Guess Who? Boo

One of the girls I shared the corporate housing in the Bay Area with told me how deathly afraid of the dark she is and how it scares her to be alone in the house specially at night and is unable to sleep by herself..I mean by herself in the house..not in the bed...or perhaps...hmmm...I am not sure. Anyway, so she wanted to know if I will be there every night so she can start sleeping in her own bed and not go to her friend's apartment. Instead of answering her query, which I found annoying (what am I your babysitter??), I asked her what exactly was she afraid of since we live in a secure gated complex, and we are poor, and don't exactly have sexy hot looks to entice the minds of serial rapists; although I am not sure what entices the minds of serial rapists, but nonetheless I didn't see anyone getting so desperate and breaking into the apartment and stealing the girl off of her *cough cough* youthful innocence, if you know what I mean. Also, I don't believe there is as yet an East Indian Chapter of the Klu Klux Klan operative in the Bay Area, who raid houses at midnight for some brown assed lynching. Perhaps because some East Indian are of Aryan descent or maybe because they are yet to notice the almost hostile take over of the region by the ethnic group, but that's not the point. I just wanted to know in the absence of these logical reasons for being fearful, why was the gal still so paranoid and paralyzed with fear (yes I exaggerate, but you should know that by now, that's just what I do).

In response to my questions she looked at me as if I was some creature who had just stepped out of a flying saucer and had greeted her with a "Hola Amiga" and then she said that there were other paranormal creatures out there (I distinctly felt a 'like you' in between those lines) who get attracted to empty dark houses, specially the ones inhabited by lonely young girls, whom they then start haunting. I blinked several times to see if there were any signs of her bursting out laughing and saying 'Just Kidding!'. But nope, nothing. Zilch, Nada. Not even half a smile. Ooookaayyy. Now it was my turn to give her one of my oh-you-are-one-of-those looks.

Suddenly I was even more annoyed than before when I had felt I was her babysitter. I am sorry but what a bunch of bull-shit. Listen girlie you are not really a damsel and distress, you are no longer 7 and it definitely is not cute that you still believe in the monsters under your bed. Give me a break. You decided you want to be a grown up and have a career and become a traveling nomadic consultant and then you expect to be with people 24/7. What is wrong with you? Attention whore much, are you huh?

Am I totally over-reacting? Am I being too harsh? Of course I am! All my life I have come across girls afraid of the ghosts and monsters and sleepwalking zombies and what not, but isn't there an age limit to that? Don't you eventually figure out that you can go to the bathroom without your bolder cousin standing guard at the door? Or that your cousin brother is still your brother even with his eyelids rolled inside out? And that if you are afraid of the dark you just keep a night light on? Helloooo? It annoyed me even when I was 7, even though my Nani Ma would tell me all sorts of ghost stories but I never felt haunted. Maybe because I always slept alone or maybe because I am an Army brat, or perhaps I was wise beyond my years. Hehehehe, okay the last one had me cracking, but that's just how it is. I get very very annoyed when a grown woman says oh I am so afraid of ghosts and monsters and chain-saw wielding zombies instead of saying oh I am so afraid of getting robbed and raped in broad daylight.

Yes of course its okay to be scared. When did I say it is not? Be afraid, be very afraid, but be afraid of things tangible and real not something which is an extension of your active imagination and disturbed childhood. Heck I am afraid of loads of things. In fact I am a regular chicken when it comes to things beyond my control like roller coasters and crazy rottweilers or just regular sickness and disability. For all i care, you can scream like a banshee when you see a lizard or a rat because you have to admit they are just gross but not a cockroach, that's where I draw a line, they are really harmless and you can kill one just by stepping on it, so not a roach but a rodent, yes...scream to your heart's content. But don't be all oh I saw the balcony door move by itself. Yes it moved, it is a balcony door and it is very windy. Please, logicalize your fears. And don't even get me started on the horror movies. If they scare you, don't watch them.

Anyway, I told the jumpy girl that I am never home at night since I mostly stay at my sister's, which pretty much guaranteed that I have the entire apartment to myself the rest of my stay. Well most of it anyway but then I had another roomie, who is not really afraid of anything at all.

Just a thought. Based on my track record, now that I have vented and ranted about all this, I am pretty sure Paranormal will suddenly become normal in my life and I will be spotted by some zombie or the other who will mark me as its soul reason of existence or whatever the hell they mark people for. Oh man, I had to open my stupid big mouth.

The Mother of all Comebacks

And I am Back!!!

So after a sabbatical of over 3 months, I am back at work in Sunny San Diego, CA. Quite a contrast from the gray skies of Seattle. From one end of the western coast to the other. Am I excited? Well, considering how wonderful San Diego is and how much I wanted to stay in California and how little choice I had in the matter, I think its safe to say...Hell Yeah!!!!!

Work is how it usually is during the 1st week, slow and extremely sleep inducing. Lot of administrative mambo jumbo, which I hate. The office lacks a cafeteria, but the private office with a door and four walls more than makes up for it. You read it right a DOOR and WALLS. Not a cubicle, an actual office. Of course when I stretch I can almost touch the walls, but its an office nonetheless. Besides we have to keep in mind that I am a fairly tall person with fairly long arms, so the size of the office becomes completely relative. My manager is a seemingly nice lady with an extremely pronounced valley-girl accent, but I am somewhat wary of her, mostly because I have never actually had a female manager before and from what I have heard and observed, they can be quite the bitches. They way she talks is funny, reminds me of this SNL character that Kristen Wiig plays, Penelope.

Anyway the good thing is I am back at work, which is always hard but welcome after such a long break. Especially a long and stressful break. It's like your brain had been frozen yet somehow became covered with mold while living in a 2000 year old mummy coffin and then suddenly it needs to be used again and it actually requires the force of your entire being to kick-start it without being discovered passed out at your desk by your new Boss and coworkers. What a dilemma, yet somehow I am able to type this with my eyes closed.

Not a lot happened while I was away, other than the coming true of the worst fears and nightmares of most educated, conscientious Pakistanis. Destruction has finally come knocking at our doors, heck what am I saying, its not knocking at our doors, it has actually blasted past the doors and is already playing havoc with the lives and minds of the entire nation right in the middle of our living room. Its mind-numbing what is happening, and that's exactly how I feel...numb. And that's precisely how I need to feel to operate as a normal human being, but it is hard, especially when every day there is some news story about a new devastating incident comes circulating towards me, mainly through my Aapi. I just pray to God that some miracle spares the lives and homes of many many innocent, faithful and harmless people, who don't even know the first thing about terrorism or why it has made itself so comfortable in our home. They are not wayward, the are not Americans, they are not evil non-believers. True they have lived a submissive life, they have been puppets in the hands of a few feudal landlords, corrupt politicians and judiciary, they haven't held themselves accountable morally, legally or socially for a lot of problems that the country faces. True they didn't educate themselves, or instigated a revolution against the few corrupt elites, true they didn't fight hard enough to reform the country's political or social setup. True they got frustrated but never took action against the people actually responsible for their suffering and instead turned to abusing the weakest amongst them. But does this make them bad? Does this make them evil? Is it okay that they suffer for the actions of the so-called kings of this world? Who is doing what and how are they justifying it to their consciences, it is just beyond the mental and moral understanding of this blogger. All I know is that it never is how it appears to be.

This was enough of the real world for me and now I will escape to my American wonderland, that my superficial life has become. Of course, these days even to enter an amusement park you have to pay a very very high and heavy price, so it ain't no picnic on this side of the spectrum either. To dream is not to escape anymore, which I guess is the part and parcel of growing up or should I say growing older. Older and wiser. I read somewhere that as women grow older they feel more and more self-empowered yet at the same time, more and more insecure. How true is that? As we grow older we get a lot of understanding of who we are and what we need and what we can or cannot control in this world. Yet at the same time, since so much importance is put into a woman's looks and age that it makes us feel very very vulnerable and unsafe. It took centuries for us to become this brainwashed into thinking that because we are older we have something to be ashamed of. We are made fun of, skin-care products and plastic surgery is made to be our best buds, while younger women are pit against us as our arch Nemesis. We constantly compete with one another, until we get more wrinkled and stressed out and then our biologies turn against us and we are forever doomed to an existence plagued by incessant mood swings and intermittent states of extreme hot or cold. And men...they just loose their hair and some not even that. Life...so fair and wonderful...NOT.

Hmmm, where was I? Oh yeah San Diego! Its 73 degrees outside...awesome sunshine...perfect perfect day...and it is my lunch hour so what am I doing still typing? I shall go now but I shall write more frequently, now that I am back at work ;) See ya...Oh and a very happy new year to everyone.

Here is to a new chapter of my life...to La Jolla...cheers

Still Alive..

I could not make myself write...anything :(

I wanted to

I really did....

so much to say

so many thoughts to decode

so much to vent out about

so many things to bitch about

But.........

I could not even form a proper sentence

even what i am writing now is being typed with a lot of effort and with ample usage of the back space key.

Yes i hated being unemployed

Yes I was preoccupied

Yes I was a bit down in the dumps.

And yes, even though it was great to be in the Bay Area, but it does take a toll on me.



But now its finally over. And I will hopefully get back in my routine. Three long months and now I am once again with a Project. My brain will finally start functioning at its original pace. My blog will see new posts. My bank will see some incoming activity. And I will return to the gym. Fingers crossed



And the best thing...I stay in Cali. Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy



MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!!!



Talk to you soon my non-existent readers with a more detailed post (I am not sure if the previous 2 are still around)

Farwell Seattle...Hello Chapter New

So its been busy..of course it has been busy...moving out of my place, ending my project, short trip to Boston, last couple of days in the sweet city of Seattle, one long drive down the pacific coast to come back t0 my beloved Bay area, spending time (read shopping with) my parents who fly back tomorrow and of course the renewed job hunt...yes it has been crazy busy.

So do I miss Seattle? Of course I do miss it. I still can’t believe I left it all behind, the home, the friends, the work, the lakes, and the trainer. The little constant that I had found in my ever volatile life! When I finally started to feel at home, I had to pack up my bags and leave. But that’s life. At least that’s my life. One long never-ending adventure! Not so bad. I am ready for the new phase of it. So, thank you Seattle, for the rainy days and the sunny afternoons, the lull in my storm, the friends, the beautiful landscapes, the nice hikes, the renewed peace of my heart and my mind. I will never forget the kindness that you showed me, for which you will always hold a special place in my heart. I will of course be back to contest my sole speeding ticket. Until then, adieu!!

So now I wait, for the next piece of happening that will reach my part of the world, wherever that may be. I have started the search and so far things look...i don’t know..not hopeless at least...let’s see. I insist on staying in my California, which unfortunately is experiencing the worst economic crisis since its existence as a part of these united states, or so it appears. But I cross my fingers and keep hooked to my laptop screen, my ear attached to the cell phone, listening to the voice of any and every recruiter promising me a piece of the west coast action. Let this be my time dear God, to be part of the San Franciscan Work force. I have waited patiently for 3 years, separated from friends and family, almost living aboard a Southwest 737, making the corporation of Public Storage very very rich, can I now have my chance to stay?? Dramatic...yes!! Neurotic...borderline!! Desperate...you got it!!

But one way or the other...I won’t complain, as long as I get employed sooooooooooon and as long as I stay couple of hours long flight away from here. Unemployment does not bode well with me. I get bored, broke, shopaholic (an after-effect of the former), lazy, cranky, moody, grouchy, and extremely hard to deal with, even for me. So, bottom line is...get employed. Cali will always be here for me. No matter how far away I move, I will always come back to my home away from home.

So my readers, if there are any at all, pray for my rapid restoration to employment. And also, pray that the distance between the nearest mall and me remains as lengthy as possible, and that I remain sane, happy, healthy and less volatile...just for the sake of the sanity of people around me...if there are any left. Good night, good luck and good bye.

My cat that liked potato chips

The five years before my migration to the land of opportunity were spent in the company of (among other creatures), a rambunctious feline of the Siamese descent, with a lot of personality, attitude and character. Her name - Simbo. Now Simbo was no ordinary cat, and I know most pet owners just like parents believe their cat, dog, hamster or for that matter iguana is like no other, but trust me when I say this, Simbo was not your everyday domesticated pet. She could beat up three cats at the same time, usually male cats twice her size and refused to mate with any cat of high pedigree. She hated to see me cry and kept hitting me with her paw until I stopped, She felt no shame in begging for food, even on a full stomach, and she never ever pooped in a dirty litter box and would never go if anyone was watching her. She showed happiness, anger, remorse in equal amounts. She would fight our German shepherd with so much zest for no apparent reason, perhaps to prove who is the boss, and poor Axle being the sweet dog and an eternal puppy always thought she was playing with him. She gave birth to one weird looking kitten every year that usually never survived past a few weeks, it was heart breaking to watch Simbo look for the ugly kitten afterwards, at all hours for the next few days, not eating or drinking, and last but not the least, she loved to eat potato chips. When I say love, I mean LOVE to the point of insanity. You so much as open a bag and she would jump out of nowhere to beg for her share. If she was lost Id go around crinkling an empty packet of Super Crisps, and sure enough she ran right up to me. One time my cousin, being the cheapskate that he is, was eating chips, showing them to her and putting them in his mouth. Suddenly, Simbo jumped on the arm of of the sofa he was sitting in totally freaking him out, much to my amusement of course, and started meowing sweetly. My cousin then told me that Simbo was an embodiment of how I would be if I had been a cat myself. I laughed out thinking that he is probably right.

Of course she did a lot of the things that other cats do, sit in fresh laundry, go crazy after fish and chicken, play with chords, thread and wool, get running attacks in the middle of the night, think the freshly ironed clothes are layed out just for her, follow the sunlight and sleep in it 60% of the day, hate getting her nails clipped or taking baths, get freaked out by hair dryers and vacuums, and don't even get me started on the days on heat.

The highlight of her career as a domesticated feline came when a mouse got into our house and was being hunted high and low by the many, many people who lived in our house (separate post on how my mom turned our home into a foster home of sorts). the mouse was in one particular room that had glass sliding doors. Five people in the room were searching for the wretched rat and my cat was just lounging around in one corner. Everyone was laughing at how disinterested she looked and that she is too old to know what is going on. After half an hour of unsuccessful hunt, everyone came out for a break and closed the door, with only the rat and a sleepy cat inside. As we were conferring about what should be done, suddenly we saw Simbo leap into the air to do a double somersault and land in the other corner. When she turned around, the mouse was in her mouth. Eat your heart out Jerry. Everyone cheered and eventually separated the dead mouse from her mouth. It was gruesome, yet I was so proud of my lazy old kitty.

One time she was lost for a week and I cried my eyeballs out, posting lost signs all over the apartment complex. One day a kid from the neighborhood informed us that he had seen my cat in another kid's house. He had kidnapped (or catnapped perhaps) her and was going to sell her off. I was enraged and walked over to the kid's apartment and rang the bell. The kid came out, I asked him about my cat and he lied that he knew nothing about her. From inside the house I could hear a cat meow, repeatedly. I pushed the punk aside and went in to find my Simbo in the kitchen, sitting next to an empty bowl, asking for food I believe (contrary to what I had perceived to be a cry for help). She recognized me and started circling around my legs. I glared at the kid and picked up my Simbo and walked out of the house.

The reason for this post (boring for the non-catlovers) is that I believe this to be Simbo's fifth death anniversary. Before coming to the US, I had given her to another family after my father refused to take care of her. I felt horrible walking away from her, but I knew it had to be done. Turns out a month later, she died for unknown reasons. I have no idea if she got sick or got run over by a car or perhaps she missed me so much that she stopped eating and just died of heartbreak. Yeah, I know that last option is a bit too dramatic to involve a cat, but they don't call me the drama queen for nothing.

RIP Simbo, I will always miss you. Thank you for the years of companionship. You lived life on your terms and did it with so much attitude that makes me believe....you were no ordinary cat. Enjoy the heavenly potato chips.

Drama in Real Life

So on the long weekend I went white water rafting, much to the horror and surprise of my family. No, they are not over protective or paranoid. They just know me really well and knowing me they know how deathly afraid I am, of thrill rides, water and drowning, and since WWR involves all three, I might as well have been suicidal. My father thought I'd chicken out at the last minute, my sister was sure I'd have a heart attack, my brother in law just said "cool", and M...well M is the one who got me in trouble. Since she claims to be afraid of roller coasters as well, and since she has been WWR twice before, I thought how bad can it really be? And it really was not that bad. In fact it was a lot of fun. At first I was a bit freaked out since I don't know how to swim and I knew if i fell in,everyone will witness such drama and chaos, inspite of the life jacket that I adorned, that they will actually find the rapids boring. But once in the raft, I was a lot more confident and really glad that I came. The first rapid of course, had me with my heart in my throat, especially when I felt the raft was getting swallowed by a giant black hole, but it was just so much fun to come out of it that I relaxed and just enjoyed the rest of the ride. We had some funny incidents with the people that went with us. One guy 'N' tried to save a guy 'S' who wasn't really drowning since he just had his raft voluntarily flipped over. As S floated downstream towards us, N got totally panicked and started tugging at S's life jacket frantically without much success. He kept trying to pull S up while standing in the raft until S actually started trying to break free from him. It was hilarious. The struggle went on for a minute or so and cost S his sunglasses and cap, and when eventually I pulled S in (using the technique the guide had taught us), he was just so happy that I saved him from N. Then this other lady insisted on counting each of her paddle stroke, and when M asked why was she counting and whether she intended to add all the counts up at the end of the ride, the lady just said the counting kept her sane. I immediately went to the far side of the raft and quickly went in the other raft as soon as the raft flipping craziness ended. And why do people have their rafts flipped on purpose?? Whats up with that anyway?
SO the whole WWR experience was great and I might go again but I will stick to level 3 until I learn how to swim (odds of this happening is 1 to 10, since several people have tried and quit trying to teach me how to swim...mummmyyy get me out of here..noooo..noooo...ya allahhhhh).
So the weekend was fun, spend time with family, celebrated my darling nephew's 5th birthday, watched my baby nephew walk, had some masala dosa and chaat yumm, all in all a great weekend.
Cut to this morning. I get to the airport and find my flight is 30 mins late, oh well. Tried to listen to the music, the ipod battery runs out, That's alright I guess. I reach Seattle, my friend is 40 mins late in picking me up and I am late from work, Hmmm. I get to my car and start driving to work, but coming downhill i go slightly over the speed limit, and of course a cop is there. He pulls me over and slaps me with my very first moving violation. Noooooooooooooooooooooo. I am dejected I forget I need gas and get on the freeway. I realise I need gas, so I take the nearest exit, and my car simply stops. Dead. Kaput. I burst out laughing deliriously. God finally remembers me. The source of wonderful, healthy, laugh-so-hard-hurt-your-side entertainment. He likes me, he really likes me.
Two things occur to me as I walk to the nearest gas station. Firstly, had this been Pakistan My car would have been pushed by at least four strong men, more than happy to assist a damsel in distress, to the nearest gas station. Secondly, I should be grateful that God did not use me for his morning entertainment while I was enjoying white water rafting :-)
I intend to go home soon, climb under the blanket and stay there for the rest of the day.

Suspicious

Sometimes when everything around you has started to unravel and you find your situation slowly inching southwards, somehow you manage to keep up the buoyancy of your mood. Such a situation can take you by surprise, perhaps because, based on experience you were expecting yourself to become frazzled at the first sign of trouble or at least have a few sleepless nights. But Nada. Is this denial or delusion or is it just that reality is having a hard time hitting you in the face, because you have created so many layers of distractions, duties and tasks to help you dodge this ultimate assault? Should this time be considered a blessing and should be used to enjoy the freedom of the stress-free zone or should this be considered the quiet before the storm and must be used to safeguard oneself against the storm or better yet prevent the storm?

Staying true to my element as a mental retard, I have started analysing my apparent nonchalance towards the impending unemployment. No stress about the move, no tension due to the lack of interview calls, no breakdowns about the unstable and inconstant nature of my life. Hmmm, somethings not right. This is me we are talking about. The die-hard, uncompromising drama queen.I know, I know, I should be glad that nothing is getting to me, but you see that's just what is wrong with my brain. It is so used to being worried that now it is worrying about my lack of worrying. Am I finally loosing it? Don't answer that one.

Anyway, having packed and moved to a friend's home for the remaining sentence of my Seattle exile, I am just about ready for my next big adventure. I have no idea what it is, where it is or when is it, but I do know that it needs to be in a non-snowy part of the country. It also cant be in the part of the country which is too far away from California neither can it be in a state that is predominantly a desert and has harsh, hell-like summers. Also, I am done with the rainy Northwest region. So lets see here, no snow, no desert, no rain, not too far away from my people, hmmm. I guess that just leaves me California itself. Huh, who would have thought ;).

Yes yes I know beggars cant be choosers, so I will go where the bread is to be gotten. Nonetheless, I hope the dream of working and living in my beloved city of San Francisco would finally come true. We will see.

In the menatime I am trying not panic about my lack of panic. Perhaps I have become used to the craziness of life or I have just matured into a more level-headed, sensible person, who understands that life has its share of flights and crashes. Okay the cynic in me just fell off his chair in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Hey come'on it can happen. Sighhhhh