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:

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?!

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.

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

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

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.

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!

Ruba dub dub

The only thing better than taking a bath
Is getting to run around and play on a splash pad

Squeals of excitement fill the air
as babies and toddlers run around bare

Where will the next burst of cool water spring from?
Can I catch some in my mouth or may be stop it with my bum?

The draining water doubles as a river run wild
Provoking curiosity in many a child

Sail boats of flip-flops along the run offs do glide
Little ones made into champions gloating with pride

Foot prints on concrete and Popsicles on hand
Rules and regulations from fun times are banned

The elation of playtime by adults forgot
Replaced by a search for joy in material bought

This is where it’s all at, this is the now
I’m taking it all not raising my brow.

I’m splishing and splashing not taking a bath
Running around and playing on the big fat splash pad

My bit of inspiration

I pressed my soul’s ear against countless doors but never heard words so sweet.
All I need do is love....

My bit of the gene pool

I’m thinking GATACA was onto something with their visualization of what happens when the realization of the human genome project is taken to its max. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to pick and choose the genes you could keep and conversely trash? Create the perfect you? Take away nature’s right to be random. And make the tiniest most intricate part of a human being a commodity to be bought and sold. Thankfully we’re a million miles away from knowing what sequence of proteins does what otherwise we’d have screwed ourselves over so fast we wouldn’t even have had time to know what hit us. I must admit the idea is loads of fun to toy with though. What would I change about myself if I could?
What’s my ideal, my idea of perfection? Would I still want to look and feel like me? Or me with an added touch of twinkle in my eye and sparkle in my smile? Perhaps I’d dabble with a little extra soul in my laugh and an aura with a greater gravitational pull? A brushstroke of genius and a smidgen more creativity and imagination. A dab of mystery and enough positive energy to make nuclear weapons weak in comparison.

The ONE perk

Every so often after laboring away at business cases for the requisition of “assets” such as vehicles, fax machines or god forsaken photocopiers. I, along with other coworkers, get to hop into a company car and head for the dealership to bring back our brand new puppies. This time there were 5 of us in total. I sign the papers, receive the ownership and each of us gets a bran spanking new car to drive back to the office. This, simple and sad as it sounds is the ONE perk of being me. They’re standard issue cars so they’re all the same color, size and engine capability. The trip never seizes to amuse me. The five of us in business attire and shades to protect our eyes walking towards the dealership in the wind, Armageddon style. If we were in slow motion I’m 100% certain there would be some sort of heroic music playing in the background. We settle into each of our pseudo own cars and set the mirrors, music and of course seat. Similar to drag racers in the 50’s revving our engines silently accepting the challenge to best test drive each of our toys. Like a presidential procession, one after the other we take to the road. And its on… Each of us ready to bring it!
Drivers and people on the road are somewhat confused by the sudden surge of identical Impalas but pay no mind as the road is plenty wide and empty. Visuals of the new Mazda commercials where each car splits into 2 then 4 then 8 surface in my mind and I catch myself thinking “how can a car this ugly be sooo damn sexy to drive??!”

The power under the hood is remarkable, no wonder all provincial police cars are of this kind. We change lanes left right and centre and it soon becomes clear to those of us who have taken to the car and loving the ride that not all everyone gets this surge of adrenaline when driving. The car doesn’t control us we control it. Coming to abrupt halts at stop signs and making faces at traffic lights we’re like toddlers discovering the freedom in learning to walk. We ease into the parking lot and slowly but surely reality sinks back in and visuals of Armageddon, Mazda commercials and drag racing disappear like a puff of smoke into thin air. Back to the drawing board… next on the agenda are fax machines that not only fax but scan at the same time… ohhhh ahhhhhh yay me!

Shattering the Silence

“To sin by silence when they should protest makes cowards of men.”~ A. Lincoln

While Lebanon bleeds...

I’m in the car alone. The air conditioning adjusts the temperature to a cool 23 degrees and at the same time pushes a steady flow of winter breeze freshness through the air. The road is long and windy with a slow speed limit of 50km/hour that allows me to feel like I’m taking a stroll in the park. The sounds of a Buddha Bar CD make for a buffer between the real world and the one in my mind. I stop at a red light and A mother crosses the street in front of me with a child whose golden messy locks reflect the sun in a perfect glow. Her little jean shorts, white shirt and hands are covered in dripping chocolate ice cream, she’s desperately trying not to let the pavement get the best of her ice-cream while walking at her mummy’s pace. The light turns green and as my car picks up speed the volume automatically adjusts to compensate for the hum of the engine. A muted trumpet plays a short motif and the end of it triggers a thought about how good I’ve got it. How lucky I am to live in a country where my biggest dilemma is whether to have fruit loops or cheerios for breakfast. How lucky am I to live in a country where the individual’s autonomy is respected and cherished. My mind wanders to images of a father hugging his son crouched behind a rock waiving a white flag at machine guns just out of view. Images of a bus on a road made bumpy by bodies somewhere in Rwanda. Images of men blindfolded, handcuffed and lined along a wall whispering prayers with their eyes closed tight anticipating the gunshot. Images of mothers weeping uncontrollably as their children’s bodies lay still on a metal table.
Images of homes being bulldozed as on lookers silently shed tears of disbelief.
Images of broadcasts at the Munich Olympics.
Images of flags burning.
Images of children who have fallen victim to land mines.
Images of an orange haired Milla Jovovich in the Fifth Element sobbing as she watched in horror humanity’s inexplicable ability for cruelty.
The images soon gave way to sounds
The sound of sirens, emergency broadcasts, shattering glass and thuds and thuds of destruction.
The sound of fallen leaders and modern day presidents making false promises.
The sounds of taskforces dispatched to fight a monster that’s in all of us.
The monster that enables us to set aside rules, morals and conscience.
The ability to turn a blind eye because it doesn’t affect us personally or because it’s simply too painful to digest.
I am just like the rest….
Though I do not partake in the brutality, I silently watch in disbelief horror and powerlessness.

...

India arie writes..

" I am ready for love...
why are you hiding from me?
I'd quickly give my freedom to be held in your captivitiy

I am ready for love...
all of the joy and the pain
and all the time that it takes just to stay in your good grace.

Lately i've been thinking maybe you're not ready for me...
Maybe you think i need to learn maturity
they say watch what you ask for, cuz you might recieve
and if you ask me tommorrow....

i'll say the same thing
i'm ready for love...

would u please lend me your ear
i promise i wont complain.
I just need you to acknowledge I am here.
If you give me half a chance i'll prove this to you.
I will be patient, kind, faithfull and true
to a man who loves music
a man who loves heart
respects the spirit world and thinks with his heart

I am!
I am ready for love.
If you'll take me in your hand i will learn what you teach
and do the best that i can.
I am ready for love here with an offering of...
my voice...
my eyes...
my soul...
my mind.
Tell me what is enough to prove i am ready for love?"

Ha!

Oh Yee of Little Faith!

Bratz

The weekend was packed with action, the viewing of last long weekend’s video footage and still life pictures, roller coasters sans funnel cake, booty shaking, hostessing, studying and of course a smidgen of penalty kick Tele gazing.
It is the toothpicks with olives on them aspiring to hold together a gibna beida bel tamatem whole wheat sandwich that are my muses this morning. I developed a mini obsession with the need to get the hummus sprinkled with sama2 in the perfect spiral formation. It looked like a million bucks and as I served it I smirked to myself with jubilant glee. Visuals of cooking competitions and chefs serving French cuisine consumed my reality. I floated on air. I was after all, or so I frivolously thought at the time, one of the very few elite epicures that truly understood the art of hospitality. The perfect sprinkle of basil here and the right amount of illustrious chocolate drizzle there can by all means “help the medicine go down”. Perhaps doing the whole what would u like to drink or eat thing wouldn’t be as bad as I’d anticipated. But oh boy was I naïve. Unfortunately what goes up must come down. My buzz from the pretty hummus platter and the salad garnished with radish flowers was inevitably FUBAR when an 8 year old guest looked at me all “I am the man-ish” and waived his finger in the air to indicate 2 scoops of sugar in his tea. I sooo wanted to slap the little bugger upside the head but of course my conscience quickly stepped in to fend for the mini me version of his father.
‘It’s not his fault… just cuz he hasn’t hit the double digits yet doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the right to drink his tea the way he wants it….and plus I’m serving the tea anyways maybe I’m just on edge from all the waiting on people..’ At which point the evil me surfaces with the thought… “WTF!?!? Not only are you putting up with this kind of behavior but you’re defending it as well?! this little piece of toilet decoration hasn’t even mastered the art of riding a bike yet has the audacity to tell you to make him tea?! Who drinks tea at his age anyways? Doesn’t it like stunt his growth? Shouldn’t his oh so typically arab father be worried about his son’s sperm count or something?! What of the family legacy ? ”
Course me being me… I offered him a cup of juice instead telling him the tea is too hot anyways when his mother interfered and said no its ok just do as he says add some milk to it and he should be fine. So there you have it… Is it any surprise the little pike is a looser and a half?! I promptly inserted my foot in my mouth cursed under my breath and like the good little girl that I am restrained ohhh so hard from spilling it on her lap on my way to him.

Mango Madness

Vous n’avez que le meilleur en main!

*Smurk* *Smurk* and *Smurk*

Hedonism and Utilitarianism same sides of the same coin?

Hedonism: Take the action that produces the greatest pleasure.
I can’t help but relate it to a form of Utilitarianism, A moral code dictating the greatest good for the greatest number of people, but both Utilitarianism and Hedonism face criticisms that can not be ignored.

Questions :

• Where is the value of an individual in all this? Surely the greatest good doesn’t do him/her justice.
• Are they both one and the same only when the greatest pleasure is also the greatest good? Or, does the fact that Hedonism dictates self love while Utilitarianism dictates love of the group mean they are mutually exclusive?
• What’s to be said in response to “where one may find pleasure another may find pain”
  How are the scales calibrated in such an instance and how does change the arrival at an all encompassing moral code?
• How is pleasure measured and what are the criteria of labeling an action as pleasurable as opposed to non pleasurable?
  

Counting Crows

“Doesn’t always seem to go that we don’t know what we’ve got till its gone?
They paved paradise and put up a parking lot”

R tsee Fartsee no more?

I always thought I was more of an artsy fartsy but as I was getting all excited about a problem I was discussing with me madre last night, I slowly started to get this weird feeling like maybe I was supposed to be an accountant. Scary! The use of a set rules and simply applying them to the scenario gives me a strange sense of satisfaction. Could this be my calling? A number cruncher 3ala 2akher il zaman? I naturally drew a comparison between it and programming. Programming gives you a sense of control this feeling of superiority. The fact that you have to break every single step down for the computer in order for it to do what you want it to do makes you realize how truly amazing the human mind is and how magnificent it is at linking things together in an abstract non linear manner. Programming gives you the letters of which you’re supposed to make words and beautiful poetry while accounting on the other hand, seems to be the opposite. The words and poetry are there and your job is to categorize and analyze.

10 Lunch time thoughts

1) Why are daddies and babies so cute? Why do I oh and awe when I see a daddy taking care of the bambino? It’s his just the same as it’s hers. For someone that’s all about equality and women’s rights I find myself feeling anti progressive. I Wonder what chaos would ensue should paternity leave be an option in the middle east.

2) While the reemergence of florescent colored Ts, plastic earrings, and tight above the knee shorts aren’t my favorite revamped hot new look. I’ve gotta say I’m totally digging the tights and mini skirt and the bombay bangs.

3) The visuals of really sweaty stinky government workers in a polyester blue material can go out of the window and be replaced by the fantastic women’s short sleeve suite. A plunging neckline in tandem with the tailoring structure of lines is refreshing.

4) Contrary to popular belief, gorgeous deep blue hush puppy eyes, perfectly manicured nails, fabulously colored hair and a non existent waist will not get you any man.

5) Funny is a state of mind being in a good mood brings out my funnies.

6) Maintaining eye contact for a second longer than usual allows for an exposition of sorts.

7) Doritos rock the free world!

8) If my boss was a cartoon character I think she’d be a hybrid mix of the Tasmanian devil and Daffy Duck.

9) Canadian summers make for ideal bike riding weather.

10) Would a kid who grew up wanting to be superman be satisfied as a window washer? Substituting the flying for dangling of a building and the saving lives with the saving of the perfect view?

Music Says it best.

Some times you are at a loss for words and every so often someone comes along who simply says it better than you. Here are 30 lines from music that have stuck with me for a reason or another. It’s not necessarily the words, it’s the way they’re sung, the way a vowel is pronounced or the way a breath is taken before or after the line( in yellow).
1) “innnta wana.. ya 7abeeby ana.. ya 7ayatee ana” ~um Kalthoum
2) “My empire of dirt..I will let you down..I will make you hurt” ~NIN
3) “ Does she stimulate you? Attract and captivate you? Like the way I do? No body aches... nobody aches just to hold you like the way I do ” ~Melissa Ethbridge
4) “can’t stay on your life support there’s a shortage in the switch”~Pink
5) “Something touched me deep inside the day the music died”~ Don Mclean
6) “I wanna be a lion, eh everybody wants to pass as cats” ~Counting Crows
7) “I wear this crown of shitupon my liar's chairFull of broken thoughtsI cannot repair”~NIN
8) “When the violence causes silence how are we mistaken” ~The Cranberries
9) “Disarm you with a smile and leave you like they left me here to wither in denial” ~Smashing Pumkins
10) “you rapture tastes so sweet” ~IIO
11) “I promise I wont try to make your life easier or return to where we were”~Dido
12) “after the rain fall came sanctuary”~Seal
13) “rape me, rape me my friend.. do it and do it again”~Nirvana
14) “Loving you is a like a song I replay Every three minutes and thirty seconds of every day (uh, uh) And every chorus was written for us to recite (right) Every beautiful melody of devotion every night “ Laurn Hill
15) “you say love is a temple love the higher law, you ask me to enter then u make me crawl”~U2
16) “ you can’t break my spirit its my dreams you take” ~James Blunt
17) “you make me sick! I want you and I’m hating it!”~Pink
18) “an indelible line was drawn between what was good, what just slipped out and what went wrong” ~John Mayer
19) “accidentally in love” ~Counting Crows
20) “I call just to hear you on the line… don’t hang up this time… we share the sadness… split screen sadness”~ John Mayer
21) “I could have met you in the sand box I could have passed you on the sidewalk could I have missed my chance and watched you walk away?” ~John Mayer
22) “emancipate yourself from mental slavery non but yourselves can set you free”~ Bob Marley
23) “I love the time and in between the calm inside me, in the space where I can breathe, there is a distance I have wandered to touch upon” ~Sarah Mclaughlin
24) “when you speak angels sing from up above, everyday what turns into love songs” ~louis Armstrong
25) “24, 24 hours to go... I wanna be sedated”~ The Ramones
26) “She’s such a fortunate fool, She’s just so mmmmm” ~Jack Johnson
27) “Thank you providence thank you frailty thank you thank you silence”~Alanis Morissette
28) “ When the heart comes there’s an argument, A fight to save a smile, A small attack on human tears” ~Blue October
29) “Fly me to the moon and let me sing among the stars. Let me see what love is like on Jupiter and mars”~ Frank Sinatra
30) “we would stay and respond and expand and include and allow and forgive and enjoy and evolve and discern and inquire and accept and admit and divulge and open and reach out and speak up This is my utopia”~ Alanis M.

Boos Il wawa

I’ve never been a fan of Hayfa Wahbi’s voice but I’ve always given her credit for having that porn star appeal.
She’s the perfect inflatable Middle Eastern woman. The long black hair, the pouty lips, and a knack for dala3 in that I’ve got sex appeal and I’m going to use it to my advantage way. I’ve always taken her music at face value but something hit me yesterday while watching her latest boos il wawa video clip. Arabic music and the Arab female artist persona has drastically changed over the years. While Hayfa Wahbi swims in a bigger sea of drool than Nancy Agram, Nancy can definitely be accredited for the instigation of this slippery slope of sexier racier video clips.
This phenomenon had me facing two somewhat contradictory emotions. The first, a sense of empowerment and the second a sense of exploitation caused by the objectification of my entire gender.
The first thought left a warm fuzzy feeling inside. Finally women are realizing they’ve got this amazing untapped energy and ability to move mountains with just a little finesse. Why dance around the bush when they can just burn it down in a pyrotechnic blaze of glory? These women send a message that is loud and clear, ‘I am a sensual being and aware of it’. As expected, society has yielded and a sexually in-tune woman has slowly become more OPENLY desired. As a direct result of this shift in ideals, plastic surgery and tummy tucks are no longer only an obsession for Pamela Anderson and the likes. Women are wearing what they want and flaunting what they’ve got. A revolution of sorts has taken place and my generation has managed to experience it first hand.
The second emotion was a little harder to shake off. Though the realization of ones own autonomy is grand and empowering its abundance has a negative consequence. I suddenly became conscious of the age old feminist dilemma of freedom of sexual expression and its inevitable coupling with an increase in objectification. Artists were no longer accumulating a fan base solely on vocal competencies. Ritz, glamour and sexuality are now key players in the game of fame. It is show business after all and so with respect to Hayfa and Nancy it’s completely understandable. It is the ones that want to follow in their footsteps that have me a little concerned. Allowing yourself to become an object of desire in turn promotes an increase in being desired and left unchecked eventually increased objectification. While not every woman is comfortable with the I’ve got goods you want, the abundance of women who carry themselves like they’re on display gives way to a certain assumption or stereotype.
So with every mini revolution comes a mini counter revolution. In this shift towards a more open stance to sexuality I hope the plight will not be hindered by the counter revolution.

Let the circus begin!

One would hope that common etiquette would have taught most not to enter into someone else's domain, house, or space and desecrate it with their nonsensical gibberish. It has come to my attention however, that this is not the case with my red tooshied friend ,The monkey.

I thoroughly understand and am at ease with the simple notion that I will not agree with the world and everyone in it. His need to live in his wacky misguided bubble is a choice he is completely entitled to make. With that said, in a desperate attempt to avoid growing a testicle or three I have thus far successfully steered myself clear of his magnificently ignorant blog. I resisted the urge time and again to dedicate an entry to a cause unworthy, but when he decides to post a comment from his high horse on my space after I'd diligently been trying to remain civil, well, the gloves come off. My comment on his "The anti-bloggers office "post was purposely intended to be personal, mean spirited and counter productive. If nothing else, it has frankly given me peace of mind while allowing me the opportunity to express my zero tolerance level for his garbage. I will simply not put up with it.
His self assumed role of leadership, continuous exploitation of the declining unfortunate circumstance of Egyptian free speech and his incessant need to steal the limelight to feed his ego has caused my fuse to blow one too many times. I applaud the advocacy he contributes to pertinent issues by being vocal but I can not help but notice that there is a Jerry Springer feel to most of what he says. As an Egyptian living in the west, I take issue with his mannerisms and blind support for various issues in a fashion that at best highlight his inadequate ability to get the whole story straight before regurgitating it into any uneducated naive ear that is willing to listen. Today I hop aboard the censorship express, I put on my 'shut the fuck up already' captain's hat ,waive good bye to your deleted comment and ask you in the name of all that is held sacred, not to come again!

3 suicides at Guantanamo surprise surprise

Hello! Prisoners are well into their fifth year of detention with no end insight, they, lack due process, have not been charged not to mention being subjected to constant torture both mentally and physically. Is it a surprise they want to kill themselves? Shouldn’t red lights have been flashing everywhere in people’s heads ages ago? Guantanamo is a loop hole for the despicable. Strip away all the complications and politics and the situation becomes crystal clear, Dogs are treated better than these people are being treated. The cruelty of it all blows me away. And because we are removed from the situation it is easy to toss it aside and think about it on a different day but when the deputy assistant secretary of the state for public diplomacy starts saying things like “the deaths were a good PR move" and describes the suicides as "a tactic to further the jihadi cause", I stop and think “are you kidding me? Did you just say what I think you just said?” These are the people we take for granted? These are the people that represent the majority? What is the world coming to? It's utterly ridiculous!

I am angry

I am angry at the higher ups for allowing Canada to become like the U.S.

I am angry at the decision to stop funding Palestine after a legitimate vote took place to empower a government, that granted might have an extreme approach and definition of democracy, but elected by its people for it people none the less.

I am angry at the suffering that will be caused by this fundamental decision. I am angry that he is following in bush’s footsteps.

I am angry at his attempts to make us anything but a peacekeeping nation. I am angry at his indiscretion and short sight. I am angry at his growing ability to fill the hearts of Canadians with hate. I am angry at the way 17 Men were rounded up, denied visitation and made into monsters without having been proven guilty. I am angry at the panic the media has managed to create. I am angry at his in ability to tell people to get a grip and resolve the issue in a chic non militant manner. We don’t know if these men are innocent or guilty yet so shouldn’t there be a basic civility in the way we handle the situation?

Wouldn’t have containing the subject benefited Canada as a whole far more than plastering their faces, names and addresses all across the papers?

Yes take your precautions protect your people but do it in Canadian fashion. Respect these people’s autonomy as humans, give them their basic rights and think about what the over all affect of the big spins in the media have on our identity as a whole. Canadians are known to be extremely tolerant, accepting and multicultural. With all the hysteria in the air people are vandalizing mosques, looking at each other suspiciously and above all they are gobbling up the ignorance. I do not know if these men are guilty or not but I am enraged at the idea that people are afraid of teenagers, silly boys who want to be thugs. Youth who obviously have been misguided… or NOT. I am certainly not making excuses for inexcusable behavior but for us as a nation to condemn people based on the US’s experience is entirely unfair. For an entire shopping mall to be evacuated because a van without a license plate was parked in front of the entrance is insane. We need to get a grip. Canada is a good country. It has not invaded lands, it has not involved itself in politics for revenue’s sake and it definitely has not alienated its civilians by creating hate through the media. We need to remember what it is that makes Canada grand. We need to remember all these things and hold on to them because without them Canada becomes the US. There is absolutely nothing worse than being a follower lacking the punch and zeal to back up your insanity. I am Canadian and I will not succumb to the madness.

She's there we're here

I’m worried about her. She’s there we’re here and even if she was here, who am I kidding? How could I possibly help? What could I possibly say? She’s much better at it than I am. She’s the glue that’s held us together and the tinge of exactly what was missing to make things right. I remember how things were before her now. I remember the space, the gap and the silence. I remember the one man conversations, pathetic attempts desperately trying to avoid depression at all costs. They’re back now. I vaguely remember a time where the bitter cold was bearable, where the good times were all round, the laughs loud and the bonds strong. I remember driving home one night and thinking ‘so this is what it’s like to be happy’. I remember my hysteria… my inability to breathe and my uncontrollable sobbing. A fit of anguish from which I’d never thought I’d survive. I remember her patience and the calm and serenity I felt following the panic attack. It’s my turn to step up to the plate. It’s my turn to carry the weight. It’s my turn but how? What could I possibly say or do? She’s there and we’re here. Even if she was here, who am I kidding? How could I possibly help? What could I possibly say? She’s much better at it than I am.

Musings at 3

All is quiet on the western front. I’m deeply engaged with my spreadsheet when something catches the corner of my eye. It’s a post-it attempting to find its way through the baffle. It reads ‘HELLO!’ obviously written in haste.
I attempt to send it back with the words “hi ya : ) Cat got your tongue?” but it won’t budge past the seam. He was resourceful and used a paperclip to force his through, and I struggle with mine. I hear a muffled heckle and shortly after get another note from my Through the Wall friend. It reads “No, but this is how they communicate in prison. The similarities are disturbing!” Determined to win the ‘who can make who laugh louder war’ I suppress my urge to break out into knee slapping hahahas.
I take a quick glance around, jot down the words “how so very V for Vendetta-ish of u.”, crumple the post-it up and throw it over.
I notice a shadow through the seam that brought me the initial note.
Eureka!
By God I’ve got it!
I draw two suspicious eyes and a message that reads “I’m watching you” in blue ink. I make a contraption to carry my sign out of rubber bands and paper clips then slowly lower it over the wall.
Francis is hysterical with laughter and stands up to see what I’m up to without even needing to peer, lunge or stretch. “That’s hilarious… not so much the words but the mechanism… you sure u have enough to do?”

Ohh how I hate the Cowardly Hit and Runner!

Big slick is looking a little impaired with his scratched, slightly dented back bumper. He’s still as sexy as ever but needs some attention so that he doesn’t feel neglected. Feeling guilty about not having protected him from the harsh world around him, I washed, turtle waxed, vacuumed and polished him as soon as I got the chance. His new car smell is slowly fading and is being replaced by a squeaky clean scent. I’m a little worried that these things usually happen in shots of three. With two down I’m growing anxious and worried with the anticipation of the arrival of the third. I might have to be forced to bust out ruby red and cycle about for a bit till big slick receives all the right TLC at the dealership. ‘Course nothing is for free so the cost of Big Slick’s royal treatment will inevitably mean my rape. Hopefully my deductible isn’t as high as I think it is and perhaps just perhaps the freaking insurance will cover it! Stupid Fuckers! They get so much out of me but do I ever see any of it back when I need it?!
SHAME ON YOU!
Did you say yes?!
Reality is knocking at the door and it says LaLa land has left the building! I can hear the insurance agent laughing somewhere in a distance at the suggestion that I pay insurance specifically for times when shit hits the fan. Does he not smell the stink from where he’s sitting? Surely the fan gives him more than a whiff of it?!

Update: So I mighta been a smidgen harsh with the insurance folk... I called them up after the fine people at the dealership told me that Big slick's spa day would not only cost my left arm but right leg as well. A life time lacking the ability to applaud and loads of hopping on one leg flashed before my eyes. Corey, the man whose children I'd promised to bear after he'd delivered the good news laughed at how giddy i got when he said he would waive my deductible. Not only is my car being fixed entirely by the insurance company buttttttt I also got a free rental in the mean time and should get the car back in 2 days. How sweet it is!

Invert - Revert

++++>The transformation<++++

اني جالسة في عمق الافكار التي تستغرق ذهني و تستعمر وقتي و تقيد عزيمتي

أريد أن أصرخ لكي أسمع نبرات صوت طموحي و هي تتوغل في روحي و تدفعني لمعارضة اليأس

Mother nature is crying

Mother nature is crying.
She's thrown in the towels and decided to be down in the dumps for the day.
She emanates a slow steady constant plea for help, washing her hands clean of it. Whatever "it" may be.
She's kicking and screaming on the roof of my car and the wind shield wipers tune her out while diligently engaged in their synchronized swim.
The roads shimmer and the puddles dance with the arrival of each and every raindrop.
The bridge is her momentary muzzle.
The music slowly comes together, the drops mimics a beating drum and the swooshing wipers keep the tempo. Sarah McLaughlin fills in the gaps, the piano seeps in through my ears, lingers for a note of two and my mind has lift off with no regard for gravity. It levitates and hovers between here and there in an intrinsic hypnotic lull.

A wee bit of zee trivia

I took this quiz on the BBC. Lets see what you've got. I got 2 out of three right.
What is Batman’s female counterpart Bat Woman set to make a comeback into the world of crime fighting as?

A: a “lipstick Lesbian”
B: A single Mother
C: A peace activist

The actor who has portrayed Colombian coffee icon Juan Valdez for four decades has stepped down. What quality must his replacement have?
A: A way with the ladies
B: A knack with mules
C: A bushy moustache

Letters from philosopher Voltaire to Catherine The Great sold for world record $750,000 at auction. How did he sign some of the letters?
A: The old Hermit
B: The Old Optimist
C: The Old Troublemaker

Freaking Saudi Arabia!

This country obviously has a personal agenda against me or something I’m convinced there are bounty hunters that have dispatched specifically to destroy and sabotage me.

They’re like genital herpes, you know they exist but want nothing to do with them!

As if the kalakee3 I carried around with me for years after I moved to Canada and discovered that contrary to fallacious beliefs, boys are not the enemy;
The random sexual harassment I was constantly subjected to in public places; The freaking gas masks and sirens; The pool that was cemented in at an all girls school in a country with normal temperatures in the high 40’s to the mid 50’s; my freaking inability to travel to the only neighboring country that doesn’t double as the back drop scenery for ice age 1 and 2 isn’t enough. Of all the countries at the world cup this year, Saudi Arabia had to be my draw in the pool at the office. ‘Course Ghana, Togo or Trinidad would have done just a good a job of making me loose but no I had to pick Saudi Arabia!

--------------> ? <--------------

I drive to the edge of my considerate plain and appologise to all i hurt on the way. I attempt to remain independantly happy.

Maximus Hypocratis

After Loads of contemplation I think I’ve finally come to the decision that if I ever need to resort to an alternate sexuality I think I’d choose bisexuality. Increasing the number of available sexual partners shouldn’t hurt my game. I’d be pickier and a little more scrupulous when picking my partners though. Homosexuals seem to know what they want as opposed to the varying whimsy of the bisexual.

Single Serving Friend 3

It’s amazing how a single encounter with a person can linger in your memory for ages after a brief but significant exchange of pleasantries. I have had a decent number of these in my life, each of which has taught me a lesson I keep safely tucked deep inside, but I want to share three of these stories. This is the second in a series of three.It’s amazing how a single encounter with a person can linger in your memory for ages after a brief but significant exchange of pleasantries. I have had a decent number of these in my life, each of which has taught me a lesson I keep safely tucked deep inside, but I want to share three of these stories. This is the third in a series of three.
This one was also in the town of Guarda la vaca. A couple of my friends and I had taken to strolling casually through the town without our flash lights. We’d been warned about sudden power outages but were skeptical at how dark it could possibly get. So there we were in the middle of nowhere just the three of us when every single light in the entire town went down. We froze for a good 10 minutes thinking the generators would kick in sooner or later but nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was funny actually because the darkness silenced us. We were paralyzed and didn’t know how to react. We couldn’t keep walking because we couldn’t see a single thing. It was so dark we had to flail our arms in the air to find each other. So we sat down on the floor holding hands and almost started hyperventilating when we heard the stray dogs barking. Seconds later we hear a calming voice. A man who must have been in his 60’s and had sensed how scared we were. I guess he took it upon himself to “protect” us as it were. This man talked for an equivalent of 30 minutes in Italian to us about all sorts of things like the revolution, napoleon, and the first aircrafts. The fact that we understood a big chunk of what he was talking about when none of us had ever spoken a single word of Italian in our lives is a testament to humanities ability to identify and empathize with each other. A testament to the notion that the existence of a language barrier is irrelevant when it comes to emotion. We were distressed, he offered us comfort and we accepted and on that basis as people, irrelevant to race, creed, or gender we connected. When the lights came back on we thanked him and walked off to which he responded “ciao Bella”.

a 100,000,000,000,000,001 questions.

I’ve been meaning to do this for ages but alas my picture is still mounted next to both the words procrastinator and lazy-ass in the dictionary. Seeing as how Kareem’s if these bloggers met Has managed to plaster a smile a cross my face for its sheer brilliance and imagination. So here it is in homage to the truth by Kareem.
So here’s my bit.

1) Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as your dinner guest? As your close friend? As your lover?
Dinner guest: Bono the man is inspiration packaged in the sexiest raspy voice. He’s not only doing the super star thing but he’s making a difference. I want to hear all about it.
Close friend: Stewy from the family guy. He defines the words motasharid, sarcastic ,funny and cute.
Lover: Van Gogh. Any man that sees the world in such magnificent beauty and can express himself that immaculately and all the while sacrifice a body part to prove his love is definitely my cup of tea.

2) Would you be willing to reduce your life expectancy by five years to become extremely attractive?
Superficiality is the way of the world so count me in as long as I’m given some kind of written guarantee that ’d be able to use my powers for good instead of evil.

3) Would you rather spend a month on vacation with your parents or put in overtime at your current job for four weeks without extra compensation?
With my parents any day, they’re totally cool!

4) When did you last cry by yourself? In front of another person?
I haven’t cried in a while actually… I can’t even remember! WTF? Does that mean I’m happy now? No I must be missing something somewhere! I’ll have to check my notes and get back to this one later.

5) If 100 people your age were chosen at random, how many do you think you’d find leading a more satisfying life than yours?
Hmmm let’s see. .Satisfying in my opinion of from theirs? It’s subjective. From where I’m standing maybe 57%.

6) If you had the choice of one intimate soul mate and no other close friends, or of no such soul mate and many friends and acquaintances, which would you choose?I think I’d pick soul mate. All it takes is one other person willing to blow bubbles out the window with you for it to be a royally good time.

7) Do you think your friends would agree with one another about the kind of person you are?
I think so. I don’t think I could hide emotions to save my life.

8) Would you prefer to be blind or deaf?Seeing as how I always end up pulling the wrong dollar bill out of my wallet at the Timy’s line and to add insult to injury never fail to end up on the wrong floor when I attempt to use my self acquired Braille skills I think I’ll take my chances with lip reading.

9) How many of your friendships have lasted more than ten years? Which of your current friends do you feel will still be important to you ten years from now?
My Ethiopian chica Ayood. I hope all the ones I have now will still be important to me now, a year from now and a decade later.

10) If you could mould to your liking your memories of any past experience, would you do so?
Don’t we do this already? Help me out cerise.

11) Would you be content with a marriage of the highest quality in all respects but one – it completely lacked sex?
If a marriage of the highest quality encompasses passion then yes out with the sex., but If not then not.

12) If you were happily married, and then met someone you felt was certain to always bring you deeply passionate, intoxicating love, would you leave your spouse? What if you had kids?
The mere fact that you’re considering other people is an indication of not being satisfied. If I’m with him then I see only him allowing for other possibilities is a mess waiting to happen. I am not happy I discuss the situation and try to come to a mutual agreement if all else fails leave the poor guy then look for deeply passionate intoxicating love.

13) Relative of the population at large? How do you rate your physical attractiveness? Your intelligence? Your personality?
I thin I’m ok looking not butt ugly and not gorgeous so I’d say average. My intelligence would have to be a tad above the relative population and personality well I don’t know everyone obviously thinks they’re grand so you’ll have to ask someone who knows me I guess.

14)If you could script the basic plot for the dream you will have tonight, what would the story be?
Around the world in 80 mins, matrix style. I get to go there, experience it, live it and have the rest of it fed into my brain the way Neo did.

elakh elakh elakh..

Single Serving Friend 2

It’s amazing how a single encounter with a person can linger in your memory for ages after a brief but significant exchange of pleasantries. I have had a decent number of these in my life, each of which has taught me a lesson I keep safely tucked deep inside, but I want to share three of these stories. This is the second in a series of three.

I met my second Single Serving Friend in Cuba on the beach. We’d arrived to the town of Guarda la Vaca the day before and were given a tour of the local school at which we’d be teaching the following morning. Coming from a third world country and having seen extreme poverty on many occasions I was surprised to find that even I was taken back by the living and learning conditions. Children lined the gravel court yard of the school with handed down hand me downs. Many had no shoes on and the ones that did had holes in them. They lined up and sang the national anthem in perfect unison with heads held high. They were not ashamed of the state their clothes were in or that the notebooks they were carrying around had been used by an older sibling. One after the next they sang songs with no commonality except the words Fidel and Cuba. When the presentation was over they charged towards us planting each and every one of us with a kiss on the cheek and a pamphlet printed on make shift paper with ink smudges with a type set that was far from centered. Some kids had desks on which they stood because they had no chairs while others sat and wrote on their laps because they had no desks. They shrilled in ecstatic joy when we announced that we had pizza and cola for everyone. The pizza and cola cost us approximately $3 dollars/ person an amount of money we later learned was a whole month's salary for most families. After a day at the school we decided to head to the beach where we met a woman in her 20s. The woman was dressed in clothes obviously falling apart due to wear and tear. She had sewn the holes in her garment and carried herself with a sense of pride. Her hair was neatly tied back and her fingernails perfectly clean but with obvious cracks and chips on her finger tips from what I assumed was washing dishes. She held in her hand a single bright orange of which she had peeled and gave pieces of it to us and her son as she spoke. She explained that she’d lived all her life in this little town and that though communism was an amazing idea on paper its realization comes with many short comings. She went on to tell us that she works all day and attempts to study at night and that she’d been saving up for months and months to be buy something of value for her son who was now engaged in a game of tag with the crashing waves on the beach. She explained that it was very important for her to give him something she thought would make all that she does tolerable. That if she could give him something that would bring a smile to his face then that expression itself would be worth it all. She told us about her wages and about how she sometimes had to borrow money from her sister to pay rent and how all that didn’t hinder her plight in obtaining the gift she got him. It's his birthday today she said with a gleeful smile. With curiosity getting the best of me and chewing on a not so succulent slice of her orange I asked her what she ended up getting her son. She shrugged the question off at first but with a little persuasion she let the cat out of the bag. She'd gotten her child a Florida orange. And just like that her unsurpassed kindness allowed me to eat half the orange without a second thought as though the mere fact that she'd attained her goal would suffice to melt away all the hardship she'd faced to get to it.

Single Serving Friend 1

It’s amazing how a single encounter with a person can linger in your memory for ages after a brief but significant exchange of pleasantries. I have had a decent number of these in my life, each of which has taught me a lesson I keep safely tucked deep inside, but I want to share three of these stories. This is the first in a series of three.

The First and most recent was set in a college hallway filled with lockers that at some point in my life seemed a lot larger than they were that day. I’d finished writing an exam at about 9:00 that I’d started writing at 6:30 and was waiting for Farah of Caution: Keep out of the reach of children to give me a lift home when I noticed, pacing the hallways, an extremely good looking Caucasian man. He was tall, cinnamon tanned, cleanly shaven, broad, totally casually trendy, with perfectly placed bleach blonde hair and the most gorgeous pair of green eyes I’d ever seen. For as far as I can remember I’ve never ever been attracted to the surfer guy look. All my encounters with the type have thus far proven unworthy of mention. It’s my experience that they’re so far removed from the type of conversation I enjoy engaging in that I unintentionally find myself steering clear of any such circumstance. I’d seen this guy at our last class briefly when he dropped in for a couple of minutes then disappeared at break and so, with absolutely nothing better to do, I plopped myself down on the floor in front of him and asked him why he hadn’t written the exam. He casually responds “I arrived at 7:30 and I’ve just always been told, growing up, that it’s rude to interrupt a class once it has begun. That’s why I’m out here. I’m waiting for the professor to finish so I can explain to him that I couldn’t interrupt. I just hope he’ll empathize with me and appreciate my reason.” I chuckled and looked at him and said “you know what?! That’s pure genius. I’ve never heard that one before. It might just work then sneaky you can have an extra week to study!” The poor guy was mortified and smiled uncomfortably then said “I’m not kidding I’m serious.” At this point I’m back peddling like no tomorrow wracking my brains trying to find something to tension you could cut with a knife when I come up with: “So where exactly did you go to school? That’s so bizarre and sounds a little militant. I imagine you came away with loads of stories to tell?” We start talking and it turns out he went to the same private school I went to and so I was eventually able to salvage the conversation by poking fun. Just when I think I’m safe and in the shallow end of the pool, Hot White Guy hits me with another jaw dropper. He’s social. He’s got a sense of humor, doesn’t think I ride a camel to work, and above all keeps the conversation going. He asks all sorts of questions one of which was are you doing this full time or part time. I respond and throw the question back at him only to have him proclaim that he’s taking 5 courses. At this point I’m a little confused and thinking surely he knows that the few months of summer we do get are a rare precious commodity in this god forsaken frigid land. “But how do you expect to keep that cinnamon tan of yours going without the beach and all the partying that goes along with it?” He chuckles and explains that he’s not much for parties and that he’d rather do other things than get drunk. “I just want to get my ducks in a row and have my head on straight. I read and play golf” I’m completely dumb founded because without talking to him I wouldn’t have for one second taken him for an extremely polite guy then he tells me he doesn’t like getting drunk, reads and wants to get his head straight? Do such people exist?! Just as he finishes his sentence Farah and the professor step out and so we both get up off the ground and he tells the professor he needs to speak to him and naturally expecting that to be the end of our conversation I start to walk away when he steps back a couple of steps and says “I’m Gerald. It was nice talking to you” And just like that, with a few sentences Gerald has eternally become imprinted in my list of people I’ll always remember. It’s not that I’ve never met a really nice perfect stranger before but it’s my reaction and intake that has me all weirded out. It’s the fact that, as D insightfully pointed out, I was stereotyping. And though I certainly will not allow myself to do it on a conscious level it is insightful to learn that many people might, just as did, maybe doing it intentionally. I think on some level or another grand sweeping generalizations like: I’m not like the rest of the world I never stereotype, All pretty people are dumb as a door knob, All North Americans are ignorant and unaware of the world beyond their continent and all Canadian people think getting drunk is equated with a good time are just that. Sweeping generalizations are a based on faulty logic that just make people feel comfortable and safe. Gerald solidified the notion that to every rule there is an exception and taught me that even the watch dogs need watching.

Here's to thinking you're eating shit with a spoon only to discover it was icecream!

It's only when you get your taxes back that you can rejoicefully proclaim "I am the proud survivor of governmental sodomy!"

Punch Drunk Love replaced by this...

"Though your acceptance will thrill me, it does not define me. I am eternally defined by the fact that I am my mother's daughter"

Twinkle Twinkle little star... how I wonder how old you are.

Stars are illusions of the past and millions of light years away. The twinkling I see tonight might just be history convoluted by space and dementia. The infamous star light star bright may have burned out and faded away eons before I got word. Why was I the last to know?

Caution : Keep out of reach of children.

Farah is fair and pretty white for an Arab, well at least on her arms and legs.
She’s in shorts and a T-shirt yesterday and is totally green and blue. If I didn’t know her husband to be a peaceful man I would have thought he hit her with a wooden plank. I look at her and she shakes her head in shame and embarrassment.
Farah had a sever case of some weird bug that hit a lot of us. You get really hot and dizzy you can’t move a bone and you sleep for hours on end till your meds kick in and you’re good to go.
So I’m curious and ask her: “what happened? I want to know!”
Farah: It was mother’s day and I was totally out of it! I fell asleep in the room with the kids after they’d dragged me out of my bed because they wanted to spend time with me.
I lay down on their bed as they watched a movie.
In between consciousness and out of it I felt them massaging my arms and legs. It was heavenly… you know how you like to be pampered when you’re sick right? I remember thinking they’re dad must have given them the idea.
Me: Mhmm?
Farah: Well I woke up 3 hours to find my self blue and green and red and yellow.
Me: WTF?! What do u mean?
Farah: They colored me in
I so didn’t believe her. I kept looking at her with awe and disbelief.
She hung her head again and said : I’m dead serious. They colored me in.
Check out my tummy… my back… she points at her heel and a part of her calf it’s a good thing this part was in red. It washed away nicely but the blue and the green stuck.
AND this would be why you take labels seriously and keep the damn paints out of reach of children!

An amusing rating of 3 on a scale from 1-10

A couple of days back, Irma la douce comes into the office extra chipper. She had that look of, I’ve met the perfect man, in her eyes. So naturally, after last time’s extremely entertaining story I decided to poke a little.
Me: “Sooooo? do tell do tell!”
Irma: Well, I’m doing my thing last night when I come across “date a millionaire”
I scrunch up my eyebrows and peer over the top of my glasses in full out 2abla il nazra fashion.
Irma gives me a shrug of the shoulders and a cheeky smile. She knows I’m only teasing and purposely tantalizing by not giving her an excuse to tell me. I giggle back at her and bring in my shoulders mimicking a wee fat kid’s anticipation and excitement at the suggestion of cake.
Irma’s eyes light up and she begins.
Irma: So this website has all these millionaire men in their 40’s who are looking for love. There is this one message I sent a hello to ages ago. He’s too cute for words, extremely good looking. So he msgs me last night and we chat for hours Sand-e! Hours!
He’s in South Africa on business and he seems so genuine. Completely open about everything and how he feels. He’s just too good to be true.

Irma being a divorcee, with 2 kids and loads of life experience knows that my relationship advice would be extremely naive and so consults with an Egyptian/Lebanese ghada.
Ghada warns irma telling her he’s too good to be true and that the internet is risky blah blah blah.

The next day Irma announces she has pictures of her dream guy. Naturally excited Ghada and I ask to see the million dollar man. Let me just tell you… He is by far the hottest older man I’ve ever seen! Tall dark haired brown eyes a defined jaw line amazing hands very well dressed slightly tanned. He looks like a fair Greek or a dark Italian. But mmm mm mmm yummy! So we’re’ all excited for Irma and Ghada is thinking about how to break the news to her husband so she can run away with million dollar man and steal Irmas dream.. while Irma is marking her territory telling her he’s hers.

Days go by and no word on hot millionare guy.
So today I ask
And she answers completely nonchalantly oh : he’s not what he said he was.
He’s not on business in South Africa he actually lives there.
Me: So? Despite the Atlantic and the heavy accent I think it would be pretty cool to hook up with someone from there.
Irma: Yeah but he’s not Greek or Italian not on business and not 45.Me: oh? Where is he from then?
Irma : South Africa, he’s not a millionaire he lives with his parents. He sent me a model’s picture. And here’s the kicker he’s 22.

Lama the Emu!

Today is Lama, Lamoushka, lolo,lamloom or Lama the emu’s b-day and so I’ve decided to share with the world why I love her to pieces. Thought there are a million more reasons I figure 20 should be the gist of things.
1) She’s a sweetheart
2) She’s got this dreamy realism to her that allows her to dream, hope and aspire but at the same time keeps her grounded
3) She’s extremely easy to talk to and entirely un-intimidating
4) She’s got this zeal and hunger to make which totally inspires me in the subtlest ways.
5) She for some reason attempts to hide this drive and will deny to the death.
6) She’s got this insecurity about her that makes her both extremely human but and easy to love but should the need arise she’ll stand up for her self and put you in your place.
7) She giggles in little bunches and sounds like a toddler who knows she’s cute
8) She’s got an inexplicable obsession with Bridget Jones and pride and predjudice’s Mr. Darcy. (well maybe totally explicable in the Mr. Darcy’s case)
9) She’s all about the Harry potter and the lining up for the Harry potter.
10) She’s got this ability to make people think she’s clueless but has it all figured out
11) She really listens and takes her surroundings in learning from the world around her and other peoples’ stories and mistakes.
12) She’s sheltered in ways she absolutely can not fathom but isn’t ill equipped by it.
13) She’s got the cutest button nose, pretty silky hair and a coochi cooo thumbs.
14) She’s always impeccably on time
15) She shrugs off things that bug her with a smile but will let you know she’s pissed with what she thinks are the subtlest hints (dude… might be subtle to the world but I’m onto you!)
16) She’s got a fetish for green eyes and fair skin and considering the fact that she’s surrounded by blondes I find this completely mind-boggling but cute and quirky.
17) She’s got an attachment to family in a way that’s extremely rare these days.
18) She secretly hates me for talking her out of taking her camera into the Amr Diab concert but is too nice to let me have it.
19) She’s got the best ability I’ve seen to fake being a reporter.
20) Last but not least as Dee put it “...it's cute she is very excited. I guess the fear of age hasn't caught up with her.”
Happy birthday Lama the Emu!

Legalizing prostitution is Genius.

So like Holland, but not as notorious is Germany’s legalization of prostitution. Hosting the FIFA world cup in June Germany has had four years to get itself ready for the surge of football fans. Aside from the fact that some of their advertisement has extremely offended Saudi Arabia and Iran, I think the idea is pure genius.
When a country’s government is secular then the logic just falls into place.
Create laws that prohibit pimping and you protect women/men from being forced into the industry and from taken advantage of. Regulate the business, enforce licensing and mandatory health regulations and you protect the client from both “scandal” and health concerns. Charge a tax for the service and the government can get a piece of the action and all the while the economy reaps the benefits. Unemployment drops, violence drops, crime drops and I’m certain 7erman related kalakee3 (deprivation related issues) also diminish. With that said, Germany, Switzerland, New Zealand, Netherlands, Australia, Turkey, Canada, Bulgaria, Sweden, Brazil and Costa Rica have all tuned into the blatant fact that prostitution is a service that is in demand and can not be stopped. It amuses me to learn that vaginal prostitution is illegal in Japan while fellatio isn’t, the words open-air girl market are actually used to described a sex sook (market) and last but not least that “lot lizards” are prostitutes that serve the trucker clientele.

Now here is a fabulous thought and question:

The United States is rooted on freedom of speech, religion and trade. The first
two are specifically mentioned early on within The Constitution. Those
inalienable rights are not given to us by The Constitution, but are instead
protected by it. So why violate the premise by prohibiting relations between
consenting adults?

Buildings and bikes

The Fairmont adorned in
loads and loads of gold leaf.



The skywalk to the skydome




These wheels are
made for riding.



A play with percpective




A face off between the old
and the new



Light and its magnificent
ambient manipulation

Urban Coral Reef

Pretty Things

Gua Sha

Three Seasons also provoked my curiosity about what, I later discovered, was called Gua Sha. In one scene of the movie a character collapses on the ground after being exposed to emotional stress. At this point, the subject of the character’s self denied affection rubs her back with the edge of a spoon in a pattern similar to picture until it turned an irritated red. The woman appears to be enjoying the somewhat orgasmic experience. She falls asleep and awakes the next morning utterly refreshed and seemingly cured from all her stress. This is called Gua Sha. It is an ancient therapeutic practise that began in china centuries ago used to treat and prevent acute conditions such as the common cold or flu, asthma, bronchitis as well as chronic problems involving pain and congestion. Gua means to scrape or rub and Sha is a reddish elevated skin rash that results from the rubbing with a ceramic spoon. It is my understanding that it works based on the assumption that massaging the skin promotes blood circulation and provokes toxins in the body to rise to the skins surface in the form of a rash. Increased blood flow to an affected area means more antibodies to fix the mess. So in essence Gua Sha is the process that provokes the body to cure itself. I’m not extremely convinced by all this it's a little too S & M for my personal taste but million dollar bet says: some North American is getting googly eyed at the prospect of a cure for some hardcore disease. And, quick as a flash, Gua Sha might just replace the present fascination with acupuncture.

3 Seasons

This weekend’s delight was a poignant Vietnamese movie that was fundamentally based on a collection of four stories. It is set in Saigon and explores each character’s struggle to survive. It is one character’s particular struggle that struck a particular chord. It revolves around the premise that being surrounded by crowds of people does not necessarily mean you are not isolated. The pleasantries are exchanged and the face is beautifully adorned with fake smiles but all the while the soul is etiolated by its desire to be enraptured.

عوم وتمختر... عوم وتمختر

My mother finally up and gave in to letting me drive her car back from a friend’s house today on the sole condition that I put gas in it for her. I love to drive so I fully welcomed the idea and off I went on my merry way to the gas station. I stopped off at a convenience to grab some big mama Joe M&M’s to satisfy my sweet tooth. I stroll into the store browse the various candy and chocolate bars stacked nicely on the shelves, get my package and head for the counter when something catches my eye… I was in mid process (of looking) when I caught myself thinking… WTF?! I so shouldn’t be looking there! I will not do what guys do! I can’t look… and attempt to distract myself by bending slightly to grab a pack of gum. Just I’m about to straighten my back the man reaches for it and wiggles it a bit. At this point I’m fully up right and he’s got a smirk on his face like “you know I’m the man”. All of a sudden I feel this rush of blood that shoots straight to my brain and my face is instantly as bright as a tomato. I naturally attempted to avoid eye contact at all costs and pretended like nothing was ari. The man takes his receipt and leaves the store. The guy at the counter looks at me with this look in his eyes like “what a jerk” and I smile in agreement then he goes “I don’t know why they do that! The cops ALWAYS come in here with their guns showing them off trying to scare people” and I go “was he wearing a gun? I didn’t notice.”
Guy at counter: “he was fully grabbing it! You must have seen it!”
Me: “well whatcha gonna do when you live in a zoo? Anywhoots u be good… night night”
I start to walk away, and unintentionally think out loud “get your mind out of the gutter Sand-e! Awwwt OF ZEEE gutter!” And In the true spirit of a cheesy armature movie I almost heard the dinging noise of the bells going off in the counter guy’s head as he made sense of it all and started to laugh hysterically. At this point I did what any sane 20 something year old woman my age would do. I sang “just keep swimming.. just keep swimming... عوم وتمختر... عوم وتمختر ”

And you thought the bubblys only came in champagne

For those of you who thought the remote control was the ultimate in laziness I have two words for you “Pre-lathered soap”

I know that at this point I should go into a rant about how our society is going to the outhouse and we’re getting lazier and lazier by the minute but I’m loving the stuff. It’s soft it’s creamy it smells nice and minimizes globs of unused soap in the sink. I imagine it’s profusely cost efficient and better for the environment as well. Dial soap advertises its bubbly scented goodness under the assumption that “few people are really good at lathering” and just in case you’re wondering how to do it right… viola:

Rub hands together vigorously for about 20 seconds, washing wrists, front and
back of hands, between fingers and under nails. 20 seconds is the equivalent to
one verse of "Happy Birthday" or "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Be sure to use a
clean disposable towel to dry hands thoroughly.

So soap, apparently around since Babylonian times(2800 BC), is basically some kind of an oil/ fat mixed with sodium hydroxide.

Are you getting visuals of Tyler Durden and Edward Norton stealing fat in a large plastic bag from a hospital? Is it all making sense now?

Detergents and soap are called surfactants or surface active agents. They reduce surface tension of water making “water wetter”. As you probably know, water molecules have a tendency to bead up on surfaces. Take away or decrease the molecule’s ability to stick together and you can get water to spread, soak and wet better. If the water can get to more places in combination with its placement and displacement over a garment or hands then the higher its ability to push away unwanted “dirties”.

So there you have it, the basic constituents of soap and how it’s made.

Life sans Blogger

Just like that... with a flick of some switch a techy decided it was time to take away my life support. I attribute it all to someone's being an illegitimate child of 80's porn but apparently the kosher explanation is control and optimization of government resources.
Solution might be in having to use my powers for good instead of evil and find a way to get him/her laid.
Or perhaps I'll just do a little fun control myself!
Window envelopes... pshhh whatever! a thing of the past... manually write out all your addresses u lazy asses!
Toilet paper, they don't need it they're shit starters anyways I'm taking all of them home!
Mail doesn't need to go in the correct mail slot John from Jane, same stuff different colour, their name cards should read FUGLY.
Good luck getting a paper clip... they'll all be chained together and jammed into my power outlet. how do you like them apples?!?! Techys?!

What am I expected to do now?!? work?!?

The Decadance of Shakespeare in Pirouettes, pas de chats, and jetes

Lagniappe:
In lieu of mean spirited verbiage here are some definitions:
Lagniappe- A small gift presented by a storeowner to a customer with the customer's purchase. Also an extra or unexpected gift or benefit
Grandioso- a word that indicates a movement or entire composition is to be played grandly
Crescendo- Is the gradual getting louder of a piece of music
Decrescendo- the opposite of a Crescendo, gradually becoming softer or decreasing in volume.
Legato- a word to indicate a movement, composition of phrase is to be played smoothly.
Leitmotif- A musical theme given to a particular idea or main character of an opera or ballet.
Maestro- Refers to any great composer, conductor, or teacher of music.
Orchestra- A large group of instrumentalists playing together.
Scordatura- The retuning of a stringed instrument in order to play notes below the ordinary range of the instrument or to produce an usual tone color.

----------------------The Entry----------------------------------------
A severe case of chair de poule can only be attributed to grandioso crescendos and decrescendos. The legato slurs of leitmotifs associated with each character's presence on stage. Perhaps the most musically delightful part of the orchestra's performance was the violins played in scordatura. The maestro's passion shook every last hair on his head. The music was flawlessly epicurian!
The dancing on the other hand, not as amazing as one would have hoped but Juliet’s attempt to hold onto Romeo on the morning after they consummate their marriage was an incredible display of human emotion. The way she held onto him and flicked her feet could only be described as elegant stomping.

Would I go to the ballet again? I’d say I much preferred the opera.

Cross walks.

The road is empty. Not a car in sight yet we'll all just wait around for the magical white walking man to appear giving us permission to cross the street. My question is this... shouldn't discretion be used? If you're in the middle of bum fuck Idaho with a cow on one side of you and tumble weeds blowing in the horizon, what are the chances that a tractor transporting manure at the furious speed of 30 km/ hour is going to be fast enough to have you knee deep in shite?!

Blurkers Rock the Blog World

I am, as Cinimini puts it, a “Blurker”. An avid blog reader who seldom comments. I’ve caught myself hitting the refresh button once or twice, holding my breath and being disappointed when I don’t get another glimpse into the blogger’s inside workings. Each blogger has a personality of their own and it is mind boggling how it shows through their writing. There are those that are blatantly using and abusing the blogsphere to their advantage and those that are a little more subtle. It is the nourishment that feeds some egos, the life lived vicariously through words, a forum at which they can finally be heard and to others it is simply an organization of thought. Wit, intelligence, cynicism, Self confidence, and sarcasim are all just as easily communicated to the reader. A blogger that constantly discusses praise is like a child begging for recognition while another’s bold statements are intended to make a clanking noise among the hum of reason. The loud ones build enemies quickly but fake groupies faster. The quiet ones go unnoticed while those with a sense of humor serve for comedic relief among the sea of politics. It is those that are on neither extreme have proven to be most interesting. They reflect on their daily thoughts and surroundings and if well versed suck you into the moment, into their lives, and sometimes into their head. It is precisely this phenomenon that intrigues me most. It satisfies the urge I get when I walk by an elegant condominium building and wonder how the tenants have made their space theirs… how they’ve manipulated the light and the furniture to give off a certain ambience and feel. Blogs are like the little bubbles that pop up over comic book characters when in deep thought. They’re the ramblings Mel Gibson tuned into in “What A Woman Wants”. That is why they’re comparable to morphine. A quick fix and you’re set. The major problem with blurking is that it makes a profession like pseudo stalking a lot more feasible. Throw out invasion of privacy issues and tada a pepping tom’s utopia without the consequences attached. Faced with technical difficulties when attempting to create a link with a picture as opposed to text I decided to ask for help. Off I went to msn added the one blogger I had a sixth sense would respond immediately and launched into my question as though we’d known each other for ages. Graciously received, I got the answer to my question but was at a loss of words when the inevitable “do I know you?” question surfaced. Reflecting on the situation now I’m thinking smiling smugly and blurting “no but I know you” probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do and I’m sure exponentially accelerated my hole digging. There is no reasonable answer I guess but my answer is simple, I love people watching/reading because it educational. Being removed from a situation and understanding body language, tones, or how people react to stories not only helps me understand myself better but allows me to make sense of the world around me. I’ve gone off on a tangent here but I guess what I want to say is there is no shame in blurking. I Blurk and as far as I’m concerned blurkers rock the blogworld!

Irma the sweet

Irma LaDouce’s off the internet dating adventures have managed to entertain me once again. She was invited on a cruise with her daughter to the thousand islands… on Bert’s boat ironically called “The Ernie”. She’s the tiniest thing and has all this energy about her so she comes in the morning looking like she got a little sun and not as perky as she usually is. So I casually ask how her weekend went and she
goes : Oh it was awful!
N I go: oh? The cruising with the attractive man wasn’t all it was cut out to be?
She goes “oh god... I get on the boat he’s fantastically dressed in a linen suit.. A LINEN SUIT SAND-E do u know how linen catches the wind? Its dreamy! “
I’m looking at Irma a little perplexed… “ aha yea definitely linen and the wind… completely…”
I had no freaking clue what she was on about! Is it a good thing or a bad thing ?
LaDouce: “It was completely white he had everything perfectly matching. Freshly cut flowers everything.
I’m standing there doing the Titanic thing looking in his eyes thinking bout how I want him to kiss me when I notice that his hair isn’t blowing in the wind. It’s a rug! And really Sand-e you know I’m not superficial and yeah ok it’s not the world’s most attractive thing but I think meh… it beats a Donald trump comb over. Then I look closer and I notice he’s got foundation on, the mole on his cheek is penciled in and his eyebrows are plucked to perfection. I’m a little confused by all this but think nothing of it. I lean in to kiss him and he backs off and says.
“‘Irma, what’s my name?”
so I say “bert” and re-lean in to kiss him when he goes “No Irma, my name is Bertha”

HAHAHA poor Irma was nearly in tears when she was telling me the story.
She goes “I haven’t been out of the dating loop that long! How could I not know?”
What do u say to someone who has just been on a cruise with a woman who is in the process of becoming a man but meanwhile is attracted to you?

I hugged laDouce and did the only thing I could do in a situation like this. I lied like a Persian rug! “It’s happened to at least 3 of my mothers friends. They look amazing it’s not your fault honey”