The reincarnated soul of 7nish Kblish

Hantise de Cafe

2006-10-12T02:14:00.000+13:00

I am not good friends with London weather and London weather is playing major tricks on me lately. I look out of the window and wahay, sun's out. I walk out oh darn it, i run back to get my umberella .. it's raining.

Well whats new about that, ive always complained about the source of my pubic hair. Moving on .. So i take it that im not the only one suffering from fasting this year. Everyone seems to be having a tough time. I have never had any problems fasting but this year has been an exception. I dont break my fast around la familia as im stuck in class, yes late classes.

I have a confession to make, i am having an affair during maghrib. During break time i am on a mission to get to my new obsession. It has been mission impossible as my fellow colleagues have been complaining about me dragging them all the way to Mr. Paul.

Two days ago i was on my own on the mission. I was in such a rush as i had only 20 minutes to spare. Ah the things that us women do to look good, i was wearing my suede beige heels that i love, they give me amazing posture and on that evening, two guys checked me out heh i slowly feel im lifting my chin in pride and FREEZE.

A squeeky sound comes out of me while people are passing by - this is what i love about London, it's as if nothing happened - so, you ask what is it that "chained" me exactly? I look down to find the heel stuck in a crack on the pavement. I try pulling my leg out with no use .. so i stood on one foot and took the stuck foot out of the shoe and there i was, tadaa standing on my right foot with the left one swaying in the air to balance off my body right there in the dark next to the campus with people passing by, i pull the shoe with my hands and put it back on like nothing happened, and of course, i brush it off with a grin on my face.

Im in Paul's place safe and sound and just as i am about to enjoy my Coffee Macaron and my silky latte - and you thought paul is my new boytoy? shame on you its Ramadan - a minute later this guy walks in "oh no shit! it's the new suspected 5aleeji boy in class" he probably witnessed the whole thing eh well, he's been quite the gentleman afterwards allowing me to pass before him going in and out of class/building.

So there you have it, it takes a heel, an obsession, clumsiness, and humiliation to get them right where you want them ;) door slaves ! wahay!

POWER TO THE LEGGINGS

2006-09-15T00:54:00.000+13:00

Image above is brought to you by Trent

TOLD YOU SO! (20 months ago)

Does that make me a celebrity ?

P.S. glad to see you catching up on the "trend" !

Blow me Away .. far far away.

2006-09-02T15:21:00.000+13:00

It's 03:16 am and i cannot sleep.

Since i haven't blogged properly in ages i owe it to whoever still even bothers checking to write a somewhat decent post (i dont promise ill try)

I can finally say with 100% satissfaction and gratitude I'M A GRADUATE.

To follow up on my interesting life (well fingers crossed lets hope i get hold of the other half) I got the chance to go on a rather refreshing/hectic/independent/wild holiday parents free. If it was up to me i don't think i would have ever gone back ! Yes i did miss my parents but freedom is sweet (yes its not the mature kind but it was still as sweet as melted dark chocolate).

As for my future plans, im still procrastinating what i really wish or rather do im trying to be optimistic and lets just say its hard work being one.

~ dont take away my freedom to dream

Squeeze .. please !

2006-08-21T00:59:00.000+13:00

Wind .. rain .. rays of light peeping through the curtains. Gloomy old London in the heat of the summer with the black clouds shading my resistance.

Miscellaneous

2006-08-09T11:17:00.000+13:00

As of late, ( talking 2 years now) the resistance to shock, excitement, and emotion to be general has been fading around the surroundings. Midway through the holiday I can safely say it has been fruitful and cheerfully eventful.

wearing my political eye (one which I usually leave on my shelf all the time) I've been witnessing man on man crime, injustice in everyday life. Gazing through my own twisted psychopathic microscope I raise my hand and say, I don't get it people, I honestly don't.

Summing it down to myself in basic A B C terms, IM not talking about Victim X nor Victim Y here, media coverage and my surroundings have done a great job, honestly A+ to them. Here IM perhaps simplifying the process to my clueless mind.

In my world Victim X and Victim Y are are the same, same mentalities, different application.

We know a truth, they know a truth, why the muddle.
I guess we've all been born with the tendency to crush one another, lets chop each other's privates why don't we.

Tadapadatee

2006-06-20T22:14:00.000+13:00

I am still alive, kicking, and breathing new air!

To my JoJo B. Congrats :X:X we are all so proud of you

Bus Tales

2006-05-26T11:02:00.000+13:00

On the bus, overhearing conversations as usual.

X- "got the chance to go to Mo's farm, i saw the horse, she's lovely she's got an amazing personality, very beautiful, once she gains weight she'll be gorgeous" .

mmm .. they never fail to amuse me, the horses of course

You were a victim of my crimes .. Your a beautiful distraction

2006-05-14T07:08:00.000+13:00

Bodacious, flirtatious, extenuating her arts through a brush stained with colours of the rainbow. She sat in a room surrounded by four white walls with her brush, her colourless emotions, and water paints splashing life on to that pure rough finishing object held by the hardboard.

Screaming, laughing, singing, moaning, crying no one heard her but the walls encapsulating the presence of loneliness with each sound turning them into loops and holes flexible enough for her to jump through and intertwine her blossoming eternity of vanity.

The sun pokes holes through the thickness of the walls, letting in rays of light laying out fine illusions of potential paths. She sat there mesmerized by the opportunities laid in the palm of her hands. It took her no time to pick herself up untidy that shirt, that stained shirt she supported along the way, shall I take it off, she thought, she did not.

She owed it to the past instances long before she could say “I am strong”. The gorgeousness trickled from the striking glisten she enclosed in her eyes.

Oh Mariah Mariah .. she reminds me of a west side story

2006-04-29T01:53:00.000+13:00

The sun was shining bright that Monday morning. I hardly had enough sleep, I was anxious for time to pass by.
Everything is prepared since last night. My new jeans, the top I borrowed, and those floral heals I abandoned for my lesbian like 'ni3la'.
I rested my head on the tired pillow I moved around the bed last night, my eyes hibernate for a couple of minutes only to be evoked by the loud ring tone of lulu’s mobile next to me. I picked up after the first ring. He’s here, he’s here I tell myself a couple of times while I jump off the bed waking everyone in the room. I rush everyone out as fast as I can.
Constant heart beats, im drowning in my thoughts, im feeling anoxious. The car is spinning around the frightful streets of Riyadh.
I’m here, I’m on top of the hill I desperately tried looking for 2 years ago when you weren’t here.
We were not alone, and your arms covered me in a bubble of sentiments.
You took me on a tour, a stream of memories, a journal of creations, valued thoughts, you broke lose while I was busy feeling helpless.
Reaching out to you was a mission, how dare I forward myself to a state of comfort, as deep notions are taking place.

Jeddah my new haven

2006-04-22T07:33:00.000+13:00

I'm back from a very hectic trip.

Greeted in Riyadh by religious policemen kicking us out of a restaurant because we werent decent enough for him to stare at. He asked for ID's hmmmm now i do recall that our faces show dont they? i guess للضرورة احكام
comes in handy ay? ah the irony.

Jeddah Ghair, now i understand why. i had a pleasent time! so relaxing and soothing.

Its good to be home baby.

To Noura, the most beautiful bride i've ever seen :x I love you

E to the ezzay M to the meshhayy

2006-03-27T03:32:00.000+13:00

LuLu and I totally ripped the amazing erzulie off and decided to draw each other

HAHA what a disaster!

Although i gotta hand it to ya lenz, it does depict the real picture (in my dreams) or my alter ego

I leave you to it .. .. ..

Aphrodite, Goddess of love, sex, and prostitution

المرتبة الثامنة رجل

2006-03-22T11:16:00.000+13:00

ياما وياما سمعت سواليف الظلم واعتداء على حقوق المراءة ولا شك كلكم في غنى عن تأكيدي بوضع جامعات البنات في أنحاء المملكة. من ضمن قصص أمي الحبيبة التي لا تعد ولا تحصى أحب أتطرق موضوع المراتب الوظيفية في الشبكات والدوائر الحكومية في ضمن هالموضوع.

نظمت مسابقة للموظفين في جامعة الملك سعود عبارة عن سلسلة من الامتحانات والمقابلات أمام طاقم تحكيم. الجائزة شرفية تؤهل المتسابق أحقية ارتفاع الرتبة. أخر المتنافسين كانوا أمي وموظف في جامعة الملك سعود للرجال.

تلقت امي مكالمة يباركونها بالنجاح وبعدها مكالمة أخرى يستسمحونها ويقولون الرجال مسكين يستاهلها ومحتاج لزيادة الراتب! معقولة هذا نظامهم حتى في الأمور الرمزية الشرفية؟؟

Writing this was a living night mare! Excuse the grammatical errors It is intended for an Arabic audience. Pig male chauvinists to be precise who think that women do not deserve a promotion or a raise in salary.

For you who are wondering how she responded, she didn’t do anything about it because she was moving. Yes, it is a shame she gave in she should’ve fought for it after all it’s a moral not a monetary issue.

The governmental hierarchy is such a flowery topic that demands to be discussed by a more prominent experienced person! I’ll wait to see that one coming!

P.S. don’t be too harsh on the language I honestly tried!

Maria’s Abraded Feet

2006-03-17T12:39:00.000+13:00

Oh my sweet one I’m crippling. My flesh is rotting, it stinks in here. This life is hell, my minutes dropping from up above giving me a taste of sins attiring my flesh.

El ser reina del drama es trabajo duro!

tómeme el hogar.. pero no sé donde está mi hogar.

What does it mean to me? Its there, right there, I cannot extend my arms further. I have a fear. I fear resistance. Please disappear. Leave that tear. It refreshes my cheek. You’re overwhelming my dear.

Now take me home.

p.s. i don't speak spanish, i used a translator.

And Yet again, another Urine Tale

2006-03-06T13:03:00.000+13:00

This time it’s in a public place, Local NHS centre to be precise. My dad bless his soul had been nagging me for 3 weeks non-stop about registering at our new local GP. We were already registered but the divo In him (haha! Is it even valid to call my daddy that?) had to go to the cheerful posh side of the area and register there.

Anyway back to my appointment, it was a Friday morning, lovely weather the sun was out, I jumped out of bed and got ready to go. Of course baba’s there constantly repeating all the instructions; “take care while crossing the road, register using the electronic system as soon as you get there, go a bit early so they take you in if it’s empty”. And there I am yep check ok, yeah yeah yeah. And im out of the house! I get there, stand in a que and realise the electronic registry system had crashed so I tag along the line ahead of me to the reception.

It’s my turn and the receptionist was extremely RUDE. When I asked my dad if he sorted out the records he said YES! I filled everything out. The woman nearly bit my head off when I didn’t take the forms from her. And there I am like a spoiled lil daddy’s lil girl saying “my dad told me all the registering had been dealt with”

She hands me the form and a tube for a urine sample. I looked at the tube and started cussing myself for not drinking enough water this morning “I knew it, see I told you!” the voice in my head lasted for about 3 minutes.

I head to the toilet, lock the door and think, right, what am I going to do know, flush the toilet? Think of the sound of waves? Run the tap water? Aha! I spot an additional sink with a sign “Tap water for drinking purposes”. Pull my pants down, like im about to jerk off some sperm for the sperm bank, start drinking water and viola! That didn’t take long! It was a mission aiming at the tube (see at times like this, a penis would be useful, any sex change takers apart from jo?)

I walk out and realise, nasty ! im walking around with my urine, oooh, there’s that hottie who was standing infront of the line at the reception maaaaan why am I holding this! And its concentrated yelloooowwwwww must hide must hide. I sit down and wait till they call out my name.

Mmm, lets just say it was awkward and slightly unbearable. The doctor started asking me all sorts of health related questions. Half of the terms she used, she had to translate. Must read more often about medicine and science, remember the time you went to the science museum and the desire you to be an anatomist, you can increase your knowledge (see how things didn’t connect? Blegh).

Ah sex related questions, there ya go dear, you got my attention

“are you sexually active”
“no” – slowly leaning towards the desk in shame
“are you aware of sexually transmitted diseases”
“yes”
“contraceptives? Do you need any supplies?”
“No, don’t need them anyway, I don’t have sex”
She gave me this long peculiar look that was saying to me – explanation?
“not allowed to have sex”  what? Did I just honestly say that? Why didn’t I just say don’t believe In pre-marital sex! But I don’t, but why am I acting like I shouldn’t be a hypocrite, this woman does not know me I can lie!

“religion doesn’t allow it”
“not the right age?” she rhetorically asked

The appointment eventually ended, I walked out trotting along the way with my legs exposed to bright sunshine thinking, what ever did happen to my principles?

Marshall, Over and out

2006-02-28T11:35:00.000+13:00

You ask me who Marshal is, well he is my male alter ego. Two days back, i listened to the sentence i was saying "she's got balls". Hold up just a second, why does a woman's power and guts automatically translates into this metaphore - "got balls".

Before all you twisted ego inflated men out there say to me it is used for some guy's as well, i say ok, well, a woman's power ment was overwhelming enough for it to turn back and stab you at where it hurts the most, your balls.

Looking back as when i was a kiddo, i remember having the desire to be a boy. We had to dress up once as fishermen in a school show and it was a mighty feeling i had. I got a kohl mustache and boy, i was on top of the world, me and my 4 other girl friends dressed as men.

Then there were the times when we were in the car in the middle of nowhere, i'm sure you know the sensation of 'urinating' and how it drives you nuts to hold it untill the next station. I prayed god, to somehow grant me a penis so i can barbarically stick it out whenever, wherever. It got worse when we moved back to Riyadh, thats when i think i cried because i was a girl.

I slept over at my auntie's. After the Gulf War incident, or at least thats how i interpreted it, she locks the wing they lived in every night. there were two bathrooms, an 'arabic' one and a NORMAL 'foreign' or as they like to call it 'efranji'. The efranji one was strictly speaking for guests only, and besides we were locked in. I HAD NO CHOICE, the efranji it was, and hmm, ill take a shot at explaining the procedure of urinating in it. It's a hole in the ground, and like a weight scale, it's hallow for placing the feet on it to hold it so as not to slip, i presume.

I tried holding it in, i couldnt. I took a step back n thought no! i cant do this, ill wait 3 more hours untill everyone wakes up and unlocks the door. then i couldnt, and i decided well there's a first time for everything, and there you have it, i didnt take my underwear off, for some odd reason, and voala, i pissed all over myself, i can feel the piss dripping off my thighs. Thats when i prayed courageously, Allah please, let me be a boy!

Having the oppotunity to move away from a male dominant society, i guess i lost the touch of my feminisim that i once had. But Under God's will ya sub7an Allah, just put me two weeks in Saudi and watch me cry.

I'm not talking about driving a car, taking my Abaya off, smoking a cigar. I am talking about going to the pharmacy on my own without a driver to get period pads, talking about wearing my normal clothes mixing with women without being judged, talking about breathing fresh air while i take walk down to the local Mosque.

That is liberating enough for me

Mad About Celebz

2006-02-25T06:30:00.000+13:00

Highly recommended

A spoon full of word capsules

2006-02-24T06:44:00.000+13:00

It seems as though I am recognizing an utterly boring routine in my life. All my conclusions and revelations seem to be on the bus, in the toilet, in a class… you get my drift.

While sitting there nearly snoozing off to a rather hilarious and pissed off lecturer talking to us about academic report writing, it got me thinking why do I not have a problem with writing like many of the other colleagues on my course? I do remember struggling in high school as opposed to my other schoolmates as I had just transferred from a school in Saudi to a school in England.

In sixth form I simply had no chance to develop my writing skills given that the choice of my subjects were not of writing based apart from psychology which was mainly based on observational experiments. It was in my photography class my tutor realised potential in me. He peddled me like his own. I was the pet teacher every one envied me and told me remarks like “he’ll definitely be pleased with whatever you produce he loves you”. I do admit he did treat me separate to the rest of the junkie clan. I disciplined myself nonetheless, it was the only subject I felt passionate about, and I finally belonged.

Part of the Photography course required producing a lengthy report discussing any issue with the aid of photographic representations. Many people found it rather ridiculous but I, on the other hand was thrilled. He recognized that I had found it difficult to express myself in words; assuming that English is not my mother tongue, he arranged for me to have private English lessons every week.

The government body sponsoring me thought of it as a nuisance given that I passed English in high school with a reasonably average grade of a home student, he insisted that I should convince them with what all it takes.

I was dreading it with all my heart and soul. I had to wake up every morning on Tuesdays two hours with my tutor one on one in a small room on the roof of a London story house. My teacher was your typical Londoner, 50 something, exceedingly good build for her age and rode a bike every morning to college. She shared with me topics discussed at her tea parties in the garden, her affection for flowers, and her trips to Asia and the Far East. She lifted up my spirits and inspired me to write more. She had told me that I had a good ear which is why I pick up so quickly when I read something with low concentration. She had realised this through my abuse of words and how I would mix sounds of different words to make up a non existing one!

As much as I hated waking up in the morning, and how shy I felt to be stuck with a person I hardly knew on my own for 2 hours, I can see the affects of what she had taught me now. I am more aware of structures and paragraphing. I still have a long way till I get there but nevertheless I owe it to you Mrs. -----

And Maria discloses ...

2006-02-21T11:36:00.000+13:00

I sketch your face on every pillow through the tears dripping down my cheeks. Words are struggling to come out of my mouth and when they do, the world decides to go all deaf on me including you. Through the long hours of a lecturer yapin it, it struck me how I reluctantly embellish the notorious enigmas of my life. I am nothing but an observer; I repeatedly dictate to myself. I am no custodian of a symbol I wish to declare ownership of.

Womanaphobia

2006-02-20T02:07:00.000+13:00

Gentlemen,

Who is the woman in your life you fear most?

14th Feb I Heart Pin

2006-02-15T05:17:00.000+13:00

Greetings from windy London. The sun is out surprisingly enough, gave me the chance to show off my oh so fabolous Tom Ford shades, Red was surrounding me today, even my own mother good lord! Poor her, she did it unintentionally, yeah right. Oh and to top it all off, her car is red! goodness gracious me.

I've been Tagged by the Mighty Joe Young, and since its Valentine's Day, What the heck here are my thoughts on my perfect Lover

The rules of the game are:
The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
Need to mention the sex of the target.
Tag 8 victims to join this game & leave a comment on their comments saying they’ve been tagged.

Sex Target: Male (for serious relationships) Female (when im feeling naughty ;))

Points (in to particular order)
1. Has to have sex appeal. Everything about him would scream SEX. after all if im commiting it better be worth while!
2. Ambitious
3. Confident
4. Keeps up with my over sensitive self and paranoid ass by that i mean he understands and gets his way round my insecurities. YES IM DEMANDING
5. Unpredictable
6. Thrives for Success
7. Appreciates my well being
8. Responsible

SmooooooOoooooOooooch

......................................................***********************......................................................................

I hate Politics. I absolutely dread watching it. All i do is make funny faces. I'm pissed off. The world is UGLY.

Abuse in Iraq. Footage of soldiers kicking locals. Toni motherfucking blair has the audacity to say that no solid evidence exists their british. For starters get your troops out and stop the count down of how many fuckin soliders you lost since the states invaded Iraq.
Hypocrasy of Western Media. The mother fucking troops accused of phsyically abusing the people of Iraq, benefit from hidden identity. Yes, their face is fuzzed even though the camera is miles and miles away. no one would be able to identify their sorry asses.
Muslims protesting against the cartoons do not benefit from anonymous identities, which i think they deserve for supporting horrific banners. ah what an embarrassement
Saddam oh Saddam, no one cares if your on a hunger strike!

And finally,

Saudi Arabia, From a Monarchy to a Constitutional Monarchy.

Any thoughts?

Picture Perfect

2006-02-07T11:49:00.000+13:00

During the past 8 years of my life, the moment I laid footsteps on this obscure city, I conjured hopes, dreams, and for the most part of all EXPECTATIONS.

Like any other 14year old teenager, an ugly duckling. Mushroom head, four eyed, and a train track on my big horse like teeth, I loved love! Though my heart had never moved out of its place for someone virtual that I heard me call ‘7abeeby’!

I loved the mirror since as far as I can remember. The image reflected in my eyes was full of radical flaws, and my ‘if onlys’ reached beyond the horizon. If only I was thin, if only I was tall, if only I had a smaller sword like nose, if only my jaw resembled the jaw of any normal human being, why didn’t I have large nostrils like my best friend? She’s so pretty and everyone admires her beauty. Why don’t I have the brains of class valedictorian and be constantly everlastingly praised for my intelligence and hard working self. Why am I not tall like the rest of my family members? Why did I have to be the shrimp of the family! Why am I not blessed with perfect vision? Why do I have to wear glasses! Why why why!

All I did throughout my life is look around, only recently I started looking right through my shallowness, and surprise surprise, and I’ve become shallower than ever! I miss my old nature, the least could have been done with my old self, I LISTENED to people, and I was there whenever anyone needed me. Just call out for help, you’ll find me, outings, check! Bored? Yeah im available! Sick? Ill comfort you, make you laugh, tickle you, hug you, fantasize for you, ill tell tales for pleasure ill role play, ill share with you a fraction of my fantasies, ill even grant them to you, label them with your names, but never reveal their all mine.

Embrace diversity they say. Call for human rights they preach. Freedom of speech they plea. In the name of good cause they speak. With love they sway.

For once give me the upper hand, just let go be free forget all these people ever existed, yes they will be watching you with magnifying specs they will stay in tune. Update after another, you’ll stumble, trip, fall on your face, rise, climb, reach, and fly away to those white downy clouds, as light as a feather, as soft as a towel, and yet I manage, I manage to stay still with a smile crackling in a distance, the emotion that takes out all the rigidness my insecurity has further yet to endorse, their all in my face. Those aging marks on my forehead, with each line permanently carved as evidence of hideously tremendous lousy occurrences.

Desperate Fanatic

2006-02-06T05:55:00.000+13:00

Following the notions from the far away commotions, when we move ahead we always look back that jumbled trail. For as long as I can remember, there’s always been an invisible saviour armed with fragmented weapons. He nods his head accepting the journey, I bite my lower lip hesitating as I take the next step ahead.

I’m walking on shattered glass, I want to look back, I need that one look of reassurance but I look straight ahead, this is my battle my fight, I need me and only me to walk myself through this collaboration.

Wild Dreams

2006-02-04T12:04:00.000+13:00

Rychner

Why do we dream when reality comes crawling back? Live for the future yet try to live it by the day they always say. There’s a thin line between every aspect of our life. At times I wonder who made this empirical establishment and why did the whole of humanity (more like the hopeless romantics) conform to it!

Freeze

2006-02-02T05:21:00.000+13:00

Freeeze! Fashion PoliCe!

I'm sorry you had to keep up with all that bull crap and the cheesy valentine's template.

Love is INVISIBLE.

it's cold it's windy it's London Baby!

I want you guys to meet my new best friend ..

In the Heart of London

2006-02-01T05:17:00.000+13:00

Help! I don’t feel safe

Post July attacks in London, I am scared. After all the turmoil that is still taking place in the Middle East, we 'feared' for the state of our country. I remember months back constantly bringing up the issue in gathering where we find ourselves somewhat relieved as to where we are now, me and my fellow Saudi 'people'.

America's planning to take over, just watch. Why else would they care for the safety of the Iraqi people when they are mindfully killing masses by the day? I've seen maps plotting the new Israeli state; I've heard and read all the accusations: "Al-Saud's are allies with George B, you guys don’t stand a chance".

That’s when I thought, God Bless the USA and my American passport, ill be one of those queuing up in front of the American Embassy with those ridiculous over the top off guard security premises - as soon as my dad decides to hand me the passport - and renewing my blue card! I'm terrified as hell, b' bye Saudi it's been a pleasure.

It was Thursday morning, the day of my results, I over slept, thank god for that! My campus is in central and surprisingly enough, the bombings took place a couple of miles away from where I was supposed to pick up my results from.

The only thing that made my heart clinch was the top roof of a double dickered bus blown off. Blimey, I could've been on one of those buses, what were the odds? Fast forward 6 months ahead. I saw a man yesterday reading the Quran on the bus minding his own business. Being my usual paranoid self, I instantly suspected that he was going to blow us all up.

There I am, closely watching him concentrating on every move he makes, and I thought wait a minute. I AM JUDGING THE POOR BLOKE JUST CUZ HE'S READING THE QURAN AND EARNING GOOD DEADS WHILE I AM SITTING HERE WITH MY HEADPHONE SCREWED TO MY EARS? Then I looked around, hmm everyone seems to be calm minding their own business. Maybe they don’t recognize he's reading the Quran? They probably don’t recognize the Arabic letters. How can they not with all the Islamic media exposure especially after the horrific 9/11 attacks.

A couple of minutes went by, the guy picked up his back pack, I started shuffling through the tracks looking for Amr Khaled or Ibn Othaimen on the screen of the ipod, id rather die listening to God's words than shake my ass on the chair to Beyonce's check on it. This is it, oh at least ill be on T.V. Oh god I hope muni picks a flattering picture of me! The bus stopped, waited for seconds, the bus was moving again and the man oh poor man I am so sorry :( was on the sidewalk mashi fe sabeel Allah.

~many incidents like this occurred in the past 6 months and it always ends up with me jumping off the bus and hoping on to the next just cuz of a guy with a beard and a short thobe.

Maria of the Evening

2006-01-30T09:25:00.000+13:00

It's Saturday night, in a room that is not mine, music that does not nourish my taste, a computer worn out by excessive load of hormones.

I'm in a deep mess, stuck in the middle of a tornado, torn between two, trying to please both. I have yet to achieve selfishness in this situation. The authoritative figure has all my love and respect, I follow blind folded.

What a tormenting mess I got myself into. How did I come to this state of carelessness? Is this what I intended for my life to turn to? Sudden swifts urge shifting sideways paneling out in the distance of the sun.

I'm tired of the lies and excuses the deception, the crap I endure with my reckless soul. I have to please both. This is not a matter of pleasing me and only me; they are the root of my happiness.

Ironically, I am who I please in the end.

Indefinite Stay

2006-01-28T06:14:00.000+13:00

Neglecting my emotions is a terrible terrible habit. What is far worse is the denial that inhibits blood threshold inside my veins.

I want to write, I want to express, draw a vision to the world through what my eyes see, what my hands feel and what my soul decrees.

I'm back im big im bold im bland im me whatever I want to be.

I decided, as a project and after being admiringly inspired by coelho's 11 minutes. I'll be Maria of '7nish Kblish' blog. Ill write personal letters briefing out outcomes of an experience. They will be systematically conducted as precious illusions. Yes, they are precious they simply stem out of the gems of my well being.

Attentive they will be, addressing them ambitiously to reach out to all you whom can relate and those who don't desire to relate.

I am the Maria of my passionate meaningful 11 minutes in solitude.

To you I write, my dearest friend of all.

It saddens me to feel helpless at times like this when you need guidance the most. I wish I can say I feel 10% of what you are going through but I would be deceiving the uniqueness of distinctiveness.

I write to you, knowing that the odds of turning the tables upside down are merely tarnished with all the confusion you carry on your shoulders. I wish it were a simple matter like reading a book, picking out a summer outfit, I recognize it's not.

Our dreams are yet to be fulfilled in the near future. You see two paths each offering one of two things you live for, like a gamble, you hit the lucky strike you get all. I see for you one path that might carry all, one of both, or non at all. I see you amidst the sun the rainbows the sparkling nights with your eyes beaming through the deep blue skies. Why cant you see it I wonder? Put the rocks down, let them plant themselves, give me your hand, I wont guide you, I don’t dare to, I’ll take you to the nearest station, where you can wash the impurities away. We are all here giving you the good god gave us from life. We love you differently but proportionately the same.

This change they speak of is their knowledge of your ability to strike a cause.

2006-01-27T23:55:00.000+13:00

hello, I'm back

UPDATE -

I'm gonna risk being cheesy for a complete month in the name of love and compassion with this template! (that's if i do survive the corniness).

Happy Valentines Day, Welcome me my loved ones once more.

yellow rain?

2005-11-25T04:33:00.000+13:00

Atta Girl, Sit, Don’t hover!

Lately I have dedicated my whole soul to perform the prayer rituals on time while I can in university. There you see me with a long blue cloth with green leaves all round it with all those confusing stares from fellow Muslims and Muslimas ! Don’t know if it’s the fact that I am Hijabless or that I simply don’t look Muslim nor Arab (to them) for that matter? (Yes Yes, don’t deprive me from the pure pleasure of being mistaken for an Italian or a Portuguese).

Anyhow, so I pray right, I finished and walked towards my trainers. I’m standing trying to stuff my foot inside the trainer, I cannot help but over hear a conversation between three Muslima girls and here it goes:

Muslima #1: I just found Urine on the toilet seat! How could that have possibly landed on the seat!

Muslima#2: HAHA maybe some girls squirt ß huh?

Muslima #3: Eww that’s disgusting

Muslima#2: Yeah, some people hover over the toilet seat they don’t sit on it, I have a friend that does that

Please note, I am one that hovers over a toilet seat, and believe you me I was tempted to jump in the conversation and tell them why I do that! – excuse me, I’m sorry I’m not about to sit on a toilet seat, God knows how many asses have landed on it Nasty! It’s either I hover or I drain myself with piss. Anyway, moving on.

Muslima#1: What? That’s really weird? Why do they do that!!

Muslima#2: Yeah, I know its just odd isn’t it

I finally got my foot inside my new childish Nike Air max HAHA which im starting to hate them now, and left

So, what is your take on this? Are you a hoverer or a ‘seater’? – in public toilets that is.

P.S. If I do happen to squirt, I make sure to wipe it! HAH now that is nasty init BEAT THAT.

Caught up

2005-10-21T04:37:00.000+13:00

Sitting here, freezing to death (by choice) agonising each aspect of my life (what’s new?)

I’m petrified from what awaits me down there, in that muddled path, I step back, and it rapidly keeps approaching me!

Down to the true mortifying fact that I stand here, under the rain, shivering as such atrocious acts are occurring with such confidence such enthusiasm, and there I am, silent, gazing, I am hardly even moving.

Bringing back those times, where it was all so utterly purified, a smile, a staggering distance, and electrifying audacious doings.

Capable of ignorance, and yet peacefully dispatching those puppy eyed innocence galore.

Exceedingly dreaming, thought after thought, worry after shame, and cry after tears, how daring it is, that I’m on solid grounds.

I urge you to stop, stop that incessant crack.

In search for a passion, I wreak the deriving attraction. I’m sick of all these obsessions, cant I extend the desire of progressing without attaching. Sailing through the darkness of shadows, how cliché, touché?

Grand Scene, fight is fear, and though its near, serenity defeats.

Grab that chair, sit down and stop despairing. What use does it make, no justice is placed.

Lulling designating, be true to you, dashes of ashes are running out.

Yallah now, a meaningful end to all these notions, no I cant, I don’t, no conclusion, no recommendation, why lie to myself and say I go by steps, why say I have rules, when their brazenly broken with a knock of temptation on my door.

Hip Hip Hooray, for I’m the Jolly good fellow, which nobody can deny!