I’ve decided not to resolve to go to the gym more often. If shamoo got along just fine I’m sure I can manage aswell.
I’ve decided not to resolve to find happiness, I spend enough time as it is looking for my keys. It just doesn’t make any sense to be wasting the rest of it looking for something I can’t even define. I’ll do something more productive. Two letters! TV. “Time well wasted”.
I’ve decided not to stress about the “what am I going to do and where do I go from here” and because I tend to forget about this, I’m gonna use the incredible hulk as a visual reminder that the push and pull of a constipation face are accompanied with, but by no means justification for the popping veins, arteries and stretch marks that are bound to make an appearance along my neck with age.
I’ve decided not to let my chiwawa imitating cubicle buddy’s snoring deter me from taking the shorter path past his cubicle to the water cooler. Sayantandamo ila the ho-hum white noise that surrounds me at the office.
I’ve decided that being a “lady” doesn’t mean I can’t swear to express myself. Tthere is absolutely nothing wrong to resorting to having to slip a “motherfuckin” ever so quickly and so often in between words of “imprortance” like annual and report to blow off steam. I’ll mimic the splicing of porn images through out chuck palahniuk’s fight club. You never know if you actually saw/heard what you did but it’s in there! Was it your mortherfuckin imagination playing tricks on you again or did I just actually say “motherfuckin”?
I’ve decided that not resolving is just the same as resolving and so I will resolve to abandon the resolution process or lack there off.
P.S one more: I’ve resolved not to knock curling as a sport.
Play It! Don’t watch it!
Friday, December 29, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
The scenic route gets you there.
I haven’t posted anything in forever, and every time I write something it’s on a diskette somewhere and never lands on here. Usually nonsensical ramblings in my mind and so perhaps better that way. But today is different. Today I have something to share other than my ever-present nonsensical whirlings of thought.
I went to a conference on the weekend with a girlfriend of mine that I hoped, as the name mentioned, would “Revive my Islamic spirit”. I’ve never actually been to one of these events in all my years in Canada and will admit that I’ve had a bias towards them that wasn’t entirely based on experience but largely on prejudice. I’ve always just assumed that such events like this would be a lot more hardcore than I could handle and that I’d come home feeling worse about myself and my practice than I did going in but, I was more than pleasantly surprised. It was refreshing to see so many Muslims gathered in one place in the most wonderful way. Lots of salaams, loads of smiles and best of all no chaos. The website was updated throughout the weekend, the sessions were on time, the bazaar was full of reading material from Rumi to Ghazali and hardcover picture books of ancient Islamic architecture to children’s stories lined the tables. The washrooms were magnificently maintained and the audio levels alongside the visual displays were impeccable. You could hear the speeches wherever you sat and could clearly see the speakers on the big screens. I also finally managed to land myself a CD with solely the nay on it. I’ve been hunting for this sort of thing for my Sunday bubble bath for ages now to no avail. Even better still, not only did I make the acquaintance of an incredibly sweet Turkish uncle who makes the funkiest jewllery but I also discovered that he could hook me up with some nay lessons! I ran into almost every single Muslim I’ve ever met since I moved here, I chuckled at the mc’s introduction for Ihab tawfik’s asma2 allah il husna performance. Cuz there is absolutely nothing funnier than an mc struggling with the words “sa7rany”, “tetraga feya” and “ya salam” as he pretends to be an announcer for the wrestling federation moments before Ihab busts out into anasheed deneeya. The screaming higabi and niqabi teenagers at Outlandish’s performance was also a refreshing flash of reality and helped me realize that perhaps we’re all in the same boat. A boat where it’s not so easy to keep the faith the way each and every one of use would like and that everyone slips here and there surrounded by temptations that are way more accessible than is sometimes good for the average human. And though the speakers were wonderfully eloquent and delivered speeches about modesty and finding a middle ground between assimilation and integration it was the rabbi that gave me something to think about. First and foremost, I thought it was incredibly clever for the organizer’s to invite this gentleman to speak at the conference along side one of the most influential shaykhs in North America. The visual image of them sitting side by side alone projected a message that for the most part the world does not get to see. They both spoke about the same topic but each in their individual respect and from both their speeches I think I was able to draw my own conclusions. The rabbi‘s speech tickled my fancy and gave me just enough to make me see that I know close to nothing about Judaism and that perhaps It was time to unveil the shroud of ignorance. I crack me up with my extreme sense of drama! Who says that? Unveil the shroud of ignorance? It’s too good… its got nuts and cheese written all over it. Anyways back to business. The rabbi spoke of the word YHWH, better known in English as Jehovah, four letters that are not to be pronounced in Jewish tradition. This concept on its own has profound meaning and in it extreme wisdom as well. It is typically human to want to label things. Our need to identify and point a finger is what gets a lot of us into trouble seeing as how it is the basis for stereotypes. Place a label on something and you limit it to the capacity of that name or more specifically people’s ability to comprehend the full scope of the idea or the object. Take away the right to put things in a box and doing so you allow the idea or object to retain its meaning or attributes. I think I’m onto something here….
Labels limit that which is being labeled to the scope of how those who identify it understand or define that label.
And so the letters in the word Jehovah, written YHWH, are symbols. The first letter indicates the future tense and the last three denote the present. The idea, as this rabbi put it, is that the word for God is a power capable of transforming that which is now into that which it should be in the future. There is sheer brilliance in such a definition, it is abstract in nature yet extremely expressive. It allows room for each to draw their own specifics not limited or constrained to things that limit the soul and imagination. And after reflecting on the nature of the word and its lack of constraints I came to the conclusion that this too is how I relate to Islam. All these rules that sometimes seem stringent are generally those placed on ourselves through the projection of what these rules mean to others. The arrival at this thought was strangely liberating for me. Seeing the guidelines as means of empowerment as opposed to a means of suppression or repression has me walking on air. The rules are what I make of them. I create my own reality. And as long as I don’t go around killing or stealing then I figure I’m fine and that it’s all relative. It’s strange that it was the rabbi that indirectly helped me see this fact. Another interesting thing I learned through my follow up reading was that the word Elohim used instead of Jehovah is a Hebrew word that expresses concepts of divinity. In a grammatical sense it is a plural noun governing a singular verb in essence a plural that refers to a single deity. A concept that I could best relate to the many names of Allah. And in all this comparing and contrasting between religions and beliefs I’ve just reiterated and made tangible in my own head the fact that we are all the same. Much like the unique branches of a tree each filled with leaves swaying in the wind at their own leisure but all quintessentially from the same root.
I went to a conference on the weekend with a girlfriend of mine that I hoped, as the name mentioned, would “Revive my Islamic spirit”. I’ve never actually been to one of these events in all my years in Canada and will admit that I’ve had a bias towards them that wasn’t entirely based on experience but largely on prejudice. I’ve always just assumed that such events like this would be a lot more hardcore than I could handle and that I’d come home feeling worse about myself and my practice than I did going in but, I was more than pleasantly surprised. It was refreshing to see so many Muslims gathered in one place in the most wonderful way. Lots of salaams, loads of smiles and best of all no chaos. The website was updated throughout the weekend, the sessions were on time, the bazaar was full of reading material from Rumi to Ghazali and hardcover picture books of ancient Islamic architecture to children’s stories lined the tables. The washrooms were magnificently maintained and the audio levels alongside the visual displays were impeccable. You could hear the speeches wherever you sat and could clearly see the speakers on the big screens. I also finally managed to land myself a CD with solely the nay on it. I’ve been hunting for this sort of thing for my Sunday bubble bath for ages now to no avail. Even better still, not only did I make the acquaintance of an incredibly sweet Turkish uncle who makes the funkiest jewllery but I also discovered that he could hook me up with some nay lessons! I ran into almost every single Muslim I’ve ever met since I moved here, I chuckled at the mc’s introduction for Ihab tawfik’s asma2 allah il husna performance. Cuz there is absolutely nothing funnier than an mc struggling with the words “sa7rany”, “tetraga feya” and “ya salam” as he pretends to be an announcer for the wrestling federation moments before Ihab busts out into anasheed deneeya. The screaming higabi and niqabi teenagers at Outlandish’s performance was also a refreshing flash of reality and helped me realize that perhaps we’re all in the same boat. A boat where it’s not so easy to keep the faith the way each and every one of use would like and that everyone slips here and there surrounded by temptations that are way more accessible than is sometimes good for the average human. And though the speakers were wonderfully eloquent and delivered speeches about modesty and finding a middle ground between assimilation and integration it was the rabbi that gave me something to think about. First and foremost, I thought it was incredibly clever for the organizer’s to invite this gentleman to speak at the conference along side one of the most influential shaykhs in North America. The visual image of them sitting side by side alone projected a message that for the most part the world does not get to see. They both spoke about the same topic but each in their individual respect and from both their speeches I think I was able to draw my own conclusions. The rabbi‘s speech tickled my fancy and gave me just enough to make me see that I know close to nothing about Judaism and that perhaps It was time to unveil the shroud of ignorance. I crack me up with my extreme sense of drama! Who says that? Unveil the shroud of ignorance? It’s too good… its got nuts and cheese written all over it. Anyways back to business. The rabbi spoke of the word YHWH, better known in English as Jehovah, four letters that are not to be pronounced in Jewish tradition. This concept on its own has profound meaning and in it extreme wisdom as well. It is typically human to want to label things. Our need to identify and point a finger is what gets a lot of us into trouble seeing as how it is the basis for stereotypes. Place a label on something and you limit it to the capacity of that name or more specifically people’s ability to comprehend the full scope of the idea or the object. Take away the right to put things in a box and doing so you allow the idea or object to retain its meaning or attributes. I think I’m onto something here….
Labels limit that which is being labeled to the scope of how those who identify it understand or define that label.
And so the letters in the word Jehovah, written YHWH, are symbols. The first letter indicates the future tense and the last three denote the present. The idea, as this rabbi put it, is that the word for God is a power capable of transforming that which is now into that which it should be in the future. There is sheer brilliance in such a definition, it is abstract in nature yet extremely expressive. It allows room for each to draw their own specifics not limited or constrained to things that limit the soul and imagination. And after reflecting on the nature of the word and its lack of constraints I came to the conclusion that this too is how I relate to Islam. All these rules that sometimes seem stringent are generally those placed on ourselves through the projection of what these rules mean to others. The arrival at this thought was strangely liberating for me. Seeing the guidelines as means of empowerment as opposed to a means of suppression or repression has me walking on air. The rules are what I make of them. I create my own reality. And as long as I don’t go around killing or stealing then I figure I’m fine and that it’s all relative. It’s strange that it was the rabbi that indirectly helped me see this fact. Another interesting thing I learned through my follow up reading was that the word Elohim used instead of Jehovah is a Hebrew word that expresses concepts of divinity. In a grammatical sense it is a plural noun governing a singular verb in essence a plural that refers to a single deity. A concept that I could best relate to the many names of Allah. And in all this comparing and contrasting between religions and beliefs I’ve just reiterated and made tangible in my own head the fact that we are all the same. Much like the unique branches of a tree each filled with leaves swaying in the wind at their own leisure but all quintessentially from the same root.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Just add water
As I get older I’ve started to notice that I’ve developed a refined taste for the sort of outings I enjoy. The excitement of getting away with the regular run of the mill loitering at random places specifically prohibiting casual lounging doesn’t seem to cut it for me anymore. I have needs damn it! There needs to be substance. I need to come home feeling like.. ahhhh I’m glad I got dressed. I mean really all the freaking bending over to put my shoes on and raising of arms to get my shirt over my head needs to be justified somehow. I need to be brought home with a rejuvenated sense of self and energy and I’m not talking that little kick you get from too much wasabi. I’m talking a good high. The kind that doesn’t make you want to kill yourself because you’re so far removed. And so I set out to recreate the perfect soire.
Number 1) Avoid outings with girlfriends that are confused about your relationship. A girlfriend that cries because you not calling her enough is a sure sign you don’t love her is probably a tad more drama than the average common folk can handle. Should you find yourself in said situation however, trust me when I say, hugging and reassuring her that she’s just being overly EMO and that that surely isn’t the scenario will in all likeliness encourage the behavior and increase the volume of the sobbing. Point being, you need company that’s comfortable in the skin they’re in. It not only reduces the amount of drama but also the amount of showmanship and fake flattery. There is nothing worse than being complemented on your fabulous eye make up skills when attempting to camouflage a mosquito bite. Also, remember that while talk of how walking by a mirror stopped another girlfriend dead in her tracks long enough to thank god for all her beauty and the debate on whether or not the spaghetti strap is indeed more risqué than the normal sleeveless shirt may have you laughing or entertained for a couple of minutes it inevitably gives you that feeling like you get when you upchuck a part of your food and swallow it again accidentally. You’re grossed out by yourself and can do absolutely nothing about it but cover up the taste. It is vital that your chosen company be able to thoroughly engage in intellectual conversation on a level deeper than name throwing and hand flailing. Minimizing the casualties when every single drop of mascara in the house runs out is hardly a battle to be raving about. Bells definitely need to be a ringing ages before you’re told to step a little to the left because there’s no sense in both of you being tanned, might as well help protect your fair and lovely milky white skinned friend from the sun. Long story short… make sure the thorny crowns of drama are left at home.
People who can take things at face value, don’t take themselves too seriously, can laugh, talk about random things that don’t revolve around their lack of relationships, abundant relationships, sexual frustration, restructuring of the organization they work at, THE budget, financial strife, or how the kids are teething generally get the job done.
Requirement number 2) you need a mission or purpose as your ultimate goal but recognize that it may not be entirely achievable. And I mean a true mission that doesn’t revolve around satisfying the rumbly in your tumbly. Something along lines of the adoption and implementation of operation save someone’s life by contributing a whopping dollar or to two at the art gallery hosting an auction where the proceeds go to amnesty international. You need to completely believe in the mission and its importance no matter how insignificant or dismal.
Number3) Have a severe disregard for your expertise in the horology department, take Salvador Dali’s exploding clock on as your mascot and pretend like time doesn’t exist. Stressing about getting somewhere on time just takes the fun out of ze journey.
Hope for Good weather but if not then make damn sure you have a good pair of gloves.
And last but not least don’t go out expecting to have an amazing time. LOWERED EXPECTATIONS can make a trip to the Laundromat feel like a day spent on roller coasters at your local theme park.
And voila! If you’re not an overly anal person, that’s my recipe to instant good times.
Number 1) Avoid outings with girlfriends that are confused about your relationship. A girlfriend that cries because you not calling her enough is a sure sign you don’t love her is probably a tad more drama than the average common folk can handle. Should you find yourself in said situation however, trust me when I say, hugging and reassuring her that she’s just being overly EMO and that that surely isn’t the scenario will in all likeliness encourage the behavior and increase the volume of the sobbing. Point being, you need company that’s comfortable in the skin they’re in. It not only reduces the amount of drama but also the amount of showmanship and fake flattery. There is nothing worse than being complemented on your fabulous eye make up skills when attempting to camouflage a mosquito bite. Also, remember that while talk of how walking by a mirror stopped another girlfriend dead in her tracks long enough to thank god for all her beauty and the debate on whether or not the spaghetti strap is indeed more risqué than the normal sleeveless shirt may have you laughing or entertained for a couple of minutes it inevitably gives you that feeling like you get when you upchuck a part of your food and swallow it again accidentally. You’re grossed out by yourself and can do absolutely nothing about it but cover up the taste. It is vital that your chosen company be able to thoroughly engage in intellectual conversation on a level deeper than name throwing and hand flailing. Minimizing the casualties when every single drop of mascara in the house runs out is hardly a battle to be raving about. Bells definitely need to be a ringing ages before you’re told to step a little to the left because there’s no sense in both of you being tanned, might as well help protect your fair and lovely milky white skinned friend from the sun. Long story short… make sure the thorny crowns of drama are left at home.
People who can take things at face value, don’t take themselves too seriously, can laugh, talk about random things that don’t revolve around their lack of relationships, abundant relationships, sexual frustration, restructuring of the organization they work at, THE budget, financial strife, or how the kids are teething generally get the job done.
Requirement number 2) you need a mission or purpose as your ultimate goal but recognize that it may not be entirely achievable. And I mean a true mission that doesn’t revolve around satisfying the rumbly in your tumbly. Something along lines of the adoption and implementation of operation save someone’s life by contributing a whopping dollar or to two at the art gallery hosting an auction where the proceeds go to amnesty international. You need to completely believe in the mission and its importance no matter how insignificant or dismal.
Number3) Have a severe disregard for your expertise in the horology department, take Salvador Dali’s exploding clock on as your mascot and pretend like time doesn’t exist. Stressing about getting somewhere on time just takes the fun out of ze journey.
Hope for Good weather but if not then make damn sure you have a good pair of gloves.
And last but not least don’t go out expecting to have an amazing time. LOWERED EXPECTATIONS can make a trip to the Laundromat feel like a day spent on roller coasters at your local theme park.
And voila! If you’re not an overly anal person, that’s my recipe to instant good times.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Could this be my fetish?
I think I’ve developed quite the fetish for talking to random strangers. It gives me this sense of freedom, this sense of inspiration and this sense of security. I feel like I could essentially reinvent myself each and every time. It’s totally crazy how not being able to anticipate the other person’s judgment gives me this sense of security. They have no pre conceived notion of how I think or what type of person I am. And I could essentially become anyone in their eyes… of course the novelty wears off after the first conversation and eventually people catch on that you’re not super mean, self absorbed or dim witted But its oh so much fun while it lasts. Of all the persona’s I’ve taken on in the exploration of my fetish I’d have to say that dim witted is my ultimate favorite. It’s amazing how people light up when they feel like they can teach you something you don’t already know. They give themselves value or credit for setting your knowledge straight and in that process I feel a sense of confidence come over them. The fun part about this persona is keeping it within reason and not going overboard… keeping it believable. People start to look at you funny if you’re totally empty upstairs … they wonder how on earth you’re where you are doing what you do given the lack of amazing good looks but just enough dumbness creates a comfort zone for most people.
Another fun personality is the continuously obnoxious laughing type. This persona totally puts people on edge pushes them to the max and exposes the person within. At first they’re not sure if you’re laughing at them or with them and when they figure that its not at them they grimace and crinkle their eyebrows.. they’re passive in their listening and will do anything within reason to end the conversation. If the person is tolerant they smile politely and nod in agreement but often times people will dismiss the laughter. They’ve labeled you as unworthy and would much rather conserve their energy for something else.
The deeply troubled, extremely sad persona is what brings out the gold stuff in most people I find. They listen to every single word… every sentence trying to grasp the reason for all the sadness. Unable to produce empathy most will do the best they can and at least provide sympathy. The “lets fix it” instincts kick in and all of a sudden you’re presented with a world of solutions to your “problem” on a silver platter.
If nothing more, these little experiments teach me a lot about people. They’re quite amusing and usually harmless if it is only a one time encounter.
Another fun personality is the continuously obnoxious laughing type. This persona totally puts people on edge pushes them to the max and exposes the person within. At first they’re not sure if you’re laughing at them or with them and when they figure that its not at them they grimace and crinkle their eyebrows.. they’re passive in their listening and will do anything within reason to end the conversation. If the person is tolerant they smile politely and nod in agreement but often times people will dismiss the laughter. They’ve labeled you as unworthy and would much rather conserve their energy for something else.
The deeply troubled, extremely sad persona is what brings out the gold stuff in most people I find. They listen to every single word… every sentence trying to grasp the reason for all the sadness. Unable to produce empathy most will do the best they can and at least provide sympathy. The “lets fix it” instincts kick in and all of a sudden you’re presented with a world of solutions to your “problem” on a silver platter.
If nothing more, these little experiments teach me a lot about people. They’re quite amusing and usually harmless if it is only a one time encounter.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
I vunder
1-Do the crazies know they are crazy? Does the questioning of your craziness make you a little sane?
2-Why do soap dispensers in public washrooms make you want to chop off your hands because the soap smells like stale vomit with chunks in it?
3-Is self marketing all it is made out to be? If you tell the world you are all that and a bag of chips do they eventually buy into it? Or is that just a mechanism to make people feel better about themselves?
4-Does the making of pretty necessarily indicate a lot of spare time? Isn’t it one thing to look nice and presentable and another to constantly look like you’re going to a wedding? Or should that be attributed to a magnificent ability to multitask?
5-If high maintenance is a piss off then why do we actively seek it out?
6-How can conversations with random strangers bring so much satisfaction compared to those with people who know you best?
7-To own someone’s heart in a much different way than they own yours is a privilege all too often taken for granted. A power all too often abused by the undeserving. How do you stay true to yourself, to that heart and the way of the world all at the same time?
8-I survive on the breath you are finished with. gag inducing or tear inducing?
9-How do you avoid the drama when its in your head?
10-How can stagnation be that much more powerful than change?
11-What if jack Nicolson was right and this is “as good as it gets”?
12-Why can’t I ever find Osheen at block buster?
13-Why were the subtitles in a lame color that blended into the background when I found the one episode?
14-Is it possible for someone to snap into reality overnight? And become an entirely different person?
15-Perhaps a major tragedy is in order to get the engine jump started? With great loss comes change?
16-What if I’m living my dreams and dreaming my life? For someone that barely dreams… shouldn’t that thought scare the crap out of me?
17-Can you force yourself into adulthood? The state of limbo leaves you neither here nor there no?
18-For the life of me I can’t see the art in Inuit throat singing. The rhythm I suppose is kind of cool but really other than that where is the appeal?
19-How do you get captain Majed “inahom yal3abon korit il kadam b 3onf” from captain Tsubasa?
20-Why is the ChaCha so difficult to master?!
21-Why didn’t the instructor visit the dentist when his teeth started to turn a dark yellow?
22-Why didn’t Escher use color? It’s kind of Ironic his name being Escher and all. Add a “sk at the beginning and we’re set.
2-Why do soap dispensers in public washrooms make you want to chop off your hands because the soap smells like stale vomit with chunks in it?
3-Is self marketing all it is made out to be? If you tell the world you are all that and a bag of chips do they eventually buy into it? Or is that just a mechanism to make people feel better about themselves?
4-Does the making of pretty necessarily indicate a lot of spare time? Isn’t it one thing to look nice and presentable and another to constantly look like you’re going to a wedding? Or should that be attributed to a magnificent ability to multitask?
5-If high maintenance is a piss off then why do we actively seek it out?
6-How can conversations with random strangers bring so much satisfaction compared to those with people who know you best?
7-To own someone’s heart in a much different way than they own yours is a privilege all too often taken for granted. A power all too often abused by the undeserving. How do you stay true to yourself, to that heart and the way of the world all at the same time?
8-I survive on the breath you are finished with. gag inducing or tear inducing?
9-How do you avoid the drama when its in your head?
10-How can stagnation be that much more powerful than change?
11-What if jack Nicolson was right and this is “as good as it gets”?
12-Why can’t I ever find Osheen at block buster?
13-Why were the subtitles in a lame color that blended into the background when I found the one episode?
14-Is it possible for someone to snap into reality overnight? And become an entirely different person?
15-Perhaps a major tragedy is in order to get the engine jump started? With great loss comes change?
16-What if I’m living my dreams and dreaming my life? For someone that barely dreams… shouldn’t that thought scare the crap out of me?
17-Can you force yourself into adulthood? The state of limbo leaves you neither here nor there no?
18-For the life of me I can’t see the art in Inuit throat singing. The rhythm I suppose is kind of cool but really other than that where is the appeal?
19-How do you get captain Majed “inahom yal3abon korit il kadam b 3onf” from captain Tsubasa?
20-Why is the ChaCha so difficult to master?!
21-Why didn’t the instructor visit the dentist when his teeth started to turn a dark yellow?
22-Why didn’t Escher use color? It’s kind of Ironic his name being Escher and all. Add a “sk at the beginning and we’re set.
Monday, December 04, 2006
A vision through Santa
The long queue of children and parents at Santa clause land in the mall this weekend got me thinking about how lucky these children are. Here they are laughing and excited at the thought of meeting Santa clause, A “terrifying” yet fictional character. I can’t help but get visual images of a boy I saw crying on a news station with the exact same zeal. Except his fear wasn’t based on a fairytale or his imagination his fear was real. A boy crying not because he doesn’t like the sound of the ho ho hoing but because he is now partially deaf in the after math of having had his house brought down to rubble with his family in it. I am constantly surprised to find that children no where old enough to remotely understand the dynamics of politics are the ones who understand the wars best. Their emotions are raw and so real. They do not know who did what to whom or who started how but all they know is that the “war” that the adults speak of… claimed a friends leg making it impossible for him to play soccer on the streets with the rest of them. This “war”, has them playing soldiers and school kids instead of cops and robbers. They do no see that these wars have taken away their childhood and forced many of them to become adults way too soon. That it has forced tears down their cheeks. It has managed to break them in ways unfathomable to many of these kids prancing around santa’s helpers. That this war has made them orphans and worse yet callus and indifferent to the brutality. Its only fit that a picture of a child, namely Hanzala be the visual symbol of the injustice.
“His hands behind his back as a symbol of rejection to all the present negative tides. 'Hanzala', the brain child of the late political cartoonist Nagi el-Ali, has been adopted because he is affectionate, honest, outspoken, and a bum. He is neither beautiful, spoilt, nor even well-fed. He is barefoot like many children in refugee camps. He is the symbol of a just cause and the official logo of the Commission for Freedom and Justice Through Humor, a recently created arm of WATCH and an affiliate of UNESCO.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
I’d forgotten that
… there is a frenzy that takes hold of shopping malls around this time of year.
… once Remembrance Day is out of the way it’s consumer madness to the bitter end.
… the carols are now absolutely inescapable.
… the only plants of color for the longest while are the pretty Poinsettias and the balls of holly
… clothing decorated with snow men, reindeers and bells are now no longer a faux pas.
… long drives now have a new found purspose that of which entails ohhing and ahhhing at pretty lights with hot chocolate in hand.
But its coming back to me now and I love it!
It should be fun having Eid roll around at approximately the same time, be able to join in on the festivities and have it relate to something personal. I rather like the idea that three of the world’s major religions will be united in their celebrations!
… once Remembrance Day is out of the way it’s consumer madness to the bitter end.
… the carols are now absolutely inescapable.
… the only plants of color for the longest while are the pretty Poinsettias and the balls of holly
… clothing decorated with snow men, reindeers and bells are now no longer a faux pas.
… long drives now have a new found purspose that of which entails ohhing and ahhhing at pretty lights with hot chocolate in hand.
But its coming back to me now and I love it!
It should be fun having Eid roll around at approximately the same time, be able to join in on the festivities and have it relate to something personal. I rather like the idea that three of the world’s major religions will be united in their celebrations!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
A picture is worth a million words
I was browsing through some of the week in pictures on some news or media sight when I came across a photograph of three soldiers fully dressed in all their protective gear. Helmets and riffles in hand. The one soldier was lying on the ground with his arms at his side seemingly unconscious or severely injured. While the second soldier is hunched over pulling him by the collar “out of harms way”. This soldier’s lower back was slightly exposed, his shirt was un-tucked due to what could only be the struggle of dragging his fellow comrade’s entire weight across the ground. In the distance… There was a third soldier, his boots dusty from the rubble, his rifle perfectly positioned under his arm, his forehead soaked in sweat, skin bright red from some kind of a struggle and most expressive of all he wore a distressed but in control look on his face as he ran past the other two soldiers courageously towards the conflict and at the same time perfectly facing the camera. A paint by numbers horror war scene wouldn’t you say? A man down, another trying to save him and the third facing the fury of the enemy. I couldn’t bear to imagine the horrific scene that the running soldier was willingly and consciously running towards. As I was about to flip to the next photo I got this itch of curiosity as to where the photo had been taken and by whom. So I’m glancing over the text around the photo when I read a TINY caption that read “an Israeli soldier helps a friend after being injured by a stone thrown by an 8 year old boy”
This image was what allowed me to truely grasp Noam chomsky’s “indoctrination”.
Much like the partial blindfolds placed on a horse so as to control its straying from the middle of the road, I was lead to believe that this poor man had been injured while heroically defending the policies and rights of his people. What a crock of crap that turned out to be. War just like everything else has now become commercial. The news stations sell nothing short of propaganda. They don’t lie but don’t present the whole truth either. They only give you the portion that will naturally lead any rational person to the same conclusions they(those in charge) have arrived at. And that being
This is a necessary evil. This is a legitimate Cause. We are not only fighting for our personal benefits but for those of humanity as a whole.
And so like the partially blind folded horse that they are, people go out and buy bumper stickers that read “support our troops” and go around deeming anything remotely related or similar to their invisible monster as a threat. And because it is this form of media that keeps them “informed” and gives them a false sense of security they return to it time and time again jonesing for more. Information junkies addicted to a drug that eventually will cause nothing more than massive internal hemorrhaging due to misinformation. And so the launch of the English Aljazeera has me giddy with excitement. Their visuals are impeccable and their presentation in English makes them harder to ignore. Why you ask will this media source differ from the rest? How do we guarantee we’re not seeing only a part of the truth. Well the answer is simple. We don’t. But given the circumstances under which this little channel surfaced I’m tempted to think they have no prerogative or agenda. Unlike CNN’s financial dependence on it’s sponsors, who can’t be blamed for perusing their own interests, this channel is owned by one prince with loads of money to spare all with the intention to simply have his people heard. Some ways down the road I suppose It potentially runs the risk of being a personal agenda campaign but as it currently stands… I’m enjoying the alternate stand point, the variety in story coverage and the multi cultural staff.
From the very few stories I’ve seen on it so far It is clear that hiding the ugly is something they don’t want to do.
I imagine it’ll be closed down fairly soon due to some sort of legal mumbo jumbo but in the mean time I think its about time CNN and the BBC got a little run for their money and dealt with some competition.
This image was what allowed me to truely grasp Noam chomsky’s “indoctrination”.
Much like the partial blindfolds placed on a horse so as to control its straying from the middle of the road, I was lead to believe that this poor man had been injured while heroically defending the policies and rights of his people. What a crock of crap that turned out to be. War just like everything else has now become commercial. The news stations sell nothing short of propaganda. They don’t lie but don’t present the whole truth either. They only give you the portion that will naturally lead any rational person to the same conclusions they(those in charge) have arrived at. And that being
This is a necessary evil. This is a legitimate Cause. We are not only fighting for our personal benefits but for those of humanity as a whole.
And so like the partially blind folded horse that they are, people go out and buy bumper stickers that read “support our troops” and go around deeming anything remotely related or similar to their invisible monster as a threat. And because it is this form of media that keeps them “informed” and gives them a false sense of security they return to it time and time again jonesing for more. Information junkies addicted to a drug that eventually will cause nothing more than massive internal hemorrhaging due to misinformation. And so the launch of the English Aljazeera has me giddy with excitement. Their visuals are impeccable and their presentation in English makes them harder to ignore. Why you ask will this media source differ from the rest? How do we guarantee we’re not seeing only a part of the truth. Well the answer is simple. We don’t. But given the circumstances under which this little channel surfaced I’m tempted to think they have no prerogative or agenda. Unlike CNN’s financial dependence on it’s sponsors, who can’t be blamed for perusing their own interests, this channel is owned by one prince with loads of money to spare all with the intention to simply have his people heard. Some ways down the road I suppose It potentially runs the risk of being a personal agenda campaign but as it currently stands… I’m enjoying the alternate stand point, the variety in story coverage and the multi cultural staff.
From the very few stories I’ve seen on it so far It is clear that hiding the ugly is something they don’t want to do.
I imagine it’ll be closed down fairly soon due to some sort of legal mumbo jumbo but in the mean time I think its about time CNN and the BBC got a little run for their money and dealt with some competition.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Married manitis!
Is it possible to emit these magnetic forces from some sort of device embedded under your skin without even knowing you’re doing that?
I’m honestly starting to wonder if I’m in some Truman show movie replica where the twist is that married men are the way of the world.
Why does it seem like every corner I turn introduces a wonderful but “unavailable” man into my life?
How is it humanly possible for this many similar incidences to occur without me having some sort of premeditated intention to want to recreate them?
Is it true that you attract the type of person you think you can’t do better than?
I’ve seen it a million times. Girl thinks she can’t be with anything better than a drunk so all her boyfriends have a bit of a drinking problem. It’s like a self fulfilling prophecy of sorts. Cuz really, if that’s the case then Sand-e has some serious issues to deal with wouldn’t you say? How screwed up is it to think you deserve and in turn attract men that aren’t emotionally available and even more fucked up belong (in a metaphorical sense) to some else?! How sad is it to realize that, should I, under some sort of impaired frame of mind, agree to be in this sort of relationship, that that in it self has some huge bearings on my stance on polygamy? Maybe I’m overanalyzing and hyperventilating for no reason. I have after all made it clear time and time again that this sort of thing, if not for my sake but for the wifey’s sake, is entirely unacceptable. I’d hate to be with a man and find out that some other chicky is cool with him being married to me and being with her at the same time. The Do unto others as you’d have done unto you totally applies in this case. Not to mention that alongside the psychological and moral issues that such a situation presents there’s the inevitable trust issue. How can I possibly be expected to trust my and someone else’s Mr. Johnny bravo if he was in a “committed” relationship with a previous Mrs. whose bond of marriage provided him no sanctuary from temptation or desire? And in all this analysis and thinking I’ve come to feel a little naïve. The proposals are entirely preposterous and insulting at the same time but surely there are signs in body language and conversation that should tip me off. Red bells and sirens need to go off that read “this man has no understanding of the word commitment!” “He’s Married and chatting u up!”
I’m honestly starting to wonder if I’m in some Truman show movie replica where the twist is that married men are the way of the world.
Why does it seem like every corner I turn introduces a wonderful but “unavailable” man into my life?
How is it humanly possible for this many similar incidences to occur without me having some sort of premeditated intention to want to recreate them?
Is it true that you attract the type of person you think you can’t do better than?
I’ve seen it a million times. Girl thinks she can’t be with anything better than a drunk so all her boyfriends have a bit of a drinking problem. It’s like a self fulfilling prophecy of sorts. Cuz really, if that’s the case then Sand-e has some serious issues to deal with wouldn’t you say? How screwed up is it to think you deserve and in turn attract men that aren’t emotionally available and even more fucked up belong (in a metaphorical sense) to some else?! How sad is it to realize that, should I, under some sort of impaired frame of mind, agree to be in this sort of relationship, that that in it self has some huge bearings on my stance on polygamy? Maybe I’m overanalyzing and hyperventilating for no reason. I have after all made it clear time and time again that this sort of thing, if not for my sake but for the wifey’s sake, is entirely unacceptable. I’d hate to be with a man and find out that some other chicky is cool with him being married to me and being with her at the same time. The Do unto others as you’d have done unto you totally applies in this case. Not to mention that alongside the psychological and moral issues that such a situation presents there’s the inevitable trust issue. How can I possibly be expected to trust my and someone else’s Mr. Johnny bravo if he was in a “committed” relationship with a previous Mrs. whose bond of marriage provided him no sanctuary from temptation or desire? And in all this analysis and thinking I’ve come to feel a little naïve. The proposals are entirely preposterous and insulting at the same time but surely there are signs in body language and conversation that should tip me off. Red bells and sirens need to go off that read “this man has no understanding of the word commitment!” “He’s Married and chatting u up!”
Friday, November 17, 2006
....
N: “So things look pretty good with respect to getting that job after all but I think they’ll require you take a couple of courses first. Two more should suffice I imagine.”
Me: “Has the fact that I’m leaving escaped you?”
She continues to flip through the pages of her magazine and smiles a little.
Me: “I don’t understand why no one is taking me seriously? I’m so going to do it! I will! I’ll do it and you’ll see! Do you think I’ve been going on about it just for the sake of going on about it?!”
S laughs and knows exactly why N is laughing but I’m seething and in an attempt to dampen the fire he goes: “are you hearing this? She says she’s leaving. Don’t do the thing you do where you’re ok with it until its time for her to go and then all of a sudden there are all these reasons and restraints to hold her back…If you’re not cool with it you should tell her now.”
N: “Let her be… She’ll go only to realize she’s coming back”
Its amazing how just like that they’ve managed to deny my existence in the room and they’ve carried on conversing as if I was a part of the furniture.
Me in an attempt to regain my presence: “Or she’ll find what she was looking for and rejoice because she had the guts to make it happen and decided to go”
N: “You think you’re so smart Sand-e? Everyone wants to be where you are and you… you’re running from it”
Me: “I’m sure there are a million people that want to be where I am but just the same there are millions of other shoes I’d rather be wearing. I’m not happy here! Why can’t anyone understand that?”
N: “It’s not where you are Sand-e. It’s who you are. And you Sand-e… you want but don’t act on it….Everyone needs to want… everyone needs to have a purpose… What makes you think being somewhere else will change all that?”
Me: “I don’t know that it will. I just feel like my mindset will get a jumpstart and consequently bring on the change”
N: “I wish you’d see that there is a world here that you’ve been too scared to explore. You live your life like those that require someone to put them on the ladder’s first rung. You need to be one of those looking for it! Where is your sense of exploration your sense of self worth and your sense of adventure?”
Me: Sigh… she’s so right… she’s sooo right that the thought of it alone makes it hard to breathe. I live in a bubble. I have blinded muted and made myself deaf to the world around me.
N: “You need to realize your potential and bloom… its time to bloom Sand-e. Let the rivers flow and get rid of all the stagnation. I can not give you that! You have to want it and want it bad enough to find a way to get it”
Me: “Well that’s what I’m doing. This is what I think will fix things for me. This is what will give me the oomph to want with grandeur!”
N: “But you’re fixing one problem by replacing it with another. What’s the use of wanting at that point if you don’t have the means to achieve?”
Me: “I think I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get to it.”
But what if she’s right?
What if I’m crazy to leave?
What if she knows best?
And worse still what if she knows me more than I know myself?
Why can’t I find the peace of mind I need here? I so wish I could.
What if I can’t make it happen and just as always get too scared to leave?
What if I leave, find out it was all a sham and come back empty handed?
Not only empty handed but less the hope that I might have at one point had a solution.
The waiting game and the logistics are clouding my vision. The anticipation is killing me and the outcome of it all an oh so personal mystery.
Me: “Has the fact that I’m leaving escaped you?”
She continues to flip through the pages of her magazine and smiles a little.
Me: “I don’t understand why no one is taking me seriously? I’m so going to do it! I will! I’ll do it and you’ll see! Do you think I’ve been going on about it just for the sake of going on about it?!”
S laughs and knows exactly why N is laughing but I’m seething and in an attempt to dampen the fire he goes: “are you hearing this? She says she’s leaving. Don’t do the thing you do where you’re ok with it until its time for her to go and then all of a sudden there are all these reasons and restraints to hold her back…If you’re not cool with it you should tell her now.”
N: “Let her be… She’ll go only to realize she’s coming back”
Its amazing how just like that they’ve managed to deny my existence in the room and they’ve carried on conversing as if I was a part of the furniture.
Me in an attempt to regain my presence: “Or she’ll find what she was looking for and rejoice because she had the guts to make it happen and decided to go”
N: “You think you’re so smart Sand-e? Everyone wants to be where you are and you… you’re running from it”
Me: “I’m sure there are a million people that want to be where I am but just the same there are millions of other shoes I’d rather be wearing. I’m not happy here! Why can’t anyone understand that?”
N: “It’s not where you are Sand-e. It’s who you are. And you Sand-e… you want but don’t act on it….Everyone needs to want… everyone needs to have a purpose… What makes you think being somewhere else will change all that?”
Me: “I don’t know that it will. I just feel like my mindset will get a jumpstart and consequently bring on the change”
N: “I wish you’d see that there is a world here that you’ve been too scared to explore. You live your life like those that require someone to put them on the ladder’s first rung. You need to be one of those looking for it! Where is your sense of exploration your sense of self worth and your sense of adventure?”
Me: Sigh… she’s so right… she’s sooo right that the thought of it alone makes it hard to breathe. I live in a bubble. I have blinded muted and made myself deaf to the world around me.
N: “You need to realize your potential and bloom… its time to bloom Sand-e. Let the rivers flow and get rid of all the stagnation. I can not give you that! You have to want it and want it bad enough to find a way to get it”
Me: “Well that’s what I’m doing. This is what I think will fix things for me. This is what will give me the oomph to want with grandeur!”
N: “But you’re fixing one problem by replacing it with another. What’s the use of wanting at that point if you don’t have the means to achieve?”
Me: “I think I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get to it.”
But what if she’s right?
What if I’m crazy to leave?
What if she knows best?
And worse still what if she knows me more than I know myself?
Why can’t I find the peace of mind I need here? I so wish I could.
What if I can’t make it happen and just as always get too scared to leave?
What if I leave, find out it was all a sham and come back empty handed?
Not only empty handed but less the hope that I might have at one point had a solution.
The waiting game and the logistics are clouding my vision. The anticipation is killing me and the outcome of it all an oh so personal mystery.
And so it happens...
A relationship that did not exist, a break up that did not happen
a good bye that did not jade my heart, a wall I did not allow to crumble and a pride I did not offend.
Today I am worthy.
a good bye that did not jade my heart, a wall I did not allow to crumble and a pride I did not offend.
Today I am worthy.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
we have lift off!
I finally managed to launch a decent looking photoblog.
I'm hoping it'll inspire me to create stuff on a regular basis and in the process highten my awareness of my surroundings. Be apart of my world and check out what
Sandy Seez
.... dan dan dannnnnnnnn
I'm hoping it'll inspire me to create stuff on a regular basis and in the process highten my awareness of my surroundings. Be apart of my world and check out what
Sandy Seez
.... dan dan dannnnnnnnn
Jester’s “ monthly ranting” coincided with some of the things floating around in my head lately and instead of leaving a long winded comment on the poor fellow’s blog, I've decided to post it here.
Side note: I hope jester is in fact a fellow... me thinks my memory serves me correct and he is... but if not then I hope she forgives me for the whole heshe bit.
My cousin held a birthday party at some fancy shmancy coffee shop where they served alcohol whilst my parents were on vacation in Egypt last week. Upon their arrival, in our casual exchange of what went down while they were away, they made mention that a small part of my cousin's guest list included girls who were veiled. They told us how, after the party got underway, the owner of the place approached the two girls and asked them to leave. This of course instigated a lot of aggression from the guys who in turn ruined the evening for my cousin, the girls, and the owner in an all too typical brute 3alaya w 3ala 2a3da2y fashion ( which I guess best translates into kamikaze mission). The discussion naturally became about whether or not their actions were justified and inevitably about the owner’s right to ask the girls to leave with a “we serve alcohol here and this is no place for you”. I found it strange that I could, on some level, identify with both parties. On the one hand I could understand that this was a private establishment and on that basis one could argue when in Rome do as the Romans do or better still and more to the point "my house my rules". Just like certain places have a dress code whether it be the basic shirt required, the no jeans or even the snootier suit and tie required I found it generally acceptable that this man control the type of attire his clientele bring into his establishment. Question then is...are we being over sensitive just because the scarf is in itself a symbol of religion? And on that note did the 6pack boys react the way they did because they intrinsinclly object to the owner’s re-enforcement of the all too familiar faulty inequality ,higab != shiyaka/ more loosely modern thinking that exists in Egyptian society0 today or was this just a misguided display of who is bigger than who?
But on the other hand I am enraged by the fact that a country packed to the brim with people who take Islam on as a faith of their own would allow such behavior. I mean really how disappointing is it when people who don’t embrace the practice are being shunned for their actions, namely France, while this sort of madness is going on at home? I think what this whole scarf thing boils down to, as a friend of mine pointed out, is that being a higabi is a part of who you are just as is being of color, Middle Eastern descent or short. Shouldn’t there be rules and regulations to prevent this sort of thing? With all that mess out of the way…What then is to be said of mean coffeeshop owner’s assumed position of piety? Who is he to say to a higabi or a non higabi where she should or should not be? Is it not her decision? And since when did religion become something between two people? Last I checked it wasn’t this umbrella that gave every tom dick or Harry a carte Blanche to pass judgment, preach and control!? But I think if nothing else this thought experiment has tought me that there are 2 sides to the coin.
Side note: I hope jester is in fact a fellow... me thinks my memory serves me correct and he is... but if not then I hope she forgives me for the whole heshe bit.
My cousin held a birthday party at some fancy shmancy coffee shop where they served alcohol whilst my parents were on vacation in Egypt last week. Upon their arrival, in our casual exchange of what went down while they were away, they made mention that a small part of my cousin's guest list included girls who were veiled. They told us how, after the party got underway, the owner of the place approached the two girls and asked them to leave. This of course instigated a lot of aggression from the guys who in turn ruined the evening for my cousin, the girls, and the owner in an all too typical brute 3alaya w 3ala 2a3da2y fashion ( which I guess best translates into kamikaze mission). The discussion naturally became about whether or not their actions were justified and inevitably about the owner’s right to ask the girls to leave with a “we serve alcohol here and this is no place for you”. I found it strange that I could, on some level, identify with both parties. On the one hand I could understand that this was a private establishment and on that basis one could argue when in Rome do as the Romans do or better still and more to the point "my house my rules". Just like certain places have a dress code whether it be the basic shirt required, the no jeans or even the snootier suit and tie required I found it generally acceptable that this man control the type of attire his clientele bring into his establishment. Question then is...are we being over sensitive just because the scarf is in itself a symbol of religion? And on that note did the 6pack boys react the way they did because they intrinsinclly object to the owner’s re-enforcement of the all too familiar faulty inequality ,higab != shiyaka/ more loosely modern thinking that exists in Egyptian society0 today or was this just a misguided display of who is bigger than who?
But on the other hand I am enraged by the fact that a country packed to the brim with people who take Islam on as a faith of their own would allow such behavior. I mean really how disappointing is it when people who don’t embrace the practice are being shunned for their actions, namely France, while this sort of madness is going on at home? I think what this whole scarf thing boils down to, as a friend of mine pointed out, is that being a higabi is a part of who you are just as is being of color, Middle Eastern descent or short. Shouldn’t there be rules and regulations to prevent this sort of thing? With all that mess out of the way…What then is to be said of mean coffeeshop owner’s assumed position of piety? Who is he to say to a higabi or a non higabi where she should or should not be? Is it not her decision? And since when did religion become something between two people? Last I checked it wasn’t this umbrella that gave every tom dick or Harry a carte Blanche to pass judgment, preach and control!? But I think if nothing else this thought experiment has tought me that there are 2 sides to the coin.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Ala MasterCard
Brisk walk in the mall during lunch time…………….........…. $0
Fashion accessories for new black dress…………...…........... $21.99
Long distance calling cards…………………………………........…$10
Bottle of Coke……………………………………………..............……$1.15
Bag of white cheese Kernals popcorn……………………..........$3.75
Realizing you have a piece of popcorn nicely nestled in
your ever so slightly exposed boobage after having sat
across your boss during your annual employee evaluation
meeting for a good half and hour........……………………....…. $ Priceless
The best things in life are for free but luckily for everything else there’s MasterCard!
Fashion accessories for new black dress…………...…........... $21.99
Long distance calling cards…………………………………........…$10
Bottle of Coke……………………………………………..............……$1.15
Bag of white cheese Kernals popcorn……………………..........$3.75
Realizing you have a piece of popcorn nicely nestled in
your ever so slightly exposed boobage after having sat
across your boss during your annual employee evaluation
meeting for a good half and hour........……………………....…. $ Priceless
The best things in life are for free but luckily for everything else there’s MasterCard!
Retention no more
My brother and I used to play these games when we were little in the car to keep us entertained. One of those games was to hold our breath the entire length of a cemetery. We’d turn red and grasp onto the car seat and window as we watched the tombstones go by. It was a challenge. Each of us holding our breath in and desperately trying to beat the other at a game we’d deemed a notable cause. There’s all this mental work involved before you take the deep breath. You slow down your breathing and think I’ve gotta take as much air in as humanly possible and retain it for as long as needed. You inhale and hold not trying to think about how much longer you’ve got but focusing on the fact that it’s a do or die sort of situation. The graveyard would pass and in a great exhale all the air would rush out. We’d gasp for a bit but would smile with glee none the less as the words “I won” shimmered in our eyes. We’d do this for all sorts of things. Train tracks… the rule was to keep your feet as high off the ground as possible without allowing the bumpy tracks to make you loose your balance. At the pool it was how many laps you could run without taking a breath, my personal record 2 laps and a half. At the amusement park it was if you could keep your hands lifted through the biggest dip on the rollercoaster. All these things have a few things in common. A challenge we’d placed on ourselves, a big breath that would need to be taken, a dramatic release and finally a high from being able to let go. After writing my test last night it hit me again. This was one of those things, not exactly as much fun but similar nonetheless. There is this big inhale in the form of information retention, a holding on till the test then the quick release of all the information as I frantically wrote away hoping my memory wouldn’t fail me. The fun part in all this was by all means the high from being able to let it go. Until about 12 pm last night I was on a high…. From what? From the release. And so perhaps my accounting test, the graveyard, the rollercoaster, the train tracks and the pool have taught me one thing… in order to feel the high of letting go I’ve first gotta make the decision to hold on, challenge myself no matter how silly and later reap the rewards of conquering it and letting go.
Monday, November 06, 2006
All things peachy
I ask too many questions and play too many games within the vicinity of my mind.
My self discipline plays hide and seek with temptation and desire.
I do not utter any of these uncertainties and dare not ask confirmation of the certain.
I know what I am to you, and you, just as I, know what you are to me.
Unable to bring down the walls for obvious reasons it is reason that has cornered us here.
It has managed to mold our interaction into this slowly tightening mould.
I shed my clothes and with them most of who I am. Self respect detached and dilapidated on the floor, mental stimulation no where to be seen and imagination and inspiration out the door.
Everything I want outside the scope of this moment is left behind.
There is a burning desire that motivates but will not sustain.
I am momentarily moved.
I have given you the benefit of the doubt. Unearned and perhaps undeserving.
I have given you more than you can appreciate and in the process have unconsciously allowed your value to depreciate.
To you I am the giver of attention, the seeker of naughty, a means to an end but by no means an end.
My self discipline plays hide and seek with temptation and desire.
I do not utter any of these uncertainties and dare not ask confirmation of the certain.
I know what I am to you, and you, just as I, know what you are to me.
Unable to bring down the walls for obvious reasons it is reason that has cornered us here.
It has managed to mold our interaction into this slowly tightening mould.
I shed my clothes and with them most of who I am. Self respect detached and dilapidated on the floor, mental stimulation no where to be seen and imagination and inspiration out the door.
Everything I want outside the scope of this moment is left behind.
There is a burning desire that motivates but will not sustain.
I am momentarily moved.
I have given you the benefit of the doubt. Unearned and perhaps undeserving.
I have given you more than you can appreciate and in the process have unconsciously allowed your value to depreciate.
To you I am the giver of attention, the seeker of naughty, a means to an end but by no means an end.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
why worry?
I’m jonesing…
Nine inch nail’s closer.
Nickle back’s Figured you out
Nirvana’s Rape me
Blue october’s Drilled a wire through my cheek
And Johnny Cash’s Hurt are on all the menu tonight!
Nine inch nail’s closer.
Nickle back’s Figured you out
Nirvana’s Rape me
Blue october’s Drilled a wire through my cheek
And Johnny Cash’s Hurt are on all the menu tonight!
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!
8:37 I made it in to the office just in time to get a cold stare from good old Jerry the receptionist. I’ve totally decided that Jerry is so in the wrong business. I think he was kidnapped from one of those military camps that secretly doubled as a hooked on phonex commercial… “b rrrrr ennn daaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh mooooo rrrrr iiiiiiis sssss please call 5862 breeeeeeee ennnnn ddddd aaaaa hhhh moooorrrr iissss please call 5862”. He’s the sort of fellow that makes people answer a page just to get him to stop calling their name. Rocking back and forth in the fetal position on the floor they go… make it stopppppp make it stopppp. You’d think he’d get bored or put two and two together and figure you’re out of the office if you don’t answer after the 5th page… la ya lolooo la! laysa howa tilk al rajol! He’s the sort that perseveres till the end! And not the smart sort of perseverance either… He’s the kind that walks into a glass door and keeps walking into it just because he doesn’t stop to think that perhaps or just maybe the bump on his forehead is indicative of the fact that he’s not Patrick Swayze from ghost. Jerry my love, you need to open doors to walk through them! I bet you people have gotten fired because of his incessant nagging over the PA system. I’ve tried to make my peace with jerry. He works like clockwork… and follows rules to a t. yeah ok he blushes and gets all awkward when I joke around with him but when he really to each their own. I’ve managed to deal with his need to teach me the rules of being at the lobby and his need to maintain order at all times. I keep wanting to shake him silly… DUDE RELAX!
The other day I come down to pick up a package and so instead of waiting my turn after all the “customers” were out of his hair I buzzed myself in… picked up my package and left quietly. Later on that day I get 7 messages on my phone from jerry sounding like he’s hernia ting and in dire need of surgery. “Hi sandy this is Jerry from reception(like I’d confuse him for some other hooked on phonex Jerry) please call me back its crucial” I kid you not… he left me 7 messages within the span of my lunch hour. I get back to my desk and of course think there is a calamity that has befallen him. I run downstairs dually noting where the gurney is should the need arise for me to tow him to the hospital. I ask “what’s wrong? Is everything ok?” He casually looks at me and goes “you had a package here. You musn’t buzz your self in without informing me first. The hand book says blah blah blah blah…you musn’t this u musn’t that …section this states section that states. I look at him nearly about to choke him but force a smile because I totally understand that this poor guy probably hasn’t been laid in years and really all that build up makes a person anal. How can I possibly blame him? After all the rambling about “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” I’ve just remembered that my point in all this was to vent about why my morning was a bee with an itch but I’ve now lost my umph to do it hardcore. Soooo…..Softcore it is.
First off um kalthoom (my alarm clock) decided not to sing this morning and so I basically got up in a state of hysteria instead of my usual state of wondering “ana feen wel 7ob feen”. So I started off running around like a headless chicken thinking it was 7pm and that I’d slept through Tuesday morning all together. I must have made 3 unsuccessful trips to the washroom before it was finally my turn in the queue. My toothpaste ran out so I had to use that shitty apple kind…. How do the good people at crest expect me to get that minty fresh squeaky clean feeling without the mint?! The taste of my mouthwash clashed with the crap apple wanabe toothpaste and I unintentionally found myself hugging the toilet looking at last night’s dinner! Which, according to my cheeky sister, was lacking garlic. If it weren’t for the chastity belt that my father back in the home land held the key too I’m sure I’da been hyperventilating about possibly being pregnant. WTF is all that about? No clue myself… random crap that comes to me out of thin air… anywayssssss I managed to shower in nearly half a second but slipped on my way out and rammed my shin on the corner of the tub. I got stuck behind 2 school busses and wanted to run over a mother that was keeping the second bus waiting as she tightened the scarf around her obviously roasting son. I nearly slammed into a tow truck who decided on a whim it was ok to pull out of a gas station at full speed. I stopped at every single traffic light from my house to the office which made the trip take a whopping 20 minutes instead of its usual 7. I am running in when I loose my shoe in the middle of the parking lot and have to limp back to get totally allowing me to fully fathom the feelings of a dog with its tail tucked in between it’s legs. Like the looser that I am I walk in and think 7 minutes…. Not bad… maybe no one will notice… but alas I’m greeted by good old Jerry with that look of “I’m onto you and I’m not amused” on his face. There was this stare down for a couple of seconds as I tried to figure out if he’d been publicly announcing to the world that I was running late on the PA system and while he gloated in the glory of knowing that had he really wanted to he possessed that kind of power. I smile and break the silence with a “CRAIIIIIIZEEEEEEEE morning Jerry crazy morning” He smiles because he thinks he’s intimidated me into giving him an explanation and I smile because otherwise al inte7ar or murder are the 7al.
The other day I come down to pick up a package and so instead of waiting my turn after all the “customers” were out of his hair I buzzed myself in… picked up my package and left quietly. Later on that day I get 7 messages on my phone from jerry sounding like he’s hernia ting and in dire need of surgery. “Hi sandy this is Jerry from reception(like I’d confuse him for some other hooked on phonex Jerry) please call me back its crucial” I kid you not… he left me 7 messages within the span of my lunch hour. I get back to my desk and of course think there is a calamity that has befallen him. I run downstairs dually noting where the gurney is should the need arise for me to tow him to the hospital. I ask “what’s wrong? Is everything ok?” He casually looks at me and goes “you had a package here. You musn’t buzz your self in without informing me first. The hand book says blah blah blah blah…you musn’t this u musn’t that …section this states section that states. I look at him nearly about to choke him but force a smile because I totally understand that this poor guy probably hasn’t been laid in years and really all that build up makes a person anal. How can I possibly blame him? After all the rambling about “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” I’ve just remembered that my point in all this was to vent about why my morning was a bee with an itch but I’ve now lost my umph to do it hardcore. Soooo…..Softcore it is.
First off um kalthoom (my alarm clock) decided not to sing this morning and so I basically got up in a state of hysteria instead of my usual state of wondering “ana feen wel 7ob feen”. So I started off running around like a headless chicken thinking it was 7pm and that I’d slept through Tuesday morning all together. I must have made 3 unsuccessful trips to the washroom before it was finally my turn in the queue. My toothpaste ran out so I had to use that shitty apple kind…. How do the good people at crest expect me to get that minty fresh squeaky clean feeling without the mint?! The taste of my mouthwash clashed with the crap apple wanabe toothpaste and I unintentionally found myself hugging the toilet looking at last night’s dinner! Which, according to my cheeky sister, was lacking garlic. If it weren’t for the chastity belt that my father back in the home land held the key too I’m sure I’da been hyperventilating about possibly being pregnant. WTF is all that about? No clue myself… random crap that comes to me out of thin air… anywayssssss I managed to shower in nearly half a second but slipped on my way out and rammed my shin on the corner of the tub. I got stuck behind 2 school busses and wanted to run over a mother that was keeping the second bus waiting as she tightened the scarf around her obviously roasting son. I nearly slammed into a tow truck who decided on a whim it was ok to pull out of a gas station at full speed. I stopped at every single traffic light from my house to the office which made the trip take a whopping 20 minutes instead of its usual 7. I am running in when I loose my shoe in the middle of the parking lot and have to limp back to get totally allowing me to fully fathom the feelings of a dog with its tail tucked in between it’s legs. Like the looser that I am I walk in and think 7 minutes…. Not bad… maybe no one will notice… but alas I’m greeted by good old Jerry with that look of “I’m onto you and I’m not amused” on his face. There was this stare down for a couple of seconds as I tried to figure out if he’d been publicly announcing to the world that I was running late on the PA system and while he gloated in the glory of knowing that had he really wanted to he possessed that kind of power. I smile and break the silence with a “CRAIIIIIIZEEEEEEEE morning Jerry crazy morning” He smiles because he thinks he’s intimidated me into giving him an explanation and I smile because otherwise al inte7ar or murder are the 7al.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Procter has no gamble on my ramble
Slurred and broken nonsensical but real
I am told and I hear… but I lend a deaf ear.
The words do nothing.
No power to move mountains.
No euphoric high.
No butterflies and absolutely no hope attached.
Those three words tucked away, muted and restrained by reality
only now unleashed by the loss of inhibition.
I can not echo the sentiment nor turn a blind eye.
To you these words are genuine.
So genuine they are…
they are the sounds and letters that bear no weight.
The dal segno al coda brings with it, you think, a sure road to empathy and a sure way to make me see.
But I’ve been in these shoes before. I’ve stood behind these walls in the cozy of my own.
I’ve heard many come and go.
I cherish the words… but can not let them in.
Apathy and guilt however, are an entirely different sin.
Come in have a seat… but be sure to outstay your welcome.
I am angry and I am jealous!
I want to posses what those words have given you.
I want to bask in their glory and give in to the lack of control.
Circumstance is a shitty thing.
And a brain that recognizes it all is shittier still.
There will be no screaming for ice-cream today!
I can not live atop your sugar coated mountain lined with candy apple trees and shaded by your pink cotton candy clouds.
I will not suffer the pains of reality and later bear the crushing weight in order to temporarily frolic in denial.
I will not dance to out of tune keys and grimace at the lack of harmony.
I need rhythm and I need rhyme.
My mind needs to support my heart and my soul needs to absorb the beauty of tandem.
The soothing sound a white noise I will not do without.
I need that circle to exist and need it to exist for you.
So forgive me when I am told but do not hear.
And forgive me when I smile and lend a deaf ear.
I am told and I hear… but I lend a deaf ear.
The words do nothing.
No power to move mountains.
No euphoric high.
No butterflies and absolutely no hope attached.
Those three words tucked away, muted and restrained by reality
only now unleashed by the loss of inhibition.
I can not echo the sentiment nor turn a blind eye.
To you these words are genuine.
So genuine they are…
they are the sounds and letters that bear no weight.
The dal segno al coda brings with it, you think, a sure road to empathy and a sure way to make me see.
But I’ve been in these shoes before. I’ve stood behind these walls in the cozy of my own.
I’ve heard many come and go.
I cherish the words… but can not let them in.
Apathy and guilt however, are an entirely different sin.
Come in have a seat… but be sure to outstay your welcome.
I am angry and I am jealous!
I want to posses what those words have given you.
I want to bask in their glory and give in to the lack of control.
Circumstance is a shitty thing.
And a brain that recognizes it all is shittier still.
There will be no screaming for ice-cream today!
I can not live atop your sugar coated mountain lined with candy apple trees and shaded by your pink cotton candy clouds.
I will not suffer the pains of reality and later bear the crushing weight in order to temporarily frolic in denial.
I will not dance to out of tune keys and grimace at the lack of harmony.
I need rhythm and I need rhyme.
My mind needs to support my heart and my soul needs to absorb the beauty of tandem.
The soothing sound a white noise I will not do without.
I need that circle to exist and need it to exist for you.
So forgive me when I am told but do not hear.
And forgive me when I smile and lend a deaf ear.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
CubicleWars and the like.
After my little incident with zee chi wawa noises yesterday I found myself daydreaming and a little nostalgic about the good old days. My through the wall buddy and his notes a la V for vendetta are no more. Bless him he got the physics of projectiles down to a T. He actually drew me an intricate drawing explaining his strategy with vectors and formulas once.
Oh so charming Mikey thinking he was the Don waging a prank war with me had a run for his money. Unplugging the speaker to my phone and having paperclips fall out of my overhead compartment paled in comparison to his shrink wrapped cubicle and his word perfect blinking a red 48 point times new roman “U SUCK” at the keystroke of any vowel. My manager sent me pre- licked pink Baskin Robbins spoons in confidential envelops with sticky notes that read “thinking of you” My poor tiger was also kidnapped by her and held at ransom out her window with a sheet that read “save me”. Jokers… the lot of them… I’m loving the work on this side of the building the sunshine helps but I miss the love and a little scared of the growling.
Oh so charming Mikey thinking he was the Don waging a prank war with me had a run for his money. Unplugging the speaker to my phone and having paperclips fall out of my overhead compartment paled in comparison to his shrink wrapped cubicle and his word perfect blinking a red 48 point times new roman “U SUCK” at the keystroke of any vowel. My manager sent me pre- licked pink Baskin Robbins spoons in confidential envelops with sticky notes that read “thinking of you” My poor tiger was also kidnapped by her and held at ransom out her window with a sheet that read “save me”. Jokers… the lot of them… I’m loving the work on this side of the building the sunshine helps but I miss the love and a little scared of the growling.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Me, the growling chi wawa and the 'ol
As if the world of taxes needs added excitement. I’m sitting here fearing for my life. As growling dog noises are being made from across the baffle. Strange smells of hydrocarbon chains decorated with hydroxyls are seeping through my fabulous pinkish, grey, recycled, reused and reduced wall. This man is harmless really, he’s a bit off his rocker and has a wee bit of a problem staying on the wagon but nothing to worry about. The growling is new to me though... He’s talking to his wife on the phone I presume… she’s 16 years younger than him. He made mention of it once right before he handed a coworker a letter confessing his undying love that forced him into a leave of abscence. Needless to say I thought he’d gotten his stuff sorted now that he’s back in the office but this heated conversation with the wifey has me thinking twice. It sounds to me like there’s trouble in tinsel land. I did all I could do to stay out of it… turned up my music and even tried to hum along to drown out the noise but he’s too loud. I eventually gave in and listen to what’s going on. “You’re a secretive sneaky person! grrrrrrr You will leave this country with disgrace. Some more grunting… the kind that exudes aggravation… he sounds like a chi Wawa that is showing its teeth to a Dalmatian that could swallow it in one effortless inhale. I’m so tempted to giggle but hold back and remind myself that I’m a peeping tom without the peeping or the tom. “No lucy! I’m not drinking.” I raise my eyebrow… and think maybe it’s the breath mint I got a wiff of. Listerine is after all very powerful. I feel like I’m violating this poor man by just being here. I need to get up let him have his space. Take a walk perhaps. Let’s do that. Go for a walk.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Babel
check out the trailor here
On my way into see trailer park boys today, yes I went to see that crap… don’t ask me why, I caught glimpse of this poster and was immediately captivated by its brilliance. A definite must see!
Not only is it directed by Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu the man who directed Amores perros and 21 grams but it also features the motorcycle diaries’ Gael Garcia and fight club’s Brad Pitt. Besides the obvious fact that Brad Pitt and Gael Garcia are a sure way to bring hoards of people into the theatres, I thought the name was also sheer genius. The movie about the barriers of language and the misscomunications that arise in a world where as humans our basic need for shelter, safety, food and love are essentially the same if not identical. The first obvious observation was the phonetic similarity of the name Babel to the verb to babble. Defined as: To utter a meaningless confusion of words or sounds 2.to talk foolishly or idly; chatter: 3. To make a continuous low, murmuring sound, as flowing water. Not only that but babel is also the Arabic and Hebrew name for the city of Babylon. A city described in the bible, from my understanding and limited research skills, as a city where God confounded a presumptuous attempt to build a tower into heaven by confusing the language of its builders into many mutually incomprehensible languages. I only hope the movie has as much thought behind it as its title. Oct 27th I find out.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
G I joes
G I Joes definitely need to come in play dough form. The cut nip and tweak option would be most beneficial. I hate that they’re prepackaged in short artsy funny smart and sexy, simple Buff quiet secure and sincere, young unjaded tall deep and emotional, Old wise religious and committed, looses interest quickly free spirited talented and dreamy or immature comfortable and similar. When does the preset four course meal portion of playtime end? Isn’t it just about time for the a la carte portion of the evening?
Thursday, October 05, 2006
The Yalahwi.
I’ve always heard about the varying degrees of ya lahwi but never actually experienced it first hand except through my regular variety of Arabic dramas and soap operas. Noor il sherif’s one is particularly loaded with them… par example: news comes of the son having gone to school to avenge himself from some bullying when the mother hears word of it and suddenly starts to gasp and grab her chest. She of course chooses her “chicer” more socially acceptable version of “yanhar abyad” , literally translates into “oh white day!”.
Side note: Does anyone else find it odd that “yanhar abyad”, oh white day, and “yanhar eswid”, oh black day, both mean essentially the same thing? Why the reference to a color at all if they’re both just as equally cursed? Any hoots side issue…
Back to the yalahwing
So for the life of me I could never ever quite figure out what, how or why anyone in their right mind would feel the need to make that gasping inhale sound while yelling those words. Its not like it relieves any kind of stress … you are after all saying it on the inhale not the exhale and you’d think if it was meant to relieve any kind of stress it would be said on the exhale. I’ve heard Arab comedians make fun of it on endless occasion but never really quite got it. It’s totally funny that way. So with all that said…my phone bill arrived yesterday…. Now in any regular circumstance one would expect the bill to arrive… after all that is what bills do… they eventually find you. My issue however, isn’t that it found me but that now I had to open it and pay it. I knew all too well that I hadn’t been the smartest cookie this month. I made insanely long long distance calls directly from my cell phone and though I anticipated a hefty bill I know all too well that the good people at FIDO, my cell phone provider, love cheer and fundraise for sodomy like it’s an Olympic sport. I walk by back and forth back and forth by the counter top trying not to panic. I’m a big girl right? I should have thought of exactly this moment when I was racking up the minutes while engaged in useless banter. So I’m pacing back and forth when me madre walks in and starts randomly opening mail. I sigh.
I’ve been momentarily distracted.
I can walk away knowing that she now has the letter opener and that if she were to accidentally open my mail and anything in that envelope were to be extremely disturbing I’d hear a shrieking “Saaandyyyyyyyyyy!”
So I stand by the door in the other room just out of sight and clench my teeth and fists, wince a little, and hold my breath… I wait for it.
wait for it…
wait for it….
Wait for it……
I’m starting to sound like Mel Gibson’s William Wallice in Brave heart aren’t I?
Damn it focus sandy! And wait forrrrrrrr itttt…
wait for it….
But nothing… it doesn’t come…
My heart is pounding with that inevitable feeling of “masdoodon masdoodon masdoood” and not only that but now I’m faced with a dilemma in logistics… Do I go da3bis aka stir things up and find out why I didn’t get called into the kitchen to open my mail, could it possibly not have arrived yet?
or do I do my usual tanish ta3ish tanta3ish? I decide to preoccupy myself with something else… I go and get ready for my post fitar outing and dilly dally a bit… anything to keep my mind occupied really. I wander back onto the main floor and into the den all prim and proper casually tidying up here and there….but this of course draws suspicion my way…
“why are you dusting the leather sofas?” My brother asks in an obnoxious voice. I could strangle him just about now…. “Ohh nothing I thought I saw something” I respond with a retarded I’m soooooo bait but I’m gonna giggle and hope no one notices anyways kind of a tone. Fitar is done and I’m all hardcore into the clean up process… every spot has to be spic and span.. the dishes in the dishwasher perfectly aligned in perfect angles. No water around or in the sink for that matter and absolutely no crumbs in the toaster.
Yes you read right. I said toaster.
I decided to clean inside it to give me an excuse for not opening my mail. I’ve done all I can do and still its too early to go out… Its inevitable… there is no avoiding it! I have to do what I have to do. I get this sudden fit of bravery I work myself up and think: what’s the matter with me! Come on it’s just a bill!! Get a grip! All you have to do is open it! assess the damage and carry on as usual!
So I’m pumped and ready to do what I gotta do…my pep talk has me all riled up and ready to face the music. I rip through the thick paper not even look at all the pages upon pages of detailed history and go to the amount due.
Let me just say that small nations have survived on less of a budget than the amount my eyes caught glimpse of. Islands and small aircrafts have been bought for less amounts. The worlds internet servers have less cables than the number reflected on that sheet of paper. China houses less people with the last name chin, chan , changs or any variying combination of the three in comparison to the debit amount on that bill!
My eyes glaze over…. I feel the sudden onset of acute Arrhythmia… my palms go clammy the blood has quickly drained from my face and before I know it. I inadvertently and unconsciously see but not feel my right arm thud the palm of my hand on my chest and in one extremely elongated exasperated inhale I hear a voice which sounds identical to mine let out a colossal Yalahwiiiiiii.
And now it’s totally eureka. I get it.
Side note: Does anyone else find it odd that “yanhar abyad”, oh white day, and “yanhar eswid”, oh black day, both mean essentially the same thing? Why the reference to a color at all if they’re both just as equally cursed? Any hoots side issue…
Back to the yalahwing
So for the life of me I could never ever quite figure out what, how or why anyone in their right mind would feel the need to make that gasping inhale sound while yelling those words. Its not like it relieves any kind of stress … you are after all saying it on the inhale not the exhale and you’d think if it was meant to relieve any kind of stress it would be said on the exhale. I’ve heard Arab comedians make fun of it on endless occasion but never really quite got it. It’s totally funny that way. So with all that said…my phone bill arrived yesterday…. Now in any regular circumstance one would expect the bill to arrive… after all that is what bills do… they eventually find you. My issue however, isn’t that it found me but that now I had to open it and pay it. I knew all too well that I hadn’t been the smartest cookie this month. I made insanely long long distance calls directly from my cell phone and though I anticipated a hefty bill I know all too well that the good people at FIDO, my cell phone provider, love cheer and fundraise for sodomy like it’s an Olympic sport. I walk by back and forth back and forth by the counter top trying not to panic. I’m a big girl right? I should have thought of exactly this moment when I was racking up the minutes while engaged in useless banter. So I’m pacing back and forth when me madre walks in and starts randomly opening mail. I sigh.
I’ve been momentarily distracted.
I can walk away knowing that she now has the letter opener and that if she were to accidentally open my mail and anything in that envelope were to be extremely disturbing I’d hear a shrieking “Saaandyyyyyyyyyy!”
So I stand by the door in the other room just out of sight and clench my teeth and fists, wince a little, and hold my breath… I wait for it.
wait for it…
wait for it….
Wait for it……
I’m starting to sound like Mel Gibson’s William Wallice in Brave heart aren’t I?
Damn it focus sandy! And wait forrrrrrrr itttt…
wait for it….
But nothing… it doesn’t come…
My heart is pounding with that inevitable feeling of “masdoodon masdoodon masdoood” and not only that but now I’m faced with a dilemma in logistics… Do I go da3bis aka stir things up and find out why I didn’t get called into the kitchen to open my mail, could it possibly not have arrived yet?
or do I do my usual tanish ta3ish tanta3ish? I decide to preoccupy myself with something else… I go and get ready for my post fitar outing and dilly dally a bit… anything to keep my mind occupied really. I wander back onto the main floor and into the den all prim and proper casually tidying up here and there….but this of course draws suspicion my way…
“why are you dusting the leather sofas?” My brother asks in an obnoxious voice. I could strangle him just about now…. “Ohh nothing I thought I saw something” I respond with a retarded I’m soooooo bait but I’m gonna giggle and hope no one notices anyways kind of a tone. Fitar is done and I’m all hardcore into the clean up process… every spot has to be spic and span.. the dishes in the dishwasher perfectly aligned in perfect angles. No water around or in the sink for that matter and absolutely no crumbs in the toaster.
Yes you read right. I said toaster.
I decided to clean inside it to give me an excuse for not opening my mail. I’ve done all I can do and still its too early to go out… Its inevitable… there is no avoiding it! I have to do what I have to do. I get this sudden fit of bravery I work myself up and think: what’s the matter with me! Come on it’s just a bill!! Get a grip! All you have to do is open it! assess the damage and carry on as usual!
So I’m pumped and ready to do what I gotta do…my pep talk has me all riled up and ready to face the music. I rip through the thick paper not even look at all the pages upon pages of detailed history and go to the amount due.
Let me just say that small nations have survived on less of a budget than the amount my eyes caught glimpse of. Islands and small aircrafts have been bought for less amounts. The worlds internet servers have less cables than the number reflected on that sheet of paper. China houses less people with the last name chin, chan , changs or any variying combination of the three in comparison to the debit amount on that bill!
My eyes glaze over…. I feel the sudden onset of acute Arrhythmia… my palms go clammy the blood has quickly drained from my face and before I know it. I inadvertently and unconsciously see but not feel my right arm thud the palm of my hand on my chest and in one extremely elongated exasperated inhale I hear a voice which sounds identical to mine let out a colossal Yalahwiiiiiii.
And now it’s totally eureka. I get it.
Monday, October 02, 2006
In times of old
I called him today after I’d sworn off calling him. My unveiling and self exposition a couple of months back hadn’t quite played out the way I’d anticipated.
He’s started a new job just over two weeks ago and already I see a world of difference in his mood.
He’s happy.
It’s amazingly contagious when he’s happy.
We chatted for a bit about both our new jobs and the river he claims exists according to Google earth.
“I don’t understand why you don’t own a canoe?! If I were you I’d be paddling in the fog of dawn each and every day.” I think to myself: So this, I remember now, is what I loved most about you. The dreaminess. Your ability to see the world in much the same way I do.
He’s ecstatic to hear my voice but I can’t help but wonder if it is genuine or just a part of a façade. I ask about his latest femme fatale half bracing myself half curious… “she doesn’t have a fatale attached to her for nothing” he says with a sigh.
I am disappointed at his ability to fall in and out of love yet again so quickly. But who am I to judge? with my glass house and indecisiveness?
I can’t get over how right all this feels.
I can’t get over how comfortable it is to talk to him after I thought I’d hate him forever.
I can’t get over how just like that the things that pushed me over the edge and made me swear to never talk to him again vanished with the words hello.
I can’t get over how quickly I momentarily attributed it all to some irrationality or over reaction on my part.
I can’t get over how lucky I feel to be his friend.
I can’t get over how genuinely sorry I feel for him for some inexplicable reason….
And so….
just like that for the span of that phone call things briefly returned to the way they were.
In all honesty to myself I should confess that I do miss him and all the things he managed to move in me. I miss his ability to make things right with just the calm in his voice. I miss his whole hearted devotion to all my ridiculous hypothetical questions. Above all I miss how I realized how much I had to offer through him and through all he brought out in me. But I’m also thankful that things played out the way they did. I am thankful that I can sit here from the outside looking in and still manage to say all that I say. I am thankful and I am lucky.
He’s started a new job just over two weeks ago and already I see a world of difference in his mood.
He’s happy.
It’s amazingly contagious when he’s happy.
We chatted for a bit about both our new jobs and the river he claims exists according to Google earth.
“I don’t understand why you don’t own a canoe?! If I were you I’d be paddling in the fog of dawn each and every day.” I think to myself: So this, I remember now, is what I loved most about you. The dreaminess. Your ability to see the world in much the same way I do.
He’s ecstatic to hear my voice but I can’t help but wonder if it is genuine or just a part of a façade. I ask about his latest femme fatale half bracing myself half curious… “she doesn’t have a fatale attached to her for nothing” he says with a sigh.
I am disappointed at his ability to fall in and out of love yet again so quickly. But who am I to judge? with my glass house and indecisiveness?
I can’t get over how right all this feels.
I can’t get over how comfortable it is to talk to him after I thought I’d hate him forever.
I can’t get over how just like that the things that pushed me over the edge and made me swear to never talk to him again vanished with the words hello.
I can’t get over how quickly I momentarily attributed it all to some irrationality or over reaction on my part.
I can’t get over how lucky I feel to be his friend.
I can’t get over how genuinely sorry I feel for him for some inexplicable reason….
And so….
just like that for the span of that phone call things briefly returned to the way they were.
In all honesty to myself I should confess that I do miss him and all the things he managed to move in me. I miss his ability to make things right with just the calm in his voice. I miss his whole hearted devotion to all my ridiculous hypothetical questions. Above all I miss how I realized how much I had to offer through him and through all he brought out in me. But I’m also thankful that things played out the way they did. I am thankful that I can sit here from the outside looking in and still manage to say all that I say. I am thankful and I am lucky.
The Lesbian Gay dinner conversation
This picture was the inspiration to a heated discussion over Iftar a couple of nights back. I was commenting about how I’d read or heard about groups like these surface across various cities in North America and was wondering what everyone thought. The issue according to old school granny was that these people were not Muslims. We all know about kawm loot “the people of loot” described as “ya2toona al regal shahwa doon nisa2” and how they were damned.
Cautious of plainly accepting such a statement, the family launched into a frenzy of arguments, rebuttals, questions and defenses. I find it a little tricky to discuss issues from a religious perspective because people grow easily agitated and all too often you get handed the “This is how it is in the Quran”. Unfortunately for me I’m not as knowledgeable as I’d like to be in that respect and it is difficult to logic and discuss from a religious perspective of you are not extremely well informed. The comment was received by someone claiming they grow intolerant of the alienation of fellow Muslims through grand sweeping statements like “that’s 7aram”. Ignorance fuels ignorance and people follow suite and soon enough everyone is in agreement without any proper validation. My sister proudly proclaimed she’d found a simple solution. The answer lies in the question “Can homosexuality be attributed to nature or nurture?” If it is nature then you face a problem when you try to justify God punishing a people for being what they are through no fault of their own. It sort of brings back the infamous question of “why does evil exist” in relation to the definition of A God who is all good. The opposite side of the coin is of course that homosexuality is a choice that is nurtured through culture and society. Homosexuality is not so easily looked upon even in north American cultures suggested my brother. “If I wanted to go against the flow I’d find an easier current to choose to swim upstream against” people definitely do not choose to be gay. What then of the person who feels the attraction to the same sex but suppresses the instinct or urge to act upon them? Does that then still classify you as gay? It’s the urge to want the same sex that makes you gay not the acting upon it.
Ok so the urge to steal something but not acting upon it makes you a thief?
And the urge to get inexplicably intoxicated makes you a drunk?
Of course not! You are judged by your actions. As long as you are not engaging in sexual activities exclusively with the same sex then you are not gay. So a group out on the streets claiming to be homosexual without providing grounds for active engagement in homosexual activity has not yet done anything condemned by Islam to be incorrect.
Take the argument up a notch and claim that they are actively engaged in sexual activity and the issue then becomes precisely that. It is that…. The activity… that is where the trouble lies. Last I checked sexual activity out of wedlock among heterosexuals was a no no in all religions not only islam. So what puts them in the “wrong”, if you will, is the activity and not the fact that they are homosexual.
Also, consider this simple fact. A kawm or a people is bound to have more than one descriptive characteristic. The lebaneese, for example, are known to be good looking and amazing mana2eesh bakers. To assume they will go to hell based solely on the fact that they were good looking and all the while setting aside that baking mana2eesh seems a little shaky to me. Their being damned does not necessarily imply that it was because they were gay. Just a thought really… I don’t know how valid my last argument is because I obviously have made no reference to the exact text but as a whole this discussion has me looking at things a little differently. If anyone has anything to say to all this by all means lets discuss…
I love a good brain bench press.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
How fragile we are.
I woke up this morning as per usual to make myself a sandwich and have a drink of water before heading back to bed when I saw that my granny’s lights were on. This was no big deal she’s usually up at the wee hours of the morning reading her Quran. I heard deep breathing that sounded like someone was in pain, naturally I walk into the room to make sure she’s ok when she tells me she’s really dizzy and maybe I should get her some honey. I rushed to the kitchen to get what she’d asked of me and returned to her side. Now I’ve had a similar experiences way more often that once and I remember that honey just made me throw up.
I’m not her…she’s not me… and I thought she’s been in the home remedy business for quite a while with her three kids and 6 grandchildren so who was I to contest. As expected the honey did what I thought it would do and at this point I thought ok…this will definitely make her feel better I know that when I’m all woozy, in cold and hot sweats a good upchuck usually solves my dilemma. It’s pretty run of the mill routine at this point… the weather is changing and she’s fasting so her poor little body just isn’t in as good a shape as it used to be. She starts to shake violently and her face looses all sorts of color. Still remaining calm, which is surprisingly uncharacteristic of me, I cover her up and decide that there is no need to worry my mother by waking her from her sleep. I figured seeing my calmness would ease her worry but instead it is what makes her decide to tell me that she’s dying. “It’s time for me to go Sandy”. She’s repeating the shahadah and saying allahdmeullah for having performed her wodoo. And just like that I went from calm to an emotional wreck. The tears streamed down my face and all I could think was how I wasn’t nicer, sweeter more caring and tolerant. How I didn’t spend as much time as I should have saying all I wanted to say. How many more times my tone could have had a lot more 7ineya in it. She asked me to get my mother, she wanted to see her before she left. So I ran to grab my mum…
how do you really wake someone up without startling them at 5 o’clock in the morning?
My mother came into the room half asleep and well aware that this sort of thing had happened before. We sat next to her babying her with hugs kisses and massages and had regained our composure until the dramatic ahaaat stopped. She whispers “the talking will stop now…. My tongue is feeling heavy” And just like that she stopped talking. She was still breathing and her pulse going but the silence was lethal. My mother, a woman who I’ve only seen cry on one occasion in her life, broke down and started to weep uncontrollably and all I could say was “2iti2y il shetan ya mummy, she’s fine she’s just resting” Then there was the slow opening of the eyes and the apologies for having to put my mother through all this… that she’d spoken to some person whose name I’d never heard before about a plot somewhere so my mummy wouldn’t have to worry about it. that’s when I thought… this is it… the nightmare I’d awoken myself up from by panic stricken crying last week is going down right here and now… in my bed and I’m never going to be able to lay here again without thinking of this exact same moment. I got flash backs of being 10 and how my mother wept so much she couldn’t catch her breath after her father passed away. I remember her laughing and cracking jokes at the funeral and I remember thinking for a split second that she’d officially lost it. I don’t remember hearing my grandmother’s laughter ring quite the way it used to after that day. I don’t remember her walking into a room and having it light up the way it used to. I remember her telling me she used to think she was going crazy because she could feel him watching her sometimes. All of this brought into my mind instantly. I would soon be the owner of all that emotional baggage with the passing of a few more minutes. It was right at that moment that I realized sometimes you need to have someone to call out to. Someone you’re hoping will listen and intervene when things get out of hand. It was at precisely that moment that I realized how lucky I was to be of faith… dwindling at times and not as strong as one would hope but of faith none the less. And with that thought I felt this calm come over me like it would be ok. Like after having said the words “ya rab” over and over again under my breath he was going to help me through this. It brought me peace and I thought this too shall pass.
I’m not her…she’s not me… and I thought she’s been in the home remedy business for quite a while with her three kids and 6 grandchildren so who was I to contest. As expected the honey did what I thought it would do and at this point I thought ok…this will definitely make her feel better I know that when I’m all woozy, in cold and hot sweats a good upchuck usually solves my dilemma. It’s pretty run of the mill routine at this point… the weather is changing and she’s fasting so her poor little body just isn’t in as good a shape as it used to be. She starts to shake violently and her face looses all sorts of color. Still remaining calm, which is surprisingly uncharacteristic of me, I cover her up and decide that there is no need to worry my mother by waking her from her sleep. I figured seeing my calmness would ease her worry but instead it is what makes her decide to tell me that she’s dying. “It’s time for me to go Sandy”. She’s repeating the shahadah and saying allahdmeullah for having performed her wodoo. And just like that I went from calm to an emotional wreck. The tears streamed down my face and all I could think was how I wasn’t nicer, sweeter more caring and tolerant. How I didn’t spend as much time as I should have saying all I wanted to say. How many more times my tone could have had a lot more 7ineya in it. She asked me to get my mother, she wanted to see her before she left. So I ran to grab my mum…
how do you really wake someone up without startling them at 5 o’clock in the morning?
My mother came into the room half asleep and well aware that this sort of thing had happened before. We sat next to her babying her with hugs kisses and massages and had regained our composure until the dramatic ahaaat stopped. She whispers “the talking will stop now…. My tongue is feeling heavy” And just like that she stopped talking. She was still breathing and her pulse going but the silence was lethal. My mother, a woman who I’ve only seen cry on one occasion in her life, broke down and started to weep uncontrollably and all I could say was “2iti2y il shetan ya mummy, she’s fine she’s just resting” Then there was the slow opening of the eyes and the apologies for having to put my mother through all this… that she’d spoken to some person whose name I’d never heard before about a plot somewhere so my mummy wouldn’t have to worry about it. that’s when I thought… this is it… the nightmare I’d awoken myself up from by panic stricken crying last week is going down right here and now… in my bed and I’m never going to be able to lay here again without thinking of this exact same moment. I got flash backs of being 10 and how my mother wept so much she couldn’t catch her breath after her father passed away. I remember her laughing and cracking jokes at the funeral and I remember thinking for a split second that she’d officially lost it. I don’t remember hearing my grandmother’s laughter ring quite the way it used to after that day. I don’t remember her walking into a room and having it light up the way it used to. I remember her telling me she used to think she was going crazy because she could feel him watching her sometimes. All of this brought into my mind instantly. I would soon be the owner of all that emotional baggage with the passing of a few more minutes. It was right at that moment that I realized sometimes you need to have someone to call out to. Someone you’re hoping will listen and intervene when things get out of hand. It was at precisely that moment that I realized how lucky I was to be of faith… dwindling at times and not as strong as one would hope but of faith none the less. And with that thought I felt this calm come over me like it would be ok. Like after having said the words “ya rab” over and over again under my breath he was going to help me through this. It brought me peace and I thought this too shall pass.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
i want more
I constantly find myself in these situations where I wish, want, need, desire open commentary. Why can’t I be in both places at once? Me and the bird’s eye view could be one and the same. That situation works for me. I could so relate zay ily eddo fel nar but with the luxury of dude whose chilling fel pool with daiquiri in hand. I wish people would just say what they had to say. The filtering, reworking sentences before they come out, the withholding of information and the awkwardness that surrounds the situation is completely unnecessary.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
1 little 2 little 3 little sheepies..4 litlle 5 little 6 little...
Staring at my ceiling last night imagining what it would be like if: the ceiling was the ground and my ground the ceiling. How the stucco would feel on my bare feet and how the light could double as a heater as well as a source of illumination. How much more interesting it would be to stare at a ceiling with furniture stuck to it as opposed to the current bumpy cream stuff. Useless thinking really, a pre-bedtime routine to get me in sleep mode. I looked out the window and sadly came to the realization that sunshine would soon, if not already, be a thing of the past. I’d soon forget what summer felt, smelt and looked like and I’d be consumed by winter. Ramadan is round the corner and with it I sincerely hope a renewed sense of faith. I read a forward recently about how everyone of us has this inner struggle between good and evil where both are wolves. The one that takes over is ultimitely the one you feed. I wonder if I’ve been feeding the wrong one?
I made pacts to read more and connect more last Ramadan. I made pacts to pray more. I remembered that I’d done less that year than all the years before. I wonder if it was the pacts that set me back?
I remembered a conversation with my friend’s mummy about this feeling of being lost and not knowing what my purpose was. This conversation about how a better job just didn’t hold any excitement no sense of fulfillment. How the extra money earned didn’t present a world of opportunity because I simply had no desire to spend it.
It makes no sense to me!
And driving me crazy! Shouldn’t I be all about the spending and buying? Isn’t that what young professional women do? They make money to spend it? Shouldn’t I be leafing through magazines trying to cut my hair in a way that “perfectly reflects me.” And contemplating how to perfectly accessorize my new cell phone? Wheather the next pair of shoes I get should be from Aldo or transit. Souldn't i be yearning for a new purse from guess' new collection? Shouldn’t Halt Renfrew hold a special place in my heart and the perfume isles at the Bay excite every inch of my being? I’ve had this discussion with myself a gazillion and ten times. It’s always been too exhausting too superficial and too petty. But really the world judges you on what you look like. What’s the use of being gold on the inside if you don’t shine?
Why not change with the world that surrounds you and be hip and into all that is “cool”. Why not love yourself enough to want all those pretty things? Why can’t all this primping grooming and shopping just casually fall into the self improvement category? But at the end of the day. I refuse to buy into the commercials and the soap, the creams the clothes and the accessories that claim will make me complete, that promise to captivate all that surround me.
All this conversation in my head.. I should totally just project it onto objects and that way have a conversation with something other than myself... much like paulo cohelo did in the fifth mountain. I could befriend my bedside table or better yet my uninspirational cieling.. I could ask poor stucco the questions and before he gets a chance to respond i could give him my opinion and declare it his..Stupid bumper stickers... they work! Their msgs embedded in my brain..."everyone is entitled to my opinion" The ones that irk me the most are these new ones emerging everywhere. "support our troops" they're magnetic... I've visciously confiscated 4 so far... I'll have none of that in my space...my eyes don't need to see it... if the owner wants the world to know he/she is militant well they'll have to do it on their own time not mine and not through a medium i come in contact with... i'll have none of it...not on my watch. fuck freedom of speech. Hypocracy at its best here I hate that people control the space that surrounds me...why oh why am i eternally punished by forcebly being exposed to arabic drama on the tele 24/7? yes ok my granny is a wonderfull woman and she's loosing her hearing so the tv being at top volume is understandable... but whyyyyyyy oh whyyyyy must any trip to the kitchen be accompanied by the sound of a ya lahwee? And on that note y must any trip to the convenience store be accompanied by some random woman who can't drive in the first place telling some other woman off in cantonees? Yeah sure its exotic and under normal circumstanes I like forign sounds but when you've built a superstore that has chineese take out at the low low price of $3.00 and in the process have managed to make the air that surronds me smell like crayfish.. A smell might I add that seeps into your bones through ur pores and clings onto them like no tommorw... I am in no mood to listen to your high pitched squealing. but i'm ranting and being totally intolerant here soo like the good little girl that I am I'm going to follow in lady macbeth's footsteps and "out... out damned spot... out I say".
I made pacts to read more and connect more last Ramadan. I made pacts to pray more. I remembered that I’d done less that year than all the years before. I wonder if it was the pacts that set me back?
I remembered a conversation with my friend’s mummy about this feeling of being lost and not knowing what my purpose was. This conversation about how a better job just didn’t hold any excitement no sense of fulfillment. How the extra money earned didn’t present a world of opportunity because I simply had no desire to spend it.
It makes no sense to me!
And driving me crazy! Shouldn’t I be all about the spending and buying? Isn’t that what young professional women do? They make money to spend it? Shouldn’t I be leafing through magazines trying to cut my hair in a way that “perfectly reflects me.” And contemplating how to perfectly accessorize my new cell phone? Wheather the next pair of shoes I get should be from Aldo or transit. Souldn't i be yearning for a new purse from guess' new collection? Shouldn’t Halt Renfrew hold a special place in my heart and the perfume isles at the Bay excite every inch of my being? I’ve had this discussion with myself a gazillion and ten times. It’s always been too exhausting too superficial and too petty. But really the world judges you on what you look like. What’s the use of being gold on the inside if you don’t shine?
Why not change with the world that surrounds you and be hip and into all that is “cool”. Why not love yourself enough to want all those pretty things? Why can’t all this primping grooming and shopping just casually fall into the self improvement category? But at the end of the day. I refuse to buy into the commercials and the soap, the creams the clothes and the accessories that claim will make me complete, that promise to captivate all that surround me.
All this conversation in my head.. I should totally just project it onto objects and that way have a conversation with something other than myself... much like paulo cohelo did in the fifth mountain. I could befriend my bedside table or better yet my uninspirational cieling.. I could ask poor stucco the questions and before he gets a chance to respond i could give him my opinion and declare it his..Stupid bumper stickers... they work! Their msgs embedded in my brain..."everyone is entitled to my opinion" The ones that irk me the most are these new ones emerging everywhere. "support our troops" they're magnetic... I've visciously confiscated 4 so far... I'll have none of that in my space...my eyes don't need to see it... if the owner wants the world to know he/she is militant well they'll have to do it on their own time not mine and not through a medium i come in contact with... i'll have none of it...not on my watch. fuck freedom of speech. Hypocracy at its best here I hate that people control the space that surrounds me...why oh why am i eternally punished by forcebly being exposed to arabic drama on the tele 24/7? yes ok my granny is a wonderfull woman and she's loosing her hearing so the tv being at top volume is understandable... but whyyyyyyy oh whyyyyy must any trip to the kitchen be accompanied by the sound of a ya lahwee? And on that note y must any trip to the convenience store be accompanied by some random woman who can't drive in the first place telling some other woman off in cantonees? Yeah sure its exotic and under normal circumstanes I like forign sounds but when you've built a superstore that has chineese take out at the low low price of $3.00 and in the process have managed to make the air that surronds me smell like crayfish.. A smell might I add that seeps into your bones through ur pores and clings onto them like no tommorw... I am in no mood to listen to your high pitched squealing. but i'm ranting and being totally intolerant here soo like the good little girl that I am I'm going to follow in lady macbeth's footsteps and "out... out damned spot... out I say".
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Confines, borders and lines.
The warm air, cleansing rain and grey overcast have, as they often do, sent me into deep thought. There are many things that surface on days like this. The general direction in which my life is headed and weather I’ve ultimately become anywhere remotely close to the person I’d hoped I’d have become at my age are just some to name a few. I’m constantly surprised at how much harder it becomes to make the right decision as you get older, I suppose it can be attributed to the fact that I’m just getting intrinsically better at seeing the many differing shades of grey between wrong and right.
Confronted with one moral dilemma after the next it seems as though I’ve submitted to hedonism far too often. And while it is momentarily gratifying it is ultimately accompanied by a sense of disappointment. Maybe that can partially be accredited to my sudden rekindled interest in Socrates’ works and the idea of having to separate oneself from worldly things to arrive at truth. What truth exactly I am unsure. My truth, my personal state of nirvana I suppose. Or perhaps I’m just going on a tangent and the explanation is far simpler. Maybe I’ve just become jaded by how hard it is to align what I’d like the world with me in it to look like with the reality that surrounds me. I am particularly disheartened by my depreciating associated value for the words I love you. Not particularly solely in a significant other kind of way but in an overall general sense. Friends I’d thought I’d “love” for ages upon ages to come have now become distant strangers where prolonged periods of awkward silence are the norm and hugs and kisses are sterile, abandoned by warmth and emotion, exchanged solely upon the merit of formality. Or perhaps it is self pity that consumes me and not disappointment. Perhaps I had undeservingly given my self the authority to assume I could not so soon be forgotten, set aside or disregarded. Or maybe it is neither disappointment nor self pity but isolation. Have I unintentionally heeded to a form of self imposed exile?
Confronted with one moral dilemma after the next it seems as though I’ve submitted to hedonism far too often. And while it is momentarily gratifying it is ultimately accompanied by a sense of disappointment. Maybe that can partially be accredited to my sudden rekindled interest in Socrates’ works and the idea of having to separate oneself from worldly things to arrive at truth. What truth exactly I am unsure. My truth, my personal state of nirvana I suppose. Or perhaps I’m just going on a tangent and the explanation is far simpler. Maybe I’ve just become jaded by how hard it is to align what I’d like the world with me in it to look like with the reality that surrounds me. I am particularly disheartened by my depreciating associated value for the words I love you. Not particularly solely in a significant other kind of way but in an overall general sense. Friends I’d thought I’d “love” for ages upon ages to come have now become distant strangers where prolonged periods of awkward silence are the norm and hugs and kisses are sterile, abandoned by warmth and emotion, exchanged solely upon the merit of formality. Or perhaps it is self pity that consumes me and not disappointment. Perhaps I had undeservingly given my self the authority to assume I could not so soon be forgotten, set aside or disregarded. Or maybe it is neither disappointment nor self pity but isolation. Have I unintentionally heeded to a form of self imposed exile?
Friday, September 08, 2006
A Sacred Blasphemy
"Be off and know that the way of lovers is opposite all other ways.
The impossible is common place,
Punishment is reward,
Tyranny is justice,
Slander is the highest praise.
His harshness is soft,
His blasphemy is sacred.
When he’s bitter it’s better than a candy shop.
When he turns his head away it’s all hugs and kisses.
A “No” from his lips is a thousand times “Yes”
His infidelity is faith,
His stones are jewels,
His holding back is giving,
His ruthlessness is mercy
You may laugh at me and say,
“The path you’re on is full of curves!”
Yes- for the curve of his eyebrow
I have traded in my soul!
I can not say another word!
Carry on, my glorious heart,
Finish the poem in silence…"
The impossible is common place,
Punishment is reward,
Tyranny is justice,
Slander is the highest praise.
His harshness is soft,
His blasphemy is sacred.
When he’s bitter it’s better than a candy shop.
When he turns his head away it’s all hugs and kisses.
A “No” from his lips is a thousand times “Yes”
His infidelity is faith,
His stones are jewels,
His holding back is giving,
His ruthlessness is mercy
You may laugh at me and say,
“The path you’re on is full of curves!”
Yes- for the curve of his eyebrow
I have traded in my soul!
I can not say another word!
Carry on, my glorious heart,
Finish the poem in silence…"
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Dante's Inferno
I was sorting through some photos when I came across this.
All I could think was Dante’s inferno.
- From my understanding, those who committed sins against art were punished. In a world where art is often the expression of nonconformist or suppressed urges the idea of punishing someone for not appreciating art as it should be strikes me as somewhat revolutionary.
- The concept of purgatory and the cleansing of oneself by a punishment fit for the sin struck symbolic chords. Pride absolved by having to carry a heavy weight that does not allow the sinner to stand tall, proud or straight. Envy absolved by having the sinner’s eyes sewn shut unable to see admire which they had for their own someone else’s fortune. Avarice, by facing the ground unable to turn away from worldly possessions. My personal favorite sin, sloth, is absolved by being zealous and continually running up a hill.
- I particularly enjoyed the ideas associated with the rivers Lethe and Eunoe. The former makes the soul forget any previous sins while a sip of the later renews memories of good deeds. Sounds a little like our version prozac or booz.
- Dante makes mention of the fact that how he sees heaven as is limited by his capacity to see. He is thus incapable of having a greater experience than his mind soul or being will allow him to have. To each their own version of heaven. This reminds me of a scene from ‘What dreams may come’. The painter’s version of heaven is made beautiful colors all round. Having committed suicide she is unable to see past her sadness and thus the beauty around her is of no relevance. I am also reminded of Alanis Morrisette’s character in Dogma requiring an intermediary to communicate with the world. People and most angels are ill equipped to hear the overpowering voice of “God” and so it is presented to them in a form they can withstand.
- Though not profound I also found it interesting that hell was imagined to lie at the center of the earth right below Jerusalem. That then makes Jerusalem to some extent the stage of purgatory. With all its inhabitants in a constant state of struggle. Not heaven and not hell they are in turmoil.
All I could think was Dante’s inferno.
It struck me a little odd that I’d never given this piece of Italian literature the attention it deserved.
It was an extremely difficult read but well worth the while. The visual images, symbolism and ideas presented came back to me as I reflected.
I’m not feeling very articulate and so a list of interesting points will have to suffice.
It was an extremely difficult read but well worth the while. The visual images, symbolism and ideas presented came back to me as I reflected.
I’m not feeling very articulate and so a list of interesting points will have to suffice.
- The notion of active vs. passive sins. While most religious people do not fall in the actively sinful category I find it extremely interesting to think that they more than often fall in the passive category.
- From my understanding, those who committed sins against art were punished. In a world where art is often the expression of nonconformist or suppressed urges the idea of punishing someone for not appreciating art as it should be strikes me as somewhat revolutionary.
- The concept of purgatory and the cleansing of oneself by a punishment fit for the sin struck symbolic chords. Pride absolved by having to carry a heavy weight that does not allow the sinner to stand tall, proud or straight. Envy absolved by having the sinner’s eyes sewn shut unable to see admire which they had for their own someone else’s fortune. Avarice, by facing the ground unable to turn away from worldly possessions. My personal favorite sin, sloth, is absolved by being zealous and continually running up a hill.
- I particularly enjoyed the ideas associated with the rivers Lethe and Eunoe. The former makes the soul forget any previous sins while a sip of the later renews memories of good deeds. Sounds a little like our version prozac or booz.
- Dante makes mention of the fact that how he sees heaven as is limited by his capacity to see. He is thus incapable of having a greater experience than his mind soul or being will allow him to have. To each their own version of heaven. This reminds me of a scene from ‘What dreams may come’. The painter’s version of heaven is made beautiful colors all round. Having committed suicide she is unable to see past her sadness and thus the beauty around her is of no relevance. I am also reminded of Alanis Morrisette’s character in Dogma requiring an intermediary to communicate with the world. People and most angels are ill equipped to hear the overpowering voice of “God” and so it is presented to them in a form they can withstand.
- Though not profound I also found it interesting that hell was imagined to lie at the center of the earth right below Jerusalem. That then makes Jerusalem to some extent the stage of purgatory. With all its inhabitants in a constant state of struggle. Not heaven and not hell they are in turmoil.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Philematology
Of all the ‘ologys I’ve run into these days Philematology seems to keep resurfacing everywhere. On a scientific level wikipedia, I know not much of a resource but a quick reference none the less, has it listed as “The science of kissing”. Being equipped with nifty little neurotransmitters called oxytocin that are released when we kiss allows for splendid results in both sexes. It is involved in social recognition and bonding, and might be involved in the formation of trust between people. The release of this feel good hormone is then what causes one kiss to prompt another. This gesture that originally mimicked the sound of breast feeding children has come a long way in today’s world. Its diverse existence ranges from a peck on the cheek to an all encompassing amorous exchange between lovers.
Some of my favorite Bacios:
Some of my favorite Bacios:
Monday, August 21, 2006
Another glorious niche addeded to Massachusetts’s bed post.
Home to many greats like the bruins, the mighty mighty bostones, Harvard law and cheers, the good folks at Massachusetts General Hospital are now proudly proclaiming that they’ve managed to tamper with the switch on the immune system’s T cells that triggers the inhibitory programmed death-1 pathway. HIV is apparently quite sneaky that way. It turns off the switch and the cells basically throw their arms up in the air and go I’m outty… Much like the lights in a room, On means functional and up and running while Off means out of business. Though they’re not claiming to have found a cure for the disease yet they’re extremely excited by the discovery. Finding the switch that makes the immune system self destruct is half the struggle. I’m a little irked by these self riotous bastards. Don’t get me wrong I’m not undermining the importance for a cure for HIV but really I can do that. I don’t need some big shot scientist in a lab coat to tell me how to solve the AIDS problem. It is quite simple really. STOP SLEEPING AROUND WITH RANDOM PEOPLE. Quit it with the anal sex ala Greek, Keep your legs shut and your pants on… and above all refrain from the recreation of requiem for a dream… Needles aren’t meant to be shared! If you’re going to be a bad ass do it right and buy your own syringes…. And voila… sans the PHD or Dr. by my name I have single handedly cut down the worlds HIV problem to less than half of what it used to be…
Now can someone please ask these people to quit pissing around pull their heads out of their asses and focus on bigger things like stuff we can’t control?
Cancer maslan? That’s a big one. It seems like everything causes it and people are dropping left right and centre like flies who decided to fly into the blue light. But perhaps that’s way more advanced that we can hope to muster the mitochondrion is after all a wicked piece of organ machinery. So let’s stick to something simpler perhaps?
like what like what?
hmmm oh I Don’t know… World hunger?!
Now can someone please ask these people to quit pissing around pull their heads out of their asses and focus on bigger things like stuff we can’t control?
Cancer maslan? That’s a big one. It seems like everything causes it and people are dropping left right and centre like flies who decided to fly into the blue light. But perhaps that’s way more advanced that we can hope to muster the mitochondrion is after all a wicked piece of organ machinery. So let’s stick to something simpler perhaps?
like what like what?
hmmm oh I Don’t know… World hunger?!
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Paint the picture
Hiding behind the ones and zeros "you paint yourself in blue, red, black and grey.... all the beautiful colors are very meaningful" It is now and here that grey becomes symbolic of all the bold domination and the key to willful submission. Spoonfuls of bedazzling tantalizing jargon at best, I am not hungry but will entertain the ideas I am fed. The humor in it all has me hooked. Let’s live in the world inside our heads where pink lemonade grows on trees and the rain pours without ever getting us wet. Let our imagination run wild and give us wings to fly. Let the straws of faith we’re trying to latch onto flutter in dance with the wind over lakes of purple bubbles… you create the delusion and I enlist to get drafted with nothing but a smile plastered from ear to ear.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Le Jour Viendra
Completely at a stand still with my writing and with dwindling inspiration to create anything of value this song has managed to make me feel like there’s something about pretty prose in a language I wish I was fluent at that make the words that much more prolific. I find comfort in the fact that I’m still able to sigh and smile once in a while.
Et la nuit tendait les bras pour y bercer le jour
Et les ombres de nos pas marchaient au pas de l'amour
Le feu jouait dans l'eau comme jouent des frères
Etait-ce vrai ou bien n'était-ce qu'un rêve ?
Oh... Le jour viendra
Les grands lions apaisés buvaient près des gazelles
Les tempêtes se levaient pour éteindre les braises
J'ai vu des fleurs au beau milieu d'un désert
La vérité ou juste une autre chimère ?
Mmm... Le jour viendra
J'ai vu l'été s'effacer en saluant septembre
Les instruments s'accorder pour inventer ensemble
Des arcs-en-ciel illuminer des orages
Etais-je endormi, n'était-ce qu'un mirage ?
Oh... Le jour viendra
Si Dieu nous a fait des mains ce n'est que pour caresser
S'Il a fait des bras c'est pour protéger
Nos cerveaux pour inventer et nos voix pour chanter
Changer les rêves en réalité
J'ai vu des cailloux plus doux que le plus doux des velours
Et des épines mourir au premier des mots d'amour
J'ai vu la paix bénir mon pays que j'aime
Etait-ce vrai ou bien n'était-ce qu'un rêve ?
Oh... Le jour viendraLe jour viendraLe jour viendraLe jour viendraLe jour viendraLe jour viendra...
The Day Will come And the night tightened its arms to rock the day
And the shades of our steps in step with that of love
Fire played in water like the play of the brothers
Was this true or was this only one dream?
Oh… The day will come
The large alleviated lions drank close to the gazelles
The storms rose to extinguish embers
I saw flowers in the beautiful medium of a desert
The truth or another dream?
Mmm… The day will come
I saw summer being erased by greeting September
Instruments agreeing to invent together
Rainbows to illuminate storms
was I sleeping and this only a mirage?
Oh… The day will come
If God made us hands aren't they to cherish
If he made arms it is to protect
Our brains to invent and our voices to sing
To actually change dreams
I saw the stones softer than softest of velvets
And of the spines to die in the first words of love
I saw peace blessing the country I love
Was this true or was this only one dream?
Oh… The day will come
The day will come
The day will come
The day will come
The day will come
Et la nuit tendait les bras pour y bercer le jour
Et les ombres de nos pas marchaient au pas de l'amour
Le feu jouait dans l'eau comme jouent des frères
Etait-ce vrai ou bien n'était-ce qu'un rêve ?
Oh... Le jour viendra
Les grands lions apaisés buvaient près des gazelles
Les tempêtes se levaient pour éteindre les braises
J'ai vu des fleurs au beau milieu d'un désert
La vérité ou juste une autre chimère ?
Mmm... Le jour viendra
J'ai vu l'été s'effacer en saluant septembre
Les instruments s'accorder pour inventer ensemble
Des arcs-en-ciel illuminer des orages
Etais-je endormi, n'était-ce qu'un mirage ?
Oh... Le jour viendra
Si Dieu nous a fait des mains ce n'est que pour caresser
S'Il a fait des bras c'est pour protéger
Nos cerveaux pour inventer et nos voix pour chanter
Changer les rêves en réalité
J'ai vu des cailloux plus doux que le plus doux des velours
Et des épines mourir au premier des mots d'amour
J'ai vu la paix bénir mon pays que j'aime
Etait-ce vrai ou bien n'était-ce qu'un rêve ?
Oh... Le jour viendraLe jour viendraLe jour viendraLe jour viendraLe jour viendraLe jour viendra...
The Day Will come And the night tightened its arms to rock the day
And the shades of our steps in step with that of love
Fire played in water like the play of the brothers
Was this true or was this only one dream?
Oh… The day will come
The large alleviated lions drank close to the gazelles
The storms rose to extinguish embers
I saw flowers in the beautiful medium of a desert
The truth or another dream?
Mmm… The day will come
I saw summer being erased by greeting September
Instruments agreeing to invent together
Rainbows to illuminate storms
was I sleeping and this only a mirage?
Oh… The day will come
If God made us hands aren't they to cherish
If he made arms it is to protect
Our brains to invent and our voices to sing
To actually change dreams
I saw the stones softer than softest of velvets
And of the spines to die in the first words of love
I saw peace blessing the country I love
Was this true or was this only one dream?
Oh… The day will come
The day will come
The day will come
The day will come
The day will come
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Hieroglyphics of a hurried generation
My brother decided to do a little internet investigating about my sister and I this morning in an attempt to alleviate his boredom at work he calls me up and casually goes. Did you know that there is another Sand-e who went to your university at around the same you did? Intrigued by this “other” mystery Sand-e I set out to find her. I stumbled upon this and realized I’d found her.
Being an 80’s baby I can not begin to fathom life with out computers. So they weren’t as powerful or as visually stimulating as today’s games but they got the job done. Any kid on the block who had an Atari was a necessity if not a valuable member of your play group. They were a mechanism for transcendence from childhood into adulthood, a right of passage. I remember being obsessed with the colorful stick figures that lit up the TV screen during a game of Pac-Man or tennis. Looking around me today, I’ve come to realize that times are changing and that the newest coolest and most basic commodity has become MSN. Its popularity compares to that of bill gates in the computer world, the king of pop during the 80’s and Crayola during kindergarten years. As a matter of fact MSN is a rudimentary part of any 8 year old’s life. MSN is no longer a craze but has been integrated into every day life. Not only is it that, a craze, but it is slowly but surely becoming the easiest fastest way of getting in touch with “anyone”. Just like the toaster changed breakfast forever and the remote control revolutionized TV watching so too has MSN and its effect on language. Net lingo is the wave of the future. It ranges from the usual : ) indicating a smile to “lol” denoting laughing out loud. Acronyms are an intricate and major part of computer and Cyber-space culture. They represent common phrases that people say to one another but are generally too lazy to type. Upper case and lower case typing have become equally as important as acronyms. WRITING FULL SENTENCES IN CAPITAL LETTERS IMPLIES SHOUTING OR EXCLAMATOIN. Many people these days accuse today’s youth of lacking ingenuity and creativity, I believe it is quite the opposite. The key element to this realization lies in the acknowledgment of the fact that creativity and ingenuity do exist but the difference lies in the venues through which they are expressed. Before the TV it was mainly through writing, drawing and thinking. Even though these venues are still in use today, technology has brought around other venues. Cyber-space is most certainly one of these venues. While many of us react to a joke by slapping our thigh and throwing our head back in laughter. Today’s youth have found a different means of communicating these emotions using LOL, ROTFL and LMAO. To the naked eye this is laziness at its best but I believe it is the willingness to venture where language hasn’t gone before. Laughing out loud (LOL), rolling on the floor laughing (ROTFL), and laughing my, er, ankles off (LMAO) are just a few of the many expressive acronyms and shorthand used to convey laughter, anger, approval, disapproval, love, hate--and everything in between. Who says technology and the computer revolution no longer allows youth to exhibit creativity and emotion? Not only have today’s youth found a faster way of communicating activities such as laughing out loud but they have also managed to make an emotionless realm (Cyber-space) come to life with human emotion. Acronyms and emoticons have quickly become the hieroglyphics of a hurried generation.
She was me. : P
Being an 80’s baby I can not begin to fathom life with out computers. So they weren’t as powerful or as visually stimulating as today’s games but they got the job done. Any kid on the block who had an Atari was a necessity if not a valuable member of your play group. They were a mechanism for transcendence from childhood into adulthood, a right of passage. I remember being obsessed with the colorful stick figures that lit up the TV screen during a game of Pac-Man or tennis. Looking around me today, I’ve come to realize that times are changing and that the newest coolest and most basic commodity has become MSN. Its popularity compares to that of bill gates in the computer world, the king of pop during the 80’s and Crayola during kindergarten years. As a matter of fact MSN is a rudimentary part of any 8 year old’s life. MSN is no longer a craze but has been integrated into every day life. Not only is it that, a craze, but it is slowly but surely becoming the easiest fastest way of getting in touch with “anyone”. Just like the toaster changed breakfast forever and the remote control revolutionized TV watching so too has MSN and its effect on language. Net lingo is the wave of the future. It ranges from the usual : ) indicating a smile to “lol” denoting laughing out loud. Acronyms are an intricate and major part of computer and Cyber-space culture. They represent common phrases that people say to one another but are generally too lazy to type. Upper case and lower case typing have become equally as important as acronyms. WRITING FULL SENTENCES IN CAPITAL LETTERS IMPLIES SHOUTING OR EXCLAMATOIN. Many people these days accuse today’s youth of lacking ingenuity and creativity, I believe it is quite the opposite. The key element to this realization lies in the acknowledgment of the fact that creativity and ingenuity do exist but the difference lies in the venues through which they are expressed. Before the TV it was mainly through writing, drawing and thinking. Even though these venues are still in use today, technology has brought around other venues. Cyber-space is most certainly one of these venues. While many of us react to a joke by slapping our thigh and throwing our head back in laughter. Today’s youth have found a different means of communicating these emotions using LOL, ROTFL and LMAO. To the naked eye this is laziness at its best but I believe it is the willingness to venture where language hasn’t gone before. Laughing out loud (LOL), rolling on the floor laughing (ROTFL), and laughing my, er, ankles off (LMAO) are just a few of the many expressive acronyms and shorthand used to convey laughter, anger, approval, disapproval, love, hate--and everything in between. Who says technology and the computer revolution no longer allows youth to exhibit creativity and emotion? Not only have today’s youth found a faster way of communicating activities such as laughing out loud but they have also managed to make an emotionless realm (Cyber-space) come to life with human emotion. Acronyms and emoticons have quickly become the hieroglyphics of a hurried generation.
She was me. : P
Friday, August 04, 2006
Yay long weekend
August 4th weekend is already here and that means the summer has almost come to an end. September is right around the corner and the winter frost will slowly start to creep in where it left us last. New year resolutions will be made and broken. And soon enough we’ll be right where we started…waiting for the reds, oranges and yellows of fall to roll in again. Though eternal sunshine makes for impeccable differences in people’s moods I must say I do love the change in seasons.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Et tu, Burte?
I Called my friend up last night who has grown more and more eerily depressed as the days have gone by. The nerve! He’s been in Canada less than three years and ALREADY he’s developing a complex.
Try 15 buddy!
He’s this incredibly sweet guy who values family to no end. So smart but so incredibly crippled by his simplicity and inability to entertain or engage in abstract thought. “Philosophy?!” he says, “Will that feed me at the end of the day?” But, despite our differences, I think I’ve finally come to understand him. Raised by simple hardworking people whose biggest concern was having a place to live and food on the table he wasn’t afforded the luxury of developing his mind. When you’re occupied with basic essentials human needs like water and food somehow your concern for other issues like Socrates’ theories diminishes emmensely. He’s got a heart of gold but educated and cultured by his travels and experience he finds that he neither fits in here nor there. He is unable to adjust to his newfound social status and at the same time unable to let go of his brute past. I genuinely believe that god has opened many doors for him simply because he is a good man. But because many things have come so easy for him in the past and with his transition to life in Canada he is slowly becoming depressed at his in ability to make the one thing he wants most happen. He’s so infatuated with finding a bride and it’s consuming his entire being. I feel for the man… Half the women he wants to meet won’t even have coffee with him because of his family’s situation or because of how long he’s been in Canada. “Mafeesh wa7da tesma3 3any gheer ma te2ool 3alaya FOP w materdash te2abilny” I giggle at how clever it was of him to unintentionally change the B to a P, he did after all arrive on a plane and not a boat. He brings up an amazing point though. What is up with women?! So he has a bit of an accent and he hasn’t been in the country for long and sure he relates to an entirely different form of pop culture and literature. But really, isn’t that what women want? Someone who isn’t a replica of themselves? Some one who will expose them to different things and have a different take on life? Whatever happened to wanting to be with someone that will treat you right and cherish you for who you are? Anyways…thats a whole other can of worms for a different day.
He was too funny last night. His depression seemed to be of a different sort. The kind filled with sexual frustration and the inability to do anything about it. So in an attempt to break the awkward tension, thinking I’m funny, I enthusiastically offer my self up. He pauses, like he’s seriously considering the offer or like he’s thought about it before and then goes… "ummmmm no." And I go … “no? you’re sure? “I make a clicking noise by sucking my teeth at this point still thinking I’m a barrel of laughs and suggestively go: “It might be fuuuuun… I’ve heard stories about good boys gone bad… mategy negy (lets go) there's nothing like being damned to a life in hell firrrrre by 2 religions instead of one.”
Side note: Am I the only one that finds it hilarious that clerics always
say hell fire? It so increadibly redundant. Kinda like starbucks'
chai tea... they're one and the same thing people!
He takes on this serious serious tone and I know its about to go down… he calmly responds “no thank you.” I hesitate for a bit… I think I might have unintentionally hurt his pride or something by making fun of his lack of mo jo. I find that there is a beauty that shines through in people when they are that exposed. It is precisely during those moments of clarity and understanding the person I am talking to that I feel most human. Ma 3aleena... at this point I was so knee deep in the conversation there was no turning back… sooo I laugh and fake sob only to over dramatically announce “7atta anta ya Brutus?! Ana 3arfa… heya il world kidda… yom leek w yom 3aleek” and after the words come out of my mouth i think... oh god... please say u know who Brutus was!
Try 15 buddy!
He’s this incredibly sweet guy who values family to no end. So smart but so incredibly crippled by his simplicity and inability to entertain or engage in abstract thought. “Philosophy?!” he says, “Will that feed me at the end of the day?” But, despite our differences, I think I’ve finally come to understand him. Raised by simple hardworking people whose biggest concern was having a place to live and food on the table he wasn’t afforded the luxury of developing his mind. When you’re occupied with basic essentials human needs like water and food somehow your concern for other issues like Socrates’ theories diminishes emmensely. He’s got a heart of gold but educated and cultured by his travels and experience he finds that he neither fits in here nor there. He is unable to adjust to his newfound social status and at the same time unable to let go of his brute past. I genuinely believe that god has opened many doors for him simply because he is a good man. But because many things have come so easy for him in the past and with his transition to life in Canada he is slowly becoming depressed at his in ability to make the one thing he wants most happen. He’s so infatuated with finding a bride and it’s consuming his entire being. I feel for the man… Half the women he wants to meet won’t even have coffee with him because of his family’s situation or because of how long he’s been in Canada. “Mafeesh wa7da tesma3 3any gheer ma te2ool 3alaya FOP w materdash te2abilny” I giggle at how clever it was of him to unintentionally change the B to a P, he did after all arrive on a plane and not a boat. He brings up an amazing point though. What is up with women?! So he has a bit of an accent and he hasn’t been in the country for long and sure he relates to an entirely different form of pop culture and literature. But really, isn’t that what women want? Someone who isn’t a replica of themselves? Some one who will expose them to different things and have a different take on life? Whatever happened to wanting to be with someone that will treat you right and cherish you for who you are? Anyways…thats a whole other can of worms for a different day.
He was too funny last night. His depression seemed to be of a different sort. The kind filled with sexual frustration and the inability to do anything about it. So in an attempt to break the awkward tension, thinking I’m funny, I enthusiastically offer my self up. He pauses, like he’s seriously considering the offer or like he’s thought about it before and then goes… "ummmmm no." And I go … “no? you’re sure? “I make a clicking noise by sucking my teeth at this point still thinking I’m a barrel of laughs and suggestively go: “It might be fuuuuun… I’ve heard stories about good boys gone bad… mategy negy (lets go) there's nothing like being damned to a life in hell firrrrre by 2 religions instead of one.”
Side note: Am I the only one that finds it hilarious that clerics always
say hell fire? It so increadibly redundant. Kinda like starbucks'
chai tea... they're one and the same thing people!
He takes on this serious serious tone and I know its about to go down… he calmly responds “no thank you.” I hesitate for a bit… I think I might have unintentionally hurt his pride or something by making fun of his lack of mo jo. I find that there is a beauty that shines through in people when they are that exposed. It is precisely during those moments of clarity and understanding the person I am talking to that I feel most human. Ma 3aleena... at this point I was so knee deep in the conversation there was no turning back… sooo I laugh and fake sob only to over dramatically announce “7atta anta ya Brutus?! Ana 3arfa… heya il world kidda… yom leek w yom 3aleek” and after the words come out of my mouth i think... oh god... please say u know who Brutus was!
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