combination produces ‘Khwaja’; at this point you might remember that the author’s surname is spelled ‘Ghose’, and that might alert you to the presence of those letters in ‘Mokhwa Jaghès’, which will thus give you ‘Khwaja M. Ghose’, which happens to be my father’s name, the ‘M’ standing for ‘Mohammed’. All of this was not pre-planned, it just developed as I was writing.
These archetypal images are there in all of us, but how are you to access them in your poems and stories? The worst approach is to do so self-consciously. That is like going around with a label on your chest telling people who you are. The best approach is to concentrate on the imagistic content of your language. You let it happen naturally, spontaneously. If you make a deliberate attempt to fill your lines or your sentences with sharply drawn and fresh images (as opposed to dead metaphors) the unconscious part of you will naturally come into play and suggest surprising and unexpected ideas, and that is where the richest part of literature is to be found, that is when we are dazzled by a luminescence so intense it is a sort of spiritual beauty."
I find the last paragraph most especially relevant and it remains my only complaint with Pakistani writers in general, most especially those from Gen X. The most fascinating element of writing for me, has become the general study of human nature and for making the story as believable as it can be given in its general circumstances. It doesn't have to be set in Pakistan to be identifiable to Pakistanis or to people at large. Hence the possibilities of pursuing Pyschology as a postgrad course, although since most degrees require you having done undergrad work in the same field, don't see that as an opening. Besides, I don't think I'd have the heart of pursuing it as a full on degree when my truest nature would call towards another field entirely. Doesn't stop me from reading about it however.
The most abhorred piece of advice I've received is also the most common "writer's rule": write what you know. But I think Plath said it best: "And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” So why restrict yourselves within a perimeter of thought and writable action? It's balderdash...
wouldn't you agree?
December 27, 2008
Day Eleven: Challenging Pre-Conceived Notions
I've been contemplating my 'pre-existing notions' today and have realized an important fact, that may or may not be temporary judging from past experience: I have greatly miscalculated myself. This isn't vanity talking, more like a sense of self. I believed that should I immerse myself too much into one subject, I would not be able to write with the same sense of clarity and detachment about things going against said subject, but I have discovered to my greatest satisfaction, that it isn't the case at all. My loyalties remain undivided thanks to the moral and ethical center that has always been so dear to me.
Today, for those hapless enough to be unaware, is the death anniversary of Benazir Bhutto which thanks to her widower who is conveniently enough, also the President of the Land of the Pure, has now been declared a Government holiday. Brilliant, isn't it? As long as the man in black is head of state, it's going to be declared a day of national mourning. You know how December 25 is the national death anniversary of the man without whom Pakistan would never have been created in the first place? Yes, I'm talking about the Quaid. It would seem Zardari has placed Bhutto on the same elevated pedestal by declaring her death at par with the great man himself. Pardon me if I'm the only one who sees the irony in the current situation, or misplaced patriotism. These days it's so hard to tell.
Speaking of Zardari, I came across an interview he'd done with Newsweek and although the reporter is asking some admittedly super bitchy questions, which is saying a lot since the reporter in question is male, the Z-Man comes across as both diplomatically inexperienced and defensive. I mean, there's a reason his late wife was the only woman president of the Oxford debating society and he was a landowner's son without the same call to higher education as his wife. Not saying that I am/was a supporter of the woman, but I believed in her educational credentials and admitted that she did have that rare oratorial power of captivating her audience. It's interesting how much you discover about a person once they're gone, but then considering this comes from the expert of how not to handle your grief, not exactly an original statement.
And so? There are now about five days, God Willing, until my mother's feet touch Pakistani soil and six days until I see her again, but after waiting for close to four months, what's another week right? Besides, she comes laden with gifts and that's always worth the wait!
Today, for those hapless enough to be unaware, is the death anniversary of Benazir Bhutto which thanks to her widower who is conveniently enough, also the President of the Land of the Pure, has now been declared a Government holiday. Brilliant, isn't it? As long as the man in black is head of state, it's going to be declared a day of national mourning. You know how December 25 is the national death anniversary of the man without whom Pakistan would never have been created in the first place? Yes, I'm talking about the Quaid. It would seem Zardari has placed Bhutto on the same elevated pedestal by declaring her death at par with the great man himself. Pardon me if I'm the only one who sees the irony in the current situation, or misplaced patriotism. These days it's so hard to tell.
Speaking of Zardari, I came across an interview he'd done with Newsweek and although the reporter is asking some admittedly super bitchy questions, which is saying a lot since the reporter in question is male, the Z-Man comes across as both diplomatically inexperienced and defensive. I mean, there's a reason his late wife was the only woman president of the Oxford debating society and he was a landowner's son without the same call to higher education as his wife. Not saying that I am/was a supporter of the woman, but I believed in her educational credentials and admitted that she did have that rare oratorial power of captivating her audience. It's interesting how much you discover about a person once they're gone, but then considering this comes from the expert of how not to handle your grief, not exactly an original statement.
And so? There are now about five days, God Willing, until my mother's feet touch Pakistani soil and six days until I see her again, but after waiting for close to four months, what's another week right? Besides, she comes laden with gifts and that's always worth the wait!
December 26, 2008
Day Ten: Lost Remembrance
I am still close to 12 hours short of being accurate, but if I don't write this now I don't think I'll be able to put pen to paper later. So here goes.
"Date: Midnight, December 26, 2003
Could I have imagined this day to be today? But Death has a schedule to keep. Could I be more dramatic. Today, the rock that I held onto has sunk below the ocean swallowed in the manifestation of God.
Abaji, that sweet, cherished, God-fearing grandfather o'mine is gone. I am too torn up from within to continue any further."
That's why I could never do "Numb". I am still numb, standing there, frozen and never moving on. I am still there, my back to the radiator, looking at my father in shock, this bearer of ill news. I am still on the floor of my old room, writing and weeping with endless grief.
It has been five years.
It happened yesterday.
I am stuck in a prison of words, loss and remembrance. I will never move on. I am benumbed. The day is over and I am still there,
not moving on.
Does it ever stop? Do I really want it to?
"Date: Midnight, December 26, 2003
Could I have imagined this day to be today? But Death has a schedule to keep. Could I be more dramatic. Today, the rock that I held onto has sunk below the ocean swallowed in the manifestation of God.
Abaji, that sweet, cherished, God-fearing grandfather o'mine is gone. I am too torn up from within to continue any further."
That's why I could never do "Numb". I am still numb, standing there, frozen and never moving on. I am still there, my back to the radiator, looking at my father in shock, this bearer of ill news. I am still on the floor of my old room, writing and weeping with endless grief.
It has been five years.
It happened yesterday.
I am stuck in a prison of words, loss and remembrance. I will never move on. I am benumbed. The day is over and I am still there,
not moving on.
Does it ever stop? Do I really want it to?
December 24, 2008
Day Eight and a Half: Blurbs
A few blurbs I've collected since June, when I first began writing my current short story that's lasted a little over six months.
- "Is it love or the idea of it that so fascinates? The sugar-coated, rose tinted fairytale? A life that can never be ours because it doesn't exist. Or maybe, we've already made up our minds? And we just like the illusion, because it gives us something to look forward to. Are our lives so bland, but more appropriately, must love always equate marriage?
Blaspheme!...
...or is it?
Depends on which side of the line you call home." - "I feel like this mannequin in the display windows of a boutique, to be judged for my wares. That every girl goes through it isn't the argument that makes it any better. The point being; we shouldn't have to. Will marriage automatically lift our problems? Or maybe we'll just be(come) the problem of someone else!"
- "Why is marriage always the solution; the band-aid to our grievances. Marriage is an act of love, but all it seems like to me is the business of bartering and it's ridiculous."
- "Cryptic statements. Restrained, often moody silences. Sudden outbursts of anger, when the controlled "lid" finally blows open. I see pieces of him in me.
And I'm wondering how it all started, and whether I would have stopped it had I known I was becoming my father." - "It's strange how we all associate a woman's success with who she's married or that her life isn't complete until she's married. And it's become so imbued in our culture and mindsets that we almost do it subconsciously now. It has to change."
- "Why can't our writers write about real things happening to everyday people in these times, no political significance just real human emotions and struggles? I know those are the ones that really hit home for me. Why books like Les Miserables and David Copperfield are considered classics. Or more recently, The Shadow of the Wind."
- "Are they signs from God or do we simply choose to see what we want to see, making our destinies not divine but simply a happy coincidence?"
- "Ever wonder why our belief systems are never called into question? It's because, over here, it's not who you are but what you believe in that defines you."
- "Almost as if we met now, we wouldn't react to each other anymore. How does that happen? How does the distance between two people increase exponentially...almost having a direct relationship with time itself."
- "Yes, but we always want more. That's the bane of the lives we lead."
- "The hospitality of a country I barely know, and if I do, hardly understand."
- "The feeling of rejection is instantaneous. Is my self esteem so low? Is that the underlying emotion fueling The Broken Hearts Club? My own weakness coming to the fore? The lack of any self worth whatsoever? Or can some people just do that to you...or do you just let it happen?"
- "And just what good will touring do me, except remind me how alone I truly am? It comes in waves and spells and in betweens. Never tarrying too long, but it leaves a part of itself behind, and like Hydra it grows over
and over
and over." - "'One day you're going to realize that everyone's living under a rock, that it's all an illusion and that nothing really matters.'
'Because...it doesn't?'
'Because it doesn't matter if it does.'" - "There comes a point when you need to differentiate between who you are and the plans "God" may have for you. Of course at the end of the day, those are only plans...a blueprint of your life you've hatched with the Man on the Moon. There are no guarantees in this life; you chalk your own destiny; all that jazz. But the argument 'there is a God' never gets old. Why? Possibly because at the end of the hardship, the pain, the insufferable cruelty man unleashes upon man, we need something to believe in. Something divine. Something that plots and plans on a Grander Scale. Something which can give us hope and in so doing, get us till the end of one day and to the beginning of another."
- "I stopped questioning myself a long time ago. Life isn't the same if the one lone person you can trust keeps second guessing themselves. We make the choices we do because they're ours to make, so somewhere down the line if we find that Door No. Whatever leads nowhere, we have to live with the knowledge that somewhere (deep, deep down sure) we knew that already."
December 23, 2008
Day Seven: Bulls Eye
I've always had one exceedingly brilliant trait, which was when I'd fixed my gaze on something, nothing on this earth had the power to change that no matter how many curve balls God threw my way. Unwavering focus, I suppose is what you could call it.
So when my sister suggested I should pursue my graduate degree in another field in the liberal arts or social sciences, I'll admit to pausing to consider it and covering the steps and research, even going as far as to ask a fellow CW applicant who switched to pursuing a religious studies degree from Oxford. When asked if in another life, she would still apply for the CW program or would remain on her present course, she stated the latter claiming that what we were all really searching for was something to write about, and this path has fulfilled that need. My problem is different from hers, I guess, because I already know what to write about; my mind is filled with ideas for stories. My only problem is getting there, and where the desi writers community I have created and fostered has helped me tremendously, it will not always be enough. For me, there remains only the one course for creative satisfaction, and that's the writing program so if I do pursue postgraduate studies, that's what it's going to be.
I feel as if this is the final time I am coming to this (re)discovery. But what I like best of all is that not only did I fire a true shot, the arrow rang home every damn time. My focus hasn't changed. My goals, my ideals haven't changed. It's just nice to know that my heart remains very much in the same place. I needed to feel that sense of commitment again, because I need it to push myself towards that goal again.
And so?
The phoenix arises...
So when my sister suggested I should pursue my graduate degree in another field in the liberal arts or social sciences, I'll admit to pausing to consider it and covering the steps and research, even going as far as to ask a fellow CW applicant who switched to pursuing a religious studies degree from Oxford. When asked if in another life, she would still apply for the CW program or would remain on her present course, she stated the latter claiming that what we were all really searching for was something to write about, and this path has fulfilled that need. My problem is different from hers, I guess, because I already know what to write about; my mind is filled with ideas for stories. My only problem is getting there, and where the desi writers community I have created and fostered has helped me tremendously, it will not always be enough. For me, there remains only the one course for creative satisfaction, and that's the writing program so if I do pursue postgraduate studies, that's what it's going to be.
I feel as if this is the final time I am coming to this (re)discovery. But what I like best of all is that not only did I fire a true shot, the arrow rang home every damn time. My focus hasn't changed. My goals, my ideals haven't changed. It's just nice to know that my heart remains very much in the same place. I needed to feel that sense of commitment again, because I need it to push myself towards that goal again.
And so?
The phoenix arises...
December 21, 2008
Day Five: Musings of the Life Without
I had a dream once, not so very long ago. A dream that pushed me through my last two years of college, that made a star out of a dreamer and an optimist out of a pessimist. Then I landed in the real world, and everything changed. It shouldn't have, I suppose, but it did. I don't think we ever realize how truly insulated we are in school then college, until we step out into the world and start living our lives. There was a time, when I was dreading that last day in college (if you could call the pathetic place I went to a "college" -- it's been taken over by a bank now. Woohoo!), because I had absolutely no idea what the world held for me. What I was going to do. The Plan was to do the MFA in Creative Writing. The Dream. The Plan was to get published and show the world just what brilliance lay in the mind of a humble writer from Islamabad, Pakistan; persistent outsider.
I never liked school; the tedium of homework and moderated teaching somehow never appealed to me. There was always more to be discovered through the imagination or from sneaking away and looking through the windows of "adult life", a hallowed existence that would one day be mine, but where, if I didn't play my cards right, disappointment would greet me like an old friend. I think the key motto of my life should be: "be careful what you wish for". I wanted to be a writer, then I couldn't handle being one and so I wanted to be a professional, only that took me away from what I loved best: writing. You love it until you hate it, and then when it's taken away, you realize hate was just love in disguise. There's true love for you, ladies and gentlemen!
One of my friends is so completely heartbroken, she's at the point where she just wants to throw herself into her work (in this case, the application process for various PhD programs of interest). I was at that point once. Not heartbroken over a person, of course. No, mine was all for the love of the craft and the inherent disappointments. And then I became a Professional, a slave to routines and rules, and cubicles. Not that that's all bad; it's all an experience. It's all part of living life. If it doesn't give me fodder for my work, it gives me the financial backing to accomplish that, so all is not wasted on this beautiful mind.
While writing this post, I was interrupted twice (while struggling to remain in the dreaded "zone"...the number of quotes in this post is enough to cripple it!): once to give my sister-Of-The-Chocolate-Craving, a slice of After Eight and the second to whittle around to monitor where my niece aka little monkey/cat/various other nimble animals, was. As I sit here, trying to put into words exactly what is going on in my brain today, I thread my way between two different thought processes: the first being that this gives me another reason on why I wouldn't like to have kids too early, and the second being about why "the age" matters so much in the world. It's not just limited to a society or a culture, but to the global landscape at large. When is the right "age" to get married? When is the right "age" to have kids? When is the right "age" to end the path to self discovery? Does it even matter at the end of it, if we're not happy or must we put a number on that too?
I never liked school; the tedium of homework and moderated teaching somehow never appealed to me. There was always more to be discovered through the imagination or from sneaking away and looking through the windows of "adult life", a hallowed existence that would one day be mine, but where, if I didn't play my cards right, disappointment would greet me like an old friend. I think the key motto of my life should be: "be careful what you wish for". I wanted to be a writer, then I couldn't handle being one and so I wanted to be a professional, only that took me away from what I loved best: writing. You love it until you hate it, and then when it's taken away, you realize hate was just love in disguise. There's true love for you, ladies and gentlemen!
One of my friends is so completely heartbroken, she's at the point where she just wants to throw herself into her work (in this case, the application process for various PhD programs of interest). I was at that point once. Not heartbroken over a person, of course. No, mine was all for the love of the craft and the inherent disappointments. And then I became a Professional, a slave to routines and rules, and cubicles. Not that that's all bad; it's all an experience. It's all part of living life. If it doesn't give me fodder for my work, it gives me the financial backing to accomplish that, so all is not wasted on this beautiful mind.
While writing this post, I was interrupted twice (while struggling to remain in the dreaded "zone"...the number of quotes in this post is enough to cripple it!): once to give my sister-Of-The-Chocolate-Craving, a slice of After Eight and the second to whittle around to monitor where my niece aka little monkey/cat/various other nimble animals, was. As I sit here, trying to put into words exactly what is going on in my brain today, I thread my way between two different thought processes: the first being that this gives me another reason on why I wouldn't like to have kids too early, and the second being about why "the age" matters so much in the world. It's not just limited to a society or a culture, but to the global landscape at large. When is the right "age" to get married? When is the right "age" to have kids? When is the right "age" to end the path to self discovery? Does it even matter at the end of it, if we're not happy or must we put a number on that too?
December 20, 2008
Day Four: The Baraat
And the world laughed with her that day. Laughed, cried, wept, danced in jubilation and wiped its tears with a mixture of sorrow and masked glee. For there could be no other like her and there never would be. Writers lay down their pens. For there would be no words today.
December 19, 2008
Day Three: The Gene Pool
Not much time for this post, but no writing today either although I did make a batch of chocolate chip cookies, on which I am presently munching.
In other news, and to the title of this post, I realized how truly similar my mother and I are with the same things about my dad annoying both of us and our styles of...err...house management agreeing with one another. What can I say? I'm missing my mother.
And now, bopping my head to Coldplay's latest album (Viva La Vida) and crossing my fingers that the Brach's Cinnamon Candy does indeed arrive on December 26, five days before my mother's scheduled departure, I take my leave.
Day Three was an apparent success although the mehndi I attended fell prey to rain, and so although it was a covered tent, there were buckets and puddles. One for the ages! :)
In other news, and to the title of this post, I realized how truly similar my mother and I are with the same things about my dad annoying both of us and our styles of...err...house management agreeing with one another. What can I say? I'm missing my mother.
And now, bopping my head to Coldplay's latest album (Viva La Vida) and crossing my fingers that the Brach's Cinnamon Candy does indeed arrive on December 26, five days before my mother's scheduled departure, I take my leave.
Day Three was an apparent success although the mehndi I attended fell prey to rain, and so although it was a covered tent, there were buckets and puddles. One for the ages! :)
December 18, 2008
Day Two: Delectable Delicacies
Today, my sister and I went candy shopping on Amazon, trying to hunt for the elusive Brach's candy of our childhood. Alas, after massive searching on the online superstore and Google, we decided that it was probably no longer on the market. Tragedy. However, the cinammon disks are very much still available, and very much still a part of my list of things to have from the land across the ocean. That and Country Time lemalade (as my nephew once pronounced it).
During a discussion with my sister earlier today, I realized that I too had been a prey of past misconceptions that I once accused my childhood friends of. So that was the great discovery of today. In other news, I ejected a spew of simmering ventage that, if I'm honest, was building for the last year. Though I won't go as far as to say I've cut any bonds here, I will say that I'm tired of defending myself and thinking that everytime somebody does something truly bitchy, I may have deserved it. Nobody is entirely bereft of blame, and I'm tired of taking everyone else's.
Having paid off the first month's credit card bill and having the luxury of being an account holder, it all took a matter of minutes and it was done. Anyway, having paid it has taken a monstrous load off my mind, although having made the habit of calling in and checking my balance, it's generally allowed me to keep any spending urges in check. That, and my intentional low spending limit. It's just better that way, I suppose. No surprises when the statement comes around. I'm hoping SCB gives me back the held sum that I reported a few posts back (I got a letter from them, reading "Mr. So & So" and on top of that, it was printed on a page that had something else printed on its other side. Needless to say, this hasn't lifted the bank's rep for me), so I can breathe just a little easier.
My mother, having gone out shopping one day in the blistering cold and snow came down with the same bacterial infection that plagued my oldest sister and nephews, with whom she is now staying. And a fever. So, whatever I want, it would be preferred if they magically appeared on her doorstep rather than stepping out. I'm putting my Amazon Prime membership to good use (having qualified for a free 30 day trial, which I've allowed to renew for $19.99 for the quarter). That, and as a thank you to a friend who agreed to transport the Guitar Hero 3 controller for the XBox 360 and its associated MS Wireless Receiver, I'm sending in a box of Godiva dark chocolates. Memory serves she's a fan of darks, though I personally can't stand the stuff. I'm a purist. Milk chocolate all the way, although, it's true, the darks are chocolate in its most unabased form. Maybe someday. Lately, my current chocolate sabbatical lasted a few good months before I broke today for a Kitkat on the way back from swimming.
Day 2 and I still haven't continuing writing two works in progress in the pipeline. Fortunately, the day isn't over. Unfortunately, I have a Mehndi and a Barat to attend on Friday and Saturday respectively and I can't let the sleeping schedule to fall off course in the interim days.
Tragedy strikes yet again.
During a discussion with my sister earlier today, I realized that I too had been a prey of past misconceptions that I once accused my childhood friends of. So that was the great discovery of today. In other news, I ejected a spew of simmering ventage that, if I'm honest, was building for the last year. Though I won't go as far as to say I've cut any bonds here, I will say that I'm tired of defending myself and thinking that everytime somebody does something truly bitchy, I may have deserved it. Nobody is entirely bereft of blame, and I'm tired of taking everyone else's.
Having paid off the first month's credit card bill and having the luxury of being an account holder, it all took a matter of minutes and it was done. Anyway, having paid it has taken a monstrous load off my mind, although having made the habit of calling in and checking my balance, it's generally allowed me to keep any spending urges in check. That, and my intentional low spending limit. It's just better that way, I suppose. No surprises when the statement comes around. I'm hoping SCB gives me back the held sum that I reported a few posts back (I got a letter from them, reading "Mr. So & So" and on top of that, it was printed on a page that had something else printed on its other side. Needless to say, this hasn't lifted the bank's rep for me), so I can breathe just a little easier.
My mother, having gone out shopping one day in the blistering cold and snow came down with the same bacterial infection that plagued my oldest sister and nephews, with whom she is now staying. And a fever. So, whatever I want, it would be preferred if they magically appeared on her doorstep rather than stepping out. I'm putting my Amazon Prime membership to good use (having qualified for a free 30 day trial, which I've allowed to renew for $19.99 for the quarter). That, and as a thank you to a friend who agreed to transport the Guitar Hero 3 controller for the XBox 360 and its associated MS Wireless Receiver, I'm sending in a box of Godiva dark chocolates. Memory serves she's a fan of darks, though I personally can't stand the stuff. I'm a purist. Milk chocolate all the way, although, it's true, the darks are chocolate in its most unabased form. Maybe someday. Lately, my current chocolate sabbatical lasted a few good months before I broke today for a Kitkat on the way back from swimming.
Day 2 and I still haven't continuing writing two works in progress in the pipeline. Fortunately, the day isn't over. Unfortunately, I have a Mehndi and a Barat to attend on Friday and Saturday respectively and I can't let the sleeping schedule to fall off course in the interim days.
Tragedy strikes yet again.
December 17, 2008
Day One: Spinning the Wheel
Over lunch today with old friends, we discussed just when the right time to reproduce is. One of my oldest friends is getting married, and I asked her what her plans were regarding having kids and she said: "immediately." It surprised me.
My views were direct: not to have kids until I've lived a little. I believe in one thing, and perhaps it's a little idealistic, that if you're going to do something, do it all the way or not at all. I've presented my thoughts on this subject earlier, and said as much. It was received much along the lines I thought it would be: if you wait too long, it might never happen. Honestly? I don't want to have kids because it's the "time" or the "age" or whatever the concept floating around our society is these days. Why? I've been through the pre-, post-labor and upbringing phases of kids and I have an all too clear picture of exactly what's involved and I guess I'd rather enjoy the "honeymoon" phase of any relationship, before jumping in with both feet.
There is a generation gap between my two eldest sisters and the two younger ones, in a family of four and vastly different interpretations of the reproduction cycle, and how it's been dealt with. The differences are glaring; my generation doesn't do well with following norms and why should we?
Unfortunately, this friend o'mine is getting married to a man 10 years her senior, so there's the worry of having too much of an age gap between father and child. Why her life should be disrupted because of this prehistoric thinking, I have no idea. When I elucidated my point of view, her reply was: "it's not always up to you." Well, I don't want to be with someone who isn't openminded and accomodating. The restrictions, adherence to societal norms and rules would be crippling.
What I like best about all of this is that I've done this on my own; these are my own conclusions living here, in Pakistan. So no one can possibly say I've been "westernized" or whatever the label is for independent thinking. My conservative parents raised a neo-conservative and damn proud of it!
I'm the one in the middle, and purrfectly content with that position and all the terms that follow. What is endearing, however, is that my thoughts haven't changed since April when I first wrote that entry. If anything, they've only been renewed and have put me in a position to talk about it more confidently to my family and friends (the blog doesn't count).
So yes, Day One has been a success.
ETA: I feel "Day One" needs to be explained. It's the first day (of fourteen) of my first ever annual leave. I'm thinking eventual boredom will settle in; hence a countdown. :)
My views were direct: not to have kids until I've lived a little. I believe in one thing, and perhaps it's a little idealistic, that if you're going to do something, do it all the way or not at all. I've presented my thoughts on this subject earlier, and said as much. It was received much along the lines I thought it would be: if you wait too long, it might never happen. Honestly? I don't want to have kids because it's the "time" or the "age" or whatever the concept floating around our society is these days. Why? I've been through the pre-, post-labor and upbringing phases of kids and I have an all too clear picture of exactly what's involved and I guess I'd rather enjoy the "honeymoon" phase of any relationship, before jumping in with both feet.
There is a generation gap between my two eldest sisters and the two younger ones, in a family of four and vastly different interpretations of the reproduction cycle, and how it's been dealt with. The differences are glaring; my generation doesn't do well with following norms and why should we?
Unfortunately, this friend o'mine is getting married to a man 10 years her senior, so there's the worry of having too much of an age gap between father and child. Why her life should be disrupted because of this prehistoric thinking, I have no idea. When I elucidated my point of view, her reply was: "it's not always up to you." Well, I don't want to be with someone who isn't openminded and accomodating. The restrictions, adherence to societal norms and rules would be crippling.
What I like best about all of this is that I've done this on my own; these are my own conclusions living here, in Pakistan. So no one can possibly say I've been "westernized" or whatever the label is for independent thinking. My conservative parents raised a neo-conservative and damn proud of it!
I'm the one in the middle, and purrfectly content with that position and all the terms that follow. What is endearing, however, is that my thoughts haven't changed since April when I first wrote that entry. If anything, they've only been renewed and have put me in a position to talk about it more confidently to my family and friends (the blog doesn't count).
So yes, Day One has been a success.
ETA: I feel "Day One" needs to be explained. It's the first day (of fourteen) of my first ever annual leave. I'm thinking eventual boredom will settle in; hence a countdown. :)
December 15, 2008
All the rage
This video seems to be all the rage on YouTube lately, and in the (however slim) chances you may have missed it, here it is below:
Bon Voyage, Bush! Everyone loves you, dontchewknow?
Bon Voyage, Bush! Everyone loves you, dontchewknow?
December 14, 2008
Of Poetry and Prose
I once read a quote about how when writers get tired of writing prose and want to do poetry instead, they capitalize each line and continue writing prose! I always found that description so apt. The exact quote was this, I believe:
"A prose writer gets tired of writing prose, and wants to be a poet. So he begins every line with a capital letter, and keeps on writing prose." - Samuel McChord Crothers.
No idea who the quotee is, but a paraphrase of this has always stuck in my head as the one oddball moment of clarity.
Having finally tracked down Gregory Maguire's Wicked on the insistence of a desi writer, I found it lingering on my pet private torrents site, and curse its inavailability in stores locally. I was considering buying it on Amazon and then waiting the three weeks before I could have it in my hands, since my mother heads home on the 31st. But now of course, by the time she comes I'll be done with all three. I never knew the musical was based on a book. So far, it's lived up to the hype. But I only started reading it last night and am only about 1/4th through.
Meanwhile, my annual vacation looms and I find myself getting a little lazy and shirking my responsibilities as Sales Manager, which I really shouldn't especially since I'll be MIA for 2 weeks. Before I leave, I should at least leave things in a more promising light than they are now. Sigh. All that work done earlier, all seems to have gone to waste, or at least that's what it feels like having read the emails of the bossman.
Who wants to be a professional? :)
"A prose writer gets tired of writing prose, and wants to be a poet. So he begins every line with a capital letter, and keeps on writing prose." - Samuel McChord Crothers.
No idea who the quotee is, but a paraphrase of this has always stuck in my head as the one oddball moment of clarity.
Having finally tracked down Gregory Maguire's Wicked on the insistence of a desi writer, I found it lingering on my pet private torrents site, and curse its inavailability in stores locally. I was considering buying it on Amazon and then waiting the three weeks before I could have it in my hands, since my mother heads home on the 31st. But now of course, by the time she comes I'll be done with all three. I never knew the musical was based on a book. So far, it's lived up to the hype. But I only started reading it last night and am only about 1/4th through.
Meanwhile, my annual vacation looms and I find myself getting a little lazy and shirking my responsibilities as Sales Manager, which I really shouldn't especially since I'll be MIA for 2 weeks. Before I leave, I should at least leave things in a more promising light than they are now. Sigh. All that work done earlier, all seems to have gone to waste, or at least that's what it feels like having read the emails of the bossman.
Who wants to be a professional? :)
December 11, 2008
News from the World
Having subscribed to the New York Times headlines delivered to my inbox, I remain a little more updated to the news concerning this country of mine, although I confess to being a little more involved with the workings of the world in general, more specifically the place where two of my sisters have made their home: the United States.
You see, my sister used to work for one of the falling Big Three auto manufacturers, before she jumped ship with excellent foresight. The bailout is now hinging on separate and competing bills put forward by Congress and the Senate, because they couldn't settle on the wording. Yes, Detroit's economy hangs in the balance because politicians can't get the words right. Has to suck. Of course, the real reason for the deadlock is the Republican opposition to the bailout, who feel that the companies shouold be allowed to fail to make them fundamentally sound again. Or, that a bill should incorporate a better structure to help them be fundamentally sound, which is something I surprisingly agree with.
As President-elect, Obama's decisions have already been put into question by the far left of the Democratic party, with the liberals fearing that most of his team isn't liberal enough and that he's maintained a few of Bush's cabinet. For instance, the defense secretary's the same which is a decision I'm not so sure how I feel about. But then, putting question to a president's decisions is the job of the media, so let's see how it pans out for us (and by "us", I mean the land of the Pure, naturally). And just when things were looking up for the liberals, Blagojevich happened. The man's on trial for corruption charges. Apparently, the Illinois Governor was looking to sell Obama's senate seat to the highest bidder. Yeah. Has to suck.
Meanwhile, Bush while addressing a military academy ("Long live the Bush Doctrine"! *hack**cough**etc*), the soon to be former President warned Pakistan that he would do whatever it took to get revenge on the hapless killing of American civillians. He was, of course, referring to the bombings in Mumbai. Does anyone else think Osama bin Laden is the equivalent of Goldstein in Orwell's 1984? There must be a consistent enemy to stomp on, to maintain the idea of chaos and hence order in the world that America views as its very own stomping ground. I don't know. I can't help but think they're the O'Brian in the equation, instead of the Big Brother they would like to be. I always thought 1984 was both a prophesy and a warning of things to come, when I first read it close to a decade ago.
But then Orwell is one of my literary gods as can be seen in the set of links to the left...or is it right? I've changed my template way too many times to remember.
Meanwhile, I'm catching up on my reading with childhood favorite Roald Dahl; having graduated from his collective "Ghost Stories", to the collected short stories of the author. Side by side, I have the collected works of Saadat Hassan Manto and William Woodruff's A Concise History of the Modern World, a book I owe to my brother-in-law.
What started as a slow day at work has steadily picked up pace. Yay!
You see, my sister used to work for one of the falling Big Three auto manufacturers, before she jumped ship with excellent foresight. The bailout is now hinging on separate and competing bills put forward by Congress and the Senate, because they couldn't settle on the wording. Yes, Detroit's economy hangs in the balance because politicians can't get the words right. Has to suck. Of course, the real reason for the deadlock is the Republican opposition to the bailout, who feel that the companies shouold be allowed to fail to make them fundamentally sound again. Or, that a bill should incorporate a better structure to help them be fundamentally sound, which is something I surprisingly agree with.
As President-elect, Obama's decisions have already been put into question by the far left of the Democratic party, with the liberals fearing that most of his team isn't liberal enough and that he's maintained a few of Bush's cabinet. For instance, the defense secretary's the same which is a decision I'm not so sure how I feel about. But then, putting question to a president's decisions is the job of the media, so let's see how it pans out for us (and by "us", I mean the land of the Pure, naturally). And just when things were looking up for the liberals, Blagojevich happened. The man's on trial for corruption charges. Apparently, the Illinois Governor was looking to sell Obama's senate seat to the highest bidder. Yeah. Has to suck.
Meanwhile, Bush while addressing a military academy ("Long live the Bush Doctrine"! *hack**cough**etc*), the soon to be former President warned Pakistan that he would do whatever it took to get revenge on the hapless killing of American civillians. He was, of course, referring to the bombings in Mumbai. Does anyone else think Osama bin Laden is the equivalent of Goldstein in Orwell's 1984? There must be a consistent enemy to stomp on, to maintain the idea of chaos and hence order in the world that America views as its very own stomping ground. I don't know. I can't help but think they're the O'Brian in the equation, instead of the Big Brother they would like to be. I always thought 1984 was both a prophesy and a warning of things to come, when I first read it close to a decade ago.
But then Orwell is one of my literary gods as can be seen in the set of links to the left...or is it right? I've changed my template way too many times to remember.
Meanwhile, I'm catching up on my reading with childhood favorite Roald Dahl; having graduated from his collective "Ghost Stories", to the collected short stories of the author. Side by side, I have the collected works of Saadat Hassan Manto and William Woodruff's A Concise History of the Modern World, a book I owe to my brother-in-law.
What started as a slow day at work has steadily picked up pace. Yay!
December 09, 2008
Of Drama Queens
I had the strangest dream last night. I was at a celebratory parade for Obama and for reasons unknown, was the delegated singer ("Queen of the Night", no less) and for greater reasons unknown, was on stilts the whole time and pretty damn good on 'em too. Finally, had to come back to earth. Weird.
As a writer, aside from being a classic narcissist I also own to being a little bit of a drama queen. I mean, I write a running biography of myself in my head and have done so for as long as I remember and the journal that wreaks of belonging to a writer, was initially written at the tender age of 16, for the sake of progeny. Because I would have such beautiful thoughts. Vain, much? LOL! But moving on, a few years ago when we were having domestic trouble, my mother had to do all the work in the kitchen with no help from the kids, thankewverymuch! So one night, I cleaned the entire kitchen, swept the floors, set the table and on her placemat (after much toil, read: hit and misses), left a computerized note. "With Best Compliments from..." I wanted her to feel pampered and at a hotel, apparently. I've sobered down since then, thankfully and am now at the point where I know it's a tad dramatic. The best thing is I can identify what I'm feeling on most days and deal with it appropriately.
In other news, the local stores don't have any of the recent music offerings and I had to download Coldplay's Viva la Vida, Morissette's Flavors of Entanglement and Keane's Perfect Symmetry (admittedly the most difficult to get used to. I fell in love with Keane of "Bedshaped"). God bless Demonoid (private torrents site. Although I should thank the desi writer who sent me an invitation and thus made the journey to the dark side COMplete). When I say "local stores", I mean the usual suspects. Didn't check out Spiral of F11 fame. They always have the latest stuff.
And now, because it's a holiday and I'm free till Thursday morning when it's back to work, I'm going to rest my oh-so tired bones and watch Chuck. I have an excuse though: we used to have cable, had it disconnected because the quality sucked, applied for PTCL's IP-TV a while back, but haven't heard from them in a while so the end result is: no other forms of entertainment.
I've said this before and I'm gonna say it again: God bless the Internet!
As a writer, aside from being a classic narcissist I also own to being a little bit of a drama queen. I mean, I write a running biography of myself in my head and have done so for as long as I remember and the journal that wreaks of belonging to a writer, was initially written at the tender age of 16, for the sake of progeny. Because I would have such beautiful thoughts. Vain, much? LOL! But moving on, a few years ago when we were having domestic trouble, my mother had to do all the work in the kitchen with no help from the kids, thankewverymuch! So one night, I cleaned the entire kitchen, swept the floors, set the table and on her placemat (after much toil, read: hit and misses), left a computerized note. "With Best Compliments from..." I wanted her to feel pampered and at a hotel, apparently. I've sobered down since then, thankfully and am now at the point where I know it's a tad dramatic. The best thing is I can identify what I'm feeling on most days and deal with it appropriately.
In other news, the local stores don't have any of the recent music offerings and I had to download Coldplay's Viva la Vida, Morissette's Flavors of Entanglement and Keane's Perfect Symmetry (admittedly the most difficult to get used to. I fell in love with Keane of "Bedshaped"). God bless Demonoid (private torrents site. Although I should thank the desi writer who sent me an invitation and thus made the journey to the dark side COMplete). When I say "local stores", I mean the usual suspects. Didn't check out Spiral of F11 fame. They always have the latest stuff.
And now, because it's a holiday and I'm free till Thursday morning when it's back to work, I'm going to rest my oh-so tired bones and watch Chuck. I have an excuse though: we used to have cable, had it disconnected because the quality sucked, applied for PTCL's IP-TV a while back, but haven't heard from them in a while so the end result is: no other forms of entertainment.
I've said this before and I'm gonna say it again: God bless the Internet!
December 04, 2008
The Salesman
For a new salesman, I'm a classic underseller. Of myself. I have no idea why, but I do that a lot. My bosses believe more in me than I do. Writing wise, it's different...and it's taken me a while to get back to a level where I can be reasonably confident in the stuff I choose to write, allowing me to branch into different moral directions. In any case, apparently I'll have to start taking German courses soon. A little daunting, setting out to learn one of the more notoriously difficult languages to learn.
Given it was probably the song (The Verve's Bittersweet Symphony), but I just realized the true insignificance of this life. It hits me time and again before I pick up and continue living it. One of my more recent and prevalent thought processes has become: what if I'm merely in love with love? What if I'm simply not cut out for the act of making house, making do with all you've got, what if it's just better if I'm not attached at the hip to anyone? It's not the brightest of thoughts but it's something that's been on my mind lately. Another thing I've been thinking about are God's signs...whether they actually exist, that is. The exact thought was this: "Are they signs from God or do we simply choose to see what we want to see, making our destinies not divine but simply a happy coincidence?" And yes, that was a thought that crossed my mind while I was in motion. There's something about moving forward continuously that sends my mind in a constant thought spiral.
Talking about being in motion, I have this perpetual fear especially in these times that someone will succumb to road rage or take some slight against me and decide to follow me, and no matter how hard I might try to shake them, it won't make a difference. Odd then, with fears like these that I continue to drive alone. You would think it would sway me, but nope. Damn, I wanted to pick up a cupcake from Kitchen Cuisine, but it's entirely pointless...KC is nothing but an overcharged bakery with undersized goods. Better I just make my own and special brand of, chocolate chip cookies.
This post has taken the most of my working day to complete; I started this at about 10.30 am and it's 6.48 pm now. Of course, this is going to show up as the earlier time which sucks, but that's the way Blogger works apparently!
Note: I had to paste this post from the foresight of copying it earlier when the connection to the site was down, and I had to shut Firefox down, so the time's going to be a little different than what's been originally written.
Given it was probably the song (The Verve's Bittersweet Symphony), but I just realized the true insignificance of this life. It hits me time and again before I pick up and continue living it. One of my more recent and prevalent thought processes has become: what if I'm merely in love with love? What if I'm simply not cut out for the act of making house, making do with all you've got, what if it's just better if I'm not attached at the hip to anyone? It's not the brightest of thoughts but it's something that's been on my mind lately. Another thing I've been thinking about are God's signs...whether they actually exist, that is. The exact thought was this: "Are they signs from God or do we simply choose to see what we want to see, making our destinies not divine but simply a happy coincidence?" And yes, that was a thought that crossed my mind while I was in motion. There's something about moving forward continuously that sends my mind in a constant thought spiral.
Talking about being in motion, I have this perpetual fear especially in these times that someone will succumb to road rage or take some slight against me and decide to follow me, and no matter how hard I might try to shake them, it won't make a difference. Odd then, with fears like these that I continue to drive alone. You would think it would sway me, but nope. Damn, I wanted to pick up a cupcake from Kitchen Cuisine, but it's entirely pointless...KC is nothing but an overcharged bakery with undersized goods. Better I just make my own and special brand of, chocolate chip cookies.
This post has taken the most of my working day to complete; I started this at about 10.30 am and it's 6.48 pm now. Of course, this is going to show up as the earlier time which sucks, but that's the way Blogger works apparently!
Note: I had to paste this post from the foresight of copying it earlier when the connection to the site was down, and I had to shut Firefox down, so the time's going to be a little different than what's been originally written.
December 02, 2008
Down the Rabbit Hole
When I get lost in a stream of thought, I like to retrace my steps and see where it all originated from. The root, so to speak and the entire process of how I got to my present thought, what the interconnections and dots were along the way that I've managed to color in. I find it eternally fascinating. Conversations aren't as fascinating as an internal monologue is, to see where things started from and what they sprouted.
But opening paragraphs aside, I saw the Twilight movie (I'd never heard of the books before, but I have a soft spot for vampiric tales ever since reading Bram Stoker's Dracula...among my favorite classics of all time. That, and I'm a Kristen Stewart fan...she's good) and can say this much: if that was the movie, I'd shudder to think what the book was about. Now the Harry Potter films, which apparently is the same audience this production team was going for is all about something other than supposed doomed love. It's about the bigger picture and that's something you need if you're going to go ahead and write a series of books. Hell! Dracula was about a bigger picture. I have no patience with love stories that are solely love stories...okay, so here's a guy and a girl, they like each other, they fall in love...then what? One dies, or the other lives, they fall out of love, yada yada, *yawn*. Give me something I can actually chew on aside from the fluff that cotton candy brings. Please, I'm begging you here! This film could launch Stewart and Pattinson's careers profusely, admitted, but I really think she could've done so much better. That and if she's not too careful, she like Ellen Page, is going to compartmentalize herself into just one kind of role. Break out of it, already!
BBC One's Merlin is, despite the cheesy special effects, one of the more brilliantly casted and acted fantasy series. I've been following Raimi's Legend of the Seeker and though its effects are a lot better than Merlin's, I have some problems with the actors especially the guests. Bridget Regan is fine as is the guy who plays Zed, but Craig Horner slips into his native Australian accent once in a while which is jarring...though, why they couldn't have left him in his native accent is strange especially since they've got varying accents in the show. It's fantasy, fercryinoutloud! They can have all the accents they want! No? Lord of the Rings stuck to the English/British accent, which was fine because it was pretty much uniform but then Peter Jackson is a god, so maybe...yeah.
I've put much of the series I initially started watching on hold; Fringe, Prison Break, The Sarah Connor Chronicles, 90210, Priviliged, Smallville (admitted, I'd like to watch the supposed last season of this show), The Big Bang Theory, Samantha Who, and a bunch of other shows I'm missing out on. All I've got on my plate now is the standard set I started out with: House (it's been a fixture for a while), Chuck, Gossip Girl and Friday Night Lights. These are the shows I'd follow everywhere...although admittedly, I haven't really been caring about GG much anymore lately. I watch it out of habit; something should happen to really spark my attention again or maybe it's the realization that Veronica Mars was pushed over for GG that's beginning to grate now more than ever, a few months too late but hey! Better late than never, yes?
Thanks to my two week business trip to Lahore, I missed out on of my oldest and closest friend's 25th birthday; the same friend whose heart was broken a few posts down. Note: her heart's still broken. So, much to catch up on. I've applied and have received my annual leave from December 17-31 which is great since we're planning on having our first transcontinental meeting up at the Lounge. Thank God for the Internet!
Working for family isn't always the easiest thing especially since they have an overwhelming amount of faith and trust in your abilities and you have the equally overwhelming need not to disappoint them. When I join my sister in Germany, I've been promised that I may get to tag along to meet clients! I'm in Sales now too, which means I'm bringing in work which is oh so exciting! Point to note, though: I get no preferential treatment. I haven't received any premature raises or unplanned bonuses; I'll get my raise just like everyone else in January and according to The Powers That Be, I've "earned it". When you don't work for the money, you're obviously looking for job satisfaction and though it's taken a while, I think We've finally arrived.
How deep does the rabbit hole go though?
But opening paragraphs aside, I saw the Twilight movie (I'd never heard of the books before, but I have a soft spot for vampiric tales ever since reading Bram Stoker's Dracula...among my favorite classics of all time. That, and I'm a Kristen Stewart fan...she's good) and can say this much: if that was the movie, I'd shudder to think what the book was about. Now the Harry Potter films, which apparently is the same audience this production team was going for is all about something other than supposed doomed love. It's about the bigger picture and that's something you need if you're going to go ahead and write a series of books. Hell! Dracula was about a bigger picture. I have no patience with love stories that are solely love stories...okay, so here's a guy and a girl, they like each other, they fall in love...then what? One dies, or the other lives, they fall out of love, yada yada, *yawn*. Give me something I can actually chew on aside from the fluff that cotton candy brings. Please, I'm begging you here! This film could launch Stewart and Pattinson's careers profusely, admitted, but I really think she could've done so much better. That and if she's not too careful, she like Ellen Page, is going to compartmentalize herself into just one kind of role. Break out of it, already!
BBC One's Merlin is, despite the cheesy special effects, one of the more brilliantly casted and acted fantasy series. I've been following Raimi's Legend of the Seeker and though its effects are a lot better than Merlin's, I have some problems with the actors especially the guests. Bridget Regan is fine as is the guy who plays Zed, but Craig Horner slips into his native Australian accent once in a while which is jarring...though, why they couldn't have left him in his native accent is strange especially since they've got varying accents in the show. It's fantasy, fercryinoutloud! They can have all the accents they want! No? Lord of the Rings stuck to the English/British accent, which was fine because it was pretty much uniform but then Peter Jackson is a god, so maybe...yeah.
I've put much of the series I initially started watching on hold; Fringe, Prison Break, The Sarah Connor Chronicles, 90210, Priviliged, Smallville (admitted, I'd like to watch the supposed last season of this show), The Big Bang Theory, Samantha Who, and a bunch of other shows I'm missing out on. All I've got on my plate now is the standard set I started out with: House (it's been a fixture for a while), Chuck, Gossip Girl and Friday Night Lights. These are the shows I'd follow everywhere...although admittedly, I haven't really been caring about GG much anymore lately. I watch it out of habit; something should happen to really spark my attention again or maybe it's the realization that Veronica Mars was pushed over for GG that's beginning to grate now more than ever, a few months too late but hey! Better late than never, yes?
Thanks to my two week business trip to Lahore, I missed out on of my oldest and closest friend's 25th birthday; the same friend whose heart was broken a few posts down. Note: her heart's still broken. So, much to catch up on. I've applied and have received my annual leave from December 17-31 which is great since we're planning on having our first transcontinental meeting up at the Lounge. Thank God for the Internet!
Working for family isn't always the easiest thing especially since they have an overwhelming amount of faith and trust in your abilities and you have the equally overwhelming need not to disappoint them. When I join my sister in Germany, I've been promised that I may get to tag along to meet clients! I'm in Sales now too, which means I'm bringing in work which is oh so exciting! Point to note, though: I get no preferential treatment. I haven't received any premature raises or unplanned bonuses; I'll get my raise just like everyone else in January and according to The Powers That Be, I've "earned it". When you don't work for the money, you're obviously looking for job satisfaction and though it's taken a while, I think We've finally arrived.
How deep does the rabbit hole go though?
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