i am zaman. this site is about me. not u. stop being selfish. lol j/k. welcome...[back by pop. demand lol ;-)]-
Thursday, September 16, 2004
I'm the DIY superhero
Salaam Well its been many moons, (and a few comets), since iv sat here and done this, I guess my laziness combined with a father who takes to gardening as a child to candyfloss didn't help at all. Whenever I wasn't lying on the floor scientifically examining the cracks in the ceiling, I was either mowing the lawn, re-mowing the lawn, mowing my neighbours lawn or tiling!!! Sadly over the holiday my father got the tiling bug, symptoms being constant urges to lay floor tiles wherever possible until the whole house is covered in little squares (and the side effects being a son with severe back pain and constant neck cramps). I guess my erratic changing lifestyle balanced out. I didn't gain or loose any weight even through periods of extended Afghan child labour or mind numbing laziness.
Other achievements this holiday include the cleaning of our garage. A garage seems an incredible piece of construction engineering, able to hold an amount of junk which when removed, seems to be at least 10 times greater in volume than the garage itself, and you always find a pair of 25 year old chapals right at the back in the darkest corner. It seems possessions are the hardest thing to get rid of, even when they seem to be totally useless and caked in a good inch of dust. "Nope I think we'll keep that" was one probably the most repeated phrases I heard whilst garage cleaning, along with "You know this would look good on the mantle piece" and the occasional "Zaman put that down it's a grenade used to fight the Russians back in Afghanistan".
So on we plodded through all the junk and rubbish, every small piece of wood or masonry was kept, my father being one who keeps anything he thinks he can possibly put to use in the future one of his far out DIY constructions. He could probably build an Olympic sized swimming pool from a pile of bricks and a few nails. But he'd wait for it to rain to fill it up.
* * * One of my friends wasn't feeling too good the other day. I think there's a possibility that me shoving him down a staircase and kicking him head first into a bucket of wet cement could have been partly to blame. Glad I woke up from that dream then.
* * *
Alhmadulillah I passed my first year of pharmacy :-), so all is set for me inshaAllah to try better in the second year and make is as a pharmacist. May God help the world.
Ask Victoria Beckham today whether she believes segregation of the sexes is a good thing, and chances are, she'll say yes.
The famous English footballer David Beckham ("Becks" to fans and tabloids) is facing allegations that he cheated on his wife with his "interpreter", Rebecca Loos. And his wife -- "Posh" from the erstwhile pop music group Spice Girls is said to be devastated. The interpreter in question-- a good-looking , young woman who speaks several languages was assigned as an aide to the sports star, when he shifted base from England to Spain after switching teams from Manchester United to Real Madrid.
When I read the "news" and really, there's no escaping it - I found myself thinking, how come there weren't any male interpreters? Why was it necessary to have an attractive young, female working in such close proximity with the football star, accompanying him to late-night parties and shopping sprees especially when his wife had allegedly expressed her unhappiness on seeing her husband's aide and "warned" him to stay away from her? Haven't SFX, the sports company that employed Loos, heard of chemistry?
Even more telling were the comments by columnists on the "affair". The common theme seemed to be that Victoria should have known better, marriages don't work in a vacuum and she should have left her children to the tender mercies of household help and a nanny to be with her husband; that when the wife's away men will play. The verdict was out -- a single fling is "only symptomatic of a problem" in the couple's relationship - a little wrinkle in the fabric of married life that could be neatly ironed out. Unless Beckham had a series of such flings - that is turned into a serial cheat in tabloidspeak -their marriage wasn't classifiable as a disaster.
Never mind the fact that Victoria Beckham had reminisced in an interview about being "dumped " in an earlier relationship and confessed that she would be heartbroken and shattered if her husband ever cheated on her - even if it were only a one-time affair. Never mind the fact that even a single fling legally constitutes adultery.
Ever notice how no one uses the a-word anymore? We have a plethora of modern synonyms for extra-marital man-woman relationships, - affair, fling, one-night stand, - but not adultery. Never that. Because to use that archaic word brings back the memory of ancient commandments consigned to the dustbin of public memory. Thou shall not ...does that ring a bell?
Adultery is considered a major sin in all religions.
Judaism: "We find that to every sin God is long-suffering, except to the sin of unchastity. Rabbi Azariah said,"All things can God overlook save lewdness "Midrash, Leviticus Rabbah 23.9
Christianity: Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled; for God will judge the immoral and the adulterous. Hebrews 13.4
Islaam: Approach not adultery: for it is a shameful deed and an evil, opening the road to other evils. Qur'aan 17.32
Hinduism: A man should not think incontinently of another's wife, much less address her to that end; for such a man will be reborn in a future life as a creeping insect. He who commits adultery is punished both here and hereafter; for his days in this world are cut short, and when dead he falls into hell. Vishnu Purana 3.11
Sikhism: The philanderer lusting after numerous women does not give up seeking in others' homes. What he does daily only brings regrets-- In sorrow and greed he is shriveled up. Adi Granth, Dhanasari, M.5, p. 672
Buddhism: Both learning and the practice of the Teaching are lost to him who is given to (unlawful)sexual intercourse. He employs himself wrongly. That is what is ignoble in him. Sutta Nipata 815
Jainism: A wise man has nothing to do with lust. Lust is nothing but death, and lack of it is serenity. How can one who perceives this indulge in wanton behavior? Acarangasutra 2.61
Taoism: Do not approach thy neighbor's wife or maids. Tract of the Quiet Way
Yet, going by the frequency with which it occurs today and the consequent social acceptability it has earned, one would be forced to second guess the scriptures. Going by the movies, tv sitcoms and magazines that adopt adultery as their main Muse, an adulterous relationship is a harmless exercise in variety, a notch up in a man's Casanova Quotient.
On the other hand, newspapers are replete with reports of adultery and its horrific consequences: husbands and wives murdering or maiming their spouses after discovering that they were being cheated on. People committing suicide, parents killing their offspring, single-parent families, abandoned spouses, the angst of children looking for their biological fathers well into adulthood.
Clearly, someone's conning the masses into believing that adultery is commonplace in the scale of sins, that referring to it in cutesy sound-bites lessens its gravity in the scheme of things.
It couldn't be G-d, Who deems adultery a sin grievous enough to be punishable by death. The Bible decrees the death sentence for both the adulterer and the adulteress
"If a man is found sleeping with another man's wife, both the man who slept with her and the woman must die. You must purge the evil from Israel" (Deut. 22:22).
"If a man commits adultery with another man's wife both the adulterer and the adulteress must be put to death" (Lev. 20:10).
The Bible only deems the extra-marital relationship of a married woman adulterous (Leviticus 20:10, Deuteronomy 22:22, Proverbs 6:20-7:27). If a married man has sexual relations with an unmarried woman, he is not considered an adulterer. The rationale behind this according to the Encyclopaedia Judaica is that the woman is considered to be her husband's possession and adultery constitutes a violation of the husband's exclusive right to her. (The wife as the husband's possession had no such right to him).
Even today in Israel, if a married man indulges in an extramarital affair with an unmarried woman, his children by that woman are considered legitimate. But, if a married woman has an affair with another man (whether married or unmarried) the children are not only illegitimate but are forbidden to marry any other Jews. This ban is continues for upto 10 generations of the children's descendants, until the "taint of adultery" is presumably weakened.
Islaamic laws also prescribe punishment for adultery - however, both the adulterer and the adulteress are included in it."The woman and the man guilty of illegal sexual intercourse, flog each of them with a hundred stripes. Let not pity withold you in their case, in a punishment prescribed by Allaah, if you believe in Allaah and the Last Day. And let a party of the believers witness their punishment" (24:2). [This punishment is for unmarried persons guilty of the above crime, if married persons commit it, the punishment is to stone them to death.]
To come back to the question, if G-d has decreed adultery a crime punishable by death, who makes it tempting in our eyes? Who persuades us to sacrifice the sanctity of marriage to a few moments of pleasure? Who whispers to us to ignore the magnitude of its repercussions on our souls, our lives and those of our loved ones? The Prophet Muhammad explicitly named this Other: If a man and a woman are alone in a room, Satan is the third.
Based on the logic that The One who created us knows more about our nature than we do ourselves, Islaam lays down certain rules for interaction between the sexes. It advocates modesty and lowering the gaze, it discourages enticing speech and encourages segregation of the sexes except under conditions of necessity.
One would think this makes perfect sense...then why is the idea of segregating sexes so vehemently opposed? Mention segregation and stereotypes loom large: of repressed women caged in houses, unable to venture outdoors except at the whims of the male. That's not how Islaam envisaged segregation, that's not how it was practiced in the time of the early Muslims.
Muslim women participated in the lives of their men in a manner befitting the dignity accorded to them by Islaam. They participated in wars and debates, in social festivals and market admimistration - all the while screening themselves from strange eyes and satanic intents.
During the Prophet Muhammad's lifetime the punishment for adultery was meted out only thrice -because there was no need for it. Everyone understood the rules and played by them. Segregation by itself was not a means to attaining freedom from sin, submitting to the ethics of male-female interaction as envisaged by our Creator was.
To make not too subtle a point, if David Beckham's interpreter in Spain was a man, none of the scandal would have happened. He wouldn't be spewing denials and swearing fidelity all over the press. His wife wouldn't be going through the heartache and humiliation that news of his alleged affair and the exposure of intimate mobile texts that he sent Loos has brought..
Imagine...a world where women and men are free to bond with others of their sex on the basis of sisterhood or brotherhood alone, where the concept of catfights and alpha male behaviour, sexual rivalry and sexual jealousy doesn't exist.
Waking up on an Eid morning has its own little buzz. Unlike normal mornings, an Eid morning is one filled with love, happiness, and a mad rush to get into the bathroom before your dad. You wake up and 'know' its Eid morning. From the first breath of consciousness you can feel it. You can smell it in the air. You can taste it in your pillow. (as well as all that sweat and gob).
Today may have been Eid for thousands of Muslims across the world, (except Pakistan, where they will probably be celebrating it sometime in the next few weeks or so), but to me it was more than that. It was also my birthday (well my lunar one anyway). Yes, its true, 19 years ago to this day, on Eid day of 1985, my mother got the best Eid present of them all: me!!!!!!! Imagine the happiness of having a child on Eid day. And what a child!!! (lol). It was told to me that when I was born, I came out moon-walking. (It was Jacko who copied me incidentally). So there u have it: I was an Eid baby!!! (and I probably still am, duh).
Today in the mosque, there were many ppl, short, tall, and skinny too. White, black, pink and blue. But they all had one thing in common. They were all wearing a face that said "Eid Mubarak, bro. Now I don't know u and u don't know me, but you are going to come up here, shake my hand and give me a big hug" . And that's what it is all about. Not just meeting ppl that you already know, but meeting ppl that you would have otherwise never met before, ppl who may be BETTER than the ppl u already know.
So Eid Mubarak to everyone. And a big collective hug from me....
* * *
I've got some catching up to do. Here's what's been happening in my world in the past few weeks (I have been keeping a small diary)...random ramblings...
November :-
...As I wake up, I slowly regain consciousness. Taking care to rearrange myself from a tumbled mess without permanently damaging myself, I climb to my window and take in the view. A yellow orange haze cloaks the ground, as autumn leaves have now been shed. My eyes become cloudy and I strain to see past the misting window as my bad breath condenses a film of water upon a frosty cold surface. Initial checks seem to confirm that my ears haven't fallen off...
...Bonfire night. The one night when Afghans around the country feel right at home. It's the night when Afghani babies go to sleep effortlessly, the screaming fireworks sounding like a regular evening in Afghanistan. An Afghan family down our road seem to have got the wrong idea as they are firing rounds of bullets and grenades into the air hoping to quench the invading forces. A tear comes to the eye...
...I haven't seen my budgies for about 2 weeks or so. The reason? Well we ate them. Lol no im only kidding. During the cold winter months they get transferred to a smaller cage and then get stuck in the garage where there is no fear of them dying of the cold. It also allows a small change in their lives. Now they can get bored out of their minds in a totally different place...
...In uni we have been doing some interesting practicals. Fascinating, actually. We have been pouring and weighing water in beakers. And then from these readings we calculate the density of the water, the temperature of the surroundings, the mass of the beakers and the average time it will take before we want to slit our wrists, and throw ourselves out the window due to intense boredom (usually around 10 seconds). Apart of that, it's a blast!
Im tired. (well, duh). Im wheezing (ive got asthma). My feet hurt (ive been running). My lecture has started (i was late). Im hungry (I ate weetabix 4 breakfast. It might have done me better to eat the cardboard box). Im sitting (in da computer room). Im smiling (bcz I love u ppl). Im tired (bcz of all this typing)...and I need a break!!!!!!!!
What a wonderful week. (lol theres this guy on my msn who just signed in as "Sex Drugs and Sausage rolls" lol). Uni is now well underway. Its amusing, the different things that the lecturers come out with when faced with the inevitable mobile phone ring. My favorite was:
"I would have confiscated that mobile, but I like your ring tone"
Err, yeah right! Don't give me that crap, mate. It's such a blatant lie, showing the lecturers lack of power to confiscate. Another lecturer totally shocked all us 200 students in the hall. He went "Ive learnt one thing as a uni teacher. At any one time, 80% of the students are thinking of sex." He then went one further, prompting gasps from some of the girls, "the other 20% are doing it". OMG we seriously could not believe he came out with that!!!! Todays maths class was so boring that if it had taken place during world war 2, Hitler wuld have gone to sleep. The teacher was like a droning moaning tape recorder. And the canteen food was as appetizing as a cockroach in a bikini.
But Alhmadulillah that I still have the strength to wake up in the morning to witness all these travesties. And wonderful gems like this:-
lol. The only thing that saves this from being racist is the fact that a black man is wearing the top. Absolutely brilliant!!
Cartoon of the week:
lol i must have been Garfield in a past life.... Wassalam, Mawz Rajul Over 'n out..
A silent night sky prevails, sweeping across the land enveloping it in a cool ghostly chill. Foxes silently sweep across the running meadows, as midnight butterflies flutter around aimlessly. A stallion gallops across darkened fields, its main flowing rapidly like black flames in the thick of a fire as the brilliant moon light sparkles from its silky jet black coat. I lie in my bed, in a tumbled mess, my face embedded in my pillow, drool seeping out the side of my mouth, my hair as wild as an afro, and I groan as my alarm clock goes off. What wonderful continuity with nature.
So there I was sitting on the downstairs toilet, getting down to business, door wide open as ppl walked past getting along with homely duties. I guess its a good time to tell you that I was actually sitting there painting the walls of the small room. I know I said that I would tie my next door neighbors cat to a post if I saw another paint brush, but I couldnt bring myself to do it. So instead I threw his dog into a river.
Its a sad fact, but DIY work never ends. Under any circumstances. After youve spent years finishing everything off, the house has already started to fall apart once again, and the DIY circle of life starts again.
You start with rebuilding the veranda. By this time the gutters are leaking. After patching them up the veranda is broken again. You then rebuild it with wood from the broken porch. You refurbish the porch and realize that the wallpaper is peeling. After re wallpapering the house, the gutters are leaking again, the porch has collapsed, the veranda is a smashed up wreck. You now have a wife and a child, who has just started uni. You then decide to work that child to death repainting the house, laying carpets and helping some mad Chinese builders who cant speak a word of English to build an extension. Oh and if u havent tagged on by now, that child was me.
* * *
On MSN...
Its freezin: Miracles eh? Zaman, the miracle and the sleeper: u bet :D Its freezing: So, can u make my m8 smarter? Zaman, the miracle and the sleeper: yeah...tell him that 1+1=2
There is nothing quite as refreshing as getting injured or ill. Within reason of course. On the weekend I broke [or sprained] my toe and today in uni I twisted my ankle [of the same foot]. Now I walk as if I accidentally swallowed a whole bottle constipation tablets before getting kicked in the stomach by a donkey. It is quite painful. But also quite refreshing.
Everyday you wake up in the morning, hopefully, with all of your body parts in the same place that you left them the previous night, (not that anyone wakes up to find their feet running around the garden, or their hands playing table tennis with their eyeballs downstairs), but nevertheless there are people who dont wake up and open their eyes because that wouldnt make a difference. Or dont press the "snooze" button on their bedside clocks because some horrific accident left them without the means to do so.
I remember being struck by typhoid a few years ago. Two weeks of agony ensued. I was hospitalized and lost a couple of stone in weight. For two weeks I couldnt eat any food, as anything that went in soon came out. So many drips were used, that my arm veins began to clog. All this but I still look back and say that I "enjoyed" the experience. Its just the immense relief when its all over. The feeling that you have somehow been cleansed.
Prophet Muhammad [s.a.w] said "when a believer suffers, his [or her] sins are being expiated as a tree sheds its leaves in autumn*", [saheeh] SubhanaAllah!!
So next time you get an illness or suffer injury, my dear brothers and sisters, realize that it is actually a MERCY from Allah (swt), the most wise, mahshaAllah, and do not curse, but be thankful and say "Allah Akbar**".
On my first day at uni, I walk up to the platform and board my train, one boot, then the other. Spotting the only empty seat, I forge forward with intent but realize that Im not the only one. Standing equidistant to me from the seat is a tall businessman, about six feet tall, wearing a very formal black jacket and a white shirt. His straight, short black hair, an echo of midnight darkness. In a split second our glances meet. The amount of communication in that split second was as intense. In one glance he told me that he was not messing about. That last night his car was stolen, and this morning his parrot had died. That his wife had divorced him after his children had run away. That his family had disowned him at the age of 14. That for the past 10 years all he had to eat was dog food and he wasnt taking it anymore. All that in one glance.
But my tactic was not to send a deadly glance to strike fear into him. That was what my metal toe cap boots were for. One swift stride later, they were heard, and I got to sit upon my throne. Well id hardly call it a throne. "Bum cruncher" would probably be more appropriate.
* * *
* * *
Walking into the uni, I try my best to not look at the cute girl who is staring at me. Finding the nearest Chinese guy, I sit down and introduce myself. We get on quite well, and share a few jokes. I guess that was the hardest thing: not knowing anyone. The first hurdle is tackled. lol. After a few minutes we are joined by a Pakistani bro, who I later find out is already married to a sister mashAllah!!! I can see these two ppl (so far) being very good friends in the future, Alhmadulillah. Im actually quite surprised myself, as we seem to gel very well.
Sitting in the lecture hall, a lecturer ran proudly through a long list of countries that ppl had come from to be in the uni, with the respective students cheering and clapping on cue when their country was called. When "Afghanistan" was called out, someone fired a rocket launcher into the ceiling and a dead dog was thrown at the teacher. Im happy that at least someone in the uni has a sense of humour. Although Im not sure the dog found it very funny...
Sigh...im bored...so here are some random thoughts:
-The past few days have been exasperatingly monotonous, incomprehensibly tedious, malignantly taxing, and subversively coercive. I seem to be getting a creeping feeling that the walls around me are slowly and hauntingly screaming at me to be painted. If I see another paint brush I think ill tie my next door neighbors cat to a post.
-A few weeks [come months] ago, a phenomenon occurred that astounded me. Usually birds escape our large expansive outdoor aviary, but this was a first. Its a feat that could have only been achieved by a creature with an IQ less than that of a peanut. The wonderfully idiotic feathery bird thought that being kept in a cage for the rest of its life was a better alternative to living free. So we have another addition to our family. Yay im so happy. I can feel the happiness flow through my body. Lets have a party to celebrate. Not.
-Here is a wonderfully beautiful poem I read on a forum:
"Gravedigger, When you dig my grave, Make it shallow, So I can feel the rain."
-Cartoon of the week:
Wassalam Over n out A sarcastic Zaman being the banana man.
A Guest Post by (Zamans fellow class mate for 7 years (ed. Damn right!!!)
(Zaman is the editor of this post- lol read this alone for his cracking comments)
Brondesbury college for boys an Islamic school with conventional gcse system was the beginning of something big, literally. The first day in secondary school, one never knew what to expect, how is this school going to be different from other schools? Is it going to be strict? How are the students going to be? How are the teachers going to be? (ed. And thanks to God it was a wonderful experience)
All these questions were answered as the days passed by, five years went by, and before you knew it, the prospects of college loomed, Woodhouse College here I come. (ed. Surely "woodhouse college, I failed my GCSEs, but please still let me come :-P) The five years in Brondesbury college for boys was a memorable experience, friends were made who were really close to me, each one unique, the class atmosphere was excellent, friendly, bubbly, jovial. (ed. Nice use of the thesaurus, LOL) Some of the memories still remain in my head, and make me laugh, if I were to go through them, it would be too much to write. (ed. my personal fave: When I threw a mug at kaifs head by mistake!!)
I think once me, Zaman and Farhan kept on playing cricket outside-and we got into trouble. Do you guys remember it?
After Brondesbury college came Woodhouse college, which had a Islamic Society room , a place to pray, and there was the occasional talks! (ed. More like "possibly one talk a year if we are extreeeemly lucky)
It was here that we made good friendship, which will last forever inshallah. And everyone is proceeding to further their education, and will consist of being doctors, dentists, computer science men, pharmacist, and the list goes on. In Woodhouse college, we were either in open access (computers) or the football pitch, playing cricket., or just simply chillin.. (ed. LOL woodhouse was jokes and our isoc room was the place to b if u wanted a laugh lol!! Even shack admitted that!! Man we were "da bomb", as chris tucker wuld put it!) People such as:
Zakir (Joint chief of staffs 4 Star general lol) was a cracker jack of a person, and still is!
Farhan he was in my I.T class, and Biology class, and in BCB we had definitely good times, and good times on the football pitch, particularly All stars Versus our team. We won on both occasions. Lol. Some sick team play. Hes like a ghauri missile cruising in on its target, determined. (metaphor-especially when he kicks the football at the back of the net) (ed. Err, ok ...I think uve totally lost the plot! lol)
Abdishakur was in my chemistry class, was a joker. And people were scared of him on the football pitch due to his intimidating legs since he was 6 foot 5 inches.
Haroon will be leaving for St Georges University where he will educate all his new bros on daal, and how to eat and enjoy it.
Zaman: who is he? Lol. This is his blog so you know all about him. (ed. Surely: "DA MAIN MAN"??? )
I could keep on listing everyone but it would be too much to write. But just a shout out, Atif Mughal, Faisal, Mashud, Ahmed and others too! (ed. Not important enough eh?)
Woodhouse college Islamic Society was where everyone got to meet each other, have jokes, and bond as Muslims, and help each other. It is definitely a place I miss.
Sometimes as humans we may wish for things to remain the same where we most enjoyed life, but this is impossible to happen.
For example cricket fans miss the days of Imran Khan, Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis, they miss the inswinging Yorkers, the outswingers, the pace, the speed, the accuracy, the flair, the passion, the intensity, the aggression. They (ed. OK u have lost half of the audience lol)
Boxing fans miss the times of Muhummad Ali with his superb natural boxing skills, his flow, his charisma. They also miss Mike Tyson at his peak who could knock anyone, no one was more ferocious than him in the ring, his combination of punches was too fast for his opponents, but as they say "life moves on" and another door opens.
Some of us may wish we were still young children without any worries. (ed. U are so true man)
wasssalam, Khudhafiz, bye, laters.
(ed. U forgot namaste LOL!! er and I cant say bye in Korean :-( )
A great change in my life seems well underway. Over the past seven years I have had the privilege of going two places that have shaped and molded the person I have become; namely and firstly BCB [Brondesbury secondary school for 5 years] and then Woodhouse College [where I studied for my A levels for 2 years]. For the past four months I have been on a long summer holiday, and now, next week begins a new chapter in my life: University.
God willing, I will try to remember all the magic that grafted those seven years.
Most of all I need to thank all those ppl who made my life the amazing non stop rollercoaster it has been...
Memory Metropolis part1.
Muhammad [mo man:-D aka turbulent testicles]: Well I havent spoken to u much in the past 2 years, man. I still have that birthday card that u gave me a few years ago, which had a mad scientist on the cover and read:
"Eureka! Ive done it!! Ive created the perfect friend... Zaman Durani"
Man thats the nicest thing neone has ever told me bro...and ill never 4get u for it...Thanks 4 being the best best mate neone could EVER need, for the crazy [and excellent] sense of humor we shared and for getting me into Metallica, Nirvana and Guns N Roses...still my 3 faves...[oh I still hav that homer Simpson doll u gave me all those years ago....he still says "doh"..."why u little" and "ooo do I smell cup cakes?" ..lol..craziness...
Ahmed: My personal punch bag!!! Lol man...thanks 4 talking all those blows for me!!! Uv always been there no matter what...u Muppet!! :-D .. probably my best memory of u is lying on the floor of the ISOC room after I pushed u off the table!! Lol every1 burst out laughing....Man my drawing of that is in ma room!!!! Oh and my other memory...2 weeks ago when zia showed us his scar...and u went "is that for life?"....so I said "no its just 4 christmas"....lol..sometimes I dont know what ur thinking when u come out with such crazy talk, boy!!!!!! Good luck in uni bro..
Farhan:..LOL...man weve been thru bare! Thanks for all those hours on the phone almost ever night...I never stopped laughing, bro. Chemsitry lessons were the lessons u shined in!! especially that day when we were doing a practical and u go "look how cool I am" before jump sitting onto a bench and immediately falling off it onto the floor...hilllarious!!!!!!!!...im missin u too much already...hurry up and get a mobile phone with line rental so we can chat!!!!! WHOS GOT DA GOLD????
Zia: Man what can I say!!!!! From out crazy high pitched singing in the London underground tunnels [..mooorshidddd...lol] to crashing out at ur yard and ordering pizza and listening to Metallica [who wuld have though it eh?]...man uve never been able to let me down! If there ever was a true brother it is u, MahsaAllah! Its impossible to stop cracking up wen we are together, lol, and if I were to say everthing on my mind now...itd take up the whole page..so ill just chat to u tonite...
Jawad: man you were the spiritual leader of us lot, yet u still came out with the most crazy questions..[ahem].. there was never a dull moment when u were about, and our classic song "SUKAR LABAN HALEEB!!! WA MANJOOOO [translates as: sugar yoghurt, milk and mango..wtf??lol]...always leaves me in creases!!LOL...one of ma best bros...take care salam man...
Qasim: w00t w00t...man it seems like aaaages since BCB and I dont know how ive survived without your crazy non stop "ill kill myself to have a laugh" hysteria. Man me and Ahmed still to this day mimic the way u used to play table tennis..LOL..u had some long arms..haha...and we can never forget ur Thursday afternoon psycho streak in art class!The most memorable thing has to b when u threw a rock at kaifs face [in a friendly way of course]...and he still has that scar until today!!! At least he wont 4get u eh?? Oh well…good luck in egypt...I hope its not raining too much :P....w00t w00t...lol..
Jev: Wassup jevster...hows the lil bad boy wannabe??? Lol I still think kaif has nightmares of u endlessly trying to beat him up lol....but we were all bros an it was all good!! I loved all those songs u made up about me!!! Hehe,...im glad we never forget to sing them even nowadays..."zaman zawoman zaoldman zayoungman YA MAN!!.." lol jev bro..when we were young we must have been on drugs or something to come up with all this madness...lool...Well bro, u were always there for me no matter what..an ill neva forget that...salam..
Majid: ...man I still have that picture of u [I think] when we went to legoland..lol u looked like a munchkin!!! Its ok tho, because you still do :P....
As the cold wind blows, whispering its way through the weeping willows, an ice cold shudder rockets down my spine. Billowing clouds, wrapped up in cotton candy, stare impedingly down at this earth, many fathoms high, knowingly about to burst forth and spill their entire contents upon the land. Thankfully today seems to be more promising than that, with predominating blue skies and a warm golden glow covering the land, acknowledging the fact that the sun is beaming happily down at us.
Yesterday we fitted a new carpet into the middle room of our house, yay! It was no easy feat i can tell you. If we moved it one way, then another side would be exposed. If we moved it back, the carpet would be off center. If we moved it to the right, my mum would like it. If my mum liked it my dad didnt. If my dad bribed me to a meal at pizza hut, I would be happy even if it was layed on the ceiling.
I dont think my budgies cared less. For all i know, they could have been either discussing the philosophical rationalities of the space time continuum, or maybe just, "oh my god!! Whats that horrific object over there!!! We are all going to die!!!" followed by "oh, its a seed".
Okay. for those of u who dont know what a budgie is......inne cute eh?....damn right....
[not my budgie but i have one thats identicle]
Anyway with my life now going at 1000000 miles per hour i really havent got any time to waste. The moral of todays post is: "If you are searching for your place in life, then dont hesitate to try something radically different, as it may open up many different windows of opportunity for you in areas you may never have explored before."
Let me plug you into my world. Cant u help me be Uncrazy?
Yo
I am so tired today. And that made me Mr. Grumpy with a capital GRUMP. I mean whenever I take a nap in the middle of the day I wake up and I am stoned. I shouldnt be allowed to walk down stairs ... and I dont know how the hell I manage lol. Anyway, anyone who gets in my way when im Mr. Grumpy will know about it. If they are a bit slow and dont catch on, the hospital is usually where they wake up, (preferably in the operating theater or the ' Horrifically Catastrophically Terminally Incarcerating Mashed-up Injuries Ward ' ). That also goes for rowdy chairs, sharp tables and general pain in the ass household furniture.
**Sigh**
So everybody say hello to Mr. Grumpy, or he will come to your house and break some stuff. GRRRR!!!!!
Oh heres something thats sooooo cool ....
This is quite amazing!
"Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at an Elingsh uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht frist and lsat ltteer is at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae we do not raed ervey lteter by it slef but the wrod as a wlohe. ceehiro"
Well, Im back from my holiday in "NEWcastle" !(woo) [For those of u who dont know, its a large city in the north of England, is over 300 years old and not a castle - which goes to show that it must have been named by that talking monkey ... err ... oh yeah, George Bush]. It was a canny journey to the top of the northern hemisphere, where the air is thinner, 90% of the population are over 80 and u cant go unnoticed unless ure wearing grey clothes. Which is why I dressed up in an inflatable fluorescent stripy green and orange jumpsuit.
Ok maybe I didnt go that far, but man come on, these ppl need a break. They need some action. If you live in Newcastle and have a painter round to re-coat ure house, ulle get a crowd round to watch the paint dry!
Ok maybe Im going too far here [for the 2nd time, tisk], but Im sure ulle see my point that its more interesting lying flat faced down in the middle of a motorway waving a rubber chicken around [and less painful] than being in Newcastle.
So im back. And it wasnt that bad! The shopping is excellent. I bought some new clothes to strut around in, Blue Streak [film with Martin Lawrence], a few cookies mmmm…oh and a smile on my face. Damn I cant seem to get it off :-).
Here is a piece of free writing I did a few years ago that id like to share.
Granny Attacks
Morning:
I woke up early on the last Sunday morning of my summer holidays. I lay down on my bed, batted my eyelids and stared up at my ceiling light. Enclosed in a soft white paper frame, which was already looking as grey as a winter sky, it was gently, almost therapeutically, wavering in the air, being lightly batted around by the persuasive push of my bedside fan. I lay there listening to the soft hum of the fan, like sea air and almost mesmerised, my blue wallpaper filled me with a sense of being swept away in a halcyon sea.
Through eyes squinted, I peered through my curtains and gazed upon the sun kissed tarmac of Lavender Close. Birds were singing aloud merry tunes, flying from aerial to aerial, aloft the crumbling chimneystacks of the houses across the road. A few cawing crows would occasionally disrupt the peace, causing the speckled starlings to be startled and swiftly swoop to safer places, their backs glistening shades of purple and blue under the sun, as they flee. The odd van rumbled past, making its way through the narrow street, spewing out diesel into the otherwise fresh air and stirring the dusty deposits, accumulated during the dry summer months.
Afternoon:
It was a warm, dusty, humid afternoon and I still wore seven layers of clothes, some of which were damp and reeking of B.O. The metal toecaps in my Caterpillar shoes were giving my feet a hard time and my baseball helmet over my head was rattling insistently, not failing to give me a headache.
I now think that I would be better off without my armour, as.. no, wait! There he is! My kneecaps rattled as my legs were becoming numb, but I had to face up to the neighbourhoods most notorious O.A.P, Corporal Punishment. The sun was now blazing and I broke out in a mad sweat. My cricket bat was slipping out of my grip as I swung it over my shoulder, in full attack mode. My visor lowered over my head, and making a whirr, it displayed my combat tactics.
At the blink of an eye-lid, my galvanised, titanium, shoulder-mounted rocket-launcher, clicked into position as I stood in combat stance. It seemed like everything ceased to make a noise. Tree leaves bustled past my legs. Crisp packets flew round and round, in a temporary vortex, as the wind, mercilessly blew. His shadow crept, menacingly up the path, as the blazing sun lurked behind him, as if backing him up. I took a step backwards, my boots making an almighty clang, as their metal underneath grazed the paving stones, which lay about the streets, in a common pattern, a pattern that connected me with my sworn enemy.
I heard a hiss, as the jetpack on my back pressurised, and readied for the inevitable. A bead of sweat trickled with dexterity down my cheek, weaving in and out of the pores in my face and filling them with moist pools of fluid. My eyes became hazy and I squinted as I tried to lock on to the evil assailant. His battle worn walking stick had a lick of evil in its posture. Having survived many jousts, it was laden with scars and gashes and its handle was that of a silver lions head, roaring aloud a silent roar, and focusing its sharp beady eyes upon me, ready to pounce and rip me apart. I didnt flounder, although an icy shudder sent shivers down my spine. The cold hands of fear closed around my puny heart, although I kept my head. Psychological trauma was building inside me and was hollowing me out from the inside.
I decided, "that was it". With a deep gasp of air, I fired my first rocket. The recoil almost unbalanced me as it powered out at breakneck speed. A heavy thundering roar filled the street, as it propelled itself forward with a great thrust. Angry, howling red flames vaporised the air they burned. The missiles trajectory was homing in on the old corporal, and with a gasp, I realised, that I was in for more than I had bargained for. He raised his withered arms aloft, as if summoning an evil force, and a blade of white light cut around him, at astonishing speed, enveloping him in a shining, sturdy shield. I watched utter disbelief, as my menacing, mechanical missile was shattered into a million shards of silver steel, just like a small plastic toy, as it exploded into a flaming fireball.
With one stamp of his foot, he sent shock waves rippling through the ground. For a second I seemed to lose my balance, and I stumbled over a crack in the paving beneath my feet. I tried desperately to fling myself back into stance, but I helplessly groped at the air in front of me, trying to grasp at some intangible object. All of my weight plunged to the ground interminably, and I let out a low groan as ...THUD! A loud echo was sent up and down the street, and a group of ground pigeons flocked to the sky in a senseless, flutter, flapping and floundering, oblivious of what was going on around them. A second later, my helmet embraced the position of the rest of my body, and with a cold metal clang, left a sharp impression in the pavement. Everything went black. Never before had virtual reality been so real.
I've just come back from across the road. A few minutes ago that familiar tune rung across the street, echoing down the multitude of driveways and barrelling into peoples houses, finely tuned to seek out and call all the little children [and me]. So magnetic is this tune, that seconds later there is a crescendo of pitter-pattering feet running down the road in ice cold anticipation. Its a universal song. Play it in the depths of the darkest Amazonian jungle, across the cold flats of the Antarctic ice cap or through the darkened caves of Mongolia and you will get the same result. [Except in Afghanistan, where you will probably have your feet cut off and then be shot].
For a few minutes, real life stops and my street is plunged into a magical serenity of boundless opportunity, because the arrival of the Ice Cream man is no small deal. He is up there with Santa Claus and The Tooth Fairy. He is the legend, the enigmatic knight in shining armour, the provider of ice cream and his call is heard and obeyed. Riding in an elegant carriage on a cloud of diesel fumes, his Ice Cream Van coughs and splutters, on its last legs. God only knows how he managed to start the wreck.
So there I was, surrounded by a sea of munchkins.
A small dream for the childrens creative minds. It is wonderful that the Ice Cream Man can restore that creativity, showing them that in a world of adults, there still can be a small slice of fantasy. Just seeing their faces light up when they are queuing, realising that a true hero of endless icy delights awaits them, is enough to shed a tear.
But alas! In our ever-growing world, manifesting itself as a concrete jungle, the Ice Cream Man seems doomed to a destiny in shrouded in legend and myth. Not for long will this man be around. When the children forget about the Ice Cream Man; a sad day will that be. Our last living fairy tale will be forever forgotten.
On the weekend I was invited to a wedding, MashaAllah, and above all had the chance of sampling some lovely food. Not that its the main reason for me going, but it seems to always be one of the things we have come to expect at a wedding: good food. And this was no exception. Except i was only able to stomach about half a plate. I really dont know what came over me. They usually call me the vaccum cleaner at weddings due to my amazing ability to stomach inhumane amounts of biriyani. I'm not even joking here. Table-cloths and napkins usually go missing. I often create a temporary gravitaional pull around my table. NASA Space control have to be informed of my prescence at any wedding, as i cause the earth to spin faster and [occasionally] the moon to explode.
[lol id better not go to far on this one..but it is tempting]
There were a few of my close friends at the wedding and we had a good time Alhamdullillah. It wasn't long before a brother of mine across our table [who is married] posed the inevitable question, 'so Zaman when are you getting married?', to which my answer was immediate: "Next week, Friday. You comin?". He told me it was the best answer [from an 18 year old] that he had ever heard for that question, so i was quite happy.
Here i sit in my repositioned computer chair sitting at my repositioned computer leading my slightly repositioned life. Everything that we need in the house has been moved into the sittingroom as the builders comtinue to work, creating new walls and removing old ones. It's like a home within a house. [LOL rite now one of the workers is screaming his head off in Chinese...soz its just so funny].
And theres a further revelation. As i sit here, back towards my workers, i slowly turn around, unbraced for I’m about to witness. It's the return of Geou Georu!!! He's back and ready for a vengeance. Early in the morning, through eyes squinted, the hazy figure of a short Kung Foo-esq china man stands. He comes into our living room and says " itawa mongono wallanga won on pongo " [or something like that], and directs us to where he is working. He could have been saying " hey f*** face, come f****** here you s*** head ", or " My humble apologies for my intrusion upon your living room, now may you follow me so I can enlighten you to this problem ". Either way it’s what you would expect from a builder or a Chinese man!
Wassalam Me
This is my new blogchalk: United Kingdom, England, London, English, Zaman, Male, 16-20, Internet, Outdoor Activities. :)
Well my extension at the back of the house is almost finished. Yesterday we said goodbye to one of the chineese workers called Geou Georu . He did all the brickwork and plastering and even though he culdnt speak english, we got on very well and had some good laughs [although i wont bet that we were laughing at the same thing or even knew what we were laughing at].
Its kinda funny that all our chineese workers all ate ONLY chineese foods like chineesse noodles and funky cans of 'Katawana Bolanonwanga' [maybe monkey heads and dogs toungs or summat]. Every race has their own way of doing things. If our workers were Saudi Arabian, they'd probably come on camels. If our workers were Eskimos, they'd probably build us an igloo. [and if they were Afghanistani, we'd have a war :-)]
The moral of todays post is:
'dont disreguard your roots and never forget who u are. Don't worry if other ppl see u as different as ure individuality is what makes u who u are and those ppl who are different are those who change the world'.
"Allah is the light of the heavens and the earth; a likeness of His light is as a niche in which is a lamp, the lamp is in a glass, and the glass is as it were a brightly shining star, lit from a blessed olive-tree, neither eastern nor western, the oil whereof almost gives light although fire touch it not-- light upon light-- Allah guides to His light whom He pleases, and Allah sets forth parables for men, and Allah is Cognizant of all things." -[Quran; 24.35]
It saddens me to see how the vast population of our society have become caught up in this false pretence, living life to the max and never stopping to think about the real situation of their lives, or more importantly the lives of those around them, both immmediate and distant. It further saddens me to find that many mulsims have also become caught up in this whirlwind 'matrix'. When will we be able to see past our own noses, not into someone elses business, but into a book of infinite wisdom and truth. I know i have a lot to do. [as u can c by my last post below, lol].
As the release date of Terminator 3 draws nearer, an ever impending date on my calender glares at me, etching its magnitude of importance on the darkness of my very soul with a sharp stamp of cold steel. Will my illness pass in time for me to witness Arnie's collossal return to the silverscreen, or will i ever be destined to look back in regret......
Obvioulsy i cant spell and obvioulsy im so lazy i cant b bothered to change the spelling mistake. Nonetheless I must make a small effort to get this blog going.
For the second time in two weeks im ill with flu. My dad wants me to get a job, but my illnesses have inadvertantly come to my rescue. So im unemployed and unhealthy. The chinese builders are getting better, as their vocabulary is widening. They can now say 'good morning' without chocking and falling down the trench in our garden.
Im a bit tired so ill leave u ppl to ponder on my wise words of wisdom. [which is "never dig a trench in ure garden as a chineese man is gonna try and say 'good morning' and fall down it"].
