tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26079554445651772012024-03-13T07:18:01.451+03:00Mosaic CogitationsStarfish and Screamssarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-10683387441928970012010-04-19T15:01:00.001+03:002010-04-19T15:02:46.461+03:00I'm all nice. Yo!<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Yalla show some colour here woman.<br />Gora gora rang tera kala kal til ni.<br /><br />=p<br />Imooo Khan baybeh. ;)<br /></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-40377304080479383492009-12-24T12:11:00.000+03:002009-12-24T12:12:18.465+03:00ANACONDA <3<div style="text-align: center; font-size: 1em; font-style: italic; font-family: Times New Roman,serif; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"><div style="float: left;"><img src="http://www.ducoclam.com/uselessknowledge/dt1.png" width="100" /></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The biggest snake in the world is the anaconda of South America. The largest anaconda ever was 27 feet (8.45 meters) long and more than 3 feet (1 meter) around, with a weight close to a quarter-ton.</span></div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-85608926683924656652009-12-21T15:01:00.002+03:002009-12-21T15:21:40.918+03:00Oh dear God, I love you.<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Do you know what's the best feeling in the world?<br />Having come back from school, stressed out (and been sleeping only 15 hours in the last 3 days) and thinking to yourself, let's go sleep. But what you think to your inner self is: Oh, shaytan, please shut up and let me pray my Zuhr which I didn't pray at school before it's past the time.<br />You wait till you convince that lil' thing and wudu and there. You start praying. Now the main problem is, we recite and don't concentrate. I found a solution for myself and maybe it works for others. You actually translate it in English in your mind, and understand what you say, and there. Your soul feels what you recite.<br /><br />Back to the best feeling. Doing sajdah and pouring your soul to God's container of love. I swear. I feel like staying there ALL my life, except after some time I can't breathe. Catastrophic, or asthma- can't decide.<br /><br />The world is beautiful as Queen of all small things would say (don't know which of the words start with the capital letters for your case). Even more, God's beautiful. I was praying and suddenly I thought to myself. That this is happiness. Satisfaction. Love. Purity. I swear to God. I love it!<br /><br />So, I was thinking while praying- I lost track, sorry God- that I would want to address those who don't pray. No pinpointing. Or any sort. Wait, rephrase it, address to those who know they're missing something, who feel like they know what's missing but I guess shaytan takes over our Iman. Maybe, I'm wrong about the Iman part, obv God knows more. But you get me, don't you? To all of those, to all who feel lazy (I'm human too, I know it) I suggest, I advice, anything that fits this situation, to pray. Please. Pray. It fixes life more than anything else does. To my life yes, but dude, we don't have no option, its for our own benefit anyways. God won't get a dime out of this. Or any sort. Why laziness when you can not be lazy to check any notifications? 5 minutes at the least? Try your fard first. And then carry on. Come on, try today, to pray at least once, even if you never. I hope you do. Just try. There's no excuse, trust me. And there's no penalty.<br /><br />I hope you pray today. Just the fard maybe. I don't know which timezone you live in, but let's try.<br /><br />Goals of next year, actually of life. I want to keep praying, and inshaAllah regularly in my days. And inshaAllah all 5 at exact times. And I hope I influence my sisters.<br /><br />My mum says sometimes if you tell people your plans, sometimes, they never really turn out the way you plan. Sometimes. I hope my goal's achieved. I'd only tell this out, to remind myself at times. And maybe motivate you. (:<br /><br />Parents are indeed, God's most blessed blessings. The day you lose them, is without a doubt the saddest day of your life. May all of us have our parent's love throughout life and their support, moral and physical. There and just there. :)<br /><br />Oh alhamdulilah, life's fine. Alhamdulilah. Some things you're nervous about, but at the end. Nothing can ever kill you if it's wrong. So I guess, at the end of the day, all that matters is that you've got amazing parents. And to those who've lost them, may Allah forgive all their sins and grant them a place in Jannah Ameen. And at the end of the day, you can talk to your God. :) Sometimes you do. And sometimes- infact, most of the times, it's like you're being heard.<br /><br />Mosaic cogitations. Deep random thoughts. Some blue, some white. Some happy, some fine.<br />I hope I've done my job here, what I should've been doing. Long ago. :)<br />P.S. When do you use advice and advise? Help, please.<br /></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-57382072883840013052009-12-17T19:19:00.001+03:002009-12-17T19:21:23.386+03:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">They say I'm crazy.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">And they can't control their own crazes.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">-_____-</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I've started to hate weekends now. =/</span></div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-13638342160917901282009-12-17T13:55:00.005+03:002009-12-17T14:22:18.164+03:00Stranded In a Sea of Dolphins<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What is life like? After 5 months, you realise, maybe a tad bit of you is missing, incorporated into something you have no idea about. Sometimes your life fixes itself and there you are, smiling when you don't just need to, but maybe you have to.<br /><br />Right now, I'd give you a billion reasons why you should hang onto your life, and you'd give me 2 to let it down the drain. When I tell you those reasons, you don't give a shat about it anyways, because you're flipped in the gloom of I-don't-know-what.<br /><br />Two years ago, I look at myself, and everything was different. I hadn't got my O'levels results, never had the acne-full face- okay, I did slightly. I was 15. That sounds so young, so half-of-30. Now, I'm 17. More happier, more vivid in the crowds. More lost in the world.<br /><br />There's an end to all happiness, an end always. The smiley face needs a long break sometimes, and you feel all gloomy because you haven't showered well, your hair's oily or you're ripping your shoes. It's all sad. Sometimes the world remembers you at the busiest timings, and no one gives a bullock about when you actually need that attention. Happiness as it seems, isn't happy maybe. I'll smile for you, and inside everything's still the same.<br /><br />Technology has left me stranded. Stranded in a sea of dolphins.<br /></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-43117897259497373202009-06-07T00:00:00.002+03:002009-06-07T00:15:51.362+03:00Deep To The Depth of It.<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">I lost my phopu 2 days ago.<br />One day after my last exam and well, the worst day of the entire week I guess.<br />We all knew it actually. It had been 2 weeks since I knew about it. They said it was serious but had the hope for a miracle. I prayed for a miracle. Somethings just don't happen because there's a reason for them not to happen. Somethings don't happen because God doesn't want them to happen. He has a better plan. For all of us.<br />People come people go. They leave behind memories. Memories so intense like the mountains in the sea which rise beyond sea level to show what they're made up of. To show their existence. To show that they're still there.<br />My dad lost his third family member to cancer on the 4th of June. His mum had cancer but then they didn't have the finance to treat it. My uncle, younger to my dad had bladder cancer and well like most cases, it was too late and the chemotherapy did little help. My aunt had a lot.<br />Cancer is not only what she suffered through. She suffered through a lot. Poverty, ill-treatment, diseases, you name it. She had high blood pressure, diabetes, a pancreas removed and then came cancer. It made her obese. Liquid spread through her abdomen, which gave more pathway to the malignant. It went from her liver up to her throat. She finally had blisters in her mouth. The doctors told her to go home and spend the last days with her loved ones including God. And so she did.<br />Some people are too good in the world. my phopu was the sweetest person I knew. She never asked for help in finance, just so that she could show her children to never be dependent on others but God. She gave us all something, no other family member gave us, something that money couldn't buy. Love. Extreme love, with sweets and treats and smiles and hugs. And twinkles in the eyes. And loving it through.<br />I'll miss her. I'll always love her. I'll pray for her whenever I can and may be inshaAllah do an Umrah on her behalf. I guess its okay to live with it now. Three days of mourning are over. life will get back to it inshaAllah.<br /><br />I had cut down on my music, movies, etc. I missed parties but well I wasn't in the mood. But now, well I want to get some fun out of me, you know. After AS exams, I think I deserved to party. We'll leave that in God's hands for now. But remember, then which of the Blessings of your Lord will you deny? Too.<br />It is He who'll give you the light upon the approach of death, upon approach of fear, regret and all that Satan disposes on us. So Love your God. :)<br /></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-43884586542549749982009-05-15T21:20:00.002+03:002009-05-15T21:23:04.054+03:00=/<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">So thank you everyone for telling me, 'Yes, Sarah, you can do them and you'll so get an A.'</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">Now do you know what happens when you tell me that. -_-</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">They sucked, both sucked and well, I don't even have a brain to 'try' to understand the question.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">Ugh. While, almost EVERYONE knew it. EVERYONE. UGH.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-size:130%;" >BLEGH.</span><br /></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-42860650983278809762009-05-13T16:02:00.002+03:002009-05-13T16:04:28.769+03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SgrFHZxgEsI/AAAAAAAAAO4/GhnNqYombt8/s1600-h/1465351039_85a6ecf2f5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SgrFHZxgEsI/AAAAAAAAAO4/GhnNqYombt8/s320/1465351039_85a6ecf2f5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335293439542039234" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Unlike humans, the oyster is usually ambisexual.<br />It begins life as a male, then becomes a female, then changes back to being a male, then back to female.<br />It may go back and forth many times—and without paying for an operation, either!</span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-70808708177404898012009-04-25T11:33:00.013+03:002009-05-13T12:15:02.343+03:00Baba.Jaani<span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >So I'm the only teenager in the car, and it comes to me that right now being the only child with the parents, I may have had a lifetime expe</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >rience and also a boring phase with no siblings to talk to, to argue with, to make fun of. That is... life?</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />My mum in the car is all silent and quiet due to certain reasons so I'm the only one who's talking to my dad. We're talking about everything whatsoever may be happening. Something happens to the car, and he's telling me about it just the way a father talks to his eldest son. And then the b</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >est thought in life occurred to me, I may be my dad's son!<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SfQzboiDbAI/AAAAAAAAANg/6TUC1CUS2Ys/s1600-h/P4260077.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 207px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SfQzboiDbAI/AAAAAAAAANg/6TUC1CUS2Ys/s320/P4260077.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328940808915872770" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />I know it sounds oh-so-^o) but really, my dad treats me like that. Just like that. I am his first baby girl and the love one has for the first child is unconditional and one&only, I te</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >ll you. Endless. There's love and respect with a blend of reality. My dad loves me. Not the love a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >daughter gets from her mother, not the love where he'll make coffee for you and massage your head, not the affection when you scratch your knee. Nope. This love is much more than that. This love is about standing for your self. This love is about making cold-coffee when I'll have a flu, affection to scramble to the ground and get up myself. This love is about independence rather than reliance.<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >My dad has always respected me, always. Even </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >when I was young, he'd respect my views and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >he always thought high of me. It used to be weird when other parents would just ignore </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >suggestions given by their 8-year old child, while my dad would actually try whatever I suggested. We're more of friends. Me and my dad make a good team. We joke around and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >neither would mind anything. Of course, sometimes<br />I cross the line, but due to respect I always apologize.<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Back in the years when we used to go to Pakistan for the holidays, people used to </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >think that what an ill-mannered daughter I am, and I have no 'tameez' of talking to my dad. But actually, one thing they never knew was that we were different. Something hard to explain, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >something hard to understand.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />My dad has never complained of not having a son, because it's not a huge issue for either of my parents, it's just me who wants to have a brother. :) So well, my dad's kind of trained me for hardware engineering. =p By 8 I think, I knew what was the screwdriver, the wrench, etc. and I loved helping him out. I was always scared of the ear-piercing sound of the drill, and the head-banging sound of the hammer but I got used to it. =D And it was nice! So well, I see a son in me somewhere. =D</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />He's called us his dreams come true. =D I'm his American dream, Sibgha the um, Saudi dream, because of her Palestinian touch and Manal his Pakistani dream because she's kind of... um, weird or something. =/ So well, I love being American dream and I love my name too. =D<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >He's given me all that I've ever desired. Really. I was the first one in my class to get a laptop at such a young age, the first one to get a cell phone and that also an i-mate-though it sucked. He might've spoiled me a bit but that doesn't matter at all to me. =D There's nothing more I could ever want but to be with my dad always. Always. (:<br /><br />Just the way orange wants green, contacts want solution, Rija loves her mum, Sibgha loves Miranda Citrus, I love my dad! I love him from the bottom of my heart! The only thing that matters.<br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >My Papa Jaani.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SfQyLiMhQDI/AAAAAAAAANY/2GCjf8coTbU/s1600-h/P4260064.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SfQyLiMhQDI/AAAAAAAAANY/2GCjf8coTbU/s400/P4260064.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328939432825405490" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-54725392552575276282009-04-25T11:16:00.002+03:002009-04-25T11:33:32.934+03:00Beauty<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I've just come from one of the wonders of the world for me. A place so majestic, so pure. While everything is so Holy, there are things equally wild there. Yes, wild. Yes, things. Sadly, those things are us humans. Just for a place which maybe about 30 cm, a buffalo wants to fit in. Literally, a buffalo. Now, just imagine the cat fight they have there. Luckily, I don't understand Arabic as yet and so I miss out on some curse words, which is good to a degree.<br /><br />The best part of it all is about the place. If you want to seclude yourself to God in a place crowded with millions- really, it's just the wisest choice. Ah! The fragrance of the black cloth upon the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ka'abah</span> is the best scent I have ever smelt! I wish I could just sleep while holding it close to my face! =D Moreover, you get to see SO many races from all parts of the world. Mostly, Iranians and Syrians- the most ill-mannered, Indonesians, Indians, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Sudanis</span> and oh so many more. =D I wish I knew Arabic so I could communicate with them and know more about the world =D<br /><br />So yesterday, I'm just all alone in the car and I have the backseat all to myself, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">every thing's</span> quiet and I've started thinking about where I've been. It's such a Holy place, so many prophets have been, so many people wish to be there. So much love and so much fame. I always wanted the feeling of being all alone in the mosque, and it's all to you at the time. You can pray anywhere you want to, visit the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Roza</span>-e-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Jannah</span> as many times as you want to, pray for as long as your heart desires, and sleep next to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Ka'abah</span> because you know you're protected by the best System ever to exist. =]<br /><br />So what more does mankind want? They come to see one of the things, many billions want to visit, and all they do is swear to each other because by mistake one pushes the other? So why is everyone intelligent but still illiterate?<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">'Seek help through patience and Salah'</span><br /><br />=)<br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"></span></div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-3830637813240720352009-04-21T12:50:00.005+03:002009-05-13T15:57:19.860+03:00Only Time- Enya<span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Life. Maybe it's definition is still incomplete like that of love's. Maybe it's just so simple, that it's complicated to understand it. Or maybe it's unfair, supposed to be unfair. How cat-people are allergic to cat fur and have it in their mouth while eating Doritos, unfair I tell you.<br />An excess or lack of sleep gives me a bad flu. A very bad one. 50 sneezes/2 minutes.<br /><br />But all that is not the point. The point here today is just about <span style="font-style: italic;">people</span> and life. I've been touched by this blog about such a noble man. A man full of life, full of love, full of adventures. A <span style="font-style: italic;">man</span> who loves his <span style="font-style: italic;">life</span>, and has regrets but those regrets just strengthen him. Making him bold and composite, the regrets give him a reason to live on, to breathe on.<br /><br />I've forgotten the purpose of this blog, maybe it's just random, maybe today I feel like living. Living life. Maybe today, I would want to be myself, random but much than a girl in Riyadh. I'll know things about me today I never knew. A new day has come, so let's live it. Let's love it. From every point of view, let's love people. They're in your life for a reason. A reason that influences you. =D Enya is in my life because her music knows me so well. Geography tells me what plateaus are actually. The sweaty hands cool me. Digestive digest me. You make me feel special because you're equally special.<br /><br />So let's start loving everything we've been given, everything we have, even everything we least care.<br /><br /><br /></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-61956301496478995852009-04-14T21:57:00.004+03:002009-04-14T22:07:42.404+03:00Golden Sun<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SeTcxjrKGrI/AAAAAAAAAMY/V2ORHUrek90/s1600-h/2910111548_71f550144d.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SeTcxjrKGrI/AAAAAAAAAMY/V2ORHUrek90/s400/2910111548_71f550144d.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324623403406727858" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">Sea Urchins. Echinoderms. Sea Star. Not Star Fish. Red-knobbed.<br />Fine Shine. Blurry Mind. *<br /></span></span></span></div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-31849165151425433542009-04-10T10:24:00.005+03:002009-05-13T15:57:58.382+03:00Pond Of Water<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >When the sun comes out, it drains away the rain, no more gloom to fear, no more grey. Big puffy, fluffy, white, snowy clouds. And the sunny, yellow sun colours the sky. The birds chirp, and Riyadh is once again black and white.<br /><br /><br />I actually think I had the first good day of year '09. Four months passed by, and things were just not the same, until yesterday. Everyone seemed happy, everyone including mum. A lovely, neat dinner, pretty Italian and English, the second amazing dinner of the year, first being when our exclusive guests came up from Dubai and we had AMAZING biryani right after school. <3><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br />Some things just make so much difference just by their mere prescence.<br />:) </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-81362898570985033342009-04-01T16:57:00.002+03:002009-05-17T13:48:20.912+03:00To You, And When The Heart Flips.<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">Now that you're gone. No, you never went away, deep inside you left a mark, a scar. A scar, never to be erased, never to be forgotten. It wasn't a matter of life or death. Maybe I made a mistake, maybe you made a mistake too, but either way I wanted it to go, continue. Go on and give something fruitful. Maybe. But, you just left me stranded just the next day, as if we were strangers. Were you afraid? Afraid of the society? Society that just laughed because they loved your laugh? While society meant all, I was what for you. Oh yes, just the simple darn. Ah. How predictful.</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">But life went on, didn't it? You went your way, while I waited, waited in hope. I don't regret it, I don't because it made me learn a lesson I should've. I don't feel a fool, because I just acted human, like you. Or were you human back then? I still find you, maybe just for pleasure. I still try to dream about you, I did type 'try'. Maybe, it's over. Over since long. Maybe I'm just slow like my metabolism. Oh well, I made many excuses to turn the truth upside down. But I guess you haven't forgotten of 'it' and have long forgotten me. :)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">Yes, of course. The way your eyes met mine, the butterflie</span></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">s, and then that one blink which would bring me back to the ground. The late nights, the ruffling of your hair, the playing with the cold toes. *sigh* Now, that you're gone, it's all just memories. Truth be told, I miss you at times, miss yo</span></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">u so much, that eventually I do dream about you, eventually I do think of you with every sad lyric, while you just sms. And that also sms everyone but me, from Mustafa to i-don't-know-who-else.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">I remember how you respected me, and if I said yes it was a yes to you too. Where's everything gone? :) Where? And now the basement is </span></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">just a historical place for me, something antique, something I think about everyday, and never show it. When I'm high, I'm high because of you, when I'm low, I'm low because of you. Because I'm me, and that's what I love, I love me the way I am and so that's why I'm high, just to show you that after 3 years, I'm still staying alive. I'm still breathing. :) Are you?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">Crime scene never gets disturbed. I can't cut the part of my life, because I want to. Maybe I don't want to. And why do I feel like puking? Water after coffee? Or is it you?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">I think sometimes, I think whether I should ever tell my future-partner about you, me and the history we share? And how you'd react to me getting marrie</span></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">d, getting far from you, not anymore your's, and is that okay? Of course, you'll never answer, because you'll never know.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">You said you'll be a software engineer, stay at home, help the kids out, while I'm busy at the hospital. Now, it just makes me smile. How'd you ask me to lay besides you just so I could play with your hair. :) How'd I tell you what hairstyle to keep because y</span></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">ou loved your hair more than me. How'd I always tell you not to apply gel because it would ruin your hair's texture and so you stopped using it... :)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">So after all these years, 3 years man, 3! I hope you get what you need, or whatsoever makes you live. Because, I'm gone and you've lo</span></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">st me. The rest is in destiny's hand.</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SdN7TF2DrkI/AAAAAAAAAI4/aPy8RF2DpbA/s1600-h/DSC_7207.JPG"><br /></a></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-2919566651934826032009-03-30T20:06:00.001+03:002009-05-13T16:02:24.205+03:00Exploration<span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >So I'm still discovering the secrets the Earth encloses, I'm still opening cupboards to find leftovers. I'm still typing to make new words and new sentences to make new paragraphs and so disclosing new aspects of life. So like I begin to post something serious, something meaningful to the other side of me. Something more than colourful text and images full of life, because there's always a tear after a smile so be ready for it and not whine after you set your own consequences.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >I'm tired of life, not high with it and not low. I am just plain bored, tired. Because I think of death everyday. Every single day since last week, and it is so freaky because I'm scared of the phone ringing, I'm scared when someone shouts my name, I am scared when my dad reaches home late, and I'm even scared when Sibgha doesn't wake up from her deep sleep. I think I should stop thinking a lot about it since it's bad to think too deep since it affects you, I think.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Everyday there's some news of someone dying and it increases day by day and it's so sad. Why is it so sad, why? Why do bad news exist? Why can't life just be happy? Why is poverty on it's highest scale? Why can we just not sleep all day, why can't we just relax and live life the way we want to? Eat peanuts so much without gaining in a calorie, why not just relax and swim so deep that it's hard to rise to the surface? Why can't we swim in the cool, deep blue sea and just swim so good that you don't have to breathe? Why can't we just dance on streets without people staring at us? Why is life not easy as 1, 2, 3? And there exist so many more questions.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">I wonder how many ants I would've killed in my whole entire life, yes, by mistake but there would be so many. And if I alone kill that much, what about the whole of Pakistan? And of course, the global killing of ants. But they must have their own mechanisms about it</span>.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >So the whole point is, right now, just right now for the first time in my entire life, I had tears in my eyes and I did not cry. It's not because I'm missing someone or I got scolded or I was slapped or hurt by the handle of the door or any such matter. I just teared because I was low, and still am low. Is that bad? It shouldn't be, should it? It's okay to cry, yeah? To let out the anger, the sadness and even the foremost happiness?</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >I would want a perfect life. A life without the excess use of the internet. I'm not addicted, okay maybe I am. I'm just disgusted by the thought that I spend hours on the most useless thing and mostly, just doing nothingand just staring at the screen waiting for something to pop up and say surpirse and worse of all facebook-ing. Honestly, facebook should die. It's just an excuse to stalk people. 'Omg. X just uploaded a picture with her skin showing, omg, she's so going to hell.' Ef that. And then you start reading their comments and wham, it's all over facebook and soon the whole school knows about it all. 'She has more guys in her friend list than girls, omg, she got a ticket to hell!' Like you're so good, haina? Uf. And then their amazingly cheap statuses in which they never the goddamn person's name and go like... 'He's such a dash, he dumped me! :( :( :( :( :'((((((' UFF. And then you click on more comments to see whether you know who the guy was. Faltoo kaam. So maybe, I'll just deactivate the worst part of my life for a while, just stay away from people who are just too farigh.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >So now it's like 8.40 which is effed because I have a Unit 2 test of Chemistry and I haven't studied shit and all I've done is sit back and found a major excuse to make my bum more fat and blunt and wide. Moreover, gained adipose on my tummy, and my thighs and legs and because of wow Biology, I don't even have time to work out or drink water.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >No, that's my fault, I can't blame bio for everything, give it a break. Millions of people studies more than I do and never ended up with a dry, bad skin with pinkness over the fair and so you're like a blend with patches and then of course, so wide, it's hard to carry your own arse. So it's like inevitable to be disgusted by it sometimes. Life goes on and people leave, people come you succeed, and you fail; ups and downs.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >I think I blame my lowness to my exclusive iTunes playlist because, it's always at shuffle so I'll be listening to the most jolly song ever and in the next 4 minutes it switches to an R'n'B and soon to easy listening and the sad love songs. Just like, 'Now That You're Gone' by Ryan Adams. It's so low, that it pulls you from your highest enery leve to the lowest and thus releasing a photon of light. And so it's about time, I get up, scramble to my feet to catch a branch of silsa and escape from the swallowings of the quick-sand. Enough. =p</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >So, ladies and gentleman, I give you a happier version of me, once again and I hope I drink water now, since the spices have drained the H2O out of me.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Live your life, even in the cold November rain.</span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-15304749251069760622009-03-23T15:44:00.000+03:002009-03-23T15:54:23.801+03:00Courage<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SceGQVe2XNI/AAAAAAAAADw/HxgQf65Hukk/s1600-h/PArmed.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SceGQVe2XNI/AAAAAAAAADw/HxgQf65Hukk/s320/PArmed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316365500336725202" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">Soldiers make me SO proud.</span></span></span></span></div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-81274493717873234032009-03-19T20:14:00.001+03:002010-02-17T23:28:39.604+03:00Miracles<span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/ScJG1EdywQI/AAAAAAAAADI/u0YObdJVve8/s1600-h/bortlescale01_l.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 317px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/ScJG1EdywQI/AAAAAAAAADI/u0YObdJVve8/s320/bortlescale01_l.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314888387796320514" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I don't like kids that much, only those which are cute and cheeky. Children, ugh, puh-lease. Kids are so dumb when they're newborns but that's like comprehensive but those who're just kids as in from age 7-12 are just not my type. Well, I've been through that phase of life and everyone has to as long as their destined for it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I like adorable kids those with their cute nose and tiny fingers, ah! Okay, maybe I also like newborns. Especially their toes, beauty</span>.</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Those big round eyes above the amazing dippled cheeks, the cute little nosy :) the small hands which grip your thumb so firmly it's hard to let go. Offsprings as biology would refer to them; individuals with their own langauages which always leave you wondering.</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >But I'm rather amused by how they come to existence, you know. Just by two specialized cells. That's it. Two and you get millions and billions of building blocks just to give you a shape. There's a part of biology which can't just explain the love one has for that cluster of cells. Safe and protected in a sac of love. :) I don't care about the hardwork, the energy spent, the money you get, but some people need advises, some need consolation, some need just one more chance. Maybe that's my purpose of existence. Adding some happiness to a couple's life, by just helping them out, that's my passion. Passion for gynecology.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br /><br />If you're one of those who remark my passion as 'Ew! Gross, damn.', then I'm sorry God didn't bless you with the sense of intensity. :) Life's short and beautiful. Someday you'll find your 'the one' and someday you'll have a life of your own, a family of your own, from giggle-y laughs to beautiful, thick, crystal-clear tears. Every person dreams of a family with kids numbering from 1 to double digits. Yes, population is rising but some people need to do what they do. :)</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br /><br />I've never thought about ultrasounds that much, but I saw an episode of One Tree Hill with Peyton for her ultrasound and beautiful God! :) The lub-dub sounds echoing through the very narrow arteries, the tiny figures on that monitor apparently looking like a lizard. Ah. Beauty, man.</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I would die to have that thing just in you, you know. Like it's a living life in a living life. I'm stupidly in love with the thoughts.<br /><br />Ms. Bouchra would refer it to as a 3 kg sugar bag in you which goes everywhere you go like your shadow. It's hurt when you're hurt, it's happy when you are. :) And when you're alone it gives you the best company, be in a dentist waiting room too. :)</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Nearly all mothers will carry their baby on their left side so that the baby's head is next to the mother's heart. Hearing a mother's heartbeat soothes a baby.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />God's just so Great. :)</span></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-82650592128776543862009-03-18T16:25:00.000+03:002009-03-18T16:36:29.669+03:00To Those Who Cared<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/ScD3OGR6TgI/AAAAAAAAAC4/WYphhZ2qA04/s1600-h/pakistan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/ScD3OGR6TgI/AAAAAAAAAC4/WYphhZ2qA04/s320/pakistan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314519381873151490" border="0" /></a>
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{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0cm; mso-para-margin-right:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0cm; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">What have we done?<span style=""> </span>Lives gone, tears wasted, money spent, for what? It just left hundreds widowed. It left even more orphans, those with no support anymore, and here we are relaxing while brave men fight. They fight like never before. They spend every day training, sweating, and working just so they can protect us. In the end they're just buried, buried with all the rest, those of other clans too. So where is it all gone? What have we done?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">They fought for us and we shed a tear only for those who were acquaintances. Maybe I survived just because of one brave soldier who's long gone while I live my life. I don't know who ever he was, I don't know how he fought, I don't know who he left behind to weep but I salute him. They are the ones who deserve paradise while all we do is pray just when in crisis.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Where is 'Unity, Faith, Discipline' gone? Why are we helpless now? From earthquakes to red alerts of wars, why are we just stranded? Why is there no one to care about the poor now? Why are the richer only getting richer? Where has the passion gone? Is this why we demanded a separate homeland so that we could bury it in just by a different way, time-bombs, bullets, satan? </p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Think of those who left their children behind just to make a future for us. Think of those who got robed, stolen, beaten, raped just so they could add to the majority of Muslims, is this unfair, watching your own country's downfall when you can do something but are just afraid to? All we're doing is internal fighting. That's it. Why? For we are Pakistanis first and only then Sindhis, Punjabis, Pathans, Balouchis. Get out of the phase of only PPP, MQM or ML, fight for the country and not just for someone. It's just a matter of a wise thought.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">So wake up and at least realize what we've done, what we're doing and what the consequences will be. The point of all this is just to write it out, just because the gun's loaded and the trigger be pulled anytime, so to become nationalities of the world's most dangerous country. To all those 'terrorists', to all those who kill their own blood, to all those who're wrong but urge as right, get a life. Think with your foolish brains as to me your just cannibals.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">May my country live long and prosperous Ameen and may God protect it from all those murderers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;">Pakistan Zindabad.</span></p> sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-50603900976096278552009-03-10T17:10:00.000+03:002009-03-10T17:29:08.809+03:00Beat It<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SbZ5LU8T8CI/AAAAAAAAABo/MZObWzH7VEs/s1600-h/michael_jackson_-_invincible.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PiYpiAkM7Xw/SbZ5LU8T8CI/AAAAAAAAABo/MZObWzH7VEs/s320/michael_jackson_-_invincible.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311566046037274658" /></a><br /><br />They Told Him Don't You Ever Come Around Here<br />Don't Wanna See Your Face, You Better Disappear<br />The Fire's In Their Eyes And Their Words Are Really Clear<br />So Beat It, Just Beat It<br /><br />You Better Run, You Better Do What You Can<br />Don't Wanna See No Blood, Don't Be A Macho Man<br />You Wanna Be Tough, Better Do What You Can<br />So Beat It, But You Wanna Be Bad<br /><br /><br />Just Beat It, Beat It, Beat It, Beat It<br />No One Wants To Be Defeated<br />Showin' How Funky Strong Is Your Fight<br />It Doesn't Matter Who's Wrong Or Right<br /><br /><br />Just Beat It, Beat It<br />Just Beat It, Beat It<br />Just Beat It, Beat It<br />Just Beat It, Beat It<br /><br /><br />They're Out To Get You, Better Leave While You Can<br />Don't Wanna Be A Boy, You Wanna Be A Man<br />You Wanna Stay Alive, Better Do What You Can<br />So Beat It, Just Beat It<br /><br />You Have To Show Them That You're Really Not Scared<br />You're Playin' With Your Life, This Ain't No Truth Or Dare<br />They'll Kick You, Then They Beat You,<br />Then They'll Tell You It's Fair<br />So Beat It, But You Wanna Be Bad<br /><br /><br />Just Beat It, Beat It, Beat It, Beat It<br />No One Wants To Be Defeated<br />Showin' How Funky Strong Is Your Fight<br />It Doesn't Matter Who's Wrong Or Right<br /><br /><br />Just Beat It, Beat It, Beat It, Beat It<br />No One Wants To Be Defeated<br />Showin' How Funky Strong Is Your Fight<br />It Doesn't Matter Who's Wrong Or Right<br />Just Beat It, Beat It, Beat It, Beat It, Beat It<br /><br /><br />Beat It, Beat It, Beat It, Beat It<br />No One Wants To Be Defeated<br />Showin' How Funky Strong Is Your Fight<br />It Doesn't Matter Who's Wrong Or Right<br /><br /><br />Just Beat It, Beat It, Beat It, Beat It<br />No One Wants To Be Defeated<br />Showin' How Funky Strong Is Your Fight<br />It Doesn't Matter Who's Wrong Or Who's Right<br /><br /><br />Just Beat It, Beat It, Beat It, Beat It<br />No One Wants To Be Defeated<br />Showin' How Funky Strong Is Your Fight<br />It Doesn't Matter Who's Wrong Or Right<br /><br /><br />Just Beat It, Beat It, Beat It, Beat It<br />No One Wants To Be Defeated<br />Showin' How Funky Strong Is Your Fight<br />It Doesn't Matter Who's Wrong Or Right<br />Just Beat It, Beat It<br />Beat It, Beat It, Beat Itsarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-89728788128836322082009-03-04T16:08:00.001+03:002010-03-15T18:01:03.343+03:00LifehouseSometimes it's good to be left alone. No one gets hurt that way.<br /><br />I don't swear a lot. I only do when I'm very high or very low. I go high and low very easily and mostly I'm neutral. Maybe it's just one of those phases everyone talks about, you know. Sad, slow songs make me all sad and low. I once found hope in Chris Brown's Forever maybe because of its lyrics or something.<br /><br />I have this thing for those '25 random things about you' notes on Facebook.<br /><br />So well I love the music from the '80s, the music is just so wow. I love Michael Jackson's songs no matter what he was, what he's become and all such stuff. There's so much pop, rock 'n' roll followed by the ever-loved easy listening. There still are some issues whether music is haram or not, though I think it is. That's a whole different topic to discuss.<br /><br />I really want to have a guy to flirt. I'm not a playa or anything, though it sounds like that. Life is too boring right now and I need some sort of just those good things which make you want to live and have some drama in life.<br /><br />I love paintings and abstract stuff; things with intensity. Such art just leaves me thinking and there's so much variety of what everyone thinks of just a single painting.<br /><br />I love my bunk bed, it's a whole different world up there, though all simple and plain but it's one of the few places which accept me in every state I may be in.<br /><br />I want to know everything about everything. For that reason, I love dictionaries and Wikipedia.<br /><br />I also found my iPod which doesn't work because of its stupid Hold button but I'll get it fixed as soon as Biology leaves me alone for at least two hours.<br /><br />I'm quite jealous of the Math students in my class because they aren't in any sort of pressure we're in but at times I feel satisfied because who has passion for becoming a gynecologist. I do. (H) Even though the thought of poking my finger into other's thing is just very ew and gross.<br /><br />No matter how much I try, I just can't like 'paindo' people. I just can't. It's like dude, what the ef is wrong with you?<br /><br />Haha, my net is very irritating at times. Many people hate it. *proud emoticon*<br /><br />Two things that ever scared me were these videos about Shaytan on youtube.com and this dajal-voiced-guy who called me 3 A.M some freaky night.<br /><br />I love the Backstreet Boys.<br /><br />They finished the colour codes on Blogger… which makes me very very sad. I love colour. =(<br /><br />I find khusras VERY scary though I'm not scared of them or so. They're like clowns to me with freaky make-up and paindo style.<br /><br />I always loved nouns and hated adjectives even besides curriculum.<br /><br />I think Linksys is better than SpeedTouch but just to love what I have, I make myself think that SpeedTouch is the best.<br /><br />That's the same case with my Dell and Toshiba laptops.<br /><br />I have a psycho cousin on the loose. =/<br /><br />I love Lil Wayne's voice though it's pretty annoying after a minute.<br /><br />I really want to study Religion especially about Sunni-ism and Shia-ism. I am a Sunni but all I know about that is that I believe in one God and that Hazrat Muhammad (P.B.U.H) was the last prophet of Allah. Of course, there's more than just that but these are the basis. =D<br /><br />I take pride in the fact that Massari has my nickname in his name- Sari =D Also, that my favorite WWE wrestler, the Undertaker, has my name tattoo-ed on his neck. =D<br /><br />I love Mr.Pringle and my hawt E66. I also love Mahir, the guy who goes in my school van and also the little cartoon on Al-Marai milk cartons. =D I'm very conscious about Mahir, since he was going to get kidnapped and hit by a car yesterday.<br /><br />I find gays also weird but I think I like them. =? I mean just the talk about gays, and not gays as such. Well, I don't really mind them but isn't straight better? Whatever God wanted.<br /><br />So finally my internet starts working but my battery's dying. I own three laptops and well the desktop is for family and I love it.<br /><br />Shit. I just realised Rija's brother's leaving tomorrow! =|sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-41307352429496761842009-03-04T15:16:00.000+03:002009-03-31T17:23:51.332+03:00شارع حسين بن عليNo day is perfect. Nobody is perfect and when they say "I'm nobody", they're just very lame. It's about me today. Just what I think, what I feel. I don't even care about the stupid lame-ass incomplete language I type in, that with no grammar rules. Ugh. As you all know, this is just an online diary so take it that way. It's not for you but merely for my own existence.<br /><br />So I think I have had the worst starting of the month. I lose my calculator and it just wasn't a calculator and I'm not even over-reacting. I love my things.<br />Everything. I don't like losing things because I have too much to lose, really. When I was in grade 7, I kind of broke my webcam and well I felt so guilty since then I haven't bought a camera and last year I kind of lost our digital camera and blegh. I cried my ass off and made a fool out of myself in front of my whole extended family with my dad consoling as I was to get married or something. I'm very conscious about my possessions. So I lost my first calculator and I'm not buying another one in hope that I'll find it back and somewhere deep within I know I won't. Then there's my dictionary which I LOVE so much. Yes, a dictionary. I love dictionaries, especially this one with like super cool Australian English thing. So my youngest sister kind of misplaced it and I lost my temper. I have a very bad temper when I'm already low. Alhamdulilah I found it. So recently, I lost my IGCSE certificate and though it is like all of little use in getting into a university but it's my first educational board certificate and all, so I'm all very depressed and I can't find it. =/<br /><br />So today I had like this wow morning with breakfast in school with coffee from Hiba and Dunkin' Donuts' Munchkins which Hajra got for all of us. We had much more than all that, so the day was like perfect. Until I found out we're going to loser-ass FantasyLand for our field trip. I mean what the ef dude? FantasyLand is for like loser-ass kidos. Ugh. I so hate my school and then all the pressure of studies as if they're the only thing which exists in the world. I'd rather spend my entire day all alone in Sahara Mall or even in my room rather than FantasyLand. Such torture to the XX! I tried retaliating but no, they just want their own rules and regulations. So yes ef my life.<br /><br />As God said, jahalat will repeat itself and in a way maybe you don't understand it but I do.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-76147402385510198562009-02-13T22:29:00.000+03:002009-02-13T22:31:50.360+03:00Every man dies- Not every man lives!<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDELL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);" rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDELL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);" rel="colorSchemeMapping" 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204);">Traditionally, <b>insanity</b> or <b>madness</b> is the behavior whereby a person flouts societal norms and may become a danger to themselves and others; insanity in its literal term. Another word that follows is craziness. Every being has a degree of craziness. Indeed, from being mentally upset to just expressing your inner self.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">Everyone is special in their own way. Everyone tells you that when you feel inferior. If you think about it deeply, it is true. You might have something I don't, and vice versa. Point is, I am special in one way or the other, better than you at times, and sometimes you beat me double in something I'm not proud of. Isn't that fair enough? </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">I am a very proud person, not by the arrogance, but proud because I've accomplished a lot. A lot has a lot in it. My dad quit smoking when I was very young, because I said him to. Isn't that great? I feel great because I did something many smokers have problems doing it. You must've done something you're very grateful of. In the same way, this week, I explored myself to find out more about me. My inspiration... some freaky person staring at me and unknowingly, me gazing back at him with the shut-up-and-stop look.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">I'm a very good person maybe just like you, and maybe nothing like you at all. When I come to think about it, there are reasons for it. Being polite and times, friendly, an overall good person. Something I was never proud of was my shyness. I've never been very bold. Especially not with the other sex. This week I wanted to change that and a way to change that was to do what you feel like doing and talking to people the way you felt like. This week I took control of my life. I acted c.r.a.z.y. in my way of craziness. :) From screaming on the streets to eating green chilies randomly, I love the new-me. Because it's fun to be young. Isn't it?
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name="Bibliography"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" qformat="true" name="TOC Heading"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:1; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0cm; margin-right:0cm; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0cm; text-align:right; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; direction:rtl; unicode-bidi:embed; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt; line-height:115%;} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0; mso-gutter-direction:rtl;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0cm; mso-para-margin-right:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0cm; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> </p><p class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;">Point is; do what you feel like, for some time, love who you are and not what you've become because of the influence of your environment or whatsoever. Albert Einstein quotes, “A person starts to live when he can live outside himself." So relax some time, chill, sleep like an owl at times, work like an ass at others, last but never the least, just live your life!</p> <p></p> sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-16069815739521884932009-02-04T22:16:00.001+03:002009-12-20T23:14:57.638+03:00Time To Shine<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Everyone has their first posts as just to describe themselves. I was just ordinary with them. Yes. That is me. The-one-who-BAHs is me. I am more than just a XX with two siblings, two parents, a huge extended family, adipose, and intelligence and so much more. Today I am going to write. Write my heart out because today. I need to change. Not the change you'll be expecting. A change just within me. I want people to know me. The real me. And just me and not beyond. You cannot judge me by the first impression I make on you. You shouldn't. Because I am unexpected. Yes, I am. Now enough with the phrases.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">My dad named me after this song 'Sarah'. He said he loved it. And the day he got the news of his first daughter while living in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia (=/) he knew what was she to be named. =D That is why I love my name. Not by its pronunciation, or by the sound of it. But just by the history of it. I lived a year in Pakistan, where I was born was named Bhusa Mandi. Yes laugh all you want cause I laugh my ass off whenever I think of it. I then came to Riyadh when I was somewhat a year old. My phupho says I was like the best doll ever to be made. In my pink dress, she had never seen such beauty. I'm not exaggerating. =/ I lived like two years or so at my phupho's place. There lived my brothers. My phupho's sons. Adnan and Omer bhai. There's so much to write about them and maybe I can tear any second. This is how much they mean to me. Maybe at times I thought they were my real siblings. Well, then of course we moved on. Our own place, mum bore two more daughters, Sibgha and Manal. That was it. 'That' is what I regret now.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);">I have had an amazing life alhamdulilah. Ordinary but amazing. There are things which are bad, of course there are, for nothing is perfect no one either. I have always been the quietest of the three. To some people it was my arrogance. Truth be told, it was not. I never was the chatterbox or any such sort. Quiet, in my own world, and observing, it was purely me. I was a genius all this time. Best grades. High scores. My dad was so proud of me. Till this day I know he is. And I am SO proud of him. He is the one I look up to at times, because he has dealt with things so bravely and so elegantly; too good to be true. My dad spent almost all his life in various parts of the world. From Romania to America, Italy to Pakistan, what not. I think he enjoyed it and I enjoy it too, looking at his pictures with people of all sorts of races and not just Asians. I believe variety is the spice of life. Deep within me, USA is a part of me, because it's a huge part of my dad. =) My dad studied a lot, all based upon scholarships and big numbers, that's one of the reasons I love him, because he persuaded me to do the same. So much to say, summing up I love my Papa. =')</span><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" >My mum's dad passed away when she was only five. Maybe she doesn't know what's the dad's love and so she lets our dad spoil us. My mum has the cutest writing and I try to write like her but I guess it's just out of my league. =p She's made sacrifices, for us, for my dad. So words are never enough. So Mama, I love you so much and your ras-malai <3.><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">My mum wanted to have a son named Ali. My dad would make me pray that I have a brother. I was young at that time, so I would retaliate and go like, 'No, I want another sister'. And Allah answered my prayers. After that, my mum was never well. She went to gynecologist after gynecologist, wanting a cure for whatever had happened. Of course, we never knew, but now I do. I wanted a brother I still do, but maybe it's for the betterment. Well, I spent a good childhood alhamdulilah. Great friends, actually the best of friends, great school, cousins, food, all in all life were oh-so-wow. Then, there was FRIKSION. Something I loved so much, that everyday I'd just be up for school to meet my friends. We had our days. There were boys and fun. Then there was O'levels, results, and soon came the good-byes. We were more than friends, just like sisters. As time passed, secrets were no more to just one person. I miss it every day. Every single day. The corner of the pretty-green-area, the cuddling in the winters, there was so much. Deep in our hearts we still have it there, but nothing's practical anymore. Nothing's the same anymore.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">As I said earlier, I wanted a brother, so God granted me one. Not exactly a blood brother but yes a brother and he is an important part of my life. I refer to him as family and we've had many of those moments simple brothers and sisters do. Almost two years and we almost talk every day. It's good and weird at the same time when you have a brother and the rest of your siblings don't. =p I expect a lot from him because there's still more that I need. It was in our grade 9 when my best friend told me her mum was expecting a son. That was the day, when I knew something was missing in my life. I wanted a brother so badly that day, and it hurts to know that now I can't. And that is why I love my not-blood-brother so much and treasure him.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);">Exploring more I see myself as a good person, but when people think of you the wrong way, it hurts and you don't like it. I don't like it at all. There are people in my extended family who think 'wrong' of me. If you've lived some of your life in Riyadh with the internet as being a part of you entertainment, you know what I mean. But I'm not that. Please understand that I'm not what you think I am. I'm a very good person, I know it. I treasure and enjoy the pleasure of my religion. Mostly, I pray alhamdulilah. I use my religion wherever it's possible to use it, almost everywhere. I find great importance of it in my life. I love my God. When I was young, I used to wonder what people mean when they say love God and how you can love God, now I know it. Hard to explain but that's its intensity. So glorious.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">To most people, I am a nerd. Well I agree to some extent I am. Maybe to some extent I would find studying better than getting shrills on the Parent-Teacher-Meeting day. Once again, if you have lived your life in where I am living, you'll know what I mean. I like getting good grades. Not that it's the only thing that matters to me, but yes I like being a good student because it's something which makes me happy sometimes and I know that I'm going to reach my goal someday Insha'Allah. I want to be a gynecologist. The world's best gynecologist. It's my passion. I want that to happen. To some it might be like = Ew. But no, if you look it through my eyes and have the heart I have, you'll know what's a miracle and what's not.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">I have so many plans for life. So many. Mostly it's to do with the spectrum or as in physics 'a band of lights'. I love color. Every sort, from turquoise to brown, pink to bold red, all of them have their own specialty. I want my bedroom to be like a rainbow where I have black for the gloom maybe and teal for hope. Maybe I also want to do some study about colors, like to know about every color's name and origin. Wah. I also want to travel the entire world, meet new people and every sort of culture. I love making friends like I love it. I just want so many people to like me. I also want to learn about religion, not just my religion but also Christianity and Jewish, and know what's so different when we're all the Ahl-e-Kitaab.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">While reading it, you might think my life is simple and all, well it's not. Things have happened. Things have happened to me. All sorts of things. From being smooched to not having a serious relationship ever. If you've lived in Riyadh and not been to the Nasriyah School you kind of do know what I mean. Life in Riyadh is so different. It's like a separate world you know. I live in a country where petrol is cheaper than water. Where a woman can fly an airplane but not drive a car. Where there's money but not brains to know how to use it. This is Riyadh, the capital of the KSA. I loved living here all my life until I found out they can't let me travel by air to the gulf countries. That day I swore at them. So see, moments can change your opinions, like many environments do.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">Funny how I've joined Blogger since so long and actually blog now. It's because of an inspiration. Because I am a crazy diamond and I'm here to shine. =)</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" ></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-32331910162402713102009-01-04T16:18:00.000+03:002009-01-04T16:19:16.589+03:00wtf. it's not 5.19 AM !<br />kakkar you dude.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2607955444565177201.post-1548435165147536262009-01-04T16:17:00.001+03:002009-01-04T16:17:45.917+03:00<span style="color:#00cccc;">OMG. it's there :D</span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12098119723808028869noreply@blogger.com1