Saritta's head

Yay! I finally have something interesting to blog about.

2010-09-30T21:26:00.003+03:00

So now that my class teaching days are over, I no longer have to struggle with division, conjections and ill-bred kids. I am still a teacher, though working in my field of expertise. ART!

The Art Department in our school is just SUPER. The kids learn how to use all things crafty, messy, artsy and unique. We do anything art related. Oil paint, sculpting, sewing, crafting, candle making..anything that pops in our head really! The best part is the giant storage that has everything needed for any art project. Old soda cans, toilet tubes, pastel colors, newspapers, paint, wood boards, fabrics, buttons, foam, cardboard, crystal beads, gold paper, dry food, magazine cut outs, millions of brushes, a hundred types of glue, and a giant Iron Man made out of aluminum foil and silver paper tubes that was used for the Wizard of Oz play.

Art heaven really, just walking into that store house was enough to inspire me for months to come, and I thought inspiration was long gone!

We are currently working on this project:

http://alphamom.com/family-fun/holidays/snow-globe-soap/

I'm so excited.

End.

Photos from the Chinese Cultural Center

2010-06-18T15:14:00.002+03:00

My reset buttons save me from misery.

2010-03-11T22:38:00.003+02:00

If I'm having a horrific day. If I'm feeling down... these things have been serving as my reset buttons for a long time now. It's amazing what simple things in life can do to your mood.

The Bubble Bath:

The hot water relaxes my muscles and the fragrant soap refreshes my senses. I feel rejuvenated after one of those. I wrap myself in my giant, fluffy, warm towel and treat myself to a pedicure. The results give me instant happiness.

The Nap:

Not always applicable, but when I do manage to fall into one of those deep slumbers I wake up feeling happy again. It's not just because my body has rested, it is also because most likely I would've had a lucid dream where I've been lying on the beach, sunbathing, lemonade in hand. Pure bliss.

The Shay Belaban (Tea with a spot of milk):

Just a spot of milk mind you. Too much milk ruins it for me. My sister brought home amazing Yemeni black tea that hits the spot. Of course I pour it into my favorite mug, two thirds tea, and a third of milk. A tea spoon of sugar. A bonus would be to have it with a grilled cheese sandwich. This drink is a remedy for my soul. Once the scent reaches my nose, memories of a happy childhood flash in front of my eyes. Life's complications become simple again.

I've been having a rough day, it was shay belaban that did it for me this time.

My friends make me happy.

2010-01-08T20:14:00.002+02:00

Dee is the glue. She sticks the rest of us together. She's the only cool mommy I've ever met. I didn't know she was a mommy right away, that's how cool she is. She loves food. Like me. She loves dining out. I can tell her everything and she won't judge me. She understands my humor. She backs me up when I'm having a rough day.

I love her.

Nur is the fashionista. She knows all the hot places to shop. Her sense of style is perfect. She knows what goes with what. She'll tell you what to wear. She has a huge wardrobe, and she'll let you pick anything out of it to borrow, except her grey scarf, she doesn't give that to anyone. She loves stilettos. Like me. We wear the same size. She laughs at my jokes. She listens to me, and I listen to her.

I love her.

Lula is the intellectual one. She always has something interesting to tell. She doesn't say I don't know, because, she knows everything. She'll talk to you about politics, religion, art, science, music, food, religion, travel..whatever you feel like talking about. She doesn't gossip. Like me.

I love her.

Rere is the good girl. She's the voice of your conscious. She'll know how to bring you back when you're lost, and she doesn't even know she's doing it. She reminds me of the good days, when we were young and carefree. She was the reason I learned Tajweed and prayed all prayers regularly. She likes to go for walks. Like me. It's okay to cry in front of her, cause she won't make you feel bad, instead she'll cry with you.

I love her.

Myself

2009-12-05T16:43:00.005+02:00

I come to this space when I have no one to talk to. Or no one to understand what I'm trying to say. Or when I just don't want to try and exert an effort in trying to make another person understand me.

I find myself talking to Myself. Myself understands me better than any other soul in this world. Myself knows my worries and my problems. Myself listens to me when I need to talk. Myself is always there for me. Myself is never too busy to answer my calls, or too tired to talk. Myself tells me what I need to hear. With Myself, I don't even have to speak the words for it to understand. I find myself doing a lot of things with Myself. We have tea together on the balcony, or play an online game. We have a lot in common. We like to read the same books. Watch the same movies. Wear the same clothes. The same jokes make us both laugh. The same situations also makes us both cry. We both like to dance.

So... the problem?

It gets boring after a while.

Children inspire me.

2009-11-11T21:10:00.006+02:00

During break duty, I take my place on a bench. Arms folded. Sunglasses on. Looking strict and stern. The role that I have to play. Twice a week. I have to be the meanie. The one who imposes the rules. The one that punishes those who wouldn't follow them. Running children would slow down if they felt my obscured eyes following them. Trash would immediately go into the bin. Older kids would stop bullying the younger ones.
Yes. I had power. I had the power to control. I decided the fates of many. I could humor or humiliate. Praise or punish. The truth was, the children knew little of what was truly going inside my head. All they saw was a teacher. Sitting on the bench. Putting limitations on their every move. Forcing them to behave in a way that the adult world would accept. Teaching them how to follow the adult's world rules. How to understand their language. Stopping them from excess play, and excess noise, and excess chocolate.
What I saw in them were liberated souls. Running on infinite energy. Affected by the smallest of things. A tiny sticker shaped like a star would boost their esteem so that they felt like they conquered the whole world. A grasshopper would make them squeal in delight. Permission to let them help you with something made them feel like they were worthy. If you ask them to rub the board for you it would make their day. If you ask them to carry your books they would fight over who gets to carry the bigger pile. Red markings on their homework sheets determined their fates; A series of neat ticks on their sheets made them beam with delight. One tiny X, and their world would crumble.
The most amazing thing, is the fact that no matter how much you punish them, or yell at them, or enforce your rules on them, they still love you unconditionally. If they see you walking on the other side of the playground, they squeal your name, and come scrambling towards you. When they reach you they would fight over parts of you to hug. Three would wrap their arms around your waist, two others would hug an arm each, and a tiny one would grab a leg. There would be a lot of pushing and giggling. One kid might get hurt in the progress. When he starts crying, the girl who bumped him would apologize. Instantly they would go back to being buddies again, and they would start laughing again before his tears had a chance to dry up and were still resting on his cheeks.
They squeeze you making it difficult to move. They forgot that a lesson ago you let them stay in for P.E. They forgive you and hug you and carry your things for you. They write little "I love you" notes on bits of paper that they tore from their classwork notebooks.
These children, for some reason unknown, look up to me. I wish I could tell them that it is I who look up to them, but instead, I have to sit on my bench, with my stern face, making sure they follow the rules.

When I want to blog, I can't

2009-10-20T20:41:00.003+02:00

The past couple weeks have been hectic. And I got a gazillion ideas for new posts during that time. I never was able to blog about what I wanted to blog about. Instead, I'm blogging about this:

The fact that when my life starts getting interesting, I don't have time to blog about it. When my life was boring, I had all the time in the world to blog, but I didn't know what to blog about. I don't even know why people blog, or why I started blogging in the first place.

Right now I want to blog but I'm just to tired to arrange my thoughts in meaningful sentences. I'm just going to type randomly. Unorganized and messy.

I like my new friends at work. They make me laugh. I am not on good terms with my mother and that is making me sad. I am going on a very interesting trip. The trip is about self discovery. I didn't come back yet but I'm enjoying every minute. I am listening to the song "You fill up my senses" as I type this. A fly flew into my shay belaban cup and died in there just now and I'm so glad it died because it was buzzing around me for the past half our. Flies make me angry. I am proud of myself because I had a problem and I was freaking out about it, but then I got my act together and actually got it solved (for the time being). I've been neglecting a few of my friends and I need to make it up for them. My best friend is seeing a guy that she calls "el taweel" because he's very tall... obviously...I think that's funny. I love my new crazy busy life but I'm missing myself when I had time to chill. I have a bunch of books that I wanna read and a bunch of movies that I wanna watch and a bunch of things that I wanna buy.

I actually took the car out alone a couple days ago.

I had to write that in a sentence on it's own because I'm so proud of me doing that. You know what, that fly that just died in my cup just got up again and started buzzing. Man, I hate flies. I'm very scared of failing. I'm also very scared of losing it. But I have an amazing person to back me up and I love what's going on with my life just now. I'm loving the roller coasters and the fatigue and the laughter and the tears and the entertainment and the midnight snacks. I think I'm sixteen again. The year 2009 was different. The year 2008 was sad. The year 2007 was lonely. The year 2006 was not me. They year 2005 was all about fear. The year 2004 was when I graduated, and the year 1982 was when I was born. The year 2010 is coming soon and I'm not going to worry about it. Because all the previous years happened and I'm still here. I'm still alive and I still know that I'm going to be okay.

Don't ask for explanations because I won't be providing them. Just read this and feel what your heart wants you to feel.

I wish I had my Sketchpad

2009-10-08T21:29:00.004+02:00

People never cease to fascinate me. Observing them has always been a hobby of mine. I remember, I'd sit on the college stairs with my friend, and just observe every person that goes by. We'd check out the way they talk, walk, dress and act. We'd do that for hours.

We were sometimes assigned certain projects at college. One of them would be to go sit at a local crowded cafe, and take a hundred sketches of different people. Of course a sketch should take no longer than a minute, because if you take longer than that to draw an unsuspecting person, your subject tends to change position before you have a chance to finish your sketch. The result would be a series of incomplete scribbles in the shapes of random human figures. But the good side of it is this: it teaches you to be more observant. It teaches you how to grasp the one thing that makes a person special. The sketches would be very brief, yes. But they would also be very striking. The personality of the subject would just jump out of the page at you. It could be the way they tied their scarf around their neck. Or the way the stood for less than a minute, you catching that moment so quickly on paper. It could be a sketch of a person bending over to tie their shoes, or that of a mother holding a little kid's hand while they wait to cross the street. Sometimes what makes a person special is the shape of their glasses. Sometimes its the enormously high pony tail swinging behind a girl's head.

If you're lucky however, you would manage to find a subject that rarely moved. It could be that of a person reading a book, or an old man that would just be sitting on a bus stop for hours, or a tired little girl who fell asleep in her chair at a restaurant. When you get lucky, your sketches are no longer just a moment caught on paper. You have more time to fill in more details. It turns into a painting. However, If you get that chance, you should always be prepared. An artist should always be ready, because these moments happen once in a lifetime.

I've been sitting at a coffee place for hours now. There were a lot of moments to catch, but I didn't have my sketchpad.

Teachers are mean.

2009-10-04T15:26:00.006+02:00

Today was my first "official" school day. I had different plans for that day, but apparently, with these things, you can never be sure. My day started out bad when the bus driver forgot to pick me up and I had to show up forty-five minutes late for class. I texted my supervisor to find me a substitute because I couldn't make it.

My problem did not end here, in fact, this was the beginning of a very eventful day. I tried to brush the bus incident off and forced my face to smile. Eventually, I got sucked into work and forgot about it all.

Break duty was assigned to me on Sundays. "Beside the Glass Door" was the location. I asked my teacher friends what I was supposed to do, and they told me not to let anyone come back in, once they go out, until the bell rings. So, thinking that this would be easy. I headed for the glass door.

Standing guard, no one was allowed to pass by me. I kept a straight face. Tried to look scary.

Random children started running up to me.

"Miss, I forgot my sandwich, can I go get it?"

"Nope, Sorry"

"Please, miss" (Puppy eyes)

"No."

That was the most heartbreaking thing I had to do today, imagine a cute six year old girl in pigtails and huge brown eyes. Yes, torture.

Other kids came over:

"Miss, can I go put this in my bag?"

"Miss, I forgot my money, can I go get it?"

"Miss, can I go to the nurse, my tummy hurts"

It was becoming more and more difficult not letting the kids through, I looked at the watch, ten more minutes of torture to go.

"Miss, can you please open this for me" (Fruit juice can)

"Yes"

(Thank god, something I actually was allowed to do).

Once tiny girl actually managed to quickly maneuver her way back inside. I ran after her, grabbed her by the arm and got her back outside. As much as I feel sorry for them, I hate it when they think they can make a fool out of me.

I was beginning to consider letting some of the younger kids through. They looked like they desperately needed to use the rest room. I questioned the school rules. What's the point of break time if you can't use the rest room? One girl came to me with her legs tightly squeezed together and asked to go to the restroom. The bell that announces the end of break time rang, and I was spared the answer.

A few minutes later I had a class to go to, I grabbed my things and entered the class. It was right after the German class.

"The German Teacher"

(I'll blog about her someday, when I gather more information).

The German teacher yells, keeps a stern look on her face, is always prepared, but her class is still never in order. The last time the kids had German, there were tissues all over the floor, the trays were knocked over, and the colors were scattered everywhere.

So this was the condition my class was in. I decided to go back to the "Classroom Rules Chart" and explained it again. This time, however, I didn't do it in a fun, sweet, manner. No. I did metamorphosis, and changed into a troll. The children stared back at me in horror. But my point was through. I gave them sixty seconds to clean up the mess. The class was clean in forty. They were back at their desks, and I changed back into me again.

I began Math class, and I wanted to make learning fun for them. I explained the lesson, split them into teams, and then introduced a game. I spent so much time focused with them on playing the game, I forgot to give out classwork. There lies my first mistake.

When I left the class, I remembered I forgot to assign the homework. There lies my second mistake.

A couple hours later, I managed to mess up several other things. The bus incident started to look amusing. I started to panic. School was out and I forgot to do a lot of stuff. Sheets were missing, Copybooks, Parents started sending notes before the kids even got home. I stopped counting the mistakes.

Conclusion is this: I had a crappy day at work. But I had a fun time with the kids.

This is Going to be a Special Post.

2009-10-03T02:44:00.004+02:00

Doesn't expect to read anything out of the ordinary. I don't have to explain why this is going to be a special post. Because feeling special differs from one person to the next. What you might see as ordinary, I could see as special.

I'm having one of the greatest weeks in a very long time. I can't remember when was the last time I felt so happy. My life has finally taken a different turn. My Ramadan prayers have been answered.

I will now just thoroughly enjoy the blessing that Allah has given me. I will savor every moment. I'm going to let my emotions flood over my soul, washing it. I am the curly headed sixteen year old again.

This last week, my cheeks have become more flushed and my smiles were seen more often. I discovered a new thing about myself. The pieces of the puzzle fit together perfectly. My life made sense. I combined all the horrible experiences of my life. The result was not one giant pile of shit. No, it was a meadow with flowers, birds and lots of laughing children running around.

Conclusion is this: Bad experiences could turn you into a horrible bitter person, or turn you into a happier being. I'm glad Allah did what He did. I'm glad I'm what I am now. I'm glad that when I feel the sunshine on my skin, I actually feel ticklish. I've turned into the happier being.

My Sad Oil Painting Experience

2009-09-30T16:07:00.005+02:00

I haven't held a brush in five years. I forgot what turpentine smelt like. I forgot how we arranged colors on an artist's palette. However, I was still rather considered a "practicing" artist because my work is still somehow related to my education. I still draw occasionally and do the occasional design. I still read up on art and check out tutorials often. If I'm not painting now, that shouldn't mean that I should stop educating myself about it.

So there lies my mistake. Ever since I graduated I've been giving myself that excuse of I don't really have to paint to work on my skills, I can always just read up on art instead. Deep down I knew that something was wrong.

I'm not going to talk about what suddenly went wrong with my life, or how I suddenly realized I forgot how to paint. The longer I kept away from my canvas, the more difficult it was to get back to it. Like when you haven't talked to a friend in a very long time, when you call them up, you just don't know what to say, and it gets awkward.

I started buying fresh supplies often. I'd arrange them in a box and put them next to my canvas to give it company. Just to make up for the time I spent away.

Last time I looked, my colors had all dried up, and my canvas was still empty. That made my canvas sad, and made me sadder. I decided to just put everything out of sight so I won't have to deal with the guilt of my sad canvas's face looking up at me.

When people think of me as an artist I feel like a hypocrite, because artists paint, and I had abandoned that a long time ago. The only evidence of my past painting experiences were a few paintings hung up against the walls in our flat. That I wasn't even proud of.

So when one of my good friends took a drawing course, came over one day, and insisted that I show her how to oil paint, she really needed me to help her out and was really excited about it, I couldn't turn her down. Out came my dried up supplies, never used palette and brushes, and the white sad face of my canvas. I arranged everything for my friend and laid out some still life for her.

"yalla, paint."

"Show me how"

"At college they didn't show us how, they just told us to paint"

"I don't know how to paint, you have to show me"

At this point I felt bad for her. Her optimism and enthusiasm was too great, If I couldn't help myself with this, I should at least help her. So I grabbed a medium sized brush, dipped it in turpentine and started painting. We took turns painting. Neither of us had fun really. She was too scared, and I was too sorry for myself. I forgot how it was done.

So the result of my sad oil painting experience was this painting that you see. Ugly colors and incomplete objects. But at least my canvas isn't sad anymore.

My Sister Went to Dubai Carrying Six Kilos of Kahk..

2009-09-26T23:10:00.005+02:00

....and came back carrying six boxes of Krispy Kremes.

She was gone to visit my newly married sister. We couldn't let her spent Eid all by herself in a different country... So off my younger sister went.

The Krispy Kremes where great. I wolfed down three pieces in less than fifteen minutes. Now I feel icky and bloated. In my defense, I really wanted to try them all and decide on a favorite. My mom just gave me a look and shook her head when I told her what I wanted to do. She took the boxes away and hid them.

So, because Dubai is the city of shopping, my sis came back with a bunch of really good things to wear. Out of all the things she got me, my favorite was a long flowy top that has mushroom houses, leprechauns and other creatures printed all over. I'm going to be wearing it tomorrow on my first day at work (After Eid vacation).

I've been reciting too many nursery rhymes in my head, I don't know if its because of the mushroom top. This I am thinking of now:

To bed, to bed
Says Sleepy Head
Lets stay a while, says Slow
Put on the pan, Says Greedy Nan,
Let's sup before we go.

The Sun Has Come Out.

2009-09-25T02:47:00.004+02:00

Thank God I have gotten out of my dark gloomy state. I wish I knew what causes it. Must be a bunch of little things all bundled up together. Add hormones. There, you've got it.

When I'm in one of those depressed states it feels like the end of the world for me, but then one morning I wake up and I don't feel so bad anymore. I look at the sun and it still shines. Imagine waking up one day to a morning with no sun.

So yes, I am addicted to sunshine. It does affect my mood greatly. I've read somewhere about endorphins being released with sun exposure. I think that's kinda true. I love most when I shower and instead of towel drying my hair, I go out in the balcony and let the sun do it for me. Takes some of the pressure off.

Work starts next sunday, I wish I'd done more on my staycation.

Watch out! Mood Swing!

2009-09-19T03:22:00.002+02:00

If I had a special power I would want to be invisible. Then see what people would do when they realize I no longer exist.

I wish my mood swings could be treated.

I took a personality quiz that was so accurate I freaked..

2009-09-17T23:12:00.001+02:00

...below are my results:

Assertiveness (Low)

As someone low in assertiveness, you feel uncomfortable speaking out in front of others and taking charge. You tend not to talk much and let others control the activities of groups. You are also very friendly, considerate, generous and willing to compromise. For these reasons, you probably would not feel very comfortable in a leadership position. Compared to most people, you are reluctant to disagree with others. Indeed, you tend to find difficulty in disagreeing with others and are therefore inclined to deny your needs in order to get along with others.

You avoid disagreements and conflicts, in part, because you are trusting and considerate of other people's feelings. Although you want to succeed, being "the best" is not something that is supremely important to you. Thus, you feel comfortable cooperating with others even if it means not being recognized for your true abilities.

Being low in assertiveness has advantages and disadvantages. On one hand, assertiveness is very useful in situations that require tough decisions and where disagreement exists. Thus, in conflict situations you may find that others take advantage of you because you don't stand-up for yourself. On the other hand, being assertive all of the time can lead one to be perceived as aggressive. In contrast, people low in assertiveness are generally perceived as friendly and likable.

How does your level of Assertiveness pertain to your relationships?

Given your level of assertiveness, you probably find it easy to get along with most people. You tend to be agreeably considerate of others, and others like you because of it. In the short run, this may be fine in your relationships because you will likely be able to adjust your wants and needs readily. However, should you find yourself in a relationship with someone much more assertive that yourself, you may feel as though your partner does not take your concerns into consideration often enough. Therefore, you may be most comfortable in a long-term relationship with a person who is also low in assertiveness.

Self-Discipline (High)

The self-discipline personality dimension captures the way in which a person regulates and directs his or her thoughts and behaviors. As someone who is high in self-discipline, you are able to persist at difficult or unpleasant tasks until they are completed. Indeed, you are able to overcome most obstacles that may stand in the way of you completing tasks and you're able to remain focused as you follow through with your plans.

Being high in self-discipline can be both good and bad. Occasionally people may be compelled to follow their intuitions and give in to their temptations, and your degree of self-discipline makes this unlikely to happen. This can be especially good in circumstances where focus and control are very important. However, on certain occasions being able to let loose and give in to one's temptations can be fun and even healthy (as long as it's in moderation).

As someone who exerts a fair amount of control over your actions, you have the potential to stress yourself out too often. For example, you may be inclined to take more responsibility on projects, which isn't always necessary. This may be because you have a tendency to take control of situations, and this can create unwanted additional stress. Nevertheless, it's likely that your high degree of self-discipline will enable you to go very far in your career.

How does your level of Self-Discipline pertain to your relationships?

Given your level of self-discipline, you may find it difficult to get along well with everybody. Although you may very well like most people, you may perceive people who don't share your work ethic as lazy and unmotivated. For this reason, you would probably be most satisfied in a romantic relationship with a person who is also very self-disciplined. Being in a relationship with someone who isn't may be fun at first, but it's likely that you both will become somewhat irritated with each other over time. Indeed, it may turn out that your tendency to work long hours will create some stress in the relationship. Thus, it might be easiest and most satisfying for you to develop a long-lasting relationship with a person who is similar to you in this respect.

Sociability (High)

As someone who is sociable you enjoy the company of others, are friendly to most people, and feel comfortable meeting new people. Compared to other people, you would much rather spend time working and relaxing with others than alone. Indeed, you probably find your social relationships very stimulating and value them very much. This emphasis on relationships paired with your tendency to genuinely like other people allows you to express your feelings towards others quite easily.

Being high in sociability is generally associated with the tendency to experience a wide variety of positive emotions, including optimism, enthusiasm, and general happiness. This is not to say that you never have bad days, but that you probably experience more good days than bad ones.

You probably make friends easily, and spend a fair amount of time with them. Perhaps it's your enthusiasm and ability to express your feelings that makes others feel comfortable coming to you for advice.

How does your level of Sociability pertain to your relationships?

Given your degree of sociability, you probably get along well with most people you meet. Thus, you're probably very fun on dates because your social skills make your partner feel comfortable. Being in a relationship with a person who is as sociable as you are should be very pleasant because you'll both enjoy activities that involve others. However, should you find yourself in a relationship with a person who does not enjoy being with others as much as you do, then this may make it difficult for you both to agree on how to spend your time. Yet, with your ability to express yourself, you should be able to tell your partner how you feel so that you're able to comprise.

Self-Confidence (Low)

As someone with low self-confidence, you tend to question your abilities and competence, and to feel uncomfortable with yourself. Compared to others, you tend to take a less positive view of yourself, occasionally feel depressed, and find it difficult to make decisions. A tendency to question yourself and to regret things you've done or said can make it difficult for you to feel completely satisfied with yourself.

Feelings of self-confidence are linked to the ways in which people interpret the events that take place in their lives. Although you have several strengths, you have a tendency to focus on your weaknesses and to be overly critical of yourself. This style of thinking can make it difficult for you to overcome your perceived weaknesses. However, it's extremely likely that you possess more strengths than you give yourself credit for and that your "weaknesses" are not nearly as bad as you may be inclined to think. In many instances, reframing a situation can help you recognize that the things you regard as weaknesses are actually strengths.

How does your level of Self-Confidence pertain to your relationships?

Because you are inclined to question and doubt yourself, you may find it hard at times to connect with others, especially those that you're meeting for the first time. Indeed, it's self-confidence that allows people to feel comfortable interacting with others without feeling insecure and vulnerable. Thus, in your romantic life, you may occasionally find it difficult to trust others because it may be unclear whether your relationship partners always take your wants and needs into consideration. This may prove especially difficult early in a relationship until you have a firm idea about whether a romantic interest is trustworthy or not. It might therefore take longer for you to develop a good sense of whether a person you are attracted to is the right person for you. Perhaps the one thing you should be most cautious of is whether your romantic partners are not taking advantage of you.

Imagination (High)

As someone who is very imaginative, you have a strong appreciation for beauty, both in art and nature. Indeed, it's likely that you appreciate art, culture, science, and technology. One defining feature of the imagination dimension is the tendency to think about abstract concepts and ideas. This style of thinking may take the form of artistic and metaphorical use of language, and/or music composition or performance. Being high in imagination does not necessarily mean that you are or would like to be an artist or scientist. It just means that you derive a certain degree of intellectual satisfaction from abstract thinking. Thus, it's likely that, either in your work or spare time, you enjoy activities that involve creative thinking.

Your tendency to be open-minded can have advantages and disadvantages. For instance, when there are no clear rules about how to approach a particular problem, your level of imaginativeness may make it easier for you to identify new ways to solve problems that may not be very obvious to people that are not as creative as yourself. In contrast, you may be bored easily in situations that lack high amounts of intellectual stimulation. In such cases, you may have difficulty excelling on projects that do not provide much stimulation or require much creative thinking.

How does your level of Imagination pertain to your relationships?

Your high level of imaginativeness probably makes it easy for you to respect and appreciate people that are different from you. However, when it comes to romantic relationships, your openness may make it difficult for you to tolerate people that cannot appreciate diversity as much as you. Therefore, you may be happiest in serious relationships with people that are as imaginative as yourself.

It's the Last Week, and I'm Going to Miss You.

2009-09-15T02:14:00.005+02:00

Yes, fasting is tiring. Yes, my mornings and nights are all messed up. Yes, I don't get enough sleep. Yes, I'm tired of cooking and the fact that my life revolves around the moment of iftar. I'm tired of the Egyptian soaps and sitcoms (although thank Allah I managed to avoid them, but they still manage to find me when I'm flipping through Jezira Documentary and Space Toon). I'm tired of my stomach growling before iftar, and being severely bloated after iftar (Even if I eat little, I still feel bloated). I miss my morning caffeine dose that I can't have at night, unless I'm asking for a bed bug battle. I'm tired of the crazy sugar cravings I get after iftar. I'm tired of stuffing my face during the night because I know that during the day I'm not gonna have any. I'm tired of feeling super dehydrated and thirsty when it's only 12 o'clock.

But I'm not tired of Ramadan. I love the fact that my Satan is all chained up while I enjoy my life with him not being in it. That, is worth everything. I love the peace and serenity that surround people. The fact that Subhan Allah, the moon phases are so vivid, like a counter, telling us that Ramadan is going to be over very soon. I love the warmth of family. I love the union, of so many people fasting, and so many people breaking their fast at the same second. I love the joy I feel when I put the first morsel of food in my mouth, and the do'aa I murmur doing so that I know for sure will be granted. I love that my Satan doesn't come to me when I pray. He doesn't whisper anything in my ear that pisses me off or gets me to do something I don't wanna do. I love the fact that our house is always full of zikr and Quran recitations. I love the fact that poor people enjoy generous helpings of food during this month, and so when I eat, I don't worry about others not having this blessing.

In a few days, it will all be over, and I will have to wait for a whole year for it to happen again. Satan will be back, with his pride, hate, envy and every other wretched quality that horrible creature has. I'm going to fight him at first, but as usual, he is more patient, and will eventually get the best of me.

Then Ramadan will come back, and I'll be okay again.

I love my Hijab.

2009-09-09T23:50:00.003+02:00

I know it makes me feel very sweaty in the summer. I know I just sometimes wish I could just put on a tee and jeans and run out the door. I know that it makes me look unattractive. I know that I hated it before. I know it makes me look older than what I really am. I know that it stops me from playing sports in comfortable wear. I know it prevents me from taking dips in the pool. I know that a hijabi wardrobe costs more than a regular wardrobe. I know that I can never really be my real self with hijab on. I know that hijab makes me look fat. I know that I'll never feel the air blowing through my hair ever again. I know that I can never wear my dream wedding dress. I know that I know that I lost a lot of "friends" when I put it on. I know that people judge me because I wear hijab. I know that I always wanted to be a hot mommy with a funky hair cut one day.

I also know that a lot of girls envy me for wearing hijab.

After nine years of wearing it. Today I finally admit it. I love my hijab.

My First Lonely Ramadan

2009-08-29T15:34:00.006+02:00

Having three sisters and a brother was always a challenge. A big household is always loud, entertaining and just plain crazy. Privacy was not allowed because basically the 175 meter flat you shared could not afford such luxuries. You never got to lie down on the living room couch, instead you had to sit upright and scootch to make room for other family members. Most of the time you were forced to watch on TV what the majority were watching. Your food choices were also decided by the majority. You often had to listen to five opinions at the same time if you wanted to share something.

I had gotten very accustomed to our loud, crowded home. I often hated it too. I sometimes just couldn't take any of the commotion, the TV on full blast, someone knocking on the bathroom urging you to speed up the process because they have to go too, the phone line that you never got to use because someone was always using it, your shared clothes, the huge amounts of chicken that you had to marinate, batter and fry to feed the entire household.

Living in a house with a lot of people is never easy, but living in a big house with just a few persons isn't easier. I just discovered that.

So two years ago we moved into a bigger flat. A much bigger one. The spacing inside the house was generous. Peace and quiet were words that people used to describe our house when they came to visit. The bathrooms were plenty. But in those two years, two of my siblings moved out to live with The Dad, one other got married. There was only one sister left, and ofcourse the mother. The transformation wasn't gradual. It was sudden. And I'm hating it.

I've started hating it most ever since Ramadan got here. Our Ramadans were different. We spent them stuffing Atayef together. A lot of girls in the kitchen, all together. Gathered around the table, chattering and stuffing a lot of atayef that we kept in the freezer all through ramadan, and fried in batches as needed. We watched the Yehia Fakharani soaps together, and displayed similar acts of emotion doing so. Watching the last episode together, and crying over the sad ending. Prayers was always done in jama'ah, you never worried about not having someone left to pray jama'ah with. Suhur was interesting, where one member of the family would go around with a giant jug of water, by all the beds, waking everyone up to have a drink, because naturally we would be unable to get up to have a proper suhur having to go to school and college and work the next day. We would take turns, on who would become the Sa'iya for the night.

This Ramadan is just very lonely. We don't really cook because there's no one really around to eat the food.

A pack of spaghetti lasts for three days. The house is always quiet. The beds have no one in them to wake up and give a drink of water to.

Fitting In.

2009-08-26T22:36:00.003+02:00

Four days have passed since the start of my new job and tomorrow will be the end of the first week. So far I have conquered five out of the six other teachers that hang around in my staff room...

This has been done very simply. The idea is to be totally alert and focused. Keeping the sarcastic humor to a minimum, setting your smiling abilities to the maximum and never, ever complaining.

Lending a helpful hand in what you do best, also helps a lot. Today I helped someone type in the name tags. The day before I was helping with a cardboard display and before that I was drawing miniature stars. Doing that with a smile surely does get to them. Smiles can really be so deceptive.

So today I got an iftar invitation from one of the teachers. I was very flattered. This means my plan is working.

I don't think I'll be able to conquer the sixth teacher though. She seems to be living in a world of her own, keeping distance. So I'll just be happy with the five new friends I made... for now.

Starting next week. I'll be working on conquering the bus.

My Second Day at Work and How Lemonade Saved Me.

2009-08-24T18:06:00.004+02:00

I didn't really want to talk about my new job but since I might be wanting to blog about things happening at work often, I decided to come clean and just tell you about it. I started work at a school. Grade two class teacher. Today was my second day at work.

Yesterday was my first day. Umm, duh.

So anyway, because the school is pretty close to where I live, and because my freelancing jobs have pretty much disappeared for a few months now, and because they'll be providing transportation, I decided to go back to the dreaded. And work as a teacher. At a school. Again.

Not that I hate teaching. Nope. I love teaching. It's teaching at a school that I hate. Because I've hated school ever since Kindergarden when I was left alone on the first day. Wearing my sorry pink uniform and crying like I'd lost my mom for good. I've hated school because of the girl with red lips who constantly rolled her eyes at me. I've hated school because of having to get up early and wearing itchy scratchy stockings. I hated it when I needed to raise my hand and ask for permission to go pee, in front of the whole class. I hated maths lessons and the fact that art lessons seemed to last only three minutes. I hated the kids that bullied me and the evil teacher that made me stand up in my chair and wear a hat that spelled "Dunce" when I lost my Science Homework. I hated the "A" students, the goodie goodies, that always managed to get me in trouble with the teachers. I hated the rules.

Yep school wasn't a good time for me.

So naturally I would feel intimidated starting work at a school and having a trip down memory lane. I decided that I would try a different approach this time, and actually try and be a goodie-two-shoes myself. Just to find out what the fuss is about. Like following the rules, getting great appraisals ... and the like.

So because I spent my first day just observing others and trying to learn what to do. I decided that the second day I should go ahead and try and get something done. Naturally, I decided to just do what I do best to try and make an impression. That would be art. So being a classroom teacher for primary two yellow, I was supposed to create a yellow theme to decorate the class. Most importantly, the classroom door. So thinking "yellow", I immediately thought "lemons" and thinking lemons I immediately thought "Lemonade."

And that my friends, is how I came up with the idea of the giant lemonade pitcher with the sliced floating lemons inside that carried the student's names.

Using white, red, green and a lot of yellow Canson paper sheets.. After a lot of snipping and tracing, my masterpiece was complete. Gained so much popularity in so little time, teachers from other staff rooms came to have a look and my giant paper lemonade pitcher with the floating lemons. I had succeeded in bedazzling them all, for now.

I figured that if I keep up my artsy spirit, they would be too blinded to see the truth about me.

More mistakes?

2009-08-21T23:50:00.003+02:00

So now that a lot of people know about my blog I'm beginning to regret telling people about it. The thing is I cannot get too personal even if I wanted to. I have often had thoughts and events that I wanted to blog about but couldn't because I was just too worried a specific person would read and then they'd know something that I didn't want them to know. Now its gotten pretty annoying because sometimes I just want to bitch about someone or something or I want to be angry or happy or maybe I just want to talk about something that would be considered a taboo. Or maybe I should just go back to writing in my journal. But even that is risky because its very possible that I might die someday before I have the chance to burn it and then someone would snatch it and read and read and read about all my deep dark secrets. I'm not feeling very functional today. My brain is whizzed and I think I should get to bed. Whizzed? Why the hell have I even using this word???

Maybe I'll start a new anonymous blog that I won't tell anyone about. Then I can seriously write whatever I want to talk about and no one will know its me. Being anonymous does indeed piss a lot of people off. We always want to find out about things we cannot find out about.

I've been feeling Satan buzzing around me for the past week urging me sin. I'm sure he wants to get me to pile up on the sins before he gets chained up during Ramadan, then he can pick where he left off when he's free again. I hate you ..my Satan...wherever you are........... YOU SUCK!! My Satan did indeed succeed in making me sin several times and I hate him for that and I hate myself for letting him get to me.

I'm so happy Ramadan is happening tomorrow. Life is good when you have a chance to wash away some of the darkness that has been obscuring the heart.

I really want to be a good Muslim.

Ummah Films

2009-08-20T20:21:00.005+03:00

I was introduced to these by a very close friend of mine. Very unique and entertaining da'wa by Baba Ali. Mashallah may Allah bless him. Click on the title to see his videos.

The Egyptian Driving Exam

2009-08-17T01:32:00.004+03:00

Most Egyptians take the easy way out to get a driver's license in Cairo. They either find a family friend with authority who gets it for them, or give the 3askari who hangs around the place 500LE, who also gets it for them. Those who cannot afford the 500LE or do not have a family member with authority are forced to take the Exam.

I do not have a family member with authority and would rather spend 500LE on shoes, so I decided to do it the hard way and actually take the exam. Most people advised against it. The chances of passing are usually very low. But if I had taken the easy way out, how would I know I passed if I never really took the exam? Confusing? Maybe.... if you're Egyptian you shouldn't find this too difficult to process.

So sitting in the car with shaky knees, I tried to urge other drivers to get ahead of me in line. Until one guy yelled at me, "What are you getting away from! You'll eventually have to take the exam!" ....Good point.

How I managed to get my shaky legs to work the car and get into the examination point, I don't know. All I knew was that I had this strange faith in God that was overwhelming me. I knew I couldn't really do it. I knew that I was a crappy driver. I knew that I was a bundle of nerves. I knew that I was going to fail, but I also knew that I didn't really know anything. That God knew all, and that God was going to make me pass this thing. Right?

So driving through the reclining S-shaped track, marked by bright orange cones... I kept my foot on the brakes to keep the car from going too fast, and during the inclining S-shaped track,also marked by bright orange cones... I kept my foot on the gas to keep my car from reversing. We drove in a very long line. Stopping and moving. Often, a driver who knocks over a cone, gets yelled at and shooed out of the exam area, while the others watch in horror and wonder if they are next. I kept my eyes focused on the cones. They do paint them orange for a reason.

So, came my turn, the dreaded car reversing test.

Reversing in a U-shape? Is that even possible? At this point I was already convinced that I knocked over three cones, even though no one came to yell at me and shoo me out, even though none of the cones were knocked over. I still pretended that it wasn't me who knocked them over. What kind I say? Bundle of nerves indeed.

As I was driving into the U-shape, I got closer to the entrance, or rather, the exit. The exit from this horrible place that made my heart beat so quickly and my knees so wobbly. Suddenly someone with authority was yelling at a bunch of people who had gathered around the exit. Watching their loved ones during the exam. Cheering. Motioning signals. Yelling. Cheering some more. Egyptians can be so cute.

The guy shooed them all out, they had gotten on his nerves, obviously. He wanted to keep it scary, and solemn. He closed the giant iron door that separated us from the outside world. Barked some more orders. Then came up to me and barked "Reverse the car!!!!"

YESSSS SIRRRR!!

So my jelly legs reversed the car and got out of the place as fast as I could. I didn't even try and look back at the flash of orange that I left dancing. I got out of the iron door. I wanted to get away from the yelling man and the hideous orange cones that decided my fate. I'm sure they paint them orange for a reason.

When I got out of the car, I was told to go gather my papers. And believe it or not, I passed with flying colors.

You Know You Haven't Gone Out in a Long Time When..

2009-08-14T22:39:00.004+03:00

- The last movie you saw at the cinema plays on MBC 2.
- The shisha menu shows new flavors such as Cola and Bubble Gum. When you comment everyone at the table looks at you and says, "They've been there for a while!"
-You actually look forward to a trip to the supermarket.
-You have lots of clothes that you love but never really get to wear.
-Your shoes are always spotless.
-You find yourself wanting to dress up when your friends tell you to meet for coffee. Stilettos and a sparkle top.
-You start being the cat's favorite person in the house.
-Your salary hangs around for a very long time.

Paprika, the Japanese Anime!

2009-08-03T20:01:00.004+03:00

If you are a Japanese Anime and dreaming fan. If you loved Spirited Away. If you hate reality and would rather live in your dream world. You'll defiantly love this. The whole movie was just mesmerizing. I loved the colors, details, characters, twists and turns. This movie about dreaming has satisfied my twisted passions. Of course if you are the kind of person who yawns when someone starts telling you their dreams, don't bother watching it. Will probably leave you feeling very confused. I ,however, have loved every second.

And oh yes, the movie is not suitable for children;)

Three things happened today that made me very happy

2009-08-02T05:04:00.002+03:00

I'm not going to tell what they are. I'm just going to be happy about them happening at the right time.

Alhamdoelah.

Childhood friendships

2009-07-31T01:31:00.003+03:00

Everyone stresses on how wonderful it is to have friends you've known since you were kids. Not friends that were just there when you were kids. Nope. Friends who you grow up with. Friends who know who was your first crush. When you had your braces. What your favorite cartoon was. The first movie you ever went to. The first time you went out with a boy. They relate when you tell them about a certain teacher. Or a certain book that you were reading back then. They relate to your horrible fashion sense as a teen. And the time you had your hair cut horribly and had to wear bandanas for a whole term. They were there when your parents got divorced. Or when your grandmother died. They know your wardrobe by heart. In fact, because you've been swapping clothes for so long you can't remember what was yours and what was theirs anymore. At some point you all bought the same trainers. Or wore friendship charms that you've split between the two of you. You even made friendship bracelets for each other. They know all your family. And you know theirs. You've travelled together so many times you can't count anymore. The mommies know each other. And the daddies go fishing together. Sometimes you even go out with other members of their family, the cousins or sisters. You have so many pictures together. Heck, you even have a video that shows you right before you started plucking your eyebrows. You recorded a tape together, giggling and gossiping about, some boy, or singing a cheesy Mostafa Amar track. You have no problems hugging each other. You always have something to talk about. And when you don't, the silence isn't awkward. There are too many memories you can't remember which event happened at which summer, or which incident happened with which teacher.

Somewhere back then, I missed having that kind of friend.

I Dream...

2009-07-28T18:09:00.002+03:00

Of waking up one day to the sound of someone bringing in shay bi laban for me.

Of owning my own apartment, furnished with things I brought from all over the world.

Of painting again.

Of building a giant sand castle, decorated with sea shells, not alone, but with a lot of friends.

Of helping all the homeless children who roam the Egyptian streets.

Of having a little girl to finger paint with.

Of going on a road trip.

Of making my own clothes.

Of writing and illustrating a children's book, and getting it published.

Of inspiring someone to become a better person.

Of learning how to fight back.

Of having an English Tea Party in my back garden.

Of Belly dancing like a pro.

Any Post is Better than No Post

2009-07-26T18:38:00.002+03:00

.... So I decided to just put my fingers on my keyboard and write whatever my fingers start typing.

I'm trying to practice something my fabulous primary school English Teacher taught us to do. She called it "Free Writing." That's when you just sit and write whatever comes to your mind. She says it's good practice to encourage the flow of words, and all writers should constantly practice doing so to keep the flow going. Kind of like when you need to work out to stay in shape. You need to work out your creative writing part of your brain to keep it in shape. Makes sense?

I wish I had something to write about. So far nothing has been inspiring to me for the past fews days. I started looking for inspiration in little things. My days have been seriously boring. I don't do much. Mostly hanging around the place. Reading articles online. Observing the cats. Studying the state my skin is in, after being seriously sun burnt last weekend and having difficulty moving about and lying on my back, my skin is almost recovered. The dead, burnt skin has fallen off now, revealing beautiful brand new baby skin. I have discovered that the skin indeed is a beautiful organ. I try to massage olive oil all the time to help with the healing. If it wasn't for the entertainment I have been getting from my skin while it was peeling, I seriously wouldn't have had anything better to do.

I'm craving a double scoop of home made, vanilla ice cream with deep fried bananas and caramel sauce. Maybe some crunchy caramelized almonds on top.

Signs from Allah

2009-07-24T00:23:00.004+03:00

Marina is the center of attraction at the north coast. Egyptians from all over make sure to visit at least once a year. Preferably during the months of July and August. When the activities are at their peaks, the restaurants are crowded, the beaches are lined up with hot babes and the beer is always in stock.

I haven't visited Marina in 13 years, for reasons that I chose not to share here. I was very excited about seeing what Marina was like now. I remembered the jet ski rides, the asaleyya (honeycomb sweets) , the packed restaurants and the seemingly endless blue sea. When my sister told me we would go to Marina, I couldn't fall asleep. Just like when I was a child, waiting for Eid morning. The excitement and anticipation kept me up all night, and when it was time, I jumped out of bed, packed my bag and was ready to go in thirty minutes.

I was extremely happy. After all, I was going to Marina. I was going to see the people, hangouts, lifestyle and beaches of Marina. Marina..Marina..Marina. A term that I have heard a lot of times, never really knew what to imagine. I was so clueless I asked my sister, "What should I bring?"

Upon arrival, I was going crazy exploring with my eyes every detail, every moment, every color and every shape. One thing after another aroused my curiosity and interest. Some things inspired me. Other things made me sad.

Suddenly, I saw signs, that have been placed beside the road, signs that said:

"Remember Allah"

"You Might Meet Him Now"

"He's Always Watching"

"His Door is Always Open"

I don't know who put them there. But I knew the purpose, and I remember that at that time I really did remember Allah, and remembered that he was watching. A lot of other people however didn't. It was obvious from the empty beer cans that were strewn about, right beneath the signs.

That was the end of that moment.

The rest of the day we spent eating, dancing, swimming and laughing. We forgot to remember Him. We didn't bother doing our prayers on time, after all, we WERE traveling.

When we got home, washing up and getting ready to fall asleep, my cousin gets a call on her cell phone that tells her one of her best friends had died. Drowned. In Marina. Right in front of his friends' eyes. No one could help him. Freshly graduated. His father was coming over to Marina to collect the body.

We cried a lot. We prayed a lot. We made doaa for his soul. We also hoped that he had read those signs.

A little story

2009-07-21T05:07:00.000+03:00

A little story about a little girl who lived in a little cottage in a little village with her little mom. She had little money so she only bought little food and had little to eat. She was very little. Then one day she was walking down a little road when she came across a little loaf of bread. She dusted the little loaf with her little hands and just as she was about to take a little bite along came a little boy. The little boy was very little. So she gave him the little loaf of bread.

The little girl had a BIG heart.

A Woman's World

2009-07-19T21:50:00.004+03:00

Walking with my sister a few days ago. We were having this conversation:

Me: If there were no men in this world, we wouldn't have to wear hijab.

Her: I agree.

(Pause)

Her: How are we going to reproduce?

Me: Asexually.....like amoeba.

Her: Hahahahaha... you mean like you would suddenly start dividing into two while I'm sitting here talking to you?

Me: Yes, and I would say, excuse me... its my reproduction season.

It happened that on the same day we went to a women's only beach. A very popular one at that. The beach had girl stuff all over. Healthy, diet food options. A henna tattoo booth. A hair dresser. A cafe. And lots and lots of pink. It was a women's world.

We were one of the first to arrive. We enjoyed watching the men being shooed out of the water and out the gate. We enjoyed the girly tunes that were playing. We enjoyed the comfort of not being watched by the prying eyes of men.

Little by little, the beach began to crowd. More women and girls were arriving. All ages. All sizes. All ethnicities. All colors. All styles. There were women everywhere. Girls everywhere. Naturally when you find women, you find kids. Children were playing around us. Their laughter muddled by the sound of the waves. There were no arguments or quarrels. Everyone was comfortable with their own skin. No one was worried about men judging them or checking them out. The hijabis were able to freely wear whatever they felt like wearing. The non hijabis were comfortable feeling that there were no men around to cat call or molest them. Younger women lay around the beach tanning. Teenagers were hanging out in groups all over the place. Pregnant women looked fabulous in bikinis. The mothers had the freedom to nurse whenever their babies were hungry.

I was thinking. Life can't get any better than that. Who needs men?

Soon enough. Female conversations started reaching my ears. Talk about diet, cooking, working out, style, cosmetics, fashion, men, pregnancy and marriage was everywhere. Women loved chatting. The beach got noisier by the second.

Then there was the belly dancing competition. Every female who wanted to compete competed. Females watched. Gossiped. Laughed. Cheered. Grooved. Even made fun of men. Or pretended to be men. I was beginning to feel uneasy.

There was too much estrogen around.

Then when we had to leave, carry our heavy bags and umbrellas, I wished for some men to be around.

Hijabi Bridesmaids.

2009-07-13T21:17:00.002+03:00

We have never seen hijabi brides maids before that dressed alike... and my sister insisted that we dress alike. I tried to convince her that six hijabis dressed exactly alike walking together would look very freaky. People are already intimidated by hijabis, and too many of them looking alike would surely freak some people out. We decided that we would buy the same color fabric, and each bridesmaid would design her own dress... using the same fabric and same color. That way, we'd be alike.. but still be different :D

The result was fabulous. Not the creepy hijabis we were afraid of being. I think we are the first hijabi bridesmaids ever.

Lucid Dreams

2009-07-13T21:01:00.005+03:00

I never took it seriously until I accidentally came across a book called "The World of Lucid Dreaming." I was looking for some ebooks to download and this was one of them. The title caught my eye. I don't know where I learnt that a lucid dream is a dream where you realize that you're dreaming. I didn't know that lucid dreams were taken seriously. I didn't know that there was a book that discussed them. I downloaded it and started reading it. Was a fascinating book. I learned that there are certain things you can do to make lucid dreams happen.

Fortunately for me, I already had experience with such dreams. I have always been in touch with my creative side. The result was that I often had pretty creative dreams. Some where just so unusual they surprised me. After reading most of the book, I began to understand that a lot of things can be accomplished inside a dream.

You can meet people you always wanted to meet in your dream, celebrities, political figures, dead people.. you name it. After a lot of practice, I decided that I would use the next lucid dream as a chance to try and meet prophet Muhammed (pbuh). The result was that in the dream, he was supposedly behind a door. When I opened a door I found a man telling me "It doesn't work that way." I woke up feeling very surprised. How did the man in the dream know what I was trying to do?

Lucid dreams also work really well when you're having a nightmare. You can turn the nightmare into a dream. A few days ago I was dreaming that a bunch of monsters were running after me. No matter how much time I spent running from them they were always on my trail. I suddenly decided to check if I was dreaming. That I personally do by initiating flight. If I start flying, then I know I'm dreaming. So I did start flying and flew away from the nightmare into a more appealing place.

Choosing what you want to do with your dream is always the tricky part. I often decide to become some heroic character, or heart throb, or get romantic with any unidentified dream guy that I could come across in the "dream set." I often find myself heading to the beach in a lime green two piece, swimming, tanning and having the time of my life.

The downside however, is that I did get somewhat addicted to them for a while. Being able to live a part of life that you cannot live in reality, and being able to accomplish that so easily, always left me in a state of euphoria when I got up. I always get up feeling. "Wow, that was fun."

I'm not addicted anymore. I don't focus on having lucid dreams anymore. I do however enjoy them to the fullest when I do start having one.

They make my day.

My Satan

2009-07-11T22:15:00.004+03:00

My Satan knows me better than I know myself. Knows which buttons to push to get me doing what he wants me to do. What would seem like a perfectly innocent thing my Satan would know how to turn into a good sinful act. If my Satan decides that I'm not going to do what he's asking me to do, he would just pretend to stop waswasa when in fact he is making waswasa someplace else.

My Satan doesn't like it when I make a commitment to Allah. He insists on making me skip my Quran readings, not by telling me directly.. no. That would be too obvious. He would tell me to sit and watch some good religious program on TV, then urge me to flip during the commercials to find a movie that I like. Absentmindedly, I just sit and watch. I don't have to read Quran today. Maybe tomorrow. After all, I DID watch that religious program a few hours ago.

My Satan insists that I stay angry all the time. Insists that I haunt down every tiny unsatisfactory detail in my life and dwell upon it. My Satan likes me to stay sorry for myself. My Satan likes me to be depressed and weak.

My Satan knows my biggest fetna of all time and insists on bringing temptations my way. Fully paid vacations to exotic places that other Satans would be partying at. Not just one offer. Many offers. I am turning down yet another offer. Tomorrow I was supposed to be out with friends doing something that Satan would approve of. I turned it down. Now Satan is telling me that I have no friends and that I have to go tomorrow if I want to stay socially and emotionally healthy. Should I listen to him?

My Satan loves it when I argue with my mom. Hates it when I make her breakfast or rub her foot. He loves it when I waste my time watching endless soaps. Hates it when I listen to Quran while jogging. Once he made my mp3 player run out on battery life.

What does your Satan do?

The Egyptian Perception of Open-mindedness

2009-07-11T03:43:00.003+03:00

I have been wanting to blog about this for so long but I never managed to organize my thoughts in my head in a way that would be bloggable. But since not too many people read my blog anyway and I'm more blogging for my self than for the entertainment of others. I have decided that I would just go ahead and blog about this thing that has been urging me to blog it for a very long time.

I have recently decided not to judge a book by its cover, or a girl by the length of her skirt, or a man by the car that he drives, or a beggar by the state his shoes are in, or an angry person's outburst in the middle of the infamous Egyptian balady bread queue. I have trained myself to find excuses for all these people. Somewhat it has left me feeling at peace and happy. Forgiveness is indeed a beautiful thing.

Why is there a relation between open-mindedness and forgiveness? Maybe its because when you openly discuss something with someone. You are actually forgiving the other person for having a different opinion.

Okay I still don't know what I'm trying to blog about but I'm just trying here, so give me a break.

I have encountered several Egyptians in my life who claim open-mindedness. They call themselves "Oben" or "Feree." Yet when you try to have a nice conversation with any of them you are bombarded with uptightness. You are not allowed to express your opinion without being accused of something that offends you. I am not talking about topics that generally arouse heated discussions. Although in those topics open mindedness will allow you to better understand the other person's opinion and therefore your own opinion will reach them better.

Egyptians who claim being "oben" will dress openly, act openly and talk openly. But they will never accept what you have to say openly. This saddens me. Because being open minded doesn't just mean accepting another person's opinion. It means accepting different cultures. Accepting different colors of skin. Accepting people with handicaps. Accepting knowledge. Accepting that no one is perfect. Accepting that imperfection is beautiful. Accepting that everyone is different and that this is why the world is such a beautiful place.

I sometimes feel like I want to open my chest wide and let the whole world flood inside me. I want to be able to touch, feel, see, hear, smell everything and anything. Forgiveness is such a beautiful thing.

A very good friend of mine told me about a documentary called "Baraka". I have posted the link for the first part of the documentary. I strongly urge you to take your time to watch all of the parts. The experience is very rewarding for the soul.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dtiqrzmuWbw

Big sis is off

2009-07-05T16:10:00.002+03:00

Finally got married to the man of her dreams. After a long story of heartbreak and pain. Ten years of fighting to be together and finally they are. May Allah grant them a happy peaceful home. In the end, love does conquer all (One way or another).

This morning I woke up to find my sister wasn't in her room. She wasn't in the living room either. She wasn't arguing in the kitchen about who left the milk carton out. She wasn't talking to one of her friends loudly in the corridor. She was gone. With her clothes, bags, shoes, books, cosmetics, and little things that she always left lying around. All that's left of her is a big empty bed with nothing on it but the wedding dress she wore yesterday. Crumpled up and unnoticed, after being so carefully handled the past few weeks, after being the center of attention for so long. It's purpose was fulfilled. Has no use now.

My mother is in denial. I don't know what to feel. My younger sisters had trouble falling asleep yesterday.

The wedding. Something that she spent months planning was over in just a few hours. Is now a blur. What's left is a bunch of pictures of lots of happy people, and one beautiful very happy bride.

Yes, my sister is off.

A Special Cairo Night

2009-07-02T01:16:00.006+03:00

Imagine yourself stuck in traffic, honking cars, people yelling, beggars begging, drivers swearing, tall buildings. Imagine the crazy Cairo driving. The micro buses. The mini buses. The buses. The taxis. The Cairo cabs.

Then imagine yourself suddenly looking up. You don't know what made you look up but you do. Just in time to see a parting in the buildings. Just in time to see a shooting star. Which normally wouldn't be visible because of the city lights. A long tail of white light and before you can say " Look! A shooting star!" You see the flicker at the end of the tail and it's gone. Leaving you with that special feeling shooting stars leave in our hearts. Leaving you with a smile. Back to living your normal life. Back to the streets, lights and people.

Shooting stars always amazed me. Maybe because of the cartoons that I've watched as a kid. Rainbows, ponies and shooting stars. That little girl that travelled through space on a shooting star. The piece of star that landed on Earth and left a crater the shape of a star. The "Tintin and the shooting star" comic book. The shooting stars that our Science teacher told us about in Science class. How she took a match and let it fall to the ground... Just like a shooting star. Her name was Ms. Katrina.

In that split of a second. A lot of feelings flooded through me. I couldn't whisper out any words but "Subhan Allah". I felt special. Allah had made me look up. Allah had made me witness one of his miracles.

Lonely friendships

2009-06-30T01:13:00.004+03:00

I never was the girl who made friends easily. I was very shy when I was younger. My shyness caused me a lot of bullying back during school. For that reason I have somewhat become an introvert. I do not mingle easily. I do not expose my true feelings because I take it as a sign of weakness. Crying is weakness, sadness is weakness, anger is weakness, hunger is weakness, even being tired or sick is weakness. I always tried to be up for anything and everything because I was used to being rejected by a lot of people for being too shy and uninvolved.

You would completely disagree with me if you knew me in person. A lot of people thing that I have no problems socializing. They think I handle people well, handle social situations even better. They think I have a fun outgoing character. A lot of people think I am one of the funniest girls they know. I always have something to talk about. I know how to do very proper small talk. I know how to carry on a conversation without getting the other person yawning. I ask a lot of questions to appear interested in the person. Exactly... yep... that's my trick. I ask them a LOT of questions. To avoid being asked any in return. To avoid talking about myself. Because I don't feel comfortable talking about myself.

What does this have to do with friends? Simple. I do not find anyone that I can truly and utterly open up to. Someone who understands me without me having to explain. Someone who makes me feel okay to cry sometimes. I do not find someone I can trust. I cannot find someone I can depend on during emergencies. I cannot imagine anyone who would be there if I suddenly needed something. I have been brought up to depend on myself.

Problem is, I feel that I am lonely all the time. Even when I am surrounded by people I feel lonely. Even when they're all laughing and making me laugh. I don't laugh because I think the situation is funny. I laugh because I make myself laugh.

I decided that a life like this will become very difficult if I cannot try and blend in with society. But I do try, but I need guidance. I need someone telling me what should be done in certain situations because I am just clueless when it comes to those.

Sigh.

Today something good happened. I was chatting with a girl about hijab. She wants to take it off. I convinced her not to and she surely was convinced... she even came to me and said thanks.. you convinced me.

I think that I have a gift of listening. I can almost always relate to what a person is going through. I can easily put myself in their shoes. Hence I am able to tell them what they want to hear. I make them feel comfortable and happy.

I wish I could find someone who can make me feel comfortable and happy.

Hijabi Party was a Blast

2009-06-26T02:47:00.003+03:00

Everyone had so much fun. The food was great. The music was appealing to all tastes. The setting was fabulous. The cake shaped like lipstick got a bit smudged but tasted awesome.

It's amazing what a little music, good food and fun company does to the spirit. For some time your body floods with adrenaline. You dance like there is no tomorrow. You stuff your face then dance some more. Gossip, laugh, joke. Sometimes someone trips. Sometimes the helium balloons stick to the chandeliers and cause a horrible stench. Sometimes little kids start crying because they want to dress up too. Laughs, bee-lights, makeup, feathers, stilettos, frills, perfume, belly dancing, girls, girls, women, girls, girls, women, the bride. Tears of happiness and tears of sadness. But more fun and more dessert being served. Drinks run out but someone rushes out to bring some more. Everyone is sweaty. Everyone is dancing. Everyone is happy.

Little by little though. The crowd shrinks. Until its only just sisters and best friends left. Then the real fun starts.

Will miss you sis.

Hijabi Bachelorette

2009-06-24T22:48:00.003+03:00

Bridezilla is finally getting married in a week. So tomorrow we are throwing a major bachelorette party. To make it more interesting we have decided to make it into a costume party.

Hijabis WAIT for any chance for a girls only party. Then they get to dress up like they've always wanted, dine, dance laugh and have a normal happy time.

My sister is going as Cat-woman, I'm going to be a Cancan dancer. My other sister is going to be a cow girl. Bridezilla will go as Bridezilla (I think).

So today we've been preparing all day for tomorrows party. Bridezilla chose a PINK and SILVER theme. She also picked out a giant chocolate cake shaped like lips.. to match her mini dress thats got lil lipstick marks all over it (very funky indeed). For the past few hours we've been chopping salads, marinating chicken, slow cooking roast beef, arranging party favors and blowing up bazillions of pink and silver balloons... Bridzilla also bought some awesome vintage masks with feathers and sequins to give away as party favors. I'm just crazy about those. Twenty four helium balloons suspended from our balcony, also in silver and pink. And lots and lots confetti.

The result is fabulous! Very festive indeed. I also put together a combination of groovy disco music, the latest house music and lots of local Egyptian music that will surely keep the bellies dancing :D

All good to keep me focused on not missing Bridezilla when she leaves to Dubai inshallah.

Will miss you sis.

Anti- Carina

2009-06-19T04:04:00.003+03:00

A Carina is a kind of top. The company calls it "body wear". Hijabi girls all over Egypt cannot live without them. Carina has found its way across the globe. Reaching millions and millions of hijabis.

Let us first describe it. It comes in all shapes and sizes. In many designs. You find halters, tanks, tube tops, turtle necks, long sleeve, short sleeve, 3/4 sleeve, sleeveless... and on and on and on. They use a ridiculously stretchy fabric that just stretches and stretches without ever stopping. There are no visible seams. It clings to the wearer's body so tightly that you'd think the body is actually painted with whatever odd shade of color it's in. The colors are indeed odd. Pink, blue, green, yellow, brown.... The Carina can be made into all colors. Strangely, all colors look horrid when made into a Carina. Then comes the fabric. Manufacturers imitating the Carina all over the country have tried to figure out the unusual Carina recipe that allows it to stretch and stretch and stretch. The secret ingredient that gives the Carina it's rubber like feel yes still be fabric-y enough to be worn...is still undiscovered.

The Egyptian Hijabi community has expressed a very high demand for the Carina. Hijabis claim that they cannot live without them. Most of them own the Carina in all its colors. They like to layer it underneath tops that would otherwise by revealing if worn without a Carina. Some like to layer skin colored Carinas underneath evening dresses thus giving the illusion of wearing (ta da) a strapless dress (for example). The white Carina is commonly used as a bridal undergarment. If the Hijabi bride-to-be wishes to wear a halter or strapless gown, all she has to do is layer the white Carina underneath. Crystal embroidery is then added at the collar to accentuate the Carina, thus creating an "evening" effect.

Carina comes in five sizes. The XS, S, M, L and XL. The XL fits a size ten, with little room to breath, but then it doesn't really matter because we all know how stretchy a Carina can get. I will not even get started on the XS size.

The latest Carina product are the Carina leggings. Hijabis like to layer these under short skirts and dresses.. three quarter length pants and occasional minis.

I hate Carinas. Not only do they look and feel ugly. They are just not a garment that any hijabi should be wearing. Hijabi clothes are meant to be loose and flowy. Carina's are meant to be undergarments. They are not supposed to be seen. That is if you prefer wearing a Carina rather than a 100% egyptian cotton top as an undergarment. I just don't see reason.

Carinas take away from the value of your outfit. As soon as you add a Carina, your look transforms..and you start resembling the odd fashionistas that I commonly see on Egyptian streets. Carinas are synthetic. They do not allow your skin to breath. They trap heat in your body. I really cannot understand how Hijabi's manage wearing them in the blistering Cairo heat. The one thing that is worse than a Carina. Is a Carina with sweat patches.

For the Hijabis that cannot live without Carinas. Please just let me tell you this. Why don't you just use Cardigans to cover up instead? I have them in all colors and not only are they comfortable, they allow my skin to breath, they look elegant and classy. As for the infamous Carina leggings. I choose to not provide advice in that area.

So you probably hate my post. Or disagree with me. It's cool as long as I got it out of my chest.

I HATE CARINAS

(Thank you blogger)

The Swine Flu Treatment

2009-06-10T15:52:00.002+03:00

Last week a few cases have been reported in Egypt. Last I read was that we had six cases already. Egypt is a very crowded, very polluted country. People care very little for hygiene. I believe the flu will spread like spilt milk. I also believe that it's just flu.

It's just flu.

I believe that the best way to fight a virus is by letting your own body fight it. Just make sure that your body is strong enough to fight it. I am an anti medication girl. I hate the side effects of medication and I hate the drowsiness that I feel when I'm taking meds. I decided to handle flu differently, and have been doing so for the last few years.

THE TREATMENT:

Quarter a cup of natural honey dissolved in a liter of unsweetened orange juice. Taken throughout the day.

The trick is to do that as soon as you feel any symptoms, or if you've been in contact with someone who's infected.

That's it.

يَخْرُجُ مِنْ بُطُونِهَا شَرَابٌ مُخْتَلِفٌ أَلْوَانُهُ فِيهِ شِفَاءٌ لِلنَّاسِ إِنَّ فِي ذَلِكَ لَآيَةً لِقَوْمٍ يَتَفَكَّرُونَ

Surat Al-Nahl

The Hijabi Jogger

2009-06-08T01:08:00.004+03:00

I always want to try out the "Hijab does not stop me doing what I want theory" in different situations. So because we live in a nice, safe neighborhood I decided that it would be a total waste if I did not put it to good use and start jogging every once in a short while.

First off, since I'll be jogging in public. My sporty outfit has to be modest. So I usually go for one of my brother's baggy tees that I layer over a long sleeve tee. For bottoms I wear my older sister's sweats. They are nice and baggy. For the hijab, I pick a light colored cotton scarf and I secure with lots of pins. Since I'll be doing a lot of action, I need to make sure that my hijab stays in place.

After my first jogging trip as a hijabi, my scarf went all lose, my hair was sticking out around my face, most of the pins got lost and I was sweating like a pig from around my neck area. As soon as I walked through the door I took off my sweaty hijab and threw it in the wash.

The next time I tried to avoid what had happened last time. I tied a bandana around my head before I put on my hijab. Again I chose a cotton scarf and used double the amounts of pins to secure it.

Half way through the jog, my scarf was again flapping all over the place. I had to stop every few minutes to readjust it. My bandana was caked with sweat and I was feeling very uncomfortable. I started to envy the girls who got to do this in tanks and shorts.

I decided that I need those hoodie type hijabis to wear when I'm jogging. I'm still trying to find them and hopefully my problem will be solved pretty soon.

The good thing about jogging with the hijab however, is that it keeps your earphones in place:)

25 Facts About Me

2009-05-22T03:44:00.004+03:00

1- I'm grateful for my teacher, Ms. Maureen. She taught me how to express myself in words.

2- I've been keeping a personal diary since I was 12.

3- The sound of a person chewing is usually the main reason why I might leave a room.

3- I love acting and I took part in several plays growing up. Once as a main character.

4- I love sleeping because I love dreaming. I accomplish 70% of what I want to do in real life during my sleep.

5- If I was an animal I would be an eagle.

6- My favorite color is green. My second favorite is yellow.

7- I love cloud formations and I could spend hours observing them.

8- I had an imaginary friend when I was in high school.

9- My first drawing objects were mermaids and cats.

10- Sunsets make me cry.

11- I wanted to be an astronaunt..and still do.

12- I have no specific ONE best friend. Just a bunch of good friends who complete each other.

13- I honestly love hearing your point of veiw.

14- People fascinate me. I find them to be walking miracles.

15- One of my dreams would be to go swimming with dolphins.

16- My exterior does not reflect my interior.

17- I did not write this in order.

18- I believe that an apple a day does NOT keep the doctor away. Tried and tested.

19- I feel uncomfortable sharing personal details with close ones. Yet I might open up to total strangers whom I'll never see again.

20- I believe that lots of orange juice and lots of honey will cure the swine flu.

21- I want to go to India, China and Indonesia. Not neccessarily in that order.

22- I believe that dates, figs, pumpkins, pomengrates and olives are MAGIC foods.

23- This is not as easy as I thought it would be.

24- I still have the doll I used to carry as a two year old. She's in peices but I still love her.

25- I think death is liberating.

Pigeon at home.

2009-05-21T04:18:00.004+03:00

My family likes to collect injured and homeless living things.

I had tried to rescue a new born kitty about a year ago. Unfortunatly she wouldn't feed on milk from the dropper. She turned cold after a day and died in my hands after I had been struggeling to keep her warm. I have been very touchy about taking care of little poor animals since then..

Sister came home from work yesterday and brought an injured pigeon with. She placed him on the table in our balcony and the poor thing did not move for a couple hours. Wasn't eating or drinking either. I went and touched him to make sure he wasn't dead. Thank god he was still warm. Didn't wanna witness another death.

I desperatly wanted to help the poor thing so I googled injured pigeon. I learned that an injured pigeon is usually scared to death and in a state of shock. The article said to put the pigeon in a dark place until the blood system regulates.. That could take a few hours. Why dark place? Because pigeons sleep in the dark. So I got a large shoe box and punched a nice window for the pigeon to look through when it got bored. I lined it with newspaper and made sure it was nice and fluffy for the pigeon..after all it was gonna be spending a while in there. I also put a tiny bowl of water and scattered some seeds, just in case the pigeon decided it wanted to eat.

Now all I had to do was put the pigeon in there. I didn't want to freak him out. So I just approached him quietly with an old tee and grabbed him gently and put him in the box. He got in without a fight. I made sure to wash my hands very well.... bird flu and the like...

I placed the box in the shade then forgot about him for the whole day.

After sunset, I decided to check on him. I had to see what color his poop was. Apparently, it tells you if the bird is healthy or if it's ill. The second I lifted the box out he came flapping his wings like crazy trying to fly. He scared the hell out of me. Plus he only managed like half a meter. Poor thing.

I checked the poop. Bright green and solid. No disease there.

I changed the newspaper lining. He obviously wasn't eating still. I put him back and forgot about him until the next day.

The next morning my mom let him out of the box. He started flapping his wings like crazy again. My cat heard the commotion. I woke up to the sounds of my mom yelling at the cat. My cat had tried to eat him.

Thank God the balcony's sliding window was closed. The cat had bumped her head on the glass trying to get at the pigeon. Now she just sat in that weird position cats take just as they are about to pounce on something. Occasional hissing.

Poor pigeon. I filled up a big plastic box with water. Maybe he would like to wash up? I didn't know anything about pigeons. I slowly approached him. He was on the balcony floor now. I just slid the water as close to him as I could without scaring him. Then I left.

A few moments later he was drinking. Hurray! If an animal/bird is drinking. Then inshallah it's not going to die.

I noticed a few feathers missing from his left wing. He also shed a few feathers over the place. He was possibly injured. I wondered how long he would take to heal.

I scattered some bread crumbs for him to eat. He ate nothing. The ants however carried off all the peices until there was nothing left. I assumed he probably wasn't hungry.

I went on doing my usual chores. When I got back. I walked into the balcony looking for him. He had flown away. My cat got in and started sniffing around too. Then started eating the feathers he had left.

More bed bug battles

2009-05-17T04:11:00.005+03:00

I've been battling bed bugs for about four years now. Before I go to bed, I make sure that my pijamas are comfy, my pillow is fluffy, my bed spread is clean, my cat is purring, my mobile is charging, my teeth are clean, the lights are off and I'm saying my bed time prayers.

Then I lie awake for the next four hours..until I hear the Fajr call for prayer. I get up wash and pray... then go back to sleep...lie awake until I start hearing the birds' chirrup outside..then eventually..I don't know how... fall asleep.

When I wake up (usually at noon) I'm usually cranky. I don't feel refreshed. I actually feel tired. My mom shoots me a look. She hates it when I sleep late.

The following evening, the same happens. I might lie in bed a couple hours until I decide to get up and make myself a midnight snack. The snack turns into grilling a couple steaks, frying some potatoes, and chopping up a few tomatoes.

I go to bed and wake up with a horrible beefy taste in my mouth. I promise myself I'll never do that again. Then go make same herbal tea with mint.

Another evening, I get up and start reading a meaningless dumb book about high school girls and college boys and parties and love and clothes and... and... and.... and.....

Another evening I get up and blog...

Sometimes I find a friend that's awake just like me and we talk about life...

Sometimes I decide to watch a whole season of whatever series...

..and sometimes...actually rarely...I manage to fall asleep just as I lay my head down.

Hijab on a Budget

2009-05-14T00:40:00.004+03:00

The struggle between Hijab and fashion. Most women can relate. How difficult it is to have a good hijabi wardrobe without breaking the bank. You want to look good, but you don't want to spend a fortune.

How is this applicable, when long skirts cost twice as much as short ones. When tiny tees are in the SALE! basket but the longer sleeved shirts are in the NO SALE. Department. Then comes the scarves and head dresses, you need to make sure that you have one for each outfit. Plus the additional undergarments that you need to wear to make sure your skirt and top don't cling to your body and show your figure. You need to buy bandanas for each scarf, and of course you want to look unique..you want to reflect your style.

My struggle with my hijabi wardrobe. Nine years ago when I decided to wear the hijab, I remember the struggles. The wardrobe mistakes. The days when I stayed in because I had nothing suitable to wear. Hijab at that time in Egypt was rare. The only scarves being sold were transparent flowery ones that were just plain ugly. There were no long sleeved tops in the market. In the summer, it was all tanks and tees. In the winter, it was better. I tried to buy a couple things during the colder seasons.. but the fabrics were just too hot to wear in the summer.

I found it difficult to maintain my pre-hijabi look. My favorite GUESS! tee was shoved into the back of my closet..and I found myself trying on my mom's baggy pants and skirts. I eventually found a jeans skirt that my mom stopped wearing because she gained weight. This skirt had become my saviour, and for a whole year, the skirt never left my waist. Along with a striped long sleeved tee that I previously hated, became my best friend. Of course the flowery scarves were totally mismatched with my clothes, but I didn't really have a choice.

As a student, I had little or no money to spend on clothes. So I tried to figure out ways that helped me find hijabi clothes that fit my budget:

1- I bought plain long sleeves tees, sometimes from the male section of the store. Then I drew artsy prints on them and tried to customize them so I would create a look of my own.

2- I looked through my old clothes and found a few pieces that would work as good basics for hijab. Baggy linen pants, and old shirts that I thought were too plain actually worked perfect in the summer.

3- I bought a plain white long sleeved tee and started layering it under most of my t-shirts.

4- I found a black cotton cardigan that worked great with tank tops.

5- I discovered shopping at second hand stores and flea markets. Scarves come in all shapes and sizes. Bandanas were for half a dollar.

6- My sister's hand me downs that I thought were too big for me worked great given that I wanted to wear baggier clothes.

7- Beach wraps worked good as scarves as well as skirts.

8-I kept an eye on sales and special offers.

8-I observed other hijabis for ideas and if possible, went and asked them where they bought their clothes from.

And last but defiantly not least... I made a lot of doaa :)

Peacock feathers for Bridezilla

2009-05-06T18:52:00.004+03:00

I know it's rude to call my sister bridezilla. She wants her wedding to perfect. Sometimes she over does it. Like she did couple days ago.

Bridezilla wanted peacock feathers for her wedding centerpieces...and decoration in general. I don't know were she got the idea. She started obsessing as to were would be the place that sold them in batches and there was only one.

Darb el Barabra (My sisters call it Barbados for code)

Darb el Barabra is a local souk in Cairo. It sells everything..dried flowers, plastics, silver wear, leather, fake flowers, bee lights, fabric, cats, stationary... they sell everything... in bulk.

When I suggested that she go there... I didn't know she'd me taking me and my two other sisters with. But one day I found myself being dragged out of bed, getting dressed...and on the way to Barbados.

For three whole hours we searched the alleys of Barbados. Asking around for anyone who sells peacock feathers. It was obviously something that no one asked for very often. The store keepers kept eyeing us suspiciously and telling us that they stopped selling it because of bird flu.... ummmmm yeah.....

The other thing that bothered the shop keepers was that we were not the usual customer type. We look different and dress different from most Egyptians and most of them insisted that we were foreigners. YOU ARE BEEUUTCHIFUL..... one guy called after my sister.

After my sandals were caked with soil, and my blisters were about to pop... someone finally lead us to a store that sells them. We bought 101 peacock feathers at a bargain price. Don't ask me why we chose 101... someone said 100 would be unlucky. The store keeper was a cute fellow with a beard that everyone called "The Sunni". He made small talk with my mom about the swine flu as we chose the largest brightest feathers...

When we got home bridezilla was happy. Thank God! My cat was happy too...she kept sniffing and chewing on the feathers until we had to put them away.

Struggling Veiled Girl

2009-04-27T18:31:00.004+03:00

It surprises me that I've been wearing the hijab for almost nine years now. It has become part of my life already. My clothes are in order. I have a hijabi outfit for every occasion. I have a scarf that goes with every outfit. I have the shoes and accessories needed to look like a hijabi with style.

The problem however, visits me every year. When summer gets here. You might say that it's wearing hijab in the blistering heat that bothers me. You might think that what bothers me is trying to jog wearing hijab clothes when its 40 degrees in the shade. You might think its the new sexy tops that are out in stores that are sold for a fourth of the price of a normal hijabi top. You might think its the funky, summery hair dos that look brilliant in every way. You might think its the thin line of sweat that trickles down my back that I can't wipe away.

Its none of that. Its not even close. What bothers me most, is the beach.

You see, I have an obsession with the sea, and sand, and sea shells, and the sun, and sandcastles, and bikinis, and tanning oil, and swimming, and waves, and coconut oil, and salt water, and the white foam that forms around you as you splash through the waves.

I haven't experienced the full pleasures of going to the beach in a very long time. The closest I've been, was to just hang around the amazing north cost shore, fully covered, watching other people enjoy one of the amazing gifts Allah has given to mankind. Not realizing how lucky they are to be able to swim freely, in comfortable wear, feeling the sand on their toes, the salt water on their bodies, the wind in their hair, and the warmth of the sun on their skin. My only pleasure of going to the beach, besides marveling at the beauty of the sea, was walking beside the water, careful not to lift my skirt up too high so it shows my ankles, careful not to get the edge of my skirt wet, careful not to let the wind blow my headscarf away.

Going to the beach was a hassle. It was torture for my soul. It was like being hungry, watching delicious, mouth watering, food being served in front of your eyes and not being able to eat. The last time I went to the beach I felt like crying. I looked at other people dive in and out, having the sun color their skin. I envied them all.

I decided that unless I go to a women's only beach (someday) I'll never go to the beach again. Unless I'm strong enough to have faith in Allah. Strong enough to be patient. Strong enough to understand that the pleasures of the world are nothing in comparison the the pleasures of Jannah. That Allah gives me great thawab for resisting the temptations of Dunia. That when I see the seas of Paradise I will no longer wish for those of Dunia.

Sometimes I wonder, how on Earth have I been able to keep this up for nine years?

Fadl from Allah.

Alhamdolelah.

Things I look forward to in the day

2009-04-08T03:41:00.000+02:00

Not necessarily in that order.

1- Cat purring

2-checking out cloud formations

3-checking out the color of the sun in today's sunset

4-jogging

5-tea with milk

6-lunch

7-call to/from a loved person

8-artistic accomplishment

9-religious accomplishment

10-something sweet, something salty, something that makes me feel warm.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRAbE5--cjA

2009-03-25T15:58:00.000+02:00

I am so excited about this. This is my animated artwork. There will be four more InshAllah. Follow the link in the title to see it.

My Obsession with Fashafeesh

2009-03-22T04:21:00.001+02:00

Fashafeesh is the name I invented for corn puff snacks. The Fashafeesh industry in Egypt is actually quite large. Many companies have them on the market. A very popular company is called Flaminco Snack Food Co.

The problem is that I don't know the source of these products. I don't know if they've passed the tests needed. I don't know if they're mechanically packaged. They don't advertise. They don't have an identity. These types of Fashafeesh are found only at certain kiosks. They aren't sophisticated enough to be sold at regular super markets alongside cheetos and lays.

On the back of the packet the following is written:

INGREDIENTS

CORN MEAL - OIL

Cheedr Cheese (The spelling mistake is actually there)

Salt- Natural color

Produced by

FLAMINCO SNACK FOOD CO.

Made in Egypt

Good for 3 months from production date.

I turned the pack over and over and tried looking for a production date printed on the pack...there wasn't any. There was also no nutritional information. Just a bad print of Winnie the Pooh and Tiger in each other's arms holding corn. Gay...

My problem with the Fashafeesh is that I'm obsessed with them. I just love the airy crunch that you get when you bite into one. They way they take seconds to dissolve in your mouth. The infinite number of Fashafeeshes in one pack. It like a never ending pack of crisps. Each snack is crispier than the one before. They taste cheesy and they smell like old socks. My family hates it when I bring them home. But something is keeping me hooked onto those little devils.

Yesterday I was hanging out with my father. There is a very small kiosk that is a three minute walk away from where my dad lives. Note that that smaller the kiosk, the bigger the chance that they've got Fashafeesh in stock. I went and bought three giant packs, two sodas and gum. (You need gum after eating Fashafeesh because they tend to stick to your molars and only gum or a sufficient amount of gargling can get rid of them). They also make your hands turn orange, so you have to wash your hand very well after you finish eating them.

As I walked in, my family obviously needed some entertainment. Someone asked for some Fashafeesh as I ripped open the bag. I gave them a pack for themselves.Then went and sat down,keeping one on my lap. The munching started.

Five minutes later. Everyone was hooked. The crunching sounds filled the room. So did the smell of old socks. But nobody seemed to mind. The corn puffs were just so good, no one could stop. I was afraid they'd finish the pack I'd given them, and turn to mine.

They did. I couldn't understand it. First they make fun of me for liking the stuff, then they want to share.

Egyptian Sushi

2009-03-13T17:41:00.000+02:00

I'm a fan of food. I love food. Everyone who knows me knows that I like to try anything and everything. Of course when I say try. It means giving a certain food at least three shots at three different places before I finally decide that I dislike it. Or like it for that matter. Some foods however I've only tried once.

Sushi was something that I only tried once. I believe that the sushi I tried wasn't authentic. Something about the maki roll felt Egyptian. Even though the restaurant name was called JO SUSHI. I ordered California Rolls. They were just clumps of rice stuffed with cucumber. No sea weed. No wasabi. No chopsticks. I felt betrayed. I decided that this Sushi didn't count.

I starting asking around as to were would be the best place that makes sushi. Someone recommended a place called Makani. I was surprised. Makani was a cafe. They sold muffins and cheese salad. Why would they be serving sushi over there? That same person recommended I try the crispy chicken and mozzarella roll. Then I realized what was going on. Egyptian Sushi. It was everywhere. It was a new trend.

I wanted to try the real stuff. It was no where to be found.

It happened that I was discussing this with my neighbor. How much I wanted to try sushi and how every where I went the sushi wasn't authentic. Then her friend (who was hanging out with us) said, "I've tried sushi once with my husband at a Japanese place."

"Really? How was it?"

"Oh I didn't really like it.."

"Which one did you order?"

"The steamed rice and some stir fried something. I can't really remember..."

(Pause) "That's not sushi. Sushi is clumps of rice. Stuffed with something.."

The girl looked disappointed...She had so wanted to be the person who tried sushi so she can brag about it. I had spoiled her plan.

"That was just some other japanese dish you tried," I tried to make her feel better.

"I thought all Japanese food was called sushi."

I felt sorry for her. Then it hit me. Sushi was the new trend. Liking sushi was the new "in" thing. That's why everyone was obsessing about it. That's why it was sold everywhere now. It was selling. Wannabes were buying it. They thought they liked what was being sold as sushi but wasn't sushi. Or were they just pretending to like it because they wanted to belong to the "in" crowd?

One time I observed one person covering his roll with ketchup and mustard so he wouldn't taste it as he pretended to like it.... sad.

So, I don't know what really bothers me more. The fact that suddenly everyone loves sushi, or the fact that the sushi they love isn't sushi.

I decided that I have to fly to Japan if I wanted to try real sushi. Or maybe just wait until some new place opens up and starts serving it proper....

Customer Service

2009-03-05T05:29:00.000+02:00

I have been recently exposed to customer service during a temporary job that I took up because I wanted to learn something new. The thing that I was mostly impressed by learning is the fact that customers remember bad service experiences and almost never remember good service experiences. I also learned that my supervisor is a butt crack.

Having said that. I finally understood the meaning of being a customer. I also understood what it was like being a customer service agent. For during my brief stay at X, I had encountered various customer types. Most of which were calling to complain. Never during my stay had I encountered one customer who called to compliment the company on what a great service they've been providing. However, one customer did say thank you and was very pleased to have her problem solved. I put done the phone, pushed the "Not Ready" button, and decided to just savour the moment. I was beaming. In the middle of all the hot tempered, nasty calls, this woman's "thank you" had made my day. I treated myself to an instant Frappucino. With extra caramel, whipping cream, sugar, spice and everything nice.

After my experience, I became more aware that I was a bitch of a customer myself. I noticed that when I ordered a sundae from Mac Donald's a few weeks ago. When I got my order I noticed that the sundae had melted into a little pool around the caramel area. Infuriated, I picked up the phone and dialed the customer service. I complained that my sundae had turned liquid and that I wanted a new one. The agent tried to explain that ice cream is supposed to melt. That the warm caramel sauce causes the ice cream to melt. That is was impossible to deliver sundaes without them slightly melting. He was talking sense. But I didn't want to listen. I wanted my caramel sundae NOW. He apologized and I hung up telling him that I was never going to eat at Mac Donald's ever again.

A few days later I realized how absurd I've been.

A few weeks later I decided to give it another shot. I placed my order. In less than thirty minutes the sundae was at my door. The pool around the caramel was minimal. The rest of the food was hot. I was thrilled.

Digging into my Fillet-O-Fish (Why don't they just call it Mac-Fish?), I remembered my previous experience and how angry I had been. But I was happy now.

Then I remembered. Customers always called to complain. I decided that I would make a difference. I would call to compliment!

I speed dialed and switched to the customer service department. An agent picked up.

"Good Evening. Thank you for calling Mac Donald's. How may I help you?"

"Umm..yeah.. I just got my order, and I wanted to comment.."

"Umm yes, please go on (I could hear it in his tone that he was dreading it)

"I got my order and I wanted to say that it arrived on time, the food was hot, the sundae was perfect"

" (Brief silence) .... Oh, Thank you!"

"And you also sent this little "Do Not Disturb" door knob thingie. I loved that, I think it's very nice." (The truth is I didn't love it but I wanted to see what would happen if I said that I did."

"Oh..Thank you! Thank you! Shokran! Merci! Merci!" The guy couldn't believe it. I could swear he was hopping up and down.

"Okay, well, thank you, goodbye"

I put the phone down and I was smiling from ear to ear.

I had made someone's day. That was the best Mac I've ever had.

Why blog?

2009-03-03T02:46:00.001+02:00

It's the urge you get when you really want to talk about something and you just can't find the right person to listen. When you have some interesting thought or story. When you just really want to let the world know about something. When you suddenly get a desperate urge to write. When you just have nothing to do. When you spend so much time alone. When you spend so much time with people. When you want to be heard.

That's why I'll blog.

Every time something exciting happens. Every time I need to comment on something. When I read a book I'm excited about. When I have a question that doesn't need to be answered, but needs to be asked.

My blog will be my friend. That means I need to visit it often. I'll tell everything. About me. About others. About things and places. Whenever I tell me self "Oh, I need to put that in my blog" I'll have this place to come to.