STORIES, STORIES

"I swear to god, my parents drive me nuts." "At least your parents don't meddle with your affairs." "At least you're married. They don't nag you about being single." "At least you're single! You can enjoy this freedom." "What freedom? At least you can travel." "So what if I can travel? At least you don't have to worry about in-laws." "In-laws are nothing. Try dealing with siblings." "At least your siblings are family. There isn't that much pressure." "Not if you're overweight. Try THAT pressure." "Look, some people can't even eat. That's not a problem. At least you have food on the table. Try not having money." "I DON'T have money. At least you're pretty. No one cares about your (lack of) money if you're pretty." "Tell that to my selfish husband." "At least you're married." It's not a competition. Every...

I used to think that the differences between people are what makes things exciting. Quirky little differences that were cute and romantic in the beginning, that you can laugh about all the time, present past or future. Differences didn't matter because there is always that one constant that keeps you both in the same level. The strength of Fart Jokes as a common denominator is questionable. It doesn't, and possibly never will, trump Physical Proximity. That's why friendships drift off to Something Awkward at best, and Nothing at worst. The next step, as always, is to move on. Why suffer all the unanswered questions? Fart Jokes aren't worth fighting for. You can't wake up each day with a renewed resolve to get through a relationship based solely on fart jokes. You can't waddle through the glaring cultural, financial, personal, political, emotional, literal, logical, psychological and physical differences and take all those nasty blows just to get to Fart Jokes. A...

It's always awkward to ask my mom to take pictures of me (to put as my profile picture on Facebook, of course, what else are pictures for) because she always does the old school "Okay, now pose" right after she comes over and fixes my fringe and tucks my hair into my ears like she always did for our graduation photos back in grade school. I try to explain to her that no, I want it to look spontaneous, almost like a stolen shot, you know? So that my friends on Facebook don't make fun of me? "Why would your friends make fun of you?" "Coz it's stupid to have pictures looking all formal and shit." "Fine, do your own pose." So I throw up what I think to be a gang sign, because I've always been awkward about having my picture taken to begin with, and doing some kind of satirical 7arakat has always made me feel less awkward about it. And then I make what I think to be a silly face, part winking, part I-dunno-what. And since I also happen...

Apparently, the darker my hair color, the tanner I look. You all remember India Arie's song, right? This one? I have to say, though, I AM my hair. I am especially my hair when it seems to be at the height of perfection right before I go to bed, when no one sees it. Also, India Arie is just so awesome.

It's funny when you overhear people talking about you, or the things you do. It's funnier still when you put yourself out there; there is no room for going home and crying about the negative things that people say about you. Sure, there is room for cringing. But people will always talk. And sure, you can listen. And sure, you can pick the people you put in your circle of trust: the people whose opinions you take to heart. But they can't be ALL the people who talk about you. There should only be a select few. And no, the people you trust don't always say the best things. But they sure as hell should say nice things about you. And if they never say nice things about you? Maybe you've chosen to trust the wrong people. So who are your people?

Blog, Heart Rate Monitor. Heart Rate Monitor, Blog. This is the Polar F6. I initially didn't want it (or need it) because I'm pretty nerdy when it comes to my workout sessions, and I have this book where I record all of my activity and graph my pattern. (Sue me.) Some of the info that I log on to my workout book are the following: * Calories I consumed per day * Length of my workout * What kind of workout I did (cardio, strength, etc) * Calories I burned during that workout * Little notes to myself such as: "YOU MAJORLY FAILED TODAY" or "I LOVE YOU BASKIN ROBBINS, NO MATTER WHAT" I knew about the whole heart rate thing, how to get in what zone to achieve what goal for my workout. (If you want to know more about it, click here ) I didn't take it seriously, though, because I am, in fact, quite busy, contrary to popular belief, and I can't spend more than 5 minutes geeking out on my workout log. Besides, I've always relied on my instincts as to whet...

Now that my friend M and I have spent countless hours chatting and making reference jokes about the show Fringe, it's time that we share some of our major points of discourse. He and I agree that these people are doppelgangers of each other. If the Fringe people would only smile a little. You know? Why so serious? 1. Anna Torv - hot FBI Agent Olivia Dunham is like a less dorky version of Donna from That 70s Show. 2. Joshua Jackson - Peter Bishop, the resident mysterious and guarded commitment-phobe, is like a yummier, less Father-figure-ish version of George Clooney. They even sound alike. I might also mention here that when I was a kid gushing over his Mighty Ducks character, I never once thought he would grow up to look like this. Aw. But then again, I also never knew I would be blogging about it. 3 - Jack Noble - the mad scientist Walter Bishop is like a mad scientist version of our favorite madman Gary Busey. 4. Kirk Acevedo - Olivia...

The difference between Jeddah and Not Jeddah is never more apparent than when you find yourself home alone in Jeddah. If I were suddenly home alone in Not Jeddah, I would not have been posting a blog entry. I would, instead, have been suddenly Not Home Alone, or Not Home at all. Home alone in Jeddah, however, I find myself Not Gallivanting On The Streets In Mayhem Fashion, and Not Not Posting A Blog Entry. It's pretty difficult to be Not Home in Jeddah, see. There's the issue of Not Having Transportation, there's also the Not Having Anywhere To Go To But Cafes and Restaurants, which leads to more problems when the issue of Not Having Much Money is present. You might also have problems when your friends aren't able to be Not Home themselves. When you're Not Home in Not Jeddah, you can't Not Take A Walk, or Not Play Some Kind Of Sport, or Not Go For Drinks, or Not Meet New People. When you find yourself home alone in Jeddah, perhaps the most excitement you will ge...

So I'm watching this Ne-yo track, right? And it's like, a feel-good song. Enjoy your life, etc. I love it. I love champagne. Who doesn't? But I can't relate to this song. Or music video. Not when I'm doing my laundry at 4am. In my parents' home. In Jeddah. Without champagne. On my birthday. Not at a party somewhere. Kicking it. Living it. Enjoying it. I'm just enjoying my life right here, throwing my white sneakers in the washing machine, with my denim bag, with my belts, and I listen to the washer make these awful sounds like someone's lifeless corpse is in there banging against the machine's walls. Yes, it was a beautiful day It's gone be a beautiful night Break out the champagne Everybody get a glass Let's start it off sexy - Ne-yo. Champagne Life. Oh, yeaaaah. *turns up the dryer* Can't wait to enjoy that freshly laundered batch.

Reblogged from Khaleda's Tumblr Pantaphobia is the total absence of fear. So yeah, it's the fear of .. nothing. Blows the mind. If I say that I have the opposite of pantaphobia, which is that I DON'T fear nothing, doesn't that make it the same thing? The mind is once again blown. I can't wait for nothing! Also, this is one thing I like about Tumblr, the reblogging. I can't do that here on Blogger. And I don't think I will use my Tumblr account. Yet. So anyway, what do YOU fear?

SUCH exciting news. Neil Gaiman, my favorite blogger (not author, coz I still haven't read a book of his that I LIKE like) and Matt Smith of Doctor Who (11th) in the same picture that's so awesome the light couldn't help itself. This photo from Gaiman's blog HERE Gaiman is writing for the next season of THIS Doctor, and I can NOT wait to call in sick for work to spend all day watching it. Doctor who, you ask?? Why, yes! DOCTOR WHO, INDEED!! If you haven't seen this show, you should seriously start watching. NAOW. In a nutshell, it's about this non-human but human-looking "Doctor" who isn't really a doctor, either, traveling through space and time in a time machine that's actually a phone booth- Ok, I'm gonna stop trying to explain what it is because it is just Insanely Awesome stuff! It cannot be explained! If you like funny, quirky madness, you have to watch this. Also, watching it would really help you get my lame fangirl Doctor Who puns ...

I have a habit of randomly asking any one of my guy and gal pals to cut my hair. It's great because a) I get to save money; they cut my hair for free, and b) it's a great activity to spend quality time with my good friends. Last week, I asked B to cut my hair, and everyone was like GASP, he'll ruin your LIFE. It's not that I trust that they will do a good job. They're not exactly trained professionals. And by that, I mean they have no friggin' idea how to cut hair, except to just cut randomly everywhere, in all directions until I say stop. It's that I trust that whatever they do, they don't intend to harm me. Or to ruin my life. Even if, in the end, they do. It's all about intentions, isn't it.