Aphorism: a short, clever saying expressing a general truth.
I was reading Kartography. I think if I emotionally distance myself from it, I'll be able to read it through. After all, I don't really consider me a Pakistani, now do I? And I am quite obviously not from the upper-class. Those kids were definitely studying in Grammar School.
I have just woken up and I immediately started thinking about Kampala. I can safely say that that was the best time of my life. The time I was genuinely happy. And it's thanks to the city itself, to my granddad, to the weather. To my school. To the culture there.
There was no fucking drama there. There was just school and French and thinking that Sophie's cousin Toby was actually the fella from Neighbours - Christ. I had a crush on Alex - he was from Australia. Can't remember his accent, though. I wonder how was it that Colin was at our school, because he was Ugandan himself. His dad must have been an autocrat. But, as far as I can tell, he didn't have the accent. You know, the accent that tells you he is from Aafreeka.
Oh, and continuing the tirade about how my cousins know exactly what they want to do with their lives. Jamil. I've not met him since we were kids, but my Mum did last year and said that he's almost done with his Optometry degree and wants to go back to Kampala. But then again, Hassan already has the Optician business running. But I am damned sure that Jamil wasn't forced into it, the same way Zehra wasn't forced into Orthodontistry. It just doesn't work out that way with my grandfather's side of the family. They are, how shall we say it, liberated?
It would be really cool to actually get down to making up that 'family tree'. More like a shrub, because I'm only interested in my mum's and my own generation. All of my grandfather's siblings went into the family business. God, they were saiths, eh? Flying first class and all that jazz.
Listening to Ricky Martin's La Bomba. I think his Spanish stuff is much better than the flipping over-produced English rubbish he was forced to produce. I'm going to look for more Celtic music, as well. The Irish flute, viola and the Scottish bagpipes. It's just so weird that I love this stuff. Oh, and I am going to start reading Yeats and re-read Wordsworth and Blake. If I can't make poetry or have a vision, at the very least I can read it from other visionaries.
Going back to Kampala. I mean, of course I was daft. I always am daft because I am always at least mentally and emotionally 5 years behind my chronological age. As they say, IQ is not everything. In fact, having a high EQ makes up 80% of the likelihood of success.
I just remembered that day I had to 'perform' in front of the school with my recorder. Shudder. I still can not believe I embarrassed myself like that. But, of course, what is worse is that I didn't really pay much attention to it. I was just focussed on getting the right notes (never mind the bloody obvious fact that I had hardly practiced at home because I was under the false impression that I was some sort of a prodigy and it would just turn out right when I did it). I started it off three or four times and got the note wrong each time. And, bloody gall I had, kept telling them 'Wait. Just wait.' I can't believe how stupid I am!
It's an utterly futile exercise, getting into 'what ifs' but I'm thinking that had I stayed there, I just might have developed another personality. Like ENFP. I would have loved to have been one of those. Or an ENFJ.
The Yahoo Music player found the song for me. The one we danced to onstage. It's called Sadeness by Enigma. It's French. I embarrassed myself there as well, eh. Kept pushing my headband on and off and it was bloody recorded! I wish my mum could have done something about my hair, it was frigging atrocious. It was the bane of my existence until I began hijab. But I never said anything to her, c'est le problème, hein. Too naive and wondering and quiet.
And now, when I do say what I want, or how I feel, or what I aspire to do, I am almost always misunderstood. All she says is, 'OK. I know you're going to do what you want anyway. You know what you're doing, you're an adult now.' It's like a fucking slap on the face, man. Like, she rang me this afternoon and said,
'Blah blah blah blah why don't you volunteer?'
I said, 'I haven't been for a month', because of course she forgot that I had started going to Oxfam.
Then she says that 'You should get a TV so at least you have something to occupy your time.'
Now, I didn't really want to tell her about the blessing that is Youtube (you know me and my precious privacy), so I just said, 'I don't need a TV' and she gave me the dialogue 'Well, fine. You are a grown-up so do what you want.'
She even told Sadiq when I broke off the 'engagement' that 'Sukaina has always had a mind of her own. You are a good boy, you do what your parents tell you to do.' I know this because she told me herself.
Having one's own mind is a shameful thing.
So Ms. Tushabe was actually quite a talented teacher. And Ms. Walebyeki. She was so sweet, first visiting us before we left and then giving me that puzzle thingy. It really sucked that I wasn't home that day.
I was reading Kartography. I think if I emotionally distance myself from it, I'll be able to read it through. After all, I don't really consider me a Pakistani, now do I? And I am quite obviously not from the upper-class. Those kids were definitely studying in Grammar School.
I have just woken up and I immediately started thinking about Kampala. I can safely say that that was the best time of my life. The time I was genuinely happy. And it's thanks to the city itself, to my granddad, to the weather. To my school. To the culture there.
There was no fucking drama there. There was just school and French and thinking that Sophie's cousin Toby was actually the fella from Neighbours - Christ. I had a crush on Alex - he was from Australia. Can't remember his accent, though. I wonder how was it that Colin was at our school, because he was Ugandan himself. His dad must have been an autocrat. But, as far as I can tell, he didn't have the accent. You know, the accent that tells you he is from Aafreeka.
Oh, and continuing the tirade about how my cousins know exactly what they want to do with their lives. Jamil. I've not met him since we were kids, but my Mum did last year and said that he's almost done with his Optometry degree and wants to go back to Kampala. But then again, Hassan already has the Optician business running. But I am damned sure that Jamil wasn't forced into it, the same way Zehra wasn't forced into Orthodontistry. It just doesn't work out that way with my grandfather's side of the family. They are, how shall we say it, liberated?
It would be really cool to actually get down to making up that 'family tree'. More like a shrub, because I'm only interested in my mum's and my own generation. All of my grandfather's siblings went into the family business. God, they were saiths, eh? Flying first class and all that jazz.
Listening to Ricky Martin's La Bomba. I think his Spanish stuff is much better than the flipping over-produced English rubbish he was forced to produce. I'm going to look for more Celtic music, as well. The Irish flute, viola and the Scottish bagpipes. It's just so weird that I love this stuff. Oh, and I am going to start reading Yeats and re-read Wordsworth and Blake. If I can't make poetry or have a vision, at the very least I can read it from other visionaries.
Going back to Kampala. I mean, of course I was daft. I always am daft because I am always at least mentally and emotionally 5 years behind my chronological age. As they say, IQ is not everything. In fact, having a high EQ makes up 80% of the likelihood of success.
I just remembered that day I had to 'perform' in front of the school with my recorder. Shudder. I still can not believe I embarrassed myself like that. But, of course, what is worse is that I didn't really pay much attention to it. I was just focussed on getting the right notes (never mind the bloody obvious fact that I had hardly practiced at home because I was under the false impression that I was some sort of a prodigy and it would just turn out right when I did it). I started it off three or four times and got the note wrong each time. And, bloody gall I had, kept telling them 'Wait. Just wait.' I can't believe how stupid I am!
It's an utterly futile exercise, getting into 'what ifs' but I'm thinking that had I stayed there, I just might have developed another personality. Like ENFP. I would have loved to have been one of those. Or an ENFJ.
The Yahoo Music player found the song for me. The one we danced to onstage. It's called Sadeness by Enigma. It's French. I embarrassed myself there as well, eh. Kept pushing my headband on and off and it was bloody recorded! I wish my mum could have done something about my hair, it was frigging atrocious. It was the bane of my existence until I began hijab. But I never said anything to her, c'est le problème, hein. Too naive and wondering and quiet.
And now, when I do say what I want, or how I feel, or what I aspire to do, I am almost always misunderstood. All she says is, 'OK. I know you're going to do what you want anyway. You know what you're doing, you're an adult now.' It's like a fucking slap on the face, man. Like, she rang me this afternoon and said,
'Blah blah blah blah why don't you volunteer?'
I said, 'I haven't been for a month', because of course she forgot that I had started going to Oxfam.
Then she says that 'You should get a TV so at least you have something to occupy your time.'
Now, I didn't really want to tell her about the blessing that is Youtube (you know me and my precious privacy), so I just said, 'I don't need a TV' and she gave me the dialogue 'Well, fine. You are a grown-up so do what you want.'
She even told Sadiq when I broke off the 'engagement' that 'Sukaina has always had a mind of her own. You are a good boy, you do what your parents tell you to do.' I know this because she told me herself.
Having one's own mind is a shameful thing.
So Ms. Tushabe was actually quite a talented teacher. And Ms. Walebyeki. She was so sweet, first visiting us before we left and then giving me that puzzle thingy. It really sucked that I wasn't home that day.
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