i don't think, as hard as we try, we can ever be grateful. i mean, honestly just be grateful for things that we long for and finally get. because when we get the things we long for we're too busy enjoying them to be grateful.
that package from mum's mate finally came; two seperate ones. it was a lovely surprise, even though i got a little scared when the doorbell went and the guy outside kept repeating, 'ejaz, ejaz, ejaz' when i asked who it was. i was trying to act like i wasn't that excited, because we're so unused to lovely things happening; i wasn't sure if being excited was allowed. i kept thinking that if i showed that i was happy, i'd get jinxed and something would counter-act it.
mum said she wanted to do something for my birthday this year, but i reckon it'll be as miserable as the past four. i won't even have asad this time, i should mail him. all i could say in reply was, 'i'll be legal!' which isn't as exciting as it was a few months ago.
i've been talking to umber lately; she called the other day. it was brilliant. i wouldn't stop talking to her, it was like we were standing outside our form room or in the library. i even realized that i've slipped back into my british accent. probably all the boosh we've been watching (if sir ahsan happens to find himself reading this, watch the mighty boosh, sir. it's excellent).
i cleaned out the store room on the roof with mum. i found my senior 1 english book;there were comments in there from sir ahsan. and it was so refreshing to see that i can actually write short stories and essays and letters. i'm not as complete a failure as i have been believing i am. and in one story there was something of a note from sir ahsan, it said, 'but where is the authentic british dialouge?' i've been having some trouble with psychology. tomorrow i'm going to sit down with the dictionary and look up all the words i don't understand, and hopefully get some past papers done. i keep thinking it's because of the supplies, like the way my handwriting completely depends on what type of pen i use, and how i get lazy if the notepad isn't right, which, i realize, is so dumb i can't even begin to justify it.
i reckon i spent all my time at city trying to fit in by not fitting in, and didn't leave any time for studying. or maybe i just spent the time i had left telling everyone i couldn't be as brilliant as they expected me to be. the only reason i was good in WRHS was because no-one expected anything of me. i don't look at umber's fb pictures because they make me sick. i start slipping back into the, 'if only we'd stayed a little longer.'
i listened to angel by massive attack, and i found the music to last of the mohicans. just that name reminds me of family; better times. the moment i put it on my mind played a slideshow of memories in hyderabad, sitting with both abu's and making them tell the elder cousins to let us join them.
i've been talking to umber lately; i try not to look at her pictures, school makes me nostalgic.
i was just watching St.Trinians, with Russell freaking Brand(GOD, if there ever is one). it's a fantastic movie, i saw that scene where Brand plays a german on youtube XD
i've been meaning to post this for the past 3 days, and somehow never get around to it.
Jane Eyre is a selfish little girl.

"it's just past 8 and i'm feeling young and reckless,
the ribbon on my wrist says do not open before christmas."