White Stags.

"So much death, so much loss, and the chance for more to come. That was the true terror of love, that you could love with your whole heart, your whole soul, and lose both."

P & P.

While reading Parenting and Psychopathology: 

S: You should keep that permanently. Might come in handy.

Me: Library ki hai, can't. Why?

S: Mein bata rahi hun boht faida ho ga.

Me: You think my kids will be psychopaths?!

S: THINK? What do you mean THINK? I KNOW your kids will be psychopaths.

(she was dead serious). 

Garlic Mayo.

The chef on TV (I forgot her name) claimed this Garlic Mayo recipe was the same as OPTP's. Needless to say I was all "HEHEHE, PAGAL HO GAYEE HAI KYA, HEHE, CAN'T EVER BE, HEHE." Etc. Imagine my surprise when I tried her recipe and it tasted... Better than OPTP's. See, the OPTP garlic mayo sauce is WAY TOO GARLICKY. You can't have it after it starts cooling off. You can't have it the next day. You eat it and your breath stinks. Just too much garlic and the mayo turns to glue. But okay, I'm rambling. Here you go:

Mayonnaise                2-3tbsp
Garlic                        1 clove, crushed into paste
White Vinegar             1 tbsp
Cream                        1 tbsp
Salt & White Pepper    To taste

 (excuse the bad quality)

So I like my mayo very tangy. Play around with the measurement, you might get a surprisingly good sauce that tastes EXACTLY like you want it to. For more tang, add half a tablespoon more of vinegar. You want it creamier and slightly runny, add more cream. Please make sure the garlic isn't too much because the flavor completely eclipses all the other ingredients. Serve with fries, nachos, chicken wings or whatever strikes your fancy. Enjoy!

Bheeg.

This header is too girly. I am not.

I still love my phone.

PB & J.

Sometimes you think it's going be okay. Most times it's not. Sometimes you feel like it will, like there's nothing to stop you from moving on and taking what you want as your right. Most times... You can't. "Okay" is childish. Its all going be okay. Its not. You have to make it okay. You expect it to all just work out and fall into place, you're a bigger fool than even you think.

I think my blog needs a revamp.

Its too calm and stoic. I'm not either.

Peanut butter jelly time. 

Kuch Bhi Nahi Ab Meray Kal Mein.

SO OBSESSED WITH THIS SONG.



Somebody get it out of my head. 

Fizzle.

Loneliness is the most effective acid and poison.
Bitterness at its best.
Frustration and misery and helplessness.
Irrational anger and irritation.
You never know who feels like this, when and why.
There is nobody who doesn't, let me tell you that.

Tweeter.

What the hell is this now. The one thing that kept us all happy and now it's banned. I CANNOT GO BACK TO BLOGGER OR FB. This is blasphemy. Bring it back =(

I know it works on Opera Mini. But it's no fun that way. 

You Don't Get It, Do You.

It is of absolutely no use. Thinking that maybe this time things will be different. Maybe this time it won't matter so much. Maybe this time, things will change, priorities will shift. Let me tell you: It never does any of that. It will always stay the same. Always. 

Jumble.

Resilience was something I'd always associated with myself. Not so much anymore. I don't know, maybe it's a good thing. Maybe with this temporary lapse, I'll come up with more of it. And yeah. I refuse to believe it is ANYTHING but temporary. 

Dream Of Butterflies Instead: Pak Sar Zameen Ka Nizam, Quwat-e-Akhuwat-e-Awam

An Urdu poem written by my genius friend.

Dream Of Butterflies Instead: Pak Sar Zameen Ka Nizam, Quwat-e-Akhuwat-e-Awam: I thought up the following verses one night when Karachi was going through a series of ethnic violence and attacks. I am not at all an exp...

Control.

Research. Is the bane of my life. The poison to my existence. It... No, I don't have words to describe it. I hate it. I can't do it. Stop looking at me that way, I'm not whining about how it's too much work. That's not what I mean. I'm prepared to work; hell, I've worked my ass off for the past couple of years. This neglected blog is proof of that. So, now that we've established I don't mind working.. I do mind not KNOWING how to work. See, I can do whatever task I've been set if I have even the vaguest idea of how to go about it. Not so with my thesis, oh NO. I'm apparently supposed to be developing a scale and I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO DO THAT. Yes fine, my supervisor is there but ultimately I have to do everything, right? How do I do it when I don't even know what to do? I'm in panic mode most of the time because of this tension. I'm the kind of person who is not prone to anxiety, no matter what. I THRIVE on challenges and pressure but this... I don't know. It may sound like I'm making too much out of something that's pretty casual but I'm just not used to not being in control. 

To Whom?

Written by an Anon friend.

To Whom It Concerns.

It has been two years since I last heard your voice, although I must admit that I occasionally look at the only picture I have left of you. These two years have been difficult, but I have carried on. From being clinical depressed and thinking about you every minute, I have pulled myself together and now thoughts about you only cross my mind once or twice a week.

Has the love gone away? No. Your beautiful voice still echoes in my head and calms me down in times of distress, your words are still distinctly printed in my memory and I remember all the promises that we made. The way I felt about you, when I used to jump around the house when you used to call or had sleepless nights thinking about you.. all these memories remain.

When I look back on these two years, there is so much I need to tell you. Some things that would make you proud of me and some things that I am not too proud of. These years have been tough, but hey.. I am still alive.

I was thinking about you on the way home from work and all the beautiful memories and I couldn’t help but think if you were real or just a person that my sub conscious made up. All the things we had and all the feelings we shared seem so impossible to replicate that I would rather make myself believe that you never existed. I have nothing to prove your existence. I am just a madman who thinks about a lady that probably never existed.  How could you have existed anyway? Nothing in life is perfect, but we were.

But.. I have this picture. A proof that you did exist, I can destroy and believe that you were never there, or keep it with me and cherish all our memories.

I will keep it for the time being. I hope he is everything you ever wanted.

I lied. I think about you every day.. still. But hey.. reality is whatever we assume it to be.. isn’t it?

Changing and Churning.

March The 2nd.

That abyss and the dark that takes you in and casts you aside, burning and churning its way in and you're pulled and twisted in all directions till you hope and pray for the break to come already but you know this will last and you won't be getting away from it anywhere, at all, in any time or any place. It's there and it's not going away but you can't accept it and you can't reject it because there's no choice. You dangle in the middle and let the dictations come and rule your life and you fall in line because the line can't be smudged or erased because you lose lives that way.