Some Far Away Star is My Dream
May 4th 2010 06:36
Dear Old Maggi
Maggi dropped by last evening to say hello. He looked marvellous, as always, with his big round glassy eyes, and well-built physique. The drizzle irritated him a tad too much, nonetheless, he seemed delighted to meet me, and I him. And no, Maggi is no dude I fancy, he’s a big four-year old tomcat who took off from his family’s home last winter in hopes of settling down. All our male cats leave home at some point in their adult lives, and surprisingly, every two weeks or so they come by and say hi. Mum considers it motherly love that keeps drawing them back home, because clearly, they don’t come for the raw chicken or fish.
Maggi exhibited exemplary behaviour last evening. He was courteous with his younger brother, Gundu, and didn’t pick up any nasty fight like he used to while he was still a stay-at-home cat. For a moment, I imagined him teaching me a very important lesson which is imperative for my eighteenth year as a human. I guess I need to pick up civility before I hit eighteen next Friday, but take my word, courteous living with a certain Sumaya Rahman (my sister) is pukka impossible.
Maggi also set me thinking about my long term goals, which I should start setting around now, unless I want to wait another eighteen years to actually yield something from my miserably indolent self. It’s quite in the air that I want to write the ultimate book that will wind up a best seller in all the 196 countries of the world. I know, an impossible dream, but no harm trying, right?
Right now, I’m also focussing on a freelance writing career with some local burgeoning businesses, magazines, and websites. I never knew that Qatar had an entire cluster of English-language writers, but yesterday, I had the privilege of coming across some very enterprising writers, one of who had also been a Wall Street Journal. Mind Blowing? I had to literally feel my head to ensure that it didn’t get knocked off my neck.
On my first freelancing mission, I’m expected to write an article on Qatar – no dark tales of immigrant workers and cannibals. Something light and positive is what Phil expects. The pay is remarkably good, and in this oily country, it should be. I have always had positive vibes for this country, except, right now, the words are choking in my small intestine and my thoughts have just filtered out with a nasty sneeze.
Also, there’s this laziness in me which may come in the way of fulfilling my literary ambitions. As I’m writing this, there are a dozen browsing tabs open, and each one is a unique writing opportunity. But, I did mention laziness, right? Sigh!
Nevertheless, in an effort to shake off some of the old-fashion, pure-bred lassitude, I decided to run a marathon. I know, you never knew that I ran, and anyway, I don’t, so you knew right. It’s a writing marathon on ezine.com and the goal is to write a hundred articles in a hundred days. It kicked off on Labour Day and there are bonus points for whisking up more than the required number of articles. There is no monetary benefit of winning, but it’s fun, and there are some exciting little gifts, like trophy mugs and leather-bound journals. My kind of collectibles. I won’t cry if you don’t go green.
From Maggi to my writing goals, I’ve come a long way, which is no surprise, because this is how family inspires.
From all the 200 grams of my throbbing heart,
Maimoona Rahman
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