Invariable Fact Of Life.

A text after 12 has dead people in it. RIP. Here’s to hoping a better place exists beyond the radio waves.

You Oxymoron.

Words are easy. You gape at confrontational people, and miss the ones who actually do it. Words are way too easy. They make people cringe and give you the rush, but they’re not worth a dime. They’re words. You fling them at people because they don’t stick.

One Of Em 3:00 Am Talks

I was watching a documentary with dad just now on JSC doc, it was about squirrels. So there was this pack of really cute squirrels, one of the squirrels was called Scarlett. Yes, it was dubbed but they still kept the names. So Scarlett had guts, probably bigger guts than her little body should hold, metaphorically speaking. She found a fruit one day and kept it all for herself, putting up with the chase from the other squirrels and getting bloated because of it. Pretty selfish, eh? Anywho, some time afterwards, a snake came out at within their territory. Scarlett then kept bugging it to go away, and she kept coming so damn close that the cobra kept lashing at mid air and missing her each and every time. Then, the cobra made it back to its lair. The squirrels were going nuts, pun intended. They couldn’t have a snake there. So Scarlett, that little suicidal maniac, goes halfway into the lair, provoking the snake to come out of one of the other branches. Scarlett then hurried out, followed the cobra and flung herself at the Cobra. The last shot was of the cobra around the squirrel’s head, my hand on my mouth and the commentator saying “wa af3a el cobra ektafat behaza el katl”.

“DAD, Dad, don’t these things follow instinct?”

“What do you mean? Yeah of course they do.”

“But Scarlett went against her survival instinct!”

“Yeah, but she had to defend her clan”.

“What clan! Fuck the clan! That little suicide bomber! She  just had her head bitten off.”

“It’s not like she’s dead.”

“Yes she is! The dude said Ektafat Behaza el Katl.”

“El *Kadr. Ektafat behaza el kadr.”

“So Scarlett’s ok?”

“Yes, the friggin squirrel is okay…”

How do we tell apart the time to leave from the time to wait?

Who? Aaah. Whoa!

I aced my Chem exam.

 

Yeh. 

Dread Locks.

I have 4:30 hours to study French and chemistry for stupid evaluations quizzes that are good for nothing except for bringing your psyche down and your cyber life hours up. I’ve also gotta work on a Chemistry assignment. So anywho, I’m still hanging around here doing absolutely nothing with my life because my head doesn’t feel intact and I’m afraid any attempt at overload is gonna make it tumble off of my neck and unto the couch where it so belongs.

Not that much going on, had a meeting yesterday, went fine, had to leave early because dad has appointments, had a friend hang out at my place. School was cool, rhyming unintended. We had that annual group photo thingie. Inevitably, something just haaaaad to go wrong. I got my allergy that night and woke up with my eyes as slits and my breathing pattern dwindling. I gobbled the pill on my way to school hoping they’ll work their magic in three hours. To tell you the truth though, I couldn’t care less.

That expression always gets on my nerves. You see, the original is ‘I could care less’ and it’s supposed to mean I don’t give a shit, but if you think about it, if you actually have it in you to care less, then you do give a shit.

I have my hair in dreadlocks, because I didn’t have time to get my hair done for the annual photo thingie in the middle of all el droos and stuff. Now I don’t have to comb/wash my hair for a week. :) Ahhh, the little things. I actually thought the dreadlocks and blowfish eye-lids gave me that certain reggae air. All I needed now was a bong and I could make it as an understudy for Bob Marley.

Usually that day, which we’ve conveniently called “The International Photography Day” – that is if you consider the pathetic trials at socializing caught on film photography – triggers something in everyone’s heads and before you know it everybody’s walking around with a cam snapping shots of their faces with the same invariable plastic smile plastered on at every possible and improbable spot of the school you can think of. That goes on for the entire school day, then your homepage is flooded with photos that have the same face with different backgrounds, the same stupid airhead comments over and over again and you dare not comment/like because you know it’s damn sure that you’ll be bombarded with notifications a month into it, because that’s what they’re there for after all; a renewable anti-depressive resource.

You’d think people grow up, but they still had fights on who was in the picture. A friend and I actually got dissed because the group we hang out with sometimes decided it’s good punishment for all the girl fights that they deny us of the right of being photographed with their royal butts. You’d be surprised what the hit em hard approach can do, a couple of minutes later, when we made it clear that the roles are actually reversed and we actually Want to not be with em, they came over and asked us to. Haha. Oh shoot me, holy dumb fucks.

Oh, and she’s happy, for the first time in a long time. Blue has turned into Beige again. And no, you’re not supposed to get it.

Hoes.

It’s kinda odd and slightly frustrating that half of the girls I have on facebook flood my newsfeed with tedious confirmation of how they turned into airless hoes that love and miss everybody, even though most of the time they, as well as everybody, know how much they hate their fucking guts and would trade them for a pack of gitanes any day, with tons of XOXOs and Mwahs and OMG that’s like so kewwl, keep it up gurl. Keep what up? I’ve always wondered. Keep looking after yourself so you don’t look like a hairless –sometimes hairy- ape like you formerly used to? Keep up to the standards of force-fed plastic beauty? You’d think they wanna get paid to be hired escorters with ‘benefits’, but obviously they really have absolutely nothing to say and wanted to make use of it by looking hot as they say yeah over and over and over and over and over and over and..

My Dreams, They’ve Got To Kiss Because I Don’t Get Sleep, No..

If You Can’t Handle The Pressure, Well, Do Drugs..Duh

Life Lesson #111: Life is really complicated, because it’s Supposed to stay simple. You think too much and you’ll get it wrong. I’m starting to think that evolution was more of a glitch in the system, just like when Windows Vista was first released a shitload of stuff didn’t work while XP was just right. Maybe Evolution got stuck at the beta version, cuz you know, when they wanna shoot a commercial for perfection, they get a puma or something. There’s a minimal amount of thinking that’s allowed before things go bombastically wrong, it’s called instinct.

Life Lesson #112: Sometimes you can’t sleep because you don’t wanna hear what you’ve been shutting out all day, but you gotta snuggle up and brace yourself because your head is worse than your grandma, and you can’t quite tune the former out with the intervention of a headphone. However, sometimes it’s because you don’t want another day to start just yet. An Ellipsis is much easier to handle than a period tho.

Life Lesson #113: If you let someone in, be it your dad or your best friend or your favourite book character that you’ve materialized into existence by wearing out the pages to the book he lives in, I can guarantee you with all the might of statistics, past experiences and crappy sitcom scripts that something’s bound to go wrong. You just wait. They’ll leave, they’ll have a bad day and throw it all away, you’ll spill coffee on his “existence” or they would eventually forget why the hell they started caring in the first place…because it’s not how it’s supposed to be. Humane is the most overrated adjective after awesome, and the most theoretically misleading after…jelled.

Life Lesson #114: God I wish I was kidding.

Life Lesson #115: “Well, you definitely need something. Um, maybe a backbone. Or perhaps some testicles. At the very least, a pillow that you can carry around the hospital and cry your sad eyes out.” – Dr Cox, Scrubs.

Life Lesson #116: Nutella tastes better on brown toast. Yes, it’s a diet paradox and a flat-out fart in the face of every variation of Atkins’ you’ll go over when you’re not getting any shut-eye at 6 am.

Life Lesson #117: I. Will. Not. Get. New. Sweats. These are my lucky sweats. Get your soapy hands off of my lucky hoodie. Gawd.

Life Lesson #118: I'm sorry puppet but I will not be your new best friend overnight. In fact, I’m not interested in it any other night either. And you’re not even reading this. That’s why I’m telling you first thing you show any other signs of mushy mushy around me. Do I look like a fucking people person to you?

Life Lesson #119: You know, compromises aren’t that bad. Truces are a form of compromise between what the flame thrower feels like blowing and what he knows the rest of his ammunition can handle. Pain is a compromise, a medium between life for what it is and death as is. Social interaction is sometimes a compromise when you have absolutely nothing in common with the person you’re talking to except maybe the fact that you both walk on twos. But at the end of the day; so is a milkshake, which is the most beautiful compromise between milk and ice cream.

“I begged you to hear me there’s more than flesh and bones, let the dead bury their dead they will come out in droves, take the spade from  my hand and fill in the holes you’ve made. "

In Somnium.

I am dreaming. Of People.

It feels good.

W eh?

I’m re-doing the Big Chem Quiz tomorrow, and the Maths results haven’t come out yet. So you can imagine how I looked like studying Chemistry today with a luring Prologue of cold that I caught out of the AC that was hanging on its hinges in one of the centres because apparently the temperature grading system went down on the same day that I chose not to pack my jacket, positioned right in the middle of class at the back just the way I like it. It was almost as if I was airing a commercial for Red bull doing the dude who trudges face first into a tornado.

Oh and did I tell you that they lost my Maths paper because I apparently filled in the time wrong? Yup. (4+) hour difference. Apparently when you get that worried, your nervous system shuts down the clenching of fists and the time zone is set to default in GMT.

Aw man.. If I messed up the friggin info slip, how the hell could I have performed on the actual fucking test?

THAT’S WITH THE VIRTUAL PRESSURE! VIIIIIIIIIIIRTUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!

Yanhareswe7 w mnayyell..

XII

And you know what’s ironic? A baby was born the same night another’s baby died. Karma likes her debts settled.

And I'm On My Knees, And Your Faith In Shreds, It Seems.

Love is a Bandoneón playing in harmony with a Cello with a Piano in the background.

Personal Parabola.

I have a Maths exam in 2 hours. If you know me in person, you know for sure how much I love Maths, and how it’s a huge chunk of how I define who I am. The problem is that a couple of days ago we got the results to the big Chemistry exam and I got a really bad grade. I’m usually top of my class, so when I got that sheet with 10.5 out of 15 written on it, I think it’s understandable that I kept staring at it trying to reshape that zero into a 6 by sheer power of vision and infrared will. The next morning, when I was actually sober enough to flip the page with the grade to see what was actually off, Oh the irony. I got everything backwards. Which element is smaller; A or B? B is bigger. The correct answer is: A is smaller. So I practically got it right eh? Is that an apple or an orange? It’s not an orange.

Yup..

What the Fuck was I thinking?

Was I even thinking?

How could I not be thinking? I’m always thinking.

This can’t be happening.

But it did.

Well, that was the case to all of the stuff that I wrote. I wrote the exact opposite. They were right in sense. The exact opposite, every decrease was an increase and every increase was a decrease. Do I hear a shout for dyslexia?

No. Close enough, but no.

It’s a little something called Sanaweyya jitters.

You see, just as everybody who knows me knows my stance on maths, they also know how much of an egotistical maniac I am about stuff that I love. I have Maths today, my morale is down in the gutters and I don’t like it! I’m a snob. I want the snob back. I wanna know with every fibre of my being that I’m gonna go in that exam room today and ace the fuck out of it. Because I’m good at Maths, and I know it.

But I can’t say that anymore, what if that chem episode decides to pull off take two? I can’t let that happen. It doesn’t happen. It’s impossible.

Except that now I know it’s possible.

Which means it could happen.

Oh shit.

What’s worse, is that it’s a stupid evaluation Quiz. If that happens with the virtual pressure of the finals hovering, what do you think are the odds of that happening in the actual finals, with all of the curriculum involved? Which is around 5 or 6 times more than what we’ve already worked on? Huh?

Holy Shit.

O_o

I’ve been studying since 8 am, so that’s about 5-6 hours straight. What’s really getting on my nerves is that I’m hoping it goes well.

I don’t hope.

I can’t leave a space for hope.

Hope is for people who haven’t worked hard enough and are pulling on all the powers of the unseen since they fucked up the seen bit.

The usual Scenario would have been of me studying, for 5 hours straight which is a constant in this equation, except that I wouldn’t be jittering with mounds of crumpled paper bracketing my existence and leaving a trail to all of the places I used as a studying hole, which I kept changing every hour or so. I wouldn’t have two calculators, 7 books and 5 pens around. I wouldn’t have a blinding headache and I wouldn’t forget blinking until my eyes burnt.

No.

Maths is my thing. It’s not possible.

Or is it?

That’s the unsettling bit. I don’t like grey areas.

I’m good at the stuff that I know I’m good at. These can’t be variables. They’re not allowed to. It’s not possible.

It’s not. It can’t be.

Aw man..

If Anyone Promised To Fix You, They Lied.

“And High up above or down below, when you’re too in love to let it go, but if you never try you’ll never know. Just watch it work.”

Morning Fix 101

=/

Life Lesson #101: Talking to the person sitting next to you, whoever the hell that may be, is not the worst idea ever concocted. Today I had a sweet girl I met in chem class tell me that she tried to befriend me once but I froze her off. I had no recollection of the incident, but it must have been on one of those days I preferred the seat at the back to trade all the unfamiliar faces for somehow similar backs of heads.

Life Lesson #102: Normal people exist. They’re just laying low. Life Lesson #103: Apparently if you’re known as the one who debates with the teacher for a minimum of two or three times an hour, more backs of heads turn to faces that in turn dismiss the fact that they might not know your first name when they use your leg as a hand rest. You might wanna repress the “Do I even know you?” at the ones who know you even though you never noticed they existed. They tend to introduce themselves and then introduce you with you probably still gaping at the newly formulated face.

Life Lesson #104: If they stick out on the radar, more often than not it’s an air bubble in the preview screen. Or so you wish.

Life Lesson #105: Next to babies *egh* and dogs, pens are also great pickup props. She really liked my pen. No Pun Intended.

Life Lesson #106: You should be glad to know that everybody in the whole wide world has a picture of them in a really bad haircut with a lot of 2nd hand gloating potential that makes their head worthy of investigation by Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. I choose to believe it’s Karma’s way of subtly saying I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch. Some even make a Mohawk look posh. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. The relief. :)

Life Lesson #107: Biting your nails to the bone, not sleeping for two nights in a row, giving up verbal communication and spraining your ankle is not gonna bring them back. Leaving the house at 6:30 am to wander off to nowhere and not giving a fuck on whether you get kidnapped or raped or run over is not gonna bring them back.

Life Lesson #108: You’re an entity. Keep that in mind.

Life Lesson #109: Wake up calls aren’t calls that wake you up. Sometimes you don’t have their phone number and that’s what eventually keeps you up.

Life Lesson 110: “Did the devil make the world while god was sleeping? You’ll never get a wish from a bone”.

A Moment’s Hold.

Why would you wanna do that to everyone who’s ever loved you?

Please Kefaya.

Harum-scarum Madcap.

One of the best advice I’ve had when it comes to picking a career came from my dad, and it was along the lines of “If you already know what you love and are afraid to pick it, I can ensure you that nothing works in this godforsaken country so you might as well pick something you love and not get a job than to pick something you don’t because you thought it works and still not get a job. At least in the first case you’ll have something to do in the meantime”. You see, it doesn’t really just apply to career, but it kinda sucks when you pair that with being impulsive.

Besides the fact that it’s really draining and continuously draws you out of your comfort zone, you also can’t expect people to react the same way. So now instead of dealing with the one variable that is yourself, you have yet another unknown variable, that is people. And the annoying bit about telling people what you think/feel/believe or whatever it is you’re telling them about anything at all because you’re impulsive is that you no longer have control over that situation, now that they’re in the know. And you begin to wonder how easier it would have been had they not known in the first place, and you start calling yourself stupid for two hours instead of taking a nap because the hours of ‘do I or do I not’ you skip being impulsive are compensated in the ‘you’re-so-fucking-stupid-you-shoulda-kept-your-mouth-shut!’ hours. Yeh.

I think I trailed off there..

ANYWHO, point is, I’d be lying to you if I told you that I’d rather be that person who says ‘do I or do I not’ a thousand times in their heads before they do something, because jumping into things feels so good. And even though you might regret your stupidity now and cringing in your head about all the stuff you shouldn’t have said/done, on the long run, you’ll be looking back onto those with the relief that you had the guts to do it, and the live entertainment along with that package. Just get through the cringing for now.

Does anyone know how to do that though? Cuz I sorta need help in that department.

Impulsiveness has other pros too you know; you get the best memories, you know for sure that it’s definitely not in your head, you burn more calories fretting over it, you don’t evolve into a complete burn-out who cogitates the extra-pepperoni option on a friggin pizza, you always have the guts excuse to make you feel better if the period of compunction draws on to a hyphen, you probably feel so bad about it that you’re not gonna do it again, but you will, which provides excellent aforementioned compunction abbreviation, you have a roller coaster of a life, you ward off the boring people because you eventually scare the crap out of them, your brainwaves are arguably more relaxed with the absence of all the doubt, or more active with the over stimulation resulted from second-guessing, you have better reserve to draw on when you get bored since it’s something that renovates itself on a daily basis, you know for sure that you’ve brought down routine once and for all even though you never really knew how people had it without killing themselves, let alone chose it voluntarily.

You probably get the point by now..

Until that that, down there, is made possible:

I’d rather just punch the person in the face…

Blogging About Beoble.

My finger hurts. I should probably stop biting my nails. It hurts when I press it on something. Including Keyboards and Piano keys. I’m typing though.

So blogger’s block. Meh. Back to asking people what to blog about and I had two ‘Me’s. Considering that one of them is a cat, I’ll blog about the other Me.

Omar Abhar.

The dude who is humanly capable of liking Pink Floyd and Tarja Turunen at the same time. The one who has enough brain space to like silence without being paranoid about the talking in his head because he and I have a pact to share therapists in the near future. In love with his camera and hates the :)  emoticon. Voluntarily reads books about psychopolitics and is probably the only person on my contact list that I can talk to for long enough without having the impulse to off for good.

If only you’d get rid of the constipated/orgasmic smiley. Meh. You can’t have everything.

Available.

You know the dude who said that you’d better start with yourself at stuff? That dude must have tried really hard trying to get people to do stuff but people didn’t listen because those people were trying to get other people to do stuff, and they were so busy at it because those other people were trying to get more people to do stuff in turn, which wasn’t working at all. That chain reaction of trying to get people to do stuff doesn’t work because even though the ears look like two holes into your head, it’s doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re listening, or that You’re listening. It’s quite similar in idea and aspect to trying to drink from your nose. You see, on paper, it makes sense. The nasal opening and the oesophagus meet at some point. Its making sense doesn’t mean it works though. That’s one of the reasons I like Maths and hate people. Maths is so much better, and when the answer is infinity, you tend to know it from the beginning of the equation by working out its value. It’s a simple yes or no, you know?

I wanna grow up. So bad. A lot of things will be easier. A lot of stuff will be harder too, including me, which is what I want most of all. But you know, at the expense of having the stuff I have in mind easier, I wouldn’t mind having worse stuff to handle for that to work made harder. I wouldn’t mind that at all.

I have school tomorrow, and it’s a Saturday, which means I can play piano! The piano room will be available. Available. It’s always there though, but it’s not available all the time. You may like to play the piano, but how do you know if the piano likes to be played by you as much? You get over that, and then you’re grateful for the days it’s available. It’s sad, in a way, but you stop caring about that. Well, not stop caring, but actually stop caring about caring or not. Which in turn means you stop. Point is, tomorrow’s a Saturday. Focusing on its being a Saturday, focusing that the Saturday will always be there and accepting that there’s only one Saturday a week.

Available is a horrid concept though.

It's How You See The World.

Stupid I Have Been, Stupid I am, Stupid I will be.

It’s not until you’re in the other person’s shoes at another life or another time that you completely understand how heroic that asshole might have been, or how much of a trash bag the one flaunting the red cape turned out to be. You can’t stop how stupid you feel though. Oh how I hope to disappear. Once and for all. I can’t believe how stupid I was. How stupid I am. You just hope that when you’re in that other person’s shoes, you treat the you in that other one who’s yet to learn that lesson. Let them down, gently. Even if it takes a lot out of you. Just remember how stupid you once were. How stupid you’ll continue to be.

Oh god I was so stupid. How couldn’t I see? I’ve been so stupid..

Stupid stupid stupid.

  Gently.

Reliquerant

Life Lesson #90: When it gets hot, everybody ditches. Including the heat inducers. We’re all disintegrable. It’s about how long it takes before you change form. 

Life Lesson #91: You can’t sleep if you won’t stop being awake.

Life Lesson #92: Hope is vicious.

Life Lesson #93: People are monsters. But then again Frankenstein was a monster, it took a lighted match to make him cry like a baby. Babies are monsters. It’s a paradox.

Life Lesson #94: Non volo intelligere.

Life Lesson #95: “It’s ok. You don’t have to. It’s not wrong to not want it. It’s not wrong. But it’s beautiful..” –Dad.

Life Lesson #96: You’ll see yourself for who you really are when you falter with a yes that trespasses it for the  sake of another. You’ll never be the same again. You’ll move on from hating it to living with it. You’re not proud of it, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re cruel, you’re selfish. You know it. You’re scared too. You choose the safe no. You don’t want to get your hands dirty. I dare you to fall asleep again. If you do, making a manual would balance out the karma bite.

Life Lesson #97: “You’re safe within.”

Life Lesson #98: No, it’s not ok.

Life Lesson #99: Why?

Life Lesson #100: Who are you asking? There’s no one out there.

P.S. Dragon Flies Have A Life-span of 24 Hours.

Reliquerant. Reliquit te. Te Reliquit.

And you will not get it. You’ll never get it.

                                                           I think I need my tree.

100th Post

Oh, and this is the 100th post, in case you missed the title. What so special about that anyway, it’s just another number. Anywho, If you don’t count in my overflowing drafts folder, it means that I decided to turn to cyber space and not fellow humans for vent-outs 100 times. Hooray! Your incompetency as a head with two holes has been proved a hundred times over. Revel in your mediocrity.

Intracranial Censorship.

I was probed by a friend who’s seen this blog to look into Freud’s interpretation of dreams. Well, I so wish I hadn’t, because well. Yeah. Haha. According to Freud, access to my subconscious mind has been blocked by my conscious one for censorship…to avoid trauma. Apparently, in plain English, if these two guys meet in an alley or something, they’ll beat the hell out of each other, repressed stuff that I couldn’t handle shooting out of every hole and bruise and I’ll eventually go nuts by TMI-effect. It’s quite pathetic, don’t you think? Mental screening has been prohibited because it’s PG-rated and I’m inappropriate audience. Ironically enough, now that I read into that, I should worry about those three days that I actually dreamt, because it means that my defences are breaking down and things, that might contribute to a full-blown phase of ultra nuttiness, are falling through.

But I wannnaaaaaaaaaaah dream...

                                                                                  ..Meh.

                                                                                      I can’t anyway.