Bilder Von Deutschland

Snippet

memo - whats up nigga?

reham - shutup, i´m whiter than you

memo - make me! you can´t do anything, you´re hundreds of miles away!

reham - i´ll send some terrorists after you, there are loads of them in europe, I hear.

memo - honey, I AM the terrorist.

(memo is my little sister)

Cavendish & Harvey Frucht Drops

I have too much to blog about.

Reham, I didn´t know you had it in you.

Live, life, love, spirit, insanity, customized, forever, can, can never, set, ocean, free, plane, away, horizon, sunset, Ayla, airport, spilled coffee, non-stop, cream, pastries, peaches, Hamburg, phones, mary-kate and ashley, perfume gift, um fadi, tears, Nordeich, beach, seashells, nadia and safiyeh the superwomen, trains, planes and cars, yasmin, flowers, ayman nein, schloss, moschee, kheir, hiltrud hospital, attic, children´s books, alechandro, hijab, 5000 miles, Philipines, Emirates dude, abu dhabi green mushroom, strawberry shortcake, kitchen saturday, 6 month birth certificate, drunk sunglasses dude subway, McDonalds icecream, sweet elke, grape vines, langlo, no souvenirs from fisch festival, singing fishermen, miniature golf, cute dogs, polizei, thrown shawerma, ja, purple, forever - chris brown, train lap, H&M, Mercedes nervous breakdown "uncle ibrahim", N73, LG from o2, again... nadia and safiyeh the superwomen.

ßßPeace, Love, Happinessßß

Junk of the Hearts

Jericho trip on thursday.

A cancerous ghost from the past.

Lies such lies.

Losing grip.

It's gonna be alright. It really is.

I love you Reham.

Someone to Save You - You gotta save yourself.

Patience
Took you for everything
Looked like a diamond ring
You are so much longer
That made sense
Apathy in disguise
Crept on you like a spy
Hurt you in ways
You can't describe

Back to the start now
I wont let you go this way now

Honesty
Is what you need
It sets you free
Like someone to save you
Let it go
But hurry now
Theres undertow
And I don't want to lose you now

All right
Sit down and spill your heart
Lets start from the very start
Cause i can see by your eyes
You're wasted
Your energy comes and goes
You taking your time, you know
Nothing can change what happened, you know


Now
Now
Oh my
Look at your bright stars fade so
How much can you take?

I said to save you
Save you
Save you
Someone to save you
What you need is
Someone to save you


- One Republic lyrics

The Chronicals

There was a deafening silence. A serenity so powerful it felt like hot lead was poured through his ears. He stood by her and asked himself… how he could be so completely destroyed. Between them now, was a world of difference in a space so small.

“I can’t be with you anymore.” The words still echoed against the blank walls in his mind. How could those words leave her well-loved mouth? It was as if she was completely ignorant of the fact she would be with him always, surpassing space and time.

Slowly he felt the tearful imprints of sadness burning the back of his eyes. He looked at her now cold silhouette and wondered if this would be the last time he saw the lively curve of her lowered eyelashes, the delicate arch of her brow, her pearly teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, and the nervous flair of her nostrils betraying her slight inability to breathe… all reflections of her profound uncertainty.

The moment was frozen into a puzzle of a tearful rose. The pieces of glinting thorns were already in place, awaiting completion from the pieces of torn petals scattered in the wind of deceit.

He clenched his jaw, and then forced himself to cut through the palpable pain in the air around him, and he looked at her once more. She was gazing at the lake in front of them.

“I can’t cry.” Those three words resounded amidst her racing thoughts and mixed emotions. She felt as if she was committing a form of suicide. She was holding a dagger poised towards her own heart and she was awaiting the courage to motorize her hand into action.

She choked out the first two words of her obsessive thought, “I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” He demanded.

“I can’t begin the beginning of the end… you’ll have to help me.” She then made eye contact for the first time. He caught his breath as he saw the anguish of a soul tortured by a burden too great and cumbersome mirrored in her tear-blurred eyes.

“Why should I help you destroy us?” He asked. “Why should I join my hand in yours, to crush everything beautiful in our world?”

“I don’t love you anymore.” Her heart raced as the words flew from her dry mouth while she was staring directly at him.

He froze. He felt as if the blood in his veins had evaporated and his beating heart had suspended its movement till further notice.

A Ticket: 500 dollars, A phone call: Few bucks, An email: Nothing. Me: Priceless (Rates subject to change over 3 year period)

I had the most eloquent volcanic eruption of words and emotions. It was really beautiful if I may say so myself. Amar will agree. ;)

It really put everything into such a beautiful crystal clear perspective. Such wonderful righteous anger. I really wish I could've recorded it. I really wish that. Because then all i'd have to do is replay it when I thought about the moron it was directed to.

I keep saying Love is a VERB people. It's action not reaction. It means sacrificing, going out on a limb, doing the most insane and impractical thing and feeling wonderful because of it.

Alas, during this era that seems to be too much. This time where people are too afraid of their own shadow. Where they hide and conform to society's view of them. Where cowardice rules and bravery is cast aside as a "valueless value".

I sincerely believe I have more guts than any guy i've met so far. Honest... it's like the world is filled with yellow-bellied liars who want everything to fall into their laps... literally.


I do not know what more to say. Would you travel to the ends of the earth for her? Would you defy every humanely devised value? Would you truly give while expecting nothing in return? Would you love as a verb, unconditionally?


Three years. 1095 days. 26,280 hours. 1,576,800 minutes.

And nothing... And still I had a shiny glimmer of optimisim.

I truly am incurably optimistic.

All I can add to this is a poem from my other blog:



Eden

Painless to speak, torturous to do

A schoolboy spewing lessons anew

And all the paths that I can remember…

Somehow end up in all that is you

My road now is a fine line

Silver in color and sharp in taste

Surviving in “nothing must go to waste”

My words now revolve around one sun

Like my mind, severing the “one”

Yet my time for reverie has passed

And I find myself now free at last

Now I shall speak what it is I do

And the lessons learned will be forever true

Mayhem Land

Words have become lost... like phantoms they evade me. I am melancholically tired of my melancholy.

I want to remember what it was like to be light-hearted and joyful. What it was like to not sleep at least half the day away.

Uncertainty overwhelms me. As the days draw nearer to my self-set goal of five years ago, I do not know what to do with myself.

I assume this is the case of all newly graduated college students, but I for one, am unsure of every single aspect of my cognitive, affective, and behavioral makeup.

I know I will use the up-coming months to figure this out... but I feel as if I am in a race. I have no time to lose, still thinking, re-thinking, then analyzing what I have previously thought, then returning to another premise and thinking of that one, etc...

It's like i'll be in my own self-constructed whirlwind of analysis and speculation, and in the end i'll lose the race... the race to living a life.


Caught in the undertow
just caught in the undertow
And every second I waste
is more than I can take
I've become so numb
I can't feel you there
Become so tired
so much more aware

Linkin Park - Numb lyrics

NO to abortion!

I knew there would be a fifth drama! I knew it! I felt it in my bones.

My friend Amar had an early class today, so it was one of the rare times she goes to school earlier than I do. I left to school with a feeling of foreboding. Since I blogged that last post before I left, I think you can see why.

I get out of the cab I took to reach the buses. As I cross the street some guy, who looks foreign yet simultaneously Palestinian gives me a look of recognition. This puzzles me since I do not even know this guy or recognize him… at all.


He follows me a bit, I then enter a store to make change and buy something. I come out and he’s outside the store waiting. I became even more puzzled. And then as I woke down the sidewalk, I get an eerie feeling of being followed. Sure enough he’s behind me. I rush into the nearest mini-bus. The door shuts and we’re off. During the entire bus ride and my art class afterward I keep trying to forget the whole ordeal and convince myself that I’m simply being paranoid (a typical state of mind for me.)

After class I tell Amar about the whole ordeal. I mention I might be turning into a paranoid schizophrenic and she agrees.

So then we get into another mini-bus to go home, and the same guy makes another appearance, I point him out to my friend. He actually comes to the side of the bus and sees me in there, then gets in and rides behind us!

I don’t know what to make of it. Ka2ano na2esni DRAMA!

May is a cursed month, as I was reading through the blog yesterday, I realized that every May before my birthday is filled with traumatic experiences. It’s a cursed month! Cursed I say!

"If you want to destroy my sweater, take this string as you walk away"

Oh wow.

Wowness.

Seriously... today is NOT Reham's day. In any way shape or form. I cannot emphasize how un-mine this day really is.

Tragedia número uno: Art Presentation, Prepared? I think not. (This one isn't too bad since I have the God-given gift of the ability to BS my way out of any intellectual corner.)

Tragedia número dos: I have to sit with this wanna-be groom at noon. Reham is currently NOT favoring the concept of arranged marriages. She is also absolutely positively sure that she might "accidently" pour her cappucino on the guy in the middle of the cafe since she really really does not want to do this. Why does she do this then, you ask? THAT is something which cannot even begin to unravel in this post.

Tragedia número tres: Above-mentioned cafe was Reham's newest favoritest place in the world and will now be marred with the memory of this stupid encounter. (Reham will feel like an automobile at a gallery waiting to be bought and this feeling will surely repeat itself everytime Reham sits in one of this cafe's oh-so-comfy chairs from now on.)

Tragedia número cuatro: Very very very very (infinity very) worried about a friend overseas who won't pick up the phone... for FOUR DAYS! Ugh.

Tragedia número cinco: I can't think of a fifth one. But it's there! It's there!

*sigh*

Not Anymore. For Real. Really.

Woman, no one is going to pick you up after you've fallen.

Get that through your head.

And a word to the wise: "It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else's life with perfection." - Elizabeth Gilbert

Patience

Everyday keep making the same mistakes
Once again I find myself in the same old place
And I'm wandering wondering Where to turn
There's a dead end straight ahead
Won't you take me home

And you said there's nothing you wouldn't do
And I answered there's nothing in this world I need you to do
Just hold me in your arms
I feel so cold
There are dark clouds gathering
Won't you take me home

I'd been wandering wondering Where to turn
There are dark clouds gathering
Won't you take me home

Oh please
Won't you take me home
Won't you take me home


Take Me Home - Aqualung Lyrics

To whom it may concern,

"Some people weave burlap into the fabric of our lives, and some weave gold thread. Both contribute to make the whole picture beautiful and unique."

Over the years, I have encountered many people. Some have weaved burlap into my life, others gold, and a select few have passed through the core of my spirit and left a permanent print upon it.

Of all... the last is the hardest to forget. This is because they not only enriched my life, but they also changed the composition of my soul. They rearranged it somehow. I am sad to say that none of those people are in my life anymore.

It seems that while they were affecting me, I in turn left an impression upon them. For some reason... this impression cannot be reversed, or rather dilluted into one of soulful camaraderie rather than the companianship of a lifetime... which I am unable to give.

If I could speak to them, I would tell them that I miss their molecular annihilation of my inner being, their profound effect on my humanity, the person I could be with their guidance and friendship.

I miss you my friend. Don't scoff at the term "friend". I believe that in this day and age the term has been overused and thus became overrated.

A friendship can be much more fulfilling than what is often sought in such situations. It can be a twinship of the souls if done properly.

It seems this post began as if directed to many. But it is clear now that it is simply directed to one. To this one, I would like to say...

Our mutual friend Ayn Rand wrote "People create their own questions because they are afraid to look straight. All you have to do is look straight and see the road, and when you see it, don't sit looking at it- walk."

Get up and walk my dear friend. No more sitting around.

Habby Habby

I am in a CONSIDERABLY better mood than when I blogged last time.

It's amazing how a few days difference can make. The sun is out, I have lots of plans for next month, I adjusted my seminar topic to one that actually HAS a target population...

Life is good. :)

YAY!

Is That All You Got???

When it rains crap it pours.

I'm sick of constantly ranting here, but it seems like i'm riding a rollercoaster of bad luck. I think I get those upon average once or twice a year. Where every single aspect of my life takes a dive simultaneously.

I feel like i'ms standing still in the middle of a busy New York sidewalk, wide-eyed, completely motionless with people passing by and continuously knocking my shoulders.

*sigh*

I can't seem to get things together for my bloody seminar in a field (psychology) i'm not even sure i'm going to continue in.

My best friend (Yes, that means YOU, Amar) decided to book her flight on the SAME day as my graduation... And I really didn't want to do the whole "graduation" thing in the first place, so this doesn't help the situation.

Work... well let's just say i've been working my butt off for the past month and i'm not going to be getting my salary because of some petty FREAK. (you REALLY don't want the details on that one)

That means I can't go to my "happy zone" IE. The GYM. Well, I could ask my parents for money, but now that i'm working it just feels weird to do that. Plus, that will raise questions as to where my salary went, and I can't go on about the CRAPBOWL who took it.


And it seems i'm not going to be getting my iPhone... my grandmother has it now though. (no joke)

My problems probably seem petty to some people... but with the stress of taking seven subjects at uni, APPARENTLY pay-less work, my unfinished graduation project, and other minute things that cramp my estyle... it's pretty big to me.

I'm focusing on handling things properly though. Trying not to freak out and ride the wave of ridiculous bad luck till it ends.

Ouffff.

It's Hard When You Dalk Like Dis

I am sick. Blasted flu. And if one more person asks me why I didn't take the flu shot, i'll tear my hair out!

I cannot smell or taste anything. My world is bland. I woke up this morning with the intense fear that I will never be able to taste a mocha latte again.

I actually had time to contemplate my previous answer to the question "if you had to lose one of your senses which one would it be?"

I used to always answer smell or taste because I thought they'd be the least important. But seriously... it's very hard living this way. I know people have to deal with much worse things, yet I can't get over how losing something like taste or smell can so profoundly impact the way you view and experience the world.

After this week, I am positively sure that had I not had a sense of smell or taste during my life, i'd be a completely different person. Perhaps better, perhaps worse... but definitely different.

Alhamdillah, for the smallest and biggest of blessings.

Nizar Qabbani

Language


When a man is in love
how can he use old words?
Should a woman
desiring her lover
lie down with
grammarians and linguists?

I said nothing
to the woman I loved
but gathered
love's adjectives into a suitcase
and fled from all languages


Light Is More Important Than The Lantern


Light is more important than the lantern,
The poem more important than the notebook,
And the kiss more important than the lips.
My letters to you
Are greater and more important than both of us.
The are the only documents
Where people will discover
Your beauty
And my madness.


In The Summer


In the summer

I stretch out on the shore
And think of you
Had I told the sea
What I felt for you,
It would have left its shores,
Its shells,
Its fish,
And followed me.


My Lover Asks Me


My lover asks me:
"What is the difference between me and the sky?"
The difference, my love,
Is that when you laugh,
I forget about the sky.

Oh, My Love


Oh, my love
If you were at the level of my madness,
You would cast away your jewelry,
Sell all your bracelets,
And sleep in my eyes.


Words

He lets me listen, when he moves me,
Words are not like other words
He takes me, from under my arms
He plants me, in a distant cloud
And the black rain in my eyes
Falls in torrents, torrents
He carries me with him, he carries me
To an evening of perfumed balconies


And I am like a child in his hands
Like a feather carried by the wind
He carries for me seven moons in his hands
and a bundle of songs
He gives me sun, he gives me summer
and flocks of swallows
He tells me that I am his treasure
And that I am equal to thousands of stars
And that I am treasure, and that I am
more beautiful than he has seen of paintings
He tells me things that make me dizzy
that make me forget the dance and the steps


Words...which overturn my history
which make me a woman...in seconds
He builds castles of fantasies
which I live in...for seconds...
And I return...I return to my table
Nothing with me...
Nothing with me...except words

Gaza

Title

"Give me reason, but don't give me choice

Because i'll just make the same mistakes again"

Gibran Khalil Gibran

Life is an island, rocks are its desires, trees its dreams, flowers its loneliness, and it is in the middle of an ocean of solitude and seclusion. Your life is an island separated from all other islands and continents. Regardless of how many boats you send to other shores or how many ships arrive upon your shores, you yourself are an island separated by its own pains, secluded in its happiness and far away in its compassion and hidden in its secrets and miseries.---Your inner soul is surrounded with solitude and seclusion. Were it not for this solitude and this seclusion you would not be you and I would not be I. If it were not for that solitude and seclusion, I would, if I heard your voice, think myself to be speaking; yet, if I saw your face, I would imagine that I were looking into a mirror.

(Mirrors of the Soul)


All things in this creation exist within you, and all things in you exist in creation; there is no border between you and the closest things, and there is no distance between you and the farthest things, and all things, from the lowest to the loftiest, from the smallest to the greatest, are within you as equal things. In one atom are found all the elements of the earth; in one motion of the mind are found the motions of all the laws of existence; in one drop of water are found the secrets of all the endless oceans; in one aspect of you are found all the aspects of existence.

(Secrets of The Heart)


Know your own true worth, and you shall not perish. Reason is your light and your beacon of Truth. Reason is the source of Life. God has given you Knowledge, so that by its light you may not only worship him, but also see yourself in your weakness and strength.

(Words of The Master)


Man is happy only in

His aspiration to the heights;

When he attains his goal, he cools

And longs for other distant flights.



Happiness on earth is but a fleet

Passing ghost, which man craves

At any cost in gold or time. And

When the phantom becomes the

Reality, man soon wearies of it. (The Procession)



It is impossible for the mirror of the soul to reflect in the imagination anything which does not stand before it. It is impossible for the calm lake to show in its depth the figure of any mountain or the picture of any tree or cloud that does not exist close by the lake. It is impossible for the light to throw upon the earth a shadow of an object that has no being. Nothing can be seen, heard, or other­wise sensed unless it has actual being.

(Secrets of The Heart)

Runaway Train

Call you up in the middle of the night
Like a firefly without a light
You were there like a slow torch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning

So tired that I couldn't even sleep
So many secrets I couldn't keep
Promised myself I wouldn't weep
One more promise I couldn't keep

It seems no one can help me now
I'm in too deep
There's no way out
This time I have really led myself astray

CHORUS
Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here no there

Can you help me remember how to smile
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded
Life's mystery seems so faded

I can go where no one else can go
I know what no one else knows
Here I am just drownin' in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train

Everything is cut and dry
Day and night, earth and sky
Somehow I just don't believe it

CHORUS

Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughin' at the rain
Little out of touch, little insane
Just easier than dealing with the pain

Runaway train never comin' back
Runaway train tearin' up the track
Runaway train burnin' in my veins
Runaway but it always seems the same

- "Runaway Train Lyrics" Soul Asylum

Reminder of Why You Must Leave in July

Today is February 14th.

That means it is both Valentine's Day, and my mother's birthday.

I should be happy and filled with warm fuzzy feelings.

INSTEAD I AM SO GOD DAMN PISSED I'M FRIGGIN READY TO GET ON THE NEXT PLANE OUT OF THIS GOD FORSAKEN HELL HOLE!

The natural question to follow that statement is "why?"

I, my dears, say WHY THE FRIGGIN NOT!

Just because I need to take 20 credit hours this semester so I can LEEEEEEEEEEAVE in the summer I have to go through every indignity known to man!

Allow me to walk you through my excruciating experience.

Three months ago I took my request for 20 hours to my advisor who signed it and then to the Dean of Arts' office so he could sign it. I gave it to his satanic secretary and asked if she could please give it to him so that he can sign it.

I left.

After two months I went back to see what happened to my all-important paper. I was told that I must wait till the add and drop period.

I waited.

A week into the add and drop period I called his satanic secretary and asked her when I could register for the 2-credit hour GYM CLASS which will be the addition that takes me over the 18 hour limit. The devil incarnated told me that I should wait a couple of days because she still hadn't given him the bloody paper.

I thanked her and told her I would call her again in a couple of days.

After FOUR days, I called again. The retarded assholic weirdo secretary told me that she STILL hadn't given him the paper and I should check in after a couple of days.

I changed from my warm PJ's got dressed and went out in the freezing cold and took a cab straight to the university.

I went to the Dean's office and it turns out he had changed locations to a building that was at the end of the earth. (very fitting for his satanic secretary).

So I walk ALL THE WAY TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH... walk to the devil's lair to have a conversation a follows:

Me: Hello, I talked to you on the phone earlier, I would like to please see the Dean in regards to my request form.

The Devil: I told you in a couple of days. You can't see him, he's busy.

Me: I'm sorry but the add and drop finishes in a couple of days and I have plans for the summer. I need to speak with him and sees if he can sign it sooner. So I can know whether or not i'll have to take the summer course.

The Devil: I'll let you see him tuesday at 9:00 am.

Me: I have work during that time. I just need to see him for 5 min. I can see he's with someone, so i'll wait here.

The Devil: I said NO, GET OUT!

Me: Um... I'll just wait here till he's done, then we can see if he can talk to me for a minute.

The Devil: Then go wait outside.

Me: "okay" *doesn't budge from the chair* (this is largely out of a fear that she'll see him before me and tell him no to see me)

The Devil: What do you mean okay? WAIT OUTSIDE.

Me: "okay" *stays sitting down and doesn't budge, and turns head away*

*15 min of stony silence pass by*

My french teacher comes out of the Dean's office asks me how I am and gives me a hug then leaves. The Dean then comes out behind her.

HE DOESN'T ASK ME WHAT MY PROBLEM IS.

HE DOESN'T SEE THAT I AM CLEARLY DEEPLY DISTRESSED AND ASKS ME INTO HIS OFFICE.

NO!

HE STANDS IN THE DOORWAY AND SAYS "shoo biddek?" Which means "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

I look at him and the following conversation ensues:

Me: I'm sorry for the inconvenience sir, but I would like to talk to you in regards to my request form for 20 hours.

Dr. JERK: I never recieved such a form *looks at me as if i'm lying*

Me: I gave it to your secretary 3 months ago.

Dr. JERK: Did she give you that paper? *looks at his bloody secretary*

The Devil: Yes, but I was waiting for the add and drop.

Me: um... The add and drop has been going on for a week it's almost done.

Dr. Jerk: Well, we never give 20 credit hours. Do we? (he asks that to his secretary)

The Devil: No the most we give is 19.

(this btw is a complete blatant LIE I know many people who took even 21 hours!)

Dr. Jerk: Well I need a couple of days to review your request and then I have to send it to the vice president of the university and see if he approves.

(this is yet another blatant LIE, such an approval is not needed, I should add Dr. LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE to his first name "JERK")

Me: I see. Thanks anyways.

I left the office and had a mini-nervous breakdown in the bathroom.

I left home.

I called my Aunt in the Governor's office. She phoned Dr. Jerk and his bloody secretary and gave them the verbal flogging of their life in front of me. It was quite satisfying, sometimes it pays to be well-connected.

Sure enough monday morning my extra class was approved and set on my schedule.

Happy Ending, right?


WROOOOONG!!!!


This morning, I open my assholic schedule and they've REMOVED ENGLISH. It's VANISHED!

I've been on the phone all morning. I keep getting thrown from the registration office, to the english dept, to my advisor, to the registration office again. They're all incompetent fools who can't seem to grasp the simple concept of checking their God DAMN adminstration-privledged computers to see what the HELL HAPPENED TO MY CLASS!!!

I cant go there myself because 1) it's hailing outside and 2) I feel too homicidal to deal with them directly.

I feel a bit better though now that i've ranted.

GOD HELP ME. GOD HELP THE ARABS WHO ARE SO BLINDED BY BUREAUCRATIC BULLSHIT THEY CAN'T SEE IN FRONT OF THEM. AND PLEASE HELP THE LOVED ONES I WILL MOST ASSUREDLY VENT MY FRUSTRATIONS UPON DURING THE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF THESE UPCOMING MONTHS.

AMEN

Iceland

"Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiss! She keeps looking at my paper!"

Aaaah. The familiar voices of munchkins in school uniforms. When they move all you can see is a blur of green and white uniforms and the occasional glimpse of pig-tails.

It becomes all worth-while when you see a flicker of understanding and comprehension light up their entire face.

I teach highschoolers too. The only problem with that is I knew almost 60% of them when they were still in 6th grade and I was a senior, or I knew one of their older sisters. The rest have either heard of me from a teacher or from someone else in the school. The teachers used to use me as an academic example for the rest of the students after I left the school. Finding that out was both flattering and very very very... weird.

It made it akward at first because they had a pretty hefty preconcieved notion of how I was going to be, but the maleable personality of the adolescent always wins and I had them relaxed and laughing in no time.

It's weird to be a teacher AND a student simultaneously. I am literally counting the weeks to graduation. About 16 weeks to go.

I have a feeling i'm going to have a plane ticket in my name to Iceland as soon as May 1st.

That very concept is what keeps me going. It is currently my air, food, and water.

This must be the most bland post ever. A bit of salt perhaps? Haha? No? Not funny huh?

Things, Things, Things

I have a new obsession: The iphone.

Everything with me is iphone this, iphone that.

I've driven my parents crazy, my friends can predict whatever i'm going to say because all has to do with the iphone.

I fell in love with it the minute I saw a special on the news before it came out.

It's the phone I always wondered why no one ever created before.

It's like DUH, all this technology, get us something that's that.... cool.

Sorry, my mentality seems to revert to twelve whenever I mention the "i" word.

The problem is... I can't seem to figure out to get it.

I could buy it from here, but one the supply is limited, and two they sell the 4 GB version for 1000 bucks. What a rip off.

I considered getting it shipped from the States. But that would require going to the ministry of communications and getting special permission to bring it into the country. It's a bunch of beaurocratic bullshit and I really dont feel like going through that.

The only other choice I have is waiting till March till when my aunt comes from the States so she can bring it with her.

But like seriously... that's two months from now. I fear that by then my parents will have gone nuts by my ceaseless iphone babble and kick me out of the house. I won't even be able to seek refuge at a friend's because they'll all have disowned me by then. So i'll be homeless, but more importantly i'll be "iphone-less". And that would be a TRAGEDY.

I know i'm coming off as a mindless, materialistic, selfish brat... but I rarely go through all this for a material object.

The only two things on earth that can make me become a blithering idiot are the Mercedes SLR Mclaren and the iphone.

Honest.

At least the iphone is within my price range.... :(

*sigh*

If anyone knows how much it costs in Amman, Jordan for an iphone, let me know.

*double sigh*

2008

New Year's Resolution: "Eat, Love, Pray"

Sometimes Wishes Do Come True

I am at work, ja.

I have taken to saying "jaaaa" occasionally because it severely annoys someone I know. Everytime I say it, I get the automatic response of "Reham, you aren't German!" To which I constantly respond "Ja, or aye vood av been respoonsible for the hooloocaust, jaaa?"

Ja, vatever.

So um, i'm working in International Relations at an Industrial Estate office. I figured if I couldn't travel because i'm cooped up here till I get my B.A, I might as well bring the world to me.

And, oh boy, have they come. In my first week I met with Swedish, German, Italian, and British delegations. I'm waiting for the Japs, they're supposed to be coming sometime this week.

______________________________


K, so I got interrupted by Japanese people just while I was typing that last sentence. It was so friggin freaky. I thought I was hallucinating for a minute. His name was Mr.Kasomoto, or something. Sounds like something from Pokemon eh?

Anyhoo, i'm afraid to type anything else lest it come true. Oh wait. I'm also supposed to be getting a Mercedes McLaren sometime this week...

Dammit. Nothing.

Babylon

The history of the world documents many grand gestures made in the name of love. Some are fictional, as Romeo and Juliet, and yet others are historical facts, such as the Hanging Gardens of Babylon said to have been constructed by Nebuchadnezzar for his wife Amytis of Media.

However, as grandois as these gestures seem to be to others, I can only see one "grand" gesture in love's name that truly deserves that label - forgiveness.

It may seem to be a simple task, but true and sincere forgiveness is very difficult to come by, even amidst the greatest passion and emotion.

To forgive, requires letting go of many things. Self-pity, pride, a natural inclination towards self-preservation... and many other selfish wants and needs.

Being able to rid yourself of all that is, I believe, the greatest gesture of all.

If only we could forgive.

Not Ready to Make Nice Lyrics

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting

I’m through with doubt
There’s nothing left for me to figure out
I’ve paid a price
And I’ll keep paying

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

I know you said
Can’t you just get over it
It turned my whole world around
And I kind of like it

I made my bed and I sleep like a baby
With no regrets and I don’t mind sayin’
It’s a sad sad story when a mother will teach her
Daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger
And how in the world can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they’d write me a letter
Sayin’ that I better shut up and sing
Or my life will be over

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting

Meow

Ah, Eid.

The only holiday during which I am never depressed. I enjoy waking up to the rhythmic Allahu Akbar's of the mosque. I enjoy the cute children all dressed up and hyped on sugar. I enjoy being surrounded by family.

It's just nice.

I could go on with how everyone ate out yesterday whilst *I* had to stay home and open up a can of tuna to eat like some cat, but I am blocking the irony of how during the first day of breaking my fast I had to eat like a house pet.

It's gone.

Shut.

Out of my mind.

Completely.

Strangers

Is there some meaning to this life?
What purpose lies behind the strife?
Whence do we come, where are we bound?
These cold questions echo and resound
through each day, each lonely night.
We long to find the splendid light
that will cast a revelatory beam
upon the meaning of the human dream.

- Dean Koontz The Book of Counted Sorrows

...

I feel like a drowning person rising up to the surface for gasps of air. It's an odd medley of emotions and feelings to finally come to the realization that for the longest time, your shadow has not reflected a complete and whole human being.

A complete shock to the nervous system. Then you suddenly come to another realization - it's too late. This proceeds to shut down your system entirely.

It's too late to realize. Too late to wonder. Too late to entertain any thought of giving your lungs the oxygen they desperately lack.

What to do?

Drown yourself again?

Can you even go back to the cool blue waters of desperate ignorance and denial?

How can I retrace my steps when the maleable waters I have been in do not even keep prints of where I have been and where I am going?

Questions. Irrational feelings of peace... even joy. Logical feelings of resignation. That is all that is left as clues.

I wonder why I wonder... I see the answers in your eyes.

The Source of the Flow

On the road that I have taken,
One day, walking, I awaken,
Amazed to see where I have come,
Where i'm going, where i'm from.

This is not the path I thought.
This is not the place I sought.
This is not the dream I bought,
Just a fever of fate i've caught.

I'll change highways in a while,
At the crossroads, one more mile.
My path is lit by my own fire.
I'm going only where I desire.

On the road that I have taken,
one day, walking, I awaken.
One day, walking, I awaken,
on the road that I have taken.

- From The Book of Counted Sorrows

I Want To Be a Popstaaaah!

I've been meaning to blog for the longest time. I never got around to it.

I've been busy this summer with lots of family who came to visit from abroad. I can successfully categorize them into two groups. My "British" cousins and my "Amman-ian" cousins. I couldn't bring myself to call them Jordanian, no offense to the Jordanian people but i've somehow become sensitized due to the fact that there are some Jordanians who don't feel very amicable towards Palestinians.

Pffft, I just had to twist it into a political rant didn't I?

I kinda miss having the house so full. They didn't stay over our place but they pretty much were here 24/7. I guess that's one of the great things about being arab. You always have close family ties. Family who sends you books because they've seen just how mundane your summer is. (Thanks Biso, mwah!) One of the books she sent me is titled "A Child Called It". It's an autobiography of a young boy who was severely abused by his mother. It's brilliantly written and the emotion evoked by the book is overwhelming. It's the first of a trilogy; now I have to get my hands on the second book.

So yeah cousins are cool. They send you stuff because your in a 3rd world country where the luxuries of modern civilization are sometimes lacking. Hey, i'm not a moocher, I also love the cousins who don't replenish my diminishing home-library. For example I adore my 5-year old British cousin Yazan. He's just about the cutest thing ever. He wants to be a "popstah" (pop star) when he grows up. He sang "The Wind of Change" for me. Yes, yes, only the highest ambitions for our tv-brain-washed toddlers.

I hate it when I haven't blogged for ages, all the blogging ideas cram up my head and create a schematic traffic jam that leads to nowhere.

Therefore I shall stop.

Yep, stop, I shall.

I'm going... I'm going...

-

A Girl In This World

I believe there comes at least one time in every woman's life when her world is stripped down into two halves of black and white.

The dichotomy of male vs. female colors every corner of her thoughts, feelings, and behaviors.

In most Middle Eastern families from a very young age the girl is taught how different she is from her male counterparts.

In some families, she is raised in a way where she is given the illusion that she has the capacity to go anywhere, be anything, and succeed in whichever way she can in life. Then she hits puberty. The illusion is then shattered. The image that stares back at her in the mirror shows her feminine qualities that chain her down to her harsh reality.

Most women succumb to this fate. Many of them also continue this tradition with their own daughters. Suffocating them as they have been suffocated. A few women, however, attempt to break these barriers. They are then given the label of "feminist". This word has several connotations to different people.

There are some women at my university who are given this label. They all have something in common in their appearance. They have very short hair. Some ignorant people might think that this is done because these women wish to look like men. This is not true.

These women merely wish to strip some of the feminine qualities that served as a tool of oppression in earlier years.

When a female rebels in arab society, and by rebel I mean stay out a bit late at night, she is accused of wanting to be like a "guy". This sociological literary label serves a single purpose - to associate personal freedom with being male.

The subtle derragatory linguistics of arab society alone requires books and books of explanation.

I'm tired. I started writing this with a feeling of indignation at how females in the arab world are still to this day required to settle and compromise... continuously.

I end this with a feeling of calm because I just remembered the only constant on this earth is change.

The Gym (Part II)

So.

I've made peace with my little gym "situation". I talked to a girl there (one that I thought was extremely annoying previously) and it turned out she was really nice and was a good treadmill conversationalist. It's really hard to find a good treadmill buddy because people usually mean business when they're on their treadmill. Face straight ahead, lips pursed... basically they have "don't you dare interrupt me" written all over them. She was like me though, blah blah-ing all the way through her walking/jogging.

Another interesting event occured at the gym this evening. I was at my spinning class, pumping away, pretending that the bike I was on was actually going somewhere, when this old man comes in late and sits on the bike next to me. I dropped my water bottle and he was nice enough to pick it for me.

He gets on his bike and gets with the class.

He leaves.

Later on the drive home, my aunt asks me "Do you recognize the man who was next to you?" I replied, "Well he looked kind of familiar, why? Should I know him?"

"That was Yaser Abed Rabbo."

"Why didn't you say anything to me during the class?"

"He winked at me when he came in; he didn't want to bring attention to himself."


I always liked the way he spoke about things on tv so it was interesting to see him in person even though I didn't realize it was him till later.

Okay so that whole story was only remotely interesting. Whatever. I have a new treadmill buddy.

And They're Off!

I go to the gym frequently (read: 5 days a week)... especially during summer vacation. The gym is my happy place. I feel like every treadmill is a drug dealer. Every machine there pushes endorphins.

Recently my happy place has been invaded.

Since the gym I go to is the best one in the entire West Bank the clientele is mostly composed of rich snobs. I really don't mind the old people. They're all very nice. The young close-minded brats, however, make me mind. A lot.

Recently every single one of them seems to have joined the gym.

My happy place has now been bombarded by people who want to make small talk with you just because of what family you belong to.

I can't even have any alone time anymore.

Even in the locker room.

Needless to say i'm not going to renew my membership.

It's really sad though because their spinning class is awesome.

700 calories per workout.

Sad, sad, sad.