Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Her fingers, they traced patterns in the zig-zag path of the falling raindrops on her window, beckoned by gravity to fall to the ground. Her heart, it beat out a tattoo of grief, with every beat, ripping itself to shreds. Her mind, it whirled and scrambled, crazed and frightened, calling up the rising fear inside of her. Her hands, they fell to the blade she'd kept beside her since that day, that one day.
It hurt to think of it, oh how it hurt.
Her fingers, they trembled, her eyes, they stared, then darted, panicked, panicked.
Despair etched in every crevice, every line and hollow in her old, old face.
A moan, brief but heart-rending.
A sob, of endless grieving.
Then the pain. White-hot, searing.
The young man glanced back at his charge, the woman he was supposed to care for. He couldn't care less about her. A small sound escaped her, but otherwise she sat dull and lifeless, in the chair she'd been sitting in for two days, in the clothes she'd been wearing for twice as long. Moved, she hadn't, in 2 days. He wondered for a fleeting moment, what went on in her crazed mind, what made her make those tiny sounds every once in a while, detached from reality. Sometimes, she scared him. Sometimes. He snorted. Her hands and feet were tied, she couldn't possibly harm him. But her eyes. The way they watched him. Her eyes. Frightening, with creatures living in them. Her eyes.
Madness, they called it. Crazy, they called her.
A whisper, a whisper of the madness sliding over your skin, sliding up the back of your neck, down to tickle the base of your spine.
Wait. Just wait.
Sid: ....um. Yeah, I think so. Cause, you know, when people are upset and all, you hug them and they feel better... don't they?
Me: I guess. I should give out more hugs to people.
Me: Yeah, they'd probably either think I'm retarded or start calling me gay.
Sid: Definitely the latter.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Someone tell me something happy.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Haha, I'm reaching up to new levels of lameness =P
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Then, I moved on to other topics and found out I'd forgotten everything. Freaking out, Khan and I spend hours on the phone and decide to just let it go and to hell with everything and blah, blah. This was around... 9. P.M. I played with Moosa for a while, decided I'd go to sleep early around 10 p.m. cause that's when the light comes back on. 10 p.m., I go to my room, happily thinking of a nice night's sleep since I had to get up by 4 a.m.
Turns out, I couldn't be more wrong. 11 p.m., I start getting calls. "PAPER CANCEL H GYA HAI!" Me: "WHAT? WHAT? THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE!" And then starts the whole story. The whole class is calling up each other and our teachers and our seniors, and frantically trying to find out whether its true or not. Okay, so we find out its true, and everyone goes back to bed, relieved that they won't have to get up in the wee hours. Right?
Wrong. "Paper cancel nai hua." An hour later, "No, wait, its cancelled." This went on till 1 a.m. Someone SMSed everyone that she'd talked to the head and the paper was going through, it wasn't cancelled. Nobody knows what to do. Everyone sleeps around 2 and gets up at 5. Study, study, study, don't think of anything else, study. Around 7, we start getting calls again. "The paper's cancelled, the gate-keeper's not letting anyone in, its confirmed". Khan and I go anyway, to check things out. And the paper's finally postponed till Monday.
Severe lack of sleep, a horribly aching back, I can't even go back to sleep, the light's going off-schedule, Khan is acting like a paranoid nut, I just got done with cooking dinner since family's coming over.
All I want to do is watch Private Practice and eat chocolate and pizza and lasagne and spaghetti with meatballs and OMG chicken Italian casserole and... yeah. You get the drift.
I don't want to take the rest of the papers now =(
Friday, June 12, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
All of these are ABSOLUTELY true. Qasam se. =D
Okay, all of the girls who read this, I'm sure you're more than familiar with almost all of these. My sister and I came up with these last night, recalling all the stalkers (good, bad, hilarious, plain stupid, leecher) and just cracked up. Where do these people come from?!
So, anyway. Starting off with when they call and you politely ask 'Aap ko number kahan se mila?'
The brilliant responses:
"Allah Miyan ne dia"
"Wahi nazil hui thi"
"Khwaab mein aya tha"
"Forward email mein aya tha"
"Sarrak (road) pe parra hua tha, meine utha liya"
"Geo ki headlines/breaking news mein dikha rahe thay"
"Ek banda aap ka numer phela raha hai to meine be le liya"
And then when you tell them to please STOP calling,
"AAP roz phone karti hain, meine to nai kiya"
"AAP ki missed call ai thi"
"AAP ki he dost ne diya tha"
Acha, then when you ask them WHY they called up a random number,
"Aap ne number bechna hai?"
"I am so alone"
"Mein depressed hun"
"Mein boht akela hun, aap mujh se dosti kar lein mera sab dukh chala jaye ga"
Then when you ask them who they are, the sheer brilliance of their response:
"Aap ka dost"
"Pehchana nai?! Kitni buri ho!"
"Abhi to phone pe baat hui thi aap se"
"Mujhe bhul gai ho?"
"Jis ko number deti ho us ko yaad b rakha karo"
" I AM PIA CAPTAIN" Then the same guy 2 days later,
"I AM SHOAIB MALIK FROM P.T.V., WHEN YOU COME TO MY OFFICE TO MEET ME?"
Most of them start off with a text like: "Yo...kami/adnan/akmal/mani/kamran...kaisa hai yar...kidhar gayab hai chiknay...milna kisi din jigger...chal call to kar mujhe"
Yeah, they text you, pretending they don't know that they've deliberately SMSed a random number: "Ye to mere dost ka tha... acha call to uthao..." Ugh. Seriously.
You tell them, very nicely, to please go bother someone else, to get a life, or very politely tell them to fuck off. The replies:
"Wot the fuck iz your prob, huh?"
"okz, okz, vaise very imp baat...plz pick phone...plz, plz. Very imp"
"Why? Are you scared of getting raped or some shit?" (yeah boy, I'm so damn scared of SMS rape)
2 minutes later...
"Hi" (you guessed it, the same guy, jis ko pehle itni ghairat charhi thi)
"I will cut myself" 2 minutes later... "I am cutting myself" 2 more minutes later... "I have cut myself"
Some guy called up my sister and went in a VERY feminine voice "Helloowwww, helllooowwww... *huge sigh* stupid"
We literally fell down laughing. Then there was this guy who used to call me up and went like:
"Helloo... hellloooooooooooo... baat nai karni? Acha gana suno, bara acha hai *music plays*"
He did that every single night. He called, and whenever I picked up, he started playing random songs.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Glue ki smell. Paint ki smell. Thinner, nailpolish remover, sumadbond (or however you spell it), finis, petrol, hairspray, markers, Vicks, and so on. Tauba. Mein to waqai druggie hun.
You know the worst part about having Psychology as your major? Every disorder you study, especially the mental ones, it seems like you have it. Depression, manic episodes, mild schizophrenia, personality disorders, psychophysiological ones, UGH. Seriously. Its enough to drive anyone nuts. Not to mention the eating and sleep disorders, the latter of which is VERY interesting.
Seems to me, we're all co-morbid examples.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
Some random person came online by the wonderfully eloquent screen-name of 'm da one'. Our fascinating conversation was as follows:
who is this
m da one....... says:human being
Maryam says:how awesome. what a wonderful response. never would have guessed.
m da one....... says:thnkz
Then Bazqa and I go slightly insane n MSN. Finals, you understand.
Maryam: Bus jee, pyar he pyar.
Azqa: mera dil aap ke aur aap ka dil mere jism mein dharkta hai.
Maryam: dhak dhak. Dhak dhak.
Azqa: Dhuaan urtaa rahaaaa
Maryam: fish fish
Azqa: duck duck
Maryam: khota khoti
Azqa: londa londi
Maryam: pyara pyari
Azqa: bheens bheensa?
Maryam: koja koji, mona azqi, sidu kaaki, anushay kaali hahahahahahaha
Azqa: hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!! omg, this is hilarious!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Me: -censored chotay bhai ka naam- ki pronunciation boht behtar ho gai hai.
Her: NAI. Aj Mama ko kehta hai "Chumistrry ki class nai li".
Me: WHAT?! Jaan ke bola ho ga.
Her: Acha? Bula ke puch le.
I call chota bhai. We shall label him 'H'.
Sid whispers in my ear "US SE PUCHNA US NE AJ KAUNSI CLASSES NAI LI".
I stare at her and say "Oh-kay".
Me: Aj tumne kaunsi classes nai li?
Apparently, this was too much for him to understand and he stared and then shook his head and went "VUT?!"
I politely ask again. He stares and repeats his 'VUT?!'.
Sid, exasperated, rolls her eyes and literally shouts the question at him. He can't figure out why the fuck we care, and much confusion ensues. Finally we get him to understand the what, why, how (much lying to cover up the real reason) and he says the word in question. Or the pronunciation of.
Sid looks smugly at me as soon as he goes out the door thinking we're (poor little us) very retarded.
Me: Kya? Sahi to bola tha.
Sid: WTF WOMAN, GALAT BOLA THA US NE!
Me: Pagal ho? Sahi bol ke gaya hai!
Sid: Your hearing is BLINDED by love!
Me, very quietly: ...deafened by love.
much snorting and wild laughter ensues.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Fear scraped the back of her throat, hysteria bubbling to get out. Run, run, run. Run as fast as you can. Run or you’ll get caught. Run or you die. Run. A slight moan escaped her. Hands and feet shaking, eyes wild, mind numbed with fright, adrenaline and emotion. Deep, heaving pants. She ran, her feet slapping on the unyielding cement, pupils dilating. Prayers ran through her thoughts, maybe the one thing that could still help her. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe she couldn't be saved. Maybe she was meant to die his way. Her breath warred its way out of her lungs, her feet pushing on despite her exhaustion. Run. Run. Maybe you can run your way out of this.
Or maybe… you can’t.
“Run” whispered a sly voice in her ear. “Run for we will catch you”.
The chase makes it sweeter, darling.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
She stares down curiously at the blood that drips from the knife she holds in her hand. drip, drip. She turns it over and over and over again. Glinting metal, a bloody red. Blood. She laughs as she sees the man lying still and unmoving at her feet. Hm. This just got curiouser and curiouser. Softly, she giggles. Alice in Wonderland. Hums softly. She pokes at the body with her toe. Leans down and stares into the face, eyes wide open and frozen with a look of eternal fear. She smiles, delighted. Starts to sing softly, still staring into the dead, dead face. Brushes the hair back, gets blood on her fingers. She brings it up to the light, squinting a little. And lets out a laugh. Another. And another, till the knife plunges into her own body and doesn't stop, doesn't stop, doesn't stop...
Monday, June 1, 2009
I used to be insanely shy. I'd probably have scored a zero if someone measured my confidence level. It was nil, nada, zip, didn't exist. Its been about four years that I've been giving presentations in my class and still my hands and feet shake, my heartbeat gets so loud, I can't hear myself speak, I break out in a cold sweat and go ice-cold all over. People think I'm lying when I tell them all that. Even my closest friends. Wtf?!
Let me tell you, it seriously pisses you off when your friends snort, roll their eyes and refuse to believe you when you admit your weaknesses. Hudd hai, waise.
Ah well. At least my acting skills are phenomenal *chokes on laughter*.