On my Own: A Misled Nomad

MOVED

2008-01-13T18:55:00.000-05:00

Indian Spirit

2007-12-22T19:12:00.001-05:00

Indian Spirit Rain Dance

2006-12-15T21:37:00.000-05:00

Crabs are monogamous. They can lose their mate, for years even, then they find each other again, and they join one other again.. claw in claw.

I've lost my crab. I never had him.

----

I've never felt so empty. Or if I have, I don't remember. I miss my friends, the way I used to be with them, I miss me. I wonder if she's gone for good. I miss laughing so much it hurts. I miss being surrounded by true friends and not fillers, I miss being completely comfortable and dancing like no one's watching. I miss crying. I miss caring about something enough to cry. I miss being alive.
I miss listening to a good song, and feeling like it's about me. I miss kissing someone and feeling the passion. I miss running my hand through his hair.

For once in my life, I hate my drive. I hate my ambition. I almost resent getting this.

What have I done? I never wanted to be jaded.
Isn't it ironic? everyone wants life without pain. Pain's there for a reason, keeps us vital.

What have I done.

Dear Friends,

2006-11-22T23:38:00.001-05:00

I've said everyhing I wanted to say. I've ranted, whined, confessed, dreamt, and rambled.

Who knows why I can't write like, or as often as, I used to.

But I've enjoyed this, I honestly have.

Reading some of my old stuff, I've discovered I'm not half as cheesy as I think I am. I've found that I have an interesting perspective tothings that at the time I never even notice myself taking, if that makes any sense.

I've found that with me, even a trip to the supermarket can be a bloggable event.

and that I can have my little world falling about me, and still make a joke.

I've found that I might just drink a little too much coffee and inhale way too much houka.. heh. ... and I say 'heh' far too much.

I think this past year has been one of the most.. interesting years. I've lost myself in it... and I know I'll find what I want, one day..

No Rush. I've always liked the chase anyway..

Just like when I started, I'm still on my own.. and I'm still a nomad. The world continues to be my little canvas. Although my artistic sense is still zilch on any scale, my hands have become steadier..

So just for now, I think I'm done. I do hope to be back in a few weeks or so though.

Adios, friends.

Southpark Docta! ..

2006-11-16T19:51:00.000-05:00

I've decided I'm moving to the city next June. I'm talking smack dab downtown in a top 15 most dangerous cities in the U.S. city. I never realized how crazy rent is downtown compared to the suburbs. I was calculating it and to rent a 1 bedroom apartment, it'd be the rent for a 4 bedroom villa in Riyadh.. but I figure safety and comfort are pretty non-negotiable. The area's pretty nice, all grad students professionals, and docs and nurses. Yuppie ville!

So.. ya, new beginnings.

2006-11-13T16:46:00.000-05:00

I went to a Death Cab for Cutie concert, and had the time of my life. Best live show I've ever been to.

Here's Ben Gibbard after the audience clapped and cheered for 10 minutes straight after their last song. He came back and sang on of my favorites:

"I will follow you into the dark..."

-------------

Years ago, it was raining on a cool January desert night. The wind carried a slight chill to it making the atmosphere simply glorious.

That night, I sat with my best friend and we laughed and danced for hours. I kissed a pretty boy I absolutely adored that night. My friend fell in love that night, and for years to come. I skipped under the moonlight.. and oh, I ran into a screen door that night. Classic.

.. and ever since, it would rain and the wind would carry that characteristic chill and I'd feel like it was that night. Only the euphoria of the memory is ephemeral.. fleeting. In my mind I would grasp for it, thinking.. give me just one more moment.. just one more second. .. and it goes.

I sat on my stoop, under a full moon, sporadic showers, and howling wind. It was gorgeous out.

I scoffed my shoes on the cracks of the sidewalk and twirled my cigarette.. the one I swore I'd quit last week.. and the week before. My car was parked awfully askew by the curb across the street, I hoped it would pour later on.. maybe it would wash away that imprint on the passenger door. But I feel no guilt. For a moment, I thought I felt better last night. I looked at this stranger standing by the curb and hovering over me and felt nothing.. and I thought, fine.. that's all I get right now. For a few minutes, I almost convinced myself that that was alright.

but now, on this stoop, I think.. my god.. what is wrong with me.. I have everything I ever thought I always wanted..

But it haunts me.. what I've given up, and worse.. what I've become, to get what I thought I always wanted. I have everything and I feel nothing. I am empty.

and whether it is what I wanted or not, it matters not.. for it is certainly what I have chosen.

Eid, a Mini-update, and Some Random Stuff..

2006-10-24T21:26:00.000-05:00

Yin3ad 3aliakom.

I went out the night before and had so much fun.

Check out the guy in the orange.. he had his shirt tied up in the front and a scarf around his hips heh.

Can you spot the famous person :D

My dad's flying in tomorow to check that I'm still alive and haven't haven't made too big of a mess of things. So I get my roomate to tuck away all the beer, I throw out my cigarettes, call my friend and have him pick up his houka, clean my car and change my oil, pay my credit card bills.. God.. it's like spring cleaning out here.

What else?... I don't know what to do for Thanksgiving.. any suggestions? Actually I don't know about New Year's either.. I'd rather just go home. My grandfather is sick and I meant to go see him before I left last summer but the moment I got on the plane I realized I had completely forgotten and coulda kicked myself for it.

I went to dinner at my boss's the other night along with all my co-workers and someone mentions how cheap it is to fly to and within europe these days.. a flight from the east coast to Italy can be about $400, I scoffed and remarked that it's around $3,000 for me to fly home which is just about double that distance. My boss laughs and says I should have my layover in Lebanon, or better yet, Iraq and he bets that'll make it cheaper. He then explodes in laughter along with the whole table. It's moments like those I realize just how ill-mannered and ignorant people here are.. aside from myself, no one at that table had anything below a PhD.

You know what's funny? The other day I had a syrian friend of mine over helping me cook and I strode into my room to grab something mid-conversation. He follows me as far as the hall way and then just sorta stands at the edge facing the wall awkwardly and hollers the rest of our conversation until I re-emerge out of my room. A few days later, I forget my glasses up in my place when another friend, an American, is coming to pick me up. He follows me up and before I had even closed the front door he's already barged into my room and is hollering "So this is where the MAGIC happens".

Anyhow, that's it by ways of an update.. I really am quite boring these days.

2006-10-18T15:50:00.000-05:00

Needless to say. I'm ecstatic. My only regret is I didn't get to share it with my mom. Hearing her screeching over the phone was a close second .. I love you mama. God I'm a sap.
Anyway, I'm so.. happy.

Boston. Beautiful, breathtaking place. I walked around for over 3 hours, I got back and the hotel had shuttles to area attractions so I hopped on and found myself here. I was a little nervous walking around alone downtown but it was packed with people walking about. I just LOVED it. Too bad it gets so cold.

Also in Boston. You all know my infatuation with old architecture. I was staying the South end of Historic section of Boston. Everything was cobblestone and old. Lovely.

Down south. As always, I'm much too early for my interview and sat around outside wasting time and pumping myself up.

Waaaay down south. It was 10 AM and those two were eating fried chicken!

Out west where the sun shines and everyone's Nekkid. Eh.. who am I kidding..
it's all about the shoes.

One of those moments...

2006-10-07T10:32:00.000-05:00

It's been quite a week...

I've been jetting off across the country interviewing for medical schools.

Some where in Virginia, I got on a hospital elevator with a woman carrying a tray of cornbread over her shoulder.
In the same place, the dean of admissions told us he lived in a city called 'Chickenhomeny', I burst out laughing at his self-deprecating joke... his school has a reputation for being a bit country... he looked at me with a straight face.. I realized it wasn't a joke.. he really did live in 'Chickenhomeny'. Clearly I'm not getting into that school.. it was worth the laugh.

On the other side of the country in a largely military town, a gas station's que read "Your best suit has five collars... RED NECK!". At another place, when asked what my strenghts are, I accidentally said 'brilliant' instead of 'bright'... not getting in there either heh, but again.. worth the laugh.
Throughout the week, I had to change in my car a good 5 or 6 times in the most random places.. a CVS parking lot, a hospital parking lot, a starbucks drive-through.. what is it with me and stripping in cars?

Som where down the Atlantic coast, I had reservations at the Howards Johnson. I pulled into their parking lot after a 3 hour drive, and stared in horror.. there were construction workers lurking about without any construction in sight.. Jumpin jesus.. there was no lobby. I could hear my mom's voice in my head "Trevely, learn to live like a student.. learn to be moderate.. learn.. (something or other)" (By the way.. Holy shit.. I almost put my real name in there). I stared at the Hilton sign across the street in my rearview mirror, put my car in reverse, and screeched into the Hilton lobby. Sorry .. I value my thread count. I'm also gonna be playing bongos at the corner by the end of the month when I'm broke.

At one school, it was sunny and simply brilliant outside. I lingered wasting time at a bustling corner in the urban city before it was time for my interview with the head of surgery. A street vendor smeared mustard on greasy hotdogs nearby.. a woman on my left smoked a fragrant cigar.. across the street a homeless man with "Ass, gas, grass, dope, or dough... I'm an equal opportunity beggar" walked about. I caught a glimpse of myself reflected on the massive, arc shaped, glass building with my slim black suit and dark pink shirt. I smiled, thinking I looked like such an imposter... dwarfed by this magnificent structure.. my sleeves hung over my slender writsts and down to my fingers, a little girl in such an endless world... playing dress up.

Later, on a tour of the hospital, the tour guide stopped over a 10th floor railing and pointed out how the new hospital was built over the old one. Standing there, leaning over the rail, I felt like every ray of sunshine seeping through the glass paneled building was shining on the spot I stood on.. patients, nurses, doctors, children and visitors looked like little ants walking around on the ground below ..

But up here.. there was only me. Me, with a memory of the excitement I thought I would feel at such a moment... With all my dreams seemingly materializing in front of my eyes... With a goofy sentimental smile staring down at the world at my feet.

.. and for a fleeting second, I was completely overwhelmed.

Late Night Musings...

2006-09-26T09:35:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-09-24T11:03:00.000-05:00

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..

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

2006-09-21T22:03:00.000-05:00

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.

BOSTON BABY!

2006-09-18T11:25:00.000-05:00

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.

On Life, Oedipus, and such..

2006-09-12T05:24:00.000-05:00

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 ;)

I will...

2006-09-04T06:47:00.000-05:00

... 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.

Good deeds biting me in the butt..

2006-08-24T18:49:00.000-05:00

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.

Trevelyana losing her mind..

2006-08-23T09:45:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-08-11T07:57:00.000-05:00

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...

Random vain thoughts... god bless

2006-07-26T11:55:00.000-05:00

~*~ Well Riyadh has finally bored the living daylight out of me. Life has settled into too much of a steady routine for my taste. Everything I do and am around is so bloody sterile and chaste and oh so freaking perfect. Fuckin tea-parties and silly outings .. aaaaaaghhh.

Yes. I’m bitter. I haven’t had a smoke or… anything else… in such a goddamn long time. I don’t even like doing crap like that you know, it’s just that I feel, like every “young’un” out there, that there must be some filth in my life, something my parents would flip if they knew about.. its our calling. Whatever… keeps me young.

The party scene is dead, except for the really hard core stuff which I’m not into one bit. The compounds are pretty dead too… I didn’t realize how many expats left over the past couple of years. Riyadh’s pretty useless without them if you ask me.

I did go bowling a couple of days ago. That was fun, my high school had a bowling alley so I have excellent form... but am hopelessly terrible at it. It was just nice to be in a normal, non-curtained and partitioned environment. Music was blaring and some Filipino guy had the urge to get up and do the twist. Anyway, you Riyadh-ians should try it out.

~*~ I went out for some shopping at Faisaliah, and ran into an old annoying acquaintance. She screeched hello and I thought I’d be nice, maybe she had changed from her backstabbing ways. We walked to grab some coffee and on our way back to a table she suddenly stopped and whispered “Why are they staring at us?” indicating a couple of girls at a table nearby.

Ah… the great mystifier. Seriously, it rivals “Where’s the holy grail”.
Why oh why are they looking at you? The question echoes hundreds of time in every shopping establishment, tea-party, restaurant, coffee shop, or any satanic female gathering in these regions.

Fear not, I think I’ve figured it out! Tell no one of this secret, dear reader.

She is looking at you because… well… you are looking at her.

My acquaintance turns from me, to them, then back and exclaims “Oh I bet they like my makeup… gosh I hope they don’t give me the eye”

… silly bitch.

On fleeing it...

2006-07-22T03:51:00.000-05:00

… We went anyway.
Made it to the embassy hotel safely… Sleep eluded me that night, I spent it in the frigid quiet lobby (so different than the one I just left behind) with a book and the news while the concierge eyed me furtively.

Dawn found me squeezed between a scrawny Lebanese woman and an old man in the mad rush to the buses as hordes of ill-mannered Gulferns tried to run one another over for seats. On the drive to the Lebanese border, everyone settled back to either doze off or enjoy the breathtaking Biqa’3 scenery. The war was forgotten, everyone must have talked themselves into thinking this was a freakin road-trip.

The Lebanese border, however, had the effect of jarring everyone from sleep. The line of honking screeching cars stretched for miles. Everything from Hummers to rickety Toyota pickups loaded with Louis Vuitton, no less. Our bus driver collected our passports as well as a hefty … umm, monetary gift… to prompt the officials to handle our passports. He promised to be back in minutes. His minutes, however, stretched to an hour. I jumped down and joined the rest of my overheated trip-mates on the curb (a scene my cousins saw on Al-Arabiya. If they replay it—I’m the one in white sunglasses and white Rock ‘n Roll tee). Various shops peppered the street, men lounged about roaring tiresome political soliloquies. Suddenly I felt someone almost jump on me and drag me to the bus, it was the Kuwaiti woman that sat behind me: “Kas’f! Kas’f!” she screamed. (It occurred to me that perhaps a bus with a full tank of gas might not be a prudent shelter... but god, the way she dragged me, the woman must lift weights.)

A few miles behind, Israelis were peppering Al-Biqa’3 with various missiles. The rest of the Saudi buses behind us turned around. Reality seemed to dawn on the bus’ merry bunch. The busy road cleared within half an hour. Shops closed, smart alec political yappers disappeared, cars cleared the road. But there we were, driver-less, passport-less… and no, he didn’t leave the keys. The hour stretched into two, and still no driver. Two hours to three, then four… still no driver and no passports. Shit. The Kuwaiti woman stood up and declared what was on everyone’s minds: “Hatha il suwwag bag grooshna, o juwazatna, o in7ash!” (that driver stole our money, passports and ran off). Another hour passes, and we see throngs of people on foot with rice bags full of clothes. They told a tale of ditching their cars when the road was hit earlier and continuing on foot. Those who did drive had cars with smashed rear windows.

After 5 hours, our driver finally appeared having forked over another $400 to get our passports out. (Some jackass passenger had the nerve to ask for a receipt... pray tell, what would it say? Bribe?). Literally minutes after we drove off, the Lebanese-Syrian borders at Al-Masna’3, where we were for 5 hours, was hit several times.

Despite all, clearly we were the fortunate ones. My heart goes out to the friends I left behind. Sara and Abdul, the funniest/oddest couple I know… Maya and her endless chatter and energy… S., a formerly significant other whose smile, despite the long years, still has my heart tripping over a beat or two.

As for the world, from the inhumane Israeli and U.S. governments to every Arab government devoid of a fucking backbone, all I have to say is Shame on you.

On Lebanon, and fleeing it…

2006-07-17T15:23:00.000-05:00

“I think I’ll go enjoy Beirut, come back in a few weeks..”—seems like months ago.

I’ve never been to Lebanon but have been meaning to for quite a while. Thus, it was I who planned the whole trip for my family—from impossible last minute flight bookings and accommodations to entertainment. I was quite smug by how easily I managed it all with a couple of day of phone calls.

The clan arrived at Hariri International Airport. We drove out of the airport through enchanting Beirut and on northwards to the seaside region we chose for its charm and more importantly, scarcity of gulferns. The owner, a long time Lebanese resident after fleeing his own war-ridden tyrant-ruled country years ago, met us outside and was the epitome of Lebanese hospitality. Already, we loved the place.

My mother was already unpacking in the room as I rummaged through mine deciding what to wear. “Wait... why don’t you unpack, it’s unlucky not to unpack as soon as you arrive” she called out. But the night was young and my partner-in-crime and I were eager to visit one of the many night spots we picked out. Because of the warm atmosphere and the personable owners and employees, many of the guests would lounge about in the lobby, chat, and get to know each other. There was our neighbor, an Iraqi woman with four daughters, blonde wisps of hair framed her strong boned face. She rarely smiled, but was gorgeous enough to pull it off. There was the German couple, out of the loop when the conversation turned Arabic, but giggly nonetheless. Of course there were three Saudi young men whose conversation stopped and eyes followed if we dared to pass by. We walked down to the lobby and mingled for some time until the driver arrived.

For the next few days, we scuttled to the beach down the road in the morning, spent the afternoons lounging on the balcony enjoying the amazing mountain and sea views, and ventured out every night to various entertainment venues-- I danced until my feet ached and laughed until my cheeks hurt. In those few days, Lebanon became my favorite vacation spot, especially the northern town we picked—unpretentious, quiet, scenic, and very charming.

We were having such a grand old time that no one ever thought to turn on a TV, much less the news. One day—the precise day escapes me— I walked into the lobby dragging my feet and towel with my hair sandy and dripping trying to make an unnoticed beeline for the elevator when the sight of the ominous gathered guests with their attention directed at the TV made me halt. It was the initial raid by Israel on the south. As I continued on my way up to my room and chucked it to yearly commotion, it didn’t occur to me that this hasn’t happened in over 10 years. Next, Hariri airport was hit and shut down, the news spread and the streets were jittery. Still, denial is powerful. We had just arrived, the ink on my plane ticket hasn’t even dried, and we were still having a great time and were convinced, with the added assurance of the gregarious chuckling owner, that it would surely all boil over. We’ll just wait for the airport to reopen, we figured.

Overnight, however, the airport and its oil reserve, as well as il-Dahiya later on, were hit. At 3 A.M, the guests gathered in the lobby again… the German couple was nervous, the Iraqi woman even more so. She suddenly got up and left to her room. The next day we woke up to hear that she took her daughters and was driven to Syria in the veil of night, she was extremely lucky.. the road she took was in ruins hours after she crossed.

Well that’s that, we figure, can’t leave through Syria. So we went down to lunch by the shore—yes, I know, crazy… but as I said, denial... also, north of Beirut seemed safe by all accounts.

As we’re having lunch in the deserted restaurant, we get a phone call from a friend that has just left through Syria asking us to go down to the Saudi embassy immediately, they’re sending out buses to Syria and the next few buses would be the last to leave. We called the embassy all day… no answer. That night, after escalating conditions, a couple of us decide to drive down to the embassy.

As I get into the car, new tenants arrive. These are different than the giddy tourists from a few days back, these are families that fled their ruined southern homes... they’re gloomy and carry no luggage.

Our car sped down the highway to Beirut, and then through the road with water on one side and the quiet city on the other. Beirut is deserted… not a soul. Solidaire(sp?), that only a few nights ago was abuzz with Khaleeji parading throngs, was desolate. It was a most depressing sight. At the embassy, we are told to bring our luggage and leave on the first bus in the morning. We get back to our hotel, pack, and go down to the lobby only to hear from the driver that an Israeli ship very close to the road we took has just been hit. It’s no longer safe to drive there.

To be continued… I have some pictures I took and I’ll see if I can load them up from out here.

I’m leeeaving, on a jet plane …

2006-07-09T17:00:00.000-05:00

Off again.

I’m restless. I’m jittery. I don’t know what I want. I can’t even sit down and write a decent blog entry. My life is fine. Hamdilla. But I’m not. I don’t know what I want. But I know something is missing and I know I can’t have it. Does that make sense? I’m all out of sorts and I can’t seem to fix it. I miss having certain people in my life. I think they’ve left a void. No, I know they have. Thinking about it now makes me feel bad, which makes me think perhaps that’s what it’s all about.

Anyway, what’s all this feeling talk ay? Blagh.. I promised I wont backspace.. and it feels good/odd to share.

I think I’ve written about everything under the sun and I’m absolutely out of it… So I think I’ll go enjoy Beirut, come back in a few weeks, and see if I still want to keep this thing.

Cheers. ' :) '

Random Thoughts..

2006-07-04T06:33:00.000-05:00

~*~ Survival of the fittest becomes survival of the prettiest in this town-- “pretty” being completely subjective and skewed. An ape in a cleverly arranged veil draped across its nose, with eyes garishly contoured with Kohl, irises disguised in unnaturally colored lenses, and everything topped with an up-turned flared nose is… pretty!

What’s worse is that Natural Selection seems to be favoring this type… more and more of the garish apes are evolving.

Darwin is rolling in righteous anger somewhere in his unmarked grave.

I don’t mean to be cruel; the ape analogy is simply to relate to Darwin and not an actual description of their looks.

~*~ What is a marriage these days? in an eastern, not western, perspective.

There're the rare marriages of love and raging passion... which oddly, after all that they've endured pre nuptials, mostly crash and burn everything in and around them soon after.

One's left to wonder, where did all the presumed love go?

Then there're the strictly traditional ones, arranged purely by the families of both. If the chap's lucky he'll get to glimpse the chit and maybe talk to her a few times before he's trapped into a speedy 'milka'.

Those seem to last, whether the two live miserably for years, or develop an understanding of some sort and sort of... coexist. I’m thinking the sex caaan’t be good.

Obviously this is a huuuge generalization, but it suits my simplified argument so leave me be. (there are unions between the extremes and perhaps ones beyond, etcetera…)

So, where do relationships fit in this equation?

I’ve never been one for idle relationships... I think you can always tell whether a certain person is for you in the long run or not (and vice versa)... i.e marriage, and life beyond. Everything in between is sorta like trying to fit a square in a round hole… usually it’s the girl scrambling to trap the guy into marriage when it’s the laaast thing on his mind. It ends up turning desperate and I have the urge to shake the girl into reality. If it’s in the cards, it’ll come to you… sit back and relax.

Anyhow, I wonder if the rigid archaic institution of marriage in our society could perhaps be a little more flexible, and a lot more modern.

~*~ Finally, I love Holsten. They have strawberry and apple flavored Holsten here and they're oh sooo good.

Saudi Report: Personal Update

2006-06-26T06:00:00.000-05:00

Well, it’s been a few quiet weeks at home. My flight out here was a pain.

I trudged up to the counter to check-in my baggage, but like every year, I’m asked to accompany my bags to Inspection because my middle and last name coincide with that of a wanted terrorist. The fact that I’m a 5’3” black haired female, not a 6’0 brown haired afghani man doesn’t seem to be of any interest to anyone. No matter, I figure, nothing new there.. on my way back to the states, I’m constantly held up for hours in a New York customs office.

My bags are cleared, I check them in and drag my carry-on to the security check at the Gates entrance. The line is endless, while I wait I watch the instructions on the display: Remove all metals, shoes, place bags on the belt, random personal security checks may be conducted... etcetera.

Finally I get to the front, place my stuff on the belt, go through the metal detector without beeping, and hand my boarding pass to the attendant checking them. He lays one glance on my Saudi Air boarding pass and asks me to step into some sort of four-sided contraption with a low swinging gate and red X’s on all sides … an absolute fucking travesty. He swings the gate shut after me, “I need a female secured”. I stand there like a giant in a mousetrap while passengers pass by and eye me furtively, ten minutes later a stocky official opens one of the flimsy sides and has me step out. “I’m going to pat you down, have you done this before?” … ya, actually three times in a row… random my ass. Another official is ransacking my purse.

Finally I’m let go and I end up sprinting to my gate only to find that they haven’t even lined up to board. I grab a seat in an empty row and dig out my book. Just when Anna and Vronsky lay eyes on each other, I’m interrupted by a nudge. I look up to find a lady inviting herself to the seat next to me. She asks if I’m going to Saudi and whether I speak arabic, I say yes to both, and she goes off into a tirade about the virtues of a Hijab, appropriate dress, and the dangers of traveling alone without a “Mahram”. I couldn’t believe it... Already!

The plane boards, I walk down the aisle looking for my seat, finally I spot it… a window seat, while the middle and aisle seats are occupied by two men already ogling. Heelll no… Well.. actually hell yes. The flight attendant/jackass ignored my request to be moved. So I'm standing there and the two men wont move... they actually expected me to jump over them! I gave them the evil eye and humphed, because by now all forms of etiquette were out the window. They scrambled out of their seats.

So I settle in my seat, put my book down, and dig through my bag for my stash of pure Melatonin that should knock me out for 12 hours straight.. with any luck, they'll have to wheel my grumpy groggy ass out of here. I pop a couple, grab my book, and sit back to wait for the drugs to kick in. But of course, the man next to me turns and asks:

-"What are you reading?"-
- "Tolstoy"-
-"True story?"-
- "No, Tolstoy.."
-"TOY STORY??"-

Yes.. that's what I'm reading.. Toy fucking story. But he's nice and I feel bad for having asked to change my seat so we chat. Five minutes later though, a5ath waj'h: "Do you go to clubs?” he asks conspiratorially, whilst grinning foolishly. "No, just churches.. ". He's aghast. Apparently Churches fall well below clubs in his chastity scale. But whatever, it does the trick and he leaves me alone. I stuff my pillow in the window and sleep like the miserable baby I was by then.

Ten hours later, we arrive in jeddah. By some form of miracle, I find the gate in the zoo and board the plane with my new boarding pass. Seat 44 A. I pass by 36, then 38, across the kitchen.. then 50. Where the hell's 44?? That's right.. they gave me a seat that doesn't exist! So I'm standing there in a huff next to some Mutt waiting for someone to solve the mystery of our non-existent seats when I hear someone laughing quietly. I look down, and there sits a guy from my original plane. "heh.. they gave you a non-existent seat".. If looks could kill.. But he's a curly-haired cutie with a Time magazine I'm dying to read, he motions for me to sit next to him and wait while they solve my dilemma. I figure, hell.. it's a few steps up from Mr.Stinky ... before I can pick up my bag, the Mutt makes a dash for the seat and plops on it.

Alas... where hath chivalry gone?

2 hours later, grumpy.. frumpy.. tired.. and drugged, I'm in Riyadh. The sight of my grinning mother and squealing sister, who usually never come out to the airport, makes it worthwhile.

Musings..

2006-06-22T09:00:00.000-05:00

You’re out for a morning jog along the shore.

You walk down to the beach, lay your stuff down, kick off your trainers and socks… and under the morning sun, you start running.
It’s refreshing… the cool air rushing down into your lungs, the morning dew on your skin, and the coarse sand making its way between your toes with every step. How wonderful it is to be free.
And you run.

As the sun glides across the sky, you run. You run by kids splashing in the water, by their parents picnicking down the beach, by beach bums laying around and sunning their skin mercilessly…

You can feel the heat now, can’t you? Not just on your skin. You can feel the heat right there in your chest as your lungs expand more and more, eager for air... as your muscles burn their energy supply, as your heart pounds more and more blood. But you run, because this is the good part. You’re invincible now aren’t you? The heat’s your fuel, you can’t even feel the burn... only its power.
And you run.

As noon recedes, you’re still running. The dark sky shimmers with the light of the moon and stars. How beautiful.
But your chest is on fire, your legs are stiff, your heart’s pounding... pounding... and it hurts. But at this point, it would hurt more to stop anyway... might as well keep running. So your knees extend, you fling your arms back and forth…

All you hear is the sound of you feet on the sand, your labored breathing, and the deafening beats of your heart. Can you even see? Salty sweat is streaming down your eyes... it’s all a blur. And you run. It’s all you know now isn’t it? Fortunate fool.
The tide’s rising. With every few steps you feel the cool water washing over your feet...

Just when you think your legs will simply fall off if you take another step, the dark sky begins to brighten with the first threads of dawn. You’re still running. I told you, it’s all you know.
So with every breath and every sinew, with every last drop of effort, you sprint. As dawn asserts itself and nudges away the last obstinate traces of night, you slow down... and then you can stop. There you are, doubled over, trying to catch your breath and slow you heart…You straighten up and nostalgically look back, only to find that the tide has quietly and effortlessly washed away your embossed footprints.

Is it any wonder that dawn is called Mourning?

A Rant, a Rebirth, and a Goodbye.

2006-05-24T20:37:00.000-05:00

My favorite song back when I was 13.
Until mom stole the CD and hid it. Little
did she know that the worst was to come ;)

~*~ First of all, Halleluiah!

Of course, like everything else in our esteemed kingdom, just because it's a law doesn't mean anyone gives a rat's ass (take traffic lights for example... purely aesthetic).
All I want is a day when I am no longer harassed for absolutely no reason than that I am a woman. I actually do cover my hair (you face-veilers are rolling your eyes at me now aren't you?) and it's my own personal choice.

For the longest time Hay'a was nothing to me but a nuisance, given it is a heart-dropping, pride-scratching nuisance.. but it was like a squeaky door, you got used to it. Until last summer that is, when a close relative of mine, a fully grown woman, went into starbucks to meet a fellow female colleague for a cup of coffee before work. A couple of those midgets followed her in and dragged her to an unmarked van. She didn't even know whether it really was the commission or her worst nightmare. They wouldn't let her call home, and locked her at the station until 2am. We stayed up that night with her kids not knowing where she was.

Just remembering it pisses the shit out of me. If I go to hell because my face is uncovered, You'll be right there next to me, rotting for being a soulless, mercenary, savage.

~*~ Well now that I got That off my chest..

I was watching Jay Leno.. what a hilarious man.
The president of Mexico came to the U.S for a visit. Leno exclaims "Alright, they're all here now.. turn the damn lights off, close the door.."

They passed a Law declaring English to be the official language of the U.S.
"I tell ya I'd like to see English become the official language of 7-eleven.. that'd be a feat!"-- Leno.
"Well that's the goodest thing to ever happen to this here country folks."--Leno on Bush.

Gabriel (Eva Languria on Desperate Housewives) wants to find out if her maid is still a virgin (long story..), she sneaks over to the doctor before he goes in to do a check up on the maid, "Hey doc, while you're in there can you tell me if she's still a virgin... oh don't looks so horrified, just give me a thumbs-up if you see hymen".
-- Doesn't that sound like something you'd hear in good ol' arabia?

~*~ Took this the other night with my phone, the blur's because I was running heh. I love the city at night...

~*~ It's the Rebirth. "Leeno" has gotten to be annoying, and it never suited me anyway.
Enter Trevelyana.

Trevelyan was a traveler back in Victorian England. He was robbed of his dukedom by the dowager duchess (confused?) who gave it to her younger son. Trevelyan ended up traveling the world (at the time, india) penniless-- A wonderful witty, arrogant, all-knowing man with the kindest heart.

~*~ aaaand I'm out in a couple of days! Please refer to my initial dramatic (albeit failed) exit.

I could blog about my experiences in the beloved kingdom after a couple of weeks, if you guys wanna hear my take on it.. otherwise, I'll enjoy some real food, great company, and tagging around behind my lovely mother for the next months.

I can't believe how long it's been.

They say that..

2006-05-21T03:09:00.000-05:00

.. If you stand in Times Square for long enough, you'd have met someone from every country in the world.

Went to New York.

In little India. "Taj Mahal" which advertises as a place for electronics and Jewelry.
Oh and it's both wholesale and retail. Indians will be indians ay?

A synagogue that turned into a buddhist temple with a new wave of
immigration, and finally with another wave it turned into a ... club.

Take a look at the man in black. Like the style?

I had a great time, giggling, pointing, and hop-dodging the crowds as I explored the winding streets and pondered endless maps.

Child-like excitement and anticipation-- nothing quite like it. Or maybe it's just italian wine... whatever, it's a close enough second.

I avoid..

2006-05-21T01:20:00.000-05:00

.. mirrors.

I hate looking at a mirror and seeing that I look tired and messy following a long and tedious year.

After having to postpone my return, I had some time. To relax. God, you wouldn't believe how hard it is to just fucking relax.

A friend and I decide to go see Mission Impossible III. Just when Ethan got captured by his agency, I decided I'd visit the ladies room to freshen up.

So there I was at this deserted, borderline garishly lit restroom with perhaps no less than 14 mirrors-- quite ridiculous. I adjusted my belt and on an impulse took a closer look.

How scary, I thought.

I look old.

Not bad old. But not teenager young.

Features were subtly different. How unfamiliar.. I thought.

What an odd place to find out... I smiled and thought of how peculiar it is to have grown old away from one's self.

.. and to have all my momentous epiphanies materialize in restrooms.

About me..

2006-05-13T19:48:00.000-05:00

My flight had to be delayed.

So much for my dramatic exit below ay?

My medical school committee interview is in a few days. One of the requirements is to write a personal essay about your motivation for medicine. I, of course, was at a loss. It was due and finally I typed up something a few hours before (thanks to meesh for the final paragraph). Nothing fancy.. simply a chronicle of how I ended up here trying my hand at cutting people up.

A few days ago a savvy young feller added me on messenger. He complimented my little blog and asked why I never write about saudi culture and issues. It got me to thinking.

I'm going through this phase where I'm almost unconsciously rejecting the saudi part of me. It started when I was writing that essay and recounted being discriminated against as I was applying to university. Mind you, as you've heard, KSU is no gem. But it's the concept.
My father is a foreigner, something I'm completely at ease with (though I refrain from detailing anything too personal in this blog for privacy purposes) however the fact that I spent all of my childhood with my mom in Riyadh has gotten me in quite the.. pickle.. years later. I have very little belonging to my father's side, and with Saudi being a less than diversity-embracing society I find myself in an odd middle zone. Limbo.

Anyhow, for those of you clueless about this little factoid, having a Saudi mother allows you citizenship if you're a male. If you're a female, however, .. well there's no outright law that says you don't.. but you simply don't. Without citizenship you're denied certain majors in college (Medicine, dentistry..etc) as well as equal treatment in the job market.
Citizenship amounts to little else besides that for me. Perhaps to some it is a matter of identity, I don't see mine being validated by their little green booklet and with or without it you wont find me claiming "saudiness".
Then of course there's the "why'd your mother marry a foreigner in the first place?" to which I am forced to roll my eyes .. validating that blatant intrusion on people's lives, and a biased one at that, with a reply is something I'm adamently against. I believe the ignorant should be left to speak to the walls and the likes of them. Let them fester and grow moldy within one another.

Point is.. as I was writing that essay I realized that I no longer have a home in Saudi. Not back when I wanted to attend school there to stay close to my mother, and not years later if I ever consider working there to be with her in old age. As I'm travelling "home" every year lugging my crap back and forth, I wonder, where is "Lamm il Shaml" when it comes to simple matters like this? .. oh the hypocrisy of it all.
It's odd, I thought.. these upcoming years I need to find myself a new home. How insane.

.. So that, Mr.Savvy Feller, is the reason I don't bother to write about Saudi issues or culture. It doesn't pertain to me, its petty issues (think along the lines of "whyyy must we cover, whyyy are we locked up, and whyyy can't we watch movies in theatres" ... etc) bore me when the most basic issues are left dangling and disregarded. But perhaps most of all, it's because of the blatant disregard to basic humanity and rights. I see no compassion... and as far as outright cruelty when most refer to a minority, even on a small scale here in blog-land, and it makes my skin crawl.

2006-05-07T11:01:00.000-05:00

Unrelated. But I saw them in concert and loved it.

My bags are packed and destined for home...
My meticulously plastered boxes will gather dust at my new apartment throughout the summer. But there they shall remain.. my treasured placeholders.

By god.. It's a new era!

You can't come along dear blog, perhaps I'll be back in a couple of months. Thank you for keeping me sane and introducing me to some wonderful people.

.. and a Happy lonesome Birthday to me-- A whole two-tenths of a century old at the stroke of midnight .."oh how positively chaarming". This year I'll learn to be young.

10...9... 8... 7... 6...

Adios ya'll.

2006-05-01T08:33:00.000-05:00

This is one of the most amazing videos I've ever seen.

Update: For those of you who had trouble with the link ( I can't imagine why):

.. Where the heart is.

2006-04-28T20:05:00.000-05:00

It was supposed to be Ozzy's "Momma I'm coming home"
but it wont upload godamnit! So download that one
while you listen to this.

The birds are chirping, the breeze is whistling, the sun is glaring... it's spring. mmm. Love it!
Which means I go back HOME, to good ol' Riyadh in a couple of weeks. Oh Riyadh how I've missed thee... your endless scorching days, your great food, your ...
Ok I'm out.

It's not actually the weather that reminds me of the time, it's my mother's phone call every year around this time:
" Ya7laaaalik ya binti khalas garrabty tijy!.. 3asa n7ifty? 3asa ga99aity sha3rik? ... could you get me... "
What follows is a list of the most tedious, rare, and particular items you could ever imagine. Things that have me driving timidly into the city ghetto, or hours to D.C and Virginia malls. Lets not forget " 'flana' at work really liked the perfume you got me last year could you possibly get flana the same one? and flana used to live in virginia years ago and wants indian spices from a store next to her old house".

Ya jima3a.. indian spices from the States?! How does that make any sense?!

Of course I loath shopping. This morning I eyed my closet half full of army pants, black tees, endless flip flops, and the rest of the grubby stuff I love to slum around in, and just like every year, I realize I need a whole new wardrobe if I'm going home or I'll never hear the end of it. "Oh sweetheart why are you wearing that? we're not going to enlist in the army".. the woman fancies herself a wit.

So grudgingly I venture out to the local mall. I've developed some kind of apparel schizophrenia since leaving home. Nine months of the year I look like a bum, the last month I scurry around looking for prissy proper crap to shut the Grand Dames up during the long summer months.

While trying on some over-priced, already been torn, (why? I don't get it.. and why is everything so godamn long?) clothes, I notice the store's choice of photos to hang on the fitting room walls.

What jackass came up with that bright idea?.. yes, yes of course it's... "art".

Oh and they have a kids section..

*Can anyone guess the store?*

Two hours later, I'm tired.. grumpy.. hungry . You'd think I fought a battle.

Shopping.. not for the faint of heart.

I...

2006-04-24T23:53:00.000-05:00

.. BROKE my finger!

OW!

Unveiled..

2006-04-24T06:37:00.000-05:00

I have nothing but admiration for women that are veiled, especially in a non-muslim country where stigmata continue to exist. However the 1/2 hijab syndrome is mind boggling to me. Call me naive, but the girls with the Hijab on in school and at home, but off when they're out painting the town, or on during the week and off on weekends, or on all the time but off with boyfriends... it seriously stumps me.

It all pales in comparison to what I witnessed a couple of days ago. (keep in mind that I certainly do not declare myself to be the epitome of chastity nor a model Muslimma... but I certainly do not parade around pretending to be so. Nor do I shove my self-righteous crap down people's throats in the name of religion-- this is specific to the character I'm about to introduce so please do not declare holy war on me, I left my spear and habit at home)

Seeing as I have lost practically any semblance of life for the past 9 months, I decided to go out with friends for a shisha fix and a generally relaxing night of conversation. We arrive at the place, grab a table, and as I'm scanning the flavours menu my friend points to the other side of the room at a girl in a colorful Hijab.

"Isn't that Nora*?"

That would be our beloved muslimeen students group president. Frankly, I am not a fan of the group for several reasons. For one thing, they've labeled me as the pariah and I'm graced with less than muslim-like stares whenever I encounter one of them (and no I haven't committed anything scandalous). For another, I'm not too keen on their holier-than-thou, god's-gift-to-the-straying-student body, hello-sister-and-brother hypocritical crap. Because underneath it all there's backstabbing, gossiping, and lusting after other members. Finally, the whole Chastity Commission act is infuriating. That's MY personal opinion after trying to get along with them.

Anyhow, it turns out to be none other than her, and my friends invite her and the guy with her over to our table. She introduces herself to me and asks my name (rrright..). I smiled and made nice.
My shisha arrives and as far as I'm concerned the world might as well be obsolete. I turn to the TV broadcasting Al Jazeera and watch the news for a while. When I turn back to my table, I find the girl ... err.. well, locked in an embrace with her guy friend.

I almost knock my shisha down. My jaw was already leading the way.

My friend jabs me, and I make a feeble attempt to collect my mandible.

Holy shit.

Everyone in the place fairly turn their seats away in discomfort or towards us in unveiled interest.

At this point I'm wondering if I should perhaps dislodge them?.. To my relief they decide that oxygen is a necessity. The girl notices my expression.. and laaaughs!.. oh! the NERVE! All that self-righteous crap she's been assaulting everyone with...

Later on she leaves and I whip around to my friend.

"Whaaat was that?"

My friend shrugs.

"Meet the new generation... the Ho-jabis" **

*Obviously her name has been changed lest she send me to the gallows.
**Views do not necessarily reflect the blog owner's view and please do not take offence.

On a..

2006-04-21T15:17:00.000-05:00

.. Different note.

I've been feeling very odd these days. Completely out of sorts.

.. pointless preamble.

An old friend of mine has stopped over on his way to South America from the lands down under. I desert my crazy schedule and head to the airport to pick him up. As always, his message is less than clear... an offhanded "hey I'll be at --- airport at 3-ish".

That's it. No airline, no gate.. and at the time when the hour hand is at 3 (maybe) and the minute hand is at -ish.

I parked my car at arrivals, walked inside, and found an Arrivals computer screen thingie and just stared at it blankly looking for a city name that I recognize to be from that region. It occurred to me that I don't remember the last Geography class I took... and that we're not 14 years old making hazy plans to hang out and play basket ball anymore.

I finally spot him standing in the middle of the walkway .. careless and confused as always. He looks exactly the same with his goofy smile, curly hair, hawaiian print shirt, and slanted shoulder. He's like my other half.. the goofy half.

I don't know.. there's really no big end meaning to this. Just that being so far away from loved ones, one starts to lose parts of themselves. As I ran over like an idiot towards my old friend, and later as we sat eating and chattering and he pulls my hair in the way that has infuriated me since we were kids.. I thought it's nice to be loved.
It makes me feel ok.

Familial Ties Rearing Their Ugly Heads Yet Again

2006-04-17T11:06:00.000-05:00

--"Oh come on L. .. 3aaaib you have to invite her to stay with you"

I knew I was fighting a losing battle. 3aib almost equates to 7aram in our society. Add in family and you've got yourself a mortal sin if you commit the 3aib deed.

My cousin-- termed loosely, I have yet to find convincing direct lineage-- is in town with her family. We're about the same age and her mother has talked to my mother about letting her stay with me for a few days because Rima wants to be on her own and away from the family.

Excuse me.. would anyone like to take my opinion on taking the little devil in for her first days away from authority?

Of course I was pressured into it... and I didn't know what I got myself into until I opened my door a few nights ago to her squealing, stiletto elevated, fur donning self. Behind her was a short Philippino .. companion... weighed down by Louis Vuitton luggage and with a sympathetic expression to my upcoming plight.

To be continued when my head stops pounding with memories of last night.

2006-04-10T22:58:00.000-05:00

The female's orgasm last from 20-30 minutes.

The male's lasts 2-3 minutes.

Besides the obvious reasons (Y chromosome makes you deaf, incapable of getting the right groceries, and you've made keeping up a simple orgasm for more than 3 minutes evolutionarily impossible) .. the female in most other species is larger than the male, and after coupling (boy do I love that word).. the male must literally get away before the female devours him in the throes of passion (that too is a favorite, nothing like a lucid female while the formidable male is lost in said throes--such power.. but when we do, we consume you.. along with other hopefully more savory things).

So run boys.. run. Mwahaha.

**I just wanted to post the song and had nothing to say, and estrogen levels peak before sleep--mine do at least.. if I can find the acoustic version (of the song.. not the estrogen) I'll be in heaven.

أنواع الكسل و التبطح هالأيام ..

2006-04-04T18:23:00.000-05:00

I came home last night after about .. 13 hours out, to find the whole place smelling like a godamn Garlic farm. If you know me you know what kind of clean freak I am..

My dad has decided to start eating raw garlic to control his blood pressure because he heard, god knows where (A Plague Upon their house!) that it does wonders to high blood pressure.

حدث و لا حرج...

الضغط عندي طق السما..

I threw a temper tantrum of epic proportions...

GARLIC!?!?!?

and the other day he was convinced he was getting a cold... I woke up at 5 am to the continuous screeching of a kettle and I find him standing over it inhaling its steam..
WHAT are you doing!! ..
He's like.. oh it's to kill the virus..

and I just stood there stumped.. wondering if it's the middle ages (actually they had apothecaries then.. so before that) if he bought his PhD, and if he'd gone daft and is intent on driving me there too..

Apparently the virus is an ice cube

I am going to LOSe my Fucking MIND!

Over and Out.

2006-03-31T21:39:00.000-05:00

A MUCH more fitting song .. ah I love Sam Cooke

" No, no, no.. I don't like this area.. look at that! is that a beer bottle?! no no no"
Leafing diligently through Apartment Guide, I contemplated sticking the pen I was using into my ear and through to my brain.
My dad and I were touring the suburbs looking for a place for me to call my own. So far we have managed to disagree on everything.

4 right turns later (a circle if you're confused):

"see.. now look at this area! this is safe!"

Now I was seriously considering pitching myself out the window and landing on that pen lodged in my ear.

The next day I decided to take my friend instead. Armed with our trusted guide, good music, and lots of snacks we hit the road... Ok so he hit the road and I ate.

After a few places I snubbed, we found ourselves in a lease office with Rose from the Golden Girls-- complete with those cat glasses and orange lipstick. Out her window I can see the apartments with wall-to-wall windows overlooking a sweet olympic pool. As she chatters on I'm already imagining myself laying out by the pool all day. When I snap back to the conversation I hear my friend telling her we're from Saudi. She screeches in delight (ya we were confused too.. ) and then tells us she has a couple from Saudi living in the building. She's the gossipy type, and goes on to disclose that the woman never takes off her burka and the husband has a beard yay(sp?) long. In my mind, my bathing suite suddenly changed into an abaya.. am I moving into the Hay2a building? She adds that she has a group of 10 saudi students just arriving..
Abort! Abort Mission! .. I eyed my pool nostalgically.. we were never given a chance buddy.

Last place had a sweet tennis court too..
"But you don't play tennis" My friend pointed out.
"I can start!"
"But you don't play tennis"
"... and ooh look there's four"
"But you don't play tennis"
"Get out of my car.."

My family's being so supportive.. I'm surprised.

My grandparents and the Grand Dames aren't too happy about it. I've been here three years and collectively they've called me perhaps twice.. now they're calling every other day. If I hear "YOU are a muslim woman!", "We are saudi!" (who the hell is "we"?!), "ish yigoolo il nas 3alaiky", or my favorite--"inty jannaity!?" one more time, I'm chucking my membership to the Oppress and Depress Guild at the old Kahuna himself.

So I guess I'm free-- Surprisingly anticlimactic.

Not to honk my own horn.. but I deserve it with all that I've put up with, and it's about fuckin time.

That being said... "toot toot".

In the wise words of an sms sent by a friend from the other side of the world at 2 a.m:
"Ka2inno abooki kan m2assir 3a saya3tik ... yalla wali i3zimeeeeny".

The Way I See It... #1 and #2

2006-03-25T14:01:00.000-05:00

st#1:
I may only live once, But I can dance with my lemon juice at a grocery store on a Saturday at 7 a.m. to Barry Manilow's Copa Cabana* every week.

#2:
"A Grande non-fat, extra caramel, but in the cup and not on top, no foam, and extra hot Macchiato please"

Quit mangling my name jackasses.
It's almost automatic. I like my coffee perfect to start my day.
After picking it up at the bar I take my usual seat.. (so usual in fact, that an acquaintance I ran into asked if I had moved since he last saw me there 2 weeks ago).
An indian fellow wearing oversized sunglasses reminiscent of another decade is at the register placing his order with a queue behind him that reached the door.

"I would ... please.... like... a ..... a ... mocha.. yes.. a mocha"

"What size sir?"

He pauses in thought.
You could almost see the line of people groaning and mentally urging him to get on with it.

" ... a small.... no... no... a large... but please... make .. extra.. extra ... "

By now the place has gone quiet as everyone listens expectantly.. we're all at the edge of our seats-- say it .. say it!

"please.. make it ... extraa....aaah.... extra delicious!"

Practically the whole place bursts into laughter.

He picks up his mocha, sits on a stool and looks quite complacent sipping on his "extra-delicious" mocha like a happy oversized child.

.. I envy such simplicity.

Update-- HOLY SHIT he turned out to be arab.. haha. Yil3an abu il 7a'6! lets hope he doesn't blog ay? heh.

*Her name was LOLA.. she was a shoow girl.. with yellow ribbons in her hair.. aand a dress cut down to there--something something- the copa, copa cabaaaanaaa
....
if you know how the song ends, you'll see the irony of it all.

On Ariella, Pity Coin, and Shakespearean Beauty..

2006-03-23T00:57:00.000-05:00

My apologies for the lack of substance lately folks.. I've edited it out.

My vacation is great. Destination changed last minute mandating an airport camp-out. In the end, I exchanged nights of unsupervised inebriated partying for quiet days all by my lonesome-- nearly-- frying my already tan skin on the beach, exploring the area on foot, frolicking aimlessly, and pretty much being left to my own devices.

I met a most fascinating Swedish fellow, a gay Arab couple, and a Kiwi couple that insist on calling me Ariella.
The third day I woke up after dawn, took my guitar that I had grabbed from home on a whim down to the walk, and sprawled on the deserted sidewalk tuning it and trying to remember old pieces when someone walked by and dropped me a quarter... I contemplated throwing it back at him, and decided to make it my lucky coin instead. How's that for Zen ..

Nursing a throbbing headache on the fourth day, I decided to trudge down to the local coffee shop for some methylxanthine. I settled down on a couch with my newest prized possessions-- The Crimson Petal and the White and Harem.

Sitting at the counter preying on a slightly unsuspecting young barista was a middle-aged man, fully inducted into the mid-life crisis phase by the look of the Porsche key chain he made a point of jingling every five minutes. She had an interesting look and disposition to her. Twenty minutes later, a squealing leggy bottle blonde saunters over and greets our now Mr. Heph. He deserts conversation with the barista and ends up leaving with the blonde without so much as an acknowledgment of his former interesting companion.

Fool.

The allure of beauty is in its subtlety. Its serenity is tempting.. tauntingly out of reach.
It alters not, when alteration it finds..

Ok, so maybe that was Love and I'm suffering from vacation endorphins, but clearly Shakespeare wasn't privy to the entertaining exchanges of this day and age...

Pucker up!

2006-03-16T00:36:00.000-05:00

I am easily amused. Especially by myself... seriously.

I was sitting in Biochemistry lecture this afternoon.. this class.. dear god, it's torture. I go in there wide-awake and two seconds after the professor starts I'm already nodding off. I'm convinced the man exhales sleeping gas. As my friend commented .. bring two pillows, your pillow will need a pillow.

Today he's explaining the structure of nucleic acids and how the sugar backbone is puckered. Meaning that it's bent.. but who cares.. I thought it was the funniest thing I've ever heard.. and he says it practically every two minutes.
Next thing I know, I find myself puckering up everytime he says pucker. Seriously. Forget taking notes or the midterm on friday.. I was making sure I catch every pucker he utters.
Fifteen minutes into my routine, my friend Kyle sitting next to me notices and looks at me like I've gone crazy. Eventually he catches on and starts doing it too..

Unfortunately for him, I'm just as easily demused (yes I made that word up). My new source of amusement was this big guy that just got out of the army a year ago following my random whim. Heh.. just the thought of it makes me laugh. I mean he spent years jumping out of planes, sleeping in ditches, and wading through crocodile-inhabited streams by the Panama Canal... and here he was puckering up his lips like some school girl.

The professor looks up just as Kyle was executing a perfectly plump one, and stops mid-sentence. My friend turns about 3 bright shades before quickly pretending that he had smelt something bad.

Ah.. I nearly fell off my chair.

Anyhow, it's almost St.Patrick's day.. and like Scarlett O'Hara says, everyone's Irish on St.Patrick's. This lass sure needs the luck of the irish.
Spring break's coming up soon... I'm off to some sandy dunes, sunny skies, and sparkling beaches. Miss me, ok?

Oh and project Make MCAT My Bitch is Underway. Can I get a Hell Ya?

P.S-- Thanks for filling it out guys. Sorry I'm not getting back to comments. Oh and JS, you're a sweetheart. Thanks.

On Personality Flaws...

2006-03-12T08:15:00.000-05:00

I saw this in another blogger's post and found it interesting.

What you do is:

From a list of adjectives, you pick what you think "represents my significant weaknesses, however slight". I've already picked what I think are mine, and there's a grid that incorporates everyone's answers as well as my own to give me an Arena, a Façade, and a Blindspot.

It's not as complicated as I made it sound. Just pick 6 adjectives, be honest, and I appreciate it.

I'll post the results.

Click Here.

No [wo]Man Land..

2006-03-06T23:48:00.000-05:00

My days are monotonous. My mind is atrophying.

Alas.. I decided to take a day off.

I surrendered to a 2 week nicotine craving.

There are these cigarettes... ah, celestial!
With every drag they leave a distinctly sweet taste on your lips. mm.. yummy. A friend told me about a Cigar Shop that carries them. So I drove over, parked my car, and walked around the scenic town looking for the place.

I found it in a little cozy crook. Inside, a middle aged man was helping an older constipated (Well I wouldn't know.. but you should've seen the way he looked.. a cross between Dr.Watson and Mr.Darcy) gentleman with an outrageously priced cigar selection. A younger man came to help me and as he went to find my lovelies I stood around admiring the intricacies of the place. Aside from the dark, smoke infested interior and antiquated cherry wood theme, there was some sort of of hidden room behind a few cases. I could hear the rumbling laughter of middle aged men with an Irish tinge and could imagine them sitting around as if it was the 1920s with their cigars and suits.

My imagination stream was truncated by the snips of conversation that seeped through:

"Were you at the pub last night? ohhh so many [my university's name] girls were there.. I didn't know WHAT to do with [obscene refrence to his --I bet below average-- member]"

"Ohhhh I missed it, those girls can sure treat a man"

"[chortle that grated on my nerves].. Richard asked me if I had seen this one girl before, and I said to him.. No, but I've seen her BEE-hind"

Now I know what it feels like when a man walks in on an elaborate discussion of monthly cycles. As I'm picking out a pretty holder, the middle aged man that was helping Mr.Watsy earlier hurries out from the back and whispers:

"You'll have to excuse them.. this goes on every day.. it has nothing to do with you"

I smile and nod, what was I to say?.. he gets more flustered and lodges the proverbial shoe.

"Not that we wouldn't talk about you.. they'll do that right after you leave "

The young man helping me shoves the shop's pretentious bag with my purchases at me, urging me to leave.

Once safely outside of the flagrant testosterone hubbub, I sat on a bench and enjoyed the light headedness that comes with a new cigarette ... resigning myself to never understanding either worlds.

P.S The Nat Shermans were worth it though.

Amici, diem perdidi

2006-03-04T16:38:00.000-05:00

Acta est fabula ...

Reminiscings.. yet again.

2006-02-26T21:54:00.000-05:00

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.

On Riyadh "nightlife"..

2006-02-22T00:14:00.000-05:00

" "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.

2006-02-20T13:49:00.000-05:00

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.

Hastily written during a break..

2006-02-18T12:30:00.000-05:00

"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?

Psycho 101

2006-02-13T09:29:00.000-05:00

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.

A Chance Encounter II...

2006-02-07T00:46:00.000-05:00

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.

A Chance Encounter...

2006-02-04T23:49:00.000-05:00

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...

2006-02-02T20:39:00.000-05:00

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?

It just wont quiet down in my head...

2006-01-31T21:02:00.000-05:00

Given that "alone" is a state of being; be it a solitary one--circumstance mediated or voluntary-- or one facilitated by the dearth of like-minded company.

and given that "lonely" is a state of mind; a constant nostalgia to something "as it was", a capricious depression pit of no return.

Can one be rational enough to make the practical distinction?

-----------------------------------------------
- On a different note... things might be changing for me.. drastically.
I don't want to get ahead of myself.. or.. circumstances.. fate.. whatever you may call it.

I'd hate to be disappointed..

When House Appliances Go Bad..

2006-01-26T14:01:00.000-05:00

Change of gear..
This Iraqi man & his 3ood shall be my undoing

Blogging from a study break... I'm sick of school.
--------------------------------------------------------------

My pride has been dealt the ultimate blow..

I woke up to find that I have exhausted every clean article of clothing that I own. I had even migrated to the second stage; wearing old pieces that are clearly out of fashion whilst avoiding human contact (the virtues of a break..) and exhausted those too.
Thank goodness I still had an hour before I had to leave; I quickly dumped my hamper out and proceeded to separate my laundry into piles.

Now my system is quite effective, I would recommend it to everyone. None of that whites pile, colored pile, and jeans mumbo-jumbo.

I implement the Two Pile System of Governance: (Avert your eyes mother.. this'll hurt)

-Things I like -- referred to lovingly as TIK.
-Things I don't care about (or they're sturdy enough to resist temptations of defilement by other evil leaky pieces.)

The pile of TIK and I operate on good faith.. I like them-- slip them some extra fabric softener when the other piles aren't looking-- and in return they promise to be good to one another.

So I shoved TIK--which is now huge thanks to two weeks of neglect-- into the washer, crossed my fingers for good measure (essential step in the system), turned the sucker on, and parked myself at the computer for the wait.

Half an hour later the washer suddenly started rocking and racketing like there was no tomorrow. In a panic I put it off... after staring at it for 5 minutes I realized I couldn't exactly go out in my birthday suit (yes, tempting.. but impractical). So I turned it on again after a good kick, because that's what we do in this scientific day and age when things go awry-- kick them.

It now rocked and practically hopped off the floor...

So what was I to do but... jump on it.

It actually worked for a while there. It just kind of hummed.. and I figured I could just perch on there until it was done. Then out of no where that son of a bitch heaves, sputters, and throoows me off crashing me onto the wall across the narrow hall.

and there you have it..

I got beat up by a washer... and I think it might've copped a feel too.

Top that.

P.S-- to you perverts wondering what I'm wearing now... you're gonna have to buy me dinner first.

Hiatus!

2006-01-21T09:31:00.000-05:00

That's how I feel lately.. heh. Notice the dead end.

New semester's starting, my MCAT is drawing near. So I'll need some time to get used to the new hustle.

Wish me luck.

Or a miracle...

Random mudane bits..

2006-01-18T21:02:00.000-05:00

Last Jack Johnson for a while I promise.
I dare you not to fall in love with the brief guitar solo.

~*~ An interesting piece on Saudi Arabia, Lesbianism and Other Coping Mechan-'isms'

~*~ Saudi Girl was a heteronym. It was the first blog I ever came across. If at all possible.. I now think she/he is even more brilliant than ever. Hands down, best blog ever.

~*~ What do you think of this idea of modernizing Islam!?

An Excerpt: "There are five pillars of Islam and six pillars of faith that cannot be modified. That's all. The rest can be negotiated and must be modernized. Islam is doomed and the fate of the Church of England awaits it. But Anglicans didn’t leave Christianity; they just brought it up-to-date"
oh and: "Shari’a is outdated and as a matter of fact I am sure Allah understands it. Nobody is now burning witches in Great Britain but nobody said Jesus Christ doesn’t exist or anything. Islam has to be on the background and the secular laws have to be on the foreground."

Don't be shy, lets hear it..

~*~ I simply cannot pick up a book and study. I'm honestly terrified I'll fail..

~*~ There's this multicultural fashion show in my town, and they've asked me to strut my Abaya down the walk.
I should consider it.. right?

~*~ My family back in Saudi just came back from a brief vacation.

My sister really wanted to go see a live rock band, so my grandmother took her.
My mother decided that she would not go skiing because she's tired.. on the first day.
A *certain* family member ended up dancing on a table.
My uncle who couldn't wait for them to leave missed them so much that he brought a cake that said "DAMNIT ya'll are back" when they came home.

How can I not miss those crazy fools?

It's my uncle's Milka this Friday... I wish I could be there.

Delusions of Belonging..

2006-01-14T22:17:00.000-05:00

The chorus is not great.

On a chilly February night, the ballroom quickly filled with loungers and socializers. Some prudent soul had the foresight to slide the balcony doors open allowing in some cool air. The event managed to attract many faces; the eccentric, the austere, the fashionable, the average-Joe, the brilliant, and the ethnic.

As I broke off, floated to a nearby stool, and settled comfortably, I saw her hesitate at the door. I suppose if I were to describe her from where I was sitting, I'd say she's intriguing; everything about her screamed precision. Her attire was impeccable and simple. Her mannerism was deliberately aloof, contrasted with a slight tilt of her chin implying interest.

I sipped my drink and knew I was in for quite a show as I watched her mental wheels churn, she finally decided to enter rather than wisely flee. Her most amusing act must be the brilliant contortion of countenances... almost instantly from polite interest to amusement, from happiness to sympathy, or from stiff formality to the occasional flirtatiousness. She made her way through the different crowds diligently... almost relentlessly. I hear her discuss football with the meat-head, research with the professor, the +/- grading with the dean, or the latest prada line with the aspiring fashionista. When all common grounds were exhausted.. she moved to subtle flattery before a transition to the next challenge.

Eventually her laugh became a tad forced, and the flow of conversation tripped. One could almost see the exhaustion creeping at her. I nearly felt the need to go steady her. Prudently, she seamlessly stepped away from a rather fascinating conversation about the latest in stem cell research, and made her way towards the balcony and out into the chilly night. Her fatigue was now apparent as she lit a cigarette and slouched over the frosty rail. A couple of guys followed her out casually, yet she made no attempt to be charming nor engaging.. apparently, this was the designated break time. A few minutes later, she turned around leaning back against the rail to face the ruckus, she took a final drag off of mentholed nicotine..

I wondered how she could stand to do it. Surely it wasn't this hard for everyone. Should it be this hard?

She looked my way with a sheepish smile and a shrug; as if to say: hey.. we tried..

I stepped down from my high and detached stool, floated back.. and we headed out towards the unusually dark night ..aimlessly.

How funny would arabs beer bonging be?-- Drinking Stereotypes

2006-01-09T09:20:00.000-05:00

My New obsession, he's just amazing

The Charming Lads--as they like to call themselves--and I decided to drive to a nice lounge and enjoy a few hubblies and good conversation before classes start and work overwhelms us. It so happens that we stumbled upon a planned event which drew a huge eclectic middle eastern crowd-- My favorite.

Believe it or not, as much as I babble on here, I'm actually very quiet in real life. Observing is my hobby. People are the most fascinating subjects.

We were seated between the most amusing bunch-- a group of 3 Saudi guys/men with slicked back hair, pungent afflicting aroma, and shiny shoes on one side and a group of what my friend has assured me is a mix of 4 Saudi/Kuwaiti gals on the other.

To recount the whole evening would take too long of a post. What interested me is their choice of drinks. The guys next to me asked for beers all around. Not unexpected, it's not exactly news that our good boys indulge in alcohol while abroad. After a few minutes my friend, amused, nodded towards them. I hear them ask for a round of Tequila shots.
I get up to visit the lady's room, and as I'm powdering my nose (not really.. I was speaking on the phone) the girls enter with a rush of excitement. Out of the corner of my eye I see a golden flask making it's way around after each takes a few swigs.

Later on, with my head swimming from all the smoke, we get up to leave and the girls do the same. They're steady and seem to have had fun, while the guys are getting belligerent and are stumbling about the place.

So--
Why the double standards?

Why must the girls drink stealthily in the bathroom out of a flask like it's the prohibition while the men are out flaunting their indiscretions? Both genders are equally in the Haram .. no?
Why is it "6aish shabab" when the guys drink and "wa7da say3a o khalas abad moo naf3a" when the girl does?

Hell while I'm at it, what is the scale? is drinking alcohol more haram than .. say.. speaking ill of others?

Someone should've taught the boys from the homeland the old limerick: "Drink liquor before beer, and have no fear.. drink beer before liquor, and you're gonna get sicker."

I see dead people..

2006-01-04T20:33:00.000-05:00

~*~ After 3 weeks of blissful and well-earned sloth, I'm back to class.
And a splendid one at that.. we stand, tired and shaking, for 7 hours with a scapula (a sharp blade) trying to peel off thin sheets of skin, and we're nauseous for a good 7 hours afterwards. The diet of death.

Speak of the devil (heh..), we walk into a class lined with six upper extremity cadavers-- in English: half corpses-- with varying shades of pallor.. amusing if I wasn't sporting my own unflattering shade of yellow. After an introduction to the art of respecting the dead (we're slashing you apart blindly.. but don't worry Elmer, we wont desecrate your memory by playing music) we cursed ourselves for eating breakfast.

I called my guy Elmer.. that was at 10, by 2 I was cutting off mammillary glands (uhhmm.. "boobs"-- as one eloquently stated.. "Hey Doc, should I chuck them boobs off?") and figured it was a she.. so she was Elmira. (why that name?.. so we can call it Elmy when we're feeling the love).

No one wanted to touch poor Elmira in the beginning (Elmer, then.. you follow?), so petite me had to carry her.. what can I say-- we had a connection. She has forgiven me for the impromptu mastectomy (removal of said "boobs") because I found a tumor the size of a pineapple (yes food analogies permeated the day) under her armpit.

By the end of the day, we (ok, mostly me) were cracking corny dead jokes left and right.. you know: Hey Elmy! I'll see ya tomorrow.. sit tight!

Of course, I hummed "The Adam's family" theme throughout the day.

Three showers later, I still smell like death.. hah.

Conclusion: We Med students.. are weird... maybe just me..

Gives a whole new meaning to
"body bag" ay?

On a serious note: Would you donate your body to science? How about organ donation?

~*~ Dad's all worried, raiding the kitchen cabinets for vitamin C and the fridge for fresh Juice.. ranting and raving about his coworker who might or might not have had a cold and passed it on to him..

Dad-- "I AM GETTING SICK.."
*Looking at me for sympathy*

Me-- "It's a cold.. not the plague."

I really should learn to hold my tounge.. but what fun would that be? and of course the sarcasm is lost on him-- to my added amusement.

~*~ Drama moment over.. if we can all pretend it never happened I'd appreciate it!

Bringing in the New Year with style...!

2006-01-02T05:20:00.000-05:00

I was Princess for the night :D >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>يا زين العرب

It must be about 4 am on the brink of this New Year.

My hair has finally given up the valiant fight it fought all night, and is hanging limp and stringy with the stench of the smoky night.. My feet have laid down the law; no more moving. My eyes are starting to make up images.. they're all hazy.

What's my point?..

With this New Year, I have no resolutions.. I have hopes:

May it bring me peace of mind, and tranquility of heart.
May it give me faith to believe, and the strength to achieve.

May we grow older, wiser with our loved ones.. and remain young and free at heart.

Cheers.

Quiz results, a hair cut, and a manly man!

2005-12-27T20:55:00.000-05:00

~*~ First off, I have your QUIZ Results:
A Mr. Shroom has scored a 100, which is very scary because he says he was "lucky with a guess."

Silent stalker, Meesh, Noor, and Bissa have scored 90s. Although some did complain and make excuses.. sheesh.. overachievers!

n.a., nonnah, and raf* managed 80s.. I'm proud of you guys!

adaydreamer, Fo0f, Saudi Eve, ubergirl87, Sedna scrimped up some 70s.. you guys can do better!

The rest: extinct-dodo, Dotsson, basma, Bassem, don veto
Have FAILED! looool.. Shame on you guys! Summer school! ... I'm kidding.. nice try!

~*~ I cut my hair!

~*~ The day after Christmas shops have sales, personally I'd rather pay extra to avoid the madness...
My friend Moe really wanted to buy some things from AX and his car was busted so I agreed to pick him up. He turned up the radio and started singing and dancing like an idiot.. as I laughed at his antics I didn't notice the cop car with it's radar pointed at me.. sure enough I got pulled over for driving 10 miles over the limit. The officer takes my license and goes back to his car, Moe glances over and gives me his usual evil smile..

-- "L. don't be a fool!.. you can get out of this!.. just show him some skin"

First of all, it's about 30 degrees outside.. second of all, you guys remember what happened the Last Time I took his twisted advice..

-"some SKIN?!? you must be out of your fukin mind.. I'm not showing that ogre anything!"

--"You need to be street smart! ... FINE! I'll take care of this.. this is why women shouldn't drive! watch how the men do it.. it's a talent"

Of all the conceited chauvinistic remarks.. I knew he was trying to goad me, and I wasn't taking his bait.. lets see how the MEN do it..

The officer comes back with his handy dandy pad, and Moe flashes him a smile.. get this.. he affects the cheesiest English accent! It was all I could do not to laugh..

--"Good afternoon officer! fine day is it not? how was your Christmas! oh the holiday spirit surrounds us you must love it.. let me thank you in advance for the fine job you and your squad are doing to keep this town safe.. I commend you sir!.."

He goes on and on for another 5 minutes in what can only be described as the English version of a gruwy saudi buttering up an officer on Ta7lia sans all the "ya shaai5"s and "ya bu 7maid"s . I have never seen anything quite as entertaining..
After he wrapped up his tirade and shot me a smug look, I turned to the officer who wrote up the $75 ticket, tore it out and handed it to me with a sarcastic "Merry Christmas!".
I started my car and resisted the urge to smile as Moe settled back and deflated..

but couldn't resist gloating..
--"So you've made a fool of yourself and we still got the ticket? You're right ... it is a talent man.."

I handed him the ticket.. after all, the man should pay it.

How well do you know me?

2005-12-24T21:16:00.000-05:00

So I have a little pop quiz for you guys.

What you thought this blog was for your enjoyment?

It wont take you long.. 10 random questions about me. It asks for your e-mail, but you can just make something up.. for your name just use whatever your name is around here..

No cheating! Be honest! Take it once! Don't look at my profile while taking it or search my blog.. it wont help you anyway heh..

Show your competitive spirit! Lets see who wins this one ay?

Ready.. set.. GO!

Take the Quiz.

RESULTS will be Anounced in a couple of days ..
Oh.. and make your own.. this could be fun!

Confusion..

2005-12-20T09:16:00.000-05:00

This world has suddenly become my strikingly white canvas.. tempting me to tarnish it with an unsteady hand..

A shame that I have the artistic sense of a bland and rather prudish wall..

My father came home tonight in a rather jolly mood, another surprise is that it happened to coincide with a semi-jolly one of my own.. creating what could be termed a "pleasant" atmosphere if one may be so bold as to peg. He invited me out to dinner, and having little else to do with my time after deciding to spend Christmas here, I agreed.

As we sat down to good food and great drinks, conversation flowed.. a great feat in our case. Perhaps I can never discuss feelings, nor any other form of human emotion for that matter, with him.. but I realize now I can always rely on him for sound advice on the career aspects of my life. He asks the right questions.. when my mind has blocked upcoming hurdles in my path, he manages to remind me what's in the horizon so I wont trip.. and my vanity and pride have finally eased up enough for me to listen.

One aspect, of many, that we can't agree on is family. The concept eludes him, as has been evident throughout the years. He wants me to attend medical school and work here all my life, just the thought brings tears to my eyes.. this place is empty to me, it makes me feel hollow.. I can't imagine spending the rest of my life here.

Yet he asks, "Where will you go??"

Where will I go?

Back home, my place in the family portrait is empty. Yet with every passing year, it starts to dwindle.. only to close in eventually.

I wonder if it's worth it.

As our impromptu evening came to an end, much as it started, pleasantly.. I felt a sudden level of gratitude for this man. His help may not have been prototypic.. but it was there, and like mother often says .. thank God for the little things.

I wondered if the years of scuffles weren't the result of our differences.. but rather our similarities. His ultra-conservative and borderline extreme personality clashed with my spur-of-the-moment and borderline irrational one. Yet in our single-mindedness to achieve perfection, we are one and the same.

We sat there this evening, at the closest we'll ever be to a middle ground.. and I wondered if I should finally let go of the grudges.. let bygones be bygones.. and let the water flow under the bridge..

If only the river's still waters didn't run so deep, that they threatened to flood the already teetering bridge.

Desktop Tag

2005-12-20T06:17:00.000-05:00

Tagged by Sedna.

My desktop is as sterile as I am.. 4 icons are all I need.

This picture ... well it speaks for itself.

Random Tidbits 2

2005-12-18T17:06:00.000-05:00

~*~ Exams are over.. wa 3adat Reema li 3adat'ha il gideema ..

~*~ At the forefront of D-list stars is non other than wacky Kathy Griffin. The topic of her latest lame jokes? .. Saudi Arabia. Look at that.. we've made it to Hollywood.
Her husband suggests that they visit Saudi Arabia, and Kathy refuses: "Not the land of the fucked up culture, veils, and all that shit!!".
Her husband warns: "Kathy you know if we're walking in Riyadh and you see a man hitting a woman you can't say anything because of the Religious police." She says "Well I guess I'm dying in Saudi prison because I'm gonna Kick his Ass!" she adds.. "Thank God we ended up vacationing in Afghanistan" **

We shared the spotlight with our neighbors..
According to Kathy "The entire country of Kuwait smells like a fart.. it's like.. who farted.. oh Kuwaaait did"

.. oh Kathy.
**Quotes are not exact.. simply what I jotted down while studying for finals.

~*~ Last day of exams, I was invited with the MSA (muslim student association) out to dinner, I politely declined knowing how they feel about my absence at their endless functions. Where did they go? .. Hooters.
And I'M the impious lax "sister"...

hypocrisy..

~*~ My coffee table developed a slight wobble. I toughened up, grabbed the tool box and decided to fix it. Why is it that we women always believe we can't tackle such tasks?.. by god we tackle mountains of chores, babies, and PMS.. and you men have us believing we can't find our way around a toolbox without breaking a nail. NAY I SAY!
That's right.. 45 minutes later that screw had nothing on me.
I flipped the table upright with a triumphant roar! All hail strong versatile powerful women!

The table was now both lopsided and wobbly. Obviously it was broken to begin with.. I threw it out.

~*~ WARNING: The following is utterly self-centered but hell .. I deserve my moments.
I went to visit my old job place at the University Administration building. It happens to include the office for international students. Last time I was there I was idling about chatting with the old secretary with my back to the door, when my ear picked up an arabic drawl .. sure enough I heard someone muttering "shoof wish7lailha thee il samra". The stars must have been smiling down at me that day as I turned to the leering shuffling homeboys, smiled lazily, and said "mashkoora.." ..

The look on their faces.. priceless... and yes I floated home on my inflated ego.

~*~ My friend is in a local band and has offered to let me play guitar on a song at one of his gigs.. supposedly it's an easy strum piece with simple chords. I haven't touched my guitar in over 2 years.. but I'm sure if I can learn it I'd rock it.

~*~ My friend, who was in the army, and I went to see Syriana ... very interesting how two people can see things so differently.

Random Tidbits

2005-12-15T14:55:00.000-05:00

~*~ In loving memory of Meesh.
yes I'm hob-coverless
~*~ I can't remember what book I read where someone had asked a Saudi woman how she felt about women in her country being unable to drive, and she said "We don't want to drive.. in Saudi, every woman is treated like a princess and has a driver." How's that for positive thinking ..

Well as I shoveled snow off of and around my damn car at a cold 8 am, I thought GODMANIT I don't waaant to drive.. I want my driver and I want to be treated like a faint-of-heart-useless-can't-possibly-be-trusted-to-take-on-a-wheel princess... Then I slipped and fell and that sealed the deal. I wonder where maktab al isti8dam is around here..

~*~ As students flocked to the library the weekend before finals, they were greated by a scrawny guy promoting Jesus, and then a group of masseuses ready to massage their stress away courtesy of our ever caring university.
After a wonderful massage from a nice and not too bad on the eye fellow and all that dala3 I figured I might as well study afterall heh..

~*~ 2 hours into my cram shift, this girl just raaandomly plopped down in front of me. I smiled and chucked it to pre-final oddity... next thing I know she passes out on her book and I'm beyond amused.

Odd thing is the next day she sat with me again despite the abundance of empty tables.. when did this grow into a relationship is what I want to know.. can a girl get a dinner and a movie at least!

~*~ Then there's the fashion sense.. forget that it's below freezing, girls will risk hypothermia to sport the latest in boot and miniskirt ware.. that my friends is bravey and sacrifice for a decent cause.. here here!

~*~ Happy hour is all the rage during these times .. as I'm stressing over 100 pages of notes, an acquaintance yells "HEYYYY LETS GOOOO HAPPPPYYY HOUR!". Mind you it must have been about 5 in the afternoon. They don't call it "happy" for nothing..

~*~ Lunch hour rolls around, and I decided to take the back stairs to get some blood flowing, as I head to grab a nutritious purchase from the vending machine. Halfway down, my poor virginal ears were accosted by unholy sounds, I leaned over the bannister and sure enough.. two blondies were going at it full throttle. Upon closer inspection (damn curiosity) I found it was non other than the Jesus boy previously encountered. Now, is that what Jesus would've done?

~*~ Finally after over 12 hours of studying at the library, I'm dragging my scorched brain towards the parking lot when a Mercedes screeches in front of me with abominable music blaring and boys yelling my name.. Confused, I squint and find the boys from the homeland.. "AHLAAAAAAIN!! WAIN IL NAAAAS".

Malat..

Procrastinating: .. Remember the age of innocence?

2005-12-12T23:38:00.000-05:00

Neither do I..

First day of high school in Saudi, I walked in nervously and took the first seat in sight. As I cursed my fortune and blared my disc-man to drown everyone out, he tapped me on the shoulder and smugly asked if I was listening to 'N Sync, I looked at him with disgust and told him to scram.. he obnoxiously grabbed my disc-man, popped it open, and saw my Metallica CD ... we were friends ever since.

Throughout the years our friendship was implicit; never in need of a fancy declaration. It was unconditional, undoubted ... childishly simple yet intensely loyal. He never made any promises for his actions spoke louder.. an imposing subtle figure, always there with his infectious spirit and admirable sense of righteousness. No one will ever measure up.

One year he forgot my birthday, so he grabbed a gray shirt from his closet on his way out and spray painted it with "Happy Birthday" and "M. is my HERO". It reeked and is the most hideous thing I've ever seen.. I still wear it, I couldn't love it more.

As fate would have it, we graduated and ended up on opposite ends of the earth. I saw him 2 years later, and he was a different person. All he spoke of was girls, his job as a bartender, and his constant partying...

I missed the old M., the one that would call at 2am, wake my whole household up, to ask if we had Literature homework. The M. that blocked a friend's father hand when he tried to slap her. The one that would take over the dance floor with his old school breakdancing and befriend anyone and everyone at every party we went to. The M. that I caught in the school's nurse's room examining a pair of tweezers and contemplating removing his uni-brow. The one that laughed so hard he would snort uncontrollably.

As we sat in my yard last summer, he lit up a cigarette without asking..

-- "what happened to us L."
- "you changed ..."
--"what about you? what happened to the crazy girl I knew"
-"Life happened.. I had to grow up. What happened to the nice guy I knew?"
--"Nice never got me anywhere.. guess we both grew up"

He flicked his cigarette over on my mother's treasured flower bed, and as I watched one of her beloved lilies start to burn, he walked over .. and stomped it out.

Hiatus!

2005-12-07T07:50:00.000-05:00

Due to a severe lack of creativity abundantly displayed in my last few posts, and the burden of FINALS next Monday, my blog and I will be taking a short hiatus.

Pray for me you guys.. I'm so stressed over finals.

Meanwhile leave me some suggestions for topics to blog about when I come back, entertain yourselves with my archives.. lick your elbows.. whatever honks your horn.

Love all of you.. my little blog reading babies :D

uh.. obviously the stress is getting to my head.

Who am I kidding?

2005-11-24T23:19:00.000-05:00

Who was I kidding? I can't stay away from my blog..

It's thanksgiving, and I give thanks to:

* The puritans (was it them?) for slaughtering all those damned indians so we can claim this to be a holiday and stuff ourselves with food and sleep.

* My neighbor that keeps playing his bass music at max until my desk vibrates. .. jack ass.

* My car.. for buckling on me. Stupid piece of shit.

* The fact that it's not even Decemeber and the first snow of the season has already started.. I fukin LOVE freezing my ass off.

* That old lady that kept braking in front of me while I was driving home.. woman, I don't care if you break your hip.. either floor it or get out the wwaaaay!

* My house.. for being so messy. Must I clean you every damn day?

* Me and my blog for being so damn vain, pointless, and dull..

P.S
-- On a brighter note, I've fallen in love with Ms. Gaida Horeba's Blog. The woman is hilarious!
and I've finally coaxed Sammy into starting his own blog, he's a wonderful person and a great friend of mine.. I know you guys will make him feel as welcome and comfortable as you've made me feel.
UPDATE: I've also gotten my friend Nithar to start blogging.. I know.. what am I working for this site now?.. heh.. check them out ya'll.

Randome thoughts.. Occurrences..

2005-11-19T18:38:00.000-05:00

~*~ I started my Weekend class last week. It's a 10 to 4 class every Saturday and Sunday until April. So I now officially have day classes, night classes, weekend classes, and I'll be taking a class over winter break.. hey you in that shirt.. ya you.. shoot me!

~*~ On the upside, the class is in the city.. and I've never hung out in the city during the day. It's absolutely beautiful. College students everywhere, charming little coffee and bagel shops, cute winding streets.. it's quite a site for a suburb girl like me.
This is a coffee shop I fell in love with..

The problem with townies like us is that we just can't get with the city pace, for instance:
a. I can't for the life of me learn how to parallel park, how is my car getting in that tiny spot. Not to mention I couldn't work the meter.. I swear!

b. Anyone approaching me for "Saaam chaaange" makes me want to run and yell POLICE!!

c. I can't figure out why everything is one way.. everything! How am I supposed to get anywhere..

d. Don't get me started on crossing the street! sheesh.. run me over why don't you..

~*~ My university had a small event where they displayed the different cultures adopting islam as a religion. They had samboosa man.. do you know what kind of heaven I was in? of course then I bit in to it and it had potatoes inside.. umm wrong culture! where can I file a complaint?

Some guy walked around with a becht .. pretty hilarious because my friend who came with me was American and he whispers to me "umm isn't that Bin Ladin attire" .. they never seize to amuse me.
He did love the fake samboosa though. Another friend of mine got 7enna done on his arm (maskeen fahim 3'alaaa6) , I wont say what he had them write .. lets just say it's the name of a group of very nice people in southern Lebanon.

~*~ The weather took a turn for the worse.. it's godamn freezing, meen feekom illy 3inah 7arra! Look at all the naked trees!

~*~ My other friends insisted I go out with them one night, and of course them being non-arab they dragged me to a bar. Yes folks.. I stepped into the forbidden land ..alright so it's not the first time but who's counting eh?
Anyhow.. I sipped on my chaste, rum-less, and liquorless (basically pointless.. throw that thing out!) coke. In line with my resolve to be more open with my mother.. I called her up and casually mentioned my excursion. I just want to take this moment to say thank you God for giving me such a great mother.. she is absolutely wonderful. I could almost hear the thoughts churning in her head.. finally she say's "oh "leeno" ...how was it?" and she doesn't outright demand that I never go again.. but she makes her stance clear while giving me the choice. She trusts my judgement completely.. and understands it may be impaired at times, but that deep (probably real deep) inside I'm a good kid. My father may be awful and our relationship is non-existant.. but my mother is worth a hundred of him.

~*~ I need to get away from blogging for a while.. work is piling up, and as little time as I have I spend so much of it writing it's ridiculous. I've become a blogaholic. Thanksgiving is coming up (yay to stealing other people's land!) and it'll be a great time for me to catch up with sleep, work, and shopping. Keep reading.. commenting.. I'll read and reply every once in a while. See you all in a couple of weeks.

Good memories are better left undisturbed

2005-11-15T21:44:00.000-05:00

She was a child of many wonders.. very independent..

she hates to be hugged for too long and she wont hold your hand.

We had a special bond..her and I. She couldn't pronounce my name.. so she'd call me "noana". She was almost a year and a half old and wouldn't learn to walk... perfectly content examining her toes, fingers, and playing with anyone's hair. When I visited during christmas a couple of years back, I picked her up.. stood her up at one end of the room and walked to the other end. At first she'd fall and whimper.. but finally she decided she'd swallow her pride and wobble over. I couldn't believe it.. I taught her how to walk.

If she came to visit and I was asleep, she'd stick her finger in my eye until I agreed to wake up. If I didn't go over to visit, or her parents didn't bring her over to my house, she'd go in her room, grab her favorite barbie shoes and mismatched socks and sit at the stairs until her dad came home. Then she'd yell "yalllla!" heh..

A summer came to an end, my bags were packed, I had an hour until I was to leave to the airport. As I sat at the couch, she sensed my sadness and ran over, crinkled her nose, and raised her arms to be carried so she can sit next to me. I was happy to oblige.. it's so rare that she would want to sit.

She climbed on my lap, took her chubby little palms, framed my face, and kissed my nose. She asked:
-"waaain lay7a noana?"
-- "ray7a baity sweetheart"
-"fain baitik?"
--"far away baby.. really far"
-"no.. ma troo7i far.. ana a7ibbik noana.. a5aleeki til3aby bi toysy"

I smiled as I let the only tear I would allow escape.. I had taught her how to say "a7ibbik"

I should've taken her up on her offer.

Boredom breeds oddness ?

2005-11-13T08:21:00.000-05:00

Random occurrences over the past few days:

1- My friends have this habit of insisting that they hang out at my complex... knowing fully well my dad is always home. In any case, I never have the heart to turn them away. So as we laze about one night, one of the girls declares that she needs to use the restroom.. we all groan because I snuck out of my house so I wouldn't have to deal with the where/what/when interrogation-- she wouldn't be able to come up to my place.
So we all get in the car, drive to a nearby restaurant, and after 10 minutes we're back to our secluded spot. About 15 minutes later, my other friend--a guy-- announces that he must also "go potty".. this time we all refuse to leave.. we jokingly suggest that he jump over a distant fence and do his business behind a tree... he is a guy afterall..
Sure enough, he runs, jumps over the fence and disappears while we laugh at his gullibility.. a few seconds later we hear a loud yell/scream... we thought it was a joke!.. after a few minutes he comes back looking pallid..
We look at one another.. and finally I ask him what's wrong.. (hoping he wouldn't elaborate!)..
His eyes bulging.. he tells us that he think he pissed in a cemetery!!
You have got to know my stomach was hurting from all the laughing.. no way there's a cemetery right inside this complex! We make fun of his wild imagination and forget about the whole thing..

In the morning as I'm driving by my curiosity killing me.. I get out of the car.. and sure enough..

That is such an odd place to put a cemetery!.. it's not even outside the complex.

LOOOOOL.. the remains of the dead are probably rolling in indignation in their piss soaked graves..

2- I'm walking on campus and see this girl walking in high boots and a scandalously short skirt.. I mean from 10 feet away I could see waay too much.. and she was heading for the stairs!
As she turns, I realize she's this arab girl I know..
What would prod her to do that? I was surprised thinking it's some american chic.. nevermind an arab chic..

3- I'm sitting in a Biology recitation class-- where you read and present papers-- and this guy I know is giving a presentation. He's standing up at the podium next to an overhead projector and computers, monotonously going on and on.. I get bored and zone off.
As it goes into the 15 minute mark, and everyone looks bored, I start braiding my hair. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I see him -- as if in slow motion-- falling to the side towards the projector. I look up and this guy has fainted and fell next to all the computers and they in turn are now tipping over on him. I look around and no one is moving.. not even the professor.
Me being the oddity that I am, I run up the stage from the baaack row like tarzan on crack. When I get there I lean over him and ask "ARE YOU OK!".. as he's looking up at me I realize he's fine. I breath a sigh of relief.. and secretly pride myself on my quick reaction time.. I mean think of it.. I, my friends, am a HERO!

Now I feel awkward.. and instead of helping him up-- I turn and start picking up the computer!

I'm gonna make a great doctor.. Dr. Leeno.. central processing unit savior!

Hero.. just keep thinking that..

A cape is in order.. perhaps an award of accolade eh?.. I'll take whatever you'll give.

Roadtrip to the Second Arab Homeland..

2005-11-08T00:42:00.000-05:00

Having had a depressing first day of Eid, I decided that I would not wallow in self-pity and instead make the best of it.

After an hour of contemplating different options I decided I'd go on a roadtrip. I love driving my car, windows down, soft alternative music, warm day.. it's so therapeutic. My choices were either Pennsylvania or Virginia. I wanted to tour Lancaster, where all the amish live or I could go shopping in Virginia and enjoy seeing a bunch of arabs milling about.

I settled for the latter, mostly because I needed clothes since I'm allergic to shopping and always avoid it. Plus.. I just wanted to see a bunch of arabs, a lot of people just don't get this. Many go out of their way to avoid them. I'm surrounded by locals all yearlong. For me, sometimes just the sight of some good ol' arab blood is a comfort .. honestly I can't describe it.. it's like.. a weight is lifted off my heart.

I talk to my mom and mention my plan.. she asks who I'm going with and I said.. alone. It never occurred to me to invite anyone. That's the thing, in the past 2 years I've really grown to enjoy the company of myself.. and no it isn't odd. It's truly a .. serene feeling. I feel like people around me are so self-involved and can't just shut up for two seconds and enjoy what's around them.

Often I take to the road.. go random places and just walk around.. enjoy the scenery and the weather. It's amazing-- you're constantly surrounded by people most of your life and it's like a gray cloud you have to muddle through to get to the clear skies beyond.

But I digress...

So after an hour and a half I get to the mall.. they have real nice malls in Virginia. Tifta7 il nifs 3al shopping.
But the most interesting is of course the hoards and hoards of arabs there. Mostly khaleejis. I'd be walking and encounter a group of guys with oily, slicked back hair and painfully colorful clothing that would eye me .. and I know they're trying to figure if I'm "one of them" or not..

Or I walk by starbucks and it's jam packed full of arab guys lounging about.. what is it with us and starbucks?.. The Gulf alone probably has supported that franchise for decades to come

I go into Abercrombie & Fitch-- a classic blonde-bimbo-wannabe surfer white girl store-- and at the counter a young arab girl is purchasing a tanktop and shorts. She's not only wearing 7jab, but has also brought it across her nose.. creating and eerie alluring effect..

As I'm heading to another store, there's a guy on the phone and leaning against the rail outside. He's Saudi.. I heard him talking on the phone before he saw me.. I pass by and he turns..
As I walk into the store I smile knowing what's next..
Sure enough..as I'm admiring a gorgeous coat, he comes in and almost bumps into me while speaking obnoxiously loud on the phone.. in arabic. heh.. oh sweeeet familiarity!

This is obviously not to knock my fellow arabs.. one is just more likely to notice and be amused by the usual quirks.. I did have some other amazing encounters..

As I was sauntering along, I saw a woman in all black sitting down..
I had a flashback of Riyadh.. but wait! I'm not in Riyadh..
Is this woman really wearing an Abaya in the U.S !?

Yes indeed.. there she was in full black garb, complete with 3abaya and burgu3 too.
I swear to god, tears came to my eyes. I wanted to hug that woman..
I resigned myself to "salam 3alaikom"..
She looked up at me.. smiled easily and sallamat back.. and probably made my day.. heck my whole month.
I know it sounds odd .. but I just can't explain it.

I saw so much in this woman..

The way she sat comfortably.. she is who she is by choice-- be it back home or abroad-- .. as people pass by her they see nothing out of the ordinary because she carries herself with such confidence, dignity, and complete pride in who she is and where she is from.

I've personally never been so proud to be arab than I was at that moment.

3eed..!

2005-11-03T08:07:00.000-05:00

كل عام وانتو بخير, ينعاد علينا و عليكم بالخير و البركة..

Ahh how I miss Eid with my family :( ..
They're probably lazing about now.. My mom would be incessently cleaning and organizing.. my grandma calling out from the kitchen. My sister would be acting cool and wont wake up till 5 .. then she'll blare hidous music from her room.. heh..
My little cousins would be flooding the house making all kinds of noise..

and I sit here.. quietly.. contemplating this dire fate.. and why I'm wearing only one sock?

Anyhow.. 3eedkom mubarak!

Born too late..

2005-11-01T00:12:00.000-05:00

A few days ago I was possessed.. if I didn't go out dancing I was gonna go crazy.

I was hoping to have as much fun as I had on that one night a month ago..

I found out about this restaurant/lounge downtown that has a middle eastern night weekly.. Unfortunately it's the night of my night class which runs until 9:30pm. This place will not admit you after 10 if you're under 21.

Yours truly looks like she is 14.

My friend Moe is 22, so he's fine. My other friend Sara is under 21, but she had a fake ID. We get there and this place looks like an underground club.. it looked very nice. There are drums going, 5 to 6 belly dancers, and all kinds of middle easterners at the enterence.

We approach, and the bouncer eyes me, smiles, and asks for my ID and a $20 cover. I try to play off the ID and say "ohh I don't have cash.. where can I find an ATM?". He wasn't phased, he points me to where the ATM is, and asks for my ID, I give it to him.. he's like "sorry sweetheart.."

I insist that I wont be having a single drink.. I just wanted to watch the dancers and shake it a bit.. he refuses.

Moe elbows me.. and tells me in a low voice that he'll walk off and that I should try to appeal to the bouncer.. using my "charms" ...

Me..?!

Before I can protest he walks off casually..

I look at the bouncer.. the guy is is a big white man. He has on one of those biker hats and sweat beads and drips off of his forehead.. how am I supposed to butter him up?

Now I warn you, subtelty has never been a virtue of mine.. especially not under pressure.. Sara is looking at me expectantly ..

I look at the bouncer.. smile .. and this is what comes out of my mouth:

- "I like that bald look you've got going on"
He looks baffled..
--"I'm not baaald! "
He removes his biker hat revealing an archipelago of hair..
- "oh .. well, that's .. nice"

Sara groans..

I just couldn't bring myself to do it.. besides, I'm not privy to the wiles and skills of a female courtesan..
and I'm not eye candy! jeez..

Moe is down the street by now laughing his ass off..

We get back in the car and he drives around the town to make me feel better.. but lets face it.. the night was over.

I hadn't slept well in days anyway.. and I was tired. Moe starts talking about various conspiracy theories he has about why the city is so shabby and drug infested..I give him my own theory about how institutionalized education stifles those who think outside the box...

As his voice drones on .. I fall asleep and dream of the night of dancing I would've enjoyed had I only been born 2 years earlier

Culturally Etiquette-less!!!

2005-10-26T08:00:00.000-05:00

My blunders.. a.k.a "SOMEONE SHOULDA TOLD ME ABOUT THIS DAMNIT!"

1- You know how in Eid you say "Kol 3am o into b5air" ?... and when you go to sleep you say "Ti9ba7o 3ala 5air" ?
Well one Eid my mom's friends are calling our house because her cell was off, and I keep answering.. each one would say "kol 3am o inti b5air" and I'd reply "o inti min ahl al 5air" .. sounded good enough.. about 5 ladies later, one was nice enough to inform me that my reply was for goodnight-- "Ti9ba7o 3ala 5air" ..

Right now I can't remember the appropriate one for Eid anyway.. someone tell me before Eid comes!

2- An older relative of ours visits and no one is home but my uncle and I.

I had to "a9ub il gahwa" .. I figure this can't be that hard. I grab the coffee thingy.. and umm.. one of those cup thingies .. finjan ya! .. and I'm about to start pouring when my uncle gives me the evils.. and keeps twitching his head to the left...

Apparently I have to pour with my left... shouldn't I weight train for this?!
THEN.. I went to sit down.. boy o boy I thought his head was gonna steam off..
I learned that I had to stand until the old fool was done with coffee.. and refills.. all with my left hand.. disaster! (never mind the fact that you have to pour an exact amount.. not to the rim. and not halfway-- a piece of information lost on me that day)

3- I go to my cousin Naif's wedding in Jeddah

After we arrive, they start singing something about coffee and welcoming.. I think aww how cute.. and the ladies come around with arabic coffee. I'm sitting at a table with my mom and sister and some ladies we don't know (ahl il 3aroos) .. The women coming around with the coffee hand me, my mom, and my sister coffee.. but non for the two ladies!
I think how RUDE! .. and pass mine to them.. they look at me like "what the hell!"
Coffee was for ahly il 3arees only..
Shouldn't they put that in the lyrics or something.. geez!

4- Same wedding..

About an hour after we arrive, the bride and groom still haven't appeared.. I decide to duck in the lady's room.. about 5 minutes later I come back and the WHOLE room has covered up and is wearing their abaya..
I'm thinking "whaaat the hell.. is it over?! this is it!!?" .. so imagine me stopped in my tracks in the middle all confused.. and tadaaa... il zaffa badat.. and we have a bunch of the bride's brothers and uncles coming in...
Someone eventually pulls me away and explains.. I defiantly refuse to don my own black garb.. although I'm sure my statement was lost on all the bitches giving me the evils..

5- My uncle's wife was having her first baby and we were at the hospital..

She finally gets wheeled in to the Operation Room.. and I'm the only one sitting outside next to two old women waiting for their own.
One of them asks me who I'm waiting for.. I inform her.. and then she says something to the effect of "zoujat 5alik? bakur?" ...
I'm like "uhhh! NO!.. She's having the baby right now.. she wouldn't be in there if she was having it tomorow!"
"bakur" is a first timer.. not "bukra" .. as in tomorow..
Wonderful Leeno.. why don't you just go up there and slap the poor women!

6- My mom's friend drops by for a visit unannounced

I was the only one around. I greeted her appropriately and everything, brought her in.. made some chit chat .. and went to get my mom. At which point she started yelling that I was inconsiderate for not asking her to take off her Abaya.. and of course with my luck 6il3atly wa7da makkawiya mga3dda.. boy did I hear it.
She's like "ummik ma 3allimatik".. I told her to take it up with my mom.. she thought that was funny and I was off the hook..

7- A neighbor of ours...

Who's around 20 something years old and newly married invites us out to an "istira7a" where she's having a party. I figure no need to make an ass of myself.. and I dress very modestly.. I get there and people barely have any clothes on. I looked like the principle of a catholic school..

8- Same woman invites us again ..

This time to her sister's engagement.. not one to make the same mistake twice, I whipped out my miniskirt and camisole...
whatdya know..
Everyone is dressed in longsleeves and long skirts and dresses.. $%^%^$!!!

9- I find out that every saudi out there is into "Abu Nora" .. and having taken up Arabic music lately I felt the urge to listen to him too..
Try as I friggin may.. I could not find Abu Nora anywhere..
Conspiracy theories run through my mind.. perhaps he's an underground singer .. perhaps he's only for the priviliged few...? Any relation to MAMA NORA? .. coz then I already love him!

Only yesterday did I find out.. Abu Nora is Mohamed Abdu..

10- It was after Ramadan back home, my Arabic teacher was transferred to the Boy's section and we got some lady. So we hadn't seen him for some time, one day he comes by to say hello and I stick out my hand to shake his.. he puts his on his chest .. and there I am with my hand stuck out looking very much idiotic. Then.. to seal the idiocy seal I say "Haaao ! Sallim!" haha.. and the poor man does.

So many rules.. Can't someone publish a book or something!!!

I'm sure I'll be fully ostracized and disowned by the end of the year..

and life goes on... Hermes Birkin bag

2005-10-23T22:09:00.000-05:00

My friend and I were having an argument..

Actually, usually I'm excited about something and start arguing with him.. and he really doesn't give a rat's ass.. but sometimes he'll indulge me and play the devil's advocate..

Wonderful relationship.. (sense the sarcasm people)

Anyhow.. this day's discussion is .. well.. a bag! A handbag that is.. my friend has great taste.. he's great to turn to for anything I wanna buy .. and I stumbled upon this bag in my search:

I asked what he thought of it .. he's says"it's cute" .. and I say "I think it's the ugliest thing I've ever seen" .. he's replies "ya it's alright"..
I ask him to guess how much it is, he's like " 40 to 60 bucks.. I wouldn't pay over that for it if I were you"

Well the bag is $6,990 friggin dollars... and this is what drives me crazy.. he says:
"Well I guess it's cute after all.."

I don't understand the sudden obsession people have these days..
I can sort of understand the love of material posessions.. but for god's sake.. 7 grand for a bag!.. Hell I didn't even carry a handbag until 3 years ago when everything I needed just wouldn't fit in my pocket anymore..
But then to try to justify that it's worth it? .. and that it IS actually cute now that it's outrageously expensive..

Save your denial for the therapy couch..

Just to clarify.. I do NOT have a problem with someone wanting something expensive because they do actually like it.. and can afford it (and I don't mean mommy and daddy.. ) I've been guilty of buying things beyond reason .. but please.. draw the line between the love of shopping and sheer madness..

Then there's insecurity .. well it'll never be fulfilled with a bag anyway.. invest in therapy..

At the risk of sounding preachy.. can you imagine how much the life of someone less fortunate can be changed with that amount of money.. All I'm gonna say is .. people can't find food...

You haven't seen anything yet...

Guess how much this one is?

Well.. this one is not TOO awful looking.. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing it.. but that's just me.. ostentation has never been my thing

Anyway.. it's... drummmmm roolllll....$35,500 ..

Why not carry a clear plastic bag with 40 grand in it.. carrying that monstrosity is just as subtle..

In the word's of my friend "Well thaaat's a rip off.."

Sweetheart that's not a rip off.. that's College Tuition..

Here's an idea.. instead of investing in the enlargement of kirshit Hermes' , pay for my Medical school and I'll let ya carry me around.. I have a year round perfect tan.. and I'm cuter :p !

Twilight Zone!

2005-10-14T23:32:00.000-05:00

I'm really tired but I just have to write about this before going to sleep..

I just had the weirdest experience ever.. I don't even know how to feel about it.

My only weekend off, my friends and I decided to go to a Shisha shop 2 minutes away. When we get there a couple of other people we know are there.. 2 girls.. one arab one african.. a saudi 7jazi guy.. the owner and his wife. My friends consist of an arab guy and girl. We sit and the other group start talking.. very loudly, rowdy, and finally they even get lewd.
The Saudi guy is cursing right and left at these girls and they all laugh.. I'm talking curses that involve animals.. shoes.. level of intelligence.. it was unbelievable. They start talking about a drag show they went to...! Men dressed up as women.. vice versa.. homosexuality.. it was disgusting. The owner and his wife were noticably uncomfortable..

I was appalled by the saudi guy's manner.. he started talking about how the girls didn't know the difference between 7aram and not 7aram and he tries to make his point to me as I meekly smile and nod.. finally my guy friend asks that we leave. Outside, we're talking by our car and the other girls get in a cab and are waiting for the saudi guy.. he comes out and curses their mothers.. (and not just "yil3an") .. and they all laugh. My friend was looking at me like "can you believe this!" ..

Twilight zone...

I shoulda just stayed home and watched 20/20. Barbara Walters conducted King Abdulla's first interview since he took the rein. Did anyone catch it?

She came to saudi:
" I sat in the men's section in a starbucks and was asked to leave" .. no shit!
I hate american journalism.. here's the transcript: http://abcnews.go.com/2020/International/story?id=1214706&page=1

Funny excerpt:

WALTERS: Let's talk about Iran … Iran has become more powerful as a result of the turmoil in Iraq. Do you see that as a concern for Saudi Arabia?
ABDULLAH: The questioner is often times more knowledgeable than the questionee.