The Fear Factor

There are a lot of things that I am afraid of on account of plain ignorance. I'm afraid of my mobile phone because it's smarter than I am, and I'm not sure how to use it to my advantage. I read the owner's manual, and, much as I hate to admit it, I still don't understand exactly how it works. It's no less amazing, of course, how everything is now "intelligent", how it's all connected: the PC, the phone, the camera, the music player, all of them in sync with one another. And standing right smack in the middle of all this magnificent networking is the clueless schmuck (myself). I can almost hear my gadgets soothe me, "Hush, now, we'll take care of it." But how condescending.

I'm also afraid of the gym. The gym people with their muscular calves and trim waists would tell me to step onto some machine that would judge me for being overweight, or, if it changes its mind, obese. But how condescending.

Machines telling me what to do.

*****
That Night is a film about a little girl named Ally who followed the turbulent love story of her teenaged neighbor Sheri and her bad-ass boyfriend Rick. Ally would look out her window across the street into Sheri's room and watch her every movement, emulating her, buying the same perfume she wears, listening to the same records. At one point, she says,

"I wonder if someone will ever look at me the way Rick looks at Sheri."

When I was a little girl, I hero-worshipped my sister. I would watch her write in her diary, and while she was in the shower, I would sneak peeks into it, then copy them into my own diary. I was 8 years old when I went to the supermarket and bought a deodorant exactly like hers; 10 when I wished I would have my period already so I could use the same brand napkins she did. She is seven years older than me. Now, we're like old friends; I don't feel any age difference, but I still hero-worship her.

*****
On the one hand, there's Hero-Worship.

On the other, there's The Evil Eye.

Arabs, especially the Saudis, believe in the Evil Eye. When a person looks at something or someone beautiful or desirable, and that person feels even the tiniest of envy, the Evil Eye is cast, and that object of desire is destroyed, or marred. Unless, of course, one says MashaAllah. Even people without an inkling of bad intention might be unconsciously giving off the Evil Eye. To protect oneself from such a misfortune, one should recite the Ayatul Kursi.

A couple nights ago, at a late-night dinner party, this lady that my family has known for ages kept looking me up and down, head to foot. Whenever I'd meet her stare, she'd turn away. Now, I'm not saying that I'm beautiful or desirable (but I'm not saying I'm not, LOL), but she freaked the sh*t out of me. After all, I was wearing my best abaya and tarha at the time. Earlier this morning, I noticed a couple of zits dotting my left cheek.

Evil Eye?

Or my new facial cleanser?

*****
I wouldn't be surprised if my internet connection gets cut yet again. My phone bills have been skyrocketing the past year; I NEED to go DSL. It's just such a hassle to go through applying for DSL, and I don't even know where to start. My father has no time for this nonsense.

In the meantime, I'm downloading all these lovely songs from years ago.

~ The Incidentals by Alisha's Attic
~ Beauty On The Fire by Natalie Imbruglia
~ It's Gotta Be Love by Color Me Badd

Once a slave to the mainstream, always a slave to the mainstream.