Bleeding Daisy

Happy Obsessions

2011-08-17T20:37:00.002-04:00

I love unhealthy happy obsessions. Recently I've become obsessed with pies. This happy moment began when I indulged in some blueberry pie from Pioneer Pies. If you ever have the unfortunate opportunity of visiting Oklahoma, then I suggest drowning your sorrows in some comfort food from here. I recommend taking the pie, hiding in the safe spot, being armed with a spoon, and digging in.

After consuming enough pies a little wheel turned in my head and I wondered, 'How hard could it be to make heaven on a plate?'. I searched the interwebs long and hard, I oogled at all the recipes on FoodGawker, and drooled all over my keyboard. Finally, I came across this amazing recipe and thought, 'I've found the one!,' and asked the fancy man if he could get a list of ingredients.

By Sunday, I was armed with more blueberries than you can throw at the aggressive geese at our apartment complex. I altered the original recipe because I'm too lazy to follow directions and because the fancy man got the wrong crusts. This meant I had to get creative but you can alter the recipe according to your convenience by use your own pie dish and the fancy rolled up pie crusts.

This recipe will make 2 pies.

Things you may or may not need:

Crust
- 2 sets of frozen pie crusts (Each set contains 2 pie crusts in disposable pie containers)

Glaze
- 1 large egg yolk
- 1/4 tsp cooking oil.

Filling a.k.a. food drug
- 4 pints fresh blueberries
- 1 1/4 cup granulated sugar
- 3/4 cup raw brown sugar
- 1/2 cup instant tapioca
- 3 tbsp cornstarch
- 3 tbsp unsalted butter
- 2 tbsp lemon juice
- 2 tbsp vanilla essence
- 1 tsp ground cinnamon
- 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
- 1/4 tsp salt

What to do with the things you may or may not need?

1. Wash the blueberries, getting rid of unwanted stems and random alien forms getting cozy in your home. Transfer to a GIANT bowl. Resist eating. Stare longingly/lovingly. Resist eating some more.Okay have one.

2. In a separate bowl, mix the sugar (both brown and granulated), tapioca, cornstarch, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Resist the urge to play with the dry mixture (Trust me, it's no fun inhaling cornstarch).

3. Add lemon juice and vanilla essence to the GIANT bowl of blueberries and mix thoroughly. Add the dry mixture to the blueberries.

4. Mix thoroughly and let sit for 20 minutes, stirring a few times in between.

5. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees and place a rack in the center. Take a set of pie crusts and remove from the pie dish. Transfer to lightly floured surface and flatten out dents. Once the blueberry mixture is done resting, transfer to the second set of pie crusts. Cut up pieces of butter and place on top of the blueberry goodness.

6. Take the rolled out crusts and place on top. Fold the edges under the rim of the dish and cut away any extra bits of crust. I reused the extra crust bits to make a braided loop and flower but you are under no obligation to do so. Pinch the edges to seal.

7. In a bowl whisk the egg yolk and oil. Take a brush and glaze the pies with the egg mixture. Stab the pies a few times. Take a step back and admire the piece of art you have just created.

8. Bake the pies for 10 minutes.

9. Remove from oven and turn down the temperature to 320 degrees. Cover both pies loosely with foil and return to oven. Cook for 50 minutes, remove foil, and cook for another 10 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool for 2 hours.

10. Close the blinds, find a safe spot where you will not be disturbed, and dig in. Best ~~served~~ consumed with double cream or ice-cream

Who says you money can't buy you happiness? Money bought me the ingredients for happiness. Fact is blueberry pie makes me very very happy.

So basically:

Money = Blueberry pie

Blueberry pie = Happiness

Therefore:

Money = Happiness

Green Therapy!

2011-08-11T20:55:00.000-04:00

Ever get the feeling, there is far too much paper in your life except, it isn't the green kind? No? Well didn't your mother ever tell you to share? I accept cash and/or checks. Thanks.

Now where was I? Oh right! Too much paper epidemic. So, it's a ~~little~~ well know secret that I have the tendency of being a bit of a nerd. This means, in class I have this uncontrollable urge to jot down every single word uttered by my professors. Generally, one might assume that such dedication should prove quite useful in the long run, however what one may forget is that by the end of semester said dedication leads to an unhealthy stack of notes.

Point is, I might have an ever growing pile of notes that is destined to someday make it to the recycling bins. But since I'm eternally lazy and forgetful, the pile of notes simply sit on my shelf, growing and growing. Some days, when I am wasting away on the couch, I see the pile and I can almost hear them cry. Or maybe that is the neighbor's kid.

Anyway, so I finally decided I wanted to address this pile before next semester, but my lazy behind really didn't want to drive to the recycling bin. So I sat on the floor, holding my notes and pondered. After fidgeting, and arguing with myself over my own laziness, I had a light bulb moment.

*Biology notes = Paper flowers*

Here is what followed:

I'd like the think the pictures are pretty self-explanatory but I know I hate not having instructions so here you are:

1. Find scary stack of papers and separate one from the pack using a pair of scissors as a weapon.

2. Keeping the scissors in sight for intimidation purposes, fold the paper in half.

3. Cut the paper in half and show it whose the boss.

4. Fold each half into half again.

5. Fold both strips into half again.

6. Repeat process to the paper's buddies till you have plenty of strips.

7. Take one strip and fold the corner diagonally.

8. Begin to roll the strip, keeping it a bit tight.

9. Apply a bit of hot glue to the strip as you continue rolling.

10. When you reach the end of the strip, turn it over and hot glue the bejesus out of the base.

11. Take a fresh strip and hot glue it to the rolled mess. Gently fold the strip as you roll.

12. Continue rolling, gently folding, and hot gluing till it looks more like a flower.

Tip: You can add as many strips as you like. There is no such thing as too much when u have a hot glue gun and conviction. You might feel like it looks a bit wonky at first but you'll get a feel for it after awhile.

So there you are, paper flowers from biology notes. Because the world needs more paper flowers. Because it's therapeutic watching my biology notes being recycled into something I actually kind of like.

The End

Post-it + Lack of will to study = Pretty consequences

2011-07-02T15:12:00.002-04:00

Between hours of procrastinating and the rare moments when I manage to inhale oodles of information for my exams, I have moments of utter genius. This to many is heavily debatable, but in my feeble mind I have managed tasks just shy of conquering the world. The said epiphanies are heavily reliant on my need for an excuse to avoid studying.

I happened to have had multiple epiphanies in the last month (possible cause: summer semester consisting of subjects like college algebra and general biology). What started out with twitching, ripping post-its, and drinking caffeine to address my frustration with college algebra resulted in something pretty-ish.

Following is the painful tutorial for the said pretty-swirly-thingy. Excuse the poor quality of the images, I was lazy and the fancy man kept reminding me of the pile of homework that demanded to be addressed.

I used a post-it since it was small and simple. You can use any paper, as long as it's a perfect square, preferably with pretty things on both sides.

Step 1: Find yourself a square piece of paper.

Step 2 : Fold it diagonally.

Step 3: Cut slits about a quarter inch apart, making sure not to cut out the triangles entirely. I cut two triangles but you can cut as many as you want as long as you leave a little tab at the end. (I don't ever measure because I'm special like that, but if you're OCD it's an option, especially if you are working with a large piece of paper)

Step 4: Unfold and observe the pretty cut-outs followed by OOHH's and AHHH's.

Step 5: Connect the inner square with a piece of tape or a bit of glue.

Step 6: Turn over.

Step 7: Stick the next square ends together and turn over.

Step 8: Connect the last square ends.

Step 9: Place on a pretty background and revel in your creation followed by more OOHH's and AHHH's.

You now have your very own pretty-swirly-thingy. You may use glitter paper and wear it as a necklace. Just sayin'. You might start a trend.

Tis the season to be.

2009-12-28T23:13:00.006-05:00

I lay in bed wide awake in the wee hours of the night. You can tell it’s a cold night by the goreish sounds the wind makes. It reminds me of Ramadan in Pakistan. Waking up at sehri as mum screams at me, every sound seems to be hazy. You could hear the Naats on the loudspeakers from each and every mosque within the vicinity. As haunting as that sound is, it manages to comfort me. That's what the wind here sounds like sometimes. Maybe it's my mind playing tricks on me, feeling the need to familiarize it associates any sound with the sounds of home. Yet somehow Pakistan hasn't felt like home in over half a decade. It’s a sad dilemma when you are torn between wanting to be a part of your culture but then realizing how much you resent it in the long run. Logically it feels things are clicking in place but there’s a sadness, a sense of betrayal on my part. Somehow it feels I retaliated all that our kind is suppose to believe in. I've never feared other beings, which is probably why I've managed to survive this long. However I fear what I have the ability of becoming.

There’s something perpetually saddening about the holiday season. Whether it’s our mind registering the fact it’s a symbol for families everywhere uniting or its simply the cold that urges you to huddle together infront of the fire place with the scent of winter spice warming your soul. I never cared for Christmas before London. Five years it would seem can change the way you look at the holiday season altogether. Walking through the streets from Piccadilly Circus to Bond Street, the beautiful display of lights, the hussle busstle of Christmas shoppers as they rush past you unable to walk through the masses, with more bags than their own body mass. The vibe of the holiday season there is something I have never experienced anywhere before. You take a moment to stop and observe in the middle of Oxford Circus and you can feel a wave of warmth within making you smile. Everything about the center from the small cafes to the big chains ooze Christmas spirit. The cold air doesn't seem to bite even if the temperature gauze says otherwise. Happy spent shoppers everywhere. I never realized how much I'd miss that.

Oklahoma is a different story. Its quiet. Too quiet. Some people display an elaborate array of lights and decorations reinforcing and desperately overcompensating the Christmas spirit this town lacks. Apart from that it feels sad and bare. Heartbreakingly sad. I'm not quite sure how I am to get accustomed to this but apparently in time, I will.

Words. A big jumble of words. Word vomit is more like it.

2009-10-03T18:40:00.002-04:00

Have you even come across people from the past and felt like they're in a time warp but you are not even a shadow of the person you were? They talk the same, they stammer on the same words, make the same old jokes, jolt forward in uncontained excitement in the same way, believe in the same old beliefs, even pick on their finger nails in the same way. Sometimes you meet new people and you realize even though you never knew them before, they haven't stepped forward or strived for something bigger or better. They haven't grown.

Changes can be so bizarre. Sometimes its vicious and unplanned, sometimes it’s abrupt yet exciting and sometimes it’s unexpected yet enlightening. I'm a shadow of my past self but then again this was always my potential. Though I've experienced changes in many forms, they usually were circumstantial. Lately, it’s been a change relating to my very being. I have to be honest, I am liking this change. Somehow the awkwardness is gone. When I was still evolving from child to adult child, I was told I liked projects i.e. I like to fix things/people (same difference). I suspect the theory behind it would be; unable to fix self aims to fix others. However recently, I had a suspicious feeling of some truth behind this allegation, so I have consciously steered clear of these so called 'projects'. It would appear I did have a problem.

Strength is a wonderful thing if you are able to discover it within yourself. Of course time and experience are a huge factor. I feel I'm entering a new era in my journey and I am no longer able to use 'I'm naive' as an excuse anymore. I might miss the innocence cloaking the ignorance but being in control is worth it somehow. I don't feel the need to apologize for myself anymore. Today I have chills as I embrace myself. I feel a change and I can't help but question what is this I'm feeling and why. However, at the same time I somewhat understand this is what a new beginning feels like. This time it will be on my terms or nothing else.

“Sometimes the world within parallel minds, cloaked gazes, hushed whispers, an uneasy graze of souls and lingering finger tips, can be just enough to bring you back to life.”

A Love letter for Daisy

2009-08-25T18:37:00.006-04:00

Dear Car A.k.a. Daisy,

We haven't known each other long but over the few months that you've been in my life, it's been magical, sorta. Initially you smothered me with all your affection by refusing to turn on the air conditioning. This wasn't a huge issue as it was spring. Then we took you to the doctor and he worked his magic on you and lo and behold we had cold air. We spent hours driving around town. We went to the movies on countless occasions, we went to get groceries and we even went to university together. We were a family. We were always so connected when we were together.

Then one day you decided you weren't happy with our arrangement and got a fever. I mean the gauge just went nuts. It went from warm to hot and then beyond. I tried to reason with you and tried to talk to into calming down but you refused. Finally, I decided to let you have some time alone, to calm down. The following week I sensed a cold war between us. We barely hung out and our time together seemed quick and somewhat disconnected.

At the end of that week I decided to put our difference aside to spend some quality time with you. Half way through you decided you couldn't take it anymore and your temperature gauge went completely bonkers. I have never seen it go from warm to 'I'm-going-to-erupt-in-flames' hot in such a short time. I stopped and again tried to talk things out. I gave you affection and fondled your bits (even though it really isn't my thing). I made sure you have enough fluids in your system to bring down your fever and gave you some time to breath. Everything seemed to be improving but half a mile later you were back to throwing a hissy fit. At this point I gave up. I needed you to work with me and get me to work but no, you had other ideas. So I got up, made alternated arrangements and left you there. I thought a day away from me would make you appreciate our love.

The next day I came to see you and I even brought company, since my fondling alone wasn't doing the trick. He spent a fair amount of time fooling around with you. I wasn't comfortable but I understand you have needs. After all this inappropriateness, we tried to take you home. Instead you blew out white smoke in our faces. A part of me died at this sight. We were having such a great run but you had to be an old moody lady.

Over the weekend you sat in an estranged parking lot in front of the National Guard Recruiting Office. I hope you enjoyed watching the youth of today sign their lives away. Finally on Monday I had to bring in the big guns and brought my brother to talk some sense into you. He even tried to get you to the doctor but you were back to your old tricks. You let out dodgy smells and more white smoke. Finally we had you towed to the doctors. After my short talk with the nurses, I was informed things were grim. You no longer loved me and it was going to take a lot of money, time and effort to woo you back. Realistically I don't think I can handle such a commitment this early in a relationship. I won't say I won't miss you, but I am coming to terms that you no longer wish to be with me.

I hope you meet someone you can finally love for more than a few months and may you have many adventures with them. Sadly you are now dead to me. This is now the end of our short but wonderful and touching love story. Please know, you will be missed.

Yours truly,
Madiha A.k.a Driver

P.S. If you chose to make this relationship work, I am willing to take you back. Once I meet someone else this grace period is over and there will be no going back.

FarmVille stole my dignity

2009-08-24T02:40:00.010-04:00

Yes I'm a facebook whore but that isn't the sad part. I also happen to be addicted to ‘FarmVille’. For those of you unaware, FarmVille is an application on facebook where you grow fruit and veggies, have farm animals and do other farm related things. As with any gaming application, the programmers strive to improve and make it as addicting as possible. FarmVille is no exception. The graphics are semi decent. There are cute animated animals from bunnies to horses. Then there are a variety of seeds, barns, cottages and even a green house. The game is entirely pointless and your aim is to gain lots of experience points to get to the next level. Each new level bears the temptation of new seeds or buildings or other useless farm type items.

Initially you needed X amount of neighbours to expand your farm. This requires you to coax your otherwise normal friends to play Farmville. The more neighbours, the more you can expand your farm and other little perks. This obviously meant I had to convince my friends to play with me. Very soon I had people addicted to the point where they were begging for free gifts.

As with any game, it loses its charm after awhile. Farmville is no different. So they tried adding little extra bits to make it appealing or so they think.

To clarify my point I present to you subject A:

Here you see a brown cow. These can only be adopted once a fellow farmer finds one. Once they are ready to be milked you click on them and the following options appear:

Chocolate milk? Seriously? Ohh so that’s how we get chocolate milk. From adopted brown cows! Mystery solved!

Subject B:

As you can see there now an option to 'Pet' the duck. I mean wow! I can enjoy the experience of petting a virtual duck. Does he poop little gold turds for my special petting treatment? Apparently not. It’s completely pointless but hey.. you get to pet a horse or a cow or a duck. Bet you never thought you could ever experience that huh!

Last but by no means least Subject C:

(This is where Farmville steals my dignity at one point. It reminded me of what I really am. A blue eyed, balding bloke in my skibbies)

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go harvest my crops and pet my horses.

Happy History

2009-08-08T01:06:00.007-04:00

You know when you hear an old familiar tune. Something you use to listen to repeatedly until it became so unbearable even the thought gave you a migraine? Well the Goo Goo Dolls had a song 'Iris'. It was from the OST of City of Angels. I hadn't seen the movie at that time but I saw the video on MTV and I distinctly remember falling in love. I'm pretty sure that had something to do with the constant surge of hormones. We're talking about late 1998. I was a teenager. A raging, hormonal teenager I might add. I was in love with being in love. It was a very unadulterated emotion.

I listen to Pandora at work and was expecting the likes of The Notwist or even The Knife, so I was shocked where I heard the all-too-familiar riff of 'Iris'. It was so unexpected, so wonderfully familiar, so joyous, I was shocked at how shocked at I was. Yes it’s a vicious loop. A thought hit me as I revelled in feeling like a hormonal tween again. If this is how it feels like to reminisce the past, then 10 years from now I will think of today as a distance past. Today we are making history with our actions and favorite songs. How bizarre. I mean it’s not like I wasn't always aware of this but it’s a whole different feeling to understand it in a moment of epiphany. I was enlightening myself with this revelation. A part of me thinks that it could be a by-product of extreme boredom at work but I like to think that the wheels in my head were finally turning or something nice like that.

On a different note, last night I made a montage for my girl friends. These two women are the rocks in my life. When everything falls apart, they are the ones who slap me to my senses. I'll admit I was teary eyed making it, but it made me realize how lucky I truly am. People spend their entire lives and never even come close to the bond us girls have.

I've never done anything like this before so it's rough but it has a lot of heart. This particular song is by Coldplay and it’s called ‘Strawberry Swing’. Doesn’t it make you smile inside?

Time

2009-08-03T00:29:00.010-04:00

I wish my heart was cool,
But I’m still mourning you
I wish my light was golden blue..
As it was.. with you.

I smell the coffee on your breath,
Your lips sore
I can taste her cheap lipstick
Her cigarettes, her gum of death.

Voices inside my head
Sing a familiar tune.
Sitting on a leaf, I drift ahead
The wind now static, I can't follow you.

I can't hear you sing to me.
I know I'm not the only one,
Who believes in your starry eyed dream.
I know now, we were never meant to hold on.

(Please note I am more than aware I'm not a songwriter or a poet)

_______

There are far too many things in life I can't analyze or categorize. Time for instance baffles me. As a little girl, I distinctly remember resenting time for not moving faster. You waited impatiently for school to end. You anticipated the joy of finishing your homework just so you could play undisturbed for a few hours (knowing you’re still going to get a lecture on how you should rather be studying). You waited even more impatiently for summer holidays (which you spent doing illegal amounts of school work). Nothing seemed to come to you when you most wanted it. When you did eventually reach the point you so desperately awaited, you relished every last millisecond of it. It felt as if time came to a screeching halt and you could seize every moment. Now the son-of-a-gun flies like the universe would crumble if it didn't. I can feel it slipping through my fingers as we speak and now I'm nearly 24 with not much to show for it. Oh irony! Thy a cruel mistress.

My brother appeared to have gone nuts and came home yesterday with a truck load of groceries. This morning as I walked in the kitchen, I could smell fresh produce. I stood there motionless for a minute, eyes closed and remembered mom in the kitchen. It always smelt of fresh produce and spices. I could smell her distinct scent and I remember pestering her with pointless questions. In my head I hug her. It makes my heart melt and I feel warm inside. Time. Now it feels like I didn't have enough of it. I miss her. I don't care what she did or how she was, she is still my mother. I can feel in her voice the love and passion. I can sense the sadness. I know she wants to see me. I know she wants to see all three of us. Its times like these I wish I hadn't wasted my life and time. I wish I had gotten over the issues and made something of myself. So instead of her wishing and waiting, I could be taking care of her. It's times like these I know I've failed.

The divorce papers came through in the post on Friday and I couldn’t deal with it. I’ve been through this before. I’ve signed the dotted line before and spent a week moping it before. Yet it didn’t stop it from hurting when I got home and saw the envelope and his handwriting with the Royal mail stamp on it. I carefully opened the envelope, placed the papers and the envelope gently on the floor and it’s been there since. Yes I know ignoring the issue is never the solution but I really, really, REALLY like ignoring the issue. So now I have today to review, date and sign them and go to the post office first thing tomorrow and post them. Except I like it sitting on the floor, slowly getting covered in dust, cat fur and other paraphernalia I don’t care for. It’s nicer covered and ignored. To make matters worse, because of this tiny incident I shut out everyone I know and disconnected myself (literally) from the world of support. I needed time to recover. Most of all I needed to be distracted. Today as I discussed with mum about my life, I realized all I needed to do was to call her when things started to appear distorted in the first place. As I hung up, I felt lighter (though it could have something to do with being on the phone for over 3.5 hours).

Overall it feels like a phase, one that I must go through in order to accept change. It’s not simple or easy or even convenient for that matter, but it’s a phase. Apparently, life likes teaching people like me ‘lessons’. I don’t know who this life person is, but one day when we finally confront each other, I’m going to be armed with more ammo than you can throw at Osama in a confined space.

Sometimes I resist
Sometimes I shoot people down
Some days I loathe
Some days I let myself let go..

Sanctuary

2009-07-22T00:50:00.001-04:00

It’s a harsh reality when you become all too aware of how cynical and jaded you have become. I generally prefer responding to such realizations with denial. However, recently I came face to face with a version of myself before the tragedies and winter tears.

She was 22. An angelic entity with so much to see and learn. Her young spirit strong and convicted. Her enthusiasm felt contagious. She seemed grateful for the opportunity. I saw myself in her. Her aura of innocence made her glow. I stood there listening to her and it was painful how much I saw myself in her. In my heart I said a silent prayer, 'Please let her not see what I did, let her not suffer like I did'.

Today as I took a moment to wonder why my heart felt like it had been hit by a demolition ball. I thought of how I missed being that carefree. I missed not knowing the concept of heartbreak. This morning over breakfast, I looked outside my window and remembered my little apartment back in London. I would sit on the floor over my large uncomfortable cushion, savouring the scent of incense. Contemplating about broken glass, which just like our spirit can never be fixed.

Some days feel like a breath of new life. I smile without thinking. I get a nervous pang in my gut and laugh about absolutely nothing. Then there are the 'don't-look-at-me-or-I'll-cry' days. When the past will creep its filthy claws in my eyes and I am forced to observe every last detail of the damage done. Today I wore a ring. It wasn't 'the' ring. It was just a ring. The entire day I felt suffocated looking at it, feeling the cold metal against skin, rubbing my finger tips over the bevelled and embossed edges. The stones felt alive and I felt like my life was being stripped one follicle at a time. I still have the indentation from 5 years of never taking 'the' ring off. A stark reminder of a past, I'd rather much forget.

Omar worries but I asked him I can't not date forever, can I now? Even though most of me wants to run away from the very idea, a small part of me wants to be reminded what it felt like. I made a choice to keep the past under a veil. If asked I will not lie but I'd rather discuss the dry cleaner's taxes instead. Maybe I'm not over it yet. Maybe I'm just falling into old traps. Maybe I need a saviour. Maybe I'm digging a grave for myself. Maybe I miss the way it felt. Maybe I'm indulging in pain.

Like the rest of us I too have a little sanctuary where I hide. Between worlds and hollow walls, I sit quietly and ponder on the intricacies of stardust hearts and melancholy of a past life. Lately this little sanctuary has grown but the space feels anything but empty. The problem lies in when I manage to lock myself out, with the recession, locksmith are just as expensive within the world in my head.

I am

2009-07-15T21:37:00.001-04:00

Every now and then the most unexpected of things can change you the way you feel. Today I was going through some old messages and discovered one from a past 'escapade', someone who was a part of my life during a brief lapse of judgment. I'm not sure why I grew to resent him but his message reminded me why I liked him initially. It was sweet and genuine. Frankly, it is rare to feel that reading a few words. Unfortunately my response sounded like any normal man's worst nightmare, highly clingy.

After every phase in our life, whether it be fate or self induced, we feel the need to do some soul searching. We question our decisions and our very way of life. I realized something disturbing. I no longer know what I want. I no longer understand myself. I contradict myself so much that I'm almost having an identity crisis.

Someone I recently got to know said I knew too much. I'm not sure I understood what that meant but I didn't feel the need to ask for an explanation. I generally feel ignorant so I kind of felt reassured, I'm not so stupid. Each time I move I feel like this is an excuse to start over. Be a new person. Play with personalities and identities. But at the end of the day you can only play a role for so long. The thing about growing up is you aren't scared of that person in the mirror anymore. I think that means you learn to live with yourself and everything that comes with it. I no longer look in the mirror and feel terrified or ugly. I suppose this also means the deepest of cuts can heal leaving embellished little scars. It’s like your soul is a brail map for your blind inner self, leaving a long detailed tale of history.

Today I accept it is beautiful.

Today I am many things. Few good. Some bad. Many questionable.

I am the girl who listens to that sappy song over and over and over and over till it sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

I am the girl who contradicts herself so much she forgets who she is.

I am the girl who drives herself crazy. (image how the rest of the world feels)

I am the girl intimidated by her own shadow but I'll fight you any day.

I am the girl who starts running for no reason and laughs with tears.

I am the girl who takes pictures of herself when she is happy, just so I can remember when I forget.

I am the girl who trips on stage in front of a crowd.

I am the girl who told you so.

I am the girl who worries her neighbours when she sings.

I am the girl who is old fashioned and you would never guess.

I am the girl who will dance with you in the middle of nowhere because it is my favorite song.

I am the girl who has butterflies for no reason.

Chocolate Cake for the lazy

2009-07-14T14:35:00.000-04:00

The best things in life you simply stumble upon.

I came across this recipe on some random site through stumble and the title alone provoked me to cook. Well I wouldn't really call this cooking but for someone like me who can burn water, this is in fact cooking.

Chocolate cake in a mug

Things that you may or may not need

- 4 tbsp Flour
- 4 tbsp Sugar
- 3 tbsp Cocoa
- 1 Egg
- 4 tbsp Milk
- 3 tbsp Oil
- A splash of vanilla extract
- A coffee mug
- A half decent microwave

What do you with the things you may or may not need

- Mix all the dry ingredients together

- Mix in the egg
- Add milk and oil and mix
- Add vanilla extract and mix
- Pour mixture in mug.
- Put mug in microwave.
- Cook on high for 3 minutes.
- Remove from microwave.
- Take a decent portion with spoon.
- Put in mouth.
- Savour, chew, swallow.

Tips:

- Try adding caramel to it for a wonderfully gooey texture.
- When putting mug in microwave, put it on a small plate to avoid any spillages.
- This goes perfect with ice cream.

Its always going to be something

2009-07-05T04:08:00.002-04:00

Really it is. Whether its the job you hate or your love life sucking or your neighbours dog. There will always be something that is going to supposedly stop you from finding bliss. If only I could find a better job, if only Mr. Right would put the seat down, if only it was legal to shoot the rodent and so on.

I can't complain today. I had a wonderful time. Everything from sitting at the back of the truck in the rain to watch the fireworks, to sitting in a friend's girl friends house watching the boys burn the meat on the BBQ, it was simple and perfect.

I think I talk too much. Sometimes I forget to shut up. Till there's that silence when I start to wonder, 'Oh.. I guess I need to catch my breath'. It's a wonder someone didn't shake me, gag me and throw me in the closet. Still, it was a laugh.

This is the first day I didn't think of anything but the moment. I felt free from myself.

I feel motivated. I feel empowered. I feel blissful!

And I wonder

2009-06-21T14:45:00.001-04:00

I'm a fairly cynical person as most 20 somethings with a truck load of baggage are. At 23, I consider myself still young and naive (which reverts immediately to 'wise grandma' the moment I come in contact with the species termed as 'male or man' of similar age group).

Yesterday a regular customer and his friend walked into the store I work at and as always I began an inevitable session of winging and moaning about this wretched city. Here's how the conversation goes:

Customer or Hat Dude: You look dressed up. Got plans for tonight?

Me: Ummm... not sure yet. Planning on ditching them to be honest. I'm not excited about hanging out with a bunch of boys younger than me on my Saturday night. This city sucks.

Hat Dude: Oh man you just need to meet the right people to show you around. This city ain't half as bad.

Me: No seriously, it sucks and I barely know anyone.

Hat Dude: Oh enough with the shenanigans!! How long you been here now?

Me: Umm... around a month and a half or two months... maybe.

Hate Dude's Mate: By now you should have a boyfriend.. or better yet be married.

Me: *GASP* Oh dear lord

Hate Dude's Mate: You are in Oklahoma. That's the way it is over here.

(I forget the rest of the conversation)

I was too busy gagging on the boyfriend/marriage comment. Why is it that in this hilly billy town also known as Oklahoma City, everyone is in a dire need to 'hook up' at an early age. Turns out the hat dude is married too.

While in London I struggled to get a decent bloke to hit on me. Here I get everything from 21 year olds to 50+ asking me out to dinner.

Does the metropolitan lifestyle make men selective or reserved? And does the suburban trucker life style makes men desperate or bold?

Paradise City

2009-06-20T14:12:00.001-04:00

"Take me down to the paradise city
Where grass is green and the girls are pretty
Oh won't you please take me home?"
- Guns N'Roses

Denial can catch you by surprise. Kiran told me it’s never really going to stop hurting. She reminded me of this again last night and me being me, paused and asked her, 'Really? Well that sucks'.

I am the queen of procrastination. No doubt.

Some believe this is a test, others say life is a bitch. Everyone has their own justification to why things go pear shaped. How many times will I be forced to leave home? Each time I build it up brick by brick, something whether you call it fate or destiny or i-don't-give-a-shit-what-you-label-it comes around and kicks me out on the curb. Only this time I did have the means to stay.

I sat all morning reading his email over and over and over. I came home and continued reading it over and over and over again. The pain hit before the realization of why. Suddenly a building came crashing down on me as I understood what this meant. I could have been home. He lied to me again. The irony being in, it ended because he didn't know when to stop lying. But this? He made me leave home. I'm here. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be there.

I want to scream and cry. But nothing happens. Nothing comes out. Nothing happens. I just feel something dies or maybe wilts. People move on and you're left standing alone wondering how am I going to catch up when moving on simply isn't your forté?

Grizzly Bear - Easier

2009-06-17T01:40:00.000-04:00

It’s not so much as relaxing as it is haunting to hear their hollow melody. They appear to be singing the sound track to my life and each echo makes me uneasy. The heart breakingly beautiful vocals makes my soul skip a beat. Clearly, these boys are capable of anything.

The storm cometh

2009-06-08T11:11:00.001-04:00

The gods snicker as they hail their wrath on us mortals. The howling winds tear through and we are made all too aware of how minuscule we really are. Tears of a thousand scorned mothers burst from each cloud. The sheer power is made even more mesmerizing by the hypnotic strobes of lights. Proof the skies have a pulse or maybe even the gods. Mortality is challenged each day yet we forget the value of life itself. People come and go and we have accepted how disposable we really are. It is almost like second nature.

Precisely at this moment does the cruel mistress, nostalgia beckons.

It is nearly 9pm and in the typically humid Karachi August of 2004, 'woh lamhey' played in the background. Jal were the new kids on the block and she was only 18. She was naive. She was the epitome of teen love reigned by hormones and fairytales. She had that virginal innocence which almost surrounded her like an aura. He was young and filled with excitement of a new beginning. Together they exuded emotions powerful enough to knock a city out. She was oblivious to the real world or the future, however cautious as she may have been, she was optimistic. He was carefree and had an untamed spirit. He sat on her red and yellow leather love seat. She gazed into his big brown eyes and felt that nervous gut wrenching feeling mixed with butterflies and a whole lot more. He adored her, but more than that he adored the way it felt to be in love, to have your very own happy ending. They had a soundtrack to their beginning. It was poetic. Every little thing from the holding hands to the loving passionate kisses, made them desperate for more. There was lust but that seemed only a bi-product of their bond. It was new love and they were blinded. Sometimes as she blinked, a moment of clarity would hit her and she sensed something did not feel right. But just as quickly as it would happen, things would revert and she was content with uncertainties clawing within.

Five years later the world had changed axis and they were poles apart. The innocence corrupted and the optimism jaded. Somehow the sun stopped shinning and the night grew darker, the moon only a distant memory. She sat in their apartment months after he moved out, ripping each framed picture with such desperation and conviction. As if somehow her actions could undo the disappointment. Her panic attacks caught her unexpectedly. Each day she would kneel in front of Him, praying with her soul, begging, questioning, in vain. After all her failed attempts to save her marriage, she believed in her head all her debts were paid, that somehow this had settled every loose end. Days and months passed. She moved on. Her resentment grew stronger each day and a part of her morphed into her worst nightmare, her mother. Amidst the crazy continent hopping and new beginnings, she went back to the night they sat in her room. He was on the bright red and yellow love seat. She sat on her bed. Coy and oh-so-innocent, she imagined a life far different. She took a deep breath and she could smell his musky cologne. It filled her nostrils and embedded in her brain. She loved the way it comforted her. His gaze always filled with loving mischief.

She looks away, trying hard not to remember each detail. She shakes herself and tries to focus on the present. She slowly falls asleep. It feels forced. She wakes up every few hours. Finally she awakes early in the morning. Its first light outside and the room is still dark. Her blinds are closed and she hopes viciously they can block out the light for as long as possible. She stares at the white ceiling and as she slowly blinks her eyes all she can remember are his soft lips against hers. It was his morning ritual everyday for 5 years. Right before he would leave the house, he would slowly and gently lean over her, his cold face barely touching hers, he’d whisper in her ear, ‘My love!’, his strong cologne filling her each breath as he would kiss her. It’s a gentle peck as to not wake her. But she was always awake, and she treasured this moment each day. For a moment she can almost smell her cologne, but she pushes that thought as far as she can. She fidgets with the sheets and covers her face. Somehow this way she can drown the memories which seem to be screaming at her. Finally, it comes and she off in a parallel world dreaming of sweet nothings and he is nowhere to be found.

'There is a sadness to the sound of trains. They blaze their horns warning others of their presence. It's almost a cry for help, the single track train chasing the end, wanting more. Every night I hear the haunting sounds and a part of me sheds a tear for them'.

Monotony

2009-05-14T03:03:00.001-04:00

Far from reality, in her head she hears that voice, telling her, 'Remember what we said about sorting your life out? Well this is it'. She had learnt to ignore her own voice as she spoke the words. She bites hard on her lip till she could taste blood. It reminded her of rust. Back in Pakistan everything smelt of rust. It was the humidity which consumed anything metal and left a carcass of shades of brown. She felt her body go rigid. She realized this was a lot bigger than she imagined and this was going to take everything from her. The walls of her room suddenly seemed lifeless. The string of emotions that followed each day was draining her. Today, she could feel the weight of her emotions physically. Sometimes she would sit and remember how her apartment smelt. The coffee brewing in her tiny kitchen, the smell of warm pecans and maple. She loved those lazy weekend mornings. She would be on her own, her music playing in the background. That was her sanctuary. Even as she lived the memory in her head, her chest aches and her lips trembles. It was beyond perfect what she had. Then she would open her eyes. His house was beautiful and airy but it felt like prison to her. Her tiny cramped apartment in the city over the chicken shop with the smell of fried chicken that wafted through her windows each day gave her more comfort than this grand suburban castle. Her head felt heavy and she realized she had forgotten how to laugh. It was simply easier to fake a smile or a laugh and pretend than to let her emotions show. Emotional expression was somehow a childhood game. Now, it meant nothing.

B*ll Sh**

2009-05-09T02:12:00.002-04:00

It seems quiet.

But I’ve come to understand that we're embraced the sounds of humming machinery. Beeps and blips, miniature fans and clicks as silence. The tires rolling on wet concrete. I can almost hear the headlights before I see a faint light against the window. I think that’s what drives me to the edge sometimes not being able to shut everything down and out, not being able to hear myself breath. We slowly morph into mechanical objects. Clock in and out, constantly ticking away, thoughts racing at a millionth of a second, never ending ticking.

'When did we grow up and how do we make it stop'

Every day at some random time I teleport in time and I’m 5 for 20 seconds. Wide eyed I sit next to her and she smiles and I think of nothing. I don’t analyze or assess. I don’t wonder or wish. I think of nothing, yet somehow now I know I could live my entire life in that moment. Knowing my mind has no thoughts but isn’t blank. I am happy but without knowing the concept of happiness. I’m just a being in a moment that’s nothing yet is perfect.

Time brings experience. The thought of the future brings the fear of more time which brings more experiences which makes me think do we ever stop? Are we physically and most importantly mentally ever able to stop? Does the thought process ever stop or do we have to learn to control it?

Silence. It’s a beautiful thing. If u can silence your own thoughts then everything is clear. The war in your head is over.

If we are all energy, atoms vibrating creating energy creating reality then how do u press pause? How do we create a reality with no energy just. . . . s p a c e. . . . When u die the energy is still there. So theoretically u never really die and there is no end, just a loop except you don’t go back to the beginning?

The war within

2009-05-04T16:19:00.001-04:00

Who decides what is wrong or right? Is it our parents who from the day we are born struggle to instil their values and morals on us? Is it the company we surround ourselves with as teenagers? Or is it simply something we learn along the way from people who touch or inspire us in some way?

As a child I never quite grasped the concept of being an individual. I was constantly being thrown into situations and I only reacted the way I was trained to, not able to analyze my actions. This, I would only understand once I was a fully blossomed woman. Family plays a key role in our lives. Whether its genes or plain old fashioned influence, they help shape us to be who we are. My mother is a religious woman but she never imposed extremism on her children. She encouraged us to pray and taught us to be kind and giving to the poor. However, her actions screamed a different lesson. Her heart is kind but her mind is not. It is not a simple task to raise a daughter in a hypocritical Islamic society. Here men are at liberty to do anything and their word is the final. My mother fought hard against such hypocrisy with aggression and without wit.

People come and go in our lives. We are blinded with excitement of a new spell of colours. New perceptions seem to tempt us which we periodically believe is an inspiration. We form unstable foundations and crumble at every turn without grasping the moral of each obstacle. We are ignorant and primitive at best. However, amidst the rat race we hit a wall which at closer inspection unveils a revelation. Each time it varies and the unveiling bears an unnerving divinity of sorts. As we approach a crucial epoch in our personal lives, we take a nervous glance at the foregoing years. This is where I gather my strength and face the demons of my past errors and wonder would they judge with such belligerence.

The strange fact is we all are brain washed. Whether it is by society or by family, it is part of the fabric of life today. Maybe this all part of growing up. They say as you mature, consequences whether good or bad become anti-climactic. The entire spectrums of emotions tend to phase out and fade drastically. We become accepting. Now, the dilemma I face is how do I settle for anything when I only just have begun to understand the concept of opinion and individuality. Should this revelation not empower us as we are exposed to a new light? Or is that considered as extremism? As a Muslim, I often question my fellow brothers and sisters of faith and their loosely defined boundaries. Today, I question my own.

It has begun

2009-05-03T16:18:00.001-04:00

It’s far too late in the night and I can only hear strange bumps and buzzing. Possibly due to the wind or rowdy neighbours. I refrain from the urge to sit and guess. Somewhere in the distance you hear a fox and I can only relate it to a possessed dog. There is a moment of hard hitting reality damaging me for life and as I keep blinking my exhausted eyes I am somewhat aware the image in front will clear up, eventually.

Ironically when you are an adolescent, a parent teaches you to survive with a crucial lesson; 'you must learn to mask the truth'. Somewhere along the way I forgot all about it. I glided past half a decade with no real recollection of who, why or where. Surely I would understand at some point how detrimental this to my very existence. Correct?

Sitting at the table surrounded by random nothings, I pause, take a step back and observe. She sits staring blankly around her. Her hands rubbing her eyes as she squints at the dim overhead light. Her skin covered in goose bumps, she isn't entirely sure whether it’s the cold or exhaustion or something else altogether. Growing up is strange. You forget what it truly feels to be happy or sad. Numb feels familiar.

She feels that all too familiar kick in her gut looking at her clock. It’s still on the old time. She gazes at the seconds hand and wonders why it won't slow down like before. It’s early and she hears the birds chirping in excitement for a new day. She closes her eyes and tries to remember waking up for school as a child and the only birds she could hear were crows. Bizarrely that still soothes her senses. She clicks right back to the present and she knows its time but this time she can't plead for five more minutes. Another reminder she is no more that little girl who would kick and scream to get her way for now no one would listen. She gathers herself and pauses to breathe. It’s a long savouring gasp of air which hurts her chest; she holds it in and tilts her head at the grey sky. Finally a pout and a frown results in her breathing out. It’s loud and she is aware of herself. She steps out of the door in a rush, gathering all that she can messily as if to not remember to forget. She quietly sits in the car and takes one last look. Her eyes hurt taking in the sight, knowing its time. Its rather poetic how the car gently rolls off the slope, letting her absorbs each detail as she aches within.

Silently they flow from her eyes and she is painfully reminded why she fell in love. This saviour was always enough. People were simply sights in a city which needed no enhancement or facades. She begins a daily ritual of a conversation with herself. There is no mirror but she sees herself sitting by her side. Today there were no words. Just silence. Another chapter has ended and another shall begin. She drifts into another persona in the same dimension and continues as she is meant to.