Test Post

This is just a test post to test out the functionality that blogger offers me to put in headings in my posts. I hear it's a good practice to use heading tags instead of simply styling your text. So let's see whether pretty too or not.

This is Heading. 

This is some random text. Boy I hate it when I have to put in some random text!

This is sub-heading. 

Really I do, unless it is random talking, then I am a champion.

this is a minor heading .

I would have even said a professional .

I don't want to, what I want to

I want to do what my instinct tells me. I don't want to do what I feel like doing. I don't want to do what I can do. I don't want to do what I am allowed to do. I don't want to do with I can get away with. I don't want to do the natural or the desirable or the comfortable. 

I want to do what is best. What is needed, what is beneficial. I want to be patient, not hurt. I want to be tolerant, not angry, even when I have every right to be angry. I want to be kind, not sad, even if I have born losses. I don't want to watch out for myself, I want to see where most can be gained for everyone.

It's not about nobility. It's about not being merely instinctive.

It's about love. I don't want to do what I would like to do, but what my beloved would like me to do.

RATS

I and Asghar and Talal went to LUMS as friends. There my roommate, Russell Anas, became our close friend too. We were a group of many friends, but perhaps because on one or two occasions, someone's father just noticed us four, and decided to name us STAR (Saad, Talal, Asghar and Russell). A loving father, gave us a loving name. But, we being ourselves, changed it to RATS. Not because of the sequence of initials, but because the other meaning it gave. It was, and is, how we called our group. That kinda thing seemed childish. But well, we were all Rats, not just the four of us. And when Rats hung out together, there were Ratisms. So here are a few for you:

Russell: So you know she says to Asghar “Oh my god you’re the MAN!”
Saad: Look Russell don’t insult Asghar. He’s the ANIMAL.
Asghar:(sarcastically) No commentssssss…
Saad: See? Animals don’t comment.

— Rats

Why Brishna doesn't save her work

I am not a graphic designer, but I do have some designing experience. And my sister is a designer. She is not a pro yet, but she's on her way to be. In her school, they teach her stuff like story boarding in Illustrator etc. And well, anybody who has ever done something like that, or has written long essays on a PC, knows that when it crashes, and you lose all your work, it feels like there is no point to being alive anymore...

*dramatic pause*

As for me, I have developed a habit of constantly pressing Ctrl + S, with my left pinkie and its neighbor, so much so that while filling forms in those websites that require you to sign up, I constantly find myself closing the Save as html pop-up which opens up when you try to ‘Save’ a web-page. 

Anyway, when my sister had to leave her computer in the middle of some designing and I started using it, she always asked me to first save her work, then carry on. And when that happened a number of times, I asked her why she doesn't save her work every minute, like I do. To that she said that Z and S are so close, that when she tries to press Ctrl S, she sometimes presses Ctrl Z, which makes her lose her work instead of saving it. 

She didn't know about Ctrl Y.

She is in debt to me since then :)

Don't give me a designer's job

I am a programmer by profession. It’s the job I applied for; it’s what I have studied for, for over four years. It is also, what I am ‘good’ at; I think I am a natural programmer: the kind of person who naturally thinks methodically and doesn’t make assumptions, a person who feels comfortable only in definitive, deterministic circumstances. It is also, what I like. I would solve a programming problem just for fun, I would use programming to do petty (hehe…) real-life tasks, and on any given day, I would rather solve a programming puzzle than write an essay.

But, I design too.

Narcissism aside, I am really good at design too. I love typography. Beautifully set books literally turn me on (take that to mean what you may, but they actually raise my heartbeat, make me excited). I can look at font specimens for hours (and can spend more hours on the internet ‘finding’ them). I have produced some much appreciated artworktoo. I have been known to express complex mixtures of ideas through my designs. And I spend more time at this than any other activity that I don’t get paid for (save for sleeping, that's still a winner).

But, that’s not what my job is. It’s not my profession. It's true that I have done free-lance graphic designing in past, but even if I was offered a full-time job at the place where I currently work, I would not accept it. You see, I don't like to design what I am told or how I am told. They say that the mastery of the art is to work with constraints. As the constraints become tighter, skill is needed even more. And I agree with that. But for me, designing is not a task, it's not work that's to be done. I can't design for a paycheck. I can't take guidelines from someone when designing. I can't find the sweet spot between unbound artistic expression and deadlines. I design for myself, to give form to my feelings. I can't design to please anybody.

When I did freelance, I enjoyed what I produced. But the journey to that end was very tiring. It was exhausting, consuming, sometimes, even frustrating. I get obsessive about little details. And so, after hours and hours of judgment, I would settle on something, and just for a second opinion, show both versions to someone, and they couldn’t tell the difference. That part was very frustrating. Also, because I lacked the formal training in this field, I had to read so much just to get one theme in line with color harmonies, or one layout in line with natural design. And guess what? My clients couldn’t tell the difference. So I thought I couldn’t design for money. Or for people.

Don’t get me wrong, I like appreciation. I like it when others like what I do. But that’s not the reason I design for! It's true that if I came up with a ‘masterpiece’ and Asad comes along and says, ‘err… Saad, the tracking on this one's a bit off…,’ as much as I would like to tell him to go screw himself for belittling my child, I would not. I would probably think, ‘My boy does need a haircut’ and I would adjust the tracking. But Asad's approval is not why my child came into the world. That happened cause I wanted to make love.

Trebuchet, Tahoma, Verdana

Some things gone wrong with me past couple of days. I guess it has to do with having a blog. I have gotten even more obsessed with fonts! Not just that, while earlier, the fascination was just with finding and downloading free great looking fonts, now it has become even deeper. Now I want to search for great serif fonts, that can look good on screen, great serif fonts that look good in print, I mean, in all these. More about that later, write now I am no mood to write, just present. So wash your eyes, and then look at ...

Trebuchet MS

TO THE RED COUNTRY and part of the gray country of Oklahoma, the last rains came gently, and they did not cut the scarred earth. The plows crossed and recrossed the rivulet marks. The last rains lifted the corn quickly and scattered weed colonies and grass along the sides of the roads so that the gray country and the dark red country began to disappear under a green cover. In the last part of May the sky grew pale and the clouds that had hung in high puffs for so long in the spring were dissipated. The sun flared down on the growing corn day after day until a line of brown spread along the edge of each green bayonet. The clouds appeared, and went away, and in a while they did not try any more. The weeds grew darker green to protect themselves, and they did not spread any more. The surface of the earth crusted, a thin hard crust, and as the sky became pale, so the earth became pale, pink in the red country and white in the gray country.

An excerpt from a Book

TO THE RED COUNTRY and part of the gray country of Oklahoma, the last rains came gently, and they did not cut the scarred earth. The plows crossed and recrossed the rivulet marks. The last rains lifted the corn quickly and scattered weed colonies and grass along the sides of the roads so that the gray country and the dark red country began to disappear under a green cover. In the last part of May the sky grew pale and the clouds that had hung in high puffs for so long in the spring were dissipated. The sun flared down on the growing corn day after day until a line of brown spread along the edge of each green bayonet. The clouds appeared, and went away, and in a while they did not try any more. The weeds grew darker green to protect themselves, and they did not spread any more. The surface of the earth crusted, a thin hard crust, and as the sky became pale, so the earth became pale, pink in the red country and white in the gray country.

And now, Tahoma!

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

Vladimir Nabokov

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

Verdana:

In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army. Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out. On landing at Bombay, I learned that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy’s country. I followed, however, with many other officers who were in the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Candahar in safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new duties. 

Vladimir Nabokov

In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army. Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out. On landing at Bombay, I learned that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy’s country. I followed, however, with many other officers who were in the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Candahar in safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new duties.

Quote, Unquote

Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.

— Walt Whitman