Confessions of a Pathological Procrastinator

Water of Bottle

2010-12-28T23:59:00.013+03:00

(I figured it would be appropriate to use my most recent typo as the title for my most recent post. Bottle of water, water of bottle, potato potahto.)

So again I find myself at a loss trying to wrap my head around how quickly time flies by. It's been over a month since I made my last post claiming to be back. I feel like that dad from every other movie. You know, the one who ran out on his wife and lil Jimmy and lil Lucy when they were just wee little babies. The one who shows up every Christmas promising Jimmy and Lucy (not so little anymore) ferris wheel rides and cotton candy and hugs and bedtime stories but disappears before Christmas dinner is even served. The one Jimmy pretends to hate but secretly still wants back home. The one Lucy still cries herself to sleep over.

But you don't cry yourself to sleep over me, followers. So are we cool? Yeah, we cool.

I have two things for you.

1- A song. Just for you.

	Black Kids - I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You .mp3

	Found at bee mp3 search engine

Black Kids - I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You

2- I wrote a little poem, just for you. It's called Every Other Morning.

Every Other Morning: a poem

Wake up

Eyes shut tight

To keep the sunlight

From trickling in

Fall off bed

(On purpose)

Stand up and shuffle to the bathroom

Or crawl

Eyes still closed

Anything goes

Trust that you just picked up your toothpaste

And not your pineapple face scrub

"It’s toothpaste!"

Although, on some occasions..

It’s pineapple face scrub

Shuffle to bedroom

Or crawl

Eyes still closed

Anything goes

Trust that you're putting on your good jeans

And not the ones with a big hole

Where your hiney is

Those would be your best jeans

For special occasions only

Trust that you're putting on a clean sweater

Preferably your Beatles one

But anything goes

Eyes still closed

Grope through closet looking for socks

Sniff socks

They smell clean

Trust that you're putting on clean socks

Shuffle around bedroom

Or crawl

Eyes still closed

Anything goes

Find shoes

Wear shoes

No one has knocked on your door yet

Bus isn’t here yet

You have time..

To water your plants

Good morning Lucy, Marla, and Marcelle

Look for bottle of water

Feel up random objects on your table

Find bottle of water

Trust that it’s a bottle of water

And not the Dr. Pepper

You poured into a bottle of water

Find plants

Water plants

Trust that you're watering your plants

And not your books

Trust that you're not Dr. Peppering your plants

Nor your books

Shuffle to the door

Come to a halt

Step backwards

“Beep” like a truck on reverse

You're forgetting something..

You're sure of it..

What is it?

Shrug

Screw it

Shuffle down the stairs

Eyes still closed

Pray you don’t trip

Although, on some occasions…

You do trip

Wave hello to security officer

You know he’s there

You can’t see him

But you can hear him

Snickering

Walk to the bus

Or zigzag

Eyes still closed

Anything goes

Walk to the back of the bus

Where empty seats

Are guaranteed

To avoid sitting

On someone else’s lap

And then

And only then

Do you dare

To open your eyes

Slowly

Breathe

Smile..

Palm your face

For you remember..

What you had forgotten.

Underwear.

Just playin'. So it's slightly hilarious how if we rewind my life's tape back to one year ago, I'm basically exactly the same, only 3 kilograms lighter and sans awesome Superman boxers.

Crouched in my seat, listening to music, procrastinating college applications, even though one is due on the first of January. Re-applying to colleges has been a major hassle. Oh, for those of you who don't know, just a quick recap of the past few months of my life: I was all set to go to Montreal, Canada to study chemical engineering at McGill. But then I got accepted into a scholarship program to study geophysics. So now I'm taking a prep year here in Saudi Arabia and applying to colleges all over again. Ah, well. You gotta do whatchu gotta do, friends.

Or in my case: you gotta put off whatchu gotta do, friends. My recipe for success. Things tie up nicely anyhow.

Has it really been over a year?

2010-11-18T13:51:00.009+03:00

"How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before it’s afternoon. December is here before it’s June. My goodness how the time has flewn."

- Dr. Seuss

I originally took this very-very-extended hiatus from my blog because I had too much to do on my plate without an extra side dish of Blog. I kept telling myself I'd post something eventually, but the more I procrastinated, the more I realized - I only procrastinate things I would rather not do. And I guess that meant blogging was something I preferred not do. Posting regularly began to feel like more of a duty than something I enjoyed doing. I told myself, when true inspiration comes, when the words are just itching to escape my mind and fingers - that, is when I'll write again. A train of thought greatly inspired by this poem by Charles Bukowski:

So You Want To Be A Writer
If it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
Unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
If you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
If you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
If you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
If it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.
If you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
If it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

Unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
Unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.

When it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

There is no other way.

And there never was.
- Charles Bukowski

He also once wrote in an essay: "The writing arrives when it wants to. There is nothing you can do about it. You can't squeeze more writing out of the living than is there. Any attempt to do so creates a panic in the soul, diffuses and jars the line."
And to put it all into a nice, yet ugly nutshell - that is exactly what happened: There was a panic in my soul. Panic because I believed I would never be the writer that people (okay, my friends) (and a few teachers along the way) were making me out to be. Panic because I've never enjoyed anything I've done as much as I do writing, and thus panic because - where does that leave me? The road I'm taking is leading me nowhere near a future I'm likely to enjoy. Next year I'm going to be in university studying geophysics, for Merlin's beard's sake.

Ah but, I digress (I'll try to elaborate on the whole future thing in another post). Point is, all these conflicting thoughts were bouncing off the walls of my skull, having a turbo-speed rave party in my mind, resulting in one massive thought knot that was harder to unravel than my earphones after having been tossed around in my bag all day (or just lying around in my room all day - they somehow manage to get all knotted up anyway).
But, my dear followers - and listen up, because this is important: It seems that the best way to deal with those thought knots also happens to be the best way to deal with those knots in my ear phone wires: Give them a mellow, gentle shake, and the knots will unravel of their own accord - Everything will flow. But sit cross-legged on your bedroom's floor, picking furiously at the wires, huffing and puffing, groaning and complaining - and you'll most likely end up with an even bigger knot.

And because I worry my atypical metaphors are not making much sense to you, dear reader, I believe it's about time I went back to what I was saying about Bukowski. The truth is, I suppose I've had a change of heart. Don't get me wrong, I still love that poem of his, and it's advice that I still hold dear to my heart - but it's just that: Advice. And I always like to think of advice as water - you either drink it or you let it wash over you. Either way, you gotta live.
Yes, writing, as all forms of art, should come from somewhere deep inside you, somewhere where it has been bubbling and simmering for a while, until it's ready to boil over and come to life. But rarely does true inspiration come to existence in an already perfect form. Quite frankly, the most inspired works usually boil over just like a pot does: By making a big fat mess. And our job is to make that mess more aesthetically pleasing. The key to letting go of my inhibitions was to realize that inspiration doesn't necessarily come to you. Sometimes you just have to work at it. It's impossible for everything you do to be brilliant; it's the mediocre, less-than-average, sometimes downright awful work that gives you both the experience and proficiency that prepare you for those moments of true inspiration. I like to think of mediocre work as nothing short of practice: little tricks to stuff up my sleeve, saving them for when inspiration comes knocking at my door - because when it does, you can bet your normal-sized butt I'll be ready. Or else Inspiration might pack up its belongings into a polka-dotted bindle and go knocking on someone else's door - someone that has been sat in front of their desk, writing mediocre, less-than-average, or even downright awful work.

And so, that being said, I am proud to present to you, dear followers - or what's left of you - The Return of the Great (perhaps the Greatest) Procrastinator. I hope you have all been splendid, and I would much appreciate it if you dropped a small line telling me what things, splendid or unsplendid, you've been attending to.

Until next time (which will hopefully not be too far away): Farewell, Buona Sera, and Salam!

A break

2009-10-14T21:06:00.005+03:00

from blogging. I'm taking one :(

It's my last year before uni, and things are insane. I keep saying I declare myself superhuman if I survive the next couple of months. Some things I have to do:

1- Finish off (okay, note to self, stop lying to Self - START) my college list and apply and write the application essays.

2- Work on my Model United Nations issues. I'm going to Singapore in November for an MUN conference. It's kind of like a simulation of the real United Nations. We discuss issues the world is facing, and we write resolutions just like the UN and debate them and stuff. I'm representing the Czech Republic in the Economic and Financial committee. These are the issues I have to research and write resolutions on:

- The right to education: finding solutions to guarantee and finance education in LEDC's.

- Providing adequate financial resources to developing countries dealing with external debt.

- Encouraging macroeconomic policies conducive to environment and development.

- Eradicating poverty through industrial cooperation.
........ I can regurgitate time and I still won't have enough of it.

3- Study for (and take) three SAT subject tests - math, physics, and chemistry.

4- Fill out my CV and chase after teachers for recommendation letters.

5- Work on all the school projects I've got coming up. For my global issues class (loads of mini-projects and one major one), physics (one major one), chemistry (one major one), English (loads of mini-projects and one major one), Arabic (loads), and math (not sure yet).

6- Work on my graduating project. As usual, I've chosen something way beyond my capabilities. I've chosen microcredit. The research itself won't be too bad, but the community service part of it will be. I have to find a person looking to set up a really small business and raise enough money to help them. Then I have to find a mentor who will help my borrower manage his/her money and set up his/her business. I might switch to something else if I can think of something I'm passionate about and simpler (but I kind of really want to do this).

Ummm there's more but I think I've scared you enough already.

So yes, there you have it. My excuse for not blogging.

I'm guessing I'll be back around December/January. I'll try to post stuff occasionally, but if you notice that I've started blogging way too often, please leave me a comment saying,

"You are wasting your life away, you incompetent idiot; you have a future to worry about."

Seriously, copy/paste just that.

But yes.
I'm really going to miss this blog and all the amazing people I've met.
I mean, holy cricket, 50+ followers?!
When I started this blog I was really just expecting 5, tops.
Meaning a few of my friends and my aunt and uncle.

It means a lot to me that you find anything here worth following. Seriously. And your comments always brighten up my day. I'm going to miss them. A whole lot.

But yeh. I need to stay strong, right?!

Wish me luck, okay?

I like you all, very very very very very very much.

(We're not ready for the big L-word yet, and all the commitments it will bring. So it will have to wait. Like a neon pink elephant in the room waiting for its existence to be acknowledged.)

Take care!

I'll be back.
Jus' like Terminator.

%%%

I am only

2009-10-09T14:58:00.006+03:00

Ok so I went to Bahrain. Highlights:

1- They didn't have Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.

They did, however, have The Final Destination… IN 3-D!

I honestly couldn't say no. And I'm glad I didn't. Because it was friggin amazing. It was the goriest one.

Honestly. Before the opening credits have even rolled, you'll already have seen...

#$%#$SPOILER ALERT%^#$$....

Two people being sliced in half… loads of people being crushed by concrete… people being burned alive… poles and broken pieces of wood slicing through people... umm... a tire flying through the air at turbo speed smashing into a girl's head from behind, leaving her lying on the ground with her head all blown up into smithereens…
Look up 'The Final Destination Nadia's death' on YouTube if you're interested… You know you're dying to.
Anyway. You need to get your butt down to the nearest theater to watch it.

The dialogue is awful, the acting is pathetic, but it's awesome. There's just something in me that secretly likes peeking through my fingers and biting my ring to keep from shouting the vile curse words going through my head when I see blood and guts and intestines.

2- Went to the bookstore again.

My copy of Everything is Illuminated hasn't arrived yet -_- Even though it has been 3 weeks! They said it should arrive next week. But in any case. I bought a book called She by H. Rider Haggard; it looks interesting. Then I went to another mall and I went to the same bookstore (different branch) and bought yet another book. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. It's an addiction. I'm spending all my Eid money on books.

And now! New novel excerpt.

It's a combination of Leila's character, thoughts I've shared with my cousin, and feelings I think all humans are afraid to let themselves feel sometimes. Here goes.

(random, but i was listening to this while i was writing)

The Postal Service - The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

It is another slap in the face from life that I have morphed into the hermit I am today. I - the social butterfly, seemingly excelling in everything I try – would rather be alone than surrounded by a group of people who say they care, but never in quite the way I want them to.
It is also another slap in the face that I've come to realize I don't like being on my own. I don't like being left forlorn with my thoughts. They take me to places, little nooks and corners in my mind that I really don't want to visit… Or, rather, I'm not ready to yet.
I am a loner who doesn't want to be left alone.

Am I really the only person who feels this way? Or do I share these thoughts with other people... with you, but you are just too afraid to voice them?
I think you should. Voice them. You never know, it might end up like that time when you told your best friend in second grade that you are dying soon, because you have a worm in your eye socket that's been twitching on-and-off for two weeks, and it's probably already made one hundred and three holes in your brain, and she said, No, you silly goose! Those are just your muscles! Twitchy eyes are normal!
No, you silly goose… Feeling empty is normal.

So let me ask you.
Do you ever get the feeling that you just don't want to talk to anybody? You're tired of smiling and laughing at jokes and pretending to be happy, but at the same time, you don't understand why you have to fake being happy in the first place, because, last time you checked, nothing in particular was bothering you?

You tiptoe around life. Hardly anything warrants a reaction from anymore. You stage your smiles, your laughs, your tears, your gasps of shock. Facial expressions become difficult for you to arrange, because you feel (or, rather, not feel) the same way about everything.
You run into your old 3rd grade teacher, and she tells you that she remembers you used to be sad and withdrawn all the time. You start to question your childhood, and whether or not you were ever truly happy. You think long and hard about the last time you had a good, genuine belly laugh that rumbled from the center of your very being and made your insides hum… and it scares you that you can't remember.

You start to hate your friends for seeming so… normal. For talking about TV shows you stopped watching; for giving a crap about their future, when you can't seem to bring yourself to care about yours.
You start to feel as if the world is one big theater, and you are just an inexperienced crew member who's been pushed on stage. You are clumsy and awkward; you stumble everywhere you go. You search endlessly for other people who seem to be out of their element, just like you, because you know that'd make them fit perfectly into your own… But you don't find anyone.
Your edges are jagged, but everyone has been artfully mended at the seams. Everyone is pretending to be someone they're not; fitting into their self-assigned personas, playing roles they think they ought to be playing. They listen to "cool" underground bands that'll make them come off as artistic and cultured, regardless of whether or not they actually like the music. They style their hair a certain way and wear clothes that "express their individuality," as if individuality is some sort of ultraviolet beam that's supposed to radiate from strange clothes and funny-looking haircuts.
You begin to stay away from those people, those actors, because no one can get close to you without tearing themselves up trying to fit into the constellation of your jagged edges - and you don't want to hurt those people, who glide gracefully across the stage, seemingly at peace with the characters they've created.

Despite the emptiness, you want to be alone. People have stopped being comforting, but being alone never was – it isn't supposed to be. And that, in a sense, is comforting: at least one thing in life still makes sense.
At least when you're alone, no one keeps asking you what's wrong. No one will refuse to take "I don't know" for an answer. You keep waiting and hoping for the feeling to pass, so you can finally go back to being yourself again… except, for the life of you, you can't remember who that is.

You pass a dusty car on the road, and you notice the message someone has scrawled on the windshield – "I am only." And instead of wondering, "Only what?" You think to yourself, "That is a complete sentence."

I am, only.

fin! So here's the deal. I'm thinking about discarding the whole novel idea (not that I was seriously considering it in the first place) and just sticking to short pieces and thoughts like these - something my fellow blogger and friend Wuthering made me think about. My plot isn't really shaping up, and I don't think most people would appreciate a "novel" that basically consists of thoughts :P

So, 1- What do you think?

2- Ever seen any of the Final Destination movies? Do you like 'em? Or am I just weird?

Take care, lovely people who still read my strange strange blog.

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs!

2009-10-07T23:30:00.008+03:00

One.. of.. my most favorite.. books.. EVER…

HAS BEEN TURNED INTO A MOVIE!!!!

A;sdfjl;sakfj;lsfjlasjf;lasjdf;laskjdflkajsdlfjasdlfjsdlf
Yes that sums up how I feel pretty nicely.

I am super psyched.
That's two so far!!!!
Where the Wild Things Are and now this!!!
The heavens must love me.

Where the Wild Things Are is coming out really soon.. and Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs has been out since September! How haven't I heard about this?

I'm spending the day in Bahrain tomorrow. (Kind of wish I had a BlackBerry now because I have to reply to 348979 Facebook wall posts and messages… but no! I shall not succumb to the machine! No CrackBerries for me!)

I'm praying they'll have Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs at the cinema.

But anyway. When I get back I shall post a new novel excerpt.
Suspense.
Mhm.

p.s. recommend a movie?

happy birthday brother!

2009-10-06T03:13:00.006+03:00

Annuals - Brother

well it's 3 am, but i wanted to wish my brother a happy birthday.
it's october 6th, and he just turned 15, the little rascal.
i stumbled upon my favorite picture of us the other day.

i was in preschool at the time, and he hadn't started school yet.
but he used to always wake up whenever i did, to keep me company as i waited for my teacher to come pick me up.

he looks so tiny and adorable in that photo.

kind of like now, minus the adorable.
he's still a midget.
it's funny cos his name is Majd.
mix the two words and there you have it - mijet.
so that's what i call him all the time.

come on. it'd take a saint not to take advantage of that.

he's as annoying as a fly hovering around that last piece of chocolate cake you've been craving all day.
he literally goes out of his way just to piss people off.

just a few hours ago i was filling out a college application and he was playing some stupid game on facebook. he paused midway through the game, looked at me, then logged out of facebook and sat down next to me.

"watcha doin'?" he asked.
"ignoring you."
"funny girl. ahh college applications. i see! well, good luck finding a uni that'll accept you.. besides UGM of course."
"... UGM? what the poop?"
"University of Garbage Men, duh."

-_-

but anyway. even though we've had plenty of fights that would put hulk hogan to shame, he is still a wonderful brother. this house would be incredibly boring without him.

i remember once, i asked him to move some wires that were all tangled up on the floor, and he just sat there on the sofa, moving his head from side to side.
"majd... what are you doing?"
"... i'm trying to move the wires with my brain and you're disturbing my focus."

the funny thing is, he was quite serious.

i love him so.

(my second favorite picture. i look constipated, he looks like an elf)

happy birthday, brother =)

When there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire

2009-10-03T01:19:00.008+03:00

The title is from the beginning of this song which I happen to like.

Stars - Your Ex-Lover is Dead

(2:58 is my favorite part)

As for my main purpose of this post..

Memories were fine, but you couldn’t touch them, smell them, or hold them. They were never exactly as the moment had been, and they faded with time.

~ Cecilia Ahern
P.S. I Love You

I know that quote clashes horribly with the first quote in my last post, but it kind of reflects how I feel at the moment.

I feel nostalgic, and I want to be a kid again.
I'm worried about forgetting things, so I made a vow to take more pictures, more videos, and write down more memories.

Here are a few, though, that I don't believe I'll ever forget:

1- When I was about 10 years old, my family and I were in Lucerne, Switzerland.
We were at the lake feeding the birds one day, and pretty soon we were down to our last piece of bread, so my older brother Muayyad and I started fighting over it.
He snatched it away from me, crumbled it up, then threw the crumbs at me.
Suddenly…
All the swans and ducks literally CHARGED out of the water, and the pigeons attacked me.
They started pecking and nibbling at me like crazy.
I was screaming my head off.
My family was laughing.
A group of people formed a circle around me and watched the free entertainment.
A random Japanese guy pulled out a camera only slightly bigger than his body, took a picture, then walked on.
And after the debacle was over, I noticed that some gracious pigeon left me a smelly gift on my shoulder.
I cried all the way home.

2- When I was 4 years old, that same brother thought it would be a good idea to practice his barber skills on me. He took me to my parents' bathroom and locked the door. He then proceeded to whip out my dad's razor… and shave my head.
Unfortunately my parents didn't take any photos of the bald me.
I wonder why.

3- About a year ago, four of my friends were sleeping over. We got the midnight munchies so we decided to order Domino's Pizza.
We wanted an order of Chicken Kickers.
Except we couldn't remember what they were called. This is how the conversation went.

"So we want… 1 vegetable pizza. 1 cheese pizza. And one Popcorn Chicken please."
"Ummm we don't have those…"
*another girl grabs the phone*
"What do you mean you don't have those? Pop Chicken!"
"Sorry ma'am… We don't have that on our menu."
*another girl grabs the phone*
"She meant Chicken Pop!"
"No ma'am.. I'm pretty sure we don't have that either."
*I get excited because I'm certain I remember what they're called and I grab the phone*
"NO THEY MEANT CHICKEN BALLS!"
*surge of euphoria*
".................. (silence)"
"… Oh. Guess not…"

4- Then we walked all the way to the main gate of the compound I used to live in, to pick up our order.
We had to pass by the main street.

We got the weirdest looks ever.
Maybe because we all looked a bit like this.

(my sweet sister and I)

We actually put on our pyjama's specifically to walk to the gate dressed like that.

Good times, good times.

That's enough memories for now.
Tell me about one memory you'll never ever forget!

Move to the city; lose all your heart

2009-09-27T16:05:00.011+03:00

music/photos/quotes time!

better than happy meals.

enjoy!

p.s. still searching for a new site with music codes.

tell me whether or not the song works cos this player is really bipolar

The Rumble Strips - Girls and Boys in Love

"Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it."

~ Mitch Albom

(Eddie's wife, The Five People You Meet in Heaven)

Grown-ups like numbers.

When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters.

They never ask: “What does his voice sound like?” “What games does he like best?” “Does he collect butterflies?”

They ask: “How old is he?” “How many brothers does he have?” “How much does he weigh?” “How much money does his father make?”

Only then do they think they know him.

~ Antoine de Saint Exupéry

The Little Prince

“Being alone, it can be quite romantic
Like Jacques Cousteau underneath the Atlantic

A fantastic voyage to parts unknown

Going to depths where the sun’s never shone
And I fascinate myself when I’m alone”

~ Andrew Bird

"If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales.

If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales."

~ Albert Einstein

The saddest kind of sad is the sad that tries not to be sad. You know, when Sad tries to bite its lip and not cry and smile and go, “No, I’m happy for you”? That’s when it’s really sad.

~ John Mayer

"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What?! You too? I thought I was the only one!"

~ C.S Lewis

"Who has never killed an hour?

Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes.

The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish.

So you kill the hour.

You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream.

If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep.

And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body.

The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share."

~ Mark Z. Danielewski

House of Leaves

“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”

~ Jim Morrison

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

We ask ourselves,

Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

We were born to make manifest the glory that is within us.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

~ Marianne Williamson

"The running boy is inside every man."

~ Mitch Albom
The Five People You Meet in Heaven

"When you don't fit in, you become superhuman. You can feel everyone else's eyes on you, stuck like Velcro. You can hear a whisper about you from a mile away. You can disappear, even when it looks like you're still standing right there. You can scream, and nobody hears a sound. You become the mutant who fell into the vat of acid, the Joker who can't remove his mask, the bionic man who's missing all his limbs and none of his heart. You are the thing that used to be normal, but that was so long ago, you can't even remember what it was like. "

~ Jodi Picoult

Nineteen Minutes

"If you're trying to show off for people at the top, forget it. They will look down on you anyhow. And if you're trying to show off for people at the bottom, forget it. They will only envy you. Status will get you nowhere. Only an open heart will allow you to float equally between everyone."

~ Morrie Schwartz

(from Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom)

Danya + Kitchen

2009-09-25T01:00:00.004+03:00

= not a good combo.

I nearly burnt down the house two days ago.

I was home alone and I was starving. I suddenly really wanted French fries. So I decided to make some.

Like I said, I was starving, and hence even more impatient. So I set the stove on high and waited for the oil to heat up.
And then…
The phone rang.
So I went to answer it and it was my dear friend JJ who, much to my dismay, tends to talk a lot. Not that I don't talk a lot. Just not on the phone. It's irksome.
Anyway. 5 minutes later I remembered the oil and I ran to the kitchen.

It was bubbling and smoking in the pan.
I freaked out and quickly grabbed the pan to take it off the stove…
And I accidentally spilled most of the oil on the stove.
And then…

WHOOOSHHHHH!

There was this huuuuuuge colossal fire all of a sudden.

(I may be exaggerating just a wee bit but.. come on.. put yourselves in my house slippers..)

(It was pretty big though.)

Anyway. I gasped and stared at it in shock.

I cannot even begin to tell you what was going on in my head, but it was something along the lines of…
CRICKET. SHIT. I TOLD MY DAD A THOUSAND TIMES TO BUY AN EXTINGUISHER. I mean, THIS WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN. I KNEW IT. WHAT DO I DO?! Water?! No I won't be able to carry enough here so I'll just fuel the fire and make it worse! Sand?! No.. that's too far away and what will I carry it with?! Oh man I don't even know the fire department's number! Oh my god if this fire doesn't kill me my dad sure will he's practically married to this house I mean we just moved here.. I wonder if maybe I get a few third-degree burns he'll feel too sorry for me and won't kill me…

I think at that point I began to realize that the fire was getting smaller and smaller until eventually it died out.
I sat on the floor and shivered for maybe 10 minutes.

I'm a survivor.

But anyway my cousin and I made steaks for lunch today and I successfully managed both not to burn the house down and keep all my fingers.

Awuppah!

Although I did have a little accident while peeling the potatoes but what's a little skin on my thumb…

My cousin enjoyed teasing me with the knife and laughing at me cringing away from it.

She thinks my fear of knives is illogical.

Illogical?

Excuse me?

Illogical?

Let's see here.

Is it sharp?
Check.

Is it lethal?
Check.

Has it been used to kill people?
Check.

(Just ask this dude)

I mean if someone were to point a gun at you, wouldn't you freak out? Why not a knife, then?
Clearly my fear is perfectly excusable.

As one last loving note, I must demand that you watch this video.

Now I won't torture you for long. Just watch it until about 0:35 when Miley starts to "sing." What made me laugh till I nearly died though was this comment someone left on the video:
"i love how patronisingly rihanna looks at miley."
God I love YouTube comments.

Sure they make you lose faith in humanity sometimes, but they are so amusing.

(p.s. Miley gets even worse around 1:30)

Okay that's it.
Thanks for reading and take care =)

Oh p.s. seriously, are you scared of knives, too?

And we’ll fill the metro skies with country air

2009-09-23T02:41:00.008+03:00

September 21st was the International Day of Peace.

I'm kind of bummed that it went by without anyone here really making a big deal out of it.

I completely forgot about it until today. I knew something seemed familiar about the date, but for some reason I thought that peace day was on the 24th of October... but that's UN day! (And my friend Fatima's birthday). Stupid!

I saw an ad on TV for Peace One Day (the organization that helped officially kickstart peace day).

It had kids defining peace. It was really lovely and it made me tear up. They really hit the nail on the head, those kids. They see things more clearly than we do, sometimes.

I tried to find it for you guys but I couldn't :[ So I don't think it's an official Peace One Day ad, although they did show the logo at the end.

You can catch the full Peace One Day documentary here. I'm watching it now; I'm about 20 minutes through it.

This guy is really inspiring. I can't say I've seen many people as determined as he is. And he faced a room full of Arab politicians :p with the issue of Palestine bound to arise, it was pretty brave of him, if I do say so myself - no matter how bad he think he did.

I'm determined to find out as much about this as I can.

On a brighter note, is this not the cutest thing you've ever seen?

Nizlopi - JCB song

It made me smile like I just had Botox and my face was fixed permanently into a wide grin.

OPTIMUS PRIME!

And noticed Mary Poppins at the end?

I've been going around singing, "I'm Luke, I'm five, and my dad's Bruce Lee! Drives me 'round in his JCB!" and annoying quite a few people but I don't care.

I also saw the most amazing fireworks display I've ever seen earlier tonight.

I swear it was like diamonds in the sky.

Whenever the fireworks disappeared they re-appeared two seconds later like twinkling diamonds. I'm not exaggerating; that's what it looked like.

I was in awe.

So ok that's it for today.

Happy late peace day.

On second thought.

Happy peace day!

Cos everyday should be peace day.

Yes I'm corny but I promise eventually you'll learn to deal with it.

Dear World

2009-09-16T18:01:00.008+03:00

Dear left ear,
Seriously, when are you going to stop ringing?

The constant beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep in my head is getting rather annoying.

Now I know you're doing your best,

and you're getting better,

but would you mind getting better faster?

Dear new housekeeper,
You're weird.

Does your diet consist mainly of socks?

Because I can't seem to find any of mine since you got here.

Actually, I can't seem to find many of my things since you got here.

Pens, headphones, headbands, bracelets, rings, tank tops – what do you do with them?

I know I'm not the neatest person, but it still drives me crazy when I can't find my things.

I know my room can be a mess sometimes, but it's a neat mess, I always know where everything is.

Until you got here, that is.

(The sad thing is, I'm too scared to confront you. Have you seen the size of your muscles?)

Dear AP chemistry,
Thank you for inviting me over for dinner.

However, next time, it would be nice of you to let me know that I'm going to be served as the main course.

You are feeding on my soul.
Please stop.

Dear dad,
Thank you for being the most amazing dad ever. I love you.
P.S. I had to go pee after I saw this old photo of you.

Never let Auntie Raja'a fool you into blow-drying your hair again.
Not that you have much left of that…
:P You know I love you.

Dear world,
Why are you so fascinating?
And why can't I drop everything and visit every nook and corner of you right now?

Dear former incarnation of me,
I'm pretty sure you were African... or Chinese.

Because these photos made my day.

Dear metabolism,
Admit it, I'm being really nice to you, aren't I?
I'm not eating as much as I used to, aren't I?
I'm just showing you that I appreciate you.
So please keep making everything I eat disappear into that little Mary Poppins bag of yours. Don't give up on me any time soon.
(However,I would still like to gain those 3 kgs.
My collarbone looks all anorexic-like.)

Dear somebody,
(**readers, brace yourselves, this is an angry one...)
Your endless strive to be perfect and control everyone sickens me.
It is so satisfying for me to watch things not go your way.
The imperfections in your life make me giddy with glee.
And I am so, so, so happy to be one of them.

Dear bookstore in Bahrain,
I'm still waiting for you to call me and tell me my copy of Everything is Illuminated has arrived. You told me it's going to take 3-4 weeks.
It's been 3 days.
Shame on you…

Dear readers,
Hi :)
Leave me a small Dear (something)!
Take care!

Meet Jeffrey the Robot + my bookshelves

2009-09-11T13:29:00.007+03:00

so about a couple of weeks ago, i was watching the fireflies music video for the million and first time, and i thought to myself,

man i'd love to have a robot in my room.

and then, a few hours later, when i was on my bed, slowly drifting into sleep, i jumped up and thought,

why the heck not?!

and so i shared this dark dark secret with my dear cousin alia.

and we decided to make a cardboard robot.

he's not complete yet.

i have big plans for him.

but i am impatient and i want to show you guys.

so, guys,

meet...

Jeffrey the Robot.

he still needs arms and legs.

and we're going to glue a bunch of nifty gadget-like stuff to his torso.

+ a couple of other surprises you'll see later.

but yes.

isn't he awesome?

on another grand note,

guess what?

I FINALLY HAVE BOOKSHELVES.

(click to enlarge)

we moved a few months ago, and we haven't really officially settled in yet.

i hate my room.

mainly because i didn't choose the furniture myself.

my parents got sick and tired of waiting for me to find something i liked

(it's not my fault i want my room to look like a flea market and we don't have that kind of stuff here it saudi -_-),

so one day they surprised me by coming back from furniture shopping and telling me,

oh hey danya, guess what? we bought you furniture.

awuppahhh!!!

not.

it's all darkwood furniture, which sucks.

except the bed.

it's kinda cool.

it's japanese-style.

plus they failed to get me any bookshelves or something to store my stuff in.

BIG problem, with me being the pathological junk-hoarder that i am.

(that's why alia and i managed to make Jeffrey a bit quickly. i had a collection of toilet paper tubes. don't ask why)

so yeh that's why i'm a bit psyched about the bookshelves.

but anyway.
i discovered that i don't actually have as many books as i thought i did.

and you know what this means?

i need to stop borrowing stuff from the library.

cos i like to actually own the books i read.

plus the librarians are starting to think i have no social life.

pshaw.

i so do.

well not currently.

thanks to AP chemistry.

but anyway. here's my favorite part:

my jodi picoult collection!!!

and here's my least favorite part:

my torture tools collection.

annnd that's it for today.
hope you're all well.
tell me about your day, etc.

**p.s. blogger seriously needs to do something about photo options. some technologically-challenged people like yours truly really don't have the patience to go through flaming hoops just to post good quality photos.

take care :)

%

deafening silence

2009-09-10T13:09:00.003+03:00

aloha! how are you kind people doing?

here's something new i wrote for my shnovel.

shnovel cos it isn't an actual novel, but, here we go :p

The world is full of paradoxes and oxymorons.

Deafening silences.
Military intelligence.
Unbiased opinions.
Natural make-up.
Wars against terror.

And feeling like a stranger in one's own home.

As I lay here on my bed, on the covers I've owned for six years now, covers that I've outgrown, covers that aren't being replaced no matter how many times I ask my mother to – I listen to the sounds of "my family's" chattering and laughter.

Me not being with them is akin to me being there.
What difference does it make?

I keep waiting for someone to knock on my door, to wonder, "Where the heck is that girl?"
But my waiting is in vain.
Because everyone knows I don't belong there, with them.
I should know that better than anyone.
If I go out there, I'm only going to end up running back here.
The only place where I don't feel claustrophobic. The only place where I don't feel like a fraud, like a sore thumb sticking out. The only place where I don't feel like clawing my way out of my own skin.

Because in here, I don't have to be anyone. I don't have to play a part. I don't have to laugh at all the right jokes, gasp at all the right places, smile at all the right stories, I don't have to tell any of my own.
I don't have to watch as people scramble to fill empty silences with empty words.

In here, silence is the language everyone speaks in.

In here, silence has a sound. It pulses from the very being of the room, from the off-white walls…
It's okay, it whispers to me.
It doesn't all have to make sense.
You belong here.
And you don't even have to try.

fin.

so, tell me something interesting; i'm kind of bored.

p.s. i need a new website to post music from. the one i've been using sucks. i just found out all the stuff i posted before doesn't even play anymore.

what the cricket?

so yes. any suggestions would be handy dandy.

see you!

A how-to and a really really really cool video

2009-09-07T20:54:00.013+03:00

Okay so!

For those of you who asked how I made those polaroids from.. 2 posts back..

Go to this website http://www.poladroid.net/ and download the software.

It's seriously simple to use.

I am the most technologically-challenged person ever, and I was able to work my way around it.

Advice: Don't wait for the final result photo, cos the final result tends to be a bit too contrast-y that it doesn't really look like a polaroid. So what I basically did was, I right clicked on the photo every 10 seconds or so while the colors "set in," and I clicked "I want a sample now." Then, after the polaroid was completely done (there's a magic "DING!"), I opened the My Pictures folder, and chose the polaroid with the best colors.

You'll see what I mean when you use the software, sorry if I confused you.

But anyway, here's what the photos looked like before:

(I'd edited the contrast and the vignette options beforehand using PhotoImpact and/or Photoshop)

Ta-da!

OH and as promised, here's the really really really cool video:

Kuroshio Sea - 2nd largest aquarium tank in the world - (song is Please don't go by Barcelona) from Jon Rawlinson on Vimeo.

*Watch it here if the vid's being stupid. But the quality on Vimeo is better.

Please, please, please be patient and give it time to load before you watch it so you get a smooth playback.

It's worth it.

I've watched it at least 10 times already, and I'm not sick of it.

It's called the Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium.

It's in Japan.

It's the second largest aquarium in the world.

And umm..

I really wanna go there.

So yes. Be good! Take care =)

promises and ceiling fans

2009-09-04T11:02:00.003+03:00

hey folks.

you know something?

insomnia sucks.

it really does.

so here's something i just wrote.

it's very sappy, and i can't believe i'm posting it.

but i surprise myself everyday.

They lay on their backs on the uncomfortable bed, knowing very well they'd rather be there than anywhere else in the world.
He traced an "I love you" on her thigh, and she felt it in her heart before anywhere else.

She inched closer to him, rested her head on his chest. She synchronized her breathing to his.
We are one now, she thought.
I'm yours, he thought.

She listened to the low whir of the turquoise ceiling fan; she listened to his slow breathing; she listened to his steady heartbeat…

Until his heart was the only thing she could hear. It pounded and echoed in her head like thunder, blocking out all the peaceful sounds from just a few seconds before.

She pulled away abruptly and lay down on her back again.

"Are you okay?" He asked, finding her hand and holding it.
"I'm fine," she said.
"You don't seem fine…"
"It's nothing," she laughed apprehensively. "It's just…" And she fell silent.

He watched her for a bit, sensed her embarrassment. He gently placed two fingers under her chin and made her look at him.

"It's me," he whispered. "Tell me."

"It's really nothing. I've always been just a little spooked out by the sound of a heart beating. To me… it sounds like a time bomb ticking away… A reminder of how easily things could go wrong. Like it's counting the seconds we have left on this earth… Until one day, we'll hear it beat for the last time."

He was quiet for a long time, until she was certain she had scared him. She cursed herself and her inability to hold her tongue.

And then, finally, he spoke.

"You may be right… But to me, it's just a reminder of how vulnerable we are. We humans have grown too cocky; we think we are invincible. We do hard drugs, drive fast cars, smoke lots of cigars - and death always hits us like a brick wall; it always shocks us. I think our hearts just serve as a reminder of how fragile we are… But also a reminder of how strong and otherworldly love can make us."

He took her hand and placed her palm on his heart. She stared at him for what could have been an eternity, or maybe just a second.

And then she rested her head on his chest again, and listened to the heart she knew she'd keep safe for the rest of her life.

extra cheese for me, please.

also, i realize it's in third person, unlike the other excerpts i've posted, but... i'm having trouble deciding whether i should do it in third person, or first person.

i think first person is the right way to go, since i'm planning on writing from other characters' perspectives, too.

i dunno.

decisions, decisions.

so in my next post i'll tell you how i made the polaroids from my last post.. for those of you who asked.

thanks to all of you who told me they liked them.

i like you too.

take care

%

taking the midnight train to anywhere

2009-08-31T10:11:00.011+03:00

it's music slash photos time!!!!

with a quote or two.

i don't want to waste my good quotes on this post cos i'd rather use photos i didn't take for that!

so i recently turned a bunch of my pictures into polaroids.

i think they look much better this way, but i still want a real polaroid camera.

i still want to take a photo that will take my breath away.

if you're interested to see what these looked like before i edited them, let me know.

and if you want to see more of 'em, let me know.

** p.s. blogger totally butchered the quality of these photos. must they be so small?! and when you click on them, must they be SO large?! i'm sure there's a way to fix it.... but i'm technologically challenged. any help would be greatly appreciated.

Eisley - Just Like We Do

My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement.

~ Joe vs. the Volcano

'If only.'

Those must be the two saddest words in the world.

~ Mercedes Lackey

I love that feeling. You know, the one you get when you take a deep breath and suddenly everything feels like it's going to be okay. When you're hopeless as can be, and life is going nowhere, there's those moments we have every now and then where we just stop, and we get this feeling, that can't be described, but you just.. you just feel like everything really is going to be okay. Like the world stopped spinning for a second, and everything was clear. I need more of those moments.

take care, be good, don't drink and drive

happy birthday sister

2009-08-26T04:28:00.011+03:00

Phil Collins - You'll be in my Heart

dedicated to my sister and our oldschool disney marathons

so my sister's birthday was last week; she turned 8 years old.

i told myself i'd write a little summin summin for her, but, naturally, being the pathological procrastinator that i am, i didn't.

i told myself it's too late for it now...

but then i thought...

says who?!

so here it is:

i'd always wanted a little sister.

growing up with two brothers completely shaped my personality.

i'm very competitive and i don't accept defeat easily. i love wrestling for the heck of it. i really enjoy burping contests although i can't participate in them myself, seeing as i don't know how to burp on purpose, although many people have tried to teach me.

so one fine day (august 17th, 2001, to be exact), when i was 10 years old, i got the one thing i've always begged my mother for:

a baby sister named Zeina...

too little too late, though. thanks mom.

zeina turned to me to teach her how to apply make-up (indeed, generation x is doomed).. only to find that i was more helpless than she was.

she strutted around in annoying plastic high heels and laughed at me when i stumbled in my mom's.

she begged me to paint her toe nails and i did, even though the smell of nail polish nauseates me.

she looked like she'd gotten a pedicure from a chicken...

dear zeina,

even though we're polar opposites, i love you so much.

even when i tell you i don't.

even when i call you zeina shaina*

i don't know anyone else who can shoot mickey-shaped snot out of their nose

(dear readers: not a work of fiction. it really happened. it was hilarious)

i don't know anyone else who gets so cut up when they see someone cry.

you are so attentive to lots of things.

even when our brother hits you, then baba makes him cry, you cry with him and hug him and tell him to stop crying.

i don't know anyone else who isn't asking when taking permission for something, just merely stating a fact.

(like the other day when you "asked" me if you could use my ipod, and i said no, and you shrugged; then i walked in my room 2 minutes later to find you, on my bed, listening to my ipod)

i don't know anyone else who could spell transportation when they were 4 years old.
(and you never let us forget. zeina: "*meets a perfect stranger* hi, dare me to spell transportation?")

zeina, i love you like a french braid.

you start out with 3 strands and that could be enough; it would work out fine. but then you add more hair to each side. you pull on the hair and it hurts sometimes. but that only makes the braid tighter and more secure.

we've had our share of fights,

but i'll always love you,

and i'll always be here if you need someone to scribble on your toes again.

-x-

(my sister and i have fun photoshoots together)

p.s. don't let the messy appearance fool you; i did that... for purely artistic reasons.

she really is the girliest girl ever.

* shaina - arabic slang for 'bad.' which is ironic since zeina means 'good' (:

take care, kind earthlings

I'll be as real as faeries

2009-08-25T03:49:00.002+03:00

Just a quick one today.

I need to find a way to harden these tear glands
And maybe my heart in the process.
I'll numb myself down
I'll stop myself from feeling.
Because if feelings are what make me real
Then I don't want to be real
What has that offered me but misery?
I'll be as real as faeries
And a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow
I'll be as real as monsters underneath my bed
I'll be as real as love.

I hate it and I'll most prolly end up deleting it.

Hey tell me a joke!

Women.

2009-08-24T22:53:00.002+03:00

I promise I'll do a real post real soon.

%

"But this time with your mouth open"

2009-08-18T02:41:00.003+03:00

This video made me cry buckets.

I'm serious. I don't exaggerate much.

I don't recall ever laughing this much in my life.

My tummy and cheeks are still hurting me.

GRR WHAT AM I DOING?

Back to chemistry!

Oh demons of procrastination please go away.

'Cause I saved a few and I keep 'em in a jar

2009-08-17T04:56:00.012+03:00

So lately I've become a professional insomniac.

If I were to sign up for an insomnia tournament, they'd kick me out and tell me sorry, no professionals.

I think you can tell that I haven't slept in a while because the lameness is running high.

Higher than usual, that is.

Unfortunately for you, I still amuse myself. And that's enough for me.

So here's a music video that gives me a sense of calmness when it's 5:20 am and I'm tired but I can't sleep - like now.

Owl City - Fireflies

*if the vid's not working try refreshing 'n stuff. it's worth it

I would seriously kill to have that room.

I'd never leave. I'd have people bring me food and I'd relieve myself in a bowl.

In any case, so I know my blog's been facing a drought recently. But I've been living, breathing, and possibly eating chemistry.

I miss my friends a lot.

I can't even afford to open Facebook 'cause I'll stay on it for hours. But yes I have tons of evil deadlines to meet so I'm going to remain a hermit until I meet and beat them.

Until next time.

Be good!

What helps you sleep?

Hi Dad, Hi Mom!

2009-08-11T16:51:00.007+03:00

I'm famous!

Well, okay, as close to famous as I can get.

Ri, The Music Savvy Mom, asked me for my shuffle! Ri has this nifty little (soon-to-be-huge) blog where she asks moms, procreators, or non-procreators (like yours truly) to set their iPods on shuffle then share the top 10 songs that come out.
When she asked me for mine, I was honored, and thrilled. Why not bless the world with a few selections of my enthralling taste in music? (Oh be quiet)

Y'all be sure to check her out and leave some comments. She's hilarious and insanely sweet.

Okay, reason #2 why I'm famous (who'da thought, ey? I have two reasons)

I got an award! From this lovely gal right here, Laila.

So, in the spirit of receiving this award, I'm supposed to list 10 things about myself. So here goes:

1. I have a terrible fear of crickets. That's why 'cricket' is one of my curse words. When something bad happens I yell, "Cricket!" You know what the problem is, with crickets? You just can't kill them. They always hop around like deranged lunatics whenever you attack them with a tissue box. So your only solution is bug spray. The problem is, I'm too scared to use that on them. I visualize a wheezing cricket, on the verge of dying, antennas wiggling – and I just know he's using those impossibly long antennas of his to communicate with his army of crickets, which will come harass me in order to avenge their lost brother. So I put the bug spray down and scream until someone rescues me. Except that never works, because usually a darling member of my family ends up squishing the cricket in a tissue and chasing me around the house with it.

2. You know that expression, "Your eyes were bigger than your stomach?" Yeh, that's never happened to me. I have quite the stomach, you see. I eat, a lot. If it weren't for my abnormal metabolism and my stick-thin father's genes swimming around in my body, I would never find a door that I'd fit through.

3. I'm very easily amused. Once I spent 30 minutes looking outside a window, chuckling at this newspaper that was being tossed around by the wind. That's why I laugh at the lamest jokes, including mine. When I'm bored I just have a little stand-up comedy skit in my head.

4. I am frighteningly lazy. I once watched two Spy Kids movies in a row because I was too lazy to extend my arm a few inches and reach out for the TV remote.

5. Building on #4, I suppose, I am, as the name of my blog so subtly suggests - a pathological procrastinator. The most repeated word in my vocabulary is probably: "Nyahhh... Later." This year, for example, I can count - on my hands, without having to take off my shoes and socks - the number of times I did my homework at home. I just copied it off people in the morning or during recess or crossed my fingers and hoped the teacher would forget about it.

6. I have a very strong aversion to physics. I hate that subject with a passion. A lot of things in physics don't make sense to me. And since my teacher never quenched my undying curiosity, I started hating the subject even more. Whenever I asked her a perfectly logical question, she took it as a personal offense - like I was challenging her authority or being blasphemous towards the holiness of Sir Newton the Fart. She's mastered the art of making students feel like the stupidest people on earth whenever they ask a question, while simultaneously managing not to answer their questions.

7. I like being nice to strangers. I smile at them if I notice them rudely staring, or I compliment them. I was once at this hair salon and I saw two sisters arguing – I assumed they were sisters, since they were bickering in that professional way only sisters can master. One of them was short and a bit chubby, the other one was tall, thin, and possibly beautiful if only she didn't look like someone had stuck dung underneath her nose and forced her to smell it. Dung Sister was getting married (she was wearing a white wedding dress), and she was giving her sister a hard time about something very mundane. Dung Sister stormed off and Poor Sister looked like she was about to cry. I piped up, "Sorry for asking, I'm just really curious – was that your sister?" The woman looked shocked, "Yes… How did you know?" I shrugged, "She looks like you… But you're prettier." And then I watched her face glow in a very pretty way indeed, and that still makes me feel good.

8. I have Futurephobia. Sometimes I get so worried thinking about things like majors and colleges that this dread fills me inside and the room feels very very warm until I calm myself down.

9. I still watch Barney. If I stumble upon it on TV, I'll watch it. And my 7-year-old sister will say, "Ewww Barney's for babies!" And I'll tell her wetting beds is also for babies. Then she'll shut up.

10. ……… I have a sticker book.

And in the spirit of receiving this award, I must pass it on to 5 bloggers. So the torch goes to...

An Experiment in Poverty

Desperate in Dubai

Something Like That

A "Cheery" Disposition

The Adventures of Rose Red

Take care, folks.

Sometimes

2009-08-07T17:56:00.007+03:00

5:23 am in the morning, I was tossing and turning in my bed. I was so tired but I couldn't go to sleep! I had a migraine and a tummy ache and yet my insomnia was kicking in. My fingers were itching to write something. So I pulled out my big blue notebook and wrote something for the story I'm working on.
I know it's bad, and needs editing, but it shall do for now. Here it is:

[pssst! in case you didn't read the one I posted before, go here]

Sometimes I feel trapped by what others expect of me. Every move I make has to add up to the carefully painted characters I have fabricated; a different me for every different person I meet.

It might sound complicated, but it is actually a matter of simple mathematics. Here's how you do it: analyze the person you want to impress, add all the parts that will make you desirable to them, subtract all the parts that don't, and voilà – there you have it.

But it is also a matter of simple chemistry, and - just like in chemistry - some equations are reversible. You think you're only heading in one direction: the end products.
Little do you know that another reaction is simultaneously taking place, quietly simmering in your insides, turning your end products back into their original reactants, until you reach a point of equilibrium.

But to every rule, there is an exception.

And, surprise surprise, that little exception is me.

Because every night when I lay on my bed, waiting for sleep to creep up on me, that equilibrium is gone, and I am stuck with nothing but the lies I have told, the ugliness, the emptiness - the original reactants, with none of the fascinating chemistry that created the desirable "me."

I tell myself,

There are so many people right now in my life, and they're all very different.
They all bring out different sides of me.

I tell myself,

I am not being hypocritical; I am not 32-faced – This is just human nature.
Different people have different opinions, different personalities, and different ways of accepting things. And so I expose different parts of me and keep others somewhere close to my heart for later use.

I am not lying to anyone.

My heart still feeds on those precious secrets that I haven't told anyone of, and that's why I keep them there.

Once they are gone, I am exposed, raw, unmasked – and I don't think that what I am at the core is all that pretty.
I am not sure if something still exists under all these layers of personalities I've created.
Once they are gone, I have nothing.
Once they are gone, I am nothing.

When I told you that my heart feeds on my secrets, I was only telling you half the truth.
My secrets feed on my heart, too.

The more I keep to myself, the more alive I feel.
But also, sadly, ironically – the less alive I am.

Maybe I am not lying to anyone.
But I am lying to myself - if I still classify as a human being anyway.

Because no, it is not human nature to have two MSN conversations at the same time and feel like I'm two people at once; trying to live up to the separate images I've created of myself.

Some people see me exactly how I want to be seen: Funny, clever, social, maybe even okay-looking.

And some people see me exactly how I don't want to be seen: jealous or arrogant, a loser or a freak, a misfit or a conformist.

But in the end – Everybody sees me.

So why can't I see myself?

***

I slowly drift awake, and I don't know where I am, or who I am. My view is fuzzy, and painfully, blindingly white.

Am I dead?

But there is a dull, throbbing pain in my head, and somehow it is hard to believe I am lucky enough to be that.

Pictures begin to fill my head: a woman grabbing me by my hair, a woman kicking me, a woman smiling coldly at me, and a little, still, blue-faced girl.

That woman is my mother, I realize.
That girl is my little sister – or was, because she is no longer with us. She is in a better place, I've been told. Why can't we trade places?

I am Laila.

Except I don't feel like Laila at the moment. But then again – when have I? Will I ever?

I don't know who I am.
Or what I am.
Except stuck.
Stuck in this drugged body on a hospital bed.
A body that doesn't feel like my own.
A body that doesn't belong to me, and a body that I don't belong to.

Maybe because I don't want to.

Who is Laila? Where has she gone? Why has she left me behind?

All of a sudden, I am filled with rage.
Rage at myself.

Rage at my mother.
Rage at the God that gave me a life when I don't recall ever asking for one; then tells me that I can't take it way, nor give it back.

No refunds.
Especially when the currency you've exchanged with is grief.

------

So what do you think?
Tell me how I can make it better, please!

%

She-Hulk

2009-08-06T05:12:00.006+03:00

That video is adorable, I must say.

Alright so I went to the mall today. Here are the highlights of the day:

Highlight #1: The She Hulk Destroys Her Bras

I went to the mall because I had a mission – bra shopping.

I destroyed two bras while trying to put one on after I took a shower today. I was just pulling the first one over my head when I heard that unmistakable RRRRIP that had me giggling for a while. My bra ripped in half. That's never happened before. And I know I haven't gotten any bigger – oh contraire! I've lost 5 kgs and I don't even know how. I'm eating more than ever, sleeping more than ever, moving around less than ever – statistically speaking, I should be giving a Hummer a run for its money.

And when I tried to pull the second one on, THE SAME EXACT THING HAPPENED. This time I only gigged for two seconds. Then I frowned. Well, that's not cool, I thought. Now I only have one bra left! (I don't like any of my other bras, so I never use them).

So I put on my last bra carefully, meticulously, as if it were a fine piece of glass, or a very delicate slice of cheesecake. It didn't rip. Score.

My friend Lumberzack had everything to say about this, from calling me a She-Hulk to making this snarky comment:
"Danya: ME NO LIKE BRA ANYMORES! RARGH!"

Which naturally pissed me off, until I visualized myself as a primitive woman, with mud and dirt and leaves in my hair, muttering and mumbling and growling, with a club in one hand and a tattered bra in the other… then I was in hysterics.

Highlight #2: Let's All Get Married

So as soon as I got to the mall, the first thing I did was go to the food court (naturally). My mom was waiting for me at a table when I finished, and she told me that she'd invited my friend Deema (Sad Girl) to join us.

When Deema got there and my mom drifted away, she told me about the conversation she had with my darling mother on the phone. This is how it went:

My Darling Mother:
"So Deema, I was talking to Muayyad [my older brother] earlier today on the phone, and we started discussing marriage. And I asked him, 'What about Deema, dear? Why don't you love her? She'd be a great addition to the family.'"

Deema (Queen of dealing with awkward moments):
"Oh that would be splendid! Then let's get Danya to marry my brother Hisham, since they're both geniuses, and they can have little genius babies!"

My mother and I will have a little talk tomorrow.

I think her Arab roots are kicking in.

Highlight #3: "Is It a Jail?"

On the way back home from the mall with my uncle, my 13-year-old cousin suddenly pointed at a building on the right side of the road and said:
"Hey dad. What's that building? Is that a jail?"
Uncle: "No, you idiot. That's a college."
Cousin: "Ohhh… okay."

5 seconds later
Cousin points at a building on the left side of the road:
"What about that, dad? Is that a jail?"
Uncle: "…… That's a MOSQUE, son."
Cousin: "… Oh."

It's almost 5:30 am and I'm off to bed. Leave me a comment that'll make me laugh and we'll all live happily ever after.

The Colorisa

2009-08-02T21:45:00.015+03:00

I've always wanted to do a balloon painting. A painting where I tape a bunch of paint-filled balloons to a canvas, then throw darts at them until they all pop.

Yesterday, a bunch of my friends and I got together, and, united, we decided to fulfill that dream of mine –

which turned out to be a quite mutual dream.

And so we....

taped and we...

laughed at our awful aiming

(this picture was taken 5 minutes after we first started throwing darts...)
and we...

got all excited about our first pop (!!!)
and we...

noticed that our aiming had improved significantly,
(or we were suddenly just very lucky...),
and we...

took some awesome pictures,
and we...

went a little overboard with the paint-filling,
and we...

gave up on the balloon popping thing,
and started randomly squirting the poster with paint,
and we...

laughed at the result,
especially when we realized that,
the true masterpiece was actually......

on the ground.

Nevertheless, we are all very much in love with our painting.

We called it The Colorisa.

Behold....

THE COLORISA

We joked about what would happen if we were to hang it up in a modern arts museum.

We are pretty certain that the critics will be all,

"This piece is so......... deep. If you notice the little blotch on the left, it is very evident that the artist has a tortured soul. The fuchsia stands for the disturbing dreams he's been having about mating with a pig."

We got more paint on ourselves and on the floor (and on our photographer's camera - sorry Fatima) than on anything else.

But that was the best part of it.

We're going to do another (hopefully more successful) one soon because we have new tactics lined up.

Wish us luck.

Naimah, Sumer, Fati, Sara -

Thank you for an awesome day.

You guys are the keys to my piano.

Rare Readers -

Tell me about an awesome creation you made (:

Photo credit: My friend Fatima.

Except for the final result one. Naimah took that with her BlackBerry.

%

Cheerios

2009-07-31T14:47:00.009+03:00

Don't you just hate it when...

You have a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios for breakfast, then you leave it lying around next to the computer all day, only to pass by it at 3 am, and you're torn between feeling guilty about leaving it there and cursing the rest of your family for being too lazy to pick it up, so you pick it up yourself and take it to the kitchen, then have a heated debate with yourself about whether you should wash it or just leave it lying there on the counter, then your stupid conscience kicks in, so you decide to wash it, only once you start scrubbing the bowl, you realize that the few pieces of Cheerios you haven't eaten are now solid rock and pretty much stuck to the bowl as if they are decorative embellishments, so you start scrubbing and scrubbing, because now it's a personal matter and those Cheerios are challenging your authority, and amidst all the anger you don't realize how much dishwashing liquid you've used, and how slippery the bowl has become, then there's this sinking feeling, something isn't quite right... because, suddenly, the bowl is slipping through your fingers after a particularly violent scrub, and is now flying through the air, slowly, slowly, then descending towards the ground, slowly, slowly, and then it hits the ceramic tiles and bursts into smithereens, and you close your eyes and tell yourself this isn't happening, and that when you open your eyes you'll be next to your computer, reliving that moment when you passed by the bowl, except this time you're thinking, nawh let someone else pick it up...

but when you open your eyes, the smithereens are still all over the floor, so you give yourself a little whack on the head, and start cleaning up the mess, sighing every now and then at how stupid you are, and lecturing your conscience about how it should pick on somebody its own size?

Yeh. I totally hate it too.

%

The Adventures of Mean Evil Girl

2009-07-29T00:13:00.018+03:00

I have the nicest friends ever. I don't deserve them.

Sunday

My friend Deema calls me and tells me to go out with her because she hasn't seen me in ages. And when I explain to her that I don't have a ride and that I have to work on my AP chemistry course, she goes on a rant:

"Danya! What the hell?! We haven't seen you since you've moved to that country of yours. Seriously, it's a country, not a city. You guys are so isolated it's like… Swine flu!"
"Ummm okay…"
"Hey do you know that Jenna and Dana got swine flu? They're in Switzerland."
"Oh wow, are you serious? Are they alright? It's not very bad, right?"
"Nah they just have to take pills and be isolated for a while and stuff."
"*snorts* Ahahaha"
"… I tell you that two people you know got swine flu, and you laugh? You're so mean."
"Nooo it's just… I just got that swine flu joke you made about where I live… It's so true."
"Ohhh… *snorts* ahahahaha."

So anyway. I promise her I'll wake up at 5:30 am the following day and catch a ride with my dad, since he is the only way out of Swine Flu Land. I tell her that he'll drop me off at her house on his way to work, and then I'll crash in her house.

Monday

2:30 pm

I wake up. Oops.

I send Deema a message:
"Ummm. This mean evil girl overslept and didn't wake up to go with her dad. She feels so bad and she's too scared to tell you, so I'm telling you for her. Please forgive her."

2 minutes later

"Are you kidding me? -_- Ya kalba! [Translation: You dog.] Tell the mean evil girl that this sad girl doesn't want to talk to her until she sees her face -_-"

… Fair enough.

9:30 pm

Mean Evil Girl realizes that she has an appointment the following day.

Correction: Two appointments, in a row. One at 7:30 am, the other at 8 am.

Mean Evil Girl's punishment for not waking up at 5:30 am on Monday:
She must wake up at 5:30 am on Tuesday.

*sigh* Karma. Gets you every time.

Mean Evil Girl realizes that this means she'll have to wait around in Aramco until 9 pm, when her father finishes work and the lecture he has to give. Mean Evil Girl is sitting on the horns of a dilemma, and things are getting quite painful. Mean Evil Girl crosses her fingers and sends Sad Girl a message, for Sad Girl is her only hope…...

"Hey Sad Girl. Mean Evil Girl is wondering: What are you doing tomorrow?"

4 minutes later
"What time… Evil Girl -_-?"

"8:30…. am?" *gulp*

"Well I have this lunch thing at 2 pm….. but I'm free afterwards?"

To which Danya - I mean, Mean Evil Girl, replies with an explanation of the little conundrum she is going through.

Sad Girl says that she will pick Mean Evil Girl up from the hospital at 8:30 am, have breakfast with her, then watch movies all day.

Mean Evil Girl is stunned. "But… what about your lunch plans?"

Sad Girl: "I just told them I can't make it."

Mean Evil Girl makes half-hearted attempts to convince Sad Girl to stick with her lunch plans, but Sad Girl insists. Mean Evil Girl yields to Sad Girl's demands….

Tuesday

Mean Evil Girl and Sad Girl have a blast.

They have breakfast at Pattis France.

They go back to Sad Girl's house and watch 17 Again (Lame. Very 13 Going on 30. And Zac Efron totally killed all Matthew Perry's attempts at saving the movie).

They go have lunch at Fuddrucker's.

They play in the kiddie arcade.

Then they go back to Sad Girl's house, talk about college, sleep, and talk about college.

Then Mean Evil Girl goes back to Swine Flu Land.

The End

P.S. On the swing carousel (or Chair-O-Planes?)

I discovered that I'm now afraid of heights.

P.P.S. Bonus! >> How do you wake up Lady GaGa in the morning?

Answer:
Poke her face.

Never Again

2009-07-22T23:47:00.004+03:00

“I don't know who invented high heels, but all women owe him a lot”

~ Marilyn Monroe

Dear Marilyn:

You're quite right. We can't ever repay the debt we owe him. However, lately I've been known to show my appreciation towards people I love by strangling them with their own intestines. They always seem to get how much I care, once I do that – They turn blue with gratitude. Do give me a call if you're interested.

Sincerely,

Danya

-

So, folks, I quite obviously wore the heels.

I can't say it was awful, per se.

You be the judge.

30 minutes through the wedding:
My toes felt so scrunched up I worried I'd have to get them amputated.
This just proves my point, really:
Wearing heels is going against nature, and an unnatural position to put your body through.

3 hours through:
I'd stumbled quite often, but both my ankles are fine and unsprained :)

I did have an accident though. Well, two accidents, actually. Not my fault though. Well, the second one wasn't.

Accident #1

I tripped on my own feet (nothing new). I didn't fall, but my right foot's heel went into my left foot and left a deep gash there. It didn't hurt much, though……
Until…
Well, that brings us to Accident #2.

Accident #2

It was time for the buffet, and people were swarming around the salad bar like caged animals that were just set into the wild. This lady bumped into me (and not vice versa, I swear), and her salad-dressing-drenched spoon went flyyyying in the air……
I saw it all happen in slow motion, and I could honestly hear horror music playing in my head…...
Because the spoon was slowly descending…
Downwards…
Downwards……...
Towards my left foot……...
PLINK!
Right on the deep deep gash.

It burned like Dante's Inferno for around 5 minutes. But then I was fine.

5 hours through, at 3 am (welcome to the world of Saudi weddings):

I just couldn't care less. I kicked my heels off and passed out on a couch, jumping awake every 5 minutes when the kids kept throwing water-soaked roses at me.

I wish they didn't like me so much. I should start being mean to them.

Heel or Hell?

2009-07-19T21:48:00.008+03:00

I have to go to a wedding tomorrow. And guess what?

I'm going to wear high heels.

And that's exactly what I told my friend.

Danya: Guess what?
Samar: What?
Danya: I'm going to wear heels.
Danya: Well, small heels.
Danya: But heels, nonetheless.
Samar: Noooo you'll trip!

SoI copy/pasted the first part into an MSN conversation with my friend Fati (because I was too lazy to type it again?)

And her reaction was a ":O" and a "Just try not to trip, okay?"

Feeling very discouraged, I went back to my conversation with Samar on Gmail.

Danya: I CAN ACTUALLY WALK IN THEM, OKAY?
Danya: WALK
Danya: AND NOT LOOK LIKE A DUCH
Danya: Ahem
Danya: Duck*
Samar: LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL
Samar: DUUUUUCH
Samar: LMAOOOO

(Ah. Serious bouts of Typose Syndrome. What's one to do?)

So after she was done laughing at me and changing her Facebook status to "Samar salutes Danya the Duch," she again graced me with a loving, "Seriously, just try not to trip."

Man, I need to learn how to walk in heels. Or I will forever remain 73% of a man. (That's what the Facebook quiz I took said, anyway. I normally avoid these quizzes like the plague, but I was bored witless and wanted to see the results. 73% man! I am NOT satisfied!)

What's the point of high heels, really? How do women do it? How do they balance their weight on those tiny pointy little stick things? It just seems to defy gravity, to me.

Not that I'm a big believer in physics, but that's another story.

Once, I was at this party, right. And everyone –EVERYONE!- was wearing those scary sky-high heels, while I pranced around in my lil flats.

So anyway, past midnight, when everyone's feet were sore (except mine :]), they kicked off their heels and chillaxed on the chairs. (Chillaxed. I'm so hip it's scary.)

So anyway. I was all, "Y'all wanna laugh?"
They go, "Sure!"

So I wore one of my friend's high heels and attempted to walk.

But really I could get no further than the spot I was standing in, and I was just swaying there and nearly toppling over. But I kept standing - always a stubborn fighter – attempting to regain my balance – and dignity.

Unfortunately, I eventually lost both.

Do you think people offer How to Walk in High Heels lessons?

The Worst Keep-in-Toucher

2009-07-17T22:32:00.008+03:00

Something very strange is happening to me.

See, I've always been lazy. I don't know if I'm a procrastinator because I'm lazy, or I'm lazy because I'm a procrastinator……
Chicken before the egg or egg before the chicken, whatever - It's all the same.

The chicken is there and the egg is there.

I am lazy and I am a procrastinator.

But as of recently, this laziness has doubled, tripled, and multiplied at the rate of a pregnant rabbit on steroids…
To the point where I've morphed into a hermit.

I have people leaving me wall posts and messages on Facebook, pissed off at me for "never replying."

I have messages on my phone that I've never replied to, and some that I have, but only after a day or two (or three, or four, or five).

I have friends pleading with me to go out, but I never yield to their demands, because I don't feel like going out.
(Although I did go to Bahrain yesterday with my family. I saw the new Harry Potter movie. It was brilliant. But more on that later when more people have seen it and I won't spoil it for everyone).

See, I've been thinking…… (yes I do think; I don't want any of your snide comments, Summer)

I've been thinking:
It would be scarily easy for me to exclude myself from the outer world. All I'd have to do, really, is turn off my phone, deactivate my Facebook, and stop using MSN. And since we moved recently, only one of my friends knows my house number -and she's in London- and only about four people know where my house is.

I've been dubbed the worst Keep-in-Toucher. And although I tried to deny it first, I now know I'm very worthy of this title.

I just suck at this whole techno-world with a million and one ways to keep in touch… It's supposed to make things easier, but it really doesn't, for me. I talk and talk to loads of people; sometimes they beg me to shut up, and then it gets to a point where I'm having dozens of conversations with dozens of different people. Then it all gets so overwhelming, so I retreat into my silent little shell and relax there.

A really good friend of mine left a post on my wall (after I didn't reply to her for ages) saying:
"Am I that invisible???!"

And that really got to me. Because she isn't. And I hate it when people ignore me or take ages to reply to me. So why am I doing it, damn it?

I guess what I'm trying to say is: I'm really sorry, and it's nothing personal, it really is "me and not you." Except this isn't the clichéd break-up line; it's a make-up line, because I'm going to make it up to everyone who's mad at me at the moment.

Do leave a comment and let me know if you are. I know there's plenty of you and I have the memory span of a goldfish. No, shorter, apparently that goldfish myth has been busted and their memory span can last up to three months......

Ok here's where I'll stop rambling on – Not because I want to, but because our neighbor's security alarm system thing has gone off, and it's really really loud. You'd think someone was robbing the White House itself. It's very headache-brewing.

%

105 Things That Make Me Smile

2009-07-11T21:15:00.001+03:00

Regina Spektor - Eet

105 Things That Make Me Smile

(Just to mention a few)

1. Smiles

2. Friends

3. When I'm in a movie and I find a piece of caramel popcorn in the middle of my butter popcorn

4. Sneezing when I really need to sneeze

5. Making someone else smile/laugh

6. Bubble wrap

7. Kiddie furniture catalogues

8. Flea markets

9. Reminiscing

8. Tree houses that people actually live in (I call them tree homes)

9. Old jeans

10. When someone remembers small details about me

11. Handmade gifts

12. Or just really meaningful ones

13. Comfortable silences

14. The smell of home cooked food

15. The sky

16. Old couples holding hands

17. Midnight phone calls that last for hours about the stupidest things

18. Sarcasm

19. Quotes (good ones)

20. Light

21. Tulips

22. Catching the perfect moment with my camera

23. Singing Barney songs or oldies that annoy people

24. Making a baby giggle

25. Realizing how much I love someone

26. Comments on the stupidest of my posts

27. Cheeky comments on Youtube

28. Receiving "just because" e-mails

29. Hearing a song I used to love when I was a kid on the radio

30. Hot towels fresh out of the dryer

31. Goggles (the word, the person, and the actual things)

32. Inside jokes that never die

33. Running through sprinklers

34. Accidentally overhearing someone say something nice about me

35. When a random person in the mall smiles at me

36. Cupcakes

37. Old Disney movies

38. Colored chalk

39. Sofana's dip

40. Lemony Snicket

41. Snow

42. Cheesecake

43. When something finally makes sense

44. Banksy

45. Open-minded people

46. When a baby wraps his hand around my finger

47. This:

When people say "Oh you just want to have your cake and eat it too..." F*** off. What good is a goddamn cake you can't eat? What should I eat, someone else's cake instead?

~ George Carlin

48. The Simpsons

49. Family Guy

50. This:

One day, someone showed me a glass of water that was half full. And he said, "Is it half full or half empty?" So I drank the water. No more problem.

~ Alexander Jodorowsky

51. Learning something new

52. Walking to no where in particular

53. Campfires

54. Sleeping in

55. The smell of a new book

56. Sunlight

57. Baby shoes

58. Take-out

59. Kids that say the darndest things:

Dana, Fati's sister:
(Their housekeeper was making us chicken burgers, when suddenly Dana walked in and said...)
"Danya, your buns are toasted."

Jennah, my cousin:
(First day I met her)
"Danya, your feet are pretty."
"I'm wearing shoes…"
"I know. They're still pretty :)"
"Thanks?"

(whispers in my ear):
"Just so you know, I'm not intimate with your foot."

Zeina, my sister:
(On the phone talking to her friend)
"But biology is geometry and geometry is psychology, you see."

60. Fighting with my brother and sister about the stupidest things in the car just because we're bored witless and making my dad say:

"My next car will have two stories……"

61. Baby giraffes

62. Baby zebras

63. Baby monkeys

64. Baby elephants

65. Oh I'll go ahead and say it: Babies. When they're not crying

66. Lunchboxes

67. Ladybugs

68. Typewriters

69. Blowing bubbles

70. Creative advertisements

71. Drawing on walls

72. People who wear the weirdest clothes in public. Cheers, I secretly want to be like you

73. Photographs

74. Happy endings. I don't care if they're cheesy or impossible. I don't see a movie because I want to see an adaptation of real life; I see a movie because I want to get away from it. So bring on the sappy lameness, I really don't mind.

75. Old sitcoms I used to watch when I was a kid. Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Saved by the Bell, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Clueless....

76. Seinfeld

78. Scrubs

79. Being spoiled when I have stomach cramps

80. Being right

81. Remembering who a certain person looks like after racking my brain for ages

82. Dr. Suess

83. Dr. Pepper

84. Post-its

85. This: http://www.simonhoegsberg.com/we_are_all_gonna_die/slider.html

(a 100m wide photo)

86. Sour mangoes

87. Hand-written letters

88. Floating on my back in the swimming pool

89. Grilled sandwiches

90. The way a paper feels after it's been almost completely covered with writing from a ballpoint pen

91. Listening to my mom tell a bedtime story she made up on the spot

92. Not having to set an alarm

93. Going to bed with my sheets fresh from the laundry

94. Playing Slapjack with Alia

95. Photobooths (P.S. Fati you still didn't give me that Photobooth picture from Berlin)

96. Little kids with non-American accents

97. Chips (French fries) that are crunchy from the outside and soft on the inside

98. Adventures in Ikea

99. Vacuum lines in the carpet

100. Pretending to have a British accent

101. Writing things on foggy mirrors and watching them appear again the next time I take a bath

102. Large sweatshirts

103. These:

104. This:

105.This:

When Love Story (Taylor Swift) meets Viva La Vida (Coldplay). Alone: two overrated songs. Combined: Something close to magical.

And I just love watching their faces. They look so happy it's kind of cute. Music at its rawest.

So that's it. 105 things that make me smile.

I now demand that you tell me (at least) 5 things that make you smile.

%%%

Small Note

2009-07-09T20:15:00.002+03:00

For those of you sending me hate mail for turning off my phone.....
You know who you are.......... (Summer, JJ, Yasmine....)

For those of you still trying to reach me through my phone....

Umm..
Don't?

I kinda dropped it in the toilet.

Don't ask how.

R.I.P my widdle Sony Ericsson Z610i. Thank you for 3.5 amazing years. You will be missed.

P.S. Would it be completely pathetic if I bought the exact same phone?

Update!!!

IT'S ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!

My phone never ceases to amaze me. The things it's been through! Falling into the sink, falling off a tree I was climbing, dropped too many times to mention... thrown at the wall in moments of frustration.... then swallowed by the toilet....

My god. I can almost hear it singing "I'm a survivorrrrr."

Or perhaps it's weeping because its most recent attempt at commiting suicide for the nth time has failed, once again.

Sorry baby. You're stuck with me for a while.

Hi

2009-07-08T22:23:00.003+03:00

I'm sorry you missed it.

Didn't that cheer you right up though?

They should give those out in malls.

Please buy me one. Birthday's on January 21st. You can send it in the mail. A baby Zebra is fine too. I think they're called Zeblings.

21st century Wizard of Oz.

Is that not the cutest thing?

You just went "aww" didn't you?

Admit it.

Apfffpshhhttt?

"I just think happiness is what makes you pretty. Period. Happy people are beautiful."

Hope you're all enjoying your summer (:

Lick it off the floor

2009-07-05T21:47:00.001+03:00

Today I had the most enjoyable lunch of my life.
With my family, believe it or not.

Our housekeeper went back to Indonesia on Friday, so we're going to see if we can live without a maid (I don't like that word) for a month. It should be very.. very interesting.

So anyway, to avoid having to clean anything she shouldn't have to clean, my mom said that anyone who spills a drink or something has to lick it off the floor/table. And I for one -being the pathologically uncoordinated klutz that I am- am really worried.
I know she doesn't mean it literally, but cleaning worries me too. Germs either way.
I mean the soggy mops and sponges that have been used over and over again….. they make my stomach churn.

In any case. I dared my brother Majd to drink my leftover Pepsi that I'd mixed with my leftover vegetable soup. He slammed his hand on the table and basically told me to put my riyal where my mouth was. I know that the secret to haggling is starting with a really low price so I said,
"Fine. I'll give you….. *mentally goes through purse* 5 riyals."
Majd: "Make it a 10 and we have a deal."
Danya: "Deal."
I felt like a real hustler.

So he drank it. And it was so funny I laughed till I cried. He started out okay, drinking it really fast… Suddenly his face went green and he spit something out. "Carrot," he gasped. Then he drank the remaining Liquid from Hell and only spit out a tiny bit because he felt like he had to throw up. Then he ran to the bathroom and I could hear him, all the way from the dining room, while he made weird gagging then gurgling noises. Yep, he definitely deserves those 10 riyals.
And yes, I concur, I do need to grow up.

So then we split the post-lunch duties between us. My mom took the dishes, my brother took clearing the table, I took cleaning the table, and the floor, and my dad took….
The TV.
("No, dad… Please… you're overworking yourself, this can't be good for your health. We must switch tasks, I insist!")

And my sister Zeina complained about not getting any tasks.
Suck up.
Nah, she genuinely wanted a task.
Weirdo.

So my evil genius of a brother decided to take advantage of that. He called her Agent Z One and told her to assist him in clearing the table (because it's such a daunting task, you know). So she started carrying the soup to the kitchen but she nearly dropped it after a few milliseconds, so Majd grabbed it and started walking, but he spilled loads on the floor.
"CRAP! NO! I don't want to lick it off the floor... I don't want to lick it off the floorrrr...."
He ran to the kitchen and got a cleaning towel sponge thing (I'm sure there's a fancy domestic name for it) and started violently scrubbing the floor. My dad saw him cleaning after the accident and followed him to the kitchen, where my mother was. Majd gave him pleading looks, but the mischievous look in my dad's eyes told me that Majd was already a goner.
"Majd?! You spilled soup on the floor?!" But my mom only laughed (damn shame).

So then it was my turn to wipe the table, but Zeina was being really annoying. "Let me help let me help let me help! Pleeeeeeeease. Pretty pretty pleeeeease with cherries and a Hannah Montana poster on top."
I had to get her off my back.
"Zeina... I mean, Agent Z1," I said. "I have a task of utmost significance. Can you handle it?"
She nodded eagerly.
"I need you to find.... my bunny-shaped night lamp." (Needless to say, I don't have one, but my sister is not the sharpest tool in the toolbox, so she ran off happily).

My brother was having the time of his life, watching Zeina being bossed around. He may laugh now, but when he was her age, my other brother Muayyad and I used to play the old Power of Fire trick on him whenever we were too lazy to get up and get something ourselves.
So for example, if we were watching Power Rangers, and we wanted some chips, we'd tell Majd to get us a bag of chips. He'd always decline at first, but then we'd say, in a bribe-y voice, "We'll give you The Power of Fiiiirrreee….."
"Okay okay!"
So then we'd basically point at a random spot on the floor and say:
"I hereby give you…….. THE POWER OF FIRE!"
Then he'd jump into it, receive The Power of Fire, then run as fast as he can to the kitchen, get us whatever we wanted, then come back.

Good times, good times.

Anyway, my sister came back with a frown on her face.
"I didn't find a bunny-shaped night lamp. Give me another task!"
"Oh… that's okay. But Zeina, I saw what you did back there."
"What?"
"Don't play mind games with me."
"What did I do?"
"Zeina *stern glare*"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." (looking guilty)
"Mmmmhm. Sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry I made fun of you."
"A-HA! You made fun of me. You're fired, agent Z1."
And so she stalked off, fuming.

God I amuse myself.

Gentlemen, let's broaden our minds

2009-07-03T01:49:00.001+03:00

Lucky you; today you get music, photos, and quotes! Best combo ever. Beats Happy Meals.

Newton Faulkner - Dream Catch Me

(not the type of thing I usually like, but it's pretty cool, not to mention mood-matching)

The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing.

~Eric Berne

*I wish I can remember how I edited that photo, because I quite like it.

"There" is no better a place than "here." When your "there" has become a "here", you will simply obtain another "there" that will again look better than "here."

~ dunno

“It is no surprise to me that hardly anyone tells the truth about how they feel. The smart ones keep themselves to themselves for good reason. Why would you want to tell anyone anything that’s dear to you? Even when you like them and want nothing more than to be closer than close to them? It’s so painful to be next to someone you feel strongly about and know you can’t say the things you want to.”

~ Henry Rollins

Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.

~ Soren Kierkegaard

“Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on. I hope you never think about anything as much as I think about you”

~ Jonathan Safran Foer

“There are some dreams that get stuck between your teeth when you sleep, so that when you open your mouth to yawn awake they fly right out of you.”

~ Jodi Picoult, Vanishing Acts

“A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.”

~ Dahl, The Twits

“I always knew looking back on my tears would bring me laughter, but I never knew looking back on my laughter would make me cry."

~Cat Stevens

“If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together, there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we’re apart, I’ll always be with you.”

~Winnie the Pooh

Fin.

Hey I've got a question for you. I want to know what you think is worse:

Believing in something and not standing up for it/not acting upon it,

Fiercely denying something you already know, that place deep down that's full of wisdom and intestines, is true?

Demon of Procrastination Rears its Ugly Head Again

2009-06-26T23:21:00.001+03:00

This is what happens whenever I try to study math:

Weird.. angel things. Dream Theater lyrics. Dream Theater logo. An eye. My name (twice). Pink Floyd lyrics. An apple. A globe. Piano keys. Some math. And an elephant shaped like a tennis ball, holding a tennis racket. With his trunk.

I wonder what my mom would say if she saw this paper. She tends to analyze whatever I doodle.

For example, I used to draw butterflies a lot. And whenever she saw them she'd to say,
"This means you're longing to be free. Free of what, Danya? Tell me."

Then when I switched to flowers she'd say,
"Ah, so. You have bloomed. Does this mean you're free of whatever was bothering you? I'm glad."
And she leaves the room with a satisfied smile on her face.

As for eyes, I've been drawing them since 4th grade. Apparently they mean:
"Danya, you're feeling like you're constantly being watched. By whom, Danya? Tell me."

She also comments on how I write my name a lot. It means I am a narcissist. I am awed by the fact that she can so artfully balance between calling me a narcissist on some days, then telling me I need to feel more confident on others.

My mother is a weirdo. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.

I wonder what she'd say if she saw that elephant tennis ball.

List of possible scenarios:

"You have a secret need to whack an elephant with a tennis racket."

"Wow.... This is... This is... deep, man. Real deep."

"Honey, have you been taking something? Are you riding the white pony?"

"This is...... This means..... You............ You're feeling.... This is beyond my area of expertise.... I'm calling a psychiatrist."

Math final tomorrow. Gulp.

%

Typose Syndrome

2009-06-22T14:27:00.000+03:00

Typose syndrome is a sudden inflammation of one's fingers, causing one to make very serious typing errors. While mild cases are often successfully treated with the careful treading of one's fingers upon the keyboard, severe cases may require admission to the ICU or even surgery (often requiring more than one intervention) to deal with with complications of the disease process.

Typose syndrome can also occur when one's fingers look and feel perfectly fine, which has caused doctors to believe that typose syndrome might be a psychological disease. It affects both males and females equally.

Causes

1. Hereditary - a parent could carry the gene without being affected.
2. Typose syndrome is heterogeneous, comprising more than one similar condition of differing cause, some not inherited.
3. Greasy fingers.
4. Hyperactiveness.
5. A very important story to tell (not necessarily amusing or interesting).
6. Over-studying.

Researchers have reached the conclusion that typose syndrome usually occurs:
1. in the most embarrassing contexts
2. when one is sleepy
3. when one thinks a story is funny
4. after studying physics.

Symptoms

1. Typos
2. Embarrassment
3. "Giggle" fits
4. Akathisia (the inability to sit still)
5. Festinating speech
6. Drooling
7. Diharrea
8. Inflammation of the cornea

Eponym

The term typose is derived from the Latin word for mistake: erroris.............

Skeptics believe that the term is actually, ironically, derived from a typo that occured during an MSN conversation between a Danya and a Daas - also known as Twinnie.
Daas was attemtping to type the word "typoes" (which is obviously a spelling mistake, but Daas is not the brightest star in the sky).

Diagnosis

Besides the clinical diagnosis, rapidly increasing typos may confirm the diagnosis. In a clinical diagnosis, a CAT scan and an ultrasound are used to locate and trace the origin of the disease, which is usually metastatic at presentation, and more often than not located in the pancreas.

Classic examples of chronic typose syndrome:

1. Dania* was calling Deema, the class genius, who was just refusing to answer her phone. Aggravated, Dania sent a message to Deema, saying:

"Yesterday my friend told me about a fascinating invention called dicking up when someone calls."

She had meant to sound all snippy and cool, but..... (I don't know if you noticed it, dear reader, but it's practically doing the Macarena in a sequined suit...) that typo totally killed everything. And only after a couple of hours did Dania realize what a nasty pun her typo was.

2. Daas (mentioned previously) has a tendency to type "tit" instead of "it" when talking to important peoples.

3. An annoying "friend" was sending Dania* multiple nudges on MSN. After quite a few, Dania had had enough, and so, annoyed, she typed:

"Would you STOP, NUDING ME?"

That's it for today.

Take care, be good, beware of Typose, it is highly contagious.

* Name has been changed to protect the privacy of the patient.

Ah, Well

2009-06-20T21:23:00.001+03:00

I was planning on writing an entire post about how much I hate our physics teacher.

(Needless to say, I did really bad today. Newton's 6th law: Danya never does well in physics. And if one of you leaves a comment telling me I'm going to get a full grade, I'm sorry One, but you are going to suffer the wrath of an angry Danya. I know I'm like the girl who cried wolf; I know that practically everytime I said I did bad I ended up getting a good/okay grade, but this time, I'm telling you: there's a friggin wolf).

Rocketing on. I'm too pissed off/tired/sleepy to write that post today. For some reason, I'm feeling like a hopeless romantic at the moment. I really don't know why.

So I'm just going to share with you a series of slightly cheesy with extra mozzarella on top quotes or sayings that will either make you feel very sad or give you tiny goosebumps and small butterflies in your tummy.

“One day you will ask me which is more important: my life or yours? I will say mine, and you will walk away not knowing that you are my life.”

~ Khalil Gibran

"I want to make you feel beautiful all of the time.

I want to make you feel the way I feel when I look at you."

~ (doesn't matter)

Sulafa Marley, this is for you:

You may not be her first,

her last,

or her only.

She loved before;

she may love again.

But if she loves you now, what else matters?

She’s not perfect - you aren’t either,

and the two of you may never be perfect together.

But if she can make you laugh,

cause you to think twice,

and admit to being human and making mistakes.....

Hold onto her and give her the most you can.

She may not be thinking about you every second of the day,

but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break:

her heart.

So don’t hurt her;

don’t change her;

don’t analyze,

and don’t expect more than she can give.

Smile when she makes you happy,

let her know when she makes you mad,

and miss her when she’s not there.”

~ Bob Marley

"He knew that 'I love you' also means 'I love you more than anyone else loves you, or has loved you, or will love you,' and also 'I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else.”

~ Jonathan Safran Foer

Everything is Illuminated

"The most beautiful view is the one I share with you."

~ Author Unknown

As one final note, I would just like to make an honorable mention to how clumsy I've been these past couple of days.
I dropped the lemon juice jar (it broke)
I cut my toe (it still burns)
I dropped the TV remote (it broke but I taped it back together again)
I dropped the cookie jar (it broke)
I ruined my stereo (put it in the 220v outlet instead of the 110v one)
I banged my head into the freezer's door (second time this month)
**Note to self: Never ever open the freezer door then the refrigerator door without closing the freezer's door first. Otherwise, when your hunt for food ends and you quickly pull your head out of the fridge, you will bang your head into the freezer's door.
Today in the swimming pool I got flipped upside down on the inflatable toy whale then the inflatable Spiderman float thing.
(According to Samar, I have no sense of balance. According to me, her toys are imbalanced).
The list goes on but I'm afraid that I will sound like an incompetent fool.

I swear, physics has deep-fried my brain.
Actually, it stir fried it and turned it into Mu Shu Pork.

A Phenomenon

2009-06-19T18:19:00.000+03:00

Here's a fashion trend I'll never understand.

I'll let the pictures scream for themselves:

On another crickety note - Physics final tomorrow.

I really hope that this...

... does not happen.

I've seriously never studied this much before. I didn't even procrastinate! Okay, I did fall asleep (a lot) but I practically studied for 2 days straight. Alright alright, that is a slight exaggeration, but seriously, I studied, and that's a step further than what I usually do.

If I don't get a 40/40 tomorrow, in the words of the amazing Russell Peters:

Somebody gonna get hurt reeeeal bad.

Well, yeh........

Me, most likely.

Good luck ladies.

%

STRANGER!

2009-06-09T21:35:00.000+03:00

Omegle is the perfect place to have a good lol. I've recently decided to experiment the same "ice breaker" multiple times to see the different reactions I could get.

Today's ice breaker: STRANGER! Long time no see!

And the results! Drumroll please....

You: STRANGER!
You: Long time no see!
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Stranger: hey
You: STRANGER!
You: Long time no see!
Stranger: yes, that´s me
Stranger: where r u from stranger?
You: Here. There. Everywhere
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
(works like a charm)

You: STRANGER!
Stranger: hi
You: Long time no see!
Stranger: uff
Stranger: not cool
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

You: STRANGER!
Stranger: 23 male
Stranger: u?
You have disconnected.

You: STRANGER
You: Long time no see!
Stranger: yeees
Stranger: not really
You: Yes really.
You: There are plenty of strangers out there.
You: But nobody quite like you.
Stranger: didnt we talk some seconds ago?
You: :( I'm offended......
You: How can you not tell the difference?
You: That stranger was OBVIOUSLY a darker shade of red...
Stranger: haxl
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Stranger: hello[:
You: STRANGER!
You: Long time no see!
Stranger: f or m?
You: both
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
(yeh I did not see that coming)

You: STRANGER!
You: Long time no see!
Stranger: thats me
Stranger: asl
You have disconnected.
(I have asl-bias)

You: STRANGER!
You: Long time no see, eh?
Stranger: Lol
(At least one stranger thinks I'm funny!!! Or so I thought....)
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

You: STRANGER!
You: Long time no see!
Stranger: haha
(THIS ONE DIDN'T DISCONNECT)

Stranger: hey
You: STRANGER!
You: Long time no see!
Stranger: girl?
You: I don't really know
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

You: STRANGER!
You: Long time no see!
Stranger: dude wtf
Stranger: i just told u ur not cool
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

I'm SO doing that again!!!!!!!!

Alright, back to work now.

%

Dragons and Hot Sauce

2009-06-08T22:26:00.001+03:00

The rough draft for our final economics project is due tomorrow. It's 10:29 pm and I haven't started it yet. NOT BECAUSE I NEGLECTED IT (Okay, I did, but..) I totally forgot about it. I signed into MSN to tell my friend Fatima all about this Omegle chat I had with a weirdo Lebanese guy, when she said something that caused something very cold to trickle down my spine.... (Fear, I think):
"Dany, did you start your economics project?"

So I'm going to start it now. Cricket :)

I'll leave you with my favorite quote of the day - A statement made by my friend Nawal. I was fully convinced that I was the weirdest person I knew until I met her.

Nawal: "Oh my god the driver got me shawarma from that disgusting plaaaace.... I.. *takes a bite* Oh, no, wait, it actually tastes good. 'Cause like, last time I ate from it, it was SO weird, there was like ketchup and HOT SAUCE and weird stuff all over it.. It was so disgusting I felt like a dragon!"
Danya: "...... Since when do dragons eat hot sauce?"
Nawal: "Noooo, like.... They don't eat hot sauce, they BURP hot sauce."

I love you Nawal. I truly do.

Oh and I couldn't resist posting this:

The bad news is time flies. The good news is you’re the pilot.

~ Michael Althsuler

'Sif it's that simple.

Be good, do well, take care!

%

Bout of Nostalgia

2009-06-05T21:02:00.001+03:00

(The following excerpt is dedicated to my dear friend, Fatima Najeeb Al-Bassam.
She makes the sun shine brighter,
the grass look greener,
and the birds chirp louder.
She makes the world spin round and round.
If nobody is perfect,
then she is a nobody.
I was lost until I found her.
She is the needle sticks to my yarn,
the hot sauce to my sandwiches,
and the ink to my printer.
And she did not force me to dedicate this to her...)

Ah, Mulan. Great girl, great movie. Here is one of my favorite scenes of all time. Still makes me laugh:

Great Ancestor: [To the small hanging dragon statue]
Muuushuuu... awaken!

[The statue shakes and smokes. ]

Mushu:
I liiiiive! So, tell me, what mortal needs my protection, Great Ancestor. You just say the word, and I'm there.

Great Ancestor:
Mushu...

Mushu:
And lemme say something, anyone who's foolish enough to threaten OUR family, vengeance will be MIIIINE! Grr... arrgh...

Great Ancestor:
Mushu! These are the family guardians. They...

Mushu:
Protect the family. -_-

Great Ancestor:
And you, O Demoted One...

Mushu:
I ring the gong.

Great Ancestor:
That's right. Now, wake up the Ancestors...

Mushu:
One family reunion coming right up. Okay, people, people, look alive! Let's go, c'mon, get up! Let's move it! Rise and shine! Y'all way past the beauty sleep thing.

Ancestor #1:
I knew it, III knew it! That Mulan was a troublemaker from the start!

Ancestor #2:
Don't look at me, she gets it from your side of the family!

Ancestor #3:
She's just trying to help her father!

Ancestor #4:
But if she's discovered, Fa Zu will be forever shamed! Dishonor will come to the family. Traditional values will disintegrate!

Ancestor #5:
Not to mention they'll lose the farm!

Ancestor #1:
My children never caused such trouble; they all became acupuncturists!

Ancestor #2:
Well, we can't all be acupuncturists!

Ancestor #6:
No! Your great-granddaughter had to be a CROSS-DRESSER!

Epic.

Be good!
%

Six Impossible Things

2009-06-02T23:07:00.002+03:00

Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said. "One can't believe impossible things."

"I dare say you haven't had as much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

~Lewis Carroll

Alice Through the Looking-Glass

1- I believe I will win the speech contest on June 12th.

2- I believe I will one day find the cure for Procrastinationvitus.

3- I believe there is a parallel universe where all the lost things go.

4- I believe I am going to be able to juggle between the AP chemistry online course that starts on June 15th and my finals, which start on the 20th (Oh cricket.....)

5- I believe I am 5 again.

6- I believe it's already summer vacation.

Cricket Advice

2009-05-25T21:59:00.002+03:00

You know how there's always people telling you that you should keep your expectations low, and others telling you that you should "aim for the sky"?

You know how there's always people telling you that you should forget the past, and others telling you that it should always be your guide?

You know how there's always people telling you to be Little Miss Optimisic, and others telling you that you should get real, and that the world is not always rainbows and butterflies; it's compromise that moves us along, yeah? (I may have stolen that from Maroon 5)

You know how there's always people telling you to appreciate what you have and be satisfied with yourself no matter what, and others telling you that dissatisfaction is the mother of all improvements?

You know how there's always people telling you to follow your dreams and pursue what you love, and others telling you that what you love won't pay the bills?

You know what you should tell those people?

Shut the cricket* up.

"When you encounter seemingly good advice that contradicts other seemingly good advice, ignore them both."

~ Al Franken

If you like hearing yourself talk so much, start a self-help column/blog/merchandise-stand-thing and sell t-shirts and cups and little keychains with cheery little slogans -or uncheery ones, for that matter-.

But for the love of God and cheesecake and all things holy, spare me.

*Cricket's my new swear word. If people can use shit as a curse, I can use crickets. Poop > Crickets in terms of aesthetic pleasingness, in my opinion)

My Dentist is a Sadist

2009-05-23T22:19:00.001+03:00

Today I had a dental appointment. My dad came to pick up from school at 2 o'clock, which means I got to skip 27 minutes of religion class (yay...)
My appointment was for 2:20. But we got held back at a check point in front of Aramco. Held back for thirty, whole minutes. 1800 seconds. And y'all know I live in fear of wasting even a nanosecond of my precious time.... (Just humor me, alright?)

I don't know why I was pissed off, really; I pretty much slept through the whole thing, waking up only occasionally to the sound of my father slamming the steering wheel with his hands, or cursing the police quite fluently while muttering about the dangers resulting from an engine running in this heat, and that we could be blown up into smithereens any second....
It's obvious why I preferred to rest my tired little eyelids and block out his heated rant.

I think I was pissed off because I wanted to be early for a change. I almost always arrive late for my appointments; then I'm forced to wait until the patient scheduled after me finishes.

In any case, I arrived at the clinic at 2:50, thirty minutes late. I ran upstairs, choosing not waiting for the elevator (it's super slow anyway). There was only one receptionist, Ali (very nice man; always tries to get me to recite my badge number in Arabic or French), and he was busy with another patient. So I stood there staring at the wall, waiting for him to finish. Soon, I was distantly aware of something moving in front of my face, and it was starting to really irk me. It took me a while to realize that Ali was waving both hands in front of my face and practically screaming, "BADGE NUMBER?!" I space out a lot. It's quite nice, actually.

Anyway, so I gave him my number...... my badge number, then I said, "I know I'm late, as usual, but this time it's seriously not my fault, we got held up at the check point."

He looked at me strangely then said, ".... You're not late! You're 10 minutes early. Your appointment's at 3 o'clock!"

"Oooohhhhh.."

"You can sit down and relax now."

"Okay :D"

"Oh and, it's downstairs."

"Huh? Dr. Hamdan...?"

"Yup."

Aw mannn.

So I sat down and relaxed. Not. I was too busy dreading the next 20 minutes. It was a "cleaning appointment," which is really just an euphemism for "endless torture." I do believe that my dentist is a sadist. I think he has this sick disease where he enjoys poking people's gums and making them bleed. Oh, how I hate him. And it isn't just me, you know? When my brother came back to Saudi Arabia on his break from college last summer, he had a dental appointment. He came back with a furious look in his eyes that I knew only too well.
"That dentist is a *beep*ing imbecile. All he did was make me bleed!"
"Oh my God, don't tell me you got Hamdan…"
"Yeah him!"

I sat there in anguish.
Please, God, make the dentist's wife call him and tell him there's a family emergency and that he must go back home, now!
Please, God, I promise I'll never ever annoy my sister again.
Please, God, make me immune to pain, if only for the next 15 minutes....

"Danya?"

I pinched myself.

Nooooooooooooooo.

"Umm yeah I'm here..." Unfortunately.

"Right this way please."

"Okay...."

"How are you today?"

"Fine...." For now.

"Good good..." Translation: We'll see about that.

We walked into the room. It felt slightly like walking towards death with my own two feet. Suicide.

I have a question. A serious question. And I expect a serious answer.
Is it just me, or do dental clinics resemble torture chambers, way too much for comfort? Seriously, there are separate cells -the rooms-, torture devices -dental instruments-, and uncomfortable chairs. I honestly don't see why corrupt leaders spend thousands of dollars on torture chambers and electric chairs, when all they have to do really is raid a dental clinic and BAM, free torture. It'll milk the answers out of anyone, guaranteed.

"THE BOMB IS UNDER THE BRIDGE. HONEST. I SWEAR. I SWEAR. JUST GET THIS FISH HOOK THING OUT OF MY MOUTH... PLEASE!!!"

Interesting discovery. The fish hook thing?

It's called a "dental explorer." Dental explorer. They make it sound like a friggin adventure. Like Dora the Explorer. "Come on, map! Let's find the City of Lost Toys!"

Moving on. After both he and I settled into our respective chairs, the dentist pulled out his first torture device and told me to "say 'Ahhh...'"
And so the torture began…

Do you know the kind of pain that makes you burn up inside, the kind of pain that makes you feel nauseated, the kind of pain that makes you scream incomprehensible things inside your head?

Yeh, that's the kind of pain I was going through.
I was unconsciously digging my fingernails into my skin and screaming inwardly all the Arabic curse words I know. Every time I flinched, I could see the hint of an evil smile in the dentist's beady little eyes. At one point, with his torture device somewhere way back in my mouth, the dentist wasn't even touching my teeth anymore, just poking my gums repeatedly. I could taste the metallic flavor of blood in my mouth and I really could not handle it anymore.
"STOP!" I shouted, "FOR GOD'S SAKE, STOP! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? GET A LIFE, OKAY? GO TAKE OUT YOUR INSECURITIES ON SOME OTHER FOOL."

Okay, so I didn't really. I did in my head, though.

I looked at the clock and nearly wept when I saw that only five minutes had passed. After another 10 minutes of unbelievable pain, he set me free.
"15 minutes already? Huh. Felt like 5 minutes to me, heh heh."
Well, time flies by when you're having fun, doesn't it? Butt wipe.

I promised myself solemnly that I wouldn't thank him as I left.
"Let me just write down your next appointment…."
"Okay." I hope I don't live long enough to witness that.
"Here you go :)"
"Thanks."
Damn it.

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A Picture Worth a Bajillion Words

2009-05-20T23:59:00.002+03:00

I found this picture on Deviantart.

I think it's hiliarious how, if you were to take a picture of me once every hour, you'd get the same result.

Reality Show

2009-05-19T23:52:00.001+03:00

Have you ever thought, or gotten the gut-feeling, or toyed with the idea – that everyone is talking about you? Not necessarily in a bad way. Well, yes, in a bad way. Like they know something about you that you don't, or something you know but didn't think they did. And then you start contemplating the idea that maybe -just maybe!- secret hidden cameras are following you everywhere, and everyone is getting second-to-second updates on your life. When they look at you, they know the color of the underwear you're wearing; they know you had a fight with your brother; they know you spent ages on your hair in the morning but failed to make it look presentable. They know you're laughing and joking now but just this morning you were crying. They know exactly when you're lying, and they know the truth, because they've seen it happen.

And just when you begin to think you're a total weirdo for thinking that stuff, you watch that movie, The Truman Show, the one where Jim Carry plays a character whose whole life turns out to be a reality show. A reality show that everyone in the world watched and knew about - except for him, and the town he lived in was nothing but an artificial world designed to keep him from escaping and finding out the truth.

And after you watch the movie and think, whoever wrote this script has got serious problems! - you remember: Oops, I was just thinking along those same lines.
Does this mean you have serious problems? Or, since at least one other person has thought of it before, maybe hundreds of others have, too?

Imagination is a funny, funny thing really, when you think about it. At least it keeps you entertained.
Especially when you're supposed to be studying.

Story

2009-05-18T19:09:00.001+03:00

I've a stomachache. I think I have food poisoning. 3 weeks of Burger King and McDonald's for lunch can do that to a person....

Anyway. Here is something that I wrote a couple of months ago - An excerpt from a future novel (possibly?)

She approaches me, and I see it in her eyes. I see it etched into the creases in her forehead and in the faint lines around her eyes. I sense its charge in the room. Perhaps I can even smell its formidable odor in the air..

Her malice. It’s all-consuming.
I won’t be getting off easy tonight.

She grabs a fistful of my hair and throws me to the ground. I land on my back, winded. She lifts her foot and stomps at me, kicks me. I cower beneath her, folding my arms over my head and curling my body into a protective ball.
I can’t see her, and I wonder for a second whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I try to take a look from behind my forearms, but she kicks me again, and I howl in pain. I feel myself unfurl as I writher around the floor. I’m not quite sure what’s going on, what to expect – what she expects.

Nothing seems real. Everything ceases to exist. Everything, except for the continuous blows and relentless pain: in my stomach, in my right side, in my shoulder, in my heart.

She yanks my hair again and pulls hard, forcing me to stand up. I bite my lower lip to keep myself from screaming. She pulls at my necklace with her free hand, and the chain cuts into the back of my neck. Something trickles down my back, and I can’t, for the life of me, determine whether it’s blood, or simply fear. She finally pulls hard enough for the chain to give way: it breaks, and the beads fall to the floor and scatter, one by one.

She suddenly lets go of my hair and I look at her face, scrunched up in anger, her features almost distorted. Her breathing is heavy, and she is simply standing there, inches away from me. I look around wildly, desperate for an escape.
I want to get out of here.

I want to slam the door behind me and run until I am several streets away from what is supposed to be my "home." I want to keep on running until the only thing I'd hear would be the pounding of my heart in my chest and my feet on the pavement, instead of the echoes of a thousand questions running through my head.

Why is she doing this?

Why is the woman who is supposed to protect me from everything – from monsters and ghosts, from strangers, from bad news and bad people... from a broken heart.. why is she giving me everything to fear?

What did I do to make my own mother hate the sight of me?

I’m suddenly struck with a feeling of emptiness. I imagine a black, endless whirlpool inside me. I feel it sucking all the hope left in me and trapping it in its center.

A question interrupts my thoughts, like a bubble breaking into the surface of peculiarly calm water.

Why am I fighting this?
What am I fighting for?
Maybe I should just let it be…

My mother takes a step towards me, and I snap out of my reverie. She smells the same as I’ve always remembered; of apples, and what I've always imagined the inside of a cloud would smell like – something sweet and indistinctive.
How can a smell so familiar bring fear... when it once brought unconditional comfort?

I take a step back instinctively, realizing too late the mistake I’ve made..
“Do you honestly think you can run away from me?” she sneers.
She raises her hand and I crouch down, my arms raised over my head.
My mother lets out a scream of fury.
“Keep.. your hands.. down,” she says through gritted teeth.
I pull them down slowly and realize that I am trembling all over. I back up into a corner, whimpering. My mother swipes at me, and I immediately fold my arms over my head again. Outraged, she bends down and yanks my arms away; then grabs my hair. She pulls it so hard, and I find myself wondering whether a scalp can possibly be ripped off someone’s head. I scratch and pull desperately at her arms but realize I am only making it worse.

My mother shakes me violently, pulling me by my hair from side to side, kicking me relentlessly in between.
I feel like a rag doll being beaten into pulp.
Worthless pulp.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s all I am.

She stops and releases my hair. I look around me, dazed.
Is it over?

Dark and fuzzy on the floor things catch my eye. With sickened horror, I realize that they are clumps of my hair.
“How can you call yourself a mother?” I ask, intending to scream, but my voice is merely a hoarse whisper.

Tears streak my cheeks, hot and scalding. A painful lump rises in my throat, and I swallow intensely, desperate to rid myself of any additional source of pain. I feel sore all over, almost to the point of numbness.

My mother stands up, a cold smile playing on her lips. She walks towards my musical keyboard and unplugs the voltage converter. She walks slowly back in my direction.
A chill runs down my back, and I am paralyzed with fear. I scramble to get up but fail to do so. I back up as far as I can go.

She wouldn’t… No, she wouldn’t…
She’s too close for comfort now. My heart beats wildly in my chest, threatening to explode.
She can’t…
“Please…” I beg. “Mama… please. No… please…”
She raises the adaptor over her head. I press up against the wall. There is no doubt left in my brain concerning what she intends to do. I look at her face, but it is wiped blank of even her customary mocking smile.
I close my eyes, just in time for pain beyond anything I have ever experienced to come crashing down on my head, jolting all my nerves, extending to every molecule in my body.

One last question - one last bubble - makes its way to my mind, as much as I try to suppress it.
If a life is virtually empty, is it still a life?
Or, more importantly, one worth living?

And then… surrounding me from all directions: a friend, for once.. offering me peace and serenity, instead of the usual uncertainty.........
Darkness.

Quote

2009-05-17T23:28:00.002+03:00

Because I have no time to write anything at the moment, since I am working on analyzing the rhetorical modes, tropes, and schemes used in JFK's wonderful inaugural speech (which I could have finished during the weekend if I hadn't slept for..... wait, let me calculate.... 9.. plus 12.. plus 5.. plus 5...... oh wow, 31 hours) a quote will do just fine for today:

"You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life."

~ Winston Churchill

P.S. Rhetorical devices suck. W11A girls, I know you all empathize.

Procrastinators Unite.................. Tomorrow.

2009-05-16T22:35:00.001+03:00

Ah, procrastination. What a nasty, nasty disease.

It is... quite simply, indestructible. I tried, you know? I really did. I wrote to-do lists. I lured myself with rewards, food, and goodie bags. I made thousands of promises to myself. But it seems like the more I try to put an end to this cruel disease - the more symptoms I suffer from. It's like quick sand. The more I try to break free, the deeper I sink.
In fact, I've become so good at it, I can procrastinate procrastination. Who'da thought, ay?
Anyway. And hence - the name of my humble blog.. and the reason why we are all gathered here today.

You see, I've decided to channel my unquenchable passion for keeping things to the last minute towards a healthier, more fruitful habit: Writing. I do enjoy writing. I'm one of those people who like to blab on and on about nothing in particular, just because I can. I laugh at my own lame jokes, too. I mean, if I don't, who will? I amuse myself, really.

But that's besides the point. Where were we? Oh yes. I've decided to start a blog instead of wasting time on Stumbleupon. Not that I can give up Stumbling; I am a Stumblaholic. You caught me, mouse-handed. I bet Stumbleupon is just crawling with procrastinators like yours truly. No wonder it's such a safe lil haven for lil ol' me.
"Just one more click. *click* ..................... No I meant one more click starting now. *click* Oh I like this..... But not really. Just one more super-cool thing then I'll get back to that analysis, honestly... *click* Oh WOW Italian recipes! Let me just Like this.... Oh what the hell, just one more.. *click*......................"

You get the picture.

The good news is, I work well under pressure. I can keep an essay until the last minute then come up with something passable and get a passable grade. As some wise person said, "If it weren't for the last minute, I wouldn't get anything done."
I tried fooling myself into believing that procrastination is not causing me any problems. "Time you enjoy wasting was not wasted" and yada yada, right?! And the sad truth is, procrastination actually isn't causing me any problems! Not now anyway. I know that if I spend more than an hour on my essays I could probably come up with something better than what I usually hand in... But I never get bad grades for them. So why bother?!
I get this silly little bout of paranoia every now and then and worry that, if I do change, if I do cure my Procrastinationivitus Syndrome, things will all go downhill from there..... Procrastination is really the only method I've ever known, and it works just fine. Why risk a great thing?

Like I said, it's silly. But so are most fears.

Now, I'm not really the psychotherapy-loving, mumbo jumbo, you-are-this-because-when-you-were-a-child-you-did-that type of person - that would be my mother.
"Danya dear, how many times have I told you, you have to squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom of the tube. Bottom. Bott-ommm. This just proves what a messy person you are."
And I go, "Oh so now you can tell what kind of personality I have by the way I squeeze my toothpaste?"
"Of course. I read something about it."
Oh and it gets better. My mother believes that if I start squeezing my toothpaste from the "bott-ommm" of the tube, all my problems will be miraculously solved. She believes that actions can shape your mentality. Like when I used to walk with my feet pointing slightly inward, she kept telling me that this meant I had confidence issues, and if I start walking properly I'll start feeling more confident and my self-esteem will soar through the roof :)
Like I said, not my cup of tea. But I've recently started thinking long and hard about why I procrastinate. I came up with the following reasons:

1- Deep down, I am a perfectionist buried under layers of lethargy. I have this need to be perfect and do perfect things. So I keep giving half-hearted attempts at everything and tell myself that I can do better if I really want to.

2- Because it works. It bloody well works. I putt off doing something unenjoyable, by doing something enjoyable... And I enjoy it! There really isn't anything to elaborate on.

You know, they say that if you know what the problem is, you're halfway through solving it. Well, ok, I know I have a problem: I procrastinate. They also say that if you know the reason behind a problem, you're halfway through solving it.
Well. That's halfway... and another halfway..... According to the previous statements, I've already solved my procrastinating problem.

BULLPOOP. I'm obviously still a pathological procrastinator, otherwise I'd be finishing (starting) my physics homework, analyzing the rhetorical devices used in JFK's inaugural address, writing up a report on the question of the link between globalization and gender inequality for the Model United Nations conference we're having at our school, working on our "Empowering Laborers" presentation, studying Hadeeth, doing the Arabic homework, working on the EPGY grammar course, writing the Hadeeth article........... or doing the chemistry homework. And I'm pretty sure I left something out.

Ah, this is really sad. I am pathetic.

Paging Mr. Willpower. Is there a Mr. Willpower in the house?

I'll leave you folks with one final gem of wisdom:

"The two rules of procrastination:
1) Do it today.
2) Tomorrow will be today tomorrow."

And a few cartoons that pretty much sum up my life:

Warm regards; be good.

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