Sunday, 28 February 2010


I think my recent trysts have been enough of a challenge for this month. Besides, I’ve never had a real Valentine before, so that’s one less thing on my list of 1001-things-to-do-before-I-die. Infatuation is like a drug. At its best it yields the highest of highs and the worst brings about the lowest of lows. It doesn’t help that a lot of people confuse infatuation to be L.O.V.E.

Ironically, I don’t believe in ‘Love’; not the conventional commercial kind anyway. I think in a way, I approach relationships the way most men do, pragmatically. I’d love to think with my heart, but my brain will kick its ass. So my heart is left to fantasize to its content, while my head makes those mathematical calculations that determine whether a relationship is worth pursuing or not.

There aren’t many people who capture my imagination and infatuation on a such grand scale (I think there were 2 or 3 in my lifetime) so when one does comes around, I jump on that bus and don’t get off until the last stop and will try to bribe the driver with peanuts so that I can stay for another round. Infatuation is my drug of choice and I have the ability to immerse myself in someone else’s existence to such an extent that it’s difficult to differentiate where I stop and he begins. But I don’t call this love and I enjoy it for what it is… the flirtation, the romance, the stolen moments… it’s like magic self-esteem in a bottle. My biggest problem is that I love the chase too much because it stimulates the adrenal cortex (I really should explore other extreme sports as an alternative) and that’s how I get my kicks.

Love… it’s a word taken all too lightly by too many. I come from a school of thought that believes that to a large extent, everyone has the ability to control their emotions. Anyone has the ability to love anyone else, or anything else for that matter… all that is required is that you should want to love that person/thing. You can learn to love someone or something you’ve hated for most of your life (ask me and broccoli). All you have to do is look close enough, beyond your perceptions and will it to happen. How many times haven’t you heard of hostages who love their captors? And the Rihanna’s of this world who love the men who beat them? And those little midgets (children) who are more than willing to trade a parent for chocolate or their teddy bears or blankies?

In many ways ‘Love’ is an oxymoron because there’s a fine line that separates it from ‘Hate’ and it has the ability to generate the very best of emotions (like elation) as well as the very worst (like psychotic jealousy, something everyone is very capable of; and with ingredients like 2 exes, a bunch of flowers, an unidentified phone call and some dodgy behavior you’re guaranteed a recipe for disaster). It has the ability to bring about incomprehensible joy and in a matter of minutes, profound agony as well. But we need love to be able to be compassionate and we need compassion to get through the daily grind on earth.

I still maintain that real love only exists between parents and their children (bar the crazies) and that every other variation is just that, a variation or derivative. I will go into more detail on this in a few days. All I know is that I will enjoy every moment of my journey through infatuation, with the hope that it becomes more than that one day.

In other news… on the 1st of March last year, I took my little Window and launched “Azra’s Adventures” in the hopes of living to my full potential and inspiring other’s to live too, in the here and now. I don’t know how successful or unsuccessful my endeavour has been and I will continue as usual, but on the 1st of March this year there'll be a new addition to my family in the way of a sister blog called “Off The Record”.

In retrospect, I should have done this a long time ago but everything in it’s time and better late than never. What will make this sister blog different is that it’s kinda like the black sheep of the family with a no-holds barred, uncensored commentary on my life. This is Azra Uncut and very little is off limits. It’s a holiday home for the most outrageous thoughts in my mind and a playground for every eccentricity.

I’ve already deported some of the content on this blog to its new home. “Off The Record” will host an in depth view of my life, love life and everything else... as well as my thoughts on other so-called taboo subjects like Sex and Sexuality, PMS, Jinn, France (lol lol I'm just kidding!) etc. etc. Blog-land just got a hell-of-a-lot more interesting. BUT YE BE WARNED!! It’s not for the feint hearted or the sensitive, or the close-minded, or the gossipmongers, or the judgmental, or the hypocrites. Entry into my personal space will require only three things: an open mind, honesty and discretion. Oh yeah and an email, requesting access. I think I at least deserve to know who’s reading the writing engraved on my soul and if you can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen baby ;)

Interested parties should mail their requests to I have resolved to wait for email requests instead of granting access to people I think would be interested - mainly because (as I stated previously) it's not for the feint hearted so I won't make that kind of assumption and it is imperitive that individuals make the conscious decision to be there. All applicants will be subjected to intense scrutiny, background checks as well as sporadic periodical polygraph tests. LMAO, just kidding!!:)


  1. Okay okay .. i'm emailing you now :-)
    You know i've been punting this off limits stuff for a while :D

  2. You just like stories :D