Weird New Year Resolutions-A Weird Competition

"Being "weird" by the norm of normal society is a work of art. Stay weird, wonderful souls." 

– Unknown

We’re all artists then, eh? 

The Blogging Society gives you the chance to reveal the weirdo in you. Feel free to tell  us the weirdest resolution for the year 2013, and if you’re weird enough, you may just be one of the lucky winners to receive a weird prize courtesy of the Blog. Oh, and let’s not forget, you will even be published on the blog with your resolution of weirdness.

Never has the word weird been used this many times in 4 lines. So here’s to weird December. :D

And a weirder 2013. :D

Send in your entries at pafianblog@gmail.com latest by 15th January 2013.

Get writing!
Happy Holidays.
And a very Happy New Year :)

Life and Times Of A Superhero (Part II)

.... continuation of Life and Times Of A Superhero (Part I)

Writer:
Khushhal Nadir Hadi

PhD in having the most likes on FB comments.
A2S2

Typer (Yes, the story was too long to be typed by a single person):

Abdul Sattar

Member of The Student Blog Team.

Recap: The much superhero-ish eleven year old was on his 'Grocery Adventure' as he encountered a tall towering shadow on his way back.

The bully looked down at me, and I saw the moon. Or so I thought, till I figured that the moon had less bumps and cracks. With beady eyes, a sausage of a nose (bright red by the way. I wondered why?) and an ugly, huge mouth. He sure wasn't in a hurry to win any beauty pageant very soon. Then he began to speak... and I roared out laughing!

“You ruin me clothes? You blind? Rat?” he squeaked in a shrill two year old girl’s voice, while I laughed so hard that I fell and started wallowing in the mess Einstein had “caused” on the foot path. I was writhing around so hard that I failed to notice The Bully’s hand clamped upon my shoulder until I started rising in the air.

“Ouch! That hurts, squeaky!” I chortled, still not aware of the “evil” I had roused. The Bully lifted me till we were eye to eye, my feet dangling about two feet off the ground.

My hands tremble while drawing his sinister-ness.
But I bet he was more horror-ific then this!

“You know what; I always wanted to see the world from up here. It looks so…fascinating.” I said, uncertainty creeping into my voice for the first time,” thank you for giving such an amazing opportunity. But I’m sort of a land animal, so could you…? I looked at his dinner plate of a hand clamped on my delicate shoulder and nodded meaningfully.

“Rat think he be funny? Where will you go now, ho?” sneered the bully revealing teeth which would have given a dentist nightmares for weeks (If he was lucky, that is). And giving me another whiff of that sour bean odour. Geez, talk about bad breath, I thought (It wasn’t his fault. No mouth freshener could cleanse that abyss.)

“Me thinks ratty needs a three-way lesson. For spoiling my clothes. For poking my nose. And for being funny. Me will give him good makeover, HEHE” he winked. And what a nasty wink that was. I was wholly and truly terrified by now.

“M...m...makeover? That sounds interesting, but I have really got to go. You could give me a business card or something? We’ll hook up then?” I stammered, still trying to project a fake bravado.Unfortunately, the Bully’s sausage (nose) picked up the scent of fear like a bloodhound. A huge and ugly blood hound. (The meanest bloodhound you could think off, times infinity)

“Hohoho!” he laughed, tilting his head back like…Mandark? But even Mandark isn’t that EVIL, I thought (He even cute, A definite prince ling. But then who doesn’t look one when your standard bars are set so low?). “That ‘nuff rat. Let us... co… com” he started raining dandruff (and what was that a beetle?)

“Come to a peaceful solution?” I suggested hopefully, “Comedy? Comfort each other? How about a hug and… OUCH!”

The Bully had apparently had enough. He squeezed my shoulder like a lemon and raised his other fist. What followed is best described as: “BANG! POW! BAM! OWW! AAAIEE! MUMMMYY!”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My mother opens the door on the third doorbell, prepared to launch into a tirade on how one press of the doorbell button is healthy and blah. One look at me and she freezes, her mouth drops open as she holds me.

"How do bou bike by new book" I ask, striking a pose and pouting my swollen lips.
“What... On... Earth?” stuttereded my mother, clearly flabbergasted.
“A bakeover. By dose is dow in right blace. Don’t bou agree?” I grin, showing two gaping holes in my mouth. The mere sight, jolts my mother into action as she fusses over me like all moms do, and takes me inside. Upon hearing the story, she actually scolds me for being a smarty pants.

A broken nose, two missing teeth, a black eye, a ripped shirt with holes that now read “NERD”, and a twisted handle-bar with three wheels; essentially the ingredients of The Bully’s makeover and the best part was that he did it for free too. You silly women, paying thousands for these make-overs, thought my eleven year old brain. Maybe I should have taken The Bully's business card, I see the potential in him for greatness!

I shall remain the sarcastic and witty self that I am.

Nevertheless, I now see why The Bully did what he did. Oh, boy was I an annoying little git! But, dear diary, give me another chance, and I would probably do my best at getting another brutal “makeover.” If that’s the price for being sarcastic and optimistic, so be it. And don’t try going to the blue-neighbor-with-a-red-sky, or whatever it was, it will be as waste of time. The Bully only serves the warriors of true irony!

-Your Supreme Owner,

Khushhal

P.S. Yes, I knew a lot of “stuff” when I was eleven, and it was probably the time when I started developing a sense of humor (of sorts)

P.P.S. This story is PURELY fictional. I have NEVER been beaten up in real life!

Just to make things clearer :D

Note: All the doodle images are yet another attempt at comics of Lubaina Ehsan. :p

Forever Alone... Not Any More

Usman Khan 

A2S5

If you're in a situation where you only have a couple of friends, if any, and those friends mostly bore you, ignore you or make fun of you, if you rarely have meaningful interactions with others and you spend most of your free time alone, then you need not only to enhance your social life, but to fix.

Because it is broken. And this is likely affecting your emotional state, your overall life satisfaction, and your productivity.

Fortunately, no matter how damaged your social life is, you can always repair it. Here's how:

1. Get Some Hobbies

One of the best ways I know to meet new people is by taking on various hobbies that put you around people or involve social interaction. And meeting new people is a prerequisite for fixing your social life.

2. Be Social

By putting yourself in environments where there are other people, you're making the first crucial step. But it's not sufficient.

You want to also take the initiative, introduce yourself to others and chat with them. Standing by yourself in a corner and waiting for others will usually not do it. It's important to be social yourself.

If you're somewhat hesitant to talk to strangers, bear in mind they're probably as eager to meet new people as you are. I can tell you from experience that, especially in the context of a class or a party or an event, most people are quite friendly and open to being approached.

3. Make New Interactions Happen

With some people you will connect more than with others. It is with these people you connect with the best that I encourage you to keep in touch.

You can rely on just meeting over and over again by having the same hobby, but what if one of you eventually quits it? It's just not a good option.

A much better idea is to exchange contact details with the people you get along well with, and then get in touch with them and generate future interactions.

For example, give them a phone call and ask them to meet you for a Drink or a coffee or ice cream or something. That's the most straightforward way to build a relationship.

4. Be Genuine

If when you interact with others, you put on a façade in order to please them, they will usually realize this, sooner or later.

And while they may appreciate the fact you want to please them that much, they will also see you as fake and untrustworthy, which makes it hard for your relationship to develop. A strong relationship requires trust. This is why being genuine is a must for fixing your social life.

Simple words are better words.

*Drum roll*

Meet our Fourth Guest Writer, Mw Waqas, from DHA Suffa University, folks!

The Student Blog met him at ROTMUN 2012, he was there as an ACD of SPECPOL and soon agreed to write for the blog. This guest writer is not only an active MUN-er and a Public Speaker but also the President of Seminar and Exhibition Society and the Vice President of Entertainment and Events Society at his university. Talk about a busy bee!

Even then, Waqas took out and spun an excellent write-up filled with humor and an important lesson that we'd all agree to agree with.


One lazy Sunday afternoon as I was passing time watching YouTube videos, I stumbled upon a
video called “World championship of public speaking 2012” an event organized by Toastmasters
International (the leading organization in public speaking and leadership development). As I watched
what were probably some of the best speeches I have heard in my life, I noticed one thing common
in them, all of the speeches had almost NO fancy or high end words used them, they were all very
simply phrased that even a 4th grader could easily understand them. I already knew the reason why
the speakers had chosen such simple vocabulary, and as I thought a little more about this issue, it
became clear to me … that Simple words are BETTER words.

Imagine if in the movie Dark Knight the joker had said “Why severely austere?” instead of saying
his famous dialogue “why so serious?” Would it had made the same impression and captivated
the audience in the same way? Or imagine if the lyrics of Carly Rae jepsen’s hit single went like
this “imaginably divulge with me” instead of being “call me maybe” would it still be smashing hit song
of the year? And would you be singing it? Probably NOT.

The fact is that simple words leave a more lasting impression and make a deeper impact on ALL of us,
be it an average joe person or a highly intellectual son of an Einstein. And the reason for this is not
our vocabulary skills but actually our human psychology.

A human brain has the tendency to respond, remember and process those things faster which it is
more familiar with (I.e which are repeated more often) that is why if you play a game again and again
you become an expert in it and that is why you are able to remember a stranger’s name clearly if they
have a common name like Anam or Amir etc. Similarly simple words that we frequently use in our
daily lives are easily processed and understood by the brain and create a lasting impression.

To make an impression or to make a point … that is the question

Here is the dilemma that we must face while making our choice of words, yes it is true that using long
and fancy words make us look smarter and more intellectual but as discussed above but they will be
understood less making what you are saying not as clear. So you have to make a choice whether you
want to make an impression on the audience or get your point across.

Thus we can say that level of understanding of the audience is inversely proportional to the level of Vocabulary used.

However there is a time and place for using fancy, high vocabulary words, such as when you are
writing an essay, attempting your English exam or writing a formal report these are the situations
that require you to show off your intellect and the level of vocabulary that you posses.

But when you are writing an article, composing a song, making a speech or just arguing with your
friends In short ANY communication activity in which your objective is to make yourself be heard and
to get your point across always remember Simple words are BETTER words.

Left Unfinished

Ayesha Zubairi
Vice President
Blogging Society

Dear unfinished book,

It's been long since I last held you. I thought I'd get through with you. I thought, for once, I had grown up to be responsible enough. I thought I had learned to be better. I thought I'd get through with you.

I'm writing you this letter to let you know I have not forgotten the melancholy and adrenalin we shared.  I have not forgotten my obsession either. Neither have I forgotten the tear drops I left you with and how you still marks of those tears. Nor the smiles we exchanged. I don't expect you to know the feeling of leaving something behind unfinished. I don't think I can explain that feeling. I don't think you'll understand.

You should know, just last week, I decided to make friends with poetry. And then I sat there for an hour trying to write a poem, all I could come up with on my notebook were lines and swirls.

You should also know when I say I'm busy, doesn't mean I'm trying to get rid of you. It just means I'm busy. I don't even have enough time to shower twice a day anymore. There's so much going on. Monotony is life now. But I'm writing you this letter anyway. Because you need to know I have not forgotten you, and I never will. And someday, I promise, someday, I will come back.

Dear unfinished book. This letter is left unfinished in your honour.

Love,
A.

Waiting

A story of love, sacrifice, and regrets.

This was written by our very own Lubaina Ehsan for Blogging From A to Z April Challenge. 
"It's about something that typically happens in Pakistan as the youngsters shift to the cities or go abroad to pursue higher education, leaving their parents behing." 

The mud-bricked homes set as close as Lego pieces, illuminated by the full moon, it was a quiet tribe in interior Sindh, known for its date supplies to the city of Karachi. A short owl hoot could be heard in the stillness of the night, a sudden chirp of the crickets breaking through the quiet that engulfed the area, one could see stray dogs roaming in the fields surrounding the living quarters as everybody slept soundlessly. At that moment, it did not matter to him what place or time it was, he did not notice the fireflies in the bush next to him where he stood, all that mattered to him was the money he was clutching tightly in his fists. His earning for the month after working at the tribal elder’s home as a cook, this money was the concluding piece to the mighty tower of sending his son to the city for his studies.

His son was the only one he could call is own, his sole support. He lost his wife and two daughters in the flood that hit their tribe’s village two years ago in the year 2010. Now, his son was old enough to fend for himself in the city of Karachi and pay his tuitions for pursuing his Bachelors from a renowned University in Karachi. He was glad that they had a college and school near by where his son had completed his intermediate education and he had to part with him not sooner than the coming week. Now, he had the money to pay for the fares of his son’s travel and his initial accommodation and semester fee. The thought of seeing the light of his eyes all settled comfortably in Karachi and calling in his father who has always wanted to experience city life made the man smile as he pulled aside the curtains to his entrance and stepped in. His son will soon hear the good news.

“I’ll let you know the specifics for the seminar by tomorrow, only the timings have to be sorted out”, I answer my assistant over the phone as I speed towards my bungalow situated in a comfortable town of Karachi. As I park the car in the porch I can see Hassan, my two-year old son, peeking out the window. It’s his birthday today and he knows that his dad will come home with presents. I pull out the wrapped boxes from the trunk of the car and enter my home. “Daddy!” cries Hassan as he jumps at the sight of all the gifts. A suddenly nostalgia grips me; Hassan’s happiness reflects my joy as father had entered home with the money to send me to Karachi eleven years ago and I probably have the same special smile that father had that night. His smiles were mainly lost after mother, Aliya and Aisha passed away. He must be really alone these days. I make a mental note to plan a visit to the village pretty soon, I take out my cell phone to call father but just then my wife calls me in the kitchen to finalize the guest list for Hassan’s birthday party. Call to father can wait.

It has been eleven years now, he lays on his bed which is creaking even beneath his light weight staring blankly at the only frame on the wall which has his family’s picture. He pulls up his blanket as a chilly wind blows in the room, he has to get up and make tea to soothe his shivering self but he feels devoid of all energy. Due to his old age he can’t work at the fields anymore, he still works as a cook; a job he had taken up years ago to get the financial backup for getting Ali settled in the city. He knows Ali will visit one day and call him to stay at Karachi, it’s just that his son is caught up with all the work these days. The bulb in the room throws dark shadows across the walls, light falls on the telephone at his bedside just as it rings, he picks up the phone from the cradle with shivering hands and recognizes the voice on the other end. “Abbu* jaan, it’s me Ali” tears roll down the old man’s cheeks, he is listening to Ali’s voice after three months now. “Abbu are you there? I’ll be visiting you tomorrow with my wife and little Hassan. Hassan wants to meet his grandfather” the old man smiles. He has found bliss.

I have cancelled my meetings in the coming week, I need to visit my tribe’s village that I took to going only once in the past eleven years. I just got a call from our tribal elder, it was sad news. It’s funny how one realizes the importance of something only when one has lost it. I lost my father last night. Yes, I lost the man who had brought me up and made sure I was living a good life while he had to face the hardships of an elderly life without the support of his family at the village. He died with a blanket in the hot night of June. He was down with pneumonia since a week now, the medicines given to him by the tribal elder remained sealed in his cupboard. He had the phone’s receiver in his hand as he passed away, even though I was told that the phone lines of the village were dead since the past two weeks. I wish I had called him to live with me in the city. I wish.

Euthanasia, A Valid Option?

Aamna A. Rajput

A1C1

When is it okay to appeal for Euthanasia? Well anytime but when you are alive!

Euthanasia, what is it? A fancy word for an attempt at suicide because you are too chicken to face what life throws at you! I may be going berserk with my critical viewpoint-but that’s how I see it, for me euthanasia is NEVER an option and I don’t recognize it!

The topic at hand questions us that whether a person, agonized in pain, is worthy of demanding death? And if yes then who can object to his appeal? Now to answer these we must ponder o the rights that every human holds. We are very well aware, that a person’s sovereignty and his right to survive, dominates all, this clearly shows that life is a blessing and putting an end to it, intentionally, is violating human rights!

And now let’s talk about suicide. Considered forbidden in most parts of the world and strongly discouraged by every institution; suicide is a coward’s paradise, for it’s not a solution to his problems but an escape from them. And thus it is never a valid option-not in a perfectly healthy state, not on your dead bed!

But why do I so strongly condemn euthanasia? It’s because people in pain fail to realize God’s plan for them. They are blinded by their misery and do not see that although being on their dead bed they breathe because their goal in life is not yet achieved! This means God wants you to live. Because, trust me, if He wishes to end your life, He has better options than mercy killing!

And then I argue on the planet that pain is not enough! It is very bizarre of me to make such an accusation without having to experience such misery myself-but I believe in the Quran, and in it God, Himself, clearly states, ‘We do not burden you with, which you can’t bear… ’ #ChapterBaqarah, this means that yes the pain might be so very great and agonizing but is still not ‘insufferable’ or else God would have lifted it.

Moreover, a person must not be allowed to make such a decision because he is not in the rightful state of his mind. You see, human body is very charismatic. It coordinates with your mind when the conscious and sub conscious minds work in harmony and send unified signals. Now when a person in pain demands death, it is his conscious mind speaking because he wants immediate freedom from the suffering. But then why does his body do not respond to the appeal? If the mind wants the heart to stop beating why does it do otherwise?  It is because, somewhere back in the sub conscious mind the body hopes to survive and live on and thus it refuses to die out on its own! Thus if the mind demands a shut out but the body doesn’t, euthanasia is out of the question!

But people argue, when is it okay to give on hope?-well, NEVER! ‘We have nothing, if not belief’-Reepicheep (The chronicles of Narnia-VDT). Yes, the world lives on hope and if we do not believe that tomorrow would bring sunshine, well I suppose then we should all assemble and jump off a cliff for life ceases to exist when hope does!

Moving on, you can’t really measure pain, can you? Lets say you allow a cancer patient apply for euthanasia because his pain is too much for him and in return a woman in labor demands the same right because her pain is no less! See, we can not allow people the right at mercy killing or we might face a suicidal apocalypse! We don’t want that now do we?
So basically, lets just all leave the matters of life and death in the hands of nature, and not try to play God because He knows what’s better for us than we ever could!

'These little medical instruments are all it takes to end one's life'

'An example of why people practice euthanasia'

'An opinion held by many'