Monthly Archives: September 2015

‘A Frightful Imagination’ by Maryam Iraj

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Have you ever noticed that sometimes your imagination’s absurdity is directly proportional to what you perceive in your dreams? The weirder your imagination gets, the weirder your dreams are. You may wonder why your imagination is the way it is; it depends on the books you read, what you watch on television and also probably the fact that your unfathomable thinking skills are a part of you. This can prove to be extremely helpful should you plan on becoming a writer or filmmaker as well as in school— while writing an essay. If your creativity is perverse, there is nothing to fret about, since it can set you apart from your peers.

‘A Love for Reading’ by Maryam Iraj

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If you are amongst those who have a zest for reading, then congratulations! Sadly, if you do not, then that is extremely unfortunate. Ignorance may be bliss but reading novels other than those included in your syllabi can prove to be helpful in the long run. It improves your vocabulary and writing style which is vital for English Language and S.A.T’s. A mention of novels in a conversation can be great icebreakers. You can join book clubs and discover people who have the same taste of books as you. You can even just randomly stroll into a bookstore and choose books that you find entertaining. However, it is a need for today’s world to have adequate knowledge of literary information.

‘Patience’ by Maryam Iraj

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Patience is a virtue as compared to its polar opposite the vice—impatience. Patience is self-control, that is, when you stop yourself from eating the leftover cake that has conveniently been left in the fridge by your surprisingly considerate family. Patience is when you try not to lose your temper when a younger sibling callously rips your favorite novel. You may be a lucky person if you are naturally patient person but beware; people may attempt to drive you off the end of your threshold. If unfortunately, patience is not one of your strong suits, then it would be preferable if you inculcate this helpful attribute into your everyday life.

‘Why boys are Stupid’ by Maryam Iraj

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We all know that it has always, perpetually been the battle of the sexes as long as anybody can remember: men and women, grappling the hold of dominance. To call the male sex mentally deficient may reveal a bigoted sexist but candidly speaking, they are simply just frivolous and superficial unlike their female counterparts who usually delve into the deeper meaning of something. Men are simple creatures; while women on the other hand, are complex beings. Like in most juxtapositions, whatever aspects men lack in are possessed by women; for example, the feminine ability to scrutinize and infer almost anything just by a glance whereas men only search for the tip of the iceberg. Of course, by mere observation and research, the two sexes are built contrastingly from each other as in physically, mentally and emotionally. Women psychoanalyse all infinitesimalities in the universe, yet men barely seem to question such insignificant ideas let alone know they even exist! When it comes to emotions, women have a wide and vast spectrum of feelings while it is quite limited for men. At the end of the day, it is the case of perception for both genders. And perception is obviously the reason why we say,’ boys are stupid’ ,however; it  should be noted that they would rather pursue things that are not complicated  but rather pleasurable activities but that does not make them hedonists. To reinforce my point about overanalytic women, they are gossipmongers who form conspiracy theories and their various outcomes. Men would prefer to forget the matter and carry on, or maybe with their attention spans equal to goldfish, they might not even be aware about the topic of discussion. Then, we also have the male chauvinists, that is, the conceited and self-proclaimed superiors who would like to believe they have an advantage over women which is being physically tough because apparently according to them, being all-brawn will surely get them through life. So there, their stupidity is an underlying problem to their chauvinism, but as they say, ‘Boys will be boys.’ To conclude ,I would like to say that men are irrevocably ‘’stupid” but they should be given the benefit of the doubt as that is how they have been biologically engineered and unfortunately; women shall have to put up with their nonchalance and foolishness

‘Describe an Unusual Person’ by Mirza Hussain

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This most unusual and overly-complicated person that I saw, he is always starring at me with those deep green-eyes and soul-less, dark, black pupils. He has dark hair, an uncanny tan and lips as if of a zombie that just recently turned.

He looks like a puzzle trying to be solved. Over complicating things to an extent that he would not be able to understand. Mostly he just stares and just starts moving his lips without uttering a single word.

He looks as if he is finding out who he is, finding his identity in the ocean of thoughts. He knows he is brave as a lion, selfless as Mother Teresa, honest as Honest Abe, and intellectual as Einstein, but he knows he is not peaceful; he knows that he is a harsh boy, who has been through rough edges in the past.

It is as if he is fighting himself, he looks haggardly. He seems nice, as he always extends a hand whenever I do. His hand movements are a coordinated as a kung-fu technique, in sync with my hand as I move it.

He looks as if he needs a friend, a depressed, alone, and anxious boy who’s hand looks like he will grab mine and pull me to wherever he is. He does not have a friend, but he just is always there and stares at me as if I were the only one in the whole world. The touch of his hand is as smooth as the surface of a mirror, he has no smell and does not smile that often, but whenever I smile he cannot help, but to spare one as well.

He just stood there staring like an eagle looking for its next prey, thinking like the stone thinker. He seems so real and life-like. He follows me like a loyal dog everywhere, near the pond, in the house of mirrors and other places.

He is staring like an angel with those dark circles like he has never slept for a second in life, just waiting. I would love to know his name, but usually he is given the title of ‘the staring boy’ by me; then he signals to me to come closer.

As I bring my ear closer to his lips, the sound of a drop of water from the sink, the buzzing of flies and then a whisper from his lips, this was the first I have heard him speak, and he said, “I am you.”