When I was 13, I could instantly recite every poem I had ever written, word for word. But at that time, I had written only around a dozen poems, all of which I am embarrassed to even remember. Such immaturity, deliberate attempts to rhyme, and such crappy expression! But yeah, I could still remember them when I felt like it…now I try to remember one, and nothing comes to me…absolutely nothing. Anyways, I was just thinking abt this, when I discovered this apparently spontaneous poem on the first day of school. Let alone remembering it, I am still trying to figure out when and where and why and in what mood I wrote this...i found it at the back of my umpteenth maths register…all I know is, it was during my recent exams. I don’t really think much of this; I haven’t bothered to add or delete anything or edit it in any other way… I think it must be abt being a teenager-though I don’t generally feel this depressed anymore, I guess I was just in the usual exam mood… now I read it, it sounds more like what I feel abt growing up from time to time…like one of my literature teachers said: ‘One thing I won’t hide from u…growing up is VERY hard, we should never expect it to be an easy process’…and if I listen to no other teacher and no other person, I’ll listen to her. I must write a blog post abt her sometime…she’s one of the most wonderful people in the world, but for now, only this is available from aty… So many things you can’t understand And for no reason you cry again You think no one feels, and no one can care You hide your tears, and every scar Then hide your face in your trembling hands, And going out, you wear a mask Dreams float away as you wake up Their memory haunts you all day long Your hands, your heart, are never enough to catch them, and then there you are; In the dark, pretending you can see every light Without a voice, yet you sing every song The words you write fade away, are lost The swirling sea licks up every print Memories stop listening to any pleading voice Then everything’s still, every face is blank You’re looking back, confused, in vain But the past is so blurred, then you’re moving away I will never, ever stop posting stuff like this—this is just like any other poem I’ve written….blahy was rite…my poems are all so similar…but what can I do, I can’t stop myself from writing in the same old fashion, and I can’t stop myself from posting it…

i have this problem...it's really deep-rooted...i cannot, i simply CANNOT express my emotions, especially when its expected of me. nobody can ever know HOW excited i am to FINALLY be 17...and the problem is, i can't even begin to show them! i'm so happy rite now that i could just run up and downthe house hooting with joy...but no! i'm sitting quietly, letting my parents and sisters watch the test match...and i've been sitting calmly all day...i just don't care, but i do...can't explain... all i did today was invite exactly one frnd over...i wanted to invite my group but one of them had her SAT on saturday and cudn't come, the others just refused to come on a SUNDAY...so i cursed them all and brought good ol' nackie to my place so we cud have a gud loooonnnggg talk which we dun usually have. See, we hav different groups of freinds, so we're only in contact thru visits, the occasional outing, and long, long phone calls...its a bit complicated, but we're still very close... now when i signed in, only waj was online (out of the ppl i actually deem worthy of chatting to), and she kept deserting me...i'll never forgive u for this now *angry look*...neways, the calls just kept coming and coming, and both the landlines are ringing again, so i think i'd better go...thanks again to all who remembered my bday and wished me...i love u all! *loads of huggies*

I really should update… the holidays are almost over, and who knows when I’ll have time to update again? I can just hear all the teachers getting geared up…they won’t leave us alone, mark my words. I can remember the second half of the final O’ level year…nightmares of unprepared exams every night, girls crying silently in the library, the tension of the farewell plans and my first fainting fit in my whole lifetime. It was terrible, terrible…and I know the final months of A’ levels are going to be double the torture. Anyways, the third day of Eid is drawing to a close now. I always turn a bit of a vegetarian around this time of the year…the first day of Eid I didn’t eat nething but a few spoonfuls of mutter pullao…I was never very partial to meat, and I grow sick just looking at all the sacrificial meat in the kitchen. Ugghh… But the holidays have been really good so far…I haven’t been very active, just read a whole lot, lazed around, and enjoyed my leisure time. Also, I’ve stopped thinking about poetry as some thing that would come on inspiration…I’ve set a target for myself to finish at least 5 poems a day…I just pull out all the unfinished stuff and work on it until ever poem has a satisfactory ending. Poetry just isn’t a romantic hobby anymore, it’s more like something I have to do, and do well. I’m almost like a poetry-making machine…that is, when I’m not reading my eyes out. Yeah, I’m reading, reading like crazy…all those books that have been recommended to me over the years, those that I’ve always wanted to read, have somehow become an obsession for me. In the last two weeks I’ve read The Catcher in the Rye, The Metamorphosis (Franz Kafka),Umrao Jan Ada (the English translation), The Thirteen Problems (Agatha Christie), Jane Eyre (again), and now I’m on Wuthering Heights and my sister’s Psychology textbook simultaneously….I’m just trying to see how much I can read these holidays…just how far can this reading speed go… Before I go, however, I must say that reading Jane Eyre again was quite an experience, after having read and studied The Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys. For those who know the story of Jane Eyre, The Wide Sargasso Sea is the story of Mr. Rochester’s lunatic wife in the attic…it’s an awesome book, even if it does give me nightmares…and Jane Eyre is just not the same once you’ve read the modern novel. It gave me the creeps, I tell you, to draw all those parallels between the two books when I was reading that classic…I felt as if it were Charlotte Bronte who was copying Rhys’ characters, and not the other way round. It’s really cool; I never thought I would enjoy reading a book again that much…

A day of studying...

No, I have not spent the whole day studying…I rarely do that in the holidays, even though I should. My notes are a mess…but I’m still not going to neatofy them unless I practically have to. When I’m studying for the mocks, that is. Neways, I just want to illustrate what kinds of stuff I have to study, and what weird things can happen in the wee hours of the morning when you’re studying with full speed. For example, take The Comedy of Errors. To begin with, there was not one bookshop in the whole of Pakistan that carried it. I mean, a famous Shakespeare play, and not ONE shop has it? How silly is that? Every bookshop has at least the A’ and O’ levels course books, but not The Comedy of Errors. Oh no no no…Anyways, we imported it, and it is this wonderful Arden edition I have now…so wonderful, it has notes and everything. And very interesting notes they are too…I was reading through them, and there was this long footnote at the bottom of the page…apparently, a psychologist has interpreted The Comedy of Errors as ‘Shakespeare’s expression of an unconscious desire for incest with his mother’. Lovely reading at 2 a.m in the morning…rite? No wonder it wasn’t available in Pakistan…. Well, there’s another theory I know abt Shakespeare now, that I would have been much better off not knowing about. Why is everybody intent on spoiling Shakespeare for me? One of my literature teachers even told us in 9th grade that Shakespeare was rumored to be a woman and, furthermore, a lesbian! Thank you SO much…that was exactly what I needed to get inspired… Neways, ten minutes later, I had gone to get a drink of water, and the water in the cooler stared getting ripples all of a sudden…it’s a huge, transparent bottle, so you could see all the water splashing around inside. Anyways, it wasn’t a demon or anything…just another earthquake. I instinctively looked up at the ceiling fan….yep, moving all right. Went into the drawing room, looked at the chandelier…yep, merrily swinging away. I suppose I was the only waking person at the time in Lahore who felt it. And like the over-efficient person I am, I stood in the lounge, looking up at the fan and the hanging lights all moving, listening to the jars clattering on the table...thinking ‘shall I wake everyone up? I’ll just wait a few minutes…when things begin to fall of the shelves, I’ll start calling them…’ I’m of no earthly use when there’s danger…God knows what mite have happened if it had been a really serious earthquake. But it stopped after five minutes…yeah, I was even timing it. The day after next I read in the newspapers that it was a Richter 6.5 earthquake in Muzaffarabad, but as everything was already so broken up, there was no damage done. So that was one of the days of my studying…in fact, that’s all I remember…it’s just as well I suppose…

The unavoidable new year's post

I once read this theory about why time seemed to fly by much quicker when you’re old than when you’re young; why one year seems an eternity to a five-year old and yet is just a year to a middle-aged person or even a teenager. It’s because each year represents a bigger slice of life to a five-year old, than it does to you or me. I guess that’s what is happening to me. 2005 just…came and went. Just like that. So much happened in it; and now it’s passed so quickly. I remember the time I went online and read all those blogs about the New Year when 2004 came to an end. I never knew what a special year this was going to be. Sweet sixteen, a dark mind and soul, rebellious, trying to break out of whatever I had been for the last fifteen years…that was me. That’s what I am still, but only on the outside. I’ve changed. I can explain how, but…the change involves my perspective of all who would read this post and all the people they know…so I choose not to explain. I’m just more satisfied, more content, more happy with myself, and happy with others. I know how to handle situations, I know what to do and what not to do, and I’ve learnt to make mistakes and live with them if they can’t be put right. But the final result of this musing is that—it’s been a GREAT year. Tough, but great. My distinction, surprise birthday party, talking to online friends on the phone for the first time, getting to meet the President, getting closer to my friends and family then ever before, watching my cousin’s daughter learn to walk, talk, and dance…the list could go on and on…to things that no one would be interested in… Anyhow, I just want you to know that I love you all…may you have the best of the future, may Allah give you all that you ask for, may you always be my friend and may you live to see many, many more Happy New Years.