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You stupid girl. He doesn't like you. He likes making out. You are the portal that lets him do that so stop flattering yourself

R.I.P soul

Human beings cant mate monogamously. Mating monogamously is now the exception rather than the rule. At least thats what I have seen and heard. That is the only reason which could offer an explanation for the alarmingly high number of people who cheat on their spouses. Lets face the truth. The reason that our species has survived upto 200,000 years is that we are really good at one thing- fucking. The Strong (Subconscious) desire to procreate leads us to be attracted to  newer, better people.
Looking at it from a purely biological and secular point of view, having multiple sexual partners becomes a rational, justified choice.  No guilt trips. No fear of invoking the displeasure of God.

But why is that , at the end of the day,when  Jane stands near her bathroom window, having a cigarette in the darkness of the night, staring at the sky and the moon, the feeling of guilt creeps up all over her. She knows that she is not hurting anyone. She knows that its all mutual and consensual. Is it the status quo and their flawed ethics that makes her feel like this? Are the ethics flawed in reality or is it some bullshit that janes feeds herself to keep it together.  Its like having a delicious high calorie meal. It feels great as you are doing it but the regret comes later on.  I know what I am doing and exactly why I am doing it. Then why the fucking guilt trip.
I am a product of society's conditioning. I blame the people.     *sighs*

Because I got High

The experience that I am about to share is one about which I was uncertain whether I was going to be alive or not to share.

It started with me reaching my friend's apartment. Me and him were supposed to get high on hashish. I have had hashish 5-6 times before so he knew that I wasn't a noob, neither was he. He said that the guy he got it from told him that it was the best quality shit.

I sat on the bed. I relaxed. I started smoking the joint, slowly inhaling in the smoke, keeping it in my lungs for as long as I could and then exhaled it. I knew nothing much would happen except me feeling a little light headed. I knew that the whole 'High' is a worked-up, over-stated placebo effect that people experience because they THINK they are experiencing it. My friend only had a single puff. He said he would have it later.

So anyway, after I was done smoking the entire joint, I started having the sensation that you get when you havent slept for 3 days. Everything was spinning. My eyes were getting heavier. My friend was talking to me and I was talking to him but the voices sounded so distant as if they were coming from another room. I looked at my friend's face and I remember clearly looking into his eyes. Then I zoned out. It was as if I didnt exist anymore, like nothing existed. I entered a different dimension. I was struggling to remember what reality was. I asked myself what is real? I was looking at myself in the mirror, talking, saying my name, my age, where I live just to remind myself who I was or what reality was. It hit me that I was loosing my mind.This was no fucking placebo effect. I tried to sleep but i couldnt relax. I was having paranoid delusions that my friend might try and rape me. I wanted to cry but I knew it would freak him out. I began to puke and it felt like my insides were going to explode. I begged to be taken to the hospital. I just wanted to be sedated. I wanted it to stop. It was terrifying. I kept thinking whether I will ever get out of it. I thought about how I would never get to see the face of my friends and family members. But In the back of my mind I kept thinking IF i ever make it out of this alive, that would be a story to tell.

I dont know how I walked out of the apartment,how I went in the elevator and got in the car.  I just wanted to collapse on the floor . It was like I had left my body and was looking at it from somebody else's perspective. My friend drove me to the hospital. I remember laying on the hospital bed, I could hear voices of nurses and doctors. I could tell that they had this resentment against me. They thought I was an addict.  I wanted to tell them that I was sorry, I wasn't this kind of girl but I didnt have the energy to. Just telling them my name took up alot of effort. My phone rang and I remember that I couldnt even asnwer it, I forgot how to. They gave me oxygen through a nasal tube. I got several drips and injections but I didnt even feel the pain. My body had become numb even to such a powerful stimuli as physical pain. I heard the doctor say that there is no way she can have such a strong reaction to something like hashish if she has had it before. I wanted to call me parents. I didnt care about the consequences for in my world, I was dead already.

I woke up in the hospital bed at night feeling better. The doctors told me that I had had a heroine cigarette, a very potent one. I would have overdosed had I not come to the hospital.
My friend dropped me home. I came home and told my parents that I was really tired and went to bed straight ahead.
I woke up just now after 17 hours. I thought it was a dream but the scar and the pain where the cannula had been is a proof that it was real. My sleep was like passing out into nothingness. It was black and without any dreams. I always wanted a very unique experience, one that makes me look at life in a different way. I think I got more than I bargained for.

It feels like I died yesterday and came back to life. I dont know how to react to this. Should I be euphoric, embarrassed, apologetic, grateful , all of it or none of it? I can now understand why and how one becomes a heroine addict. The feeling is something completely out of this world., something one cant even conceive until one is actually in that position because one doesn't know that it is humanly possible to feel that way.

Things are looking up(really?)

I got into the university that I wanted to get in. Whats better is that this guy that I have been infatuated with, also got in. Now I will get an opportunity to interact with him. Things are looking up, I suppose. I feel this weird sense of accomplishment. Its a feeling I haven't felt in years. I like this feeling.

But there is a major betrayal here. A betrayal to my past self. If my past self would look at me right now, she would snigger in condescension. She really looked down upon the college that my present self just got into. The past me had so much planned out. Things that were bigger and better. Maybe the past me was naive and overestimated her worth. Have you ever had this experience where you would look at a situation and silently whisper to yourself  'I wouldn't be caught dead in this scenario' and then years later you find yourself in the exact scenario? Its ironic. Its ironic how overly(wrongly) enthusiastic and aspirational  you appear when you look at your optimism in retrospect.

whatever though. I got what I wanted for now and I will cherish it.

The pessimist

I was watching a movie with a friend.  For me, the movie was just a video playing in the background. Nothing more than a series of images and sounds, Meaningless. For my mind, at that moment, was miles away, maybe lost in a completely different universe all together. Even if I tried I couldn’t have focused. I didn’t have the energy or the will to make sense of it. Nothing makes sense right now.

Sometimes  I wonder whether I will ever get to see life beyond Karachi. What if I never do? There is a heavy chance that I wont. All those images of the world abroad, would stay just that. Images. I’ll never know what a deserted beach In Thailand looks like. I’ll never know what it’s like to take a walk in New work Central park. I’ll never know how tall the Eiffel tower actually is.

Life would pass me by. I would be older with a job that I don’t really like, but it pays so whatever. I would have a husband that I married just because everyone  else was getting married and I thought that soon I would become too old to find a guy, so I just married. I would have kids that I never wanted to have in the first place. I would be wrinkled and fat. Maybe that day never comes where I look in the mirror at my naked body, and actually like what I see. I would be overburdened with responsibility. I would look back at these times and think how happy I was. People that I would have wanted to associate myself with would probably have left the country. It's a sinking ship.

Sex would become a chore. Nothing that I would look forward to, Nothing like I had fantasized as a young girl. It would be a dark room, with me and my husband, both of us exhausted after a long day’s work and on the verge of falling asleep any minute. One of us would probably be fantasizing about another person while the other preoccupied with tomorrow’s work schedule.  

Orgasms , for me, would become an urban legend, a myth or an idea reserved for novels and films.

I would continue to daydream like  I do right now, wondering what life would have been like in a different time, at a different place.

Check out my new blog

Its called comically retarded. Check it only if you are as crazy as I am...

To Blog an be blogged

The feature that all bloggers have in common is this unique fascination and obsession with themselves. As opposed to a non-blogger, they  take an overly detailed interest and keep record of their lifestyle, the events that happen to them, their passions and loves, their desires and dreams, their  fears, their thoughts and ideas. This fascination is matched up with an equal fascination and curiosity about the thoughts and ideas of other bloggers. This is the fundamental principle  which keeps blogging going.

It is a wonderful experience to relate to people in this way. Personally, I got tired of looking at mainstream media  for a representation how people live their lives.  It presents reality through a very made up, caricatured, exaggerated and distorted lens. Reading other peoples blogs has helped me realize what people are actually like. It has broken a lot of stereotypes that were built in my mind, while strengthening others.

Let me tell you it is such an exhilarating feeling for me when someone comments on my blog. The reassuring factor is that I know in my mind that it is not fake. There is no robot who is replying through  a standardized message. It is a real, actual person, probably thousands of miles away, reading, agreeing or disagreeing and responding,

What would we have done if we couldn’t blog or upload videos on youtube? There would have been so much talent which would have simply been laid to waste. I mean sure, not every article blogged or every video posted is a gem ( just youtube ‘lets get some shoes’ by Kelly ), but there is a lot of clever, funny and  brilliant stuff out there posted by ordinary people which would have never been made available to us, if it weren’t for the provisions of uploading content online. Blogging surely brings the world together, in a way that no one could have thought was possible, just about a few decades ago. Blog on.

The advantages of having a very naive friend

I have this excruciatingly naïve friend. She has no interest what so ever in sex or sexuality. She doesn’t even know what ‘pussy’ means (slang word for a lady’s pretty delicate flower). So anyway, I had to choke laughter when she told me that she had named her cat ‘Pussy’. I should have told the poor girl that the name might be slightly inappropriate, but nah…it’s way too much fun to not to correct her . So everytime I visit her, I get the wonderful opportunity to make a string of vagina jokes. The best part is that she has NO IDEA  what those sentences actually mean. After all, I am a pun-a-holic  and an opportunist.

Following is a list of sentences that we have actually said to each other.

(1)ME: “I love stroking your pussy. She loves being rubbed, doesn’t she?”

(2)ME: “ Awww. Your pussy is so soft and warm”

(3)ME( diabolical ofcourse): “Has some one ever licked your pussy?”

HER: “ No. but I think she would like being licked.”

ME: “May be I can lick it sometime”

HER: “Ewww. Hairball!”

ME: “Not if it’s shaved….”

(4) ME: “Hey, tell me if you ever need any help with your pussy. I have this great toy that she would love playing with.”

(5) HER: “Pussy might be hungry.”

ME: “I think your pussy needs some meat. Try a beef sausage.”

(6) (While bathing the cat)

ME: “wow girl! Your pussy is soo wet right now.”

(7) ME : “How many times a day do you rub your pussy?”

Her: “ like a hundred times or something. Its hard to keep my hands off her”.

Those above conversations actually took place, sometimes with other people present. Our faces would turn from red to green to blue in an attempt to stop us from bursting into laughter. Next thing on my agenda is to convince her to buy a dog and name it ‘dick’ and buy a rooster and call it ‘cock’. MAAAN.  That would give us entertainment for the entire summer.

Depressive thoughts

As the lights went out, a feeling of calm overcame me. I wanted the darkness to linger. I savored each and every second of it. I wanted it to stay that way. Darkness seems to be my closest friend. I can always rely on it. It keeps me hidden from everyone and it keeps everyone hidden from me. It provides shelter to the world from my stupidity, wickedness, ugliness and freak-ness. It provides refuge to me from their bullying, brutality and condescending attitudes.

The darkness makes me close my eyes so that I cease to exist for a while. For those dark moments that occur, everything becomes stationary.
No more laughter of ridicule.
No more of those looks.

But like all good things,  the darkness comes to an end. It fades away slowly and is replaced by a bright light. A light which is unwelcome. The darkness abandons me, leaving me unsheltered, exposed and vulnerable. It violates every part of me.

Test drive

Why is it that millions of people out there spend their time reading other people's thoughts and ideas? What is it that compels them to turn on their computer and read up what some stranger has to say. I mean, have we run out of things to do on the internet? You would give up watching an episode of your favorite tv show, or stream a movie, or download a classic film, or read an Ebook, or watch a random cat video on youtube for what? You would prefer to read disorganized thoughts spewed up by some dude with a laptop and alot of free time on his hands. You would choose that over millions of possibilities of entertainment. You would choose that over porn?

Better yet, what is it that causes people to start a process that broadcasts there thoughts, feelings, beliefs and emotions on the world wide web. Its like you are inviting others to infringe your privacy. You want them to know whats going on in your head.

So, to get around this, I have decided to jump on the blogging bandwagon. I want to figure out what causes people to blog and to read blogs. Are we that lonely that we feel the need to confide in strangers in some other country, in some other time zone. Sheesh.