Thursday, August 24, 2006

Good deeds biting me in the butt..

Recently, I was chatting with a friend who called up to say hello and fill a slow afternoon with aimless chatter. She invited me to her house on a certain day and I apologized since I was busy. She asked, probed, and finally shamelessly interrogated until I told her I was going to a friend’s party. She followed with a preamble of her state of perpetual boredom, her desire to wear a ‘ravishing’ outfit she had recently bought, and finally made it seem like she would absolutely expire of dreariness if I did not let her tag along.

I found myself in an awkward sort of position. The party was my friend’s birthday. I’m not sure I would call him a friend, more like... a strong acquaintance. He was a very good friend of a high school friend of mine (you follow?), he also used to deejay as a hobby and worked most of our school-sponsored events and friends’ parties or random gatherings. Often I’d mill about the deejay stand, complain or complement the music choices, and use it as an excuse to either take a break or escape an awkward moment of some sort. That’s the extent of our acquaintance. But he’s a nice guy and would often tell me how ‘once a friend of [his], always a friend’ and I felt compelled to go; if for no other reason, then for the undoubtedly good music. I knew the place and the crowd and was assured of the security and tastefulness of the whole affair, both very important points to me. At the same time, I could still use a wing-woman [a play on wingman—look it up on urban dictionary I’m too lazy], but wasn’t sure if ‘bamoon’ enough to ask that she be added to the list. Anyhow, I told her that the camp. is gated and I’ll try to get her name on the list.

Throughout the days she hinted and. I called around and had a couple of people promise to add her but not yet confirm. It then occurred to me that her parents weren’t around, and I wasn’t sure how they felt about her going to the party, since it was mixed. I make it a point not to flaunt or push my lifestyle on anyone, some may get offended, many are judgmental, and some suddenly find me interesting in a ‘lets exploit’ sort of way. Anyway, I figure I’m not her mommy. She came over, a bit over-dressed, but I had already predicted that. It’s the ‘out with a girl syndrome’—must outdo one another. I knew the people, and they’re all pretty laid back, so I just donned a nice pair of jeans and a top. Halfway to the place and I was still calling trying to find out if she’s been put on the list, I really didn’t want to embarrass her. Finally, a friend agreed to meet us at the gate because the club house was already at full capacity and they wouldn’t let her add anyone.

We got in without a hitch, and the place was still nice, although emptier than I remember. Inside the club-house (don’t know why they call it that... it was once a gym but the tenants wanted it converted so it was), people milled about and I recognized several faces. I greeted a bunch and made a point of introducing her. Cheap disco lights and a fog machine started up along with the music and the party was on its way. Silly me, I figured she’s having fun. I shackled her to a pleasing Lebanese feller, and she turned to me and waved as he led her to the dance floor. As if it was her conquest (geez I’m mean). I went off to enjoy my night, chatting with a few girls I knew, dancing when asked nicely, and exercising my usual pilgrimage to the deejay stand.

She comes up to me in a huff about an hour later, pulls me from the middle of the dance floor, and declares “Thanks for ditching me! I’m leaving I’ve called my driver!”

I just want to point out, that by no means was she sitting idly at any point in time... and also, I’ve come to the conclusion that all girls are inherently Evil.

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

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Trevelyana losing her mind..

My head’s been wiped out.

It just seems like everything is piling up, going wrong, or is just... too much! I can’t fix anything because I’m STILL here. There’s only so much I can do by phone and e-mail.

The good news is that I got an interview at one of the Med schools I applied to which is Amazing. I got the e-mail late one night and I practically threw the laptop and ran to my mom’s room jumping and screaming. Once I yelled “innnnterview interviewww!!” my mom finally got it and we hugged and jumped around squealing. My little cousin, who’s a Dennis the Menace reincarnated, came in and took one look at us, sorta cocked his head to one side and said “you two are mazaneen”. Heh.. Anyway, it was a moment that made me laugh and even tear up like a baby.
Sharing good news with my mother is.. well, indescribable. I miss it when I’m gone.

I’m not getting my hopes up, it’s crazy hard to get accepted. It’s still a chance though.

When I get back I would have missed 4 days of classes, I can catch Friday if I battle my jet lag and hope that none of my professors have kicked me out of the class. They’re evil like that. Then it’ll be Labor Day weekend, which means everything is closed... how the hell am I supposed to prepare for my interview? I wouldn’t have enough time to install internet in my apartment... and of course the interview is the day after the holiday-- three days after I arrive.

I haven’t figured out whether I’ll fly there or drive the 3 hours. I’m not sure which will be worse, driving or flying during Labor Day weekend.
I need to book a hotel room. Of course they’ll all be booked by the time I get there.
My car’s in another city, don’t know how I’ll get it the night I arrive... my rent is due two days before I arrive, which means a hefty late fee.

Christ... just writing this down makes my head hurt.

Does anyone know if I’m allowed to carry a bag on the plane? I hear carry-ons aren’t allowed anymore. Call me vain (yes, I have my moments) but I bought this charming Louis Vuitton bag because I thought it’d be perfect for traveling, I can carry all my stuff, clothes, and my papers and prep for the interview on the plane, there’s no way I’m checking it in with the luggage. Also, is it true that perfume is also banned? Do they realize it’s a 14 hour flight... People are going to stink up the place. Maybe I should bring a pack of baby wipes and pass them out ay? (The sad part is that I’m not even kidding...)

You know what’s funny... my parents wanted to send me and a couple of friends on vacation at the end of this summer as a post MCAT gift. Hah. When cows fly.


Dear God... please consider making cows fly.

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

Friday, August 11, 2006

Apologies readers (well… those of you still around at this point), I’ve been busy with… life.

I spent some time (Read: endless nights) buried under paperwork and camped out at FedEx trying to finish up Medical school applications and mail them out. An old classmate and a good friend of mine called to say he’s in town and if I’d like to get together and catch up, I took the chance to get away. It’s become an annual ritual of ours… I like it, it gives me a sense of belonging as we remember the old days and share dreams of our (now) respective futures.

So we settled at the deserted restaurant overlooking the pool with foreign kids splashing about as their parents looked on, content with their false sense of security, just because their gates happen to be guarded by rusty tanks that Saudi guards use as giant Gahwa tables. Seriously, they lean back sipping Arabic coffee and popping dates—the fruit— from their post on top of these huge army tanks, while blonde westerners prance about boldly inside the barbed walls… and nooo one sees the irony in this. Anyway, I digress.

I fiddled with the strap of my purse that I shamefully dropped a few months’ rent on, and marveled at a time when I stuffed all I needed, a pack of gum and a 100 Riyal bill, into my back pocket. His phone rang and he absentmindedly dug out his checkered wallet and placed it on the table. I smiled remembering a time when his pockets were simply decorative; he would borrow the 100 riyals, and eventually the gum from me...

Funny, I thought, how things have changed. Wasn’t this the same restaurant where a bunch of us ate a huge pizza only to realize none of us had money, we ended up pawning everything from our watches to a pair of shoes to the waiter. Weren’t those the doors next to the restaurant that led to the hall, the one where the girls and I all in matching leather pants (heh… noot recommended in this country, even if that lying calendar does say it’s December) marched into a party we knew absolutely no one in. Ah... and there’s that road behind the pool where we lingered, hand in hand, and I had smiled up at him and thought I couldn’t be happier.

But today, we sat demurely, napkins properly on our laps, and between conversations of my Med school angst and his Masters troubles… I realized we had lost .. it.

The good sense to love easily and live passionately...

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