Last week we won the National Arts Spectrum at my school. We had to compete against 11 other teams. In this one I acted as the poor guy who’s robbed everyday. Enjoy!
Recently I bought a new phone; Sony Ericsson Walkman Live. Owning an Android device with a decent 5MP Camera, I just had to start using the $1 billion app Instagram. I’ll have to say, it’s a pretty cheap and easy way of faking professional photography. Take a look for yourself.
Click on individual photos if size matters to you.
(No offense intended to all the real photographers out there.)
The first and foremost thing I am going to do right after my last exam (June 14th) is take a vow to blog every single day. As of now I wouldn’t even rate my writing as an Average. It is pathetic. Over the last few years I’ve grown this certain kind of addiction to reading other’s blogs. I have observed how my own very good friends grown into such remarkable writers. Their blogs are famous globally as of now but a few years back I was one of the few people contributing to their monthly blog views. So it is decided. Project Blog Every Day will start this summer. No matter what, I will write everyday!
One of the major events this summer would be going to a Summer School somewhere around the world. For those of you unfamiliar with summer school, I should familiarize you that it is about a month’s program that universities in Europe and America offer to high school students around the world so that they can experience university life beforehand. This year I got in at New York University Summer School and Oxbridge Academic Summer School, both on partial scholarship. But it seems likely I am going to Germany this summer on full scholarship to a Youth Teen camp to enhance my German language skills. As it is not confirmed yet, details are to be uploaded soon.
And what else has summer in store for me? Well as to not contradict my last post, I would like to not plan out my whole summer even though I do have some pretty important stuff that will be going on. I plan to get some sort of internship and write a research paper on International Relations under the supervision of a university professor. And of course, the SAT and college applications are there, smirking at me from the far corners of August.
“Despite popular culture, love doesn’t happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.” –Adrian Tan
2012 is right around the corner. But somehow 31st December takes me back to the New Year’s Eve of 2010. The craziest start of a new year I ever had in my life. For it involves my Arab host brother,Palm Springs in the U.S. and lots and lots of vodka.
Now don’t get up on your toes Mr. Ibringchange.
I did not drink any, for my lips are virgin still. But this is a story I seldom mention to my peers because it’s worth getting anyone in trouble.
For Christmas 2009 my very kind American host mother took the family to California for a vacation. There we explored much to our amazement that getting inside an adult party was a piece of cake. So I and my very sober looking brother, who we refer to as H, got in at a very nice and fancy party at a resort on new year’s eve. Being neglected alcohol all his life, the party was H’s nirvana. His drooling face was enough to indicate that and even after my utmost neglect, he took one shot after another. We did had some chit chat with some really cool people at the party but his hands started turning into balloons when the waiter finally asked the sixteen year old for his ID Card. I will not fail to admit, deep down in my heart, I was at ease.
And guess what H did; he ran.
No explanations. No tear eyed guilt testimonies. Instead the hedonist ran for the door.
And I followed. For about 30 seconds I could make the hazy iguanas behind his T-shirt, but soon I lost sight of him. For he was hiding. Hiding behind a freaking bush. Covered in sweat he was whispering:
“Dude I don’t wanna go to jail. He’s after me. Save me. I am too young. Save me. Save me. They are coming.”
I looked behind and to our amazement no one was following us. A lucky escape perhaps. And being a guy who tends to be nice, I took him to his room, calmed him down and finally, relief and freedom. Freedom from the indulging affairs of my host brother who I had to care for that and many nights before. If he would have been caught that evening, man his life was at stake (okay this is me referring to the fact that my nutty host brother was indeed on a one year scholarship to USA). Good times.
It’s a shame how innovative and energetic teenagers are treated with such meagerness around here. Today was one of those days when I saw for myself how pathetically the hierarchy of these sufficiently “big directors” work out.
The realization came gradually in the time span of 8am to 2pm today when my friend and I visited the PIMS Hospital in Islamabad to get permission for a community service project that my organization wanted to conduct with the Thalassemia patients at the children’s ward of the hospital. Following is the list of obstacles that we had to overcome to reach our destination, being diverted more times we could have counted to many different entities:
Our reference send us to the Joint Executive Director (JED) of Children Hospital who send us to the Executive Director who send us to his Deputy who send us to this creepy looking lady in the wards who send us back to the JED who in turn send us to JED-IH (don’t know what the hell that stands for), who clearly thought of us as ruthless “kids” without a sense of professionalism, and send us to this lady doctor who took us to a classy looking doctor and finally SUCCESS.
Not to mention the countless minutes we had to wait for each meeting, the re-applications we had to submit and how our proposal of the project was reduced to 1/4th of its original potential. Such is life.
I woke up with a deep abysmal feeling right there in the pit of my stomach. The thought of the big day finally arriving here gave me the chills. Even as I got out of bed, my lips were constantly repeating the words I was supposed to deliver at the opening address earlier today at the launching of my new Magazine’s Editorial Team in my college. Being the founder and the Chief Editor can be hectic but I wish I could have seen the merriment of my face when a hefty number of people showed up for the launch, way more then I had expected. The launching ceremony went better than I could have ever imagined and I successfully opened the window for something that might turn out to be the game changer.
And the day just got better and better with every passing hour. Soon after I got the call that I was chosen as the President of Publicity and Public relations at our college’s debating society. For those who don’t know what the job is, worry not. It doesn’t really matter but you ought to know that the selection process was a protracted one and the responsibility is greater accordingly.
But what was the spark of the day?
Bigger than the launching of the Magazine you ask?
Affirmative. It was around 1 o’clock when my German teacher took us out to a fancy Italian Restaurant for his birthday. Now the exilirating part of the birthday treat was not the event itself but an item of food. Yes it sounds cliché, but food was the main article of interest at today’s event. Today, after years I ate a Meal worth commemorating. At a posh restaurant like this, you wonder maybe even the water costs around a hundred rupees but to our blissfulness we got off lucky:
A Chicken Cheese Grilled Burger, 2 pieces of garlic bread, a plate of salad, French fries and a regular drink.
All of this for an amazingly economical price of Rs. 135.
Yes! You read right. For that cheap, all of this at an elegant Italian Restaurant. I highly recommend everyone to visit this restaurant at Main Mall, DHA-1 Rawalpindi. The name is Milano Nights Italian Steakhouse.
And for the sake of your curiosity, Gute zum Geburtstag means Happy Birthday in the German Language.