Sleepless Nights N Troubled Days

I would give much for just a single night's undisturbed sleep. There has been little rest for me. Nightmares that are distortions of the unpleasant realities of my waking hours, carried with me into my sleep. They tease and torment me; they steal wickedly through my slumber, prodding at my subconscious, fragmenting my sleep so that time and time again I shake myself awake, until at last dawn brings an end to my struggle...and so begins another

From Tunnu...

A RANT FOR BILLU

i know you love making fun of my dislikes..and my likes...and just me in general so here r some more dislikes:

- taking the bus- how bus tickets cost $18.50
- how the bus driver hit alefiyah on the curb n then dint even help her up (altho thta kinda made my life...only cuz she wasnt that hurt)
- asshole bus drivers that don't wait for you even if you run upto them...life ruiners
- when i miss my bus at millgate n then hafta go to town center n i miss that one too....EFF U GUYS...
- when bus drivers make u late even when it's not rush hour!!!
- when bus drivers make quick stops for themselves when there's no time and then ure late!!!!
- how i'm always late when i need to be early and how i'm always early when i dun't need to be- how billu thinks i actually hit on bus drivers
- how i spent $56 on 30 bus tickets when i could've bought a bus pass for $54 for the whole month....eff (and yes i did the math)
- when i'm at a bus stop n then a yellow school bus slows down n stops for me....SCREW U!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- having the bus take so long n stop for EVERYONE...it shud just stop to pikc me up...in fact...that would be private transportation so the bus mite as well be a limo with a really cute driver
- bus transit rats aka highschoolers and jr high kids
- how it takes me a hour-hour n 15 mins to get home from uni even tho it's like a 20 min drive!
- when old people come n stand next to you on a full bus n then u feel bad cuz u shouldddd get up and everyone else looks at u like ure a jerk but then u gonna be standing for like half n hour whereas the old ppl gettin off at the next stop

oh...i hate how i spent so much time writing this about taking the bus....bye
___________________________________________________________________

awww tunnu wrote a lil somthin somthin for me...thankz Tunnu! I love You!

jus a lil somthin somthin...

On a group of beautiful deserted islands in the middle of nowhere, the following people are suddenly stranded by, as you might expect, a shipwreck:
2 Italian men and 1 Italian woman
2 French men and 1 French woman
2 German men and 1 German woman
2 Greek men and 1 Greek woman
2 English men and 1 English woman
2 Bulgarian men and 1 Bulgarian woman
2 Japanese men and 1 Japanese woman
2 Chinese men and 1 Chinese woman
2 American men and 1 American woman
2 Irish men and 1 Irish woman

One month later on these same absolutely stunning deserted islands in the middle of nowhere, the following things have occurred:

One Italian man killed the other Italian man for the Italian woman.

The two French men and the French woman are living happily together in a menage-a-trois.

The two German men have a strict weekly schedule of alternating visits with the German woman.

The two Greek men are sleeping with each other and the Greek woman is cleaning and cooking for them.

The two English men are waiting for someone to introduce them to the English woman.

The two Bulgarian men took one long look at the endless ocean, and another long look at the Bulgarian woman, and started swimming.

The two Japanese men have faxed Tokyo and are awaiting instructions.

The two Chinese men have set up a pharmacy, a liquor store, a restaurant and a laundry, and have got the woman pregnant in order to supply employees for their stores.

The two American men are contemplating the virtues of suicide because the American woman keeps endlessly complaining about her body; the true nature of feminism; how she can do everything they can do; the necessity of fulfillment; the equal division of household chores; how sand and palm trees make her look fat; how her last boyfriend respected her opinion and treated her nicer than they do; but how her relationship with her mother is improving and how at least the taxes are low and it isn't raining.

The two Irish men have divided the island into North and South and set up a distillery. They do not remember if sex is in the picture because it gets sort of foggy after the first few litres of coconut whisky. But they're satisfied because at least the English aren't getting laid either.

Stressin...

Went to a after wedding or w/e you call it party last night, wore my green shirt (the hmmm well almost the same color green of Pakistani flag just a lil lighter), white tie, pants , and dress boots.

The thing took place at the bloody sultan banquet hall (aaaargh I hate that place, same, horrible food! Why does every brown party have to take place there?).

The thing is im feeling very anti-brown Muslim ppl rite now, and more so I am feeling uncomfortable around girls in general, which is quite a problem because generally I eel more comfortable around girls more so than I do guys. I trust them/feel more comfortable, and more myself around girls thn I do guys.....That has changed (atleast for now I guess, or not). Now I no longer feel comfortable around anyone be they male or female.

Instead I just feel like isolating myself, and going to withdraw myself into my fortress of independence and self-sufficiency, the doors closed and barred...

LOSING MY FAITH

.....

Finally! I have a chance to write on my blog, but alas! many of what I had wanted to write and put on have slipped my mind and here I am sitting trying to recall all that I had wanted to put on....

K so this is what I do remember....

Yesterday was my nephew's grad. He graduated from the Edmonton Islamic School of Edmonton...daaamn they had some good dessert! :D. He's going to M.E next year the commentary meh it was ok....the class was so small they had only one grad 9 class and there was about what 15 students?....oh and after we went out and watched X-3, persoanlly it was not all that great of a movie I was kinda dissipointed :S....

Jean Gray ends up getting stabbed by wolverine, that is after she kills scott and charles xavier, nightcrawler is not in this one but you got a bunch of whole new ppl and some old one with bigger roles, mystic n magneto both lose there powers.... and ya maybe i should stop ruining it for those who have not yet watched it


~Hell knows no fury compared to that of a woman scorned~

Sunday's Events

I had my first swimming lesson yesterday, ad seeing how I did not drown I think I did rather well. I learned to breath OUT of my nose when im under water so that problem has been solved, well kinda, I blow out to fast so I cannot stay under water for long.

Went to Quick Donair with Dan gave him his first taste of a mix donair...damn I looked pg or somthin when I done:S.....and then we studied for a bit at timmy's....and then went home and watched Oceans 11 wit my sista. And then off to bed...

that is where the trouble starts, around 4 I just got up was not feeling tired and had trouble sleeping....so i went out and shot some hoops got home n slept for a few hrs. Got a test today I really need to start planning my days out again...gotta start to plan like the taliban in pakistan meeting jackie chan...


~When death calls me, im good..........cuz i got caller ID~


Random: bhaaaiiii didnt i tell u not to play with fire wait nvm....ur gonna come up with some quick n witty response to that like "i am the fire" or or "he who does not play with fire will never prespire" some shit
lol ahahha
shhh that made PERFECT SENSE

no comment :P

?

I love to just liie back and just stare at the stars and the moon, and just wondering how that is the same moon Prophet Muhammed (saw), Khalid bin Walid, Julius Ceasar, Alexander the Great, Douglas McArthur, Rommel 'the Desert Fox', Saladdin, Suliman the Magnificent, Malcolm X, El Cid, King Richard III, and so on...all the people I look up to and admire, this is the same moon that they gazed upon and here I am...what shall I do, who shall I be?

Tanvi...

when ppl pile other shoes onto your shoes!!!
when your in love with someones shoes but u cant find em anywhere...sucks!kids these days who are troubled little souls who go out with like 5 people a month...sickkk esp when ure like 14 haha and walk around the neighbourhood thinking they're gangsters, stealing, cheating, gossiping, loitering, vandalizing, fighting....omg do something productive with your life thanks

Thas tunnu for you (I also put it in your favorite color tunnu!). Man this gurl makes my world go round, shes cute, nice, funny, understanding, caring, cute, weird, smart...did I mention cute??? :P

Live well, and Die young....in Battle preferably

Today after I just meet up wit yogee, I started to walk towards my ride, and suddenly I had a flashback, I stopped in the middle of my stride and just stood there in the rain....This dream. This vision, image whatever you want to call it ran across my mind and as of late it has been constantly recurring within my mind...I have been purged with this 'dream' for almost 2 years now.....the 2 girls I care the most for watched my die I died in front of them.....I was all bloody and ragged the person who shot the fatal bullet was...well I feel like I know him but I can never make out his face...the dream varies sometimes for example one of the girls (I will not name which one) ends up dying but I live...barely....so till my dying day im full of grief and sorrow due to the loss of her......

There is much more to this dream I have given the most unhelpful.....description??? Truly I am at a loss of words...for this dream is just killing me on the inside....If I where to tell the whole dream....no I could not it is just far to disturbing.....

Yahya asked me (once I had gotten in the car) why I was smiling, and I just told him "becuz I am happy"... had he known me better, if anyone does, they would know I only laugh on the inside, my smile is just skin deep. If you could see inside you might just weep.....

Putting on the fake smile n laughin the fake laugh so nobody knows how I truly feel, I do it for them I do not want my sorrow to ruin the fun, to have them be worried....I have always been an independent person we come in this world alone, so surely we will leave it alone....

The Average Soldier

The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's; but he has never collected unemployment either. He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm howitzer. He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk. He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must. He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march. He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts. If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low. He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job. He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime. He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed. He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful. Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the Canadian Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 190 years. He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding. Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood. And now we even have woman over there in danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so. As you go to bed tonight, remember this shot... A short lull, a little shade and a picture of loved ones in their helmets.

A shout for the Canadian soldiers out there!

thas how we do. So remember those who fought, and those who have died for you, we have bled for you, we have seen/heard of our comrades fall in action....so the next time you think about making fun of us, just remember this.....

random

kape now i really want to join soccer!!! but i think its to late :S.....

lately i have just been really tired n stressed, just...well everything is getting to me n i dunno just feelin dead at tthe moment......

Random....

I had work yesterday with Maryina, whos the coolest person out there, n to work with....shes teaching me Russian :D I can now say 'you suck!', 'evil cat', 'butt', and a few other words n sentences....

Just the other day the bus broke down on the south side of the river! stupid 8, n ya thas my story, oh n this lady was having trouble breathing and was very dehydrated so I gave her my water and got her to lie down, but she needed to go to the hospital so once we got to millgate a ambulance was called n ya....

Ran into heeba the othwer day on the 8 as i was coming bak from work, man was it good to see her agin brought back memoires....like the times me n her n alefiyah went bladin, costco, skool n ya....

N tunnu still has not as of yet picked up her fone!!!

Changes...

Besides god who else should i fear?
the only person stopping me is that guy in the mirror...

Imma tryin to be a better person, stugglin n strugglin, tryin to fight the good fight, but sadly I am losing sure I have won some minor victories but I am losing the war....

Who am I?

Today I managed to get up for fagr salah without any difficulty as soon as I heard the ahzan I simply got up an made wudu, I had not slept at all from the moment I got into bed from the moment I got out I lay there the whole night my body aching with pain my mind raising uncontrollably, projecting images in my mind ,random things, everything...I had stopped reading the Quran for months and only recently have I actually picked it up, I do not pray all my prayers, some days go by where I do not pray at all, 2-3 days at a time! As I think back I become fearful because this is not me, this is not who I am.....ppl keep telling me I have changed...I have for the better and the worse, Im putting my past behind me, fixin up my life, opening myself up (slowly, and cautiously), but I have lost my Emaan...that is a price I cannot pay...

I want to be surrounded by the people who will help me streagthin my Emaan, I need it, the problem is I canno trust them for they have broken that trust, and others make it seem to me that they do not want me the be with them, I have 3-4 brothers who r there but I don't know I don't know if I can open up to them....the people I can open up to are all non-muslim, how has it come to this, that I cannot trust my own brothers and sisters in islam??? Don't get me wrong my non-muslims friends are some of the best ppl on earth. They are surely my best friends.....

Brothers actin like they rock, sisters thinkin there hot...it's quite funny yet disturbing to see what I'm seeing and to hear what I'm hearing.....

Im really missing Tunnu :S I ran into Gayu in Hennessey (k I don't know the spelling let me be!:P), man im missing tunnu.....FLIP TUNNU PICK UP UR CELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Lost Roots....

So I have decided not to join the aiyc soccer, it's all just fuckin pissing me off, a month in advance and particularly every week I have ben asking "when is soccer starting", only to find out yesterday that is has already stared 3 days ago n they got 16 guys on the ta plus another additional 'subs' ,4 of them, its like what the fuck?!?! this is the second time im being fucked over first hockey now soccer??? ive been with the ikwhaan soccer since day one pratically, and now like fuck! it's all about winning its no longer about having fun n brotherhood.....I think the roots of why this organization was started has been lost sure we got the whole events n stuff like that but in the end it does not do anything cuz it is not in the hearts of the people....the only real reason I got playin time las yr was cuz most of the guys were offensive players (they could play D but they preferred/better at offence) so I surprisingly got playin time, cuz usually I do not, ill be straight, im not crazy at soccer but hey I have been gettin better, I go to the practices (and in 99.9% of the cases im early and usually the first one there) and for what hardly ever gettin to play in what 3 MAC tournies I did not play at all I was on the side watchin the whole time....and everytime I remember thinking 'its ok it wont happen next time" yet it always did...sadly its all about winning....I just pray that bball does not turn to the extent hockey n soccer have come too

Im going, going, gone....

today has been a great loss, for I love los someone I have all loved and cared about, a failure on my part.....a failure to be what i was supposed to be....a brother. Where did I go wrong I do not know, but what I do know is that I will never be the same knowing that I have lost someone special to me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Of all the friends I'll ever have,
Not one will ever be
Important to my life the way
You've been to me.

In many ways we are different,
Yet I always turn to you
To put things into perspective
With an honest point of view.

You take the time to listen with
A sympathetic ear
And tell things in gentle ways
I really need to hear.

A brother is a special gift
IM always grateful for,
Because there is no one else on earth
I'd trust and count on more.

The Nightingale and the Red Rose

"She said she would dance with me if I brought her a red rose" cried the young man, "but in all my garden there is no red rose!"
From his nest in the oak tree the nightingale heard him, and he looked out through the leaves and wondered.
"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wisemen have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for the want of a red rose my life is made wretched."
"Here is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are as red as the rose of his desire, but passion has made his face pale like ivory and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow."
"The Prince shall give a ball tomorrow night," mummured the young man, "And my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder and her hand will be clapsed in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break."
"Here indeed is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "What I sing of, he suffers: what is joy to me, is pain to him. Surely love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomergrantes cannot buy it, nor it is set forth in the market-place. It may not be purchased, nor can it be bought.
"The musicians will sit in their gallery," said the young man, "and play upon their stinged instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their handsome clothes will throng around her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her"; and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.
"Why is he weeping?" asked the a little green lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
"Why indeed?" whispered a daffodil to its neighbor, in a soft low voice.
"He is weeping for a red rose" said the Nighingale.
"For a red rose?" they cried "how ridiculous!"
But the nightingale understood the secret of the young man's sorrow, and he sat silent in the oak tree, and thought about the mysteries of Love.
Suddenly he spread his brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. He passed through the grove like a shadow he sailed across the garden.
In the centre of the grss plot was standing a beautiful rose tree, and when he saw it he flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.
"Give me a red rose" he cried, "and I shall sing you my sweetest song."
But the tree shook its head.
"My roses are but white," it answered; "white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the show on the mountain. But go to my brother who grows aroun the sundial, and perhaps he will give you what you want."
So the Nighingale flew across to the rose tree that was growing around the sundial.
"Give me a red rose" he cried, "and I shall sing you my sweetest song."
But the tree shook its he's.
"my roses are but yellow" it answered; "yellow as the hair of the mermaid who sits upon an amber throne, and yellowier then the daffodil the blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the young mans window, and perhaps he will give you what you want."
So the Nightingale flew over to the rose tree that grew beneath the young mans window.
"Give me a red rose" he cried, "and I shall sing you my sweetest song."
But the tree shook its head.
"My roses are red" it answered; "as red as blood, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean cavern. But winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, so I shall have no roses at all this year."
"One rose is all I want," cried the Nighingale "only one red rose! is there no way by which I can get it?"
"There is a way" answered the tree; "but it is sp terrible that I dare not tell you."
"Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid"
"If you want a red rose," said the tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your hearts blood. You must sing to me with your heart against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your like blood must flow unto my veins and become mine."
"Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the sun that shine like a chariot of gold, and the moon a chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the blue bells that hide in the valley, and the hearther that blows on the hill. Yet love is better than life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?"
So he spread his brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. He swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow he sailed through the grove.
The young man was still lying on the grass, where he had left him, and the tears where not yet dry on his beautiful eyes.
"Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy that you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own hearts blood. All I ask is that you be a true lover, for love is wiser than philosophy, though he be wise, and mightier than power, though he may be mighty. Falme colored are his wings, and colored like the flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey and his breath is like frankincense."
The young man looked up from the grass and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying.
But the oak tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale, who built his nest in his branches.
"Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall be lonely when you are gone."
So the Nightingale sang to the oak tree, his voice was like honey poured over thunder.
When he had finished his song, the student got up, and pulled a note book and pencil from his pocket.
"She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove- "that cannot be denied of her; but has she got feeling? I am not afraid. In fact she is like most artists; she is all style without sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity they do not mean anything, or do any practical good!" And he went into his room, and lay down on his bed, thinking of his love; and after a time he fell asleep.
And when the moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the rose tree, and set his chest against the thorn. All night long he sang, with his chest against the thorn, and the cold crystal moon leaned down and listened. All night long he sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into his chest, and his life blood ebbed away from him.
He sang of he birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the top most spray of the rose tree there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it at first, as the mists that hangs over a lake, pale as the feet in the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as shadow of a rose in a waterpool, as was the rose that blossomed on the top most spray of the tree.
But the tree called out to the Nightingale to press his chest closer against the thorn. " Press closer Nightingale," cried the tree, "or dawn will come before the rose is finished."
So the nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew his song, for he sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.
And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of a bridegroom when he kiss the lips of his bride. But the thorn had not yet reached the heart, so the roses heart remained yet white, for only the Nightingale's heart blood can crimson the heart of a rose.
And the tree called out to the Nightingale to press his chest closer against the thorn. " Press closer Nightingale," cried the tree, "or dawn will come before the rose is finished."
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and thorn touched his heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through him. Biter, biter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew his song, for he sang of the love that is perfected by death, of the love that dies not in the tomb.
And the marvelous rose turned crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.
But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter, and his wings began to beat, and a tear came over his eyes, fainter and fainter grew his song, and he felt something chocking in his throat.
Then he gave one last burst of music. The white moon heard it, and forgot the dawn and lingered in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to his purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams, It floated through the reeds of the lake.
"Look, Look!" cried the tree, "the rose is finished now" ; but the Nightingale made no answer, for he was lying dead in the long grass, with a thorn in his heart.
And at noon the young man woke up, opened his window and looked out
"Why what a wonderful piece of luck!" he cried; "here is a red rose! I have never seenany rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure that there is no other in the world like it"; and he leaned down and plucked it.
Then he put on his hat, and ran to the professor's house with the rose in hand. The daughter of the professor was sitting in the doorway playing with her little puppy.
"You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," cried the young man. "Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it tonight next to your heart, and as we dance together I will tell you how much I love you."
But the girl frowned.
"I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and besides the Mayor's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels costfar more than flowers, be they roses or no."
"Well upon my word, your are most ungrateful," said the young man depressed and angry at the time time, he let the rose drop into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and was run over by people and vehicles passing by.
"Ungrateful!" said the girl, I will tell you what, you are very rude;ad, after all, who are you? Only a student, Why I don't believe you even got a car like the mayors nephew does"; and she got up from her chair and went inside.
"What a silly thing love is!" said the young man as he walked away...



~To kill a Nightingale~

Random Ballin N Window Shoppin...

the two most intensive bball games i have played for sometime. On one side Jawad, Youcef, and myself, on the other Mahdi, Abdi, n Kappa (did not catch his name but he was wearin a kappa shirt so i shall call him that for now:P) The first game we won easly enough the second youcef gotinjured and we lost but barely! flip we had alot of sweet plays going....AAAAARRRGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH i miss the easiest shots i cant shot rite by the net!!!....i hate this country!!! well actually i don't, but u get the point!.....hahahaha i love jawad he sends ppl flying (unintentionally of course *cough cough*) but the thing is there so weak and skinny theres nothing he can really do :P .......

Chilled with random, jacey, kesha n her guy at sg yesterday.....lol the climax was when random kept makin korny momma jokes n when kesha goes "yo neeta ur mom!" nobody gets it at first until we look aroun n see her i turn back to random but shes already running for the nearest exit!!!.....later after catchin up to her the first thing she says "yo an u get my ipod n pizza???"....so i go bak to grab'em but alas! her pizza is gone.......

Party Pics with my Friends and I

Brotherhood...

We few, We Happy Few, we Band of Brothers

For he who sheds his blood with me today,

shall forever be my Brother

(just something my freind told me)