State of the Xinu

Tired. Very, very tired.

My left shoulder is dead from lugging around multiple hard cover books and my laptop.

My hair is dead from lack of love and hair product (no time for love, sniff).

My skin is dead (or alternatively, has come alive as mutant monsters do, for I have sprung a forest of zits).. I'll blame stress and/or hormonal imbalances.

And I am, slowly but surely, dying too. Sigh. Although, I suppose everybody is so I'll shut up about that now.

Oh you know what else I'm dying for? FRIDAY. Um, but then again, I'm sort of wishing it wouldn't come either. Here's the deal..

Pros of Friday coming soon:

• This week from hell, which includes three major assignments and stacks of reading, will be over. Hallelujah.
• Ramadan will be over (woohoo, Eid is on Wednesday folks)

Cons of Friday coming soon:

• I'm going to have to start packing and moving.
• I'm going to have to deal with the fact that I'm leaving Waltham.. which, for all that I crib about, has been a wonderful home and town to live in. I'm going to miss my building.. and my concierge.. and the covered parking.. and my RIVER! And the ducks! And the swan who swims with the ducks... dammit I might just end up missing the commuter rail. Man, I'm a sucker for routine.
  

Saw a kid on the T today who was wearing new Gap jeans. How do I know this? He forgot to take off the long, rectangular size sticker from the back of his leg. I was amused and did not point it out to him. Heehee.

Also, in general, I must say that there are way too many blind people in Boston. You won't see any homeless people, barely any Blacks or Hispanics.. but the no-sighted are everywhere. It makes me sad.

In other news, I am in love with DuPont. Just finished reading a (very long) case study about how they've been managing their brand for the last, um, 200 years and I think they are awesome. Finally, a reason to be proud of Delaware.

Also, I have decided to pitch my new product idea to them (or any other industrial sciences company that will listen): the Pen-Lighter. What is the Pen-Lighter you ask? Well, it's a writing instrument that is a highlighter on one side and a pen on the other. Because anyone who has ever tried to study on the train knows how hard it is to manage switching between both types of pens to make notes. Clever eh? The pens could even be clip-able so that you can swap colors and click them together to make your own customized pen! Whaddya say? It boggles the mind that nobody has thought of this yet.

Alright, back to the grind.

I KNOW THIS GUY!!

My friend Agapios is the guy in the pink shirt! He's a Greek-Cypriot popstar!

लाकड़

लाकड़ जल्के कोय्ला होए जाए... ख़ाक
जिया जले तो कुछ न होए रे... ना धुंआ, ना राख
जिया ना जलैय्यो रे, हाय
जिया ना लागैय्यो रे...

~ ओम्कारा

Here I go again, I promised myself I wouldn't think of you today
It's been seven months and counting, you've moved on, I still feel exactly the same
It's just that everywhere I go all the buildings know your name, like photographic memories of love
Steel and granite reminders
The city calls your name and I can't move on

Ever since you've been gone, the lights go out the same
The only difference is you call another name
To your love, to your lover now
To your love, the lover after me

~Savage Garden

Jean Pool

On the T today, I saw a girl in purple skinny jeans.. and I suddenly remembered that I too had owned purple jeans when I was about 14 (although purple wasn't really fashionable in 1990s Dubai, but I wore them anyway, thank you Zeus Jeans at Sana!)...

Anyhoo, I saw the girl and felt a pang for my youthful days.. so I have now resolved to get purple skinny jeans. If not skinny, then at least purple. If not purple, then.. well.. at least some jeans. I need jeans. All my current pairs are loose, old, tattered.. and dead. Just like my souuuuuuul. Sigh.

So, here's a question for the audience. How many jeans does one need in a wardrobe? How many do you own? And would you buy a purple jean?

Today on the T

On the Green line platform at North Station, a lady walked up to a young blind boy with a guide dog, and greeted him. When the two shook hands, the boy said cheerfully, "It's nice to see you again."

That made me sad.

"You need to blog less about poetry, and more about your life."

Well, well, well. Everyone's a critic. Yes, I'm looking at you, C-Flat, I'm putting you on the spot, Mr. I've Just Bought A House & Had a Nephew. I love how other people go silent for weeks and I say naught, but god forbid I should add a few rhyming couplets and everyone's in a tizzy. Is this blog really the only way you guys will know what's happening in my life? Whatever happened to email, dropping a comment, or even - gasp - making a phonecall? Hmm?

Still, I shall grumpily acquiesce. I'm all about customer service, after all.

So, lots has been happening folks. Grad school is basically taking over my life. Four hours of classes everyday, and anywhere between four and six hours of study each day outside of them. Craziness. My days are full of classes, studying, fasting, taraweeh, apartment hunting, apartment-moving-planning, being a graduate assistant to two professors, and did I mention fasting? I'm barely sleeping, not eating, and usually in a slight state of panic.

You know how I'm typing all this right now? I made a conscious decision to procrastinate reading two chapters of Consumer Behavior for tomorrow.. a conscious decision to waste my $30K investment in grad school. Christ. I know I'll be up until 1am catching up on reading, but here I am. So, don't ever say I don't love you guys. *sulk*

Anyway, school's going well. I'm enjoying the classes, and the people are quite nice although I haven't yet made any "friends". I probably won't, though, since I'm not one to ever make "friends". I've always been the sort that drifted around from group to group, saying hello to everyone - the cool kids and the nerds - but never really finding a place of my own. Plus, I really haven't been able to socialize with everyone because of Ramadan, but hopefully should be able to do so in a couple of weeks, and get to know people a little bit better.

My program contains 37 people - and only 6 of them are boys. Ugh. Which means I'll have to make friends with.. y'know.. girls. But they all actually do seem quite nice, so I'm not that freaked out. We've got people from China, Taiwan, Japan, S. Korea, Philipines, Greece, Uganda, Venezuela, Germany, Canada.. yep, it's quite a diverse group. Even got a Tibetan guy called Tenzin who was born and raised in India and loves Bollywood. What were the chances?!

In other news, fall is here! Thank goodness, I was getting quite sick of the heat, humidity and rain. Bring on the winter, Thor.

Also, I love Firefox 3.0 so much that I don't care about Chrome. And I don't like the new Facebook. Puh.

I just watched an episode of Top Gear in which Jeremy, Richard and James test drive three cars in.. wait for it, wait for it.. Iceland. Oh. My. God. I couldn't find a YouTube clip of the segment but I am now completely dying to go to Iceland (as if I wasn't salivating enough before). It is so unbelievably beautiful and scenic. It really looks like heaven on earth. Crisp, blue skies... icy mountains, lush green hills, water, snow, sky... sigh. One day, maybe, one day.

Let's see.. what else, what else.. oh yeah, did you hear our economy's in a complete meltdown? And we have a nasally VP candidate who can see Russia from her bedroom window? And most of Houston is under water? 2008 really is continuing to be as shitty a year as it was when it started. Well, can't fault God for lack of consistency. Oops, is that blasphemous?

Also, the other day I saw a guy walking down Moody Street wearing a t-shirt that said, "My idea of social studies is going to parties." I thought that was pretty funny.

I also saw a lady on the Green line platform at North Station make her 10 year old son smell his own armpit and then lecture him on the need for personal hygiene. I did not find that funny.

Ooh, ooh.. I'm going to see The Swell Season tomorrow. Super excited. Although, I think I'm going to end up crying during the show and my friends will worry. Oh well. I'll pretend to be hormonal or something.

Alright, that's all we have time for today, folks. Until next time, here it is, your moment of Zen:

Prof. Waters: "Split into groups and discuss. If you like, you can go outside to talk."
Tenzin: "We should go out."
Me (distracted, writing something down): "Hmmm."
*pause*
Tenzin: "Wait, not like 'go out'! I meant go out of the class to discuss! I mean, you're married!"

Nice save, buddy, nice save. Freud would be proud.

Killing me Saufley

"I want to find out how to stick my fingers into the pulse of American culture and twist it so people will somehow start thinking that reading, and being intelligent, is something to aspire to; so people will stop equating dissent with treason, and pacifism with weakness."
~Ben

Universal Poem #2

Sometimes I miss you so much, I don't miss you anymore,
But then I miss missing you, and so I miss you even more.

You know?

Box of Worms

So, Pandora has now launched an application for the iPhone, allowing you to stream your Pandora stations for free on the phone, while you're on the go.

This is very, very cool. Why? It means you can save a lot of the money you normally spend downloading favorite songs off iTunes because you can listen to music for free. And, you can now have the convenience of listening to playlists created by someone else (in this case, the music genome project) instead of having to put together your own.

Aargh, damn you Apple. I really don't want to be a Mac groupie and get an iPhone but it's becoming harder and harder to resist you. Why do you have to be so damn cool?

Poked, prodded.. and pooped.

After walking around town for six hours in blinding heat, while shivering with nausea and other flu-like symptoms that continue to persist, fatigued and weakened without food or drink, I have come to the following conclusions:

1) Speculum is quite possibly the scariest word in the English dictionary. And gynecological exams are officially the biggest effing curse of being a woman -- low self-esteem and hair removal be damned. I hereby diagnose myself with Post Traumatic Penis Envy.

2) My favorite leather sandals are officially dead. I know this because my feet smell. Bad.

3) Against all logic and natural instinct, I'm probably moving to a place in Coolidge Corner, i.e. on the dastardly Green Line. Sorry Red Line, I tried.. but you're just too crappy and undergrad-y for my cushy professional/post-grad ass. Yes. I have a cushy ass.

Bah.

Month #9

It's September 1st. That means it's the 4 year anniversary of the xinugeist. Happy birthday, dear blog. You've been a great friend all through your 475 posts (although the number could have been higher if I hadn't ignored you for all of 2005... sorry about that). But here's to many more years of ranting, raving, whining, and despairing of this thing we call life.

Also, Ramadan kicks off today. Woohoo. Looking forward to a month of fasting, praying, sin-purging, and (lets face it) lots of samosas. Mmmm. I will miss my music - I borrow from Lent and give up music while fasting because it distracts me so much from holy thoughts and activity - but I think my soul could do with some internal re-focusing and maintenance, don't you? (umm, rhetorical question, don't bothering answering that one).

So, you'd think that Ramadan would bring out the best in people given that Grand Ol' Lucifer is locked up in Hell, right? Nope. It seems that his minions are completely capable of keeping the sleaze alive without his help.

Earlier today evening, I sent about 40 'Ramadan Mubarak' text messages to all close friends and family - it's an annual tradition with me, I always send them for Ramadan and Eid. But apparently I had one of my friend's numbers saved incorrectly because the message went to someone else, someone I don't know at all. It was an innocent enough mistake, a numerical mix-up, but it got creepy pretty quick.

This is how the text message conversation went:

Me: Ramadan Mubarak! May your fasts be rewarded and your prayers be answered in this blessed month! Zeenat.
Response: and eid mubarak 2 u 2. but are you family, friend, or foe? Zia
Me: Sorry isnt this Shahid?
Response: not even close. sorry.
Me: Sorry!
Response: sorry is not going to cut it. you owe me a choc blast for the mental anguish you have caused me.

Seriously? Ew. Is this what the world has come to? Anonymous text flirting on the pretext of a religious greeting? Whoever this Zia creep is, someone needs to tell him that (a) Ramadan should never be used as part of a pick up line, and (b) you can't demand ice cream from a complete stranger. I know people who will disagree with me on (b) but no, the line has to be drawn somewhere. Ugh. So creepy. I think I need a shower.

In other news, I'm still trying to get over this disease that progressed from head cold, to stomach flu, to throat infection. O bug, whatever you are, please kick in properly and then get the hell out of my system? It's just not working out. We need to go our separate ways. Please don't feel bad.. it's not you, it's me.. blah blah blah.

Also, I'm sick to death of apartment hunting. We have been scouring Internet listings for weeks, and spent the last two full days checking out places in every neighborhood on the Red Line, and came up with naught. Why are there no decent places available for October leases? At this rate I'm going to end up being stuck in bloody Waltham until the day I die (which might be soon enough if this flu doesn't go away.. in which case, I'd die in Ramadan and go straight to heaven.. hmm.. I have to re-think this whole disease thing).

The good news, however, is that I've got my fall semester schedule and I have no class on Mondays. Woohoo, 3 day weekend. However, I also got some of my text books off Half.com and, umm, this stuff seems hard. And here I thought I'd be coasting my way over the 22 year olds. Durn. Still, I'm looking forward to orientation this week. Classes start next Tuesday, the 9th.

Also, I'm happy to report that I've been zooming through my Netflix queue recently, and watched some really enjoyable movies - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (utterly brilliant), The Darjeeling Limited (depressingly addictive), Juno (fun, but sort of overrated), Amelie (impishly adorable), The Last King of Scotland (marry me, James McAvoy?), and Death at a Funeral (hilariously dark).

Up next: The Fountain, which I've been dying to see for ages (Hugh Jackman + fantasy theme.. what more do you need?) and Hamlet, starring my favorite Shakespearean actor, Kenneth Branagh. Yes, I know, I know.. I'm getting a little Hamlet-obsessed, but have you ever known me to do things by halves?

All in all, the movie-watching spree has reminded me why I was a Film major at all. Cinema rocks.

Alright, time for bed. Must be up early and my throat/chest is on fire, so I should get some rest. I'll probably be hitting a metaphorical snooze button on the blog for the next few weeks due to Ramadan and school starting and apartment moving, but I'll try to keep up. Wake me up when September ends!

Bleeding love

There's a bend in the wind, and it rakes at my heart.
There is blood in the thread, and it rakes at my heart.
-The Crane Wife, by The Decemberists

Songs of the Week

Current Mood: Brave!
Current Three Songs on Repeat:

1) I'll Follow You Into The Dark (Death Cab for Cutie)
Why: Just listen to this song and you'll know why. It's incredibly sweet and sad at the same time. What I fail to understand is how I haven't heard this music before. Have I been living under a rock my whole life? I am shocked by my own... illiteracy. Gah.



2) Bend and Break (Keane)
Why: No particular reason. Love the music, the lyrics, the vocals.. especially the part where the chorus builds up into a bit of a crescendo. It's one of those songs that you want to shout out loud from rooftops (or, perhaps, in a concert hall, where I suppose it would be more acceptable behavior).

Oddly enough, some people refer to Keane as the new Coldplay even though it was Tim Rice-Oxley of Keane who originally came up with the name Coldplay for his own band. But he found the name 'too depressing', so he eventually donated it to Chris Martin who went on to form the band we now know as Coldplay (they were all buddies at UCL apparently). So, technically, Keane is the original Coldplay. Cool eh? Anyhoos, enjoy the song.



3) The Blower's Daughter (Damien Rice)
Why: Heard this track a few years ago on the OST of Closer and rediscovered it many weeks back. I need just one word to describe this song: exquisite.

And thus does conscience make cowards of us all...

You know what grinds my gears?

THERE IS JUST TOO MUCH MUSIC IN THE WORLD... AND NOT ENOUGH TIME TO KNOW IT ALL AT ONCE.

And not just Music!

Poetry! Knowledge! Drama!
Pain! Wit! Wisdom!
Beauty! Perspective!

I want it all!

But there's just not enough damn TIME. Or inspiration. Or guidance.

Is there anyone out there who can teach me all I need to know by simply willing all this into my brain? A program that can be downloaded into my mind, a la The Matrix?

Ah, but there's the rub. Ambition is thwarted, yet again, by cowardice, impatience and, that queen of vice, sloth.

Seriously. It's a miracle we even wake up every morning, but an even bigger travesty that we turn in each night, without being even an ounce heavier in wisdom than we were when the sun rose.

Is life nothing but a series of wasted moments and missed opportunities? Is it justice to squander away our time simply by sighing for more of it, and achieving nothing while it passes? Are we doomed to settle for a phlegmatic existence simply because anything more would be too much?

I AM TOO SMALL TO BE THINKING ABOUT SUCH THINGS.

So I shall go play with my toys now. Byebye.

To be, or not to be?

Well, I don't really have a choice in the matter. I'm sick. Still fighting off this deathly cold (see last post), that I contracted from Sakinah, who must have picked it up in one of the five airports she traveled through to get to Houston from Malaysia. Bah. Hate airports.

Feeling slightly shivery and nauseous at all times, head feels all stuffed up with cotton-balls, while eyes continue to water uncooperatively. Currently reading Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead to entertain myself (yes, the Hamlet fever continues!), but I must admit that the wit and depth of this brilliant existentialist tragi-comedic play is being lost on this woolly, soggy mess of a brain, devoid of the ability to draw clever parallels and conduct meaningful analysis. Bah. Hate woolliness.

Speaking of wool, last week, I read this bizarrely entertaining book called Three Bags Full, which is the story of a flock of enlightened sheep who investigate the mysterious murder of their shepherd. Yes, really. It was Animal Farm meets The Secret Seven. Once you get over the shock of the premise, it's actually very interesting and deep, in a dark and Orwellian fashion. Go read it.

Now I shall go back under the covers, weep some more over my broken body, and dream of being an Elizabethan. Fare thee well, good sirs .

Back

After four days of fun and frolic in Houston - including incessantly prowling the lanes of the local dollar store, despairing of the insanely hot and humid weather, drinking endless cups of Milo, having water fights at the Texas-shaped pool, and generally getting up to no good with cowboy hats and plastic guns - I am back. Oh yeah, and we also managed to attend - and enjoy - MK's wedding.. but that didn't take up as much time as the other, more entertaining shenanigans did. What do you expect when you put Greeks, Malays, Canadians, Pakistanis and Indians together?

But overall, boy, what a much-needed break that was. I had an excellent, excellent time reconnecting with old friends and reliving the madness of NU days. Hard to believe it has been five years since I graduated, but that's what makes reunions like these all the more special.

Cheers to good times, and here's hoping we get to do this again very, very soon.

PS: I also finished reading Hamlet (OMG Best. Shakesperean Play. Ever.)

PPS: I also almost died from insomnia, contracted a deathly cold, and suffered about 10 hours of plane delays due to the evil people at Continental Airlines, but I'll save the bitching for some other day. This is a happy post about happy things and happy times. Breathe in *whooosh*, breathe out *aaah* :)

Word of the Day

Phantasmagoria (n)
(1) a shifting series of phantasms, illusions, or deceptive appearances, as in a dream or as created by the imagination;
(2) a constantly changing medley of real or imagined images (as in a dream);
(3) an optical illusion produced by a magic lantern or the like in which figures increase or diminish in size, pass into each other, dissolve, etc.

Got a nice ring to it, dunnit? Phantasmagoriaaahhh..

Believe it or not, the word came to my attention thanks to Marilyn Manson. Apparently it is the name of a fantasy/horror film that he made about Lewis Carroll and the (allegedly) mad and erotic visions that inspired double-entendre stories like Alice in Wonderland. Except the film doesn't exist on Netflix and I couldn't find any genuine studio-released trailers of it on You Tube either. I don't think it was ever released commercially, might have been a web-only thing. I suppose it must be that disturbing.

Oh well. I'd be curious to see it someday, if I could ever get my hands on it. The man is odd, certainly, but I wonder if he's just on that fine line between genius and insanity. Although someone who, in all seriousness, claims that his ideal way to die would be by (and I quote) "being eaten by the one I love", clearly has issues.

So why was I suddenly wading into the deep and dark waters of scary goth metal stuff? It all started innocently enough.

I was reading a great New York Times article about how Jon Stewart is the most trusted news-anchor in America.. then, I felt compelled to re-watch the video of him ripping Tucker Carlson apart on Crossfire (classic).. and then I saw a link to a Marilyn Manson on the O'Reilly Factor which I could not resist watching. It was quite interesting, so then I spent the next hour looking up info on Monsieur Manson, a.k.a. Reverend of the Church of Satan, a.k.a... umm.. Brian Hugh Warner. Yeah. I know. I was disappointed too. *sigh*

Anyway. That doesn't diminish the value of phantasmagoria. Now I just need to work it into a conversation and watch people get impressed.

East and West

Today was a strange day for music.

I spent the first half of the day drinking in, absorbing, living and breathing my new musical obsession - alternative indie rock (at least that's what I've decided to call it). Travis, Keane, Weezer, Modest Mouse, Death Cab for Cutie... all that heartbreakingly good stuff that I discovered a few months ago, and which Pandora has helped fuel into a bit of an addiction.

Then, I dug out and dusted off the ol' Fender and, using the notes from one guitar lesson I attended seven years ago, tried to pretend like I could someday learn to play a few chords.. and failed miserably. Anyone wanna buy a mint-condition acoustic Fender off me? *sigh*

And then I caught up on multiple episodes of Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Challenge 2009 which were clogging up the DVR and spent four hours thanking God for Himesh Reshammiya and songs like 'Hawa Hawaii'.

My own range of musical interests confuses me. Am I cool or not? :/

Where's Waldo?

"A mind might ponder its thought for an epoch, and not gain so much self-knowledge as the passion of love shall teach in a day".
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Bollocks.

Pondering provides far more helpful, solid, stable and long-lasting information about oneself, than Passion - which is fleeting, whimsical, and only serves to reinforce the self-knowledge we already use to boost our ego with. Everybody knows this.

And who is Ralph Waldo Emerson person anyway? They seem to love him here in America, but I always find his quotes to be terribly fluffy, self-important and annoying observations on the world. If you see him, shoot him.

In other news, today is August 14th and I'm back to wondering why the Pakistanis celebrate today as 'Independence Day' (jashn-e-azadi) instead of 'Birthday'. It's not like they existed before August 14th 1947, so they couldn't possibly be gaining independence from the British like we were. Pakistan had just been born, created, forged, thanks to the very brainy Mr. Jinnah and the assholic, pipe-smoking, Jolly-Ho'ing Brits. So where does the azadi element come in?

Still, I will avoid incurring the wrath of hundreds of Pakistanis I know and refrain from putting this question into my Facebook status, or discussing it face-to-face with any Pakistanis I know (my life is precious to me). I will simply continue pondering it quietly in my head and here on the xinu.geist which, I know, has a sympathetic (i.e. predominantly Indian) audience that will understand what I'm trying to say and not lynch me for raising this question.