Then and now and now and then

The satiating quench after the drought of thirst.


An illuminating Epiphany after the hollow of barren thought.


The quiet before the storm



The bliss of before in a lonely room of after

"Our world of only Humans , a world without Humanity." ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Sacré Blue!

Hoshi: Please introduce yourselves, tell us about where you work, your academic background and why you're here.

Me: My Name is Sandy, I graduated from U of T

I hear eclectic swooshes from heads turning to look in my direction. They're listening intently.

Me: I studied IT, Logic and philosophy
Gasp!

Me: I am currently working for the government
Stress Stress Stress in their eyes.

Me: And after 3 years of being out of school I just up and decided it was time to use my brain again. So here I am
Comfortable laughter mixed with confusion.

Why do the words UofT, IT ,Logic and philosophy combined have this effect on people? Confused and a little uncomfortable.
Come to think of it... people are always confused when those words come out of my mouth.
Pedro the Peruvian refuge raised in Guatemala illegally residing in Canada actually started to laugh as he nudged my shoulder with his elbow and said in his amicable accent "No really what did you go to school for?"
After yesterday I think I've figured it all out.
I'm the underachiever everyone always thought would overachieve. Rotting away at an age way too early to be rotting away at people can’t put two and two together. Its almost like I’ve been given the tools to save bloated tummied kids somewhere in Somalia but chose to make paperclip chains instead. Lovely isn’t it? Tis my destiny or my fate whatever suits your fancy. I’ve accepted and almost come to terms with it. Why won’t everyone else?

Big Mac Nation and Obesity beware

Oxyntomodulin is apparently the want to exercise in an injection. how convenient? It suppresses appetite and is less commonly found in heavier people. Diabetics take insulin and overweight people take this difficult to pronounce hormone. Reading about this “new discovery” makes me realize just how palpably complicated we are. I mean seriously, Silly me. Here I was thinking that the astounding amount of DNA packed into a tiny grain of wheat germ was by far the worlds most astonishingly amusing discovery. How these scientists can be witness to all this complexity and still not believe in God is far beyond my comprehension. It should be interesting to see how the hormone's marketing and prospective large capital generation pans out. Someone somewhere is going to get rich. For a little while anyway.I’m certain that Ephedra was looking just as sexy when it came out with its promise to increase heart rates and help all those looking to shed a few extra pounds. What strikes me as interesting with this one though is that it is already naturally the body’s appetite suppressant. I suppose what doctors will aspire to do is simply help the pituitary produce or release more of the hormone into the body.

Cap ou pas cap?

Rarely am I disappointed in foreign films. They are entirely different than what I’ve been conditioned to expect. This "Romantic comedy" is superb. The plot doesn't follow the run of the mill boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl. I like that it really plays up the idea that people who are in love play games. They say one thing and mean another. They're confused and often in the course of their arrival at the decision to be with their "beloved" cause unimaginable anguish to all involved. The games are all consuming and soon it becomes nothing more than a desire to win. Humans we're awful! we are the scum of the scum. give us a taste of power, even when it comes to emotions, and we aim to recreate that control all the time. we hurt those we love the most and almost always expect that they'll endure. It's everywhere. Teenagers screaming at fathers, Mothers at their kids, husbands at wives. “All in the name of love”. Even terrorists against their own governments and the killings of hundreds of country men. But “what more in the name of love?”

Such a powerful word, defined differently to each of us.

Are pain, anger, sabotage, confusion, jealousy and animosity love's necessary evil?

"And as you move on,
remember me, Remember us
and all we used to be" ~ James Blunt

For Deenz

I made a trip to the video store last night, pronounced plack bastard by a certain not so fresh off the boat Egyptian daddy. There is something intrinsically soothing associated with walking the isles contemplating, analyzing, assessing, and concluding what to rent. You first conduct a personal aura reading of sorts to determine what kind of a general mood you’re in…an airy light or soulfully deep. You weave yourself back and forth through the tapestry of the isles while appraising the vibrant colors of the slim tiny DVD cases. It is a slow soul searching experience where you attempt to find a merger that will adhere between what you want to feel and the availability of that emotion on a diskette. You browse and browse and browse some more. Each catchy title personifies a resonating whisper in your mind. It is through their guidance that you arrive at this state of self understanding. You peruse each synopsis that is worthy of a little more attention than the rest and tactfully steer yourself in the direction that best suits your rejuvenated sense of self discovery. You hone in on a target unknown till it is identified. You pick it up and continue to survey the competition… the same grueling process brings another worthy cause to your attention… This by far, the hardest part of it all… If only they could talk back… The glaring spot light of an interrogation room lined with one way mirrors would come into good use right about now…. As a bead of sweat begins to form on the side of your forehead a friendly uniformed representative voice breaks the silence… and time no longer stands still. “Excellent choices! A thoroughly tough decision though” Rampant thoughts race across your mind sending you in a spinning daze…”I don’t know this person… they don’t know me…They’re giving me movie advise.. I should take it… wait a minute…can I trust them? I like them both… I want them both…I have time to watch both… they’re on special… I have in store credit….there is no excuse”
You pause and in hale wanting to regain the calm and control.
Exhale
“you’re right… why not”
Euphoria kicks in. A decision well made. An inner conflict resolved. A battle contained.
Overwhelmed with glee and anticipation you head to the check out counter and proclaim your self triumphant in your conquest.

Plack Bastard

Once upon a long long time ago...

X: we’ll take my car cool? My dad isn’t using it and I feel like driving... lemme just tell him we’re heading out so he doesn’t worry.

Me: Yeah sure do your thing…

X: walks half way to the kitchen and yells "Dad… Sand-E n I are heading to Block Buster we’ll be back in a bit."

Egyptian Daddy: "X! which one? I didn’t know u knew any…"

X: "right round the corner dad.. we’ll be back in 15 mins.. masafet il sikka.." (be back in a jiffy)

Egyptian Daddy: "tab w lazmito 2h delwa2ty ya3ni manty ma3 sa7bitik ib2y ro7ilo wa2t tany." (and why do u need to go now? Your friend is with you... why don't you go a different time?)

X: "well no dad I wanna go now... block buster awaits."

Egytian Daddy: "ALLAH! 3eeb! ana masik nafsy w mish 3ayez 2aza3a2 2odam sa7bitik hina bas 2h tare2it il kalam wel alfaz deh?( allah! That’s rude!… I’ve been holding back and don't want to yell because your friend is here but whats with the way you're talking and why such language?

X: "huh?" thinking… *WTF?! Is he off his meds again?!*

Egyptian Daddy: “3amala te2oly plack bastard plack bastard wana saket… bas Kaman ray7a te2ably w ma3 sa7bitik?! MISH 3eeb?“ (you keep saying plack bastard plack bastard and I ignored it but now you say you want to go meet him with your friend?!?)

Me: standing at the end of the hallway looking at X’s sincere attempt to hold it all in… “La2 ya uncle mana 2oltilha malhash lazma… 2i7na hanroo7 ne2agar film ba3d izn 7adretak” (well no uncle, I suggested that there’s no need for that so we’ll go rent a movie with your permission of course)

Egyptian Daddy: "2aywa kidda…Rabena yetaminik ya benty… 3a2aleha 3ashan khatry… "(yeah thats it..you’ve put me at ease darling, please talk some sense into her)

On Art...

"The true work of art is but a shadow of the divine perfection."~Rumi

"Colour is my day-long obsession, joy and torment."~Monet

"You can't be at the pole and the equator at the same time. You must choose your own line, as I hope to do, and it will probably be color."~Van Gogh

"Seek the strongest color effect possible.. the content is of no importance."~Mattise

Egyptian Mr. Photgenic

Poor Mohamed Osman... Despite his Huge Blogger following isn't in the top 4...
Surprise Surprise... I wonder how he'd have done with the ladies...

More on the Driving Debate

A little more thought about the whole stats Canada/driving thing brought me to this:
In order to assume that women are the safer drivers an accident/km traveled rate would have to come up in women’s favor. Insurance companies here give women a lower rate based on that data.

The down fall however, is stretching that data to allow for the statement women are the “better” drivers. I think at that point a clear definition of what better entails would have to be set forth. I mean if you are basing the definition solely on crash rates then it’s fair to say women rock. Any sane person wouldn’t be satisfied with that though… the word better generally has a holistic encompassing notion attached to it. That means that hesitation, speed, courage and road intelligence would have to be taken into consideration and come out in the females' favor. It’s quite the tricky subject.

Anyways enough about that... find out how good ur gaming/parking skills are

War of the roses AKA sexes

Bono’s Raspy voice blares out “One Love” I’m so happy to be out of the office and completley engulfed when Crazy Nice dude starts honking his horn like no tomorrow. He is flailing his arms in the air and I can’t really make any sense of it. There is no one behind me… I haven’t cut him off and I see no reason for him to ruin the debauchery associated with my favorite song. I ignore him and drive on only to find some other random woman screaming something in audible at me. I’m a patient woman but this had gone too far… I can see the need to be in a good mood cuz of the sunshine and all but really, why won’t they just let me enjoy the song.. So I roll down my window ready to tell dudette off… when I realize that her face is really really really red from, I assume all the yelling she’s been doing. Caught off guard I wait to see what she has to say
Pause… Pause… Pause…
“ You forgot to put the cap on your gas tank dumb ass!”
A good Samaritan at heart what could I have possibly said to the woman. I think…she’s obviously got sunstroke... I smile casually and say “thank you”. I’m about to dismiss her loco ass but it dawns on me that perhaps I should look out my window just to make sure.
“ARGH!” I was perfectly happy with crazy woman when she was just yanking my chain… why did she have to go and be right?
I’d filled up gas and in my hurry to make it back to work on time just simply forgot to put the cap back on all together… You must see that it takes a “special kind of person” to do this. Most people forget just the door to the gas tank open but no not me I forgotten both the actual lid itself and the door open. Some kind of friction or a spark could have made for more than singed eyebrows!

Anyways…No biggy no one was injured expect my self respect and pride maybe…
It brought me back to a passionate conversation Deenz and I had about how women drivers are the worst with a few exceptions. Deenz was horrified at my blatant subscription to stereotypes who she said were created by none other than zee males. I thought I had a well rounded argument. I could not make bold sweeping arguments but I claimed that I could judge based on my limited experience. Count the number of stupid moves in a real world scenario and you’ll see that most of them are caused by women. They’re a lot less aggressive. They’re often over taken and usually hesitate. But it is precisely that stereotype that feeds the fire Deenz explained. If you are a woman and you buy into it why shouldn’t the males? Does a kid who is solely picked on at school by a Tibetan monk have the right to say that they’re all violent people? Deenz was right on some level and defending my point of view was a little tricky when I’ve got no proof. Up until recently statistics measuring this sort of thing ruled in D’s favor. Statistics measured number of fatalities with respect to gender. Males were more involved in fatal accidents than were women. And so a conclusion based on evidence shows that women are the better drivers.

The flaw in all this however is that, I think men might drive way more than women, So the comparison doesn’t hold unless you compare the number of fatalities on a per km/mile basis. Stats Canada says that there is approximately 49% female drivers and 51 % male drivers and it tells you the number of accidents per gender but no where does it say how many trips are made or how many km are made by each gender.
The data in my opinion is misunderstood. If i've learnt nothing from my philosophy and logic days i know this much is true: you can mold and shape data findings to support any philosophical theory. I can’t find statistics on Stats Canada to support my point of view only because the data does not capture what it is that i want it to capture...So a bold statment on my part about all this would technically make my argument just as faulty...
I did however find this out dated article and though the source may be unreliable it is interesting none the less. If there is anyone out there that might know a thing or two about statistics and can be of any assistance please ring my bell.

bits and pieces of trivia

During his entire life, Vincent Van Gogh sold exactly one painting, Red Vineyard at Arles.

Did you know that the world vanilla comes from the Latin word vagina because of the vanilla pod’s resemblance to the female genitalia.

A language becomes extinct in this world every two weeks.

The male pig has a corkscrew shaped penis that looks like his tail. And he slowly winds into the female pig before reaching a 10 minute orgasim.

Caterpillar means "hairy cat" in Old French

Mona Lisa has no eyebrows in Leonardo da Vinci's painting. During that time, a woman was considered more beautiful if she shaved her eyebrows.

TIME magazine's Man of the Year for 1982 was the computer

The dot that appears over the letter "i" is called a tittle.

The little circles of paper that are cut out after a paper has been punched by a hole puncher are called "chad."

The pound key (#) on the keyboard is called an octothorpe.

The word "toy" comes from an old English word that means "tool."

The word Spain means "the land of rabbits."

There was no punctuation until the 15th century.

Albert Einstein was offered the presidency of Israel in 1952, but he declined.

Leonardo da Vinci was dyslexic, and he often wrote backwards

People who study laughter are called a "gelotologists."

The most senior crayon maker Emerson Moser retired after making 1.4 billion crayons for Crayola. It was then that he revealed that he was actually colorblind.

The political philosopher Karl Marx used to write articles for the New York Tribune in the early 1850's

First Impressions

You ever meet someone under the wrong circumstance and just completely know you’ve misrepresented yourself?
You interact and exchange ideas or thoughts on a superficial level that left to perception could completely make you seem like an entirely different person. And I suppose one should have the confidence to know that the world’s validation or lack off, doesn’t necessarily qualify or disqualify him/her from the “worthwhile/time well spent in their company” label but, it’s completely frustrating none the less. It leaves you feeling like a victim of sorts. Like you’re being accused for a crime you did not commit. A crime where you’re forced to walk in the cloaks of a false pre-empted disposition.

Walking a day in someone else's shoes

Walking a day in someone else’s shoes always seemed like a piece of cake; different perspectives were so my game.

Why am I finding it hard to decide where to draw the line between understanding and loosing myself?
How often must I accommodate?
How many times must I suppress the frustration?
How many excuses can I conjure up?
The logistics are there… Something isn’t.
What though…
... what?
It shouldn’t be this hard and it most certainly shouldn’t be this draining.
It’s entirely unfair to more than just me.

I don’t want a quick fix…
I don’t want the million pieces super glued together in an attempt to resemble a notion in my head.
I want things to fall and land on their feet.
I want 9 lives.
I want truth… not a water downed version of it… not clippings of it but the whole celluloid reel.
I want butterflies and pink skies.
I want exposition without an unveiling.
I want fireworks without the show and most of all I want chemistry without the smoke.

Lazy Sundays

I sleep in just long enough to be kissed by the sun that pours into my room. The thought of knowing that I could just lay there for as long as I please is up there on the charts only to be outranked by a gazillion and 10 kisses.
Breakfast at breakfast time… truly priceless. The company and mindless, but ohhhh so comfortable, chatter is what makes the fruit taste just that much sweeter and the tea that much more soothing. The sights and sounds of the city accompanied by casual strolling and more chit chat only add to the ladi da di da di da of it all. A quick swing by the park where the kids are running and out of breath to get somewhere in a hurry chased by the need to release energy make for excellent snapshots. Conquering the monkey bars makes them the kings of their castle, a colossal triumph on a mini scale. My granny’s inexplicably contagious laughter and the cool sweet succulent watermelon are only the beginnings of my euphoric high. 13 rounds of estimation in the kitchen, Med-school battling digital villains on his game boy, mum playing with Sarah’s hair as she lays on her lap and watches a muted Dora the explorer and a philosophical conversation in the back ground about politics intermingled with the wonderfully intoxicating chill sound of jack Johnson are what draw a smile on my face. This is what Sundays are about!

...

Self expression is what satiates the pseudo starving artist's soul!

The whimsy of the self proclaimed invincible

An email goes out to all staff from the director with the subject line “sad news”
I open the email anticipating the usual shrapnel of bad news. A grandmother that’s slipped away in the hush of night or an infant born still to an anxiously expecting couple.
This time the news hits me hard… my throat clumps up… my heart aches and a tear finds its way to the corner of my mouth.

People looked at Mary V with eyes filled with green envy. She was young, beautiful, happily married and after trying for what seemed to be an eternity she finally became a mother. As many on lookers secretly wished they had her life she climbed the beaurocratic ladder and all the while somehow managed to remain grounded. Within the span of seconds I got flash backs to conversations we’d had about her husband playing with their baby. How he was so good with her… how he was soooo careful when he brushed her hair. I remembered thoughts I’d had about her when I heard she got promoted. “It must be nice to be one of those women that are in command of their lives… The go getters… The ones that carry themselves like they know what they’re talking about even if they don’t… Women whose demeanor commands respect...” I remember thinking her life must be perfect right here and now. She must be happy…

How I sincerely hope she was….

Because as of the second she received that news…
As of that moment when time stood still…
happiness became a thing of the past for Mary V.
Happiness now nothing more than a word… a rumor… an illusion for years to come….

Death…
A slap across the face that shakes off the whimsy of the self proclaimed invincible.

We often forget just how temporary we are and we get caught up in the little things… the things that don’t matter on a grander scale.

Mary V… She once had it all… today… she lost a big chunk of it..
A husband pronounced dead at the sight of the accident.
Thoughts swirled in my head…

"Her 3 year old daughter will never know her father... She won’t be able to run and hug his leg screaming “daddy is home… daddy is home!” after work…She’ll never get to beg him to play for just 5 more minutes on the swings… She won’t get to kiss him good bye on her first day of school or have him question her first date…. She won’t get him to give her money to buy the shoes her mother said were too expensive and she wont get to go car shopping with him when she turns 16…she won’t get to see him stand with his head held high and chest broadened as he claps proudly when they call her name at graduation…. She won’t have him to give her away at her wedding and she won’t have him to teach her children how the world was before they were born… not only that but she won’t even have him in her memories…. She’s too young to have created any or held on to any… she won’t have him… not cognitively, physically or emotionally… She just won’t have him.”

How Mary V will gather the strength to take this poor child to day care while drenched with the cloaks of sadness is beyond me. How she will manage to remain positive despite the circumstances or go on to lead a normal life ever again is a mystery.
I say normal but even normal is too big a word…
How will she be able to carry on the bare basics? The bare minimums?
How will she manage to breathe again…
Eat again….
or even sleep again….

I imagine she’s lost sense of time and is now in an abyss of numbness. A place where she can’t stop crying but must… Loosing a partner like that… so soon and so suddenly… so early…

Unfathomable.

I pray for Mary V.
I pray that the sadness won’t break her and overcome her spirit.
I pray for her...
... and shed another tear.

Apparently Canada’s peace keeping reputation is legitimate.

“Because of the conflict over control of Jerusalem between Israelis and Palestinians, immigrants to Canada who were born in Jerusalem are issued passports that have only the city listed as their birthplace, without any reference to a country.”

Sudafed & the Orgy Fest

There’s a lot in the news about drugs these days. Sudafed and its contribution to the production of crystal meth and more importantly the greater effect of amphetamines on men as opposed to women. Could this be why they claim their not as moody? Stimulate the “pleasure centre” in the brain and it becomes a little difficult to be depressed No? And here we are thinking chocolate ice-cream makes all our worries disappear.... They’ve just been hogging the good stuff! The more I read about this stuff the more I’m fascinated with how complex we are. I think if we ever really fully understood how everything worked we’d be a lost cause. I mean who would have “thunk” we’d barely scratch the surface of understanding how the brain works and all of a sudden we’re inventing drugs to inhibit and manipulate them.
Take ecstacy for example. Also called XTC, MDMA Adam, Beans, Biscuits, Bombs, Candy, E, E-Bombs, Eccies, Eileen, Googs, Irene (in East Asia), Jack and Jills, Junnov (in East Europe), "Kissing Potion", MaDMAn, Mollies, Pills, Rolls, Scoobies, Smarties, Tabs, Thizz, Vitamin E, Vitamin X, Yaotou (in East Asia), and Yokes.
It’s a prolific example of people dabbling and playing with the idea of overriding the brains natural controls.
I suppose a brief description of how I understand the process is in order… Neurons are a major class of cells in the nervous system. The best way to picture them is a tree and its roots only these roots are very closely positioned to the roots of a different tree. Our brain sends signals from the tip of one neuron (root in our analogy) to another via neurotransmitters. These Neurotransmitters are basically mini messengers that travel from one tip of neuron to the next. Each neurotransmitter has a function. Serotonin and Dopamine are two such transmitters and what E basically does is both numbs and blocks the neurons so that the spaces between them are flooded with these neurotransmitters. Since Serotonin is considered responsible for the regulation of mood, sleep, emesis sexuality, and appetite it becomes abundantly clear that a lot of that stuff floating around in the brain is bound to heighten all those feelings. Now Dopamine is an important neurotransmitter because a lack of it can affect motor functions, memory, attention and problem solving skills, in women it controls the release of prolactin which stimulates mammary glands to produce milk… the wonderful thing about prolactin is that it is a natural contraceptive. It is said to be more than 90% effective in the first month of post partum. Now with that said… Just think… A drug that makes you more sexually expressive, less inhibited and in a better mood… all the while reducing your memory, attention span, problem solving skills and ability to get pregnant sounds like a drug for what? A big orgy party! Not only that… but a big orgy party with a hidden male agenda in mind. Very Sneaky Men… But I’m ONTO YOU!

NIN and the downward spiral

I get up 15 minutes late this morning… wash up get dressed…search high and low for my left shoe for what seems to be an eternity… but just as I was about to give up and put on another pair I find that it was right in front of me all along. I rush like crazy into the kitchen to get some toast and get it all cream cheesed up(breakfast is after all the most important meal of the day) but add sugar instead of salt…I think meh… its not that much of a big deal… so it’s a little sugary… then I trip on the mat on my front door but luckily break my fall by grabbing onto the railing… and just I’m about to smugly smile at the gods of colossally bad Mondays… I find that I’ve placed my palm on some form of bird excrement. I get to work only to figure out that I’ve left my security pass at home which means no access to any work till I get my keys… And all this is fine… just a rough start to the day BUT WHEN TRENT REZNOR STARTS singing
“You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of shit
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here

What have I become?”
I know that I’ve pissed someone off somewhere and that all this is BAD KARMA COME ROUND TO BITE ME IN THE ASS! Is it even humanly possible to have all this bad luck in the span of an hour? DAMNNNnnnnnnnnnn!

Parap pa pa para I'm lovin it!

Because i have a picture frame fetish and was literally shoved out of blacks and away from the umbra frames... I decided, they can stop me from buying frames but by god they will not keep me from posting pictures! And though my first instinct was to post all these insanely disturbing pictures of said friend one and said friend two..I had an epiphany and it went something like "ily beeto ma3mool bel 2izazz... should stick to softer squishier materials like playdough" This is no place for a wannabe tifl il 7egara... And so I've saved the toob and zalat (rocks and pebbles) for a more worthy occasion... I will however tell the world why my last trip to Egypt was so amusing!


1) Koshary 3 times a day will definitely keep the doctor away! A mix of rice, pasta and lentil topped with salsa and fried onions... At the low low price of 3 pounds you can't go wrong!





2) Photos of mo3ammar gathafy and signs like this are what make juice bars a cut above the rest and give them a marketing edge.




3) I discovered that not only does "rear-end Egyptian" not discriminate between men and women but also comes in handy for the shik shak shok syndrome.


4) Though she's been around for centuries.. Dabdooba il tekhena is looking good and continues to frolic and play with youngens.

5) For the right price fer2it 7asabala will serenade/rush u to come down for waiting friends(little kid in jeans is actually called 7asabala ibn 7asabala)

6) A war waged for the last Authentic Dorito is a genuine legitimate cause.



7) Salad Dressing in a cup makes what? Whiskey!

8) Signs like these are a dime a dozen!

New Frontiers

Note to self: Explore the other side of the bed

Ma 3ayeb ila mabtala? Aka What goes around comes around

What if I've become one of those people that just likes the look of their font/the sound of their own voice?

What are your words for love?

Cinimini and I were discussing the over use of the words I love you among Arabs. I was telling her that from what I know which is not a whole lot… the word ba7ibik is usually just casually thrown out there to mean I like you. I went home and to bed and that was the end of that… But this morning a friend told me that Hamza yousif once spent 45 minutes at a lecture on the words used to describe the different levels of love in the Arabic language. With that…off I went to edumacate myself. I stumbled on an article in the daily star that pointed out an interesting but often overlooked fact.

“Antonyms in Arabic are a strange phenomenon. There is a whole category of words
that mean one thing as well as its opposite. For example, the word, "saleem,"
means the one who is cured as well as the one who has just been bit by a snake.
The word baseer, means one with great sight and insight, but also means blind.
Mawla means master and slave and wala means to follow and to lead, The word
umma, which is usually translated as nation, means the entity that is followed,
or the guide, as well as the entity that follows and is guided.”

The more I thought about it the more I realized that it was a lack of creativity that was pushing people to talk this way. The article claims that “love has 77 names, each of which has a slight but crucial difference from the other.”

“Hawa means light liking but also transfers an element of error,
bias and
irrationality. As the old pre-Islamic proverb goes: "Hawa is
the downside of
reason."
Then you have ishq, which comes from
entanglement, like two pieces
of wood and ivory in a work of arabesque, the
two lovers are inseparable yet
still independent and distinct. Then
there is hayam, which comes from
wondering thirsty in the desert, and fitna,
which means love, infatuation,
passionate desire, but also means civil war
and illusion. There is izaz, which
is the kind of love that gives both
lovers power and dignity, and sakan, which
also means home and tranquility,
the Quran uses this word to describe the
relation between married couples.
The highest stage of love is, paradoxically,
fanaa, which means
non-existence. This is the stage where the lovers lose their
independent
existences and actually become one another. This stage is usually
used by
Sufis in reference to divine love and the unity of existence.”

Why then are people using these words to mean things they don’t? And what are all the other words? I say lets make a list… help me out…the ones I know are
1) 7ob
2) 3esh2
3) Gharam
4) Hayam
5) I3gab
6) Shaghaf—>brought to me by cerise
7) Hawa

A must read!

This book is by far the most bizzare thing i've read yet!
I love the randomness and the fact that you dont have to concentrate for long periods of time.

Before night falls

People that make art are dangerous to any dictatorship
Artists are counter revolutionary
And so you are a counter revolutionary ~ spoken to Reinaldo Arenas in

Let the chips fall where they may

So i'm doing a little house keeping and I stumble on all this stuff I'd written ages ago...
And though i'm not entirely weird about sharing my writing with the world...
I do share with very few...
And today I thought... what the heck... Unleash the lion... let the chips fall where they may
and see what comes of it...
So.. I've placed them here for Zee world to see... Aphrodisiac, Amore and Unfinished business.
Problem is once this sort of thing becomes public its no longer in my controll and hence
my slight uncomfort with it all.. but alas nothing ventured nothing gained...soo do let me know what you think....

Aphrodisiac

It’s that time again… I haven’t felt the urges this strong since I last got some. Just the thought of it alone sends shivers down my spine. I try not to think of how satisfied I was the last time.
I try to forget the unsurpassed sense of pleasure.
I try to forget how unbelievably addicted I was to it.
I try to erase the memories of my rhythmic breathing coupled with the sudden change in temperature.
I try to forget the sense of chaos that wrapped its arms around me from within.
I try to forget the momentary high and try to eliminate any remnants of guilt. The fact of the matter is I am in a state of barbaric hunger. I long for it to touch my tongue and excite its every inch from its core right to its tip. I long to keep it in my mouth until one of us melts with inexplicable delight. I long to make it a part of me. And above all I long for the dance… my eyes on it burning with desire. The air of certainty that surrounds the situation... The tautological truth of necessary fulfilment… my mouth slowly but surely getting wet at the thought of its grand entrance. The way it looks back at me with a tantalising peaceful calmness almost as though it is capable of reading my every thought. It has stimulated my eyes with its grandiose rich presence and my tongue with its perfect form. And in the midst of all this I wonder if having it on my tongue brings it as much ecstasy and eroticism as it brings me…
Regardless…

this is the be all..
The end all…
The crème of the crop..

I surrender and do only what is within my power to do..
I engulf it whole.
And as I swallow the crazy rapid thoughts that had just passed through my mind take over me and force me to do it again
And again…
And again…
And…
Again…
with each new encounter I am faced with more heavenly bliss than the time before.
I only stop when I have exhausted its capability to give me sweet pleasure. It is a shame that this usually occurs when the container is empty..
oh how I love my Baskin Robins pralines ice-cream.

Unfinished business

We so often place our happiness in other people’s hands
We negate our emotions, erase our smiles and let our hope evaporate like water in desert lands

Our personal objectivity is ever so easily replaced by the present day norm
We start to question our logic in an attempt to mould our mentality into the unattainable perfect form

Yes it is granted personal growth only comes with the re-evaluation of friendship, mindset and personal theory
But it seems, that this action, taken to an extreme can result in a world that’s far too dreary

Innovation, ingenuity and originality aren’t words that apply to the masses
They describe those who dare to challenge colloquialism, whose mentality rises above prejudice and surpasses

Motivation to do things in life shouldn’t come from the response you get from others
But the feeling of satisfaction you get about yourself, the notion that makes your heart beat in flutters

The thought that you’ve pushed your limits just a little more past the line
Something that undoubtedly, through an increase in experience makes you more refined

Pushing the envelope toward open mindedness and scholarly thoughtIs a priceless phenomenon that can’t be sold or bought.

...
....

Amore

How do you get what you imagine down on paper?
Sculpting and molding expressions, you become a creator

How do you orchestrate in words the symphony of love?
Each note a part of a rhythm that fits into a melody like the perfect glove.

An epiphany of emotion, an energy most divine
That radiates throughout without borders or lines.

A love so beautiful it would make angels cry
Powerful enough to make the largest and deepest of oceans dry.

A love so passionate, from which you’d never tire
A desire and yearning that burns with in you like the most temperate fire.

A love that makes the world go round
And makes the ordinary feel like a king being crowned.

A love that makes the uneducated feel smart
As though they’ve stumbled on an emotion that feels like an art.

But is my optimism and enthusiasm well deserved?
Or will the path of love seem entirely different once traversed?

Is it like the theory of forms abstract in my mind?
The real life version, impossible to find?

This vision of love is extremely perfect and trueBut is there a tangible real life version? Or perhaps two?

If you want it bad enough...

If you want it bad enough
you'll do what it takes they tell you...
but really… what does that mean you’ll do?
you'll bust out the magnifying glass and let the sun burn the ants bringing them to a slow and a painful death....
you'll sleep with the cancer patient's wife
and sell placebos to the people at UNICEF
you'll pass on the herpes baggage from on abusive relationship to the next
you'll spike the punch at the AA meetings
and you'll support gorilla war fare not because you give a crap but because they promised you a piece of the cake
You’ll invite a wrongly accused woman’s only daughter to her execution
you'll water down the milk you sell at the mothers living with HIV stand
and to the person who listens best, and loves u most you’ll mutter the words I love you to get into their pants.
You’ll belittle a man begging for change with shame in his eyes
And you’ll beat a grown man to the ground till he cries
And above all….you'll leave morale behind...
and if you truly want it bad enough...
you'll do it with a smile

Sobs 'N Sobs Later...

The sun will rise from the west,
The clocks rewound
The Sun dials will dance to a beat of a routine forgotten
Epilating the electrons of my inner workings
Their iron grasp depleting
The powers of the black hole resisted
Exfoliating the layers of self pity
Sealing Corrosion out
Proactive not retroactive
Nostalgia left behind.

Nostalgia all round

I associate certain memories with a certain smell…. and its the oddest things tooo... The smell of teenshoky(prickly pears) for example takes me back to a hot summers day when I was about 12. My brother ,cousins and I had just gotten our allowance... We'd always been taught that team work works miracles so we decided to put all our money together ran down to a guy selling the exotic fruit on the street. He kept peeling them and we kept popping them like they were candy... We must have had at least 10 each.. and I remember feeling smug with the thought that all this happened cuz we worked together... the fact that it probably wasn't the smartest collaboration of funds and effort didn't quit hit home till I saw the shock and horror in my grandmothers eyes when she heard… she shook her head and said… you guys are going to have horrible tummy aches! No one eats that much teen shoky in one day! Then she sat us all down and told us the story about how the fruit is basically the marketing plan for the seeds. There is a hidden propaganda in having a fruit that sweet...

I remember slipping and sliding on the tiles in front of our house on a different summer day. My sister was soo tiny we put her in a big plastic garbage bin and filled it with water… My god if the number of good times that involved that green hose were countless! she splish slpashed for hours… I can’t remember much else about that day except the way she was beaming with sheer joy and how her hair was glistening in a bronzy brown when it caught the sun.

I remember walking into my parents’ bedroom where tiny Naty had fallen asleep waiting for my brother and I to get back from boarding school. She jumped out of bed when she heard my voice and hugged me so tight. Corny as it sounds but it was then that I truly understood what it meant to cry tears of joy. Thinking back now i think somewhere deep inside it was from the fear and relief that after having been gone for so long she hadn't forgotten us.

I remember being about 7 and playing house with the neighbors son. “Mummies and daddies kiss... *long pause* we should kiss..."I thought for half a second sighed and said "yeah ok whatever.."I remember thinking... This is so lame.... why do they do this?!

I remember the way my grandma lost that light in her eyes when my grandpa passed away…. I remember the phone call that came to the house and the way my mother couldn’t stand after she heard the news. I remember how she later told us stories how she'd feel him pray beside her after he'd passed away and how it scared her.

I remember how my grandpa sat me down next to him and told me never to forget him. How he told me that age will do a lot of bad things to people and that we had to hold on to the good moments like these. He said “il kalam ily ba2olholik dah yemkin matefhamishoosh delwa2ty… bas iftikry ghayet matekbary w te2dary tefhamy” he kissed me and kicked me out to play... that was the last time I saw him.

I remember playing with Sam and Sheila both baby orangutans. I remember holding Sam’s hand as we were walking along and thinking my god.. he’s just like a baby.. hands eyes nose face… a lot hairier but still a baby… Sam and Sheila grew too strong for us to take them out of their pens the next summer... we still visited and watched them play for hours though

I remember seeing anger in my fathers eyes when he saw that I’d started to cry in a crowded bookstore. He asked me why I was crying with such tenderness and concern and without even responding he’d known what happened... He asked me to point to the man and before I could raise my arm he had the guy be the collar… “What gives you the right to touch innocent children this way?” the man begged and apologized but I thought my dad wasn't having it... “don’t beg me!” he screamed… “did you not think it was ok just because you weren't gonna get caught?!” and then… the man said… “Please sir… I have a family to feed..” it was then that he let him be… “think of how you would feel if I did such a thing to your daughter…. I will let you go only because I do not wish your daughter to know what a disgrace you are… ” It was strange that such a public display of aggresssion/kindness could end up being such a prominent memory from my past.

I remember going up the stairs to our building in Egypt, climbing out a window and onto the roof of a neighboring store and thinking I was invincible. I visited that same spot on my last visit to Cairo. It was such a small insignificant height off of the ground and the neighboring roof was a couple of inches away… How something as simple could give me such a feeling was mind boggling.

I remember riding my bike with my brother in the garden when he hit his head on the corner of an air-conditioning unit. I remember he was perfectly fine till he saw the blood on his hands.

I remember gas masks, tape on sealed windows, water coolers, hand powered radios, stored food and the sirens of war.

I remember T-shirts that said I survived Dessert storm

I remember video tapes of bombs that looked like fire works

I remember trampolines and marshmallows by the fire.

I remember tether the wild horse my roommate attempted to tame and show.

I remember my friend sobbing "I killed my horse" when tether reared, made Mandy loose control of the reigns and got her hind hoofs tangled in them only to land on her tail bone.

I remember a yodeling concert in the dessert where the clear sky was the perfect canvas for each of the strategically placed stars

I remember My brother sister and I in matching sweat suits

I remember hockey games across the boarder

I remember Marching in unison on a summer’s day

I remember Shiny black boots, Ties and uniform

I remember food fights in the mess hall

I remember that I used to remember

I remember skating on the Charles in Boston

I remember walking for a cure with my 8 year old sister and taking the subway back

I remember slush puppies at Harvard square

I remember Walking to school through Harvard and sitting on the steps at lunch.

I remember Jazz Ensemble

I remember the Sax

I remember Drama class

I remember Twelfth night

I remember Meringue by the pool in Cuba

I remember a conversation in Italian with a complete stranger

I remember Diving into the deep end

I remember buying clothes from a thrift store by the pound

I remember the Monet and the Picasso at the art gallery

BUT Someday... I also want to remember

The Sights in Venice
The Colors in Turkey
The Textiles in Morocco
The Smells of India
My mummy’s scent
My father when he was my father
My grandma’s laugh
My Grandpa’s wisdom
My Other Grandma’s youthfulness
My sense of accomplishment and determination to get there
My comfort with silence
My girlfriends
My uninhibited laughter
My conscience
My sense of creativity
The sound of someone's voice as they say my name
My hearts ability to hold a million and one things

Pretty Pretty

"Loving you is a like a song I replay
Every three minutes and thirty seconds of every day
And every chorus was written for us to recite
Every beautiful melody of devotion every night
It's potion like this ocean that might carry me
In a wave of emotion to ask you to marry me

And every word, every second, and every third
Expresses the happiness more clearly than ever heard
And when I play ‘em, every chord is a poem
Telling the Lord how grateful I am because I know him

The harmonies possess
a sensation similar to your caress
If you asking then I'm telling you it's yes
Stand in love, take my hand and love God bless" ~Lauryn Hill & Bob Marley

Ricoh Colesium in for a surprise

Amr Diab is in town, it should be a nice end to an anticlimactic week.
It dawned on me that I’ve been in Canada too long when the reason I’m excited is because I’m looking forward to the chaos rather than the concert per say. Parking should be a good time… loads of honking and people being obnoxious and loud while blasting the kind of music that they think will attract the opposite sex…

If only the delusion was true:
Listen to the right kind of music and you’re bound to get laid!

Each and every crowd member thinking he/she is gods gift to the universe. I can see it now… teenagers with their gel drenched hair and a bit of their brand spanking newly acquired hairy chests exposed just enough to showcase their big silver chains that hang maps of different arab
nations. Middle aged women in their best of the best… pretending like it’s a sahra back home. A lot of these women will not dress to feel good but simply to impress… they know people will be watching and appearances need to be upheld. The grandmas and grandpas dragged along just because they’re too senile to be left alone only to be seated behind some rambunctious twenty somethings who can’t keep their bums glued to their seats from the excitement. The Gido’s and nana’s will be shaking their heads and telling them to sit down cuz they can’t see. And off course a hand full of people will arrive at the venue with flags and will be waiving
them in the air… Clash of the Titans… The dabka intermingled with the khaleegy and of
course the balady.

New in the world of me…

Today and for the past 3 months my job has been to purchase a photocopier. Simple enough one might think, I’m not even purchasing it really I’m leasing it. My boss comes up to me and goes: “We need it not to break down, and to staple, sort and hole punch” I figure ok not a problem… I can do some research make up some pretty graphs and done…a gazzilion offers later… I am a photocopier guru… anything u need I’m your woman… I know it all from copies per minute to added network support to printing to sorting to faxing to fucking flying across the office showering all the naïve employees with rains of paper… If you want your copier to sing and dance... I’m the woman to guide you through it…. Plug in a cable here press this and that button there and your copier is doing the salsa… nooo?! You don’t like the salsa… the muchata perhaps? Not a problem…. A tweak in the instructions and you’re set!

Either way… its been a bitch of a project… so FINALLY today I’ve got my pretty colorful graphs my eloquently worded business case, my quotes, my price comparisons and a rock solid argument that the copier I picked is the one that’s right for us… All I need is a signature… A simple twitch or jerk of the wrist and the living hell that I’ve called my everyday can now… at long last... end… My manager flips through the pages…. Seems impressed with the aesthetics of it all… she’s going hmmm uhuh… yeah ok… and just as she’s about to sign she goes… but I’ve heard bad things about X company… lets not go with this one … lets go with Y instead… And I’m sitting there absolutely awestruck at how simple it was… just like that… all the research all the time spent actually trying to get the best for our needs and dollar… gone… pooof… flew out the window… and I think.. “I thought It was called a ‘competitive process’… why are we making these companies think they have a chance at getting our business if at the end of the day someone is just gonna waive their hand go I like that one!” Now you see…. I’m presented with a moral dilemma… My research shows one thing and she wants me to go with another…. Do I do what she says and thank god that the project has been taken off my hands? Or do I kick up a fuss and defend my copier to the death?! It irks me… growing up you’re always taught this isn’t fair that isn’t right…. And when you’re out in the real world what happens? The fabric of your moral code is shot to shit with something as simple a copier! A FUCKING COPIER GODDAMN IT!
Why the act? Why the need to teach us wrong from right? Why not just tell us listen this is how we’d like things to go down but frankly speaking it’ll never happen! Soo this is the stuff u need to know…. We as a species suck! We crowd our children’s brains with morals rules and ideas just to give us something to do… Think about it! What would we do with all our free time if we didn’t concoct crap like this up….?!? UGH!

Ten things I hate

1) I hate that my cubicle doesn’t have a door... it would make nap time so much more comfortable

2) I hate that many bad women drivers have given the rest of us a bad rap

3) I hate that it’s taken me 3 days to get through 50 pages of a supposedly easy Arabic read.

4) I hate that Denture gum and lightly flavored water exist.. Denture gum just tastes like baking powder and flavored water tastes neither like water nor like the flavor it claims to taste like.

5) I hate that Quebecers sound like they’re constipated when they speak French. I wish someone would just ease the worlds pain and unplug the butt plug.

6) I hate mirrors unless involved in some kind of optical illusion/ sexual fantasy.

7) I hate posers, snobs and vindictive people.

8) I hate fluorescent lighting it makes everything feel sterile.

9) I hate that I have an amazingly good life but not enough wit to recognize it.

10) I hate that I have nothing better to do right now than come up with this oh so lame list.

...

Pitter patter pitter patter
Silly giggled laughter

Deep sighs, wide eyed
Fears subside, romantic tries

Once jaded broken and tarnished
A glimmering sparkle relinquished

Can aspirations redeem all that is lost
Melt away a familiar cold jack frost

Beaming beaming beaming light
The soul illuminated in its plight

Jimmy chocolate coming soon
Unable to transport me to the moon

Cross Atlantic sounds are chipper
Letters and jargon of mental clutter

Random ramblings meanings unclear
Wanting chaos and order to adhere

Shimmy shimmy shake and prance
Lahh dee daaa deee da in rhythmic dance

An end foreshadowed perhaps confound
If nothing more a friend found

The Happenings of a Bureau Wednesday…

9:12 am email goes out to Deenz & Cerise & Lamoushka
Subject : my sentiments exactly!

David Letterman's Top 10 Drawbacks to Working in a Cubicle
10. Being told to "think outside the box" when you're in a freakin' box all day !
9. Not being able to check e-mail attachments without looking over your shoulder.
8. Cubicle walls do not offer much protection from any kind of gun fire.
7. That nagging feeling that if you press the right button, you will get a piece of cheese.
6. Lack of roof rafters for the noose.
5. The walls are too close together for the hammock to work right.
4. 23 power cords - 1 outlet.
3. Prison cells are not only bigger, they also have beds.
2. The carpet has been there since 1976 and shows more signs of life than your co-workers.
.....and the Number 1 drawback to working in a cubicle :

1. You can't walk out and slam the door when you quit.

Prompt Corteous cute Lamoushka responds with

yep...everyday I feel like writing a little poem...Ode to my Cubicle...

10:31 Deenz answers with a wonderfully quirky email to Sand-e & Cerise… she’s the one always giving us these “thoughts” making us see things from a different light.

on the upside you can curse out every single person in your office while on the phone...and when they ask you what the hell? you can just say "excuse me! I was having a private conversation, were you eavesdropping? what a terrible violation!! i'm appalled!! tsk tsk."

10:32 Cerise responds in magnificent minimalist style… we’re convinced that the soup Nazi from Seinfeld is a founder of her corporation…. Its affected her morale on a stellar strength crap load. Everything is grey and dull in cerise’s office life but we love her anyways.

Unless you're not ALLOWED to be on the phone (Insert a Smiley pointing fingers at his forehead signaling kaboom to the brain here)

Deenz, again the connoisseur that she is responds with.

in such case do same with your imaginary friend..and just add "are you nuts??!!" to previous sentiments - problem sloved :-)

Sand-e touched by the love and support and misty eyed at the heart breaking thought of Deenz’s departure to a far off land where mushy peas are an actual delicacy responds with…

wa7ashtoony ya banat!
I feel like stuff is missing when I don’t see u now... you're like the morphine to a subway accident survivor. You make the reality that I have "one arm, one leg and incapable of walking or lifting" a dull insignificant fact. you take me to that happy place...If I were sober I’d definitely do something to myself... your friendship keeps me sedated!

In the midst of all this Sand-e rings Cerise up only to offer alternatives to her festering itch to quit.. The sausage strapped to her belt, I suggest, might contribute to the negative propaganda and stereotype associated with Muslims these days but really it is like dotting her I’s with soccer balls… Makes a bold statement or better still will greatly increase the possibility that she IS in fact insane and in turn the likelihood of getting fired. In layman’s terms…all this boils down to A severance package!

Cerise Sighs and suddenly exclaims.. Whats with Deenz? Why’s she so happy?
Sand-e : Happy? Why whats going on…
Cerise: yeah her email… it’s a “good” day…
Sand-e: what email? I never got an email… how come I never got the email… sniff sniff…
Cerise: dude you’re on the to box… she sent it to you.. you just work for the government you’re slow remember?
Sand-e: no man… I didn’t get it.. forward it onto me!
Cerise: Hmmmm Oddd!

I receive an Email.. it simply reads…
you can still hop and wave...it's good day! i miss you too girls xxxx
eirie silence takes its toll… Shakespeare used nature to forshadow…Cerise and I use Deenz…Is this an indication that perhaps the end is near? Where is Cynical Sarcastic increadibly sweet Deenz? What if this shift in the sands of her mood is a prolific sign of all that’s to come? Where does that leave Cerise and I? How will we think without being fed the thoughts? How are we expected to operate as separate entities? This is sand-e fresh out of thoughts signing out waiting for the brain feed.

Poca Loca

I’m convinced I’ve got some kind of behavioural / Obsessive compulsive disorder…or simpler still a syndrome of sorts… I’m pretty sure if I look hard enough I can fit in somewhere… While Georges Gilles de la Tourette aka the guy who is accredited for discovering tourettes syndrome would have a hay day with the way I twitch when I think of anything closely related to Irish cream I’m not so sure that would be my preferred syndrome of choice. And even though practically every single person I know has an Obsessive compulsive ritual in their lives I don’t think OCD would be it for me either… I want something with a little more “spunk”… a touch more zest and drama! I am Egyptian and after all anyone will tell you that even though we claim to avoid it , “it” is inevitably in the adenines, guanines and thiamines of our DNA. I hardly know anything about mental disorders and so ehhh.. what the heck… lets edumacate me about something as I write. I have this deep routed belief that people will say anything around you if they think you’re in capable of processing it or better still they’ll allow you to see so much more of their personalities than they would the average person. So first I thought maybe OCD… “the doubting disease” as one website called it where basically the person is both obsessive and compulsive to extremes. The O for obsession is defined as follows: Obsessions are recurrent and persistent thoughts, impulses, or images that are experienced as unwanted, intrusive, and inappropriate. These thoughts cause marked anxiety or distress, and are not simply excessive worries about real-life problems. And the C for compulsions is defined as follows: Compulsions are repetitive behaviors or mental acts that the person feels driven to perform in response to an obsession, or according to rules that must be applied rigidly. These behaviors or mental acts are usually aimed at preventing or reducing distress or preventing some dreaded event or situation. Importantly, the compulsive behaviors are generally not connected to the worrying thought. For example, a child may be plagued with an obsessive worry that if they don't turn the light switch on and off perfectly exactly 32 times, he will come home to find his dog slashed and mutilated.
All this is fine and dandy so lets see now…do I fit in? obsessive.. yeah I can be that sometimes… I do have a habit of making my car beep 2 or 3 times as I walk away from it just to be sure its locked. But then again I have been driving an old school Audi that had what I was convinced was a possessed radio. It would turn on according to its own whim only to blast static! Although the fact that the heated passenger seat switch was broken made for some interesting ass burning experiences, its perfectly understandable that I’m a little giddy with my new baby! I don’t know that that qualifies though… and plus everyone knows about OCD… I want to be in un-chartered territory… something people won’t know and so I’ll have to explain to them and hence more fun with the social experiments.
So OCD and Tourettes aren’t it… what of Schizophrenia? The term "schizophrenia" translates roughly as "shattered mind," and comes from the Greek word σχίζω (schizo, "to split" or "to divide") and φρήν (phrēn, “mind”).+ People with schizophrenia often suffer terrifying symptoms such as hearing internal voices not heard by others, or believing that other people are reading their minds, controlling their thoughts, or plotting to harm them.
But then there’s a fine line between serious illness and the theatrical production I want to put on! The solution? A Tweaked form of all these disorders combined? Do the twitching from tourettes, The internal voices from Schizophrenia, the mutilated dog bit from OCD and ohhh I don’t know lets throw in another couple of interesting ones I found. Narcissistic Personality disorder* aka known as all that and a bag of chips disorder or simply My shit don’t stink disorder. Whose symptoms I discovered border along the “pattern of grandiosity, need for admiration, and sense of entitlement.” Or the Sexual Aversion Disorder* / the wanna be Matha Mary disorder whose symptoms are of “persistent or recurring aversion to or avoidance of sexual activity.” But with the combined effects of nymphomania, which oddly enough isn’t a disorder I could find defined “scientifically” anywhere, would make for a great deal of stress for the voices from the schizophrenia ...
And last but definitely by no means least… Trichotillomania*.. MY ABSOLUTE Favorite of the batch…where “The primary feature of this disorder is the recurrent pulling out of one’s own hair which results in significant hair loss”. Typically occurring before adulthood, studies demonstrate that between one to two percent of college samples have this disorder or have had it in the past.”
And sooo there you have It.. what exactly? Not really quite sure But… I Betcha didn’t know that anyone of us could ever so easily have one disorder or the next if we truly have your hearts set on it. So I guess what all this means is that the next time someone looks at you like you’re loosing it just nonchalantly smile and go.. “ yes I’m going crazy… want to come along?”
+ from wikepedia.com
* from allpsych.com

Big Papa Hoos!

Surfing the Egyptian blog scene its apparent to me that every Egyptian has a political opinion… and though most of them might have a point to some extent I’ve come to the conclusion that its just a matter of liking the sound of their own voice or rather the aesthetics of their fonts… but that’s a whole can of negative energy beans I’m going to avoid today… All this surfing brings up all these images of old people… from saba7 to Hosni. A lot of these guys should really be hanging out underground… The 6 feet under lounge or something… But joking aside… They are looking pretty damn good for their age… I mean Hosni is what like 78 now? Check the man out!

Dude deserves some kind of a medal… his hair hasn’t changed color since he’s been in office! Does the wonderful world of henna have anything to do with all this I wonder? Or is this just one of the many perks of being a self proclaimed Demi-god? Shouldn’t Big papa Huse not have any hair at this point in the game? I mean really all those 3asaker lining every single street he ever enters should technically have him sitting on edge… each armed with a baton….enough ammunition to have their way with them if they just listen to pinky’s plan to take over the world. Narffff… Leave it to hair transplants (zar3 sha3r) to make gido look like he’s got a Luxuelle head of hair! Ok so maybe the hair transplant bit might be a bit too harsh… not every Egyptian is destined to be bald…. But come on! Guy plays squash on a regular basis! SQUASH! We all know that all that crap they tell you about hitting the ball hard enough makes it bouncier is a load of galvanized BS! I’m a third of the man’s age and I’m gasping for air just at the thought of a squash game let alone doing it on a regular basis!
In my books… Hosni’s done well for himsel in the physical appearance department… And yeah he may not be 100% natural but man be looking good! Truth be told...If my grandpa wasn’t such a loving awesome man before he passed away I’da definitely attempted to hook my granny up with him!

In the arms of the beloved

"There is a place where words are born of silence,
A place where the whispers of the heart arise
There is a place where voices sing your beauty
a place where every breath carves your image in my soul" ~J. Rumi

The Joy Of "E"

Six Sexy E's:

1) Ebullience
2) Euphoria
3) Epiphany
4) Epicurean
5) Eureka
6) Ecstasy

So very Quiet on the western Front!

Day four:

It’s quite now….
Eerily quiet….
They got Larry last night….
It’s just a matter of time before they come back for me…

The diary of a valentine chocolate with the yucky apricot cream filling.

As much as I’d love to take credit for this… It’s not mine… It was a hallmark shoe box card I saw on my way to the Fererro Rocher aisle.. Mmmmm Chocolate!

What if?

What if women were as easily turned on as men?
What if all it took was a guy with the right kind of butt or chest?
What if the whole guy girl thing was as simple as a suggestive glance?
What if both males and females were as equally satiated by their visual perception?
What if it was just about procreation?
Reckless recreation at best.
What if it wasn’t about mental stimulation?
What if it wasn’t about security and emotions?
What if it wasn’t about the need to connect with someone on a non-sexual level?
What if it wasn’t about selective chemistry?
What if?
Well I’ll tell you what if…
In one word… Mayham
I think the world’s best interest is founded and based on the misunderstandings and miscommunication that are a predominant part of the interaction between men and women.

It is population control.

It is the means by which family lineage is preserved.

It is the restraint that keeps every Tom, Dick and Harry from being related and keeps family trees looking like trees and not just a tangled fisherman’s net.

It is a gift in disguise.

Profound Proclamations and Cerise.

On this quiet Friday afternoon, I as I often do, chose to discuss matters of profound importance with an esteemed friend. The all round girl banter took a rather interesting turn however, when she pointed out that at our age we handle more responsibility than the average Egyptian girl/woman and that because of that it only makes sense to expect the same of the opposite sex. The male complex of commitment should really have an expiry date. Being my usual instigative self I said that that’s all fine and dandy but within reasonable limits… like for example… you may be ready to be in a steady relationship and commit to its responsibilities but are you for example ready to be a mother. And just like that… cerise… my playful young at heart amie went from being a kido to a full fledged all grown up life sized inflatable adult Cerise…. Without giving it a second thought she said something that meant she was ready to have Eden at her feet… She could wake up tomorrow and be a mummy and know with all her heart that she’s ready. And that was it for me… there I was looking like this… ..
Maybe its me and not the world... I thought oh god!

I’m one of those people stuck in an age group but refuses to grow up… I'm the 40 year old women with the tiger print mini skirt and the teased bleach blond hair with so much hair spray in it the heat from a light bulb would make for a colorful pyrotechnic show. My mother keeps looking at me and making comments like "embrace your womanhood Sandy!" And I suppose if its only about dressing for the part then I imagine I wouldn’t have such a problem… I’m all for Halloween... But deep down inside I Know its my indecision... I stand in front of the fridge at the convenience store and can't decide if I'm in the mood for a fruity drink or a carbonated one for what seems to be an eternity. And if its not indecision then it might be my inability to do everyday stuff and enjoy it… Even though I've been extremely good the past year and have managed to put on one or two yummy dinners, One can not forget that at one point in time I managed to burn SOUP! Who burns soup?!
I have a hard enough time trying to take care of myself half the time... how could i possibly be ready for motherhood? So I pay my own bills, I have a steady job and I’m attempting to save for something big but… the thought of a poor little mini me... Being entirely dependant on me? I mean think about it… if baby gets diaper rash its because I didn’t use the right kind of talcum powder… If baby gets an upset stomach its because I fed baby some steak at the age of 3 months… I get cold sweats at the thought!
If I am to be a mummy I want to know that I will be a good one! It’s so easy to mess a person up! Yeah sure “lolo” might seem like an appropriate thing for you to call your oaf of a son at home but at a high school football game… things could get pretty dramatic for the poor fellow real quick!
I don’t think the whole thing can be attributed to me being emotionally handicapped… I love kids but really... Isn't that sort of because i can give them back at the end of the day? Ifatfirst… you can relate to this… you spend a big part of your life with at least 12 4th graders. I’ve heard you say that when you come home you just can’t talk anymore… that the instructing and being calm and collected all the time drains you… what if they were yours? What if they were keepers?
All in all I don’t know what it’ll take to make me think I’m ready for mummyhood but for now… I like that my only worry is about what kind of cereal to have in the mornings.

How do i Kill me... let me count the ways.

So even though suicide isn’t an option in my books the thought does often cross my mind… and I’m always thinking if I ever decide to do its got to have style and flair. People won’t remember why I killed myself but simply that I did it with alota heart! In true homage to the whole “its better to burn out than fade away.”

So I’ve decided to think of all the wonderfully wonderful ways one could terminate one’s life… by the by…The use of the word one to refer to oneself should be one of the many indications that one needs to indeed commit suicide and end one’s life. Assuming of course one is not her majesty the queen of something rather. And so without further ado let the fun begin.

1) A shower in liquid nitrogen and a trust worthy friend to push u off of a really high building shattering your frozen stiff body into a million bits of uncollectible glass.

2) The good Old run off of a cliff and linger in mid air for a bit only long enough to waive good-bye then plummet into an abyss followed by a cartoony sound effect.

3) A heart attack from eating way too much funnel cake at a theme park.

4) Diving into a tantalizingly blue ocean when you don’t know how to swim only to realize you’ve been swallowed by a whale and that you’re attempt to commit suicide really didn’t work out and that all this just simply reconfirms the fact that you truly do SUCK.

5) Having your head filled with hot air to the point where your ego is about to burst, being stabbed a million times with what appears to be a dull pencil/some veterans war stories… all the same effect really and finally being set free into the dark sea of your sadness (please note the not so subtle use of symbolism here :P) only to find that you’re sinking because of all the lead marbles you’ve been carrying around in your underpants to give off the illusion of bigger package.

6) And finally saving the most dramatic for last, pointing a gun at the side of one’s head at an interesting enough angle to ensure that a white canvas catches all the bits. Have someone let it sit to dry somewhere and before you know it you’ve got art deco at its best! The color combination of crimson and white is the IKEA thing to do!

Quote de jour

Wit is educated insolence -Aristotle

Casanova has a point?!

I went to see Casanova last night. Though it was an extremely typical first date/ teenage movie it attempted to address an important issue. The connotations of love from a monogamous vs. polygamous perspective. The proposition was that promiscuous relationships are a different form of love. The explanation lay in the idea that each encounter stands on its own, yes sure it is short lived but for its brief lifespan it is encompassing, unique and genuine. A thought experiment began to fester in my head and questions like ‘What then can be said of a person that strings many “love” stories together? Having some overlap and coexist… Does a person need to Love only one person to be labeled as “in love” or can statements like “you aren’t in love you simply love yourself” be made?’ The logic here is that a person who continuously chases the momentary feelings of bliss does it to satisfy ones own need for affection/ attention vs his/her inability to do anything but succumb to the emotions provoked by a specific person.
Wikipedia defines love as “acting intentionally, in sympathetic response to others (including God), to promote overall well-being.”
Acoording to this definition it is safe to assume that both polygamous and monogamous people are capable of being in love. The fact that sally will soon be replaced by Jane or that Derek is the centre of his Emily’s universe is irrelevant to the definition of the word. And so under what pretense is it that people are quick to label anyone who has had multiple partners as selfish? I think the key lies in the disassociation of the physical acts of love from their attachment to a specific person. Participating in the rituals of love does not entail their disattachment from practicing them with a specific person. What am I trying to say in all this? Well I guess it boils down to the idea that the word love has many meanings and if to Casanova it means the small moments linked together to fill in each second of each day with a different girl then so be it. And If to the hopeless romantics like myself it means attaching it to a rumbly in the tumbly that only a specific person can give you then so be it as well. I say to each their own and just because my definition of love is different than someone else’s doesn’t mean I should let the only exercise I get be jumping to conclusions. Live and let live!

play dough anyone?

Was sorting through some junk under my be bed last night and found some old notes from my philosophy days. God I sound like that was ages ago when in essence it was only 2 years. I’m afraid to think of what I’ll sound like at 50. So where were we? Ah yes… Plato’s theory of forms. I remember being blown away by it when I initially wrapped my head round the concept the first time but rereading it again just sort of rekindled this giddy feeling I get inside when I feel like I’ve seen something in a new light. I suppose before I start to rant and rave about all the implications and what a powerful tool it can be in the wonderful world of deep conversations, a brief synopsis is in order. Basically the premise lies in the idea that there are two realms. The first being the material world, the one we perceive with our senses and the second being the realm of forms. The realm of forms can be sorta kinda but not exactly thought of as the concept, attributes, characteristics or idea of an object. An example is probably the best way to understand what I’m on about… take for example a basket ball. The actual manifestation of the ball and its physical presence is one realm and its roundness, texture, ball ness, color are all its different forms. It is the combination of these forms that make it a basketball. Now the trick is this. Plato says these forms don’t exist in the physical world. They are in our minds and are how we identify objects. With that said he goes on to state that if these forms are found in the physical world then what we perceive with our senses is in fact a copy of the form, an imperfect on if u will. Everyone knows what a perfect circle is but once we attempt to put it on paper there are slight imperfections that make it less than perfect. And hence forms can exist without an exact carbon copy in the real world. So there u have it the theory of forms.. the reason all this is mind boggling is this… consider using this theory in the attempt to discuss the existence of god and evil in the world. Skeptics will often say show me that there is a god. Prove it. And when u naturally point to nature, the inner workings of the human body and the cosmos ability to function perfectly in unison you’re often met with the good old.. If god there is a god and he is perfect why are there imperfections in the world? Why does evil exist? And the answer to that is through the use of Plato’s theory! U know what a perfect circle is…but draw one for me and inevitably it'll be slightly imperfect. Does that mean there is no such thing as a circle? Course not it just means the real world manifestation isn't as perfect as the idea. Under the same logic expecting something perfect for our senses to precieve as an indication of the existence of god is wrong. and with that you see what i mean when i say the theory opens up a whole can of worms by the mere suggestion. Think about it.. munch on it and you’ll probably come to my sentiments exactly. I should point out however, that even though the idea is a simple yet extremely meaningful one the logic behind the argument is a little flawed… the premises are magnificent on their own but do not necessarily lead us to the conclusion that many are too often quick to make.

Robabikia

An existance soley devoted to the journey...
A wanderer of sorts that roams the streets in the wee hours of the morning in the small hope that someone's junk will be anothers treasure. A broker, a collector of once loved and cherished items. He takes material possesion and leaves sentimental value behind. He is the hew home for all that is held too dear to be tossed aside with no future purpose. He is a symbol of the uncomplicated. To him it is about satiating the hunger pains and quenching the thirst but to me right here .. right now.. He is about the journey.. about the ability to wander the streets bathed in the suns warmth and have your lungs filled with the crisp morning air. He is a symbol of all that is untouched by the evils of greed the corruptions of power and the impurity of politics. A man and his donkey.

Bureaucracy

Ok so they think you’ve got what it takes to possibly make it in their oh so glamorous organization.. You do your bit.. you study on your freaking plane ride home… avoid daydreaming about all the good times you’re supposed to instantaneously forget and focus on whats to come… you memorize all the useless crap that people at the company supposedly know! You become a cow munching on the information just long enough to spew it out during the interview.. Regurgitation! What is it with baby cows? Fols? I think that’s what they’re called…I mean really we think Egyptian kids with fathers who work for the big ass petroleum companies have it good? What’s to be said about the damn cows? The freaking cows! They get their food chewed for them for gods sake! So anyways I get all spiffy. Dress to impress so to speak and I think I know my shit! I’ve done the job before and my boss expressed her appreciation time and time again… I try to remain positive and completely forget the fact that I work for a place that places mucho points on seniority and well that I am a bottom feeder in that respect… I go into the interview and do my thing... the cocky smile, the I know I’m gods gift to all employers, the dance... I make the lame jokes! Oh god it’s the lame jokes that just eat away at my freaking existence! The smile behind which I’m thinking fuck the job just do me a favor and bend over so I can give your derriere something to remember me by. And I leave.. knowing I gave it my all and that she (the boss) knows that I know out of the bunch except the one with a gazillion years experience that I deserve the job. But bureaucracy takes its toll and these are just hoops that we jump through… I remember having a conversation with the big boss woman a million years ago.. ok so maybe it wasn’t a million year ago but more like 3 months ago, about how I wanted my contract extended and how she said.. we’ll post a position soon but so and so wants it. I gotta give mrs so and so credit where its due I mean the woman did manage the team for 12 months she knows her shit but its not the fact that she’s getting it that’s pissing me off it’s the mockery they make of the freaking interview process! Why stress me out with an oral and a written and further agitate me by having to shoot the shit with you folk if you already know who you ‘re going to give it to!
Why tantalize me with the notion of an opportunity only to confirm that you’re going to give it to her?!
Why?! Like I said I’ve got nothing against the woman... she’s really sarcastic, which is always a plus in my books. She’s even invited me to a shindig at her place… I am a good sport… and I can accept defeat its just… oh god wait… I’m a bitcher and a moaner! Who am I kidding? I’ve become one of those can’t be happy for people sorts!
NOOOO !
wait a minute!
This isn’t about her as a person!
This is about the concept! The idea of an interview selection process that supposedly has no preset outcome being rigged! Point is ! I feel cheated used and left to dry! Is this what prostitutes feel like when they’ve done their bit and their pimp cleans them out for all their juice? Hmm I wonder!? Ok stay focused!
Bottom line is it sucks! Being punished for something you can’t help.. I hope to god they prove me wrong and not jade me with the thorns of bureaucracy.

Hal yokhfa al kamar?

The wish to celebrate a festival with which I can identify has finally come true. A people as a whole rejoicing for all the same reason… their reason… my reason… our reason… A euphoria caused by both the sense of ownership and belonging. A spiritual rejuvenation. I anxiously anticipate the sound of the Adan fluttering through the air echoing words that inspire believers to unite in place whose prime virtue is attributed to its magnificent acoustics. A treat both for my ears and my soul. Prostration, emancipation, retribution and redemption combined. Its strange that just by crossing the Atlantic the moon’s identity is transformed from one of lunacy and horror to that of love and beauty. As I cross over the large body of ocean so to will I be transformed from a Canadian Arab to an Arab Canadian. The moon marks the beginning for me…. The beginning of adventure… the beginning of joy… the beginning of belonging… the beginning of celebration and the beginning of Eid as I’ve never known it before!

Coruscating light

Something about the way light dances on wet surfaces that screams out fantasy land. Plain stillness choreographed perfectly. All lines of reality blur and mesh into one big breath taking fuzz or color.

Bound By Me

I am a child of the 80's.
I can not fathom the true meaning of the word kamikaze and I can not say I have been in the shoes of those driven to crime by hunger.
I do not know the dark harshness of poverty and I wasn’t allowed the bliss of ignorance.
I am educated and I am opinionated but I am not free.
I am creative but I am stifled.
I have thoughts that are housed outside the box but are contained by the chains of my capabilities.
I am an arab and I know for a fact that arabic is an expressive language, yet I can not orchestrate in words the symphonies of beauty that my language affords me.
I have stars in my eyes and a thorn in my side.
My thoughts raging and my imagination volatile but my tongue muted... not by censorship and not by oppression but by inadequacy.
I’m well versed yet suffer the restrictions of my vocabulary.
I am fluent but still the power that my pen possesses in English becomes nothing more than a want...
a desire..
An aspiration to manifest lines that are eternal not because they provide answers but simply because they are echoed through the sands of time... because they are read... memorized... repeated and are a magnificent testimony to a glorious language. I yearn to create pros and stanzas that move mountains. I am filled with expression and no way to materialize them. How do you portray what dreams my come if you don not know how to sleep?
And so you see...
I am not free...
I am bound by me...

Psuedo Poem

Expression becomes me
I write whole heartedly

letters become words
words become birds

cluttering the pages
fluttering in rages

sentences noting nothing worthwhile
a futile attempt at literary style

loonies!?!

Who calls a part of their currency a loonie anyways? you sort of have to say it to yourself and think about it to get what i mean. "I had a loonie here" ... i keep getting visuals of rubber walls and an oh so radiant bleach white straight jaket... a compliment to my tanned skin... but really! Canadians will swear its in homage to the loon… but ask any Canadian when the last time they saw a loon or even so much as know what it is and you’ll fully understand what I mean. It just makes me want to repeat the phrase “one flew over the cocoo’s nest” over and over and over again.. not because it makes any particular sense but just because I like the way it sounds out loud… If anything there should be a tribute to the geese.. there are so many of them casually roaming the streets and parks of Toronto. So many they could form a union...I can't help but be a little creeped out by them. Think about it... all it really takes for things to get ugly is a wrong look... a pissed off goose with a bad attitude and some friends around... and with all the stereotypes out there in relation to birdbrains no one would ever guess! It would be the perfect crime one that would never lead to any suspision...Hitchcock was soooo onto something! They just casually walk around in parks looking at you like... "did I invite u in? yes I’m rummaging through the garbage! do u mind? you're blocking the sun!".
I've gotta give it to them though... its hard to pull off all that grace and confidence when they're so low down on the food chain... but as the world turns.. lions are caged in zoos and lo and behold the geese are ruling suburbia.l... I bet if they had little cartoon bubbles popping up over their heads I’m sure they'd read things like "I am all that and a bag of chips!"
The thing I’ve noticed though is they've become so used to living in the city and mingling with the immigrant folk that they've grown a bit of arrogance... I mean there you are in the park on lunch just reading your book doing your own thing when one of them catches your eye and you look at them then inevitably take a look at your sandwich and think "hey maybe i should share" so they you throw a piece of your sandwich and they look at it and look at you and look at it again... and bloooop another bubble pops up "what do u think i am? A duck? feeding me toast? If its not buttered baguette then don't waste my time" And poof in an instant you've gone from the caring sensitive sharing human you are into this imbecile... and you catch yourself thinking... I'm so stupid how could that have slipped my mind... they're geese...they're of a different standard completely...
you laugh but I’m serious! they're influencing all sorts of high society... people with all sorts of power...
come the new year...
car manufacturers are looking for inspiration from nature to give to their demographic and all of a sudden goose poo green cars are the must haves of the season! course they don’t call it goose poo green they call it apple green.. and some where in the distance when the commercial is going off... u see a bubble pop up over the head goose's head and reads "Hey... we inspired that! we should be getting royalties!"and the union is meeting somewhere by a lake where some other poor shmuck is attempting to feed the geese crackers and the main bubble reads... " good work guys... we've gotta keep up the good pooping job... at the rate we're going maybe we can inspire the blue jays or the leafs to reconsider metallic goose poo green jerseys" and a not so bright goose will think " what about the raptors?" only to be snapped into reality by a slightly smarter goose who says "dude their jerseys are purple... in a city full of blue... its like convincing an avid Kmart shopper to buy a Fendi hand bag…there is just noooooo concept of style! But rest assured the gap will catch on and market scarves at$99.99 in the season's greatest color. You guessed it! majestic lime!" and soon we notice that the geese, with their" i am the cream of the crop with mentalities and the deep belief that thier tooo goood not to be recognized for it..." are all now smirking with smug pride... and bubbles everywhere read "we took a shit.. and they were inspired!"
ITS LOONIE I TELL YA LOOONIEEEEEE!

Lack of Drama

Sitting here at work completely blown away by how useless my education has been up until this point. I browse through other peoples blogs in the simple attempt not to stab myself slowly with a dull pencil just to prolong the suffering process. Someone once said "I hurt myself today to see if I still feel.. I focus on the pain the only thing that's real!" not just anyone.. Jonny Cash and later on Nine inch nails...I wonder if that theory is true at all? that as humans we need this jolt of something completely negative in our lives to make us realize that we'veve got it good. Think about it! when there is a disaster people become so much more spiritually and humanely intune. There's nothing like a serial killer on the streets to make an otherwise fragmented community stick together. Everyone watching out for everyone else... walking each other to their cars... doing all that's in their power to travel in groups. It's the same with earthquakes, avalanches floods and droughts.., for the brief while where havoc is wreaking its course and the media is covering the issue people across the globe connect. It is the means by which we remember that we are human. Insignificant in the scheme of the universe and not so indestructible after all! We seek meaning from intangibles... The car we drive and the price of our watch seem useless. We realize that no matter how smart a speciesas we are... we are not god... we are not mother nature... we are not the ultimate power.. and so we gather clothes and supplies and give them to those in need, we stretch every penny a little further just so we can donate.

Basically shit needs to hit the fan so that we can smell the stink and see the mess before we realize..oh wait...I like things this way! The lack of drama is a blessing in disguise.

Ramblings at 3

I am Sandy’s inner voice. I am the sound of illogic and reason. I am her id suppressed by her ego and superego. I am what makes her angry and what makes her smile. I am the tears fueled by her in ability to make things right… I am the worry… I am the need… I am what can not be complete… I am the basics of her existence… I am hunger… I am sleep…. I am shallow not to deep…

The world and its forces

The World aspires against you in the most profound ways...... sometimes all that is in your power is to either take it with a grain of salt and smile or wallow in self pity. Today i choose self pity.