About Me

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I love music like a fat kid loves cake. It's the only true way of expressing the muddled up crap we call feelings. Idealistically, I'm a realist. Realistically, I'm an idealist. Overall, I think too much and too philosophically. Venture into the stream of insanity I call my consciousness and take it, as everything, with a grain of salt. The size (and type) of that grain is yours to decide.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

The Truth, The Whole Truth, And Nothing But The Truth So Help Me God

A diatribe-like missive on the dissemination of legitimate information

Truth. It’s a big word. Big enough that we have put a taboo on it, knowingly or unknowingly, so that we are made to believe that ordinary people such as ourselves are too weak to appreciate or fathom it. It is due to our own doubts about our mental stability that we believe our minds to be too fragile to handle the knowledge of government actions – actions that are not widely publicized in today’s media. I would like my audience to know that I am writing this harangue not to begin a revolt, though I doubt I could reach that many people or emotionally arouse them to that point for that matter, but to express my deepest concern about two very important points I have noted during the course of events occurring within the past three months: the failure of our media to expose or even deliver the information it was created to distribute, and the unfair governmental attack on a small organization wishing to do just that job.

Thou shalt not bear false witness. The Ninth of the Ten Commandments given to Moses at Mount Sinai should be remembered at this point. Since our childhood, we have been taught neither to lie nor to withhold the whole truth. It is much simpler to tell the truth because you do not need to remember it. Lying creates a web and that web can very easily kill the person who created it, or at the very least, trap them in their own lies. So then why is it that our own Government is withholding information from us? I would like to bring up the famous Gettysburg Address given by President Abraham Lincoln where he stated, “It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us … that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth”. This beloved land of ours was founded on the principle of brotherhood and shared beliefs about our God-given rights. The founding fathers sought shelter from the oppression of the King and created a government where the People’s voice was the voice of authority and where the Government had a duty to protect the unalienable rights given to us by God – life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Through this belief came the Declaration of Independence and liberation from injustice soon followed. The founders of our nation agreed that the Government derives its rights from the consent of the people it seeks to govern and protect. If that Government cannot live up to its expectations, “that whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness”. I restate what I had said earlier – this is not an address to inspire revolt. It is simply a statement bearing facts that the people have a right to reproach and hold the Government liable for its misdeeds. How can the People hold their Government accountable for anything, though, if we are not given information about its actions? It is the sole purpose of the media to inform the Public about the actions of the Government and the Society with which it interacts. We have a right to know what is going on around us because it involves us – directly or indirectly. Leaders may justify Government secrets by parroting the media ethics regarding public interest. In reality, this is just a cover-up used to keep us sensitized to the point that any “leaked” information will scare us or anything graphic or unethical that our Government is involved in will generate unimaginable chaos in the nation. We underestimate our own strength and therefore so does the Government. We don’t stop to comprehend that we placed leaders in their positions to act on our behalf – to act on the Public’s voice and opinion. We obviously need protection from terrorists and anarchists. Do we need protection from actions that our own Government takes? Shouldn’t the Government theoretically, and in this case idealistically, be transparent since it is for the people, by the people, and of the people? Isn’t that the point of journalistic integrity, to tell us what the Government is trying to keep secret so that we may bring it out in the open and do something about it? Instead, our media prefers to bombard us with trivial stories about celebrities gone wild and other relatively meaningless headlines meant to distract us from what is really going on in the world. Moreover, if by chance the reporters get their hands on an informative and invaluable news story, it is torn apart by propaganda and filled with lies for the sake of political ambition and preservation of the Status Quo. News is supposed to be delivered unbiased, yet even the simplest of people understand the political stances of news networks, that CNN is left wing while FOX is right wing. Political games distract us from understanding the reality of our situation. We have created this image of ourselves as being too weak to understand the workings of the great politicians who claim to be the servants of our nation. Liars not only go to the White House, they also invade Congress - liars that have too much time on their hands, not enough knowledge in their brains, and greed on their mind. They have no respect for the public and create ineffective laws and policies with loopholes purposely attached for the benefit of lobbyist groups. Why do we keep sending people like this to run our nation? More importantly, what separates them from us? Certainly there are many among us that are as qualified if not more to do what those liars do. But of course no one will take action because big business employs us, favors the liars, and in return gets the profits while the rest of us sit entrapped in a bubble of lies and secrecy – a ploy used by the Government to shut us out and keep us ignorant of their inner workings. Our Government has become corrupted but it is still relatively virtuous compared to other Governments in the world. The People still have some power – even if it is not recognized or acted upon enough.

I don’t consider the public to be the ultimate victims of this scheme. We have power in our hands given to us by the founding fathers – our First Amendment Right – Freedom of speech and press. We have a right to speak out against actions that our leaders are taking and “Congress shall make no law… prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances”. Of course, public interest and safety is a major factor in how far we can push the envelope so to speak on this amendment. As long as victims are not created, we are free to speak our minds for the sake of justice. We have been given more freedom than other unfortunate citizens – yet we take it for granted. Instead of being empowered by freedom, we prefer to sit in our bubble, stick our heads in the sand like proverbial ostriches, and let the rest of the world go to hell while our Government continues to degrade itself. We are not brave enough to take action yet when a small organization begins to publish information regarding the misdeeds of our Government and that of other nations, we begin to reproach it and turn our backs while our Government reacts with brash threats of extradition and charges of treason. Why is it that we complain about being kept in a dark room yet, when we receive news, become angry at the organization for publicizing the failure of our Government? If anything, we should join the cause and show our Government that we are neither frail nor stupid and we will hold our leaders accountable. Wikileaks has not generated the numerous supporters insofar as was expected, not because we condemn its purpose, but because the media and our leaders tell us the organization is anarchist. They feed us lie after lie about how it is hurting innocent people and victimizing other Governments who are just trying to protect their people. There has been no proof shown by the Government of such wrong doing while there has been proof of the Government committing horrible acts or letting such acts occur. As for the accusation of preaching anarchy, Wikileaks is simply an organization that believes Governments should exist to help people and gain public trust by being open – quite the opposite of anarchy. People react negatively when a video is leaked about our soldiers killing innocent civilians in Iraq, or Bhagdad, or Afghanistan but what they forget is people in those countries witness this every day. To those civilians, this is the atrocious face of our military. No matter how enthusiastically we support our troops, those citizens will believe differently because the actions of soldiers are louder than words of politicians. Instead of reforming their actions, the Government and its leaders prefer to battle the small organization and go after the co-founder for accusations completely unrelated to the organization. Why? Because when a big organization like our Government receives a slap to its face, it retaliates by slapping the face of the smaller organization. It is petty and childish but since public support of Wikileaks isn’t strong enough, the Government will continue to try to bring this organization, which is doing a huge favor to the world, down. Politics is the main driving force behind this case and controversial topics continue to arise but I believe, and a lot of others seem to agree with this opinion, if our Government was indeed doing nothing wrong, the leaders wouldn’t be fighting this hard to bring Wikileaks down. Looking at the actions currently taking place, I’d say our Government has committed numerous offences and is trying to shut Wikileaks down before any more of its transgressions are leaked to the public. Instead of worrying about putting Julian Assange in solitary confinement, our President and the heads of our intelligence services should be spending time and energy fixing, or rather reforming their actions on a national and global scale. It is high time that our Government and the People to take a good look at what we are doing and try to come clean with ourselves. Every organization has secrets but a Nation should not keep secrets from its own people. We deserve to know what is happening around us – it is our right because it is our Government.

I know that we have to travel a great distance and spend a lot of time and energy trying to reduce the corruption in our Government but if we don’t start now, it will only get worse. We deserve better and we must rise with the occasion. Lying has gotten us this far. If we continue to lie and deceive, our future looks bleak. The actions and support of the public is sin qua non to creating a medium for the nurturing of justice. With justice and freedom as our foundations, we will be one step closer to becoming the great Nation we were meant to be – a city upon a hill.

Thank you
Anusha Ali





P.S Isn't it a bit disappointing that Wikileaks has released more useful information in the short time since it started operating than all of the world's media combined? Just goes to show what a horribly pathetic job the media does and how much the world really needs Julian Assange.

Monday, November 29, 2010

SORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRY

Im SORRY! Okay now that i've sufficiently exhausted that word. New blog! Team BLOG!: http://notsoawesomethings.blogspot.com/ CHECK IT OUT!

Next. Two new Songs. ENJOY!


As I Lay You To Sleep

Time is wasting away
The sun is rising over the dead
Leave all the flowers sitting on the grave
The wind blows them gently, gently on their way

Time has wasted away
Even the faces are running from the day
Laughter has gone, gone from their eyes
Sitting there like porcelain dolls, souls in the sky

[Chorus]
Why, why oh why
Why do the hummingbirds sing in the dark
The light has gone by, still leaves don’t wave
The moon even turned her face away
As I closed your eyes

The days seem too long
As I wonder how I could ever go on
Letting the rain drown out my screams
Until I was struck by the lightening of peace

[Chorus x3]



OTHER NEW SONG:

The Promise Ring

I gave it all
I said it all
Now it’s all said and done
You pushed me out
You bent the truth
So I gave up on you

Set me up and
Let me fall
I forgave it all
And when I needed
You the most
You shut the door closed

[Bridge]
Maybe it’s
Supposed to be
I can’t help but wonder
What would life
Hold for us
If we took back that summer

[Chorus]
Turning back the hour glass
That’s when memories started
Coming down, through the sound
I felt your arms around me
Sitting by the trees
In the middle of summer
That’s when you swore to me
You’d never ever turn around

Running through
The hallway
Screaming out your name
You slam the front
Door shut saying
It wasn’t worth it

Starting to
Think maybe
You never really cared
What about
Those summer days
Your fingers through my hair

[Bridge]

Memories
Coming down
Pictures falling to the ground
And you’re just
Standing there
Blending into the background

[Chorus – soft first half, loud second half till “That’s when…” then repeat chorus loud till “That’s when…” then soft]

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

I Like To Impulsively Hit The Red Button ... Is That Bad?

Impulse - In Science
Okay I don't know why I wrote my title with each word capitalized. It's funny how I actually care about what my title looks like, yet the words I'm typing have red squigglies underneath them (like the word "squigglies" - I think i'll keep it). I know I sound like I'm rambling on about nothing but really, it goes along with the topic. My friend gave me the topic of blogging about giving way to your worst impulses. I don't remember if it was one or many but I will blog about giving way to my many impulses - one of them being, as you may have noticed, talking (or rather typing) too much. Its a gift and a curse - I can never run out of things to say but then I always fear getting arthritis or carpal tunnel. I probably wont finish this blog in the 15 minutes I have before I go eat dinner but I will try to get as much in as possible. Then again, I already wrote my friend (the same one who recommended this horrible topic - it's a punishment really) obscenely long wall posts so I hope my fingers don't fall of. She's punishing me - i know it. HI RICA! There. A shout-out. Okay my hand hurts. I will stop now but continue later. I will save it and publish it after I'm done. I hope it turns out okay - then again, it will be hard to beat my old topic. I love the 80s and music in general WAY too much. What would happen to us if Pluto exploded? I just heard that on tv. My roommate is watching it. WTH. Sorry. I'll go now.
DON'T TOUCH THE RED BUTTON!
Oh crap, you already did.

Okay I am officially back after spending a good hour eating my dinner. Actually, I was supposed to have dinner at 5:30 but got held up till 6. So technically, my dinner lasted half an hour. WHATEVER. I hope you enjoy the pictures I put up - I was exploring a new feature (or at least I think it's new because I have never used it before) and I thought these pictures perfectly described the title. HAHA. I should be working on my Honors Paper or at least studying chemistry but I feel that this is a challenge I must tackle first. I NEED TO STOP DIGRESSING.

Impulses - everyone has them. Some impulsively bite their nails, others impulsively sing. I impulsively do a lot of things. Among them are writing, talking, singing, and kicking. Yes, you read correctly. I am a trained martial artist and it's kind of in my nature to attack when strangers grab my arm. Sorry in advance. I also love singing so when a song pops into my head, I feel a strong urge to just belt it out at the top of my lungs. Where did the phrase "top of my lung" come from? I dunno and I don't feel like researching it at the moment. That was a lie. I tried to and I failed. What else is new? I have a new perfume - Crystal Noir by Versace. Oh no. I did it again. I find that I also digress impulsively. Whatever pops into my head, I write. It's useful for this post. Not in reality though. Right, onto more impulses. I also love to write impulsively. It doesn't only apply to blogs - I do this with essays and poems and generally anything that requires putting the peddle to the metal/pen to the paper/rubber to the road. LOTS of idiomatic expressions to chose from. No I am not researching their origins. That is the truth. I used to be an impulsive liar but now that I go to a Jesuit College, it's gone down a bit. I also found I am developing a conscience. More on that topic later. (see? I AM getting better!) 

Going back to impulsively writing, I am a lyricist. Or so i'd like to think. So when I write a song, it's more on impulse than on careful thinking. Some people like to write lyrics systematically and that works great for them. Me, i'd much rather be inspired by something I see, hear, feel - my muses. Okay so they aren't actual muses, but close enough. Weirdly enough, I do NOT listen to music impulsively. I hate people who have iPod ADD. Okay so I don't hate them, but it's a big pet-peeve of mine. I mean HONESTLY. WHY CAN'T YOU LISTEN TO THE WHOLE [WAFFLE] SONG?! See what I did there? I inserted a nice word for a profane word I was about to use. I also swear impulsively. And crack my elbows, wrists, fingers, and backs..no BACK impulsively. I was so used to writing words ending in "s" that I said backs. 

It's pretty much self-explanatory
Okay the idiots living above us are dropping something on the floor (their brains) and I first thought someone was knocking. No I did not get up to check the door. I ignore door knocks. I am asocial. If you don't know me. Once you DO get to know me, I am quite the opposite. Okay I have written so much that my hand hurts again and I feel like throwing up. I don't know how the two are related but I'm guessing the nausea is from eating food and then drinking too much coffee after. BLAARRGHHHH. No I didn't throw up. I just made a noise in my head. I love how I write like I am talking to a person. Even though I am not. And I am using improper grammar. My AP Junior Lang. teacher Mr. Heller would KILL me. Or just give a really long diatribe. I like that word. So back to the topic, giving way to my impulses is bad - clearly you can see from this horribly long post-thing. Sometimes though, you can create amazing pieces of works from your impulses. Or land someone in a hospital. Eh. Nobody's perfect (see above MEH picture).

I am going to sum up this post because it is getting ridiculously long and I don't want to destroy my wrist - I need it. To crack. So I have many impulses (some that will get me killed). What are yours? And what WOULD happen if Pluto blew up? I'll leave you with that to ponder. Until next time, RABADABADOOOOO! (I hope you got that reference. If not, I will smack you)

[PUMPKINS]! Not again!
Peace, Love, Cake

Anusha

Monday, October 18, 2010

Back to the 80's - Rewind Reverse Revolve (The three R's of great music)

So lately I've been getting into old music. Not old-enough-to-realize-you-live-in-a-cave or old-enough-to-feel-like-you're-dead-at-18. No. I'm talking about the sweet, sensuous, melodies combined with rich jazz and electric guitar solos and energizing synthesizers blasting at a mind-numbing volume accompanied by loud-yet-melodious vocals and ear-deafening drum beats you feel in your SOUL. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I am talking about the golden era of music - *cue drumroll* THE 80's. The beautiful decade of wonderful music that actually led to the "alternative" movement of the 21st century. Everything we now know as "good" or "revolutionary" was in fact, brought on from the epic sound-blast from the 80's where out was in and bad was groovy. Yeah I'm bold enough to use groovy and far-out and even would go so far as to say psychedelic. Those words not only pay tribute to the awesomeness of the music of that decade (that we couldn't describe using our simpleton words today), but also are the summation of the greatness of the era that we could dare to call the FATHER OF GREAT MUSIC. Or mother if you're feminist like that. Whatever floats your boat, mate.

Let's not digress from the most important topic covered in this blog yet. The 80's was the decade of great bands like Genesis, REO Speedwagon, and Orleans along with wonderful singers like Phil Collins, Bryan Adams, and Billy Ocean. It is an era to be revered, an era that must stay fresh in the hearts, minds, and burning souls of America's youth. I mean COME ON. It was the inspiration for great bands of today - U2 practically MADE all the bands we have today. Gaga? Try Madonna! Bruno Mars? I'll take a Michael Jackson any day. The Main? Please...Gin Blossoms is the way to go! People, wake up and smell the sound-waves. We gotta start listening to those amazing songs that define America again. I mean, do you really want to put up with amateur idiots like Metro Station? I don't think so. We need more Bon Jovi in our lives, more Motley Crue and Guns and Roses. More BANG for you buck, I say. So come on and sing the anthem of the 80's with me. The smallest change could set off a chain reaction to something amazing. So embrace your groovy side and bust out those John Travolta moves from Grease! Who knows, maybe someday you could be the next Billie Joel or create the next Aerosmith. Bring back the Elton John, the Rod Stewart, Stevie Wonder, Def Leppard, Tina Turner, and the Beastie Boys. And who could forget the amazing Hall and Oates, Cyndi Lauper, Depeche Mode, Paul McCartney, and QUEEN. Throw your hands up and crank that volume meter to the loudest possible setting - because those names should never be forgotten as long as we can shake our booty to that groove-thang. FAR-OUT, DUDE! :D

Monday, September 27, 2010

New Song

Inspired by Florence + the Machine

Surrender – Anusha Ali


You took my heart
Split in three
Put it in a bowl
And served it to me

Tangled in your web
A sea of lies
I look to the horizon
Painted in the sky

Rubbed my skin raw
My eyes drained
Twisted love is yours
Cursed is my fate

[Chorus]
You make me wanna scream
More! More! More! Don’t stop please!
Feet are bleeding, and now I’m singing
Enough! I said don’t make me
Cause every slap is an adrenalin rush
My ears are poundin, bring me down to earth
Raise me up high, strike me down to sea
All around, there’s a whispered hush
Lay me down in dirt, gently….darlin


Claw through your skin
Let me feel your bones
The light has blinded me
All I can feel is a center stone

You’ve shut me off,
Let me believe I can work it off
The water calms me, peacefully
Drowned me in your silence, please

Won’t you scream for me?

[chorus]
Willingly eaten my own heart
I’ll never be a part of your melted scar
Bring me into to being
Shake me till I’m completed
Scream till I can’t feel you
Drink till you can’t see who – you’ve become
The face of love
[chorus till fade]

Thursday, September 23, 2010

WTH i should have this published!

I found another sonnet - it's REALLY good! i thought it was by an actual poet but i guess its mine!


Words are written in the sky to call
Upon the one who etches them in sand,
Knowing they shall be upon nightfall
Like petals falling softly on his hand;
Life is but a victory in guise
To mortal men whose lives lay in the scale
The whispers of eternity are lies
For those who strive and push to no avail
The words of knowledge beg for ears of men
Unknowing they tell secrets of life past
As death comes like a dawn to waken them
From endless sleep of ignorance at last
Oh, mortals know your life is but a spark
But words immortalize that which death marks

A Sonnet

I am really losing my creativity in titling my posts. Whatever. I wrote a sonnet during my AP Lit class last year and I decided to post it since it's pretty damn good if I do say so myself :)
A Walk In The Meadow

Those porcelain lips do I yearn to kiss,
To greet the frost with fire from my heart;
As snow doth melt upon my lover’s hand,
Such beauty only tainted hands could mar.
As I approach thee nervous from thy gaze,
My breath escapes me as I see thine eyes,
Like mirrors searching for the hidden truth.
To lay mine lips upon thee would but stain,
Like drops of black upon an angel’s face.
As torment tears my trembling heart in two,
I can but wait as breath escapes your lips
To taunt me, perfect words that wound so deep;
And thus do I stand here before you now,
Choked by mem’ries held by fading strings.

An Actual Story

So I began to work on my own novel - I guess that's what you'd call it? I'm only on the first draft of the first chapter or so and I need some motivation to continue so I decided to post it. That way, I may be more motivated to continue it. Anyway, here it is. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 – Hell Week

“Ughhhh” I groaned as I tried to turn over to my side but a stabbing pain in my side reminded my why I was lying the way I was in the first place. As I tried to stand up, my foot caught on the side table and I fell to the floor, as blackness covered my vision. “Damn..not again…” I mumbled as I sank to the ground, too weak to fight off the darkness.

It seemed like only yesterday I was laughing and throwing fries at my friends except it’s been about half a year. The truth is I am sick of the lies everyone lives on, sick of all the petty little dramas that go on in high school. Then again, the drama that’s currently ruining my life started in Middle School. I know what you’re thinking, “the good old days” where blowing off a class meant you’d get detention, where you could sleep in math and still get an A, where your friends liked you for who you are and didn’t judge you. I miss that childhood innocence, but I soon realized it was all a façade and it took me three years to figure that out and I’m trying to save you that trouble. Friendship didn’t matter unless you had friends who were connected to the right people in High School. Everyone knew how important popularity was once you got into High School. In High School, if you were popular you ruled the school and it was a serious game to see who would get in and who wouldn’t. Middle School was the judging ground where your High School social life would be decided. The friends you made in Middle School could make or break you and believe me, friendships lasted only for that reason – to climb up that hellish social ladder.

Back then, there were basically three groups – the “Little Devils”, the “Tolerated” and the “Forgotten”. The “Little Devils” were, in a word, goddesses. Everyone worshiped the ground they walked on. Girls would kill to be a part of them. The “Tolerables” were just that – tolerable. They were deemed socially acceptable. They were smart and popular, but not as popular as the Devils or their boy counterparts the “Players”. They were in fact players and the sole property of the Devils. If either caught you looking at them, rumors would go flying at the snap of a finger – Sheila’s finger to be specific. She was the Zeus of the Olympians, the Riff of the Jets, the Regina of the Plastics (that is the perfect analogy, may I add). Her counterpart would be Michael of the Players – the most handsomely cruel of them all. With light brown hair sun kissed with blond highlights, deep-set soft brown eyes, and the build of a Greek God, he was the desire of all the girls and the envy of all the boys. He was Sheila’s property and she his. They were THE exclusive couple of the school and had enough drama to supply the entire North Shore of Illinois. Michael was not as stupid as people made him out to be – in fact, he was the brighter of the two, though not by much. It wasn’t just perfect grades that set them apart from the rest; it was their uncanny ability to manipulate anyone around them at their will and some would call it close to Antisocial Personality Disorder. It was Michael’s job to seduce any and every girl he laid eyes on and then rip out her heart for the world to see – and mainly torment us, the “Forgotten”. Ironically, we weren’t actually forgotten; we were the most targeted. We were deemed socially challenged and inept. The Devils and Players took it upon themselves to torture us whenever they could – which meant every second of our lives. It wasn’t always physical torture (though that was preferable). Mostly, it was mind games and nasty rumors spread by none other than Sheila.

(to be continued...in the near future...hopefully)

A Short Story

This was the first assignent in my AP Lit and Comp class last year (senior year of high school) and we had to write a fictional short story about anything. Here's mine. Enjoy!

The Rocking Chair

The rain fell in a calm rhythm as the thunder roared above her head. The sound, ironically, used to put her to sleep as a child, yet now emphasized the tension in the air. As she ran, she wasn’t sure if the liquid running down her brow was sweat or rain. The place was desolate, as if someone had unleashed an atomic bomb on it. Things were scattered here and there and there was ash on everything. Frantically looking for a place to hide, she spotted a familiar looking abandoned house on the side of the road. She changed from a run to a quick walk, not wanting to arouse suspicion in any onlookers, not that there were any, but you could never be too careful. “Why did this have to happen to me of all people? What great sin did I commit??” she muttered to herself as she pried open the door. Looking around, she saw no one in the house and proceeded to find the nearest couch. Disappointment set in as she noticed there was no furniture in the house except for an old rocking chair with the initials “RM” engraved into it. “Strange…those are my initials too” she noticed. Deciding to put aside this coincidence, she threw her bag down on the floor and curled up in the chair, hoping that this was only a dream and soon the smell of pancakes and eggs would drift to her room and wake her up.


Rabia Merchant’s life wasn’t always like this, constantly on the run, fearing another sudden attack. She had it all, the looks, the money, the brains, and the perfect family. Her life was perfect; every wish she had was fulfilled, everything the wanted, she got. Her dad was the CEO of the most successful company in America, SYNTRON, and her mother was the head of the PTA at her school and a stay-home mom. Rabia was an only child and was quite gifted. Aside from being athletic, she was also an artist. Her paintings were featured throughout the city and won multiple awards, though she insisted they were never good enough. What she hadn’t told anyone was that she felt she hadn’t drawn them. She never remembered painting the pictures although she was sure it was her, not someone else. She wondered if anyone would understand but never told a soul for fear of ridicule. Many had asked to sit with her and watch her paint but she always politely refused, knowing that it wasn’t safe. She had stopped painting a while back, but started up again when she began to have fits at night. She would not be able to sleep and her hands would burn as if on fire. Scared, she didn’t know what else to do but continue her art.


When she finally had herself under control, things began to fall apart. She would forget where she was and wander off, sometimes for hours. Her hands began to shake and she began to have delusional dreams at night. Her parents started to worry when she locked herself in her room for days, doing nothing but paint. They found the best psychiatrist in the world, Dr. Edmund Wilde and insisted on regular appointments, hoping he would cure their daughter. Days were spent in vain as he could only reach one answer: Schizophrenia. Rabia knew that what she had was not Schizophrenia; there was another person living inside of her, who longed to be free but was trapped by her body. She tried to relate this to Dr. Wilde but he noted this down as delusional. She knew she would never be free of this problem unless she took matters into her own hands. Dr. Wilde only knew of the disorders he had read about, but he had never experienced one himself so he couldn’t relate to Rabia. She needed outside help and she had to find it herself.


She had made up her mind to leave the next day. Her things were packed and she had written a note explaining to her parents what she was doing. She told them she loved them but this was a journey she had to take herself. Her cell phone began to vibrate. “Hello?” she tentatively asked. “It’s time…I’ll be waiting at our discussed location. Be quick” The voice was scratchy and she couldn’t make out who it was. Before she could ask, she heard a click. The person had hung up. She quickly gathered her belongings, left the note at the dining table, and ran out of the house. She didn’t stop until she reached the outskirts of town. At first, the place seemed empty and she began to have doubts about her friend. He had called himself “Doc” but she couldn’t just shout Doc. She heard footsteps behind her and she whirled around ready to punch her follower in the face but she lowered her arm in time. It was him. He was dressed all in black and the only part of his face that wasn’t covered in soot was a gash from his left eyebrow down to his neck. She didn’t want to ask how he got that but she felt uneasy looking at it. “So how do you plan on helping me? I hope you’re not a fake because that would make me really mad.” She tried a threatening tone, knowing he was probably unfazed. “I assure you, your money is well worth it” he replied, his voice velvety-smooth.


He took her to his workshop. It was a makeshift house, with wood slapped here and there as if made by a child. “It’s not much but I get by” he added apologetically. She nodded. She wasn’t here for comfort; she needed answers and she didn’t care how uncomfortable she was. The house was dimly lit and there was a faint odor of cigarettes. “Here is the book you are looking for. It will explain everything you need to know. I’ll be back. I have some unfinished business to take care of. You have my number so call me if you need any help” His lips twitched once, as if they were attempting a smile. “Yeah, thanks” she replied looking at the title “The Troubled Spirit”. The door creaked shut and she began thumbing through the pages. There wasn’t enough light to read so she moved to the window. “Hmm…dissociative identity disorder…” that was the closest she could come up with to explain her problem. She knew there was more than that though. As she read, she realized this was not a simple psychology book. It was written in the 17th century regarding people just like her. There was a case in Salem of a woman who claimed she was possessed by another being who made her do things. She apparently did not remember doing most of the things she was charged against. As she continued to read, she found she had the same “symptoms” as many of these people. The only cure was to destroy yourself to destroy the soul of the other being or to destroy your surroundings and sacrifice yourself so as to let the being take over you. “What a bunch of bologna” she muttered. She had lost track of time as she was reading and night had fallen. Doc was not back yet and it was getting cold. She gave up on the book and got up. As she began to look for a place to rest, she came across an old drawer labeled “Explosives”. In it she found directions to make a bomb and some notes. They looked like directions but she could only make out the street name “Belvoir Drive”. “That’s strange. That’s the street my house is on…” she remembered what was written in the book about destroying your surroundings. “He wouldn’t” she whispered to herself. She suddenly realized what was about to happen. “He’s going to blow the town into smithereens” she gasped. The thought was so sickening it almost deserved a maniacal laugh. She ran out of the house, hoping it wasn’t too late.


“You can make it. It’s not too late” It couldn’t be too late. Everything needed to be fine. “He can’t let so many innocent people die!” she wanted to punch him. She regretted ever contacting him. She suddenly stopped running. She was there and it was too late. The whole town had been obliterated. There were no signs of life, no cars, no children laughing, nothing. Everyone had been killed instantly. She wondered if they felt anything. She wondered what they were thinking. Were they disappointed? Worried? Scared? Angry? She certainly was all these things. Her phone vibrated. “New text message from Doc: ‘You’re not at the house so I’m guessing you left. You figured it out, clever stupid girl. Now that you know I can’t let you get off can I? No, you’re next’” He was coming after her. He was going to kill her. Tears started streaming down her face as the sky darkened. It was going to rain. She would not go down without a fight. She would not let these innocent martyrs go in vain. She would fight back. She felt as though a weight had been lifted off her chest. The spirit that had been occupying her body had gone and she had no idea why. She remembered the book. “Sacrifice, destruction of my home…that’s what it took to rid me of my insanity” she was torn between relief and sorrow. She gave up her past life to start a new life, with new people. She had to forget everything if she was going to survive. She knew there were more people like her out there and she would do everything in her power to help them and get rid of Doc. He wasn’t her friend; he was her enemy. “I won’t let him get away with this” she cursed his name. She heard footsteps behind her. She turned but no one was there. Heart pounding, she ran. She saw an abandoned house and went inside.


Rabia woke up. “Was this some horrible dream? Where am I?” she sleepily yawned and looked around. Then everything came back to her, Doc, her family, the destruction. She looked at the chair and the letters engraved on it – “RM”. “Those are my initials…this is my house” she whispered. There was a knock at the door. “Honey, I’m home!” said a cruel mocking voice. It was him.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Another song

This song was actually written before A Walking Contra(diction) but I forgot to post it. Enjoy!

Puzzle

Just an ordinary girl
In an ordinary world
Tryin to make a name here
And still tryin to steer cleer
Of trouble

I start off each day
With a voice in my head
Ideas runnin round
Don't know when they're comin down
To earth

Put on my shoes
Step in a puddle or two
Walkin on the wrong side
Gettin dirty - well that's life
Till I met you - ohhh!

[Chorus]
You're the missing piece
Of the puzzle that's me
You're Prince Charming, I'm Rapunzle
Never destined for each other
But we showed them, didn't we?
Sometimes one plus one can be less than three

Put on my socks
Wear 'em inside-out
Plant with my bare hands
Could never do a hand-stand
But that's me

Love to make a mess, so I
Paint in my Sunday best
Run around the house and
Put my feet up on the couch
'Cause I'm lazy

But you love me still
Watched the sunset on that hill
The night of my birthday
I've never ever felt this way
'Till now 'cause..

[Chorus] x 2

[Repeat last line of chorus] x 2

Saturday, September 18, 2010

New Song

I know I haven't blogged in a while and I promise to do so soon, but for now here is a new song I wrote.

A Walking Contra(diction) – Anusha Ali 09/18/10 (to a country tune sort of like Our Song by Taylor Swift)


Steppin past the cracks on the sidewalk pavement
Starin straight ahead, clutch your million-dollar handbag
Behind those tinted shades your eyes are saying everything

Slam the front door on your way to the studio
Feelin outa place and you just wanna let it go
Rememberin the day when your high-top boots were laced with snow

Drivin down the highway, cursin as you speed ahead
Wonderin where days of the care-free life you had
Disappeared to on a bright and shiny Sunday morning

[chorus]
The clock says three and you’re already leavin
Turnin past the time but I know you aint comin
Back to me,
Yeah those days were a bliss, as sweet as your cherry lips
But tonight I will rock myself to sleep with the moonlight’s kiss

Roamin round town with the top let down, and
I look through the crowd to see that face, somehow
I know you won’t be lookin back at me, not now

Cuz you have always been a walking contra(diction)
Broken promised roses with your empty sayings
Tryina keep up when you’re falling back, into a blurr

[chorus]

[Bridge]
And maybe we were never meant to say I do
But all this time I thought what we had was true
You never meant to hurt me, this much I know
But I need to let you go if I ever want to grow
Again

[chorus – soft]

[chorus – loud]

Repeat last line of chorus

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

I Think, Therefore I Am ...I am ____?????

It's the biggest question - the one that knocks the wind right out of us at an interview. WHO ARE YOU? Describe yourself - how can you if you don't know who you are? A normal person may say, "I am __(their name)___." A smart person may say, "I am the son/daughter of _____". A smarter person may trace their lineage back to their great-great-great-etc.grandparents. There may even be a person who says "I am the son/daughter of Adam and Eve." Okay - so you're at a higher level, but what happens from there? Who are you at the next level? Sure we can go on to describe our accomplishments and our passions and all that crap that honestly doesn't matter. But that doesn't ultimately help us to discover ourselves.

Off to a tangent! You know how I love doing that :) I promise it will be relevant at the end, though!

What is a person's character? It has been described as the actions one takes when no one is looking. Your actions make up your character and in doing so, your personality. The clothes you wear, the food you eat, the people you choose to associate with, the events you choose to participate in all create YOU. See? I told you it would be relevant! So really, who we are is a product of what we do. EVERYTHING MATTERS. Whatever you decide to do, realize it impacts you as a person. Nothing is meaningless. I guess in a weird way, I'm saying the universe takes into account everything you do (or don't do for that matter) and cosmically uses karma to even out the actions of the world. Ever hear of the "butterfly effect"? Everything you do will impact someone halfway across the world, potentially. And it just may come back to bite you in the ass one day. Just saying. And the reactions of the people around us, however irrelevant they may seem, will ultimately shape our future actions. So we learn from our mistakes, make new ones, and continuously improve ourselves in hopes of discovering our true selves in our actions and reactions of others around us. Maybe, just maybe, our true reason for living is to discover our self amongst the hate, mistrust, and self-doubt in the world. We find ourselves in each other because we truly stem from the same seed and this bond is stronger than any other. So who are we? We are: actions, events, words, thoughts, people...we are one. (Yeah, I know - quite philosophical of me, not to mention quite scattered, but hey, that's the way I think. Call it "stream of consciousness"...if what we're living in is conscious at all. But that discussion is for a later time.)

And so, my fellow readers, I end this post with a quote that beautifully summarizes humanity's reason for existence on this wonderful planet earth, "There is no exercise better for the heart than reaching down and lifting people up." -- John Andrew Holmes. Beautiful, isn't it? Maybe there is hope for us all, after all :)

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

New song/poem - inspiriation

I was listening to a song by Nick Drake (From The Morning) and it inspired me to write a songish poem - enjoy!
---------------------------------------------------

Firy glow floats
Above our heads, still
Blue waves stream by in puffs
And we're spinning, still

Feel the breeze through open palms
Stroke of a brush tints your face
A warmth rises from beneath,
As the petals hold their place

And we're running, running
Through open fields of love
Coated in chiseled gold
As the orb descends, above

You poke holes in the sky,
Fingers leave behind white magic
Light falls down, illuminating
Softens quiet figure, plastic

My love
Touch curves of limitless devotion
My life
A sight to see, starvation
My eyes
Folded, colored in your imaginationBehold
My hands,
Floating on the river of inspiration

*note: the last stanza or whatever above is sort of a puzzle. it doesnt make sense untill you rearange the lines. :)

Love/Hate Relationship

Dear readers,

I appologize for vanashing and not blogging for some time now, but I was reading my friend's blog and she was talking about sadness. And a question popped into my head. Whats the deal with love and hate? So here is my point of view on things - take it, as you should take everything people write/say, with a grain of salt. [just a bigger grain for me ;)]

Why do people say that hate is a stronger word than love? I believe they are equally strong, and equally weak. I think we use the word love way to often to describe things that we simply like or think are cool. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe, just maybe, we all have a lot of love in our hearts that we want to share with the world and it simply comes out as an incorrect expression of "oh cool! i LOVE those shoes/clothes/colors/houses/fill in the blank. Maybe, love is what we should be saying all the time, instead of playing the blame game and pointing fingers at one another - because after all, three other fingers are pointing right back at you. So instead, we extend our hands in peace and love, to show that we really do care. But still, something keeps nagging me that we shouldn't over use the L word because it could lose its meaning. But is it right not to say something for the fear of loss of value? When have we ever let fear stop us from doing anything? After all, the losers are not the ones who come in last - the losers are the ones that have quit before they start out of fear.

On the other hand, hate is a strong word that no one likes to use. If I say, "i hate that outfit" or "i hate you", even if I dont mean i HATE something, people say "hey! dont say hate! say dislike. hate is a strong word". The only thing I have to say to that is - DUH. Hate is a strong word, but so is love. And if we are allowed to express our love for something, even if its not actually love, why cant we express our hate, even if its not really hate? I dont know. All im saying is that words can be manipulated any which way you want. So say what you mean, because if you dont, then you just wasted your time and the other person's time (the listener(s)). Okay that's enough rambling from me [coincedentally, the school im going to has a "rambler" as their mascot. what the hell is a rambler? apparently an overgrown, overstuffed bear.]

Peace, love/hate, whatever.

Anusha

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

A story about a girl...

Why are people arrogant and rude? What is really their problem? I would like to discuss this topic today because I believe it will give others a great insight. So open up the Book of Life to the chapter on Hidden Identities and we shall begin today’s lesson…
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Let us take a look into the life of a young girl who is arrogant, rude, and constantly negative towards others. Why is she like this? What made her into this person? I do not like to reveal the source of this story so from this point on, we shall refer to the girl simply with a “<” or “less-than” symbol.

< was a pretty, young, energetic girl full of life and optimism for the future. Her energy was contagious and you could not help but to be cheerful and happy when around her. She had boundless enthusiasm and would participate in anything, always spreading her joy wherever she went. < was the type of girl you would instantly become friends with and look up to. Gradually, she began to change and did not notice it herself at first. Little things would get in the way of her cheerful optimism and it was as though a dark cloud had covered her heart for a fraction of a second. Nevertheless, she always bounced back, happy as always. Slowly, this dark cloud grew bigger and bigger and the fuel was her own insecurity – insecurity that started at home.

They say crime, like charity, begins at home. It goes the same for insecurity. < was a different girl, not like those in her classes – tall, slim, clear-skinned. She had always thought herself to be normal but snide little hints passed at the dinner table by her parents and brother slowly ate away at her confidence. It started with her looks; she was too fat, had bad skin, and was ugly. It eventually made its way to her mental confidence: she was stupid; she was not the best in her class; she was average. <’s self confidence deteriorated to the point where she was not sure who really cared for her and the classic Stockholm Syndrome took place – she looked at her family as the only people who truly loved her because they put up with her faults and < was afraid no one else would.

She began to lash out, her optimism turning into negativity and rudeness. Anger consumed her heart as Pride took the place of Humility. She did not trust anyone for fear of being laughed at. The carefree attitude was replaced by arrogance and the belief that others were below her – that way, she would feel a sense of belonging and importance. It destroyed her to the point where she began to lose all her friends due to her arrogance. She was annoyed at the slightest things and back-talked anyone who cared to disagree with her points. She was called many names and, strangely, became proud of the names as a sign of terror and fear she instilled upon others. In actuality, others hated her for what she turned into – a rude, arrogant, selfish person. < knew that something was not right with her and dealt with it by becoming more defensive about her actions. She wanted to stop, but this was a self-destructive spiral and she felt helpless.

She hated what she had become and prayed everyday to make this feeling go away. She would start the day thinking, “Today is the day. I will change myself” but right away, began to undermine the authority of her elders and made fun of others, believing they were inferior to her. She did not like what she had become but she did not know how to stop. So she kept going, hating her self more and more each day, her ego fueled by her insecurities perpetuated by her family. People tried to explain to her that she was out of line, but she ignored them, fully aware that they were only voicing the thought she had at night. She was not able to let her emotions and thoughts out and they slowly ate away at her heart, making her seem cold and cruel.

< became so frustrated with her life one day, she hurt the one person who loved her the most and lost a best friend – the person who had always been there for her. She realized that this needed to stop and sought help. By listening to her conscience, she learned that sometimes, silence is the best thing. Simply observing others and not judging is the best way to reduce one’s ego and arrogance…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And this is where the story ends. I cannot tell you how it ends because <’s life is not yet over – she has a long way to go before she can truly be happy with herself. One question that I hope crossed your mind was the reason why I decided to call her “<”. The symbol stands for less-than. Realize, though, that it can be turned around to be read as “greater than”. Similarly, she realized that she can turn herself around and be better than what she has been – help others and become a more peaceful person. But the one moral of the story that I hope you learned is never to judge a person by their attitude – you never know what lies beneath. You don’t know me and you will never know me until you talk to me. I’d like to end with some lyrics that inspired me. They taught me that you have to appreciate who you truly are for others to appreciate you for who you are too.

“God gave you the shoes that fit you, so put em on and wear em. And be yourself man, be proud of who you are. Even if it sounds corny, don't ever let no one tell you, you ain't beautiful” - Eminem

Sunday, April 4, 2010

A prayer to God

so i was recently in a Facilitated Youth Discussion program at my religious education class and we had to come up with our individual prayers to God...here's mine!

Title: Dear God,

Hey God, long time no talk
There's a few things I need to say
So let's take some time and walk
Hand in hand, we'll go on our way

I know I havn't always been good,
Sometimes it's hard to forget the world.
But I promise to be better since you've
Helped me stand where I have stood.

I'm sorry for all the times I hurt you,
My humility gave away to my anger.
I'm sorry I didn't feed you by the road,
I was wrong to assume, God. I thought you were a stranger.

So basically what I've been trying to say is,
I love you and I promise to be better.
Because all I really want is to
Be with you - forever and ever

Thanks for giving me time, God
I'll cherish this talk forever.
I promise to chat more often,
To make myself kind and better.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

True Skill....something to think about :)

This is by Paulo Coelho:

The yogi Raman was a true master of the art of archery. One morning, he invited his favourite disciple to watch a display of his skill. The disciple had seen this more than a hundred times before, but he nevertheless obeyed his teacher. They went into the wood beside the monastery and when they reached a magnificent oak tree, Raman took a flower which he had tucked in his collar and placed it on one of the branches.

He then opened his bag and took out three objects: his splendid bow made of precious wood, an arrow and a white handkerchief embroidered with lilacs.

The yogi positioned himself one hundred paces from the spot where he had placed the flower. Facing his target, he asked his disciple to blindfold him with the embroidered handkerchief.

The disciple did as his teacher requested.

‘How often have you seen me practise the noble and ancient sport of archery?’ Raman asked him.

‘Every day,’ replied his disciple. ‘And you have always managed to hit the rose from three hundred paces away.’

With his eyes covered by the handkerchief, the yogi Raman placed his feet firmly on the ground, drew back the bowstring with all his might – aiming at the rose placed on one of the branches of the oak tree – and then released the arrow.

The arrow whistled through the air, but it did not even hit the tree, missing the target by an embarrassingly wide margin.

‘Did I hit it?’ said Raman, removing the handkerchief from his eyes.

‘No, you missed completely,’ replied the disciple. ‘I thought you were going to demonstrate to me the power of thought and your ability to perform magic.’

‘I have just taught you the most important lesson about the power of thought,’ replied Raman. ‘When you want something, concentrate only on that: no one will ever hit a target they cannot see.’

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Gum

So as you know, there are a variety of gum flavors that recently hit the market, among them the new 5 React gums that look purple and yucky but taste AWESOME. i have tried pretty much any flavor out there from winter mint to tangy melon but the new 5 React gums just can't be topped - in my humble opinion that is. So when i tried the new mint flavored one, i was expecting a sudden rush of arctic air in my mouth. Needless to say, i got a burst of wind and much more. The flavor was exhilarating and i was about to pass out from the epicness of this flavor - that is, until i got a headache. Now you need to understand i dont normally get headaches from gum - only a specific kind and that kind of gum is 5 Cobalt gum. It is way too strong for my hard-working brain to handle and it freezes up and then i yell - LOUD. So when i realized this new 5 React pseudo-wintermint gum was making my head hurt, i should've done the logical thing and thrown it out. Did i? no. i kept chewing and the headache got worse and worse...and im still chewing it. So this new 5 React gum not only gives me headaches, i also got addicted to it in one piece. Now that's awesome. So go get yourself some 5 React gum - you won't regret it! :)

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Meaning of Life + Waiting For Godot

So it's been a while since I've updated my blog haha. We recently read a book in AP Lit called Waiting For Godot by Samuel Becket in which Becket believes there is no point to life...or something like that. So I, being an avid writer (joke) decided to write my own thoughts on the book and life itself.

Time is an illusion, love is an illusion, life itself is an illusion. We simply exist hanging by a thread, lost somewhere between existence and emptiness in the twilight kingdom. We are stuffed and yet hollow, filled by illusions of false grandeur. In the end, we realize we have been waiting for something that will never come...we believe in love, in God, in life because we need comfort, reassurance that the earth on which we life is predicable and logical and that we have a greater purpose than simply exiting as empty shells. The truth that we wish to ignore is that we live in a universe that lacks order, that is chaotic and illogical. If we can face up to that, the roadblocks disappear, leaving us free to do what we do best - sit idly and wait for death to consume us and take us to its mighty kingdoms.


I also ended up writing a poem...enjoy! (it's not meant to be depressing)

You will rise
And you will die
Round and round the prickly bush

Hanging by your
Last few breaths
Round and round the prickly bush

Bodies die and
Time moves by
Round and round the prickly bush

Round and round
The prickly bush
Life is but time's mindless game

Round and round
The timeless sound
Of life's last breath and
Death's first groan