Here's to smiles, and giggles, and laughter ...

2021 was a weird year even though it's still not over. 

I keep comparing it to 2003. The year my grandpa died, my mum got diagnosed with cancer, and the worst of all, I got my first period. And now you'd say how my grandpa dying and mum getting cancer is less worse than me getting my period. You see, my grandpa is resting, my mum recovered, but I STILL GET MY FRICKIN PERIOD AND IT'S WORSE THAN EVER!!

Anyway, let's get into 2021. Oh and this is going to be my last "blog" for the year.

You see, I started this year hopeful and in love. With a friend. Within a month or so, I was left with neither.

Another few months later, my Dad's brother died unexpectedly. I wasn't close to him, no. What bugged me was how he died. He overdosed on drugs, and was dead in a public hospital with no ID on him. A charity organization performed his final rituals, and buried him. Three days later, a cousin of mine read the papers and found out. It mustn't have been a pretty sight when his kids found out. 

How did his death bother me? He died alone. I live alone and that's my worst fear. To be dead for days before my loved ones find out. 

Life moves on right? It did for me too. But then, not even 3 months later my Mum's brother passed away. And I was close to that uncle. He was the one whom I always imagined by my side. He was the only doctor I trusted. Ever. Living in Germany, I have access to great healthcare but even then I would always second check with him. 

"Mama, should I eat this tablet the doctor gave me?"

"Mama, I got this thing on my arm, is it an allergic reaction?"

"Mama, my kitchen drain is blocked. What medicine should I take?"

You can say his death hit me hard. I couldn't imagine what his family felt like if I, only his niece, felt my world collapsed. 

Not only I, but everyone in my family felt like we'd never recover. But time, it can be a bitch but it also can be the best medicine (yeah I know they say that about laughter but guess what I'm saying time is the best medicine so sue me!)

Let's cut to the start of October and everyone's preparing for my brother's baby who is due end of November but then BAM she's more than a month early. Which I know would have been scary if she and the mother weren't healthy. But they both were and still are.

And let me tell you, the moment I saw that baby's face, for the first time in what felt like ages, I had happy tears and every bad thing that happened that year, suddenly started to hurt much less.

And it's not like every day I don't think about my late uncle, it's just that I've started remembering him in a way that doesn't make me feel sad. I think about the good times rather than the fact that he isn't among us physically anymore.

 And to think, it's amazing how a mini sized person can bring the maximum amount of joy in one's life. And I'll say is, here's to more happy tears, belly tickles, laughter snorts, and less sad moments in 2022. 

Mental peace...

My mind is in a much better place than it was a week, two weeks, a month ago, two months ago...

So much happened during this time.

Losses, of many kinds. Harsh experiences. Depressing thoughts.

But I think it might be okay...ish. 

Why? Because I had a small feature to make for work. A task that has been stuck on my computer table since ages. 

It wasn't that big but required some thought.

And that is what I wasn't able to do.

Think.

Or at least think about the task. I could think about every other thing specially the ones I didn't want to think about.

But today, after a forty day sabbatical, I finally got working. 

And guess what? 30 minutes of thinking and the feature is almost done. 

To be fair. I had completed almost all of it before the big leave and I was stuck at one small part.

Now for all you non-tech folks out there, this might not make sense so it's okay to just skip over the next line.

I was doing a post where I needed to do a patch. So naturally my requests yielded no results.

This just proves something that is already proven so many times that mental peace is so important. When you're at peace, or when I used to be, which seems like such a long time ago that I can't even pinpoint a specific time, I took it for granted. It's just like you take your breathing for granted but when your nose is blocked, you realize its importance. 

Hobbies

My hobbies. Ones I left mastered and unmastered.

As an 8 year old, I would write stories and never show them to anyone because I knew my brothers would laugh at them or at me, my Dad would find something to scold me about, and the only person who would appreciate them, my Mum, would not understand them because English.

When I was 10 (maybe?) I used to sketch and draw. I could easily sketch out inanimate objects and had I persisted, I might, might have gotten better? Maybe?

Next came crafts. But crafts are messy. I liked making them but cleaning up? Ugh. A nightmare.

A little bit older, I could paint. I could paint good. Kept painting till I was 15. But guess who decided it wasn't a really productive way to spend time and it'd be better spent studying? I didn't. My folks did. Which was funny in its own way because I wasn't really good with the studying part anymore by that point so I'd rather have had a skill.

So let's see, what's next?

Ahhhh .... I don't know what I'd call it. I would mold things but not with clay, it was plaster of paris and it was a nightmare on its own as well. But I really enjoyed it. I made a model of the Sukkur Barrage with it once. My teacher had really liked it. 

Pictured below is the Sukkur Barrage.

I know the barrage isn't that glamourous on its own and my model wasn't that much fancy either but it was a big deal at the time, okay? OKAY?

Moving forward came calligraphy. I have had neat handwriting for which I won awards at school for. Granted the awards were certificates handed out at the end of the term, but still. They're awards. So I started writing things in artistic ways. By the time the internet was a huge deal and Orkut had many communities for Calligraphy and trust me I was in them all.

After I left calligraphy, I don't remember having anything special skills. Yes, I would sometimes draw. I would sometimes write. But not more than once per month maybe?

University started and ended and I had my own issues at the time so I'm blank of those years.

Then came the years of developing Android apps and I earned 100 dollars from ads in 4 years. Victory.

While writing my master's thesis, I needed some anxiety relieving activities and I ended up with crocheting. And I guess that is the only hobby I have took to a higher level and that's mainly because of the praise I get.

Meanwhile, reading has always been a part of my life. There were times when I could not sleep unless I read something. It's not always consistent but it's there.

But the past few months have been different. I tried taking up old hobbies. Tried painting and made a very weird rendition of the starry night.

Started reading a lot including Urdu literature and that's just a whole other feeling. Reading the names of authors and poets I read as a child in school brings back classroom memories and jokes leaving me nostalgic for those times, the people, the places.

Came back to writing. Again not much but it's going. Flowing.

And I have a lot of time on my hands since the past month specially. Haven't worked much (read none) and honestly needed to do stuff to divert my mind and I realized how beautiful my handwriting is in Urdu specially so I dunno if you guessed it already or not but the next old hobby I'm going to venture is Calligraphy.

And bois... Do I feel good about this one.

Ignorance, it's bliss.

I woke up restless today. I know the reason why.

Farwa's leaving. That's me. I know why I feel every emotion that I feel.

I wish I didn't.

The problem with being self-aware is that you know where your issues lie. You know your demons. They stay with you. They live with you. But then again, you can't do much about them?

I can trace down where my anxieties come from. I know why I get super annoyed whenever someone or even I have to leave. I know when and where and why it all started.

When saying goodbye, I'm always reminded of an eleven year old me, on the evening I saw my mother getting into a car. Going where? I don't know. Why? I don't know. But I do know she was sick. Didn't really know when was she coming back.

The night of my 12th birthday, she goes again. I know where now. To the hospital. Was she coming back this time as well? I didn't know again.

That's how the whole year went. My Mum leaving every other week leaving behind my little brother and me just ... numb ... wondering would she be back this time? That same year, I remember Nana Baba turning around at the door before leaving and saying goodbye to me and my aunt. He never returned. 

Flight MH370 had me track my Dad's flights every time he went for business trips with the fear what if that airplane didn't land either? What if it was the last time I saw my Dad?

Nani passed away while we weren't in Pakistan. Did my Mum ever think she wouldn't ever get to see her mother once she left the country?

I do.

I think that every time I leave Karachi. Every time I board that flight, my heart breaks a little. The struggle between wanting to have a good life vs being with loved ones is what will take my sanity one day.

Let me tell you about my Sims

I love the Sims. Not the gameplay (I couldn't care less about that) but the whole idea that I can use a game to make a whole story of my own.

Most of my friends know that I have an Instagram account where I'm telling a story using my Sims and all of them know it's private. At least from people I know. A couple of them may know the handle but they've been sworn to secrecy. 

Making that story is my "passion".

Actually yeah, it is my passion. No need for sarcastic quotes to make fun of a certain poet. Anyway, I'm being honest here. I love telling that story and so far I have gathered quite an audience.

And today I'm going to tell you how I was able to achieve this. Granted this isn't as big as other Instagrammers (read influencers lmao) or even my fellow sims story tellers but its still quite a lot and grows everyday.

What I learnt is that the key is to give what people want. Now, now. Before you go out saying "But Momal you gotta do what you like not what others like" and that is a truth fact but there's a line.

You need to figure out what you like and what others like and where those two things connect. 

But I think it's better explained with a Venn diagram.

For example, in my opinion stories that have LGBTQ+ story lines, or stories that talk about racism are well appreciated because people relate to a lot of those things. But for me, I don't think I'm educated enough to be talking about such serious things.

Instead what I do is show real life. And everyone relates to real life. Childhood jealousies, friendships, and love lives are just small examples and for most parts I use my own experiences and the ones of people around me which just gives it a different charm. 

Of course, I am still limited by technology but most of the time you can do quite well with custom modifications that EA could never match. 

Here is an example of using poses (I didn't make this one) to make your sims stand in a certain way and there are like hundreds of talented pose makers out there. I make poses too but am I talented? I don't think so. 

https://simmerberlin.tumblr.com/

Bottom line is, if you want to start a sims story,  keep in mind that it's for you as well as you wanting others to enjoy it. Because if you won't like it, then it doesn't really make sense.

I'm not OneRepublic, I will not be counting stars ...

I won't be counting dollars either. Instead it'll be euros, well, cents to be exact.

Since I moved to Germany in 2017, I've been collecting the "red money" meaning 1,2, and 5 cents coins. 

They're kinda annoying to be honest and over the years I have tried to get rid of them as well but they just keep coming back and I usually store them in random containers like old chewing gum bottles, or purses, or maybe one of the 100 boxes I buy from Flying Tiger whenever there's a sale.

Anyway, another one of my impulsive buys from Flying Tiger recently has been this piggy bank. And it's the cutest thing ever.

I filled it with all my red money.

It stayed there for maybe 3 weeks until 2 days ago when my friend and I, rained in and bored out of our minds decided to count the coins.

Sorted them out. Separated the ones, twos, and fives which weren't many. I actually use fives usually.

Now, the strategy I took was to just count them one by one but turns out that was tiresome and kinda dumb so we went with my friend's way of stacking them and then just adding them up in the end.

So what did I earn in the past 4.5 years?

137 one cent coins.

122 two cents coins (244 cents total)

and 19 five cents coins (95 cents)

making the grand total 4 euros and 76 cents. Just enough to pay for my next Iced Caramel Latte.

Cheers!

Seriousness.

If you know me personally, you won't be surprised that I take everything as a joke. That's just my way of expressing myself. It's been that way since, I have no idea when.

My whole teen years in school were spent hearing the words "you're not getting anywhere with that non serious attitude of yours". Which was really something harsh to say to a young person.

However, I made it far enough, right? I got a degree, I got a good job, I moved abroad for another degree, got another job, and the list goes on. 

But, my non serious attitude still remains. I like making jokes. Life is already too hard for me to not make fun of the things that I can. And what encourages me is the fact that my friends are the same way. We make fun of everything. And when I say everything I mean EVERYTHING. There's nothing wrong with that in my opinion. 

I believed that until I met this one specific person who asked me why I needed to joke all the time. At first, I didn't take them seriously either but as events turned, that was a huge problem in their books.

And you know the worst part? They got into my head. Now I get bugged when I ask or tell my friends something serious and what I get in return is a joke. Usually, I would in return make a joke but now I just get bummed? Weird.

It's not like I didn't think or behave seriously where it was absolutely necessary, but if a joke could lighten the mood or reduce the severity of a situation, then what was so bad about me making one?

I can't change the name of the blog someone help me

In 2013 I was young and naïve and quite honestly, very stupid. 

It's 2021 and I still am all those things except for being young. Why did I name this blog "About me"? I have no idea. Was I thinking that people would be interested in reading about my dull life or my dull views? I don't know. Or did I think this blog would turn into my memoir one day? Hmmmm ... Maybe.

Anyway, let me move on to my actual thought.

I live in Europe. Germany to be exact and there's something I realized just a few days ago. Being born in Pakistan, a place where family is beyond and above all, I have been accustomed to always having people around. 

Granted, families in Pakistan are far from perfect. In fact the whole system is quite dysfunctional. However, that doesn't change the fact that having people around, who love you no matter what, is the best feeling in the world. Something that nature has intended. Humans are never meant to survive alone. 

This whole European concept of individuality, to some extent, is quite necessary, but I'll never be able to understand the need to distance yourself from everyone all the time. 

Which brings me back to the idea of family. When I moved here alone, it was quite rough to suddenly change from living with a family of 5 to a single dorm room. But at the time, I loved living alone as well. Away from family drama? Hell, yeah!

But you know, loneliness got to me (and my friends) way before the pandemic, way before the isolations, and the quarantines. So how did we, a bunch of family oriented people, deal with all that? 

We made each other our families. We give each other the same amount of love that we give to our siblings and our parents. We're there for each other. Emotionally and physically which is an interesting topic for Germans mostly.

When I tell them, oh I'm going to my friend's, they'll be like oh nice and the moment I say, I'll stay there for a week or two they're suddenly like "Oh mein Gott. Das ist so viel." (if you get the reference, you get the reference.)

But it ist nicht so viel. We've made a support group for each other. A family where finally there's no drama, no judgment (amongst each other. there's always judgment for outsiders). Isn't that supposed to be a good thing? Some emotional reliance, a safe place for guidance?

Important questions.

A very important question I asked my friend one day. It's not uncommon for me to have such questions pop up in my head and when they do, and if I share them, don't tell me to google it.

I don't want to google it. I want to know what you think. Use your imagination. Be creative. Be weird. Ask weird questions. Answer weird questions even more weirdly.

Tina Belcher from Bob's Burgers once asked, "do horses get songs stuck in their head?" Isn't that a valid question? What if horses are much more musical than humans? What if rocket man is what horses vibe on when they're running?

Why do flies rub their hands? Are they scheming against us? Do they have a nefarious plan to take over the world?

Do mosquitos know how unbelievably annoying they are? Or is it their way of showing love? Love bites to be exact. Spreading their love from one human to another with Malaria and Dengue?

That brings me to a question. Have you ever thought how weird dreams can be? All you're trying to do is rest your brain but it just doesn't want to rest. Even in the subconscious, it's somehow fully conscious? Running a play written, directed, and possibly acted by itself as well? 

Some people dream of the past, some dream what they secretly desire, and some dream about the future? A true future that too. Why is that? Is it coincidence that the brain shows us the one possible outcome of an event which happens to be true?

Do we all have a little bit of Dr. Strange in us? Out of the possible millions of predictions, we see the one where we can finally defeat Thanos?

Passion

 Let's talk about passion.

Just recently I was asked what I am passionate about and honestly I couldn't come up with anything because it's something I never have thought about. However, now, that's all I can think of. Hence, I've dug up an old blog space where I'm going to write about it.

Clearly, I'm not passionate about writing because the last (and only) blog post here was in 2013 and contains nothing. BUT let's get into this one.

If you've watched FRIENDS, you'd remember the part where Phoebe and Rachel are competing to be Monica's maid of honour and Ross and Joey hold a competition kind of thing. That's when Rachel starts her speech with the dictionary meaning for marriage which highly uninterested the judges. (If you didn't know, well now you do.)

That's what I'm going to do just FYI. The dictionary definition for passion is "strong and barely controllable emotion" but when I think of this, there's nothing I feel strongly for and hold a barely controllable emotion. 

Yes, I like to crochet, but is it my passion? Yes, I like to cook, but again is it my passion? Do I spend an ungodly amount on these two things? No. I don't. 

However, there is a commonality in both of these things. I don't crochet for myself. I don't enjoy cooking for myself. Then why do I do these things? 

For others. Yes. I love making baby clothes for my friends' babies. I love cooking for my friends and family just to hear them say I have magic hands. 

So this poses a question, is gathering attention and praise what I'm passionate about?