Carlisle

I spent the most part of last week in possibly the smelliest city in England: Carlisle. I kid you not: I open my window in the morning in the abject chance of receiving a breeze of fresh air but instead pungent, cow shit fills my nostrils and knocks me back a step or two.

You would have thought I'd have learnt my lesson by the first day, perhaps even by the second, but every single day I would open the window and receive the same gruelling punishment of the smell of cow shit. (Sssshhhhh...don't tell anyone...but I actually began the enjoy the smell by the 4th day).

Deja vu all over again.

In my first day in the city I spent the morning lazing about in my sister's flat reading books and depleting her food reserves so I left the flat against my better judgement and risked being diagnosed with farm shit syndrome. But I took heed from the latest swine flu epidemic in Mexico and left armoured and all masked-up:

It took me a total of 7 minutes to realise that there's absolutely nothing to do in Carlisle. I gallivanted around for sometime and spoke to some of the locals and they directed me toward Carlisle Castle, the only remotely interesting thing in Carlisle (excluding the disproportionate number of MILFs):

In Search of the Elusive Obvious

Twenty-one years I have roamed this rugged land that is Earth.  I have travelled afar to distant places where there is no line on the horizon, from the pirate-dense nation of Somalia to the greatest city in the world, London. I have embarked on numerous journeys of self-discovery and have surmounted the highest mountains conceivable by man.  I have scaled the city-walls and ran through endless fields to salvation only to find a mirage in the end.

The devil I have stared right in the eye in the coldest of nights and have embraced my fears.  Many friends and connections I have made along the way, all of which I am truly and utterly grateful for.

All of this and I still had not found what I was looking for.

What was I looking for?

I cannot say as I did not know myself, but I knew I would recognise it as soon as I came upon it, just as I would recognise a packet of Krispy Kreme doughnuts fresh outta' the oven.

I continued to search high and low with many bitter, inevitable disappointments along the way.

Then, on a seemingly ordinary day, while laying down in my garden basking in the full splendour of the sun, it dawned upon me that the Holy Grail I've been searching for all along is already here, in the deep recesses of my inner being. What I was looking for all along here was something so simple, so raw and primitive: myself.

All my questions were instantly answered, for I was the answer.

I have finally found what I was looking for.

Hello Summer!

The shackles have been released. The weight lifted off of my back. My vision restored. My faculties undiminished.

As cliched as it is, there are NO words that can describe how I'm feeling right now. I had my last set of exams on Tuesday and I feel liberated. No longer cumbered by mathematics or seeing the same ol' sad faces in the library.

It is Saturday morning and as I type this I can feel the suns' rays on me, feeding me energy and love to send this one out to my dedicated fan base. Combine this with some old-school Yusuf Islam  (Cat Stevens) classics and the feelings of emancipation you're pretty much guaranteed to feel so damn good. :-)

Oh, I have precisely a month to chill out and catch up with friends and DO ABSOLUTELY NOTHING before I start my summer job. Bring on summer 09!!

I'm off to go play football now and score no less than 16 goals. I shall dedicate my 5th goal to you my friend. ;)

Peace

Mathematics

Ha. I just probably put off like half, nay, ALL, my readers with a title as formidable as Mathematics. If you're still reading this kudos to you...believe me it'll be worth it.

Actually it won't. But please do read on.

Sill with me? Awesome.

Anyway. I'm half way through my exams right now which is why I haven't written anything in absolutely ages.

I just realised I haven't got anything even remotely interesting to say. You can blame that on the endless hours spent in the library moving around imaginary numbers and Greek letters. Fun times.

Incidentally, why do some girls choose to come to the library dressed as burlesque models and smelling of peaches and cream? I am pretty certain they are trying to make guys like me fail.

Is it working? Yup.

Stuck in the Middle

As I sit here at my desk, with a mandatory steaming frothy cappuccino by my side, I have a relentless frustration gnawing at the deeper recesses of my heart.

Another 24 hours has passed and yet I still feel as though I am not working as hard as I ought to be in order to achieve the grades I know I'm capable of.

I spent the good part of today in LSE's library plowing through some abstract algebra but decided to throw in the towel at a rather early time of 7PM and roam the streets of Holborn with my studying partner, Cuban Jones Junior.

With a name like that, you're most certainly perplexed as to why I chose him as a study partner. Well, to be frank, I haven't the slightest but Mr Jones Junior is quite a character with his persistent desire to consume greasy dirty chicken. Every single day.

Bless his socks.

Alas. It is pass midnight and the motivated, genius part of me is telling me to stop writing this dribble and get some maths done. Conversely the lazy, gangster side of me is SCREAMING telling me to hit the sack with my bedtime book (Currently "How to Procrastinate" authored by yours truly) and read till my eyes close and gloriously enter the Holy Grail: Sleep.

The latter has won. By a landslide. Good night.

Gardens of Peace

I cried today for the first time in years and I wasn't cutting onions.

A close family friend had recently been diagnosed with cancer that ultimately spread to his brain amongst other parts. He was a close friend of my father but I also knew his two sons and we used to go to madrassa (Islamic School) together.

His prognosis wasn't the most promising of ones the doctors said. I'd been meaning to visit him for some time but kept on procrastinating and finding seemingly more pressing things to do. I finally settled to visit him yesterday-Sunday 5th April-to see the family and him and give them my best wishes and a supportive shoulder to lean on.

I had just returned from football on Saturday, the day preceding my planned visit, and after coming out of the shower my phone rang. It was my mother on the other line and she uttered the inevitable: Our family friend had passed away.

There was silence on the phone for what seemed an eternity. No words were exchanged between my mother and I but volumes was communicated. There was an inherent understanding that silence, in such situations, was the most fitting form of communication. Our emotions, an ambivalent mixture of sadness and hope, did all the talking.

Today was the day of his funeral and burial. I had cleared my entire rather cumbersome schedule and made my way to East London Mosque for the Salat al-Janazah (effectively funeral prayer). After the prayers I saw the sons of our family friend - they were all neatly dressed for their father's burial but were all crying. I wanted to go over to them and give them my consolations but I knew there was nothing I could have said that would heal the situation.

I tried to imagine myself in their situation but it just seemed inconceivable. I couldn't envision myself standing over my father's grave though that may one day be an inevitability.

The funeral car had arrived and we all lifted the coffin into it after which we all followed the car to Gardens of Peace, a Muslim cemetery in Hainult, Essex.

If there was a manifestation of Paradise on Earth it would be Gardens of Peace. The place instantly puts you at peace upon entering. There is a beautiful water stream erected in the centre surrounded by a vast field of green and flowers of a kaleidoscope of colours. You'd never think it was in fact a cemetery - Gardens of Peace, it was exactly that. Gardens of Peace.

Therein we buried our friend followed by many a tears wept by man and women alike. Tears of hope and joy that he has finally reached a better place. Tears of remembrance for the love and beautiful children he brought to this world. God bless him.

Summer Lovin'

It is that time of the year again. Exams are looming on the cascading horizon and I'm tryna keep my cool in the midst of chaos and utter inability in doing anything remotely close to mathematics. But it's all good.

What I am looking forward to, however, is the summer. Summer 08 proved to be one of my best summers thus far and 09 seems equally promising if not more.

I can just imagine it: I walk out of the dusty examination hall to culminate my last exam into the warm summer breeze and the sun shining with its blissful rays. I very slowly and deliberately put on my Ray Bans to appear cool and rad, almost akin to Horatio Caine but not quite.

I feel emancipated, free. Weeks of solitary confinement and hard work has finally come to pass.

To celebrate, I head down to spearmint rhinos and...

 

Well, somebody's got to help pay their medical tuition fees.

Don't know much about

I don't know much about history. Don't know much about biology. Don't know much the science books. Don't know much about the french I took.

All I know do know is... metric and topological spaces and abstract automorphisms.

Oh maths is cool.

As am I.

Barcelona

What I'm about to say may, nay, will most definitely come to haunt me. It shall stay with me till time immemorial and when eons and eons past, the inhabitants of this wonderful land that we call Earth will wonder "OMG REALLY?".

Here it goes.

*gulps*

I just watched the movie Vicky Christina Barcelona and enjoyed it. Very much. The ultimate chick-flick deluxe.

Oh there goes my manhood.

Sorry Grandma

There I am. Sitting on the train waiting for its departure. I'd just got out of 4 back-to-back gruelling interviews during which I continued to amaze myself with the BS that was pouring out of my mouth. Seriously, you could see the interviewers' eyes sparkle with intrigue and incredulity as I talked, most likely thinking "Is it EVEN possible for someone to chat so much crap?!". Yes, my love, it is.

But I digress.

So where was I? Oh yeah, I'm sitting on the train perusing the financial markets on the FT (read: Daily Star) when I notice an elderly lady get on the train with some struggle." Awww bless her socks" I think to myself and continue reading the Economist (Nuts).

Grandma tries to make eye-contact with me to signal for me to get off my perfectly shaped bottom and offer her the seat. Either that or she was flirting...actually that's just wishful thinking on my part. Damn I have a soft spot for my G-MILFS.

I deliberately try to avoid her leering puppy-dog eyes as there was absolutely no way I was going to get off given how comfortably I was sitting. With Coldplay pumping through my iPod and The Independent (Playboy) to keep me company I was chilled out to the max. Viva la Vida baby.

Actually this story is kinda dragging on. Let me just wrap it up:  Grandma continues to stand there helplessly whilst I sit there reclining on a dodgy old grimy seat like the Prince of Persia for the entire 20 minute train journey home.

Heartless. :-)

In a Little While

Bonjour mi compadres

Did I just combine French with Spanish? Oh well.

I seriously have no idea of what I'm about to write. It's Saturday night and I am in a ridiculously chill mood..perhaps because of the algebra I've been wrestling with all afternoon coupled with the soothing tunes that I've been listening to. There's something oddly liberating about finding a solution to a seemingly impossible problem.

Oh I'm so gangster.

There's 3 weeks left before I technically finish my 2nd year of university. It is already March but I can remember walking through the gates of UCL for my initial induction as though it was yesterday.

    

A lot has happened since starting university. I've met some of the coolest people that you can find outside of Ilford (brap), learnt so many different things of myself, fine-tuned my hustling skills to the peak of its ability and, most prominently, became of the most badass mathematicians mankind has ever witnessed. 

I realise that after I graduate in 2010 I will officially leave academia for good so I'm currently toying with the idea of doing a masters just to give me that extra year of having utterly no responsibility save finishing my assignments. Besides a husky "MSci" looks far sexier on a CV than a mediocre "BSc".

Incidentally, I know my blogging has of late been rather sporadic and infrequent but that is simply because...<insert valid excuse>.

I'm sure ya'll understand.

au revoir and adios

(did I just do it again?)