Diary of a Neurotic

Diary of a Neurotic

Is anyone still here?

(5:36 PM) ~`~

Things have changed dramatically, there have been no bouts of sudden sadness or depression, no more cursing the lady luck and to be fair…life is finally happy! This year is turning out to be great in so many ways. The engagement after a four year turbulent and disturbing relationship, a well paid job in one of the world’s biggest multinational, and few but GOOD friends nearby just like cherry on a cake.

(10:13 PM) ~`~

A very happy new year to the few who still come here!

(10:26 PM) ~`~

Blame the disappearance on work, writer’s block or laziness. Every time I opened the website…I thought to myself…when the counter hits 10,000…I’ll write again…I logged on today after two weeks and the count is up to 10,049…people still stumble across this page…some also go through the archives. Thought about killing it too a couple of times…but it was just something that was there…waiting for a day when I’d get the writing itch. The words are creaking and squeaking in my head like a machine long out of use. I wont lie…it feels good to be back

So I guess I owe an update but nothing much has changed…still the impatient, prone to depression, pessimistic fool. Except now…I’m all THAT and a workaholic fool. Obsessed about the promotion cycle in December…lusting after the grand designation…dreaming about calling the shots and running the show. Routine is the new religion…sleep…work…socialize…sleep. Amidst all this a thought or two about tying the knot or rather when exactly will “I do”? But that’s one of those passing feelings I get at the end of a hectic week.

The only thing that’s changed is…I don’t live in the past or the future…it was a writer’s imagination gone wild….and now life is what it is RIGHT NOW.

(4:27 AM) ~`~

Some people you just have to cling on to because they have the power to change your perspectives…some people make up your entire support system…some people make you feel like you can do anything and MORE. Some days it feels like I’m marooned on an island…other days…just feel incomplete.

And every day is filled with black holes where negativity, cynicism, and gloom sink in….everyday I think of him at least thrice…everyday I miss my optimistic force.

Mr. Brown left again…this time unexpectedly.

(5:49 PM) ~`~

In the trial of me vs. my various behaviors….I am charged with habitual, involuntary, almost mechanical need to appear normal than usual. Desperate attempts to be in complete control and on top of things. Guilty of the smile being brighter than usual, walking with the extra bounce and over loading on humor. Trying to forget that there is a wave of nausea, suffocation and anger drowning my sanity. I am also charged with being extremely ungrateful with no right to complain about these familiar feelings that I thought I had triumphed. I’ve been in that place and routine so many times that I could be a tour guide…ladies and gentlemen, this is the phase where you hate everything and everyone…you will now crawl in your shell and fantasize about elaborate suicide plans. I wish I knew if I wanted stability more than the complete range of emotions and melodrama. If only life could be summarized in one simple word….good or bad. I’m too young to be stuck somewhere-in-the-middle, sitting on a fence and whining about it.

(12:53 AM) ~`~

The effect of any unsuspected attack can only be assessed after its occurrence. In the wake of aunty and soon to be engaged cousin…the most destroyed casualties were my parents. Mother dearest has lost all interest in life and now haunts the house like a lost ghost moaning what will become of my daughter…the mere mention of marriage sends her into a strange rosary clicking…prayer reciting…panic frenzy. My current resume is completely unacceptable as it lacks all the good paki marriage-able girl qualities and I am constantly threatened into doing something about it. My usually rational father has also been convinced of this state of emergency which needs immediate attention.

So…a trip has been planned…

To the holy land…

Where ALL prayers are answered…

The image of my mother beating her chest...clinging to the walls of the house of God and pleading for a suitor as if he will fall out of the sky amuses me more than the idea of me being a witness to this embarrassing event...which means...yes...I will be dragged along....me with my shaky belief and disinterest. Now I need a date for the wedding AND the Holy Trip! (I am so going to burn in hell!)

(6:03 PM) ~`~

From time to time a day in your life will come when getting out of bed will be the hardest thing that you’ve ever done. The decision to leave your fetal position, the sheets and pillows are too much of a sacrifice and parting with them would mean you step into the much dreaded activities of the day. The dull, heavy thumping of your feet beating rhythmically with your heart that chokes your breath. Why couldn’t your bathroom door be a voluntary exit out of this world? But such is life…with high and low tides, little time and fewer choices. Too much stress will do this to you…so will procrastination. Bring everything crashing down …create a big ugly mess and leave you disoriented. For manic depressives like me…negative emotions always accompany their family members...misery, apathy and loneliness.

(12:29 AM) ~`~

The smugness was inconceivable, the way the big eyes peered at me; the upturned corners of her haughty smile matched the head covered with a scarf. If I would have stared long enough there would have been a golden halo and a harp. The epitome of a pure, virgin, Paki girl waiting to be touched for the very first time on her wedding night. Meet my cousin to be married this summer…who has never done any WRONG…who satisfied teenage desires with chocolate cake and Hawaiian pizza…the one who was close to me until she joined the Taliban and declared everything good in this world HARAM because it’s Jewish. It was hard to fathom and digest the ceremony to be taking place in a mosque and no singing/dancing/having fun…boringly typical, depressed, arranged wedding…but I was happy…because she was happy…

Until…

The angel grew fangs and pushed me into a boxing ring where she upheld the righteous, moral, ethical and religious values and I was…mildly put…B.A.D. Buzzing with energy from her new found spiritualism, successful weight loss and Osama Jr. husband-to-be she kicked, punched and clawed at me, my life and the choices I have made. I never knew I was the enemy…so she belittled my haphazard, unplanned, and notoriously unconventional life. I didn’t even have time to react, withdraw or defend…the match was meticulously calculated….the bets favoring the virtuous and I was the ugly, evil and sinful villain.

So….who wants to be my date for the wedding from hell this summer?

(2:53 AM) ~`~

I’ve been meaning to update my so called passion and ventilation but unfortunately or rather fortunately life has taken a surprising smooth road….just like a starched, neat, stiff shirt. It gets crumpled and stained from time to time but nothing that can’t be managed or fixed. At night when I lie on my bed and tally the scorecard of events, happenings and the general well being of my emotional state…it balances perfectly …no unresolved and annoying issues carried forward to the next day…oh my god!!!

Is this really MY life?

Have I grown old….or just wiser?

Is this what they call stable or boring?

And when it gets too tangled up….I end the dilemma by asking…is it good or bad?

I know what you’re thinking….so what’s the predicament? When does she start bitching and whining? And that is precisely the problem…I am at a loss for words or rather unable to complain and obsess about LIFE! This is so NOT me!

Ladies and gentlemen...maybe the life of the NEUROTIC has come to its end!

(5:19 PM) ~`~

Look what SIBZ gave to Mona!!!! Just because Im sick (as in UNWELL), extremly hilarious and an AMAZING person! Thank you so much darling!!!

If you were a guy I would go out with you!!:)

(5:41 PM) ~`~

Life has become like a distasteful piece of gum….that neither breaks down nor dissolves. There are neither any extremes to complain about nor anything interesting worth sharing. I’m struck by the complacent disease which has made me more confused, demotivated and lazy. I miss my drive, passion and that crazy oomph that made life so much more exciting.

(6:05 PM) ~`~

Like two popsicles in a freezer... foggy clouds surrounding them... they sat side by side in the same car as the world around them continued its clitter clatter…life went on…thrived…outside. The whizzing and honking of cars the only verification of the existence of life…inside... the calmness and serenity endowed to graves. A couple of more minutes and it would be exactly half an hour since the last attempt was made to break the silence. The crackling of the nerves sending messeges back and forth was unmistakable just as there was surity that resolutions and decisions were being made in secret. Too old and stubborn to change…too tired and exhausted to rectify the cause and effects. An assumed contest to hold out the voices for as long as possible. Two artists laboring on the same work of art....but with different objectives.

(1:35 AM) ~`~

No more late lazy mornings stretching in bed and playing with the dog… goodbye to countless hours spent watching movies, reading and hanging out with friends. O woe is me…the routine kicked in high gear right from the word GO! I am perpetually exhausted, stressed out and sleep deprived. I am on board a fast moving train and all my senses are lagging as I try to comprehend the images around me. I try to do too many things at one time…I catch sleep in the weirdest places and oddest hours…I am constantly making THINGS TO DO lists to organize and manage my life and do a little dance when I cross the things I’ve done. My social life is no more (may its soul rest in peace)…my friends probably think I derive satisfaction from SOUNDING busy. Everyone keeps complaining except ME…I keep my chin up…curse creatively in the morning and double up on nicotine!!!

(4:27 PM) ~`~

My first short story!

She had been looking forward to this dinner for weeks. It wasn’t everyday that she could escape the in-laws and have a single meal or a day alone with him. She had instantly perked up at the idea when her husband suggested a fancy dinner date…at a restaurant she couldn’t pronounce. ‘Husband’….she repeated the words to herself…even in the privacy of her mind she could feel herself blush with embarrassment…as if the objects in her room would pinch and nudge her teasingly like her friends did when she got engaged. After careful thought she had picked out an olive green outfit…her sister-in-law had once mentioned that it was his favorite color. She wondered if she had over done herself with the green shoes, green purse and the heavy emerald set that her mother-in-law gave her on her wedding. She ran the brush through her hair one last time and glanced at her watch…still half an hour to spare…she walked towards the garden feeling like mother nature…blending in with her very green surroundings.

She liked watching him drive…even though he was almost an hour late…she didn’t complain…he worked long hours and it was nice of him to take her out. Besides…she didn’t want to spoil the mood or ruin her first outing alone. The radio drowned out all her efforts to make conversation…perhaps he was feeling guilty and was thinking how to make up for it. The restaurant was elegant but daunting at first…she had never seen anything like it…she wanted to point and gasp but his self-assured walk told her that she would only embarrass him. At the table…the candles flickered shyly, cutlery shone with the pride of being freshly polished, starched napkins sat saluting them respectfully. While she stared at him over the top of the folds of the menu...he sat there studying it...with strict concentration….his head bobbed up and down in slow motion and with the slightest flick of his hand he turned the pages. He had missed a pea sized patch on his face while shaving…his lips were curved slightly...he was engrossed…just like when he reads the paper or watches TV. At the sound of his dry cough...a waiter appeared as if the secret signal had been understood. She was thankful for the exchange of words between him and the waiter…this was the first time she had heard his voice since he came to pick her up…smiling in the spotlight of attention and love she nodded to whichever meal he ordered for her….eating wasn’t on her mind. She asked him how his day was…a question she had guessed he liked…because he was always talking about business with his father and anyone willing to listen. His hands and expressions picked up speed as he grew excited like a bird stuck in the branches of a tree…she poured water for him and just for a moment their fingers brushed…she looked up to see if it had any effect on him…but his voice didn’t falter like an orator reeling in the judges in for the first prize of a debate. The middle and the ring finger burned with the first physical encounter in public….she couldn’t help feeling smug and satisfied. Here she was sitting opposite her successful husband who brought her to this fancy restaurant because he loved her so much. A musical tone brought her into the present as she searched for the source of distraction….he picked up his cell phone eagerly and walked towards a quieter corner. For the first time she looked around…she had been so immersed in him that she didn’t notice anything…towards her right sat four business men…outdoing each other with their jokes and accomplishments. On her left sat a huge family…probably celebrating the son’s graduation…and right across from her sat a young couple…feeding each other food with their own spoons oblivious of their surroundings…they smiled, laughed and talked a lot…probably boyfriend and girlfriend. Discreetly she took out her pocket mirror and checked her lipstick and eye makeup…she had tried to be as subtle as possible because he had told her once his distaste for too much makeup.

He came back clumsily.....as the waiter placed the food…she waited expectantly that he would explain the mysterious phone call but he picked up his fork and poked the chicken…to check if it would mind him gorging on her tonight. She chewed slowly and quietly…finally giving up on the desire of a conversation with her husband. How many days, weeks, months and years will they spend in this reverential silence? Two prisoners in a cell… scratching on the walls of their life four straight lines…one diagonal going through them…marking five days. An evening she had prayed would never end…seemed pointless, meaningless and boring. ‘Husband’…Her so called God on this earth…made for her to worship and serve till the day one of them dies was nothing compared to the fantasies fed to her since she was a little girl. Yet she will go through it all just like the generations of women had before her and ones to come later.

(2:47 PM) ~`~

Of recently, I have often been asked why the things I talk about fall into two neat packages labeled ‘love’ and ‘hate’...but no middle path. I find it hard to be indifferent or neutral…how can anyone not be fuelled by passion, excitement, and obsession? Little bits of madness that assure us that we are not dead yet….that there are so many things fascinating….so much to be understood. Right now…I wish I could run around the street, call everyone in the telephone directory, send mass e-mails and tell people that they HAVE to read ‘Maps for Lost Lovers’ because…I’m trembling like an energized battery in an out-of-order machine…I’m incoherent…I’m fascinated once again…

For three days I was living and breathing between the pages of the book and as I dreadingly turned the last page I was disentangled from the story…like a balloon floating away from a child’s grasp. The magnetic powers of the writing transport you inside…so that you feel like the picture frame in the scenes…a mute, undetected and non-living spectator. There were times when I would get so lost and engrossed that the present season, weather, time and place would shock me…I slept with the book under my arm fearing that one of the characters would runaway and leave me confused…I clutched it tightly to my heart to let the unfolding of the tale sink in....I choked on the words, their texture so rich and thick that you have to chew on them like gum and even then swallow as a whole and I cried for all the unfortunate events of the characters….

To reveal one inch of the characters or the story would be betrayal…its not just another account of romance….in fact the consequences that are given birth by love stories…all the reviews I’ve ever read have done nothing but gross injustice…and this one must add to the list too.

(3:24 AM) ~`~

In their happiest moments…her thoughts travel to places they shouldn’t…she chides herself that this must be the most inappropriate time to tread on unreasonable fears…. Yet they yank at the sleeve of her content heart…refusing her to soak in the warm sunshine of bliss. She wonders if he has ever feared the desert the way she does…does it lack all the things that hers does…would he be able to find her there…are moments of joy the desperate mirages of Bedouins?

Desert of loneliness…as soon as they are uttered by her with quivering and breathless lips…the grip loosens on the happy world…this is where her madness wakes up once again…she runs around…trying to get away from the invisible hands that might pick her up and shun her into the wasteland…but she has been spat out more than a dozen times…her loneliness too large to even be contained by the countless grains of sand.

Somewhere from a far…the lyrics fight their way…to be heard…she strains to hear the echoes…and her heart lurches…aches… howls like an animal caged and angry. She cries for all moments of loneliness that she denied and refused to feel…like a hurricane the past envelopes her…flashes of memories like fire flies…and she drinks her tears unwantingly lest they remain in sight as evidence.

Why can’t uninterrupted tears quench the eternal thirst of the blazing, parched, ravenous sands of the Desert of Loneliness?

(Inspired by 5 hours of listening to DASHT-E-TANHAI by Faiz Ahmed Faiz)

"Desert of Loneliness"

In the desert of loneliness, oh life of my world!
Shadows of your voice and mirages of your lips are shivering
In the desert of loneliness, oh life of my world!
Under the dead leaves of your abscence, roses of your presence are blooming

From somewhere very close
The warmth of your breath is rising
Kindling very slowly In its own fragrance.
Far on the horizon
Drop by drop
The shiny dew of your glance is falling.

With so much love and tenderness, Oh life of my world!
Your memory has put its hand
On the face of my heart.
Even though it's still the morning of separation
It seems that the day of loneliness has passed
And the night of reunion has arrived.

(4:29 AM) ~`~

I’m a woman with no worries…at least for the next few days…no more cramming for finals…no reports, presentations, deadlines or assignments. The stress and anxiety was killing me…for almost a month I was an anti-social, pimple sprouting, caffeine addicted, frizzy haired freak!

Every night I would fantasize about the 5 minutes after my last exam and the days ahead when I won’t need alarm clocks, reminders and post-its. The wonderful thoughts of lazy mornings, piles and piles of DVDs and cuddling with my books got me through the panic attacks…I honestly think of my self as a SURVIVOR!

I hate the strain…I really do…but in some perverse, psychotic, self destructive way I accumulate and live for it. Maybe it’s a sense of achievement to push and press yourself until your hanging off the ledge wishing you could just let go and FALL. I should be DE-stressing my chaotic, exhausted, poor system but it just feels too weird, wrong and empty…

What can I say?

I’m a fool…and a fool can make the same mistakes again and again…and a fool can be aware of all his short comings and STILL not change his ways! (You can quote me on that!)

(9:12 PM) ~`~

An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves. (Bill Vaughan)

You can call me weird, strange or retarded…this year…I didn’t send a million new year e-mails or messages…I didn’t party outrageously….I didn’t throw up on anyone. Instead, I had a nice, quiet, sweetest dinner with my special someone; I sang along loudly with Sinatra, watched a Robert Redford classic and after making sure that the old year had left….I slept. I can already tell its going to be a great new year! :)

And dedicated to all of you looking for strangers this year! HAPPY NEW YEAR!

STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT (Frank Sinatra)

Strangers in the night exchanging glances
Wond’ring in the night
What were the chances we’d be sharing love
Before the night was through.

Something in your eyes was so inviting,
Something in you smile was so exciting,
Something in my heart,
Told me I must have you.

Strangers in the night, two lonely people
We were strangers in the night
Up to the moment
When we said our first hello.
Little did we know
Love was just a glance away,
A warm embracing dance away and -

Ever since that night we’ve been together.
Lovers at first sight, in love forever.
It turned out so right,
For strangers in the night.

(3:49 PM) ~`~

It was a day that the cookie crumbled…detached, separated, alone from the familiar, wholesome, round figure and lay in a helpless, pathetic, sad heap of crumbs that could only be brushed away and never returned to the original shape.

Crash And Burn

The world will turn, at least that's what they say
We'll crash and burn, it's hard to look away
That kind of thing is easier to say than do
How about we break with tradition?
We'll pretend we're everything that you believe we're not

But all in all, another fall won't even make a dent

Aimee Mann

(3:52 AM) ~`~

Her tears flowed freely…tracing the laughing lines on her face and fell with tiny splashes on her tightly clasped hands. She cried softly, bitterly, without shame or embarrassment. I watched with utter envy and jealousy as she daintily wiped the corners of eyes…it was beautiful like a painter’s dream or a sculptor’s fantasy. With total ease she slipped into a vulnerable state…that I would have avoided at all cost.

As the storm softened into sniffs…I wondered if it was an appropriate moment to ask her…how she could exhibit I wish/need/want so easily? Did she trust me to rescue her? Or the flood broke and I just happened to be the there?

It was just like any other emotion…totally natural, acceptable and understandable but for me…a flash of weakness…a certain kind of disadvantage…a moment of surrender. And the only witness can be a pen and a paper.

Among the lack of many things maybe there is also a lack of trust, letting go and coincidence.

(10:56 PM) ~`~

The room smells of sickness….the hours seem longer when you’re sick, bed ridden and sleep deprived. I try walking around but my legs are chained by invisible lead blocks. In bed I sit-up, stretch, shift, toss, turn, trying to find the zone where sleep will work its magic. I can’t breathe the nostrils take turns going on strike…one is out of order and the other leaks constantly. I hate the constant foul taste in my mouth…everything I eat is devoid of any flavor, texture or smell. The ears have blocked the exit and my voice seems to be bouncing around in my heavy feverish head. Everything hurts.

Misery loves company and I wish the bed wasn’t so empty. I wish there was something to hold and complain to. I wish someone would sing and read to me.

Someone needs to invent a cure for a common cold and make the medicines taste better.

(8:44 PM) ~`~

Nice guys finish last. If life was a race, contest, sweepstake or a game…it wouldn’t sting or pinch that badly to play by the rules and let all the cheating and deceiving fuckers win all the time.

More often than not nice people are the ones who are dragged on the highway of life…in cars driven by ‘users’, selfish, self absorbed and needy people. Please note carefully that these nice guys are not sitting in the passenger seat or back seats or even in the trunks, they are the tired, selfless, abused bodies tied at the back of the car…dragging over speed bumps, ditches, mud and slime.

They will give and give until they hear the rattling of their own empty heart and still be demanded for MORE…everything’s fair in the name of NICENESS.

If someone were to hand these trailing bodies the option of getting away with the murder of their abductors…they’d think twice…about the merciless drivers…THEIR feelings…THEIR problems…and scold themselves for entertaining such an absurd idea of selfishness. So, if A = B

NICE GUYS = JACKASSES

I’m afraid nice guys are born and nurtured this way and were probably Buddhists in their past lives…a little TOO aware of the feelings of OTHERS and destined to live an extremely unfulfilling, unhappy and exhausting life. Hence, if A = B = C

NICE GUYS = JACKASSES = USELESS MORONS

It’s definitely near to impossible to make anyone happy all the time. But how do you say that’s enough, unfair, unreasonable, unjust?

(9:17 PM) ~`~

Most of us ask for advice when we know the answer but we want a different one. (Ivern Ball)

We are connoisseurs at giving advice…and surprisingly almost rational, logical and unbiased. Outside the boundaries of extreme emotions, haunting memories, unresolved issues and personality traits our advice is as good as being on Dr.Phil or Oprah’s show. But when it comes to the web of our own issues, problems and dilemmas we’re hopeless, helpless and handicapped….the three dreadful H’s.

If all of us can easily detach ourselves from a friend in need of counseling and suggest a logical course of action…why is it so hard to do the same for ourselves?

Will it be utter arrogance to completely and fully trust our own judgment to follow the right path?

Do the answers lie at the resting point of the pendulum which swings from one extreme of my ‘heart desires’ and the ‘mind commands’?

Is the need to seek guidance just a façade…a reassurance of our pre-decided actions?

I looked back at all the life changing decisions that I’ve made and the heart ruled over the mind, logic, reason and rationality, which left the door open for regret and lamenting to waltz right in and dance with all the alternatives I had at that time.

Philosophers say that when faced with a dilemma the best solution will come if you answer 12 questions (for more details mail me) but is it that simple and fool proof? Is there ever such a thing called ‘best decision’?

(7:25 PM) ~`~

I lost my cool...not life threatening or terrible...except I lost it on more than one occasion with more than one person. For me uncomfortable and potentially flammable situations require humor and sarcasm...my life lines...I cant stand silences in conversation, I dont know how to take compliments and most importantly...I prefer to be the PEACEMAKER. It would have been so easy to steer the conversation to the safe grounds of comedy because thats what I usually do... but this day...was obviously different.

A day full of cribbing, picking fights and stubbornness…and I was a teenager all over again. The outcome was 3 dangerous arguments with the 3 most special people...I had to call it time out...handcuff myself to solitude...to reflect on the burnt remains...to wonder what went wrong.

I wish I had snapped out of it because I am also not good at apologies..but more than that I wished that I was given a day off from my ETERNAL duty of being the cheerleader/fire-eating amuser/CLOWN! And instead paid attention to...WARNING: ‘Fragile handle with care’ and put the humor where it belonged.

(10:43 PM) ~`~

This ramzan is so not working out for me…I’ve been through everything…Malaria, dehydration and now food poisoning…but that is not the point of the story…

I think there are some things that your guy should never witness…like unshaved legs…running nose and most importantly….any EX-food material coming out from where it should not…unless of course you’re married!

Until today…I would have been proud to say that I have been successful at maintaining the picture of a perfect girl friend…you know what I’m saying….the illusion that we just ALWAYS look this good even when pressed for time!

I cant delay the bad news any further…yes…I threw up in front of HIM! I threw up A LOT! I’m sure I threw up for an eternity and he probably lost a few hair…grew some grey ones…or probably passed out from the shock and SMELL! Can anyone tell how mortified I am?? Now the next time he sees me….I’ll be the girl friend who threw up in public….that too in HIS car! This should NOT have happened! I need to find the memory eraser’s from The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and DELETE this event FOREVER from mine and HIS memory!

Oh no…that was just a movie!

Somebody kill me please!

(10:50 PM) ~`~

By the River Piedra I sat down and wept.

There is a legend that everything that falls into the waters of this river—leaves, insects, the feathers of birds—is transformed into the rocks that make the riverbed.

If only I could tear out my heart and hurl it into the current, then my pain and longing would be over, and I could finally forget.

By the River Piedra I sat down and wept. The winter air chills the tears on my cheeks, and my tears fall into the cold waters that course past me. Somewhere, this river joins another, then another, until—far from my heart and sight—all of them merge with the sea.

May my tears run just as far, that my love might never know that one day I cried for him. May my tears run just as far, that I might forget the River Piedra, the monastery, the church in the Pyrenees, the mists, and the paths we walked together.

I shall forget the roads, the mountains, and the fields of my dreams—the dreams that will never come true.

I am writing this story on the bank of the River Peidra. My hands are freezing, my legs are numb, and every minute I want to stop.

“Seek to live. Remembrance is for the old”, he said.

Perhaps love makes us old before our time—or young, if youth has passed. But how can I not recall those moments? That is why I write—to try to turn sadness into longing, solitude into remembrance. So that when I finish telling myself the story, I can toss it into the Piedra. That’s what the woman who has given me shelter told me to do. Only then – in the words of one of the saints—will the water extinguish what the flames have written.

All love stories are the same.

(By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept - Paulo Coelho)

(7:07 PM) ~`~

This week the sandman broke up with me and I was left with long nights of lying on my bed staring at my purple walls and counting the cars passing outside my window. He never explained why or what made him leave but his absence made me more irritable and crankier than usual. You never know what you’ve got until it’s lost and like most things I took his nightly visits for granted. Speaking of taking things for granted I owe someone an apology. So here goes:

We were looking forward to Saturday night since the billboards of the play ‘Phantom of the Opera’ decorated all the important parts of the city and you achieved the impossible feat of finding the tickets that were completely sold out. The night before the much looked forward to evening...it rained…and it rained as if the Gods were bent on spoiling our happiness. The clothes I had carefully picked and washed myself lay drenched in the rain; the power went out and a bitter, angry, sour girl stood hand in hand with the after effects of insomnia. I went to the play wearing second choice clothes and impossibly curly hair (thanks to the power failure). When I got there I saw beautiful, perfect, flawless beauties. You couldn’t have guessed that the city had seen one of the worst weather and power faliure. They obviously came from the planet where everything is perfect and the Gods take their time to make sure things always go THEIR way. Every time I looked around I wanted to go on a killing spree, cut off their faces and wear them as masks and start a collection of long- straight haired wigs. I felt small…really small, vain, stupid and envious. I glanced at you many times longing to whisper in your ear how much I hated these sluts strutting their stuff up and down the aisles of the auditorium but the words and thoughts just couldn’t form on my tongue. I knew under non-sleep related circumstances this wouldn’t have bothered me but the more I wanted to ignore it and get on with the evening we WANTED to be perfect the more it got on my nerves until I had transformed into this monster that even I couldn’t bear to be with…let alone imagine some else putting up with. When I saw you looking amazingly gorgeous I wished that you were with some else…anyone better than me…who would enjoy this evening with you like a normal person. I’m sorry I felt bad that you were stuck with an immature, so-called adult and I wanted you to get away from me because you deserve better. I’m sorry I spoilt the night. I’m sorry that I promise myself that life is too short to get worked up over small things and I break it five minutes later. I’m sorry that I say to myself that this is the last time I put him through my crazy mood swings because I later realize how dumb that was and yet it happens again and again.

But even a bad experience if not learned from is a complete waste and I wanted to say thank you for bearing with the worst day of my life which in retrospect does not seem bad at all. Thank you for taking me to the best play ever and enjoying all the things I’m crazy about. Thank you for being the person who’ll share all my joys, excitement, mood swings and all the things that make me. I know I don’t appreciate you as much as I should and after these storms are over I always wonder how long or far will you go to put up with this? Will this tire you out because frankly I’m getting sick of it. Can you love a less than perfect person indefinitely? And as the possible results get scarier my belief that you love me despite my madness becomes stronger. I love you for loving me tirelessly.

P.S. Let me know if my apology is accepted!

(1:42 AM) ~`~

Ever heard people say ‘My blood was boiling and I thought my veins would pop’… ‘I wanted to smash so and so’s head on the asphalt, cut them up in small pieces and feed them to the dogs’… ‘I was so mad that I wish I had a gun’ these are some of the things running through my mind right now. I’m so beyond the stage of anger, rage and fury. I don’t think the reasons are that important or rather in retrospective they would seem funny and childish but I’ve ranted and raved (to anyone who would listen). I’m exhausted but my blood still craves revenge, redemption and retribution. All I want to do is to settle some scores.

People out there please share breathing exercises, relaxing techniques, explosives, machine guns, and contact numbers of assassinators, or anything that might help!

(10:43 PM) ~`~

I swear there is a point to this conversation!

N : I've been reading your posts…looks like yer one optimistic bitch now.

Me : I KNOWWW! I’m a changed woman!

N : What happened? Get some lovin? :)

Me : Lets just say…life has been realllly goood to me!

N: Well I’m very happy for you and your new found happiness!

N : Btw you're exactly like yer posts.

Me : Seriously!?!? Some people sound SO much cooler on their blogs! :p

N : Yeah but that’s cos they write about their social life.

Me : Yeaaaah…I cant write like that even my last post was...very UN-like me!

N : Yer good mona, what’s stoppin you?

Me : I need pain & depression to write! I just don’t sound ME...when I’m happy! I just don’t know what to say!

N : Yea I think after yer "I found my silver lining and its takin up half the cloud" post I think you kinna lost the whining ability…now you have to write happy posts!!

Me: EXACTLY!!! And who wants to read about…‘Oh I’m so happy I could gag on it!’

N : EXACTLY!!! You've lost to the OTHERS babes, but look what you've gained in return!!

Me : NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo!! I KNOW Im better than them!!

N : lol! You are in different ways…but it isn’t a competition monaaaaa its about learning and venting and you’ve vented and you've learnt! So you actually won!!

Me : but I don’t want to stop writing!! Everyone keeps telling me to shut the blog for a while… cuz I’m dry as the deserts!

N : whooooooooo diddddddd??? You don’t have to!

N : I suggest you don’t write just cos you wanna fill space...write when you really FEEL the need to share your feelings!!

Me : hmmmm…but then everyone writes every day…

N : Give it some time, it'll come back to you...writers block and all....

Me : You know...they have something to say...Every fucking day..

N : See yer competing again…

Some people just never learn!

(2:57 AM) ~`~

I am impatient…actually extremely impatient. I want results… signs… progress… instantaneously. ‘Get rich quick’ schemes, ‘Turn your life around’ strategies, exercise machine, diet pill and super cleaning product advertisements are made for people like ME.

It’s been 2 days since I bribed my driver to teach me how to drive. There has been NO progress…the car STILL stalls and jerks when I try to put it in the first gear. I was laughed AND pointed at…at a very busy intersection. My internal dialogue hums the tune “you will neverrrr…no neverrrrrr learn…to driiiive” and I want to kill the people cruising on the roads as if driving is the most natural thing to do. I hate them.

I’ve been torturing myself at the gym for the past 3 days…I look in the mirror and the bulges are there…smiling smugly… ‘We’re not going ANYWHERE darling’ and I’m just left with lots of aches and pains. The television reinforces how amazingly life will treat you if you resemble an anorexic-sucked-in-cheeks-with-a-flat-stomatch-and-unrealistically-straight-haired- FUCKING BITCH! Did I mention…I hate them too!

(1:00 AM) ~`~

Some times...this is exactly how I feel!

(1:14 AM) ~`~

Its been 30 minutes and I still cannot come up with anything profound or interesting to say…I’ve ransacked all the thoughts in my mind…it NEVER takes me this long…maybe someone might have guessed it…I might as well break the news…there will be no more neurotic in this blog…I have finally pushed the clouds of negativity and pessimism that constantly shadowed over my head… actually…I’ve gotten a grip over life. Please don’t fall off your chair…it was bound to happen…Laziness and lack of motivation just kept me procrastinating this for so long. If you ask me the reason…I’m as perplexed as you…but ask me how it feels and I’ll say…peaceful…but if you catch me in one of my philosophical moods…I’d take a long hard look at the sky and say He spoke to me and showed me the light…or I’ll have a far away look and quote a passage from a book or a poem and I’ll let you figure out on your own…or I’ll say…suicidal people are usually the happiest before they are about to take the plunge (its true!).

To think that my hobby, friend or rather savior that I seeked in my dark and depressing days might be left out in the cold…lonely and confused because I cant write in the absence of painful thoughts…is a strange feeling. I’m finding it hard to write even now but the words are flowing because I searched for something that was distressing me or will probably irritate me later. Will the cost of optimism come with the death of my passion? I don’t know…but I do find it hard to describe the taste of happiness in my mouth…the images of solitude in my eyes…the positivity in my memories and my past….

(12:12 AM) ~`~

Dear Readers...yes all 6 of you...please wish my dear bitch a very happy birthday! She turned 26 today...lost her mobile...so Ive only spoken to her online! Lets send all our positive energies her way so she has the best year ever!

(2:50 PM) ~`~

I picked up the phone and a hoarse voice fought its way through the underground wires and cables separating us. Warning bells rang in my ear and my mind rushed to the nearest telephone booth to change into my superwoman costume…singing…faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound…tat da da..tat da da…super-Mona. Secretly armed with soothing words, humorous alternatives, heroic examples I set foot on the road that is very familiar to me. But she didn’t need any prodding or probing…it was a story that had been kept veiled, disguised and nurtured like an old bottle of wine. The string of pearls dropped from her eyes and I grabbed one end of the whole tangled mess…determined to untie and loosen the grip that was choking her. I fell short of ammunition as my own words sounded hollow and empty… promises of a better future that I was not sure of…obligations of the situation perhaps. Who were we kidding? This was just a distraction from reality and after the click of the handset we will fade into our own worlds…least concerned about the other. It would have been a lot simpler if I could have focused on her….rather than turning it into something about ME. I felt guilty for…being happy…having it together…not being in her position…at least for the moment. I made myself believe that I had no right to go back to my currently blissful life while I left her behind with ghosts of bad decisions, confusion, hurt and pain. Does one person’s happiness come at the expense of someone else’s? Am I taking a bigger piece of the HAPPINESS pie? Now I was as confused and sad as her…how do I make sense out of this dilemma? And ironically I was reminded of saying goodbye to the dead at funerals…walking away…head bowed…seeking closure by telling yourself…fate just dealt her a losing hand…lightening decided to strike at that particular place and time…the plane just lost its way in that unexplainable Bermuda Triangle.

(5:37 PM) ~`~

While Im struggling to juggle my crazy schedule...heres a guest post by Saba (my 19 year old sister) to keep you guys busy...Did I mention she begged me to put this up? :) Enjoy!

As the American idol 3 has successfully ended and the finalists have all gotten multi/million dollar music careers, I have come to realize that I have no life left. I have spent countless afternoons watching this show, in addition to the re-runs, the daily internet updates about the contestants and anything and everything that covered the show. I cried with all the contestants that were voted off. I sang ‘She Bangs’ all the way with William Hung. Even begged friends in America to VOTE for Fantasia Barino. I hated Simon Cowell for his guts. I adored Paula for her choice of words in front of the worse singers in America.

For those of you who think I’m talking absolute Greek, American Idol is a reality show that tries to find the next biggest star that can sing dance and take criticism from the judges. The most interesting thing about the show is that these people are real, ordinary, and unattractive who evolve into stunning individuals over time. It’s a real Cinderella story and gives you hope that one day somebody will discover you. Coming back to the same point… I was about to make a confession. I am a recovering RSA (reality show addict). I don’t stay up half the night to watch the models cut and dye their hair to make themselves more flexible to cosmetic companies anymore, I don’t cross my fingers for my favorite blonde to get a rose from the bachelor any longer, I don’t see every cockroach in the house as my next snack in order to practice for The survivor anymore, and most of all I have decided that if I ever have to choose between love or money, it would be money.

Instead I have come up with a list of things I can do in place of watching these reality shows. Here are a few: During American Idol I can sit and learn Origami, For love or money I can come up with 3 different types of Halloween costumes every week, in “The Bachelor” time slot I can organize my books alphabetically, by size, by number of pages , by colors etc.

I know the TV world will not survive without a loyal viewer like me but I will not completely abandon my fellow TV-kind. I can spend my time watching 30 seconds of Fame where people exhibit talents they would normally not talk about in public. Watching discovery channel helped me find out that on the Titanic, the “Heart of the Ocean” actually existed. Not to mention the numerous dramas on Star Plus where a combination of a perfected Saas (mother-in-laws), magician Daadi (grandmothers), not so cute twins and a nauseatingly hyper husband appear every day every week to keep me busy throughout those lonely dreary reality-show-less empty life.

(12:16 PM) ~`~

Life is full of weird experiences…some you anticipate and others shock the living daylights out of you….

I’m dressed up for a presentation. A girl in my class walks over and admiringly tells me I look nice and the highlights in my hair suit my complexion. I smile and look at her up and down just to return the compliment…its too early in the morning to have a conversation. Without hesitation, she plops down next to me and starts yapping about this and that….I wonder if people are working on an invention to make you disappear….they really should! She pokes me to ask if I studied for the quiz today…I shook my head worriedly she tries to give me a crash course. Something did not feel right…something was on my arm…I look down and I see her stroking it…as if it’s the most natural thing to do….I toyed with the idea of moaning and sighing provocatively…and the thought made me giggle…in my head ofcourse. By this time she had stopped and there was an announcement that there would be no class today…I rushed out before the announcer changes his mind…she follows me…literally on my heels. A guy stops me in the hallway inviting me to his concert and she casually puts her arm around me…my mind screams OH MY GOD people are going to think we are best friends…and I feel a hand on my back….why did I wear a low back today? And now she is calmly caressing it…back and forth. The hair on my body are standing… electrocuted… this is too weird…I can’t even laugh about it in my head. This has never happened to me and its insane…what is she trying to do…I stammer an excuse and run as if I have to do something more important than THIS. I hide the rest of the free class…but never alone…in groups…with people who don’t even know me…someone needs to make sense out of this situation. Its time for my second class and I know she’ll be there…I decide to go late…but I’m so lucky that the only empty seat is next to her…I break out into a cold sweat…I think of things that I could say to her if she tries it again… ‘Look, I really really like BOYS!’… ‘If you had a chance would you like to sleep with a man or a woman?’… but what I really wanted to say was ‘Why the hell do you keep touching me?? It fucking gives me the creeps and STAY AWAY!’ Can anyone guess what happened? She kept touching my arm, back and leg for no reason at all and I couldn’t say anything to her! For the first time in my life humor left my side and I was flabbergasted…shocked beyond belief. Why do all the weird things happen to me?

(12:38 AM) ~`~

Our lives are dictated by silly, nonsensical routines that we hate passionately but without them we feel that there is no meaning to our existence. Routines take up time, energy and effort…the most powerful muscle in our body finds a convenient short cut by programming all our days on repeat mode just so he can lie on a beach chair and sip margaritas. It’s true…we all hate our routines and would love to stay curled up in bed with the curtains drawn. But we still join the rat race…running after one thing or the other…standardizing the events in a day just like the operations in a mechanized factory. At lunches, dinners, parties, social events we complain about how busy and boring life is….we dream about vacations in places blooming with untouched nature. We fool ourselves with consolations that this weekend I’ll be crazy and do what I feel like not what SHOULD be done. We crave change and yet we resist it. As if the workings of this universe would falter if god forbid our routine alters. Why do we love our little comfort zones where things should only happen according to plan? What is outside our little schedules? What would happen if one day you decide to take a day off from LIFE? The idea of change is so thrilling in our minds but equally difficult to put into action. Is our coping mechanism worse than an old car that stalls and jerks?

(1:48 AM) ~`~

Like every Cancerian, I cry on my birthday…foreseeing that this year would be no different I sent my rundi an e-mail describing the horrors of my last birthday. A day before THE day I got a slap with a shriek “Wake up Kutti!” at 8 in the morning. Lo and behold she was in my city…all the way from Dubai JUST for my birthday. What followed after that was a week that would make anyone green with envy. My friends threw me the best surprise party ever…along with presents that were on my wish list. I don’t remember if I went for my classes or saw much of my home and family this whole week but I do remember, staying up late, discussing our psychosis and neurosis.

So what’s the point of all this? Why would anyone be interested in the happiest week of life? Of course there is a catch…there always is…firstly, this is a big thank you to all my friends who are all special in their own retarded ways, who know I suffer from imaginary problems but wait patiently at the sidelines for my return. Secondly, inspired by the episodes of this crazy week I’ve made loads of pacts to change the course of my life which you will notice quite soon. And lastly, there is nothing like your best friend and throwing pseudo intellectual thoughts…it’s a MUST.

(8:59 PM) ~`~

Why I smiled today....

The sweetest part of my day and the days to come when I lose hope, feel unwanted, hate myself and fail to see the purpose in my life. Identity of the writer is kept anonymous to protect his existence in this world.

I can somehow never describe or put into words how I feel about someone or something, whether I’m depressed or happy. All the entries in my diary go no further than ‘Dear Diary, Today I feel…’ I’ve tried and tried but I can never find the words or the sentences to impress myself or satisfy my emotions.

Today I spent the best 5 and a half hour of my life…out of the 191,160 hours I have wasted breathing. Right after I left her house I decided to walk home instead of taking a cab so that I could somehow convince myself to sit down and write and get my creative juices flowing.

Echoes of her voice kept bouncing back in my head, distracting me and leaving me in awe. She had an amazing way of describing how she felt and soon enough she had become an inspiration.

So here I was walking home, brain-storming and thinking of words to best describe how I was feeling at that moment. As soon as I came home, I switched on the air-conditioner and started writing down the data I had collected while walking.

With 3 fat dictionaries on my side to help me find the most vague and intellectual words to impress her, I finally got myself going. Even though I knew she would still be impressed or probably in tears without the intellectual words I was looking for. But the dictionaries were there more to give me moral support.

This girl I’m trying so hard to impress right now has played a lot of roles in my life. She’s the elder sister I’ve always wanted, she’s the best friend I never had, she’s the mother I wish I was born to, she’s the girlfriend I’ve always dreamed of, she’s the inspiration in my life. Who is she? She’s my crush’s older sister. (Jerry Springer must be looking for me!)

She is the most beautiful and amazing person I have ever come across. People like her are born once every 500 years (NO! She’s not an urban legend). I enjoy the position of being her savior and best friend at the same time. And most of all I love to make her boyfriend jealous.

She’s the only person I like talking to when I’m depressed and she somehow always manages o make me laugh. I’ve never had the time to feel heart-broken after I started spending time with her. She has always somehow lifted my spirits and this is my tribute to her, my best friend, sister, girlfriend, mother and inspiration.

(12:35 AM) ~`~

I love this beach…although for others it’s just like any other ordinary beach…but I love it….the memories sprawled all over the place like carelessly flung garments…we saw it go through everything…the tides…the calm…the storms…shades of light and dark. I love it more because of the beautiful castles we built together that would endure every season because they were always supported by conversation. I love it simply because it’s ours…

The wind has decided to change its course…normality sticking to its foot like a stubborn thorn…the waves crash angrily torturing the shore…the sand has changed its texture wanting to be left alone. I feel a storm brewing but it could just be my imagination…I look towards you for that reassuring look that will restore my sanity and the sweep of your hand that will brush the paranoia away…I run to you but the distance keeps multiplying like an invisible bubble meant to keep me away from you…I call out for you but my voice is no competition for nature roaring irritably. The water grabs at my ankles like beggars greedy for food. I see the castles we built…windows of fantasies…doors of dreams….rooftops of passion…garden of eternal companionship…and I see it breaking…destroyed…helpless…because I cant save it alone…I’m just not strong enough. It seems like the world is crashing down on me and after the damage is done there won’t be much left of me, you or us. And yet you keep walking…whistling some new tune that I swear I’ve never heard…the smile on your face that memory has not found a match for…the color in your eyes that reminds me of strangers…and yet you keep walking…at peace…totally oblivious.

(1:37 AM) ~`~

An Iranian girl once told me being in love was like boarding a merry go round…the guy and girl facing each other…spinning round and round…everything happening at unbelievable speed…reality, rationality and experience thrown out of the window like a candy wrapper. Nothing would make you get off this crazy ride and you think this is how it will be ALWAYS. But at one point or the other one of them decides to get off and you get to see your so called perfect partner still on the machine from heartbreak city… you see them from all possible angles and things grasp clarity…like driving mirrors adjusted…fogged up goggles wiped. The realism is usually unbearable and you long for the comfort zone…the rose tinted glassed you loved to see the world through…the fairytale that ONLY you were lucky enough to live.

One thing you will hear uncountable times from a person in love is ‘but he/she is so different’ or ‘I’ve never felt like this way about anyone’. Love is a funny thing…close to a blind fold you willingly wear to ignore all the faults of your lover…because you cant believe you got so lucky…this could actually happen to you…how could lady luck make your plain vanilla flavored life a lip smacking delicious gourmet dessert. Your starring in this summer's commercial romance movie and your the apple of the hero’s eyes, your belief in romance is restored by the prophet called cupid, this is what you’ve been waiting for all your life. Anyone warning you that this too will fall through like all great ideas, this will lose its novelty, you are still very ordinary is a cold hearted, never been in love devil from hell who should be crucified more glamorously than Jesus himself. While you can’t help being smug, satisfied, deliriously dreaming about marriage, the perfect house and car, cute babies running around and your lover performing romantic feats found only in trashy novels. Not even God could take this away from you because love conquers all, love is your personal salvation army and ALL you ever need is love. Slowly but surely the blindfold slips, fantasies exchanged for rationality, exhilaration dried up and shriveled like something you left in the sun too long. But the worst thing about waking up from this dream is the embarrassment, mortification, i-told-you-so’s and the hat on your head that says JACKASS.

(8:30 PM) ~`~

And now that you’ve locked yourself in this prison…you’d better get comfortable dear. Because it’s going to be a while till you have to stay here. Don’t invite anyone in….cuz you’ve already thrown away the key. You know there won’t be any guests so don’t wish for someone to drop by. No rupenzil no-one is rescuing you from this window so don’t stare outside. Don’t try to think…you’ll only get tangled in your web. Don’t sing if you only know sad songs. Don’t call anyone…no-one’s listening anyway. What’s all the screaming for…you think anyone cares? What's the point of ever trying….nothing's changing anyway. But you can talk out loud…just to kill your loneliness.

(3:27 AM) ~`~

I imagine us together…I imagine it so often that I feel like I’ve already spent a life time with you…and when I’m done imagining…the heart aches and longs for you…I miss you. Sometimes the missing passes the realms of insanity into places that no-one has a name for yet. And every time I reach that place I wonder how I got there…was it when I turned in my bed dying to read a passage out loud to you? Was it when I needed a hug for no particular reason, or was it the usual thoughts my lonely heart was weaving? I want to do all the things old married couples complain about…even the most ordinary things. I want to do all those things in public that our society will gasp and point at. I want the world to melt away and leave the two of us alone…but I fear that these longings might just remain longings that every girl whispers and maybe I shouldn’t dream of things so beautiful….

(1:19 AM) ~`~

If one day I don’t feel like talking…almost lost and staying silent,
If one day everything bugs me…to the point of anger and insanity,
If one day I feel like giving up…throwing in the towel and surrender,
If one day I am too exhausted…moronic and completely neurotic,
If one day I feel like crying…giving it all up and wish of dying,
If one day I refuse to listen…shut my ears and act stubborn,
If one day I feel like running…away from all this ugly madness,
If one day I don’t ask for help…to lift my spirits up from the dead
And if one day all of this happens…I really wish you can fathom…
How I can ever be okay…or put me back together again…

Okay so I can never make it big as a poet!:p

(1:35 AM) ~`~

And after listening to me he said: ‘Let me tell you a story…

Once upon a time, there was a baby elephant who was captured by a circus. They put a thick, heavy chain around his foot and tied it to a pole so that the baby elephant could not run away. Every day the baby elephant would thrash around and stomp his feet to free himself and run away but all he could manage was to walk around in a circle…as far as his chain would allow him. For days and days, he struggled but never succeeded.

Years later when the elephant grew up, the circus people removed the chain and instead tied a piece of string to his leg and buried the loose end in the ground. They no longer needed a heavy chain or a strong pole. For the elephant reality had been understood, defeat accepted, faith lost and his world had shrunk to the circle he was familiar with….everything outside was too big, unknown and scary. He exchanged all his dreams for comfort, familiarity and fear of the unknown.’

You cant stand with your back to the light…complain about the darkness and wish for the sun to change its course….when all you have to do is turn around. You can’t clutch the past and judge your present and future. Your perceived world is not even close to the real world. I know the child in you is unafraid and adventurous…and the parent in you says ‘don’t’ or you’ll hurt yourself…but tell them you respect them and let go…spread your wings and take that leap…what you perceive as the scary height might just be 2 feet high.

(9:28 PM) ~`~

WANTED: A NEW MOM

Desperately needed…a new mom for a mature child.

All reasonably experienced and trained moms who can handle a 24 year old child please apply immediately. Job description includes assistance in mental and health problems, guiding the direction of present life and being a strong support system regardless of the child’s temperament. Must possess exceptional patience, moderate affection, listening abilities and emotional availability 24 hours a day.

Willing to pay an exorbitant price.

(1:27 AM) ~`~

Mr. Brown and I have a history…he was the first best friend I had a crush on (I repeatedly fall for my best friends)…the longest non-celebrity crush (3 years)….a verbal (but binding) contract that states that if neither of us is married by 27 we’ll marry each other…in short…the weirdest and most multi-dimensional relationship.

I love how whatever we do is always a tradition…history repeating itself, reliving the past, going back to when we were 19, the phone calls, last day shopping and 10 min drives around my house. Mr. Brown left today early morning and I'm sad. It feels strange now that he’s gone….even more because I got used to having him around. Life will go back to being how it was when he wasn’t here.

And for now…I’ll just sit back and sing our favorite song….

The miles just keep rolling as the people leave their way to say hello
I've heard this life is overrated but I hope that it gets better as we go

I’m here without you baby but your still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby and I dream about you all the time
I’m here without you baby but your still with me in my dreams
And tonight it’s only you and me…

(2:24 AM) ~`~

This paralysis of the tongue is not voluntary…believe me it’s not an excuse to avoid conversation. Can’t you tell that it’s the gloomy calm before the storm, the dark clouds before rain and the erratic dance of the horses before a hurricane? My silence loves hosting big parties…where depression and loneliness are the special guests…along with their children anger, frustration, and confusion. The festival is loud, rowdy and exhausting. Sleeping is impossible when the noise keeps collecting inside…till it chokes all words and the dead scream with the living. This silence belongs to me but it prays for something to pierce through. This silence speaks volumes…at least to me. I wish you were the sledge hammer that breaks through. I wish you were the jolt of lightening that revives the heart. I wish you were fine tuned to hear this silence.

(5:36 PM) ~`~

And my online confessional blog asks me where I have been? Just been busy... busy racing against time…wishing the day had more than 24 hours, wondering why you can’t freeze time…just till you catch up to it. Different day and different deadlines…. post-it reminders of what needs to be done. Life has settled into a boring, predictable and unexciting routine. Programming life to be standardized and controlled…like uniformed army ready to eliminate chance and surprise. And at night I lie in bed when body surrenders to exhaustion and think about a single thing that I did for MYSELF….that meant something to me…that made me selfishly happy. I promise myself that I’ll just stop running for a while to ‘enjoy the moment’ only to delay it to another day. Priorities winning over self…something tells me this is what growing old feels like and I hate that idea.

(1:44 AM) ~`~

I was expecting the phone to ring and wake me up from my meaningless dreams…I knew I would hardly remember our conversation…and I longed for those fond memories to take over…when he lands in my city. He did call me as soon as he got here…just like I expected…I had a faint recollection of my phone ringing but my thoughts were stuck in a different time zone. Some memories old and faded but each one competing to be the most cherished one. I had missed him and more than that I missed the past…the good old days. There is so much comfort in familiarity…how predictable friends get after a while…but its not boring…its safe. It was understood that we’ll drive around aimlessly almost everyday and catch up on what we’ve missed out on…purposefully picking on topics that tick us off…our way of eliminating any changes that might have crept up. Of course I didn’t tell him any of this…actually I didn’t need to…that’s the beauty of friendship

* Post bribed by a huge box of skittles and a mobile phone that I've been obsessing about for 2 years.

(2:33 AM) ~`~

And all words have been consumed...too small to contain anything...too meaningless to pin-point feelings...so what happens now?

(1:14 PM) ~`~

My friend recently got admission in a local art school…where I wanted to go…actually I wanted to go any where except a business school. In a small way she’s living out my dream and I show my gratitude by writing articles and essays for her regularly. After I wrote this one on Apathy I realized what a big hypocrite I am…You judge…

“The greatest discovery of my generation (about 1900) is that human beings can alter their lives by altering their attitudes of mind.” -William James

Apathy is indifference, state of having no wish to act or no enthusiasm. Hopelessness prevails when there is loss of control, problems seem unsolvable and avoidance of responsibility for personal actions. These attitudes of apathy and hopelessness are obviously one of the effects of the alienation our society creates, but within themselves, they also recreate the social alienation.

Apathy is the feeling or emotional aspect of an attitude. There is a very strong relationship between attitudes and behavior, the stronger the conviction the more likely is the probability the behavior will be exhibited. What we learn through our experiences is mirrored in our behavior, so it is not random nor can it be looked in isolation. Luckily, our attitudes are not as dogmatic as our values and if we can understand the attitudes behind standard behavior, we can analyze the present actions and intervene to change the whole approach towards apathy. However, understanding our actions would mean going down the well-buried memory lane, digging up old ghosts and accepting responsibility for our actions. We shy away from confrontations, seeking closure and instead shift the blame to anyone but us. It is a very easy path to take and relieve your-self from the pestering conscience but not entirely free of consequences.

One of the many reasons why apathy is so deep rooted in our psychological system is the belief that we are pawns of fate and in the big scheme of things whatever happens to us is a small move completely out of our control. Such convictions leave very little room for motivation to take fate by the horns and direct its course according to our wishes.
No relationship is more important than the relationship we have with ourselves because at the end of the day we have to rationalize our actions and live with them day in and day out. On this basis, I suggest renewing a strong and honest relationship with ourselves to take charge of life. We need to see our-self from different angles and in different settings and the more honest we are about our feelings - the more meaning we will see in the world around us. Realize that there are always alternatives in every situation and the freedom of choice is ours. Behave responsibly and altruistically. I cannot emphasize the importance of positive thinking enough because having a hopeless view contributes to depression. Only hope and expecting positive outcomes buffer you from the ravages of psychological distress and lead to better mental and physical health.

Healthy optimism is not about being blind; it entails facing reality, expecting bad times, and becoming a problem-solver. There will be a time when you have to force yourself to seek ways to renew spirit, energy, and devotion and that is when you challenge negative and irrational thoughts. Power of imagination and fantasy can be used to rehearse for future challenges and above all accept what cannot be changed.

However, all of the above will hold true if the plane of consciousness is strong and pressing enough to force you to change your actions, decisions and behavior.

(1:58 AM) ~`~

Another day passes by…one day less of my punishment compounded daily…one day closer to escaping from this loving prison. Dissection and assessment of conversations …a million thoughts and voices scurrying about like rats disturbed in an attic. Peace has been interrupted…a cat licking its own wounds…healing will only come from within…not with time. Yet with no surety of tomorrow being any better than today I hang on…the only way to survive…maybe…just maybe…I’ll disappear…and maybe there will be a time when I’ll look back and laugh hysterically…clutch my stomach …wipe the wetness from my eyes and say…Those were some crazy days…

Hope is such a funny thing…actually a hopeless thing…

(3:19 AM) ~`~

Your perceived world is perfect…for now…you are happy and satisfied…so far, there is nothing wrong with you and you are normal. You can tell how abnormal the people around you are…they are as obvious as people hiding in costumes. Obviously this situation cant last for that long…and all of this changes in a split moment…they will forcefully enter your world…that you created painfully and perfectly and smash everything around…pretend to kiss you tenderly and vomit their sickness in you…and now they have your happy perceived world and you have their perverted one.

In this house of the crazy and insane…screaming is what silence is to the deaf…crying is what darkness is to the blind and misery is unreal to the detached. Is madness a state you feel or what others make you feel? Its you…its always you…you created this situation…you gave them the right to hit you in vulnerable places. I want to run and never return to this madness that is so un necessary...I hate this house…I hate this family…and I hate what they do to me…or is it just me? There is nothing here that can keep me sane. You have sisters who fool themselves into believing they are morally correct because they are not attached or found anyone special. Every issue is twisted into how you have brought shame by going against the norms and they pinch you with the respect they are losing for you. I'm so proud of you dear sisters…you never made me feel alone. Am I crazy or stuck in a house full of crazy people? Am I as bad as they make me believe or I’m the only normal one? I wish I knew what they wanted from me? Why can’t they just understand…try being in my shoes…climb down from their holy pedestals and admit that I cant be who they want me to be…I cant do what they can do…and realize its too late for me to change. Is it too much to ask…to be left ALONE…forever?

(3:25 AM) ~`~

I'm so tired of fighting with you…over shoes, bags, make-up and all other immature stuff. Every time it’s over and we’re smiling again I believe that we’ve finally grown up and this is the last time we’ll bicker, squabble and scream. I know I'm not the perfect sister… mostly emotionally unstable but I try and take care of you. I'm still not sure what you expect from me…but I can’t always be there when you fuck up…you need to realize your strong and old enough to face it. My intentions are pure…I swear…I just want to do what our parents have always failed to do….I don’t ever want you to feel like me and hate everything for all the wrong reasons. I know I am a lot older than you and I don’t want to be your personal diary where you confess your secrets…but just a sympathetic listener in this house of deaf and insensible. It upsets me that you know all the right buttons to push to send me spinning in state of denial…that you don’t deliberately try to sting me. Each time we argue I feel like I've failed to do what I'm supposed to do…every time you try to win an argument by hitting me below the belt…it confuses me how a person I love can hurt me…and every time you feed me unnecessary lies I feel like I make it hard for you to be honest to me. I don’t need any explanations, I don’t care about things you want to hide…I never try to interfere…I wish I was your roommate who knows nothing but still gets along well. I wish I was the last to know rather than hear elaborate fairy tales that only sound true to you.

(2:22 AM) ~`~

Our culture breeds dependency, conformity and conventionality. I know it’s no earth shattering discovery but more like an unpleasant evening spent swallowing an unsavory meal as a polite and civil guest. We are a nation obsessed with orthodoxy, traditionalism and compliance afraid of doing or even thinking about anything out of the ordinary….trying not to stand out from the crowd. Living contradictions…attracting as much attention as we can to our extravagant weddings, excessive celebrations of every event, believing in status symbols and yet scared to question and exhibit our individuality. We are constantly molding ourselves into what the society deems ‘appropriate’ and ‘normal’. Success is only achieved by pulling the victorious by their legs…rolling them around in dirt and dismissing their accomplishments because of different religious beliefs, backgrounds and family structure. The franchise of Mercedes Benz in Pakistan was given to a mechanic who fixed car punctures in a small shop. Why this event is never highlighted or studied as a case study in class is because he was an Ahmedi…declared NON-Muslim by the STATE. Sadly, the first step towards globalization and opening the door for other franchises in a third world country like ours was quickly squashed, rejected and degraded just because of religious disparity. The unwanted vine of narrow mindedness is clutching to the uneducated and so called cultured class.

I admire my 60 year old teacher who is the ultimate representation of a modern, independent and open minded woman. A free, unbounded, liberated bird who soars in the sky and reaches new heights each and everyday….truly at the highest level of self-actualization. She’s everything I aspire to be one day. When I expressed my awe to my class mates…their noses scrunched up high, the forehead divided into ten shapes of wrinkles and they all clucked their tongues in union to a secret annoying song. Apparently being an unmarried, childless, independent, and openly discussing forbidden issues kind of a feminist is not the RIGHT criteria of choosing a mentor. And I seriously question that if women in this culture by some miracle do turn out to be aggressive, freedom demanding, free thinkers…are they doomed to live a life style that HAS to be different from the traditional, submissive, passive woman? I am not saying that being unmarried was not a personal choice or she isn’t happy but isn’t our culture and the current value system deliberately churning out a gender that should only be ruled, dictated, dominated and manipulated? Where do these invisible limitations stem from? Who decides what is acceptable? Why are women seen only as objects to be decorated in homes? How and when will this scenario change?

I hate this culture where individualism is seen as a threat and insurgent behavior. Living in a box…doing what everybody else is doing just because we don’t have the balls to stare at the fingers pointing at us.

(3:20 AM) ~`~

Dear God

I have heard about your greatness…I have seen your believers…the blind faith, contentment, pomposity and their conviction. And I wish to be normal, ordinary…and I choose the procedure of the conventional people. Will you convert me into anyone…anyone other than me? Can you abolish that ugly, detestable, restless cast that creates characters like me? Promise me that there is a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow, a silver lining to every dark cloud, a tomorrow worth waiting for? Can you take responsibility for the big and small things that make me miserable? Tell me it is acceptable to always feel this skeptical and cynical. If it is not too much to ask...can you take away my fanatical sensitivity and fill it up with infinite numbness? I don’t mind this pain, suffering and misery…just in swallow able doses. Will you please intervene and change the course of the rut I am stuck in? Make me a believer…a believer of things people swear by.

And if you can’t do any of the above…take this life and give it to someone who loves it and is fighting for it.

(2:02 AM) ~`~

Days after the inspirational rambling that can be quoted in some cheesy self-help book, she’s back…loathing herself…again. People should find it a little difficult to hate me…you see I can make up for everyone’s share. I hate how I change into an adolescent emotionally unstable freak when I'm about to get my period. I hate my inability to mask my true emotions that sprout out like blood from a severed vein of a fat cow. I hate not being in control…getting irritated…tired…depressed and majorly bitchy. I hate how it verifies all the favorite generalizations of men about women and PMS…the disgustingly, lame, infuriating jokes seem honest to god truth. I try to break the generality but I'm not the same control freak and my emotions are falling all over the place like moths near a flame. I hate being a woman…not knowing how to get out of this biological god-gifted mess. I hate calculating the average number of days, weeks, months and years I spend PMSING. I hate holding back hot, threatening, tears that will maintain their position only if I smash everything in sight. I hate crying…without a reason…beating myself senseless to find a reason when I should have just checked the calendar…I'm 4 days away from the glorious THAT TIME OF THE FUCKING MONTH!

(1:24 AM) ~`~

"Be angry with the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, for the right purpose, and in the right way"

Aristotle – The Nichomachean Ethics

I have been bored…when things bore me I scrutinize…I dissect…I analyze. As self-obsessed as it may sound…I do it all the time, benchmarking myself against what I would want to be…and I know I’ll never be satisfied being MYSELF…there will always be something that I would want to do better…and be the BEST at it. For two weeks, this psychosis was keeping me preoccupied and the hatred was multiplying like a threatening disease …I just wished I could take a back seat and stop this soul battering exercise. I arrived at the answers by mistake and not by compromise and understanding. I found the exact name for it…self-monitoring….and it’s actually a GOOD thing to be so highly aware and conscious…my neurosis is a POSITIVE personality trait! I have realized…it is useless and exhausting to hate. Its tiring sharing a body, mind and soul with someone you detest. There will never be an end to hate but it does lead to a lot of anger, discontent, frustration and misery. If I take the rage, hatred and I’m-good-for-nothing element out of my CONDITION and replace it with love, understanding and letting things go I can be what I hope to be. The way I am can’t be nailed totally to the genetic make up or to the environment. Our personality is a continuous growth and development of the whole psychophysical system and unique adjustments to the environment. So the culpability can be equally divided into heredity, environmental and situational factors. Nothing is permanent…you CAN teach an old dog new tricks….and like my inspirational figure said…it is YOUR duty to love and accept me for the fuckwit that I am!!

(1:53 AM) ~`~

(Part 2)

WARNING: Neurotic realises how neurotic she actually is!

Why is it hard to figure yourself out? Why are you the way you are? Why can’t you change the way you are if it bothers you so much? I'm so irritated that emotionally I am standing where I have always been…or worse…in some dark corner where loneliness, depression and self-loathing are welcomed like victorious soldiers coming back home. When I'm happy Im always looking over my shoulder to check if melancholy hasn’t left my side…secretly preparing myself for that ‘down’ that follows the ‘up’. I know I can handle emotions as long as they are not mine. I'm strong and supportive as long as I'm not the one needing strength. I'm convinced that I can make the saddest situation humorous but exhibit the copyrighted this-is-so-funny-lets-forget-the-bad-stuff look. I desperately want to break this role I’ve cut out for myself in my own bloody LIFE! Is it just a collection of issues left unresolved that come charging back when life turns a little bit gloomy? Is it because I hate myself so much that I have not discovered how to love myself and believe that others can too? Do I believe that my existence is so negligible that there is no point in being your true self? Do I believe that my problems are only a figment of my imagination and silly to be solved? I think I'm too confident that I can make myself feel better, scared of shattering the image that people can help me given the chance and thus realizing that I am truly neurotic and petrified of not having any other alternative except a life long membership to a therapist.

(4:49 AM) ~`~

(Part 1)

WARNING: Long, boring, embarrassing entry…please do not read if you are feeling particularly happy or critical.

10th Sept 1996 (Tuesday)

Dear Diary

I'm going to have a pretty long weekend and it’s good because I need to sort things out. It’s weird how I always turn to this lifeless object when nothing goes right. I used to think that it was dumb to write a diary but as I have turned my back to my friends my only hope to share something is this OBJECT. At least I have the comfort that it’ll never walk away from me and I can force it to stay. I don’t know what’s wrong with me? I get tired of things so quickly. Many times I catch myself cursing my friend and other times getting irritated by her. But Im not complaining because I know I have to sacrifice. Besides im strong enough to go on without anybody’s help so if she left or something it would not be the end of the world. Ever since college started I promised myself that I’d stay aloof and keep to myself…I guess by now that is pretty much part of my personality. I’ve stopped complaining and whining and that’s the reason I keep my problems to myself. It’s actually dumb that I’ve immuned myself of all feelings…I don’t feel pain, depression, jealousy…all the things I used to have in the past years. It’s like anything can happen and I don’t give a fuck about it. I’ve become so good at numbing myself that I am amazed. You know if I keep on doing this to myself pretty soon I’ll be a dead body. Anything can pass through and yet I’d feel nothing. I suddenly feel stranded as if someone has left me in a desert and I'm alone and lost.

I got a letter from my best friend which was disappointingly brief. No special news. It’s weird that the day she left I didn’t even cry and make a fuss over it. I guess I’m growing up huh! A few months back I would have stayed depressed forever. But my past is past and I just like to enjoy it not cry over it. The past is a faded memory growing sweeter every passing day.

I never was very ambitious and I never asked for too much. The way life treated me changed me totally. I guess somehow I’ve learnt to let go, to give in to destiny. Left myself at the hands of time. At least if anything goes wrong I might blame someone else? But I still need someone to share …to let the real me come out. Even though sometimes I talk shit but what’s the use of speaking golden words when there’s no one who can listen. It seems like a long time I shared a good true laugh…you know hearty laugh. Sometimes you want to talk about your dreams, desires, disappointments…but anyway. Its ironic how im blessed with humor…I can make an asshole laugh but the only person I can’t make happy is me. It’s pretty neat how I smile thousands of times just out of my habit not because I truly feel happy. I’ve heard so many people laugh all the time but I’ve forgotten how to laugh myself.

I just cannot pinpoint what gave rise to all the changes but life did take away from me something and I guess I’ve never been the same again. There’s nothing more to say just this empty and dull feeling.

That was written 8 years back….when I was 16 and life is supposed to be the best that it can ever get. I think I held onto this diary full of similar depressing entries because of that narcissist devil that lurks inside all of us. The first few entries put me into fits of laughter at the sheer childishness, innocence and drama of little things. As I was nearing the end it wasn’t funny anymore… I felt like I was still the 16 year old…there was a pattern…familiar feelings, emotions and that annoying depressed creature that has permanent free residence in my brain. If I had written religiously from the last entry of the 8 year old diary till now....the summary would probably be what’s at the beginning. Depressed, sad, annoyed…sometimes for a reason and sometimes without…masking inner battles with humor, smiles and ridiculous stories. Its sad to know I've spent the best years of my life this way, its sad that I’ve never talked opening about things that DO matter and saddest that I haven’t changed a bit....only this time confessing on a public forum. What issues can a teenager have to hate herself and life? Where the hell did this self protection mechanism come from? Why this perfect act of LIVING? As much as I hate being this way and I try to…NOT be this way…it just doesn’t happen. It’s too automatic and I always hunt for the cause rather than remedies.

I’m too tired but I had to put this down before I chicken out…until I'm publicly embarrassed about how insane I am…I’ll never snap out of it…More on this tomorrow.

(1:37 AM) ~`~

I hate my marketing courses…they make me feel stupid. To unconsciously be one of the many consumers being carefully segmented…targeted and exploited to sell products that are different only because of the brand name they carry. After a proposed experiment by my instructor I checked the labels of shampoos…all of them have more or less the same ingredients and I felt like an idiot. Here I was… a faithful customer of L’Oreal with a firm belief that my favorite brand gave me silkier, shinier, split-end free hair… just like the hot models advertised. I gushed about it to everyone who complained of ordinary unnoticeable tresses and I've been duped into paying more for it!

I entered Marketing Management with my stubborn prejudice…I hate to admit it but it has completely altered…at least towards attending the class. I am fascinated with my teacher. I'm in love with his lectures…subtle use of random unrelated quotations, talking about biases we are infected with but refute, truly trying to open our mind and challenge things that we have been conditioned never to question. The students find him too liberal, crazy and intimidating. I find his intellect, experiences and knowledge enchanting. I want to walk into his office and pick his brain. Crawl into that extraordinary grey matter and swirl my fingers around it. I am a ravenous sponge and I'm dying for a chance to suck up all that he knows…to find answers which I'm sure are floating about in his so well decorated brain. Where has he come from, been to and where is he going? I want to be his Frankenstein or even a guinea pig…made into something that is a product of his own philosophies. I sit in his class open mouthed, nodding my head, face flushed with the rush of dubious perspectives being unfreezed…changed and refreezed again.

(10:07 PM) ~`~

(Part 2)

My parents come from different planets. They are two people who don’t like each other too much but are sticking it out for the well-being of their daughters. If it weren’t for the social stigma my dad would have probably been agnostic. My mom is a Muslim fundamentalist. I wonder if everyone is embarrassed of their parents as much as I am. They are of course clueless of the agony they bestow especially on these foreign trips when you truly understand the meaning behind the only way to find out how you feel about someone is to travel with them. The constant close proximity, sleeping in connecting rooms and sharing the same bathroom leaves you craving for times when you just want to be left alone.

The first day of the trip we took a city tour which is a tradition no matter how many times we’ve been to that country. Since Bangkok is so influenced by its religion, the guide took us to all the temples. My sisters couldn’t wait to raid the nearest mall and my mother sulked in the van because learning about a different religion is a waste. The guide was excellent...one of the very few people I met who could speak English properly. Not only was she well informed about culture, politics, religion and history of Thailand but all the major countries of the world. First stop was the Golden Buddha made with solid 5 tons of gold to which my mother exclaimed ‘What a waste of Gold!’…yes in front of the guide who is a devout Buddhist. Between narrations of how Buddhism started in Thailand, its teachings and different poses of Buddhas my mother was like an annoying pop up window commenting how COMPLETE and PERFECT Islam is. I don’t believe that others can ever respect and understand your religion if you don’t show reverence to other religions. Except for my mother we all read the complimentary copy of ‘The life of Buddha’ cover to cover and amid all our discussions my mother would always jump in and say ‘But Islam is the best religion’. Then my dad would call her a fanatic and she’d fearfully hint that we’ll probably convert to Buddhism and I’d try to be the peace maker. Shopping with them was nerve wrecking….so many times I just wanted to shoot myself in the head. They would constantly argue whether to get the cushions with the leaf pattern or the plain one and after 30 minutes...decide the next place would probably have more variety. My dad hates changes or trying anything new. If we haven’t ever seen this sea creature fried with its eyes and legs poking out we are NEVER going to eat it. And then there is my favorite episode in the supermarket:

Dad: Why are you getting these cookies we’ve never tried them before?

Mom: Should we get the big or the small box?

Dad: But I don’t know how these chocolate chip cookies would taste…we should just buy the usual ones!

Mom: I think the big box would be better we won’t have to come back again for more?

Sis: (Grabs both the new and the familiar boxes…throws them in the cart) IT REALLY DOES’NT MAKE A DIFFERENCE JUST BUY ANYTHING!

Dad: What’s wrong with her?

Mom: I think she wanted the small box.

(1:13 AM) ~`~

(Part 1)

I’m back…allow me to continue from where I left. I had to summon all my patience and willpower to bear with my exceptionally irritating family. My parents were like a pair of ducklings constantly lost and disoriented. Their shopping habits and the trauma of chasing them in humongous ten storeys malls requires a special entry, which I will blog as soon as possible. By the grace of God, our room (connected to the ducklings’ room) was non-smoking…the nicotine gum made me gag so I risked my ass and still smoked whenever I could…outside malls, after ever meal and late night in the hotel lobby. My dog did not forget me and instead got extremely attached to his make shift family. I expected him to settle down but not THIS well. He goes into periods of depression where even his new high tech toys and chewable boot shaped bones can’t save him. That special someone handled my absence much better than I had expected and it is true…absence does make the heart grow fonder!

On the other hand…I learned so much about Buddhism, Thai culture, gorged on delicious seafood, got a marriage proposal from a 60 year old stranger but thankfully for his lawyer son…he didn’t have his picture so I had to refuse, got an amazing hair cut with bright red highlights and the shopping was therapeutically worthwhile.

Stay tuned for pictures and another episode of neurotic’s family trip to Bangkok.

(5:13 PM) ~`~

I’m leaving for Thailand…which means this blog will officially be closed for the next 2 weeks. I’m hoping this will be a good time for some serious soul searching, lots of reading, writing, photography and fantasizing about an exciting stranger sitting next to me on the plane. It will take all my strength to survive long hours with my parents, retarded sisters, without nicotine and not killing someone. If I make it through this, I know I can endure hell. I’m leaving behind my extremely pampered and spoilt dog with a friend…I hope he doesn’t elope with some bitch and forgets all about me. I’ve packed everything that he could possibly need along with an audio tape of me screaming TRAAAAAAAVVVVVVVIIIIIIIISSSSSSS just to make sure he knows I’m around. I’m also leaving behind that special someone…I’ll miss him like crazy. For him too there’s an audio tape along with my favorite T-shirt so he’ll also be fooled into thinking I’m around. Okay…this is getting too insane….even for my standards. In the meantime, I suggest you guys find some other psychotic girl’s blog and remember to tell her about me. By the way, I love getting e-mails! (Hint!Hint!)

Dedicated to ME:

Wish You Were Here

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue skys from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you to trade
Your heros for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

(Pink Floyd)

(2:03 AM) ~`~

Due to my very busy schedule and final exams I can feel that my blog is feeling very neglected (yeah right! Who are you kidding! Just admit you don’t have anything to say! Confess that you’re suffering from a mental block!) So…I’m just posting a paper I did two years back on Regret.

I also want to welcome some people who stumbled on my blog because of the following searches:

1. Chest of Rani Mukherji
2. Men caught cheating and forced to swap bodies stories

What is up with you people? And WHO are you anyway?

“Make it a rule of life never to regret and never look back. Regret is an appalling waste of energy, you can’t build on it, it’s good only for wallowing in”

Mansfield Katherine (1888-1923)

It is said that one of the biggest reasons of people withdrawing from participation in life is regret. A well brought up child becoming wary and reserved. A successful career woman fighting a failed marriage. A retired old man looking back at his life with regrets. There is a reason for these all-too-common scenarios. They don’t “just happen” nor are they subject to fate there is an underlying reason for withdrawal from others and loss of integrity.

It is true that life is not a dress rehearsal. However, it would be nice if we could do it over again and do it right. It would be great if we could only go back and fix it. Things would be completely different. But what is regret? Can you save them in a book like postage stamps to be reviewed one by one at your leisure? Some history parade of rights and wrongs, celebrating the one while decrying the other?

To regret is to choose to feel badly about a past event, a decision made in haste, an opportunity not pursued, words spoken or not spoken, the course and outcome of a relationship. For some, regret comes when it seems like if a different path could have been taken, we could have spared ourselves, or someone else, unnecessary pain. It often comes with feelings of sadness, loss, or guilt about a wrong.

We are obsessed with individuality, and tied to it is an obsession with strength and weakness. We are supposed to define so many things as weak. Straight edge kids define drinking as weak; vegetarians define meat eating as weak, anyone who ever gets lonely or depressed is thought of as weak. Suicide is seen as a sign of weakness. It is almost as if people have this high-school football coach mentality that if you define something as "weak" it will shame people into not doing it. Call someone "weak" for attempting suicide will surely make them fight back and prove they aren't weak.

Well, it’s right in some fantasy world, but not in reality.

In reality, we are all weak. In reality, we all get lonely. I don't understand people who talk about never having regrets. Somehow, people seem to think that having regrets about anything you ever did is a sign of weakness, of not completely believing in yourself.
If you want to have no regrets at the end of your life that means you have to live each day of your life with no regrets. The answer is proactive living. A lifestyle that involves doing what you want to do, going where you want to go, being who you want to be. You know you are living and working without regrets when you are fully engaged, alert, alive, and enthusiastic in your life.

When you are proactive in your life problems are seen as possibilities, obstacles are seen as opportunities to learn and occasions to do things differently. What could be possible for you in you were living a proactive life? Would you go back to school and study ballroom dancing or Buddhism, travel through Europe on a bike, risk that new romance, start a new business?

(1:58 AM) ~`~

Photo Album

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.