This is what my last posting was supposed to be about. Let's hope I don't stray this time.
I'll be home in approximately a fortnight/2 weeks/14 days. As always, I have plans for the summer which generally involve some form of self-improvement.
Past planned summer activities for me have included
- Reading all the United Nations documentation on the Israel/Palestine conflict
- Becoming moderately skilled at the Harmonica
- Getting my 800 meter dash (if we can call 800 meters a dash) time down to a respectable 2:00 (minutes, not hours)
- Learning how to speak _________ (insert language here)
- Lifting regularly enough to be able to bench my own body weight (which is really not much more than the bar, to be honest)
- Making and maintaining a webpage (this blog doesn't count; the Indian** did all the set-up work for me. The Indian, you may know, is my source for all answers Internet. And he's a really great guy too... for an Indian.)
Past actual summer activities for me have included
- None of the above
- Not much else
I'm very good at planning/organizing/making lists. Not so good at following through with them. This summer I'm getting smart. I'm going to set a small number of clearly defined goals and resist the temptation to add more.
So, without further ado, I present to you
The Foreigner's Summer Plans 2006... in VERSE!!
Summertime is here again
I'm heading home, yes on a plane
Two years almost I've been gone
Karachi, dude! What's going on?
Sunny days are on their way
Little work and lots of play
Maybe cricket, maybe squash
Maybe World Cup Soccer. Gosh!
The harmonica will reappear
Lovely tunes to tease your ear
But only if I take a class
I don't want to break no glass
Webpage building here we go
Take it easy, take it slow
No demands, no deadline pressure
Time for an XML refresher
Have to get my F1 visa
Columbus, not Berlin or Pisa
Study some for graduate school
Can't show up and look the fool
Music, sports, the Internet
Would you like a cigarette?
No would be the correct answer
Nothing sucks quite like lung cancer
The last three lines are out of place
I could edit, change the space
But that would counter my intent:
Public Service Announcement
Anyway, I'm almost done
Said my verse, now have to run
But! Before this poem I smother
A message for my father, mother
The perfect son I may not be
The apple fell far from the tree?
Mistakes galore this boy has made
But on this point I won't be swayed
You may flinch; I will not blink
"Oh, what will your uncles think?"
No matter how you show dismay
The hair has gone; the stud will stay
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Thursday, April 20, 2006
The Long Term Memory Curse
I am cursed with an incredible long term memory. Here I am in my mid twenties, and, from what I've seen and heard, people in their mid twenties have a vague recollection of their school days... yes, there were some people, we had some fun, skinned some knees... and that's it. I, on the other hand, remember full names, faces, pet phrases and detailed anecdotes that are of no consequences whatsoever. Examples:
The Tuesday Incident
In grade/class 6 - I was 12 or thereabouts - one of my classmates, Sabih - or, in the spirit of full-namingness, Sabih bin Fakhar (I hope I don't get sued or something for using his real name) - mentioned during a conversation that the following day was Tuesday. I was bored. So I decided to make a big deal out of it. I pretended to be shocked and horrified that he would say such a thing. I whispered loudly to the people around me: "Oh my God! Sabih said tomorrow is Tuesday!! How could he??" (Of course this was all in Urdu - apologies to purists, but I am willing to compromise the linguistic integrity of this account for the benefit of my greater readership.)
My friends, being heartless jerks like I am, promptly picked up on it. Within seconds, a dozen people were berating Sabih for his use of the word Tuesday. We carried this joke a bit too far - too far meaning we spouted variations of "Sabih said tomorrow is Tuesday. How could he??" for the next 30 minutes - reducing the poor fellow to tears. He was a friendly, gentle soul, and I certainly felt bad when he cracked. We were, thank God, able to joke about the event later (on Wednesday and Thursday... but NOT Tuesday). Water under the bridge... Why do I remember this? God knows.
KG Lady (Haha... KG... cagey...)
I remember the name of my kindergarten teacher: Natasha Cowasjee. We had KG1 and KG2 back when I was young... I believe she may have been a KG2-er. So I was how old... 6? It's not like the lady's name was ever mentioned or reinforced after my time in her classroom either... sometimes I scare myself. I think my KG1 teacher was a lady whose last name started with a P... was it Pinjwani?? Mother?
The Math Problem
When I was trying to get into school in Pakistan - this would have been 1985... so I was 4 - I had to take an "admission test" which basically consisted of me standing by the Head Mistress - Mrs. Tahir, argh, I remember her too... I say argh not because the lady was hideous, far from it, but because the extent of my memory frightens me - and reading a few selected letters and numbers from this book she had. I handled the colors, letters and fruits (I think they were fruits) just fine. But then we got to a complicated math problem, 2 + 4 I think it was. Mrs. Tahir said, "What is this?" and I, not having the foggiest, blithely waved my hand and said, "Oh, I'll learn that later."
If my sarcastic streak had been any sort of developed back then, I would probably have said, "You silly woman! This is exactly what my father is going to pay you his hard earned money to teach me." But I didn't. I did notice that the mother had been unable to suppress a laugh when I waved my hand... I only understood why much later... when I was 22.
Anyway, those were some stories from my distant past. My distant past is fascinating. Someday I'll tell you the story of the time I hung upside down from a see-saw for what felt like several years.
You'll notice the first sentence of this post. Specifically the "cursed" part. Allow me to explain. I've recently become somewhat addicted to communicating with friends and aquaintances using Orkut (http://www.orkut.com/) a free networking service (kind of like Facebook, you Americans). One evening, I was idly browsing through one of my friend's friends lists and I found all these people I had known between seven and ten years ago. Naturally, interested to see them around, and wondering how they were doing, I "added" them to my own list. Some of them just plain rejected me. Others didn't respond. The few that bothered to add me sent messages along the lines of "At first I thought you were some random pervert" or "I had forgotten all about you." I suddenly realized that a whole bunch of people must think I'm some sort of sick-in-the-head psycho with too much time on his hands... "Weirdo I don't know... why does he think I'm his friend?" and it's really their sub-par memories that are doing me an injustice. Am I really that forgettable? *sigh*
So, in a completely understandable reaction to the callousness one with an outstanding memory must endure, I've been wishing I had rotten memory cells. Maybe then someone would come running up to me and say something like, "Shahyan!! Remember when we belly danced for 15 hours straight in 1996??" and I'd be able to look down my nose at him or her and say, "Sorry, Scum of the Earth, do I even know you?" and walk away. Ignorance is better than rejection, what.
Anyway, if you're reading this and have been stalked - or so you think - by me, don't worry. It's just my phenomenal long term memory under the mistaken impression that you actually know who I am. And your memory sucks, fyi.
What's funny - and a little bit sad - is that I can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday, or what I did at work today (which may actually be nothing, knowing me).
What's also funny - and a little bit sad - is that I started this post thinking I was going to write about my plans for the summer...
The Tuesday Incident
In grade/class 6 - I was 12 or thereabouts - one of my classmates, Sabih - or, in the spirit of full-namingness, Sabih bin Fakhar (I hope I don't get sued or something for using his real name) - mentioned during a conversation that the following day was Tuesday. I was bored. So I decided to make a big deal out of it. I pretended to be shocked and horrified that he would say such a thing. I whispered loudly to the people around me: "Oh my God! Sabih said tomorrow is Tuesday!! How could he??" (Of course this was all in Urdu - apologies to purists, but I am willing to compromise the linguistic integrity of this account for the benefit of my greater readership.)
My friends, being heartless jerks like I am, promptly picked up on it. Within seconds, a dozen people were berating Sabih for his use of the word Tuesday. We carried this joke a bit too far - too far meaning we spouted variations of "Sabih said tomorrow is Tuesday. How could he??" for the next 30 minutes - reducing the poor fellow to tears. He was a friendly, gentle soul, and I certainly felt bad when he cracked. We were, thank God, able to joke about the event later (on Wednesday and Thursday... but NOT Tuesday). Water under the bridge... Why do I remember this? God knows.
KG Lady (Haha... KG... cagey...)
I remember the name of my kindergarten teacher: Natasha Cowasjee. We had KG1 and KG2 back when I was young... I believe she may have been a KG2-er. So I was how old... 6? It's not like the lady's name was ever mentioned or reinforced after my time in her classroom either... sometimes I scare myself. I think my KG1 teacher was a lady whose last name started with a P... was it Pinjwani?? Mother?
The Math Problem
When I was trying to get into school in Pakistan - this would have been 1985... so I was 4 - I had to take an "admission test" which basically consisted of me standing by the Head Mistress - Mrs. Tahir, argh, I remember her too... I say argh not because the lady was hideous, far from it, but because the extent of my memory frightens me - and reading a few selected letters and numbers from this book she had. I handled the colors, letters and fruits (I think they were fruits) just fine. But then we got to a complicated math problem, 2 + 4 I think it was. Mrs. Tahir said, "What is this?" and I, not having the foggiest, blithely waved my hand and said, "Oh, I'll learn that later."
If my sarcastic streak had been any sort of developed back then, I would probably have said, "You silly woman! This is exactly what my father is going to pay you his hard earned money to teach me." But I didn't. I did notice that the mother had been unable to suppress a laugh when I waved my hand... I only understood why much later... when I was 22.
Anyway, those were some stories from my distant past. My distant past is fascinating. Someday I'll tell you the story of the time I hung upside down from a see-saw for what felt like several years.
You'll notice the first sentence of this post. Specifically the "cursed" part. Allow me to explain. I've recently become somewhat addicted to communicating with friends and aquaintances using Orkut (http://www.orkut.com/) a free networking service (kind of like Facebook, you Americans). One evening, I was idly browsing through one of my friend's friends lists and I found all these people I had known between seven and ten years ago. Naturally, interested to see them around, and wondering how they were doing, I "added" them to my own list. Some of them just plain rejected me. Others didn't respond. The few that bothered to add me sent messages along the lines of "At first I thought you were some random pervert" or "I had forgotten all about you." I suddenly realized that a whole bunch of people must think I'm some sort of sick-in-the-head psycho with too much time on his hands... "Weirdo I don't know... why does he think I'm his friend?" and it's really their sub-par memories that are doing me an injustice. Am I really that forgettable? *sigh*
So, in a completely understandable reaction to the callousness one with an outstanding memory must endure, I've been wishing I had rotten memory cells. Maybe then someone would come running up to me and say something like, "Shahyan!! Remember when we belly danced for 15 hours straight in 1996??" and I'd be able to look down my nose at him or her and say, "Sorry, Scum of the Earth, do I even know you?" and walk away. Ignorance is better than rejection, what.
Anyway, if you're reading this and have been stalked - or so you think - by me, don't worry. It's just my phenomenal long term memory under the mistaken impression that you actually know who I am. And your memory sucks, fyi.
What's funny - and a little bit sad - is that I can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday, or what I did at work today (which may actually be nothing, knowing me).
What's also funny - and a little bit sad - is that I started this post thinking I was going to write about my plans for the summer...
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Brokeback Mountain: My $0.02
So we watched Brokeback Mountain the other day. Fortunately, in case you were concerned, watching it will not make you gay. At least not within 5 days anyway.
In my honest, heterosexual opinion, the movie is overrated. By the time I had developed any sympathy whatsoever for the characters, the credits were rolling. The one high point was the theme - Wings by Gustavo Santaolalla, very low key, yet moving. The general premise of the movie was also solid but I would have preferred a little more action (but NOT of THAT kind).
So I got to wondering why the movie did so well... thoughts:
1. Acting was decent, but the pace was sooo slow I could have left the room, filed my teeth into little teddy bear shapes, returned and not missed much of the plot. So it wasn't that.
2. Amazing scenery in Wyoming. Lovely mountains, greenery, flowing water (i.e. streams and rivers). But you can get that stuff in most nature documentaries, or in photographs, or you could visit. So it wasn't that either.
3. Great soundtrack. No. Apart from Wings, nothing really jumped out as an outstanding composition.
I think the only people you'll find raving about the movie are gay people, because, lets face it, they're more marginalized than even African-Americans. There's finally a movie "about them." Can't blame them for being excited.
So why has this movie grossed $83 million to date and is still playing in some theaters across the United States despite being out (Haha - the gay movie came out**) for over 17 weeks ? It's really quite simple. The Right-Wing Christian fundamentalists don't want us to watch it. The bible thumpers provided a media blitz the movie makers could only have dreamed of. Human beings will always espouse certain childish traits. And one of those is doing the things people tell us we shouldn't.
Scenario A:
Brokeback Mountain is released. Homosexuals everywhere are thrilled. A little buzz, a little fizz. 3 weeks later it's over. No one cares. Yeah yeah, a movie about a couple of guys who like guys - not interested.
Scenario 2:
Brokeback Mountain is released. Homosexuals everywhere are thrilled. A little buzz, a little fizz. 3 weeks later - Stuffy, righteous old people all over the place trying to stop people from watching the movie. Some theaters not showing it. People calling it degenerate, evil, sinful etc etc. Holy Crap! I'm there!
Seriously, I wouldn't have cared to watch it if there hadn't been such an outcry. Yeah, yeah Oscar winners blah blah. I've skipped crappy Oscar winning movies before. I'm sure gays everywhere are thanking the Christian right for bringing the movie to a position of such prominence. Hell, they got me to watch it. And while it will never be my favorite movie, I did gain a further appreciation of how difficult it must be to know that the core of your emotional being is something that present day society will not accept.
So thank you Pat Robertson. Thank you Jerry Falwell. Thank you to all the idiots who try to keep us from broadening our horizons and being sympathetic to our brothers and sisters, even if we may not agree with their beliefs and lifestyles. Keep telling us what not to do. And we'll keep throwing your hatred right back at you.
I seem to be all sorts of angry at Falwell and Robertson... I will explore these feelings in a later post. (I hope this post happens... none of my promised posts ever come to fruition.)
**For those unfamiliar with homosexual terminology (I happen to be familiar because I was a resident assistant in a university residence hall for three years - a heterosexual resident assistant with a couple of gay residents, just for the record), "coming out" is the phrase that refers to the time a person openly admits to his or her homosexuality. Like a coming out of a closet... Now go back and read my joke. And you'll see how funny/clever/witty it was.
In my honest, heterosexual opinion, the movie is overrated. By the time I had developed any sympathy whatsoever for the characters, the credits were rolling. The one high point was the theme - Wings by Gustavo Santaolalla, very low key, yet moving. The general premise of the movie was also solid but I would have preferred a little more action (but NOT of THAT kind).
So I got to wondering why the movie did so well... thoughts:
1. Acting was decent, but the pace was sooo slow I could have left the room, filed my teeth into little teddy bear shapes, returned and not missed much of the plot. So it wasn't that.
2. Amazing scenery in Wyoming. Lovely mountains, greenery, flowing water (i.e. streams and rivers). But you can get that stuff in most nature documentaries, or in photographs, or you could visit. So it wasn't that either.
3. Great soundtrack. No. Apart from Wings, nothing really jumped out as an outstanding composition.
I think the only people you'll find raving about the movie are gay people, because, lets face it, they're more marginalized than even African-Americans. There's finally a movie "about them." Can't blame them for being excited.
So why has this movie grossed $83 million to date and is still playing in some theaters across the United States despite being out (Haha - the gay movie came out**) for over 17 weeks ? It's really quite simple. The Right-Wing Christian fundamentalists don't want us to watch it. The bible thumpers provided a media blitz the movie makers could only have dreamed of. Human beings will always espouse certain childish traits. And one of those is doing the things people tell us we shouldn't.
Scenario A:
Brokeback Mountain is released. Homosexuals everywhere are thrilled. A little buzz, a little fizz. 3 weeks later it's over. No one cares. Yeah yeah, a movie about a couple of guys who like guys - not interested.
Scenario 2:
Brokeback Mountain is released. Homosexuals everywhere are thrilled. A little buzz, a little fizz. 3 weeks later - Stuffy, righteous old people all over the place trying to stop people from watching the movie. Some theaters not showing it. People calling it degenerate, evil, sinful etc etc. Holy Crap! I'm there!
Seriously, I wouldn't have cared to watch it if there hadn't been such an outcry. Yeah, yeah Oscar winners blah blah. I've skipped crappy Oscar winning movies before. I'm sure gays everywhere are thanking the Christian right for bringing the movie to a position of such prominence. Hell, they got me to watch it. And while it will never be my favorite movie, I did gain a further appreciation of how difficult it must be to know that the core of your emotional being is something that present day society will not accept.
So thank you Pat Robertson. Thank you Jerry Falwell. Thank you to all the idiots who try to keep us from broadening our horizons and being sympathetic to our brothers and sisters, even if we may not agree with their beliefs and lifestyles. Keep telling us what not to do. And we'll keep throwing your hatred right back at you.
I seem to be all sorts of angry at Falwell and Robertson... I will explore these feelings in a later post. (I hope this post happens... none of my promised posts ever come to fruition.)
**For those unfamiliar with homosexual terminology (I happen to be familiar because I was a resident assistant in a university residence hall for three years - a heterosexual resident assistant with a couple of gay residents, just for the record), "coming out" is the phrase that refers to the time a person openly admits to his or her homosexuality. Like a coming out of a closet... Now go back and read my joke. And you'll see how funny/clever/witty it was.
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