tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16637790201801636332024-03-18T20:36:53.932-07:00Return of The JaahilLife's not always lovely. But amusing it is, on a regular basis.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-58432404500405550502011-06-11T03:14:00.000-07:002011-06-11T03:14:21.708-07:00Chapter whut?<a href="http://claritywhat.blogspot.com/">New blog. </a>I shall be posting here now, so you may or may not want to follow. Cheers!=)Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-16648962133656295172011-05-13T11:42:00.000-07:002011-05-13T12:01:11.471-07:00What I have learnt so far at Moho.<ul><li>Gender is a social construct. The moment you internalize this and learn to talk about it in a million different ways, endlessly and tirelessly as if it were the only thing you have ever learnt in life, the sooner you will be accepted into Moho's communal folds. And if you are like me and actively resist the idea that your gender is a social construct, well, pretend like you agree it's a social construct anyway. </li>
<li>Ambition is not a problem. Nearly killing yourself is.</li>
<li>There are turtles in the lake; no one knows where they came from, but there are turtles in the lake. </li>
<li>The health center is redundant. Unless you're pregnant, but I have yet to meet anyone who paid a visit to the center for that particular ailment. Cures for seasonal allergies are, quite unfortunately, still being discovered. </li>
<li>Meanwhile, are you pregnant?</li>
<li>The menu repeats, don't cry if you miss out on quesidillas at the Rockies because Prospect had a pizza showcase. What goes around comes around.</li>
<li>Speaking of menus, go to Sunday Brunch at around 12:45. You will avoid the stampede and therefore not look like you were engaged in a fierce battle for oven fried potatoes. There is no dearth of potatoes at Moho, and we can be civil about them.</li>
<li>There is no such thing as a lowfat cookie.</li>
<li>If you manage to go to the gym during finals, 95% of Mount Holyoke's student body will wish you pain. A lot of it.</li>
<li>Talk about your feelings. That is all you will do during your first week here. If, however, you are unable to talk about your feelings (or have none to begin with), learn the art of BS-ing. It will prove to be useful later on in your college career.</li>
<li>Talk about the sexual continuum and its infinitude in conjunction with gender being a social construct. It will earn you brownie points. </li>
<li>When Public Safety sends out an email about a guy jerking off while checking out students sunbathing by the dock, read the whole email. Otherwise you won't know it's about a guy jerking off while checking out students sunbathing on the dock. </li>
<li>Your response to the abovementioned will vary according to how dead you are on the inside (I refer to emotional death, and not vaginal sensitivity here). If you have a lot of empathy you will be appalled and disgusted. If you are like me, you will cackle and tell as many people as you can. Because no one else read the email. </li>
<li>PubSafe will not help you transport your belongings. Or shovel your car out of the snow. Even if you have a broken foot. </li>
<li>Don't laugh at the self-defense demonstration. You might need to employ those skills, especially if there is a guy jerking off while checking you out as you sunbathe.</li>
<li>Not all lesbians look like the gals from The L Word. Sorry.</li>
<li>Sometimes radical feminism can make you turn to the Kardashians. Or Sex and the City.</li>
<li>Monthly cycles sync on this campus. That's a whole lotta women, a whole lotta PMS and a whole lotta bitchin'. </li>
<li>Get used to whining about how much work you have just to one up your friends when it comes to how much work they have. You might be dying, but hey, at least you're winning the "Shit-My-Brain-Is-Exploding" award.</li>
<li>Jorge's quacking sounds like he/she is saying "Meghan".</li>
</ul>There will be more.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-14762060295246194032011-03-19T18:41:00.001-07:002011-03-19T18:42:17.909-07:00Story of my life.Today while talking to a friend:<br />
<br />
<span class="kn" dir="ltr">Friend: </span> <span dir="ltr" id=":13a">hahaha</span><br />
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":13b">have you never been turned on by someone you saw/met?</div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":13c">or even thought "you know, i could jump him."</div><div class="km" role="chatMessage"><div class="kk"> <span class="kn" dir="ltr">Me: </span> <span dir="ltr" id=":13d">no my mind doesnt work like that <img alt="=(" height="12" pattern="equal sad" src="https://mail.google.com/mail/images/cleardot.gif" style="background-image: url("im/emotisprites/equal_sad0.png"); background-position: 0px -132px;" width="13" /></span></div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":13e">i think</div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":13f">"you know.. i could marry him"</div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":13g">true story</div></div><div class="km" role="chatMessage"><div class="kk"> <span class="kn" dir="ltr">Friend: </span> <span dir="ltr" id=":13h">HAHAHAHA</span></div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":13i">fuck sake<br />
<br />
</div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":13i"></div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":13i"></div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":13i">Yeah, I know I have no hope in life. </div></div>Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-1879458067502197462011-01-02T22:09:00.000-08:002011-01-02T22:09:33.545-08:00And now, live from Moho.Our friend didn't want to walk all the way from our dorm to hers, so she made one of our friends call Public Safety ( the campus police) from my phone. This is what the conversation was like:<br />
<br />
<b>Friend: Hi... I'm in the New Dorm... I can't walk back to my dorm alone because it's dark and creepy outside...Can you drive me back?</b><br />
<b>Public Safety Dude: ... You want us to drive you back because it's creepy?</b><br />
<b>Friend: Yes....</b><br />
<b>Public Safety Dude: ........................Ok..</b><br />
<b>Friend: Thanks!</b><br />
<br />
It wasn't a prank call. She got PubSafe to drive her back.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-60286228400825570862010-12-14T23:08:00.001-08:002010-12-14T23:08:36.479-08:00"So when did you start learning English?"<br />
<br />
*.....Last week.*Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-11442316575834651012010-12-01T08:44:00.000-08:002011-05-13T12:13:16.957-07:00<b>Thus one of the harshest indictments against bystanders to genocide is that they are lulled by their own bigotry. Would Americans have stood by if the Rwandans were white, or if the Bosnians were overwhelmingly Christian? David Wyman, the leading historian of the United States' reaction to the Holocaust, cannot escape the conclusion that the country's passivity was driven by American anti-Semitism. As the poet Czeslaw Milosz wrote, of Bosnia, "The lives of the well-fed are worth more than the lives of the starving." Nelson Mandela said that Africans and Asians had to envy the willingness of the world to save Kosovo.</b><br />
<b>These kinds of biases are a particular concern for the press, which is supposed to be making judgments about news, not race. As Carr wrote, "An American newspaper correspondent in Europe is said to have laid down the rule that an accident was worth reporting if it involved the death of one American, five Englishmen, or ten Europeans." In 1970, the publisher of the <i>New York Times</i>, Arthur Ochs Sulzberger, asked his editors, "Why is it that when the National Guard kills four white students we put it on page I, and when the National Guard kills six black people we put it on page 32?" When an explosion of army munitions in Lagos killed over a thousand fleeing Nigerians, it was not front-page news in the <i>Chicago Tribune</i>, which instead ran pieces on Illinois prescription drug coverage and corruption charges against a Chicago businessman, How can one justify this kind of partiality? At home, it is intolerable; abroad, it may be equally intolerable, but it is commonplace.</b><br />
From Freedom's Battle: The Origins of Humanitarian Intervention by Gary Bass<b> </b>Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-72596640593922074142010-11-30T16:41:00.000-08:002010-11-30T16:41:34.497-08:00"It'll take a year for your system to get used to American germs and diseases."Said someone down at the health care center to an acquaintance who, like myself, is Pakistani and a freshman at MHC. This was in response to this person falling ill and developing a cold fairly frequently. This happened about a day before I was going to go down to the health center myself because my nose runs like the eff-ing Niagara Falls these days, and I'm pretty sure that half of my lung capacity has been destroyed by constant fits of coughing. Cough and cold medication no longer works. Apparently, it'll take a year for my system to get used to American medication too. <br />
And I resist going to the health center, so when I say "I need to go to the health center", it's serious. I've maintained since my first week here that it is useless, and this is just another thing that really proves my point.<br />
<br />
The first time I went down there was because my foot was creaking. Yes. It was creaking. Like a spring. If I wiggled my foot, it would make a springy sound. If I touched it and wiggled it, it would be creaking. And it sort of hurt too. Naturally, I freaked out, and made trip no. 1 to the health center. After wandering around looking for the health center, and finally getting to it in 25 minutes ( it's all the way across campus. I'm not even sure if it's <i>on</i> campus), I went in and asked to see someone. They made me fill out a form, and as weird as it sounds, I put down "Creaky Foot" under reason for visit. True enough. I was thinking maybe they'd give me some medicine for the pain, or give me some fancy medical term for the condition I otherwise kept referring to as Creaky Foot. But no. What I was told was " We refer to this as Overstressed Feet Syndrome, you should rest your feet." I really wanted to ask her if she was planning to buy me a car, because that was the only way I could think of to "rest" my feet. Also, I had just walked 25 minutes to get to the health center just to be told that I should be resting my feet. And to add insult to injury, I got lost while trying to get back to my dorm. Talk about facepalm moments.<br />
<br />
The health center is also notorious for connecting everything to pregnancy. Students have been asked if they are pregnant when it's just food poisoning they have. The staff down there really seems to have a lot of faith in the student body on campus. If I ever go there and someone asks me this, I will probably be prepared and answer with a " Why, yes!" and walk out. I mean, what else can you do when you're misdiagnosed like that?Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-6260511515993260372010-11-20T22:27:00.001-08:002010-11-20T22:27:59.453-08:00And again, please remind me of what one does at college.<br />
Thanks.<br />
xoxo.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-72726214219100453702010-09-13T19:50:00.000-07:002010-09-13T23:05:57.044-07:00Philosophy 208<div><span class="UIStory_Message">"I cannot finish off a mile-long run right now. Why? Because I need to have run almost a mile just before now, so that I can complete the running of a mile. Yet, I have not been running. So I cannot finish a mile at this point."</span><br />
<br />
<span class="UIStory_Message">Kasam khao? Because I had no clue that you actually had to RUN to finish off a mile-long run. </span><br />
<div><br />
<span class="UIStory_Message"> If he'd actually spent even half that fucking time running, he'd have completed that mile. Thank you liberal arts, for this semester long mindfuck. I now know what I will definitely NOT be majoring in.</span><br />
<span class="UIStory_Message">Seriously, what kind of crack do you have to be on to produce this stuff? I'll probably be needing some of it to pass this class.</span><br />
<span class="UIStory_Message"> </span><br />
<span class="UIStory_Message">"If something has to be, then it will be."</span><br />
<span class="UIStory_Message">"If something will be, then it has to be."</span><br />
<span class="UIStory_Message"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="UIStory_Message">Mr. Conee and Mr.Sider, I regret to inform you that your LIVES were accidental necessities.</span></div><br />
<br />
<span class="UIStory_Message"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="UIStory_Message"><br />
</span></div>Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-43301779739361964252010-09-12T19:09:00.000-07:002010-09-12T19:09:44.210-07:00Non-existent brain needs to function.Sitting in the library with readings from four classes staring into my uncomprehending face, I now realize that 3 months of no mental (or physical, but we'll get to that later) activity whatsoever have really decreased my already low mental capacity. If you, like me, suffer from a lack of active brain cells, I suggest exploring options other than Higher Education. If you really, really, <i>really </i>like a certain college, try getting a job there. Become a janitor. Or a dishwasher. Or something. (Since you can't be a professor, cause for that you kinda sorta have to take the HE path too.) They'll make you wash pots and pans in the kitchen as "work-study" anyway (three hours of pot washing on a Sunday morning. And countless more to come). So might as well stick to manual labour and enjoy the perks of a beautiful campus without going to any of the classes.<br />
<br />
<br />
As much as I love this place, I still have some whining to do. (Surprised? Don't be.)<br />
<br />
<ul><li>The food doesn't taste like anything. Sometimes I want to gag just for the lack of spice. There is way too much food in this country, and none of it is spicy.</li>
<li>So back home, I'm supposed to be "chubby" (whatever that means). However, <i>here</i>, I'm smaller than small. Now you may think of that as a boost to my self-esteem, which it was for the first two days, it's just plain annoying now. I've been trying to shop for winter and I look like a two year old trying to fit into her mother's clothes. </li>
<li>So we all know how the first world countries are out to kill us. We get Red Bull for cheaper. We get cigarettes for nothing. And frankly, I prefer it that way. Please, I would rather die than pay $8.50 for twenty cigarettes. Can you let me reduce my lung capacity in peace?</li>
<li>Walking. Too. Much. Walking. For a person who's known for sitting on her butt and moving only when the necessity occurs, this is a lifestyle shock. So far, I'm still alive. For how long? I don't know.</li>
</ul><ul><li>"So, like, how did you hear about Mount Holyoke? Do people there know about America? Do you guys, like, listen to our music? Do you speak English there? So, like, do you meet boys? Is your house flooded?" Alas, the ignorant American. Oh, I don't know, one day as I was wading through my burnt down village, which just by the way also got hit by the flood, trying not to drown under the weight of my sodden burqa, I reached a stretch of dry land. On that fine stretch, I saw a white man on a donkey cart. It was an American missionary who somehow managed to convey to me (through sign language since I didn't know what English was till I came to this country) that there is this place called Mount Holyoke College. When I found out, I swam back to my house as fast as I could, to tell my family of 50 people that I could save everyone, only to be beaten up with a belt and chased out of my village because they thought the American missionary had violated my honour. While I was being chased out, I hid in the forest, on top of a tree, where the man found me again, and applied to the US for political asylum for me, and here I am! It sounds so much better than "Umm, it was my first choice."</li>
</ul>Yeah, they're a weird race, these Americans.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-90001883369295004592010-09-05T20:31:00.001-07:002010-09-05T20:31:25.755-07:00Mohome.Probably one of the most beautiful places I have ever been in. Probably some of the best people I have ever been around.<br />
=)Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-11564387148636094082010-08-24T07:59:00.000-07:002010-08-24T07:59:30.994-07:00On Traveling Alone<div class="p_other pic_padding"><b>Friend:</b> and please..</div><div class="p_other pic_padding">no matter how hot a guy you find in the person sitting next to you in your airplane..dont bang him in the toilet. . okay?<span class="time_stamp ts_self"></span></div><div class="p_self pic_padding"><b>Me: </b>.......</div><div class="p_self pic_padding">THANKS MAN</div><div class="p_self pic_padding">IF YOU HADN'T SAID THAT TO ME</div><div class="p_self pic_padding">GOD KNOWS WHAT I MIGHT HAVE ENDED UP DOING</div><div class="p_self pic_padding">YOU JUST SAVED ME A LIFETIME OF REGRET YAAR.</div><div class="p_self pic_padding"> ********</div><div class="p_self pic_padding"> </div><div class="p_self pic_padding"><b>Mum:</b> DON'T TALK TO ANYONE AT THE AIRPORT. THEY'LL SLIP HEROIN INTO YOUR BAG.</div><div class="p_self pic_padding"><br />
</div><div class="p_self pic_padding">*********</div><div class="p_self pic_padding"><br />
</div><div class="p_self pic_padding"><b>Mikk:</b> Ask them to make you sit next to a woman. I had my butt grabbed by this horny man on a flight, and I had to sit with him for the next four hours. When I went up to the flight attendant and told her, instead of changing my seat she told me "Madame, please don't congregate in this area." </div><div class="p_self pic_padding"><b>Me: </b>So was that man embarrassed at all?</div><div class="p_self pic_padding"><b>Mikk:</b> No, he was like leaning all over me, and then he asked me " Excuse me, aap apni chizz (cheese) khaayein gee?"</div><div class="p_self pic_padding"><b>Me:.</b>..........................</div><div class="p_self pic_padding"><br />
</div><div class="p_self pic_padding"><br />
</div><div class="p_self pic_padding">More to come. </div>Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-22616072463655476552010-08-21T04:25:00.000-07:002011-04-02T10:51:08.075-07:00Countdown.It's all rushed by, this whole year. In one week I'll be leaving Pakistan for 8 whole months.<br />
<br />
One of my closest friends is leaving on Monday. We've been in the same class for 9 years, had fights, love/hate moments, boy trouble, MUNs, random fits of laughter, weird confrontations, made elaborately complicated plans to sneak out (and suceeded), had the same grades, been completely useless at math together..There's too much we've done together, and it's going to be very, very weird not to have you with me in the same class <a href="http://minaman-pluto88.blogspot.com/">Pluto</a>.<br />
Another friend is going to the same place as me, so that's going to be 13 years in the same schools/college. That's a long, long time to know someone. But I can tell you it's nice to know someone familiar in a strange place.<br />
The past two years, as I've mentioned <a href="http://opinionatedjaahilblog.blogspot.com/2010/05/and-so.html">previously</a>, have changed my life. I've befriended a few people who I'd like to think will be part of my experiences and me wherever I go. So will those who I used to know, but no longer do.<br />
Mama, the sisters, BamBam- The only real family I do know.<br />
<a href="http://subconciousescapism.blogspot.com/2010/08/12.html">Karachi</a>, my seaside love.<br />
Kiki, with her exasperating behaviour about rowing, for feeding me all the time, for all the times I've been at her house sitting around aimlessly, for making fun of me when I play that stupid Exploding Bubbles game on her iPod, for her dad getting worried on days they didn't pick me up for school, for her cats and dogs and boys, and her generally confusing life. <3 <br />
Mikk for, well, everything.<br />
The MUNners for good, good times, for sticking together, for crying through the stress and laughing and spitting through the free fall.<br />
D, for being one of the sweetest people I know, for the chocolates and the smokes and the Gazebo, the rare phone conversations and random bonding sessions.<br />
All those people who I've loved being around, who've made things bearable when my head was threatening to implode.<br />
Thank you. ILY =)Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-63497645735035056622010-08-01T09:56:00.000-07:002010-08-01T09:56:22.252-07:00NewThere's too much and too little happening at the same time. On one hand life is as still as it could have been in a long, long time. I feel like Dunbar from Catch-22, getting bored just to make myself feel the days are endless and will never pass. I haven't even started counting them down, because it'll happen when it's time, so what's the point of wasting breath over it?<br />
All I know is, forward nine months and I will not return the same person. Everyone keeps telling me that. I will (hopefully) have conquered homesickness, the blues, the sense of feeling lost in a crowd, of being unsure, of never having been out in the world on my own.<br />
<br />
It's a fresh start and I'm measuring it out with my clothes. I can take all the ones people have already seen me wear, because there no one will know me. No one will know what I've already worn. And no one will know <i>me</i> as I have been, as I am now.<br />
<br />
Bring on the bubble wrap.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-50675236508260243672010-07-28T22:27:00.000-07:002010-07-29T11:18:42.696-07:00R.I.PI guess this is one of those cliched posts where I talk about the immense shock and grief facing everyone who's family members were on the plane that crashed, everyone who knew someone on the plane and everyone who knows someone who was related to/friends with someone who lost their life on the plane. I belong to the third category, and I found myself wanting to cry at random moments during the day.<br />
<br />
Because it could have been any of us on that plane, because it could have been our parents and loved ones crying for us, because it could be us whose spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/children would never see them again, us whose honeymoon was cut short by a plane crash. <br />
<br />
I've been on Air Blue flights before. I've been on a plane full of school teams going to Lahore for a Model UN conference, and just thinking about what may have gone through the minds of those students going for the Youth Parliament as they realized they were going to die makes me want to break down. It's not even stress or nervous anxiety because I'm going to be traveling soon. The fact of death itself doesn't frighten me as much as the thought of the pain it will cause those who love me and care about me. <br />
<br />
152 is a big, big number when you consider all the thoughts in that plane when those people knew they were about to die. Did they even know?<br />
<br />
And how many families were left bereaved?<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Edit: Today I received an invite for a " going-away-to-college-party-" aka <i>let's get drunk and have fun together one last time<i>. </i></i>And I don't have the heart to go and let my hair down when a plane carrying people like me just crashed into a hill and burned the people inside it to death. Something makes me feel that it's just not right. I always have a severe debate raging in my head about these things and I don't generally go to any, but right now I just feel it's downright insensitive to be having a party two days after a plane crash that cause so many people to suffer such a tremendous loss. But then again, who am I to say. To each his own. </b>Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-48417648033871122352010-07-26T05:05:00.001-07:002010-07-26T05:05:18.712-07:00Oh noezSo, ladies and gentlemen, I think I have typhoid. Again.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-37689518477766639602010-07-02T11:10:00.000-07:002010-07-02T11:13:07.219-07:0057 and going back.I was really hoping that my next blog post would be more meaningful than just me whining about my life, and yet, here it is and here I am, ready to complain.<br />
These days the one question I get asked a lot is "So, what are your college plans?" and its variation "How are your preparations for college going?". I can't answer I don't know, because no one believes me. Truth is, I really do not know.<br />
Here's the visa, here's the ticket, and yet, I don't know. I should be all set with my ticket out of here, a ticket to my prospects and an <i>actual</i> future where no one can treat me like crap just because I'm a girl without a father. To be fully prepared to go to one of my dream schools. And still, I don't know. Because I'm struggling, because people back out of promised help, because there are a million things that have to be done before I can finally leave. Two months ago, I had a semester's tuition sponsored, somehow with some help from a friend. Now, all of a sudden, I don't. Disappearances, people going AWOL without notice- It's all too much for me to think about. I've stopped sleeping at nights, I think, and I think a lot. I think about rich kids. People tell me to stop "hating on them" but I can't help begrudging people the easy lives they lead. They don't know, they really don't, that while they spend 5000 rupees on a night, I'm thinking of how much the next year is costing my mother. How I can't even afford college even with financial aid that makes most of my peers' jaws drop. I hear it a lot <i>"Thats <b>ALL</b> you have to pay? That's IT?! Wow man!"</i>, and I don't know how to explain. It's too much, it is still too much. So while someone's parents spend lakhs and lakhs on foreign education for them, and as these kids waste themselves away on love lives and booze and parties (not to generalize, I know a lot of people who don't do these things at college.), I sit here and wonder what will happen. <i>With 57 fucking days to go. </i> <br />
In truth, my life is a million times better than that of the <i>rickshaw</i> driver who killed himself and his family a few days ago because of poverty. It's a lot better than that of the woman who threw herself on train tracks with her children because of poverty. It's better, I have food to eat, I have a home, I'm privileged to be part of the 1% of the population of Pakistan who lives what is could be called a comfortable life.<br />
And yet.<br />
But I'll get to the whys and the hows and the whats. Family. I find that word laughable, except when it comes to my mother and my sisters. No one knows I'm supposed to be going abroad. My mother has been told it's a waste of money to spend so much on a girl, she's heard it all so many times, she could repeat it while asleep. Hell, she developed a heart problem overstressing herself. People stop caring when they see you've got the same old car. When they see you don't wear designer clothes, don't sport fancy accessories. When they realize you have no useful connections. When, generally, your father dies in this country.<br />
It's a flaw, having a brain and ambition. A big one. It makes you realize you are so much bigger and better than what you see around you, that you deserve this chance because you have worked for it, worked to redeem yourself and to correct the mistakes you made. It's exhausted you. Sometimes, you wonder about the point of it all. Is it worth it? It takes so much away. Too much, almost. <br />
And yet. <br />
All people see is, to cut a long story short, the trip to Boston. Like cake, that was served to you on a platter. You've stopped explaining, because it's too much effort to tell everyone that along the way, these things have have taken a lot from you, even while they've taught you incomparable lessons. Every achievement, every heartache, every rejection. How does one even begin to explain.<br />
And yet.<br />
It's scandalous. The thought of working in a boutique, a shop, a Mcdonald's is scandalous. We don't do that in Pakistan if we're from a "good family". What does being from a "good family" mean anyway? Is it a stamp of approval? Is it living in a certain locality? Is it studying in a certain school? Is it the people you know, the places you're seen at? I never understood. So you sit and you resign yourself to having no money, because you're young and well, money is hard to come by. Because you don't have that expensive degree from that famous university yet.<br />
And yet.<br />
Even when you're close to that degree, you can't quite have it.<i> </i><br />
So what do you do? You sit and you smile when your friends say <i>"Thats <b>ALL</b> you have to pay? That's IT?! Wow man!". </i>And you lose sleep, and your mind, thinking about what will happen, about how you deserve this because it's all yours. It's drastic, it's painful and it cuts. But you sit and you smile and you answer questions.<br />
And count the days, I guess.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-79076430473842191092010-06-20T09:47:00.000-07:002010-06-20T09:47:56.998-07:00It's the uncertainty of it all that irritates me. You could say it's sitting here, on my palm, but I can't close my fingers around it and hide it in my hand and know that it's <i>mine. </i>For once, I'd like to be certain rather than wondering about whether I'm going to lose.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-76610496464178411602010-06-19T09:50:00.000-07:002010-06-19T09:50:49.204-07:00Threat of the day<b>Mum: This is very expensive now. Iss mein dou dou visa lagay huay hain. If you lose this, I'M NOT BUYING YOU A NEW ONE!</b><br />
<br />
..........Yeah mum, I lose passports everyday. Like, it's my thang yo, and old habits die hard. I'll try my best though.<br />
<br />
Sigh.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-59223049359005352982010-06-14T03:21:00.000-07:002010-06-14T03:21:14.159-07:00Pwned by a 9 year old.Yesterday, I discovered that I am a little out of touch with the latest Disney starlets after my recently-turned-9-year-old sister had the following exchange with me:<br />
<div style="color: red;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: red;"><b>Me: I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU YOU COULDN'T ADD PEOPLE ON YOUR FACEBOOK, YOU WERE ONLY ALLOWED TO HAVE IT FOR PET SOCIETY!</b></div><div style="color: blue;"><b>Her: I didn't add anyone.. except Haani..Madiha...Winona.... Zahra...Zainab....You know ALL of them!</b></div><div style="color: red;"><b>Me: WHO WAS THAT BOY I SAW ON YOUR PROFILE? I deleted him, but the next time I see a random boy being added on your Facebook is the LAST day you're allowed on it.</b></div><div style="color: blue;"><b>Her: Oh THAT. That was Winona.. she changed her display picture and name to Justin Bieber. He's a singer * scornful look*</b></div><div style="color: red;"><b>Me: Oh...</b></div>Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-38612480547025435622010-06-13T09:58:00.000-07:002010-06-13T09:58:43.354-07:00Hai DereEver since the exams ended (which was on Friday, the 11th of June) all the inspiration just flew out of my head. Now I sit around wondering what to do/write or how to be productive. But I mostly just sit around being a waste of space and oxygen, reveling in how I am officially done with the A levels. There is actually nothing to do. Apart from looking for a job, but well..... I'm too lazy even for that.<br />
Epic.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-46371402122178763272010-06-05T04:46:00.000-07:002010-06-05T04:46:38.572-07:00Only in KarachiA friend overheard some people talking at McDonald's.<br />
A girl said: <b>Yaar yeh Cyclone aanay mein itni dair kyuun laga raha hai? </b><br />
<br />
Oh and Cyclone Phet is now a Facebook event.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-61670355897865641892010-05-31T07:42:00.000-07:002010-05-31T08:44:43.061-07:00Does this sound like a cliche?<b>You are free; you are free to go to your temples, you are free to go to your mosques or to any other place or worship in this State of Pakistan.</b><br />
<br />
And we forget his words like we forget the Pakistan Studies syllabus.<br />
Save my country, please.<br />
<br />
Oh and:<br />
<i>“What we have seen this morning is a war crime,” said Saeb Erakat, the chief Palestinian negotiator for the government in the West Bank. “These were civilian ships carrying civilians and civilian goods — medicine, wheelchairs, food, construction materials.” </i><br />
<i> <b>“What Israel does in Gaza is appalling,” he added. “No informed and decent human can say otherwise.” </b></i><br />
Full article <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/01/world/middleeast/01flotilla.html?pagewanted=1&hp">here</a><i></i><br />
<br />
There are times when you just cannot consider "all sides" to an argument.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-55794225219267478932010-05-31T07:00:00.000-07:002010-05-31T07:00:00.245-07:00This time, it ain't the PTA.Someone just forwarded this text to me, and I didn't know whether to laugh or be exasperated or just plain annoyed:<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>On 31st of may facebook wil b the only most visited wibsite in the cyber world n this wil continue for a week (or may be more) which will surplus the loss they experienced, people wilcomment, play games, up-load pics, send messages, will poke friends, up-date the status about facebook being unblocked, BUT no one of us wil think 4 a second about Muhammad (S.A.W.W), who was always thinking abt us. these are the signs abt wat kind of muslims wud b there, wen Dajjaal wil come n invite u 2 da wrong path, n it will be followed.....</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Can u tell it to all ur friends?</b><br />
<br />
I mean, <i>seriously? </i>So now whoever uses Facebook is a certified heretic who has no respect for the Prophet. Nice. I'm sorry I haven't switched to the <a href="http://www.pakfacebook.com/">halal</a> Facebook yet. Excuse me while I social network the Pakistani way.<br />
<br />
PS: I don't mean to be disrespectful. The whole "Let's Draw Muhammad Day" thing was absolutely horrible, as I've said before. But things like these just really, really piss me off. Let other people be, and let them make their own choices.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1663779020180163633.post-21129253008478342312010-05-30T22:08:00.000-07:002010-05-30T22:08:45.205-07:00Good morning, Itchy.Dear God,<br />
<br />
Please don't give me an allergic reaction from all the raw coffee I have been consuming. Waking up after two hours of sleep with junkie-withdrawal symptoms isn't the best way to start a day when you have an exam. Scratching your arms (and your neck.. and your face.. and your head) during said exam is probably worse. I know I have been a little bit unhealthy, and I am Nescafe's dream consumer right now, but please do be nice. I will try not killing myself.<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Me.Opinionated Jaahilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01075224676355982516noreply@blogger.com7