Water of Bottle

(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?

"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

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

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!

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!

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

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

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)

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Danya + Kitchen

= 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?

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And we’ll fill the metro skies with country air

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

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!

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