tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18347923265121871972024-03-14T06:12:11.771-07:00Asante...Change is what keeps you alive.Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-69750899776453429752014-12-14T23:57:00.001-08:002014-12-14T23:57:39.509-08:00The Perks of Being A Wallflower<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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HAT awesome moment when you read a book just because it’s
banned? I’ve been reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower and I found it great.
It’s kind of sad and surprising when a book is only judged for its brutal
honesty.</div>
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I’m not going to write a review on it but I’m going to clear
a friend’s confusion who said, ‘I have seen the movie but I didn’t understand
it!’It’s a book about a learner who prefers NOT to judge people
on their choices. This learner is actually the apparent first person writer of
the book and his name is Charlie. He’s an introvert who is struggling with a
mind classified as highly genius and bothering at the same time.</div>
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The cool part starts when he is able to make friends. Good
quality friends who help him learn about lessons of life. It’s a great read
where one chapter would suck you in and you’ll land on the next chapter all the
while getting excited about the third chapter. I should mention that there are
just fourteen chapters, so it would be an adroit choice if a soul has around
two days to spare. Yeah. I know. I’m a slow reader. I can’t help it. I like
drinking in every word and phrase.</div>
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Talking about words and sayings, I’ve carved a few from the
book in my memory. Fascinating stuff to keep in mind ;)</div>
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The book ended on yet another window that helped me see the
world from a different perspective. It’s when Sam (Charlie’s best friend)
finally tells Charlie to actually do things and not just be a shoulder to
people. She tells him how people can also needs arms. That’s what I think was
really thought provoking. She said:</div>
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That's all for now ;)</div>
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Humans always find the “other way”. ..</div>
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Don’t they?</div>
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I got into Dow University of Health Sciences. It’s this
really prestigious medical college for really intelligent and lucky kids. Thing
is, I still don’t understand why I got in? But that’s not the real news.</div>
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*DRUMROLLS* I’ve officially decided to cover my hair from
now on. I used to cover my hair before but I never had the guts to go all the
way with pins and all. Just a loose dupatta on my head would suffice my Islamic
definition of “parda”.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYRbmBRw7J5IsaYQlGMMce1QIgUUbbD0AZZjhJkhtACU6SbjKNgzOI8bwjUW4H4JN8XJ8y2ERTXmRmrYimn3tPSNlOmPscPFhNtQb_7Yy0xx4KTFFKQ5dVHHVyYIZGaLSWCWz1uC2CizrS/s1600/hijab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYRbmBRw7J5IsaYQlGMMce1QIgUUbbD0AZZjhJkhtACU6SbjKNgzOI8bwjUW4H4JN8XJ8y2ERTXmRmrYimn3tPSNlOmPscPFhNtQb_7Yy0xx4KTFFKQ5dVHHVyYIZGaLSWCWz1uC2CizrS/s1600/hijab.jpg" height="216" width="320" /></a>But now I’m thinking, ‘What’s stopping me?’ If I’m bold
enough then I should be the one in charge of how I look. So it’s a big decision
on my part but a decision nonetheless. I don’t want my parents getting dragged
to hell now do I? JK.</div>
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I’ve been searching for different ways to wear and pin a
scarf on the head. I’ll buy a head band soon. It’ll make my life easier for
sure. This is what I’m currently following-----------------></div>
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New ideas are welcome. Share them if you know more <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> I’ll be very grateful.</div>
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Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-27072000493699550132013-07-24T04:03:00.001-07:002013-07-24T04:03:50.482-07:00Barbie Personified<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a kid I always marveled at the fact that I could not talk
to a dead Barbie. I know I’m playing rude here but the idea of changing a dead
object’s clothes, wasting your time talking to it, preparing fake tea and
calling its dead friends to a tea party always repelled me. I just thought it
wasn’t practical. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was a walking toddler, my dad bought me a Barbie
doll. Back then, I was pretty good at my acting skills and I knew my
how-to-make-your-parents-feel-like-the-best-ones-on-the-planet smile. I played
my toothy grin and held the dead object with its hair. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first thing that frustrated me was that I could never
comb its hair. The tangled mess would always wind around the bristles of my
comb and if I tried harder, the plastic strands would act like plastic strands
and stretch like taffy! So I reached to the first conclusion:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: red;"><b>NEVER COMB A DOLL’s HAIR. NEVER.</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://webspace.webring.com/people/cb/barbiegir1z/barbie-animated.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://webspace.webring.com/people/cb/barbiegir1z/barbie-animated.gif" /></a>The next thing I did was undress her. Yes, call me a pervert
but the flowery sun dress it wore made me jealous. Since I didn’t have a sun
dress, I wanted this tacky object to wear a frock, one similar to mine. Once fully
naked, I ran a quick view over its body and remember being confused at the
features I thought it was missing. Disappointed, I tossed the Barbie aside
completely oblivious to the fact that it was naked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next day I woke up to find a large leg in the middle of
my room. I took time to place its origin but once I realized it was my dead
Barbie’s leg, I suddenly felt a surge of shame that ran a gamut of shades on my
cheeks! I hated this display of a dead body’s darned organs! I ran to pick up
the leg piece (yeah, now my Barbie sounds like a chicken doesn’t it?) and tried
collecting the other pieces. On finding every single limb I tried to put it
back together, but was embarrassed to find out that the Barbie’s pieces, some
chewed by my baby sister and some trampled upon my by barbarous family would
never fit the torso again! I announced it to my family that my Barbie had a
disease where over time the limbs came out all by themselves.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My parents did not buy it but what else was I supposed to
say? So I reached to the second conclusion:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: red;"><b>NEVER LEAVE A DEAD BARBIE NAKED. NEVER. </b></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The dead Barbie long forgotten and with my life sincerely
moving on, I one day found myself watching T.V with my mom. I’m pretty sure I was
a fresh teenager at the time. While switching channels we came upon M.T.V where
this girl was dancing on a senseless Bollywood song and I heard my mom say.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She looks like Barbie! Look at those features she has!”</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://stream1.gifsoup.com/view2/3079747/diya-mirza-o.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://stream1.gifsoup.com/view2/3079747/diya-mirza-o.gif" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And suddenly my dead Barbie incarnated and this time, with
better limbs that fit and with a mouth that talked! That was the day; I started
calling Dia Mirza, Barbie. Although she’s far from the road but who cares? This
world needs to cut me some slack there. </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.photojoiner.net/JoinedImages/772b38ca-586e-4436-9f56-6c2bb2ddb66b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://www.photojoiner.net/JoinedImages/772b38ca-586e-4436-9f56-6c2bb2ddb66b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>
See the similarity?</h3>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-68377390754413495502013-07-03T11:38:00.001-07:002013-07-03T11:40:25.895-07:00Meet Miss-drenched-with-sarcasm<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I went to this conference the other day where the Habib
University called upon the-best-inspirational-personalities-in-Pakistan. You
are busy drowning in the sea of inspiration while listening to them talk. You
make all sorts of footsteps in your mind that you’ll be taking in your near
future and the over whelming excitement of it is making your eyes twinkle when
suddenly there is a question!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, a question from one of the participants. A female,
pretty and polished enough to transcend the message of world peace. But there’s
something really wrong with the way she’s holding the mike and her nonchalant
limp posture. She rolls her eyes and asks a question in a tone that makes me
want to make her demented for her entire life time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She cackles a question, “Excuse me Sir, You state that for a
good career we need to expose ourselves. Now it’s always easier said than done!
What you are forgetting here is that in Pakistan (she laughs a contemptuous
laugh) it is all really hard! You should tell us how to do it! Instead of just
telling us to expose ourselves!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And with that choice of words, posture and tone she embarrasses
the entire youth of the current generation. Why on Earth do people mix boldness
with aggression and sarcasm? Yeah, that’s how I remark her question.
Miss-drenched-with-sarcasm was obliged to pay respect to those who were elder
than her parents and were generous enough to share their experiences with us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It should be noted here that I’m not remarking her question
as a useless inquiry. Sure it was a question most of us (teenagers) want to ask
the stars of our society but guess what! There are a thousand cooler ways to
ask the same question! For instance, if I was in her place I would’ve asked the
question in the following manner:</div>
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“Excuse me Sir, you previously mentioned about exposing
ourselves. Could you please give me a few suggestions on how to do it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Simple. No need of excessively sachharine-ish words either.
I would repeat it here, if you want respect, you gotta make sure you give it. Anyways,
I must not forget to mention here that I’m really glad I’m doing the summer
program Habib University is offering at Marriott hotel. The good part about
these conferences is that it’s all about you. Like how you represent yourself,
think out of the box, explore your inner talents and choose the best path for yourself.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For further details check out the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/HabibUniversity" target="_blank">Facebook page</a> ;) Its worth
giving a try. Really <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/p206x206/401953_507706765951941_2039835442_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><img border="0" height="140" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/p206x206/401953_507706765951941_2039835442_n.jpg" width="320" /><a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-e-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/208566_478041248918493_1205619607_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-e-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/208566_478041248918493_1205619607_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
</div>
Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-59985995864850989782013-06-20T11:42:00.000-07:002013-06-20T11:43:48.828-07:00Who is He?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
He’s as white as a sheet can get. His long, blond lashes
cast a shadow on his plump, slightly reddened cheeks and serve as a refuge for
his eyes that resemble rubies. Or who knows? Rubies that resemble his eyes maybe?
His nose, the prettiest bridge on earth, stands perfectly at the center of his
angelic face with no identifiable flaw. His lips, nature’s best creation, are
thin but express a lot. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Remember this guy? Yes you do. He grows with us. In fact, He’s
born within us. We try to hold him back. We set hurdles for him and we do not
let it get out. And you know what happens? He multiplies. Yes he can do that. Every
time you let your guards slip, you unleash him and I may remind you, he knows
how to jump over your hurdles and reach farther than the normal limits you
would allow him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This little guy is what we call our SIN. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been having a lot of thoughts recently. It’s like the
world around me has suddenly decided to bathe me with reality clouds that were
apparently hovering over me since forever. And what am I doing? I’m constantly
blaming myself for my little sins and this has made me despise my prayer hours
and my life in general. I’ve been forced to think that I’ll end up bad
eventually. I’m now scared of God and everything that is associated with him.
But you know what the worst part is? I’m losing faith. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But today, things changed. I woke up and heard a voice in my
head. It said,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU FORGET THE FACT THAT I LOVE YOU AND
I’LL FORGIVE YOU?’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After thoughts?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do not try to be perfect at the first stage. I’ve come to an
agreement with myself. The best I can do is keep away from committing the
unforgivable sins while keeping my faith strong and healthy and the sins I
would allow myself to commit are:</div>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Listening to music. </li>
<li>Smiling in public</li>
<li>Wearing make up</li>
<li>Keep my guy friends at the safest distance.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hope God would forgive me :) </div>
</div>
Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-25209090604096137252012-11-06T09:31:00.001-08:002012-11-06T09:31:01.941-08:00Getting Losers Out Of My Way ;)'I can is far more important than IQ'<br />
I guess this is what people have been trying to find since like forever!<br />
Ladies and gentle, introducing 'the key to happiness'. <br />
How do you feel when you accomplish a task that you never imagined of? Something that you always thought was out of your talent line? An underestimating border that people set for themselves? Truly ecstatic right? <br />
<br />
What if I say that all the people who've been telling you,'Are you crazy? We can't do that!' since day ONE are not worth your attention? People who don't spare shit about your feelings? And upon mentioning it tag you as vulnerable?<br />
<br />
We see nerds everywhere. They're pretty contagious. Our college class has four rows. Each row belongs to a different category:<br />
The first row is for robots. <br />
The second row is for people who are wanna be robots. <br />
The third row is for those who are content with what they're doing and <br />
The fourth row is for those who come to college for the sole purpose of putting a 'P'<br />
In our class attendance register. <br />
<br />
Our education system appreciates the only robots who take in all the information and print the exact on the examination sheets. The funny thing is, the rest of the students actually think about what they are writing and that's where they make the mistake of their life. They THINk. <br />
Aren't we all aware that we are not supposed to Think about a theory? That all the notes and the books are always right? Jeez. <br />
<br />
If I write an essay that goes against the statement given by my teacher then I'm a guaranteed bad egg. While, on the contrary if I write what my teacher thinks in a language that confuses the Webster's then I'm a perfectly genius student. <br />
<br />
Honestly, I call that a ROBOT. I'm really proud of having a brain that actually works. I do not go to my college to be an RNA that just reflects what the DNA says. I myself am a DNA who makes its own codes and it's own designs. <br />
<br />
So today, right at this moment, I swear upon my lifetime that from now on I'll throw this apple pie order out of my life and throw all those losers who feel the need to hold me back from Thinking and forming my own perspectives. If I was supposed to see the way my ancestors saw things and think the way Einstein did then why would God go through all the trouble of putting a solid brain in my head and fitting two eye balls in my eye sockets?<br />
<br />
A question for our Education system ;)Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-74171610972486813092012-10-03T09:16:00.001-07:002012-10-03T09:16:39.294-07:00A different time. A different definition.Quack Quack Quack....<br />
I rolled to my side and groped for the nasty little quacking device I had set up beside my pillow. I touched SNOOZE on the screen and took refuge in the five minutes of sleep that I wanted more than anything. <br />
<br />
Quack Quack Quack... <br />
I wasn't going to put up with it this time. I touched stop on the screen and tried to breathe a sigh of relief under my tangled mess of hair. My T shirt stank of sweat, i realized. I slithered out of my bed, pretending to have no bones. <br />
<br />
With dragging steps I reached the washroom door that didn't seem to welcome me. I pushed it open and got in. I turned on the lights that revealed my reality in the mirror. I twisted the tap and grabbed my battery charged toothbrush that was begging to get retired. <br />
<br />
How far would we go to achieve development? Newton's first law of inertia was right after all:<br />
An object at rest would remain at rest unless an external force acts on it. <br />
From simple light bulbs to big GPS devices, from mopeds to space rockets, from simple torch lights to plasma screens, we've proved one thing: we've been misunderstanding the term human development. <br />
Human civilization has been pretending to be moving forward by high tech inventions and space discoveries but are we really developing? <br />
A human, generally, is destructive in nature. One of the reasons why God has created so many mysteries around us. He wanted to distract, us, humans from our merciless nature. <br />
A nature that demands dystopia and power. Example? Millions of viewers cheering outside wrestling booths, taking pleasure in somebody's pain. <br />
<br />
Evidence from our primary history books show how people in the early civilizations, belonging to different tribes killed each other with spears and animal bones. Today, we've replaced these spears with big rifles and nuclear bombs. And ironically, we call it Human development. <br />
<br />
I honestly can't see any such thing as human development today for with every passing second, we're taking a step towards technology and a step back at human behavior. <br />
<br />
Inspired by a teacher who explains why we need ATPs. <br />
<br />
<br />
Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-37487790418896025912012-09-19T11:11:00.001-07:002012-09-19T11:11:30.108-07:00Tears in fire<br />
A Pakistani mishap gone worldwide. Again. " A factory caught fire." A statement that doesn't really make a difference in our newspapers. What grabs attention is the thought of all those screams, all the useless tears and the breathless horror faced by the people who got locked into it. <br />
<br />
It's hard to imagine over 300 people burning in fire. My dear Pakistanis, I'm amazed at how all of us have got so desensitized to all these debacles. Until lately we heard of bomb blasts killing several Pakistanis and our reaction to those events was a mere glance at the television <br />
<br />
And now, something extra ordinary. A little more torture. A pain so extreme that everyone is crying for the ones who faced it. <br />
<br />
Imagine yourself at such a place. A place filled with fire, smoke, smell of flesh burning and excruciating pain. A locked up building with no emergency exits and you know that you don't want to die because your loved ones are expecting you for dinner. <br />
<br />
I'm sorry this happened. I know nothing I'll say would replace the dark days all those 300 families are having. Families who lost their men or sole bread winners. But I do want to make it clear that: Yes, I remember. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
In memory of the people who got burned during the fire incident in a garment factory in Karachi, Pakistan on September, 2012Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-65097214445353511012012-09-01T22:21:00.001-07:002012-09-01T22:22:09.567-07:00Everybody's got a dark side...Dear Sodium!<br />
Stop coming out of my eyes. Seriously. <br />
Not-yours-at-all,<br />
Afshan<br />
<br />
<br />
So I've been crying a lot lately. Like I'm not even kidding. Just a stupid confrontation with my past. That's all. A silent case of abuse that I kept hidden for so many years and it finally made its way out of my heart. I told my mom all about it and now I've got it off my chest. Loving the feeling. Really. <br />
Trust me y'all. If you were ever abused during your childhood, don't do a favor to anyone by keeping it in. Dark secrets are pests that feed on your soul. The best way to get rid of them is to throw them out. <br />
<br />
Enough with the serious talk! Good news is, I've recovered :) and on my red letter day ( the day I let my dark secret out) I, with my cool hands, made that divine custard that's probably rumbling in our stomachs ;)<br />
Wanna see how it looked? Here:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7igYREHKrMKDsJPOZSbasgtdI3uZIXptoiSGI7LYBpdw1QoD15CA430-AAG-7yzns5P-UnDxXaXXnt2z0vG1he8Sh7U31w79xGwgL3tUqhVB_T8Xm0z6rbqR0CTIHP_ucPrVFtT8_j5ci/s640/blogger-image-1458253664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7igYREHKrMKDsJPOZSbasgtdI3uZIXptoiSGI7LYBpdw1QoD15CA430-AAG-7yzns5P-UnDxXaXXnt2z0vG1he8Sh7U31w79xGwgL3tUqhVB_T8Xm0z6rbqR0CTIHP_ucPrVFtT8_j5ci/s640/blogger-image-1458253664.jpg" /></a></div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-40041309225583978892012-08-19T11:50:00.000-07:002012-08-19T11:50:47.017-07:00Waiting for Eid :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So we had more than two moons for Eid. Again. All the moon
people are fighting. Again. Eid is different in the country for different
parts. Again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why aren’t these things bothering me again? Oh yes- because
tomorrow is Eid!!! :D I can’t believe it! After all the thirty days of fasting
all of us deserve it!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I like the most about Eid is wearing bangles and applying
henna. I and my three sisters huddled over each other’s hands; trying to choose
the best design of henna and praying to get a darker color…Fun times <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">:)</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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So these are some of our final results:</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bKLNs7ySmGiJkUGGpOnyoXrQOorKy2dAM-uj2o39VbqHbi4C77_yX2hfMvHLB6Csou7y8EuJfFWNTktOsrQLWYP507dRKCmtvY08kWZNWyXq9Fx4XAdTXUGgPTXMyEjxZo1Rr08FrLp2/s1600/munzi.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bKLNs7ySmGiJkUGGpOnyoXrQOorKy2dAM-uj2o39VbqHbi4C77_yX2hfMvHLB6Csou7y8EuJfFWNTktOsrQLWYP507dRKCmtvY08kWZNWyXq9Fx4XAdTXUGgPTXMyEjxZo1Rr08FrLp2/s320/munzi.jpeg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My youngest sister's hands :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVBrFiZAJszY1mGAqskEmdWZtw2SMxSgJej02Ny9chiDOXTdJhV5j0Ag5fClxtdJcosG6xasgeodKIboj2LkCECHeyGPhZQqLF-iaYuNZ8tyTb91xaNLUKkfb3oK3DYoSsddgbR5H_pd-/s1600/dadoo.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVBrFiZAJszY1mGAqskEmdWZtw2SMxSgJej02Ny9chiDOXTdJhV5j0Ag5fClxtdJcosG6xasgeodKIboj2LkCECHeyGPhZQqLF-iaYuNZ8tyTb91xaNLUKkfb3oK3DYoSsddgbR5H_pd-/s320/dadoo.jpeg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sidra's henna</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiw5WUzlejraFrLLF5Ky3VQLEUAhBwwB3lbIfXNznM9lgZrcN6_Tl2QaFG5cePcqFAPilaHLxVJ9jUjzmTSipRwkBTrtjNsfGCNS6T5ohO8aEAKCaT3PwOAzOQme9brUww0RXZU69w60H/s1600/qirrat.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiw5WUzlejraFrLLF5Ky3VQLEUAhBwwB3lbIfXNznM9lgZrcN6_Tl2QaFG5cePcqFAPilaHLxVJ9jUjzmTSipRwkBTrtjNsfGCNS6T5ohO8aEAKCaT3PwOAzOQme9brUww0RXZU69w60H/s320/qirrat.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My eldest sister's self made design :)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCHnzX8uWvK7cOGhL2PwcvFvdDbdeQclDn9Du70GcP1ONAeWDsx5CHbwm11qI9f_2GTXqi_O6N8eammM8CcjC6f-6yNYFkOa3axjy2QZxWlQTb4l9tmwWpWisQsS_bh9mYVoA5epUsTPJd/s1600/afshan.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCHnzX8uWvK7cOGhL2PwcvFvdDbdeQclDn9Du70GcP1ONAeWDsx5CHbwm11qI9f_2GTXqi_O6N8eammM8CcjC6f-6yNYFkOa3axjy2QZxWlQTb4l9tmwWpWisQsS_bh9mYVoA5epUsTPJd/s320/afshan.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And finally my hands!!!! Notice my bangles!!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, we went to the bazaar to buy our bangles. It was me,
my eldest sister, my youngest sister and of course my mom. Imagine! Thousands
of women on a single stall trying to get their bangle size right when the crowd
behind you is pushing you against the stall claiming that they can’t pass through.
Jeez! The funny moment was how this one time a lady pushed me so hard that she
hurt my shoulder. I moaned with agony and said,” Sister! This is my shoulder,
not your personal punching bag!” She gave me that I-don’t-care glare and
continued moving. Women. *Sigh*.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We continued exploring all the stalls when we finally
decided to sit on this bench in front of this one milk shop. My youngest sister
was thirsty and as a six year old, she didn’t care if the rest of the people
were fasting or not. We got her a drink and started chatting when this group of
beggars came to us. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They were kids around nine or ten and were dirt caked. One
of the boys pleaded us for money when my eldest sister shook her head and said,
“Maaf karo bacche.” (I beg your pardon, Kid) The kid replied in response,” Baji
koi bhi paise nai deta! Yeh kaisa zamana hai?” (Nobody spares us any money!
This is an unfortunate era.) At this my mom felt hurt and took out two 5 rupee
coins and handed it to him. The kid smiled and looked at my mother to my sister
and said,” I’m sorry baji for fighting with you.” This amazed all four of us!
How on Earth did this kid know English! I was actually really happy! I looked
at my sister, smiled and gave her a high five! ;) Amazement. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When at home my dad rearranged our bangles and asked us to
put them on. I did and now I love the sound of them <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">:)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
………………………………………………………………………………………….</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy Eid Mubarak to all of my followers. Eid is the
festival of happiness and joy. My warm regards to all those who are Muslims or
non Muslims. After all, everyone deserves joy <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-29476736873963419202012-08-14T05:58:00.001-07:002012-08-14T05:58:10.951-07:00A tribute to the minority<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today is the day when my country got free</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today is the day when Pakistan came into being.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I like the sound of it- Freedom</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I like how it’s still a mystery and a big irony.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For not all of us are free,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m hereby pointing towards our Hindu minority.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How is it like? Leaving the country where you are born?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Leaving the memories and the childhood that promises to
haunt</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Leaving your land and everything you own?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And cross the border with no choice at all?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Losing friends that you care about?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And people who are kind- no matter what?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Religion is important. Yes,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But doesn’t following the religion important too?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Doesn’t the Quran that we Muslims follow teach us?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To be kind to the ones who are not one of us?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Freedom of speech, freedom of clothing</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Freedom of religion and freedom of living</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Isn’t that what our minority deserves? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That all of us deserve?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m glad today is the 14<sup>th</sup> of August.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For atleast, this once, we’ll ask ourselves-</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where is the freedom?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the minority is moving out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The main question is-</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who’s next in the line? A Muslim or yet another minority.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="color: lime; text-align: left;">
<i> Dedicated to
<a href="http://sonamchawla.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Sonam Chawala</a>. A friend worth missing.
</i></h3>
</div>
Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-19290209861206229702012-08-08T13:31:00.000-07:002012-08-08T13:31:44.456-07:00Mailbox...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<h2>
<br /></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been thinking about what to write when I had this
thought during one of my sleepless nights. Struggling with my bed sheets, I
tried getting my head under my pillow, trying to silent my brain…..</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why was it so hard again?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Trying to tell my brain to shut up?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Was it so necessary to re imagine the events of the past
that bleed through my thoughts and as a consequence provide more food for more
thought? And thus leading me to a sleepless night?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Weird. Very weird.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Memories are episodes that can be replayed again and again.
Like video tapes that keep piling up in your brain rack. A rack that is just
there, reminding you of things you don’t care about anymore, taking up your
head space and shadowing your life for what? A lifetime of breathing?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So where was I again? That thought I was having that other
night. I was thinking about this letter that turned up in our mailbox during my
stay with my host family in U.S.A a few months ago. It was a package from <st1:country -region="-region" w:st="on">Pakistan</st1:country> that
held letters from all of my relatives. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I flipped through all the envelopes when I finally came
across the letter from my father. A letter that said, “I miss you” without ever
stating it. A tear rolled down my cheek and I kept it under my pillow for about
a month. It calmed me to realize that somewhere, in some other part of the
world there are people who care about my existence. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then shooting through time another video played where I
was standing in front of this person, a person hardly four months older than
me. One who loved picking on me and making me realize how I was a burden on his
family. We were arguing with silent witnesses around us who couldn’t bother
less about ‘me and my problems’. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The person said,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
” You think you are a part of this family? Living with us
for some time doesn’t mean you can treat yourself like a family member here.
You are an outsider.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: “Just because I’m tolerating you doesn’t mean you can
cross your civil limits…is this how you people treat foreigners?!?......”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Him: “Forget it Afshan! You are crazy like your dad……”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that ended it. Him, his family and all my duties towards
them. After all, nobody gets the right to reach my parents in anyway. Yes,
there are times when I say stuff that isn’t exactly nice but hey! I’m their
daughter and I love them. It is justified. I think.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So you see how memories can be painful sometimes? A simple
thought leading to several others without any barriers or any warnings? Now
isn’t that just dangerous? And who is to be blamed for this? My AM frequency
brain or those people who remind you how the world is not the happily ever
after you always imagine it to be?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a lot of thinking I decided that it seriously depends
on me whether I choose to get bothered by something that happened in my past
and spoil my present or try to get over it. So what did I do on that one
sleepless night? I remember…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I threw my pillow across the room and pretended that it
would land on that person’s face who insulted my dad once. After hearing the
soft thud, I smiled and closed my eyes in peace and the next thing I knew, I was
dreaming.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-61869151242707259102012-07-24T18:56:00.000-07:002012-07-24T18:56:53.042-07:00Reflection...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I turned the tap off and looked up in the mirror. Sure
enough, I saw the face I’ve been seeing for the past 17 years of my life. A
clear reflection of myself. I could see the tiny water droplets dripping from
the ends of my loose hair. I noticed how there was a tiny scar on my left cheek
and some dark spots near the sharp edge of my lips. Other than these tiny
imperfections my skin looked smooth. Smooth enough to be called ‘normal’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked into my dark eyes that almost looked brown because
of the light refracting through my lens. I couldn’t believe how temporary this
youth was. I wondered why people get so conscious for this simplest thing in
the world called ‘face’. Do they really need to spend so much money and time on
something so temporary? Adding endless layers of Der-ma bases, applying mascara
to make the eyelashes thicker than they are, using colored contact lenses just for
the fact that black is too normal and adding blush-on where we already know
that we are too tan to blush? How does any of it make sense?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRVdXphec_Hh3NfHcNhFwUxhTsHhHm-4neeLEIb0POPp4pyaDfh" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRVdXphec_Hh3NfHcNhFwUxhTsHhHm-4neeLEIb0POPp4pyaDfh" width="173" /></a>Optical illusions always fascinated me. My definition for it
is seeing something that isn’t really there. The question is that how is seeing
straight lines that appear curved in a picture any different from seeing a face
with a lot of make-up? According to me, both of them are temporary and deceiving.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Conclusion? Simplicity is the best. I’m not against applying
make-up. As a matter of fact, I like applying eye liner and a light shade of
gloss myself! What I’m against is low self- esteem. Why do we need to change
our appearance entirely with all the worldly accessories that are so temporary?
Are we so desperate to get accepted by the society out there? Beauty is in the
eye of beholder. Try to see the beauty in your inner self. You should be
beautiful from the inside. After all, one who's at peace with himself is at peace with the world- Thomas Kempis :)</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTDM5AJnrrLLQSMztFwwetw-r-1wrry_uGs6ISHk1VpQoxjSCpsuA" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="269" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTDM5AJnrrLLQSMztFwwetw-r-1wrry_uGs6ISHk1VpQoxjSCpsuA" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I want vision that captures inner beauty. Do you? :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-88164721771783301432012-07-09T13:48:00.000-07:002012-07-09T13:49:03.920-07:00Can I say No?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Slumber...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I opened my eyes and felt the urge to drink water. My throat
was dry and the voices I heard didn’t make sense. Where was I again? Exactly
thirty seconds later I realized I was at my house in Pakistan,
no more at my host house in America.
The voices I heard were of men and women panicking, screaming. Three bullets
shot through the air and the pandemonium got louder.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I rubbed my eyes, making sense of the world around me.
Lazily, I stood up and toppled over the floor, reaching for the window. One look
and it explained it all. Our apartment is in a building that towers over the
Kohinoor Market in Karachi
city. A market where one can find all the accessories for women at the lowest
of prices. My window gave the best view of every person in the market.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As usually, I saw three men holding guns, firing bullets in
the air. They were roaming around yelling at every shop keeper to close their
shop. Along with the shop keepers, the paddlers on the road were busy in
packing the stuff on their self owned carts with hands shivering from fear. I
could tell the customers in the market, mostly women, were scared to death. No
woman in that situation could leave her child’s hand. Most of the stalkers had
no idea where to run or how to get away from this forceful situation. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Chaos, Panic or Fear. It doesn’t matter what word I choose
to describe what laid ahead of me or what I was witnessing with my own eyes and
feeling so helpless about. It was six o’ clock in the evening and the market’s
business was supposed to be at the peak. Today, none of the paddlers would go
home with enough money in their pockets to feed their families just because
some random guys with guns from unknown political parties wanted to dominate
the area. Is this fair for people who live on daily wages and are bread winner
of their family?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No. It is not fair. Are we so used to the situations around
us that we do not care any more? Where are all the teachings of the Quran and
the spirits of a Muslim <i>Ummah</i>? Where do we all stand? Are we just going to
close our eyes and pretend that such things are not happening? Today, these
unknown groups filled with evil spirits are trying to dominate us. Are we going
to let that happen? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I thought to myself and took a deep breath. One thing that
we all can do is unite with each other and stand against these people who are
trying to capture areas in Karachi and in many
other cities of Pakistan.
Saying Yes is always easy but how many of us would choose to say No to this
violence? As a patriotic citizen, I would.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<i>I would say No.</i></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The voices, the guns, the horror, the blood,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The screams, the terror, the endless fear,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I try to pull away. And I try hard.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But they won’t let me would they?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They want me to nod, they want a Yes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The famous Yes is what they all want.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They like the tears, they love those screams,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sound of children, wailing on the streets,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The stain of blood on all those shirts,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is the sight they would always prefer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But why am I here?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why can’t I get out?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why should I do what they want?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do I really value this life?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Filled with tears and dark nights.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No, they don’t want me to stand straight and say no,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The famous No that they all hate,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I prefer a death of pride over a life of fear,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I would say No, yes, I would say No.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.zawaj.com/askbilqis/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/sad-woman-looking-out-dark-window.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://www.zawaj.com/askbilqis/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/sad-woman-looking-out-dark-window.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div>
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<br /></div>
</div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-6660075382039213792012-05-27T23:26:00.002-07:002012-05-27T23:26:57.451-07:00Love your tree<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I was eating Pringles in my World History class and enjoying
the noise coming from my mouth. Every now and then the teacher would give me a
stern look and I would smile my, I'm-an-innocent-exchange-student smile. The
class needed silence because we were watching a documentary, America: the
beautiful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It was a great comparison about the beauty standards that
are made by people in today's society. It left me thinking about how our
Pakistani society has a number of beauty standards. There, you do not get privileges
if you are not fair skinned. For instance, people won't marry you if you have a
darker skin tone. Moreover facial features such as big eyes, a long bridge
nose, tall height, long hair and red lips are considered perfect and beautiful.
The thing that is hardest to achieve is a very skinny figure. Curves are not
forgiven in my society. You have to be so skinny that every tube top fits you
without any size alteration. If you do not have any one of these, you are marked
straight away 'average' and sometimes downright ugly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Why do we have so many beauty standards? Why can't we just
accept people the way they look, or the way they act? If I’m not a size zero,
do I not fit into the popular people category? Is this even fair? The
documentary showed how the pictures of the models in the magazine depress a
high percentage of women who in return throw their money on several counters
just to buy cosmetics or go to surgeons to get plastic surgeries and nose jobs.
The fashion industries make several people insecure by showing a 'standard' of
beauty on those magazine covers that go through infinite number of houses. They
not only affect the adults but also the kids who worry about not being pretty
enough.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">My argument is that why do these standards exist? Does it
even represent the majority of us? is it even worth it? Beauty is something
that can never be permanent. Why do we even want people to like us for
something so temporary? Personally, i would rather not know somebody who would
refuse to be in touch with me just because i do not look the way they want me
to look. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGXEw9I3fQwOUcUt3sGsxAOhmdaRIOg3934HPIJx2ou5rOIA8NQVQPShHBGLNLOalcJAByJJ-6P9oCoK-nuUBAVHIzaVDRKTrltbzjhABQHwwXTJrtmBYPPPUy30_dWHgYwji8XXbiGNHi/s1600/cool,misc,quotes,u,r,beautiful,,-63afacf096d5ab4fabcb4356463e9981_h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGXEw9I3fQwOUcUt3sGsxAOhmdaRIOg3934HPIJx2ou5rOIA8NQVQPShHBGLNLOalcJAByJJ-6P9oCoK-nuUBAVHIzaVDRKTrltbzjhABQHwwXTJrtmBYPPPUy30_dWHgYwji8XXbiGNHi/s640/cool,misc,quotes,u,r,beautiful,,-63afacf096d5ab4fabcb4356463e9981_h.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">After cooking this concept several times in my mind, I
remembered a perfect analogy about beauty that was discussed in the
documentary. The analogy was: there are two trees on the opposite sides of a road.
Is the tree on the left pretty? Yes. Is the tree on the right pretty? Yes. Now,
is the tree on the left not pretty because it doesn't look like the tree on the
right? Absolutely not! What lesson do we get from this? Love your tree. Love
yourself the way you are. You, not looking exactly like an unrealistic, perfect
super model on a magazine cover page don’t confirm that you are not pretty.
Nobody can decide for how you look except yourself. So love your tree and stay
happy.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyTG2hjwPU0Wo75Ht9x7-w941PwKWfqa6oDQjQL179CQzCO4LU8MP4NtiBkaUfPs69CP0uaqYpieVus0ELUviwspID5dR8mMLhQo0Hb9K9UGBxs1VvYZhKPayRUzm7K4XSsviWJH8Dxau/s1600/imagesCATST6RD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyTG2hjwPU0Wo75Ht9x7-w941PwKWfqa6oDQjQL179CQzCO4LU8MP4NtiBkaUfPs69CP0uaqYpieVus0ELUviwspID5dR8mMLhQo0Hb9K9UGBxs1VvYZhKPayRUzm7K4XSsviWJH8Dxau/s400/imagesCATST6RD.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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</div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-89169806293169109312012-04-12T21:14:00.000-07:002012-04-12T21:14:56.078-07:00My definition of a typical BUBW conference:<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglIrD7BiJ14rtJXESvojRAHAWsFMqpIQgyd5OXN_ZeGh9QaQzQ9S7E6pEZO9jc-nNcRugHW_lwgnzzPCoY1ZFj8SGJS6XOXaDeHT_tjAokKMECGN0PJGopM_3EeT1NGFnQkgJuJHHFdD3V/s1600/xcvb.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglIrD7BiJ14rtJXESvojRAHAWsFMqpIQgyd5OXN_ZeGh9QaQzQ9S7E6pEZO9jc-nNcRugHW_lwgnzzPCoY1ZFj8SGJS6XOXaDeHT_tjAokKMECGN0PJGopM_3EeT1NGFnQkgJuJHHFdD3V/s200/xcvb.BMP" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHQHDnLtDK-nGy57WcTnGyCBNOpvvlW5jGhUFll3AR6E1Q3lZlrsZ05e9xs4Mo4IBKwBjOkvCw0D7J2tcQPTB8zOk4muEQXGoyx1Z1hsxLTAXDbI1ihS4ZYJrWFe45NOgxzkT95wICULE8/s1600/clip_image002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHQHDnLtDK-nGy57WcTnGyCBNOpvvlW5jGhUFll3AR6E1Q3lZlrsZ05e9xs4Mo4IBKwBjOkvCw0D7J2tcQPTB8zOk4muEQXGoyx1Z1hsxLTAXDbI1ihS4ZYJrWFe45NOgxzkT95wICULE8/s200/clip_image002.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Among a gazillion new words that I learned before coming to <st1:country-region w:st="on">USA</st1:country-region> for my exchange year, one of the words that I learned was a ‘Paradigm shift’. And just like those other words I had zero experience of what it meant until I came to <st1:country-region w:st="on">USA</st1:country-region>.<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 8.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-no-proof: yes;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19RDeoYmmCtTglOUi6Mw84zLWYVPgpPoARuKK_Mj-zRq_LRgvR_JIVrDai1Vkkz5822QZ7LJzTSJXaBV_s5-pkYmkMhRJ6NIb2agmljQ0CrFLlro0vNQAEquh9Q2iamNoVBlMul28AM7n/s1600/sdfgh.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19RDeoYmmCtTglOUi6Mw84zLWYVPgpPoARuKK_Mj-zRq_LRgvR_JIVrDai1Vkkz5822QZ7LJzTSJXaBV_s5-pkYmkMhRJ6NIb2agmljQ0CrFLlro0vNQAEquh9Q2iamNoVBlMul28AM7n/s1600/sdfgh.BMP" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCu85PRMCe2aVhzxxa-O6FHHiu1owi_CAVcfWf1W6FKudVM86CwAruKtMwV1J7dmiiFKMOvkIQiw4zNSfy8ZTxiSLCnX8v7bWb42hLoBXd27dn50VvUHkhOJpH93G7mkt6sFSAuKb_g-mc/s1600/xxxxx.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCu85PRMCe2aVhzxxa-O6FHHiu1owi_CAVcfWf1W6FKudVM86CwAruKtMwV1J7dmiiFKMOvkIQiw4zNSfy8ZTxiSLCnX8v7bWb42hLoBXd27dn50VvUHkhOJpH93G7mkt6sFSAuKb_g-mc/s200/xxxxx.BMP" width="200" /></a>Becoming an exchange student is a whole new journey in itself. I cannot explain how this year has changed me. But I can definitely talk about an event, during this amazing exchange year, that made me believe in paradigm shifts and changed my perspective of the world.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lucky as I was, by God’s grace, I got to attend the BUBW conference, twice in my exchange year of 2011- 2012. So what is Better Understanding for a Better World? I simply define it as a conference that changes one’s life. The four days I spent in each of the BUBW conferences made me a person with 100 times more tolerance and understanding than what I had before back in my country <st1:country-region w:st="on">Pakistan</st1:country-region>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7SwMuzNVXepjc6iInXnB9P6eAJXt9iIOlCS-oUsKpRQgMyIKup50S0MUpKFD3yXMXjIAb6Wr5RztEF2cd5Z3tMJgxAiUvn4unxKYMSjOEfIvDaNC4lymhvt60BbN6HHjnilqfKW9nI1p/s1600/zxcfv.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7SwMuzNVXepjc6iInXnB9P6eAJXt9iIOlCS-oUsKpRQgMyIKup50S0MUpKFD3yXMXjIAb6Wr5RztEF2cd5Z3tMJgxAiUvn4unxKYMSjOEfIvDaNC4lymhvt60BbN6HHjnilqfKW9nI1p/s320/zxcfv.BMP" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">The BUBW conference, organized by Imam Bashar and his beloved wife, Kimberly King, along with the help of diligent chaperones, brings together exchange students from different countries that bring in the cultural diversities. Once together, they interact and talk about their countries and cultures. This helps the students understand how much they have in common despite of their different locations, religions and languages.</div><div class="MsoNormal">This conference mainly focuses on leadership that promotes peace. People from different countries, sit together and sort out ways of effective leadership. The students are encouraged and provided with a platform where they can talk about ways to develop leadership skills and to make a change.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmT6GECRshxadO0K3ORYdv6r_VAeNN9OZw5xztTQnRbu_dfZb1DSCwNETpxEtZkVKxhugB5hDTM0_GvIUuXih15lRDPjtQViggXbGr-mZEOIRG2KTtbv1qBUlJxcN_lH9DwyF21roC3RgB/s1600/gggg.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmT6GECRshxadO0K3ORYdv6r_VAeNN9OZw5xztTQnRbu_dfZb1DSCwNETpxEtZkVKxhugB5hDTM0_GvIUuXih15lRDPjtQViggXbGr-mZEOIRG2KTtbv1qBUlJxcN_lH9DwyF21roC3RgB/s320/gggg.BMP" width="320" /></a>There’s a lot to the conference than just a bunch of formal sessions. The group activities that students do, promote a message of understanding and knowledge of similar needs among each other. They talk and enjoy their new friends and realize the importance of diversity. They visit places, share their food, take pictures and share their exchange experience. It’s very unlikely that they know each other before attending the conference. But after going through these four life changing days, they develop a deep bond of friendship and love with all the other participants, chaperones and the organizers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUphfrYUcEU_uoGgld9eYN6d78Wgdx0y_KhTcBSoejMrbJxLb8X4_uB6_eQgRhpxQMNLHuy6CROPHKryZbo2K5tjQsxfwEJDAbLXR3SLoaHZkMBjSkRSXEYLp3xeYRjtO9r76mxqmAFnI3/s1600/ffff.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUphfrYUcEU_uoGgld9eYN6d78Wgdx0y_KhTcBSoejMrbJxLb8X4_uB6_eQgRhpxQMNLHuy6CROPHKryZbo2K5tjQsxfwEJDAbLXR3SLoaHZkMBjSkRSXEYLp3xeYRjtO9r76mxqmAFnI3/s1600/ffff.BMP" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> BUBW conference connects people by hearts. It gives people a space outside the worldly environment, where they get a chance to realize human values and peace among different countries, religions and races. They do that through the interfaith sessions where the students go to a church, mosque and a synagogue and learn to respect basic human believes and morals.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiihh63dR0gK3B_-pbH1NMd4mbx_rcuLOzhtttLgqRmT0qM6HfsySbKkq97i57Wx5oZZJkEe4TS3-yQu95B64amHyBebsD1kfYv1l5OBZ1pd9aJZ1p-br0CN48RW-ewttAe_mHgiM813iL/s1600/ghgfdfghgfdfg.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiihh63dR0gK3B_-pbH1NMd4mbx_rcuLOzhtttLgqRmT0qM6HfsySbKkq97i57Wx5oZZJkEe4TS3-yQu95B64amHyBebsD1kfYv1l5OBZ1pd9aJZ1p-br0CN48RW-ewttAe_mHgiM813iL/s200/ghgfdfghgfdfg.BMP" width="200" /></a>Some people believe that utopia is unattainable. But I think I’ve tasted peace and thus utopia. Not once, but fortunately twice in the two BUBW conferences I attended in Orlando and San Diego; The smiles, the banquets, the places, the cultural dresses, the diversity and mainly, the understanding between people makes the conference special for every individual in it. Such is a BUBW conference and I cannot explain it any better.<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 8.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-no-proof: yes;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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BUBW in Orlando, Florida:</h3><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlYRpKcsX81WzUkuqR8oijjqFwg3xy9lzsoGG0Pw_VBJJXK1P1LhBNh3ITUtCqxNBCbPDc4wQrJH1Wl-J6DnH-EjhFTVi_KDoOAXe8gwOPs3X_y33sqW2k03bBRxbcQwPm6w2Rh2eBZMe7/s1600/jhgfds.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlYRpKcsX81WzUkuqR8oijjqFwg3xy9lzsoGG0Pw_VBJJXK1P1LhBNh3ITUtCqxNBCbPDc4wQrJH1Wl-J6DnH-EjhFTVi_KDoOAXe8gwOPs3X_y33sqW2k03bBRxbcQwPm6w2Rh2eBZMe7/s1600/jhgfds.BMP" /></a></td></tr>
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</h3><h3>BUBW in San Diego, California:</h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjkmp1uAmTYbkkxBHaXdkKwc0FR34gSKlJl2mzYVZxPFC06ZByQop2MdWMtTZKgMiws2USOHEp1qicKHvWcPiyZaRU-TW08Xy8VVQC41P4Z1uEAPlcJErV4TuQBBl7ubrbbRkNKVmFA6_/s1600/dfgnmnbvcxcvbnvc.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjkmp1uAmTYbkkxBHaXdkKwc0FR34gSKlJl2mzYVZxPFC06ZByQop2MdWMtTZKgMiws2USOHEp1qicKHvWcPiyZaRU-TW08Xy8VVQC41P4Z1uEAPlcJErV4TuQBBl7ubrbbRkNKVmFA6_/s1600/dfgnmnbvcxcvbnvc.BMP" /></a></div><div><br />
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</div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-69856113394899365372012-03-04T20:06:00.000-08:002012-03-04T20:06:54.032-08:00CEW<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/429527_2874642185509_1243571329_32423283_275957956_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/429527_2874642185509_1243571329_32423283_275957956_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Civic Education Workshop started with an essay competition as a result of which 115 exchange students got selected to attend the workshop for a week in Washington, D.C. The workshop provided the students a platform to learn and show their leadership skills. The schedule of the workshop was filled with opportunities, visiting different memorials and walking through the Federal triangle.</div><div class="MsoNormal">The main attraction of the first day was visiting the Newseum. The students loved the peace wall and all the displays of the 9/11 event that changed life of a lot of people in the U.S. The video response of 9/11 changed a lot of perspectives. After the Newseum, the students walked through the Capitol Hill and were taught how to read the maps that lay on all the corners of the main federal triangle. They enjoyed the walk with their tour guides who not only walked them through different buildings, but also mentioned the fun facts and history of all the great leaders of U.S.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/416953_382660615077478_100000006279104_1600114_1700738131_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/416953_382660615077478_100000006279104_1600114_1700738131_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">The second day was about visiting N.G.Os like food and friends, community lodging and girl up. The purpose behind visiting different N.G.Os was to tell the students that not every idea starts big. Every small step leads to a large one and everyone can make a difference in the society. The students asked different questions and got motivated by the leaders of the N.G.Os who talked about their struggles and efforts they had to put to promote their ideas.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/64779_3462838491715_1293552301_3537387_1224365399_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/64779_3462838491715_1293552301_3537387_1224365399_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>The students visited a workshop based on Fair Elections where they got a chance to talk to a representative of the American Counsels- Sponsors of the CEW. They got a better understanding of the voting system in U.S and got a chance to compare it with the voting system in their own country.</div><div class="MsoNormal">The third day was a very different and interesting experience for all the diligent exchange students. They got a chance to meet with their state senators and representatives. They had all the meetings set up and they were left responsible to plan their day, dress formally, use their leadership skills and meet the important people without being escorted by anyone. Most of the students loved their meetings with the senators and they had a lot of questions answered by the time they were done with their day.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/431624_3462862132306_1293552301_3537437_1148542745_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/431624_3462862132306_1293552301_3537437_1148542745_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>One of the great opportunities all the students got was meeting with the U.S State department of State Officials where they got to ask a lot of questions that were related to the exchange program policies in America and U.S relations with different countries. Issues regarding countries like Pakistan, Afghanistan, Syria and Palestine were discussed. The students felt really honored by the end of the meeting.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/425031_382658141744392_100000006279104_1600073_457305868_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/425031_382658141744392_100000006279104_1600073_457305868_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>The last activity that the students did was The Community Involvement project where students from different regions came up with different ideas about creating projects that they could start to help some grass root problems in their country. They planned different projects and put up presentations in the end. Everybody loved the activity because it made them think how much they can do to eliminate some grass root problems in their society.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/428581_3462820131256_1293552301_3537347_2129447280_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/428581_3462820131256_1293552301_3537347_2129447280_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">A group of four alumni from four different regions in the world was selected to motivate and help the leaders of the upcoming generation. They shared their success stories and inspired students by their leadership skills. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/421160_357140840984965_100000671566620_1115422_668044382_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/421160_357140840984965_100000671566620_1115422_668044382_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>The students loved their time in D.C where they got to learn and celebrate their differences. The different activities, the bus travels, the pizza party on the fourth day, the dinners and lunches at different restaurants and the NBA game on the third day were some experiences that none of them could ever forget. They had the time of their life in D.C.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/419655_3462821731296_1293552301_3537350_395966595_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/419655_3462821731296_1293552301_3537350_395966595_n.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/423915_3462878292710_1293552301_3537473_2066419033_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/423915_3462878292710_1293552301_3537473_2066419033_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>On the last day of departure, all of the students had tears in their eyes, but also, they were hopeful that one day they all would become leaders of their countries and create history.<br />
<br />
</div></div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-368590141198568802011-12-20T14:11:00.001-08:002011-12-28T19:25:22.448-08:00Relations.The world is round. That's what they told me when I was young. However I think it's something more complex. A simple circular shape won't do justice to the way nature works in this world. The way our life is connected to others could be more like a mesh of networks than just a circle of people holding hands. <br />
Well stepping out of the circle theory I would like to tell my dear readers that nowadays, I'm absorbed in the idea that out of so many people I met in Pakistan, at least 80 percent people knew me because of my parents or my siblings. I had absolutely no contribution in the list of my acquaintances. But here, in USA, everybody I meet knows me solely because of who I am and what I do. Could it be more too good to be true? No. I meet hundreds of people every week. Maybe more than that, and the interesting part is that they have no idea about my background. They surely know about my country but do they have any idea about my family? No way. And as far as I know, they don't even care. <br />
I won't meet these people once my exchange year got over. But this seems to effect no one. All of them try their level best to be civil and help me when I need them. Isn't that nice? It definitely is.<br />
This is what I meant when I stated that the world is too complicated to be round. And seems like I'm a part of this complexity. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjfhXwZfebS5wELOohtlPxmeH-GEfylPQtmTeYWeNN-yqXNB-jVvDTjHlyyB3wYqZXMb7M4jXV1I5rzeEwWuMnhfxXSQvQJVjFSQVMSlF6rfkBKLS_Xi2idJUpC2WLGUWeqKOKgzQhTZ4/s640/blogger-image--1904078578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjfhXwZfebS5wELOohtlPxmeH-GEfylPQtmTeYWeNN-yqXNB-jVvDTjHlyyB3wYqZXMb7M4jXV1I5rzeEwWuMnhfxXSQvQJVjFSQVMSlF6rfkBKLS_Xi2idJUpC2WLGUWeqKOKgzQhTZ4/s640/blogger-image--1904078578.jpg" /></a></div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-61218958771186077712011-12-12T20:00:00.001-08:002011-12-12T20:00:37.061-08:00Objection!I was resting on my bed last night, my eyes slightly closed, my feet shaking with the rhythm of the music that resonated in my skull through my headphones. I couldn't help the reflexive searching of apps on my very new darling iPod touch 4g. I have no idea what suddenly occurred to me. I typed PAKISTAN in the search box. <br />
After a moment of searching, the app store showed some results that made my heart fall into my boots.<br />
I saw Pakistani radio apps and some news channels. It was after three months that I was watching those news logos. The tiny app pictures took me to a memory long pushed in a corner of my brain...........<br />
I remembered the famous Geo News in Pakistan showing headlines that informed the citizens about the worst conditions. I remembered the news reporter speaking about strikes and how the schools would remain close for weeks.... I remembered my mom telling us how the unstable conditions of the government were messing up with our future. The future of Pakistan.<br />
The song blasting in my head changed and the new beat brought me back to reality. I found my self on my bed in the relaxed state I was in before.<br />
I thought for a moment, why did the news logos suddenly made me so uncomfortable? Why on that moment I wished I was never associated with the past I have? Can I be so selfish to let go of the place that raised me? A place where God planted my roots? If my present is good, does that means I'll forget all the promises I made with my people back in Pakistan? <br />
No. Absolutely not. The truth is, I love my country more than I love myself. I can't listen to anything against my roots. On saying this to myself, I smiled and downloaded the radio apps and the news app. I was no more uncomfortable with the tiny apps that were now on my screen.<br />
For those who say going on exchange programs make you unpatriotic, they should better come up with a reason for it. As far as I know, I never felt more patriotic and proud of my Pakistan than at this time that I'm spending in USA.<br />
Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-59640790139652356442011-12-11T16:51:00.001-08:002011-12-11T17:57:15.701-08:00My first snow! <br />
It was an amazing day. I for the first time saw snow! Obviously, Mr. Koontz didn't let me go outside but I could see the tiny flakes sliding gracefully on the closed transparent window. My host sibling texted me and told me it was snowing. I felt utterly happy. I fidgeted on my seat and tried to give a prominent signal to my oblivious teacher who kept reading the agenda on the school website. But like I said, as oblivious as he pretended to be, he simply ignored my will to step out in the snow. <br />
After trying out all my ways of sending signals (which by the way includes me drumming my fingers on the table and humming a song in my language!) I decided to make a sulky face and sit like a robot with no heart or brain. <br />
The painful 75 minutes passed and I rushed out of the class. I looked longingly outside the transparent main school door and went to the second floor for my chemistry class. I stepped in the class and saw Ms. Higgins. I tried to smile at the pretty lady who smiled back with all the warmth on the planet. I seriously love my chem teacher. <br />
I didn't say anything and sat at my place which was at the last table in the corner. Call it fate or luck, that table was right in front of the large glass window. Now once again the straight from heaven scene was in front of me and I could do nothing but tap at the now covered with flakes window like a desperate baby wishing for an ice- cream. Ms. Higgins saw me and asked me in her high soprano voice,"Afshan! This is your first snow right?" I replied innocently," Yes Ms. Higgins." She said,"Did you go out?" I said in my almost whiny tone," nobody let me go out!"<br />
On hearing this, my angelic teacher announced," Class! We are going out for five minutes and showing Afshan what is snow like." I nearly whistled while the rest of the class glared at me, amazed. Nobody knew this was the first time I was seeing snow. When I glared back at them, wide eyed, they looked away. A funny coordination. <br />
Anyways, after two awkward you- glare- at- me- and- I'll- glare- back minutes we all finally managed to be excited about getting the divine permission to go out and feel the first snow of the season. <br />
My entire class escorted me downstairs and out of the front door. And I saw it. I finally felt it. The tiny flakes kissed my skin and I felt the air hugging me. Everything was like I saw in movies. Pretty. I couldn't believe I finally had my first snow! If it wasn't so cold, I would have considered shedding a few tears of joys but I immediately brushed that thought aside. What if my tears froze in my eyes? I was too paranoid to even give it a try. I danced, whirled, kicked, hopped, jumped and whooped like a two year old. My class didn't seem to mind me being in my own world. In fact they even engulfed me in a circle and told me that if I look up at the sky with my mouth open, I'll be able to taste snow. Obviously without giving it a second thought I did what they told me. The thought of tasting snow was too tempting. My friends followed me. We all stood there for a good 90 seconds like retards, open mouthed, glaring at the sky waiting for the flakes to fall on our tongue! After sometime when we all realized what we were doing we started laughing and pointing at each other.<br />
I was busy laughing when something crashed on my stomach. It didn't hurt but I looked around to find the source of this medium snow meteor landing on my stomach. After a moment I saw one of my friends laughing at me and asking me how was my first snow ball fight? I replied by making my own ball and throwing at his leg. My failing attempts of being good at throwing stuff. God! I actually aimed at his head. But never mind! He got my message. We both started laughing. <br />
I felt like a snow princess who finally found peace in the white blanket that covered everything visible. <br />
Well, good times always come to an end. The five minutes of my princess moments got over and our teacher asked us to head back to the class. I went to Ms. Higgins and gave her a tight hug and expressed my love for the lovely teacher who gifted me with my best memories. Who says Chemistry teachers suck? For all I know, they are the ones with bigs heart that can hold all the atoms of love in existence. <br />
By the way the picture is actually me with my first snowman that I named snowy. Tacky- I know. But I didn't really concentrate on his name. I was too busy freaking out while my snowy was melting in the warmth of the chemistry lab.<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRdI-duDlEdHrm-a-byTQFoUuGHSudL_Q9R0vzJb7cQs8EyD2kmxca_sgZYEPH8muk4SRrsTmGkhJ7hsP2lcwuhOFqcG5U2DCT3NzLUEbhNIQMz4rZ_44UzyO6pmVZb7BS8S7ij-qmkSx/s640/blogger-image--1658481418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRdI-duDlEdHrm-a-byTQFoUuGHSudL_Q9R0vzJb7cQs8EyD2kmxca_sgZYEPH8muk4SRrsTmGkhJ7hsP2lcwuhOFqcG5U2DCT3NzLUEbhNIQMz4rZ_44UzyO6pmVZb7BS8S7ij-qmkSx/s640/blogger-image--1658481418.jpg" /></a></div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-27143242454848467452011-11-03T18:58:00.000-07:002011-11-03T18:58:20.443-07:00Volunteering at the most amazing demolition project!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<br />
The coolest adventure in USA that I had was in Spencer, Indiana. Spencer is a town one hour drive away from Bloomington- where I live. The town, unlike Bloomington completely lacks diversity, greenery, building and not forgetting - gas stations and convenient stores :)<br />
Anyways, I have an exchange friend from Germany - Lars- living in Spencer. His host parents had to work on a project which all in all included knocking two barns down and clearing the property. So they were kind enough to call me, my local co-ordinator, Eugene and Anna- another exchange student from Ukraine. The event took place on a cool Saturday. Me and my local coordinator left our town at 8am in the morning and picked Anna from the nearest Starbucks. We hit the road and reached Spencer and at the appropriate property at 9:30am.<br />
We all had to first clean the barns to knock them down. So Lars's host parents set up fire at four different spots. One spot was for pure wood. So all the materials in the barns made of wood had to be dumped in that spot. This was the environmental friendly spot we were going to use for born fire later held at that afternoon. For the rest of the spots, we dumped other materials that were non metallic or non-recyclable. The flames were so cool! We collected all the plastics and metals at different spots so that they could be recycled. I remember our supervisors- Lar's host parents- stopping us from throwing stuff in the fire when the flames were too high. They dint want the trees around the area to catch fire.<br />
<a href="http://api.ning.com/files/s9vjLTTmH-SIwt76I4fXHb*15xUK0vmzBGggE9LTFLjB-SlNEpt37bU6d9flZVeD7Znn41AGAiMogkzL4GGeBNemK3kB-NSS/303076_2474610787155_1309000317_32884204_884570339_n.jpg?width=750" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://api.ning.com/files/s9vjLTTmH-SIwt76I4fXHb*15xUK0vmzBGggE9LTFLjB-SlNEpt37bU6d9flZVeD7Znn41AGAiMogkzL4GGeBNemK3kB-NSS/303076_2474610787155_1309000317_32884204_884570339_n.jpg?width=750" style="background-color: transparent;" width="320" /></a>When we emptied both the barns, we had food. I grilled awesome sandwiches in our environmental friendly fire and Lars burned marshmallows. We had a very good time. After a thirty minutes break, we saw two trucks heading our way. We later found out that those were to take away the plastics and the metals. So we helped the people load all the recyclable materials. I loved loading the recyclables. It gave me a feeling that I was being environmental friendly.<br />
<a href="http://api.ning.com/files/Pwy5GV46qyIbsPYBJIzhI-1fBqUXLdPAIDxxSKvDvf4uWMrQjVhG8R3J87g*LOk-MPVPhU1bm2aOqzP9eCLN8ZZ8uvdYONlz/301406_2474609587125_1309000317_32884202_2097880098_n.jpg?width=750" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://api.ning.com/files/Pwy5GV46qyIbsPYBJIzhI-1fBqUXLdPAIDxxSKvDvf4uWMrQjVhG8R3J87g*LOk-MPVPhU1bm2aOqzP9eCLN8ZZ8uvdYONlz/301406_2474609587125_1309000317_32884202_2097880098_n.jpg?width=750" style="background-color: transparent;" width="320" /></a>Anyways, when we got rid of the recyclables, the non recyclables and the wood, we were all ready for the last and the best part. Knocking down the barns. I had no idea how they were going to do it. But this was something I had never witnessed since I live in an urban city in Pakistan. So I saw that Lars's host parents tied a thick robe around the barn and tied its other end with the hood of a truck! When they gave a "GO FOR IT" signal to the truck driver, he gunned the engine and the truck leaped forward. The barn shifted a little but didn't collapse. After several efforts and changed tying positions, it finally collapsed into pieces. We all felt so victorious that we hugged each other with joy.<br />
That day was awesome. Everybody thanked me for joining them. Later that night I updated my journal and made when i recapped the entire event in my mind I felt a smile on my face- A Wide One. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwpYCEYBjdeMOlrWkdcJF_xxWG3iR6GLygg1i-M9PZF3Sey5NsjRFNtA8SRXYTBHk7iyPyGiR9xLHCANfUsWg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is how we knocked it down :D</div><img height="211" src="http://api.ning.com/files/JtFiF7-2GPJ7TYOPiawVoJa592wA8KlpU4eDGi7kpgadEe9QYoOX*sBRdDyRvEjctNaJKnZu*0*a00hd4JnBO6F-CjTaOEyD/307849_2474660708403_1309000317_32884259_2021259408_n.jpg?width=750" width="320" /> <br />
Me and Anna having lunch :)<br />
<br />
<img height="211" src="http://api.ning.com/files/l*6p3cLOK9b9djLW*OdzNAsR8oGYff9zJaZA*PdZ0465RVBVqEQlKuURjptt7t0lWWvvl0BmDZiIlTu3I**uFkTBcxdDbYXK/314581_2474618867357_1309000317_32884211_106784621_n.jpg?width=750" style="background-color: transparent;" width="320" /><br />
Me and my awesome volunteering group :)<br />
<img height="211" src="http://api.ning.com/files/rqpq8gY8ui2vZjRbzAArlsPOOqaa66XCTkum69nTp6pLOwF08Jh856tsEaEKvhRiuoFY9IPcT8tLJFh4n0WB13vJsi7r9HN4/296390_2474626547549_1309000317_32884215_1746706725_n.jpg?width=750" width="320" /> <br />
Jumping high ;)<br />
</div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-56254134839250159422011-10-07T17:36:00.000-07:002011-10-07T17:36:30.520-07:00Mood swings!!!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">I sometimes imagine," what it would be like if the world stops? Of course here I don’t mean the usual, boring rotation and revolution of our planet but I’m trying to point my finger towards the way people are.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">My dear reader. Let me be a little explicit. I'm talking about our changing temper. Why do we feel as if we are on the seventh sky in a moment and feel buried deep inside a hole in the other instant? Why do we have mood swings? Why can’t we feel the same euphoria every day while we wake up? Why a single cup of cool coffee spoils our day? What is it like to wake up on the opposite side of the bed?</span></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><a href="http://www.clipartguide.com/_named_clipart_images/0511-0811-0415-3734_Cartoon_of_a_Red_Faced_Angry_Man_clipart_image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="http://www.clipartguide.com/_named_clipart_images/0511-0811-0415-3734_Cartoon_of_a_Red_Faced_Angry_Man_clipart_image.jpg" width="200" /></a> </div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">I was letting my mind wander when I started spacing out. It was as if the time, space, frame and reference that was once my ambiance changed.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRtA8I21ABI470Joq0s1vXPqHiH9ErHQSbz40df-lT_MZfB19xkPA" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRtA8I21ABI470Joq0s1vXPqHiH9ErHQSbz40df-lT_MZfB19xkPA" width="200" /></a>I saw a world where humans were fixed with a kind of smooth mood that they carried with them every day. Imagine! I found myself in a market where the ladies, men and children were born peaceful. In that world nobody got angry, nobody quarreled, nobody did such a thing as yell and nobody threw tantrums at their relatives! Things must be pretty good and happily ever after right? Well then if that is what you think then let me tell you my opinion. Maybe the UNO would hate me after I say this, but I think without these storms in petty teacups life would get boring and feel like a formality.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><a href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS886bDpUiLgHadZNfu91RR5tx5R8jFhT9QGjuxquUmN-P2sM6LLg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS886bDpUiLgHadZNfu91RR5tx5R8jFhT9QGjuxquUmN-P2sM6LLg" width="200" /></a>Mood swings are the spice of life. What would be women like with no ups and downs in their moods? They’ll be nothing but like those silent Barbie dolls that are defenseless and monotonous! What would be men like if they won’t get angry at women? If they won’t face challenges and remain the same cool tempered peaceful doves? People where is the color?! What would be children like if they fix a pasty smile on their face and let others harass them by pinching their cheeks with extra ordinary force?</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">I don’t think I would like to live in such a world! Change is nature. So people learn to appreciate your short tempered friends and relatives. Maybe you'd like to make a friend who remains happy all the time but believe me! a time would come when they wont be your first choice! You would feel as if you are friends with a carpet who remains laid no matter how you behave!</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQQnK_wbCw1OEodeGem5ywCvZu4iFkHoD5K-tF7hnV8weDhkr_OgQ" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQQnK_wbCw1OEodeGem5ywCvZu4iFkHoD5K-tF7hnV8weDhkr_OgQ" width="200" /></a> </div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
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</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">So give it a thought and enjoy life :)</div></div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1834792326512187197.post-75893642356001321882011-09-30T21:39:00.000-07:002011-09-30T21:39:35.173-07:00OK! You need to know who I am! ;)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="http://www.yesgrantprogram.org/images/layout/yes-logo.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.yesgrantprogram.org/images/layout/yes-logo.gif" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">Asssalamu Alikum!!!!!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">My name is Afshan Hussain, and I am from Karachi, Pakistan. I feel very proud to announce that I am a YES-9 candidate and I'm currently in Bloomington, IN, USA.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;">Things were pretty slow and boring until the knock on my dead doorpost made me come back to life! The IEARN letter said 'CONGRATULATIONS!!!' and from that day onward I had a paradigm shift about the series of events that now take place in my days! </span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://openparachute.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/paradigm-shift-cartoon.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="http://openparachute.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/paradigm-shift-cartoon.gif" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">As a matter of fact I am a person who never follows the bee line. I am always open for new challenges and out of everything I love playing video games , brainteasers and researching on different biology related topics. I want to clarify that I don't plan to be a doctor in the future since I lack the ability to tolerate the smell of the medicines that make my head swim. I want to be a scientist and serve my country with my inventions and researches. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sciencegeekgirl.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/641px-mad_scientist_transparent_backgroundsvg.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="http://sciencegeekgirl.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/641px-mad_scientist_transparent_backgroundsvg.png" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">I like playing volley ball and badminton but I must mention that I was not born with a BEST ATHLETE IN THE WORLD badge with me. So I am not very good at sports but I highly appreciate all the athletes on this planet!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">School was the only part that kept me alive ....sometimes by giving me the best memories ever and sometimes by poisoning me with extra burden of long hour full-days and piles of homework. Ah! well now its all over since I've matriculated already but i'll miss my friends, my teachers and my time that I spent in school in Pakistan since I truly believe that we should never regret a time that brought a smile on our face!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">I would put a blank in front of my favorite food option since my likes keep on changing with my mood. However I do prefer vegetables over meat dishes. I love Shakira, Enrique, Selena and Keisha. I like songs that promote youth related issues. </span><br />
<a href="http://www.professional-secretarial-services.com/images/long-letter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.professional-secretarial-services.com/images/long-letter.jpg" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;">Moving a little indoors.....you'll find my family which consists of 7 eccentric minds. My lovely parents, my 3 jovial and sensible sisters and my intelligent younger brother. I am the second child of my parents. I MUST NOT FORGET TO MENTION THAT my family played the most important role in many of my achievements in life by motivating me with full energy! </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">Thats all folks. I've finally succeeded in writing a lengthy self introductory passage. I would love to share my experiences in the US with you all. EXCHANGE STUDENTS ROCK :D </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">best regards, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">AFSHAN HUSSAIN</span></div>Asantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12070075515691744439noreply@blogger.com1