Literary snapshot- 23rd October

Tried reading a book in the living room, couldn’t concentrate over the noise from the TV. Was going to my room to wake up His Royal Highness/Mr. Sleeping Beauty, when as usual, I got mesmerized by the glimpse of the view from the balcony. Like a firefly seeing light, I changed course and made a beeline for the balcony. It calls to me. I can hear it. That sense of serenity and quiet that only comes from a place high up above the hustle and bustle of life beneath. The city spread out before me like a blanket of fallen stars, as far as the eye can see. Oh, how I love it. The black abyss of the ocean to the right, with the glittering lights of distant boats sprinkled along the horizon. Like twinkling jewels forever placed tantalizingly out of reach. Running through the darker swathes of urban domesticity I see the main roads, the veins, the lifeline of the city. Only on them do I see movement and signs of life. The many houses beneath me, apartments, towers, mosques, malls, restaurants, shops, parks, and otherwise general places of doing business; all hidden, tucked away under their neat little walls and roofs, hiding their innumerable stories from me. I wonder all the time. Such stories, such mysteries, and me, wondering from my little nook high up above it all, disjointed, unconnected. These thoughts coupled with the light breeze on my face and the awe inspiring realization of the sheer amount of emptiness that separates me from them on my high tower fills my heart with a loneliness that seems almost sweet. One wants to fly out above it all, drinking in the wind and the blinding lights of the city; alone yet at one with the world.

 

PS. I just realized its our two month anniversary. Alhamdulillah.🙂 Must go tell him the good news.

Scabby predicament

*sad face*

Long story short, I got my nose pierced over a week ago due to various reasons. I wasn’t too thrilled, but I went along with it anyway. I thought I’d hate it, but turns out it’s ok. The only thing bothering me now is that I have a SCAB in the inside of my nostril. Yes, a SCAB. And the thing with me and scabs is that we love bothering each other. I freaking love picking at scabs. I don’t fall and hurt myself like I used to as a child, so scabs are a welcome sight. I will tell myself not to pick at it, and try oh so very hard, but IT’S JUST SO MUCH FUN TO MESS WITH. But now that it’s in my freaking nostril, I can’t. Decorum and propriety prevents me from reaching it. I only wish now that I could go around with my finger up my nose. ‘Oh, it’s not a booger, it’s a scab!’ I’d explain. Yeah, that’d go down well.

I’m 22!

Someone make me these cupcakes, like NOW.

It’s my birthday, and while I don’t celebrate it, I do like to spend some time thinking about the year that passed, and how it has changed me. I did a birthday post on my 20th, a really nice serious one, but I couldn’t do one for my 21st, namely because I didn’t have internet access at the time and I was busy with my engagement ceremony, which was on the same day. I wish I could go back and write down all the muddled thoughts in my head at the time. My recollections of that day are getting hazy already. I just remember feeling incredulous, like I was in someone elses life, humoring everyone by playing along to the role of bride-to-be. The bestest thing about it though was how it brought my entire extended family together. Weddings tend to be like that, but I was really touched. And a bit sad. I felt like they were saying goodbye already, and that they were getting ready to cut me loose, and make me all distant like my other married cousins. Maybe this’ll be a topic of a future post, I dunno.

Anyhow, I’ve turned x+1 again, and all I can say about this year was that it was a year of preparation. Like a big gasp of air, filling your lungs right before shouting at the top of your voice. Every change this year has been a quiet one aimed at helping me deal with my life ahead. It has been a year of learned wisdom, of revelations, of slowly dawning realizations and overcoming private fears.

I learned from my parents; of holding my tongue in situations where I least feel like; of giving as much as I can to the poor and needy, thus making a difference in many lives and a big fat one in my own afterlife; of strange, previously unknown customs and learning to respect them, if a bit unwillingly; and lastly, of how amazing our religion is and how it’s just full of khair in all aspects.

I’ve tried to mature out a bit. But becoming mature isn’t a button you can push and magically become so, although I have put serious thought into a lot of things I never thought about twice before. I know my priorities.

I’ve tried to be more than just a borderline Muslim. I’ve thought about what kind of adult I want to be, and what example I want to set for those around me. Alhamdulillah I’m reading the Quran everyday, and I have a mental checklist of duas and surahs to read each day.

I know how involved I want to be in the lives of the people closest to me, friends and cousins and aunts and uncles. I’ve invested waay too much emotional energy on these people to let us just fade away. Not gonna happen, no way.

I’ve also seriously thought about my family; my parents and my brothers. I seriously worry for them, like CHINCHA. A part of me seriously believes that everything will fall apart without me, and small but growing part says that everything will be fine. Just today my 18 y/o brother showed another display of tyranny against his younger brother. Imagining his rule extended, and permanent scares me. I worry for my parents, for whom he is a constant source of worry. I worry for my youngest brother, who I shall be leaving at the mercy of my parents and other brothers. Conversely, I worry for my family, whom I will be leaving at the mercy of the youngest one. Oh, he can be a vicious little terror at times, and sometimes only I can get him to shut up. I worry for my mom, who won’t have me to help out with the chores when her body betrays her and she feels tired. I worry that she’ll be overworked, perpetually removing my brothers dirty clothes from the bathrooms where they always leave them, despite her telling them for the umpteenth time not to. Oh, I WILL come back and make them regret it if a single complaint reaches my ears.

And lastly, I’ve tried to lose weight and learn cooking. Both are half-done at the moment. I’m not down to my ideal weight, and although I know how to cook, I still don’t know how to make perfect rotis. (don’t you start, hiba!) Oh well.*shrug*

And that’s it. This post is a surprisingly accurate map of my brain at the moment. It’s all I’m thinking about. As for the topic of change, I’m kinda avoiding thinking about it. I know the year to come will be full of it, but over-thinking is not my strong point. The more I think about something, the higher the odds are that I’ll screw it up completely. I’ll take things one at a time, as they come, and I’ll be fine, inshallah.

I hope next year’s post will be full of many happy firsts and lots of new adventures, inshallah. HWAITING!

Doctor Donna, The Host, and Random Family Drama

Watched the end of Doctor Who season 4 last night. I couldn’t sleep. Donna wouldn’t leave my mind. And I thought that holographic goodbye with Rose was bad. I’ve realized that saying goodbye isn’t the hardest part, everyone has to part with the Doctor. It’s NOT being able to say goodbye that’s the worst. I NEED CLOSURE. It’s not fair!!! He just zaps her memories away! Doesn’t even say goodbye! She was so special, so amazing, all of that gone, her reverted to her old self. Being with the Doctor made her realize how important she was. Without those memories, isn’t she back to being Donna the eternal temp? The one who truly thinks she’s no one special? It’s killing me. At least Rose got her happily ever after. I’m so, so happy about that. But what about DONNA??? Arrgghhh. He should’ve at least dropped her in the future with that guy with the stutter so she could’ve at least been with her ‘perfect man’. This show can be brutal sometimes. For the first time, I’m not so worried about the Doctor being lonely again.

 

In other news, I finally got around to watching The Host. I’d read the book way back when, and I liked it. The book wasn’t a work of art or anything, but it was an engrossing read. Different from what I’d expected, for sure. There were some things that annoyed me, and kinda felt like unneeded additions to the story and characters. (*cough* Jared not wanting to sleep with Mel.*cough*) and I was pleasantly surprised when I saw the movie didn’t go there. I mean, come on, it doesn’t make sense for teens to magically want to abstain at the end of the world. Thinking rationally has never been their strong point, and it would be even less so in an alien invasion. What was even better was that it was obviously done with the permission of the author herself, since she produced the movie. You know, I really feel bad for her, Stephenie Meyer, that is. Her Twilight books were good popular fiction, till the movies ruined it. I’ve always said that the movie ruined everything good about the book. It massively failed to capture the feel and narrative of the book, till the point where anyone who watched it thought the movie whole purpose was to showcase ‘sparkly vampires’. Kinda sad. Anywhoo. The Host was not a disappointment in this sense. Wanda felt very Wanda, as did Mel, Jared and Ian. (Oh, Ian….aksdfksj) They did a good job of squishing all those plot developments and chosen crucial interactions into 125 minutes. My only displeasure was that they didn’t spend as much time exploring the Ian-Wanda-Jared-Mel love quadrilateral. So maybe, just maybe, not everyone had the internal dialog that I did while watching each scene unfold, since I knew what exactly each person was thinking. I mean, they did show the main parts, but…it felt unfinished, unexplained. It didn’t come across how in-love Wanda was with Jared, and how he repeatedly hurt her or how confused she was about it all or how hurt Ian was at the fact that she, Wanda, loved Jared. On second thought, maybe it’s good they skipped out on that. It confused even me.

What else? My brother crashed our car a few days ago. The world lost its color for a while. We were pretty scared he’d go to jail, since he was driving without a license at the time. I mean, he’s HIM. He’s stupid. This is what this particular brother of mine does, he makes everyone worry and pisses them off. And there was the money aspect, since my wedding is coming up soon. Things were really tense, but alhamdulillah everything has settled down now. I was really troubled for a while in the middle. It wasn’t the accident but some people in our extended family and their reactions that bothered me. I wrote a huge post on that topic, but then realized I wasn’t comfortable uploading something so personal. I’ll probably delete the word doc itself later. But letting it out once and translating my confusion into words helped. It always does. I love you, blog. You’re the cheapest form of therapy there is. *cyberhugs*

Pat-myself-on-the-back Syndrome- Baby Brother Edition

Yesterday, my dad asked me to do yet another small chore (don’t remember what) for my baby brother. I got irritated and told him that I wouldn’t do it. He joking replied that I’ll only have to put up with it for a few more months, so I should just do it. (referring to my wedding in less than TWO MONTHS. omg. I hate it when I count. :S lol) But anyway, I still didn’t want to do whatever the errand was, and answered back to my dad. “Whatever, the worst is already over, I’ve seen through the hardest part. After I leave, he’ll be all grown up and self-sufficient. There’ll be nothing for you guys to do.” After that, I rolled my eyes, and because I knew no one else would bother to, did the errand anyway.

How it all started.

So, in light of my above not-quite-brazenness, I thought it wise to make up a list of my achievements with my baby brother. I have put up with A LOT, and God knows this. But due to my extreme case of pat-on-the-back syndrome, I must congratulate myself, and appreciate myself, even if no one else will. (that’s a lie, I’m sure everyone knows, they just don’t say it because they know it’ll inflate my sense of self-importance to dangerous levels)

Back when he had four teeth. Cutieeee

Where to begin?

Bromance!

From the beginning my baby brother was a marvel. I loved to watch and observe him. From a pure science geek point of view, and a sister’s point of view. I loved to notice his growing awareness of the wonderful world around him, the development of his own unique personality. I’d always notice it every time he did something new. It fascinated me beyond measure. I’d wonder, with impatience, about when he’d be able to walk and talk, and my mind would be blown. I thought it’d be the bestest thing ever! I wanted him to grow up so bad. I thought of the day when he’d be able to tell us himself if he was hungry or wanted something, of when he’d be able to go to the bathroom and take care of his own business himself (yes! No more toxic diaper fumes!), of when he’d grow old enough to play by himself, without depending on us to constantly entertain him. (No matter how energetic you are, you WILL get tired of making faces, picking up and carrying them around, and inventing new things to do to appease them) But as he grew gradually older, I learned that with greater locomotive and mental abilities, comes great trouble. (said in Uncle Ben’s voice). 

I’d worry he’d topple over and break his neck, that he’d wander over into the kitchen and take the knives out of the drawer, that he’d pick up and eat stuff off the floor, that he’d learn incorrect Urdu from my retarded brothers, that he’d learn all their bad habits, that he’d grown immune to my scolding, that he’d become ‘dheet’, and so on. Every time, I’ve seen one worry gradually disappear, replaced with an upgraded, level-upped one.

Pretending to sleep

I’ve veered off topic. Let me now enumerate the milestones that are now behind us.

Observe the naughtiness in his eyes. Does it not scare you too?

• He doesn’t drool anymore. Ugh. I’d need to pad my neck when holding him or else I’d get baby drool all over my neck. Gross.
• He doesn’t need to be burped. I used to wonder what happened to babies if you don’t burp them. I used to think they’d explode or something. Turns out it was something much worse…
• He doesn’t projectile vomit when not burped. lol. It’s a miracle of nature, babies throwing up. You’ll not believe how far up in the air that vomit can fly. And the QUANTITY. I do believe babies’ torsos are half stomach alone

• No more making formula bottles. That stuff STANK. I’m highly suspicious of what the makers put in it.
• He doesn’t need anyone to change his diapers.He doesn’t WEAR diapers anymore. He doesn’t fill the car with putrid odors, he can relieve himself properly, even if he has developed a weird fancy for public bathrooms. (I kid you not. He LOVES public bathrooms. He goes just for the heck of it, and we can’t NOT take him, even if we are suspicious that he’s faking it. The first whisper of ‘I have to pee’ sends us in a state of panic. Then he goes to the bathroom and (I’m told) he first excitedly asks what type of flush button there is. Don’t even ask about the one time he had to do it outdoors in the desert. He was so happy! lol.)

• He’s gotten over his bathroom toilet bowl fixation! Till when he about two and a half, he had this obsession with bathrooms. He’d see a door open and dart for it, and laugh when he got caught. Then he’d dart for it when he thought no one was looking. And he’d go in and play with the water in the toilet. He’d throw toys into the bowl, and his arms would be wet till his elbows. Each time we’d cringe and do the horrified ‘why?? WHY?!!’ routine. Because of him, by other brothers learned to close the bathroom door behind them instead of always leaving it half open. Then (horror of horrors) he grew tall enough to just barely be able to tip the doorknob and get it open. Then we had to put latches high up on the bathroom doors and my brothers had to be trained to actually remember to close it whenever getting out.

King of the world.

• That reminds me, he learned how to open the front door and there’d be times when we’d just suddenly see the door open, search the house for him, and realize that he just walked out! He’d be found in the parking lot usually. But still, scary. I’m SO glad this mindless phase of his is over. Now he just makes us worry on purpose.

He likes putting lots of things on his head. I have a whole bunch of photos of him with various objects on his head.

• He doesn’t need to be carried or pushed around in a stroller anymore. Such a pain, seriously. And since we had two cars, a lot of the time we’d go somewhere and realize on opening the trunk that the baby carriage was in the other car. My baby brother may be a runt, but he’s always been deceptively heavy. (mashallah, as my mother always reminds me to say. lol)

Back when he used to ride in his stroller. Look at how small and round his face is!!

• He doesn’t climb onto my dresser and mess with my stuff. He understands it’s off limits. But that’s not before he ruined countless things of mine. Oh, the many times I walked into my room to catch him red handed with his hands deep in some jar of cream, or eyeliner all over his face and clothes and so many other incidents. The infuriating thing during this period was that when you looked at him and got mad, he’d have this completely blank unknowing expression on his face, because he literally was too young to understand anything. SIGH. I regret complaining about those times. Life was so simple back then. All I had to worry about was if my bedroom door was closed. No lies, no trickery, no stubbornness.

Cocooned in Oldest Brother’s ahram.

• He eats human food now! I remember it was such a pain making food for him separately. It was worrisome especially when traveling. He never liked store-bought baby food, so we’d have to  make porridges and boiled whatnots for him separately. And making sure they didn’t spoil on the way was worrisome too. Many times he just went without, as he developed his own taste and refused to eat if the food wasn’t seasoned right or warm.

Look at that haiiirr

• He can tell us when and what he will or will not eat. I remember throwing so much food away, making it in a futile attempt to fill his tiny tummy. Now, like I said before, it’s been replaced with a worry of a different kind. He’ll request GOURMET stuff. I’ll try to get out of feeding him when I can, but most of the time I do have to do it. I’ll try to seduce him with instant noodles or eggsor something, and he’ll scratch his head, squint as if thinking deeply about it, and say that he wants cheesy pasta or rice or something. Infuriating! And the TIME he takes to chew and swallow! I used to feed him by putting him up on the kitchen counter, so he wouldn’t run away and I could force-feed him and be done within 20 minutes. Now he doesn’t stand for it. He (in a very calm, grown up manner) tells me he wants to eat like the ‘big people’ eat, and as soon as I let him down, he runs off. I refuse to be lead around the house, and have to threaten him with various things to get him to sit down. I am an EXPERT holler-er.

There’s more, but this has gotten long enough for you to get the picture. Writing it has seriously taken me down memory lane. I remembered things I’d almost forgotten.🙂 I’m glad I wrote some of it down. I whine and gripe and everything, but I don’t want to forget a single thing. I’m scared I will. Ten years from now I don’t want to scratch my head and try to dig up some half-forgotten memories of what this time was like. I don’t remember stuff from a year ago so this is a good thing for me. I wish I’d written more, and more often. Because for a girl like me, memories are the most valuable things in life.

Look at how tiny he used to be!!!

As for my memories with my baby brother and the time that I’ve lived with him till the time I have to move out, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Protected: A message

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

I dream of this day too

Here’s to our hopes and dreams…

…inshallah.