A Hate/Love Relationship

I admit it - I hate Christmas. Hold on, before you get your rope (or whatever else) in a knot, let me contextualize and define that statement. I don't hate the festival of Christmas, I hate the materialism that comes along with it. For years, around 3 or 4, I've railed against the horrors of materialism that befall our society every time Christmas rolls around. Shops start advertising the event months in advance, small children start writing letters to Santa (or their parents if they've gotten over the Santa myth) outlining (often in excrusciating detail) their profligate desires, and people whip out their credit cards to scoop up as many things as possible. To me, it seems, or seemed, a complete waste of money and time. To me, there were better things to celebrate, better things to throw money at (well not 'throw; 'donate' would be a better word), and better ways to practice writing.

I don't know why, or even when , I developed this hatred of Christmas. Perhaps it was a result of my family's Christmas celebrations, that usually ended with my little sister in tears because my parents bought her something she didn't want. She'd come down the stairs in the morning, excited to open her presents. My parents would be grinning, expecting my sister to love her gifts, and then she'd open them and complain. And then sulk for the rest of the day. I'm not sure if I sulked as much as she did, although I remember certainly doing so when I got a minidisc player and not the cd player that I'd wanted. Looking back, that was a stupid reason to sulk - minidiscs were state-of-the-art then, and CD players were already becoming obsolete. But, being a kid, I really didn't know the difference. All I knew was that all my friends had CD players, and I had something else. After 3 years of failed Christmases (and yes, we only had a tree with presents for three years), my mom decided that she'd had enough, and announced that she (and my dad) would no longer buy presents. My sister was devastated. I was surprisingly happy - maybe because I was older and knew that my mom's decision was the right one.

This year, I don't know what it is, but I've felt the Christmas spirit that everyone's always talked about and that I'd never felt. I don't know if it's because of the recession, or because of the freakishly cold weather we've been having this year, or because I'm a bit more sentimental this year given that it's probably my last winter in this city, but it's been different. It all started with me asking my mom to get a real tree this year (we'd had a fake one for a couple of years). This is only our 2nd or 3rd real tree ever, but it's by far the best one we've had. For one, it smells beautiful. The shape is also amazing. As well, it doesn't have any of that cheap tinsel that I hate, and is decorated pretty nicely (kudos to my sister for that).

I've also noticed people being much nicer this year - randomly. I've seen more people donate their time and money to the less fortunate this season than I have ever before; and I've seen people smile more, talk to each other more, and be in better moods generally. Maybe I'm imagining things, looking at my city through rose-tinted glasses, but, in all honesty, I don't think so. I don't know how to prove this to you, so you'll just have to believe me.

Maybe it's the recession's effect, but I haven't seen people going wild on spending this year either, which to me, is a good thing (not the recession of course, the curbed spending).

Whatever the case, Christmas this year promises to be special, and I've pretty much decided to make every single Christmas after this one as special as possible. Heck, it only comes once a year, and is a time when everyone can get together and celebrate. It may be religious in origin (Christian, Roman whatever), but in my mind, it's the coolest secular event of the year (more so than Hallowe'en as well!).

Merry Christmas everyone, and Happy Holidays!

Me? Myself? I? Nabz?

Late night papers always lead to posts on Selfistan. Given my lack of blogs in the last little while, perhaps it's safe to say that I should write more papers; though that would completely devastate my already-destroyed sleeping habits and would render me unable to carry-out basic functions (i.e. speaking and writing - not the other ones). And this post already sounds like the paper I'm writing...sigh...albeit on a completely different topic.

The issue at hand today is something I've been pondering for quite some time now. Not sure when I started thinking about it, but it definitely became a major brain-stimulus around the time that I started my 50-page, and now sitting on the back-burner, paper on Pakistan. For anyone that knows something about Pakistani history, the question of Pakistani identity - what constitutes it, does it even exist, questions like these - has always been debated. Is Islam the thing that binds the country together? Jinnah tried to use Urdu - a language spoken by only 3% of the Pakistani population at Independence - before he died. What about territorialism (which, according to a professor from LUMS I met on Sunday, is now being used quite regularly)? As someone of South Asian descent, and one who's family is 'from all over the place' in every meaning of that phrase, it made me wonder about my own identity.

Ultimately, I came to a sort of an answer - one that fulfilled my requirements of taking into account everything. I decided that I had multiple identities. No - not in the sense of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but in the sense that only one who is of a minority group can understand. When I am with my "Canadian" friends (in quotation marks because the entire question of a Canadian identity can be questioned - but here I mean all those who were born in Canada) I have a certain identity; when I am with my Indian, Pakistani or African friends, I have other (varying) identities. This is not to say that I am not myself; rather, to me it means that I am able to fully relate to various cultures and types of people in a way that many people aren't. As Jawaharlal Nehru once said, "I am a queer mixture of the East and the West."

But my own identification with various groups isn't the end of the story. Having, to an extent, forgotten how others judge my identity as well, I was surprised when the question arose at a gathering this past weekend. Perhaps it was my own fault, as I had just asked this LUMS professor about identity-issues in Pakistan, and had had a conversation with him post-lecture on the issue of identities of South Asians in Canada vis-a-vis in South Asia itself. Also, having referred to both India and Pakistan as 'we' throughout the afternoon, and having a name too ambiguous to allow one to decide my background, I shouldn't have been surprised at the conversation that followed with another professor. It went something like this...

Prof: So Nabz - where are you from. (note - usually I hate this question when asked by 'Canadians' because it implies that I'm not from Canada - but given the circumstances, I wasn't too upset. Even then...)

Nabz: I was born here.

Prof: You know what I mean - are you Indian or Pakistani?

Nabz: Umm. Neither. (Note - if you know me, you will know why I said this).

Prof: Well, you have to be from one or the other.

Nabz: Well, I refuse to pay allegiance to either of them. And if I do, I say that I'm from both.

So - exasperated the prof walked away.
A little while later, another member of the organization that had hosted the talk asked me the same question, and the professor was still there.

Guy: So Nabz, where are you from?

Prof: I just asked her that question, but she refused to tell me.

Nabz: (sigh). Well, my family's from Gujarat, but moved away before Partition, and could've gone to Pakistan.

Guy: Oh - so they moved to ____________?

Nabz: Yes.

Guy: So you're _(religious group)_?

Nabz: Officially yes, but actually no. I don't believe in it, and don't follow its practices.

Prof: Well, we knew she was __(religious group)__ already - her last name gives it away.

And that's what struck me "her last name gives it away." It reminded me of a scene in a fantastic Indian movie called 'A Wednesday,' in which the cop refuses to tell the viewers the name of the 'terrorist' because names tell us too much of a person's life. More importantly, it made me realize how we immediately attempt to put people into boxes and try to understand them through things like names and hair colour and eye shapes - through things that are really inconsequential in the entire scheme of things. Of what importance is it to me what religion you are, or what religion your name tells me you are? Maybe that's the Canadian in me speaking, but in all honesty, isn't a person's nature more important? Or her likes and dislikes? Why this infatuation with the past? With this ethnic or national or religious identification of a person? This, in my view, is what leads to fragmentation, what leads to heinous acts of terrorism, what leads to this construction and the demonization of the other.

I know I've started rambling again (my excuse? Rfs), but it's all connected. I know I fall prey to making such judgements myself - I'm going to try and catch myself before I do though. That's one thing that's going to go into my New Year's Resolution list. That and writing more posts on Selfistan - without the aid of paper deadlines....

Long post - if you've stuck with me this far - thank-you...

Flying Danger

I made a bowl of popcorn today, to prevent me from eating too many gummy worms. See the problem is that I'm a vegetarian, and so I can't eat too many types of gummy worms because they have gelatin. My father was out of town a week ago, and found this confectionary that makes gummy worms without gelatin - and so, knowing my love for the chewy slitherers, brought back a couple of packets (to last me to the end of the year). Because I'd had too many yesterday (while I was studying, of course), I decided to diversify my junk intake, and climbed up the refrigerator to get to the cupboard that houses our popcorn popper.

So I put the kernels into the trusty machine, and plugged it in. Soon after, the white fluff started flying out and I tried catching as much as I could in the bowl that I was holding. But - one unpopped kernel flew out, burning hot, and hit me on my hand - and now I have a popcorn kernel burn on my right hand...

and it hurts...

especially while typing...

popcorn is dangerous people..beware

Love - Crow Style

You know, we hear about eagles mating, lions mating, even pigeons mating - but do we ever hear about crows doing the same? We all know that when peacocks mate, the male shows-off his feathers to impress the peahen; but what do crows do?

Well, dear readers - I think I may have the answer.
On one of my multiple walks around campus, I came across a relatively large crow - with a massive chest. I thought nothing of it, until (having passed it) I looked back and saw it idling up towards another crow. Now, obviously I'm not an expert on distinguishing between male and female crows, but unless the big chested crow had other leanings, I'm pretty sure the crow he was eyeing was a female.

Me thinks it's crow mating season right now.


And that concludes another completely random post on RFS

Haule Haule...

New favourite song? Well, not really - almost/sort of...

Haule Haule from Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi...

Haule haule se hawa lagati hai
Haule haule se dawa lagati hai
Haule haule se du'a lagati hai haan.

Haule haule chanda barhta hai
Haule haule ghunghat uthta hai
Haule haule se nashaa chartaa hai haan.

Tu sabr to kar mere yaar
Zara saans to le dildaar
Chal fikr ko goli maar yaar
Hain din jindari de chaar

Haule haule ho jaayega pyaar chaliya
Haule haule ho jaayega pyaar

Oh the Innocent Heart..

Mirza-greatness once again. Butchered translation follows..

Dil-e-naadaan tujhe hua kya hai;

Aakhir is dard ki davaa kya hai.

Oh Innocent Heart, what has happened to you?

*Sigh* what's the medicine for this pain?

*Raises hand high like an eager schoolgirl*

I KNOW

I KNOW

more music...

more tear-inducing, leg-moving, foot-tapping music

Thought

I told you I do my thinking at night.

Thought of the hour (or more like the minute).

Are Chai Tea Lattes a new form of Macaulay's Children? A form that is Indian in both taste and look, but wholly British (read Western) in thought. Oh Orientalism..

More Late Night Music-ing

And now Tiziano's making me cry..

Nights of Insomnia

The best nights are spent in the company of brilliant music, turned up as loud as you risk turning it up without waking up your household, with a pot of tea and pure, unadulterated darkness - except from the light of the computer screen.

I could do this every night - but then I'd eventually be completely brain dead. Given my current state of relative exhaustion, it's not the best idea.

I wanna be a rockstar

and a photographer

screw school (?)

The Second Act

The World's a theatre, the Earth a stage.
Which God and Nature do with Actors fill.
- John Heywood

Mirza-Saab - Dil Se...

A simple one this time - however just as beautiful as the rest. This one was popularized in the movie Dil Se...(an absolutely brilliant SRK movie) in the song Satrangi Re (one of my all-time favourite A.R Rahman songs).

Ishq par zor nahiin, hai yeh woh aatish Ghalib;
Jo lagaaye na lage, aur bujhaaye na bane.

Silver Bowls Full of Thoughts OR How I Wish I Were Dumbledore

I have an interesting, yet odd, life. Well, let's phrase that again. I think I have an interesting and odd life, one in which things occur that probably don't occur in the lives of others. Being the person that I am, I tend not to share these occurrences with many people - it's not because of a fear of being judged, but rather, a desire to keep those things that are special and important to me special and important. I've always found that things become less exciting once you tell another person. Secrets that only you know about are so much more cool than the morning's gossip.

But it's hard sometimes to keep things inside you for so long, especially when you're the type of person that remembers exactly when something happened, right down to the time and what you were wearing and what the weather was. Can you tell that I'm a person that does that? And when you wake up one day and realize that its the anniversary of something momentous in your life, and have no-one to share it with - because you don't want to share it, or can't share it - it gets even harder.

As silly as this may sound, I wish there was a way I could take a part of my memory and store it somewhere. Erase all knowledge of it from my brain, and yet keep it somewhere for those days that I need it to function - sort of like the pensieve that Dumbledore has (or had, now that he's dead *sobs*). It would make days like these so much easier.

*to be born again, first you must die*

Why I Feel Sorry for Stephen Harper

I find Canadian politics problematic - especially now with the impending election. We Canadians pride ourselves in our objectivity, our inherent nice-ness, and our ability to have a political system devoid of the glamour of the American one. And yet at the same time, this particular election has been plagued with the very things that we despise - especially vilification.

Stephen Harper, the leader of the Conservative Party, has been demonized throughout this entire campaign. Why? For being cold, unemotional, and Canada's own George W (courtesy of Layton and his leftist-NDP). Now, I find this troubling for many reasons. Firstly, because the Canadian election seems to have become a quasi-popularity contest. Since Stephen Harper isn't the warmest of guys on the political scene (I beg to differ - he seems much nicer than the 'over-cooked lettuce-esque' Stephane Dion and the 'extremely bitter karela' Jack Layton), he doesn't have the capability to be Prime Minister. As well, because he's just a bit more rightist than the Liberal Party, and believes in a foreign policy that requires military action on Canada's part (finally!), he's our own George W.

Come on Canada. This is unfair. To completely demonize a leader for these reasons is irrational and idiotic.

Another reason why I feel sorry for him - the economy. Now, let's get this straight - I'm a rightist when it comes to the economy, and even though the world economy is facing hardship, I still think that the only way to achieve economic growth is through the market and its forces. Now, I agree with Keynes that some regulation is needed and that dangers exist when regulation is completely cut back (like we saw in the US of A), but I don't believe that the only way out of our current 'troubles' (and we know that Canada's economic woes are nowhere near those of other countries') is to increase government spending and regulation.

Stephen Harper has been lambasted for not announcing a major change in his economic policies, following the American meltdown. Now, he's an economist and a free-market-ist (don't you love making up words?), and believes in much of what I believe in. And he also thinks that changing platforms in the middle of the election, just for the sake of appearing to be doing something, is wrong (a person with a brain -thank-you!). But, the Conservative Party has been dropping steadily in the polls because of this. And the opposition has been constantly harping (lol) on him for not changing his platform. I wonder what they would have done if he had done so earlier. Perhaps blamed him for changing policies? Oh, and in an interview on CBC, Harper said that now was a good time to buy stock market shares (because they're obviously down) - he's been laughed at for that as well. But anyone who knows anything about the stock market knows the following: 'buy low and sell high'.

At the end of the day - I think it comes down to this - a relatively uneducated Canadian populace - one that doesn't follow politics in the nation regularly, and only does so during elections. And further, one that is easily swayed by such banter. Perhaps, I don't feel sorry for Mr. Harper - he has his principles and from the way I see things, it seems as if he follows them. Who do I feel sorry for? Canadians in general. Wake-up people....

ps - I don't belong to any political party. I'm one of those voters who looks at the state of Canadian affairs and votes for the political party that a) best suits my views (either the Liberals or the Conservatives usually) and b) I feel will best lead my country domestically and internationally.

No More Dreaming...

You know, Life is weird sometimes. Ever had a dream or a goal that you've wanted to achieve so very badly? Well I had one for a couple of years, and I finally achieved it this week. But I'm nowhere as excited or happy as I thought I'd be. It feels a bit surreal to have actually done it, but at the same time, the process of dreaming about the goal was much more exciting than what I feel now, having achieved it. Dreaming is so much more fun, so much more exciting. Obviously, my responsibilities and the work that I'll now be putting in will be exciting, but probably not as much as it was before.

It's weird - definitely weird....

Brilliant Book Alert

The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga.

It's absolutely fantastic - so different from all the other Indian-authored books on the market right now. It's about a man from the Darkness - the rural part of India - and how he gets to Delhi and makes it big in Bangalore. Completely irreverant, witty, dark, crazy - this book is probably one of the best I've read in the past while. Check it out if you can. It's also been nominated for a Booker -so that's an added incentive...

True Ramblings 3 (?)

I forgot about Selfistan for a while - quite sad eh? But that's the truth. Perhaps it was because I hadn't written much for the past few months (lack of inspiration), or perhaps because I was so busy that I felt sleep was much more important (given my many late-night posts, I doubt it though). Whatever the case, I'm not going to make any excuses - because I hate them. I honestly do...Especially those that - ahh forget it.

What's this post about? Well, I don't know - but I hope we'll find out by the time I'm done. Although, if this post is long enough, I doubt I'll mind if it has no coherent thesis or statement or topic for that matter. Unlike the GRE essay question markers, I really don't care. That's a topic I've been examing for a while now - caring. Not in the 'aww I love you sense', but in that other one, related to caring about what people think about you. I think, actually no, I know that I've gotten to a stage where I don't give a bloody damn about what people think about me. Not completely sure whether that's a good thing or not - perhaps it's a mark of overconfidence, perhaps of a realization that what people say about me is not going to change who I am, or perhaps it's a mark of complete folly and naivete (darn - no accent marks). Whatever the case (can you tell I like that form of sentence structure?), I don't care anymore. Think what you may oh fellow human, I'm not changing who I am, how I speak, and what I do for you (caveat alert - unless you're someone I highly respect).

Anyway - I'm in the midst of watching some fantastic SaReGaMaPa videos on YouTube (one of my favourite things in the world). I'm listening to some classical Indian stuff (under-respected like Western classical if you ask me) and these kids - seriously 10-15 year olds - are absolutely fantastic. Listen to this kid - Rohit Shyam - here. Sigh - I wish I could sing like him. And like Aamir Haafiz - who sang this absolutely amazingly wonderful Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan-saab song.

Okies - well I'm going to stop this rambling and concentrate on my listening. Enjoy and remember the phrase...

and i just realized I don't have a label for music. Oh wait - there, I found it....

The Height of Anonymity

Sunglasses


and an iPod

Shapath

Ashes

Not Dust

Eureka of Sorts...

It was a friend's birthday recently, and I've finally gotten the chance to give him his birthday present.

I was putting his card in the envelope, when I realized - that Hallmark envelopes taste good - the adhesive that is.

It was tangy yet sweet...

Weird

Like Alcohol and Drugs...

I fell asleep on the bus yesterday - which I always do. I usually fall asleep within 5 minutes of getting onto the bus, and generally wake up right before my stop.

I did the same yesterday - was asleep really quickly, and woke up before my stop. Now the problem is, I fell asleep again and - you guessed it - missed my stop. I'd never missed a stop before (in 4 years of bussing twice a day) and so was really disappointed at having 'broken my record'. 

I hate alcohol and drugs, well soothing bus rides and hot summer afternoons. 

And thus another random post on RFS comes to an end...

Rain

It's raining - I wish the sun would come out.

I hate how the rain automatically makes you feel gloomy - even if you've just woken  up and went to bed happy. 

Bah - this day's going to suck.

Freakish

Everyone says that the transition from high school to university is one of the most difficult periods of one's life. Now, I'm not saying that my transition wasn't difficult - I was quite lost going from a high school grad class of 19 to an economics 101 class of 375, but in the entire scheme of things, it wasn't that hard. I was lost in a spacial sort of way - not in the 'now-go-and-find-who-you-are' way.

As my years at university progressed, I became increasingly involved (to the point where I was doing more extracurricular activities than school work - not smart, especially when you start having 2 all-nighters in a week) and increasingly confident of my space in my massive university. No longer do I feel like a small segment of the university, rather, I know where I fit in.

But things have changed - I feel lost these days, absolutely freaked out about life post-university. The transition from high school to university was easy because I was going from one academic setting to another. I have a year left until I graduate (my 5th year at this university), am starting my GRE prep course in a couple of weeks, and will be submitting my first graduate school applications in the next few months. I know I could get into almost any university in this wonderful country of mine - I have the grades and the CV - but I want to go to another country, to a university that is one of the top, if not the top, in the world (in my field). It has exactly the program that I want, along with another a couple hours from it.

The problem is, I'm skeptical about my chances at getting into these two universities, and I refuse to apply to any others. I know I could get in after a few years of work, but I don't want to work. I'm a nerd; I love learning - and I want to keep on going to school. I'm freaked out because I have no idea what I'd do if I don't get into either of these graduate schools. This didn't happen at the end of high school - I was confident - completely confident about my chances. And now...

To Be Born Again...yes..that again...

Narcissism Of The Healthy Kind

Sometimes, I find myself fascinating. Yes, it does sound 'oh-so-very-narcissistic', but I can't help wonder at times how I thought about, or even came up with, specific thoughts, or sentence structures (grammar-nerd alert!). I'm one of those types that reads her own blog. Some find it weird; I find it a healthy reminder of my views over the past few years. To be quite honest, I've forgotten about many of the posts I've put on Selfistan, and so, re-reading RFS gives me insight into those which I've forgotten about. Further, it lets me figure out what I haven't written about.

As a polisci kid, one who loves analysis and detailing to death, looking at what I've written and what I haven't written not only amuses me and provides a way to spend the wee hours of the morning, it provides insight into my very own character, and perhaps more importantly (if anything can be more important than that, of course)...and now I've forgotten what was more important - oh the horror of receiving email notifications of photo-tagging notifications.

Way to break my chain of thought - that's it for now. Sleep time

More Salman...

Back again - where have I been for the past week? Where I always am...I've had quite a few ideas for posts - you know that feeling - where you walk down the street, think of something, go 'hey! this would be a great post on Selfistan', continue walking down the street happily thinking of all the wonderful things you could write, get back home, and forget what it was.

Now - I think, in a previous post (no idea which one), I said that I'd carry around a small notebook and write down potential selfistan post ideas on it. I've been carrying around my trusty iPhone and a notebook, but haven't written anything down. But - not to worry, I actually have a subject for this post.

Guess what it is?

Salman Rushdie - again. *Big Smile*

So Sir Rushdie, or Salman as I like to call him, won the Best of the Bookers a couple days ago for Midnight's Children. Now, if you remember, a couple years ago - maybe a decade ago - the same book won the Booker of the Bookers prize, and before that, in the year that i came out, it won the Booker. 

As much as I love Midnight's Children (and trust me - it's definitely in my top 5 books list) and as happy I am that it won yet another Booker-related prize, it irks me that it's the only book of his that has won so many awards. Seriously - it's not his best book (at least I don't think so). It's brilliantly written and the story and everything in it makes you go 'wow' when you read it (if you know your Indian history, you're constantly astounded by the depth and the phenomenality [is that a word?] of the book).

This post is an entreaty of sorts - to all those out there - to read his other books, and to appreciate them (not that they haven't been appreciated, but do you sort of get what I mean). My favourite ones of his - in order of preference are....

*drum roll please*

1. Satanic Verses

2. Midnight's Children

3. Step Across This Line (non-fiction)

4. Shame

5. Shalimar the Clown 

5. Enchantress of Florence

(if you think I can't count - rest assured - I can -- Shalimar and Florence are tied for fifth) 

F ***

sometimes - there are things that i just don't understand - as much as i try, they just don't make any sense - and it's so hard

and if you know me - well or barely - you'll know how much i hate not being able to understand things

now imagine things that are so hard to understand that they hurt

not fun

sometimes - to be born again first you must die - seems too simple

Why I Feel Sorry for George W. Bush

Don't get me wrong - please.
I don't like the guy, nor his policies, but I do feel sorry for him - on a humane level.
Now many will argue he doesn't deserve to be treated on a humane level, but I think everyone can be, regardless of their views or deeds.

The poor guy - he's hated by millions, if not billions of people world wide. Even after he leaves the Presidency, he'll be hated. And he'll go down in history as someone who made extremely bad decisions, and be hated by generations to come.

Imagine the feeling - not being able to go anywhere without people jeering at and insulting you. And not only him - his kids, his entire family - and everyone in his family still to come. Imagine the stress that comes with that, the enormous weight of it all, and the feeling that there's nothing you can do to change that.

Cracking a Watermelon Open With Your Bare Hands...

It was a beautiful day yesterday - finally - a nice reprieve from Juneuary and its horribleness. So a friend and I decided to go down to the beach for a dinner-picnic (dinnic? picner? - both sound weird). Anyways, I got home in the early evening, changed into my sweats and flipflops, grabbed a water bottle and one of those beach-mats (the ones made from what look like reeds - popular in Mombasa, that's all I know). She picked me up and we drove to the organic food market (awesome place - expensive with my student budget but totally worth it). We picked up some olive bread (so yummy!) some basil goats cheese from THE island and a mini-watermelon.

We got to the beach - one of those small ones on the way to the ferry terminal that barely anyone knows about - and sat down on the sand. The tide was coming in so we made sure we were above the driftwood line - so we wouldn't get wet. It was by far the best dinner I've had in a while. We started off with the bread and the cheese - which I ate too much of (got mad at myself too because I can't exercise it off right now - read the previous post if you don't know why).

Then we decided it was time to eat the watermelon - only problem was that we didnt have a knife. So she placed it on a log, we found a sharp-ish stone, and started making holes in the watermelon. After two such holes, she was able to rip it in half and we both dug in. Honestly, there's nothing like sitting on a beach, watching the water and the sunset and the dogs and getting your face covered in watermelon juice (we didn't bring spoons either). It was amazing.

It was hard getting to the fruit at the bottom, so I ripped my half into smaller pieces - so much fun - and ate/drank it. By the end, all we had left was the rind - it was completely white, no sign of watermelon anywhere!

Then we went for ice-cream...mmmm...straciatella - the best flavour ever!

Pictures once I manage to upload them from my phone

The Idiocy of Nabz...

I was rudely woken up this morning - by myself. I was having this dream in which I was stuck on campus in this massive storm - the lights had gone out, and I was in this part of campus that I'm not the most fond of (because it's so far from where everything is - ie food). And all of a sudden, at 4.30am, I woke myself up - well my stomach region woke me up - not with hunger, but with an extraordinarily sharp and deep pain. 

So I freaked out, convincing myself that I had appendicitis - because what else would hurt so much? Yes, I'm not the most mentally-awake person in the mornings, let alone on mornings such as these. I ran into my mom's bedroom - shook her awake - and demanded that she take me to the clinic (which opened at 9am - yes I could've waited until 8.30am to wake her up but when you're in pain, you don't think of things like that).

I tried going back to bed after this, and found it hard - I couldn't sleep, but finally i fell into a doze at around 5.30am. Then I was up at 7.30 so I could register for my courses and then tried wandering around the house until my mom woke up, but was in too much pain...so I sat on my bed and did nothing.

I didn't end up going to the clinic, because I had a brainwave and decided to go to my doctor instead. So I sat in the small room, waiting for her, and her impending diagnosis, and when it came, I breathed a sigh of relief - because I have a badly pulled muscle and no appendicitis. It's quite badly pulled though - because I can barely walk, and it hurts when I laugh, or when I eat, or when I bend down to change the song on my computer (this is my laptop), or when I go to put hot water in my mug for some tea...

sigh...it might have been the yoga, it might have been sleep (trust me - I once sprained my wrist trying to shut-off my alarm clock - although this was after I'd just had surgery on that wrist so it was already half-messed).

And Thus It Starts..

I've wondered whether and when it would happen, since November 2001. And finally, it seems as if it will occur soon. What am I talking about? 

US strikes within Pakistan.

Honestly, I'm amazed it took this long. It seems odd that the USA hadn't come under fire from 'anti-Afghan' (at least that's what they call them here) forces along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border and that strikes against such forces along the border hadn't occurred before yesterday.

It seems, to me at least, that much of the American uneasiness, and perhaps even inability, in the past to use force against such elements in Pakistan was a result of their dependence on the ruling Pakistani military under General Musharraf. While Musharraf continues to rule Pakistan as President, his role now is much more minimal and, by far, less all-powerful as before. With a civilian government now controlling the nation, the USA is now perhaps less concerned about angering the Pakistani government than it was before. Pakistan's Prime Minister can condemn the USA for killing some of its troops in what the USA may term 'friendly-fire'; however, this condemnation will not have the same impact on the 'Afghan-mission' as anything said by the Pakistani military (which called it a 'completely unprovoked and cowardly act').

So why am I amazed? Well, I guess I shouldn't be. Pakistan-US relations have deteriorated somewhat over the past few months. Having supported Musharraf and the army, while promoting democracy in Pakistan (because it had to, and not necessarily because it wanted to), the US Government has found it difficult to maintain a balance between supporting the army (because it obviously needs the thousands of Pakistani Army members currently stationed along the border) and supporting the pro-democracy movements of the PML-N and the PPP (remember - Musharraf and the pro-democracy movements despise each other). 

This recent glitch in Pak-American relations is perhaps just another in a series of such problems that have surfaced in the past few months. I wonder what will happen next. But with Pakistan, I guess you can never know...

The Return of Big Brother - or Sister

You know, I wish I posted more on RFS - sort of spilled out my views and opinions on various issues constantly. But then, when I do decide to post something, I write it out, and am ready to click the 'publish post' button, when the censor inside me rears its ugly head and says STOP - and then I stop.

It sucks, because in one of my earlier posts I'd said that I wouldn't worry about censorship because I really didn't give a damn what other people thought about me, and because no-one really knew who I was. Now, I seriously doubt whether more than a handful of my friends actually read this blog, so I'm not too concerned about them reading stuff that I don't want them to read, but then again, there is that chance that maybe, just maybe, I'll write something here and someone I know will read it and cause some mayhem. As much as I love causing mayhem - and those of you that know me might go 'what!' - it really isn't worth it.

So if you're on this blog looking for insight into me that goes beyond what I think about this and that (does anything go beyond that - hmm..it sort of covers everything no?), don't bother coming back - because you're not going to get it.

I guess, I don't want people to read my blog because of 'me'. I want them to read it because of its content. And if this content reflects 'me' - which it by nature will - so be it. I hope that makes sense - I know it does in my head. But like other things that I've written, it often doesn't.

Makeover?

I've been thinking about changing the look of Selfistan for a while - not changing it dramatically because I like this colour scheme - but I'm going to be making a couple of changes. Among them, a new header...

Testing 1,2,3

So this is just a test to see whether the RSS feed off of Blogger works. Don't ask me why I want to get RSS feeds off of my own blog - I'm the only one posting here so Obviously I know when new posts have been added. 

Consider it a whim, or even an attempt at self-glorification - the ability to have an RSS feed for Selfistan on my web browser, with multiple numbers beside it (which would indicate that I haven't read the blog in a while - so don't know about that - because the blog is so interesting to read no?)

Rite - so back to work...

and remember...to be born again.....

you know the rest..

~me

Pride or Shame?

I don't know what this means - perhaps it's a bad thing....

but i have now officially graduated from pots of tea to pots of coffee...

ahh...exams...

Too Good To Be True

Salman Rushdie
Jalaluddin Muhammad 'Akbar'
Niccolo Machiavelli


"The Enchantress of Florence" comes out April 8th. I have class at 9.30am, and will get to campus early so I can get a copy when the campus bookstore opens. Then I'll read it during my 5 hour break.

Epiphany

You know - I've had an epiphany.

When I'm too lazy to write on RFS but feel the urge to post a new post, all I have to do is put up one of my pictures. They're relatively pretty and, sometimes, thought provoking.

Or I could just write a post like this.

Paris, Je t'Aime

Voila...un photo du Tour Eiffel...par mon autre camera (il n'a pas un nom...)

More Bark

This picture really represents our world no?

Ana al-Haq

Not believing in God, or Gods for that matter, is strangely liberating. My actions are my own - in more than one sense. I act because of my own will, and at the end of the day, I justify my actions to myself. I have multiple judgement days, multiple passages through hell, and multiple hours in paradise.

More importantly, I am no longer constrained by what the Qur'an says, or what the Vedas and the Smritis say. What I am is what I believe, and what I believe is what I am. As al-Hallaj would say - ana al-Haq.

Idiocy

I find it idiotic that all of the newspaper articles I have read on Pakistan recently, which deal with how Musharraf came to power, emphasize how he wrested control from then PM-Nawaz Sharif in a bloodless coup. Why the coup occurred is never a topic of discussion, nor are the non-democratic deeds of Sharif.

I feel like I already wrote about this in a previous post....oh well

Trousers and Dhotis

"'One way of defining diversity for India,' the poet and critic A.K Ramanujan once wrote, 'is to say what the Irishman is said to have said about trousers. When asked whether trousers were singular or plural, he said, "Singular at the top and plural at the bottom".'But Indian natinoalism before Independence was plural even at the top, a dhoti with endless folds."

-Sunil Khilnani's The Idea of India

Hmm...maybe I should have actually followed my prof's advice and read this book during class, and not 3 months after it.

that's it for now...ciao, adios, au revoir...and remember...to be born again, first you must die...

The Wonderful World of Picasso

I got a Nikon D40x for my birthday. As I take more and more pictures, I can't help but want to take a year off after my B.A and travel around the world, taking pictures.

I call this shot Zebra Bark.


ps - I name inanimate objects - cameras, iPhones, skeletons....D40x's name is Picasso

A Punch to the Head?

It's very weird - I've gotten to a point where I've started forgetting doing a couple of things. I was speaking to someone on msn and doing some other things at the same time. Then I went back to the convo to say something to them, and realized that I'd already said goodnite and that the conversation had been over for about 10 minutes. The other day, yesterday I think - maybe the day before, I woke up pretty early and went to get some water. Coming back to my room, I realized that I'd set my alarm for 30 mins before I was actually supposed to wake up. Sleep deprived, I decided to set the alarm for the actual time. And so, my mom came into my room as she was leaving for work (because I've told her to come into my room if I'm not awake by the time she leaves since I have to be out of the house at a certain time and require an x-number of minutes to get ready) and forced me to get up - thankfully. Then I got to class, and I was sitting in my Foreign Policy lecture and felt like I'd been punched on the side of my head. I used to do kickboxing, so I know what it actually feels like - that and being kicked in the head and being winded by a punch to your stomach.


I think I'm tired - well, exhausted is more like it. I just want to sleep - but I need to finish writing this paper; it's already late - the first paper I'm handing in late in 3.5 years - the first I'm handing in late at university....sigh...I guess there's always a first time.

Anyway, back to work - tbbafymd

and if u dont understand that acronym here's a hint: #1

N

Of Politics and Paki-land

So I'm back, for another stint of writing on Selfistan. Yes I know I haven't written in about a month - you'll have to forgive me as I've been excessively busy - conference organizing/executing, paper-ing, midterm-ing, assignment-ing, sleep-ing (well for the past week that is). So my break is over (boohoo) and I have to be up in 9 hours to get ready for class (I hate having to commute) - and I have a paper due tomorrow - so I thought what better time to post on RFS than now??

I think this post will be about Pakistani politics (I have to - I'm sorry if you dont like politics), but I'm not sure. I'm not sure if I want to write about how funny I find it that Nawaz Sharif and Asif Zardari are back in power, how 'democracy' has been upheld by non-democratic individuals (not-so-Sharif Nawaz and Mr. 10 percent), how the only guy who's actually done stuff for Pakistan is going to probably be impeached and maybe even tried for treason by not-so-Sharif (the same guy who tried to force his then-army Chief's plane to land in India a couple of months after a war with India because he wanted to appoint a friend to the post - guess who the army Chief in the plane was), and how the USA is now scrambling to keep its ally in power while pandering to its false claims of democracy.

It's so idiotic. On the other hand - kudos to the country for having free elections - maybe the first ever - and to General Kiyani for not getting the army involved in any capacity.

I'm still laughing. Oh Pakistan....hahahaha

Century

You may have noticed that I haven't written in a while. Perhaps you assumed that I was busy with school, or that I had nothing to write about. Although both assumptions are relatively correct, they are also a tad far from the truth.

This is my 100th post. I didn't think Selfistan would survive this long. But it has - amazingly.

I started this blog on a whim, one that was based on a friend's desire to get me Blogging. So it wasn't as if I really wanted to create a blog; I just did because she wanted me to. And even though, in hindsight, everything from the title to the first post that I ever wrote seem to project a well-thought-out blog, it happened really quickly - within 10 minutes.

Why Ramblings From Selfistan? Why not something like Weird Nabz' Weird Blog or Why Am I Blogging When I Don't Want To or This Is A Blog or Nabz' World? I've always liked rambling - and I had a series of short poems that had 'Ramblings' in the title. Also, I wanted the blog to be anything and everything - ramblings, rather than 'essays' fit much better.

Selfistan - hmm. Well, as I said in the first post, Salman Rushdie is a major source of inspiration for me. And when I read his 'Shalimar the Clown' the phrase about 'Selfistan' left an impression - the one that talks about drawing a circle around one's feet and claiming a piece of the Earth as one's own. Being the polisci nut that I am, it had major resonances with what I was reading and writing at that point.

So, Ramblings From Selfistan became an attempt to carve out my own small circle on the Internet and to claim a small portion of cyberspace as my own. Have I succeeded? Well, obviously it depends on how one measures success. But I think, in the entire scheme of things, writing 100 posts is a success of sorts. It speaks about a relative desire to write things in RFS and also about an impression that what I write actually gets read (refer to Sitemeter if you wish to confirm this point).

Looking back, I actually like the posts I've written on RFS. My favourite one? Hmm..hard question - a couple that I really liked were 'Game, Set, Match Mr. Federer', 'True Ramblings II', 'Stealing a Table...Nerd Style & Other Stories', 'Amusing Oneself in Selfistan', 'Books: your BF or GF???', and of course, 'Welcome to Selfistan'. More than a couple - but from 99 posts, it's hard to choose 3.

I hate conclusions - I'm just gonna not write one.

Ciao

Oh The Brilliance

Another gem from Mirza Ghalib...

Mere marne ki du’a maange voh but parh kar namaaz,

Kis taraf jaa kar karoon main sajda-e-shukraana aaj

I refuse to translate this into verse. Essentially, the poet is saying that his lover (remember the ghazal lover is always fickle and constantly leads on the poet) has asked for his death during prayer, and he's wondering which direction he should carry-out his sajda-e-shukraana (his bow of thanks) - towards Mecca (as is usual in Muslim prayer) or towards his 'lover'.

Much better in Urdu - but you knew that...

Sajni - Jal

My new music obsession - Sajni from Jal's new album. Here are the lyrics for the slow version.

Main teri aankhon mein rehtaa hoon
Tujhe pataa na chale
Tere har pal mein guzaraa hoon
Tujhe pataa na chale

Khafaa to hum bhi hai tum bhi ho
Humein pataa na chale
Judaai ka mujhe gham bhi hai
Koi aisi khataa na kare

Kare to phir kya kare
Tere bin kaise jiye
Aankhon mein pyaar liye
Bolon kahan kahan phire

Sajni paas bulaao na
Aaah
Saajana maan jaao na
Aaah

Kare to phir kya kare
Tere bin kaise jiye
Aankhon mein pyaar liye
Bolon kahan kahan phire

Humein dil se bhulaao na
Yahin ab kehna hai ab kehna na
Tum paas aao na...

Ramble Ramble Ramble (sung to the Hungry Hippoes song)

Ahh so I'm back at school for another term of papers, exams and readings. I've decided NOT to procrastinate and so I've been tryign to be as organized as possible. I have a big calendar that I made on my wall (its my monthly elementary school art class fix), have stuck important things on the shelves above my desk, my textbooks are in a specific place and my clothes are in the closet - rather than on the chair i'm currently sitting on. I have a ton of dishes in my room though - leftover from my tea (remember - I'm an addict), mini-banana bread, grapefruit juice and veggies and dip. Funny - usually its the food that's leftover, not the dishes.

Anyway so is there any point to this post? Not really. Having slept at two and woken up at two for the past three weeks, Ive been finding it multo difficulo (is that even a word?) to sleep at my self-professed bedtime (11pm - ya right eh?). I have to be in class in 9 hours - how horrible is that? I miss my 1pm starts - or the 4pm ones I had back in 2nd year. Sigh.

I'm taking 6 courses right now, am on 2 execs, 1 editorial board, a research intern, have a massive paper and a policy paper due on Monday. Does anyone think I'm overstretching myself a bit here? I've been debating whether or not to drop one of my courses - I really like all of them so far - but I think I'll have to drop my polisci seminar. It's on comparative politics of the Middle East so it should be amazingly interesting, but the amount of readings that there are for the course, plus the fact that I want to do well in it, and given the stuff i already have - I think I'll have to drop it. It's either that or my genetics for arts students course (I wanted to be a geneticist when I was younger) and which idiot would drop a course during which the prof said that it was possible for everyone to get an 'A' and actually meant it?? Not me...

12.18 - hmm, maybe I should try and get some sleep, considering how early I need to wake up. K. I think i'll stop it there and go brush my teeth. If i cant sleep, i'll count sheep or maybe read or do some sudoku...lol (nerd alert..yes)

That's it for now - and if you don't know the rest - go back and check...

N

ps- if you dont know the Hungry Hippoes song, shame on you - yes, you too Tibz...

With Sincere Apologies....

Heartfelt apologies to the one who forced me to start this blog, and without whom RFS would not have existed, for not mentioning you in the Dammit - I Forgot My Anniversary post...

Thanks Shy for making me start RFS. You rock!

(For Shy's blog, go to http://silenceofthestars89.blogspot.com/)

Happy New Year!