In a Nutshell

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I haven’t shared with you much about myself, so here it is:

I love great scripted visual works that make me laugh for ages, ponder my political views, dream like a hopeless romantic, or are simply  fascinating. They don’t have to be Oscar winners to meet my taste, just memorable enough to cause me to mention them in conversation; such works are engrained in my mental process.

I’m a Pakistani-American. Although I have never been there, Pakistan always has a place in my heart. I know the people of Pakistan will persevere through unsettling government, corrupted political processes,and ignorance from those who invade their land and their beliefs. It is up to them to improve their conditions,but it is also up to us to help them in doing so because we are all the same and borders shouldn’t stop us from humanitarian efforts.

I do not have the grandest vocabulary; you will never hear me use juxtaposed in  a sentence (except for this one).

I’m Muslim. To me, Islam is beautiful and unbounded to a single ideology which encourages me to appreciate life with critical thought. I am not a pure example of Islam,  it’s not possible for a human to fully represent–or groups, or cultures, or history for that matter. I welcome questions on my faith. I’m open-minded to learning different viewpoints on my religion and encourage dialogue of this topic and religion in general.

I’m not a competitive person unless it involves the game of LIFE™. I don’t see a point to the competition I sensed from my fellow peers in my educational career thus far, it inhibits learning and emergence of positive ideas that can can lead our society to plausible growth and sustainability. But when it comes to board games and cards, you do not want to be on my bad side. Ask my family,  do me wrong and you will feel my wrath.

I also don’t thrive on texting. Thumbs weren’t formed to click across inky-dinky keypads, they are designed to signal status of approval and  act as weapons for war. What I do live by is thinking, talking and writing; that’s why this blog still exists!

Last but not the least, I’m a dork.  I calculate in my head fondly and am easily humored with a horrendous laugh to prove it.  I’m grateful for this quality because it prevents me from participating in horrible pop-culture phenomenons such as adoring  vampires who glitter in the sunlight instead of melting like they’re suppose to.

           Yup, that’s me in a nutshell.

Exerting Magnetism

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No, this post has nothing to do with exuberating confidence to attract followers. Rather, I expressed magnetic behavior unintentionally through my left palm with a Styrofoam cup. The cup moved as I swayed my hand back, as if it was pushing against my palm on its own. This spectacle lasted for three minutes or so until the attraction began to weaken, but I was able to maintain the show for an additional minute by establishing greater friction via rubbing my palm against the cup.  However, the magnetism suddenly stopped and my elbow began to hurt and still does as a write this post.

Watch out, Magneto.

Watch out, Magneto.

I’m pondering why the display occurred in the first place. Is my iron level too high? And the chief question – Do I qualify as an X-MAN?!?!

The key to this mystery may lie in the location of where this all went down. I was in front of a microwave that was on a counter-top which lied directly above a dishwasher. The cup was right in front of the microwave on this counter-top. If the microwave was just used and if the dishwasher just finished a cycle, then an immense amount of heat energy was released in the space where I hand and the cup was. Thus, a magnetic field of energy was formed which attracted objects to one another; in this case, my hand and the cup.

This is all an assumption, my last physics course was in high school and my interpretation of what occurred is simply an observation, not a conclusion. For now, I am going to stick with the more realistic notion that I have a mutated X-chromosome that sparked a short-lived awesome ability.

The Story of Birdshark and its Inevitable Demise

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Halloween calls for spooky stories of ghosts and zombies. But tonight, I’ll tell a true tale, one of a creation that  turned into a monstrosity!

It was this time of season two years ago during my senior year in college, I enrolled in a film screenwriting class and  contemplated for weeks what to write as my first ever screenplay. My teacher offered great advice that’s a major part of successful screenplays: focus on yourself, root the characters and creativity to who you are and let the dialogue illustrate character development. I naively chose to ignore his words because I believed a character based on myself would be atrociously cliche. With my South Asian background,love for humor, and girly affinity for romantic comedies,  I would end up sounding a lot like Gurinder Chadha. I didn’t want to be like someone else. On the contrary, I desired to be unique, fresh, and adventurous; so I went with something I didn’t relate to –a man’s perspective.

Like many women in college, there was that time in my life when I despised men. No, not for romantic reasons; but because there is some study concluding that all my hard work will amount to nothing as my male counterparts will gain more recognition and pay than me. This notion settled in my mind and I wondered why this didn’t impact my attraction to them. Thus, I dissected what I hate and love about men for my script and came up with a male character who had traits from both categories. He was charming and caring but his arrogance and greed got the best of him. He was nothing like me, so I couldn’t depend on him to develop on his own. Therefore,  I made a supporting role out of a mythical creature a friend posted on Facebook – birdshark.

Birdshark is compromised from a head of a shark and a body of a pigeon. The birdshark was the object to my subject, assisting in the development of the story’s complexity. It began as a friendship based on mutual feelings, and although their relationship lacked dialogue, birdshark still suffered as an innocent bystander to the main character’s demise.

Still searching for the artist of this masterpiece

At the time, I was proud of my resulting work; it took much effort and  I grew as a writer from it. However, soon after turning in my first act as my final, I realized I lost an opportunity to explore and express myself. I was so busy attempting to be witty and distant from myself that I produced something fake. Indeed, I wrote fiction but that doesn’t mean it must lack truth.

My pride in what I considered a masterpiece soon faded along with my negative perception of men. Regrettably, what persuaded me to write Birdshark was sexist. I realized that contrary to the endless trends of sexism that studies conclude, equality is not hopeless.  For one, both sexes share similar emotions that enable us to appreciate films. From scenes that crack us up to water our eyes, we bond with characters of either sex.  So the next time I write a screenplay, I’ll remember to stay true to myself, even if that means it will turn out to be another Bride & Prejudice.

I Don’t Write Right

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I’m proud of my left-handedness, but recent events have made me reconsider this characteristic of mine and have encouraged me to try to become right-handed. You may find this absurd, but wait until I explain how I write in the first place before you judge.

I don’t write from left to right, instead I turn the paper 90 degrees to the right and write on the paper top to bottom. My writing method has gotten me in trouble numerous times. I recall my elementary school teacher shifting my paper up and telling me to write properly, but I never budged. To this day, I continue to defy her and normalcy.

Luckily, I do have experience utilizing my right-hand. As a Muslim, I am encouraged to use my right-hand for certain activities such as eating. I can also catch pretty darn well with my right. I wasn’t born with these capabilities, I honed them through practice. And so I applied this approach to mastering writing with my right.

After half an hour of tedious work, I  realized I’m not destined to be ambidextrous. My alphabets looked decent, but forming words felt and appeared awkward.  I lacked  control as I scribbled My name is Nida over and over; I couldn’t fit the phrase in one line, the words unexpectedly slanted upwards and downwards and letters overlapped.

Following that disappointment , I attempted to correct my writing with my left-hand. From what I can conclude from my research, left-handed people are suppose to write on the page with it turned 45 degrees to the right, have a good amount of distance between the page and the body, and the pen gripped at least an inch away from the tip. Like a snail bestowing a perfectly straight line of slime, I wrote very slowly but maintained a legible sequence. At first, it wasn’t neat and was a far outcry from comfortable. I prefer to be close to the paper – crouching over, engaging myself in the process of inking pages and pages of blank slates. After spending time using this method however, my writing did appear to be legible and steady.

I contemplated which method to utilize from now on: the proper way or my way? I keep thinking my way is unacceptable, but does that matter? I have always received stares for the way I write, but I accept it as an attribute of who I am – a unique individual who is gonna do life her way. So for now, I’m sticking with my peculiar way of writing; I might mix in the proper way here and there.

I know of another left-handed individual who doesn’t write in the supposed correct manner, but he seems to be doing just fine.

Photo credit: AP Photo