"This Blog Has Moved!"

So you enjoyed my writing, did you? Well, I've decided to take my business elsewhere (where else?). Feel free to drop me a line, and I will respond with the new blog address. Alternatively, you could probably find it in two minutes if you try to google me/my blog. See ya on the other side!

Peace out, Blogger! (and Spammers!)

Mmm Hmm, That's Right!

There are some people who are cool, and some people who pretend to be. And not to say the “Real McCoys” are really as cool as they believe they are, but it’s much more loser-ly to pretend you’re cool, than to think you’re cool and not really be. I pity the latter more.

Of course, I… am the epitome of coolness.

I breathe, therefore, I am.

On The Road (from LA to SF)

Lele:
Umm… Babe… Let’s switch off at the next exit.

Me:
Why? Are you starting to get scared of my driving now?

Lele:
No. I started to a while ago.

Me:
What? Why? See? I’m so calm. I’m even laughing, still.

Lele:
(Gripping his seat, tightly) I wish I could say the same.

On The Other Hand

Why isn't my diet working?

Bah!

Tired of it. So so so so so so so sooooooooooo tired of it.

Oh Shit!

So, randomly, oh so randomly, I decided to google myself today. I do this every so often, but OH MY GOD. Boy am I glad I did, today. Last Halloween, Lele and I ended up on the front page of the SF Weekly blog and smart ol’ me, I wrote a comment on that page recently, requesting a copy of the photograph. And guess what? I signed it with my real name!!! So when I googled myself, the Halloween picture (which is soooo not appropriate!), was the third listing from the top (Friendster being the first, Facebook second). Aarrggghhh!!! And I know for a fact my dad googles me. So of course, I called SF Weekly, found the editorial assistant for the blog and had her delete my comment. I’m still waiting for it to update. But guess what I found out when I re-googled myself to check if it had been updated? The fourth listing is my Twitter page. Arrghhhh!

I hate you, internet!

Afreeka, Afrique!

This morning, we got our round-trip tickets to Casablanca. (Wow. It sounds cool just to say that!) I’m taking a month off work. This will be the first time in years that I’ll have had that much time off at once. At the same time, we’ll be so busy traveling that it will probably go by so fast!

Tentative itinerary: Head straight out of Casablanca to Rabat. Head to Tangier. Go wine tasting in Meknes. Fez. The Great dunes at Mirzouga. Marrakesh, Essaouira, Casablanca. Over all, spend about two weeks in Morocco. Fly to Dakar, Senegal. Spend a week on the beach, catch some live shows (perhaps even Orchestra Baobab). Take the train to Bamako, Mali. Go looking for Selif Keita and Tinariwen. Hopefully succeed. Fly to Timbuktu. Join a tour group to head out into the Sahara for the Festival in the Desert. Hopefully see Amadou and Mariam, Selif Keita, Tinariwen, Orchestra Baobab, tons of others. Bus/Drive back to Timbuktu. Fly to Casablanca. Spend a night or two. Fly to Madrid for a night. Be on our way back to San Francisco.

In between, will probably be lots of photography, making friends with locals, love, some nice hotels, some hostels, some camping, photography, some shopping for Moroccan rugs and tea glasses and lanterns and wine and just about anything else we can bring or ship back to the US, love, photography, photography, photography, bettering my Arabic skills, shopping, picking up bits and pieces of French, eating, photography, lying in sand dunes at night watching the stars, listening to awesome music, not wanting to return to the US, not wanting to return to work, not being able to wait to get back home asap, missing tofu, photography, making friends with other travelers, heat exhaustion, a fight or two with Chris, mad sex, photography, starvation, dehydration, camel rides, suntans, sunburns, forgetting things in hotels and not realizing until the next day or next week, awesome music, sand, sand, sand, love, photography, running out of places to charge my camera battery, eating yummy vegetarian tagine and couscous and hummus and olives, bad wine, good wine, being forced to drink funny-looking water, running out of toilet paper, having to pee in the sand, photography, debauchery in Madrid, hangovers, shopping for Spanish wine, running around trying to figure out ways to bring the wine back to the US, and coming back very tired, very dark, very gaunt, and very, very poor.

The trip of a lifetime!

When?

Soon!

I Do (And So Does Everyone Else)

Today is Pakistan’s Independence Day. It should be a happy day, but I’m in kind of a somber mood, because of everything that’s been going on with Pakistan lately; thinking about how things evolve, where we come from, where we think we’re going, the plans we make for our futures, and how those futures play out.

I’ve been focusing on a lot of things today, including one really strange one: As the day to my own wedding gets closer and I buy escort cards and plan centerpiece decorations, I can’t help but think about Megan McAllister. She was supposed to get married today. She could have been spending the last week or so running around, getting her dress fittings, and massages, and pedicures. She might have been planning seating charts and putting together favors. She could have been giddy about walking down the aisle, she could’ve been nervous about stumbling over her vows, or about him having cold feet at the altar.

Instead, she got the worst case scenario- one that no woman even thinks of: Her fiancé was not a lying, cheating, bastard, who ends up fucking a stripper at his bachelor party. He was a murderous psychopath who killed a woman, beat up another, and tried to rob a stripper. He collected women’s underwear under his- no, THEIR bed. He hid a gun in a decoy Grey’s Anatomy which she may never have thought to reference. He was a homophobe who tried to pick up gay men in restrooms (who knows what he planned to do with them) - all this, without any clue, any hint, NOTHING. In ways, it’s worse than having her fiancé back out at the last minute. It’s worse than him getting into an accident and dying the day of the wedding- or any other awful thing that can happen.

She planned for a future. She thought she was going somewhere.

I wish her peace of mind, the ability to move on, the capability to love again.

61 Days

That's number of days before you must call to make a reservations at the French Laundry (I couldn't get one!)

It’s also the number of days before my wedding.

Wow.

Photographic Memory

I recently came to a funny realization. I have now owned 5 cameras in my life, and only one of them I bought myself.

Camera 1: My dad bought me my very first camera (in Saudi Arabia), a point-and-shoot (Canon?) back in 6th or 7th grade after he and I got into an argument over something. I was misbehaving, I think, talking back to my mother or something.

Camera 2: My dad also bought me my second camera (in Boston), a Ricoh SLR, back in Sophomore year of college. This was after we got into a fight because he wanted me to change my major from Psychology to something in computers.

Camera 3: This was the one and only camera I bought for myself (my first week in San Francisco), a Nikon CoolPix digital camera. This was right around the time I was started to do a lot of things myself, like buying a laptop without discussing with my dad (the computer expert) and moving to San Francisco for grad school (when my parents were hell bent against it- I just kind of announced it to them one day that I was moving).

Camera 4: Chris bought me a red Canon Elph 14.1 megapixel digital camera for our first official Christmas together. Three months later, in Guatemala, I lost the cable that connected my camera to my laptop, to download the pictures (which isn't such a big deal, because I can still upload pictures; it's just a little more complicated).

Camera 5: A few weeks ago, Chris bought me a Nikon D90 digital SLR. I was planning to buy one in a couple of months, before our honeymoon in Africa, this December. Instead, he decided to surprise me and texted me at work one day to say he’d transferred $x,000 to our account and I should go get myself a nice digital SLR. It is now my favorite possession in the whole wide world!!!!!!! Yippee!!! (Makes me wanna forget all 'bout writing and become a poor, starving, full-time photographer!)

I'm sorry

So very sorry.

There are no words for this. And no words I use, will ever come out right. And no matter how many different ways I think of to say it, and no matter how many times I practice, nothing will sound right.

But I have to call, cause it's you. I want to call cause it's you. And I have to say it, to you.

I'll listen to you and we'll share stories and we'll cry a little...

And that's all that we can do.

It's nice to be missed...

Even if you don't know who's doing the missing.

I keep thinking my blog is one of those trees in the woods; when it falls no one hears. I didn't know it was still being read. So... thanks. And uh... I'll be back.

Burn, Burn, Burn!

It was a really nice, warm (HOT!) weekend. Friday, Chris and I spent the evening hanging out at Dolores Park with a bottle of wine and some beer. Saturday, I didn’t know what to do with myself because of the heat. Went shopping for some summer clothes, knowing full well that they would probably be worn three days max. But I was dying! That night, my friend Omer was visiting from Phoenix and celebrating his birthday “back home”- since he used to live in the Mission. Drinks and snacks at Parea, the wine bar, and then some dancing at Little Baobab. I didn’t stay long for the dancing since I still have stitches on my shoulder and Little Baobab can get thumping! ;o)

Sunday, we all went to Stern Grove. Now here’s where the decision was made: Chris and I are 90% sure we’re going to Burning Man this year. Wow. Finally, after 5 years here in SF, I’ve made up my mind to go. We’ve got enough wigs. Now we just need to get at least three more people and an RV. We’ve already half-recruited Sascha (sans wife). Yo Playa! Here we come!

"The Narcissist"

Hey there copycat! I just hope that poetry isn’t meant to be for me. I can’t think of one ex-boyfriend who would do that.

P.S.- Oh yeah, let me know if you need some pointers on your poetry.

Psycho Stalker

So I have a copycat blogger:
fleeting-muses.blogspot.com

And I know the guy...

Back to Normalcy

The Mothers are gone.
The Surgery is over.
Chris is back.
I want a drink.
Two.

"Going under the knife"

Did I mention my surgery is tomorrow?

Bye bye, Favorite Birth Mark.

The Mothers have descended!

Last Monday, my roommate Sabba's mother arrived from Ohio, for Sabba's cataract surgery. Friday, my mother arrived from Boston, for my surgery on Monday. There has been good food, chai galore, and lots of Urdu spoken around the house. We've hidden the booze, our miniskirts and "gypsy dresses", banished our boyfriends from our beds, tucked away their undershirts and boxers and socks. Out came the jahnamaaz (prayer rugs) and prayer books. The lotah (don't ask).

We took them for a tour of the city yesterday, and then had them make biryani and raita. I bought some gulab jamun (in a can) from the Indian store- where the owner swore it was some of the best ever. It was awful. Shannon made some Shannon's Fruit Surprise, which was surprisingly yummy- in fact, it was the best of all three desserts. We had sparkling pomegranate juice in our pretty new wine glasses from Ikea. And on top of all that, my mom met Chris for the first time. She approved.

She asked me a ton of questions about him before she met him, she sat and talked to him for a while after he arrived, and she's still giving me the third degree. She calls him what translates more or less into "a very sweet boy" or "good boy". I find it very amusing, but the point is she approves. This is the very first guy I have EVER introduced to her. This is a big deal. We even had brunch with him this morning. Later, she joked about feeling like the third wheel, between us... There's a lot of background stuff that's a bit complicated, but for now, she approves.

And while I just really want a drink and I can't wait to get into bed with Chris and laugh about anything and everything, for now, it is really nice to have my mom around. It's fun to sit around and reminisce about Pakistan and flip through pages of old albums. Plus Biryani and Karrhi trump cuddling. At least for a few days ;OP

A Different District

I have these bouts where I actually have girlfriends. Most of the times, though, it’s guys, the same old guys, the loyal, crazy, funny, lovely, horrible, my favorite- the boys. Somehow, ever since high school, I’ve just had guy friends. But anyway, that’s a whole different story (and district, perhaps) and a whole other pain for my poor boyfriend. He’s awesome though. And so patient about all my ex-boyfriends-turned-good/best-friends. We are currently in the process of finding me some girlfriends. (If you know of any….)

Anyway. So during my last round of escapades with "girlfriends" I had gone to District a few times. One of my favorite SF wine bars. Oh, I had flirted, lifted skirts, pouted my strawberry lips, tilted my glass of wine until I almost spilled (almost, but not quite)- you know, the usual. Anyway. I had ended up making out with a guy. Chris and I had just started seeing each other but we were so far from being in a relationship then that the thought was actually funny. I gave him my number, hoping he wouldn’t call, and he was kind enough to acquiesce to the request I never made.

This past Tuesday evening, back at another company-sponsored baseball game night (what’s up with that, anyway?), Chris and I were running behind schedule, as usual- well, rather, we were too busy with ourselves to be bothered with anyone else’s schedule. We stopped into the Irish Bank for a drink before heading to Pete’s Tavern where everyone had already left for the game, by the time we got there. I was having a glass of wine when a guy tried to pass by behind Chris, smiling and waving at me goofily. He looked familiar.

He was still watching me as he went down the aisle. I called out, "You look familiar, but I can’t place you!" He tried to mouth something, pointed somewhere in the air that seemed more like a point in the direction of a time rather than a place and suddenly-

"Oh my god!" I covered my mouth.

"What?" Chris asked.

"Oh, god!"

"What?"

Yes. It was the guy I had made out with at District.

And yes, I told Chris.

But it would have been fun to tell some girlfriends, too.