Not Cricket to Picket

It can be nothing but a height of overconfidence that the initial name of this post was "Why we HAD to win". I wanted to write BEFORE the semi final (then it was "why we need to win") but was so nervous that I thought I'll get to it after we get into the finals. I'm writing post world cup now but, you know. India. Four years. This is exactly why I'm not into planning, MOM! Oh well. *Sigh*.

I have been asking around, trying to recall if it was always like this and asking parents for the times I can’t recall. Those green T shirts selling like hot jalebis (totally beats hot cakes I swear), a demand supply deficit of multimedia ensembles, totally unrecognisable faces under the green and white paint, social networking sites totally drowned in green and minute by minute reports (guilty as charged :P), people with flags and busted vocal cords on the roads, in markets and at restaurants. The biggest surprise was the preparations and celebrations of those outside the country. No one's challenging patriotism here but yes, parading streets of Toronto, London and New York with life size flags at timings as insane as 5 and 2 A.M means there was seriously something else going on this time.

We wanted this badly! We wanted this SO bad that it was almost funny. Funnier was the fact that we all totally believed that we'd get it this time even after the match-fixing trio got busted and surrounding teams were flexing muscles at our faces. Hope. We live on it. I remember saying that this was easily the ONLY thing left for us Pakistanis to look forward to since Uncle Zardari is going to be here a while, no one can stop the constant siphoning of the State's funds, the target killers are doing what they do best, America pawns us down with our own law and flies Raymond ******* ******* ****** (i permit you to use your imagination!) away and all other horrors Hamid Mir talks about. It’s funny how we are part of one tree but are totally 'branched' when it comes to beliefs, religions, modernism and of course Eid-ul-fitr. Cricket I salute you man. It’s like one of the moments in movies when the male and female leads realise they finally have something in common.

So yeah, for the past many weeks cricket became the ultimate “binder”. It was never like this before, not even when we actually WON the thing. If we’d actually won the world would have exploded, seriously. I also thought, if we LOSE the world would explode too. Imagine my pleasant disappointment. Everyone was so, I dunno….forgiving. Using text messages to ask Afridi to take back his apology, being totally content with having a “good” game and welcoming the team back with open arms. Is it me or are we severely bipolar? Don’t kill me all but I for one don’t think across those optimistic lines. I need answers. Maybe it’s because I’m not one the last minute cricket fans. Cricket has been there all along thanks to friends who used to call in sick on school days to watch matches and cousins with whom we had proper tournaments, every kid chose a “cricketer” second name and every family residence was named after a famous cricket stadium. Ours was the “Old Trafford” by the way.

I’m really not hard to please but there are some things I don’t get and I will criticise. And you know why, so it doesn’t happen again. So we all know Misbah just stood there rooted to the ground and Younis Khan’s usually spot-on fielding sucked. But I personally thing Afridi could have been more responsible than just doing one of his usual slog routines, messing up power play and giving the ball to Umar Gul when he was a clear flop that day. Don’t get me wrong, Afridi did great. He brought the whole “jazba” concept to life. He united us in a way we never imagined. The team was pretty awesome against the biggest names in cricket but it was the match of the decade that messed it all up. Let me just say, it was SO in the bag. We totally had it but we let it slip through our fingers. When THAT happens you don’t just suffice with the fact that “oh well we got to the semis. We are SO proud!”. You think “where did we go wrong, let’s find out and FIX it!”.

The thing is we are one emotional nation. And sometimes (read every time) we let our emotions get the best of us. Yes, I say best because this will be yet another compromise. This time it was OUR time. I don’t know about you guys but four years is an awful lot of time. My family knows I say “Oh I’ll be ANCIENT next World Cup” and every time the time comes I realise I’m not that ancient after all. But really next time, I’ll BE ancient. Let me say it this time around too. I have no idea how 27 year olds enjoy cricket and scream their vocal cords off. I will find out in about 4 years I guess.

Anyway, as Talha pointed out in his cricket post, let’s not just reserve the unified version of us for Cricket alone. We are in deep you-know-what and if we had hearts the size of radioactive cotton candy for bat ball (that’s what we used to call it 15 years ago) then we should not deflate just now. Why do I end up saying such stuff, this was about sports for God’s sake! I need to get meself a political following. Anyway, I just realized I’m wearing totally Indian colours and writing about Pakistan. I think I’ll go drown myself in the exotic swimming pool up front.

Until next time, IF I manage to stay afloat, (which I’m very capable off fyi),
Sara (currently emotional) Q


P.S : The post title upstairs is actually a real song title :P

Come clarity

Image via Wikipedia

It is those from the nation of the unbelievers that ask God for signs. God, I'm not saying I want a sign, but a little clarity would help. These days I spend a lot of time being troubled by my own mind. Given the profession, time to reflect on what has happened, what is happening and what remains to be seen is very short, if there at all. But, God provides and a little time for reflection was at hand. Introspection, how I love thee.

My uncle was to arrive from Lahore to catch another flight to take him to Kabul. In between, there was plenty of time to meet up and have a little fun. Little did we know that PIA had plans of its own. The flight got delayed three times. We found ourselves at the airport at 1:00 in the morning. At this point going home was useless so I managed to convince my parents that they nap in the car and I'll stand guard, ready to wake them at the appropriate hour. You see, my uncle didn't know we were going to meet him and we had to catch him before he checked into international departures.

So, here I was. In the front seat of a Toyota Corolla, in the Islamabad International Airport parking area (I refuse to call it Benazir Bhutto International Airport), my parents asleep, and me staring out the windscreen. That cursed big blue sign bearing the incorrect name of the airport staring back at me. It was while I was playing tug of war with my eye lids that I realized, I was having fun. Just sitting there, watching people go by, almost as if I was invisible. They were all there, the concerned grandmother, the excited child, that guy who has literally the whole family there to see him off and completing the line up were the villagers who were confused with the whole airport experience.

What did I do with this time? What did I think of? Nothing at all. The only thing running through my mind was the calming track "From The Heart" by X-Ray dog (link). For a time, after a very long time, I felt content. I just needed the time alone. However, slowly, stray flashes converged to form thoughts in my mind. It was all that I had been through for the past two years. I find it strange that through it all I only remember the good things, never the bad. They are after all important. I only remember the important things. Always the important things. For once in two years I wasn't thinking about the future, I wasn't worrying myself to death. It was all just about where I was and who was here with me. Only the important ones. You know who you are.

Finally, my uncle arrived and we changed the venue from from the airport parking lot to the Front Page Cafe at the Rawalpindi PC. It was the only thing close enough at the time (@Sara: Exam Hall! :P). There we were, talking over sandwiches and coffee at 4:00 in the morning. What do you eat at time like that? Muhammad Asad writes of an Arabic saying about coffee in his book "The Road To Mecca" (Highly recommended read). The saying goes "Good coffee is bitter like death, and hot like love". Now I can't say much about the death part, but if love is anywhere as hot as this coffee, sign me up. It was that good, but at 4:00 AM, I guess everything is. There I sat, staring out the glass panelling of the hotel lobby, watching the deep ink blue of the night sky give way to the light azure of the morning. The first sunrise I had seen in a long time. The caffeine worked its magic and finally I made the transition from nocturnal to insomniac. This time, it was "Love Washes Over (Airwave remix) by Art Of Trance (link) that echoed in the cavern that is my skull. I imagine if I ever got high, this is what it would feel like (@Sara: calm down, I'm not going to get high. Ever.)

Now, I was thinking of everything. Clarity. I thought of the future. This time no worrying. It could just be the lack of sleep, but I seemed to have that optimism that I lost long ago. This optimism however had lost its taint of naivety. I thought of the reality I had seen in the past two years and how I had dealt with it. What I had to do, what lay ahead was clear. This time there was no confusion. There was nothing to be confused about. It's all up to me what I choose to do ahead. I even thought of the blog and the forum attached to it. As far as the blog goes, I know that the reason I make random posts is because that is the zone where I feel comfortable. I prefer to deal with the abstract, Sara does a better job at the concrete. I'm the dreamer, she's the thinker. I'm the idealist, she's the realist. I'm allegro, and she is vivace. Posts about nothing, yet kind of about something are my niche. I know that now.

As me and my mother stepped outside to give the brothers some time to talk, my thoughts switched to the forum. The pale light of dawn greeted us accompanied by the cold morning air. I was still playing in the recesses of my own mind as my mother and I talked. To someone else I may have appeared distant and uninterested, but my mother knew what I was up to, how could she not, and she knew not to disturb me when I'm like that. So, we walked, keeping the conversation going, me intermittently counting off the gun shots I heard in the distance and my mind thinking of the forum. I wanted to make a community, but I was wrong to think that it would just grow itself. It's going to take effort on my part. Anam, Sidra, Abbas and Osama, thanks for taking the time to comment on the forum. Omair, thank you for taking the time to actually read the entire blog and comment as well. I promise you I'll be participating actively in the forum myself from now on.

The whole experience ended with an emotional brotherly hug in front of the international departure lounge of the Islamabad International Airport (NOT the Benazir Bhutto International Airport) and with me writing this post at 7:00 in the morning. At this point I don't know if this was all a dream or not, but I guess I'll find out when I see the blog after I wake up.

Talha A. B.

Cricket, we (try to) love you

Given the recent events, there is no way that we could not make a post about cricket. I'm not going get into stats and in depth analysis. We're a cricket loving nation and we're packed from border to border with overzealous fans. Toss a cricket ball and chances are you'll end up hitting an "expert". I'm not that guy. I'm the guy who will duck just in time to dodge that ball. To summarize, at the risk of re-awakening horrible memories, Pakistan lost to India in the semis. Yes it's true. It wasn't a bad dream.

It was an interesting tournament to say the least. Not many held high hopes for team Pakistan. Understandable, given their performance since 2003. Still, if the fire didn't burn too brightly, there were still those lingering embers that just never get extinguished. The men in green defied expectations and gave a performance that fanned the sparks to bright flame once again.

For a month, everything seemed to be alright. There was no terrorism, no rotting politics, no economy going to hell. Everyone was happy, content and green with patriotism. For a month, we were all a nation. Everyones interest peaked. Thats the conundrum I suppose. When we expect nothing from our team, they'll go out and do something impossible. When we're all cheering them on, they don't do so well. Maybe next time we don't watch the tournament and just celebrate when the boys bring the cup home?

One thing that I did notice, people didn't get angry this time. Sure, there was the usual post-match depression the next day, but there was no display of rage. The reason being, that the team didn't really do anything wrong this time. After a long time, they seem to be back on track. A team that everyone wrote off in the qualifiers made it to the semis. No one can say that this time they lost due to lack of trying. There was no ugly controversy this time and no coach fatalities. It was all about cricket.

We could have all used a win. Like a pain killer, it would have numbed the effects of everything going on around us. Perhaps this is a positive result of the defeat. It will be easier to get back to dealing with the problems at home. All our battles lie not on a cricket pitch and Jazba does not just belong in Mohali.

Talha A. B.

Disposable income, where art thou?

As I stepped out today, the air seemed different. It wasn't the same biting cold that it had been for the past wintery months. It was laced with a healthy yellow glow from the shining sun. The sky was just the right shade of light blue. The weather had changed. That was enough to remind me of all the things that have been changing recently. Life is at a peculiar stage right now, like a desert engulfed in a sandstorm everything is shifting and changing and what lies ahead is not so clear. I'll tell you one other thing thats changing. The damn prices.

Inflation is biting away at everyones heels right now and if our wallets were girls then they would be ecstatic because they are slimming down fast. I can't count the number of times me and my friends have walked into a nice looking establishment, sat down, looked at the prices and then had a brainstorming session on how to walk out without making our financial situation apparent to anyone. Usually it involves "I dunno, nothing on the menu strikes me as interesting, we'll be back in five minutes". Oh yeah, we've done that. Don't you dare judge me..... and stop giving me that look. A lesson to the uninitiated, walk in, ask for the menu, do not under any circumstance sit down, if the prices seem manageable given the funds at hand park your behind on the nearest table, else use the "5 minute" line mentioned above, remember to thank TAB later.

So while me and a friend (henceforth, Adeel) were discussing the trials and tribulations of the life of a trainee at work it was inevitable that the topic of our pay package (don't ask) and the prices today would come up. An idea hit us, both of us having studied economics vaguely remembered that time when we were half awake in class and managed to hear the teacher say "blah blah blah consumer price index blah blah blah inflation". For those who might not know about what the consumer price index (CPI) is, I'll try to wrap it up in a single line. A CPI is a list on which the prices of various items are listed and tracked over time to get an idea of the prevailing rate of inflation in the country. If you're the Sherlock Holmes type and thats not enough for you then you can always do this or this. Back on point; me and Adeel remembered consumer price index and decided to make our own little index, the Student Price Index.

And now the curious wonder what the Student Price Index is? Well, the Student Price Index (henceforth, the SPI) is a list on which items vital to the student/trainee are listed and their prices are tracked over time to get an idea of the prevailing rate of inflation the student/trainee must endure in his academic life. Driven to help students everywhere, we set out to create the SPI that as of yet existed only in our heads. After hours of interviews, calculations and research, the SPI was turned into reality. The fruits of our labour are shown below.

So there you go. Now you know what you're up against. Time to go to parliament and start a discussion on what to do about this grave issue. To explain a bit on whats going on above, the items selected are those that the student finds themselves dealing out cash for the most. The year 2010 is selected as the base year because well, no one remembered how much a roll paratha cost back in 2000 (Rs. 45, FYI). The prices of the same items in the year 2011 are listed as well and the change over one year is calculated to arrive at the figure for inflation. But it doesn't stop there. The items are also given a weightage according to how important they are. To explain the concept of weightage, items that are considered closer to being necessities get a high weightage. Luxury items get a low weightage. Why is this done? Well, a 50% increase in the price of a Bentley may not have everyone reconsidering sending their child to college but a 50% increase in the price of wheat is a surefire way to start a revolution in the country. The result of this economics lesson is that the inflation rate comes out to 27%. Fun fact, that actually is the inflation rate of our country at the moment (so you know we did a good job :D). However, after weighting, for us students the inflation rate is somewhat closer to 20%.

The SPI is something that just started out as a joke and the list is in no way complete. But it was a fun exercise and I'm actually interested making it into a proper index so I would love feedback on the matter. For one, having a full and proper list of items that students and trainees spend their money on is important. Second, this is actually the work of two guys, so the list doesn't take into account items that the girls would normally spend on. You can leave a comment or make a post on the forum (highly recommended).

The updated version of the SPI can always be found here. For now, tis time to wrap up this post and return to dreaming of that big paycheck that I'll hopefully be collecting someday.

Talha A. B.

Stop and Stare

This might sound entertaining but honestly what i'm about to discuss here is not short of being an epidemic itself. My dears, I talk about the one and only "STARING" habit which is such an inborn "value" that it sort of accompanies ethnic origin at birth. Face it, WE are a curious nation. We were born wide eyed and even now the existence of the opposite gender never ceases to amaze us. Of course the main problem is girls complaining about the full body scan rather than the other way around. I mean, face it, if a guy catches a girl looking at him intently, with a silly one corner smile he is more likely to puff up his chest than to tug at lose hair strands. BUT there are both sides to a discussion and boys, I will do you justice.

Every Pakistani woman is aware of the fact that when she leaves the house she will be scanned from head to toe by any male individual who frequents her path. If you think its because of wearing something provocative, well think again. I'm not saying thats not a big way to get yourself "hounded" but generally no beauty, height, weight or amount of layers has anything to do with it. And honestly who are we to define provocative; it is too relative. So yes take a walk and start the count; the security guard of the house up front, two teenagers returning from tuition, the regular uncle on a cycle, the guy fixing some phone line, the the shopkeeper, regular suited corporate guy driving down the road, etc. It is like this paranoia that the woman has come to ignore and even accept.

This was a sensitive issue to write on. Though common enough, Miss Q here had to search high and low for answers, talk openly to her male acquaintances as to the reason behind this predicament and observe others all the same being victimised herself. My question, "WHY?". The answer "instinct". The answer took me back to this article I read in the Readers' Digest once about attraction in general. Basically what that article said was, the guy and the girl "size" each other up. Any person, man or woman carries with them this compatibility criteria and when they come across someone who fits that criteria it creates this invisible thread of connection between them. Think about it, if the staring guy's good looking you're not THAT unpleased and well if he's not he's just a shameless loser with no respect for women isn't he? The thing is girls, half of the time you and me don't realise that we give out these signals of approval. I'm not saying such instinct is wrong. It is this instinct that is enabling the population to grow this rapidly.

But look here, there HAS to be something about Pakistan that's different right. What about, say the European countries. Did their hormones get exhausted? Its weird how we claim to be more loyal since most of us stay hitched to the same guy/girl post/pre mid-twenty's age till the time one of the spouses passes away. I get how the single generation scours the market but what I don't get is how every man AND woman doesn't become blurry for a guy/girl when he/she has chosen one to be there forever. It is outrageous, the crimes being done on the name of religion but noone knows the basics OF the religion. I might only be touching "looking" but we all know its an area open for creativity and physicality.

And girls, despite what i said about provocative clothing being a relative term, we all know our cultural limits now don't we. If we exceed those limits we are compelling the male population to to go gaga. Even though speaking from the sisterhood I know how inappropriately some female individuals have come to behave. Like, VERY inappropriate. If the girl deserves to be left alone and not harrassed then the guys deserve less impetus to invoke certain desires. Sometimes I feel its the lack of entertainment that this happens; either its too pricey or too scarce. Of course this somewhat justifies the labour, working class but NOT the "Burger bachay". "Poondi" as the guys like to call it is a social event held at strategic spots usually in large groups. They're easy to spot, mostly at "open" eateries, a bit dressed up, facing the same direction and they usually won't buy anything to eat since they might need to change location at some indefinite time. Then come the "Poondi approvers", girls, mostly young, giggly, basically what the audience is facing and having the silly notion that its because they are so hot/pretty. *sigh*. Oh and they too shall refrain from eating since they consider it a turnoff. What as waste, pass me those fries!

So here i am taking everyone's side. Im so great aren't I? The thing is God created the woman to be loved and respected , not pieced down by body proportions. That's the way it is; the woman needs more respect in this regard than the man because of who and what she is. See, I cannot under any circumstances open my gate at 12 am and walk down to some corner shop 5 minutes away while maybe a guy can. So yeah, just because a woman is apparently admiring someone's bulgy muscles doesnt give the muscle man the same right. (Oh please don't whine, you guys get to do more fun stuff ALREADY). The gist of it is, admire the beauty of the human being, single them out but be DISCREET, or else very soon you lose respect and ultimately credibility. There's admiration and then there's harrasment. Of course the labouror breaking down the road will never read this but maybe some high-ups will and thus serve as an example. Now run off my kids, I pronounce you brothers and sisters. Kidding! :P

Until next time, this is Sara Q thinking of getting some well deserved sleep!

I've seen this already

It is only as we age that we realize how wonderful childhood can be. It is at that time that our mind experiences one of the most wonderful feelings it can. That is, the feeling of discovering something new. Once we become accustomed to life and living such moments are few and far apart. I've recently rediscovered this feeling, though not because I've found or learned something new but because I've been shown and reminded of what it used to be like. You see, right now I'm living in a house with four babies. Four noisy, clever, hilarious, excitable, annoying, cute babies. Its hard to explain but watching these little guys kick, scream and raise hell is fun. It takes me back to that time when every single thing I saw was new and exciting, every little thing was a huge catalyst for the imagination. The world was still full of mystery back then.

I'm still somewhat of a child I guess. I'm always looking for something new to experience and when I find it I get bored with it fast. The list of things I've started and never finished is a very long one. Just a few things off the top off my head that are on the said list: tennis, horse riding, golf, guitar playing, dj-ing, making a website, drawing a comic, photography, writing a short story and making an award winning video game. Its always the same. I stumble upon something, I'm overcome with excitement, I work at it for a while and then the interest wanes till finally I move on to something else.

The thrill of starting something new is indescribable. I was extremely enthusiastic when I started this blog but like all my previous endeavors my interest began to fade. But, all is well now, for some odd reason I can't bring myself to quit. As I've discovered recently, a creative Talha equals a happy Talha. So, these days I find myself rediscovering things that I had abandoned a while ago and what I've realized is, no matter how many times you do something, it can always surprise you. Any activity or hobby, whatever you want to call it, is like getting to know someone. When you find out that you are somewhat compatible there is that initial excitement and as you go along you keep discovering new things about them. You get surprised at every turn. Of course there are the occasional rough spots, but commitment is what carries you through.

So, these days its all about starting where I left off. Its not the same as that feeling that we have in our childhood when we experience something new. It's a more different feeling but different doesn't mean bad. The point is, our experience in life changes how we experience life. What we look for and what we find is different. We've seen so much that we think its hard to be surprised anymore. We're wrong. So, what this means for now is that I get back to dj-ing and story writing. I introduced myself to them a long time ago and its time I got to know them a bit better.

Hopefully the next post won't be as random,
Talha A. B.

Green gone black

 

Long time no see followers. We’ve just been REALLY busy. A lot of significant and insignificant things have taken place since I last posted something here. As far as the national level is concerned though, most of what’s happening nowadays is not only significant but significantly horrifying too.

 It probably started with the Air Blue plane crash. That one came with a personal connection too. Like my equally busy co-author said; there were 150 people on that plane but somehow all of the 18 million were connected to someone on that plane, directly or indirectly. Of course the devastating flood was already doing what it does best somewhere in the background. And then it came onto the big screen. More than half of the country got affected by the flood. The loss of human lives is another thing but the survival of the remaining is more than just a toll on the unaffected.

 Here we all were worrying about the water when some people thought of adding some fire to the pot. I’m talking repeated bomb blasts, firings and target killings. The fact that a totally disinterested and innocent pedestrian can be made a target just for the heck of it just scares the hell out of me. As if that wasn’t enough a mob killed two kids with their bare hands in the midst of onlookers and policemen somewhere in Sialkot.

 Add in the total drainage of State reserves, glutinous corrupt politicians playing blame games all the time, Cricketing scandals, skyrocketing prices, diplomatic dirt with God knows how many countries, the US of A making us lick their boots and oh yeah we even got a 6.3 shaker a few weeks ago to shake off what’s left of us. Yes, my dear Pakistanis, we are officially screwed. In fact we are SO screwed that it might eradicate my inability to swear. And yeah, that’s saying something.

 But guess what nothing up there is new, nothing you and I don’t know about already. So yeah, let’s look through the other end of the periscope for a change. Let’s stop saying that Zardari will rot in hell or Imran Khan will be our savior or who’s corrupt and who’s here with a fake degree. Let’s talk about Pakistan, the people/ citizens for a change. Are WE doing our bit too or just sitting around like spoilt kids waiting to be spoon-fed. I know you guys don’t want to hear this but it’s all us. We no longer deserve anything. Now at this exact point people usually say “Why would God do this to us, we’re the best Muslim country in the world. Look at blah and blah, look at what they wear” etc etc. The thing is it’s not about being a good Muslim anymore. Hell, I hardly think anyone knows what a good original Muslim is supposed to look and feel like. People all over this world are not screwed, Muslims or not. WE NEED TO BE GOOD PEOPLE, PEOPLE. Honestly, we do that and we’ll actually become good Muslims.

 So what am I talking about? I’m talking how wildly animalistic we’ve all become. Ready to snatch and steal everything thinking it’s our right. What do you think was going through the mind of those ruthless men while they were beating those boys to death? It’s a frustration we carry with us at all time, ready to not just beat but actually eat the pulp out of anyone we can find. That mob was not just a mob; it represented US, Pakistanis who have severely slipped down to the down most rung of the human race ladder.

 Think about it, these days people will rip off, lie, cheat, steal or even murder someone on a good day. For those of you who think this is a bit too much read on for day to day ventures; people will keep polluting a place because they think one wrapper doesn’t make a difference, talk back rudely to some shopkeeper, not give way on the fast lane and when they do it’ll come with a complementary hand action and colorful vocabulary, waste resources and power knowing they are scarce, call a woman ‘baji’ and as soon as her back turns give her a nice MRI, honk rudely on the roads without rhyme or reason, try to sell off expired goods, arrive late at meetings and on weddings because ‘that’s how it is’, break into queues, carry out full fledge 'phaddas' over the most immature reasons possible, bully anyone who classifies as a subordinate, even make up dirty rumours etc. etc. And even without these everyday happenings the average Pakistani has become this combination of aggression, jealousy and impatience and when they see someone who's not, a big conversion is underway for the poor soul. Its the "If my life sucks so should yours" routine.

The thing is two wrongs don’t make a right. Oh God teach this concept to this country, please! (Yeah that includes me too. NONE of us are bathed in milk at the moment :P). When one person is in the wrong it makes him a total loser not an excuse or justification for us to repeat that. So the plan is as simple as my name; if ALL of us do what we’re supposed to and do it right we are SO out of this. That includes everyone, from some high profile CEO to an office janitor.

But you know what the real problem is? We just don’t CARE anymore. See, people mix up love and care. We all say we love the country but we don’t CARE about it. BIG difference ma dears. It’s like any relationship actually; we need to contribute into it or we’re in for a big time break-up very, VERY soon! This is one relationship we need to start fixing, like NOW!

 

Think about it. Until next time and hoping it comes soon,

Sara Q.