Do I have a subject?

Well, do we? So many people are constantly stuck in the abyss of confusion, because the gluttons of information streaming through the conveyor belt of intellectual insistence are somehow clogged and our brains have valves like traffic lights which are only too happy to stay red. Stay red because we’re too afraid to set them to anything else besides red. Got me yet?

“Uhh, no?” See, that’s the point. We just don’t know, and we can’t relate. We don’t want to open our minds. Sometimes we can relate but we don’t want to because it doesn’t conform to our standard of normality. Normality what? Screw normality. Take your soccer-mom’s van, its less conformist than the bus. And then there’s the aspect of the dispersion of our own lunacy. All of us have so much to say but we’re scared it might be as beneficial to the person sitting next to us (the one we want to talk to) as adding a few layers of cement to vanilla ice-cream. Same kind of basis, different taste. Similarly, talk is talk, but talk is different. Is that why we’re so afraid to express our innermost modicums of wisdom or humour, even to those we seem to be most attracted to? Maybe, especially those we are attracted to?

As I proceed to try and complete the entry with a hint of static-ticity, internal interference keeps bumping up the hissing that reminds of the communication between WW2-era subs. With torpedoes and all that. Except, the connection between those radios were a lot better than what I feel we have now. I really want to say, ‘I don’t know what motivated me to start writing again,’ but I do know why. The reason itself upsets me on some level, but, you gotta help the helpless, or the helpless will be helpless to help the less. But, you knew that.

Do what you want to do. Say what you want to say. All the things that matter, all the things that don’t matter, even all the things do not contain even one percent of matter. You never know when all that will make someone happy is to just hear what you have to say because the rest of their life requires them to focus so much on themselves in self-development just so they can help others around the clock, that…listening to your garble actually becomes therapeutic to them. And it’s good for you too. Of course it is. So we both win. We all win. You, me, and us. Why then are we still so clueless?

Boring is the new interesting. It’s what we want. It’s what the world needs. Because – in essence – nobody is boring. At the end of the day if you think you’re boring then you’re not boring because there’s a reason that makes you boring. If you think about the reason that makes you boring then boring becomes interesting and interesting is not boring. It’s like a reversible reaction that’s really a forward reaction but it looks like a reversible reaction because we confine ourselves to trying to end up as our reactants instead of accepting our products as they are. Why? Because as I said, maybe we’re just scared.

Our reaction should look like this:
Boring&reason + interesting -> interesting&reason + boring.
After the reaction, lets just throw the boring away. We don’t need it =)

At the end of the day, I’m not worried about who finds me what. I’m just going to help those who seem to not be, be. Because I know everybody can be what they want to be. It might take time, it might take effort, it might burn. But, I won’t give up.

At the end of the day, sense is what you want to be, is as important as you want it to be. Just...talk.
You're fascinating to me.

hsn

You just won't guess.

I never think about writing my blog before I actually WRITE my blog. The main reason, I believe, is because each set of words and other Englisy stuff that you wouldn't want to read about belongs to an individual and you can never put one over the other, so to speak. If you do you're smarter than I thought you were. No big heads though people, THIS room is already filled. :)

Readers of my previous (most currently unexisting) blogs will remember the "smooth link" drive that I shamelessly nicked from Top Gear (google it) the one which makes sure that various entities of utter rubbish written at least make sense grammatically (IF possible - if not then that becomes my job) and connects with the next entity of blah blah blah written and isn't random. Through I secretly harbor a great distaste for this sort of waste of time (I usually prefer to watch paint on walls dry) and attention-gaining tactic, I use it because it IS an attention gaining tactic. Don't look at me like that. I'm desperately attempting to relate "school" to "dumb" (and I think it worked too) and you might as well help. We could create an epilogue to signify just how important it might be (note: MIGHT be) to daydream in class (which is always what I'm doing) and the answer might just pop out some day.
Who knows?

But while you're here anyway on this journey of expansive and possibly greater infinitive crap, my philosophy is to make the best of it and hit people with rubber bands (thats mature rationality thrown outta the window...). I know you phantom readers would squabble on just how you can operate a rubber band so I'll tell you. But not now, next year. Coming back to general school, well, my honest point of view is that while it's not enjoyable it's still fun. How come? Well, look at it like this (girls - you won't be able to follow from here onward):
Paintball, get-hit and most.of the time you seriously don't enjoy it but it's still fun, coprendo? In the same way, school might be that huge nail that really really drives it up your *insert whatever word required* sometimes and especially in the mornings when you've just had an all-nighter but keep cool, bay the points in, arm yourself with clichés, purposely go with your uniform ironed but your shoes filthy with an adidas cap run sideways, and prepare to get into a whole lot of trouble, and even more fun.

hsn

the problem with being you

Recently I was shopping on my own when I happened to enter a familiar shop run by a team of Iranians. I was actually looking for a shirt to buy and as season '06 of football approached, I decided it'd be better to get the new football shirt/shorts kit done with along. As I was browsing a slightly younger salesman approached me and pointed me in the direction of the kit of the Iranian national football team, then started, then hesitated, then started, hesitated again and pronounced the obvious. A lot of times I am not a very big man but sometimes you fleetingly realize that there is a responsibility on your shoulder which has to be obliged very quickly.

I had absolutely no intention of ever buying the kit at that moment but I displayed an encouraging smile nonetheless and carried on the conversation for another five minutes or so, promising I would give it a thought as I exited the store. There are a lot of times in my life, or atleast what I describe to be life, that somebody will come and tell me that I'm either being a jackass, idiot, wierdo, boring, or simply just stupid. The example I cited above was to give us all a reason of thought – the boy was simply being himself when talking to some slightly younger and how many of us would actually lend it that split-second thought? I am not trying to brag but I appreciated the fact that he put his fears on a backstage and showed me the item despite knowing he would not get paid for it. That was simply him.

Another boy of my age would read this and say, “Husain, stop acting too mature,” and possibly brag on about how boring I'd be when put easily enough we are all the same underneath with all the same abilities of reason; whether we choose to outline outselves deep, cultural, daring, bright, funny, shallow and so forth. The truth is in today’s world there is hardly any appreciation for what a person is and what a person can be. What a person was is never the answer but looked at upon the most for quick book judgement.

The world is driven by the want for more and more money that will buy you everything in the world but a smile from deep down inside the heart. Today’s world is driven by people all over the globe fulfilling that objective of multi-corporate companies and running around in pursuit of the bills more than a marathon runner could ever dream to train, like dogs without a sense of smell and owls without eyes. Nobody has time to give to anybody else and when it is it is usually a short burst of good-heartedness that is short for the good reason that we have to catch up to the blinded owls and so on otherwise we land up nowhere, much like they would be if they stopped to pick up somebody from the ditch.

Nobody has time for anything else nowadays but when generosity is showered we receive whatever you can imagine gold could not fetch, and lots more beyond that. Nobody ever has the time to realize that he can be and allow others to be what they are. I’m not saying I have a solution and the truth is there really is no mass-spread verbal antidote to it except maybe the reflecting of oneself.

So for once, and hopefully maybe even twice and so forth, let’s remember that it’s OK for people to be themselves, especially ourselves, as we too, a lot of times, skip to be someone we’re not just because of those handy printed paper rolls coming in, or to know why there was ink-stains all over the school and office walls in five-minute-gossip groups, why she was made prefect or promoted over me or to try start fighting for no good reason.

That night, as I sat on my chair, for a few minutes I wondered on whether I really wanted a kit of the Iranian football team. It didn't take very long to reach the same answer I had previously concluded with and maybe, probably, he never knew that had I fulfilled my promise. But to me, it was a much more of a feeling than any other I had achieved the whole day.

hsn

Coming back to the original.

Ever come one of those days when you just start having suicidal-ly-bored thoughts? Granted, almost everyday, but I’m talking about those boring ‘one-liner’ kinda days = the ones where you’re bored on top of bored, or bored to bored, or bored because you’re bored…however you want to look at it ( which also includes bored sideways, and yes you can get that with pepperoni and anchovies, NOT). Well fear not, I’ve come to save the day. Well, atleast I think I have…

The thing that always struck me about writing good blogs or journals is how a person writes it (like, you didn’t know that!). For me, you’d always have to use those adequate amount of tongue-splinging words, a pint of humour from the bottle and to just be that bit “touché”, to generate real interest who take their time to come and rate you mentally – in other words, read your garbage out of interest, or boredom. And it just seems, for reasons of sort, I have been able to re-conquer my English and imagination barriers after a series of bloggers-block (no, those ones have been deleted…) in order of late. It feels strange, like that aunty you never had; a mystic feeling – when it happens. Worm-infested apples after shining ones. Writer’s guilt. This is beginning to not make sense…

Sometime ago, actually, I wrote a review of absolutely no relevance in my mates Greg’s blog when he went on ranting about McDonald’s Chicken staff working in banks picking their nails. There was just that something – a desire – this uncanny atonement to go and in Almighty ‘RAWR!!!’ power, go and write that there and then. And not only that either, but even this. Dribble the ball, shoot from half-court and get that three! Rather than just the normal two. So what did we learn today? Never follow my philosophy. It’s Evo-Screwed, battered and Mars-bar filled.

So anyways – coming back to original. What do I mean? Well, remember that first journal that I wrote way back (‘mazing I can still inch my brain onto the date in all respect of itchiness, but of course that’s only because I can remember the terrorizing, nail-biting exams that were ruining my life then) – that first one on nothing of the mincing PC rubbish in all due respect journals that followed? Well I just decided, for one and all, with all the feeling again, to give that one a memory and return to when good journals used to be fun, informative, and simply class – the good ‘ol artful ways of going *bang keyboard, bang!* that would just rock. With lots of complaining and lots of smiling.

take care everybody.

husain

Kiswahili

"Habari!" :- The typical way of saying “Hi!” in Swahili. Swahili, my mother tongue, originated in one thousand-something and irritating people since. Swahili is actually called Kiswahili, but everybody prefers the short form thingy. “Habari!” actually means “Hi, how are you?” at different point of times. So when you get the jest of a “how are you?” in there, you can most respectfully reply by saying, “Zuri!”, which relates to conveying a positive reply. And just to clarify things a bit, the very-famous-very-popular-thanks-to-Walt-Disney sentence, “Hakuna Matata!” also originates from the same, recited by Timon and Pumba in spectacular style. One thing to sue Walt Disney Corp. for: Making it sound so comical. C’mon, it sounds so childish now, after The Lion King debuted it to the world. Imagine you go to a person and he has a problem, and you just know he’s going to tick when you try and console him, but suddenly “Hakuna Matata!” just pops right outta your mouth. He’s probably going to look at you like he’s looking at the world's most disgusting cockroach. And that's probably going to be the last thing you see if it's Chuck Norris. So, we can all unite to sue Walt Disney Corp for a 1.3 billion dollars. Oh wait, does anybody even use the term anymore? What am I ranting on about? The goodness of ranting or wasting other people's time? Oh well, there goes my chance for the 1.3 billion dollars. But give me chocolate, and I'll be happy. It's rather too obvious I've written out of boredom but please drop by a comment or compliment on my work, any suggestions or just requests for anything perticular ("certain periodicals", you may call it).

Kwaheri

husain