Me and the banana tree <3

I wanna sing a song to that banana tree, because it surely made my day! And to think, I didn't even know I owned my very own b-tree. How many of you have seen one for real?

Is there something wrong with wanting the good stuff? I mean, sometimes it seems the idea of wanting to be happy over sad doesn't mean anything at all. Why not sad? Why not existing the way things are...instead of forever trying to be happy, forcing yourself to experience merriment and joy when your being so obviously wants the opposite?
Only a tired person (like me, perhaps) would not find the struggle worth it. The constant struggle.

sunshine-fairy-goblin-happy!

This post has been waiting to get its bum up here for a few days now. And today it sees the light! (ignoring the fact that it is now evening).
And why is this post so darn special over all other oh-so-amazing bloggies of mine?
Because

it

is

an

announcement

(ok I'll stop that, I know its getting annoying)

Because it is an announcement bloggy! To declare that I have somehow recovered my sense of humor. Its been a few years since we've met so one of us is acting a little shy, and I'm not sure which. In any case, goodbye to the angst-filled bloggies of moi, and hell-o to sunshine! <3

P.S. - I will add a totally cool new accessory to my laptop soon and that will make me happppyyyyy (x100). Plus it'll make me feel all high-tech and everything.
It's called a mouse. Jealous, much?

Come and dissect. Please. Pretty please. Soon, and swiftly. Then slice the umbilical cord in one quick movement and lay out the body to rest. Leave the mind in turmoil, but the let the body to rest.

drag

Procrastination has become embedded inside me, engraved on every fiber of every muscle.
Pulling it out could be a nasty business, but then are so many other businesses. Nasty. Nasty jobs are usually VERY satisfying once they have been fully accomplished. Hence, I shall proceed straight to the nasty. No more procrastinat-blah-ing. I'll get right on it - once I've finished writing the rest of what must be written. Written NOW.
Haha.
Lame.
Thank you *bows*

These fluctuations I do not understand sometimes. Why do they come? And what do they mean? Sometimes I think it's because I am not at peace, and my being is in too much turmoil, and once I achieve that peace of mind that my body seems to be revolting for, they will disappear.
I cannot fight against them all the time - mainly because I am not a fighter, and I tire quickly. It is so much easier for me to give in to my demons than to grapple with them. Is it possible to become a fighter or do you have to be born one? I was not born one.

If only I could emulate these feelings of goodwill from myself all of the time, not just like now, and then, and then, and a bit more. Consistency, but in a positive way.

1. Allah can do anything.
2. The earth and sky are for us.
3. None can create any likeness of the Book.
4. The fuel for the Fire is men and stones.
5. No examples used are too small or insignificant; that which He creates, He can quote.

Surah Al-Baqarah - today's lessons learnt.

The magpies are back

The magpies =(
How I can sometimes not stand them. I cannot even flap my arms at them and make them fly away because the magpies are not afraid of me. They are slowly turning me into a magpie too. Moody little me. I am becoming a magpie. This I realized today. And decided I needed to do something about it. Only when I have stopped becoming a magpie myself can I do something about the existing magpies. Or have I already become like them? =(
It is easy to feel like a stupid little something around big people. Big people with big mouths and big heads and dreams and ideas and aspirations and passion and...and goals. Goals. Despicable goals.

Fight

Horrible horrible dreams. People from the half-past out to haunt you. Open deception, lying, cheating, lap it all up. Relive moments that you try to keep pushing back and out and down and away. Relive them, but do you act all the same? Or this time, does nobility and honor save you? And make you act differently...
Watch it make all the difference in the world.
Burn out contact points. Smoke and burn. Brush the ash under the floor carpet. And feel it under the soles of your feet every time you walk across the room. Again, and again, walk, and feel. Again. And again.
Beg and grovel for release from painful memories whisked out of your subconscious that whip you on old scars, and then create new ones.
Beg.

the craving for pancakes and maple syrup

hello. how are you? i hope you are doing well.

I hope.

Hope.

Blah.

Blah.

Blah.

There is more to a fever-induced delirium than is visible to the mildly unconcerned eye. More than what comes sprouting out of your mouth or dribbles inconsiderately in any crooked fashion. The question, the very question, that you elude. That, is the delirium. The question. The question you elude.

Peace.

Busy for so long, so infinitely long, that things have been unthinkingly suppressed. This I should have foreseen...the slightest hint of room in my mind to think, and the world would turn upside-down. So much came tumbling out all at once that at first my mind was unable to numb me from the shock and save me from the tumultuous confusion that followed. Then I spent three agonizing 24-hour sessions sorting through the mess: feeling, thinking, tearing, despairing, and being a general robot. Now I am not calm - I am simply numb. It's what I'm best at. And of course, it means I've shelved most of the garbage again, and a bit of provocation will lead to a meltdown. So be it. Everything I cannot control.
Numbness breeds indifference. I long for those days when I could be completely numb. But somewhere along the way someone broke through my defenses and now totality is something I can no longer achieve =/ I am bitter. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to spread or share. When ever before have I felt so helpless? So...alone. I sorted and sifted through card after card, face after face, and found no one. Hence, the armor is coming on up. I'm building back my walls again. I might answer if you knock hard enough. Otherwise, I'm shelled.

Me

"Come little girl, let us wander down half-lighted forest paths, crunch through dead pine needles and broad leaves, and chase after wriggly worms while the sun plays perpetual hide and seek. Come!"

Jan'na chahtay ho?

La waris lash ki tadfeen ka tareeqa
1. Lash ka postmortem honay say pehle phone krein.
2. Murg report, naql report aur lash ki 4 adad taza tasaweer.
3. 2 adad constable humrah.
4. Dopaihr aik bajay k baad lash wasool nahi ki jaye gi.

The Cry.

Negativity we must conquer. Climb up on and on, forever and ever, buffeted by despairing winds, pushed backwards, and then pulling up and against it, and wheezing through each semi-movement.

Feed not the wrong wolf, I hear her say. I believe it, but is it enough to abashedly brush things under the carpet, or should one somehow extract it out like a dentist in a good mood? I must get out of the dung-hole before it's too late. Somehow. Soon.
I am trying, I tell myself. Over and over i repeat it, whisper it, scream it into my own ears, wail and gasp and screech and tear. I repeat. But is it true?

But the heartache will not lessen.
It will not.

Help.

the last

Come and go, come and go, touch and whisper, on and off, you: top, i: top, paint, words, videos, music, pictures and priceless love. the world turns round and comes full circle. karma...do your thing! punishment is mine!

The Cruet

"And she held it carefully with both hands, bending down to peer inside, her tightly curled brown locks swinging around her expression of wonder and excitement. With the palm of her left hand, she rubbed it slowly, back and forth and waited expectantly..."

Straight.

Locks are important!

“Books take you down silken paths and rough-hewn stone roads alike, comfort you and condemn you, exasperate and entertain, and are yet unlike any friend you have ever known. Treasure them.”

Says moi.
Blah.
Whatever.

mein.

Pagal.

Aj ka din kardiya teray naam.
Aj pagal hona hai tu ho jao, nahi hona…tab bhi sahi hai.
Agay pechay kisi ko batanay ki zaroorat nahi hai.
Pehlay jo karna hai wo karo, bad mein jo dimag mein aya, wo bad mein karna.
Hath churwana ziada sahi hai. Pakar k rkhnay se uljhan hogi.

Pagal.

Magnet-o

You and I, we are opposite poles of the same magnet...strongly attracted but destined not to meet.

If only I were paper, to be torn down the middle easily and let fly with the strong wind, to reach where I must reach.
My location.
My destiny.

My urgency grapples with me..claws at my throat and threatens to suffocate..blinded with tears and still struggling...if letting go and going down under had been an option, it would have been easily taken. But there is no such option. Fight - fight and be overwhelmed, but not completely, held in mid-air, legs dangling, gripped by the throat by urgency .. you cannot escape.

Whisper it.
Scream it.
Shout it until my ears become deaf to your call.

Shout it ... until my ears become deaf to your call..

Shout it....

the day of the rant.

I invented the 'word-doodle'. Plus the word rantalicious. All in one day.

Today...Today i only say one thing: kapphata kapphata poof!

Today i learned..

Today i learnt

That there are some things out there that will shape your destiny and the best thing you can do is love and have faith in Allah.

That there might be a cure to the feeling of helplessness, but the problem is that at that moment you're too darn helpless to think of a cure.

That sitting between ppl and hearing, seeing and feeling that they do not understand is one of the worst and saddest feelings in the world.

That the realization that one thing is going to create distance is heart-rending.

That sometimes, you really are wrong.

That some things will never change, but there are still many things that are in your power to control.

the crank

When was the last time things went my way? I'm going to burst soon. I can't have deserved this much punishment. When will it end?

the crutchy life.

The Crutchy Life

1. You have lots and lots of time to contemplate life, but you don't.

2. You experience every mood you have ever known, all in one day, everyday. Except perhaps embarrassment, because you start getting immune to that one.

3. You leave the bathroom door wide open most of the time.

4. You master the art of balancing trays on your lap..

5. ..while eating, texting and/or using the laptop.

6. Walking in squares is not that fun anymore.

7. You get room service.

8. You discover the true meaning of the word/object 'bed'.

9. You choose Grey's Anatomy over The Ten Commandments (totally loony).

10. You sleep alot.

11. You start respecting your family more...mostly their level of patience.

12. You run through messaging packages much more quickly, and still feel emptier than ever.

13. Once you sit down, you tend not to get up. for-like-freaking-ever.

14. The day you don't fall in the bathroom is epic.

15. Things like taking a shower, having lunch/breakfast/dinner/tea/brunch, and moving from point A to point B, becomes an event.

16. Yes, you start having lunch+breakfast+dinner+tea+brunch - everyday.

17. You have messy pathetic moments much more frequently.

18. You have messy lovey-dovey/mushy moments, much more frequently.

19. Your sense of humor becomes directly proportional to ... nothing.

20. You can never be fully comfortable out of the house with 'them'.

21. You really really really start hating stairs. Seeing them, hearing about them, climbing on and off them.

22. Final exams may or may not be a blessing.

23. Room service comes with its own call bell.

24. You like to think you're all murderous and can scare ppl at night when they're alone, you think you've got that image now, sans the eyepatch.

25. Your attempts at being a ninja are hopelessly marred by the pretty clinking and clanking and 'thunk-thunk' at every step.

26. You try to be a ninja anyway.

27. You envy ppl who are doing good workouts and wish you could be doing the same even though you know you wouldn't if you weren't in the crutchy life in the first place and won't once you get out of it either.

28. You feel pathetic, but at the same time you feel pathetic for being pathetic, and angry at feeling both.

29. Flowers eventually wilt.

30. You don't do chores. You devise new ones for everybody in addition to all the ones they are doing already in your place.

Feb 20th.

I, soul alone, am caught in this web of huge proportions. Transparent steel fiber wrapped around and around each wrist – knotted, frailed, knotted – spiraling out, twining up my legs and around my waist; held fast. Web; shiny and translucent, glow-in-the-dark menace and elastic cords designed to cause *panic*

You creep along your master strand, your wide walkway, gangplank, rolling up your spare wire in the other hand upon your natural spool. You, black widow spider, brown widow spider, wolf spider, you clasp together your weaponed hands and cackle. Menacingly. Ghoulish lights flicker off green slime-covered walls, and you cackle. You lightly run a finger, a single finger along a sharp cord as you pass, and sparks fly and screeches are heard and ears protest, and you cackle.

My heart, hard and fast, pushing up towards my throat, threatening to suffocate me, while I try to hurriedly force down air that is non-existent and unreliable. Dark spots appear, lights blur and kaleidoscope, your eyes appear numerous – I blink. You still have 8 eyes.

I want to shrug off these bonds; one good shiver and see them torn at my feet, but steel gossamer is an untried opponent…
My feathers begin to wilt.

Bloodshot eyes stare into bloodshot eyes. Long black tongue hungrily licks its lips while darting tongue frantically licks dry parched lips. Lips bared in a foul grin; lips bared in an angry grimace.
You circle, I am cornered. You against me…

Bring it on.

The Save-day

Today is the save-day. It's time to save emotions, save money, save hope. Tie it all up in a neat bundle, a red polka-dot 'kerchief, knot it onto the end of a stick, and get going. Save-day! I like you.


Time:
Waste?
Uh-oh.

My search..for...

I started my search in familiar places. Some I entered quickly, rapidly, set my hand against the brick and ran my fingers against its cool smooth surface, and felt the crevices, and searched. I paused for a moment on the step as I closed my eyes and breathed in empty air that reminded me of nothing.
The pause. The replay. The pause. The replay.

Other places I entered hesitatingly, haltingly, walking along with a forced nonchalance as if I had wandered there (not) on purpose. Head down, raking the ground with my eyes only to give them a place to look at while I reached there. I stopped. Stared. Dawdled. Lingered. Felt nothing good, nothing happy. Only anger. I molded it, swallowed it. Retraced my steps back to the world of noise and people and...reality.

Other places I avoided completely. The alcove does not miss me. I do not miss it.

The search is not over. It shall continue.

hope

Is it your turn to lose control yet? I keep waiting for you to slip so I can stand up and claim my falls.

Winter afternoons

Afternoons.
*sigh*
Afternoons are not good times. These days. I believe it is the weather, the atmosphere, the routine that has an effect. For, winter afternoons signal the end of the day, the imminent setting of the sun, and the nearby transition to darkness, and evening, and cold.
Hence, they depress me.
Every afternoon finds me curled up in the corner, staring at the artificial flames, seeing past them, feeling so much all at once, and my body trembles with sobs, harsh sobs that may or may not hold tears.
Or, under the heavy quilt, which sees and hears and feels me then and at night, and tries to hug me into itself, tries to comfort me, warm me, and yet, the dying sun has set – and I am warm on the outside, but still cold inside.

I wait for times when memories will bring only smiles. And perhaps a tender touch of wistfulness.

I miss her, who hugs me only with words, and that is better than any bear hug.
I miss him, who wishes and waits and whose path I embellish with flower petals.

The better half that is you

January the 1st deserved mention, but unfortunately got it not.
No matter, there have been days and days after, minutes and moments that brought warmth and energy and smiles and tears - tears of joy, tears of longing, tears of bittersweet emotion. Words. Words that were heavy with emotion and feeling, feeling so pure, so selfless, that it is indescribable, possibly because I can only wish to be so myself.
You are light, you are warmth, you are the sun. The real sun. The only sun. The summer sun.
The strawberry blond that shines and ripples and bursts with fruit-energy. Fresh. Rich. Lush.
Green grass, that needs bare feet to feel alive.
Cold mirror on flushed pink cheeks. Relief. Slowing down of pulse.
The pulse that races. In your presence. In your absence. In my fantasies. Us.
Indescribable. Threads that we wove together, you and I, threads that we kept adding strands to, weaving side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Flaxen thread, ebony silk, warm-brown-soft.
I do not need your open arms to know my worth. Your eyes say it all.
I do not need assurances of loyalty, of faith, of belief, of hope. Your voice radiates it, with laughter, with gruffness, with humility, with passion.
And yet, yet it matters, somehow...somehow it feels good to hear it.. when you say

I love you

burn me...please?

i was the candle and you were the moth. then you were the candle and i was the moth. we burned. you faded. i went out. distance brings cold. do you want to play with fire again? my heart says yes. my mind says no. my soul...i dont understand the language of my soul. i await your answer only.