10th may. One day till I turn 22 and I feel this uneasy sense of anxiety seeping through my body. I can't explain where it's coming from and how EXACTLY it's making me feel. It's a sense of fear of moving forward and of adding a year to my life. It's scary. I know I'm not turning 50 or something, but if I really think about it, just a couple of years ago, 22 seemed like s huge number- and now, here I am...22 in 24 hours.
Life has passed by pretty quickly. It seems as if it was just yesterday that I was standing in the morning assembly line at school, aged 10. Life was so easy back then. People were so pure. The world didn't have so many expectations from you; your responsibilities revolved around completing your homework (colouring geographical maps, making sentences of the 5 new words you had learnt at school that day). Your friends were innocent and young- you'd play baraf/paani during school break times, you'd cry because a boy would hit you, the most scandalous thing you'd hear was about someone being caught reading sweet valley UNIVERSITY instead of TWINS during library period. Those were the good days. You had no regrets, no feeling of emptiness, regret or societal pressures controlling your every move. You were left to yourself to express yourself and be who you felt you wanted to be. You didn't know what the world was really like so you were always in a hurry to grow up- to SAY that you were a teenager, to experience independence and autonomy, to sit on that stage on your wedding day in that carefully picked out wedding dress. These were your dreams. You wanted to be that doctor, that actress, that vet, that model, that journalist- these were your goals.
But you always wanted more. You didn't know that growing up and entering the world was no walk in the park; you didn't realise that what you had was what older people envied- youth, freedom and carelessness.
You'd go to sleep and wake up with thoughts of that boy you'd had a crush on for months- the biggest heartbreak was the fact that he didn't know that you existed. So you'd do everything you could to be noticed. You'd feel conscious every time you'd see him- you wondered whether he thought you were pretty or not, were you talking okay, would he be interested in you? You'd fantasize about that day when he'd finally come up to you and profess his romantic inclination for you- but more often than never would this actually materialize.
You would jump around, play, skip, dance, scream and shout like no one was watching. Your egocentricity was a gift that you didn't treasure as much as you should because you were too busy yearning to grow up. You hated being told what to do by your parents, not being allowed to go to park towers without someones mom following you around everywhere you went, being told what sort of clothes you were and weren't allowed to wear outside the house, being interrogated about that boy you had begun talking to on the phone late at night, amongst other things.
Your parents were your enemies. In your eyes, you were the know-all. Their experience didn't count for shit. You'd have regular fights with them over the get togethers and parties they wouldn't allow you to attend, the boys who they felt were getting too chummy with you and of course..the constant negotiations about your curfew.
Life was good. We just didn't know it. And it's probably the same right now. On the night before my 40th birthday. I might look back at my twenties and wish that I'd been more grateful Of my youth. And I am. But I still can't help but fear growing up. This birthday brings me closer to significant life events such as graduating from college, having to get a job, getting married, managing married life, raising a family etc. I'll never get this time of my life back again. It'll never be the same again. And as much as I want to sit here and try to treasure this moment and this age, I can't help but feel like rewinding and starting my life from scratch. I have regrets that I wish to amend, experiences that I'd like to relive, people who I'd like to meet again, family traditions that I'd like to reignite, actions that I'd like to undo, bad decisions that I'd like to correct and peace of mind that I'd please like back.
Our innocence is something of the past, and corruption is the thing of the present. Sometimes I think about the effort our parents put into trying to lead us on to the right path- the lengths they'd go to to make sure that we learnt to differentiate between right and wrong so that we could preserve our innocence, so that we'd would become good human beings. What would they think now? Have we done justice to their love? Have we cheated them in a way? What will it be like when we have children of our own? If only our parents knew.
So here I am. One day before my birthday, looking back on my life, thinking about the good times and the bad. I've had a pretty fucking good life. Gods been very kind to my family and myself. I've gotten everything that i ever wanted- whether or not it was beyond our means. I'm not emotionally scarred in any way- any regrets that I have are due to my own decisions and actions ; they cannot be blamed on anyone else but myself and I'm okay with that. I want to stay where i am. I don't want to grow up. I want live life in rewind, if that's possible. I know that's not possible but it's worth wishing for.
Happy birthday.
Monday, May 09, 2011
Saturday, May 07, 2011
My Personal Dragon
I was going through Psychology Today and chanced upon this beautiful article that I'd like to share:
A long time ago, in the middle of a great countryside, there was a village terrorized by a dragon. A young knight came to its rescue, charging the dragon on his trusted steed. But before he could even get close, the creature merely yawned a fiery yawn and incinerated the poor lad. Then, a more experienced knight, equally fearless, approached the dragon. Using a fine, sturdy sword, he attempted to slay it. But, no matter how hard he swung that sword, it simply bounced off the dragon's scales. The dragon smashed this knight with his mighty tail. Knights from kingdoms far and wide came to demonstrate their courage and strength. They attacked with all manner of weapons - spears, battle-axes, cross-bows, and catapults. But every one lost his life to this great beast. Finally, one day, there appeared a stranger in the village. He was a bit worn down by life and carried no weapons, but he walked with a quiet strength. He asked the townspeople all about the dragon and went to observe it himself. Then, with an intense focus, he slowly - but unhaltingly - approached. And, when the awesome monster opened its mouth - apparently to spit fire - the man simply walked right inside and sat down in the belly of the great beast. After a blast of heat and some angry roars, the dragon disappeared in a puff - leaving the seated man.
I was recently reminded of this tale, which that I had read many years ago (so, more accurately, this is my memory of the tale). What made me think of it was watching a number of patients struggle with being terribly distressed, and wanting desperately out of their current situations. What's that got to do with dragons?
The tale suggests that you should do what you fear most - sit in the belly of your personal monster. That is, develop an inner calmness and strength so that you can sit with your emotions, thoughts, and beliefs.
You might be asking; How could this possibly help? The answer is based in the idea that your emotional distress (or failure to be the person you'd like to be) probably results from your being alienated from yourself. You don't want to feel hurt, so you pretend not to care; that is, until you are overcome by a tsunami of hurt. In an attempt to lose weight, you try to ignore your hunger; but are eventually compelled by an insatiable monster that demands to be fed.
The best way to respond to these experiences isn't to try harder or to pretend that your struggles don't exist. Instead, you must accept your distress; enter into that painful inner landscape, and walk through it.
By doing this, your compulsion to avoid those painful parts of your experience will no longer drive you from yourself. You will learn to tolerate them. And then you will learn to accept them. When you accept your emotions or experiences, no matter how painful or difficult they are, you also more fully accept yourself. You may be sad or angry or lonely; or something else; but once accepted, those experiences will feel 'right,' much as grief - even though it is painful - feels right when you have lost someone you love. In accepting your emotions, you are sitting in the belly of the beast.
Not only does achieving this self-acceptance mean that you can then feel better about yourself, but it is also empowering. It allows you to figure out whether there really is a problem beyond your merely cowering from your emotions. If there is, it enables you to look at it more clearly; and gives you the chance to approach it in a more confident, effective way.
You may wonder how you can learn to accept your emotions when they can be so upsetting and overwhelming. And, this is a good question. Some common ways are with personal journaling, meditation, mindfulnesspractices, and therapy. But just knowing that you need to accept all of your experiences is an important step in itself - because if you are not convinced of its importance, you probably will just continue trying to fight or deny unwanted experiences - a goal doomed to fail.
The tale suggests that you should do what you fear most - sit in the belly of your personal monster. That is, develop an inner calmness and strength so that you can sit with your emotions, thoughts, and beliefs.
You might be asking; How could this possibly help? The answer is based in the idea that your emotional distress (or failure to be the person you'd like to be) probably results from your being alienated from yourself. You don't want to feel hurt, so you pretend not to care; that is, until you are overcome by a tsunami of hurt. In an attempt to lose weight, you try to ignore your hunger; but are eventually compelled by an insatiable monster that demands to be fed.
The best way to respond to these experiences isn't to try harder or to pretend that your struggles don't exist. Instead, you must accept your distress; enter into that painful inner landscape, and walk through it.
By doing this, your compulsion to avoid those painful parts of your experience will no longer drive you from yourself. You will learn to tolerate them. And then you will learn to accept them. When you accept your emotions or experiences, no matter how painful or difficult they are, you also more fully accept yourself. You may be sad or angry or lonely; or something else; but once accepted, those experiences will feel 'right,' much as grief - even though it is painful - feels right when you have lost someone you love. In accepting your emotions, you are sitting in the belly of the beast.
Not only does achieving this self-acceptance mean that you can then feel better about yourself, but it is also empowering. It allows you to figure out whether there really is a problem beyond your merely cowering from your emotions. If there is, it enables you to look at it more clearly; and gives you the chance to approach it in a more confident, effective way.
You may wonder how you can learn to accept your emotions when they can be so upsetting and overwhelming. And, this is a good question. Some common ways are with personal journaling, meditation, mindfulnesspractices, and therapy. But just knowing that you need to accept all of your experiences is an important step in itself - because if you are not convinced of its importance, you probably will just continue trying to fight or deny unwanted experiences - a goal doomed to fail.
useless blog of the month
I'm listening to Rihanna rave about the sadomasochistic pain and pleasure she derives from the use of chains and whips. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to react to that. It's like humans are so fixated on sexual pleasure that we'd extract it from anything and everything on the planet if it wasn't for the social norms that control our behavior. But thanks, Rihanna. I'm sure you'll be raped and disposed off in a black garbage bag someday soon; you just incited the crazy activation of sex and pleasure neurons in the brains of millions of rapists, sex addicts, serial killers and psychotic perverts from all over the globe. Add your inherent need to take off your clothes and act like a slut to the equation and we've got a winner, ladies and gentlemen!
So, bottom-line: it's great that you're into S&M and all; but girl, I spoke to Chris Brown and he thought he was being your sex-kitten. Clarify the rules of your game next time yeah?
So, bottom-line: it's great that you're into S&M and all; but girl, I spoke to Chris Brown and he thought he was being your sex-kitten. Clarify the rules of your game next time yeah?
Friday, May 06, 2011
Blogging through a shoot-out!!!!
blogging from during a fucking shoot out a Fucking gun battle happening right outside my house!!!! oh my fucking god I can't believe I'm blogging oh my god this is so fucking scary!!!! crazy fucking machine guns gun fire flashes I think someone tried to Rob the house smack opposite to ours. the fucking alarm system isn't even working I dont think I've ever been this scared we're all lying flat on the floor I'm partially under the bed I feel like I'm a war journalist in Iraq or some shit like that. 1250 am it starter and it's 110 am now this is a keepsake blog more than anything yes I'm psychotic blogging. Omg it's getting worse I hear police vans pulling up WTF k I'm out
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Midnight Musings
I feel like writing nothing but a load of crap. My mind is pretty much empty- I think I'm going to make blogging a nightly routine. It's 110 am and I'm lying in bed comforted by the convenience of posting entries from my phone. I really have nothing to say but there's an internal urge that is prodding me to continue writing. I'm completely blank. Freud termed what I'm doing right now as "free association". Maybe you could psychoanalyze my post eventually. Maybe you'll uncover facets of my subconscious and unconscious that I, myself, have been disconnected from. This is a good way to fall asleep as well.
Today I discovered my loyalty towards humanistic psychology. It's quite ironic because just till about a month ago, I believed that it was just a load of bull- abstract, subjective, idealistic, optimistic and very artificially constructed. I have always invested more faith into more scientific and objective schools of thought such as the biological and behavioral paradigms of understanding how and why people behave the way they do. To me, humanism was analogous to a fairy-tale that was written on a whim to please a child- unreal, irrational and often misleading. But then, very recently, I chanced upon the works of theorists such as Horney, Maslow, Kelly and Rogers. I began to read and study what all of these people said about humans and humanity in general, about how to deal with clients during therapy, about what sort of world view one should adopt when trying to understand the next person. Although many of the ideas that have been presented contain gaps and unexplainable black holes, the underlying message/concept is one that holds the most significance.
To be continued. the writer has suddenly experienced a indescribable need to fall asleep. She's not sure if she's still typing or not.
Okay I'm back; it's 449 pm- the next afternoon.
I'd like to expand on my previous attempts to introduce humanistic psychology to my blog. Here is Carl Rogers' theory on how humans function.
Today I discovered my loyalty towards humanistic psychology. It's quite ironic because just till about a month ago, I believed that it was just a load of bull- abstract, subjective, idealistic, optimistic and very artificially constructed. I have always invested more faith into more scientific and objective schools of thought such as the biological and behavioral paradigms of understanding how and why people behave the way they do. To me, humanism was analogous to a fairy-tale that was written on a whim to please a child- unreal, irrational and often misleading. But then, very recently, I chanced upon the works of theorists such as Horney, Maslow, Kelly and Rogers. I began to read and study what all of these people said about humans and humanity in general, about how to deal with clients during therapy, about what sort of world view one should adopt when trying to understand the next person. Although many of the ideas that have been presented contain gaps and unexplainable black holes, the underlying message/concept is one that holds the most significance.
To be continued. the writer has suddenly experienced a indescribable need to fall asleep. She's not sure if she's still typing or not.
Okay I'm back; it's 449 pm- the next afternoon.
I'd like to expand on my previous attempts to introduce humanistic psychology to my blog. Here is Carl Rogers' theory on how humans function.
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
Four Walled Sanctuary
I'm sitting outside in the driveway of my house and my usually peaceful neighborhood has been polluted with the sounds of bustling traffic, hurriedly anticipating car horns and petrifying ambulance and police car sirens. My mother decided to take a brave step and venture out to a near by grocery store to stock up on basic supplies such as milk, petrol for the car, bread etc. I think she's over reacting because I feel surprisingly calm- after-all, I do live in Pakistan. I think I, along with millions of other pakistani citizens, have slowly but eventually desensitized themselves to the unrest that has surrounded us for years now. It's not something that has happened consciously and actively, but is something very cancer-like: silent, vicious and intoxicating. The same feelings of ill exuberance do not hit me when I hear about a bomb blast ripping through my very own locality, or in this current situation, where a political party's leader's murder has caused unrest throughout the city- so much so, that there are reports coming in about motor vehicles and public transport carriages being burnt, shoot outs occurring city wide and dozens of people being harmed as I type this. But amidst all this unrest, I sit here in the semi permeable safety of the four boundary walls that stand before me.
My safety, and the safety of my loved ones is primary to my conscience- but what about the innumerable people who aren't as lucky? What about the lay man who has to take public transport in order to reach the sanctuary of HIS four walls? What if the bus that he encounters to board is one of the ill-fated ones that is attacked? What if he isn't able to make it home unharmed? And if he is...what conditions will ensue for his family and loved ones? What if he is the sole breadwinner of the clan? What if the he is a she- the mother of young children, the wife of a poor laborer, the sister of an orphan child...? Then what? This doesn't just apply to the underprivileged class of society, it's equally devastating to see a wealthy family lose a loved one or go through such misfortune. We're all humans after-all- we all function the same way. We love, we hurt, we grieve, we recover and try to stand back up on our feet the same way as every next individual. But it's sad that although we are good at empathizing with others and condemn acts of such brutality and inhumanity, it is our very own specie that is the cause of such evil in the world today.
Pakistan has gone through a lot in the past 60 odd years since partition- it's been a rocky road with glimmers of hope which eventually lose their zeal. It's a sad sight. You'd envision positive development and growth (all, economic, political and HUMAN) to take over as time progresses - perhaps the gradual alleviation of poverty, equal opportunities for all citizens, the reduction of political malpractice, an increase in homeland security and most importantly, an increase in quality education of the masses in all spheres. Is this too idealistic a country that one yearns for after 60+ years of independence? I don't think so. Pakistan, in my opinion, has one of the strongest potentials to be a first world country; we have the natural and human resources, we have the talent, we have the intelligence, to say the least- our problem is that we get sidelined by what I'd metaphorically like to call 'extra-academic affairs'. You know how there's always that one kid in class that the teacher has high hopes in but the kid is so distracted by social activities and perhaps his newfound lady-love that he doesn't operationalize his intellectual capacities to their zenith. Thus, instead of getting an A grade, he ends up with a C. Pakistan, in my opinion, is in a similar predicament. We're too sidelined by problems such as corruption, a lack of education, political infighting, 'terrorism' and fighting off decades worth of debt, to name a few, to actually focus primarily on the real issues at hand.
I consider myself to be a very patriotic person. I feel very strongly about my country and what people may say about it. I have to admit that it was the effect of the whole 'distance makes the heart fonder' bullshit that makes me feel this way today. Living abroad makes you realize the worth of something you previously hadn't valued as much; it makes you realize that all the small things about home leave the most lasting impressions on your heart. This is why I made up my mind to return to Pakistan after my studies so that I could serve as a positive contribution to local society in any way that I could instead of being a passive bystander who was 'all talk and no action'. But as days pass and the situation seemingly deteriorates, I shamefully find myself considering retracting my commitment. I wonder whether I'd like to raise a family in a such an unhealthy environment where every day is more precarious than the previous one, where bombs explode like fireworks, where one fears having to wait at traffic signals, where one feels the most at risk and unsafe in the presence of security personnel who are supposed to protect you, where the system feeds on bribery and corruption, where justice lies in the number and color of the currency in your pocket, where education is being upheaved by extremist religious values.....and every day is the funeral of at-least one person who had the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
I'm ashamed to be portraying such a negative image of my mother land. I really am. But sometimes, one has to accept ones' flaws instead of living in a fairyland. I want Pakistan to progress, I want us to prove everyone who is against us at this point in time wrong, I want us to be the underdog that rises to the top. But I'm scared. I'm fearful. Yet hopeful. I don't want it to reach a point where I have to choose between my country and the safety of my family.
Things seemed to have settled down a little on the streets outside. The wind seems to be trying to deliver a similar message as it softly brushes stray locks of hair off my face. Motherly. Peaceful. But then in the lapse of a second, I am able to hear the far off shrills of a racing ambulance. It's probably stuck in traffic as it tries to make it's way to the closest hospital. I wonder how badly injured the person inside it is. I wonder if he/she will survive. I wonder whether he/she is in pain. If so, how much? The four boundary walls of my house continue to stare down at me with resolute dedication to protect me. But I wonder, how long will this spell of sheer luck last? You never think that such things will happen to you. You're always that special one that God has promised go protect no matter what. But living in such times makes me question my confidence. It makes me wonder: When will my turn come?
I look towards the wall in front of me as if expecting a reply of some sort. Surprise surprise. The walls remain silent.
My safety, and the safety of my loved ones is primary to my conscience- but what about the innumerable people who aren't as lucky? What about the lay man who has to take public transport in order to reach the sanctuary of HIS four walls? What if the bus that he encounters to board is one of the ill-fated ones that is attacked? What if he isn't able to make it home unharmed? And if he is...what conditions will ensue for his family and loved ones? What if he is the sole breadwinner of the clan? What if the he is a she- the mother of young children, the wife of a poor laborer, the sister of an orphan child...? Then what? This doesn't just apply to the underprivileged class of society, it's equally devastating to see a wealthy family lose a loved one or go through such misfortune. We're all humans after-all- we all function the same way. We love, we hurt, we grieve, we recover and try to stand back up on our feet the same way as every next individual. But it's sad that although we are good at empathizing with others and condemn acts of such brutality and inhumanity, it is our very own specie that is the cause of such evil in the world today.
Pakistan has gone through a lot in the past 60 odd years since partition- it's been a rocky road with glimmers of hope which eventually lose their zeal. It's a sad sight. You'd envision positive development and growth (all, economic, political and HUMAN) to take over as time progresses - perhaps the gradual alleviation of poverty, equal opportunities for all citizens, the reduction of political malpractice, an increase in homeland security and most importantly, an increase in quality education of the masses in all spheres. Is this too idealistic a country that one yearns for after 60+ years of independence? I don't think so. Pakistan, in my opinion, has one of the strongest potentials to be a first world country; we have the natural and human resources, we have the talent, we have the intelligence, to say the least- our problem is that we get sidelined by what I'd metaphorically like to call 'extra-academic affairs'. You know how there's always that one kid in class that the teacher has high hopes in but the kid is so distracted by social activities and perhaps his newfound lady-love that he doesn't operationalize his intellectual capacities to their zenith. Thus, instead of getting an A grade, he ends up with a C. Pakistan, in my opinion, is in a similar predicament. We're too sidelined by problems such as corruption, a lack of education, political infighting, 'terrorism' and fighting off decades worth of debt, to name a few, to actually focus primarily on the real issues at hand.
I consider myself to be a very patriotic person. I feel very strongly about my country and what people may say about it. I have to admit that it was the effect of the whole 'distance makes the heart fonder' bullshit that makes me feel this way today. Living abroad makes you realize the worth of something you previously hadn't valued as much; it makes you realize that all the small things about home leave the most lasting impressions on your heart. This is why I made up my mind to return to Pakistan after my studies so that I could serve as a positive contribution to local society in any way that I could instead of being a passive bystander who was 'all talk and no action'. But as days pass and the situation seemingly deteriorates, I shamefully find myself considering retracting my commitment. I wonder whether I'd like to raise a family in a such an unhealthy environment where every day is more precarious than the previous one, where bombs explode like fireworks, where one fears having to wait at traffic signals, where one feels the most at risk and unsafe in the presence of security personnel who are supposed to protect you, where the system feeds on bribery and corruption, where justice lies in the number and color of the currency in your pocket, where education is being upheaved by extremist religious values.....and every day is the funeral of at-least one person who had the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
I'm ashamed to be portraying such a negative image of my mother land. I really am. But sometimes, one has to accept ones' flaws instead of living in a fairyland. I want Pakistan to progress, I want us to prove everyone who is against us at this point in time wrong, I want us to be the underdog that rises to the top. But I'm scared. I'm fearful. Yet hopeful. I don't want it to reach a point where I have to choose between my country and the safety of my family.
Things seemed to have settled down a little on the streets outside. The wind seems to be trying to deliver a similar message as it softly brushes stray locks of hair off my face. Motherly. Peaceful. But then in the lapse of a second, I am able to hear the far off shrills of a racing ambulance. It's probably stuck in traffic as it tries to make it's way to the closest hospital. I wonder how badly injured the person inside it is. I wonder if he/she will survive. I wonder whether he/she is in pain. If so, how much? The four boundary walls of my house continue to stare down at me with resolute dedication to protect me. But I wonder, how long will this spell of sheer luck last? You never think that such things will happen to you. You're always that special one that God has promised go protect no matter what. But living in such times makes me question my confidence. It makes me wonder: When will my turn come?
I look towards the wall in front of me as if expecting a reply of some sort. Surprise surprise. The walls remain silent.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Happy Second Anniversary
Happy two year anniversary to me.
April 22, 2009. I remember sitting in the Coach Canada bus as it slowly made its way out of the berri uqam bus terminal. I forced myself to take a mental snap shot for myself- an imaginary keepsake if you may. The snow was slushy and brown in some places, in other places it wasnt even present. Spring had freshly arrived. But in Montreal, you don't realise it's spring until atleast may. I had taken the 530 pm bus on purpose- it gave me a chance to spend my last day in my temporary city and say goodbye to it one last time. I had hoped that the su would set later that day so that I would be able to catch my last glimpses of sights and sounds I might never ever be able to experience again. It was one of the most emotional rides of my life (pun intended). I was lucky to have an empty seat next to me so I decided to sprawl myself in both seats and try to relax myself. I couldn't help but think of the year that had just passed by - the people I'd met, the lessons I'd learnt and wish id learnt, the mistakes I'd made, the good times with some of the most amazing people I'd gotten a chance to meet, the bitches I'd wished I'd never met....and the most amazing educational experience I'd ever gotten. I still remember crying silently wishing that I could turn back time And do everything again- the right way, this time. But I knew that I didn't have lady luck on my side.. Call it karma or call destiny..I call it fate. Fate that was hard to swallow- and still is- but someday..someday soon..I hope to digest it.
Two years later, I sit here writing this. It's taken me innumerable therapy sessions, a break up with an ex boyfriend and the support of some of the most amazing friends in the world to be at the place I am at right now. Considering how hung up I still am over fucking Canada. You probably think that none of them made a difference. But they have. In their small little capacities.
I made a lot of mistakes. I hurt a lot of people on the way. I've deposited and shredded friendships, broken the heart of a boy who worshipped me like no one probably ever will, fucked up my studies, reduced my professional credibility and most of all...lost myself in the process. The person I am today. In my opinion, isn't the person I was and am supposed to be. I consider identification of the problem step 1 of finding a solution. I don't know how I'm going to move on to step 2 but I know that there is a way- I just have to stick it out, feel the pain and move forward. It's been two years since I've been back in pakistan- that's no joke. And to still cringe at the sight, sound or smell of anything related to Canada is ridiculous. Its something I want to separate myself from; I thought cathartic writing should be my next step towards 'independence'.
My life in Pakistan is wonderful. I've met some amazingly amazing people- my best friends. People who love me for who I am no matter what I do or have done, parents who are there to support me through thick and thin- to protect me from all the negativity that may attack me, a university which sucks balls but still provides me with knowledge..I feel wanted and loved. I feel secure. And happy. I have a moderate sense of stability now. I've moved on from my previous shackled and turbulent relationship after a lot of shit. In relation to that, my only regret is that in the process I lost one of my best friends in the world- a boy I care about like crazy- its just that sometimes your craze is platonic more than anything else- and as much as you try, you can't force yourself to feel a certain way.
Here's to my 2nd anniversary. Happy anniversary Sara. Here's to fucking Canada out of your memory. Here's to moving forward.
April 22, 2009. I remember sitting in the Coach Canada bus as it slowly made its way out of the berri uqam bus terminal. I forced myself to take a mental snap shot for myself- an imaginary keepsake if you may. The snow was slushy and brown in some places, in other places it wasnt even present. Spring had freshly arrived. But in Montreal, you don't realise it's spring until atleast may. I had taken the 530 pm bus on purpose- it gave me a chance to spend my last day in my temporary city and say goodbye to it one last time. I had hoped that the su would set later that day so that I would be able to catch my last glimpses of sights and sounds I might never ever be able to experience again. It was one of the most emotional rides of my life (pun intended). I was lucky to have an empty seat next to me so I decided to sprawl myself in both seats and try to relax myself. I couldn't help but think of the year that had just passed by - the people I'd met, the lessons I'd learnt and wish id learnt, the mistakes I'd made, the good times with some of the most amazing people I'd gotten a chance to meet, the bitches I'd wished I'd never met....and the most amazing educational experience I'd ever gotten. I still remember crying silently wishing that I could turn back time And do everything again- the right way, this time. But I knew that I didn't have lady luck on my side.. Call it karma or call destiny..I call it fate. Fate that was hard to swallow- and still is- but someday..someday soon..I hope to digest it.
Two years later, I sit here writing this. It's taken me innumerable therapy sessions, a break up with an ex boyfriend and the support of some of the most amazing friends in the world to be at the place I am at right now. Considering how hung up I still am over fucking Canada. You probably think that none of them made a difference. But they have. In their small little capacities.
I made a lot of mistakes. I hurt a lot of people on the way. I've deposited and shredded friendships, broken the heart of a boy who worshipped me like no one probably ever will, fucked up my studies, reduced my professional credibility and most of all...lost myself in the process. The person I am today. In my opinion, isn't the person I was and am supposed to be. I consider identification of the problem step 1 of finding a solution. I don't know how I'm going to move on to step 2 but I know that there is a way- I just have to stick it out, feel the pain and move forward. It's been two years since I've been back in pakistan- that's no joke. And to still cringe at the sight, sound or smell of anything related to Canada is ridiculous. Its something I want to separate myself from; I thought cathartic writing should be my next step towards 'independence'.
My life in Pakistan is wonderful. I've met some amazingly amazing people- my best friends. People who love me for who I am no matter what I do or have done, parents who are there to support me through thick and thin- to protect me from all the negativity that may attack me, a university which sucks balls but still provides me with knowledge..I feel wanted and loved. I feel secure. And happy. I have a moderate sense of stability now. I've moved on from my previous shackled and turbulent relationship after a lot of shit. In relation to that, my only regret is that in the process I lost one of my best friends in the world- a boy I care about like crazy- its just that sometimes your craze is platonic more than anything else- and as much as you try, you can't force yourself to feel a certain way.
Here's to my 2nd anniversary. Happy anniversary Sara. Here's to fucking Canada out of your memory. Here's to moving forward.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The Two of Them
My Brofriend.
Brofriend.
My boyfriend.
Boyfriend
Two separate people. Separate entities.
Fragile; please handle with care.
Brofriend.
My boyfriend.
Boyfriend
Two separate people. Separate entities.
Fragile; please handle with care.
Saturday, April 09, 2011
Seek Apocalypse
Moderation is a phase
Starts, it does, filled with cloudiness
Mazes to meander, shoes to fill
Hill after hill do I clamber upon
Striving to reach that peak
Eyes wide shut, breath heavy
Eternity never seems to end.
Focus on that end, I placate
For everything has a conclusion
Starts, it does, filled with cloudiness
Mazes to meander, shoes to fill
Hill after hill do I clamber upon
Striving to reach that peak
Eyes wide shut, breath heavy
Eternity never seems to end.
Focus on that end, I placate
For everything has a conclusion
Self-Handicapped
Misty futures, goals left undefined
Confidence shAllow and twisted
Ideas convoluted, thoughts subjugated
Pressures mounting, expectations rising
A past left cluttered and unrepairable
History begins to repeat itself, emotions flurried
Fight to make it right, decay is inevitable
Thoughts polluted, motivations scarred
You know how to fix it, to twist it.
But do you really want to?
Confidence shAllow and twisted
Ideas convoluted, thoughts subjugated
Pressures mounting, expectations rising
A past left cluttered and unrepairable
History begins to repeat itself, emotions flurried
Fight to make it right, decay is inevitable
Thoughts polluted, motivations scarred
You know how to fix it, to twist it.
But do you really want to?
Locus of Control
I'm experiencing a sense of unconscionable panic right now. It's hard to explain. I've realized that I've become the sort of person who cannot handle things out of her locus of control: it needs to be in my hand. But the problem is that even when I have that yearned control, I tend to take it for granted- a sort of self handicapping, so to speak. I fear becoming a failure in life due to this recently conceived personality flaw. People around me speak about the strong potential I have to be brilliant- and I know that this brilliance resides in me..somewhere..untouched...
Why is it untouched? Why hasn't it been exploited and used to it's zenith? When you have something, why don't you use it? When you have that control, why don't you exert it? It's analogous to having the ability to see but choosing to walk around with your eyes closed. But I still wonder why this is so..and why is it something that's come about so recently? I was never like it- I was the go-getter, the proactive amazon...why now, when the time has come when I need it the most? Perhaps a sense of overconfidence and having been praised too much? Is it a method of regressing...?
Whatever it is, it needs to stop.
Why is it untouched? Why hasn't it been exploited and used to it's zenith? When you have something, why don't you use it? When you have that control, why don't you exert it? It's analogous to having the ability to see but choosing to walk around with your eyes closed. But I still wonder why this is so..and why is it something that's come about so recently? I was never like it- I was the go-getter, the proactive amazon...why now, when the time has come when I need it the most? Perhaps a sense of overconfidence and having been praised too much? Is it a method of regressing...?
Whatever it is, it needs to stop.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Musings from the Sky
I feel poetic and exhilarated- in a world world external and public, yet internal and private: something that I can call my own; a little bubble with an ashtray grey with muddled thoughts- light and effervescent, enough to be blown away with a mere gust of air. Speaking to each other, pacifying their environment, my thoughts gently numb the erosion that has been corroding my mind. They softly brush together and intertwine their make - belief palms to push out the corruption that has long since been poisoning the territory of my sanity. Temporary as it may be, the escapist in me appreciates the vacation - I had hoped to find a sandy white beach outlined with green, umbrella-like palm trees, but the most I could get this time was only the infantile pleasure of resting these thoughts in my bed. A permanence in the temporary resonates within me as I realize that reality will catch up with me very soon. I feel her coming. The thoughts begin to tame themselves, the rust seems to be bringing back that feeling back with it once more. The bass keeps resounding. The beat keeps beating.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
is this week over yet?
I there was one thing that I could wish for, it would be to speed this seems-like-never-ending week up. It's STILL thursday. Ideally I would have been very happy, considering tomorrow is friday. But saturday is a school day. I've had a pretty productive week in terms of socialising. You thought i'd talk about personal growth and achieving concrete goals? Yeah, I had planned on that. But I missed my yoga class. So I took one with Mathira instead. After five minutes of “girls inhale deeply..be confident...stick your chests out...be sexy”, I realised that what I was being instructed to do was probably what landed Mathira her after-hours tv show host job. So I respecfully..silently...gracefully...stood up and walked away. I'm sorry but I'd prefer not to be sexy, Mathira. Also, wearing shorts over tights with 4 inch high boots kind of gave the fake-yoga away...
I spent most of my week doing something or the other related to aiesec. I'm pretty sad our chinese interns are leaving..i really bonded well with them. They were really nice, fun people. But like one of them told me at the farewell party, “some of us are just strangers who crossed paths. Maybe we can walk the same paths some day soon.” its always sad to see people who you get attached to, leave. You wonder whether you'll ever see them again in your lifetime...and even if you do, will the moment feel like it does right now? Will I be able to be the same way with them in 10 years? There are somethings you'll never know unless you actually experience them yourself. Anyways...the farewell party(s) were great. We chilled on the intern-house roof, obsessed over the camera, ordered food...it was fun. I hadn't hung out with many of the people there for a long time so it was great to meet everyone.
The winter season is over and it sucks. It means: oily skin, sweat, shooting deodorant sales (or shooting air freshner sales in many cases), tans...and ….a suffocating burst of lawn exhibitions. Nomi ansari had his opening today near do talwar..i wanted to go so I passed by only to see that it was closed for lunch...and there were 10 aunties screaming their lungs out at one of the organisers. Typical, I thought. This happened last year as well. I remember hearing stories of women physically FIGHTING over clothes. Really...? =s so anyways, I thought it was best that I came back at some other time when there wasn't as big a rush. But I hear his prints are good so i'll definitely go back to check them out.
School is so much better this semester. This week has been a little tiring because i've been so sleepy during classes. During my theories of lifespan and development class, we started a chapter on infancy and “babyhood”. I found it very awkward when my teacher opened the powerpoint...why?...on every slide there were ONLY pictures of babies making out. Say WHAT?! My teacher also pronounces sperm as “sprum”. Which reminds me that my friend's sister had a baby boy this monday. Was that related or am I weird? =s
wow. I think I have a quiz tomorrow. Yeah, this is how I motivate myself. Which reminds me that I made a motivational page on the back of the front cover of my school notebook: I made a list of all the things I will and will not do this semester. So whenever I feel like my motivation is slipping, i'll just flip to the first page, go through the list and,..hopefully...just hopefully, regain my focus.
so...i think it would be a good time to do JUST that, right now. Considering I have a management quiz in the morning and I don't feel like studying.
Study, sara...STUDY.
is this week over yet?
I there was one thing that I could wish for, it would be to speed this seems-like-never-ending week up. It's STILL thursday. Ideally I would have been very happy, considering tomorrow is friday. But saturday is a school day. I've had a pretty productive week in terms of socialising. You thought i'd talk about personal growth and achieving concrete goals? Yeah, I had planned on that. But I missed my yoga class. So I took one with Mathira instead. After five minutes of “girls inhale deeply..be confident...stick your chests out...be sexy”, I realised that what I was being instructed to do was probably what landed Mathira her after-hours tv show host job. So I respecfully..silently...gracefully...stood up and walked away. I'm sorry but I'd prefer not to be sexy, Mathira. Also, wearing shorts over tights with 4 inch high boots kind of gave the fake-yoga away...
I spent most of my week doing something or the other related to aiesec. I'm pretty sad our chinese interns are leaving..i really bonded well with them. They were really nice, fun people. But like one of them told me at the farewell party, “some of us are just strangers who crossed paths. Maybe we can walk the same paths some day soon.” its always sad to see people who you get attached to, leave. You wonder whether you'll ever see them again in your lifetime...and even if you do, will the moment feel like it does right now? Will I be able to be the same way with them in 10 years? There are somethings you'll never know unless you actually experience them yourself. Anyways...the farewell party(s) were great. We chilled on the intern-house roof, obsessed over the camera, ordered food...it was fun. I hadn't hung out with many of the people there for a long time so it was great to meet everyone.
The winter season is over and it sucks. It means: oily skin, sweat, shooting deodorant sales (or shooting air freshner sales in many cases), tans...and ….a suffocating burst of lawn exhibitions. Nomi ansari had his opening today near do talwar..i wanted to go so I passed by only to see that it was closed for lunch...and there were 10 aunties screaming their lungs out at one of the organisers. Typical, I thought. This happened last year as well. I remember hearing stories of women physically FIGHTING over clothes. Really...? =s so anyways, I thought it was best that I came back at some other time when there wasn't as big a rush. But I hear his prints are good so i'll definitely go back to check them out.
School is so much better this semester. This week has been a little tiring because i've been so sleepy during classes. During my theories of lifespan and development class, we started a chapter on infancy and “babyhood”. I found it very awkward when my teacher opened the powerpoint...why?...on every slide there were ONLY pictures of babies making out. Say WHAT?! My teacher also pronounces sperm as “sprum”. Which reminds me that my friend's sister had a baby boy this monday. Was that related or am I weird? =s
wow. I think I have a quiz tomorrow. Yeah, this is how I motivate myself. Which reminds me that I made a motivational page on the back of the front cover of my school notebook: I made a list of all the things I will and will not do this semester. So whenever I feel like my motivation is slipping, i'll just flip to the first page, go through the list and,..hopefully...just hopefully, regain my focus.
so...i think it would be a good time to do JUST that, right now. Considering I have a management quiz in the morning and I don't feel like studying.
Study, sara...STUDY.
More later. :)
Is this week over yet?
I there was one thing that I could wish for, it would be to speed this seems-like-never-ending week up. It's STILL thursday. Ideally I would have been very happy, considering tomorrow is friday. But saturday is a school day. I've had a pretty productive week in terms of socialising. You thought i'd talk about personal growth and achieving concrete goals? Yeah, I had planned on that. But I missed my yoga class. So I took one with Mathira instead. After five minutes of “girls inhale deeply..be confident...stick your chests out...be sexy”, I realised that what I was being instructed to do was probably what landed Mathira her after-hours tv show host job. So I respecfully..silently...gracefully...stood up and walked away. I'm sorry but I'd prefer not to be sexy, Mathira. Also, wearing shorts over tights with 4 inch high boots kind of gave the fake-yoga away...
I spent most of my week doing something or the other related to aiesec. I'm pretty sad our chinese interns are leaving..i really bonded well with them. They were really nice, fun people. But like one of them told me at the farewell party, “some of us are just strangers who crossed paths. Maybe we can walk the same paths some day soon.” its always sad to see people who you get attached to, leave. You wonder whether you'll ever see them again in your lifetime...and even if you do, will the moment feel like it does right now? Will I be able to be the same way with them in 10 years? There are somethings you'll never know unless you actually experience them yourself. Anyways...the farewell party(s) were great. We chilled on the intern-house roof, obsessed over the camera, ordered food...it was fun. I hadn't hung out with many of the people there for a long time so it was great to meet everyone.
The winter season is over and it sucks. It means: oily skin, sweat, shooting deodorant sales (or shooting air freshner sales in many cases), tans...and ….a suffocating burst of lawn exhibitions. Nomi ansari had his opening today near do talwar..i wanted to go so I passed by only to see that it was closed for lunch...and there were 10 aunties screaming their lungs out at one of the organisers. Typical, I thought. This happened last year as well. I remember hearing stories of women physically FIGHTING over clothes. Really...? =s so anyways, I thought it was best that I came back at some other time when there wasn't as big a rush. But I hear his prints are good so i'll definitely go back to check them out.
School is so much better this semester. This week has been a little tiring because i've been so sleepy during classes. During my theories of lifespan and development class, we started a chapter on infancy and “babyhood”. I found it very awkward when my teacher opened the powerpoint...why?...on every slide there were ONLY pictures of babies making out. Say WHAT?! My teacher also pronounces sperm as “sprum”. Which reminds me that my friend's sister had a baby boy this monday. Was that related or am I weird? =s
wow. I think I have a quiz tomorrow. Yeah, this is how I motivate myself. Which reminds me that I made a motivational page on the back of the front cover of my school notebook: I made a list of all the things I will and will not do this semester. So whenever I feel like my motivation is slipping, i'll just flip to the first page, go through the list and,..hopefully...just hopefully, regain my focus.
so...i think it would be a good time to do JUST that, right now. Considering I have a management quiz in the morning and I don't feel like studying.
ps: i took ogx candidates' interviews today. i faked a crying outburst/meltdown. i think i scandalised the guy. oh well. he has to learn how to handle a crying girl one day or the other right?
Study, sara...STUDY.
More later. :)
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Black isn't a colour
Its attractive. Seems like it's calling out to me. It promises me solitude. Peace. A release from anxiety. Butterflies. Stars. Lush meadows. I know what it is. I've been there before. Not too many times, but enough to buckle under its pressure. As I caress it, I feel a sense of joy. I haven’t felt like this in a while now. I shouldn't, actually. Should I?
Black.
There are cars around me. It's a junction. Trucks. Trains. Motorbikes. Lorries. But they're all at a stand-still. I stand in the middle. Eyes closed. I feel people pushing past me- their rough selfish desires to protect themselves fill me with a sense of warmth. Something isn't right- I can feel it. I can sense the panic. Mothers scream out for their children- but they hear nothing in response. The clouds seem to be heavy. It's okay. It always is. I remain centered. This panic is temporary. Better things always make their way to you. But why are you not as sure this time?
Black.
I lie in my bed. Its cold outside. I'm sweating. As I stare above, my ceiling transforms itself into a black, endless pit. Its reassuring. It makes me feel safe. It opens endless opportunities. A world vast and untouched. Dreams. Aspirations. Love. Joy. Success. With my eyes closed, I reach my hand out above me in hope of grabbing anything I can get a hold of. My hand flails. It claws at empty space. Everything I'll ever want is at my fingertips. So tell me, why can't I have it all?
Black.
I let go. Like I always do. The balloon ascends with a surprised start. It probably doesn’t know I was going to let it go on such a whim. After all, I'd fought to get it. It was mine. Had been. As I look up, I see it flutter around, as if it were in a torture cell. I smile. It looks down at me. It probably understands my intentions. As if it were taking a dejected deep breathe, it looks upward. Contains itself. Let go? The redness of it's body loses its brightness. I feel nothing. I thought I would. It was meant to be temporary. It's done and over with. Move on. I nonchalantly flip my hair and look down to survey the space around me. Red. Like they say, there are plenty more fish in the sea. I smile as I bend to submerge my hand into this red sea. One down, infinity to go.
Black.
The spiral-stairs never seem to end. The height at which I am at seems daunting. I feel a sense of panic in my stomach. I close my eyes. It reaches my throat. If I look down, I'm sure I'll be sucked in. Suddenly, I feel someone nudge my back. My fear makes way for throbbing anger. I can't sit. I can't stand. The pit seems to have become bigger during this time. I miss my shiny, red balloon. Do you think it'll come back to me and rid me of my misery? Too late, says my internal parent. I sigh. He nudges me again- this time it's a stronger push. I take a step down. Gravity defines me. It fills my lungs. I can't breathe. He violently grabs my neck; squeezes it as tightly as he can. I remembered asking him to never let go of me. I was getting what I had asked for. I enjoy every second of it: the intolerable burning, the orgasmic tingling, the bruising pain, the hysteric gasps for fresh oxygen... I close my eyes. I let it happen.
I think, "Fuck this. It's a down-ward spiral. Everything will be okay. It always is."
But will it really?
I think, "Fuck this. It's a down-ward spiral. Everything will be okay. It always is."
But will it really?
Black. Out.
Saturday, October 09, 2010
An extremeley interesting article from Psychology Today
Neuronarrative
Musings on the complicated business of thinking
by David DiSalvo
If You Want to Catch a Liar, Make Him Draw
Liars stumble when they can't verbalize their lies
Published on October 4, 2010
Researchers hypothesized that several tendencies would become evident in the scribbles and sketches of liars not found in those of non-liars. For instance, they suspected that liars, when asked to sketch out the particulars of a location where they hadn't really been to meet someone they hadn't really met, would provide less detail in their drawings. They also suspected that the drawing would seem less plausible overall, and would not include a depiction of the person they allegedly met.
They also hypothesized that non-liars would use a "shoulder-camera" perspective to draw the situation--a direct, line-of-sight view that previous research suggests is more indicative of truth telling. Liars, they suspected, would use an "overhead-camera" perspective, indicating a sense of detachment from the situation.
Subjects were given a "mission" that included going to a designated location and meeting a person with whom they would exchange information. In all, four different missions were conducted. The particulars of the missions were constructed such that about half of the participants would, when interviewed, be able to tell the truth about what happened, and half would have to lie (the researchers used a fabricated espionage theme to work this out--very clever).
During the interview, subjects were asked questions about their experience, as would happen in a normal interrogation, and also asked to draw the particulars of their experience. Results of the verbal responses could then be compared to the drawn responses to determine which method was more effective in identifying liars.
Here's what happened: No significant differences in level of detail were found between verbal and drawn statements, but the plausibility of truthful drawings was somewhat higher than deceptive drawings. A similar difference in plausibility was not evident between truthful and deceptive verbal statements.
More interestingly, significantly more truth tellers included the "agent" (other person in the situation) in their drawings than did liars (80% vs. 13%). In addition, significantly more truth tellers drew from a shoulder-camera view than liars, who by and large drew from an overhead view (53% vs. 19%). In verbal statements, more truth tellers also mentioned the agent than liars (53% vs. 19%).
Using the "sketching the agent" result alone, it was possible to identify 80% of the truth tellers and 87% of the liars--results superior to most traditional interview techniques.
The main reason drawing seems to be effective in identifying liars is that they have less time to work out the details. Someone who is telling the truth already has a visual image of where they were and what happened (even if it's not perfect, which of course it never is), but liars have to manufacture the details. It's easier to concoct something verbally than to first visualize and then create it on paper.
Copyright 2010 - David DiSalvo
They also hypothesized that non-liars would use a "shoulder-camera" perspective to draw the situation--a direct, line-of-sight view that previous research suggests is more indicative of truth telling. Liars, they suspected, would use an "overhead-camera" perspective, indicating a sense of detachment from the situation.
Subjects were given a "mission" that included going to a designated location and meeting a person with whom they would exchange information. In all, four different missions were conducted. The particulars of the missions were constructed such that about half of the participants would, when interviewed, be able to tell the truth about what happened, and half would have to lie (the researchers used a fabricated espionage theme to work this out--very clever).
During the interview, subjects were asked questions about their experience, as would happen in a normal interrogation, and also asked to draw the particulars of their experience. Results of the verbal responses could then be compared to the drawn responses to determine which method was more effective in identifying liars.
Here's what happened: No significant differences in level of detail were found between verbal and drawn statements, but the plausibility of truthful drawings was somewhat higher than deceptive drawings. A similar difference in plausibility was not evident between truthful and deceptive verbal statements.
More interestingly, significantly more truth tellers included the "agent" (other person in the situation) in their drawings than did liars (80% vs. 13%). In addition, significantly more truth tellers drew from a shoulder-camera view than liars, who by and large drew from an overhead view (53% vs. 19%). In verbal statements, more truth tellers also mentioned the agent than liars (53% vs. 19%).
Using the "sketching the agent" result alone, it was possible to identify 80% of the truth tellers and 87% of the liars--results superior to most traditional interview techniques.
The main reason drawing seems to be effective in identifying liars is that they have less time to work out the details. Someone who is telling the truth already has a visual image of where they were and what happened (even if it's not perfect, which of course it never is), but liars have to manufacture the details. It's easier to concoct something verbally than to first visualize and then create it on paper.
Copyright 2010 - David DiSalvo
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