Tuesdays are the toughest.
They always have been - back in the day they were the official hump day for Pakistan, and before anyone goes on a tirade about Zia-ul-Haq and all his ridic policies, allow me to calm you down by saying I don't really give a shit - and even when we sidled up to the rest of the world with the novel Saturday-Sunday weekend. Tuesdays just have that quality. Like conjoined kittens. They're there, staring up at you with three eyes [one shared] and two tails; might as well get them some milk in one of your mother's bowls. Tuesdays have that same, desperate quality to them. It's there; might as well trudge through it to the next day, to the end of the week, to Sunday, to next Tuesday. To another Friday. Jeez. This is not fun. Let me cut to the chase: Friday, I'm in love, and Tuesday, I'm starting to feel stupid about it.
Wednesdays are happier times. I immerse myself in all the joy that surrounds me in the form of the diverse humanity dotting the landscape of my life, or some less douchy version of that, and I forget all about that boy Hammad and his gold leather belt and insane laugh. It's not as depressing as it sounds; I'm not still carrying a torch for him as a) This is not medieval times, and b) This is not really about him. It's about the general things he represented. Like interesting people. How many have you met recently? I went to this raging GT last weekend and I pretty much spent my time hanging with Miraal which we could have done anywhere except we would be dressed down. This was not for a lack of trying to socialize with the others. It was because for about an hour everyone talked about calorie counting, and then for another they talked about, I don't know wedding outfits, and this was the men at the party! I kid. I really don't know what the guys were talking about. Ice hockey. Or Megan Fox.
Anyway, every Friday,my hopes are up like my neighbour's dog at 3 a.m. and I hope that there will be something new to look forward to next week - not necessarily romance, just something new; a song or a great talk with an old friend, or an injection of creativity at work. A lot of which requires some kind of inspirational interaction with other people. Every Tuesday though, I'm reminded of the fact that this is as good as it's possibly gonna get, for now.
Or maybe this is because Hammad is being ridiculously cute on his Facebook right now.
A girl can hope, right?
They always have been - back in the day they were the official hump day for Pakistan, and before anyone goes on a tirade about Zia-ul-Haq and all his ridic policies, allow me to calm you down by saying I don't really give a shit - and even when we sidled up to the rest of the world with the novel Saturday-Sunday weekend. Tuesdays just have that quality. Like conjoined kittens. They're there, staring up at you with three eyes [one shared] and two tails; might as well get them some milk in one of your mother's bowls. Tuesdays have that same, desperate quality to them. It's there; might as well trudge through it to the next day, to the end of the week, to Sunday, to next Tuesday. To another Friday. Jeez. This is not fun. Let me cut to the chase: Friday, I'm in love, and Tuesday, I'm starting to feel stupid about it.
Wednesdays are happier times. I immerse myself in all the joy that surrounds me in the form of the diverse humanity dotting the landscape of my life, or some less douchy version of that, and I forget all about that boy Hammad and his gold leather belt and insane laugh. It's not as depressing as it sounds; I'm not still carrying a torch for him as a) This is not medieval times, and b) This is not really about him. It's about the general things he represented. Like interesting people. How many have you met recently? I went to this raging GT last weekend and I pretty much spent my time hanging with Miraal which we could have done anywhere except we would be dressed down. This was not for a lack of trying to socialize with the others. It was because for about an hour everyone talked about calorie counting, and then for another they talked about, I don't know wedding outfits, and this was the men at the party! I kid. I really don't know what the guys were talking about. Ice hockey. Or Megan Fox.
Anyway, every Friday,my hopes are up like my neighbour's dog at 3 a.m. and I hope that there will be something new to look forward to next week - not necessarily romance, just something new; a song or a great talk with an old friend, or an injection of creativity at work. A lot of which requires some kind of inspirational interaction with other people. Every Tuesday though, I'm reminded of the fact that this is as good as it's possibly gonna get, for now.
Or maybe this is because Hammad is being ridiculously cute on his Facebook right now.
A girl can hope, right?
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