tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32498295519495252042024-02-19T17:34:01.946+05:00My Corner of the Globe.Just an attempt to create an outlet to release all my frustrations, rants, whinings, thoughts, feelings, and emotions. =]Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-9335614385082610042009-08-01T01:00:00.004+06:002009-08-01T01:11:06.891+06:00Summer.Oh.Nine.<span style="font-size:85%;">1,2,3..breaaaaaaaaaathe.<br />3,4,5..breaaaaaaaaaathe.<br />5,6,7..breaaaaaaaaaathe.<br />7,8,9..breaaaaaaaaaathe.<br /><br />Doesn't work. So much. So much. So much going on in my small little head. I don't even know what to say or how to say it. Organic or inorganic cause, there is a cause and I fail to spot it. Yes, yes crazy much. People crave for summer breaks and here I am doing absolutely nothing expect oh, oh, oh washing dishes, cleaning up the house, refreshing Facebook homepages again and again, and sleeping to keep myself from slipping into depression. Vottay vacation! :)<br />Gibberish, gibberish, gibberish. Trash, kachra, garbage. That's just how trains of thoughts are. Continuous, flowing like mud from neuron to neuron. Sometimes collecting in a space, a cranial sinus maybe, clogging up the flow. Sedimenting. Sucking. Silently killing a few neurons. *dishum, dishum* those neural shot guns are working again! Slivers of silver and blue sparks amongst the mud, the ultimate 'good guys' make holes in the thick layer of muddy, creepy, slimy goo. The voids keep getting bigger and bigger. Until...voila! The mud's no more than very small segments of clay floating around in cerebrospinal fluid, waiting for favorable conditions again. I swear, I'm not bipolar, just very very very 'I don't know'. =)<br /><br />Summer.Bummer.<br />Bummer.Summer.<br /><br />Lets try agaaaain, Sidra.<br /><br />1,2,3..breaaaaaaaaaathe.<br />3,4,5..breaaaaaaaaaathe.<br />5,6,7..breaaaaaaaaaathe.<br />7,8,9..breaaaaaaaaaathe.<br /><br />Still doesn't work.<br /><br />:)</span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-77619170675075244252009-08-01T00:49:00.002+06:002009-08-01T00:54:16.466+06:00First times. [*]<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46DFiRJAd3me5vl3TncRIdYTyuG1jpYcTM90_vALmv6VmOmTqr4iM5RSKq_Wz6S08lnz-8p939iJF9V-ixXKbgta9WYkf2bjP5sMcMWJqX9K4fNGRR0o4oera4Yz6jL944Pu282e4HSc/s1600-h/697.baby_steps.jpg.image.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 293px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46DFiRJAd3me5vl3TncRIdYTyuG1jpYcTM90_vALmv6VmOmTqr4iM5RSKq_Wz6S08lnz-8p939iJF9V-ixXKbgta9WYkf2bjP5sMcMWJqX9K4fNGRR0o4oera4Yz6jL944Pu282e4HSc/s320/697.baby_steps.jpg.image.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364699495473070770" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Taking those very first small steps,<br />those angelic feet touching the arid ground,<br />those innocent eyes staring up,<br />questioning everything in the surround.<br />From those times, up till now,<br />the same words eternally in my ears chime,<br />Sidra, there's always a first time.<br /><br />When lunchboxes swang on our shoulders,<br />when we fought over pencil holders,<br />when collecting stickers meant war,<br />when the moon and stars were never far,<br />those curls that I tossed in the air,<br />when like Barbie's I first grew my hair,<br />from those times up till now,<br />the same words eternally in my ears chime,<br />Sidra, there's always a first time.<br /><br />When I learnt how to open my locker,<br />when I hopelessly failed to play soccer,<br />those secrets we shared amidst giggles,<br />at the sight of highschoolers, we'd wiggle,<br />when that first crush meant the world,<br />those nascent feelings made us swirl,<br />from those times up till now,<br />the same words eternally in my ears chime,<br />Sidra, there's always a first time.<br /><br />And every other time since that very day,<br />I hear the same chant in one or another way,<br />the first time, the second, the third, the last,<br />it always brings up a blast from the past,<br />when there was no option but recovery,<br />from a lover that ended in pain and misery,<br />that time too, the incantation repeated,<br />that no matter how dead you feel, or depleted,<br />there was always a first time,<br />the first time, you fell off your bike,<br />the first time, you scraped your knee,<br />the first time, you fell in love,<br />the first time, you soul felt free,<br />the first time, you were betrayed,<br />the first time, you cried when you prayed,<br />the first time, you undid your braids,<br />the first time, you realized you had to grow,<br />the first time, you finally had to let go,<br />the first time, you picked yourself up after a fall,<br />the first time, you built around you, a massive wall,<br />like always, there's always a first time.<br /><br /><br /></span></div>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-89639692011039059262009-07-29T16:20:00.006+06:002009-07-29T16:33:23.682+06:00multifaceted (adj)- having many facets or aspects.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9TmAp9RwWBIn7l00KwXkdJQbUktMvHyCYZau2RAJb8c69KmC-Us408h1k24qpKPzWDgR3dAicDorLKD5hwiLE3kUDq8yQySCsH_YzbG1KcrL2TAN0jHp06ZURPtMAy43urihcTdRkSk/s1600-h/Image041.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9TmAp9RwWBIn7l00KwXkdJQbUktMvHyCYZau2RAJb8c69KmC-Us408h1k24qpKPzWDgR3dAicDorLKD5hwiLE3kUDq8yQySCsH_YzbG1KcrL2TAN0jHp06ZURPtMAy43urihcTdRkSk/s320/Image041.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363827488898976434" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Like an unattended bag left under the shade, totally oblivious to what its worth.</span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HDoIsZgFF0D7V_oCrAxtX-b_NcULr2CfcCP8bE2gY52EY-H9TRofem-tJcuQoBJoqQTKW9tiwN9-fVGuQ2etIA6Dyt7oGNu5C4o51PTysTofE7kZDmM5SE5k-wmu-By6_X2FnI-GAFE/s1600-h/Image025.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HDoIsZgFF0D7V_oCrAxtX-b_NcULr2CfcCP8bE2gY52EY-H9TRofem-tJcuQoBJoqQTKW9tiwN9-fVGuQ2etIA6Dyt7oGNu5C4o51PTysTofE7kZDmM5SE5k-wmu-By6_X2FnI-GAFE/s320/Image025.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363826930964363298" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Like a counter bustling with exotic things that you've never seen before to choose from.</span></span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeckQqL73i4D6avVzPnKLC6WNgCrWZVzP4oPLQajIKKn9FVF9mywJIlxe-SN75bVOewjEHrzRdcCSquZ5qgJdPrI3BjVo0lW5N3yHVR4EvfSew_6oL0_1MtP-IE6JSSCNlLv2EOSbZ3kM/s1600-h/Image024.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeckQqL73i4D6avVzPnKLC6WNgCrWZVzP4oPLQajIKKn9FVF9mywJIlxe-SN75bVOewjEHrzRdcCSquZ5qgJdPrI3BjVo0lW5N3yHVR4EvfSew_6oL0_1MtP-IE6JSSCNlLv2EOSbZ3kM/s320/Image024.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363826449029453058" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Like a boiling cup of coffee with an aroma enough to wake up the long, lost soul. A slice of cake that leaves a thick trace of chocolate on your lips even long after you've eaten it.<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Ec7wTfPGIRSQDhSQQEWGNdi10unlLS1zu_Sna9Ts_GUdKgpAXT9hQceyuM-7u3NBngA_7x_KhuviP1ZClSZBJ5u1ZEBWAg0lUKCinT4-yUPDxbOyKJNuqdqwtnsjAp_UXe1DnmPHA5E/s1600-h/Image018.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Ec7wTfPGIRSQDhSQQEWGNdi10unlLS1zu_Sna9Ts_GUdKgpAXT9hQceyuM-7u3NBngA_7x_KhuviP1ZClSZBJ5u1ZEBWAg0lUKCinT4-yUPDxbOyKJNuqdqwtnsjAp_UXe1DnmPHA5E/s320/Image018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363825987844628130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Like pictures on this wall, hiding the ugly yellow behind. Smiling to the tall gentleman, who walks in with his daughter or to the punk, smoking even the remnants of his cigar. Illusions, all illusions.<br /><br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn6nhkmikT9P6Irq1oxAm48LPdpu9ZXCyqePOeTAgSr8vGr3dM4wTxbZL1hLiykcc8Y4UdTELMZfGf0bobgRNQJ_YqxedUUt0SEA5LmkjbTr3RtGcw-QtSLN1PYvLzMHqUsU3gSIvrp1w/s1600-h/100_4189.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn6nhkmikT9P6Irq1oxAm48LPdpu9ZXCyqePOeTAgSr8vGr3dM4wTxbZL1hLiykcc8Y4UdTELMZfGf0bobgRNQJ_YqxedUUt0SEA5LmkjbTr3RtGcw-QtSLN1PYvLzMHqUsU3gSIvrp1w/s320/100_4189.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363825650425894306" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Like a box resting on a glass table. scribbled numbers, scrawny onions and peppers drawn all over, but so very empty inside, quite paradox to the colorful exterior it exhibits. with a burden resting above, so small to the naked eye, but so big to the soul of cardboard resting beneath.</span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">And just like that life is multifaceted.</span><br /></div>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-22600373314685857312009-07-28T17:35:00.003+06:002009-07-28T17:43:41.056+06:00Fájdalom [*]<span style="font-size:85%;">I'll close my eyes,<br />with all my might,<br />just to pretend,<br />that I am alright,<br />in this abysmal dark,<br />through out the night,<br />on the tattered parchment,<br />I shall solemnly write,<br />stories of tears & pain,<br />of love and of delight,<br />and as this night,<br />seeps into daylight,<br />the fires of the sun,<br />my soul it ignites,<br />on the banks of rivers,<br />on shores of the sea,<br />combating with sorrow,<br />fighting off misery,<br />clenching my fists,<br />very very tight,<br />pretending to know,<br />what exactly is right,<br />yearning to burn,<br />in a fire so bright,<br />to etch an abode,<br />in the sky tonight.<br /><br />*Fájdalom : Hungarian for pain.<br /><br /></span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-36196007388358007412009-07-28T16:44:00.002+06:002009-07-28T16:54:09.564+06:00涙〔裂け目〕[*]<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I have often wondered what tears taste like; pinches of salt tossed into droplets of water, sour like those grapes that the fox could never reach, sweet like cheap cola lollies that were pungently sour at the core or bitter like tasting your hands after grinding leaves with them. It just never made sense to me. Fat, warm droplets streaming across your cheeks, settling at your lips, or getting lost in the creases of the fabric below. Some even managing to run down your neck, figuratively slitting it down the middle, making you gulp more and more until you realize that no matter how much you gulp, you can never fill in the vacuum within you. During joy or depression, how those little sneaky tears never seemed to get enough of your company and kept coming back like a bunch of unexpected relatives. How, no matter what we do, we seem to welcome them with open arms.<br /><br /><br /><br />* 涙〔裂け目- Japanese for tears.<br /></span></div>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-28336114919491692152009-06-14T21:43:00.005+06:002009-06-14T21:53:00.369+06:00Music-Come-Memories. =)Every song has a memory. It does, seriously.<br /><br />Aey Paapi [Kismat Konnection]:<br />Dammam: UNCERTAINTY! Potent amounts. When I'd just torture the couch in my lounge with my weight the whole freaking day, just watching Koffee with Karan! Lol. That was the only thing that kept me occupied. I don't want to go through the same time again! The drama, the nonsense, the stress was so bad! But alhamdullilah, whizzed through and survived! :)<br /><br />Haule Haule [RNBDJ]:<br />Lahore: I first heard this song in a salon whilst getting a haircut. They kept playing it over and over again and I just loved it. I was busy wondering which movie this song belonged to as the hairdresser almost burned my ears with the blow dryer. This was the time when I was pampering myself after getting into Shifa. I was so relieved. Love that time, although I was VERY nervous about college and meeting new people, but still. Sighs.<br /><br />Jaane Kyun [Dostana]:<br />Lahore: I would listen to this song again and again! This brings back memories of the times when I went to Anarkali to shop for my medical school supplies- lab coats, books, eosin and hematoxylin pencils and what-not. My mom was so proud of me when I first tried the lab coat on. I can't forget the look on her face. =)<br /><br />Will add on later.Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-6242264149525380482009-06-12T18:52:00.002+06:002009-06-12T18:55:22.519+06:00Before I Die.[*]<span style="font-size:85%;">I want to see the sea,<br />to ride the waves,<br />hold the warm sands,<br />in my barren hands,<br />to wave a final goodbye,<br />just before I die.<br /><br />Days tick by one by one,<br />away from time I fail to run,<br />needles chase me from each side,<br />and as guilt with me collides,<br />it kills me so much, I won't deny,<br />just before I die.<br /><br />If wishes were embers,<br />each as a scar, I'd remember,<br />each was granted I'd pretend,<br />until my time to transcend,<br />I'd so blantantly lie,<br />just before I die.<br /><br />Leftovers of my broken dreams,<br />from such a distance they seem,<br />like scattered pearls of fate,<br />and just before it's too late,<br />I'd toss them up in the dark sky,<br />just before I die.<br /><br />Losing is not a curse,<br />gaining to lose is worse,<br />as I stare into the horizon,<br />I slowly wilt and wizen,<br />to collect my fragments, I try,<br />just before I die.</span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-75577728063095333742009-06-11T21:49:00.003+06:002009-06-11T22:09:35.434+06:00F.A.D.EI listened to Backstreet Boys after ages today. Songs like "Show me the meaning" and "Everybody" brought back so many memories of the days when we kids were just getting acquainted with the "gorafied" side of music. We were leaving behind songs such as "Dil Dil Pakistan", "Jazba Junoon" far behind to explore other realms :P Ah, Iqraa, Faiza, Basit, Haseeb and yours truly, what a time it was! Walking backwards down the memory lane is a very frequent activity of mine. I'm always taking mental vacations back to the times when big things seemed so small and small things seemed too big to handle. But alhamdullilah, it's all good. I have no regrets, that in itself is a major blessing. I seriously miss the times when I had the time to sit down and reflect thoroughly. Now it's just as if I have to force myself to stop and my reflective abilities come up in "spurt and squirt" format. It's funny and very annoying at the same time. I just felt like ranting today, hence the blog entry.<br /><br />Today's June 11. Exactly a year ago, I was bidding farewell to my school, embracing Mrs. Sindhu and Dr. Riad, consoling them that I'd keep in touch. The day my dad cried because his daughter was leaving one phase of life to enter the next. The day I had felt that I was leaving behind a heavy dose of tranquilizers to face life with all its rough edges and hues. Part of me longed to stay, while another wanted to breakaway and break the decade of monotony and "sameness". I was in a potpourri of doubt and emotion. Looking back, I often want to laugh at myself. Actually, I don't know what I want to do about myself. Sometimes, I feel that I fused myself out and that I'd eventually get whatever was destined for me anyways even if I hadn't burned my calories, flexed my neurons and sacrifised my physical and emotional immunity over things. But I guess it becomes very easy to say this once you have everything resting on the palm of your hand. Such philosophies miserably fail when you stand empty-handed in a line waiting to fed by the barren outcomes of your dreams...<br /><br />June 11, 2009.<br />What a day?<br />a) Weird people in hospital premises! :P Right Sehr and Sahla? "Tropicana"<br />b) Glasses!<br />c) Dupatta fiascoes!<br />d) Bakris.<br />e) Punjabi lessons.<br />f) The heat.<br />g) Skipping lunch.<br /><br />yada yada yada.<br /><br /><br />PS: FADE: For A Day so Exceptional. =]Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-57162579103891624622009-06-08T21:44:00.002+06:002009-06-08T21:49:03.957+06:00Scattered, yet so together.<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Nido Javed:</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">sidraaaaaaaaaaaaa ♥</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">are you leaving todayyyyy? have a niceee and safe flight.. awww, sidra baby is gonna start college sooon.. you are all grown up </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">:D haha.. Good luckkkk *hugsss*</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">miss you loads ♥</span><br />November 17, 2008 at 8:44pm<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Sidra Chaudhry:</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"> NIDAAAAA. i went to your ghar yesterday. =]]]]</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">it was soooo nice. i kinda felt like crying. my ugly picture from 9th grade is still up on your kitchen wall, i talked to aunty bubbly, aunty yasmin, aunty tasneem, met hassan, and everyone. it was just so overwhelming and yesss, i conveyed ALL your messages and your kajals as well. =]</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">i love you BOHOT zyada. ♥</span><br />November 6, 2008 at 3:27am<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">""yayyyy. you're coming. :D i have just one ticket to spare, but i'm sure some of my friends will have a few extras. =) i'm such an emotional wreck these days. *sighs* i'm experiencing soooo many deja vus, pangs of nostalgia, reminiscence attacks, guilt trips, hypersensitivity crisis... so on and so forth. you get the picture, yeah? lol. only 83 days left to graduation. =] [... it's a mixed feeling. i want to leave, but i also don't want to leave sooo many things behind. tomorrow's the nhs/njhs induction ceremony. we are all busy preparing for, taping up the cheap blue/yellow silk, the ancient logos that have been used since 1734, stupid pledges that nobody bothers understanding, the zombie music and the death march. lol. nothing has changed. today while i was cutting out nhs gate passes, i suddenly remembered the time when you were inducted in the NHS and I was inducted into the NJHS. the first ever official chapter of the NHS/NJHS. =) for some reason it felt EXACTLY the same. the same jokes, the same running around.. the only thing missing was a few familiar faces. *siiiiighs* gosh, how time flies no? i'll be attending the last induction ceremony tomorrow, then it's ma'salama [not to the society, the ceremony:P]... i visited mrs. sayed, mrs. james and mrs. olivera today after such a looooong time. they haven't changed at all. they are all the same. it reminded me of the times when i used to be in that psycho building C. *sniffles* omG luqman. i'm such a mess right now. =\ i reaalllyyyyyyy hope your net starts working AND i get to talk to najwa. you two people are awesome buddies when it comes to reminiscencing about the good old days..</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">good luck with everything.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">may the force be with you, as mr. read says. lol."</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Name: </span>Sidra Chaudhry<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Age: </span>18 yrs old with a mind of an 80 yr old.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Signs and Symptoms:</span><br />a) doesn't feel like studying<br />b) feels sick at the sight of books/study materials<br />c) gets nauseous when told to work<br />d) experiences sudden chills when reminded about college search<br />e) wants to doze off in class<br />f) wants to burn everything down.<br />g) dreams of waking up one day with a undergraduate and postgraduate degree under her pillow *halo*<br />h) faints at the mention of TWO science fair projects.<br />i) forgets to do her homework frequently<br />j) stashes her notes into places she doesn't remember later<br />k) wants the whole class to vanish when she snaps her fingers<br />l) desires to step over all the sissy juniors/sophomores/freshmen in hallways.<br />m) eats like there's no tomorrow to suppress the above mentioned painful symptoms.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Diagnosis</span>: SENIORITIS.<br /><br />forget pakistan. i have bigger tensions looming around my head. *siiiiighs*<br />97 days left to graduation! i seriously, CAN'T WAIT. =\<br /><br />March 2, 2008 at 5:13pm </span><br /></div>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-71501860358286753182009-06-07T23:54:00.001+06:002009-06-08T00:01:34.094+06:00Walking Down the Lane, Again. [June 8, 2008]<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >It's just been a year,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >but it seems so queer,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >that things are so far,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >that were once so near.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >Those walks down aisles,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >those tears, those smiles,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >final words, parting of ways,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >leaving behind the olden days. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >With glowing faces,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >with watery eyes,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >those lop-sided smiles,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >just waiting to cry.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >A maroon gown, </span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >an NHS stoll,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >so many memories,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >I'm left to recall.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >Walking backwards,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >down the lane,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >experiencing it all,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >all over again.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >A tossed cap,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >a fluttering tassle,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >when what to wear to grad,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >was the biggest hassle.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >The faces run through my mind,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >shining, radiating with light,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >each one a deep memory,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >holding onto me so tight.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >Another eight, another June,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >same old winds, but different monsoons,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >flying like old parchments,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >shards of memories line pavements.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >And as I walk with my head high,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >onto my face each memory collides,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >the radiant past burns my insides,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >for my heart longs to cry,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >on the same set of shoulders,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >it yearns for the days so older.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >The same song plays in my ears,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >it glides with every sliding tear,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >"breakaway" it whispers to me, </span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >it fills me with warmth, with glee.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >I open old boxes so full,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >pouring out my treasures,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >deeper into emo seas they pull,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >depths that nobody can ever measure.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >A shirt, a note, a card,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >a wilting rose, a flower so dead,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >everything dances around in my head,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >piercing like old shards,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >wounding me with such grace,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >things I could just never replace.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >with every rustle of the wind,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >through my tangled, messy hair,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >there comes a new glow,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >that grows when shared.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >As I sit here after a year,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >with blank eyes, so devoid of tears,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >a smile creeps onto my lips,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >as the keys drum under my fingertips,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >I'm looking at old snaps,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >of those blood-red gowns and flying caps,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >I'm recalling the times when,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >the seventy of us marched out,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >holding very high our heads and chins.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >This is just to tell each one of you,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >that no matter what each of us do,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >a part of us always is and always will,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >will be so empty, only to be filled,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >by those days we spent together,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >by those laughters and smiles,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >by those tears and those frowns,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >by those fiery ups and downs,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >whenever we look over our backs,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >we'll see the same old tracks,</span><br /><span style="font-family: webdings;font-size:85%;" >calling out to us, to come back.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings; font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >This is for the class of 2008.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: webdings; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >Happy Graduation Anniversary! :) </span><br /><br /></div>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-18199783115715292752009-06-07T00:53:00.002+06:002009-06-07T01:31:13.223+06:00Walking Backwards.<span style="font-style: italic;">"my graduation's inshallah on june 8. it's going to be really nice. inshallah. you know what? each person can invite up to 5 guests. i always wanted nana abu and nani ami to attend. and ami even talked to nana abu about it before he died. *sighs* time and tide wait for none. this year has been one of the very critical years of my 18 years of life. i'm sure there are many more to come.. i'm just trying to deal with things, one thing at a time. i try to busy myself to avoid all negative thoughts. i sometimes miss the old me.. when i was more responsible, more open, more sensible.. now, i have turned into a couch potato looking for trouble. i can't wait to graduate! i want to come to pakistan and do whatever possible to relieve this stress in me. i want to start with life afresh. i want to get out of the same monotonous life that i have lived in the last 10 years in the same school. i will miss school, but i will always cherish it in my heart too. ..... i know life's full of crap, difficult people, unfair decisions, unexpected turns, horrible twists, but life's life. we can't just swing it away and live like complete robots." </span><br /><br /> [May 8, 2008]<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh yeah, yesterday I craved Abu Nawas so much, I think because I was watching too much of NAWAZ sharif :P I watched so much of geo news yesterday, I missed the times when dad and I used camp in the lounge in front of our mahaan TV. The judges got restored, *ballay ballay, harripa*.. But anyways, some issue or the other always surfaces. You know because of the long march, they jammed all the cellular networks. It was funny, reminded me of "espionage acts" we studied in American History. I couldn't sms a single friend. When you get here, get yourself ufone, it's better than warid, warid sucks. I dont want to change my number, that's why I'm still sticking to it. Anyways, I'm going to go now.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Byebye fattums.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">pakoray and samosay from pakistan.</span><br /><br />[March 16, 2009]<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">sidraaaaaaaaaaaaaa</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*i miss uuuuuuuuuuu</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*me in saudi</span><br />Najwa<br />[June 6, 2009]<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> "it's terrible sitting here and listening to different people telling me different things about pakistan. someone told me it's really nice, you start enjoying..someone else told me to be careful while choosing friends. oh ooona, i was sitting and thinking about my future. lol. i don't know which college i'm going into and what kind of people i will meet there.. for 10 years i have been used to seeing you guys and i didn't have to bother myself with reaching up to new people and befriending them and i will have to start doing that this year. sucks major. =[ but i'm trying to be positive. it would be so nice if you and i would study in islamabad, we will keep in touch and share our dukh bhari kahaniyan with each other."</span><br /><br />[July 2, 2008]<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">ooona, i just watched hibah's bday video and i miss you so much now. =[</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">i miss school. i miss english. i miss calculus. i miss recess. i miss everything. =[</span><br /><br />[July 29, 2008]<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> ana queesa. ana ma hibak al facebook chath katheer! [because it's so gay for some reason =P] ana miss kulu bachis katheerrrrrr! ♥ ana fee roh saudi soon. ana 'b'lanning [planning] to visit madrasa. i will miss you guys SO much when i go to saudiiii. seriously. =[ koi hoga hee nahi wahan. everything in school will have a memory attached to it. =\</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">ps- forgive my broken arabic. paki has been made me VERY paki. lol. i need to review mrs. madani's notes. haha, i still have them by the way. =P AND i love the pic you put up pf us. :) brought back a lot of memories. full-fledged yaado'n ki baraat material. =P lol.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">take care!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">ma'salama! </span><br /><br />[October 14, 2008]<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">hibah darrrrrling, stuff's good, alhamdullilah.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">just a nasty pang of depression due to lack of mental stimulation and exersion =P but nothing that a lil bit of company can't fix. =] i'm going to lahore on the 23rd insh'Allah, really excited, yet a lil apprehensive about things like "college". sighs. you need to tell me how london's treating my hibah. okay? take care haan. =]</span><br /><br />[July 9, 2008]<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Habibity.... your message made me very happy and I really wonder how you still remember my birthday!!! It is very sweet of you.Sidra... take care of yourself, study well (I'm sure you do), and keep in touch. It is very pleasant to me to know about you.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">May God bless you my sweet heart!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I love you sooooo much...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br />Dr. Riad "<br /><br />[January 25, 2009]<br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Hi Sidra,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Very happy to hear from u. Here all's fine and we are ready for another year. Everything remains same for us but we do miss some precious students like u."</span><br /><br />[Aug 28, 2008]Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-50692415160710886632009-06-06T22:43:00.000+06:002009-06-06T22:49:39.066+06:00June5:June6:June7<span style="font-weight: bold;">June 5: </span>My last exams as a high schooler. Human Biology & Political Science.<br />Desi BBQ.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">June 6: </span>My first graduation practice, when almost everyone forgot to bring their IDs for entrance into Dhahran.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">June 7:</span> My second graduation practice, when we treated ourselves at Joffrey's.<br /><br />It's been a year. Just memories. Scribbled down on walls. Jotted down in diaries. Signed onto yearbooks.<br /><br />That's it. That's all.Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-31687397967036797482009-05-30T17:55:00.004+06:002009-05-30T17:56:14.744+06:00Just a Moment. [*]<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It just takes a moment,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">to turn from candle to flame,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">to burn yourself to dust,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">just to eradicate the blame.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The drops of broken wax,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">the melting souls with it,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">leaving behind no tracks,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">letting things go bit by bit.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">From flickering flames,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">to dirty, burnt ashes,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">amidst broken promises,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">amidst guilt-laden flashes.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">An odyssey that never ends,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">an epic betraying all trends,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">even waters from the seas,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">or the dew from the trees,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">the tears from the eyes,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">or the deepest painful cries,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I watch them fail one by one,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">beaten, conquered, defeated,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">finished, dead, depleted.</span><br /><br /></div>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-82312961059699333842009-05-25T21:00:00.003+06:002009-05-25T21:11:12.304+06:00I Met You Here.<span style="font-size:85%;">I met you here,<br />under the skies so clear,<br />when the rains fell,<br />and I could tell,<br />if you were around,<br />just by listening to sounds,<br />of your shoes thudding on mud,<br />the marshy grounds,<br />the swampy lakes,<br />the tales of fairies,<br />and other such fakes,<br />when they seemed so true,<br />as they dropped from your lips,<br />how butterflies seemed to,<br />never leave your fingertips,<br />when the times would freeze,<br />in the cold, warm breeze,<br />when satin ribbons would flutter,<br />like colorful birds' wings,<br />when every little twig,<br />just seemed to sing,<br />as the sun would set,<br />as the skies would darken,<br />your eyes would shine,<br />they'd light and sparkle,<br />I'd feel their glow,<br />on my cheeks,<br />how they'd keep me,<br />from falling weak...<br /><br /> *<br /><br />And now I stare,<br />at the same wooden seat,<br />where we'd sit,<br />rejoice and meet,<br />everything's unchanged,<br />the sun's still setting,<br />the birds still chirping,<br />the ribbons still fluttering,<br />the golden eyes,<br />the fairy tales,<br />the talks of tunes,<br />the whispers of the gale,<br />old friends that I long,<br />to sing the same old song,<br />that chimed through branches,<br />pulled me from the trenches,<br />out into the sunshine,<br />to feel the the sun on my skin,<br />to cleanse me from within,<br />I long, I yearn, I crave,<br />to carefully save,<br />the so tangible flavors,<br />of love, hate, anguish,<br />just before they extinguish,<br />into the quagmire of wilderness...<br /><br /></span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-90134427701267606702009-05-22T21:00:00.000+06:002009-05-22T21:01:36.441+06:00For Every Tear.<span style="font-size:85%;">In every tear of my eye,<br />deep tales in them lie,<br />of beautiful scars,<br />of whimsical lashes,<br />of burnt sunflowers,<br />of roses and ashes,<br />for every tear of my eye,<br />just never seems to dry,<br />like satin ribbons in breeze,<br />they flow, they dance, they fly.</span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-63591366250487171852009-05-22T20:50:00.001+06:002009-05-22T20:50:40.271+06:00Flicker [*]<span style="font-size:85%;">A small flicker,<br />burning blues,<br />the hopeful hue,<br />my eyes locked,<br />watching, waiting,<br />for you to light up,<br />bring some hope,<br />some flavor,<br />just a hint of news,<br />that cold, cold blue,<br />that old hopeless hue,<br />just how I stare,<br />eyes fixed in gaze,<br />waiting and watching,<br />tossing and turning,<br />from under pillows,<br />from locked drawers,<br />still, deep inside,<br />I'm waiting,<br />still waiting,<br />though I hate,<br />there's no escape,<br />for the hopeful hue,<br />the ominous blue,<br />keeps me watching,<br />keeps me waiting.<br /></span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-2845602270342948542009-05-17T01:06:00.001+06:002009-05-17T01:06:31.418+06:00*The rain fell,<br />still I waited,<br />amidst blizzards,<br />still I stood,<br />under blazing suns,<br />I laid myself out,<br />on the burning sands,<br />still I stared,<br />out into the distance,<br />across the hazy horizons,<br />over the burnt meadows,<br />the milky skies,<br />the charcoal moons,<br />further and further,<br />till my eyes blinded,<br />by those things,<br />commonly called tears,<br />just were about to give in,<br />when a voice came from within,<br />asking me, begging me,<br />to stand my ground.Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-65062733001214503022009-05-12T19:54:00.001+06:002009-05-12T19:55:45.121+06:00Rascal Flatts: A Discovery.<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Discovery. That's what it feels like.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">After listening to these songs, I actually felt like they were so close to the heart. Like for real. Don't know why I wrote this entry, but I really felt like. Just felt like sharing my favorite parts from each song.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I'm Moving On</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And I know there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">There comes a time in everyone's life</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">When all you can see are the years passing by</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And I have made up my mind that those days are gone</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">What Hurts the Most</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">That don’t bother me</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I’m not afraid to cry every once in a while</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Even though going on with you gone still upsets me</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">There are days every now and again I pretend I’m ok</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">But that’s not what gets me</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">What hurts the most</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Was being so close</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And having so much to say</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And watching you walk away</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And never knowing</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">What could have been</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And not seeing that loving you</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Is what I was tryin’ to do</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">These days.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Yeah, life throws you CURVES,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">But you learn to swerve,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Me, I swung and I missed,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And the next thing ya know, I'm reminiscing...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Dreaming old dreams, wishing old wishes,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Like you would be back again.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">God Bless the Broken Road.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I set out on a narrow way many years ago</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Hoping I would find true love along the broken road</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">But I got lost a time or two</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Wiped my brow and kept pushing through</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">[Chorus:]</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Every long lost dream led me to where you are</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Pointing me on my way into your loving arms</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">This much I know is true</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">That God blessed the broken road</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">That led me straight to you</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I think about the years I spent just passing through</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">But you just smile and take my hand</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">You've been there you understand</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">[Chorus]</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Now I'm just rolling home</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Into my lover's arms</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">This much I know is true</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">That God blessed the broken road</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">That led me straight to you</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">That God blessed the broken road</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">That led me straight to you.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" >Okay, the ENTIRE song! :) </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Stand.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Cause when push comes to shove</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">You taste what you're made of</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">You might bend, till you break</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Cause its all you can take</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">On your knees you look up</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Decide you've had enough</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">You get mad you get strong</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Wipe your hands shake it off</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Then you Stand, Then you stand</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Life's like a novel</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">With the end ripped out</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">The edge of a canyon</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">With only one way down</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Take what you're given before its gone</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Start holding on, keep holding on</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Every time you get up</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And get back in the race</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">One more small piece of you</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Starts to fall into place</span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-47496561355091647952009-05-10T01:11:00.000+06:002009-05-10T01:12:22.914+06:00My Broken Strings.<span style="font-size:85%;">The golden threads,<br />the words unsaid,<br />the longing sighs,<br />the lows and highs,<br />the strong tugs,<br />the dainty shoves,<br />the lucky ravens,<br />the ominous doves,<br />as your fingers,<br />gently tug,<br />my life along,<br />slowly chugs,<br />like a lost train,<br />on a broken track,<br />I struggle to get,<br />everything back,<br />but it's hard to see,<br />it's hard to flee,<br />from the broken dreams,<br />and the bloody screams,<br />of the past that was,<br />of the broken glass,<br />that pierces me,<br />daily so deeply.</span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-63082750798914207942009-05-09T22:59:00.000+06:002009-05-09T23:02:43.468+06:00*<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Let us hide,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">under these bright moons,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">those shadows that bloom,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">amidst the linens of gloom.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Throw those blades of grass,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">so sleek, so sharp,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">like the strings of harps,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">let us lose ourselves,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">to this green,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">to this black,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">of the ground,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">of the sky,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">of all that's chaining us,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">forbidding us to fly.</span></span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-25054766537265706532009-05-09T11:28:00.000+06:002009-05-09T11:29:03.551+06:00Three Thousand Nights.<blockquote style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Three thousand nights,<br />with the days in between,<br />the sunsets, the sun rise,<br />the waves of pain,<br />the relentless tides,<br />of time, of longing,<br />of the loss of sense,<br />of the loss of belonging.<br /></span></blockquote><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-14646333772754907282009-05-06T22:09:00.001+06:002009-05-06T22:22:18.235+06:00It's Just Day One. [*]<span style="font-size:85%;">With a heavy heart,<br />with a reluctant sigh,<br />I just have to do this,<br />although I immensely miss,<br />I remind myself,<br />it's just day one.<br /><br />Pretending isn't easy,<br />but that's what's left,<br />to show that it's okay,<br />that I've sent you away,<br />but only I know how it is,<br />falling into an abyss,<br />and although I immensely miss,<br />I remind myself,<br />it's just day one.</span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-20115822706309616082009-05-05T21:18:00.002+06:002009-05-05T21:19:11.575+06:00*<span style="font-size:85%;">I love watching you,<br />walk away from me,<br />quickly at first,<br />as if to test.<br />if I'd stop you,<br />if I'd call out,<br />in your mind,<br />there lingers a doubt.<br />As usual, you don't show,<br />but somehow I know,<br />you too are waiting,<br />as we are separating,<br />for me to call out,<br />funny how I want,<br />you to do the same,<br />turn back and glance,<br />call out my name,<br />but we both know too,<br />both me and you,<br />don't mind waiting.</span>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-62393811447619175362009-05-05T21:18:00.001+06:002009-05-05T21:18:41.218+06:00*<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">You have no idea,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">you have no clue,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">what you do to me,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">is so oblivious to you.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">To you, a smile is just a smile,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">to me, it differentiates,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">between an inch and mile.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The more you like to hide,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">the more I tend to seek,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">little do you know,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">you make me so weak.</span></div>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249829551949525204.post-40246611521497380702009-05-03T22:52:00.001+06:002009-05-03T22:53:48.782+06:00Very Small Wonders.<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The weather's so amazing. Rain, thunder, strong cool winds, and more rain. The only ugly thing's the test I have tomorrow. I woke up at 12 today after such a long, long time. It felt very weird. Well, I had slept at 4 AM, so that explained the late start of the day. After wasting a lot of time, I finally forced myself to review anatomy. I guess God rewarded me with the awesome weather later. It started off with just a very gloomy sky, lots of clouds and then I heard my mom complain about how the laundry would all go wet under the rain. At first I just watched the drops cautiously from my window. Then I decided to open the door to the verandah, just to stand there and listen to the rain slap against the tiled floor. Then I decided to pull of the laundry off my balcony, just the excuse I needed to get out. I ran out, yanked the bed linens, the freshly hung clothes off the line, taking my own sweet time. I was in no hurry to get back in. But eventually I had to. But seriously, what an experience it was. I just wanted to stand in the middle of the rain, let it do its work. Wash off every bit of stupidity and frustrations off me. I wanted to experience getting wet to the very core of my being. I wanted to do the bhangra on my terrace. lol. This kind of weather NEVER made me want to study. I felt like calling up a friend, or no, I felt like eating chocolate cake. I didn't know what I really wanted to do, but I was just so overwhelmed by the sudden rain. I thanked the Lord that I wasn't expecting any guests today. Yesterday was crazy, but still fun. My second grader and sixth grader cousins came over to visit their Sidra apa. What an evening it was. They wanted to play "beauty salon" and "doctor, doctor" with me. First they used my limited make up stock to make me look like a "I don't know what". Minahil thought that by drawing three dots at the ends of my eyes, I'd look very "pyaari". According to Amina, I should leave my hair loose in the icky summer heat because I looked better that way. Then they both fought over who'd put lipgloss on me. So finally I had to intervene to sort the feud amicably. Amina would put it on my upper lip and Minahil would do my lower lip. Then after this "cake-up" session was over, Minahil spotted my mom's stethoscope and declared that she wanted to play "doctor". I was made the sick patient, while Amina and Minahil diagnosed me with a disease that nobody had the cure to except them. I was ordered to drink milk three times a day with panadol and 5 strepsils after every meal. lol. As we were busy playing doctor, Rida my 3 year old cousin and also Amina's little sister started crying because we weren't letting her fool around with the stethoscope. I was always very bad with calming kids down. I tried to pacify her, but then just gave up. She continued whining and out of utmost frustration I told her that my anatomy instructors in college were looking for crybabies to inject them with this new drug, which tickled them so much that they kept laughing for no reason. Thank God, she believed me. lol. I felt evil, but anything to get a kid from crying. Anyways, I'm just going to shut up. I have nothing more to add, plus it's getting late and I have a test tomorrow and I'm a little nervous. Insh'Allah, it should go well.=)<br /></span></div>Sidra Ch.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17296956450440403170noreply@blogger.com0