You know how the title to something should relate to its content, well my titles either match or they don’t for the simple reason that i cannot start writing a post with out one. And since i don’t know what I’m going to be saying sometimes there is just no relation what so ever. Just like now, I have no idea what I’m going to be rambling about but it is going to be something since i feel like going on nonsensically.
It is 2:52 am on Saturday the 24th. It is also the 6th day of my 22 day vacation. Abba turned 52 yesterday and Fauzan is 5 today. This thunder storm that is raging outside tonight is not in the least relaxing. For the first time this noise it is making, clattering against the AC is getting to me. For the first time I see no beauty only the inconvenience. Why so jaded? Who the hell knows anymore.
I’m trying to become a Karachiite once again, not the idealist I was who only remembered the things she missed and chose to not see what it had become. I have discovered more good than bad. Surprisingly I’m finding that I wont be leaving so much behind after all. Gyms, restaurants, music, theater, movies are all there. There are even some decent, well one so far, fm station. Not too bad for a city seen only through the internet
I thought when all this happened (if it ever did) I would feel different, somehow. I don’t think that was a conscious thought as I would never want myself to morph into one of those blabbering, blushing, serial bride people but still a change would be expected. What happened, nothing. Well nothing after that one initial week of yes, no, maybe, i don’t know, leave me aloneee. I’m still selfish, brash, loud, sarcastic, funny, clownish, girly, miss-i-google-everything, shopaholic, lover of red toe nails I always have been. I like that.
The best part about the whole thing is that everything was already done. There was almost no awkwardness, no need to be pretentious, to be better than I am, to be just that girl I would have thought I should be. I’m not and he knows that. That for me is enough, the fact that I can just be, no pretenses.
So I think where I am trying to go with all of this is that I feel so utterly lucky. That this was Allah Mian’s plan all the time and when I was busy writing stupidly depressing blog posts He was just nodding his head at me wishing I could be just a little more patient. (I need to to find out what A was thinking!) So this is my thank you Allah Mian post. Its about time for one of these, so thank you! You are The best.
I think my blogging rut might have to do with the lack of ranting material I have. Well actually I have work and how I hate it and wish it to the bottomest pools of lava in the lowest level of hell but I wont because i don’t think its fair. How can I justify ranting about something so inconsequential and stupid as work especially when I’m going to be rid of it so so soon. Maybe I should just open another page onto the blog and write there and change the now supremely idiotic and teenagish tagline. Like a starting on a new page. Hopefully it’ll help the itch in coming back. I miss it so. I miss the clarity and the epiphanies which come to me on this page. None of this is thought out and always when I start, I write down things which weren’t ever thought about, so their sudden appearance is this Aha moment I need. Sanity, pure and simple.
Ive never understood how why my writing has mood swings (compare paragraph 2 to 6). Even when I don’t want the mood to change I think the mood I’m in displays itself as do the consequent changes. Maybe this is peculiar to me or maybe I just haven’t paid much attention to other people’s writing. I should. Also should comment. I hold the supreme laziness responsible.
Can someone please tell me why I suddenly find shoe shopping on the internet so much more attractive than in malls? I went to four shops today, all of which were on sale and bought not one shoe. Shameful.
I’m finally sleepy and because I make a bad insomniac I will now oversleep and miss cake baking time. Have to wake up in time for strawberry shopping otherwise Abba’s strawberry jam sponge will remain myth. But then there are always cupcakes with frosting and sprinkles…