“I promise there’s a reason I’m flushing my hair!” and other superstitious concerns

"I can't help but feel that this is my fault." My best friends, my mother, and my therapist have all heard me say some variation of the above sentence. This tends to be in response to some kind of bad news, and no matter how much physical distance is between the epicenter of the bad … Continue reading “I promise there’s a reason I’m flushing my hair!” and other superstitious concerns

Somewhere between Pakistan and America, you’ll find my discomfit heart

A short note spurred by some mixed emotions over the 70th year of my country's independence and the tumult in Charlottesville this past weekend, as well as the rather political music of The Cranberries. I've often struggled with my not-quite diasporic identity and have written about it ad nauseum in the past 7 years of … Continue reading Somewhere between Pakistan and America, you’ll find my discomfit heart

Dormant anger in the postmodern era and a music review

There are days - more realistically, nights - where I'm so overcome by my own sudden, built-up anger that I don't know what to do with myself. It'll come entirely out of left-field, usually while I'm working, maybe triggered by a lyric in a song or something I read. Right now I'm reading about the … Continue reading Dormant anger in the postmodern era and a music review

bee-stung tongue

But sometimes your tongue is so laden with all the ways you can phrase a sentence that you end up swollen and heavy-jowled, and all that comes from your lips are disjointed words interjected with hesitation and insecurity. You sit down, red, and pretend you aren't being stared at by people who're wondering what the hell you're doing there; you pretend you aren't pretending those people are staring at you because it's much easier to displace the responsibility of criticism than admit you hate some aspect of your identity.