Yay! I finally have something interesting to blog about.

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

My reset buttons save me from misery.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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..

....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.

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!

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..

...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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.