elevate

Great weekend. *sigh* I’m still happily re-loving U2. Life is good that way. So what if I spent the weekend breaking non-stop sneezing records and chasing little lizard babies and taking hourly showers? Big deal.

But seriously, this heat..it’s breeding those lizards – they’re everywhere! My house has great windows. When we were building the house, we were super eager to have big big windows, “We’ll have so much fresh air!” mother said excitedly. Let me tell you how those great big windows translate into the Karachi reality - my windows are sealed. When I was still living in la-la land where windows were great for ‘fresh air’ I discovered they were also great for the following:
- lizards
- flying cockroaches
- rain water
- and most importantly, a healthy dealing of dust

Ni-iiice. So yeah, the windows are sealed. Their only purpose, now, is the light. So yeah, we have great light in the house. When the sun decides to roast us at 42°C – the windows absorb all that loving heat and the airconditioner kills itself trying to neutralize that. Wonderful. Great weekend indeed. Of course, the neutralization attempt was only being made in the hours that we actually had electricity. Ah, wonderful wonderful weekend.

I’m not complaining! I am merely stating. I am also smiling as I state. I was recently told I’m ‘constantly complaining’ and have a ‘miserable existence’ and shites, I realized, the ass who said that was right! Dammit. That sucks. So yeah, notice, I’m smiling. I’m not fretting too much about sharing my house with a football team of baby lizards..no no..it’s hot out..they’re just dropping in to cool down right? Right.

It was a sad weekend actually. I wept a little when Nadal destroyed Federer in the French Open final. The beast ripped Federer to little little pieces! It was painful to watch. I kept hugging the cushion each time Nadal whipped this crazy-ass return and poor Federer would skid around missing each shot. Idiot Federer. Can someone tell him he needs to retire please? You cannot lose 0-6 in the final set of the final match at the French Open! You can’t live with that! And to NADAL? *screaming* NADAL?? The beast! That’s just horrible. After that mutilation sequence, I switched to watch some Euro 2008. Austria vs. Croatia eventually came on. Yeah, not very exciting. There’s no England this time of course. That sucks of course. But I’ll still dig out the Union Jack t-shirt for some random matches. *shrug*

Today while driving to work, I noticed that more roads had been dug up. Have these people gone mad? Surely they’ve gone mad. I mean, can they leave just one road untouched? I’m sick of changing my route just so I can drive on a road that’s not wrecked by the frenzy of rain drain creation. I don’t think there are any left other than the one outside my house. I’m dreading the day when they discover that, ’Ooops, lookie here! A road we haven’t dug up!’ and they’ll happily come trudging and dig away. Ah. Lovely. (I’m still smiling.)

Also, not whining or anything, but why do men find it so difficult to grow up? Seriously! I mean, you’re frikkin 30 and yet you’ll act like you’re still in high school. There’s this idiot I used to know and while we’ve both comfortably settled into the “do I know you?” state, he does this seriously juvenile thing of giggling when our paths cross. GIGGLING. That’s not okay for a guy even if he’s 15! Smirk, fine. Grin, fine. Leer even! But GIGGLING?? Dear Gawd. And then it’s not just him but he has, it seems, an idiot twin who does the same thing. There they are, two suited idiots, GIGGLING. Last week when he did that I wanted to swat him. You know, do the whole I’m-just-killing-a-fly routine (which yeah yeah, I’m super good at) but then I figured that’d be a little high school too – so I just walked by. But I’m not so sure I’ll have much good sense if he does that again.

Then there’s the kind that just won’t make a move. I mean, come on, who are we kidding here? How difficult is it to ask a woman out?? At the most, she’ll say ‘No’? Then? World will not end. The Universe will not crumble. All that will happen is – nothing! NOTHING! Just ask her out for crying out loud and get it over with! See, as women, we over-think, we over-analyze and we waste our time trying to figure out what ‘he’s thinking’ when at the back of our minds – we know he isn’t thinking jack. He’s watching the game on tv or sleeping or eating or sleeping or checking out some gadget or sleeping. We know that. We know he’s not thinking about the ‘game’ we think he could be playing – yet we keep thinking about the game that he’s (not) playing. It’s the female genes – they're cursed to think too much.

But seriously life is too short for you to stand around, twiddle your thumbs, tell a woman that dinner is better than coffee and then frikkin vanish. FOOL.

There. My ‘miserable existence’ routine has happened. But really, I’m laughing now. Not feeling miserable at all. It’s kind of funny how, if you choose, you can laugh at every goddamned screwy thing in your life. Denial is a great thing.

I’m super hysterical in fact. Denial is a wonderful thing.

Laa-dee-daa.

Tis also called Elevation I believe. It rules.

”High, higher than the sun
You shoot me from a gun
I need you to elevate me here
At the corner of your lips
As the orbit of your hips
Eclipse
You elevate my soul.

I've got no self control
Been living like a mole now
Going down, excavation
I and I in the sky
You make me feel like I can fly
So high
Elevation.”

09/06/08; 11:09am