"Singing along to feeling-alright.."
- Hanson
Why Don't You & I
Carlos Santana
Since the moment I spotted you
Like walking round with little wings on my shoes
My stomach's filled with the butterflies
Ooh and it's alright
Bouncing round from cloud to cloud
I got the feeling like I'm never gonna come down
If I said I didn't like it then you know I lied..
Everytime I try to talk to you
I get tongue-tied
Turns out everything I say to you
Comes out wrong and never comes out right
So I'll say why don't you and I get together
and take on the world and be together forever
Heads we will and tails we'll try again
So I say why don't you and I hold each other
and fly to the moon and straight on to heaven
Cause without you they're never going to let me in
When's this fever going to break?
I think I've handled more than any man can take
I'm like a love-sick puppy chasing you around
Ooh and it's alright
Bouncing round from cloud to cloud
I got the feeling like I'm never gonna come down
If said I didn't like it then you know I lied...
Slowly I begin to realize this is never gonna end
Right about the same time you walk by
And I say 'Oh here we go again'
(There's Got To Be) More To Life
Stacey Orrico
I've got it all,
but I feel so deprived
I go up,
I come down
and I'm emptier inside
Tell me what is this thing
that I feel like I'm missing
And why can't I let go
There's gotta be more to life
Than chasing down every temporary high
to satisfy me
Cause the more that I'm
Tripping out thinking there must be more to life
Well it's life, but I'm sure
there's gotta be more
Than wanting more..
I've got the time
and I'm wasting it slowly
Here in this moment
I'm half way out the door
Onto the next thing,
I'm searching for something that's
missing..
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
GOOOOAAAAALLLL!!
Last Monday, a group of friends and I went to the Serafi Megamall to watch the football match between Saudi Arabia and Ukraine. The In-10-So Family Recreation Center on the top floor had set up this huge screen by the bowling alleys for families to watch. The place was packed to the hilt, and, as was expected, filled with young boys and men in full green-and-white regalia: hats, shirts, face-paint, masks, flags, the works. We weren't really keen on watching the game; we were just glad to have an excuse to hang out after a strenuous day at work. But, unexpectedly, we got caught up in the Saudi spirit and impulsively painted our faces. It was hilarious because:
a) Half of us weren't Saudi at all; well, I was the only southeast Asian in the group, the rest were Arab-Westerners.
b) We attracted a lot of attention, being the only group of grown-ass women in hijab with face-paint.
c) Saudi lost to Ukraine 4-o. There was a man behind the counter of the Shawarma place we ordered food from who smugly pointed that out to us in a crooked English accent: "Madam, Saudi lost, no?" [No, Duh?]
d) We were hounded by the MBC paparazzi. A photographer for the leading Arab newspaper Al-Hayat approached us several times during and after the game, offering to publish our photos on the newspaper. We unwaveringly refused to have our pictures taken, quickly covering our faces whenever he aimed the offending Nikon. [Hypocrites!! LOL!!]
e) We were also approached by a couple of young Saudi men in thobes who claimed to be photographers of some fake magazine, while they held up their mobile-phone cameras. LOL! [Pervs!!]
f) There we were, 8 women in full hijab, speaking loudly in English and occasionally switching to Saudi Arabic, walking around the mall, totally asking for it.
To be perfectly honest, the attention was unwanted, but not completely un-enjoyed. We're chalking this one up to experience. It's definitely not something women do (or should do) in Jeddah, and yet we did it, and we were meted out with that amusing tolerance that locals reserve for quasi-foreigners.
I was loathe to scrub off the face paint long after I'd arrived home. On top of that, Sally did my eyes, and I loved it. I don't know what the point of this photo is.
It was a fun evening. Totally inappropriate, but that's what made it fun.
Here is Abdullah, the cutest little Saudi-American I know. He loves sneaking up on me during picture-taking sessions and giving me bunny ears. What he loves even more is rummaging through our tote bags and confiscating our packs of cigarettes and declaring, "I don't want you to die!!"
And there's my silly friend Suzann, who'd kill me as soon as she sees I posted her photo.
Go, Saudiyyah groupies!!
More where those came from!
a) Half of us weren't Saudi at all; well, I was the only southeast Asian in the group, the rest were Arab-Westerners.
b) We attracted a lot of attention, being the only group of grown-ass women in hijab with face-paint.
c) Saudi lost to Ukraine 4-o. There was a man behind the counter of the Shawarma place we ordered food from who smugly pointed that out to us in a crooked English accent: "Madam, Saudi lost, no?" [No, Duh?]
d) We were hounded by the MBC paparazzi. A photographer for the leading Arab newspaper Al-Hayat approached us several times during and after the game, offering to publish our photos on the newspaper. We unwaveringly refused to have our pictures taken, quickly covering our faces whenever he aimed the offending Nikon. [Hypocrites!! LOL!!]
e) We were also approached by a couple of young Saudi men in thobes who claimed to be photographers of some fake magazine, while they held up their mobile-phone cameras. LOL! [Pervs!!]
f) There we were, 8 women in full hijab, speaking loudly in English and occasionally switching to Saudi Arabic, walking around the mall, totally asking for it.
To be perfectly honest, the attention was unwanted, but not completely un-enjoyed. We're chalking this one up to experience. It's definitely not something women do (or should do) in Jeddah, and yet we did it, and we were meted out with that amusing tolerance that locals reserve for quasi-foreigners.
I was loathe to scrub off the face paint long after I'd arrived home. On top of that, Sally did my eyes, and I loved it. I don't know what the point of this photo is.
It was a fun evening. Totally inappropriate, but that's what made it fun.
Here is Abdullah, the cutest little Saudi-American I know. He loves sneaking up on me during picture-taking sessions and giving me bunny ears. What he loves even more is rummaging through our tote bags and confiscating our packs of cigarettes and declaring, "I don't want you to die!!"
And there's my silly friend Suzann, who'd kill me as soon as she sees I posted her photo.
Go, Saudiyyah groupies!!
More where those came from!
Friday, June 16, 2006
The Cup Of Life
It's the World Cup frenzy all over again. Wherever you go in Jeddah, you will see throngs of young men and boys with faces painted green and white to show support for the Saudi team. Family recreation centers are packed full of avid football fans; watching the games on the huge screens set up especially for the Series.
I'm not much of a soccer fan myself. What does soccer mean to me? Let's see:
* Ricky Martin singing The Cup Of Life [Ole! Ole! Ole!] years ago.
* University days, when I, along with an equally clueless girlfriend, would watch The Hot Soccer Players at the Sunken Garden while they stretch and warm up.
* The heavily moisturized, manicured, facial-ed, quasi-gay David Beckham.
* A bunch of testosterone-laden blokes running around a huge field.
* Jeddah's black-and-yellow Ittihad Football Club and their catchy theme song.
Last week, Majed attempted to explain to me how the game works. Not surprisingly enough, 20 minutes into the "lesson", I was still clueless. Red cards, yellow cards, technical fouls, kickoffs, whathaveyous. I could only care about that singular hot-hot-hottie with the long hair and muscular legs. I don't even remember what team he played for.
Nevertheless, my friends and I are going to watch the next Saudi game against Ukraine, and hopefully, I can pretend to be interested long enough to scream enthusiastically when our team scores. I have to admit, the festive air is infectious.
I hope Saudi wins, if only to experience once again the chaos on the streets as the "shabab" run around the streets honking their honks and tonking their tonks ecstatically. I haven't seen that in years.
I'm not much of a soccer fan myself. What does soccer mean to me? Let's see:
* Ricky Martin singing The Cup Of Life [Ole! Ole! Ole!] years ago.
* University days, when I, along with an equally clueless girlfriend, would watch The Hot Soccer Players at the Sunken Garden while they stretch and warm up.
* The heavily moisturized, manicured, facial-ed, quasi-gay David Beckham.
* A bunch of testosterone-laden blokes running around a huge field.
* Jeddah's black-and-yellow Ittihad Football Club and their catchy theme song.
Last week, Majed attempted to explain to me how the game works. Not surprisingly enough, 20 minutes into the "lesson", I was still clueless. Red cards, yellow cards, technical fouls, kickoffs, whathaveyous. I could only care about that singular hot-hot-hottie with the long hair and muscular legs. I don't even remember what team he played for.
Nevertheless, my friends and I are going to watch the next Saudi game against Ukraine, and hopefully, I can pretend to be interested long enough to scream enthusiastically when our team scores. I have to admit, the festive air is infectious.
I hope Saudi wins, if only to experience once again the chaos on the streets as the "shabab" run around the streets honking their honks and tonking their tonks ecstatically. I haven't seen that in years.
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