Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Late Night Musings...

I felt a faint throbbing, I couldn't tell where or what it was... just a sort of dull pain through fluffy blue clouds. A loud Nickleback tune pierced my head and doubled the pain.

Finally semi-conscious, I flailed my arms around looking for what I finally recognized as the damned ringing phone. I pressed the answer button... my eyes flew open and were assaulted by unbelievably bright light--of course, I'd forgotten to draw the shades down on the one day the sun decides to shine. It felt like a dagger jabbing through my eyes and straight back to give my skull a good scratch. I groaned in complete agony, put the phone to my ear, and kicked the covers only to have both my legs and free arm get tangled and trip me up over the edge and down onto the hardwood floor. The pain, having identified itself as a headache, screamed in my head in protest of all the ruckus.

God is angry, I thought. I already felt guilty over the day before, whatever happened to spending Ramadan in prayer, Quran reading, and with family?

Well... this happened. All of it.

The fact that it's light outside registered.. I'd forgotten to set the alarm, again. My throat was dry and I was faintly hungry.. and of course there were the aches. I had just banged my shoulder on the bedside table, the plate of cookies I had baked in what seemed like another lifetime and the glass of juice I set out wobbled. A glass of water, aspirin, and my cigarettes were added by my thoughtful friend in anticipation of my inevitable agony. Alas, dawn was ages ago.

To think I could've slept through all of this reminded me of what had awakened me into my current misery..

"Hello.." I half croaked and groaned into the inconsiderate phone.
"Hey.. it's me" He simply said.


Several days ago, I was sitting at the corner restaurant with a rather dry book, my feet propped up on the opposite chair, my phone switched off, and my sweatshirt bunched up into a make-shift pillow snugly behind my neck. The owner cracked the door open to let the last of the mild fall breeze through. After the morning storm, the sky absolutely glistened with pink, purple, and blue shades. On what seemed like a slow hour, the only other occupied table held a fidgety young woman. She reached down into her bag 4 times, first for a compact, then lip balm, then perfume, then gloss. Finally she sat on her hands. Five minutes later, she reached down for the compact again to tame her unruly side fringe.
A young man stepped through the doorway, scanned the floor and spotted her. He slowly broke into a smile, and sort of lingered watching her fidget and adjust for what seemed to me like several long minutes. She replaced her compact, finally noticed him, and seemed to relax. He cocked his head to one side and grinned in the most natural sentiment I've seen in some time. She quit fidgeting all-together, and rose to greet him warmly. They sat, she chattered off confidently and I returned to my book and marveled at the potency.. the pureness, and the absolute power of unspoken affection.

Once, I heard that love is being at Arrivals waiting for someone on that particular plane hours before you have to.


"Hey .. it's me"-- seemed so crass compared to that.

But, 'Hey it's me' aren't just words. They're selectively accentuated syllables, they're decorated with a significant tone or that characteristic breathiness.. they echo, literally, thanks to the terrible connection, through the thousands of miles... and they echo through time, taking me years back. Just like that, my piercing headache, the agitating light, my achy joints and sore ankle, my throbbing eyes, and furthermore--my resolve... they were all moot.

"Yea. Hey you." I replied, ages later it seemed.

But he's still on the line, just waiting, probably playing with that rusty swiss knife key chain of his, smiling as he anticipates my surprise--it must've been years--and knowing that I'll pretend not to be. If there is ever a time I'll admit to a fault, this is it. He is my fault.. My baggage.. The reason I'm human.

| 18 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Drove down for hours to go see the Chilli Peppers, The Who, The Raconteurs, The Killers, Gnarls Barkley and Tiesto who was sick and didn't make it.. there were like.. 20,000 people down there it was beyond crazy. By the end of the night I was tripping over beer cans and cups just as much as I was over bodies.

Sorry about the quality.. don't know what's wrong with my phone

**Note, to stop the music already playing in the background, just click on 'stop' on your browser (You know, next to 'refresh')..


The Raconteurs.

Dani California, with my friend hollering like an idiot

Peppers with Dani california again.



Killers, the closest I ever got to the stage without being smushed.

Digweed, one of my favorites. Techno during the daytime is just wrong if you ask me. Then again, I came back at night when the peppers were still setting up and it was acid town in there.

and Holden, who looks like he must be 12..

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

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Why I, sometimes, Hate Being an Arab Woman...

I hefted my heavy bag onto my shoulder, dug into my pockets for my boarding pass, handed to the attendant, and walked down to my seat. Oedipus had gotten off in New York. I plopped down on his deserted window seat, placed my bag on the aisle seat, reclined back, and closed my eyes.

Work ran through my mind, a sliver of homesickness throbbed.. I took a deep breath, willing it to go away, promising to deal with it some other time. I turned to grab my music player from my bag, a middle aged man with a shaved head and a checkered shirt stood on the aisle next to my seat.
"Where's the guy that was with you" he asked. "He wasn't with me, he got off back there".
The man, who’s name I hadn't caught, raised his eyebrows. He subtly motioned for me to move my bag. The consequence of which, even then, wasn't too hard to foresee. I sighed, and obliged.

He made generic conversation for the next 15 minutes--"where are you going.. coming from, what are you doing, with whom... etc". I replied as briefly as common courtesy allowed... I was tired. He started telling me about himself, he is a pilot with multiple masters degrees in everything from philosophy, to psychology, and economics (or so he says, who knows with those you meet whilst traveling these days). He married an American in college, moved her to Saudi, and had 6 kids. Early on, he asked her to stay home to raise the kids while he worked.

"Really?" I asked, "Why is that?"
"Well I make more money, someone has to stay with the kids"
"So, if she was making more you'd have stayed home?"
"No, she couldn't be making more.. the best her degree could've taken her is to a secretary job"
I frowned at this coarse comment about his wife of 15+ years.
"I said -if-"
"No. She stays at home, she likes it... You know, I have a driver, a guard, maids, gardeners.. she loves it she's living like a princess, it's why she never wants to go back"
I poked at his ridiculous argument ..
I can't believe how worked up I got over that conversation. I decided arguing with him was useless... I'm not a 1940s feminist, and I certainly am not under the naive delusion that it's my duty to set every chauvinist, misogynist, male Saudi straight.

I turned to watch the endless cloudy forms out the window, hopefully giving the signal for the end of our conversation. Only he started asking me about where and what I studied, what my GPA is (I kid you not), why I'm not living with my parents...

After a few minutes he comments, "You know, after talking to you for an hour.. I see that you are confident, you are intelligent, but you know.. also a little.. what can I say.. aggressive!"
I wondered at his audacity, but decided to humor him. "Really? why is that?"
"Well.. you know not everything has to be taken by a fight, you seem like you're always .. on the offence.. why live alone here to study? I'd never let my daughter do that.. Why not study at home?.. this aggressiveness, this lifestyle.. you'll intimidate the common Arab man.. how and when are you going to get married... you're going to be in the middle of your career and do you actually plan on spending more time beyond Medical school working here?.. it's not what a female like you should do."

At that moment, all I could do was marvel at his lack of creativity. How typical. An insult to my very person, to the purported intelligence he raved of… furthermore, to me as a Woman, all wrapped up in the supposedly ameliorating compliment obviously intended for a simpleton.

I wanted to ask him if it had ever occurred to him that I may be put on this earth for something besides marriage and breeding? or that I may actually be damned good at what I do, most probably better than he'll ever be at what he does, because unlike him, I refuse to live in the absurd social box he and his cronies made? hell, has it ever occurred to him that I would always have to fight because people like him will always try to cage me?

But, "Heh, you think so?.. " was all I said. He didn't deserve more.

As the captain landed, he turned back to me again. "You know, you're a very private person, you don't want to say anything and I've been able to talk to you this whole trip, I've worked as a counselor before and I think that's why although not everyone can get people like you to talk, I could."
Again, I blinked at how far off the mark he was. I pitied this supposedly educated, upper-class, and decent man for being a prisoner of his own narrow-mindedness, and for his seemingly constant need to compensate for God knows what. He talked endlessly about his degrees, his laissez faire treatment of his kids and wife, his college years in the states, his money, his '5adam o 7asham'...


The plane landed, he got up, extended his hand, and I shook it.


A few days later I was laying in bed and thought about that encounter. For a few minutes, I felt bad. I tried to imagine how I could be the kind of Arab woman a man like that (persumable the typical Arab man) would approve of. I thought of all the things that were 'different' about me, and how as hard as I thought them through I couldn't possibly think to change them. Then I realized what I was doing. There I was, questioning my very identity.. because of someone like him.
I wonder, even after fashioning my own little boundless world, have I really.. escaped?
Clearly not.

| 16 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|

Monday, September 18, 2006

BOSTON BABY!

Wooohoo!

My first fly-out interview!.. I'm hoping I can schedule it on friday or monday so I can make a weekend out of it :) .. aah, me and Boston make such a good couple. (ok lets not jinx it with all the cheesiness)

I'm so happy..

Ok, I have a test in like... 9 minutes and instead of studying I've been inflating my ego. Will post something as soon as I can catch a moment to myself.



P.S: Yay.

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

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

On Life, Oedipus, and such..

Behold! I am actually sitting on a chair and intent on fashioning some sort of meaningful post!

So life's been odd.

Living on my own has been odd. Odd because it really doesn't seem to be that different. I leave the shower with a towel, occasionally walk around in underwear for shits and giggles (--my own, thankfully), and I may occasionally stumble, skip, and giggle in at 4 am instead of tip toeing in at 3, but that's about it.

My flight here was, of course, crazy. I'm cursed I tell you.

My seat was next to some kid decked out in black and whining on a phone. I dumped my bag down, took off my abaya and rejoiced at my forthcoming Liberty. Alas, my moments never last do they? The kid gets off the phone, turns to me, and starts chaaaaattering off for an hour. Seriously, he didn't stop until we landed in Jeddah. Ten minutes into his speal:

--"You know.. my mom's hot"
-"Oh.. "
--"No seriously, I mean she's really fucking hot.. if she wasn't my mom, I'd totally date her"
-"aaaalright there, Oedipus"
--"What.. no, my name is--"

Priceless.

Oedipus then went on to ask if I thought he looked French, if he should consider going blonde (I shit you not), and if I thought he was fat. Yes, it took every ounce of good breeding not to laugh. The funniest was perhaps when he started telling me about his ex-girl friend, whom he wanted to marry (.. breed more jackasses and such) but his uncle, prince what's-his-name dragged his arse back to Saudi and relieved him of his lovely dark green passport. I'm sorry... that was funny. If someone did that to me at his age (which is basically my age, but I can't imagine how that's possible), all hell would break loose. I find it amusing that prince-what's-his-name put aside his duties towards co-leading the nation (which include grinning profusely, eating heartily, and .. well, little else) to ruin the poor kid's dream of marrying a heretic's daughter.

Anyway, to my severe dismay, we had to leave the plane in Jeddah. Putting that Abaya on again was mental torture. We board agaaaain, and the kid kept talking until he fell asleep. At which point I thanked everything from Krishna to Buddha and called the flight attendant for that food I'd forgone earlier. We get to New York where I was yet again held in that wonderful interrogation room . This time my companions weren't the usual Saudi student and/or bearded folk, but --surprise-- pakistanis. The room was flooded, people were leaning against walls, sprawled on the floors.. you name it.
We were all equally suspected, equally interrogated, equally hated... God bless America!

I find it interesting that the blame game has shifted--out with the Saudis in with the Pakis--yet, I, am a constant variable it seems.




My trip from New York to D.C was also.. interesting, shall we say. It sparked a heated argument between me and my friend later in the week as I was rehashing it to him. Anyway.. I'll write baout that some other time. So, to be continued.. god willing ;)

| 6 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|

Monday, September 04, 2006

I will...

... update soon, I promise.

But for now:

• Been busy.
  
• Homesick, but I can't let it run its course because of work.
  
• Leaving today to Virginia, a long bloody drive.
  
• Be back on Thursday.
  
• God bless lower gas prices... what a coincidence with primaries around the corner btw.
  
• When I get back I plan on sit ting on my couch with a bag of chips and Will and Grace for a good week.
  
• Most of my friends have graduated, my best friend moved to London.. it's kinda lonely out here.
  
• I'm living on Diet pepsi, crackers, cheese, and fast food..
  
• Interviewing tomorow.

Ya, that's pretty much it, wish me luck and start praying and all that good stuff.

| 13 CoMmEnTs| -- Posted by [[ On My Own ]]--|Permanent Link|