Posts Tagged 'Life'

Monday Morning Madness

So the idea is that I will write every morning, for an hour, about whatever. It was something I picked up on the “tips” section of a writers’ blog in the vastness of the Internet. That being said, not everything I write will end up here. And not everything that ends up here was… Well, you get the point.

Today however, is one of those days, when what I write will end up here, like it already has.

So what is on your mind today, Al?

That sounds like something my shrink would ask me. Not that I have a shrink, but if I had, that sounds like something he’d ask.

I would reply with something like, “Nothing at the moment, but I can make something up.”

At which point, he would say “Fine, then make something up.”

From there on, we would get into a long and complex, but strangely familiar dialogue, before realizing halfway that my shrink is in fact Dr. Jeffrey Squires, and I am still asleep, and dreaming like my life depended on it.

But come to think of it, dreams make life worth living. I mean, why exist if you have nothing to achieve? You might as well just die and make space for the dreaming humans, after all, resources are very scarce.

But right now, it is not the scarcity of the resources in the world that is on my mind; it is the Maths class I’m having in an hour that bothers me.

One morning, I woke up to find myself studying Artificial Intelligence. Funny thing is that I’m not particularly bright at Maths. Sure, I like computers (who doesn’t?), and have experimented with a few programming languages, but Calculus just isn’t my thing.

I want to be a filmmaker. No, not in a Hollywood sort of way, although I have to admit that’ll be quite good. But small scale, Indie, so to say. And not only direct my own films, but work on other people’s. Help and teach others in non-formal ways and just live in the filmmaking. Live in the filmmaking: That’s my dream.

But I have a problem. Maybe not a problem in the I-owe-the-mob-a-shit-load-of-money-and-they-want-it-by-tomorrow sort of way, but a problem nonetheless.

None of my close friends is really into film. Sure, we often have great times at the movies, and even talk about said movies afterwards. But there’s a way moviegoers talk about a movie, and there’s a way moviemakers talk about a movie. Not one of my friends talk like the latter.

I’m not saying they should. I like pizza, and If it’s hot and smells nice, I’m game. I don’t really care how it came to be.

But I have my artsy friends, only not as easily accessible as I’d have wanted, but what the hell. They are the kind of friends that you’ll need a computer with a pathway to the interweb just to say Hi to. But take my word for it, it’s worth it.

I mean, take when I wanted to get my DSLR for example. Sure, I could have thrown the problem at Google, and gotten a thousand fucking answers which I would spend the whole day checking. But no, I asked Sean, and he gave me his honest to God opinion, straight up. It is refreshing.

Or when I so much like to talk about a film related something, and none of my friends seem to be paying any attention. Then on, she comes and we argue for an hour. No, it’s not the kind of argument that frustrates; it’s the kind that liberates. There is just something relaxing about having a deep, but meaningless conversation about something you care about with someone you know knows their shit, even if they don’t agree with you. In fact it’s more fun when they don’t always agree. Thank you Nadira for being there, even if so rarely.

This is turning into some kind of love letter to my online artsy friends, which is fine. They keep me alive, fuel my dreams and give me a reason to live. I love them all.

I would probably die if I didn’t have such friends. Not a physical death of course, but what’s a body without a soul? I’ll tell you, a vessel for the body snatchers to invade!

Fashion, Relationships & Stupid People

Warning: Some people may find this offensive. Reader discretion is advised!

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“No, fashion is for ladies. I want a universal theme, something both sexes will enjoy reading”

I know, embarrassing as fuck! That was my editor. I threw up in my mouth when he said that. I wanted to bitch-slap him back to reality and tell him how fucking stupid he was. But when he told another guy to go write a piece about a lame-ass online multi-player game that nobody gives a shit about, I just felt sorry for the poor bastard. I wanted to give him a big hug, like he was my retarded half-cousin.

I wonder how this poor model will feel when he’s told that male fashion is like the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus.

It’s like a friend of mine once said; smart is a dying breed. She was complaining about how claustrophobic she felt in a sea of stupid people.

At that time, I just smiled and told her to stop being such an arrogant snob. But with people like my dear editor, and the idiots that thought “Meet the Spartans” was one of the funniest movies of all time, I find myself very scared of the future.

If in 2008, people are enjoying the shit out of movies like Meet the Spartans and Disaster Movie, then come 2050, we’re going to have an Idiocracy like future. Just wait till a studio executive somewhere comes up with “Ass: The Movie”.

The thought of my kids and grandkids living in a future like that just sends cold chills down my spine.

A friend of mine got dumped a while ago. He got ill. Yes I’ve been dumped before, and yes it wasn’t pretty. One thing I didn’t do was fall sick for the “attention”.

OK I’m not saying that’s what he did, but the timing was a little too perfect don’t you think? Also, the fact that he called his ex’s best friend to tell her he was ill didn’t help.

Is there a BIG picture here? Because I don’t see it. What was his plan? Fall sick and guilt the poor girl into taking him back? He must be pretty fucking stupid if he thought for one second that could work. But if it had worked, then they’re both fucking stupid!

Can you imagine the uber-stupid kids they’ll bring into this world? I most definitely won’t want them to mingle with my kids. Maybe I’ll make all potential partners of my kids take IQ tests.

On a second thought, fuck IQ tests!

Another friend of mine wrote a blog preaching and advocating single life. I always get a kick out of reading blogs and write-ups about how awesome single life is.

His started so well, that is until I got to one of his reasons for being single – waiting for the “perfect girl”. His words, not mine. I swear I didn’t make this shit up!

Once upon a time, only 8 year old girls dream of being with the perfect guy and living happily ever after. What’s interesting is that even the 8 year olds have the good sense to only “dream”.

What is this world turning into? I wonder if guys will start having periods very soon. That’ll be about the time I’ll make my final trip to Japan to visit the suicide mountains.

Although I do agree with some of his other reasons, like the freedom and the ability to do whatever, I think the issue of freedom, or lack of it in a relationship is highly overrated.

Be gay, asexual or promiscuous… I don’t care. Hell you can even choose to wait for your little Miss Perfect or Prince Charming… I’ll pity your ignorance, but I won’t fucking care!

What I hate is people preaching their opinions. Say what you want, it’s a free world. Yes. But if you shove that shit down my throat, I’m going to take a huge dump and shove your face into it. That’s gross, but you get my point.

This are just some of the few things on my mind right now. It’s not much, but I feel I haven’t updated in a while so what the hell. If you found this offensive, well, FUCK YOU! I warned you didn’t I?

PS: This post was intentionally written in dick/asshole mode as a homage to one of my favorite bloggers, Maddox. No disrespect to my friends, I love you all 🙂

How I Found Love Again

It was a small restaurant on a very small corner of an even smaller school in a big big city. I pulled a chair and sat down; Mubarak sat in the opposite seat. A lot of things were going through my mind at that time, one of which was why Mubarak insisted we ate there.

“Would you like me to take your order now?”, the waitress asked.

She was a short Chinese girl, and another person could have easily mistaken her for someone not more than 16. But I wasn’t just anyone. I gave her one look and knew she was at least 22. Her body was slim, not necessarily hot. She had a smile that even the most contentious person wont deny the cuteness. She was indeed pretty. I think I’ve found our reason for being here.

I asked Mubarak what he was having; I tweaked a few things and ordered something similar. She was about to leave when she turned and asked,

“Would you like our homemade mushroom soup?”

For as long as I remember, I hated soups.

It started on my 7th birthday. My mom was taking everyone to a Chinese restaurant. Ever since she came back from Beijing earlier that year, my mom had been obsessed with everything Chinese. In fact on that day I was dressed up in light Grey Chinese clothes and the most comfortable size 4 black martial arts shoes. I felt like a miniature Jackie Chan dipped in chocolate syrup. It was a good feeling.

I’d never seen so much variety of food in my life. Everyone looked happy; although I wasn’t sure if it was because of my birthday or the food, but I didn’t care.

I don’t really remember much from that day. But I remember two things very clearly.

There was the beef that was brought to the table with a flame blazing on top of it. It scared the hell out of me. But I remember it because it was probably the most incomprehensible thing my 7 year old brain had to make sense of.

The second was the white mushroom soup. It was cream, not white; nonetheless, at that time, I had never seen a soup that wasn’t red, some shade of yellow or in some rare instances green. But it wasn’t the color I remember, it was the taste. When I put it in my mouth, it was the weirdest thing ever my taste buds had to deal with in their 7 years of existence. It wasn’t exactly painful, but I burst out crying. I didn’t like it, and that was the bottom line.

The soup was served. I looked at it. White, cream, call it whatever you want. I looked across the table at Mubarak. Why in the world did I let this guy order soup for me?

I took the spoon and dipped in the soup. It was thicker than I imagined it would be. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. My mouth began to open slowly as the spoon left the bowl.

The spoon moved towards my mouth.

I waited.

One second.

Two seconds

Three…. It was in.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. I could hear drums beating in my ears and my taste buds dancing to the rhythm. My body was glowing, and even though I didn’t see it, I could feel it. All my senses were at their most active… Everything suddenly made sense.

Then I realized I was still holding my breath.

I let go and opened my eyes.

Life is funny; One moment you hate something, and a spoon later you realize that it’s the best thing in the world.

The Anatomy Of A Life Saver

It was midnight, my paper was at 9 in the morning, and sleep was crawling into my eyes. I could have slept and woken up in time for the paper, yes, but I had 10 Chapters of complex and boring reading to do, which if I didn’t, will probably result in this same dilemma happening over the same exam next year. So to help myself avoid re-sitting for the paper I haven’t even sat for, I told myself,

“OK. I’ll study all night and only get some sleep after the paper”

Perfect! But how, considering that I’m already halfway to the airport to board my flight to Sleepovia.

And then it came to me, my secret sleep deprivation concoction, so secret that if anyone so much as knew one ingredient, a hitman would immediately be sent their way, and they’ll never be heard from again. It was passed on to me through generations… It starts with hot water, s- …

Shit! Now that you know one ingredient, you better start watching your back for that hitman…

Anyways… I gulped down my concoction and was feeling fresher than ever. Got the 10 chapters down just in time for my paper. Once at the venue, I realized two of my closest friends weren’t there. What’s a guy to do when his guys aren’t present at the exams? He calls them!

RING! RING!

“Hello…”, answered a sleepy voice.

“Dude WTF! You’ll be late for the exams!”, I said.

“Right now?”, he sounded confused.

“Yep, right fuckin’ now! Get Ur sleepy ass over here immediately!”, It felt good shouting.

“Jeez! Thanx mehn U’re a life saver!”

Five minutes later, he came running to the venue. He was all sweaty and it was evident he didn’t even wash his face.

“I can’t believe I slept for over 24 hours!”, he said while gasping for breath.

“What are you talking about?”, I was a little confused.

“I mean, I slept day before yesterday and I’m just waking up now”, he said, still gasping.

“Dude are high or something? I just saw you last night!”, I said, shaking my head and thinking how pathetic.

“Wait… What’s today’s date?”, he asked.

“19th”, I said.

“Ooo…. Ooooo…. Oooooooooo… Fuck you!”, and he meant it.

“What?”, I was more confused than ever.

“The the paper in on fuckin’ 20th! JEEZ!”

And then I realized… we were the only two people at the venue and it was already 9am.

Life saver