For I have been thrown into this pit of snakes
To be cured of this farficulate frenzy and illusive insanity.
– If men are tossed into the depths with asps and cobras to be driven to this ledge then maybe I can be saved.
Perhaps the light will switch on and all that is muddled together into twisted toadstool wires and balls of matted hair will correct itself and become the clear straight lines of reason;
With a ruler and a straight edge,
With a red pen of discerning judgment,
On my chart of progress, diagnosis, and treatment.
But the doctors and nurses know nothing.
Caught up in a maelstrom of tumultuous affairs and romantic feeling
That is,
The product of sanity.
– Or so they tell me.

There I stood at the door, waiting to see the sun and the trees
Only to be grabbed by the wrists and ankles and swung into this hole.
“Don’t worry dear, it’ll only take a minute.”
“You should be used to this by now.”
“You’ll be cured soon enough.”
Tossed in, like a rag doll; a copy just like the others,
Without sound mind or personal opinion.
Just like all the other girls.
Just like the ones who built their own hearts and follow the path laden with creatures from the Moorish depths and evils beneath them.
Just like the rest of them, I was to be.
– Or so they told me.

But they never expected my renaissance,
My rebirth, if you will.
Arisen from the grave, the ashes, the pit of snakes
Still with my scars, as badges of bravery and courage,
I will leave this pitiful institution.
The doctors and nurses with mouths slack-jawed like yokels as they see this rag doll,
Standing tall, covered with bandages and bloody scabs,
Take her first steps out into the world again.
I’ll never make it.
I’ll crash and burn like the rest of them.
I’ll fall back into prescribed madness and single minded femininity.
Or so they tell me.
But I know better.

The air hangs over the city like a thick blanket soaked with cyanide. The sky is the colour of sulphur stained with feces, pocketed at the sharp corners of the towering buildings. Calls of choked breathing echoes off the hard stone walls, which drip chillingly with sweat and tears. The brick is stained with blood and ash, maroon and grey, decrepit, crumbling under the weight of the smothering sky. Chips of brick tumble like stone sponge to the slimy cobblestone roads, deserted, empty.
It is cold. Putrid dew seems to form on the rough cobblestones. As the temperature continues to drop, the walls sweat, the stench of decay rising to the polluted firmament. The air is thick and smells of death, one would feel the dead as one walks through it. I can taste the despair in every breath I take. Despair, fear, and inexplicable awe, the cries of a nation yearning and grieving in unison echoes and bounces off the sweaty stones.
I can hear the scrambling of unkempt, blistered feet, attempting to find solace in a world ruled by hate. The low moans of prayers drift slowly through the poisonous air. Prayers of repentance, of fear, for the one who holds their lives in the palm of her hand. Their cries find harmony with the sounds of the whip, the slashes of daggers, the spurting and bubbling of blood as it drips into a puddle on the cobblestone road.
Her steps, as she walks through the streets, are almost muffled by the cries and moans. Her leather boots creak and click along the wet stones. They smell more of a butchery than the sweet comforting smell of leather. She takes in a deep breath and revels in her dystopian masterpiece.
The scattered flutter of vultures’ wings lulls the young ones to an unrestful sleep, feeling for their mothers tattered robe for comfort. She feels the rusty bars which hold her prisoner. They are as damp and uninviting as the floor to which she is chained.

Could I continue on? Could I get back into this mindset and maybe see where this story would take me? To corners of mind that should have been avoided? To a girl with a vendetta, waiting to be let out of her cage? To be teased by my own apparent thought. I doubt it. But who’s to say what could happen; I only know of one who holds time and I best not rush that decision.

Our relationship was like a puzzle.
Wait, that didn’t sound right, let me try that again.
Our relationship was like a puzzle.
No, that doesn’t work either.
Our relationship was like a puzzle.
You see, like the sudoku puzzle where every number has a specific place that I can never get quite right, I will never be able to properly emphasize the existence of our relationship; having all the words in the right place.
We both knew there was a slot for everything, we just never knew which ones to use.

Two, six, four, three, five, nine, seven, eight, one.
The two days it took for me to decide that I wanted out.
—–Decided whether I wanted to fight for you or not.
The six hours that changed our relationship around.
—–Hours that shone a new light on you.
The four days before our anniversary, where it all ended.
—–Abruptly and coldly with no resolution or closure.
The three hour conversations we’d have over the phone.
—–Dragging on into complete fatigue and overwhelming excitement.
The five hour nights I’d get the chance to rest, followed by;
-the nine hour long days I’d have to endure after that.
—–Where you slept through every waking moment of my ever present struggle.
The seven days a week we’d find some way or another to contact each other.
—–An addiction of the sorts that we both loved to indulge in, enabling each other.
The eight different reasons I conjured to solidify my decision.
—–Each one influencing the next, growing in validity.
And the one thing we both should have seen before we ever got into this.

We never knew where to start, and we never knew where to end.
And like the pieces of a puzzle would interlock with each other,
I saw that we were too similar, yet too opposite to interlock.
We had the spaces on either side of us that would need someone else to fill it.
I required what you didn’t have, and you, of what I couldn’t give you.

So the numbers started to fall into place,
Forming a map for us to follow, so we would no longer walk blindly.
The puzzle now solved in accepting that our numbers should never have run
together.
While they fit into their slots, and solved themselves numerically,
There would never be a math to us, there would never be logic or reason.

And just like the puzzle solver isn’t to blame for attempting,
Neither should we blame ourselves for attempting,
Because it was tempting.
But if you really must blame something,
Blame the numbers that just didn’t add up.

- you will always be my boo

There is a great deal that is unknown about human capabilities. It begins with the reach of our mind, and spans onto the depths of our passion. There is so much we, as humans, are capable of; much of it is good, but much of it is also horrendous and bad.

The human body is the greatest marvel and miracle of life, it is a monument to life itself; from every pore, to every follicle of hair, to the individual function of every cell, organ, and system. The body is capable of enduring great amounts of pain and pleasure. It is capable of producing life, and nurturing it. It is able to evolve, adapt, grow, and heal itself. We’ve pushed our bodies to physical extremes with sports, recreation, abuse, and nurturing. We’ve seen the human body at its finest, and we continue to watch as it sinks to its lowest.

However, the physical plane is the only boundary we’ve pushed to extremity. We continue to pursue healthy and wealthy lives, nourishing ourselves with education, knowledge, experience, and practise. We’ve pierced, punctured, sewn, repaired, encased, healed, shrunk, operated, stretched, tortured, sterilized, procreated, and neglected our bodies. Why do we pay such close attention to the physical form in terms of finding a limit? It’s simple, the limit is tangible. Should you push your body too far, the limit is death.

The other planes we fear to venture into include that of the emotional realm, and the intricate puzzle of the brain.

Our emotional range can fly from intensely loving a person, so much so that we are willing to give our life for them, to such intense hatred that we are willing to take our own lives as a means to taking their’s as well. It is astounding to watch people fly between these two extremes on a daily basis. True, there are not as many people on the negative extreme, but they still often reach the point of wanting to take the other person’s life.

Emotions allow for empathy, apathy, contempt, lust, and infatuation to take place. They drive the arts, and give life a deeper meaning. Have we ever truly explored the depths of our emotional abyss? What more are we capable of? Perhaps our emotions are powerful enough to take on physical forms. It’s possible that our emotions can form bonds with people across continents, oceans, and maybe even worlds. We can’t possibly know the limit of our emotions, can we? Is there’s a physical boundary that signals for us to stop? What is the equivalent of physicality’s death in the emotional realm?

We fight, so often, to limit our emotions. We tame them, suppress them, bottle them, avoid them, and rationalize them. With society, business, and law surrounding us, we strive to encase our emotions with reason and rational thought. Fair enough, for if we didn’t, chaos would ensue. But what have we forfeited in doing this? What endless possibilities have we truncated?

One of the greatest feats of humanity is its capability to love, at least I see it that way. A parent will sacrifice their life for their child. A spouse will go through great lengths for the one they love. Some of the greatest events in the world have taken place in the name of love; a love for freedom, a love for mankind, a love for God, and a love for life. Imagine, just imagine, how endless our love could be, quite literally. What have we sacrificed in order to be a “civilized” race?

The human brain is capable of great things; memories, cognitive reasoning, daily decisions, basic math, verbal communication, interpreting signs, science at the highest degree, mind games, imaginations, dreams, and all of it encompassed within its small, but intricately woven structure.

It has been stated that humans only use a certain percentage of their brain in day to day life. Even the most educated scholars only use so much. Some studies have labelled this a myth and stated that humans use 100% of their brains. If that’s a fact, how is it possible that we are still unaware to some of the uses of the brain. For years we’ve studied, analyzed, and picked apart the human brain, and there are several activities taking place that have yet to be determined or labelled.

Imagine, yes use your brain and imagine, what our minds are truly capable of. The use of telepathy could actually be buried deep within the folds of our brain. Telekineses, and several other fictional superpowers that the human mind has created for the genre of science-fiction. If we’re able to fathom such a thing, what’s to say it isn’t possible?

The human mind has given us the ability to both create a disease, and cure it at the same time. What is the marker the indicates the boundary of the human mind? If there is one, is it possible that we have created it ourselves? Have we imagined our own limits?

Have we, as humans, backed ourselves into a little corner of possibility throughout our existence? Have we limited ourselves? What is the human limit; and should we find it, is it real?

Mourning yesterdays loss when today the sun is out, forgetting to love those who stand before us. Complaining to justify what we are unwilling to change ourselves, looking over our shoulders at faults of someone elses out of fear to accept ourselves as flawed human beings. Refusing to step up only causing us to fall back. Be not afraid of who you are, fear not the future because in turn our destiny awaits us, ready or not.

We too must become ancestors of our generation, make those feel incompatent to our achievements, only to watch them grow into our shoes and continue the legacy for years to come.

What happens when you’ve put all your energy into knowing a little bit of everything, and a whole lot of nothing on one thing?

Director Baz Luhrman wrote a song in 1998 called “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)”, and it’s an oddly poignant song for the era it was released. Part of the song went as such: “Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what to do with your life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year-olds I know, still don’t.”

Here lies the problem, I know what I want to do with my life, I’m just feeling a bit unprepared for it. I’ve spent the last ten to twelve years extending my reach. I’ve sought out my interests, with the exception of auto shop (picked the wrong high school…), and I’ve diversified myself and my talents. But the two things in my life that mean the world to me, the two things that keep me alive and running, I know very little about.

If it’s your passion, shouldn’t you be crazy about learning and living it? If writing is my passion, shouldn’t I be a more avid reader than I am currently? I should be capable of dropping names and titles left, right, and center; but I can’t. I know people in the sciences who’ve read more books than I have as an English Major.

If music is such a big part of me, why do I feel under qualified? Yes I love the instruments I play. Yes I love making up my own songs, writing my own lyrics, and recording insanely long tracks of me playing when I’m bored, but I don’t seem to know the intricate details I should. How is it that I want to be able to scribe out my songs, but I don’t have the solid theory background to support that? Shouldn’t I be so passionate about music, that I pushed myself to learn these things?

In the atmosphere we’re being groomed to enter, there’s little to no fighting chance for the “Jacks of all trades”. You need to be an Ace to survive. You need your speciality, your niche, your super power. You have to hone your super power, you have to train, you have to have your darn spinach and be prepared to fight at any given time.

When you’re a “Jack of all trades” it’s like playing Mario Bros. and running around jumping over hurdles, pipes, and bullets that are too big to handle without your mushroom. When you’re an “Ace of Spades” you’re Liu Kang, ready to participate in the tournament, and ready to take down Shao Khan. You’ve been training all your life for this moment, and you’re so much more than just ready.

While it would be lovely for all of us to secretly be able to do everything, and still specialize in one thing, that’s often not the case. It takes energy, time, devotion, and often money, to be an “Ace of Spades”. While I have the energy and the devotion, I often lack the remaining two necessities.

Besides, what’s so wrong with knowing a little bit of everything and not really knowing a lot of one thing? There’s nothing wrong with it, to be honest. The ever changing world, however, begs to differ. Bachelors, Masters, P.H.D., Certificates, and Awards, are all medallions we chase after when being an Ace, and they’re medallions that, in many ways, issue a “Pass GO, Collect $200″ ticket. I’m not berating the educational system, and neither am I saying that it’s okay to be lazy and not work toward something.

I’m simply venting. As someone who has far too many interests for her own good, I’m venting because I want to do it all; even the impossible. Could Mario ever really finish the game without the occasional mushroom? Popeye would eventually learn that the power wasn’t always in the spinach. And Liu Kang had to have other interests in his life that he explored…right?

Impossible = I’m possible.

My friend Madeline was propositioned with aspirations of coffee and conversation by an acquaintance, but more importantly a comrade of a previous lover. Regardless of the situation that she had just left, going out for “coffee” with this fellow Tristan was just to be a gathering of two friends getting to know each other a little bit better and enjoy a drink together. He came and picked her up at her house, they drove to a local Starbucks, and conversed for hours. As the baristas began to close up the shop, Madeline and Tristan made their way back to the car and decided to finish their coffees and conversation by the lake. As the repartee moved on from skunks to shoelaces, Madeline noticed that the little awkward silences were becoming a bit more frequent and was about to suggest that she get home, when OUT OF NOWHERE, Tristan grabbed Madeline’s head in a desperate attempt to perform some kind of vacuum suction maneuver on her face. Before she could even attempt to object, Tristan’s millions of hands were all over Madeline. She squirmed and struggled to escape the perverted grasp of Tristan the Torrid until she was finally free from her attacker.

The moral of this heartbreaking tale? Well, to quote my dear friend Matthew: “If you aren’t of completely different sexual orientations, coffee is NEVER just coffee.” I just wish that poor Madeline had known this ahead of time, well in at least enough time to reject promises of delicious libations smothered in whipped cream and caramel sauce.

Who would have thought that “going for a coffee” would be the new first date? Has our generation really stooped so low to beguile the innocent and naive into thinking that it would just be a drink? Have we become so stingy and thrifty that we refuse to go out for dinner, convince someone to go out for a drink, and then try to make a move, thus convincing ourselves that a $5 mochaccino was worth a nip slip? This is ridiculous. I know it’s a recession, but seriously, if your intentions are to get a little action after a date, increase your credit limit and buy the woman a steak. Gosh darn it.

Lemon, Def Poet, once said, ‘The lord may not always come when you call but he is always on time’.

Prayers are answered when you need them to be the most. Let the world believe you are okay, we do not need more chaos then we have already created.

The world was black and white before we created all these colors. Red for hate, blue for sadness, green for envy, and yellow for what some may call happiness, or as I would say less sorrow. We have created The Typical, The Normal, and The Natural to soothe ourselves as we find where we fit best in the world. Unfortunately, our time to grow catches up when we least expect it, and then finding ourselves rendered motionless as we struggle to find our calling, in which I claim is fate.

Born with a clean palette, only to be written on by my surroundings thoughts, and dreams, and then to be left to interpret my own thoughts, and to imagine with my imagination, has created havoc in my mind. Forceful motions toward a faith I knew so little about but made to believe was so great it had the power to bring about sins. My mind was made up for me, but discouraged at the fact that I could never live up to expectations. I began to beg for help, talk to God and ask him for the un-grantable. I began to loose myself. It was time I helped myself, became my own person, with my own thoughts and aspirations. There was no room for self pity and questions, no time to ‘dumb-it-down’ for the world, there was only time to change, become Alicia Shanaz Rahaman. The lord didn’t always answer my prayers, but the days he did visit my dreams, he guided me through the forest of thoughts and fears planted in my mind.

My lack of inspiration in which created an enormous wall in which my writing had been hiding behind for far too long, has finally been broken. These words may be jumbled, may be muttered, and a tad on the line of nonsense, but for a long time this feeling within me has been lost, and it feels nice to finally be found. The stars are brightly shining, my head is still lost, my heart is still aching, but the inspiration has become more than just a fantasy in which I longed for, hidden because my palette was formulated to suite all but myself.

It’s my life, as much as I have been given it, it now belongs to me. It is a shame that even with my own life I must feel as though I owe someone, but I hope today, tomorrow and the next day are brighter days.

Peace and love

I could never seem to fit in, even when I tried. I never tried often, but every couple of months your self-esteem tells you to give a damn and try to make some friends. And I never figured it out, what made me so different? There were other girls in my grade who looked like me, I never had an accent, I never smelled, so what was it? Why was it so painfully hard for me to make friends I could trust and keep?

I’m twenty now, turning twenty-one soon, and I’ve finally come to realize that it wasn’t something on the outside that made me different. My life, from the moment my mother defied her parents’ expectations, to her marriage to my father, to the birth of my brother, and the birth of myself…has been different.

We were raised differently, taught to see things differently, appreciate things differently, value things uniquely. We were raised to view the world with a different perspective, actually -no, we were forced to view the world with a different prospective. To anyone who knows even a sliver of information on my life, they’d understand what I mean by this. Every family faces challenges, every one’s life has obstacles, I’m not deying that. The things I have faced with my family, have wrought havoc, anxiety, stress, and a great deal of pain on us. Through the grace of God and the morals we live on, we’ve survived all the trying times.

It’s still hard for me, to this day, to make friends. Every single member of my family has this same challenge. With the life we’ve lived, we don’t fear death. Our religious beliefs and solid moral back bone have carved us out to be incredibly different. I have trouble making friends with people who lack substance, who lack loyalty, plain common sense, or reasoning. I refuse to associate myself with people who don’t understand other human beings and take them for granted.

I look at myself now and realize that if it is these differences that have made friendships so hard to come by, then I’m glad I’m different. The life I’ve lived has made me the person I am today and the writer I’ve developed into. Every so often I do stop and imagine how wonderful it would be to have less drama in my life. Less stress, less worry, less sadness. I get bored of that idea so quickly, because I’ve been shaped by the drama, stress, and sadness.

I look at myself now and see the friends I’ve kept by my side. They are few, and far apart, but they are some of the most amazing people I have and will ever meet. They are also people who, for the most part, see life the way I do. If I had to go through all this trouble just to find a few friends worth having, what mountains will I have to overcome to find the person I’m meant to be with?

It’s a burden to be different. It’s one of the biggest burdens of life, because it’s not something you can shake off. I never had an option; I never got to check the box for “different” or “normal”. I was stamped with “different” from the instant I was conceived, and I wouldn’t change it.

So I lost the frizzy hair, and the ashy knees, I kept the awkward laugh and unique sense of humor. I realized that it’s not the outside; that part looks like everyone else. It’s the inside that set me apart, and I’ll stand alone proudly. I can only hope that, in the future, my kids can have as much strength…they’re not getting much of an option either.

Every time I turn around, I wander to thoughts of you and our bitter sweet memories. Everything reminds me of you. I can hear your laughter in my head, and I can’t help but wonder when I will hear that again. Everyone is telling me to get over this, to move forward and smile the pain away.

I can’t.

I should have helped you. I should have supported you. I should have been more of a friend, of a sister. I should stop thinking of what could have been done but my mind won’t allow me to.

I feel guilty, that I am able to look outside at any given moment and see the sunlight, and I can’t help but wonder if you even get a window into our world anymore? I want to take away all the pain from you. I want to help heal your mind and soothe your heart. I want to reach out and tell you that the world forgives you, and that you are a good person. I want to be the person who saves your soul and makes you realize your worth.

I feel guilty, that I am able to eat whatever I want whenever I want. What are you eating over there? Are they nice to you? Why won’t you answer me? Why don’t you hear my cries? Why won’t you come back here and save us from our pain?

I am going to tell the world our secret okay? I was with him. I was in the car while he was driving. I knew he was drunk. I let it happen. I didn’t help to stop it. We filled the car with drunken laughter. We hugged each other, and we spoke of how much we admired the other. I thanked you for being such a great friend to my brother, and that you had become one of my own. We bonded. We cried as we reminisced the years we shared, and the memories created.

I took you for granted. Alicia, she was right. It takes a situation like this to make me realize the importance of life. The importance of friendship, and taking in the sunshine, because at any given moment it could all be taken away from you. Nothing is promised. Not today, not tomorrow.

Can you hear me? I am so sorry. I want to be behind the bars instead of you. I want to take over the sentence. I want to tell them that I should be there with you. I am just as guilty. This pain of not having you here, it hurts. It’s unbearable. I lay down at night and I try to think about you before I close my eyes in hopes to see you in my dreams. I try to be strong, thinking it may be what you want us to be. Where are you sleeping right now? Do you have a blanket? Did they give you a pillow? I hope you have some socks, a toothbrush. I hope that you find the courage to smile through this, and you feel our presence there with you.

I should have helped you. I should have come to see you. I should have told you it would be okay. I hope you hear me. Every night I look outside, and I speak to you through the moon. I tell the moon that I miss you, and that I love you and that I hope it protects you. I ask God for forgiveness, I don’t know if he hears me though. I hope he does. I prayed for you this morning. I am going to come visit you. Even if you will be behind a glass mirror, I will put my hand against the glass and ask you to put yours on the other side and I’ll imagine I can feel you. I will tell you that it will be okay, and ask you to tell me how you are doing. In my heart, I hope that I don’t see pain through your eyes. I’ll do my best to show you strength through mine.

To the readers of this piece, if there are any, I apologize in advance for the mumble jumble as well as the constant blunt endings to my sentences. This entry is a mirror of my thoughts and feelings in this very moment. I recently have had one of my brothers taken away from me. I recently witnessed my brother crying silently to himself and felt the pain. I would like to give an example using a metaphor of the pain our family is experiencing, but I cannot. I myself don’t even know how to describe it. I don’t wish this feeling on anyone. I hope that nobody ever has to experience someone so dear to them taken away, just like that; in the blink of an eye.

I promise that I won’t forget to remember you. Please keep me in your heart for the time that we’re apart. You will remain in mine, and I will await your return. No matter how long it takes.

You’re only gone for the moment.
I love you.
We miss you so much.
I will pray every day for your safety; happiness and that you never lose your strength.
Together we will make it through.

Other than the fact that she’s a house wife and she does stuff around the house that all four of us (family minus mother) could not handle, my day isn’t a day without my mom. She’s given me advice that has helped me ever since I was young until now…the same basic, yet powerful, rules apply even in the changed lifestyle of today. If you know me, you know I don’t seek anyone’s help when it comes to my life; I just push myself until I find the answer to it. However, there have been a few times where I would pray and get no answers; every one of those times was I led to the feet of my mom.

Anyway, there’s a funny story to be told. Two weeks ago, when I got home after getting my head shaved, I was hit in the head with a metal rod. Now, it was one of those things (don’t know the name, too lazy to research) that hold up the curtain that fell onto my head. Well, I somehow managed to pull the curtain and the rod just fell on my head. I swear to God, ever since that time, I have been a victim of writer’s block. I don’t know if it actually has any physical meaning behind it but the blow was hard and it was swollen for a few days that followed. Weird.

There was reflecting done today, after a very long time. Isn’t it weird how every summer is significantly, yet insignificantly, different every year? I mean, you’re a different person every summer yet every summer is surrounded by such similar events like school and work. I was just thinking about it and it seemed kinda funny. Last summer I was nothing like this. My mentality was different yet I had to go back to the same school and worry about the same stuff when August came around. The more essential things change only so often in a decade, I guess. Speaking of which, this summer has been unlike the last one. The weather seems to be having a lot more mood swings this year. Everyone is more involved in work (with the exception of Caribana weekend…every tends to come through for that lol) and work-related projects. Sooner than we can imagine everyone’s going to start attending their friend’s weddings during the summer…and soon they, themselves, are going to be getting married. Wow. I don’t mean to burst out in a complete immigrant-type manner, but it was like yesterday when I came to Canada and was in grade 8. Everything was way too different for me to comprehend within a year. It wasn’t long before I did, but I definitely did take my time doing so. Sometimes, I think of coming to Canada as one of the biggest pushes in my life – something that has definitely changed me as a whole. I don’t think, if I was still living in Saudi Arabia, would have I became a web designer or even had my own blog; I’m pretty sure  that, in Saudi Arabia, there’s still no exposure for people in that field.

Before I started writing out this entry, I was convinced that I was going to completely show a whole different side of myself but I soon realized how much work that would require. As a result, my next blog entry is probably going to be one of my best pieces ever.

Good night.

Writers, readers, critics, and imbeciles, regardless of what you choose to do with the twisted mental heather choked with contemplation that resides within you, do not let another ruin it.  This is your perception, these are your experiences, this is your consciousness.  Whatever exudes from your creative orifices is yours and yours alone.  Do not let anyone take that from you.

The following is a piece that I consider my matured declaration of myriads of emotions.  Too bad I struggle to enjoy it.

There is the possibility of a moment
Where I would believe that I could be happier.
But this subtle bliss,
Sauntering aimlessly through my head
Is clouding my vision.

And I will let it linger.
Like a gaze
Through heavy-lidded lascivious eyes
Tearing through me like a broken wail,
Howling with blatant honesty.
It makes me uncomfortable
But I would not want it to end

So please do not look away
Because I cannot stand to feel the chill
Of your shadow.

Twenty five years have come and gone so quickly and every one of the memories remain as fresh as those created yesterday. I feel fortunate enough to say I have a sister who is and always has been my better half, my best friend, my older sister. Today we celebrate twenty five years of life, and awaiting many many more years.

I reflect on the last twenty five years as those in which you have helped me cross the line of childhood, to adolescence, straight into the world of womanhood. Though we may bicker constantly, I couldn’t be any more grateful for all you have done for me. The countless hours spent deliberating on how to prove me wrong, though we both know that’s impossible, or the numerous questions about things your parents typically answer.

If you asked me two years ago, what I thought I would have today, I’d probably naively say the giant group of friends I created in highschool, in which I often put before my family priority wise. Today I can tell you, my future holds greatness and it derives strictly from the helping hand you put out for me to hold. I am grateful for all that you have done for me, be it driving me to work at 5am from Brampton after sleeping less than 2 hours, or reading to me as I fall asleep after countless hours of insomnia.

Today is a day to celebrate, not because you have gracefully completed twenty five years of life, but because you have done so and kept your dignity while staying true to yourself. You have conquered all that was thrown at you, from first love tragedies, to being on your own. I couldn’t have asked god for a better family than the one I was blessed with or for a better sister than you (and no Aleta I didn’t forget you). Today I wish you a very Happy 25^th Birthday, and I hope that you enjoy it.

God bless.  XOX

As humans, we need to be told when to stop.

We need to be told when there’s too much, just enough, or needs more, because for some reason; we can’t seem to fathom that ourselves.

One of the saddest sights I’ve seen in a long time is due to the current garbage strike taking place in this city. Since this strike has gone on for a month and a little bit now, people are getting desperate. Public trash recepticles have been sealed with a plastic wrap so that pedestrians and citizens will not have to use their common sense. The fact that the recepticles even need to be sealed is such a sad demonstration at the level of human stupidity.

Did we not learn, at a young age, to stop filling something if it’s already full? Too much water in the tub, and when you get in, water spills out. If you pour too much milk in your glass, it will spill when you pick it up. If you pile too much on your plate, it will fall off. Your toy box might not hold all your toys, the rest have to go somewhere else.

So if we learned these seemingly basic lessons, then why does almost every trash can around the city contain more trash on and around it than within it?

As a preventative measure, the government sent out people to seal off these bins, and put signs to say that they are no longer in service. Yet, in the crevices of the plastic wrap you can find a coffee cup, a banana peel, a newspaper, a plastic bag, and some unknown substance. It’s unknown because the stench of the garbage surrounding the can is preventing you from inspecting any further.

The cans were sealed off for the sake of hygiene and portion control. People don’t seem to comprehend this. We see a garbage can, we put our garbage there. Ignore the fact that it’s closed off. Ignore the fact that there is a mountain of trash on top of the seal. Ignore the stench within a foot radius of the object. Put your trash there. Why? Because it’s a trash can, and you’re too damn lazy to put your garbage in a more sensible place.

The sad part here isn’t that the city council is on strike. The sad part is that the citizens of the city apparently have no control over themselves. Think about it.

We rule out plastic bags and charge money to use them. Nalgene bottles were all the rage. Beverage corporations allowed the use of thermoses in a transaction. Oh yes, we sure are saving the world by adding one coffee cup, one banana peel, one newspaper, one plastic bag, and more than one unknown substance.

We’re drowning in our own filth, but hey, it’s not our fault…right?

I started bawling like a baby with colic.  As tears came streaming down my face and my sobs began to cut holes into my chest, I came to a hopeless realization.  I am weak.  I pride myself on being a stubborn introvert who does not have problems or obvious defects in my arrogant psyche.  But there was a crack, just a small one, which I was ignorant of.  I should have tended to this crack, to ensure that it did not grow further, to wreak havoc on me.  Still I neglected it.  Clearly a fantastic move on my part, because I truly wanted to lie in the middle of my mom’s bedroom snorting and wailing like a stuck pig.

Who knew that one year, 365 days, 8760 hours of suffering and excuses could ravage me so excessively. I tried to make a list of all the things that have happened, to try to prove to myself that it really wasn’t that bad, that I was over exaggerating and that the list wouldn’t be that long.  About half an hour later, when the list reached 3 pages, back and front, I gave up.  It is truly the worst feeling  in the world when you actually take the time to stop and review what had happened.  When it hits you in the face, when you finally realize that everything is slipping away, falling through your fingers like matted sand.  I’m losing control, I’m losing my comfort, I’m losing my monotonous routine life, I’m losing it.  I pray that my years become a pile of bones as my blood turns to stone and I become a cadaver of days, and I can finally be at peace.  Sensitivity and remorse all foolishness now, and I’ll wander this earth as a shell of what a girl used to be like, with the howls and screeches of my memories echoing inside of me.  But I can’t do that.  The only thing I can do to cope is scream at bugs.

It’s only right for me to write something after reading my friends’ posts.

I’ve come to realize something, due to the observations made from recent and highly significant events. Whenever you’re going through a relatively rough time and you manage to pull through it, in other words, make it through alive and happy, you reflect back onto that event as though it was a mere test designed for you by God. I know, for myself at least, that the last couple of weeks have been a whole lot of tests. Because of my mood-swings caused by such events, some of my friends have actually tried convincing me that I’m bipolar. If you know me, you know that I wouldn’t just tell you all my problems…I’m just not like that. So what my friends witnessed, through my speech and actions, were consequences of the tribulations I was going through. I went from being extremely depressed to extremely happy within, literally, a day. From then on and until a few days after the fact, I had been happy, however, I immediately went downhill again. I had been extremely depressed for a couple of days and normal after that and until now. I honestly don’t know what to expect for the days to come…. What’s even more weird is the fact that I had read, before the roller coaster ride, my horoscope (I never read my horoscope) and was convinced that the next few weeks would be crazy. Ahh well…it’s on the good knot right now.

If you have 90 minutes, I definitely recommend you watch a quick documentary on the Illuminati and the Church.

Time and time again, I am a witness of the saying, “everything happens for a reason.” There is no doubt, in my mind, that the case is otherwise. Only because of unexpected problems and consequences of those problems have I been in a position that is more suitable for me. Which, of course, does not necessarily mean that I am happy about it, it’s more like I’m content because I’m satisfied that the position is well suited.

I appreciate God so much more now. He constructs a system designed for every galaxy and knows the path it’s headed on, meanwhile creates a necessary system for survival of an ant. The fact that He is not like us should, logically, put me at ease and avoid me from thinking this matter further; since, He is almighty and he should be able to do more than just create galaxies and microorganisms. But it doesn’t. The mere attempt of imagining an entity so big and powerful is beyond comprehension; so we round downwards so much that the biggest possible entity within our imagination is still seen as being not big enough and not strong enough to do both. The brighter the stars, more the reasons for appreciation of You. You don’t have to follow a certain method, or religion, in life to be in tune with God. God is not a Muslim, Christian, or Jew. You don’t have to be on holy ground to have your questions answered. You don’t even have to pray. All that’s required is focus. Focus is achieved by the belief that an entity, much greater than any you’ve ever seen, is out there, and also achieved by appreciation for that entity. Knowledge about what may be out there and what is out there. Knowledge about the land you stand on and what’s beneath it. Knowledge of the existence of all species. Knowledge about Darwin’s Theory of Evolution and it’s possibility. Believing in God isn’t going against the theory of evolution. Instead, I think believing in God is supporting the possibility of such an evolution, only to end up appreciating the fact that if it were true, God would be behind it. Quite personally, I don’t believe that we came from apes, however, I do believe in an evolution that remained within the same species. For example, we’re humans now and we have came from humans who looked much different due to the environment and climate they lived in. Is that really rejecting God? If anything, it should strengthen your belief more. Saying that religion (used loosely with the intention) is the only way to God and everyone else is a sinner is crazy talk to me. If that was the case, I don’t think Mother Teresa is going to make it to heaven. She was a nice lady, a very nice one at that, right? She can’t go to hell. God is Just, right?

I always thought of myself as someone who isn’t misguided and fragile, but I find myself questioning that recently. Attempting to hold onto the past I so desperately want to keep in my future has torn my insides and scraped the walls of my stomach, leaving a burning sensation, that even though I want it to go away, I love it all the same. I attempt to burn the mental pictures of him and I together. Memories like sitting on the sidewalk, best friend by my side, awaiting for him to come, and typically, he doesn’t show up and he leaves without a goodbye. May not seem all that long ago, but since then I have grown, or atleast I thought I had. Instead of burning the pictures, I filed them with easy access. They haunt me today. I should have learnt the first time, but what good is a shoulda, woulda, coulda? I let him back in, I let him update his file, add more, insuring it leaves a mark this time around.

“Tonight we drink to youth, and holding fast to truth, don’t wanna loose what I had as a girl, my heart still has a beat but love is now a feat, As common as a cold day in LA’ love is”

Sure this isn’t love, as a matter of fact; I am not so sure what love is, but it’s undeniable that as I grow up, my heart become one of a wretch, cold, almost ice like. It is only cold when I feel no emotion.

“‘Love’ hurts, but sometimes it’s a good hurt, and it makes me feel alive”

The painful truth of the matter is that pain awakens the body, real raw emotions come alive. As much as I hate the situation that lies before me, I can’t hate what is has done to me, or made me feel, it has beaten down the walls I spent so long to put up, in a matter of one night. One night only. No matter how many nights the pictures stored away in the file haunt me in my dreams, reminding me that I slipped, I can’t help but smile and love every minute of it. I won’t ever forget every minute of that night, the memories that were created, re-made and the wounds that we stabbed at once again. I would promise to never make the same mistake a third time, but I know better than to make promises I can’t keep.

This happens every time.
Words are exchanged,
and moments of pleasure happen;
all on this bed, these sheets.

We never think so far ahead, do we?
What happens when the person is gone,
But the phantom remains?
All the past nights are haunting me.

Like the whispers of pillow talk.
The whispers of all the memories,
Are keeping me wide awake.
These sheets have phantoms on them.

I wish it were only of you,
But these sheets have a memory.
The phantoms remain long after,
And every ending leaves a new ghost.

I feel their grasp on me,
Deep down I know it’s only the sheets.
But the memories still grip me,
Every move and moment is as vivid as ever.

I wish I waited.
I wish I could have controlled it
Now they control me at night.
Now they control my haven.

These sheets used to be pure,
They used to be my solitude.
But there were too many of you,
Now all your phantoms haunt me.

My Goals

1. I love Entertaining. You can definitely expect the bottom (2 – 5 bullet points) often in my entries!
2. Make the readers angry.
3. Make them laugh.
4. Cause a discussion, educated arguments about not-so educated topics.
5. Find a connection with most of you.

FAQ

• What will I discuss? Anything to just about everything. I?ll throw in a little sports, entertainment/showbiz, girl & guy problems, issues that are around us every day, I’ll be talking food, I can also go hard at politics and the law system. Those are just some examples of what I could potentially discuss, or give an input on in an daily entry.
• Will I Offend anyone? Yes. (Without using foul language, threats, or written jabs)

If there are any questions, drop them in the comments box for everyone to read.

Nobody really knows what I cope with internally on a daily basis. Truth is I choose it to be that way. The more people I let into my life the more chance I have for letdown, disappointment, expectations I had shot right down to the ground. Dead. Leaving me there bleeding, yet again picking up shattered pieces all by myself; something I am already quite used to. Some may say this is the ‘emo’ perception, well I say this is reality.

“Don’t let em’ say you ain’t beautiful”

Because it’s not about ‘them’ it’s about you. This lifetime is yours for the taking, for the making. Growing up I was always told to be a leader and not a follower. I was taught to be myself, and let the crowd follow me. Of course, I was sucked into the warp of trying to fit in, and the closer I got to this black hole I realized everything was spinning too out of control and I didn’t like who I had become. The reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable. ‘Ashley’ was a mould of what they wanted me to be. I lost myself.

I trusted people I even entitled them my friends. I loved him while at the same time lowering my standards and what I knew I deserved. I began to think that I could love them and look past it all. I was wrong. I hurt myself as I tried to incorporate these people into my life and become who I thought they wanted me to be. I sacrificed my family, my values and my morals for what I believed was important, so-called friendship and lust (because that definitely was none of that in-love business).

“Just stay true to you”

Because it really is about you being able to put your head down on your pillow at night and have a peaceful fluffy white sheep over the fence kind of sleep. I definitely would say I needed to go through these experiences in order to completely appreciate those who are true to me and are my cheerleaders throughout this chapter we call Life. I needed to lose it all. I was one of those people who needed to hit rock bottom in order to truly be able to respect myself and learn how to love myself first. I refuse to say that the learning phase is over, as I believe that Life is about just that, learning and evolving. However, I know that I needed to mature at that Molson Indy type of pace so that I could focus on doing me before my body, soul, mind and heart were as “dead as the dodo”.

I am thankful that I was at least given the opportunity to learn from my mistakes. I say ‘given’ because I feel that was a chance from the big guy up above. The painful truth He showed me wasn’t always delivered with a dull blade; the realness of it all helped me understand what I was doing and who I was truly hurting.

I have different priorities in life. I now keep my ambitions an internal secret. I don’t let the paparazzi get to me as often, even if I know all they are doing is waiting to capture the best picture of me at my worst and run with it.

The moral of the story – there is none. This isn’t a story. It’s my life. Welcome to my world.

“This isn’t what I wanted. I wanted fame. I wanted to be known. I refuse to end up as some back-alley writer who thinks he’s got what it takes to make it in the big times. I’ve been there, I’ve seen what it takes and I know I am more than qualified than some of those hacks who have their crap published. I deserved that contract more than anyone in that room.”

He finally took a breath and sat down. She rolled over to the foot of the bed and propped her head on her palms. Looking at him inquisitively, she asked; “And how would you define fame?” A simple question that seemed to fill the room with silence. He stood up and walked to the bed. He sat by her side and rolled her onto her back. Slowly brushing her hair, he began to speak.

“Fame is ten, twenty, even thirty years from now when I am buried and my bones are dust. Professors in Schools and Academies everywhere across the country, the world, are discussing the meaning behind my books, my essays, my theories. Fame is a generation from now when my poetry is published, and somewhere in some New York Cafe a beautiful and knowledgeable woman is reading my works to the vast majority of people from all corners of the world. Her words are articulate, and her voice is soft. She reads to them slowly, making every stanza the most important one in the poem. Her eyes scan the room as she reaches the climax of the poem, she then drops her head to continue reading and her golden brown hair falls around her face, framing her middle-aged features. Her voice seems to grow softer and she closes the poem in a pensive tone. As she raises her head, she looks over the room with a smile upon her olive-skin face. They applaud her reading, but most of all, they applaud my works. That is fame.”

“I feel as if I have to fight for you with this woman.” She spoke, leaning on one elbow. His chest seemed to rumble with a hearty laugh as he gathered her up in his arms. “You won’t need to my love, because that beauty will be  our young daughter.”

I’ve never really been one to follow quotes. A long time ago I subconsciously decided to spend my life making quotes of my own. However, there has always been something my brother once said to me that I practically live by.

“If you can look yourself in the eye every night, without guilt or shame, in complete honesty, then you’ve done right for the day.”

Now my memory is generally short term, and I have the attention span of a two year-old, so the fact that I can still remember the gist of that quote means it holds a great deal of value. It’s wonderful because no matter what religion you believe in, and no matter what standard of life you hold, it’s an autocratic manner of running your life.

Over the years I’ve used this little piece of advice to guide me through some of my tougher decisions. Any time I’m never really sure what to choose, I try telling myself both options while looking directly into my own eyes and see whether or not I can stand what I know is a lie. We all do it. We all have that one option that we know isn’t right, but we still want to use it. If you can look yourself in the eyes and convince yourself that it is right, then you’ve got your own set of problems.

Being a good liar has absolutely nothing to do with this, because in the end you’re only really trying to lie to yourself.

Humans are as such; we can lie to anyone, any time, any where, and for any reason. We don’t always do it, but we are more than capable of it. Only, the lies we feed ourselves begin to rot us from the inside out. Granted, I am more than competent of weaving together an intricate lie in a matter of minutes; but till this day, I have not been able to deceive myself.

If it’s something you’ve never tried, it’s worth a shot at. And the one thing I realized when I started doing it, is it’s hard at first. It’s hard to look right at yourself and deny what you know is right for you.

At a time in my life where my decisions are up in the air, nothing about the future is certain, and the ones I love are the people I value most, I’ve learned to have entire conversations with myself just by looking at my eyes every night.

They say “the eyes have it”, like I said, I don’t follow quotes. You have it, your eyes simply reflect it.

I have just noticed something about myself, well, it’s been a couple of days and ever since then I have been experimenting to see if it’s true or not. I am a perfectionist. It may be a good thing since I’m always struggling to achieve maximum results in whatever it is that I choose to do. However, that only goes so far because some of the things that I have done, lately especially, were not out of choice, which means I don’t exactly put my full effort into those things (given that they are something I do not like to do either).

My hands are full from web designing assignments. I am happy but exhausted at the same time. Today, I honestly didn’t have the time, that I require, to have a nice shower. Don’t worry, I showered, but it wasn’t long enough for a nice one. Because of these web design-related tasks, I’m left with no time to myself. What I’ve started doing from today is have a closing time and let the clients know of this change. By this I mean, I only work from 12 pm – 9 pm, for example, and after or before that is rest/play time for me; whatever it is that is not related to web designing. This way, I don’t fry my brain and it also gives me time to go out and possibly (and most likely) be inspired once again. But, at the end of the day, I’m happy.

I don’t know if anyone’s realized this or not, actually I don’t even know if I’m late on this but, Facebook now has a Careers section! It’s pretty sick, in terms of design. I’ve applied to a couple of jobs for the hell of it, really, and plus the job requirements aren’t all that demanding. I take it that the tasks are divided up and more organized so an individual doesn’t have to work their balls off because the company, in this case Facebook, is trying to save money. I know I won’t get the jobs but I did it to check their design and coding of the pages…

One of the many reasons I’d much rather be in the school year as opposed to the summer or christmas break is most definitely: OSAP. OSAP, every year of my post secondary life, has kept me on my toes. I just don’t know why! Well, in my first year’s first semester, just the first semester, did I mess up and have them piss me off as a consequence. The problem back then was that I handed in my application late (not late enough for it to not be accepted, though) and the whole process of me getting funding was just long and annoying. Ever since then, they’ve been on my nerves and thus, I love being in school because usually when you’re in school they don’t bother you. It’s not that they care, they’re just too busy choking their monkey since they have almost no applications to process and work with. Assholes.

I still haven’t added a couple of the writers that I have been wanting to add to this website since, I’ve been pretty busy with this whole web designing-business. I guess, this is the time when I need writers more than ever since I won’t always be around to write; figures the no-new-entry gap? I’ll most definitely be adding them in the next couple of days! So the main point of this blog entry is…well, nothing really. Just an update.

PS: I find it painfuly humorous that a lot of people that hate me for what I say via blog or in person (they claim that I’m too blunt with words and they, pretty much, find my stuff offensive) have subscribed to this every way they can. Good night.

Health care wouldn’t be free. Poverty wouldn’t be alive. Anyone that isn’t financially fit for my world will have to die; a slow death at that. Who cares? There would be taxation, in my nation. The whole world is one nation, controlled by me. Me, being controlled by no one.

Also, I will make sure that homosexuals don’t make it far. If anything, I’ll make sure that there’s a deadly disease that kills both parties – the poor and the gays. So it has to be something transmitted sexually only. This way, it will be uncontrollably controlled. Giving birth to such a, um…”chemically designed” disease would be perfect in a poor area. They have sex, reproduce a lot of kids – spread the disease rapidly and die off as they reproduce. Sooner or later, there’s a pattern of miscarriages and kids dying off at an early age. For the homosexuals, it would be best if I were to infest them with the disease so they kill more of themselves off than I would have to do so personally.

Women will not have equal rights. By me learning from the hierarchy that exists in this world, by me trying to integrate a system of equality in my world, I would just be hypocritical. By me integrating such a system where women have equal rights as men, though apparently it would seem as though they are both worthy of everything equally, it would also make it seem that women weren’t initially equal to their opposite sex and that I’m doing my world a favour and having them seem as equals…get it? Good. I plan on dividing my world up into 4 areas ruled by hand-selected sub-rulers. Since I can’t think of a better solution for the sexism problem right now, I will just stick to the potential solution – that I have in my mind – for now: There will be two female rulers and two male rulers. After every term (4 years) rulers, in sex, would alternate.

To have periodic cleansing sessions of my world, I will have violence and drugs generated in the poor areas. The poor will kill a chunk of each other off. There will be retaliation. It will all be over drug money. There will be betrayal in my world; there will be lies. Brothers will kill brothers as a means of survival. My world’s going to be beautiful. With all the hate generated into these ignorant minds, there’s no better way to not control society but have the society balance itself. In my word, murderers will be killed as punishment. Not because I believe that’s just in any way, but because in my world, this will be the ideal way for homicide-minded people to think before they act. It doesn’t matter if it was a mistake or revenge (of some sort); if you kill, you will be killed as a consequence.

Scratch this whole idea, actually. This world seems like a lot that I, once, wanted to create. In fact, what I’ve mentioned just seems like a write-up of a couple of justifications (for the nonsense that goes on today) that today’s leaders have not provided us with.

I sometimes wonder why it is that when you’re sinning you get everything you pray for. And then, when you stop to think about all the horrible things you’ve done in the not-so-distant past, you change, ask for forgiveness but get nothing that you pray for. It just seems pretty mind-boggling.

I won’t lie (I’m pretty sure a lot of people have it figured out by now anyway), I haven’t been so good in the past. However, I had isolated myself from the world (in a way) a few months ago for a complete cleansing of myself. Wasn’t like something where I went into hiding in my basement, literally. It was more like a reversal of roles in my case. I was just changing around everything in my life because I finally figured that I was doing a lot of things that weren’t right, a lot of things that were wrong, spiritually.

Before the epiphany and the change, I was literally getting everything I was praying for. I had everything I needed and everything was pretty much satisfactory (good enough for me!!). However, ever since that change, my life and happiness have declined exponentially. Was my intention not clean enough to change? Did I do something wrong in the process that I’m still paying for? God knows. All I know is that I’m desperately seeking answers to the questions I have; which aren’t being asked to any other entity but the same one that had answered them earlier. I have more reasons to be heard now than I did back then…why am I being ignored? My mentality and soul are much more cleaner now than they were before, and I have chosen not to do certain things that I perceive as being sinful. Time and time again, I’ve heard from Moulanas (preachers) that at times – when your prayers aren’t being answered – that there may be sins that you’ve committed and have not asked for repentance yet that are preventing your prayers from being heard. Now, the problem lies here. I have asked for forgiveness. A lot of times. In fact, it’s so normal to me now that before I ask for anything to do with my growth-process, I ask for forgiveness with the hopes that it clears out that blockage that’s preventing me from being heard. I honestly don’t know what I’ve done wrong. Maybe it’s not in my best interest to have those things? But if that’s the case, why is it that I don’t have, at least, the minimal substitutions for the things I need? I mean, I’m not praying for a Ferrari or anything; it’s more like stuff I need to get the ball rolling in life.

I’ll keep knocking until I’m heard.

I think the last entry that I made – before I went into exam-mode (school) and editing-mode for the website – was on the last day of March.

I don’t know if you guys are familiar with what the picture (above) represents. If you don’t know what it’s a screenshot of, just know that it’s a well-deserved award for me. W3C is a company that pretty much paved the road for web developers. It has literally set standards web designing. A snippet of code that is valid in one browser may not be in another browser. What W3C has done is: they have set script standards for web developers so even if a browser (or browsers) don’t accept the code and don’t render it, it will not be perceived as being incorrect; the browser will be to be blamed, not the code since it is acceptable according to W3C standards. Most browsers today, however, are aiming to render all W3C standardized coding the same way. For designers, this means that cross-browser compatibility is going to be easier to achieve.  Anyway, above is the screenshot of the web page that is displaying the report for the website. I am so glad everything is fine.

So, I’ve set a couple ground rules for myself when I blog:

1. One picture per blog. Two pictures maximum but, I need to stick to just one as much as I can.
2. No more stupid blog entries. I am going to be talking more about Web 2.0 trends but will not stop talking about my interesting life completely.
3. No more stupid tags!

Over the months that I’ve been reconstructing the website, I thought about potential ways to make the website generate much better. I came up with 2 possible solutions:

1. More writers! I admit; sometimes my content gets repetative. I also admit that a few of the blog entries that I used to have had been rants about stuff. I don’t regret it and some readers do enjoy it. So what I’ve decided to do is recruit a couple of writers that I know to either do poetry or just blog about randomness. This way, the readers can have a lot of different things to read.
2. The website was generating a lot of traffic because people would be just coming onto see whether or not I had updated the blog section. Or, I would constantly be questioned about what I was going to write about next. I’ve implemented Google FeedBurner into my website. What readers can now do is subscribe to my blog either by email newsletters or RSS feeds. To do either of the two, just click on RSS icon at the bottom of the page.

Anyway, I aim to have the blog section be updated every other day, if not every day.

My schedule, both work and school, has been so tight that I haven’t even been able to check my emails regularly (and I LOVE checking my email…well not that much). Anyway, it’s midterm season for us York students and everything is just being rushed into our heads. Assignment after assignment, exam after exam…

As far as the website is concerned, this is the new domain. A lot of people were expecting something really nice to look at and may have been disappointed by the outcome. However, believe me when I say this is temporary, a new layout is on its way! I have been working on that better looking layout ever since I was done setting up everything onto this domain (a couple of weeks ago). I had originally planned to have everything up and ready to go before the start of York’s 2nd semester but I failed to do so because a lot had come up, some of what I’m still taking care of.

I remember hunting around websites for web designing contracts when I had tonnes of time on my hands and fire under my ass to create artsy stuff for the web. Now, I’m honestly surrounded by opportunities, that I would die for, but absolutely no time. I have no choice but to let em go. I’m honestly praying and hoping that by the end of these 2 or so weeks, at least a couple contracts are still available for me to take on and I have that layout ready so clients know what they’re getting into; with the assumption, of course, that they’d blindly give me the contract. Bad assumption.

Also, if there’s anyone reading this that would like to tutor me in introductory Accounting, feel free to contact me and we’ll work something out!

That’s all for now. This has been an update. Starting today, I’m going to be blogging every night about something or another, so stick around…even though the website looks weak.

Peace!

I was asked take my blog down by a couple of people (don’t exactly know why yet actually) and I decided not to do so just so 1) everyone can see the change taking place and 2) anyone still has access to my blog entries. :)

Last night, my sister-in-law messaged me and told me that she had bought me a domain for the website! The sick domain name that bore from her creativeness can’t be revealed at the moment. Once it’s time to do a complete launch of the website, I’ll be sure to “spread the bitch like wild fire!”

That’s all for now…peace!

My love for Maggi Noodles won’t ever die, I swear. I remember last year, there were like three days in the week where all i had was Maggi. Lunch and dinner, for three days. Sure I got sick after those three days but it was well worth it!

I have been getting hate mail ever since I posted my last entry. I have had people leaving comments on my blog that were full of hate, because of my entry yesterday. However, they failed to realize that I’m the one approving the comments. The only reason why I didn’t approve of their comments was because it would just embarrass themselves in front of other people.

Windows 7 is being beta-tested around the world and I honestly can’t wait until its release. It will be much more anticipated than Windows Vista was, along with less disappointments. The interface is much cleaner and some things are just way better than Vista’s! I can’t get into much detail because my brain hasn’t exactly been awake as my body has (I JUST woke up). I have the beta on a CD and I gave it a try as well. The beta alone was so stable that I could’ve used it natively without dual-booting with my OS on the side just in case Windows 7 crashed. It didn’t. Not even once. It was such a shock. After what Microsoft had done to its reputation with the release of Vista, I was surprised to have Windows 7 behave that well. The only reason I decided to take it off was because it’s still in the developing stage and that I would re-install it once a more developed version of it got released.

I don’t know about you guys but I’ve been tagged at least 6 times in the same fucking picture! It’s an on-going trend on Facebook. If you don’t know what it’s all about, it’s basically tagging your friends as the cartoons. For example, I’ve been tagged the funny or the lazy one in a couple of em. Neither of the two things is true because, I’m active and what I say, people rather take as a joke than honestly. Lol, just kidding.

There was an ongoing discussion with a friend of mine over love at first sight. The argument was pretty much whether it exists or not. Whether that feeling that some might perceive as being “love” if it is in fact love or not. Whether it is logical to fall in love that soon in the game. Personally, I think it does. Down to the core of the phrase, it does not necessarily mean you’re referring to the personality of the person, for example, that you’re falling in love with. It might just mean that you’re in love with the physical aspect of this person. Knowing that, there’s justification behind me falling in love with a sexy looking car (RR, for example). Without me having any knowledge about the car, I might just love the physical part of it, though it is a shallow quality to have when it comes to loving people, it’s just the harsh truth for some people.

Anyway, I spent last night reconsidering a lot of things and I must tell you, there was a great sense of relief when I was done. My finger tips have been itchy and dying for me to type out the letters in a certain sequence; I’ve held them back from doing so for way too long, I just have to now.

I have a couple (using that word extremely loosely) of friends that have been bugging the life out of me lately. And, before I begin, if you think this entry is about you, then it probably is; however, I don’t want confrontations about it since me typing it out here is somewhat of a notice that I do not want to deal with the same bullshit any longer and that I’ve had enough. Anyway, these friends can’t take a fucking joke. It’s been a while that I’ve known these people and for some god-damned reason, the same issue has raised in all of them around the same time (these days). Is it me? Is it the weather? I think it’s me. Maybe I’m growing up and you haven’t. Maybe I’m more immune to shit now than I was – along with you – before. Whatever the case may be, and as selfish and self-centered it sounds, I’m gonna filter out the weeds.

This habit of not being able to take a fucking joke just straight up twisted to me. For instance, I have this friend of mine that tells me not to joke around about certain stuff when his girlfriend is around as well. Is your girlfriend not mature enough to differentiate a joke from the rest? And it’s not something like, “Zain, don’t talk about cats, her cat died last week.” That is still pretty understandable. I’m talking about hypocritical (in a sense) comments. Comments that this guy can make with me around and not her, but can’t do so when all three of us are together. What makes matters worse is that this is merely for a different impression on her. How that guy acts around me is one way and then there’s a different kind of behaviour when his girl is around. Not only do you project the wrong impression onto your girlfriend, but I go ahead thinking that you can take certain kinda jokes at all times. Why not have a consistent attitude towards everyone? If you can’t have me saying stuff when I’m around other people you know, don’t bother giving me alone time in the first place, you fucking pussy. Don’t bother joking around the way you do with me and then expect a switch-up when that person is around. That is the epitome of Phony. I’m sorry but that’s just how I see it. If this angers you when you read it, I’m glad it does. I don’t have a low-stock on friends, I can most definitely make it through the day without you.

I’m usually in a better mood than this; this is just the leftovers from what I had said to some of the more-deserving dumbasses earlier. I’m usually happy and laid back and just joking around most of the time. Fuck, if I don’t have a reason to be serious, I won’t be. I’ve been pushed over the edge with a few people and it’s just that time where I just stop bothering with these people to a certain extent. I’m not saying that I’m crucial to your existence, if not your day. I’m sure you can do well without me and you won’t even feel my absence. It’s all good. Just know that if you’re gonna stop behaving a certain way with me after reading this, you’ll be doing me half the favour I wanted from you.

My apologies for whoever I offended. I really didn’t mean to. I’m just being honest when I say that you can’t take a joke and you would be better off getting that stick out of your ass.

Good night.

School is off for now, for me and whoever’s done exams now, at least. Once it’s back in though, shit is gonna hit the fan! Starting next semester my major is going to be HR management and minor is going to be Physics. I know I can do it, I just have to stay it. I’ve slacked way too much in the past.

Speaking of the past; yesterday was a bad day. Yesterday, I spent dwelling over my past. So perfect and timeless. Yea right. I don’t miss anything. I think of it as a chemical reaction in your mind that just triggers everything you regret. Hell yea I regret it. I thought I wouldn’t, but I’m never always right, right?

There will be another blog entry for today. It’s just that I just woke up and nothing has really happened in my day that’s worth blogging about.

I was up from 12p yesterday and decided to pull an allnighter before my exam at 8a this morning. The exam went pretty well, I must say. So I’m not not happy with the break I get for a week starting tonight! I had a feeling something like this would happen due to the whole York Strike situation. Oh well, all I know is that a few people are officially off today and I’m not the only one that gets a week-long break.

There was this one question, however, that just wouldn’t click in my head. The part of the chapter that question related to was a part that I didn’t study too well because it was towards the end of whatever I had to study, so you know, I was extremely tired by then. Me and my friend, who was sitting beside me during the exam, devised a new cheating method. I was writing my questions on the back of my student ID and was literally throwing it at him. With my question replaced by his answer, he’d throw it back at me. Yea it was quite weird but it worked like a charm!

As I was walking to the bus stop from my class, I could hear these two girls talking to each other (more like screaming at each other). Now, their conversation was anything but normal. If the conversation had one thing to say to me, it would be, “Zain, I am anything but normal! Hear ME!!!” For real though. It was one of the most ridiculous conversations I have ever heard. I’m not a fan of dropping in on someones conversation, but I prefer you controlling your tone before you have me restrict my ears from not listening to your bullshit! Anyway, now at the bus stop, I could still hear them as they weren’t far from where I was standing. One of the girls started telling her friend a story and all her friend would say is…

• You’re such a skank!
• OMG
• You bitch!
• You fuckhead (yea, I don’t know about that one bud)
• OMFG
• You ho!
• BULLETS ABOVE ME

1. fjiefmrel
2. renfkerferfrekjnrekje
3. efnrekfe

I don’t get it. Have I missed out on that phase where that once was the cool thing to do? Degrade your friend? I never have and never will understand the justification behind calling your friend all that stuff. Maybe it’s just like saying, “damn, you’re such a bad boy” or “you’re such a heartbreaker”…with a touch of obnoxiousness, hyperness, and “unnecessarity”. God knows I’d never say that or have any of my guy friends say shit like that to me. It will either be the death of me or death of them if that ever comes up in a conversation. There’s no friend of mine that I’m representing in a bad boy…faggotery to the maximum.

Me and my friend were talking last night and we came up with X Theory. This basically theorizes that any word that has one or more X in it seems attractive. Also, a word with no Xs are not at all attractive. For example, the word XEROX. Hell, if it weren’t for the Xs, I probably wouldn’t be such a fan of printing and photocopying! lol. The word extravagent, sexy, saxophone, crucifix, etc. Yea I know, the meaning behind crucifix is pretty ugly compared to how attractive it sounds, however, bare in mind that we’re strictly sticking to the looks, not the personality of the word!

I was sitting in my class and the prof started about lying. I found it interesting and kept thinking about it for some reason. Remember, I was deprived of my regular 6 hour sleep. So I came up with a couple of conclusions:

• Lie: a statement that is false and not based on facts.
• The younger you are, the harder it is to lie. Kids base everything on their surrounding. They are observant to only what’s around them physically. Facts are extracted from their immediate surrounding. Thus, telling a lie or, stating something false that is not based on whatever is around them, is extremely difficult or even impossible.
• Successfully lying to a person is you being in their head: you tell them false things that you know they’ll buy.

Now, instead of writing about how Agamemnon was killed by his wife, I was writing about lying. I had a couple of more paragraph-long conclusions but I’ve left my notebook away from where my laptop is. Anyway, until a few years ago, I used to be the greatest of liars. There’s nothing about this that should be considered a great thing, but I can honestly say that I used to convince even the most “difficult” people. It started becoming a habit and it turn pathalogical. It wasn’t something that I enjoyed doing, it wasn’t an addiction either, it was more of my whole functioning system being erred. I just had to tell a lie. And it wasn’t something like, “a: where are you coming from? z: The moon.” kinda lie, it was more so that there was a lie in everything that I said. Anyway, that routine continued on for a year (rounding up) and I knew I had to change myself. I forced myself to be true to people. Believe it or not, I lost a few friends because of that. They accused me of lying because they thought I was lying to them about certain things the second time; meaning, they thought I was telling the truth when I was lying and, lying when I was telling the truth. Oh well. Those people, I explained the situation to but they still never believed me. Till this day they try and talk to me because their best friends are great friends with me (you know who you are) and till this day I avoid talking to those people just for the hell of it. Get off of me.

Today is gonna be one hell of a day. Today starts as soon as this blog entry is finished. Today I have to study until my neurons pop. I have to study until there’s nothing left to study. I have to study until I can write my own exam and fail it myself! Lol. Yea, not happening. But I do have to study a lot. Tomorrow is my last exam and I’ll have a week off from school…yay? I’m not excited. I don’t even deserve a break right now, quite honestly. Oh well, I’m not complaining. It’s not like there’s another strike and I can’t go to school, rather, I’m taking a break while everyone’s writing an exam.

I changed my blog appearance. If you haven’t noticed, the picture of the creeper behind the links on the left is a picture of myself. =D

Until next time…

SPEAKING OF VALENTINE’S DAY, what I find really striking at times is the fact that everyone blind dates. I’ve asked a few friends of mine if they would ever go on a date with a complete stranger. Obviously enough, a logical one at that (an opposite sexed stranger, with the assumption that all my friends are straight). I’ve had a couple of friends of mine freak out and say, “hell no! Wtf?!” I’ve had some that are special cases and have been dying to get into a relationship right about now, so their answers were close to “sure, why not?!” It’s just that, you can never really know anyone, even if that’s your significant other. You might be as close to as being a fact away from knowing them, but you can never really hit that point of certainty where you can say that you know that person. I just find it hard (close to impossible) to believe. And then there are the guys that surround their life around the girl that they love. I know a few guys that have gone through the same cycle. Afraid of commitment => the girl, through her actions, her words, or both convinces him that being in a relationship is nothing to be afraid of => he falls in love with her, hard => she does too => his day and night is ruled by her; her memory and a mere thought of her is the excuse to his breath => she breaks up with him => he becomes emo. I’m not saying it’s the guy being left heartbroken every time, it is the other way around as well in some cases. I just find it funnier when guys act front like they’ll be the badasses going in as well as coming out.

Moving on. The Chris Brown and Rihanna topic has been going on for a while now and I’m just wondering, is it safe to ask her out yet? Lol kidding. But seriously though, are they still together? Fighting is essential in a healthy relationship, however, too much of anything can kill you. This might have been the limit for Brown and it would be sad to see Rihanna giving him another shot at it. I honestly can’t wait until Jay Z does what everyone’s expecting of him. For those who don’t know, Jay Z pretty much said that he’s gonna make Brown his little bitch when the time is right. I would not hit Rihanna even if she threw my Lambo out the window, forget the keys. And anyway, if my girl was ever strong enough to throw a car out the window, I don’t think I’d be raising my voice (forget hand) against her.

Anyway, they clip featured information about the show as well as a tiny interview with one of the main women from the show. That woman started talking about some really emo shit! She was talking about how she got an order for 5 dozen black roses for a gothic Valentine, or something like that. And then, she once got an order for a divorce-celebration. The lady who had ordered the 10 dozen roses paid for the flowers with her ex-husbands credit card and decided to chop the flowers up once the celebration started. What a waste of money…and roses…

So I’ve decided. I’m going to post summaries of what I have read in the Iliad until I’m done reading it and I’ve written my essay; this way, I have a place of notes that help me understand and remember what happened in each book of the Iliad and also, you guys can embark in the homosexual journey with me! I’m not getting sucked into this alone.

Book 1

Agamemnon, the chief of the Trojans and Achilles, a strong and noble warrior in the Trojans have sacked a couple of cities and have taken two girls from one of the cities. Chrysies (sp?) and Brysies (sp?) are the two girls. Chrysies’ father comes up to Agamemnon with unlimited ransom for the release of his daughter but Agamemnon being the bitch ass he is, sends the father of the girl away and does not take the ransom. Chrysies’ father then goes to Apollo and complains about what has happened and promises Apollo that if Apollo helps him, he will sacrifice a lot of ox.

Apollo says, “seen!” Apollo brings hell upon the Trojans. Apollo, single-handedly starts destroying the Trojans one by one. Achilles tells Agamemnon to ask Calchas (the seer) to anounce the reason as to why Apollo is doing this. Calchas being scared but brave at the same time, tells Agamemnon and Achilles that it’s pretty much what Agamemnon had done. Achilles gets pissed off at Agamemnon and convinces him to send the girl off to her father. Agamemnon is pissed but says that if he sends the girl off, he gets to keep Achilles’ girl. Achilles obviously doesn’t agree, but he has to do what it is said by Agamemnon because some goddess confronts Achilles and convinces him to calm down and give the girl to Agamemnon. Achilles then has to agree.

Once the girl is taken away from Achilles, he cries. He calls down his mother, who is a goddess, and bitches at her about what Agamemnon had done with his girl. The mom tells Achilles that Zeus owes her a favour as it is so she will use that as an advantage. Zeus, at the time was gone from Olympus to some city for a visit of 12 days. When he returns, the mom asks Zeus to do something and Zeus quickly agrees and tells her to go away because Hera, the bitch of a wife Zeus has, was going to come to see him and he would have gotten in shit if he was seen with another woman.

That is where Book 1 finishes off. I’ll have Book 2 up in no time! lol.