Am going to play cards with the cousins again. Last night six of us tried playing Rung by taking out the 2s and ending up with 48 cards to deal evenly. After having explained the game, I dealed the cards to Haris so he could pick which suit (rung) and he said, "Red." This was after I had explained the game and had all of us had a practice round. On hearing Haris choose his 'rung', Ibrahim who was sitting down to be his partner, stopped midway in his seat and mildly commented, "Hum bahut burri tarah haarnay walay hain." To make up for his occassional fumbling, Haris cheats shamelessly by claiming he's out of a suit to play a trump and ends up with three cards of the same suit in the end, getting beaten up by the rest of us in the process. Playing cards can be an extreme sport in the Quraishi household.
Oh Snap.
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Sixty-four
The number of days I had spent without being behind the steering wheel. Driving was never as much fun as tonight, alhamdo lillah.
When All Else Fails, Run
It's been a while since I've ran. Wanting to gradually build my cardiovascular strength to par, I had no intention of running today as well. Just that today, walking on the treadmill didn't seem enough. So I ran, and when I started to get tired, I ran even faster. I ran until my chest started to ache and I felt that my heart wouldn't be able to take more stress. I ran for about a minute after that as well for good measure before slowing down to a walk once again. Alhamdo lillah running felt so good. I was out of aching and out of breath and I loved it.
Thinking that insha Allah the next time I were to try the same routine, my heart would be stronger and more prepared for the pressure. I don't think I've ever made a cognitive decision such as this when upset, not a damaging one anyway. Certainly not one that I know I will come out of feeling stronger and strangely relieved, alhamdo lillah.
I doubt I speak for myself alone when I say that I am capable of worse things to release stress, pressure or heartache. Of all the detrimental things to do, I guarantee this to be the most exhilirating. This hardly counts as being masochistic, because willingly allowing oneself to be hurt more than once by the same aspect, or not shying the fire after being burnt once is far worse. Each one of us puts ourself in such a position so many days of our lives. This one actually did my heart some good.
Pfft
So I chose to 'audit' everyone on Facebook with SuperPoke today. That's got nothing to do with anything. Really.
Monogamy
Ever since Ryzvan got himself a diving watch, I've stopped looking at new styles for him in my emails from Fossil.
Blissful Ignorance
You know you haven't heard of any songs or music in a while when you read a track on IM and are unable to tell the artist from the song.
Spoilt Rotten
You know you're addicted to your pocket PC when you start a chat conversation on your desktop and stop at, "Assa" waiting for the AutoComplete to finish the greeting for you.
An Itch
I have this urge to send a truckload of postcards with, 'Wish you were here' scribbled on the back to so many people right now. To mail them these cards and magically have them travel this way, this much, with me.
Predictably Home
Predictable is hearing Baji beat eggs over the phone and knowing it's a Sunday morning in FL and she's making the sweet omelet for Bhaijan.
It's Ami getting someone's name wrong when narrating an incident and even telling a joke all wrong.
Home is Ami laughing while she's telling a joke because she knows she might mess up any minute.
Home is also Abu quipping in his version of the Indian soap Ami is watching so intently. As is Ami's promise to return the favor the next time Abu tunes into the news.
Home is both Baji and Omar Bhai accidentally calling out my name before their chidrens' when they're up to their usual mischief.
It's SMSing a hug to Mayyam and getting one back almost immediately.
Predictable is Billie saying, 'Qasam se' or, 'Seriously!' to every 'Nahin yaar!'
It's knowing Maina, Afshan and Nazia will go out of their ways to respond to a call for help despite the distance from myself.
It's having to know that we need not catch up.
It's squeezing in rushed conversation with Rabia and feeling great afterwards, everytime.
Predictable is knowing Zairah will coo back a hello when I call her in a sing-song voice. For her to carry poignant memories of my past as if they were her own.
It's Halima being flaky on popular request.
Ashi, sobering up to be more a sister than a friend.
Homeis Ryz woh na telling me something I want to hear before gliding into what he wants to share with me. Ryz returning my coy girl routine with a cheesy line that breaks a previous record set by himself.
Peter Pan
Part of the weaning process involves myself not sleeping in Ami's room when Abu's out of town. Insha Allah this move will help my weaning and hers as well.
Amusing Ourselves to Death
Lately the news on local television channels made me think the same about our culture. I was fortunate enough to recognize the emergence of desensitization and empathy caused by media in the West because of my frequent visits, and also because I was not a resident and I could in turn assess the situation objectively.
Reading the following excerpt from "Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business" by Neil Postman brought the eddy of all those thoughts of discontention to words. I possibly could not agree more. Read, "A Brave New World" if you haven't already.
Amusing Ourselves to Death: an excerpt
"We were keeping our eye on 1984. When the year came and the prophecy didn't, thoughtful Americans sang softly in praise of themselves. The roots of liberal democracy had held. Wherever else the terror had happened, we, at least, had not been visited by Orwellian nightmares.
But we had forgotten that alongside Orwell's dark vision, there was another - slightly older, slightly less well known, equally chilling: Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Contrary to common belief even among the educated, Huxley and Orwell did not prophesy the same thing. Orwell warns that we will be overcome by an externally imposed oppression. But in Huxley's vision, no Big Brother is required to deprive people of their autonomy, maturity and history. As he saw it, people will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think.
What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drownd in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny "failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distractions". In 1984, Huxley added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us.
This book is about the possibility that Huxley, not Orwell, was right."
Disdain
When, when, when will I learn to not look closely at roadkill lying in my path while driving?
Swindled
is finding a hollow, squishy Malteser in an anticipated packet of crispy rewards following a long week.
Medicare
About a month ago I read about a man who lay awake during his own brain surgery. The details of the case can be found here.
Call me one with limited perception and concentration skills, I just can't think beyond learning the fact that a retired truck driver in Australia can enjoy such health benefits, masha Allah.
Hershey Says
For the likes of the Halimas and the Ryzvans of the world - for Halima, who shook her head on finding words such as, "thingamajig" in the autocomplete feature of my phone, and for Ryzvan who tolerantly nodded his head each time I made up words such as these, words he magically understood as well.
Halima and Ryzvan: in your faces.
A Test
I wonder whether I can customize the appearance of a post through my email.
Red.
Bold and pink.
Halima Blue.
Ryz.
Fever
I bought a book because Ethan Hawke wrote it. I saw the cover and WHAM! was reminded of the days of "Reality Bites", of "Great Expectations" and most importantly, of "Before Sunrise."
To read a book should be an experience of its own. Hopefully if it's terrible, I'll finally get over that fluttery-butterfly phase that I had managed to drag all the way from my teenage, until realization yesterday.
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