Sunday, February 26, 2006

Reminiscings.. yet again.

What beautiful ceramic tiles.
Sitting on the edge of his high bed with my feet dangling, I traced the peach and beige pattern with the tip of my toe. The tile felt cool, even through my pink flowery socks that my mother had meticulously picked out.. what a strange contrast to the desert town outside. There's just something odd about a blazing desert that practically freezes over.

"I've never felt this way and I..."

A quick scan of his spacious.. room-- if you can call it that.. it was more like a wing-- had me wondering at the wisdom behind dumping such opulence on one's kid at such an age. Is it a wonder he's so lacking in ambition and direction?..

Ok concentrate!

" You get me like no one does and when I'm with you... "

I've never known such excessive use of the of the pronouns 'I' and 'me'.

" I love.. "
Ya, I'm sure you do.
What a great night it was though, I can never put into words the amazing blend of cool breeze and mild temperature that makes me want to lay out in the gardens all night long. I've yet to find that feeling in any other town.

" We've been friends.. and it's different with you.."

Indeed, where does one draw the line between friendship and the need to fulfill a void by affecting something.. anything.. more? In all fairness, he was a great friend. We would hang out lazily for hours.. futilely contemplating the "purpose of our existence."

In probably every other instance in the world, the edge represents a precarious boundary. Except the physical edge at which I sat.


Prodded to recline back, I watched him hover.. tentatively-- always the gentleman.
With my feet and pink socks still dangling, I allowed the soft threads and wonderful breeze to cloud my mind.


Populus vult decipi; decipiatur.

| 4 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

On Riyadh "nightlife"..

" "L" ! Everyone's here hurry up and get over"
I contemplated my dilemma.

Wednesday night... family's gathered downstairs in the usual weekend assembly at the big house, the chances of my slipping out with out too many questions asked were slim.

I gathered my outfit and shoes, tied them in a bag and threw them out the window down to the gardens below. I peered over to find my confused maid and driver staring up at me, I signaled for them to be quiet and for the driver to start the car. They smiled and obliged.

I shuffled downstairs lazily, and announced to my mom that I'd be going over to Tory's for the night.
"What will you be doing there?"
"The usual.. nothing exciting"

Someone engages her attention and I continue my slow shuffle until I get outside, grab my bag and run to the car.

"fain rooh alyoum madam?" my driver asks excitedly. Even for him, shuttling me around to my favorite places opened up a different world.

Disappointed at my directions, he drives me a few streets away. Once there, I find my Brit friend, her Hijazzi boyfriend, and my own waiting anxiously for me outside. I had to change, I couldn't go in my decoy soccer uniform shirt. They insist that we're late.
We get into Salman's car and he speeds off towards Al-Da2iry Al-Shar8y.

" "L", Whaaat are you wearing! You need to change before we get there!" Tory frowns back towards me.
"where?"
"just change here.. "

Lapses in judgment were plenty in those days.

I glance out into the dark night and fairly empty highway, get Salman up front and Moe next to me to promise they wont turn, and reach into my bag. After quickly stripping off my abaya and reaching for my glittery top, I took off my shirt and put the top on. All in the span of perhaps 1 minute. Three seconds later, our little car lights up three consecutive quick times and we turn to find a red GMC with the heart attack-inducing stamp flashing us.

Tory and I instantly dive down. Never did I understand the feeling of seeing one's life flash in front of them as I did that instant. For 20 minutes my mind ceased to function as our car sped off recklessly while Salman tried to lose our pursuers.

Finally I was pulled up and assured we've lost them. I hear their shrill laughter ring carelessly at our near discovery. I should've known I was in over my 15 year old empty head.

We arrived at the intended comp. (pre-bombing), and after ditching our Abayas and head scarves along with pretty much everything about Riyadh and its rules at the gate, we stroll up to the pool where we are greeted by our host. He welcomes us and points to his pride and joy-- a fully stocked bar. The stench of weed assaults us as a girl in stilettos bumps into me and blows in my face. Eclectic circles unfortunate enough to have ended up in this town mix and mingle. I spot a classmate with a drink in hand flirting with the DJ and knew that come Saturday morning she'd deny ever being here. Couples flaunted an almost mandatory R rated PDA as they sauntered in and out of the club house. I catch a glimpse of a tattooed shoulder and recognize Nora with the guy of the night. At 13, with a Lebanese mother and a syrian saudi father, she was a regular at these functions and a prime example of how fast one grows up in that town. Three of my male classmates swore to me that she solicits her nights for a mere 500 S.R.

What's amazing is that no one ever really gets to know anyone. The host hardly knows a quarter of the people there. In fact, the events were hardly planned that well.. with planning comes the danger of discovery, even with the high security at the gate and the protection of the famous/infamous individuals there. We were like vampires, alive at night.. sucking one another dry.

I feel my guy's arm at my waist drawing me over... time for our own showy display, for even here, we had to keep up appearances. In the end, the inside wasn't too different than the outside.

None of us really knew if we'd make it home safe on any night. Our blatant snub to the laws would come back to bite us eventually. What we did know is that if we spent one more night in front of a sattelite TV with same-gendered company we would lose what precious little was left of our minds.

| 14 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|

Monday, February 20, 2006

Because in my single-minded blind haste to achieve... I cease to live.

Because لو جريت جري الوحوش... غير رزقك ما تحوش


Yet this non-living is my living. It makes and brakes me.


and... as it is, those of us destined for greatness.. or even deluded by it.. can hardly survive otherwise.

| 2 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Hastily written during a break..

"Hey, you still at the library? I'm bringing coffee and donuts"

I mentally flinch at what is in my contorted view an invasion of my personal ambiance. Slumped on a plush couch that I dragged from the lobby to my strategically situated cubical (I snagged an east facing view allowing some great rays and vitamin D influx), surrounded by mounds of scattered paper, volumes of books, and in my rolled-out-of-bed state I tried to delay what I knew is probably inevitable.

"uh.. why don't we meet up for coffee later? I'm kinda in the middle of studying" .. if you count staring out at my great view as studying.

"Oh come on, I'm already downstairs, take a break.. what floor are you on?"

After giving him directions I note the state of my surroundings, and worse... my own state.
Given that it was a Saturday morning, I rushed out and stopped at the nearest convenience store for a make-shift breakfast. Unfortunately, the only things that appealed to me were a light orange juice and a bag of Sour Cream and Onion chips.

I dove through my bag frantically looking for my mints while trying to tie up my unruly hair. Finding them, I shove a handful in my mouth and start crunching while looking for some perfume to dissipate any remnant of oniony odor. By now the mints have kicked in and I could feel the burning fumes through my nose and eyes bringing on a near violent sneezing fit that was only perpetuated by the clumsy sprays of perfume.

Looking down at my clothes, I realize I look like a walking advertisement for my school with the logo embossed on the shirt, sweatshirt, and even pants I wore. That couldn't be remedied.. but for future reference: must go to the mall more often, like normal people.

As I heard a distant door close and footsteps approach, I swept wrappers and empty bottles into my bag and chucked it under the desk just in time.

"Good Morning.. you look nice.."

"Oh you know.. just rolled out of bed" ..heh.

He shooed me over to make space for himself as he squeezed in on my couch... the one my arms still hurt from dragging. His arms stretched over spanning its back, his bulky shoulders took up most of my.. slumping.. space and blocked my light and view.

Claustrophobia anyone?

| 11 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|

Monday, February 13, 2006

Psycho 101

Happy VD day Ya'll.
It plays faster.. c'mon, get in the lewd spirit.

I ran into an old acquaintance of mine the other day, we took the most bizarre psychology class together my freshman year.

The first few classes were fine, introductions all around and regular lectures. Then, about 2 weeks into the class, I found myself in a psychological couch warp. Suddenly she was asking how everyone is feeeling, and what they thiiink of themselves. I kept convincing myself it'll get better..

One morning I stumbled in sleepily after a late D.C. night and took my seat in the back corner. The topic of the day was Death. I took out my notebook and waited for her to start yapping. Instead, she asks that we go around talking about a death experience and how it affected us. Whaat the hell.. is this on the test?
Of course that wasn't the end of it, halfway across the room people were sniffling left and right, one actually started wailing which got her a hug from the loon.. I mean.. professor. I honestly thought I had stumbled in on some kind of cult. Not that I'm insensitive, I'm all for human emotion, but good lord.. an excess of it makes me itch with discomfort. They were quickly making their way towards my safe corner... shit.

Finally the dreaded moment came.. I told a story about my cat dying. I started laughing halfway through.. and thought oh man, I'm in for it now.. she's going to call me an insensitive brute. Instead she comes over and hugs me.. asking me to "let it all out"..
I did. I cannot remember ever laughing so hard.

Finally 10:50 rolls around and we're let out of the twilight zone. I look around on my way out for a single sane soul who found the whole thing as zany as I did. Everyone looked somber.
Christ!.. they are crazy!

As I'm walking down the hall someone strides up next to me. I look up to find Fred. I cannot even come to describe Fred to you. He is the prettiest most flamboyant gay I've ever seen.

"O M G.. like, what just happened in there"
".. uh.. I'm still trying to figure it out.. or just pretend it didn't happen"
"oh my looord jesus that was Karazy! I'm SO glad it's over!.. you don't have a cat do you?"
"noope!"

We laughed all the way out... his high heeled, pointy toed, women's Pradas clicking away next to the quiet tread of my favorite beat up sneakers.

Obviously, sanity is relative.

| 9 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

A Chance Encounter II...

I blame it on those anger management sessions my parents shackled me to.

I'm convinced that I've developed a delayed response ever since. Whatever it was, I paused .. and that's all it took.
Of all the days..

"aw.. Fuck.." an inadvertent slip. I don't like being rude.

He expected a more welcoming greeting. To his credit, he did recover quickly.
"haha.. it's nice to meet you too." He said quite amicably.

That did make me laugh. A quick look out the window and I could see the rain now pouring steadily. I was trapped. I could've sworn he knew it too. Sizing him up, I decided he wasn't exactly dim of wit, in less than a minute he proved to be at least as quick as I am. Nor was he as inebriated as I had initially judged.

"I don't mean to be forward, I just wanted to come over and say hello, I haven't seen any arab girls around here.. never mind khalijiyat!"

"well.. you've said hello.." I looked pointedly at his drink, back at his original seat.

"Are you feeling ok? you look sorta pale.. someone like you shouldn't be.. sad. What is it?"

What is it about bars that gives people the chutzpah to think they can invade others personal lives? or worse, spill theirs?

"It's that godamn ozone layer.. the hole is making my life a living hell"

He has the decency to smile, nod, and leave it alone.
I liked his ease. Like me, he wasn't bothered with a string of proprieties. During the long wait, he proved to be ..engaging.. and brilliant. Perhaps sober, he might've interested me... mentally.

The waitress finally comes back with my order, he signals to her;

"A drink for the young lady." He turns to me, "why don't you stay?" he asks.

He was close enough that I could see the plethora of red vessels in his eyes. They stared back, glazed and almost pleading. It was only then that I realized the magnitude of his despair. Grim-visaged, comfortless despair.
His misery merely wanted conversing company.. and in the words of Shakespeare.. Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

"No. I have ... to go."

I found my car and went home.

Some refuse company... in foolish valiance they'd rather go down alone.

How grand.

| 17 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|

Saturday, February 04, 2006

A Chance Encounter...

4 am--I'm a useless insomniac.

I blamed it on the fluorescent lighting.

Or perhaps it was the unflattering shade of slime green coating the walls. Whatever it was, I stared, fascinated, at my reflection in a cramped, dark, downtown restroom wondering how the pallor, dark bags, and drainage came to be my own. Were those dark smudges along my lash line from this morning.. or the remnants of last night's outing? ..
eh, either way, it contributed to the effect. Staring back at me could have easily been a psych ward escapee.

The lights flickered , and I almost laughed... it was like a scene in my favorite book back from those self-proclaimed teen angst years; Elizabeth Wurtzel's Prozac Nation.
".. at least my hair looks decent" I thought. The disheveled look is the thing these days.

After a quick splash of cold water to keep me semi-conscious on the drive back home, I picked up my bag and went out into the rainy night. 45 minutes and 7 blocks later, I couldn't remember where I parked.
Nothing fazes me anymore, my threshold for anything from a minor nuisance to a calamity is constantly being forced to expand. I know futility when it starts raining on me... I spot a Bar and Grill across the road and decide that nourishment, shelter from the rain, and a few minutes of a break may coerce my brain into functioning after 7 hours of abuse.

Upon entering the establishment, I was accosted with a loud ruckus, crowds of loungers, and after-work munchers. I opt for take-out. A hostess takes my order and motions me towards the bar for the wait.

Isn't it amazing? a person's ability to sense when they're being watched.. it is the infamous sixth sense. I squint up to find a lone, dark haired, svelte and crisply attired, 20-something year-old leering my way. Knowing I have just enough energy to get me home and maybe to bed, I took a seat at the farthest corner to avoid the urge to spar with him if he continues to look at me.. that way. Can he not see that the psych wardens are after me?

He sipped his drink and adjusted his seat to face me. Here it comes..
"Hiya there! awful weather out there" he says with an English accent and a slight slur.
I give the merest nod of acknowledgment and turn towards the window. After a few undisturbed minutes, thinking I've won the undeclared battle, I forget all about him .. outside thunder rumbles and I flinch, turn, and find him a seat away with his head cocked to one side, staring at me as if I was a lab specimen. Just as I was taking a breath to unload my shitty day on him,

"il i5t 3arabiyya?" he asks in one brazen self-assured breath.


To be continued...

| 10 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|

Thursday, February 02, 2006

This one's in memory of a crazy Riyadh night years ago,
with great friends, young love, and endless dancing & laughter.
Good times heh.

New semesters and I don't agree.

I tend to get lost, sit in the wrong class for 10 minutes before realizing I'm not an Industrial design major.
Then of course there's the valiant struggle to stay conscious, or the one to recognize the string of faces that insist on greeting you.
Fuuuck oooooff man it's 8am.. (ok 10.. but I'm a junior so even that is an ungodly hour)

On my way to the first class I run into an old professor who asks how my vacation was, and what I spent it doing. Still groggy, I reply with "Oh you know.. I just slept around."

Somewhere down the middle, all those shots woke me up. So the middle of the day was pretty uneventful. Just an endless string of people yelling out hellos and how's your break .. blabla..

By the end of the day it just became a habitual answer, and the coffee wore off-- not pretty. On a side note, I have a habit of endearing everyone.. everyone is a sweety, or a hun, or a dear..
As I'm on my way out after the last class I see yet another old professor approaching me, he yells yet another generic greeting, and without fully registering nor processing I reply with "Oh heeey sweety".

I tried to pass it off as if I was saying it to this other guy coming down the hall. Ya.. right.

In other news, I'm taking Arabic 102. I'm supposed to be writing a paper about Banat Al-Riyadh.. I haven't written an arabic essay in.. 4 years. Any takers?

| 5 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|