some thyngs in life are so unfunny. like the fact that everythyng concerning you was an accident. including yer conception. you happened not cuz yer parents planned it, but it just happened. and yer dad was so freaked out about telling yer mom, who wasnt ready for another baby, that he took three days and reinforcements (in the form of friends) to break it to her. or like the tym you were two days old, still in the crib, yer dad was in karachi, yer mom out of her mind with two kids and no husband, that she forgot you in the hospital. it was only when she was safe and sound in yer uncle's car that she screamed, "WHERE'S MY BABY?" so uncle took the car back to the hospital, and you were rescued. but not b4 the cradles were switched - or so yer brother claims. and he tells you yer (adopted) parents kept you out of generosity and an overly kind heart. how about the tym they put you in a 'good' school, but cuz you couldn't make friends there, and there was an attack by the killer bees, you got so freaked out, you forced your parents to send you to another school, where your kindergarten best-friend went - after kindergarten. (we are talking grade 1 here) but you shifted schools during spring break, and yer 'best friend' Sadaf moved to karachi b4 school opened. so you found yourself in another school, and no friends. accident or fate or what, the 'new' school was for the elite. the aristocratic. the patronizing. the parvenu. the desi finishing school. it looked REALLY good on yer CV, and taught you the fine arts of bitching and backstabbing. when you signed up for O levels, you asked yer parents what subjects you should take up. mom asked: you wanna be a doctor? you said: no dad asked: what do you wanna do? you said: i wanna take over yer business once you retire. so they both smiled indulgently, and suggested you learnt cooking and literature. all trophy wives spoke shakespear and knew spinich quiches. anyways, from almost getting expelled from school three tyms, cuz you were just to damn lazy to attend, you got a grade that made the principle scratch her head and question the authenticity of Cambridge University Examinations. her exact words were: "you got an unexpectedly good grade" you exact thoughts were: "get stuffed" then the trophy daughter was sent put in the desi equivalent of radcliffe. you never got in radcliffe btw, cuz you werent as smart as you thought you were. you still dont know how you got in. that was the second biggest accident that affected you (screwed you up seriously). you hated the place where life revolved around matching clothes, bags and shoes. you didnt apply until three days AFTER the deadline. you didnt appear for the entrance exam until it was over and they made 'special arrangements' to allow you to sit. and you didnt know a single answer. you remember a true/false question: q) milton was blind you thynk... who the hell is milton? so you write: a) beethoven was deaf. they call you for an interview. yer stuck. for four yrs. two years pass and then one day you wake up, and you wanna paint. just one little problem. you dont know how to. so you go learn. except your teacher thynks you wanna go to NCA, so he teaches you to draw instead. now that you can draw, your parents suggest you try your luck. so you do. and its working. :) you get in. another question: now what? here the option is art school vs milton in december sendups. no contest. you choose 4 yrs of inspirational work (yeah roite), over one exam about a dead blind poet with a bad memory (he lost paradise). so art school happens to you. somewhere along the journey is ONE meeting with a really cool dude who runs a paper... he offers you a job, you accept (you for the life of it cant explain WHY) and so journalism happens. three months of graduation, and yer struck by lightening. you wanna do somethyng 'new'. "oh! MBA sounds like a good idea," you say. so you apply. (2 months after the deadline, thru some programme the college has started for the first tym). they accept. Alhamdolillah Alhamdolillah Alhamdolillah. you cannot thank Allah enough for how he's been by your side, how He has pushed you along, shown you paths you could never have envisaged, opened doors you never knew were there. but at the end of the day, you see no efforts of YOURS. you dont see you planning, or taking a moment to decide what you really wanna do. you should be sick of 'stumbling' over 'good' schools and career options. taking life as it comes, thyngs as they happen... yeah yer on a road, but do you know where it's taking you? do you know where you wanna go? but isnt a road supposed to GO somewhere? sure you have alhamdolillah so many options, and yer too young to decide or commit yerself to a career, but shouldnt you be SLIGHTLY closer to deciding what you wanna do with yerself? alice got away with it all, cuz a) she was fictitious b) she was 7 c) she was blonde. you, on the other hand, are none of the above. ---------------------------------------------------- 'Cheshire Puss,' she began, rather timidly, 'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?' 'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat. 'I don't much care where--' said Alice. 'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat. '--so long as I get somewhere,' Alice added as an explanation. 'Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only walk long enough.' ---------------------------------------------------- go away. alice has left the building.