-eeeddddddaaaaaaaa is in BAKISTAN--

(for all loyal paki fans who wish to be contacted, HINT tinuviel ,neeli, chunchun etc..) msg me ur phone numbers if u havent already..)

for ze rest of uall,
happy holidays!

-eeda

mera jamun (aka bhai)'s gotten chickenny pox!! :SS:S:
nd he's still in libya ALONE, and he has exams, and he's without ammi abbu..
i wonder how he's coping, S::S
:S:S:S ..i wanna SEE HIM! i haven't seen my motoo for a YEAR....pata nahee when they'll let him travel now :S

and i'll barely get to meet him. cuz he has exams in jan and he has to go back early too.
and now prolli ammi will go back early too to look after him.

im so PISSED at the person who he got the poxies from and who, in all likelihood, has been extending free chicken pox like its free candy canes, i wanna strangle 'em with a big fat red xmas ribbon and spread some real christmas cheer.
ho ho ha!
SO there.

okay, no. won't do that.
BUT seriousli!!!!
KIA MAZAQ HAI ? ..ahhhhhhhh.

please please pray he gets well really soon! :S :S :S

wrote this yesterday evening in the rain at downtown .

i am the lovechild of glittery gold city night lights and illusive melodies on the subway.
urban child. city child.
child of the chaos. child of the beautiful .

child of the constructions which
lace gray-stone pavement
and gray-stone heart

stone smiles in gray water puddles.

stony gray imprints of people's gray souls.

to be continued..

5 days till brown-drama showdown!
aka eeda flies to Paki-land!
:D

more later,
-eeda.


p.s
walking in the rain= heaven.

p.p.s
photo credits:
the image is photo manipulated.
originals - city_lights by zifengw and The_City by paperboogie, deviantart.com

the drama just never ends, does it?

eeda ko ghar jaana hai =(

Dal cheeni

i heart this poem.
it's beautiful.

The Cinnamon Peeler.

If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
And leave the yellow bark dust
On your pillow.

Your breasts and shoulders would reek
You could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.

Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbour to you hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.

I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
--your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers...

When we swam once
I touched you in the water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
you climbed the bank and said

this is how you touch other women
the grass cutter's wife, the lime burner's daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume

and knew

what good is it
to be the lime burner's daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in the act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of a scar.

You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
Peeler's wife. Smell me.

-by Michael Ondaatje.


write to me of extinct Shakespearean love..

(and touch me with dalchini.) :P

i know this poem makes an horrible association between me and the love struck gaggle of 14 yr-old twilight fanatics oozing goo and mush out their ears.

trust me, i beg to refrain from even the slightest hints of that association.
and no i DO NOT read romance novels neither.
too cheesy.

but hey, we can all be allowed the occasional emo, right?! :s
-eeda.

p.s
and for those who don't know, cinnamon is dalcheeni.
and for those who don't know what dalcheeni is, ur not fob enough. :S

pps.
photo credits: crumbling cinnamon by Karatemaus on deviantart.com

pps. i dont mean chini as in cheena people okay?

eloquence evades me.

i find myself distressed, because i cannot
spew out pearls of such intense clarity they make
jaws drop in awe, eyes bulge with wonder.

write to me some summer lines.

write to me an ode to the days of yore.
when words and daisies
lined up my street with white sunbeams,
golden dreams.

now even happiness leaves me uninspired.
oddly content. oddly hollow.
bated breath and tip-toeing eggshells to see
if it (when it) ends.

suspicion.
superstition.

hollow laughter in hollow silences.
hollow words.

i become become become
speechless.

feel like i havent ranted here ina while...
here goes.

intense week
last classes of the semester
sound poetry classes by a poet with gurgling issues and toad in her throat whose sound poetry sounded like a long and painful orgasm.
with an animal.
world lit profs emailing YOU to get into their classes ( feeling like a dusty old celebrity)
papers bout crappy local poets and fragmentation and I.T in contemporary poetry due in 24 hours worth 25%.
new habit- 2 cups of chai and one of coffee every day.
east meets west.
ph.d/masters English profs calling in from UBC to 'speak to the girl who made so bold a comment at the public lecture.'
of brothers growin up too fast, talkin' about pool and funk and squash and house.
techno techno techno
ida corr vs fedde le grand, lemme think about it.
all nighters,
48 hours of being continuously awake on a self-induced sugar high
discussions of manhood as a taboo in european literature: promoting or inhibiting the circulation of texts.
he stayed up with me.
exam in 72 hours. shit.
joint skype calls with him,his brother,his best friend, and me.
virtual dinners. virtual words.
virtual reality. escape.
high school friends. online reunions. video calls.
nostalgia. the old the forgotten the you.
the me the them.
they've changed. grown older.
sadder.
there was less laughter. more silence.
more sighs. more
news.
no news is good news.
dad. mum. precipice. perception.
jamun tells me the truth. she tells me lies.
she tells me the truth. jamun tells me lies.
which is which?
why am i so bent on believing lies because the truth is too painful?
why am i so bent on believing the truth, because the lies are too painful?
what is it really?
how are they really?
why is no one TELLING me what the hell is going on there?
run run run.
run away from them.
but i can't. i run back to them everytime.
no place like home? no place.
no peace.
watching 1942 A Love Story. too many dead people. too much melodrama.
eik ladki ko dekha to....
the man who used to sing that for me turned into a schizophrenic
who cries to me about his distant brother,sister,his deceased parents
his utter utter loneliness.
and when im the only one with him, i make secret calls from his bathroom,
'i'm alone with him. i'm scared. take me away.'
desert.
desserts. i want chocolate.
chocolate gives you acne. acne leaves scars.
scars don't go.
and pakis talk. about scars. about flaws. about how nothing is ever good enough.
pakistan. blood. tears. drama. politics. family. vacations.
new york. him.
can't wait.
weight.
i've lost weight. they tell me i look gaunt. my jeans look looser on me.
never had too much of an appetite.
canada.
if you want to stay here you'll live by the rules.
our rules. their rules. everyone's rules but your own.
no rules. new rules. fools.
all of them.
me included.

fool for not getting started on my paper already. sigh.
hum chalay dushmen jalay.
ram chand re.

:D
-eeda.

p.s
if u made it to the end of this post,
here's an aspirin.
and a hug.
=)

the difference between childhood and growing up is that
when you're a child, the world is never really there.
when you grow up, it never really leaves.

it always comes back and knocks on your door, and without asking
places itself back on your shoulders.

it does not ask if you can carry it, does not ask if it might be
hurting some part of you, if your shoulders are not sagging if
your back is not crumpling your
spine not bent broken dented with the
weight.

to the world,
the world appears light as a feather.


the undebatable monotony of everyday.
you wake up, you walk through your entire day as if following an unknown plan to add a bit of this person and a part of that feeling and a shard of that old forgotten hope or pain
back onto yourself.
you build these castles, carve into yourself these shelters these holes these little places of comfort for them and them and them
and forget
that maybe you need a place to crawl back into too? at the end of the day..
when the light fades out and you wonder if maybe under all those
people places masks faces
bones and bodies and nails and toes and flesh and blood and
ashes ashes ashes,
under all that, is there any bits of you left?

you search but you do not can not will not
find.

because you've forgotten if there ever was a you
because all there is now is this and that and them .
and under all of it
there is nothing.

no you.


That
is a scary thought to wake up to.



maybe that realization is what growing up is.
or maybe i just need another cup of coffee.
-eeda.

FORGIVENESS

I find no difficulty in forgiving
man,
and woman,
though that
can be somewhat
exacting,
on occasions.

BUT
only if,
every molecule of my skin
turned to dust
before my very eyes,
dust
that would cover
the shame of centuries:

only if,
the pungent waters of my sweat
flood out to disinfect
and wash away
the pain infested streets of history;

only if,
my tainted blood
became flesh,
meat everlasting
for subhumans of the world;

only if,
I died
each minute
of the day
that someone nicer than I,
had life,
and love,
and good looks too,
redeeming my ugliness;

then,
perhaps,
I might,
forgive God.


-- Adam Zameenzad c) 2008


i seek solace in knowing that God Himself
is all forgiving.

-eeda

i am still.
still as the silence between glossy photographs.

i am stilled.
stilled by the grains of your voice
like pink and white and silver chipped conch shells
held
between the spaces in my fingers, the stars in your eyes.


-under construction-
aka. to be continued.

-eeda

ps. he thinks this is too emo.

identity crisis.
i am not i.

O that the spirit could remain,
tinged but untarnished by its strain.

-Waking early sunday morning, by Robert Lowell.

the pursuit of happy-ness..


ive been in an idealistic mood lately.
trying to figure what it is that Really makes me happy.

Happy=having no limitations. no binds. no blindfolds.
Happy=whispered conversations with eheeeeeemmmm at 5 am.
Happy=my kinda weather. wet and wild
(NOT the cosmetics company)

Unhappy=having to pretend to be someone else. which ive been doing for a while, and it was okay,
but it's driving me insane now.
like.i feel what Gunther does, word.for.word.
i HATE people who are aggressive and violent.
i HATE being kept waiting.
i HATE chipped nail polish
or, maybe just dislike that fact.
hate is a strong word.
o,
i most Definitely HATE brown drama.

tho,i LOVE coffee.
( im a coffee-addict too apparently. so says the Are you a Coffee-Addict? Do you have the following symptoms? section of my Psyc textbook.)

o,
and i LOVE poetry.
like.
LOVE it.

there are VERY few things that make me as happy as a well recited poem.

Today we were supposed to meet a man called Indran Amirthanayagam, a renowned, critically acclaimed poet originally from Sri Lanka, who studied with Barack Obama, and is now working for the U.S consulate as a diplomat in Vancouver.
so in walks this weather-beaten guy in his early 40's, sparse hair rising like puffs of smoke in the centre of his bald head and thickening at the sides, a badly printed sweater, and a faded peach bengali handkerchief which he kept rubbing vigourously around his nose.
i was quite disappointed.
UNTIL.
he started to talk. and then read his poetry.
it was the singularly most uplifting experience i have ever had.

after he read his poem the class was too stunned with awe to say a word.
hushed silence, mouths open, hands half-raised in a forgotten clap.

i got to talk to him for an hour afterwards. he insisted on meeting and keeping in touch, and reading my stuff ( :D :D )..he was down to earth, and modest, despite having won numerous awards, despite the fact that he studied with Obama and ws gnna work directly with Hilary Clinton in the future,
despite all that.he'd be just another guy walking down the street you wouldn't look twice at.

New Rule.- don't judge a book by its cover.

Anyways, i got one of his books signed, ( he has illegible writing), and the afore-mentioned promise to keep in touch, and the address to his blog, which is quite long and doesn't have much of his work..ill b posting some up later.
but man.
MAN.
it was one of those moments when u Know:
this is what i wanna do for the rest of my life.

anyways, now that im slightly less star-struck, i can. hm.
hm
try and figure out how to get rid of coffee addiction?

considering that it's causing major headaches due to coffee-depravation
WHICH is due to the fact that i can't have coffee right now beause of a stomach bug/virus
WHICH my nurse calmly suggested to me ' could have been passed on through sexual intercourse'.
WHICH obviously lead to a full 15 minute discussion about my sexual history ( which i denied adamantly and Truthfully!)
*glares at suspicious blog readers*
ALL of WHICH she didn't quite believe.
Witch kaheen ki.
sorry i meant, churail.
i dont like the which witch-ing either.

no. making sexual innuendos out of everything does not constitue having a sexual history or being a sexually active individual.
i BEG to differ.


anyhooooooooooooooooo...going back to retarded school work.
update later.
missed u all :)

-eedzy beedzy..

lame..

yes, notice how the old giddy hyper eeda is back.
*hugs and cheeni all around*

I want
more than anything
to reinvent
rewrite myself.


from

scratch.

i'm sick of trying to fit the mold.
id rather alter the mold to get it to fit me.

-exasperation-

hinbin-ur so head over heels.
me-huh? about what?
hinbin-u know....


there is a gaping void in the parts of me i used to find u in.
i search for u there,
but it's as if uve already left, and only the hollow echoes of your presence remain.
somehow i can feel you physically unraveling away from me, tearin' apart piece by piece.


i shy away from my own reflection
because even i remind myself of you.


u were right.
for now,
Everything has tainted.

for

for

for

for better

for worse

A Pill to forget: Can a medication suppress traumatic memories?

Observant doesn't mean silent. It means speaking forcefully in measured tones about what is happening.

God forbid you be an ugly girl, 'course too pretty is also your doom, 'cause everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room.

forlorn; ,desolate, godforsaken,lorn,
		marked by or showing hopelessness; "the last forlorn attempt"; "a forlorn cause"

forgo : to do without; lose or lose the right to by some error, offense, or crime;
refrain.

      
Will not be shaken and jump into this,
And be persuasive, 
Just carry on,
And make my mind up,
To go through this,
Or be firm, 
And sit in silence.
So turn and (don't) forfeit.

I'm not afraid of death but oh
What will I do if you leave me?
Do not forsake me,
oh my darlin'
You made that promise as a bride
Do not forsake me, oh my darlin'
Although you're grievin', don't think of leavin'

attempt at erasure poetry?
all the 'for' words are significant, out of context.
(words are randomli chosen from the 10th page of google searches.)


new mantra:-
forgive her forget him forgive him forget her


-end emo-
eeda

pagal-ness.

this one's for hinbin




eeda says-ok..alittle too much estrogen here.

hinbin says: ur face

eeda says: ur mum
eeda says: burnnnnnnnnnn
eeda says: hinbin KALI HOGAEE
eeda says: now hin and the fob can get MARRIED
eeda says: hahahahhaa

hinbin says: see how he ignored me today
hinbin says: aye hai

eeda says: well
eeda says: hes playing hard to get
eeda says: u need to up ur sex appeal huney
eeda says: do the hijab tease
eeda says: oye hoey hoeyyy

Hinbin says: fine, ill let out a strand of hair
Hinbin says: thats the slutiest ill go

eeda says: nope
eeda says: no can do
eeda says: u hav to let part of the hijab fall
eeda says: and say..OOOppppps
eeda says: and do the swish of the hair flick..and pin it back on

Hinbin says: then bend over to pick up what??

eeda says: no bending
eeda says: tho if u DO want to bend..
eeda says: he will get QUITE an eyeful
eeda says: ..EYESfull
eeda says: big bootay big boootay biig bootay..uh uh whoop whoop big bootay.


........


Hinbin says: i luv being on ur blog
Hinbin says: its like starrin in a book or somethin
Hinbin says: and u noe how much i love being in the light :)

eeda says: aaaahahahhaha
eeda says: Pagal
eeda says: sum people are too special to mention
eeda says: u bring them in the limelight and they lose their sparkle
eeda says: their ur..dirty lil secret



these words are my own
from my heart flow
i love you i love you i love you i love you.. <3
-Nat bed-in-field.
:P



thank u for the shoulder.
sorry about the jacket.
no im not wiping nothing off it. the jacket is urs, anything that previously belonged to me which is now on ur jacket,
is urs too.
deal with it.

<3


-eeda

This is a SPECIAL MENTION to crack.
thank u, 'cuz ura crackhead.
and incidentally, the only male that reads my blog.
(which may mean one of two things. ur too female for me to consider u a male, or ur just plain as cracked as i am.)
id like to think its the second of the two reasons ( so that u dont kill me).



My mother's side of the family has a very distinct rift between it.
There's Group A----> consisting of khala and nana, and sometimes nani.
1. extreme anti-touch. limited physical contact. very practical, almost to the point its brutal. very very very persistent, and equally as egotistic without realizing it.

Group B---->nani and ammi.
alternate from anti-touch to touch-me-lots. VERY emotional. ( to the point that the song Dulhay ka sehra causes an almost instant room flooding with tears and the like.) o, and equally as stubborn.

me? im in the middle

so, khala (shes from the anti-touch group) comes into my room, and says ' Farida, stand up.'
i walk over to the middle of my room
she gives me a huge hug.
she says' appa told me to do this. she said eeda would instantly go back to the old eeda.'

ACK! im not THAT desperate okay.
but, a hug does go a Loooooooooongggggggggggggggggggggggg way with me.
and i missed being able to curl up around ammi or deeju.

obviously, it was an instant tear-jerker moment ( for me, once she was out the room) what with all the crap that has been going around.
I dont think i can go back to being the old eeda though, despite how much that hug meant. it must have taken khala alot to do what she did, but then again i wouldn't be half as depressed and suicidal if she hadn't done what she did in the first place.
it's a very bitter sweet spot to be in.

and it's getting very difficult to reconcile the two. him, and them.
he makes me strong, and they make me weak.
he makes me stand up, and they make me give in.
and both of them make me equally vulnerable.

u know what? POORI duniya ka dimagh kharab hai. that's it. end of story.
mera bhi dimagh kharab hai.
aur, honay wala hai.
but then, he calls. and she hugs. and somehow.i dunno.
WHY is it so easy for me to forgive!


i know u all are prolli thinking now shes REALLI lost it.
well. maybe.
ill put up the chronological series-of-VERY-unfortunate-events-soon.
but for right now,
eeda is ..well not happy..bt calm, in a very chaotic way...does that make sense?

in my twisted little mind. it does.

me thinks im getting decidedly bi-polar. i spent the entire day in a state of extreme shock/numbness, only snapping out of it to randomi cry cuz i saw things tht reminded me of him too much.
and now im elated. almost.

hecalledhecalledhecalled.
ill explain the significance of that at a later date.

but honestly, SERIOUSLI. BOHOT pagal-pana hai.

i tolddddd uuuu.
it's our unbeaten record.



he ALWAYS calls back.
:D

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode? -Dream deferred, by Langston Hughes. photo credits by sweet_as_hell on deviantart.com

being grateful..

to people who care.

*shuffles feet*
i want to give a HUGE emo thank u to..
neelo, for ur lamba sa emo email. i LOVED it, but havent gotten around to replying it.
to chun chun, for the countless offline messages on msn. i <3 thee michar.
to gunther. for the mini im-freaking-out-here-blog. we needs to comm-u-ni-cate soon.
to marina. for the mini-im-freaking-out-here comments. freaks. <3
to hinbin. for caring and calling.
and for the extra long e-hugs.

i <3 thee all.. and i knw we're all a bunch of overly dramatic emo brown bloggers.
ill eventually get around to lettin u knw whut happened, itll b on metaphorical. :)

-eeda

letting him go is the hardest thing ive done.

i've ruined it to the point of no return. he wont come back this time.
and its all.my.fault.
me, and my fucking big mouth.

i lost and found myself today.

i paid for my freedom, and i got it.
but the reason for which i wanted the freedom, was the price i had to pay.

i lost either way.

i wish i could
slit my wrists and lie in my own pool of blood till it burns black brown blue you.
i want you to mix in with my flaws my imperfections my weaknesses my vulnerability my blood me.
flow back in
pulsate
pound
rush
flow
throb along my clogged dry calloused sinews veins arteries heart and beat with me,
beat with every heartbeat every broken pulse every long withdrawn breathe that fails to reach my lungs and my heart.
beat with me as the oxygen runs out into the pool i lie dying in of life and love and you.
beat with me as you flow around and see this happening but feel just as suffocated and trapped and utterly utterly helpless as i do.
beat with me when i struggle for breath.beat beat beat my name in every cell.
beat with me and urge me to stay awake to the dying dreams of u which dapple like shadows skirting out of sight shadows that bid adieu shadows of blue in shades of you
beat with me as this body that you loved and cherished wracks its way to skies wracks its way to heaven to hell wracks its way tiptoeing on the fingerprints you left on it , the fingerprints on the burnt brown bruises where you calloused my tender skin with salty lips and broken promises.
beat with me. beat me.
beat
till i know not nothing till i know not numb till my mind turns weak and bleak like an unsung poem
beat with me
till the blacks and the blues and the many hues of u choke my eyelids my nose my mouth until all i see is a faded blue
all i see is me and you.



those are not my wrists.wish they were.

i am DEAD.
end of story. stories. everything.



i wont be available for a while.
im sorry.

Just when i thought this day could NOT be fixed, it did.
God has a VERY interesting sense of humor indeed.

some non-english speaking guy found my phone on the bus and got his room-mate to call the last received call on my cell phone (which was him. actually, the last 20 would've been him) sssssooo obviously he passed on the message to me, i squealed like a cat having its tail pulled, i called up the guy who found my phone, and we have a date at king george station tomorrow at 6 30.
:D

he says- the phone was lost. and its shut off. No one is EVER gnna return that phone.
me-this isn't new york. people actually do good deeds here.
him-i seriously doubt it. but let's see.

*afterwards*

me-is ur hope in humanity restored now?
him-well, Obama did get elected..BUT you can't trust someone u don't know, when u go meet this guy make sure u have someone with u.. even if it's prissy boy.
( he calls Nad prissy boy, which I find hilarious.)

But,
to hell with whutever he says.
I certainly have a much rosier view of the world, and i wnna go and give BIG HUGE ima-squash-you-into-two kinda hugs to everyone who returns cell phones ot their owners.

O.
AND i backed up most of my files on the laptop.
AND my laptop is actually working right now. not perfectly, but heck it i have all my files.
AND
life is fucking brilliant.

haey <3
thank u thank u thank u Allah.

-eeda.

so
just when i thought this day couldn't, in any way, go worse.
i dropped my phone in the bus.

and it's shut off.
which means either of 2 things.
1.whoever has it wants to keep it.
2.it's wedged in at a place where there's no service
and since the fucking ringer is on vibrate, even if i DID call, no one would hear it.
AND the lost and found stupid fucking service doesnt work till 11 tomorow fucking morning.

AND WORST of all, there is no way i can talk to him right now.

i swear i think im either going to dissolve into tears, or bang my head on the wall till it smashes. i could NOT give a fuck either way.
this is fcking insane.

in-fucking-sane.

me thinks what this overtly emo blog needs is a good old eeda-style Rant

so.
ive been missing again, apparently.
it's funny, everyone seems to notice im gone, but me.

me thinks im losing im mind.

i had a paper due monday worth 10% of my grade i conveniently didnt know about.
i have a midterm in 2 days i had no clue about until the last 15 minutes ago.
and o, my laptop decided to be a major bitchass drama-fucking-queen and go KA-put on me, which means it needs to be sent in for repair and all that jazz, which means i'm gnna b off the face of this planet for ANOTHER fuckin 15 days.

and in the fuckin meantime i need to book my ticket online, write up my essays, talk to dad, get info for my fuckin bank account which ofcourse ALL requires the use of my stupid laptop which from this moment henceforth i will not have.

AND on top of which my aunt has suddenly takien it upon herself to step in for my conscience, which she thinks has 'left the building' so to speak., for which reason she keeps reminding me of how much of dad's hard earned money im throwing around and this and that and all fuckin bull shit.

i KNOW all of that, okay? it kills me TWICE as much as it does to u, i can fucking assure u that. who gives you the right to ram it down my throat ? AND who gives u the right to come snooping into my room every two fuckin seconds to see who im talking to and why im talking to them and what im talking to them about. liek SERIOUSLY do u NOT have a life of ur own u can worry about?

-eeda is NOT pleased right now-
in fact, eeda is about to start screaming.
in like 2 minutes flat.

i don't know what i'd do without him. seriousli. as emo as it is, he keeps me sane. he fixes things the best way he can sitting 4000 miles away. and it's just good to be able to swear and yell at someone who won't get mad at u, which is me being totally selfish and oppurtunistic but.hm.

but on the brightr side. im going to pakistan in decemebr! :D :D :D
for all my paki stalkers we need a reunion,...in karachi!? PLEASE?
hmm.
and o, on another bright side, a dark man has finally become president of a so-called liberated and equal-treatement-for-all country after 220 years of its existence.
well, they had to start somewhere.

and hm. 2 weeks without my laptop. man.
AWwwwwwwwwwwwwwwrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

i need some mocha.
right.fucking.now.

-eeda

When i told you that this Halloween
i was going as just myself

i wasn't lying.

because then, for the first time,
i wouldn't be in costume.

('cuz i celebrate Halloween every day)


o, and i love fireworks.






she stands transfixed below the purple sky, gazing numbly at the chaos above.
'Fireworks are ..Divine', she whispers.
'What do you mean?'
'When i see a firework.......... it feels almost like millions of little angels are squeezing in through every choked pore in my skin, ripping out a strand of me and splashing it out across the sky. Those electric blues and sunshine yellows and sharp greens and reds as red as blood-curdling screams...those are all me.those are all you.'
She pauses,then softly..
'And those little angels up there,
they're painting our stories across the sky.'

photo credits Purple fireworks by ~kil1k

So, yeah
we went to see a fireworks show last night.
the grand finale of the fireworks was on the song 'Moondance'
coincidence? yes. ofcourse i HAD to call him.
and it was this moment. him singing along to moondance with me in one ear, and the fireworks shattering like spontaneous heartbreaks above, and the background sound like of gunshots and war.
it was just.this.moment.

i have it sketched to memory.

in short, the show was in.creh.dih.ble. and i was :O :O :O the entire time.
<3>so i've been a leeeeettle out of the radar lately ( sincerest apologies)...
it's kinda interesting to know that nowadays its twice as much fun reading the comments on blogs as opposed to the blogs themselves..and it's a MAD tedious task keeping up with comments too.

so.
yeah.
yeaaaaaaaaaaah.
gtta get going..goin to this brown dawat with lotsa brown clothes and brown food and general stiff brownie-ness.
thrilled?
ECSTATIC.
not.

Urg! update soon. love all of youzeeee!
-eeda

so.
guys.
sorry, i had to make this blog private in a hurry becauseeee...i was going thru my stalker feed (lol) and i have a feeling one location shown was my aunt because...well long story.. but i have a strong feeling its her..SO for a few days im gnna be in hiding...untill i feel it safe to un-private it..lol
in the meantime, if anyone u knw wants permission to read it, lemme know. :)
i onli added those people who email adds i had ...

all for now,
tc
eeda

eeeeeeeeeeyaaaaaaah..
emo.
<3

and o, since this other blogger started this whole riddly thing..
here's a riddle from me.

Myles #1 nosnahc 12/5/'84 (Wds 73-84) Brockman.

ooh, and the answer is perfectly google-able.
and...whoever figures it out gets...er.....classified information abt what goes on inside my head regarding classified people in my life.
woohoo
AHAnnn..that's quite the honor it is.
u can kiss my feet now.
not.

(not cuz its gross but cuz im tickly.)
:P

righto O.o

all fer now then,
xo
-eeda.

.


there are few things that i KNOW i want from life. very few things.
like, hot chocolates. and back massages. and hot showers.
moments where you're just ..blissfully Still


i was talking to him about it a while ago. having these moments of absolute clarity. moments where all the clatter babble shouting screaming yelling noise in ur head just goes
Hussssshhhhhhhhhhhh....

he said he had them in intense poker matches. on rides back from work with the music blaring out high.

i have mine with. standing in the rain. bright red and dusty copper trees. kids' toothy smiles.
nights at the riverside.


it's like finding something that's just a little more riotous, a little more turbulent,
than you.
something so exquisitely beautiful it makes
all the flaws, all the imperfections in the world fade
and weave themselves within the night sky, shimmer like stars in your eyes.


maybe that's what stars are.
broken, flawed pieces of the world that we fling away as far away from us as we can.
and then we gaze at the destruction in silence and
awe.
at the beauty of those perfect imperfections
those million silvery flaws that pierce the sky and pierce the heart and leave you with a painfully beautiful calm inside.

so very peaceful.


it's funny how these stars, despite flawed and broken and shattered,
still look so perfect in the sky.
when we wish on them, it's not really wishing on the stars. its for
that feeling that feeling that feeling that broken hope feeling.


maybe a star is just as broken as the heart in me,
but just as hopeful.


What becomes of a dream deferred
that never makes it to the world to be seen or heard
Do it breathe? Do it got a heartbeat? Is it alive?
Do it leave, only to become a star in the sky?
-from 'Everything Man' by Talib Kweli.


enough emo?!

...................................

so.
in conclusion.
point was.
i live for these moments of stillness.


like the one at the riverside yesterday night. just watching the river stretch away like a big oily black ribbon shining like a million broken pieces of glass glued together, fade into the night, blacker than black, blacker than the insides of a cat.
it was beautiful.

yeah.
enough food for thought for today.

and o, to crack,
ur email DID make me smile. =)
e(moan)ness kay bachay.
:P

more later,
xo
-eeda.

<3



haey.
inna sharaaaa cutesy <3

somebody needs to take the cheeni away from eeda now.

to be loved.
i do love, but i'm not in love.
Gunther i think im beginning to see ur distinction.

which results in me thinking+complex i.am.concentrating.hard.on.this face*
*not to be confused with the i.am.constipating.hard. facial expression.

kudos to whoever got that.

Because maybe
You're gonna be the one who saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall
-Wonderwall, by Oasis.

u remember this song, don't u? it was playing at that party u called me from a while back, so loud that it drowned it both our voices until all i heard was the song growing screaming tearing booming rushing in through the speakers through the wires through the phone into my ear into my mind into my blood surging,rushing,pulsating throbbing until all was numb and quiet and still and peaceful and u.
u were lost in awe as much as i was.

on a different note, i got my passport back. haven't gotten a chance to pick it up and see if they granted me the visa or they still think my apparent fobness is too disgusting to grant me an entry back into their lame arse country.

either way, i get to see family in decemebr! Yerrrrrrrrs!
buttttt
(and there always is a butt isnt there? dont hate if i have a fascination for big round juicy rear...er..
ima shush now
and no i dont have any such fascinations.)
sorry chun chun :P


but so, the issue is that there's TOO many issues to deal with.
i think thts why ive been avoiding talking to dad lately.
he reminds me of all the stuff i have to do, and then he spends the next 1 hour cross analyzing my voice to see how unhappy i sound.

hm.
i feel like my days are like tar. thick and black and tiring and impossible to wade through.

but on the bright side, there's alot more red trees around.
and it's been raining.
:D

i need sleep.
and i need to type out the 101 blog ideas tht've been zoomin aroung my brain.
like snitches. they were called snitches weren't they? the flying golden hairy potty balls?

balls.
AAAAAAAHhahahahahahha
that's hilariously lame, even for me.

yeah.
hokay.
bed.
NOW.

xo
-eeds.

so.
i hear Golf got engaged.
that explains the whole 'lemme ignore u now' bit.
but iz okay. i already know how he is, how his discussions ae always intense, how he can be narcisstic, how he can be emo, how he thinks there's some greater plan, how he thinks we're only in someone else's life to fulfill our purpose.
i already know where he wants to stay after they get married, what he wants from her, from his family, whose side he's gnna take if his mum and wife fight, whose side he expects her to take when him and his family fight.
i already know where he works, and whut he works, and what he adores after work.
i already know his favorite cars, his favourite place to go drag racing, his favourite meals, and just how he likes to have it.
i already know when he's gonna have kids, and how many, and what he's gnna name them.

so
i already know. and things which you already know that well,
lose their charm.

but i'll be lying if i didn't admit that it didn't sting. for a little bit.
but not out of jealousy; more so the fact that i know the reason why he started gettin distant all those months back, and then faded out of sight altogether. it wasn't really the job, was it?

but seriously though, as happy as i am for him,
I feel just a little sympathetic for the poor girl, whoever she is.
he's completely twisted up in the head and it's gnna mean some real tough times for her.
but hopefully, theyre gnna be good and peaceful and true to each other and live happily ever after.
The End.

'Those are pearls that were his eyes'
-from The Tempest.

pearls falling from the sky like piercing arrows
pearls whispering softly against milky throats
pearls hard to find
pearls in aquamarine oyster shells
pearls that scatter over chipped marble floors
pearls that hide at the corner of eyes wide
pearls for the blind
pearls strung through tangled auburn hair
pearls in transparent glass bells
pearls like crushed sand on a silver beach
pearls in a spirited rhythm
pearls of quiet wisdom

eeda, think think think before you speak
and stop being so defensive all the time.
people are just trying to help.


my pearl for the day.
xo
-eeda :)

ps. any other pearls anyone?
photo credits-miss pearls by ~digikitten.

so i went to this Elementary School today to pick up my cousin.
i was looking at the bright little paintings, and the tiny bookshelves, and the even tinier little shoes worn by even tinier feet. i looked at the gaggle of bobbing kids, laughing, smiling, twinkling.
i thought of how 10 years from now i'm gnna have my own little kid there. a little girl wth pitch black hair, wavy, tied up in a high ponytail. she'd probably be sanwali like me, and id want her to have my eyes. but not my smile, i have a tight lipped smile.id want her to have a big toothy smile which would light up her face.
and id want her to have tiny feet too.
and id want her to be own little girl.

i thought of that for a while. standing there, leaning against the bright coloured walls.
it made me smile.

then it made me scared. and sad.
almost nostalgic.
like losing a life i never even had.


that thought hit me a little too hard.
of all that i have to gain.
and of all that i can lose.

emoness.
-eeda.

Whitey- when she was alive i couldn't get a word in edge-wise.Now i come to visit her, talk to her, tell her about things.
-OTH 105.

make it easy for ur parents eeda. talk to them while they can still listen and you can still talk.
and maybe more importantly, listen to them while they can still talk.

and then i looked down to my arm where i had our initials.
the faint lines already looked faded away.

so i let go?




khala- eeda one more shock, and ur mother won't survive.
i hate guilt-trips.

a dream a dream a dream...
...split at the seams

i HATE complicated and annoyingly long Word Verifications on comments.

it's like u try to post a simple comment and u have the entire FBI on ur tail wanting complicated identification and driver's license and birth fecking certificate.
jeesh.
next they'll need fingerprint scanning and hair follicle d.n.a

Happiness doesn't come cheap.
Hell if it did we'd all be smiling.

-OTH 104.

im deleting old text messages from my old phone,'cuz i need to hand the phone in.
these 115 saved texts combined together to make the better parts of me. they're there for a reason.
deleting them is like ripping apart pieces of me one by one.

so.
i think ive ignored this little piece here long enough.
Heeeloo again bloggie. me mithed u *hug*

so yeah for those of u who don't know, khala told mum, mum freaked out, mi brother calmed her down, then he did a little scheming where he got me to type out everything to him as it was and had AMMI reading the entire time without me knowing.
it was a risk but it worked because she heard mi side of the story very very honestly, so she calmed down but that doesn't mean i wasn' spared of the typical brown dialogues. ' tum nay mera itemad, humari larkeeyan, khandan ki izzat, pasand kee shadeeyan, itna bara sadma, unjaan mard...'
blah blah the works.
in short her ultimatum was he send a risht or i break all contact. i decided to stick to the latter, or to just have her believe it.
then, one of our convos gets recorded on his phone, his mum hears it, and she INSISTS that we get married ASAP, because apparently she loves me and she thinks im the angel sent to fix up her son.

yeh. hokay.

it seems liek the Undercover Aunties Investigation Bureau consisting of khala and his mum have FINALLY decided on a decision they both agree on,( but him and me don't ) :- get these two married, or well on that way, Asap!
weirdos.

and then last night (emo smile) he turned into a big pile of mush and..yeh..mushy convo followed.
*audience says awwwwww*
but he insists on gettin his mum to talk to my khala so they dont think we're mucking round and it's a little more 'exclusive'.
O.o
and hm..OH, he might come see me in Jan.
*squeaaaaal*

okay. so giddyness aside. life is good, as of right now anyways. ammi's a little upset and she's acting awkward,...i knew it'd happen, i knew she'd get weird and sick..
this isn't selfish is it? it's not.
mi bro's looking after her though. so its good.
u know whut mi brother said to me when he found out? he goes..
'im glad to know ur not so perfect after all.'

yeah.im glad this little incident just, dunno..brought us so much closer. he said he'd look after mum and i needn't worry.he advised me.HIM. being younger and everything.
but it felt good.

i feel giddy like......remember how when we were kids and we'd swivel around in chairs going around and around in circles till our heads hurt and it felt like our food would defy gravity and come all out but we still couldn't get enough?
it'd make u nauseous and sick, but u liked the feeling, u loved the adrenaline, u wanted more.
that's how i feel.

khala's in laws are coming to visit tomorrow, aka my uncle's brother and his wife. they're family too so it isn't Tooo weird, except for the fact that my aunt and mum combined have come up with a list of commandments for me to adhere to:-
1. thou shalt get up at 9 am everyday
2.thou shalt be appropriately dressed ( read as 'piled under brown clothes') at all times.
*sub clause. clothes bust be clean, ironed, perfumed*
3.thou shalt be ready and available for help, over-enthusiastically so, especially in the kitchen.
4.thou shalt cook, and it SHALT be good.
5.thou shalt be the epitomy of tameez and saleeka. (who are those anyway?)
6.thou shalt uphold the name of the entire khandan.

oh, but dont stress about it too much.

hmm..so life goes on.
yeh. i really shud stop rambling and go study for mi psyc midterm tomorrow. after which i need to clean the entire house, kitchens,bedrooms,bathrooms,..
duty calls Cinderella.
more later,
(correction.
more Enlightening stuff later
hopefully.)

xo
-eeda.

who would've thought that my 16 year old brother would save me?
he has quite the brains.
i'm very proud of him.


i love my jamun.
this one's for you bro.
i owe you one (hundred and twenty four million gazellion)

hanso jeeyo mukurao..
kia pata, kal mein hoon na hoon.

If a jock strap is a Lower Decker pecker checker,
And a roll of toilet tissue is a Super duper doody pooper scooper,
What do you call a Japanese drummer boy whose father has diarrhea?
A slap happy Jappy with a crap happy pappy.

:D
-eeda

Spiral.


/ˈspaɪrəl/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[spahy-ruhl] Pronunciation Key –noun

running continuously around a fixed point or center while constantly receding from or approaching it; coiling in a single plane.

yes i changed the title.
frankly, random rantings, or any variation of that, was WAY too immature.
i always wanted to change it but never got round to it.
not that idyllic illusions is any more thought-provoking either but eh...
suggestions are always welcome and encouraged.

on that note,
khala has no sense of tact.
i think it must be one of those runs-through-the-family thing.
she knows friday nights are my happiest, chirpiest, hyper-est
and she OBV has to bring up the whole, one of these days i gtta sit down and talk to ur mum about u..
to 'uphold the sister trust'
me-u do realize that ur destryoing my entire family's peace of mind by doing so?
her-i don't care, u shud've thought of that.

hm. maybe she's right.
maybe i should stop thinking about 'upholding the peace in everyone's family'
especially hers.
maybe i shud just tell her about khalu. keep her a little occupied with that little piece of info and see if she has time or energy left to meddle in mine.

yeh khala im sorry if im not the kind of person u are. im sorry if i put people's happiness BEFORE things like 'doing the right thing'. im sorry that its more important to me that YOU remain happy with ur piece of shit husband rather than me highlight to u his faults and his flaws like he sits and highlights mine every.single.night.
im sorry if i care about you more than you care about me.

breathe it out eeds. breatheeee...

hmm...ii got my wake-up, be yourself wake-up call yesterday when i was talking to Gunther. it was much needed. (thank u.)

promptly went to my favorite spot in uni afterwards. sat on the highest steps with the uni pond at the back, the snowcapped moutains and valleys and the Fraser river to the right, the uni draped in red and blue for convocation at the front, and to the left.. a string of red and orange leafed treas, with the cityline fading at the back, a silver sliver of the ocean at the edge, the moutains encircling, big grey white golden clouds,the pinky blue sky, and the wisps of cold, numbing air.

the beauty was ...piercing.

i cried. for all things beautiful. for all things perfect.

but even more so for all things imperfect, for all things flawed. for all things that, despite being imperfect and flawed, bring beauty and happiness and warmth to my life.

so.hmm..

i know, its not me. i cant remember when was the last time i cried in public. not that there was anyone around. but yesh eeda's definitely getting publicly emo, which is..Not Good. me thinks he's made me a little more human. a little Too human, than i was.

need to get ze walls back up pweez. yez yez. ze wallz all ze way back up.

get ur armour out ladies.

which is whyyyy sumhow, im not sitting here crying my eyes out just cuz she jus inserted tht needle in again. i did it last time but, not anymore. ive gotten strength from whut bhaiyyu, drug, neelo and gunther have been harping about.
stop trying to run away from the inevitable.

stop trying to make them all happy.

and god, stop.taking.the.world.on.ur.shoulders. ( yet to do)

but hm.i'll deal.
don't i always?

chalay to..kat he jaey ga..safar.
ahista..ahista..

:D
rant over.
i shall now put on my :D mask and go have a :D 'family' dinner with them.
ha. so much for family.

xo
love you luvbugs.
-eeda.

in hathon ki masti mein..?

There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of Hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
-from The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock, by T.S Elliot




Hands.

Hands that curl and uncurl around soda cans.

Hands that hold onto bus poles, hold on like

they’re clawing, clambering, drowning,

To let slip is to let go.

Hands that

are tiny, and fit into a palm

and curl around a finger

for security, for safety, for

Comfort.

Hands

that follow like a breeze around her waistline

as he steers her around the crowd, steers her to

make her his own.

Hands

that lay twitching on lonely table tops

twitch to the beat of loneliness, to drawn out breaths

to the stranger who never comes.

Hands

that salute to power, hands

that pluck out flowers, hands

that dig graves for the brave, the old, the forgotten,

and the Cherished.

Hands

that flourish pens, pencils, praises,

Hands

that she gently raises

to the Heavens every night in prayer.

Her hands

that pray for peace, for patience, for her

Salvation.

Hands that tell stories,

the fading lines unravvelling off your palms.

the poem thingy was meant to have a happier ending but oh well.

and ws meant to have nothing to do with girls praying for salvation and all that crap.

that's just ..u knw..unconscious rhyming.

yeah.

i've always been fascinated with hands. and not just because they say the size of a guy's hands is proportional to the size of his..er..em..wee-wee?

hahahahaha..no i like drawing hands. think its..beautiful...

no, that doesn NOT mean i like drawing a guy's..well u know whut i mean

think ima shush, im just digging my own grave right now.

yeh.

and im sorry the format of this blog is off, cant fix it.

no more hand-ing now.

more later, on hands and things u can do with hands,

(like bake cakes...whut were U thinking u pervs? aaaaahan dont deny it i KNOW u thunk it.

and thunk is a word cuz I said so.)

lol.love,

xo

-eeda.

ps: photo credits Hands, by Enslavedbymetal from deviantart.com

u called and ur..normal.

i dont know if i should be happy or mad?
happy that we're still friends? happy that nothing will change?happy that u sound happy?
or
mad that ur not upset?mad that you called this late?mad that i can't find a reason to hate you? mad that i can't get so angry and so pissed that every emotion fizzles out?


why r u so okay with everything?
what does it mean?
r we back to normal?
no? yes?
confusionment.

did i blow the horn on this a little too early?
*embarrassment*

to my blogger friends.
chun chun,marina,neeli,and gunther.
u have made it, SO much easier.
the comments,and the e-hugs, and the entire blog in my name *hint gunther*
it means a lot.
like, i-dont-have-enough-words-for-it alot.
thank you.
SO much.

crash.

today i write of death and dying.
today i write

of broken dreams and allusions
of glass castles shattering into minuscule shards
of crystal chandeliers exploding like knives into brilliant white light
obliterate obliterate
obliterate me from memory

today i write elegies of you
of the beautifully trivial
the beautifully mundane.

i write of nostalgia
i write of the going and the gone.

today i write
i write an obituary
of us.

today
i write

i write The End.

aye mausam rangeelay suhanay
jeeya nahee manay
tu chuti le ke aja balema...

So.
whats with everyone quoting old indian songs on their blogs..
return to Fobism?

my mum and dad used to sing that song, with the windows wide open, when it'd be raining.
yes embarrassing i know.
but i still miss it, the closest thing khala and khalu ever got too was..hm..
hm...
ba ba black sheep? to moiz? if that.

i called up my entire khandan and their grandmas today. the ones that live in North America anyways , to wish em happy eid and all. no compssionate im not, it was more so to stop my mum from nagging me to keep in touch with them.
but what was funny is how the format of the conversation was the same across all the 5 or 6 families i talked to.
'beta i was JUST going to call u (realli??!?!) aur tumhay bhi eid mubarak. aur uni kaisi ja rahee hai? acha ammi ko salam kehna. phir baat hogi"

yeah.

fact- i have a talent.
it's indecision.
whether it be shoes/ bags/ clothes/ books, i Always think twice.
so.
i'm thinking.
i really do miss him.
and i can't just say no and end it. yet.
as much for him as for me.
our conversations border on the mundane more and more. not too say that they're boring, but not..stimulating enough.
he said that was my problem. i needed something stimulating all.the.time.
which is true.
one of the side-effects of being hyper.

always looking for something new? for a new high?
commitment issues?
dunno.

'You told me love was only about bodies.Dear girl, you would run off in a mnute if a man told you he was only interested in your body.And you would come to understand the dreadful sensation of loneliness.'
-Ignorance, by Milan Kundera.
(transalation by Linda Asher.)


it's an awesome book. and nothing about love or bodies btw,.

oh.and i love Zh's new post.

i spin yarns from the soles of my feet with the strips of flesh and scraps of nails i weave you unto me.

yes. i know. that was grotesque.

i think il continue the ramble some other time for fear of making this post too long.
i think chun chun wudn;t be too happy about that :P

note to self--- stop rambling about ur daily doings.
=b.o.r.i.n.g

funny how boring has the word b.o and ring in it.
ring of bad odours?
aaahahahhahaa

xo
-eeda