Oh yeah...it's up!

All hell to this amazingly fast, reliable, free of cost and free-er-er of pain, Saudi dial-up! Phew! Now that that’s said, those of you who are still thinking—I’m hoommeee!! :D BBBUUTT! (as there’s always a darn big bbutt<_<)>Home’s” in Pakistan…somewhere between the “thelas” and the not-so-useful-traffic-signals *sighs* things there have to be okay, so that things here could be okay and so that eventually when I’m studying there things are more than just okay (apologies for the “use of indefinite there’s and here’s”—something mrs. Carroll thinks I have to “work on” :S and because this is not an essay for her…I’m loving it! :D:P) oh well…I almost forgot the real purpose of me ACTUALLY posting here (it doesn’t happen that often :$)…

so umm *clears her throat* a few months ago a fellow member of our moto-gang (Khurram Adil urf freak, urf base alpha 8) and I had decided to make our existence ‘public’ for our philosophy spreads and covers the basic facts, needs, truths, lies, jokes, ironies, shiee—euh I meant stuff and things, and all that jazz’s of-*catches her breathe*-life...! So ummm...come join in our force! :D

http://motologists.blogspot.com/

p.s. it's still "not-really-done"...for as the legend has it: all motologists are servants of lazyness...
p.p.s. long live motistan!

*runs back stage**barfs of lameness:P:$*

the longest ride :|

and here is where it has stopped for a bit...



p.s. dont mind the odd scales (they weren't meant to b all purrrfect :P:$)

a long, long ride

These are a few pictures I took on my trip to Riyadh! :D
Mayynn, it was quite a ride! :S we left at around 4am and came back home at about 9pm. My brother and I stayed up the whole night before we left and I was exhausted (we were watching Russell Peters so yeah, all that laughing made my stomach ache like hell!:$lol)! I was in such a hurry that I forgot to change my mp3 player’s batteries (dumb me :$) and I forgot to take my scarf…what was worse was that when we entered the embassy (after a ride that took almost forever) there were thousands of ummm…MEN, with all these weird (ahhh forget it:$!) and *pauses* we were the only ladies!:| it was SO WEIRD. It felt as if we (as in my mom and I) were the only women alive!
Ahh well the only good part about going through all that was that we got to eat from Quiznos (yeah:D, free coke-refills lolz):D! hehe and oh yeah I saw a great deal of camels on the way :)…and then on one of our stops; at the back of this gas station, my brother and I even managed to walk all the way to a herd…my brother went extra-close (m not sure if there’s such a word, but m sure u’d know what I mean:$) and he took a few pictures, BUT my dumb camera just had to start dying of low battery that time…and no, I wasn’t getting scared:P ...i was just ummm letting Zaid do his job:P! lolz seriously :$, I didn’t wanna scare them away (the camels that is)…they looked so calm—everything was looking so serene…the camels grazing, the just-born-sun taking its shape, the soft mist—just everything looked amazing…for once the same ol’ boring desert looked like a completely different place!
*sighs*…but somehow I (during the ride at some point) ended up thinking about my friends and how much I’ll miss this place:$, how hard it’ll b to stay in touch with everyone (I even had a lill fight with a really really really close friend of mine who thought I was being ignorant:$)—so the thought kept disturbing me…
such a close friend—the closest I have…ahhhh…but its hard to xplain all the shit I’ve been into these days—these conditions that have arose…never wanted any of this to happen…but it did and I had feared it—somehow I had seen this coming…long before it even happened…
(I ended up writing a poem that seemed to fit in both ways *sighs*…hope it makes sense)

The End

I hear ‘em coming;
Those rustling palmetto leaves leaning onto each other.
The noise of the tiny grains of sand in the fierce wind
—all echoing their arrival

Yes, I knew the times had come;
The loss had eventually made it
Piercing its way through the walls
—the walls that now hold it.

The faces that smiled and the heads that tossed with joy
Now all are falling off; in pieces
Like confetti from a piñata

Those warm hugs, the little pats on the back
Those shrugs, nudges and all the ‘thumbs-ups’
—everything, now, is melting like ice-cold slush

Those words—of comfort, to solace, to celebrate;
The immeasurable time that was spent,
Each bit flashing back and breaking in million other pieces and bits
—everything abolishing just by the thought of it

And then from the corner of my eye
All at sudden, in the middle of all the flashes
I see my own reflection…
I, from the times that were ending and that had ended

—me, looking at my self
And I, seeing her fearing and knowing
That all was nothing but to end
And that the end was nothing but imminent…

note: had posted this earlier but thre was some problem with my dumb net...ahh..nyways here it is now...

Yes! We graduated!!! :D--*sighs*:$

Sitting there, I heard my name being called and this weird feeling engulfed me…a feeling of—ahh—nothing. As if I was in some remote island, far away…with a boat at sight, happy and excited but unsure if it was only an illusion. I started feeling all numb—all eyes on me penetrating my flesh and sucking my blood. My friend waiting for me at the podium—smiling, just as scared yet happy that it was over for her; I stood up and started treading carefully. I reached the ramp and sighed with a smile as I saw my teacher, her smile and her ‘thumbs up’. I looked around and amongst all the faces I found my parents’—shining, eager and proud. This was My time and I knew I had a big responsibility but there they were—everyone—all those bits of me and my life sitting in a circle…faces that made me the way I am. How could I ever go wrong if I were to speak to ‘myself’?…and just as I did while I was dressing up in front of my bathroom’s mirror, I smiled, trying to comfort myself and started off…

Good evening Mr. Stapp, Mrs. Dambal, parents, guests and students. How often do we hesitate, taking challenges and making decisions? How often do we fear consequences? When I asked these questions to myself, I ended up writing a poem and this is how it goes:

Soaring Through Tunnels

Unknown yet expected
—dark tunnels on the way
Careful tiny feet stepping in
With fear and dismay

But amid this qualm
Was the urge to move on
The courage to step
And the zeal to meet the very dawn

Yes, she had known
How much the darkness of the tunnels
Wanted her to moan and mourn
But she had found their openings

She had found the light
Thinking of the high skies
She had stepped in
With only glint in her sight

For she knew that if it was
The sky she had to reach
No soil, no rock on land could ever impede her
To the light of skies she was to seek…

Throughout the nine years I have spent in this school, I have gone through many such obstacles—just as the girl in the poem did. Turning them into opportunities—finding that light, has been an amazing experience, for I have learned a great deal through even the smallest decisions I had to make. I still remember how much I hated beetles and how much my friends loved them. Making friends wasn’t as hard as it was to stay with them and their fellow beetles. And yes, how can I ever forget those elections? The times when I used the oddest of ways to make the decision; yes or no, no or yes—those countless times when I drew out slips and redid those draws until there would be a tie and I would eventually give up. I finally decided to take a risk—a challenge, but what it gave to me in return was an opportunity for me to (i messed up in this part:$ a lill) serve the school and its people who I’d have never been able to pay back. Although, no matter what I do it’ll stay just as impossible and this, here is the least I can do to thank everyone from the very bottom of my heart—the Almighty, my caring dad, my loving mom, my supporting brother, my helping teachers and all my amazing friends—everyone who has helped me turn my challenges into real opportunities. Till last year I had thought these “thank you’s” as very typical and monotonous but it’s only now that I have realized their importance. Thank you once again for listening.


and yes, thankful i was...it sorta sounded boring to me though:$--the speech...*sighs* well things r over now *deeply sighs*...

theres so much to write but i'm completely blank right now:$...*sniffs*...man, ima miss this place!

They and I

See the light now—I
Feel the worth now—I
Listening to the psalm of life
Clear am now—I

Glee in eyes of theirs
Pride in smiles of theirs
Happiness in the all of theirs
Now glows in the hearts of theirs

Have lived my life for others—I
And now that happy for me are they
Have found worth in myself—I
For found have I that love me they.

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I wrote this poem on Feb. 23, right after the NJHS Induction. Ahhhh how much I wish that day could come back. On the podium as I spoke—those words that flew their own ways out…those tiny smiles all my friends and teachers were wearing and the way my parents sat watching, listening. It’s impossible to forget how, when everything was complete; we had left the school and reached back to our house—how my dad had embraced me and that sparkle in my mom’s eyes. Ahh that day I shall never forget…but somehow I had always feared all the little success I had achieved…I had feared the peak and I knew those good hours wouldn’t have ended for long…and I was right (at least for once—I was)…those smiles my so-called friends wore that day were not meant to comfort…they were meant to deceive me...and deceived I was...

------------------------------------------------

Deceived

I was a hemophiliac
And my wounds shall continue to sting

Bled I always had
With the blemishes that didn’t sing

—blemishes that yelled out mournful cries
And there had always lied deep within

A scared voice of a Fortunato
Calling out to his Montressor who had left him in

But this Fortunato had no greed
He had done no harm, yet he was deceived

Revenge it was;
Or was it envy?
Montressor had never cared

It was only that Fortunato
Whose corpse was marred in search of the amontillado

—a search that he thought would help Montressor
—a search in the cask where he was to be buried under

Buried alive—suffocating
Coughing and bleeding
Was there an end to this retribution?
Remains an answer just as deceiving…

The Strange Friday

Last weekend (here Thursday-Friday) was the strangest. On Wednesday I went off with my friends to the library; we picked up a few books, had dinner from the “snack bar” (lol) and walked for hours, till my dad had to pick me up…from there I went straight to a family friend’s home for a party she was having…ahhh…and it was terribly tiring to say the least. Thursday was busy too. My dad had an appointment and we went to this hospital—which wasn’t as boring as I thought it would, because the whole hospital was like an art gallery. No wall had been left without an art piece. None of the walls were deadly and pale as they are in most hospitals and clinics. Every wall was filled with life through beautiful Arabic calligraphies, paintings and sketches—everything so traditional and so “Saudi”. Everything there seemed to be so serene. Everything in and around that hospital made me feel awfully lucky to be (in a way) a part of a country so rich with culture and tradition. All the people there, the atmosphere in the dining, the walls, the couches—just everything was so comfortable and calm. And with a book in my bag, even all the “waiting” seemed to feel comfy. From there we went to another one of those so-called-parties where I had some of my friends (not just family-friends). All we did though was talked and ate; watched a weird Indian movie (whose name I don’t remember)—it wasn’t really fun because we stayed there pretty late and I was tired of all the traveling but it wasn’t so boring either. Ahh well, there wasn’t probably nothing strange and different about these two days. They were well, very typical and almost in-routine.

What made me call the whole weekend strange was the Friday that was waiting for us. I was studying for my Science test and while studying I slept unknowingly with my head on my book. Newton was boring me and I hadn’t slept much the last night; I really needed a short nap after the Friday prayers. It was around 3, when while I was asleep; all of a sudden I fell off my bed. It wasn’t because I was surrounded with books and that I sloppily fell off my bed—it was rather because ‘something’ had made me fall. I was in shock—confused, when I heard this loud “Boom!” which literally shook the windows in my room. I ran to my parents’ room where I heard another “Boom!”—this time it was louder. My mom had run to the room from the kitchen and for a short pause all of us (my parents and I) just stood staring at each other with uneasy expressions. I broke the silence with asking, “Was that an earthquake?” Yeah, I know that was a very dumb question but somehow learning about all that ‘motion’ in science that afternoon made me think of nothing but that and besides, I was still stupor. My dad answered me. Surprisingly he didn’t really make any remarks about how stupid my question was instead he said, “Maybe there was some problem in the transformer of the oil field”. And just then we heard men coming out of their houses—all of them confused and frightened. I turned on the TV, flipped to all the news channels—but there was no news. My dad called people from his office to know what happened, but no one knew anything. We all knew it was from the oil plant which belonged to Aramco (the place where my dad works) and the same plant which was in the town we were living. But what we all didn’t know was that the two booms had come from suicide bomb attacks. There was no news about it until my dad had left to the oil plant for he was called by his office.

He had left in a rush and we all were still thinking that everything was maybe a slight mistake which caused the transformer to burn—we all were wrong. News on TV made us realize our mistake in thinking that way. Sirens went off, ambulances and police cars sang even more mournfully, helicopters swung in the evening sky of a Friday that turned out to be the strangest of all—everything had changed. I was worrying about my father. He hadn’t taken his cell phone and I was paging him but there was no answer. Yes—the evening had gone even stranger. Every time a car passed by I would peek through the curtains of my window and since that was happening so often, I sat right beside it. Every now and then I would run to the TV where my mom was to know if there were an updates. Finally then at around 10 my dad came back and somehow it felt as if he had come back from a battlefield—as a surviving, fighting soldier. Ironic it was that he had left the home so uncomfortably and confused but now he was back with a weird relief. He told us what he had seen—the police, the military, the chaos in the plant—just everything. My mother and I listened to him carefully—thanking God in every few seconds.

Had those bombs blown off just a little accurately, the whole Abqaiq would have been in flames. They say the difference was only 22 steps and if it hadn’t been for that minute distance—that mistake those terrorists made—there would have been a massive environmental disaster that may have spread as far as Riyadh (which is around 350 km away). God saved us and we were lucky enough to be saved. Terror today creeps in every street but when it stepped into ours we were miraculously fortunate to not lose our breaths…

Oh Lord, let that Friday never come again. Let war have no existence and violence no subsistence.

The Scarlet Ibis

The brown reddish rust-like curtains,
Silhouette the vacant white windows,
Like a blood stain on pale skin.

Laid I—stupor, vacantly.
The cascade of reds n’ rusts,
Precluding all thoughts.

I tried to look away,
In search of impunity,
But all I found had rot.

All at once though,
The reds seem to instigate;
Finally a thought,
Like a sudden paroxysm,
Of a dead scarlet ibis;

The bird with its wounded wings,
That once flapped through the tropics;
The red bird with the reds so pale,
And the eyes of a helpless,

Laid there on the window pane,
—vacantly stupor, hopeless;
Staring at me just as I
Was at my scarlet ibis...

penned on: Jan. 28, '03
7:38 pm

There are just so many countless things going on these days that I hardly get any time to spare for myself. I wish the time could stop for just a moment. I wish those hours that seem like minutes could extend as long as days. I wish I had enough time in a day so I could wake up early in the morning without using that horrid alarm clock; peacefully pray, have a bowl of cereal without hurrying and swallowing, brush my hair for real (instead of that usual untangling in the bus), and do my math homework while waiting for the bus—not while traveling (bumping, and swearing) in it…ahhhh…I wish I had just enough time to do all that and a lot more…buttt it never seems to be possible. Even if I sleep early (which I did only once on the first day of the school year) and even if I have everything ready before I hit the bed—my bag packed, my clothes ironed and my cell right on the table (so I don’t have to look for it when the driver starts getting all crazy with the horn)—time never seems to be efficient enough. I know, I know, if you’re like one of those really punctual people (who somehow surprisingly get the hang of all of it) you’d be thinking just the way my dad does whenever I repeat this story. And yes, I’ve heard that more than many times—that same ol’ never-ending lecture about how “it’s not about blaming the time but it’s you, yourself”. And yes, I have heard that too…in fact I’ve heard that phrase a million times more than that lecture…yes, “time and tide waits for no man”…’tis true and so like always I will agree and admit but still be not able to do anything to change any of all of the shit…I’ll still be running after time and time will never follow. I will never be able to catch up and time will never feel pity on me; it’ll never wait—not even a single time—not even a teeny bit…it’s going to keep changing its way without caring if I was following or not…it’ll never stop…it just won’t ever have any mercy…ahhh yes, time is a terrible thing. When you want it to stop, it won’t and when you want it to stay, it’ll never…

Time will continue to win and we will continue to fail, but none of us will realize that the end is imminent; the few who will though—will fail to do in time...