Of a Forced Essay

As an Engineer

Ashan was a remarkable kid. He was saved from a burning building when he was only 5 by a retired civil engineer. Since then he had one aim in his life: “To make the world a better place . . as an engineer.”

He studied hard day and night to get the grades required to realise his dream. In Matric he failed. He paid someone money to give his exam for him and managed to barely pass. Same was the case with his Intermediate certificate.

He got an admission in a university and finally pursued his dream. However he was kicked out during his 4th semester for showing up for class intoxicated.

Heart broken, he was about to end his life by hanging himself from a bunch of helium balloons when the spirit of that retired civil engineer came in front of him. Keep in mind, the civil engineer wasn’t dead, but had perfected the art of Astral Projection.

“Son, I hoped you would carry forward the legacy of my fore-fathers but it seems like you need a lot of help” Said the Civil Engineer’s Projection

Boom! Lightning struck Ashan and he felt his mind change. Theorems and formulae filled his head. He could feel the spirits of Newton, Einstein, Plato and Abdul Qadeer Khan  (who unlike the Civil Engineer, were dead for centuries – the current AQK is actually a cyborg designed to fool the Americans) all talking to him. Lo behold, now Ashan could, with a flick of his wrist, calculate trajectories, completely solve Pi and take the square root of infinity. Heck, even his sneeze was faster than light.

Truly Ashan Engineer could do everything (except fix the title of this essay)

He, however, was still lazy. So he flew off to find Superman (He was also an idiot for believing superman actually existed.)

Ashan Engineer did nothing useful even as an engineer.

Another classy essay submitted by me for English. I pwn!

Of “God-Damn! It Hurts”

Ladies and Gents. I present to you, my wrist. Apparently, I’ve gotten immune to the pain in my left wrist from all the writing and typing and various other mundane tasks, that now, my right wrist is giving off referred pain. (Hey don’t look at me, the chiropractor said so)

And yes. I took this picture while writing the Island Survival Post.

Anyways, I’m resigning myself to smelling like Tiger-Balm. =(

Of Stellar IQ Levels Around Me

Yesterday, during English class, our teacher decided to split us all into groups of three and wrote down a list of things on the board

a pen and papers	a bottle of Pepsi	ointment
matches	a nylon tent	20 meters of nylon rope
an axe	a knife and fork	a saucepan
a blanket	an atlas	knitting needles
a camera with 5 rolls of film	radio with batteries	Flashlight

The dire scenario that the teacher presented was that we were all going to board a plane and we were allowed to take 8 things with us. The plane is going to crash on a deserted island and we’ll be stuck there for an indefinite period of time. Needless to say the 8 things each of us chooses has to help us survive.

Once each of us had made his/her list, the teacher wanted us to come up with a group list (by convincing others to agree to our logic why we chose something) then two groups were merged with the same concept, and so on and so forth till there were two lists in the entire class. Leaders of both groups had to come up and present their reasoning and make one final list.

Easy eh? Hardly. As soon as the class started with the exercise, you could hear 4 very sane people sigh out loud and curl up into a fetal position.

The basic aim of this exercise was to develop one’s reasoning, listening and speaking skills. Throw listening and speaking down the drain, the reasoning was enough to make us 4 cry.

So, the gas canister (who happened to be in my group) suddenly decided to take knitting needles with him. Why? To sew up wounds. >.> Yeah, I can so imagine taking a knitting needle and using it to sew up a gash. Why not take the axe and chop off the offending appendage as it is.

Now, everyone in this class is on his/her way to become an engineer. So, naturally one would assume that problem solving is a key attribute to becoming an engineer.

The majority of the class rejects useful items like:

• Radio (“who will listen to FM91 on a deserted island” and “the batteries will run out”)
• 20 Meters of Rope (“what will we tie with it?”)
• an axe (“it will get rusty, knife and fork better”)
• a flashlight (“we can make a fire” and “batteries will run out”)

You can use a radio to transmit morse-code, or scan incoming traffic for any sign of incoming planes etc. You could use a rope to tie logs together to make a makeshift raft or erect a bigger structure for more people than a nylon tent. . . oh well.

I’m sorry people if I seem like I have a stick up my ass. But honestly, can you blame me for wanting some level of maturity from these people. Its like I never left work. I’m still surrounded by little kids who want mommy to do everything for them.

Of Meh…

Of Death and Extra Credit

The following piece was supposed to be an extra credit assignment. Sadly the teacher left without notice. So, just like the teacher’s name vanished from the roster, so did all forms of seriousness and sanity from this essay.

DEATH

“The author of this supposed essay has an appointment with me. The essay will have to wait. For Eternity” –Grim Reaper

Death is a force necessary for balance. Imagine if no one ever died, the entire world would be over-run by people to the point where anyone born tomorrow would be living above the ozone layer (assuming that the world has saturated to the point where newer generations thrive on a layer of older generations. . . kind of like an onion.)

Whenever there is a sudden increase in population somewhere in the world, a disaster wipes out a colony somewhere else. This just shows that the world obeys the laws of physics (albeit lazily) in every form.

I find Death to be fascinating. If you were to read up on Death, you’d see that almost every culture has some perception of Death. Some believe that Death means the end to everything, while others believe that actions done now will decide how your next (material or spiritual) life will be. There are people who believe that Death is the answer to everything (at times I am one of them) while others wonder how it will feel like. When you’re depressed, occasionally Death drops by and asks whether you’d join it for some tea and crumpets . . this would explain why depressed people eat alot – as long as they aren’t hungry they won’t be seduced by Death’s offer. Also, this is why skinny depressed people commit suicide more often than fat depressed people – I however am on the fence waiting to tip over to either side)

Fascinating isn’t it? The average person . . no people . . no, in fact, humanity ha spent so much time on wondering what Death is like. Not the person obviously. There are literally thousands of versions of Death. A robed skeleton, a ghostly apparition of your loved ones, a spiky orange haired gruff youth with a huge sword, a effeminate man with hair-clips, a creepy creature who loves apples, even Rick Astley.

Imagine, you’re lying on your Death bed and everyone’s around you crying and sobbing. Suddenly there is a chill in the air and everyone falls silent. Then a figure wearing a hooded robe glides towards you. You’re freaked out. Your great grandson bursts into tears. You feel a sudden rush of adrenaline and get out of the bed and tell everyone that you’re feeling better. You tell the robed figure that he need not come any closer. The robed figure stops. In one swift motion from under the robe Rick Astley pops out and says “We’re no strangers to love / You know the rules and so do I …

So as I was saying, people wonder what death is like. Isn’t it the same as when your watch breaks or the bulb fuses or the tape in your VCR gets mangled by evil spirits working for the DVD industry. I don’t spend time wondering whether my watch was in pain during the last few seconds (literally) of its life. I don’t wonder if there’s a Casio Heaven, or a Phillips Hell, or even a Panasonic Purgatory.

Similarly I don’t feel much when a person dies. I’ve lost relatives, friends, and loved ones. But other than being sad for a few days, the only impact on my life is that I’ll miss talking to them. That’s it.

So ladies and gents. I submitted that, got an A+ grade. And two smiley faces.

Of Chest Punches and Dead Drives

My laptop’s hard-drive died. All my pictures and my music and well everything is gone. I feel empty.

On a less related note. I am working on the Identity Post.

Secondly, all eligible bachelorettes interested contact me before I get myself killed.

I think I should elaborate the last point. You know how some people emo-blog due to lack of companionship. Others indulge in compulsive gaming. I piss off people.

If anyone tells you that companionship isn’t important. You are deluded. Every human being requires some sort of relation where they can be themselves. People with fucked up family backgrounds require one even more so than everyone else.

So, finally. Chest Punch. We were all acting like goof-balls in University yesterday. This asshole thought it would be funny to get really personal. He ended up saying some shit (which I won’t replicate on the blog for obvious reasons) about someone I care about deeply. It pissed me off, so I jabbed him in the stomach with my shoe. He watch-strap punched me in the chest. Though nothing is broken, now my chest hurts from both psychological and physical pain.

I am so gonna get myself killed.

Oh well. Need to do something about the content of my posts. The Quality of my work is on a decline as of late.

Okay, I promise the next post will be minimally emo.

Of My Current Status

And It Scares Me!!

Of My Awesome Readers

I use the word Awesome alot. . . . AWESOME!

Okay, so in this month and half that I've been in Uni, I've turned into a full fledged harami. This is sad. Oh well.

POLL!! VOTE NOW! ---->

So, last post was a good one (or so you say).

One thing that I point out time and time again, I write exactly the way I talk. Since most of you (save my IRL friends) haven't ever heard me, we need to give you an idea.

So, for the time being, (as in till I figure out how to podcast for free and whether it's worth the hassle) I'd ask you to use your imagination.

Imagine a voice laced with sarcasm, putting emphasis on words that don't need emphasis, and slowly stretching out words that do need it. Oh and I talk about my ideas like a mom would about her kid.

"Chunnu ney aaj pehley kadam leay!! :D"

Of Reality Sucks

Apparently people are tired of living real life. Real life has no appeal it seems.

This would explain why there is such a huge demand for “Reality TV.”

Who in hell comes up with the concept of Reality TV Shows anyways? I mean, how many times (in real life) do you see a group of 16 strangers stuck on an island, with each one being systematically eliminated by a group of primates until one is left and that one gets a million bananas.

Honestly, the hype that these shows create really doesn't make sense. Take the Amazing Race for example. If, and this is a hypothetical if, I was to go to Japan for an all expenses paid trip, I’d rather be doing something easy like sight-seeing rather than climbing the exterior of Tokyo Tower to retrieve a clue hidden in a pigeon nest at the top. I mean come-on, if you’re going to an exotic country, go as a tourist, not a fugitive – always running from one point to the next yelling and screaming at your partner, running after people, running from people.

I was channel surfing a while back, which is rare given that I don’t really like watching TV. I landed on AXN, after enduring clips of clichéd “Bold and Beautiful” and a weird music video of an equally weird Sindhi song. CSI was on. Or it was on had I been a little quick with my surfing. Sadly the adverts had started.

1. On the next season of TOP CHEF! Watch as 12 different contestants battle it out blah blah blah blah we think if we keep yelling out the details you’ll actually want to watch the show. Look we even threw an Indian chick and made this show about spicy food. This is different from last season since now we have two Indian chicks. Do watch the show! Please!
2. On the next episode of Beauty and The Geek! Watch as how we go to the extreme and take the hottest chicks and make them date the ugliest guys around. You know this will never happen in reality so it’s going to be fun to watch. This week we’ll focus on developing convolutedly fake emotions between Hot-chick-with-a-huge-rack-that’s-draining-her-brain-of-much-needed-blood and Social-outcast-who-loves-penguins-to-the-point-of-obsession. Oh The Drama
3. Next Week on So You Think You Can Dance? Watch how limber couples dance in ways you can only imagine. Watch how one nutcase nearly breaks his neck during a break-dance routine. Look at this crying couple, did they lose or win? You won’t believe this but the asshole-British judge just gave a heart-felt compliment. Did he really mean it or was it sarcasm. Find out Next Week.
4. Coming up Tonight! Rachel Zoe Project. Watch how a skeletal corpse with more botox in her face than actual fat launches her line of creepy clothes with the help of incompetent help. We shall even throw in some dirty talk and innuendos that you can only dream to find in The Apprentice! We have no idea why anyone would even bother watching her show? Okay, lets show the clip with the metrosexual help crying once again.
5. On the next episode of Australia’s Next Top Model, the girls who have no marketable skills save their looks will battle each other in a pool filled with mud. Actually, it’s all for a “photo-shoot” for a high-profile client. *cough*playboy*cough* Witness how this show is remarkably similar to America’s Next Top Model, we just got a cast with a funny accent, some super-famous designers from Australia (who are actually struggling designers in America – but you shouldn’t be aware of that.) And finally to give you that feeling of being in Australia, we’ll give out shit prizes to our winner. So, to distract you from mulling over the similarities, we’ll show you a clip of this girl crying her eyes out (the surprise here is that she wasn’t eliminated, but rather someone else was, for whom she had no particularly strong feelings)

There must have been other advertisements, but I must have tuned them out. Anyways, when they ended, I found out that CSI was over too. I used to really like CSI at one point. Keeping aside CSI:LV’s Gil Grissom and his epic deductions or CSI:M’s Horatio Caine and his infamous one-liners, CSI makes forensics fun! I am pretty sure the only reason anyone watched the bullet analysis parts was because of the catchy instrumental tune. It’s like asking KISS to sing a nursery rhyme to a bunch of orphans.

I dare you to imagine our desi Richie Rich (you know, whose dad owns this country) being asked by daddy dearest to go work in each province to prove his worth to the country. GeoTV follows him to Punjab, where he mucks around in knee deep rice paddies; Sindh, where he helps his wadera brothers with poultry rearing and Pajero maintenance; N.W.F.P. where he becomes the trainer and obstacle course for the Taliban forces while harvesting opium on the side and Balochistan, where he. . . relaxes?

So yeah. Reality Does Suck. Imagine the next Pakistani Reality Show: A Simple Rickshaw!

Of Being Sad

So, I’m still feeling blue. Somewhat.

Listening to Lost Prophets isn't helping much. They make such sad music.

So, I’m going to do a picture post.