Spectations

A study, of words, in crimson, sometimes blue, rarely yellow.

I Am A Romantic.

I’m a romantic. I have a thing for the ideal. I know that in most cases it is unattainable, and that all the hours I spend fantasizing about it might be considered as wasted. But that doesn’t stop me from daydreaming about perfect days and perfect people – a perfect life. I dream about spending my summers in a cabin in the woods, sipping coffee and reading Keats or Neruda. I dream of walking barefoot on the beach, watching the sun set in a beautiful blaze of color. I dream of backpacking through a world where I don’t have to be afraid, where the strangers smile back at me. I dream of nights spent under a canopy of stars, with Sinatra softly singing me to sleep. I dream of a cup of coffee that becomes the plot of my love story. I dream of a life filled with beauty; of men who look like Greek gods and women who are divas drunk on grace. But most of all I dream of myself – a “me” that has achieved all the good that is possible in a lifetime, a “me” that has manifested in itself all good things and shrugged off all the bad, a “me” that has become desirable, loveable, inspirational. I dream of a “me” that is the most unattainable of unattainable ideals. But that is what romantics do, we see the world not as it is, but as what we think Heaven might be – because we don’t live for this world, we live for Heaven. And we may be sinners, the lot of us. But, contrary to popular belief, romance, in pure essence, isn’t sin; it is the basis of faith. God gave me an imagination so that I could see Heaven in all the unattainable ideals. God made me to be a romantic, to write of love, and passion and the desire for all things brilliant. God made me to love. And so I am a romantic who dreams away her days and waits for a spark to start the flame and light up my ideal in a beautiful, glorious blaze of color. My ideals define me – I am a romantic, because I dream.

Rescue Me.

What is the meaning of this plasticity? Why are we surrounded by such mockery of the truth? Where are the friends who would not leave and lovers who would not sway? Where are the moments of glory and the passion for honor? Where are the morals? Where is the sincerity of purpose?

 Where is the love for beauty? Where is the love for words? Where is the passion for language? Where is the lust for adventure?

 Rescue me from this insincere world. Rescue me from all these people who would make a mockery of my sincerity. Rescue me from the faithless who point and whisper, “God shall never forgive you, sinner!”

 Rescue me from this plasticity, this façade, this folly. Take me instead to winter’s end, take me to where the Sun shines shamelessly on a river of gold, & where monotony doesn’t tire the soul. Take me instead to where friends are loyal, lovers passionate and God forgiving.

Take me, instead, to truth.

Home.

Home. That’s where I want to be. A place where I’m not ridiculed or demeaned; a place where what I say is heard and what I do is seen.

Home; a place where my heart is, where my soul is at peace.

But what is home? Out of all the millions of definitions that each one of us would give it, which one sticks as universal? What is this place where we all want to be, this place that we’re all searching for but can’t seem to find? Is it a place, a feeling, or a purpose maybe? Maybe it’s just a thought, an illusion that we’ve conjured up, a motivational tool for when the going gets too tough.

Does “home” even exist in this plane, in this universe? Maybe it is somewhere beyond; beyond reach, beyond imagination but never beyond hope.

Home is where I want to be right now; at peace with myself, at peace without.

Home is where I want to be.

Bucket List (ca. 2013)

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  • Learn French, Spanish and Persian.
  • Learn to fly a plane. Get flying license.
  • Learn to ride a bike.
  • Learn to swim.
  • Learn some exotic dance.
  • Learn martial arts.
  • Travel the world – see places, have larger-than-life experiences.
  • Go bungee-jumping, parasailing, hang-gliding, scuba-diving & snorkeling.
  • Build a cabin (with water, electricity & internet) in the mountains in Rama.
  • Build a summer house on a beach somewhere. Have my parents move into it so my Mom can finally have that big bedroom window over-looking the beach & my Dad can finally have some peace.
  • Own & drive a 1960s Dodge Charger.
  • Write at least 5 books – novels, biography and memoir.
  • Read all the classics.
  • Build an awesome vinyl collection.
  • Have a library that looks like the one in Disney’s “Beauty & the Beast”.
  • Have a house big enough to contain my WHOLE family (including the friends who are more like family), should they all choose to suddenly move in with me.
  • Have a swimming pool in my backyard.
  • Go on Caribbean cruise.
  • Learn to be kind & generous.
  • Be wise enough to know which bridges to burn and which to keep.
  • Find God. Ask him for mercy.
  • Find love – the kind that endures and fulfills.
  • And truly be a ‘child of the universe’.

Misplaced Ambition

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“To be or not to be, that is the question.” My life could definitely be a Shakespearean play.

Even when I was little girl, I knew I wasn’t like all the girls around me. I had a germ that not many around me had. The germ was pretty common in a lot of women around that time but apparently it wasn’t common enough in my surroundings. The germ was “ambition” and it is still germinating in my brain today. I always had a feeling that I needed to be something big, something other than just another “Mrs. Someone”, which is all the girls around me wanted to be. Funny how even at that age, girls are so sure that they can be nothing but somebody’s wife and be content with that fate.

I longed to be larger than life, and for a while, around the end of my high school years, I achieved that larger-than-life status. But shortly after I started college, I realized that I wasn’t all that great, that there were girls who were than me, who had achieved much more than me. That served only to demotivate and confuse me when it should have done the exact opposite.

In addition to feeling like an absolute waste of air, I realized that I had been mistaken about my aptitude and had gotten stuck in the wrong major. Could life get any worse?

Probably it could.

Somewhere down the road I realized, much to own peace of mind, that I didn’t have to compare myself to anyone, that I didn’t need anybody else’s achievements to undermine my own, even if they are only a few. Some achievement is better than none.

So now I have a bunch of choices to make. I can’t just sit around doing nothing. I have to go out and grasp my calling and make it turn me into more than a woman; make it turn into a larger-than-life phenomenon. But what really is my calling? Mass Communication/Journalism? English Literature? Comparative Studies? Politics?!

The confusion has been there since I was child, mainly because I think I am a little bit of everything; 1 part avid reader to 2 parts writer to 3 parts public speaker. I also had the illusion, somewhere in my teens, that I could actually become a world renowned mad-scientist if I focused all my energy on chemistry. I also wanted to be a singer at one point, which I knew wouldn’t really fair well with the majority in my family. I also wanted to be a lawyer, but my Mom was quick in killing that bug.

Most of all I wanted to become a writer, and that bug never really left me – if only it grew bigger and stronger and meaner with the passage of time. I want to write about places that exist in my imagination, about the lies we tell ourselves to keep us from falling apart, about the experiences common to all humanity, about sunsets and mountains and the price you pay for being too strong in a weak-willed society.

So, a writer it is then, eh?

Cinema Woes

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You know how there’s this movie that you wait ages for just so you can drag a friend all across one city & into the heart of the other, grab a large basket of popcorn and cozy up in an air-conditioned hall to watch it on the big screen.

& you know how there’s always something that messes plans like these up?

Yeah, well, I know that feeling all too well. I couldn’t watch Thor in the cinema because one of my friends ditched me. I couldn’t watch The Avengers in the cinema because two of my friends decided they couldn’t possibly do a “sista” a solid and pick her up. And finally I couldn’t watch Fast & Furious 6 in the cinema because a friend thought it would be great to go for the after-midnight show – which just happens to be past my curfew!

Keeping with the theme of cinema-related disappointments, today we went to watch my first ever Bollywood movie in the theatre (Initiation time!!). It was going all too well – a little too well to be true. & then suddenly it did turn out to be a ruse when the movie (and the lights and the AC) didn’t come on after the intermission. The generator had failed and everyone knows the electricity situation in Pakistan. (Grrrrrrr.)

The only saving grace was the 100% refund.

But I still don’t know what happened in the second-half of the movie! This is just not fair! How can they do this to me?! x@

But the OCD-ish side of me is consoled by the fact that I was not the only one & the house was full for the movie and everyone else who was there is right now at home & is just as annoyed by the fact that they don’t know what went on in the second-half. (Evil laughter.)

Do you have any cinema-related woe stories? Please offer some consolation.

On the Eve of Every Tomorrow

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On the eve of every tomorrow, I will light a candle for you; in case you decide to come home that night.

On the eve of every tomorrow, I will keep the door unlocked; in case confronting is shames you.

But on the eve of every tomorrow, I will not stay up waiting; in case you decide to kill the dream once again.

Twilight

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I am as if walking through the twilight,
Of my mind and of my heart,
Of the things they both would believe.
The mind says you are lost forever,
The heart is but a romantic.
And I am torn, for there is
A fork as the river of my soul breaks to two.
One flow takes me back to you,
To the person I must have been in your eyes,
Though I feel that person is long forgotten.
The other takes me far away from you,
Where I might forget your face,
Your smile,
Your scent!
And though I would forget you,
As the waters of time would slowly,
Yet surely,
Erase you from memory,
But I would keep a part of you,
Somewhere in the crevices of my broken heart,
For pain forgotten is a lesson unlearnt.
And so, I tear my soul in half,
One to keep and move forward,
And one to send back in time,
For living in the now isn’t possible,
For a person, such as I,
Belonging to a past,
So unresolved,
So unkempt,
So unnervingly beautiful,
Yet so disruptively chaotic.

Monologue [Be human.]

Time has a way of settling everything, and the things that it doesn’t settle, it puts into perspective. Time is also relevant; there are moments of silence and infinities of chaos. There are days when everything feels like its back on track. But you know, somewhere deep in your heart, that it isn’t. You know that these moments of brilliance are the final, desperate sparks of a dying flame trying to reignite itself. You know that the distance has stretched out too far. The silences are not complete now; they are filled with doubts, unsaid words, unvoiced fears.  The chaos is beginning to become routine, a rhythm you fall in and out of with more grace than you ever thought you had. The whole world is spinning just like before, in complete harmony, going full circle, but your own little world is off-kilter. But, hey, sunshine, it’s ok, you know? Because at the end of the day you’re all that you really need. We come and go and we’re never less lonely and our disguises only get tougher with age. So, sunshine, go be yourself, and be absolutely alone – because you can do that. Revel in the solitude, because only in this absolute silence will you find yourself. Not every silence needs filling. Be human, and be proud.

LONG Time!

I feel like I completely forgot about this blog for a while – and I think I actually did to. But I’m going to try and be regular with this from now on. No promises though.

In the meantime, while nothing new comes up, all my previous posts from Aug2011 (when I last posted here) till now can be viewed at:

http://thesabachronicles.blogspot.com/

I also started a food blog of sorts. Contains reviews of different restaurants & packaged food that I’m eating and the recipes I’ve tried:

http://hungeritch.blogspot.com/

I’m going to try and get back in touch with this blog! Hopefully this time the love will last!

xx

 

 

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