Whod've thought that I would see an old friend after what, 500 years? I don't know who he is anymore. It's disconcerting, the changes, time, the now-gone similarities, no common ground anymore. What did we have in common anyway? Half a nationality? Mr. Basman? A school building?
There's a certain level of out-of-bounds curiousity; of wanting to know what goes on in his head, how he turned out, how different or alike we are from each other considering our similar backgrounds and experiences. More like trying to understand my predicament, what brought me here, what pattern I followed.
The important question here is, is it fair to use him as a mirror? Maybe there are more differences than likenesses.
*****
Maybe I wasn't as mean to him as I remember, but knowing myself, I know I was to some degree, quite the bully.
The truth is, the Sheriff shot me.
To all the people I bullied, whose opinions and points-of-view were unimportant, non-existent to me; what gives me the right to contemplate their (newfound) intellects now? Their senses of humor? Their rugged features, their grown-up ways?
I do not have a right to claim them as my friends now. I have NOT EARNED IT.
I have no right talking to them, listening to them, introducing them to my other friends.
In so many ways, I needed the people I bullied. I did it for acceptance. I wanted to be funny at their expense. I'd lure them with the silhouette of friendship, kindness, generosity, so that they end up trusting me and thinking I'm their only friend. And then BAM. The Mighty Mighty Turnaround. The Poking-Fun. The Locking-In-Bathrooms. The Laughing-At-Faces.
I'm probably beyond karma. I am fortune's fool.
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
Because We Love Metaphors
Friends may be likened to songs.
Some are catchy, like pop songs; in the moment, fashionable, a sign of the times. You make friends with people around the same age as you.
Some are like hip-hop beats with a good hook. They make you want to get up and dance or nod your head. They are smooth and cool, almost savvy.
Some are old-fashioned; not necessarily classic, but more unimaginative and common.
Some are annoying and high-pitched, repetitive.
Some are seasonal, like Christmas carols, or novelty songs.
Some songs, like some of your friends, you like especially because they reflect your background, your roots, your origins, where you're from.
Some friends you just get sick of because, like a song that's over-played, they've become too familiar and you just want something new.
Some friends would remind you of a collaboration between two musicians of different genres, a duet. You might come from opposite points of a spectrum and yet be in harmony. Aerosmith and Run DMC. Jay-Z and Linkin Park. Sting and Craig David.
Some are just forgettable in their shrillness. They hurt your ears.
The friends I like most are those that inspire me to be a better person, musician, writer. They stretch my imagination and pull me up to their level. I strain to keep up, and in so doing, unknowingly go through a certain amount of growth. They are like those brilliant songs by ingenious musicians that I look up to. Sergio Mendez. Lauryn Hill. The Beatles. Pharell Williams. Marvin Gaye. The Red Hot Chili Peppers.
What song are you?
Some are catchy, like pop songs; in the moment, fashionable, a sign of the times. You make friends with people around the same age as you.
Some are like hip-hop beats with a good hook. They make you want to get up and dance or nod your head. They are smooth and cool, almost savvy.
Some are old-fashioned; not necessarily classic, but more unimaginative and common.
Some are annoying and high-pitched, repetitive.
Some are seasonal, like Christmas carols, or novelty songs.
Some songs, like some of your friends, you like especially because they reflect your background, your roots, your origins, where you're from.
Some friends you just get sick of because, like a song that's over-played, they've become too familiar and you just want something new.
Some friends would remind you of a collaboration between two musicians of different genres, a duet. You might come from opposite points of a spectrum and yet be in harmony. Aerosmith and Run DMC. Jay-Z and Linkin Park. Sting and Craig David.
Some are just forgettable in their shrillness. They hurt your ears.
The friends I like most are those that inspire me to be a better person, musician, writer. They stretch my imagination and pull me up to their level. I strain to keep up, and in so doing, unknowingly go through a certain amount of growth. They are like those brilliant songs by ingenious musicians that I look up to. Sergio Mendez. Lauryn Hill. The Beatles. Pharell Williams. Marvin Gaye. The Red Hot Chili Peppers.
What song are you?
Twenty Oh Seven
New Year's Eve
Where I Spent It: Friday's, Andalus Street
What I Was Drinking: Pepsi
What I Was Wearing: My new abaya with the crimson spots on the sleeves that looked like cheese gone baaaaaad. Oh, and blood red nail polish courtesy of Linzi.
Who I Was With: The Ghamdis, the Noordin girls, Nadia, Linzi, Rami, Asmaa & Esraa, Yanni, Rami, and Squeek (briefly).
What I Was Thinking: How I wished it was a mixed crowd with more people; how it's my first New Year's party sans alcohol; how I could negotiate with my dad to pick me up much later than the 12:10 am that he did; and how my brothers were having a blast with my cousins sans me.
What I Was Reading: Cosmopolis by Don DeLillo
What I Last Watched: Just Like Heaven starring Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffalo, which I loved to pieces and watched twice in 24 hours.
What Song I Loved: Please Baby Don't by Sergio Mendez featuring John Legend
Last Magazine I Read: Newsweek and Time
Major Local News: Hajj updates and Saddam Hussein's execution
Where I Spent It: Friday's, Andalus Street
What I Was Drinking: Pepsi
What I Was Wearing: My new abaya with the crimson spots on the sleeves that looked like cheese gone baaaaaad. Oh, and blood red nail polish courtesy of Linzi.
Who I Was With: The Ghamdis, the Noordin girls, Nadia, Linzi, Rami, Asmaa & Esraa, Yanni, Rami, and Squeek (briefly).
What I Was Thinking: How I wished it was a mixed crowd with more people; how it's my first New Year's party sans alcohol; how I could negotiate with my dad to pick me up much later than the 12:10 am that he did; and how my brothers were having a blast with my cousins sans me.
What I Was Reading: Cosmopolis by Don DeLillo
What I Last Watched: Just Like Heaven starring Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffalo, which I loved to pieces and watched twice in 24 hours.
What Song I Loved: Please Baby Don't by Sergio Mendez featuring John Legend
Last Magazine I Read: Newsweek and Time
Major Local News: Hajj updates and Saddam Hussein's execution
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Ho-Hum
Tis the season to be married, fralalalala lalalala.
Congratulations to the brides and grooms of 2006. See y'all next year.
***
Filipinos are gaining popularity by the second.
***
Mr & Mrs Smith (the movie), in the scene right after Mrs Smith tried to unknowingly kill Mr Smith..
Brad Pitt: I didn't see who it was.
Vince Vaughn: Maybe he was Filipino.
***
The Break-Up, starring Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston (the jilted Mrs Smith)..
Jennifer Aniston: Look at yourself! You're a mess!
Vince Vaughn: And you? What, you don't wanna talk about your family? About that Filipino exchange student?
***
Boston Legal, the courtroom drama TV series...
Lawyer Whatshisface: Extortion is so popular that even Filipino street-gangs are doing it!
***
Those aren't accurate quotes. But that's the gist. Oi.
Congratulations to the brides and grooms of 2006. See y'all next year.
***
Filipinos are gaining popularity by the second.
***
Mr & Mrs Smith (the movie), in the scene right after Mrs Smith tried to unknowingly kill Mr Smith..
Brad Pitt: I didn't see who it was.
Vince Vaughn: Maybe he was Filipino.
***
The Break-Up, starring Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston (the jilted Mrs Smith)..
Jennifer Aniston: Look at yourself! You're a mess!
Vince Vaughn: And you? What, you don't wanna talk about your family? About that Filipino exchange student?
***
Boston Legal, the courtroom drama TV series...
Lawyer Whatshisface: Extortion is so popular that even Filipino street-gangs are doing it!
***
Those aren't accurate quotes. But that's the gist. Oi.
HWY
It was one year ago today that my friend Nhurzy passed away. She was a victim of a drive-by shooting; both she and her father were shot as they were making their way to a pharmacy. I have not come to terms with her death; I still feel that she's there somewhere, making a fantastic ruckus, cracking taboo jokes, hoping for a better future. Her blogsite will be forever locked.
We're HERE WITHOUT YOU.
We're HERE WITHOUT YOU.
I'm NOT A QUITTER
Everyone tells me to quit smoking.
Maggie*: "Why do you hate yourself? Don't do this."
Ingrid*: "It's NOT gonna help you lose weight."
My boss: "Try the new Smoke-Less thingamajig."
My boss: "No smoking at work when kids are around."
My parents: "Stop smoking."
My friends: "Stop smoking."
Dully (7 years old): "DO YOU WANNA DIE?!"
My cigarettes: "Smoking is dangerous to your health."
***
The thing is, it is man's nature to SEE FOR HIMSELF.
I give people all kinds of advice. I don't mind when they don't listen. It's also man's nature to give advice.
***
I want to meet Al-rajul Al-3ankaboot. I have said his name approximately 63 times just the past week; averaging 9 times a day.
Maggie*: "Why do you hate yourself? Don't do this."
Ingrid*: "It's NOT gonna help you lose weight."
My boss: "Try the new Smoke-Less thingamajig."
My boss: "No smoking at work when kids are around."
My parents: "Stop smoking."
My friends: "Stop smoking."
Dully (7 years old): "DO YOU WANNA DIE?!"
My cigarettes: "Smoking is dangerous to your health."
***
The thing is, it is man's nature to SEE FOR HIMSELF.
I give people all kinds of advice. I don't mind when they don't listen. It's also man's nature to give advice.
***
I want to meet Al-rajul Al-3ankaboot. I have said his name approximately 63 times just the past week; averaging 9 times a day.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
A Lot Like Love
As people, as human beings, we often feel the need to romanticize our states-of-affairs, to make ourselves feel the heroism that we most probably never possessed in the first place.
"I do everything I can for you, I put you before myself, I spend all my money, time, and energy on you, and this is the thanks I get?!"
*****
Why do we cry at movies? At weddings? Because we mourn for what we don't have, what we never had, and what we probably would never have. I don't believe those tears shed in happiness or joy for another person.
Tears are a lot like love - SELFISH.
*****
"Sadness is everyone's secret."
"I do everything I can for you, I put you before myself, I spend all my money, time, and energy on you, and this is the thanks I get?!"
*****
Why do we cry at movies? At weddings? Because we mourn for what we don't have, what we never had, and what we probably would never have. I don't believe those tears shed in happiness or joy for another person.
Tears are a lot like love - SELFISH.
*****
"Sadness is everyone's secret."
Friday, October 13, 2006
Writers Block
Would you marry a writer?
Writers and their overrated blocks. Would you be able to live with someone who would shut you out every so often? Who would have prolonged bouts of depression and extreme mood swings: one minute overjoyed and the next sullen and silent? Someone who'd constantly feel the need to detach himself from you, clear his air of your presence, push you out of his personal space? A writer and his perpetual delusions?
I would. If he were hot enough. LOL.
Would it work if you were BOTH writers, attracting and repelling each other at the same time, bouncing literary quotes off one another? Would you be threatened by the other's success? Or held back by the other's lack of?
"On the other side of attraction lies repulsion."
*****
Is there guilt attached to feeling lucky?
Absolutely. Now that I think about it, it's probably my Numero Uno Problemo. I am guilty of being much more fortunate than my peers or family members. I feel so guilty that I hold myself back and strain against full-fledged success for fear of crossing over the line from Loser City to Great Rewards Metro. I repress myself and put my destructive mode on turbo, and then, when I've damaged my affairs enough, I secretly tell myself that I deserved it for even THINKING I could rise above anyone I know. In a sick way, I still want to be a member of that bitter community that does nothing but sulk and complain about pre-destined misfortune. Most of all, I am afraid of the person I migh turn into if I do become successful, the person I see myself turning into even now. The question now is that, if I do manage to let go of this guilt, would it be of any help?
*****
When did you have your first sensation of the passage of time? Of progress?
I don't remember the first, but I know the moments. It's when I see an old picture, or when I smell a scent that I used to wear, or hear a song I used to dance to, sing-along to. More specifically, when Princess Diana's death anniversary comes around. I remember that day so vividly: my father coming in from work with his newspaper under his arm, smelling of the sun; my mom doing the laundry in the small bathroom of our old house; the smell of the newly-mopped dining room floor; the electric fan in the living room. And yet, this was 10 years ago. There's no telling if THEN was better than NOW. But it sure does remind me that I am 23 and not 13 anymore.
In the words of the unlikely intellectual in that annoying film Tokyo Drift...
"Life is easy. You make choices and you don't look back."
I am tempted to take his advice. It seems like a good idea, if I am to move forward and break the stillness.
Writers and their overrated blocks. Would you be able to live with someone who would shut you out every so often? Who would have prolonged bouts of depression and extreme mood swings: one minute overjoyed and the next sullen and silent? Someone who'd constantly feel the need to detach himself from you, clear his air of your presence, push you out of his personal space? A writer and his perpetual delusions?
I would. If he were hot enough. LOL.
Would it work if you were BOTH writers, attracting and repelling each other at the same time, bouncing literary quotes off one another? Would you be threatened by the other's success? Or held back by the other's lack of?
"On the other side of attraction lies repulsion."
*****
Is there guilt attached to feeling lucky?
Absolutely. Now that I think about it, it's probably my Numero Uno Problemo. I am guilty of being much more fortunate than my peers or family members. I feel so guilty that I hold myself back and strain against full-fledged success for fear of crossing over the line from Loser City to Great Rewards Metro. I repress myself and put my destructive mode on turbo, and then, when I've damaged my affairs enough, I secretly tell myself that I deserved it for even THINKING I could rise above anyone I know. In a sick way, I still want to be a member of that bitter community that does nothing but sulk and complain about pre-destined misfortune. Most of all, I am afraid of the person I migh turn into if I do become successful, the person I see myself turning into even now. The question now is that, if I do manage to let go of this guilt, would it be of any help?
*****
When did you have your first sensation of the passage of time? Of progress?
I don't remember the first, but I know the moments. It's when I see an old picture, or when I smell a scent that I used to wear, or hear a song I used to dance to, sing-along to. More specifically, when Princess Diana's death anniversary comes around. I remember that day so vividly: my father coming in from work with his newspaper under his arm, smelling of the sun; my mom doing the laundry in the small bathroom of our old house; the smell of the newly-mopped dining room floor; the electric fan in the living room. And yet, this was 10 years ago. There's no telling if THEN was better than NOW. But it sure does remind me that I am 23 and not 13 anymore.
In the words of the unlikely intellectual in that annoying film Tokyo Drift...
"Life is easy. You make choices and you don't look back."
I am tempted to take his advice. It seems like a good idea, if I am to move forward and break the stillness.
Families At Work?
Whoever said that companies are like families? They're as different as different can get.
There's no place for feedback forms and evaluations in families.
There are no monthly meetings, no motivational speeches, no reward systems.
Emotions are unchecked and vicious words are flung with reckless abandon.
There are no efforts to make the environment pleasant.
Most importantly, there are no hirings of potential employees and no firings of incompetent ones.
In my family, at least.
There's no place for feedback forms and evaluations in families.
There are no monthly meetings, no motivational speeches, no reward systems.
Emotions are unchecked and vicious words are flung with reckless abandon.
There are no efforts to make the environment pleasant.
Most importantly, there are no hirings of potential employees and no firings of incompetent ones.
In my family, at least.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Thank You India**
** Remind me again why Alanis Morisette was thanking India in that song?
Anyway, I'd like to thank MY India:
~ Sally and Summer, who coerced everyone in our circle to give us the fright of our lives in Linzi and my surprise birthday party. We couldn't've asked for a better party!!
~ Everyone at work who turned up at Friday's.
~ My good Bumbum friends and their better halves: Suzann, Sharifah, Sheri, Sara Grace, Nadia, and Dina.
~ Everyone who went to the party: Mum Debbie, Ali, Sara (Minute!!), the guy whose name I forget, Aiman and Dulli.
~ The people who called me and greeted me on my birthday.
~ The people who gave me birthday presents, as if their presence in my life wasn't enough (cheesy cheesy).
*****
The thing about birthday presents is that we LOVE receiving them, never mind what they are. I was lucky enough to receive presents that I loved just as much. Thanks for the books, the perfumes, the CDs, the earrings, the flowers, the bags, and the wallet.
So that there's no confusion in the future, those above-mentioned are just some of my favorite things. I am also not above accepting cash. Haha.
*****
Ramadhan Kareem to everyone. May Allah accept your prayers and bless you on this holy month. Salaams!!
Anyway, I'd like to thank MY India:
~ Sally and Summer, who coerced everyone in our circle to give us the fright of our lives in Linzi and my surprise birthday party. We couldn't've asked for a better party!!
~ Everyone at work who turned up at Friday's.
~ My good Bumbum friends and their better halves: Suzann, Sharifah, Sheri, Sara Grace, Nadia, and Dina.
~ Everyone who went to the party: Mum Debbie, Ali, Sara (Minute!!), the guy whose name I forget, Aiman and Dulli.
~ The people who called me and greeted me on my birthday.
~ The people who gave me birthday presents, as if their presence in my life wasn't enough (cheesy cheesy).
*****
The thing about birthday presents is that we LOVE receiving them, never mind what they are. I was lucky enough to receive presents that I loved just as much. Thanks for the books, the perfumes, the CDs, the earrings, the flowers, the bags, and the wallet.
So that there's no confusion in the future, those above-mentioned are just some of my favorite things. I am also not above accepting cash. Haha.
*****
Ramadhan Kareem to everyone. May Allah accept your prayers and bless you on this holy month. Salaams!!
Doctor Doctor
In other parts of the world, doctors have a good - if not excellent - command of English. Here in Jeddah, forget your English and you'd better learn the localese.
Imagine, if you can, the blank look on my doctor's face while I was explaining the pain I felt.
"I have this pain right here," were my exact words as I pointed to my tummy. "It started this morning as a little discomfort, and it grew to a steady hammering pain that would last about 30 seconds and recur within 5-minute intervals ... " At this point, imagine my voice trailing off as I realized he was smiling at me with incomprehension written all over his face.
It was almost as if the doctor pressed this huge, imaginary red button under his desk that prompted to raise a sound-proof, bullet-proof invisible wall (otherwise known as the Language Barrier), locking him safe from my attempts at medical-English. I imagine him hearing only muted elevator music on his side of the barrier. ARABIC elevator music.
Oi.
*****
That traitor Pepsi. After years of my undying loyalty, after all those mornings I chose Pepsi over a healthy breakfast, after all those praise and homage I paid it, this is the thanks I get. A gaping hole somewhere inside my stomach.
Imagine, if you can, the blank look on my doctor's face while I was explaining the pain I felt.
"I have this pain right here," were my exact words as I pointed to my tummy. "It started this morning as a little discomfort, and it grew to a steady hammering pain that would last about 30 seconds and recur within 5-minute intervals ... " At this point, imagine my voice trailing off as I realized he was smiling at me with incomprehension written all over his face.
It was almost as if the doctor pressed this huge, imaginary red button under his desk that prompted to raise a sound-proof, bullet-proof invisible wall (otherwise known as the Language Barrier), locking him safe from my attempts at medical-English. I imagine him hearing only muted elevator music on his side of the barrier. ARABIC elevator music.
Oi.
*****
That traitor Pepsi. After years of my undying loyalty, after all those mornings I chose Pepsi over a healthy breakfast, after all those praise and homage I paid it, this is the thanks I get. A gaping hole somewhere inside my stomach.
Sunday, October 8, 2006
This Guy
I love This Guy for so many reasons that I'll say YES in a NewYorkMinute if he ever asks me to marry him. The reasons?
1. I trust him completely.
2. He knows everything about me; there is no need for pretensions or lies.
3. Not to mention he's HOT.
4. He gets along famously with everyone in my family (maybe except for my Dad with whom he has a very interesting history HAHA), and my brothers respect him.
5. He's multi-faceted.
6. He's artsy without the fartsy.
7. I can always show him off to my friends because he's incredibly HOT (all my friends think so), and he has fantastic people skills. There is nothing he can and could do that would make me embarrassed of him.
8. He's funny as hell.
9. He educates me. He's that smart.
10. He's not filthy rich, but amazingly, with him it doesn't matter.
11. He let's me be myself. I can be stupid around him and tell him lame jokes and he doesn't make me feel stupid.
12. There is no Language Barrier, no Cultural Barrier, because we meet right in the middle.
13. He's streetsmart.
14. He's an incredible friend.
15. I know he loves me. I just know it.
If you see a ring on my finger, it's because I've bullied him into getting me one.
*****
Of course, this is the result of watching Gone With The Wind.
How can you resist a man who loves you unconditionally?
Easy. Women only want men who don't even know they exist. So the question should be:
How can you resist a man who DOESN'T love you?
And the moral of this story is:
Stop whining, and stop watching those gotdamn movies.
1. I trust him completely.
2. He knows everything about me; there is no need for pretensions or lies.
3. Not to mention he's HOT.
4. He gets along famously with everyone in my family (maybe except for my Dad with whom he has a very interesting history HAHA), and my brothers respect him.
5. He's multi-faceted.
6. He's artsy without the fartsy.
7. I can always show him off to my friends because he's incredibly HOT (all my friends think so), and he has fantastic people skills. There is nothing he can and could do that would make me embarrassed of him.
8. He's funny as hell.
9. He educates me. He's that smart.
10. He's not filthy rich, but amazingly, with him it doesn't matter.
11. He let's me be myself. I can be stupid around him and tell him lame jokes and he doesn't make me feel stupid.
12. There is no Language Barrier, no Cultural Barrier, because we meet right in the middle.
13. He's streetsmart.
14. He's an incredible friend.
15. I know he loves me. I just know it.
If you see a ring on my finger, it's because I've bullied him into getting me one.
*****
Of course, this is the result of watching Gone With The Wind.
How can you resist a man who loves you unconditionally?
Easy. Women only want men who don't even know they exist. So the question should be:
How can you resist a man who DOESN'T love you?
And the moral of this story is:
Stop whining, and stop watching those gotdamn movies.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Shape Of An L...
... on the forehead.
If a guy doesn't have the proverbial Asshole Streak, then he most definitely has the Loser Streak. To quote the Eraserheads,
"...there's a B-Side to every story..."
Now, it's not as bad as its asshole-y counterpart, but it's very annoying. It's very easy to detect, too; a guy's little habits, his humor, insecurity, paranoia, a hot temper, lame jokes, or general eggheadism.
So, how do we define cool, anyway?
The opposite of "Loser"?
Laissez-faire?
Sangfroid?
The ability to be quiet without shutting up?
Case in point: Fonzie of Happy Days fame. He was so cool that he practically crossed over to being a loser. You know, like when something is so sweet it becomes bitter? But what was it about him that was so cool? The exaggerated hand gestures, the pauses for applause or ooh-ahh?
I think it's cool when a guy is knows what he is capable of and is not ashamed of what he's not.
It's cool when he can take a joke or two and laugh at himself the way he laughs at other people.
It's cool when he cares, and yet, just doesn't.
I don't know why it's such a big deal. I have one of those streaks myself, especially visible when I lie about such obvious things as my weight. Or my paycheck. My question is, are Loser Streaks tolerable? To what extent?
What's YOUR loser streak?
If a guy doesn't have the proverbial Asshole Streak, then he most definitely has the Loser Streak. To quote the Eraserheads,
"...there's a B-Side to every story..."
Now, it's not as bad as its asshole-y counterpart, but it's very annoying. It's very easy to detect, too; a guy's little habits, his humor, insecurity, paranoia, a hot temper, lame jokes, or general eggheadism.
So, how do we define cool, anyway?
The opposite of "Loser"?
Laissez-faire?
Sangfroid?
The ability to be quiet without shutting up?
Case in point: Fonzie of Happy Days fame. He was so cool that he practically crossed over to being a loser. You know, like when something is so sweet it becomes bitter? But what was it about him that was so cool? The exaggerated hand gestures, the pauses for applause or ooh-ahh?
I think it's cool when a guy is knows what he is capable of and is not ashamed of what he's not.
It's cool when he can take a joke or two and laugh at himself the way he laughs at other people.
It's cool when he cares, and yet, just doesn't.
I don't know why it's such a big deal. I have one of those streaks myself, especially visible when I lie about such obvious things as my weight. Or my paycheck. My question is, are Loser Streaks tolerable? To what extent?
What's YOUR loser streak?
Friday, August 11, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Friday, July 21, 2006
The Movies
Why do people love to go to the movies? Is it an escape or is it a passion?
Tom Hanks:
It’s all of those things. It’s not just one thing. Sometimes we have to go off and be with other people in a room, in a collective room and have our attention in one place. But you don’t have to go with somebody. You can go by yourself to the movies and feel that. I think sometimes you have to feel like you’re a part of something bigger than just yourself and certainly the cinema has always been able to do that. But so has a day in the park, or a visit to a museum, or going to a sporting event. That can make you feel as though you are connected to everybody else in the world. Movies are, at their core, both a participatory art in that you’re taking part in something much larger than yourself, and at the same time, a very, very particular, personal experience. I think it’s the human condition to seek that out periodically. You have to go to the cycle races, or you have to go to the carnival, or you have to go and sit in the café and have a conversation with somebody, or you have to go to church. You have to do that. It’s what human beings do.
I agree with Mr. Hanks totally. But the cinema coming to Jeddah is a very different issue. Sure, it’s an amazing experience, one that we tend to take for granted because it’s so commonplace a pastime, but it also raises so many questions and issues for us. When my friends and I went to the cinema last weekend (the first in Jeddah), we all asked the questions.
So, we’re having a “mixed” crowd in the cinema?
Yes. Around here, we call it the “Family Section”. Men are allowed ONLY if they come with their wives, children, and/or mothers and sisters.
What if some guy I don’t know sits beside me?
Hah. You wish. Seats are arranged before the movie starts, and they strictly adhere to these arrangements.
What if a guy comes in with his *GASP* girlfriend? How would they know if they’re married and not just illicitly dating?
Because dating and pre-marital relationships between the opposite sexes are absolutely ILLEGAL, young married couples always take the extra precaution of carrying around their marriage contracts, JUST IN CASE they are apprehended. As a result, we can always tell a married couple from those who are just dating. Dating couples usually have this guilty look on their faces, they might as well have a sign on their foreheads that say “OUR PARENTS DON’T KNOW”.
We’re NEVER going to see blockbuster movies at the cinema, are we?
Of course not. Forget REAL movies. We’re talking about Disney and Pixar productions monopolizing the industry.
And so on and so forth.
We resist this because it stands for all the things we are against. But I’m sure there is a way for us to enjoy a movie without having to worry about the consequences of change in our culture. The question is, what way?
***
We watched Over The Hedge, which was nothing special, except that it was good to see the outrageous Mr. Nick Nolte back in circulation. I miss the cinema experience. I hear there's a new thing they call iMax or something. Someone, tell me about it, why don't you.
Tom Hanks:
It’s all of those things. It’s not just one thing. Sometimes we have to go off and be with other people in a room, in a collective room and have our attention in one place. But you don’t have to go with somebody. You can go by yourself to the movies and feel that. I think sometimes you have to feel like you’re a part of something bigger than just yourself and certainly the cinema has always been able to do that. But so has a day in the park, or a visit to a museum, or going to a sporting event. That can make you feel as though you are connected to everybody else in the world. Movies are, at their core, both a participatory art in that you’re taking part in something much larger than yourself, and at the same time, a very, very particular, personal experience. I think it’s the human condition to seek that out periodically. You have to go to the cycle races, or you have to go to the carnival, or you have to go and sit in the café and have a conversation with somebody, or you have to go to church. You have to do that. It’s what human beings do.
I agree with Mr. Hanks totally. But the cinema coming to Jeddah is a very different issue. Sure, it’s an amazing experience, one that we tend to take for granted because it’s so commonplace a pastime, but it also raises so many questions and issues for us. When my friends and I went to the cinema last weekend (the first in Jeddah), we all asked the questions.
So, we’re having a “mixed” crowd in the cinema?
Yes. Around here, we call it the “Family Section”. Men are allowed ONLY if they come with their wives, children, and/or mothers and sisters.
What if some guy I don’t know sits beside me?
Hah. You wish. Seats are arranged before the movie starts, and they strictly adhere to these arrangements.
What if a guy comes in with his *GASP* girlfriend? How would they know if they’re married and not just illicitly dating?
Because dating and pre-marital relationships between the opposite sexes are absolutely ILLEGAL, young married couples always take the extra precaution of carrying around their marriage contracts, JUST IN CASE they are apprehended. As a result, we can always tell a married couple from those who are just dating. Dating couples usually have this guilty look on their faces, they might as well have a sign on their foreheads that say “OUR PARENTS DON’T KNOW”.
We’re NEVER going to see blockbuster movies at the cinema, are we?
Of course not. Forget REAL movies. We’re talking about Disney and Pixar productions monopolizing the industry.
And so on and so forth.
We resist this because it stands for all the things we are against. But I’m sure there is a way for us to enjoy a movie without having to worry about the consequences of change in our culture. The question is, what way?
***
We watched Over The Hedge, which was nothing special, except that it was good to see the outrageous Mr. Nick Nolte back in circulation. I miss the cinema experience. I hear there's a new thing they call iMax or something. Someone, tell me about it, why don't you.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Wanting to...
There are so many things I want to do.
I want to walk into an all-male cafe (here in Jeddah) and join the white thobes and shimags, al fresco.
I want to go deep into the desert, meet the locals, and have decent conversations with them.
I want to drive a truck.
I want to meet a never-ending stream of people, have them pass me by and say hello, and then wave goodbye, to meet again.
I want to walk barefoot along the beach and chicken-dance against the sunset.
I want to take funny-bunny-ear photos of my inamorata, my fair-haired boy, my Romeo.
*Wanting, but wiser.*
I want to walk into an all-male cafe (here in Jeddah) and join the white thobes and shimags, al fresco.
I want to go deep into the desert, meet the locals, and have decent conversations with them.
I want to drive a truck.
I want to meet a never-ending stream of people, have them pass me by and say hello, and then wave goodbye, to meet again.
I want to walk barefoot along the beach and chicken-dance against the sunset.
I want to take funny-bunny-ear photos of my inamorata, my fair-haired boy, my Romeo.
*Wanting, but wiser.*
Flatteration
It’s always nice to hear people say something nice to you, or about you. The past weekend must’ve been National Say-Something-Nice-About-Nessreen Weekend; even my friends would agree. Everyone said at least one nice thing about me. Plus, Majed called me twice in one day (he’s in Germany).
***
We finally met Sharifah’s Khaled. I can imagine how he must’ve felt; having to go through meeting all of us Shari’s friends on top of trying to impress her family. But, like we told him, he was pre-approved. He just garnered additional points for being such a darling, and for giving the most sensible piece of advice we’ve ever heard:
“If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it.”
Although the advice was directed at Nadia, who’d wanted to try smoking for the first time at age 25, we all agreed it applies to everything else in life.
***
There was a “Fudgy Bum” incident, where Summer (the most practical, un-cluttered person in our clique) and I (the most scatter-brained) got some chocolate fudge all over our abayas in the car. What baffled everyone was how I got the chocolate in my bum. Aunt Debbie had to flip me over and wipe my rear end with moisturized tissue, all the while tsk-tsking me, ‘naughty, naughty girl’. Sure enough, everyone concluded that my klutziness is contagious, and Summer caught it. And now, we are Fudgy Bum Sisters.
We ARE a homogenous group.
***
We finally met Sharifah’s Khaled. I can imagine how he must’ve felt; having to go through meeting all of us Shari’s friends on top of trying to impress her family. But, like we told him, he was pre-approved. He just garnered additional points for being such a darling, and for giving the most sensible piece of advice we’ve ever heard:
“If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it.”
Although the advice was directed at Nadia, who’d wanted to try smoking for the first time at age 25, we all agreed it applies to everything else in life.
***
There was a “Fudgy Bum” incident, where Summer (the most practical, un-cluttered person in our clique) and I (the most scatter-brained) got some chocolate fudge all over our abayas in the car. What baffled everyone was how I got the chocolate in my bum. Aunt Debbie had to flip me over and wipe my rear end with moisturized tissue, all the while tsk-tsking me, ‘naughty, naughty girl’. Sure enough, everyone concluded that my klutziness is contagious, and Summer caught it. And now, we are Fudgy Bum Sisters.
We ARE a homogenous group.
Tuesday, July 4, 2006
Girls of Summer
We had fun today. The huge slices of cake they have over at Mugg & Bean are unbelievable. It was Summer's 23rd ermm... summer. We hid behind a wall and half-screamed "Surprise!!" as she came into the restaurant. We knew she knew we knew she knew about the surprise party. Don't you hate when that happens? Everything's half-hearted afterwards.
*********
The problem with truth is that... it's much too simple. Sometimes, [actually, most of the time], I feel the need to embellish the things I say. Like looking at life through rose-tinted glasses. Otherwise, all our little phone conversations would be dull. But I'm always afraid I might turn into a minstrel.
Imagine if you died. Right now. People would go through your personal effects. Your family and friends would be thrown together, discussing your life and times. What are the things you wouldn't want them to suddenly discover about you?
*********
It'll be a busy weekend, for sure. But I'm broke. I'm going out with my large group of friends on Thursday for a little Karaoke affair, Saudi-style. I'm going out with a friend on the weeknights to some cafe or other, to discuss the future and whatever's wrong with me. I'm going to not spend money because... I don't HAVE any money. I wonder...
*********
The problem with truth is that... it's much too simple. Sometimes, [actually, most of the time], I feel the need to embellish the things I say. Like looking at life through rose-tinted glasses. Otherwise, all our little phone conversations would be dull. But I'm always afraid I might turn into a minstrel.
Imagine if you died. Right now. People would go through your personal effects. Your family and friends would be thrown together, discussing your life and times. What are the things you wouldn't want them to suddenly discover about you?
*********
It'll be a busy weekend, for sure. But I'm broke. I'm going out with my large group of friends on Thursday for a little Karaoke affair, Saudi-style. I'm going out with a friend on the weeknights to some cafe or other, to discuss the future and whatever's wrong with me. I'm going to not spend money because... I don't HAVE any money. I wonder...
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Music And Words
"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..
- 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..
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