Bummer.

I start writing this, hoping it would make me feel just a little better about myself.

I was standing in my apartment, occupied by my roommate's Uncle and Aunt, and his Mum.

So, I'm standing in the other room, behind a wall, where they can't see me, with a song playing in my head, and me doing Amir Khan's dance, from the movie Ghulam. Yes, the one with my legs extended, my arms in the air like I'm holding an invisible box with both of them, and moving my head left and right, with my belly moving along too.
(See it here - Skip to 2:09)

Imagine that.

Now, I do this, expecting my roommate, that's in the other room too, to come join me so we can share the experience. But instead, his Aunt decides to see what the room is like.

So imagine an astonished look on my face, with my feet still extended, the invisible box still above my head, my belly stationary now, and my gaze paused at her face. Telling myself in the head that she's not real. Oh please God, let my roommate's aunt be a figment of my ever so vivid imagination.

But we don't always get what we want, do we.

She starts laughing, and I don't blame her, I would've laughed too. If I wasn't trying really really hard to not laugh, of course.

"Oye, exercise ho rahi hai?" She said.

And in my head I said, "kaash wohi kar raha hota, Aunty ..."

The Wonderful Act of Song Writing.

I completely hate myself right now, for having a pussycat dolls song stuck in my head. I mean sure, if I had a pussycat doll stuck in my head, that wouldn't be all that bad, because I'm not sure if I mentioned this before but - I love women, no doubt about it. But I just don't like it when they try their brains at thinking.

So I'm a sexist. Sue me.

"I can't, take it any longer,
thought that we were stronger,
all we do is linger."

But heck, that's just up to per with Nickelback lyrics. Chad Kroeger definitely puts his last brain cell to work with those songs. (If I dare call them that, in fear of disrespecting people that actually make good music.)

"Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell,
It was love from above, that could save me from hell,
She had fire in her soul it was easy to see,
how the devil himself could be pulled out of me,
There were drums in the air as she started to dance,
Every soul in the room keeping time with there hands,"

I sure hope that is the result of an attempt at song writing under the influence of a 'drug'.
Oh, but there is more.

"I wanna be great like Elvis without the tassels
Hire eight body guards that love to beat up assholes
Sign a couple autographs
So I can eat my meals for free
I'll have the quesadilla, uh huh"

There's oh, so more.
In "If Everyone Cared", Chad tells us;

"If everyone cared and nobody cried
If everyone loved and nobody lied
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride
Then we'd see the day, when nobody died."

Ladies and Gentlemen, Chad Kroeger, with his modern adaptation of 'Imagine', but through the vocabulary of a four year old.

There there is 'Rhythm Is A Dancer' by "Snap". That's right, that's their name. Snap.

"I'm as serious as cancer,
When I say Rhythm is a Dancer."

And Razorlight's 'Somewhere Else';

"And I met a girl,
she asked me my name,
I told her what it was."

I think it's highly unlikely that ever happened. Oh, no, there most definitely is a song like that. I just think he's making up meeting a girl who asked his name.

And last but not the least, here's something from Oasis. They call it, 'Champagne Supernova';

"Slowly walking down the hall,
Faster than a cannonball,
Where were you when we were getting high?"

I really don't know where I was, but something tells me it was one hell of a party.

I leave you with a video of Nickleback being boo-ed off stage, at their own concert. Make sure you catch him flipping the crowd off at the end too. Priceless stuff.

Idioticy in Music.

Jesus Christ.

I am tired, of people that don't know how to even hold a musical instrument, or even have the most vague sense of music. Yet, they love commenting on videos that people that make very crappy music, and try to sell them off to the rest of the idiots from the bottom of the gene pool, upload.

Mindless, ignorant, and just plain idiotic. The music, and the audience.

If you think you can play guitar when you put the original song in the background (which is louder than your amplifier) and play out of tune with the actual studio recording of artists, with no idea what a metronome is; You are a dweeb. Please put that guitar down and get some education.

Ignorance is not bliss.

Spring.

Spring, has finally struck Philadelphia.

'Spring break' came and went, yet the leaves have just only started turning pink, white and green. Oh, the sheer beauty.





My professor suggested a few days ago that I try to get into the English Honors program. and I would like to thank him for making things even more confusing.

Confusion is a funny thing. Come to think of it, I find funny in weird places - don't I?

I'm confused about life, our purpose on earth, about what 'the future holds' (as cliche' as that sounds, it's true) and various other events that have taken place not so long ago.

Aah, I need to vent off some steam, release some stress, experience some nirvana, and stop thinking so much. But unfortunately, that's just not possible, now is it?

www.danish989.deviantart.com ~ My DeviantArt Page - pay a visit, leave some comments, would be much appreciated.

All the men in the world: We give up, God, seriously.

The fun thing about life is, so many options.

So many things to love. But let's talk about all the things to hate, right, keep up with the traditions of my blog.

So, the greeks say, Women were created as a punishment for men. And I couldn't agree more, right?

But I would like to blame God. I mean seriously, out of all the bones to be taken from the average male body, he chose a rib. A rib, probably the most crooked bone in the human body. Why couldn't he just take out the Humerus from an arm or something? Would save humanity and mankind so much trouble in the future. Civilization would probably be perfect then. What do you expect to make from bad dough? Bad bread. Crooked bone, crooked species. Makes sense, doesn't it, intellectually advanced men?

And then came the snake, and the God forsaken (no pun intended) apple. I mean, for Christ's sake, Women - Don't you see? Eve made the same mistake. Listen to men, for the love of God. Screw the fucking metaphorical snake, we beg and plead. But it's true what they say, people can't really change. Adams haven't, and Eves won't ever either.

Aah, Adam, when will you learn? Don't listen to Eve, she just wants you both kicked out of Eden.

After they were knocked out of Eden, I bet Eve just blamed everything on Adam.

"So what if I suggested the apple? Would you jump in a lake, if I suggested that too?"

"Oh, but Eve, I love you so, and will do anything for you."

"Oh, please, Adam, let's just get started with creating a civilization, can we? Keep that Shakespeare shit to yourself."

And then the chain started, and here we are, you and I.

Some smartass female came up with "all men are dogs."

She was right though, Dogs are in fact very loyal. Felines, on the other hand ...

I had a friend that owned a cat. The damn thing would bite his fingers in the middle of the night to wake him, just because she was hungry. Seriously, all men in a commited relationship right now - does that sound familiar or what?

Chris Rock addressed the men of the world when he said :

If you haven't contemplated murder, you ain't ever been in love. If you haven't seriously thought about killing a mutha****a or two, you ain't been in love.

If you haven't ever had a can of poison in your hand, and looked at it for 45mins straight, you ain't been in love. If you haven't bought a shovel and a bag and a rug to roll their fat ass up in, you ain't been in love. If you haven't practiced your alibi infront of the mirror, you ain't been in love.

And the only thing stopping you from killing this mutha****a - is an episode of CSI.

Fellas, when you wake up in the morning, you should look yourself in the mirror and say, "Fuck you. Fuck your hopes, fuck your dreams, fuck your plans … fuck everything you thought this life was going to bring to you. Now let's go out there and try to make this bitch happy."

Oh the abortion issue, it's a woman's issue. When a woman get pregnant, she don't want to hear shit from the man. Fuck you, motherfuck you, I don't need you. Unless she decides to have the baby and she's like, "Where my check?"

Am I united when I say, in part of all the men in the world: We give up, God, seriously. You wanted to torture us, we've been tortured.

Newton fucking figured out gravity, but how many females did he understand, have you ever wondered?

Einstein knew e=mc2 is equation of light in a vacuum. But what goes on in the head of a female? Is there a Darth Vader in there, or what? Sure seems like it.

Einstein figured out that energy and mass are interchangeable. That, energy equals the amount of mass multiplied by the speed of light squared. E=mc2, motherfucker. But seriously, what goes on in the head of a female? It's probably like a vacuum in there too.

Either that, or Darth Vader has successfully created another army and we just don't know it yet.

Oh please, Dear God, let the force be with us.

And before I get flamed by females saying men aren't trustworthy and this and that shit, What do you frigging expect, ladies? We're bound to get wiser after Eve screwed us over, right? Go fool another Homosapian, this one has learned.

Depression.

So we meet again, depression, my dear friend.

"I walked a mile with happiness
She chattered all the way
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say
I walked again with sorrow
And not a word spoke she
But oh, what I had learned
When sorrow walked with me"

I've learned more from ten days of agony that I ever would've from ten years of content.

~l|~

I've deactivated my facebook account. Somehow that made me feel a tad bit better.
I've decided not to sign on at msn as much as I used to. Everyday, that is. Is that possible? Let's find out.

I can't not check my email. Or I would've done that too.

I really didn't think it would come to this again. Really. I thought depression was left far behind when I decided to be happy no matter what. But I guess that's just not possible.

This post probably belongs someplace no one can read it, rather than on my blog where there's been so much commotion lately. Surprisingly (?)

Aah, if only I didn't have to wake up in the morning. What I would give to be able to just lay in bed and not crawl out until I absolutely need to.

What I would give to climb inside a cave and stay away from 'society' for as long as I can.

What I would give for a bottle of Dom Perignon and a 'custom-made cigarette.'

What I would give to be able to forget.

If ten days of agony will make me stronger, I want to be weak.

~l|~

"Since love and fear can hardly exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved."
Nicollo Machiavelli

"Perhaps one day this too will be pleasant to remember."
- Virgil

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life. It goes on."
- Robert Frost

It goes on. Can I argue about whether that is good or bad?

Yes.

But I'm not going to ...

Shit-Crazy.

Somehow talking to my friend Wijdan always makes me feel like writing. Maybe it's because we always have these intellectual conversations - very similar to the kind I have with Sarmad - and they always end up making me want to write about something.

Or just pasting my chats, with both those guys mentioned up there, right here for the world to read and witness sheer brilliance.

Wijdan and Sarmad - They're so similar, it's crazy. Both Tauruses.

If you put Sarmad, Wijdan and me in a room, you'll get 5 people in a room.

Tauruses - 1.5 person.
Geminis - 2 people.

Close, yes, but oh so different still.

In other news, Remember that girl Rida I told everyone about? Who I met very long ago on the internet, but then we stopped talking, and out of nowhere she suddenly finds my blog and leaves a comment. Then we talk, and find out we've actually met before on msn through a mutual friend in Bahrain, ages ago.

Well, guess what? I went to Rida's blog a while ago, and turns out she also knows Wijdan. And funny story - Both Rida and Wijdan claim I inspired them to take up blogging. Sarmad too, actually.

Big whoop, and no sarcasm intended!

So anyway, while talking to Wijdan I came up with this idea ~ that we should both pick a single topic to write about, and then post it at the same time, linking to each other posts. So see that happening in the near future.

And that idea I mentioned above is so similar to my idea, that me and Sarmad start reading the same book together, and then discuss it later on, and probably even write a separate review, it's scary.

Life is crazy, is it not? At least mine is. Very, crazy. I love it.

It's almost sad, but breaking off a relationship is meant to make us sad. Someone wise said, emotions aren't meant to be understood. Dangerous is the man who has justified his feelings. I consider myself dangerous in that light.

I've still been leading a roller coaster of a life. I'm depressed one minute, very fucking happy for no fucking reason the next. Seriously considering seeing a counselor. Note: I said considering, but I don't really feel like it or want to go through with it. In fact, I don't think I am going to, really. I probably should, but I won't.

It's 3.45 AM. I have class at 12.20 PM. That's 9 hours, yes, but I need to wake up at 9.30. That's around 6. That is depressing me to no end right now, but I still refuse to go to sleep for some reason. No, not until I'm completely exhausted to lift a finger to type. That's just me; shit crazy. Ooh, I have a name for the post.

I am happy with the amount I've managed to squeeze out of my life, for a random blog post. Will come up with something else, really soon, and hopefully will not procrastinate in writing it too.

Take care, world. Thanks for all the love and involuntary respect. <3

Guilt.

What exactly is guilt and why does it exist?

Was it supposed to act as classical conditioning? To feed us with the schema, that what we just went through before experiencing the immense (or not) guilt, is bad, and should not be done in the future?

Because if that's the whole idea of guilt, than I hate to say it, but that system has most definitely failed, like most systems. But the sad thing is, that system wasn't man made.

And if that's not the idea of guilt, which I would really really like to believe with immense faith, than I'll just consider myself unknowing to the ways in which all these feelings have been programmed into us. That's the million dollar question, isn't it? Even if everyone's gradually but surely ceasing to ask it. Just like, why do we exist? Only more elaborate. Why do we feel guilty?

Because let's face it. Guilt isn't stopping us from doing anything, except feeling guilty in the future itself. A serial killer might feel guilt for the first couple of victims, but then it just becomes the norm, doesn't it? Where's the guilt then? Guilt acts as an entity that just clears itself out. Like a virus that just feeds on itself until it ceases to exist.

At least that's my understanding of it, till this point. What has guilt ever stopped us from doing, other than feeling guilty in the future? Anyone?

I had told myself
this was never to be done again
but as fate had decided
here I find myself today

I had thought this wouldn't happen
and it wouldn't come to this again
but our thoughts although our own
their ends we just can't say

Why does it always lead to this, I might ask
but only to find the same answer again
I didn't think it would matter that much
since everyone's so busy in their own guilty way.

- Danish Arif.

The fire that won't burn

Burnt the last piece of paper-memory up in smoke
but even the ashes smelt like her ..

crushed up all those pieces in my hand
letting the ink drip down the drain
but even the fire wouldn't help me burn ..

tore up the pieces in my hand
made sure they caught fire
killed every last letter with flames
with the coldest fire ever ..

but why won't the memories burn,
why won't the ink, now darker than ever, remove themselves from my hand,
why won't the words, engraved in the back of my head, disappear with the smoke?

Yet another point in life, where I ask myself why
but the fault must be my own,
all of my own ...