LIFE GOES EASY ON ME

the campaign to make poverty history

2007-05-18T09:41:00.000-07:00

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them."

http://one.v1.myvirtualpaper.com/brochure/2007051702

The Making of a Bully

2007-03-24T13:51:00.000-07:00

I am maybe 9 or 10 years old. I'm in the third grade. At this moment its recess, what we happily call "break-time", and we are out playing in the high temperature and the sun. We don't notice how hot it is, and how our scalps are burning. We're too busy playing and trying to stuff our lunches in our mouths in the least time possible so that we can have more play time and not hear scolding from our parents for not finishing our lunches.

I have two slices of bread clinging together with Nutella chocolate spread, like an oversized white Oreo. I am really hungry and sad. There is no specific reason for me to be sad. I just am. I don’t have good friends, girls are really bitchy at 9 years old, and if you don't have a group, or you speak differently, or your skin tone is darker, then you are an outcast. I am such an outcast. It is my first year in this school so I have no "group". They are all Lebanese and Syrian, I am Yemeni so my accent is noticeably different. And I also speak English differently. And I am darker. I have some superficial friends but they only use me when they need someone extra for a game. I don't mind though, I like thinking more than playing, and I have such a demanding and creative life with my brother that I can't be bothered to play silly little games with silly little girls.

As I finish my sandwich I see a boy being beaten up. There are 3 large troll-like kids pounding at him with their bulky brawny fists and arms. They are hulking and strong. He's a beautiful boy, and I am too young to notice boys but I do notice that he is beautiful. His name is Laith, which for some reason means "white lion" to me. It's because of a cartoon I always watch with a white lion called Al Laith Al Abyadh – the White Lion. The real Laith has glossy, silky-smooth, and extremely brown hair. He never cuts it. He is my age and my height. He has dazzling green eyes. I remember this because he goes home with me in the same bus. Everyday he comes home with new bruises and bleeding gums, lips, or hands. I am used to it. Nobody says anything when they see it.

This is my first perception of the notion of bullying, but I don't seem to grasp the severity of it. I am detached and uncaring. But I see the boy being hounded and no teacher coming to the rescue. And I watch him, he is not protecting himself. He is leaving himself open to being hit, because instead of trying to shield himself he is fighting back with all his might, and he is fighting dirty. He is scratching and biting and tearing and crying. It only serves to make the bigger boys hit him harder, because he cannot outmatch one of them let alone three. But he is unremitting and does not stop fighting back.

It begins to hurt me that this is going on for so long and no one is coming to him. Everybody is just watching, and I am surprised that no one can hear his loud sobbing and cries because he is really, really howling.

I begin to feel fear yet I do nothing, just look around for teachers. Finally our Physical Education teacher rushes in and pulls the bullying dogs away from the poor little white lion. He is defeated but still wants to fight, and kicks and bites at the teacher who is in the way. The teacher cruelly shoves him away and tells the little white lion to wash his face with cold water. The boy finally does as he is told. The teacher and the three bullies disappear, and the crowd disappears, but I am still standing there and my heart is broken.

He is washing his face but does not stop weeping. His whole back is filled with sweat and he takes off his white school shirt to reveal cuts and bruises in his arm, and sweat making his sleeveless flannel shirt completely transparent. He sits down and even though he has stopped weeping loudly his body is still heaving with intense sobs. And he sits there whimpering and sniveling. Water, sweat, tears, mucus and blood are rolling down his face.

I know that he hasn’t had lunch because he never has time to eat before he gets into a fight, and sometimes those bullies take his food away. I have a bottle of juice with me. I am really thirsty but I can't stop watching him cry. His hair is wet, his chin is cut, he has bleeding wounds where nail marks are noticeable on his neck, his hands are shaking, and his pants are dirty and torn.

I walk to him, right next to him, but he doesn’t look at me. I open my juice bottle – I know that it is cold and sweet because my mom always adds ice-cubes in the morning so that by lunch time the ice has melted but the juice is really cold and tasty. I hand him the juice bottle. It is heavy and army green and contains at least 4 large glasses of juice.

We're not allowed to drink anything but water in class so it is mom's idea of defiance to put juice in our water bottles. Nobody can tell it is juice. His hands are fragile and he can scarcely carry the bottle but he does. He puts his whole lips around the small opening of the bottle and gobbles it down. He is surprised at the taste because he expects water, but likes it immediately. He drinks and drinks and drinks. And when he stops for breath he doesn't move the bottle from his mouth, he just stops drinking, breathes heavily through his nose, and then goes back to drinking. I am pleased that he likes it so much; I know he does because it's my favorite juice. I am also happy that he accepts my offering. I am too young to know the gratification that comes when you help someone. For me it just feels good to have him accept my help.

I do not realize how dehydrated he is and am surprised to see him drink so much, but also delighted.

He is done and gives me the bottle back, but I look at the opening of the bottle, it has a little blood and sweat on it, and for some reason I know that I will never drink from that bottle again. I tell him to keep it. He says thank you, and looks genuinely delighted because now he can keep drinking. His face is still tear-stained and his chin and lip are still bleeding. His voice is harsh and sore from his stinging throat, and he can barely stand up when the bell rings for us to line up.

I forget the boy and start looking for my brother. I always make sure he is standing in his line before I go to my line. He is nowhere to be seen. I panic. I start asking his friends where my brother is, they say they don’t know. I go to my teacher and whine that my brother is missing, and she tells me to just go back to line. I start crying. The tears keep rolling down my face and I keep wiping them but they keep coming. I don't even know why I'm sad I just want to find my baby brother. I am also affected by the hurt boy but I can't tell it at that age. I get yelled at for running around the playground when recess is over but I don't care. My baby brother is my responsibility and what if what happened to that poor little beautiful boy happened to my brother. But now everybody is standing in line and getting ready for class, and I have no choice but to obey the rules.

Now I'm crying for both the beautiful boy and my brother, but of course at that age I don't know it yet. My classmate Hazza' is standing behind me – also a bully and always playing pranks on me, a boy I really dislike – and he taps me hard on my shoulder and asks me why I'm crying. I tell him I can't find my brother and I cry some more. He scans the line where my brother usually stands with his friends, and then looks back at me. He looks again and seems sad that I am sad. This is the first time he doesn’t see me annoyed at him, and he sees a little girl crying and perhaps instinct makes him feel he should do something to help me, because I look at his face and I can see confusion and restlessness. There is a kid reciting the Qur'an on a microphone, but her voice is distant and all I want is to see my brother. After a few minutes Hazza' the bully is really miserable, and he tries to come up with reasons why my brother isn't there. Maybe he is in the bathroom. Maybe he is in the front of the line and we can't see him. Maybe he was sick today and he didn't come to school at all. Bingo. That was it. Now I remember. My brother is at home today. I don't tell Hazza' how stupid I am in forgetting that my brother is sick, but I tell him thank you. He looks relieved but concerned. All day that day during class I notice he is looking at me, and he waits till he can see my eyes, and when he is sure I am not crying, he goes back to what he is doing. In my young age I already realize the effect of tears on men, and how Hazza' the bully for some reason wanted to help me even though he knows I don't like him, like it is his duty to stop me from crying. I stop crying.

School ends quickly and when I go home I am pleased to see my brother watching television. I don't tell him about the little white lion. My mother asks me where my juice bottle is. I tell her I don't know. She is a very accepting mother and doesn't ask again, and instead of an army green large bottle, the next day I have a Barbie-pink juice bottle.

Years later, I leave that school and go to a larger, more multi-cultural school, and I start preferring a social life rather than thinking. I join clubs and am outspoken, loud, and a bit naughty. Hazza' the bully had failed school and was sent away. One day, I am swimming and someone comes to the pool with a friend of mine. That someone is tall, beautiful, with dark green eyes and short brown hair, and the one thing i notice about him is his red cap. I ask him if he has a younger brother called Laith, because to me Laith is still young. He says that he is Laith. I tell him who I am but he doesn't remember me. And he has changed. He is cruel and arrogant, loud, always angry, and has a very dirty mouth. I dislike him right away, he has become the very bully he used to fight against, and I have never seen him since.

I'm sorry

2007-03-09T06:11:00.000-08:00

This is a formal act of contrition to, AND request for forgiveness from, one of my dearest friends. She had gone through a hard time once or twice and instead of giving her guidance I tried to convince her that what she was feeling wasn’t real. Even though my advice was heartfelt and I had good intentions, I now realize that no one has the right to tell someone else how they are really feeling. If someone feels they are in love, you can’t just tell them: no what you’re feeling is not love. Some things a person has to go through, the journey of discovery himself/herself, and ascertain what it really is for themselves, and make the reflection of what it really was themselves, and build the barriers for pain not to hurt them again in the future themselves.
I don’t believe in circumstances, I believe everything happens for a reason. I am not an authority on the profound notion of circumstances, coincidences, fate, and destiny, but I truly believe that you are today a mix-up and subconscious blend of everything that happened to you up till yesterday, and since something happened to me yesterday that made me realize how horrible it is to have someone tell you that what you’re feeling is not true, my dear friend, I am extremely sorry, and please forgive me. I assure you that next time you are in any situation that has you suffering; I will stick to my regular: you have to go through it, this too shall pass, and there are people around the world who have so much pain from starvation, poverty, disease, parentless-ness and homelessness that if we spend a few minutes thinking of them we will thank God that we have what we have and the pain we are feeling now will not disappear but at least lessen with the guilt and knowledge that most of us, in our little bubble, do not know what real pain really is (including myself). I will stick to all of that and more, but I will (InsAllah) do my utmost not to tell you that what you’re feeling isn’t real.

Dream post (1)

2007-03-07T23:10:00.000-08:00

I just woke up. I had to write this down before I forget, because the last few times it happened to me I thought I would remember, but I forgot. I don’t know why but I keep having the same dream. Or rather, the same man in a dream, but each dream is different. There have been so many dreams of him but I just can’t remember them right now. All I remember is the dream I just woke up from, and every time I dream about him again I’m going to write about it until I figure out what the hell it all means. I read somewhere that when you dream about something over and over again, something out there is trying to tell you something, or maybe something in you is trying to tell you something. You just have to decipher what it is. And you cannot find a bigger believer in “signs” than me.
This dream: I am in a corridor and I see him pass by (he’s far from me and doesn’t quite see me until he passes away from me). I don’t take a good look at him because he passes quickly but I already know who it is – in my dream I know him. I turn away and he turns back and follows me (I somehow know that he has turned back to follow me even though if this dream was real I would have no way of knowing that. I’m 2 people: the person who is watching the dream and the person who is living the dream). I open a door and he’s right behind me, and he says something, but I can’t remember what words he used. But in the dream I understood that we had to see each other, and I take out my phone and – I don’t remember if he asked me for my number or if I asked him for his number, in any case, I dial his number but it won’t ring. I try again but his phone doesn’t ring. Then I try dialing my number from his phone, but my phone doesn’t ring. Then I tell him he’s using a different system that doesn’t work here so we can’t reach each other. Somehow that seems the cue for him to leave, and I go downstairs and I see another man, looking stern, wearing a kandora (dishdasha) and looking serious, and he gives me this dirty look like I’m this slut and he’s figured me out and he’s going to tell on me; and even though it was clear he was going downstairs, he changes directions and climbs up the stairs. I ignore the look.
I can’t remember what happened to the guy, or how he left. Suddenly I was telling him I couldn’t reach him (and he couldn’t reach me) and suddenly I’m in the stairs. I remember what he looks like – I’ve seen him so many times in different dreams. He’s tall; he has very brown hair that’s long and very wavy. He’s eyes are either grey, or blue, or green, or light brown: I can’t remember but I know they’re not black. He’s much older, and he has a lined face…like that guy from American Beauty (Kevin spacey??) or that guy from Ever After who loves Drew Barrymore…He has an accent but I have no idea where from. And in every dream something happens and even though (in the dream) I am sure beyond any doubt that we belong together it just doesn’t happen. But this is the first time I see the stern-looking man. He has extremely short hair and very small eyes and an unsmiling face, and I dislike him even before he gives me a bad look, but I think in the dream I was also scared of him. Or not scared of him but scared of what he could do. I’m not sure.
I think I figured out what the dream means. That’s so funny cuz when I woke up I had no idea. But I’m not sure.

Torment of not remembering

2007-02-07T00:12:00.000-08:00

It takes time for the missing to take on their rightful form in our feelings. We try to keep them in our mind. We feel that if we don’t keep them close, their memory loses color, and becomes pale, twinkling in our memories only now and again and hither and thither, in forlorn, abandoned silhouettes, quickly given a nice welcome by our hearts, only to be dismissed by our snobbish brains.

It takes time for the missing to take on their rightful form in our feelings. Those missing ones who hurt us, cut us in a place that took long to heal, offended our dignities and upset our obliging and foolish hearts – what a difference it is between when they first leave you and much later on when you remember them.

It takes time for the missing to take on their rightful form in our feelings. When they first leave you you are in turmoil of naive fright and panic, as though some sort of internal combustion has abruptly burned your heart into ashes, in an instant you have no heart, only ashes caged where your heart used to be.
After some time passes, when you have accidentally moved on, then you remember them, and you start to wonder why exactly you were frantic to be with them? What was so special about them? And if it was meant to be, wouldn’t it have lasted?

You can either breathe life into your wounded, cut, offended, and foolish hearts, and start living more powerfully, laughing harder, allowing sensations to overcome you, becoming more devoted and more loving, and sucking power from the knowledge that since you’ve already been through what you’ve been through, since you’ve already experienced the pain, you can take it all – you’re stronger.

Or , after being damaged and deserted, you can nurture a firmer, more solid, and more inflexible heart – so concrete that no love can enter it and swallow it whole. You can become guarded and discouraged. You lock yourself in a top-security prison. Your distorted heart leaks life out from a very tiny and almost invisible crack in the concrete. Yet you continue locking it away in a friendless, wasteful grief. You don’t even allow the cut to heal before your cast it. You are in such a hurry to close the bloody cut that you seal it before the skin grows back properly. You seal your heart in such a hard cast that the skin grows back under the cast flawed and spoiled, yet you put your flawed and spoiled heart in an official place, sitting ceremoniously, not allowing anyone close. And it chants about what might have been, what might have been…what might have been.

It takes time for the missing to take on their rightful form in our feelings. For me, I forget. I really do forget. It took me some time to train myself to forget, but I think I’ve figured it out: that second…no, that millisecond you just spent thinking about someone who’s hurt you…remembering some painful memory…you can never get it back. It’s gone, you’ve lost it. Are they really so amazing that their memory has stolen a second from your life? Something that you can never get back?

But the downside to forgetting is, when someone reminds you of them, tells you something about them that you never expected, when you hear in your ears how they’ve moved on, the feeling of remembrance is – I think – a bit more intense than if you had been constantly thinking about that person. Yet somehow, that small shameful, shy smile shows up on your lips, and you feel pity: like you are someone else looking down at yourself and saying, tsk tsk tsk, if only you knew what was in store for you...and who is waiting for you in your future...And then you tell yourself that it’s ok, it’s a little too late to care anyway, and you go on with whatever you were doing. You might feel a little sad, but then you remember what you have, you become grateful for what you have in this moment, in your life, and you try to live mad – talking madly, living madly, desiring madly, never yawning or saying something boring, but burning like an exploding yellow roman candle.
But it still takes time for the missing to take on their rightful form in our feelings.

First thought of this year

2007-01-16T23:02:00.000-08:00

First thought, a few seconds after New Year’s: Life’s too short.

A Day in the Life Of...(3)

2006-12-15T06:17:00.000-08:00

He barges into my room, and screams at the top of his lungs:
“WHY THE FFF*** DID YOU DO THAT???!!!”

I scream back:
“WWWWWHATT?? What are you --- ”

He puts his hand up quickly and says:
“SHUTTT UPPP!!! I don’t listen to stupid questions.”
... ... ... ...

The bottle of Vaseline missed him by a mere second; it crashed on the door and cracked.
p.s. I really can't handle this kind of stress.

Doctor shmockter

2006-10-18T01:07:00.000-07:00

It’s always been like this – Arab professors INSIST that we call them Doctor. (Not sir, not Ma’am, Not Mr. or Mrs/ or even Ms., it has to be DOCTOR). It always bothered me when a girl goes “But sir, ….” And the professor has to interrupt, not caring what her question was, and says “Not sir, DOCTOR.”. Like who the hell cares. We all know you’re a doctor. That’s why you’re teaching us. Why can’t you just focus on the question? In any case, students usually call their professors “doctor”, but in mid-sentence, or in a conversation, it seems easier to say ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’, why can't they just accept that?.

On the other hand, every Non-Arab professor I have met actually wanted us to call them by their first names. All of them would say “Call me whatever you like.” And it was kind of uplifting, not worrying too much about labels. If you called them Doctor, sir, Mr., miss, Mrs.,or used their first name, they were cool with it. And I always complained and nitpicked at this fact– why do the Arab professors (especially the women) insist on us calling them Doctor, but non-Arab ones are fine with anything. What is this need to put a distance between us and them? And was there a reason that only the Arab professors persist with this or was it just a coincidence that the ones who insisted on it were Arab?

In any case, for the first time in my life, a few days ago I met an Arab professor who insisted on us calling him by his first name. On our first class with him he said: “Call me anything you like, Doctor, Sir, A**** (his first name), Madam (we all chuckled), whatever, I don’t care. Just as long as you do raise your hand in class and call me.” And I thought what! Maybe it’s not that they’re Arabs, maybe it’s just that the ones I met who insisted on name tags were coincidentally Arabs! And I was happy – it’s got nothing to do with culture, it’s got everything to do with personality and character.

Of course, my cheerfulness didn’t last when I found out that our unusual Arab professor has actually spent more than 30 years or so in the West, teaching non-Arab students, and has lived most of his life in non-Arab countries. Basically his personality/character was shaped somewhere out of the Arab world.

Well thanks. Now I know that it must have something to do with society. And I hope to be the first Arab professor ever born and raised in and Arab world who insists on her students calling her whatever in the world they want, just as long as they raise their hands in class and call me.

Superstition

2006-10-07T22:58:00.000-07:00

I’m not a very investigative person, but I do go through phases where I analyze myself (for no reason other than to have something to talk about, and who loves anything more than talking about their selves?)
In any case, I have made an interesting discovery, and once I mentioned my behavior I found a few people who share this same conduct with me. Superstition. I don’t consider myself a very superstitious person, I think I read somewhere ages ago that women ordinarily resort to superstitious thoughts when they can’t explain something, but for my part, when I’m under any kind of pressure, then I get really superstitious. This has been going on for so long that I didn’t even realize it, until of course I found myself more and more engrossed in it– for example, if I have an exam, I have to put on full makeup. For some reason I cannot perform well in an exam if I am not lavishly made-up. When my friends see me with make-up, they know right away that I have an exam. It’s like a ritual. I usually put make-up everyday, but when I go all out with the hair and the eye shadows, then its war. Same thing with clothes, if I ever wear something and do badly, then I never wear it again for anything important. If I have a meeting and I wear a red blouse, and then during the meeting there’s an argument, or I say something stupid, or on the whole the meeting does not go well, then I never wear that red blouse again for anything important. Ever. Same goes for shoes and jewelry. And somehow it works. Deep down I know that this is totally irrational, unreasonably, and somewhat absurd, but for some reason I take comfort with this foolish faith that one thing has a lot to do with another. Miss M suggested that I once do it anyway: wear something that I’ve worn before and things didn’t work out, just to see if they don’t work out again. But I think I’ve psyched myself so much into believing in this that I might unconsciously do badly just to prove to myself that my superstition is true. In any case I’m enjoying this. It’s like how my brother has to say goodnight 3 or 4 times before he can actually sleep, or my mother has to hold the remote in her hand even if she’s not changing the channel, or my friend has to keep her mobile right in front of her on the table during exams, and my other friend has to swear and then pray if a black cat ever crosses her path when she’s driving… many other things around me I’ve noticed that people take comfort in even though, if they think about it sensibly, it makes no sense at all.
That’s it for today. I haven’t blogged in ages but now university has started and I have a lot of breaks between classes so I guess I’m back.

Excuses Excuses

2006-06-05T13:56:00.000-07:00

When you are living with someone, essentially dependant on them, then all the decisions you make are entangled with the choices they make. More importantly, all the promises that you make are only kept if they keep their end of the promise. That sucks particularly because: when you assure a certain someone that you will meet him/her at some particular time and in some particular place, and then your significant other/ guardian/ parent/ ride cancels on you, you are held responsible for not meeting that person at that particular time and in that particular place. And when you make the excuse that it isn't your fault, its fine the first couple of times, but by the hundredth time you are forever known as someone who is incessantly late and can never keep a promise.
That is how I have a repute that it is in my character to never show up when I'm supposed to, and if I do then I'm always very late, and as a rule I never keep promises. I'm really not like that, yet my friends actually make a 2 hour allowance for whatever time I say I'm going to meet them. My family just knows to never even keep their hopes up, and always be surprised when we do actually show up for whatever it is we said we're going to show up for. If it were up to me then I'd always be half an hour or 15 minutes early at least. For classes I'm usually early because the girl I go to Uni with always shows up exactly on time and so we take our time getting to class. But she's not who I'm complaining about.
Today especially was a day when I actually believed that we were going to keep the promise that I MADE (because if it were up to "her" then we'd never go out, but I like keeping family ties, I love making plans with my cousins, and I love visiting the cousins that I like) and that's why in the end I'm the one blamed for making a commitment that needs "her" to be committed to - in today's case it turned out that I was stupid to get my hopes up for something that had a 90% chance for being cancelled for no good reason at all– and it was a particularly painful when I called up the person I was supposed to see (and had already cancelled on 3 times last week at the last minute) and the moment I said "Hi!" she said: "Don't tell me, you're canceling right?". And then she wasn't even surprised and she actually said "I'm traveling on Sunday, PLEASE let me see you before I leave," and I felt so guilty I actually said: "Sure, sure, I'll see you on Thursday for sure, don't worry, I want to see you too." I hated myself for even making that promise.
Maybe I should just stop telling people I'm going to see them and then if I am then I won't call to tell them until I'm actually in the car. And it's even worse when they're not surprised anymore and when you apologize for the millionth time they go: no, its ok, I didn't expect you to come anyway. I'm so mad and upset and…
I just wanted to get that out of my chest.
p.s. I'll let you know if we actually go to see her on Thursday.

The Truth about Happiness

2006-05-25T15:30:00.000-07:00

All fled, all done, so lift me on the pyre;The feast is over and the lamps expire.
Robert E Howard

Maybe we're not supposed to be happy. This persistent internal struggle and frustration at why why why it had to be me and why can't life just give me a break and why do we have to resist bad temptations or fight for our rights or grapple for a good thing to stay or face battles everyday…Maybe we have to be brutally honest to ourselves, distinguish between the really bad shit and the shit, and be happy that we don't have to put up with too much shit and move on. And maybe we're just supposed to be thankful for the things we'll never know happened. No offence to anybody out there, but the old favorite optimistic chestnuts like " learn from your mistakes" or "everything's a lesson" and all that is just bull which, if you say to someone who's feeling really down, then it just makes them want to punch you in the face (have you ever been in a situation when you've been feeling soo bad and someone tells you "take it easy!" or "relax!" or anything like that and you felt like telling them to just stuff it? That's what I mean – it doesn't help.)

I really think that the best thing you can tell someone who is going through hard times that they just have to go through it, and that there's no other way to get over something until it gets over with them. I mean, I believe that miracles happen as we move along with our lives. But I also believe that we never see them. Maybe it's because we close our eyes, maybe we are so busy looking at another direction and maybe it's because we are afraid to really be happy. Here's the fact that we're actually taught when we're 8 but fail to recognize as the best advice we're ever gonna get: "We can't go over it, we can't go under it, Oh no, we've got to go through it…"
There are a lot of hints for happiness going on, little sounds that sigh to us about the great things in life, but we're just so busy trying to pursue something that might have no good in it at all that we block out all sounds and sights and focus on the wrong thing.

I think that every crappy, shitty, nasty little thing that happens to us should be accepted and acknowledged as what it really is: something to throw us off our feet because face it, life's a bitch and she's having the time of her life taking the piss out of us. But here's what we're supposed to keep our minds focused on: the actuality that every day we have the nerve and even the audacity to face one more day knowing that there's only going to be more shit ahead of us…
Now that's something to be happy about.

A Day in the Life of... (2)

2006-04-09T11:04:00.000-07:00

My brother stares at the mirror.

Giggles. A lot.

I ask him what the hell's so funny.

He says: It said something nice to me.

2006-04-02T14:10:00.000-07:00

Despair in the long hours of darkness

2006-04-02T13:53:00.000-07:00

Remembering a grand part of my life that has passed and will never come back again

Going through moments where I just wish I could simply throw away my memories because living a life not knowing better is better than living a life and comparing it to something else

Remembering an extremely talented and amazing person who was once a big part of my life but now has gone forever

Looking around me and all the faces I see and discovering I have no real friends

Looking at my reflection in the mirror and not recognizing the body that's staring back at me

Screaming really loud and suddenly my voice gets caught and I can't breathe

Waking up screaming and not remembering what the hell scared me

Resigning from a fight and giving up on things that are important to me for the sake of love

Changing some of my core values to keep up with the life I have to lead

Playing a part that's not really me but having to do it because it's expected

Pretending to feel things I don't so I look good to the people around me

Warmly shaking the hand of a person I know is nauseatingly but secretly depraved

Smiling to (that same) face of a person I wish I could spit on

Making friends with people my surroundings forced me to encounter (like in a damn wedding, and in school, and in social gatherings). Small talk is annoying walla.

Suddenly waking up in the morning and then urgently and desperately wishing I could go back to my dream because whatever I was dreaming was better than what I was waking up to

Hurting a person but being too cowardly to confess to it because people will think I'm feeble

Realizing that slowly, bit by bit, I'm giving up on one dream after another

Laughing really loudly to hide the sound of my heart breaking

Realizing that I am the cause of someone else's misery

Doing something I was so absolutely certain and confident was the right thing to do and then, after its too late, realizing how radically wrong I was

Not being able to return some amazing person's feelings just because I can't – and hurting for their pain because I've been through what they're going through, and it doesn't make sense how I can feel so much for someone who doesn't deserve me but so little for someone who deserves better than me

Realizing that something careless and hasty I did caused the crushing of someone's dream

Giving my hand out trying to save someone and then realizing she's actually pulling me down with her

Slowly pulling away from someone I care about, just because I had no time to make the effort to keep in touch, and suddenly needing her and realizing she's gone

Going through a day when – honestly – I am suspicious about everybody's (and I mean EVERY BODY, even my mom) 's intentions

Thinking that I'm learning something new everyday and then realizing that everyday someone has taken a piece of me and walked away

Deciding I need a moment to myself and then panicking when I realize I can't face myself

Wishing that today is tomorrow only so I wouldn’t have to go through another night of these thoughts.

A Day in the Life of...

2006-03-31T06:17:00.000-08:00

Comes to the room, points a finger at me, and says:
"You're lying to me aren't you?!"

"About what?"

"You better not be this time."

And he walks away.

Oh My God if I go mad it's because of my brother's crazy "scenes" that he plays upon me. This is one in a million that he plays out. And I just happen to me the unaware actress in his plays.

(Sigh)

2006-03-04T10:58:00.000-08:00

I'm sooooooo busy...and overworked...and I keep checking here...longingly...wishing I could write...
Miss you all.

Fantasies (1)

2006-02-11T16:38:00.000-08:00

I love losing myself in my dreams
Where King Arthur and Camelot really existed…
And Merlin a nice old man with a long white beard and wise eyes
And always, always, I am the heroine with the perfect life and perfect face and perfect hair
…and perfect life...
(hehe)

I love losing myself in my memories...
Especially when I hear that song…or that special tune…that was playing along in a crucial moment in my life…and then somehow that song became an essence of that memory

(Bailamos, let the rhythm take you over Bailamos, te quiero amor mio, Bailamos…wanna live this night forever Bailamos, te quiero amor mio…)

That song becomes a trigger that takes me back to a familiar place in my mind, deep within my memories, a place I love going back to over and over again, remembering the who and the when and the how much fun

(I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream, I know you the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam, yet I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem, but if I know you, I know what you do, you love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream)

… to the days of innocence and mischief and most of all freedom…

And I don't mean freedom from religion or society's rules…I mean the freedom that comes with being a kid…freedom from your own personal rules that are built into you every minute of every day and every night…because by morning you are a day older…a day wiser…and a day sadder…

These days…there are too many layers…that little imaginative kid is hidden beneath layers and layers of prudence, carefulness, caution…

Caution and black cloth. I am veiled and respectable…but in my reflection I see the truth…under my skin my blood yearns for a life that I can't or will not let myself live…but I love losing myself in those fantasies anyway…

2006-01-07T03:14:00.000-08:00

Talking on the phone

2006-01-04T13:33:00.000-08:00

The conversation wouldn't start with "Hi babes, listen I just wanted to ask…"
They would start with " Hiiiiiiiii. Howww youu doooweeein?? How was your day?"
Talking. For endless hours, just talking. And it wasn't like those perhaps 20 to 30-minute conversations you have with a friend where you heatedly talk about something you've been wanting to talk about for a long time – gossiping about a professor who has it in for you, wondering what happened to that girl you hadn't seen for ages, laughing at some friend, or just reminiscing about the good ol' days. It was actual conversations about heartfelt issues, and it was every. single. night. and it lasted all night long till the thin rays of sunlight pierced the blue sky and we were too cold to get out of bed and pull the curtains (and too lazy).
Sometimes hours would pass and we would be silent. The stillness was pleasant, and it sometimes became so hushed that the quiet and calmness in that late night seemed sacred, we were forbidden to break it, it was intense and mysterious, and all the figures in the room that seemed small and meaningless during the day appeared to be that much bigger, and pretty much came to life. These larger and shadowy figures made us swear that we would stay silent, for as long as it took. After a while one of us would need to go to the bathroom, or get water, and the silence would be unintentionally broken, and we would instinctively leave the door ajar so some light could sneak in and we wouldn't have to make that promise again.
Sometimes we would run out of thoughts and our silences weren't still, they were quick and searching, until one of us remembered something they wanted to say.
And I can picture in my mind what we looked like, as if I am looking at picture-in-picture and I can see the both of us, each lying on their bed, staring at the ceiling. Sometimes I would turn over and let the receiver rest on my cheek, and I could hear breathing. I couldn't tell if it was his or mine, but it was a restful sound all the same. All was right in the world. Everything that happened was fair.
I remember sitting on the floor, my back resting against the cold wall, twirling my fingers around the cord. I remember noticing that when he whispered, so did I, I remember our silly phrases that we repeated over and over again, I remember the both of us humming the pink panther tune, I remember him cracking up whenever I knew what he was talking about before he finished what he was saying, I remembering laughing gently at his jokes. Most of the time they were sarcastic remarks, but never hurtful, and almost always about things that I already thought were ironic. I remember talking, all night long, but I can't remember about what exactly, and why it took so long. It wasn't nonsense. It was interesting. We shared thoughts, talked about memories, poked fun at our friends. We dreamed about the future, what 'we' would do when we got older, what jobs we would get, where we would travel, and what kind of people we would end up being. It was all so optimistic, all so bright –how confident we were that all we planned would come true.
The best part was we talked every night in the same exact way. It was always the last thing we did, and we did it all night long. It wasn't playful, not a one-night stand. We always ended our conversation with a mutual promise that the next night would be the same. Sometimes we ate while we talked, sometimes watched the same movie, once we actually fell asleep and woke up in the morning with the cords choking our necks.
It's a memory that haunts me, because when it was over, the nights seemed long and pointless. I remember looking forward to the night, I remember consciously stacking details of my day in my memory so I could bring it up in the conversation – every joke, every funny moment, every hurt sentiment, every serious thought: up on the shelf only to be pulled down at night and talked over. Talking was therapy. We sorted out our thoughts when we talked, organized our feelings, made sense of what happened and why. Even the things we couldn't explain, just talking about them would make us realize that some things are supposed to be unexplained, like why the TV stopped working right at the moment when the best part of the movie I was waiting 2 months to watch came on. Or why my cat died and it wasn't old and for no apparent reason. Or why … you know, it doesn't even matter. It doesn't matter who it was that I talked to, or what we talked about, or why the conversations ended. (Actually it all matters and I'm just bitter)
The point is: those conversations … they were the best part of my day. When I woke up in the morning I would lie in bed trying to focus, trying to think of a reason to get out of bed, and there it was: so I could have something to tell him at night. He was the historian who took down my life so when all was said and done, I would be remembered. And isn't that what we all want? To have someone acknowledge our lives? To say, "yeah, that was just like her"? Or "yeah, I remember when he did that, and it was really funny"?
I don’t know how I finally got here. I don't know when the "After 5 years, I will do this…" became "Oh shit, I didn't get this done, well, I'll leave it for tomorrow." But it happened. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I'm here, I'm glad I've stopped planning for 5 years to come and started living day by day, but if you asked me what I missed most about growing up, it would be…talking on the phone, because in all these years, it never happened again, and even the conversations (since then) that have lasted all night long had not the same taste. I doubt that there will ever be a conversation like those in my life again.

Exhale

2005-12-28T01:47:00.000-08:00

Finals are over.
I am done.
I am free.
It's all...all...all over.

(till next semester at least).

Nowwwww....

Now what?

chill yo'!!

2005-12-21T14:03:00.000-08:00

Instead of bothering with the secretary, next day I took a shortcut (and a break from all the written work and official crap)... I called Dr. J, the campus director, and asked her for 200. She said sure, come up to my office.
We got the money and we had a great movie night. I know things usually have to go through the right channels but sometimes the right channel is the easiest channel. And sometimes people really need to know how to chill.

Conversation with Secretary of Student Affairs

2005-12-11T11:33:00.000-08:00

We're thinking about having an Open Day. Inviting families and stuff to see the University. Dr. J and Mr. R came up with the idea, and they asked us for help.
I never heard about this. Sorry. I don’t trust you. How can I trust you?
(THEY asked us)
I asked girls to give me back the coupons and they lost them.
(We didn't know about this. Frankly, we don't care.)
I don’t know whom to trust. Tell me, how can I trust the girls? Since when do they do anything they promise to do?
(We always do what we're told. Stop generalising.)
You want to have an Open Day? Excuse me?(high pitched) I haven’t even approved that. Anyway you have to send me a proposal first.
Sigggghhhh. We have the proposal ready. We've already had our first event-coordinating meeting.
Well, even if you do send me a proposal I haven’t decided to have an Open Day.
(You haven't decided? Are you kidding? You're a 23 year-old secretary who's job is to send proposals to management for approval)
I don’t trust girls. What happened in the Ramadan Event proved to me that girls couldn’t be trusted.
We did all the work, and it was a success, even though there were some problems, nobody knew but us.
I know you planned it, but it was my responsibility. And if I decide that you can have the Open Day, if it goes wrong, then I’m the one who will be responsible for this, and I can’t handle the students making mistakes...
(But we'll be doing and supervising all the work)
...because then all the blame will be on me if anything goes wrong. I’m not screaming at you, I trust you, but I’m angry. I gave girls coupons and they still haven’t brought them back.
(What do the coupons have to do with us?)
I’ve been asking about them for weeks now. Besides, where’s your Calendar of Events?
We were told that we're coordinating with the Abu Dhabi Student Council.
Oh, well that was Ms. Sophie.
(And how should we know we should listen to you and not to her? Besides, she's your senior. We've known her for 3 years. We've known you for 2 months. Who do YOU think we'll listen to?)
Didn’t I ask you to do it ages ago? Anyway since you haven’t brought it, we’re going to work on the calendar of events I suggested, and you have to stick to it.
Ok -like we care - we're here to talk to you about having a movie night.
You want to have a movie night? Sorry you need to go through the right channels first, I need a proposal.
Sighhhh. I've sent you the proposal already.
I didn’t see it. (talk about being negative.)
Sighhhh. Check your mail.
My mail? Ok let me check. Oh, here it is. Anyway, you can’t have it unless the Campus Director has approved.
We saw her last week. She's eager about movie night.
Oh, you’ve seen her already? Well then, I still have to send a proposal to the Abu Dhabi Head of Student Affairs. (OMG)
I’m sorry, things like this take a long time.
We've arranged the moving of furniture and accessing the computer with Mr. A from General Services.
You already talked to General Services?
YES!! EVERYTHING IS DONE! WE HANDLED IT ALL.
They’ve approved?
YESSSS! WE ONLY NEED A 200 DHS LOAN!
200 Dhs?
FROM THE BUDGET, YES. AND IT'S ONLY A LOAN.
And you’ll pay it all back?
YESSS!
Still it’s under such short notice I doubt that anyone will give you an approval this soon. (My God she was being so pessimistic. In my head i thought: You have till Wednesday to just say: Yes. You don't need to do ANYTHING but sign the paper.)
Anyway, I always do and do and do things for students, but when I ask for one thing they never do it for me. I gave two girls the coupons and they haven’t given them back to me until now. (But what's that got to do with us?)
I gave one of the boys a coupon, and he came back with 1500 Dhs the same day.
(So?)
These girls have had the coupons since October!
(So?)
How am I going to reach them, huh?
(I dunno. I don't even care.)
Tell me, how should I trust girls?
Silence.
No, tell me, really, how can I trust them?
Long pause. (I'm just staring at her face when I suddenly realize she really expects an answer.
I don't answer anyway.)
I do things for girls and I expect them to trust me, and they should expect me to trust them. Anyway I’m not yelling at you...
(she was freaking screaming till there were tears in her eyes)
...I’m just telling you I have so much work and nobody is helping me and I can’t trust people to do anything anymore. Everyday they throw problems over my shoulder.
Rrrrringgggg!!!
See, the phone’s ringing? That’s another problem again. Dr. J the Campus Director saw me today, she told me to go home, but I said noooooo I have such an important meeting with the girls. I only stayed here for you.
(Really? Not to flirt with Mr. S then?)
I do all this stuff for you and all I want is the coupons.
(AGAIN with the coupons!)
Anyway, I need 8 girls to help with the Orientation Day by the 13th, can you find anybody? I need to be sure, you have to give me names by tomorrow at 2.00…………………………….”
ARE YOU SERIOUS? Yakhi 7illi 3anee your voice is giving me a migraine.)

I really don't know if I should feel sorry for her cuz she was having a bad day or upset that she was undermining ALL the work the Student Council has done without her help (not that she could do much anyway), or just plain sorry that she does not know how to act professional around people when she's stressed.

Why waste time?

2005-12-01T14:57:00.000-08:00

I can’t talk to her. It’s not like she can’t hear me, it’s like it takes a really long time for her to soak up what I’m talking about. Not like when old people have a sluggish conception of what us young ‘uns talk about, but like she is on a planet of her own, and she lives in it more than she does here. It’s not exactly a flight of thoughts that sometimes captivates her, but a place where she re-enacts all the day’s scenarios in her head over and over again, rerunning the moments and re-thinking how she would have handled every situation. I even see her nod, frown, smile, while driving or cooking, and I know she's having that conversation in her head over and over again.
I tried being tolerant. I know when her eyes become cloudy, or when she nods and smiles, and she’s really not there. I’d say a joke and at the end of it she’d be, “aha…and then?” and I’d have to repeat it all over again.
Or I’d tell her something and she’d say “Ok,” and then next day I would ask her and she would swear she didn’t hear me say it.
It’s like talking to a person with a headset on, listening to really heavy music, all day long. Imagine trying to talk to a person in that condition. After a while it gets so exasperating you just give up.
She says she can’t help it. But I do have a small attention deficiency problem myself. I get sidetracked a lot, and I’m tremendously inattentive sometimes. But I can handle getting myself back to reality. And I do listen when I can see someone has something they want to tell me. She? she kind of blocks me off when I start to talk. I’d be so excited about something and she’d be like, okkkkk, you’ll stop chattering now right? And it would hurt so much.
I’d come home from university and I’d have so many things to say and she always (I mean always) says: Ohhh I’m so tired now I can’t listen to you. And that would hurt so much too.
I’d start talking to her when she seems rested and she goes: Sweety you talk all the time.
It really, really hurts.
And I want to scream that I have so many things to say but you always cut me off I never get a chance to finish.
I like chatting, yes, but only with Wawie and Maha. Those are the people I can spend hours talking to. But with her, I have particular things and unpleasant incidents, or even some occurrence that I don’t understand, and I want to tell her. And she doesn’t seem concerned in anything I have to say. She doesn’t even make the effort to try to listen before letting me know that what I have to say is insignificant. She says she’s busy, she’s tired, she needs a break, and I would truly buy it if once, just once, she listened to one episode I had to tell her and not tell me she was worn-out, or not make me repeat it three or four times. Sometimes I think she intentionally waits for me to get up and start walking away, aggravated at my unsuccessful attempts to get a sentence through, before she says: Ok I’ll listen. And she always has to add: "but make it quick." I say, it's nothing. It's not important. And I can see the relief on her face.
I’d buy it if I never saw her spend hours (I swear, hours) on the phone with other people. It makes me think that whatever they have to say is much more important than anything I have to say. Sometimes it is. Most of the time, it isn’t.
I’d buy it if I saw her say the same thing to my brother when he has something to say (but then again, his presence is so demanding even if I’m trying not to listen to him, I still do). Plus he has this influence…he makes you listen. I cannot harass a person to listen to me.
I’d buy it all if it were believable. But it’s not. I spend all day in university talking to people I have nothing in common with, who have such fundamentally different viewpoints and ways of life, but I put up with all of it, and by 8.00 pm I’m so frustrated I want to scream, all I want to do when I get home is have a decent conversation with someone on a higher wavelength, just to get the monotony, unimaginativeness, unoriginality and blandness out of my system. I love her, but I make an effort to talk. She never makes the effort to listen. Even though I don't feel it now, I'm sure I miss her (I'm just pretending to be strong and enjoying the "I don't need anybody" attitude.
I now know what it’s like when someone says: “You’re not here.” For me I always thought, if a person is right in front of you, they’re there. What are you complaining about? But now I know. Some people are never there. Even when they’re just inches away from you. And you miss them. And then you are mad at them. And then you sigh, and give up.
I don’t remember the last time I attempted a conversation with her. Last time we were alone together it was a two-hour trip. And I didn’t say a word. I put Evanescence on my mobile and listened on my headset the whole time, for two hours, and she didn’t even look my way. And I didn’t notice that this was the first time we hadn’t talked on a road trip until we reached and I thought, My God I usually look forward to time alone with her, now I dread it.
I tried putting myself in her shoes. I’m on my feet from 9.00 am (I wake up at 8.00 am, and am at university by9.00) and stay on my feet till 9.00 pm (she picks me up from school at 9.45 or so). I don’t go home for an afternoon nap. I order junk food for lunch. I drink 3 cups of coffee at least. I wear heals. I only sit when I’m at class (5 classes) and the rest of the time I’m walking around planning events and checking up on stuff. I also climb stairs. I know she’s on her feet from 9.00am till 2.00pm, goes home to sleep, and back to work from 5.00pm till 9.00pm. Sometimes she spends all day. But when I come home it’s time for me to study for exams, do homework, and do some reading for my Readings in English Short Stories, and some research on the Study of Language, English Phonetics and Phonology, Contrastive Analysis of Arabic and English, and some readings on contemporary English literature. In that order.
SO I REALIZED I SHOULD BE MORE TIRED THAN HER AT THE END OF THE DAY?
And now I’m upset. Why do I bother? Why do I care?
You know what? I don’t give a shit. I have much more important things to do in my life, much more important people to talk to, and I have a life. My mom doesn’t seem to care what I do, whom I talk to, who I meet, or whatever weird incident or experience I went through.
Fuck it.
(walking away.)

Too Late

2005-11-10T17:10:00.000-08:00

He’s coming back. After all these years – they told me he’s coming back. And instead of feeling joyful and eager – I feel nothing. I feel like I don’t believe it. I feel like they’re just repeating the same words over and over again, and the result will be the same it always was: he won’t come. He’ll find a reason and say: next year, baby. Next year.
It’s been over 10 years. The first few I was really eager every time they said he was coming back. Hah! I really believed he was coming back. After that I grew weary, distrustful, and now I’m just down right pessimistic. They told me he’s coming back, and in my head I thought:
Yeah.
Right.
They told me he’s coming back and in my head I thought: After what?
They told me he’s coming back and in my head I wanted to say out loud: I waited for you all these years. You were in my head all the time. Your face was what I saw the first thing I woke up, and last thing when I went to bed. I think I loved you more than I loved mom. I didn’t just want you in my life, I needed you. You were the first man in my life, and you left me. And I have been looking for you ever since, in every man I ever met. If you were bad, if you were terrible, maybe it would have been easier for me to let go of you. But you were the greatest dad in the world. You took us swimming in the sea every weekend. You bought me ice cream every single time I saw you. You carried me on your shoulders whenever I got tired from walking when you took me out on your long walks. When I walked I always held your hand. I remember you calling every day around lunchtime just to make sure I had lunch. I remember that it was routine to go to the park every weekend when we had school, and we spent summer holidays with you and went to the beach. I was so used to holding your hand that one time I reached out for you and I didn’t know you had a cigarette in your hand, and I burnt myself. I remember how bad you felt when I pulled away, how you grabbed my little hand and rubbed my little fingers with your big hands until the pain went away, and for that whole night you checked my hand and kissed it and said how sorry you were, even though it wasn’t your fault. Next morning the moment you saw me you checked my hand to see if there was a scar, and there wasn't. You must’ve felt so bad all night – I know how it feels to see a child you love get hurt and think: if only it was me, I’d be able to handle the pain, why did it have to happen to her? Now I know how you felt, but at that time I just felt lucky.
I remember how you made up silly little songs just to make us laugh all the time. I still remember what you smelt like, what you sounded like, how you laughed, even after all these years. My own face reminded me of you, all around me people never let me forget that I was my father’s daughter. I remember how handsome you were, with your soft curly hair, your brown eyes, your wide smile, your height. My brother and I look exactly like you. The thing with the memory of a person who absent is that it tends to take a certain shape, and it doesn’t change with time. I know you’re older now. I know you must have wrinkles on your forehead. Maybe you’re not as tall as I remember you, and your teeth aren’t as white as I remember them. Maybe you’re not as strong as you were, or as smart, or as wise, but I can’t seem to get that in my head. To me you’re exactly who you were when you left, and I’m worried about the shock I will get when I see you and find out how much you’ve changed.
But then again, I still don’t believe you are coming back. I’m sorry dad, I didn’t mean for this to happen: but I forgot you. I don’t know how, I don’t remember when exactly I started spending a whole day not thinking about you, and not crying for you at night. I definitely know that I never expected to forget you, but it happened. My life happened, and you became just a memory of a person who was there once in my life, and then disappeared. Someone I thought I would never, ever stop missing. I'm 20 now, I need a husband, not a father. You're coming back this time, that's great. But you're too late. Your're 10 years too late.

Too Small to See

2005-10-25T07:16:00.000-07:00

I keep remembering this girl. In high school. We were a tight little bunch in that school – only 5 girls in grade 10, the same group of girls since third grade. Some came and went, but us 5 remained for many years, and formed our own little tight circle of friendship. I remember one of our teachers, Mrs. Keagan, said that she almost felt sorry for any new student who came to our class from another school – because she knew it would be that difficult to get in and be part of our group.
But it happened – a new girl came to our school. I admit that at times I said things and didn’t care how she felt. She was too eager to please and I didn’t like that about her. But I think the worst thing I did with her was pay no attention to her. I took no notice of her, and disregarded her every thought and opinion. I knew she was a new girl, and she was part of our class, but to me she was too small to see. Invisible. I knew that at her old school she was a great singer, and I (never told anybody about my thoughts, but since I'm being honest with myself) :in our school’s concert - I didn’t think she should sing (and she didn’t – nobody acknowledged her talent). She was a great basketball player but all she did was warm the bench. Me and my best friend were exceptionally tall but she was the one who was “too” tall. I had my hair dyed honey blonde and I wore it curly to school yet I was Goldilocks and she was the one with too much bleach a bad perm.
Sometimes I try to forget. I’m SO not proud of myself. I hear it all the time – the ones who are geeks and nerdy at school are the ones most likely to succeed. I’m not jealous. I hope its true – for all the suffering that they go through in high school, they deserve to end up the successful ones.
The truth is – I never paid much attention to her. But she was a nice girl, and all she did wrong was try too hard.
I never realized how much not noticing her hurt her until one day, as we were walking to an English class, she sort of slipped into oblivion (I didn’t notice though). I sat on my chair and then all the students were sitting, and the teacher was late. 20 minutes past and the teacher still didn’t walk in. After a while I realized that the girl wasn’t there either. And the first thing that got into my head was: Oh shit, is she going to complain? Then I realized – if I was honest with myself – that I knew what I was doing, and that I knew it was wrong. But at that time, being the falsehearted and dishonest 16-year-old that I was, I pretended I didn't care.
She walked into class and her nose was red and her eyes were swollen, and I thought: what now? I hope she’s not a drama queen.
The girl left – she went to Egypt to study. She called me a day before she was leaving the country (I still don’t know how she got my number) and she asked for forgiveness for any bad things she had said or done to me. I was a kid – I thought she was being lame. The cool kids never cared what other people thought about them. She was so desperate for others to like her.
Recently, I was climbing up some stairs, and I don’t know what was wrong with me, but I started crying, for no reason. I felt so lost, so out of place. I felt like I really had no friends, that I hated the place I was in, and most of all: I felt like nobody realized I existed. And it broke my heart. And I remembered the girl.
Now I know how it feels to be invisible. And now I know what that sweet 16-year-old had gone through. Now I know that it is better to acknowledge a person’s existence – whether you like them or not, rather than totally make them feel invisible.
And I just want to put it out there – whether she knows it or not – that I’m truly sorry for the way I acted. I should’ve known better.

2005-10-14T17:33:00.000-07:00

I.NEED.TO.SLEEP.

2005-09-30T07:41:00.000-07:00

Pacific Sleep

2005-09-29T16:23:00.000-07:00

I get reprieved when I fall asleep
I get lost deep into the night
But when I wake up you’re right there
And you’re the first thing on my mind.
You never said goodbye.
Closure is beyond my fingers' reach.
How will I ever go on?

Ouchhh

2005-09-26T15:13:00.000-07:00

I hurt my back.
It really hurts.
I can’t even breathe properly.
I’m taking tomorrow off.
It’s the first time I’ve taken off in years.
But…my back really hurts.
Sniff.
I just want to curl up and cry.
But – sob – I CAN’T BEND!

(sniff)Awwww

2005-09-26T08:16:00.000-07:00

Tied down to your fate

2005-09-22T23:31:00.000-07:00

Free Will Vs. Predeterminism(Mazen Inspired Post)

2005-09-22T17:14:00.000-07:00

I’m sick of hearing: “if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.” I know I’ve used this line many times, but only when it was the right time to use it. Like when I did my best to get something, and then didn’t get it, I would say: well, maybe it wasn’t meant to be. But saying that I believe that everything has already been planned for us, that we are all part of some grand scheme…I don’t enjoy that very much. Predeterminism is a dreamy, sometimes impractical perception of life, some starry-eyed notion sold to people who are in grief to make them believe that there is a reason that something bad happened to them; like there's a greater plan that we're all too meager to understand. Like there's a reason bad shit happens. There isn’t a reason. Life’s a bitch. Yeah. So what? I mean, what’s the alternative?
I think we are all given a choice. We have free will. I think that everything that happens to us is based on some options that was given to us, and that we chose from, which lead us down a certain path, which now sets before us new choices which we willfully or sometimes involuntarily make. We have been given free will, and at the end of the day there is no way we can say that something happened to us that wasn’t a result of a choice we (or someone else) made. Its like saying: If it’s meant to be, I’ll pass my exam. No you won’t! If you study, you’ll pass the exam. If we’re meant to be together, we will be. No, if you make the choice to be together, then you will be together. You always have a choice, even if it’s a choice you don’t want to make. I mean, if there isn’t free will, why are we alive? Why are we here? Why do we have the choice to make either good or bad choices and then suffer the consequences: heaven, or hell, karma, etc. If we didn’t have a choice, we would just be insensible, unaware beings, living it out. But we have a conscious, don’t we? We know good from bad, we know right from wrong, we are able to differentiate the consequences of one choice as opposed to another choice. If I loved somebody, I wouldn’t say: if it were meant to be, we’d end up together (I might say that after we ended up together, to give it that romantic insinuation) but the truth is, I would tell him I loved him and tried to be with him. And if it worked out, great, and if it doesn’t, well, it would be because of a choice he or I made that stopped it from happening. Even in those great romantic stories that we only hear about in movies, when a guy who is married falls in love with another girl, leaves his wife, finds out that the girl he loves is married, and then she leaves her husband, and one day 10 years later they meet up and say: you see, nothing can come in the way of love, it was meant to be. What a load of bull. They ended up together because of choices they and many others around them have made that somehow got them to a point where they met. It wasn’t destiny. If fate were absolute, then what would be the point of living? Of making decisions? Of having choices? Of even getting up in the morning?
On the other hand, if you belong to some religion or faith (which I do) you have to allow some measure of belief in fate. Because, before we were born, we didn’t choose who are parents were, where we would be born, what kind of lives our parents would have led. Its like fate brings us only to one point, and everything that happens to us after that depends on what we do (like in that movie Serendipity – if you haven’t seen it, it basically talks about what I’ve mentioned. Good movie.)
Anyway, as I was saying, after we are born, we are set with an array of options and alternatives that we choose from. And we make them, and each choice leads us onto another choice, and so on. Yet, I have to admit, that there may be some incidents in life that are so complex, so unexplainable, that you can’t do anything but merely laugh (or cry) and say: it’s destiny. Its not as if your life has already been planned out for you and all you do is follow, and not just that the choices you make are choices that you were predestined to make, and we are all part of a world that is bigger than our grasp, a picture that has no restrictions, or isn’t confined to anything we can see in our mind's eye. It’s just I believe that what’s meant to be happens, no matter which road you take. I mean, you have to look at the bigger picture, the one at the end of the road. You can’t say, I wanna cheat fate, so I’ll go left instead of right, because fate is about the place you reach, not the road you take. You can’t cheat fate: if you were meant to be something, or do something, or have something, then it would happen. And if you weren’t, then it wouldn’t. I believe that we are given a bunch of choices, and sometimes we choose the right thing, and sometimes we don’t, but in some way fate gets you somewhere in your life, and then the rest is up to you. Like, when you meet a person and you fall in love and get married and have kids and then die, and your whole life with that person was complete. Could it be that fate got you to a point where you met that person, and then fate whispered in your ear: he’s the one. And then your choice was to either go up to him and say: hi, my name is….; or, you walk away and end up doing something else completely…? Sometimes we do believe that some events are completely out of control, and so have to believe that there must be some other force at work here. But for little things, like little decisions you make, it isn’t about letting fate take you there, its about you making the choice, knowing that fate/Higher Being/destiny or whatever already KNOWS that you were going to make that choice or choose that path or get to that main point in your life, sooner or later.
I wanted to write this out clearly but I guess my thoughts were pretty mixed up...the main point is I'm all for free will as long as we accept the fact that there are some things in life that are just meant to be that we can't control. What do you think?

Can't let go

2005-09-20T03:17:00.000-07:00

I can see you there, looking at me, wondering what's going on. I know you love me. I know I love you. But is love really enough? Isn’t that the million-dollar question?
When I first met you, the days passed by and my love for you intensified. Days passed by and I saw the love in your eyes deepen. And then years passed by, and the swelling in my heart wore off. And the love became a routine. Saying I love you became habitual.
There are no more “moments”. There are no more surprises. But what are you going to do? Sometimes you sit and question if it’s real. Or was it just a set of circumstances that brought you together, and one way or another enforced in you the need to stay together? Because nobody is perfect. You go through people looking for the imperfections that are part of what makes them perfect, till you find the person you feel has tolerable imperfections. And people have different tastes. A person whose flaws are perfect to me may not be what you think is perfect.
And then you allow yourself to fall. And sometimes it’s just a little. And sometimes fall so deeply in love it consumes you. But then years pass by, and you forget to work on it. And everything is a pattern. A design molded on the wall of your life. And even though it needs fresh paint, you delay. And some people are weak: you take it for fear of being abandoned or alone.
Sometimes I am exactly the way you want me, and sometimes I become too much of my real self and I see the wonder in your eyes. I love you, and I’m doing my best. But all I can do is try. This is all that is contained within me, and what we have, even if it isn’t perfect, it’s real.

Caged

2005-09-19T20:51:00.000-07:00

Caged
Posted by: njoolinjooli on Buzznet

Ant

2005-09-13T11:45:00.000-07:00

I need to get a grip on reality. I’m out from 9.00 in the morning till 9.45 at night. What used to be a feeling of thorough monotony has now turned to downright lack of feeling. I am aware of days and nights, but I don’t really know how many hours or days have passed, or where the time goes. I don’t feel the days passing by, and at the same time they pass by too slowly. I never know what day it is. I’m basically in a region of unidentified motionlessness, like I’m in a bottomless sea and everything is moving at a snail's pace. At the same time I feel like an ant – work, work and more work, with no sense of what else is going on around me. But in the meantime, I’m getting a lot of work done. I’m also worried that if I do happen to doze off, I will sleep so deeply that I won’t wake up for a week. Luckily tomorrow is the last workday this week, and I shall get some sleep. Just wanted to pop in and say how its going. Hope all you angel face cutie pie njooli njoolis are doing ok :)

Thoughts

2005-09-09T19:18:00.000-07:00

Why are we frightened of our thoughts? Why are we intensely bothered whenever novel thoughts pierce our head and threaten to rock the boat? Yes, we are afraid of thought. What we do everyday isn’t called thinking; it’s a repetition of what’s been done, over and over again. Basically the big Circle of Life is us repeating the same thoughts, or at least thought patterns, of whoever came before us. We’re afraid to think for ourselves. Maybe its this deep rooted, innate fear concealed deep within the wells of our souls that reminds us that those who “thought” did not live a good ol’ peaceful life, and lived long enough to see their children get married and meet their grandchildren.Oh no, if you “think”, then you are rebellious and maybe even radical. You could be a noble person and think about ways to support human rights and freedom, and when you do something about it, you end up either shot, or locked in a building on fire, or some other horrible ending in which people try to force an ending to your thinking. Malcolm X was (and may as well still be) one of the most outstanding Black Nationalist and supporters of independence (By any means necessary- now that’s a saying!). He thought, and acted on those thoughts, and was shot to death at the age of 39. Martin Luther King, one of the most momentous leaders in US history and in the history of non-violence. He was shot in the jaw. Mahatma Gandhi. John F. Kennedy. They all didn't make out too well. And we've decided we can go through life like mechanical robots programmed to go through mind-numbing days devoid of any sort of variation. We don’t need to think, because thought is destructive not only to the good people, but to the bad ones too. The ascend of Adolf Hitler to the pose of ruler (tyrant?) of Germany shows how this man’s frantic aspirations threw the world into the most horrible war in history. But he was a mastermind, yes, but worked on the other side. He didn’t end up too well either, and is probably still known as one of the most wicked men to have ever walked this earth, right along with Ivan the Terrible… That’s why we have no "giants" anymore. No giants who once walked this earth as great minds, who knew they would go down in history, and knew that their spirits would eternally thrive as gallant souls, living on in our repetition of their brave stories. But alas, we have no bad giants either. In which case, no great thinkers at all. The blood of all those giants has been shed on the pages of history so much we decided: hell no. I like my life just the way it is, thank you very much. And if ever we were lying on our own and on edge, unable to lose the image of astonishing things we want to get done, or if we are on the other side, having little hallucinations in our head of a new kind of evil that is essentially a plan to take over the world and make people give way to all our wishes: we simply just lay down our arms and surrender to our fear and say: what am I thinking?
Its like we have this mutual understanding that we should all just leave well enough alone. And then go on with in our little worlds in a universe filled with little worlds, and go on with our little lives in a world filled with little lives, and enjoy the way our little silly survival techniques help us forget that we are part of a bigger world, a world full strangers when it should be the other way around, in the perfect little house with the perfect little white fence, with a perfect little car and a perfect little child in the backseat not knowing what the future holds for him, but not caring either because he has already been programmed and predestined to follow in his family's footsteps... regardless of whether others like him are doing the same.

Quote of the day

2005-09-04T00:35:00.000-07:00

"Get mad, then get over it."

~Colin Powell

P.S. Reminded me of something Maha told me a few days ago: GET OVER IT BASMA. Hheheh. I was complaining about the damned noise coming from the kitchen while we were trying to sleep. Love ya Njoolinjooli, you're the only one who can crack me up when I'm truly angry.

I need to sleep.

2005-08-28T14:18:00.000-07:00

It’s late. I need to sleep. I HAVE to sleep. What am I doing so wide awake and alert? I have to be up at 8 tomorrow. I was up at 6 today. And I was out all day, got home around 10.00 pm. That means I should be extra tired since the sun + heat + no afternoon nap = major snooze fest. But nooooooo, sleep has to come whenever IT wants to. Crap. Why do people sleep? Isn’t it such a squandering and misuse of time? Did you know that sleep takes up 30% of our lives? So let’s add this up: I’m sure at least 50% of our lives is wasted on watching pointless reruns of really old shows, going to the toilet, eating, talking, gossiping, staring into empty space, and hanging out, which leaves 30 % of our lives sleeping, and only 20% to do something useful. It’s no wonder we have no ability to progress (in fact, I am almost sure we are digressing). If sleep can take up as much as one third to one half of time from our lives, then do you really expect us to have any form of brilliant ability to develop, advance and basically improve ourselves? OFCOURSE NOT! There’s not enough time man! So we spend our youth basically doing our best to get at something constructive for our lives, but by the time we do figure out the secret of life/happiness/love, it’s too late. We’re too old and probably don’t even give a damn what the secret of life/happiness/love is.
I realized something. I should embrace this. Maybe I am a night owl. Maybe I’m not meant to sleep at night. I do carry out my best work at night. I study best at night (although I used to think it was because everybody was asleep which gave me peace to study). But I guess I am a creature of the night. So that’s it. No more indulging myself in this weepy, pitiful state. I shall accept my calling: the night is my ally. If I can’t sleep, fine. No stress. I’ll do what you, as my therapists, have recommended. Write a book. I’ve already enrolled in afternoon classes for the coming semester (starting 3rd September, Yaaay. Man, I'm such a geek. I'm actually happy that Uni is starting!) so the problem of listening to a toneless professor go on and on and on has been taken care of. The added advantage is that the classes are at night so I’ll get drowsy just in time to go sleep.
For now I’m gonna try and hit the sack again. I have to go register in Uni tomorrow at 9.00, and then go to a saloon, and then start off the two-hour drive to Abu Dhabi for this party at 7.30, and hopefully stay awake till the party's over. Or at least till after they bring out the food. Yum Yum. Man, am I making any sense?
I need to be awake for all that, so with any luck I will get some sleep now.

Sleep: We’ll see about that, you poor, sad, pathetic excuse of a human. MUHAAAHHHAAAHAHAA.
Me: Oh maaaannnnnnnnnn!!!!!

She Devil In Black

2005-08-28T07:28:00.000-07:00

She Devil In Black
Posted by: njoolinjooli on Buzznet

SLEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2005-08-28T04:18:00.000-07:00

Insomnia is maddening. I don’t even think its insomnia. Just an odd kind of enjoying my wakefulness mingled with some sort of fear of falling asleep. I can actually sleep, but only for an exact 4 to 5 hours, and then I wake up with the biggest jolt of my life. I literally jerk away from my sleep in sudden alarm. Like I had passed out and in my dreams I was just waiting for the moment I could break free from this bottomless, unknown platform of nothingness and jump into alertness. But even during those 5 hours, if for any reason something wakes me up, I’m done. No sleeping back. No matter what I do (trust me, I’ve tried EVERYTHING, from drinking warm milk to reading a boring book to counting sheep. I even resorted to having two teaspoons of ACTIFED!!!) but nothing seems to get me back to sleep. So I get up and wait. And wait. And wait. And I can actually stay awake for 72 hours straight if I’m watching TV (hello, I’m njoolinjooli and I am a TV addict.) The cool part about this problem is that when I actually do sleep, its magnificently cavernous, intense, black, dreamless sleep that feels strangely like the kind of sleep that you get when you haven’t slept for ages and was just longing for the moment your head hits the pillow. The worst part is waking up with dread. I hate that. When my brother is around and I wake up he cracks up. He thinks it’s really weird that I can’t wake up like ordinary people do: open eyes, blink a few times, stretch, and get off bed. No, for me its like: peaceful sleeping, and then suddenly sitting up on my bed like I was being attacked or someone just threw cold water on me. Not only that, I can only sleep when I just jump into bed and close my eyes. If I actually think: ok, in half an hour I should sleep, just that thought scares sleep away. If I think about sleeping, then I can’t sleep. It’s even worse when I know that I have to wake up early the next day. The fact that I HAVE to sleep ruins it all. My sleep has a will of it’s own, and its pretty stubborn and willful. If I say: I need to sleep.
Sleep goes: weeeeelll, we’ll see.
Me: Crap, it’s really late. I need to sleep.
Sleep: hmm, I’ll think about it.
Me: Oh man, I have to wake up early in the morning.
Sleep: Stop pressuring me!
Me: I HAVE TO SLEEP!
Sleep: YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! THAT’S IT. NO SLEEP.
Me: Oh, God, no, please, I’m so sorry, please let me sleep.
Sleep: HaHa. No. Deal with it you sad disturbed creature.
So basically, I have to trick myself into sleeping before I actually think that it’s time to sleep. I’m sure if I actually went to a therapist and talked about this problem (and yes, don’t we all wish we could go to some stranger who is forced to listen to us, and talk for hours about our issues like the self-centered narcissistic egomaniacs we all really are) it would probably turn out that I have major issues. And then we’ll blame our parents. The difference is, on this blog I can do all that for free. I can sit and whine, drone and bleat for hours and you guys, as my counselors, are required to tolerate endless hours of pitiable unreasonable complaining. But guess what, it’s your job so shuttup.
OMG, lack of sleep is actually making me ruder than I already am.

Harry Potter

2005-08-27T04:40:00.000-07:00

I just finished r-reading (hiccup) H-Harry Potter and t-the Half-Blood (hiccuph) Prince…

Tear…

Sob…

(sniff sniff)…

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
HHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

(major sob).

How could this happen to me? How could he die? WHY, ROWLING, WHYYY?????

By the way, I admit that this fascination with Harry Potter is - at best - sad (read: really pitiable!) but I can’t help it. Those are really good books, dammit! Wawie, where are you when I need you? HE’S DEAD!!!!
(I’m not saying who died for those fans who have yet to read the 6th book.)

Home Sweet Home

2005-08-22T13:42:00.000-07:00

Hey people! I’m back home. Actually, this time I’m glad I’m home. I haven’t slept for 3 days in a row, but I’m thinking I’ll probably be able to sleep tonight. Hopefully. Wawie and Widad have left my home today, so I’m on my own. After all this time with people all the time, I’m kind of enjoying the peace. Yeah, I’m sure that will wear off soon enough. So what happens after 2 days and a half of not sleeping? My bones are aching, I’m irritable, and I also can’t stop laughing at just about everything and anything. Everything seems amusing and irritating at the same time! I’m hungry ALL THE TIME. I’m totally convinced that whatever part of my brain that used to send signals to my stomach (or was it part of the stomach that sends signals to the brain?) that I should stop being hungry has been severely damaged. I keep on taking showers. My mouth is also always dry, keep getting headaches that wear off as soon as I drink water, only to start again after a while. And even when I lie in bed and try to sleep it’s like, I’m too tired to sleep…know what I mean? My head also feels really heavy. I can think of things to say, but somehow when I try to speak the words come out all wrong. I tried to say: I’m glad I’m home, and I said: I’m glad I’m hope. I tried to say: I’m famished, and for some reason it came out: I’m finished. I even just told my mom: I wanna sit, when I meant to say: I wanna eat. Weird.
I blame excitement that Uni is gonna start in a week (I have major sleeping problems in those 9 months of school, but Maha told me she went through the same stuff in her first years of Uni so I’m not worried – cuz right now she sleeps like a baby.) I also blame Harry Potter for this severe case of insomnia. I can’t stop reading this damned book! I wonder if I actually fall asleep how long it will be before I wake up again. I had a good time in AD, I’m sure I have tales, but I can’t seem to remember them now, and besides, my fingers feel very weak...
I’m gonna go eat.

Peculiar Mood

2005-08-01T14:42:00.000-07:00

I’m in a peculiar mood today. For the last few days people close to me (for some reason) have been questioning my actions and scrutinizing my behavior and then explaining to me why I act the way I do. But I know why I am like this.
(She’s taking her time making up the reasons,
To justify all the hurt inside.
Guess she knows from their smiles, and the look in their eyes,
Everyone’s got a theory about thebitter one)
First of all, I’m a flirt not because I lack sense of worth or confidence (in fact, most of the time I do actually believe I am much more self-assured than most around me! If anything I have too much self-esteem). Second of all, I don’t have anger management problems. True I keep it all bolted inside only to blow up once a month (mad cow disease, I mean, PMS) and sometimes more often if my brother is around, but isn’t that better than snapping at everything all the time, especially at stuff that are most of the time really not worth it? Third of all, I don’t think my dad leaving is why I long for notice. I know a lot of girls who have all-in dads and still act the way I do. My brother seeks attention wherever he is, always in the limelight, and you can’t help but give it to him. His presence demands attention. I get my attention from being extra nice. And that might be interpreted as flirting sometimes, but like I care? I never let anyone close enough to hurt me, so what’s harmless flirting every once in a while? And my mom’s my best friend. Not really a mom, but I think in the long term she’s the best kind. Sometimes I resent her for never putting her foot down because I think that would have taught me some self-discipline, but most of the time I realize that she’s the coolest. When she’s available, that is.
(They’re saying mamma never loved her much,
And daddy never keeps in touch.
That’s why she shies away from human affection.
But somewhere in a private place,
She packs her bags for outer space,
And now she’s waiting for the right kind of pilot to come)
The thing is, I am in a weird mood today. I’ve been picking fights all day long, looking for a reason to argue. I’m fidgety, on edge and bothered. I feel like I’m living a life meant for someone else, or maybe I just wish I were someone else. I know what I would like my existence to be like, what real life can be, and now I know it, it seems hard for me to accept going on with a forged one. Fake smiles, unpleasant commitments and obligations, disagreeable responsibilities, style and manners, makeup, marriage, money. All those superficial “concerns” that have been drilled into my head making me believe that I am compelled to be like everyone else. Mom always gets annoyed with me, saying things like: But they’re all going to wear skirts. That’s exactly why I choose to wear pants, can’t you see? "But non of them put makeup." Well, I want to stand out and be different. I want to be seen, to be noticed. I want people to become aware of me, and if I am like everybody else, who will spot me? I feel different, and when I try to fit in I feel even more separate. But even trying to fit in sucks because once you experience the elation of being noticed the taste of the accustomed usual becomes intolerably agonizing.
(I would fly to the moon and back if you’ll be,
If you’ll be my baby.
Got a ticket for a world where we belong,
So would you be my baby?)
At one point in my life I remember being tremendously, almost offensively satisfied with who I was and what I was doing with myself. What happened to that? When did I turn into this wistful, preoccupied fantasist, with this memory of what was and what can never be again?
Sometimes I do forget. Sometimes I mingle and chat and gossip and laugh and feel like everyone else. And then on some days like today, when I’ve had too much time on my own, thoughts like these come into my head and I get infuriated. People would talk to me and I would think: are you serious?? Could this be significant? Well, it is important. For those who have nothing more important to occupy their time.
I just want to leave. Maybe it’s the big old house that makes things so gloomy. Usually when I’m with people I don’t think about all this. I forget, and feel like I belong. But I don’t. Maybe nobody does, and we just keep on pretending we belong so everybody else think we belong and try to belong too.
Oh, what am I on about?
I wish I could know love, experience it not in the traditional way that my family expect me too, but in the wild prohibited way when all is passionate and fanatical. But maybe I will regret this wish, because I also want the tranquil, relaxed type of love that makes you always think that all is well in coupledom.
(She can’t remember a time when she felt needed.
If love was red then she was color blind)
Maybe I need more friends. The period of my life that I mentioned earlier, when I was really blissful, I had many friends. Too many. Most were just foolish friends I was able to have a crazy time with, and yet none of them judged me. They were not at all condemnatory or disparaging. Everything went. All was allowed, nothing forbidden, as long as it was in the name of fun. Two who were really close were like my soul mates. They knew everything before I said it, the kind of friends who call right before you were about to pick up the phone to call them. The kind of friends you would want to talk to right when you got home even though you had just spent the whole day at school and in the bus with them (mom used to always wonder about that, what could we possible have to say to each other?). The kind of friends who were closer than family. But those friends drifted away, and those friendships were broken (family demands, pressure to grow up). Now I have “artificial” friends. My cousins are the only people I really trust, first of all because they’re family, and growing up with them forced bonds upon us so strong we can’t be anything but close. My friends are only university associates, non of whom know my secrets. I admit that until now I have failed to form a friendship anywhere as close as the camaraderie I had with those two girls, starting since 3rd grade all the way to when we all were 17. (Yeh, that’s when life walked in and said: time to grow up. First step: separation.)
(All her friends they’ve been tried for treason
And crimes that were never defined)
Now I’m blabbing, but it feels good to know that I’m being heard. I’ve spent too much time at home. I think I will go to AD tomorrow, sort of lose myself in the surroundings of many, many cousins who will fill my time up so much that I will have no time for all these depressing, sad, miserable thoughts. And now I am already thinking of how annoyed I will be when I get home. What will I do?
I will wait. In hope of the person who will form a friendship with me closer than any other I have ever had, a love that is peaceful, with just the right touch of fanatical, and a ticket to escape this life that I was forced into, into a life that I choose to live.
(She’s saying love is like a barren place
And reaching out for human faith is
Is like a journey I just don’t have a map for
So baby’s gonna take a dive and
Push the shift to overdrive
Send a signal that she’s hanging all her hopes on the stars…
What a pleasant dream)

.

2005-08-01T07:53:00.000-07:00

Posted by: njoolinjooli on Buzznet

I Love You

2005-07-31T13:05:00.000-07:00

If you were in love with someone- I mean really in love: not the superficial kind of love that fades away once you get to know the person you think you love, not the external kind of love that is mostly physical or materialistic even, not the apparent love that you want to show off to the world (yeah, I’m dating him/her {gleeful smile}, isn’t she/he so totally hot?), and not the love that you frantically create for fear of being lonely (the love that you envisage when you are fearful of being alone doesn’t make you any less lonesome, because if you don’t really love a person they can’t actually fill up those void nights when you need someone, except perhaps on the surface. Once you embrace lonesomeness and learn that being lonesome is a condition everyone has to live through, then finding true love as opposed to finding a boredom-eliminating companion is much easier. Anyway, drifting off the topic…) Like I was saying, if you were in love with a person, the kind of love that you know will last forever (the true meaning of “I will love you forever”), no matter who else comes into your life, the kind of love that is there because you truly love that person for their persona (not just for their looks, money, societal status, or any other chosen category). The kind of love that is so precious you want to cradle it in your arms, you fear letting the world know because you’re afraid talking about it will jinx it, the kind of love that somehow pops into your heart, or grows in it leisurely and gradually until you can’t even breathe, it overwhelms you and almost controls your every move: if you were in that kind of love, and the person that you loved was out of reach (married, has a boyfriend/girlfriend, or some other situation that makes that person tied to someone else) and is (and you know this) incapable of returning your love or being free for you, would you tell them? I mean, it makes sense when someone is unattached. I’m all for telling a person you love them…well, maybe you shouldn’t take my advice because I say I love you to almost everybody, to me they are just words and they make people feel good so if I am happy with a friend/cousin/sibling etc. I don’t mind using those words, because it is always pleasing and flattering when you hear someone say that they love you, and when you say it back it’s a kind of a… release? Like liberation from all fear of using those three words. To me when you really love a person, yes, you do tell them, but you also show them because words are just that…words. If and when I really love a person (in the way I described earlier) then I will not contend with just telling him, I would show him: respect and admire him, cherish and treasure him, make things work no matter what…But I know for sure that I would never be able to tell a person I know is attached that I love him. I am too proud to tell a guy I love him knowing that he cannot return my love. I am too conscious of what their partner would think. I am too aware that I would hate it if someone did that to me. I am too fearful that love is too strong a word to throw around (when it is real love). You may disagree. You may say that it is of no harm to tell someone you love him or her, even if they are attached. Or you might say that the person you love could be discontented in their relationship, and is already looking for a way out. Or you might conclude that you need to tell the person you love that you love them, just for them to know that you are there for them, always. Sorry but that so does not make sense to me. I think it could be detrimental if you tell a person who is say, married or involved in a serious relationship, because first of all you have no right to. That person is taken and has chosen to be with someone else. That person is in a relationship, and telling them you love them may not just compromise your friendship with them, as they may no longer see you as a friend but as a person who loves them (and that changes just about everything); it is also hurtful to their partner, because if I was someone’s girlfriend/wife and someone told my boyfriend/husband they love him, I would think: why? Why are you doing that? Why would you tell him you love him if you know that we are together? Plus it is also hurtful to you, because the person whom you told you love will be cautious around you, and in some cases happy and flattered that you told them, in most cases will wish you hadn’t, so things could go on as they had before. Of course, this is all a matter of opinion. Next point, if you think that the person you love is unhappy in a relationship, don’t you think they would get out of it? Forget novel romances, forget fairytale stories, forget touching movies about men whom sweep women off their feet and rescue them from the wicked spouse, in real life: if a person is with someone, no matter how bad you may see it as, the only thing you should do is advice them, but not tell them you love them. First of all they may see your advances as threatening (you are going too far telling them you love them). Second of all, no matter what you say they will take your advice as just a scheme of yours to make them break up with whoever they’re with so that you can have them. Again, you should keep it to yourself. Third point, if you want the person you love to know that you will always be there for them, show them. Be there for them. Don’t tell them you love them because that will just bamboozle things (hehe, I like that word). I really think that it is crossing the line when someone is in a relationship and you still confess your love. I repeat, I am all for telling a person you love them, if they are unattached, but I truly believe it is genuinely selfish on your part if you tell me you love me, knowing that I am involved with someone else. Because that does not help anybody except perhaps make you feel better knowing that you have tried all you could. And yes, even though I do believe that most good things are taken and if you want it for yourself you should go for it, the only time I would accept a confession of love is when that person is absolutely sure the person they love will respond positively, like say: Oh God, I was waiting for you to say that. Just let me call it quits with **** and we’ll move in together. Or perhaps if you’re interested in them for an affair, which is of course a different topic altogether because if you think someone is good enough for an affair, then I don’t think you really love them. In which case, how would you feel if someone told your boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/partner that they love them for the sole purpose of having an affair?
I love love, and I love being told I’m loved, but if I was engaged or married it would only be acceptable if a friend tells me in a way that serves no ulterior motives, meant purely in the soul of friendship, and only if there are no other intentions behind it. Otherwise I see it as purely self-serving, self-interested, and totally fruitless (what would you get out of it?)

p.s. These are all thoughts and are not intended for anyone specifically, I'm talking generally based on something I thought of...Really.
No, really!

.

2005-07-31T07:11:00.000-07:00

Posted by: njoolinjooli on Buzznet

.

2005-07-29T22:24:00.000-07:00

Posted by: njoolinjooli on Buzznet

(yaaawn)...still sleeping...nothing new happening in my life anyway...g'nite...(yawn)

Planning Sucks

2005-07-28T00:56:00.000-07:00

Is it true that when you plan things, they don’t work out? Because that’s the way it seems to be with me. I can’t recall any situation where I planned something and it actually worked out. I applied to two universities a year after I graduated high school, and since most of my friends went to one, I made plans on what to do when I got there. But then I got accepted to the other university I applied to, the one I didn’t plan to go to, and the one I planned to go to told me: next year. I couldn’t wait another whole year, so here I am, in a university I didn’t plan to go to. I planned to get married by the time I was 20, I am 20, still not married, and no plans to for a while (just in case it is true, in which case if I keep planning then I will never get married). I planned that since I was lucky to have thin eyebrows, that I would only pluck my eyebrows when I got married, so that I would look different. I started plucking a few months ago, and I truly regret it. It does make you look older. I planned that even though I’m not overweight, I would exercise, to stay healthy and keep in shape; and also to get used to it so even when I’m married (with much greater chances of gaining weight) I would be so used to working out that I would stay thin forever. Hard labor (exercise) still bores me, and the only form of exercise I’ve had for the last month was dancing (that counts, right?). Every single time I plan an outing with my cousins, I swear, SOMETHING comes up to ruin it. Ask my cousin Saeeda. I made a bet with her one day about something we were sure was going to happen, and I told her if we planned on it, it wouldn’t happen. Sure enough, it didn’t. Ane when we were sure something would definetly NOT happen, it did. All that planning gone to waste, and now, like me, she is a firm believer that you should never plan anything. Most of the time if it’s a last minute, hey let’s do this thing, then everything goes well. Last time I made major plans to go to AD and what I would do when I got there, and I was sure nothing could happen to ruin my plans, for some reason everything got cancelled (I don’t remember why, but I’m sure I wrote a post on that). And a few weeks ago, mom decided, out of the blue, to drive to AD, it was totally unplanned, and I ended up having a great time for a couple of weeks. For my cousin’s wedding, I had planned to buy a nice, golden gown from a boutique in Al-Ain. I also planned that we would go to AD a few days before the wedding so we could…plan some more. I told the boutique to hold the dress for me. When I went back the dress was gone, I went to another shop and bought my last-minute decision short cream dress, on the SAME day of the wedding (yes, the plan to go to AD a few days earlier got messed up too!).
Does this post have a point?
Yes, to make this speculation more than just a theory: since I’ve been back from AD, I’ve been making plans for when I was to go back (which was to be today) and what I would do once I got there. Unsurprisingly, mom’s car broke down last night, and we’re not going. I have to call all three cousins and tell them I won’t be able to see them for a while now. It’s not like they’re going to change any of their plans, but I AM GOING TO MISS OUT.
Is someone out there trying to tell me something?
By the way, when I wake up, I might delete this post. It’s 11.38 am, and I’ve been awake since yesterday 4.00 pm, which means 19 straight hours of watching TV and reading Jeffrey Archer. I’m not thinking straight.I’m going to try to stay awake a bit longer, see how long I can take it without sleep, and milk this lack-of-sleep-high as much as possible. Results of this experimentation in my next post.

Out of Reach.

2005-07-27T16:48:00.000-07:00

I haven’t the strength to cry anymore… I’ve given up… I’m giving in…I can’t fight for more out of you, I can't fight you... Anymore... You’re so out of reach.
You hide your pleasure to see me… But I catch a glimpse of it! In that split second when you first see me… Before you hastily disguise it with indifference… Before you start pretending and professing… That the one thing you would like to do… Is get away from me… You’re so out of reach.
I think you take pleasure in this, You are cruel (God how I love you) You like knowing that you have the upper hand... Its what you want, or nothing. And I can’t have nothing. (God how I love you) You’re so out of reach.
Is this what you want? To stay close enough for me to believe I can get a hold of you… Only to realize that you’re just at the tip of my fingers…Not quite close enough for me to touch you. You’re closed up and distant, even when you’re sitting right next to me. And I can’t break that icy shield you have wrapped yourself with...
It sometimes surprises me when you show me how much you really love me...Overpoweringly warming is that rich love of yours… Sometimes so sizzling it scalds me… Reducing me to ashes… No… Reducing me to nothing. And sometimes you can become so cold... So very bitter.
Sometimes I imaging I can see through that unemotional mist you cover your street-wise eyes with... But when will I learn? You’re so out of reach. And I’ve given up. I’m giving in. If I can’t have all of you, little is better than nothing. If this is what you want, if this is what you need... To get your high out of this relationship...Then have it your way. I can’t fight you anymore. I’ll be content; this is the price I pay... For loving a man so out of reach.

Out of reach...

2005-07-27T09:55:00.000-07:00

Out of reach...
Posted by: njoolinjooli on Buzznet

Baby Ali and Sara

2005-07-26T04:56:00.000-07:00

Ali Baba (7 months) and Sara (4 years) - the little hyperactive cutie pie who got lost in the park...

Salma

2005-07-25T08:50:00.000-07:00

Ready to tackel whoever the hell's been taking her pictures all day...damned paparazzi...babies shud all do like tommy lee and attack!!!

Baby Salma Caught By Surprise

2005-07-25T08:42:00.000-07:00

The Original Ali Baba

2005-07-25T08:36:00.000-07:00

Carrying baby Salma, first time I see my brother looking adorably at anything...

My little cousin Ali

2005-07-25T08:30:00.000-07:00

Ali Baba minus the 40 thieves...(yeh, he's the one who rolled off the bed...) He's just a mini version of my brother, Ali.

Saeeda and Salma

2005-07-25T08:25:00.000-07:00

With baby Salma looking a little uncomfortable now...

My Cousin and her niece

2005-07-25T08:20:00.000-07:00

My cousin Saeeda and her niece Salma looking very comfortable

My Grandma with baby Salma

2005-07-25T08:15:00.000-07:00

That's a great-grandmother right there...Mashalla

Moolz being Crazy

2005-07-25T08:11:00.000-07:00

(Yeah, at the edge of stairs)

Back

2005-07-24T16:54:00.000-07:00

Hey people, I’m back. After that last post I figured I couldn’t handle it, had to pack up and leave. Was planning to get away only for the week-end, but decided to stay a few days longer, and then a few days longer…
I had a great time. Yes, I hate Abu Dhabi weather and what it does to my hair, I hate it that it is so hot, I hate the humidity, I hate that whenever a girl goes out a guy has to flirt with her (actually I don’t) but I LOVE the people who live there (mainly, my family). I spent some time with my cousin Saeeda and I learnt a lot about taking care of babies (Saeeda’s sister just had a baby, the little one is just over a month old and certainly the cutest little being I’ve ever laid eyes on, I’ll post her picture). But let’s just say I won’t be having any children of my own any time soon. Then I spent some time with my cousin Yusra, chilled with her brother’s wife (the one who got married a month ago). I still haven’t managed to have a whole conversation with her, the house is so crowded, but I can tell she’s perfect for my cousin. I love happy weddings, especially successful arranged marriages. It makes me believe that sometimes parents do know best. Anyway, I spent some time with my uncle’s little baby (the one who refuses to cry). He bites his tongue and always looks like he is in deep thought when he does that. Probably wondering what to laugh about next. Sadly, no success in trying to make him cry yet. He is too happy, mashalla. I think I would rather have a baby boy. They’re less fussy. But then again, two incidents made me realize that having kids is such a great responsiblity, greater than I ever thought. One was losing my little cousin, 4 years old, in the park. Her name is Sara and she is truly hyperactive. We were sitting on the grass and suddenly she got up and decided to leave. By the time we managed to get up and start after her, she was off to some underground tunnel and running. We lost sight of her and that's when we panicked. She still has no concept of danger, is not afraid of strangers, and is very trusting. The 3 of us split up to look for her and my cousin asked a man if he saw a little girl in blue. He said yeah, she ran off to the road (on the main street!). Finally we found her, and the moment Sara saw my cousin (my cousin later told us) she looked scared, and then relieved, and then angry, and said loudly "Areeed Mama!!!" (I want mom). So maybe that means she did experience some fear when she realized we weren't playing a game anymore. The other incident was having my other cousin, 7 months old, drop from the bed. It's not as bad as it sounds. We put him in the middle of the bed and decided that if he wanted to roll over, he would either roll to the left or to the right. So we placed a blanket on either side of him. Then we sat on the floor and started playing cards. A few minutes into the game we heard this great "thump" and I got dizzy with fear. I kept searching the bed for him but I couldn't see him anywhere. Finally my cousin noticed two little feet sticking up from under a blanket, on the floor, and I pulled the blanket up, and there was my baby cousin. Needless to say, he was laughing his little head off. He had decided to roll frontwards, since on both sides of him there were barriers, and he fell with the blanket on top of him. Luckily he dropped onto a mattress that we were sitting on. It was a funny incident, we were laughing like crazy, especially cause the little one seemed to want to do it again. But I'm afraid to think what would have happened if there was no mattress. So yeah, no kids any time soon. It would probably also mean that I'd have to grow up, and I really have no intentions of doing that anytime soon.
I also met up with my grandmother and aunt. Yes, they did the whole pitying me for not having my dad around thing. But I didn’t mind so much this time, I actually found it amusing. My cousin and I cracked up every time they swore at my dad for leaving. It’s like, he is their own son/brother and yet they enjoy trashing him so much. Besides, Swahili swearing is HILARIOUS. They come up with all sorts of analogies. It was too funny to take seriously. Its like when a mother complains about her son, but she does so lovingly, you know? “Your father is so immature, he is SUCH a womanizer!” with just a little hint of pride right there. Really amusing.
I went to another wedding this weekend and for the first time I’ve been to an Arab wedding where the bride was not timid or coy at all. She walked down the isle and every time someone would snap a picture she would actually strike a pose, lift up a shoulder, wink, and giggle at the camera. It was absolutely adorable. Next night they had a big dinner party and she belly-danced like you wouldn’t believe. I loved it. One of the girls explained to me that she was the youngest child of this millionaire in Dubai, and she was the last of his daughters to get married, and that she was absolutely spoiled and indulged with anything she ever wanted, and now she was leaving her mom and dad and moving to AD to be with the man she loves. I danced with her a bit and I think I would love to be that outgoing and unreserved at my own wedding, instead of the usual bashful, nervous, coy look that most brides go for.
So much talk of weddings! Must be boring you out of your minds!
Oh, yeh, and I had a great birthday. I sat at my cousin’s place and watched TV, and had some cake and tea later on. Turning 20 is cool, but I still wish I could have stayed 18 for the rest of my life. I just got home and I’m going to bed. Hope you all missed me.

Baby Salma

2005-07-24T10:23:00.000-07:00

Baby Salma
Posted by: njoolinjooli on Buzznet

You can tell she's hot-tempered by the constant frown, but she's actually really sweet most of the time.

Tristeza

2005-07-04T07:45:00.000-07:00

Lonely Home

2005-07-04T03:25:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting in this house, looking for someone to talk to. Funny how such a boisterous house – TV switched on all day long, play station 2 football games in the sitting room, CDs blasting in my room, all the while everybody’s on their phones – yet I sit and feel deserted and alone. I try to talk to her, I actually think we’re making progress (in the me: speaking, her: listening department), but then I realize there’s a blank look in her face, she has no idea what I just said. She lives in her own world and it’s very hard to get her back here, away from her contemplations and problems. Now even when she is listening I suspect that she isn’t, and I can never be sure. I ask her to repeat what I just told her, but I know she's just repeating the last thing she heard. I can’t really relate or truly connect to friends from uni because although we live in the same country, we’re from different worlds. And I do tend to become a little shallow when around them ;) which is not the point of trying to talk to a person. I really hope I end up marrying someone who knows so much about the world, so much that I don’t know, that I would be awed every time he opened his mouth. I want to talk to someone I can learn from, even if they know little more than I know. Just someone who has been around and knows what they're talking about. Intelligent people, or just people who know more than I do (while making me feel really stupid) fascinate and completely mesmerize me. There is nothing more captivating to me than a person who has traveled and knows a lot about other people...other lives, completely different than ours.
I can squeeze in a few conversations with the other lady, but there’s hardly much I can talk about with an 80-plus year-old lady, and my grasp of Swahili isn’t that amazing so we usually end up arguing about what we ‘meant’ to say. That leaves me with him, but in the last few years we have grown apart and he is in his own world. He has his own problems, his own issues; his own fights…his own life. Plus he does tend to get a bit sarcastic, a lot of the times mocking, and very insensitive so I feel like instead of making the effort to talk to him, I avoid making conversation. He is a genius, a charmer, can win over a crowd within seconds, and is exactly the kind of guy I want to learn from, but he only gives you real information on general issues when he is making fun of your lack of knowledge, not just so you can know. He is still the bearer of all my secrets, it’s just difficult to talk to him because he picks on every word, and kind of misses the point of what I’m trying to tell him just because of the words I choose to use. 90% of the time they are all out and occupied with their own lives, and I feel abandoned. I don’t blame them, it’s just that I feel like when I am at home I have to beg for attention, and I crave anyone who gives me any attention at all. But they’re so busy wrapped up in their own worlds they don’t realize that time is passing so quickly, things are changing as the seconds tick by, every split-second of our time together is precious and valuable, and yet we seem to try to keep ourselves busy, and our lives full of hectic activity, until we become unavailable to those who need us.
The part that hurts is, I have 2 years left before I graduate, and get married, and I will be out of their lives forever. 2 years seems too little for us to catch up on years worth of feeling neglected. Yes they can say that we will still meet, we will still be family, we will make time to spend with each other: if you're practical you'll know that soon I will have my own family, my own job, my own problems, my own life. And we will never get this back again. I'm not saying drop everything so you can come talk with me. I'm saying, at least once a day, we should have one real conversation about things that are hurting us/making us happy/troubling us. But even that gets the standard: "Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't listening, I have a lot of my mind..." followed by a listing of all the problems that make me feel guilty for even attempting to talk about anything that is upsetting me. One day we'll wake up, realized that all those years have passed in a flash, and say: where has it all gone?
Sitting at home, in my own home, is the loneliest I can ever be, and attention-seeking as I am, I do my best to get out of here and spend time with my ever-so-loving and totally company-keeping cousins, and get out of the house where everything else is priority over spending time with family.
And they wonder why I hate coming home.

My favorite 5 actors for totally superficial reasons...

2005-07-04T02:13:00.000-07:00

Mel Gibson

2005-07-03T20:00:00.000-07:00

Mel Gibson

This one I can say (even though I personally think this is the case with all of them) but I'm sure in his case no one will disagree: talent AND looks...

Ryan Phillippe

2005-07-03T19:08:00.001-07:00

Ryan Phillippe

Perfect Phillippe...Just perfect.

Josh Hartnett

2005-07-03T19:08:00.000-07:00

Josh Hartnett

Josh Stole-My-Hart-nett

Brendan Fraser

2005-07-03T19:07:00.000-07:00

Brendan Fraser

Could'nt find one with his T-shirt on...but even if I did...

Brad Pitt

2005-07-03T19:06:00.000-07:00

Brad Pitt

2 of him, just cuz he's effing hot...

Brad Pitt

2005-07-03T19:05:00.000-07:00

Brad Pitt

A girl can dream...

Questions

2005-06-30T16:25:00.000-07:00

ALL of you people have to answer these questions…it’s funny the different kinds of answers you can get from all sorts of people and tastes…Here goes:
1. Do u prefer it when someone gives you bottled water or water in a glass?
2. Where do you want to go on your honeymoon?
3. Favorite car?
4. Favorite actor, and actress?
5. Favorite color?
6. If you had enough money right now, to buy ONE thing only, and it could be anything in the world, what would you buy?
7. One object, device, insect, animal, or whatever that TRULY disgusts you?
8. What is your worst recurring nightmare?
9. Would you rather live in an apartment or a villa?
10.Favorite historical hero?
11. Favorite feel-good movie?
12. Favorite tear-jerking movie?
13. What is your biggest fear?
14. Girls: Knight on a black horse or knight on a white horse? Guys: Princess in a silk black dress or a silk white dress? sorry I stole your question Maha, but it seemed appropriate ;)

Here are my answers:
1. Bottled water
2. Disney World (Yeh, no Paris or The Maldives for me, fun is what I want)
3. Porsche 911 Turbo
4. Mel Gibson and Julia Roberts
5. Red
6. A mansion
7. Blood (just makes me dizzy)
8. Drowning or falling down (I wake up right before I hit the ground)
9. I would rather live in an apartment
10. Hercules, the most famous of all Greek heroes
11. Love Actually
12. Legends of the Fall
13. Buried alive (awake in my coffin six feet under with no one to heed my call) and my mom dying (because without her we’re completely helpless).
14. Kinght on a black horse sounds good

Ok people, your turn, and you can’t keep any secrets, spill all...

Him...Not you

2005-06-29T11:57:00.000-07:00

When I dream about my future
Like all girls do
And I daydream about my wedding day
Like most girls do
And I envision my knight in shining armor
Like a lot of girls do
I see him on that horse,
Not you.

In the middle of the night
When I crave for someone to talk to...
To keep me company till the sun comes up, talking about nothing…
And I struggle with my white covers,
I imagine that I am getting a whiff of his perfume
And hope that one day his cologne will linger on my pillows
Long after he’s woken up and gone.
Him, not you.

When I am mixed up in a perplexing part of my life
And am touchy and exasperated
He tells me things I may not want to hear
But I listen intently and carefully
Because those words are coming from him.
Him, not you.

He is the only person I know
Who loves me the way he does
And he is the only person in the world
Who can really hurt me.
Him, not you.

And if he leaves
(even though he won’t be the first to leave, and may well not be the last)
I will miss him.I would be lost without him.
But I’ll get over him, like I got over you.
And yet the wound in my heart caused by him will be everlasting.
Him, not you.

I may have been deceptive and misleading.
This may not be the finale you had foreseen.
This may be coming too late.
And it’s my fault.
I know sometimes you may think
That you are on my mind
And perhaps there is room for you
But you overlooked the facts of life: Survival of the fittest
He suits me
I have never left him for anyone
I never will
He is bigger than anything I know
And there is only room for one:
Him, not you.

Derniere Manifestation de Puissance

2005-06-29T05:05:00.000-07:00

"Poor Girl...tsk tsk"

2005-06-28T17:14:00.000-07:00

I spent time with my Aunty and Grandma (my dad’s sister and his mom) in AD. They both live out of the country (Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and Tanzania, respectively) so I don’t see them much, and yeah I missed them. I feel very close to my dad’s side of the family in part because I look exactly like them (and regrettably nothing like mom whom I think is absolutely gorgeous), and partly because I hardly ever see them and when I do they remind me of my dad. But, and I don’t find this hard to say: I dread meeting them: I have this remote feeling that they pity me. It’s tremendously wonderful meeting them, but one thing I can't stand is sympathy. I do not need to be pitied. Just like I hate it when adults go: “Oh my, when will you stop growing?” (which they still do even though I have stopped growing at 17 and have remained at 171.5 cms for the last 3 years!!!) or when they say things like: “Sooooo (wink wink), When are you going to get married?” Especially when someone in the family gets married, and they look at us singletons and say: “Your turn is next, don’t worry.” I’M NOT WORRIED. I’ll get married when I want to and when I do I will be the one who finds my husband, not them. But worst of all is pity, and the one time I get pity is from my dad’s side of the family, who, granted, don’t see me much, so maybe think that I am experiencing some sort of suffering since my dad left, but still should know that I’m doing quite fine without my dad. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad, and things would have been AMAZING if he was still here, but he isn’t, and my brother and I turned out fine. In fact, wicked as this may sound, I don’t think I would have had the kind of life I’ve had if my dad stuck around. There would be more rules, and less of what my mom and I share now that there’s no dad around. Plus my father would have totally spoiled me and I predict I would have been even less independent than I already am (if that’s even possible, I depend on my brother FOR EVERYTHING). But when they say: “Oh my, Poor girl, I keep telling your dad to come back and take care of you,” or: “He’s a crazy man for leaving two kids and a wife behind,” or: “Look what he’s done, he doesn’t know what you’re missing because he left.” Don’t they get it? It’s not us who missed out, it’s him. He missed out on seeing his two kids grow up. And I’m not resentful; I just wish they would stop brining it up. I wish I could tell them: why are you saying this? I’m FINE. My brother is FINE. If dad was around then great, but he isn’t and you end up just fine. People ALWAYS cope with the kind of life they’re dealt, and some do better than others, but I’m not about to sit and feel sorry for myself. I'm blessed with a great mom and live a better life than most kids I know with both parents around, and I can think of a LOT of people who are far worse off than me that perhaps need pity. And I’m not about to take comfort in they’re pitying me because he wasn’t around. God 50% of marriages end in divorce, seriously I'm not the first girl with a single parent and I won't be the last. They should know better. I just found out that my dad has two little girls now, one is 6 and the other is around 4 months old. My uncle who saw him recently said that he was doing well, totally adored both his daughters, and always spoke of how the youngest one looks just like me. And when he was telling me I kind of felt that they expected me to feel upset or saddened maybe…but I was truly delighted. I have two little sisters! When he was around he was the coolest dad EVER, and if my sisters ( I think I like saying that) can get even half of what I got as a kid before he left, then they’re lucky. And one thing I made sure to tell my dad a few days ago when I finally reached him and talked to him: he is always in my prayers, he should not worry about us, we’re doing good, and all I want is to see him and the little ones, even if it was for a short while. He promised me he would try to come visit. He told me he felt guilty about leaving, that we were always on his mind, and no matter what he does he can't get himself to feel better. That broke my heart. I knew it was the people around him making him think that perhaps we're not ok, and it's all his fault. So I made sure he knew that we were doing great. And then I made sure everyone here knew I am truly happy with my life, and that is the message they should send back to him when they see him again. I think I’m very well-rounded, my personality is identical to my mom’s, and save for some parts of my behavior that I know are largely due to not having a father at home (especially that I crave attention and want a man in my life to be much older and in complete control, which is also the case with some girls I know who have pretty passive fathers), I think I turned out pretty well-formed…So for all you out there who might feel sorry for others who seem slightly less well-off, or have missed out in life, don't pity them. You can show them you care in other ways, but pity just makes people feel small.

Dad

2005-06-28T11:09:00.000-07:00

My Week

2005-06-27T16:38:00.000-07:00

I’m baaaaaack! The wedding was wonderful. Saeeda and I danced all night long. We salsa’d, tango’d, rumba’d, boogie’d… you name it! I’m serious they had all kinds of songs and it was great. It was the first time I danced so much, and with those heels! At some point during the night my feet were in so much pain I just took them off and danced barefoot. When it was time to go home I couldn’t walk with the boots on (I swear I got blisters) and I walked barefoot to the car. I made Saeeda bring her camera but every time Maha and I would be ready to take a picture, we couldn’t find Saeeda, or whenever Saeeda and I were ready for a picture, we couldn’t find Maha, and whenever…Well, you get it. But I did take one with the groom and bride, so there. A record of the night is available. And yes, the bride was absolutely gorgeous. Amazingly huge brown eyes, those were the first things I noticed. Round lips. Such white skin. Typical Arabian features, she did look Omani. What else? The food was incredible. Everybody looked perfect (Yusra, the sister of the groom, and I have this ritual where we sit at the end of the party and see who is dressed really badly so we could make fun of them. But every body was dressed flawlessly, so no fun.) After dinner Maha and I sat on our chairs facing backwards, and tried to wave to as many people who were dancing as possible, and see who would wave back. I don’t know if they thought we were silly, or they hadn’t seen us, or they were just plain rude, but no one waved back! It was like they would look straight at us, see us waving, and turn back to dancing! Well, to be honest we got a grin from one of my aunts, to which we burst out laughing, and she turned back quickly. I think she thought we were making fun of her heheh. Basically the wedding was a blast. Later on I spent the weekend with Maha and Saeeda, and we spent it talking about this one girl who danced like you wouldn’t believe. Wawie this chick could beat Shakira in a belly-dancing competition 10 times over. She was that good. Everybody just stared at her when she danced. Maha and I were so jealous. Although to be honest Saeeda and I did more than enough dancing for that night. That was the best part of it. I usually leave regretting that I hadn’t danced enough, but this time I made sure there were no regrets. On Friday Maha had to go back home cuz she had to work on Saturday, and Saeeda went off to take care of her niece. So I spent the rest of my time in AD with my aunts, a great deal of time with my baby cousins. One of them is Sara, she’s 3 and EXTREMELY HYPER. The other is Ali and he is 3 months old. I have yet to hear him cry. Such a happy baby Mashalla. By the end of 3 days I was so fed up with all the giggling and cheery chuckles, I wanted him to cry! So I kind of gently shook him when he was all unruffled and still, and he just happened to be saying: AAAHHHHHHHH, so while I was shaking him his voice came out all funny and crackly, and he thought that was hilarious. Instead of getting annoyed and crying, he laughed! Now it’s become a habit, when I carry him and shake him he starts saying: AHHHHHHH so he can hear his voice crack. I miss them already. I can’t wait to go back. I missed you all, I missed your blogs, I missed your comments! I just got home about an hour ago so I’m going to unpack and sleep. Updates tomorrow.

Sketch

2005-06-27T10:10:00.000-07:00

Beautiful

2005-06-27T10:09:00.000-07:00

Dream

2005-06-20T09:52:00.000-07:00

Till Next Week

2005-06-20T07:28:00.000-07:00

So I’m all set for the wedding. I got my cream-colored dress (backless, sleeveless, and knee-length, can you believe it? It's the first time I’m not wearing an evening-gown to a wedding). I got my cream-colored shawl, my cream-colored killer-heeled boots that are knee-high, so I won't look too "skanky" with a really short dress and all that leg showing. I broke them in yesterday, my feet are in so much pain, why do I do this to myself?. I just got my hair cut, and my nails done (which I’m ruining right now on this keyboard). Actually I’m a bit high on the smell of nail polish, so excuse me if this post is not up to accustomed standards. I got my cream-colored purse and my cream-colored hair clip (in the shape of a huge cream-colored butterfly). I got my pearly lipstick and cream-colored necklace. I got my cream-colored rings (two, in the shape of infinitesimal butterflies) and my cream-colored bracelet.
Ok, I really need to go get some fresh air and salvage what remains of my mental stability. Anyway, I probably won’t be posting on this blog till next week, seeing as the wedding is in AD and I’m planning to spend the rest of the week over there with Maha. So this is a leave-taking post I guess.

P.S. It’s my cousin’s wedding, not mine… ;(

Fire signal

2005-06-17T18:13:00.000-07:00

Dark Waters

2005-06-17T18:07:00.000-07:00

Listen, we need to talk...

2005-06-17T03:04:00.000-07:00

Recently I noticed a habit among the people I love. For some reason, I’ve observed that when there is bad news to tell me, they take their time. It’s like, they want to caution you, to tell you: brace yourself, it’s bad news, and then they tell you what the bad news is. On the contrary, when there is some good news, they can’t wait to tell you. (Of course, there are those insufferable meddlers who take pleasure in torturing you when they know something you don’t, and tell you: “Guess what?”, and try to keep you guessing what the good news is. THAT’S NASTY! STOP DOING THAT. I usually say: “I don’t know! Khalas I don’t care, don’t tell me I don’t want to know.” And the fun comes when they are dying to reveal the good news and I go: “Stop! Don’t want to hear it. Really I don't. Don't tell me.”) I can be really annoying when I want to hehehehe.
So I’ve figured there are two kinds of people. The ones who take plaster off a wound at a snail's pace, bit-by-bit, allowing themselves to feel the minimal amount of pain, until the whole plaster comes off. And then there are those who take the plaster off in one big pull, allowing a whole lot of pain, but it’s done immediately and swiftly. That’s what I am like. I hate the waiting; I cannot endure even the least amount of pain if it’s for a long period of time. I HAVE to take the plaster off quickly, and I can handle any amount of pain, as long as it’s in a brief period of time. Kinda like waxing I guess.
And it’s the same with news. I insist on hearing bad news right away. I abhor, detest, LOATHE it when a person comes up to me and says: “Listen, I have something to tell you. Please sit down. Promise me you won't react too quickly. I don’t know where to start, but here goes: please don’t get upset. Let me finish the whole story and then tell me what you think. Ok, so here’s the bad news:…”
Or: “Look, I know you’re going to get upset, but I have to tell you. Most people wouldn’t agree to me telling you this, but I feel you need to know.” (OH GOD JUST TELL ME ALREADY!)
Or: “Hey, I heard something, I don’t know if it’s true, but you won’t like it, is it true that…”
(ARE U KIDDING?)
The ultimate favorite: "Have you talked to **** lately? I mean, have you heard anything new?"
(IF YOU’RE GOING TO TELL ME ANYWAY, WHY DO YOU CARE IF I MIGHT/MIGHT NOT HAVE ALREADY HEARD THE NEWS?)
Even: (listen -big sigh- we need to talk)pisses the hell out of me. I really feel the need to clarify that I, unlike others I know, hate pre-bad news intros. Just hit me with it. I will love you for being straightforward and unambiguous, and telling me right away.
I can take the bad news. Really, I'm tougher than I look. It’s the waiting to hear the bad news I can’t handle. I am extremely impatient. Maybe some people do need time to hear bad news. I’ve heard so many times, when a loved one departs this life, an adult (of course, I do not consider myself a grown-up yet, and hopefully NEVER) would say: Immortality is for God, our time here on earth is short, I’m really sorry to tell you this, but….
Please spare me that courtesy. Maybe when I’m older and need time to prepare, but now I’m ready for it all, and will only "need time" AFTER I hear the bad news, not before.

4 the gaals

2005-06-15T23:39:00.000-07:00

2005-06-15T07:20:00.000-07:00

Early Days

2005-06-15T00:04:00.000-07:00

Day after day, right outside my window, I take notice of these kids playing. Sometimes it’s the little show-off kids with their fancy scooters and bikes, who’s parents have basically omitted the best part of their children’s youth, which is using their imagination to keep them occupied, not their money. But most of the time it’s 2 sisters and they’re older brother (maybe around 7), fooling around and occupying themselves, sometimes with friends, most of the time on their own. And it reminds me so much of being a kid. There are so many values that you shake off once you cross the threshold of being a kid and more significant things take over your life (in my case, guys), but I’m lucky I still remember some of them. Castles, dragons, princesses, superheroes…They’re all fantasies that I quickly let go off. I don’t know many people who remember. You kind of just move on and stop thinking about them. I wonder if even my brother remembers. I've listed the things I remember from my childhood adventures, I think all of us had believed in these too…
- I remember we believed that our cats had the ability to communicate with us, and we were the only ones who understood (although for some reason mom still talks to our kittens and cats when they’re meowing for food: okaay, okaaaay, don’t worry, your food will be ready right now. Very amusing to my brother and I).
- I remember we believed that we had superpowers that were yet to be revealed, and each of us had their own top-secret power that well matched our individuality.
- Superheroes existed for sure.
- Beasts existed too, and at night they would show up but because we were secretly endowed with superpowers they would try all night but we still woke up unharmed.
- Our favorite blanket had unknown powers and protected us from all harm, and we had to carry it around wherever we went.
- Our teddy bears/toys/dolls could hear and understand everything we said, and whenever we were out of the room they would resume their normal lives, and when we came back they pretended to be motionless so we wouldn’t tell our parents that they were living. Of course, we knew they exited because they would never remain at the same place we left them. But we didn’t tell our parents anyway, because we were on the toys’ side.
- I remember we lived in a world were there was so much to find out, and we had so many quests to live through from the moment we woke up till we went to bed, and new journeys coming up the next day.
- Most of all I remember that our make-believe lives were real, and we only pretended to be ordinary to our parents because they would never understand, but the moment they stopped watching we had to resume our imaginary lives, which were actually more real to us than anything else.
I usually forget about all this, and get irritated at the kids outside my window for making so much noise. In my head I’m thinking: God! Don’t they ever get tired? I forget that I was exactly the same, I had the exact same adventures, and they were endless too. I also adored the older girl who lived next door who never went out, and seemed always to gaze at us from inside her room, and we’d pretend we couldn’t see her so she knew we weren’t intentionally making all that noise ;)

Quote of the day: Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.

Islands

2005-06-14T20:59:00.000-07:00

I figured since I have SO MANY amazing pictures I might as well share some with you...keep this blog interesting...

Mystical Castle

2005-06-14T16:56:00.000-07:00

I love pictures/paintings like these...you have to look really carefully to see all the details..like the two fairies having a chat over there, and the lovely castle I would love to see for real...

Pizza Man

2005-06-12T04:24:00.000-07:00

My brother introduced me to this song…and even though I got these lyrics in a message before, it sounds a million times better when you actually hear it with an Italian accent…It makes him sound like he’s swearing but he’s not...
Try reading this with an accent, it’s so funny:

Pizza Man
By Cisco Kid
Onna day Imma going to Malta to bigga hotel
In the morning I go downa to eata breakfast,
I tell the waitress I wanna two pieces of toast,
She bring me only one piece,
I tell her I wanna two piece,
She says: "Go to the toilet",
I say: "You no understand, I wanna piece ona my plate,"
She says: "You better not piss on your plate you son of a bitch",
I don’t even know the lady and she calla me a son of a bitch…!

I-DON’T- NEED-THIS-SHIT!!!

Later, I go to eata at the bigga restaurant,
The waitress brings me a spoon and a knife, But no fork,
I tell her I wanna the fork,
She tella me "Everybody wanna f***,"
I tell: "You don’t understand, I wanna fok on my table",
She says: "You better not f*** on the table you son of a bitch",
I don’t even know the lady and she calla me a son of a bitch…!

I-DON’T-NEED-THIS-SHIT!!!

So I go back to my room in a hotel,
And there is no sheets on the bed,
Call the manager and telling him I wanna a sheet,
He tella me to go to the toilet,
I say: "You don’t understand, I wanna sheet on my bed",
He says: "You better not s***on my bed you son of a bitch",

I go to the checkout and the man at the desk says 'Peace on you',
I say 'Piss on you too you son of a bitch, I’m gonna back to Italia,
Ariva derchi!!

And for those of you who already know this song, don’t make fun of me, I know it’s ancient, but it IS uproarious…! (Yeh, this is a sure sign of my utter boredom!)

Fed Up

2005-06-12T02:00:00.000-07:00

Bored to death. Steady and recurrent brain-freezes from all the ice chewing. Eyes throbbing from too much television. Dropping IQ due to heat (I think my brain is slowly melting). Along with not doing anything even faintly constructive for my intelligence. All those TV shows have gradually destroyed my brain cells. When will this suffering be over?

"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter."

2005-06-10T17:35:00.000-07:00

So, crack up even if these jokes aren't that funny...

What is the difference between men and E.T.?
E.T. called home.

A magician was driving down the road..then he turned into a drive way...

Once upon a time there were two muffins in the microwave.
Suddenly, on of the muffins says: "Man it's hot in here!!!!"
The other muffin exclaims, "Look a talking muffin!!!!"

Q. What's pink and fluffy?
A. Pink fluff
Q. What's blue and fluffy?
A. Pink fluff holding it's breath

What does a fish say when it runs into a wall?
DAMN!

Summer Heat

2005-06-09T15:15:00.000-07:00

The summer is eradicating my will to live! I’m thankful we have no sea here because everybody tells me that they’re dying from humidity in Abu Dhabi and Dubai. Fortunately for us countryside people, even on a bad day Al Ain still has a pleasant gentle wind that blows all your problems away every once in a while. But today isn't just a bad day. It's hell! The thing with Al Ain is that it’s too desert-like: the high temperature is a killer but now it’s summer it is also especially windy and the sand just keeps coming in your eyes, you have to wear sunglasses all the time because it’s too bright to go out with your eyes exposed, unless you enjoy squinting. And even though it’s exceedingly hot you still have to really cover up from top to bottom to avoid the sun scorching your skin…my hands are shades darker than the rest of my body! But it’s not the heat that’s upsetting me so much, I’m a desert chick I’m used to it, it’s the powerlessness that comes with the heat. You’re parched all the time, grouchy, annoyed, and just exhausted. The heat renders you incapable of any useful activity. All I do is take cool showers and drink juice filled with ice all day long. My mom keeps laughing at me cuz I walk around in the skimpiest clothes and chew on ice cubes (oh shut up you perverts!) but only true ice-cube chewers know the beauty of it! I love keeping my hair down but now the heat just makes everything irritating, so right now hair falling down my face and shoulders is just REALLY annoying, and I have to continuously tie my hair up in a pony tail, but it’s long so throughout the day I have head aches because it gets really heavy up there! My skin is dry because I keep splashing water on my face, and my lips are chapped and I have to carry a moisturiser and lip balm wherever I go around the house. I have my little protection against the heat kit: ice cubes in a large glass, strawberry cream, cherry lip balm, and a coooooooool towel. Today all I did (I SWEAR) was sleep, watch tv, had some cookies and juice, and went back to sleep. I just woke up because…well DUHH, it’s too hot to sleep. I really hope that this is the worst part of the summer and it goes away soon, because more often than not in Al Ain, even when it’s hot, we have this dry, uplifting breeze that blows through just before night fall. Now it’s just too hot to even go out and enjoy that.
What would we do without air conditioners and tv?

Quote: Wilfred Thesiger, from Arabian Sands
No man can live this life and emerge unchanged. He will carry, however faint, the imprint of the desert, the brand which marks the nomad; and he will have within him the yearning to return, weak or insistent according to his nature. For this cruel land can cast a spell which no temperate clime can match.

I hope

2005-06-06T16:09:00.000-07:00

I hope that the reason I have met so many ‘wrongs’ is that when I finally meet a ‘right’, I will be grateful.
I hope that when an opportunity closes its door in my face, I will be aware of another door opening, and with any luck I’ll be sharp enough not to keep gazing at the closed door.
I hope that I get pleasure from such closeness to a person that spending a day with them devoid of any dialogue will still make me feel like I have the greatest chats ever with them.
I am superficial, but I hope one day I will not go for looks, because looks can be misleading. I am materialistic, but I hope one day I will not go for wealth, because money doesn’t last. I hope that I will be able to find a person who makes me smile until I beam. (I REALLY hope that I can find a person who can make me smile who is ALSO handsome and rich hehehe).
I hope that I will be able to visit all the places I want to visit, do all the things I want to do, and become whoever the hell I want to be, because this is my life, and my chance.
I hope that I am not so self-aggrandizing that one day I will forget to put myself in someone else’s shoes, and hurt a person without knowing.
I hope that I am always cheerful and in high spirits by making the most out of everything and not always thinking that grass is greener on the other side.
I hope that this appetite to learn always stays with me, and the more I discover, the hungrier I get.
I hope that that people recognize that I am, right now, who I am, and not who I used to be. I hope that I can look to my future not based on a forgotten past, but on a past that I can learn from, and then let go.
I hope that, since at the dawn of my life I was brought into this world crying, and all around me were in good spirits, that one day, when I breathe my last breath, I will be in good spirits, and all around me will be crying.
I hope that I am not always in such a rush in this hurried world that I miss just “existing”, and taking in a lungful of air, that I miss the sound of raindrops, that I stop watching sunrises, that I miss out on the world.
I hope that when I have children I shall not ever let them down by saying: “We’ll do it tomorrow,” and be so occupied with other things that I will miss the disappointed look on their face.
I hope that I forever remember to hold close the person I love when I am happy, so that they can know how happy I am to be with them, or so I can show how much I yearned for them when they were gone, or so I can make a going away easier.

Quote of the day: The Grand essentials of happiness are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.

Life Value

2005-06-05T02:11:00.000-07:00

So, my brother finally persuades my mom to let him drive. I’m in the car and he wants to show his driving skills off to me. They switch places and I’m thinking, he promised her he’d drive leisurely, otherwise she’s never gonna let him drive again. So I’m safe.
It’s like sometimes I forget who my brother is.
Anyway, we’re driving a bit too fast for my mother’s liking, I’m cracking up at all the wild jokes Ali’s making, and there are some Indians on bicycles and walking by on the road (remember those Indians who are always hanging out by the Dukkans wawie?). Ali doesn’t slow down and mom’s like: Ali you’re gonna hit them! He just looks at her and just keeps driving fast. Mom goes: ALI SLOW DOWN YOU’RE GOING TO HIT THEM! And he just looks at her and says: Mom, we have SO many of them! Don’t worry one or two gone missing won’t be noticed. I’m like ALI SLOW DOWN!!!, and he’s like: Basma, don’t worry, plenty more where they came from. Like cockroaches. And even though this is EXTREMELY racist, he meant it innocently (plus local mentality is pretty racist, isn't it?) and I’m laughing my head off. But he slows down a liiiittttle. Soon we come upon a bunch of local girls, like 5 or 6 years old, playing around. My mom and I are both looking at Ali and wondering if his theory of cockroaches applies to the little girls too, but he grins knowingly, goes on saying whatever he was saying, and slows down a little bit more than he did with the Indians. “Ahhh, so the little local girls get special treatment, huh?" I tell him.
“They’re kids, Basma, what’s wrong with you!" He says, making me look soo bad. I usually smack him in the back of his head when he says things like that, so you can check him for bruises. Then we come upon a few cats messing about having a good time, and some kittens THAT WEREN’T EVEN ON THE ROAD, but just amusing themselves in the pavement, and Ali? He stops the freaking car completely. This is how much he values kittens’ lives. More than little girls. Way more than hard-working Indians. Kittens, in Ali’s world, rule. He stops the car COMPLETELY, gets out, shoos them far far FAR off the road and the pavement and anywhere remotely close to where he was driving, gets back in, and starts driving. My mom and I could NOT stop laughing. He really needs to get his priorities straight.

Random Questions about Love

2005-06-02T04:28:00.000-07:00

What is love? How do you know that someone is telling the truth when they say they love you? Do you “see it in their eyes”? (Yes, I’m being cynical.) How long does it take for someone to fall in love? A month? A year?
At first sight?
And how do you know you’re in love? Does it slowly creep up on you and then jolt you with the feeling? Or do you feel it progressively escalating from partiality to complimentary to worship feelings?
And if you doubt that you’re in love, does it mean that you’re not in love anymore, or does it mean that the person you love has just been away for a while (emotionally or physically away, whichever) and the moment he/she comes back all returns to normal?
If you discover that you’re not in love, do you leave the person that you’re not in love with? Is it that easy?
Or do you just stay and start believing what your mother told you about love never lasting? If it doesn’t last, then why fall in love in the first place?
“When you’re in love your world turns upside down, and you think with your heart.” Well, if love turns you into a slave of your feelings and emotions, what good comes of it? Won’t it just be less complicated not to fall in love?
Can’t people just really like each other, and avoid the whole concept of unrestricted, self-sacrificing, Romeo and Juliet love? Isn’t love just a mixture of approval and s**? Why not call it by its real name then? Why do people like the whole fancying things up into something extravagant, over-the-top and really just phony?
I don’t think I believe in love. I’ve seen too many successful arranged marriages that it kind of makes me question this concept. I believe in getting used to someone. I believe in feeling good or happy when some one is around. I believe in getting to know a person. But this whole desperate, dreamy, I-can’t-breathe, I-can’t-live-without-you, you’re the ONLY one…this stuff really doesn’t make sense to me.
You think you’re in love with some one cuz there’s no one else like him/her- well, the truth is, there’s no one else like anybody else. We’re all different. That’s just a play on the way things sound when u say: “There’s no one else like you.” OF COURSE THERE IS NO ONE ELSE LIKE ME!!! What’s your point exactly?
The thing is, I am in no way against happy couples that do live by the concept of (you’re the only one for me). I just think it’s a bit forged when someone says: you’re the sun, the moon, and the bright bright blue in my sky. Maybe it is true that I’m a bit practical in my love life. For me, I would always look at a person in terms of: wealth, looks, personality, and his love for me (not necessarily in that order). And then, there’s this moment when you decide: should I give in to this? And if you do you’re a goner, and if you resist well, you move on. But corny, clichéd, everlasting, perpetual love never has made any sense to me whatsoever.

p.s. if you guys are gonna comment, please don't give me answers like : Love makes the world go round, or Love is Everything, or whatever confusing answers people come up with that aren't really answers at all.

Foretelling

2005-05-29T14:34:00.000-07:00

I recently saw a clairvoyant.Not the same one who was in Uni and read faces and hands and said that i was practical in love, materialistic, a seeker of power, and one who wud be most happy in a job that wud allow me 2 travel a lot. That one said most about personality and what i shud do to get the best out of my life.This one reads cups after ur done with coffee, and actually pokes at ur past, present and future and predicts what is going to happen to u next.It was just a fun thing to do.I don’t take “seers” seriously, cuz in Islam it’s 7aram to try to predict your future, and someone once told me that once u find out ur upcoming prospects, things don’t turn out the way they’re supposed to. Plus some things are best left unidentified and mysterious, in the past as well as in the future. But she was there, and like I said, it was just a fun thing to do. Indeed, she didn’t say much that was accurate. A lot of things weren’t true at all. A lot of things I couldn’t prove either way. But she did say one thing: that very soon I would hear bad news about a person I cared about. Now, that was the one thing that stuck in my head. Bad news meaning, something I would hate about that person? Or something bad would happen to that person? I wanted to know how I would find out, when exactly, who would tell me. She was very vague and just said: it was bad news. She told me I would feel bad, and it would be better if I kept away from that person (person X) whom the bad news was about. On Friday I did in fact receive bad news about that person X. I couldn’t prove it wrong or right. The person (person Y) who told me this bad news is someone I trust, so in my head I thought of course its true, why would person Y tell me news that they weren’t sure about? But the news was so bad about this person X that I think some how I didn’t want to believe it. I hate drama so all was over and done with really quickly, but what I need to know is: how could the spiritual lady have predicted that? Most of the things she said were circumstantial, guesses based on answers i wud give her (like she wud ask me: do u talk to ur father a lot? and i said hardly ever, and she immediately said: well ur mom is trying to keep u away from ur father ( i laughed at that one cuz mom is the only one i know who is pushing us stubborn ingrates to call our dad heheh, but obviously that was the immediate guess: kids don't talk to their dad, hmmm...that means their mom is trying to keep them away from him!!..know what i mean?) ANYWAY... things that could happen, things that happened in the past, etc. But this was an actual prediction of something that would happen in the near future, and it did happen. Could it be that it was a true foretelling? Or could it be that just because she told me I would hear bad news in a few days, and then I heard some bad news: I immediately assumed it was what she was talking about? She told me how I would feel when I heard the news, how it would change my mind about that person… details only I could know, and I did feel what she told me I would feel, but I didn’t realize it until much later when I thought: OMG, this is the bad news she was telling me about! It was freaky, kind of exhilarating, and a bit annoying cuz I thought, well, if she was right about that, will she be right about some of the other things she predicted too? Seriously though, I am very doubtful of “psychics”. I do believe there are a few extrasensory people out there, and I do believe they are gifted. But the rest I believe to be remarkable mind readers, incredible readers of body language, taking smart guesses based on answers you give them, etc. So I never take what they say to heart. But this one hit right at the mark. "You will hear bad news about a person very soon, if it were me i wud keep away from this person, you will feel annoyed but not really hurt..." And that's EXACTLY what happened.
And if it was just a lucky forecast by her then: wow. That was cool.

Quote of the day: Psychic, n. - An individual having an uncanny, seemingly supernatural, talent for extracting money from morons.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

2005-05-28T14:07:00.000-07:00

Childhood. Innocence. Purity. Inexperience. God, how I loved being young. How I enjoyed being a child. There was this whole age of total gullibility and childish wonder. We would watch Tom and Jerry. Later on Cartoon Network came into being and along with the classics we got accustomed to the Adam’s Family, Dexter’s Lab, and Johnny Bravo. Then somehow Space Toon came into being, with all their Pokemon and digital heroes, and all the kids would obsess over that and I would look at them, so preoccupied with this new world, and think: so this is what childhood is like now, huh? But it gets worse. Cinderella and Aladdin don’t mean much to kids now. They barely remember Tom and Jerry. Adam’s Family is not ‘interesting’ enough. Now, Michael Jackson is household name, and not for the same reasons he used to be! Ricky Lake is sooooo fascinating (she’s not, you can only watch screaming, swearing, unbelievably problematic people for a while before u actually start feeling good about your own problems).
Funny thing though: I remember a lot of my childhood. I remember the stories. I remember Disney Land and Micky Mouse. I remember reading my ABC books and memorizing Humpty Dumpty’s song. But I can’t remember what I wanted to be when I grew up! When in my tiny baby head and my tiny baby thoughts, everything and anything was achievable, what did I want to become? When I was not frightened to fantasize, or my imaginings weren’t overshadowed by the predictions that were handed to me by society, my family, the need for money…what did I want to become? When nobody was around to convince me that I needed to find a suitable career appropriate for my life …what did I want to become? When I used to believe that what you become and what you do for a living are two very different things (when in adulthood u discover that you are what you do?) what did I want to become?
I can’t remember.
Can you?

Quote of the day: Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.

My Planned Week :(

2005-05-22T19:30:00.000-07:00

Uni was great. Exams are done with. The last 2 weeks of uni all I did was plan my week in AD with my friends. I was really looking forward to it. But I’ve realized something, every time I really plan for anything, it doesn’t work out. This time of course it was my mom who brought down the plans by not letting me go on Friday, saying we’ll go on Saturday. I don’t believe in delay. I think people go through a lot of problems because they postpone. Delay studying till the last minute. Delay doing homework. Delay cleaning the bedroom. Delay fixing the car. Delay going to the bank. We would get all these things done, AND many more, if we just DID NOT DELAY. But we delayed. Saturday OF COURSE mom delayed till Sunday (fully knowing that I had my heart set on this week being away from Al Ain because God knows how much I need the break.) What happened after that? She got sick. But of course. There’s no one to drive me to AD. Plans with the cousins have all been cancelled (I’m sick of making them delay their plans on account of me, so I just told them I was probably not going to make it and they could go ahead and do their thing). I wanted to see Thurayya’s new baby girl. I wanted to see my Uncle Hassan (he just got back from Yemen and he saw my dad, and I want to hear all about it, plus I want to see his little baby). I wanted to chill with Saeeda and Yusra. Most of all I wanted to hang out with my angel face cutie pie njooli njooli Maha. But of course, because of DELAY, none of that is going to happen. I swear the only thing that got me through the last 2 weeks of uni was my visualizing this one week of paradise before summer courses (which start next week, which meanst this was my only week off, and that is why I planned so much!) I had told mom my plans weeks in advance to make sure she didn’t make any changes on account of: "I didn’t know you made plans..."
I NEED AIR. I need to breathe walla I’m chocking on this sheer dullness, and I'm chocking on boredom, and I'm chocking on people's inconsiderate DELAYS to MY plans.
Last night I cried my heart out (this is how serious I took it). Today I’m much better (I’ve gotten into the “indifferent” phase – I don’t care, I’m sick of asking when are you going to take me to AD). But I think I’m just a teeny bit bitter.
Quote of the day: Boredom is like a pitiless zooming in on the epidermis of time. Every instant is dilated and magnified like the pores of the face.
Excuse me; I’m going to go scream now.

Personality

2005-05-20T14:52:00.000-07:00

Why do people modify their personalities when they’re around other people? I realized that I tend to be a different person, depending on my surroundings. In big gatherings I’m a big flirt, and I like laughing. Well, not a big BIG flirt, I’m just really really nice. Hehhe. Who am I kidding? I love the attention. Yet there are some people I’m around (some friends) where I am totally cool and collected, and mostly nonviolent hehe. Some others bring out the worst in me: I am infuriated, all stirred up and provoked (Alooshy, my brother!!). To some people (like the secretary and treasurer of the Student Council) I am so TOTALLY professional it scares me. Like I’m gonna become one of those ruthless, hardnosed business women with a heart made of stone. I don’t hurt feelings but I do tend to be a bit (a teensy bit) dictatorial, only when I feel that nobody is taking a step in making a decision because they don’t want to take the blame if something goes wrong. With people that annoy me (I don’t think I’ve reached the level of hate yet) I never bother picking fights…I just listen to what they have to say, nod, and walk away, and if they ask me something I don’t want to answer, I smile and just look at them. The dumb ones repeat the question OVER AND OVER, but most of the time the clue hits home and they move on to the NEXT annoying question. Ofcourse when they over-do it then all the anger reserved for my brother just explodes. I know I’m rude, but only around people I know won’t take it seriously. Cousins like wawie…total pushovers heheh. Naah I’m kidding, they just don’t take me seriously. Like I would actually say: "Ok you guys are boring. I’m gonna go." Or, "You’re so short you’re like a cockroach STOP WALKING INFRONT OF ME." (I’m 5.7 so the only person I can stand tall next to is my brother who is 6.4). And then sometimes I am the listener, the one who gives advice, and sometimes, I am the talker, and someone else pulls me out of the shit hole I got myself into. Mostly I can actually see myself just switching from one persona to another, depending on the audience and their preferences. Why does that happen? I don’t know anybody who said they liked me the moment they saw me. They always say: U were cute but I couldn’t make up my mind about u. But now I love you. And in my head I’m thinking: hey, I couldn’t make my mind about YOU, and what kind of person you would like me to be.
I’m never alone. The house is always jam-packed with guests and family. And when it’s kind of empty (meaning less than 5 people) then I’m always in Uni. So what will happen when I’m really alone? Who will I meet and then realize: hey, I’m actually REALLY myself when I’m with this person. A person with whom I realize: hey, I’m not actually changing for this person. And I know people do this a lot. I know you kind of change around other people depending on how you feel about them. But for me, I don’t actually have any ‘alone’ time. I’ve never confronted myself. I’ve never been in a room in which there was no other entertainment or something to keep me busy, besides myself. And I don’t think I want to. I’m not sure how I will like me.
I wonder what I’m REALLY like. Or is this the time when I’m just discovering myself, and later on will settle on one character? God, I hope I don’t end up being “the flirt”. I would get my way in EVERYTHING (especially since the world is still owned by men – not for long though) but still ya3ni…I hope I end up being just a mixture of the flirt, the professional, and the calm and composed one.
HEY!

Silly Thought

2005-05-20T13:49:00.000-07:00

My wishes are nothing but my thoughts that I dream, and I remember in my wake...
My dreams are nothing but notions that I reflect on, while I sleep.
And my life is a loop because all I seem to do… is wish that all my dreams would come true
But all that seems to happen is that I only dream that they do.