How do I sum up my life in the three years since I last remembered I wrote a blog;
And we're back.
I should write some rot about being too occupied with creating some fantastic invention that could win a sort of Genius-in-the-rough award (there's no fooling anyone that I could win a completed, polished Genius title. Someone would definitely have to finish the process for me,) or else pretend I've been upto something incredible that would boggle the minds of readers everywhere. Traveling to remote climes to live with ancient tribes. Discovering the secrets of the universe. Eating up Africa's weight in chocolate. But I've been doing a whole bustling load of absolutely nothing. I mean, apart from spending a lot of my waking hours stalking a certain male and thinking of all kinds of creative crap for my status on Facebook. Same old.
Ok really, I didn’t totally hibernate in the many empty-of-blogging months. I worked like a crazy donkey on Red Bull at my new job. I fell in like/ lust/ attraction. I fell out of it. I fell back in again. I stalked him. Did I use the past tense? I lie. I stalk him. I discovered he was a first degree jerk from hell who was doing a really, really good job of impersonating Mr. Amazing. I still stalk him. I skydived. Started working out. (Ok, sort of. Sometimes.) Re-befriended old friends. Remembered why I loved them. Saved up. Blew it out traveling. Ate some of what I think is the world's best food at the most out-of-the-way restaurants. Thought about publishing a guide book on amazing, out-of-the-way restaurants. Decided against it (selfish reasons.) Bought a car. Bettered myself personally (if you call watching a dvd of “The Secret” and positive thinking and asking the universe for my desires and all that rot, better'fying.) If I say ‘rot’ a lot, excuse me, I've just finished reading three P.G. Wodehouse books back to back. Humorous chap. Does anyone else read British authored books in a fake British accent, or is it just me?
One thing I did not change was my habit of digressing.
Something I have discovered is that I don't really have too much to say to the world out there (that has not already been announced, in no uncertain terms, on the descriptively detailed pages of my Facebook.) It's probably all the time-consuming things I get upto, what with the endless Facebooking and stalking Mr. Not-so-right-after-all, but I'm sure that once life begins to get deliriously dull (when I finally block him on IM and Facebook), blogging will once again be my refresher mint.
For now, I have to deal with thwarting the passions of a fabulously funny man I know I will never be with (another story for another time.) (Ah, what the hell, I'm just not attracted to him); turning away from another who I am desperately attracted to (ie. stalk), and who will coolly smash my heart to jagged smithereens if I let him; continue working like a Crazy Donkey on Red Bull, while not actually being crazy (contrary to what some think), or resembling a donkey (I would hope), nor having a particular liking for Red Bull; and planning a holiday where I will see all my friends, do what I want to do (eat at more amazing, undiscovered restaurants) and not completely obliterate my piggy bank from overuse. Or worse, blow up and resemble one.
I admit this is a long post for someone who doesn't have all that much to say. Maybe if I were more regular with tapping out these fascinating (heh) intricacies of my life, the stories would flow like the effortless rush of the Zambezi river, and not the thoughtful, halting plod of the Nile*.
*Ummm... There’s a very slight (ahem) possibility this description is not entirely accurate. So disclaimer: Don’t quote me on your next Geography exam.
for not having posted in forever. And promises to blog about something meaningful and interesting and humourous.
One of these days.
I was finally able to decide on what I want to do for the rest of my life. Well the next year anyhow. I accepted the offer with the most exciting job description. It doesn't pay quite as much as the one that I didn't truly want to do, but I figure if I work hard and network harder, I'll hopefully end up with my dream job (and with it, a dream paycheck) within a year or two. And anyway, the money isn't all that bad. And it's close to home. And it sounds incredibly bloody exciting.
So that's that.
I was recently introduced to this dude online. Arranged-like-marriage sort of situation. We've been set up and now it's up to us to see if we want to take it further. It's incredibly difficult to suss a guy out online, I mean it's complicated enough as it is in real life, can you imagine figuring out if someone is right for you over miles of fibre optic cable and electronic beeps? Ofcourse we'd meet in person if things took off, but that's where the problem lies.
I've had a similar not-so-great experience before. Having a crush on someone I met online, we instant messaged each other like crazy for two whole long years. Then, when we felt we'd moved on romantically, (and I knew for sure he didn't have bad teeth, or wasn't an axe murderer) we spoke on the phone for another six months before he came down to meet me. Oh. My. God. It wasn't like I hadn't seen his (photoshopped) pictures, but not only was I completely not attracted to him, he was, in person, a completely different guy. Egoistic, stubborn and aggressive. Not my type one little bit. Hell, I have trouble handling my own obstinacy.
I continued with the so-called relationship though, feeling horribly guilty for judging him for his looks. But I realised soon enough that there could be nothing serious between us because there was absolutely no chemistry. I hadn't even had the courage to let him kiss me. I was afraid I'd cringe, or even worse, he'd feel me shudder in distaste.
From that I've learnt how important physical attraction is to a relationship. I know a lot of people would be thinking "oh how shallow," but you don't want to wake up every morning next to a guy who startles you into consciousness. I'd rather be the one taking the initiative to spook my partner with bedraggled hair and a mascara-streaked face.
Not that I'm worried about physical chemistry here (why exactly I wrote the previous three long paragraphs about it then, I don't quite know), he seems like a nice guy, cute in a very coochie-coo sort of way (although I'm not so sure that's a good thing seeing he's all of 31), all the right credentials (doesn't live with his parents, has an education and a regular job), but he's not funny. I mean, he doesn't get my (mostly lame) jokes! (And that's worse than not thinking the world revolves around me.) On top of that, he writes worse than a lawyer. No wait, I take that back. I've received an email from a real lawyer that read "that was da best summer of my life i must say we was out of control. you better enjoy your hols cause work is wack!"
So maybe not the right comparison to make.
What I mean is that he uses words like 'idiosyncrasies' and 'invalidate' and 'intrinsic phenomena'. I mean seriously, who writes casual emails like that? Perhaps to a potential employer, definitely NOT to a person you're getting to know, hopefully romantically. And then, digging the weirdo hole deeper, he quotes himself - "and I said with palpable excitement in my tone". I mean what is that? Author in waiting? And I am his unwitting feedback? Does he want me to write back saying, "oh what wonderful prose. Your writing is so fluid and eloquent. You should get published!"?
I told you right. I always get the best ones. God doesn't want me to find a partner, He wants to try my patience. And entertain me.
I am blessed. I've never had a hard time getting most things I've wanted. Note that I say most things, because that hot guy who could've been the father of my future children? He didn't turn up. I didn't think he would, because really, just assuming someone would turn up somewhere just because he'd been there the week before, is frankly more than just a little stupid. And reeks slightly of stalker-ism.
And I'd bought a cute top and everything.
But work-wise, interesting career options have always easily fallen into my lap. I've somehow always ended up with jobs I either did not have full qualifications for, or were what I'd thought, out of my league. I've obviously bullshitted my way through quite a few, but have always ended up where I wanted to be. May I stress again, work wise.
Yes, I'm still annoyed at hot-guy for not turning up at the exact same place he was at, the exact same time as last weekend. He should really be more consistent.
Anyhow, job offers have been drizzling in, and in the past week since I gave in my resignation, I've gotten calls from old work bosses (who'd heard I was planning to quit after I'd moaned (not completely unintentionally) to his wife) before I even sent out my resume to a recruitment agency, who by the way, were completely useless and have not bothered to call me back. But I have a few interviews lined up, two offers which are in the works, and one definite prospect. And my current one wants me to stay, promising a double pay-hike.
Great. Fabulous, you say?
I have a colossal problem. So gigantic, I can't wrap my arms around it.
It's like lining up rich dark chocolate in front of me, all different flavours - some with crunchy nuts, others with chewy toffee and caramel, and more exploding bitter coffee - and asking me to choose. ONE.
Is that even humanely possible?
I'm so confused I'm a stone's throw away from just tossing a coin and deciding my fate with whatever side it lands.
I could stay at my present job, but I'd still be stuck in a deep, muddy rut. The other definite offer is a move away from what I've been doing, although still in the same field. MUCH better package, much better everything. All I'm worried about is not being able to deliver to their high expectations. High as in, soaring past the seventh heaven. I could do it I think, but in a year I'd probably end up a stressed, nail-biting, white haired, saggy skinned woman. But a year is do-able, and I could take it as a stepping stone towards even better things. I'd just have to learn to deal with being a hag.
The two still in the works are a company which is almost as good as my current one, great package, same job I do now but more challenging, and a whole, big, lengthy commute. The other, a fabulous fabulous opportunity (dream workplace) with a slightly boring (for now) job profile, an undiscussed-as-yet salary and a bloody massive scope for growth.
Should I roll dice? Choose a number? Toss a coin? Pick a chit? See an astrologer?
Or should I just take an aspirin, chain myself back to my desk, and pretend to myself I didn't step out of my uncomfortable grave-like rut, accept the pay-hike, never speaking of it again?
I'd much rather have to choose between the chocolate.
Update: Make that two definite offers. Fug. Why couldn't have these been gorgeous men instead?
• I quit my job
• I met a hot guy
• I got drunk for the first time in my life. Yes, at the age of 26, that may be unbelievably late. But you have to remember that I'm a good muslim girl. Umm.. mostly. Okay then, a little bit of the time... when I remember.
• Two of the above happened in one night.
• Naturally the last two, because I sure as hell wasn't drunk when I meticulously planned and carried out my out-of-the-blue, dramatic, but leaving-on-a-good-note resignation.
• I will now be officially jobless in one month.
• But on the way to a (hopefully) great (and much better paying) job.
• The hot guy is really, really cute. (Therefore obviously, the "hot" tag.)
• Although we have yet to go out. Or for that matter, have a one-on-one conversation.
• The latter which could quite possibly happen this forthcoming weekend.
• And I have no fatally attractive articles of clothing left.
• The summary of this being that I have to go shopping.
• With a little nagging voice at the back of mind tagging along, reminding me that in less than a month I could be both penniless and jobless.
• Not my idea of a fun afternoon out.
• Nor in that case, a pretty situation to be in.
The past few weeks have been so busy I've hardly noticed the time whizzing by. It always does when you're having fun right? I've had an endless (but enjoyable) workload, a full to the brim social life and an overflowing life schedule; and I'm physically, mentally and wardrobe exhausted.
I don't know why I'm blogging because I don't really have anything to write about.
For some reason, although my life is as fulfilling as a seven-course meal, and on top of that, flavoured with little dollops of interesting tidbits; none are really exciting enough to warrant being shared with the world (also, I do like my food). It's been all about good (and some absolutely shitty) movies, un-put-downable (and horribly mind-numbing) reads, lazy brunches, swimming in the rain, and fancy, wallet-(well, cute clutch)-emptying dinners out. And I'm so on top of everything. Queen bee. Work superstar. Organisation goddess.
Blog slacker.
Ahmet had emailed me recently saying he was happy, and that he wanted to let me know he'd always liked me and had even wanted to marry me (!!!) if he hadn't already had a girlfriend. Apparently he'd even told his family (!!!) about it but they were adamant on him not breaking an already long-existing relationship with his long-distance girlfriend. How bizarre. And how bizarre that I find it so bizarre. I know it's true because his sister had once very offhandedly remarked that he was thinking of breaking his engagement, and I'd laughed it off and commented on how men were men; then distressed myself wondering why, and more importantly, for whom.
Such is life. Although I had a warm glow around my heart for the longest time.
There haven't been any interesting guys in the interim. I met two exes, one recently married, the other recently divorced, who danced like he was doing jumping jacks and whose ex-wife I wouldn't blame for citing that as the sole reason for the split. What in the name of God was I thinking?
So touch wood (and triple evil eye back on anyone giving me the evil eye) I'm happy. I'm at a point where I'm deeply satisfied with where and how things are going. I'm mildly disappointed that I haven't got a special someone to share moments with, but in the mean time I have lovely, fun, nutty friends who make my life beautiful, my photos cheery and my Facebook wall entertaining.
I've been back for just over a week now, but still having a hard time readjusting to regular life. No extravagant shopping trips all day, no fabulously scrumptious food available at every corner, and certainly no hustle bustle of thousands, or the constant blaring of cars, bikes, rickshaws and horse carriages alike. Instead, I'm back to a city thats having major power problems and a mountain load of work that gets bigger every time I think about looking at it.
The three weeks away that I had planned for turned into a little over four. Not because we were having such an incredibly great time, which we were. But the medical check-up my mom was undergoing required it. And so, having asked for only a three week leave of absence from work, I started revamping my resume in my mind and thought of exactly what I'd say at my next job interview.
Fortunately, everything turned out okay. The tests revealed nothing serious that couldn't be controlled with loving care and a hawk-eye watch over medication and diet; and my desk still sat waiting empty. Barely just.
What I hadn't bargained for was how much I'd miss Karachi. The smells, the sounds, the flavours, the frequent chuckles with family, the noisy rickshaw-wallahs and the incredibly hot Pathan boys. Every little thing became an excuse to return.
So much so that my last conversation with mom went; "Mom, the toilet paper here is so crap. Lets move to Pakistan."
...for the next three weeks since I'll be out of the country. I'm too tired from running between travel agent and work and bank and home to actually be legible or sensible in trying to explain why I'm leaving so suddenly.
Just know that I've not decided to join the travelling circus (although it sounds exciting and I might just be interested), neither am I on the country's most wanted list (last time I checked), nor am I on a covert mission, secretly training to be a Kamikaze pilot for Uzbekistan.
But I leave tonight and I still need to pack.
See you soon.
An update
Yesterday's very unexpected valentines present made it to my top five, all time greatest gifts.
*drum roll* I got a digital camera!!
Finally! After years of wanting one, but never really bothering to actually go out and buy one because I always had something I wanted just a little bit more, I got one! Sleek, slim and silver, its magic. My memories will finally be pixelated.
Strangely enough, quite a few of my more valuable possessions have been gifts. The phone I currently use, my rarely used iPod, a Gucci watch, and now the camera.
So my new motto in life: If you really want something. Wait it out. Eventually, some kind soul will feel sorry for you and buy it for you.
I don't believe there should be only one day dedicated to love, but if it makes men nicer (more generous), who am I to complain? Although seeing my sister with her husband makes me all dreamy-eyed and cheesy-grinned. When I met her today and asked what her other half was giving her for the special occasion, she said she didn't want anything. Since everything she's ever wanted or asked for, he's given without question, everyday is valentines as far as she's concerned.
Sigh. I want that for me too.
A rich sucker who'll give me everything I want.
But since I have nothing exciting to report, seeing that I have no special date lined up - which has been the case with many, many past valentine's days - and which, in all honesty I have absolutely no problem with, because its actually fun being single on valentines. You get the attention of all the other single guys out there, and can just possibly get more roses and chocolates and other little gifts than any other coupled-up woman, even if you do have to have a pretty lame single girl's night out that night. (Which can also be fun, because you can meet a whole bunch of single guys who are also on a pretty pathetic guy's night out. True story that.)
So anyhow, as I was saying, because I don't have anything fun planned, I will post about my favourite ever valentine's surprises. So if anyone out there is looking for a tip, here are a couple you can't go wrong with.
The nicest may be a little cliched and maybe a little unoriginal, but it was incredibly sweet all the same. A huge bunch of gorgeous red roses - 49 to be exact - delivered with a cute little note that read, "If you stand in front of a mirror with these 49 red roses, you'll be looking at the 50 most beautiful things on earth." While I may not like being called a "thing", I will not hold it against someone who thinks I'm beautiful. Vain? Never denied it.
The second sweetest thing ever was a very inexpensive but thoughtful basket of chocolates. Three big bars of regular candy with a note that said, "The Bounty because you have a head like a coconut, the Snickers because I think you're nuts, and the Mars, because I think you're out of this world."
Cute right?
I was working late into the afternoon last Saturday... one of those few unfortunates the world over, who has to come in to work on a weekend. (Modern day slavery I tell you.) And I saw the most awful thing. I'm still in shock. Outraged speechless by what happened.
Just as I was putting some finishing touches on a deadline, I heard a huge commotion outside by the lifts. A woman screaming bloody murder and the sounds of a violent scuffle. All of us still at the office ran out to find an office driver beating - as in physically brutally battering - the mother of his child. [A lot of the local men, usually lower income earners, tend to have what is called in Swahili, Little Wife. Usually a second or third girlfriend kept on the side, out of wedlock. Basically mistresses who 'complement' their 'real' wives.] She was lying on the floor while he kicked wildly at her face and chest. Their six year old son looking on, crying desperately.
When he saw us running towards him, mouths open in shock, he stopped. The woman shakily got to her feet, still screaming. She thrust the young boy towards him and yelled that she was leaving, that he could take care of his child, that he wasn't responsible and wasn't making child payments. They shoved the kid back and forth, each furiously bellowing they didn't want him.
Can you imagine the effect that scene may have on the child? How he could grow up thinking this savage behavior was a norm? How it could lead to a vicious cycle of abuse, generations on? And to think this goes on in homes all over.
This comes a close second to the most horrifying thing I've ever seen.
The first being an accident I saw many years ago on a dark, unlit highway; where a drunk man was knocked to the ground by a speeding drunk driver, and before anyone could do anything about it, run over and crushed to death by three other cars. It still gives me goose bumps.
So, while on the subject, I'm going to take this opportunity to spread an important social message (and hopefully add a dose of humour to this otherwise gruesome post.)
Don't drink and drive. Accidents cause people.
This past weekend I met up with a cousin who's back home for a meet-the-parents holiday. (Although I'm not sure how much of a holiday that can be). Recently wedded and still full of the excitement of a new bride, she was bubbling over with happiness. Now a recurring, predictable theme; and the beginning of every conversation I seem to have; she hugged me and exclaimed, "So what's goin on with you? Any plans to settle down on the horizon?"
Off we go, round and round that same weary bush. While I pull my hair out in frustration.
After I'd told her my long mournful story (read: whined about the quality of guys in this town) she put on a serious face and lectured me for over an hour about how there was no such thing as Mr. Right, (D'uh. You think?) and that I should look at her own past and learn from her experience.
My cousin, now in her early twenties, was in a relationship for 3 years before getting married, which then rapidly ended in an ultra quick divorce. Not interested in the dating game and it's accompanying heartaches, she settled for an arranged marriage. A guy her parents introduced her to, four days before their engagement.
She was terrified ofcourse, afraid that emotions and sensitivities from her failed first marriage would somehow influence her second. On her wedding day she cried on my shoulder, wondering if she'd made the right decision because, she'd said, she had absolutely no feelings for him. Just a high opinion of his gentle kindness and an admiration of his impeccable manners.
Now, barely six months later, she's over the moon.
So with some encouragement from her (and more than a little resignation), I did some thinking (yay me!) and realised that the Z is not everything and the earth. Sometimes you just have to allow yourself to be swayed into a relationship. Mr. Good Enough may not necessarily sweep you off your feet, but he can certainly make you stumble. (Which is a given if you, like me, live in heels.)
Thinking back, there are some regrets... chances I should have taken, opportunities now lost. I remember this one guy I'd met a while ago who, on paper, had it all - confident and charismatic, he was decent enough to look at, and his family owned an empire. The woman who'd set us up told me he was a great catch, that he would quote "drape me in diamonds" unquote.
Annoyed that she thought I was a scheming gold digger, I didn't take the bait. I wasn't attracted anyway, and our conversation had been peppered with how he sailed his private yacht at the weekends, and how he holidayed at exotic islands every few months. Since he trumpeted his wealth in every other sentence, I felt he couldn't possibly have much else to offer. Plus, he sat like a girl.
When I finally turned him down though, during the course of our last conversation, he mentioned how different I was compared to other women he'd met. I've gotten that from other men over the course of the years, always wondering what exactly they meant. Different good? (you're extraordinary), different bad? (you have three eyes.) But I always put it down, a little uncertainly, to my independent, I-know-what-I-want spirit.
Now in time; still single, not getting any younger, and having let slip some really good men; I realise what they meant. Different really means incredibly fucking stupid.
I've always imagined myself a pretty good amateur (unqualified) psychiatrist. Not that I'm any good with sharing advice. Or with listening to people mourn about things gone wrong, because really, there are enough things in a day to get a person down without having to listen to another depressed soul's sob story. Hmmm... never mind, so I wouldn't make that great a shrink, but I've always considered myself stable minded, level-headed and common sense-d. But secretly, I'm not.
There are deep psychological factors that affect me. So deep rooted and well hidden I don't know whether to be amused by my own neuroses, or to seriously think about investing in a therapist.
Relationships terrify me. The thought of chaining myself to any old guy (and I don't mean that age-wise) for the rest of my one precious life makes me panicking-ly claustrophobic. It's not that I don't want to have a serious relationship which will inevitably end in marriage; because hell yeah, I do. One day. But either I just haven't met that right guy with that Z* thing or I have some seriously deep emotional issues.
The last handful of could've-beens that I've met, I always about-turned straight out, before even beginning to let the idea of a chance happen. Finding invisible flaws and imaginary defects seconds after having been introduced. And the few others that I was incredibly attracted to (and who had the Z), were either too young, too uninterested, or too taken. And if they did become available, I suddenly wasn't so into anymore. All part of a weird emotional mind-game. I'm only interested if you're not.
I don't know whether I just need to smack myself back into the grayness of reality, or keep fanning the vibrant flames of hope that I will, after all, find that one great guy who's right for me. Hold out until I'm an old and wrinkly 50 year old, still waiting; or just attach myself to the next almost-decent, no-spark guy who comes along. But neither one sounds very appealing.
My mother is always the first one to tell me I should just give it a shot, that I will eventually end up falling head over heels. And I understand that, because it's easy for two people spending enough time together to discover the goodness in each other.
So I wonder if I should simply give up on all the hoopla of chemistry at first sight, and settle instead for a steady (boring), good-on-paper kinda guy and then, hopefully, discover the Z in him.
But then again, it's a trade off between electric passion or plodding, respectful fondness. And the latter I've always felt, is more apt for elderly uncles.
Z* - Simply named due to the plethora of words to describe it, that all begin with Z. More popularly known as "zsa zsa zsu" or much better; the "zzzzuh!"
Urban Dictionary defines it as; To write a blog entry just for the sake of posting an entry, not because you have done anything interesting today.
So here's my contribution...
I've blatantly swiped this off of Thai Girl's blog. Feel free to return the favour. I love these things. Give me an application form or a questionnaire any day, to be filled out in block letters in tiny little boxes, and I'm a happy puppy.
1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
"@!%$#@ I'm gonna be late again!"
2. How much cash do you have on you?
:S hmmm... equivalent to $26.
3. What's a word that rhymes with DOOR?
Bore, store, lore, snore, adore, ignore, before, furore.. okay this is going take a while.
4. Favorite planet?
I dunno? All? None? I'll stick to Earth until I've visited the others.
5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
An international call from a guy friend who called to say "hi its my birthday, wish me!"
6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?
Hummingbird. I am a boring ring tone person.
7. What shirt are you wearing?
I'm at work (heheheh) (no wonder, right?) so it's a white stripy shirt with cream and brown print.
8. Do you label yourself?
I am beyond all labels. (And oh so humble).
9. Name the brand of the shoes you're currently wearing:
This is funny, I just looked down at my sandals and the label says "No Name." Shoe, thy name is irony. But I'm going to have to put in my dollar's worth here (I'm worth more than just two cents), I do not understand how some women can spend a fortune on shoes that they're going to walk through mud and dirt in. Expensive watches and bags I can understand, but shoes? It boggles the mind. Affordable doesn't mean ugly.
10. Bright or Dark Room?
Bright and sunny, unless I'm sleeping.
11. Why is there always a missing question?
Because there's always a screw loose.
12. What does your watch look like?
Platinum, square face, roman numerals. It was love at first sight.
13. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Watching a Prison Break re-run. Wentworth Miller. Yummy-licious.
14. What did your last text message you received on your cell phone say?
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I think he's married! I'll xplain all when i get to work!"
15. Where is your nearest 7-11?
Within airplane flying distance.
16. What's a word that you say a lot?
"Bloody" "Shit!" "Are you serious?" "I'm starving"
17. Who told you he/she loved you last?
I don't even remember. My mummy? No actually, she didn't either. I'm so unloved :( Okay it was a girlfriend I did a favour for just yesterday.
18. Last furry thing you touched?
Eww no. I don't do pets. They're cute to look at, from afar.
19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
I'm a good girl. And I also don't like the legal ones. I'd rather sleep off a headache than take a painkiller.
20. How many rolls of film do you need developed?
One, but it's only quarter used. I can't even remember what's on it.
21. Favorite age you have been so far?
19. 20. 21. 23. Probably my entire childhood until 23. 24+ life just got boring.
22. Your worst enemy?
None that I know of (I hope).
23. What is your current desktop picture?
Some arty illustration of a woman with a guitar. Very colourful, very abstract.
24. What was the last thing you said to someone?
"Which one of you thieving rats stole my pen?!!" (This is an oft-used, typical line repeated every few hours at work, until I sheepishly find my pen under my keyboard/ on the floor/ under some papers.)
25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly, what would it be?
See if I had a million bucks, I could take an airplane to wherever I needed to go. Two birds with one stone. Am I clever, or am I clever?
26. Do you like someone?
It's kinda fading out. Not by choice.
27. The last song you listened to?
Crazy by Gnarls Barkley is on my iTunes as I write.
28. What time of day were you born?
Night time. Probably why I'm such a night owl.
29. What's your favorite number?
I don't know - how do you tell? Maybe 1.. It's cute and small, and I don't have to send those bloody chain forwards to too many people :)
30. Where did you live in 1987?
Same place I live now.
31. Are you jealous of anyone?
Nope. Being satisfied is being happy.
32. Is anyone jealous of you?
Who knows? Who cares?
33. Where were you when 9/11 happened?
In Dubai on holiday, shopping. The clowns at the mall were all gathered around a television, and I wondered what sci-fi "America under attack" movie they were playing.
34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money?
Never happened. I'm one of the lucky chosen few.
35. Do you consider yourself kind?
Kind, no. Gullible, maybe.
36. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be?
Either my lower back or my left hip and my ankle. Can't decide, but I definitely, definitely want one.
37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?
French or Arabic. So sexy.
38. Would you move for the person you loved?
Yup.
39. Are you touchy-feely?
I'd say yeah, but then I'd also say no. Depends on the person I'm with really.
40. What's your life motto?
"Act in haste, repent at leisure." This coming from one of the most impatient people on the planet. But it's a life lesson learnt the hard way, over and over. And over.
41. Name three things you have on you at all times:
Cellphone (my right hand, my lifeline, my oxygen), keys, lipgloss.
42. What's your favorite town/city?
My God, where do I start? Where do I end? I like quaint towns and bustling cities, I like historical hamlets and contemporary metros. It would be a bloody long list.
43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash?
Taxi this morning.
44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?
My best friend's birthday a few months ago. We have this deal where we HAVE to post a birthday card + letter on birthdays. Best idea we ever came up with. Okay not really, but it comes pretty close.
45. Can you change the oil on a car?
Err... no. I wouldn't know where to begin.
46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?
Don't know about a first love, but my first crush was a red headed, freckle faced brit called Ian, back in the 6th grade. I have no clue where he is.
47. How far back do you know your ancestry?
Sadly just upto my great grandfather. That's the problem with immigrant families. And no internet. My mom's side is a slightly different story.. I can go up (down?) about 8 generations, although I'm not sure how much of it is true and how much my grandfather made up.
48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy?
A girlfriend's wedding last week. I wore a muted green chiffon sari with silver work. Why? What kinda question is that? Because I felt like.
49. Does anything hurt on your body right now?
Naah... unless we're talking about hunger pangs. My stomach feels like it might eat itself.
50. Have you ever been burned by love?
No, and I'm very thankful for that.
51. Do you have a crush on any bloggers?
No, but I'm very much intrigued by some.
52. Where would you like to live?
Australia, South Africa, Australia, Singapore, Australia, Mumbai. Did I mention Australia?
Yup, so it's not happening with my very own, local Ashton Kutcher. Not that I'm not interested, or have changed my mind. Far from it. There's just no way, no how, that it's going to happen. He's too young, I'm too old, he's still studying, and too young, he lives in another country, and is too young. So I'm being dignified and moving on before I make a fool of myself. Also, I haven't seen him in a week. Maybe he has a girlfriend. But anyway, he's too young.
So a little sadly (emotion-wise and pathetic-situation-wise), I move on.
On the winds-sweeping-the-gloomy-clouds-away side, I have a date with a guy I was at school with. Attractive and interesting, he's a total catch. A textbook example of The Perfect Man. Almost. Because, while he has great qualities along with some pretty great looks, his arrogance and super-size ego wipe out his good-points slate to a snowy white, squeaky clean.
He'd asked me out before, while we were still at school, but I'd always turned him down - his constant need for attention and self-worship just a little too much for me to handle. But in my almost-desperation for romance, I'm giving it another chance. Because who knows? After all these years, he might just have changed. Or I might have. So I'll go with an open mind and see how it goes... it's not a big deal, just coffee after all. And I've always been a sucker for a really good cup of choco-mint latte.
I told my sister about him being back in town, and she told me to be careful. "Don't you dare fall for him," she said, "You told me way back then, that if you ever considered dating him, I should smack you really hard. And I will." She obviously doesn't like him.
But I'm tired now. Sick of waiting for the right guy to come along. I have younger and younger friends getting coupled up and hitched all around me. They're dropping like flies. It makes me just a tiny little bit envious when I hear friends tell me how great their boyfriend/ fiance/ husband is. One girl couldn't stop gushing about how her fabulous fiance treats her like a queen, still opening car doors and all, and they've been engaged for almost half a year. I want that for me too.
Getting off the subject, but I think gentleman-ly men are absolutely awesome. I loooove it when a guy opens the door, or waits for me to go before him. There's this one guy I keep bumping into at work by the lifts, who always puts his hand over his heart, bows and politely greets me. It totally makes my Monday morning.
As for Mr. Big Head - my coffee date; with a not-so-hopeful heart, I wait for any excitement tomorrow may bring.
First things first. But not necessarily in that order.
Zanzibar was... well, what can I say? My visions of sunny, sandy beaches and mouth watering junk food were drowned in a pail of icy cold water. The weather was dreary - constant rain which made the beach and Stone Town utter and absolute blah. And the street food vendors had been closed down by the government due to an outbreak of cholera.
So with dreams of un-eaten junk food and un-drunk sugarcane juice and an un-swum-ocean, I got back to the drudgery of daily life.
Then, one day, I met a boy.
Absolutely gorgeous, a funny, kind-hearted, regular good guy. There's an inner glow that lights his face. I feel about him what I haven't felt in years. Not even with Ahmet. I know this sounds clichéd and dumb, but I feel like a school kid. I get all blush-y and shy around him. And as usual, with my luck with love, there's a problem. Well two, but one is not as important as the other. 1. He hasn't actually asked me out. 2. He's younger than me. Like, really young. Early 20's I think, compared to my almost ancient 26.
The last thing I'd ever thought possible for me on this earth was to be attracted to a guy younger than I. If someone's even a couple of months younger, my attraction-possibility meter shuts down. Instantly.
I don't really know what to think or do. I feel stupid flirting, although I do very subtly use my feminine charms to err.. entice him. But I don't really know if I'd be able to carry through. Plus, he leaves for home, abroad, in a few weeks. And I'm not really one for long-distance relationships. If it ever came to that. But I do so like him.
I've always thought with my head when it comes to relationships. I've never ever never fallen blindly for a guy without ticking off a mental check-list. Attractive. Check. Witty. Check. Mature. Check. Well spoken. Check. Good-hearted and well-mannered. Check. Outgoing and fun and social. Check. Successful. Check.
Yeah that's right, I have a stone-cold heart.
In my defense though, it comes from long experience. I dated a seriously hot guy just for his looks. It lasted less than a week. While he was drop-dead yummy to look at, he was a total yawn. Vanilla dull-dom. Then I dated another guy just for his personality. He was intelligent and interesting, but the attraction level was zilch. No, I lie. It was in the negative. That didn't last long either.
Now that I'm old enough (and mature enough) to know what I want, and more crucially, what I don't want, it's always been important for someone I'm in a relationship with to meet those criteria. Only this time, that list I've chucked straight out the window. Who knows what might happen. Or might not.
He could one day be my Ashton Kutcher.
Happy New Year.
This coming weekend I'm off on holiday to a tropical paradise. One of my absolute favourite places on earth, Zanzibar is an island full of history, culture, spectacular beaches and mouth-watering food. Exactly my idea of heaven.
Not to get all tour guide-y, but Zanzibar was the centre for the East African slave trade back in the day, and the decaying ruins of slave markets and crumbling sultan's palaces still stand to tell their tales.
While a lot of the island is white, sandy beaches and aquamarine waters; Stone town, which is the heart of main island life, is all long and narrowly winding alleyways; brass-studded, carved, wooden doors (a throwback to the times the Sultan of Oman ruled Zanzibar) and dusty corridors that echo with the whispers of long forgotten ghosts.
Yup, you read right. Ghosts.
I have listened to older generation Indians and Arabs, who, having lived there after immigrating on dhow boats from the East, speak many a time of hearing shuffled footsteps at dawn. The sound of the jinn, going about doing it's ablutions for prayer. Strange sightings and mysterious sounds. And stories of possession.
It doesn't help that the last time we'd gone there, taking a meandering walk through the labyrinth of narrow streets that is Stone town (now a United Nations World Heritage Site), we spotted an ancient African man, huge rosary beads around his neck, carrying a dead crow in each hand. Witch doctor or other-worldly spirit, we couldn't tell. But needless to say, we kept very, very quiet as he passed us by in a world of his own calm.
My fondest memory of the place is when all of us, a bunch of about 5 girls, were idly traipsing about when we noticed some raggedy children teasing 2 big, black, scary-looking dogs by throwing pebbles at them. Suddenly we heard furious barking and on turning, saw the dogs lunging.
We ran for our lives.
Panting down the alleys, we ran blindly through the mazes of narrow streets, adding frightened beggars and confused shop keepers to our marathon team. We pushed each other desperately out of the way, one girl falling face down into the street, while another jumped clear over her.
After we'd sprinted across half the town, a man dashed out of a little shop. "What happened?" he shouted at us, alarmed.
"Dogs!" we puffed, terrified, "Dogs!"
"What dogs?" he asked calmly, probably thinking we were high on something.
We slowed down and turned. No dogs. They hadn't even bothered to chase us.
Here's wishing the holidays and the year ahead bring lots more fun, adventure, love and excitement; and even more stories to blog about.
Have a merry Christmas and a fabulous New Year.
I'm off to collect my fee from the Zanzibar Department of Tourism.
Links : Images of Zanzibar, More Photos, History, Stone Town.
Photo courtesy (stolen from) Getty Images.
