STORIES, STORIES

Hey, it's already February. Exactly one year ago today, I was... Well, I was in Jeddah. I was watching the season finale of Fringe, and was so invested in it. I lived and breathed science fiction and I was so completely convinced that there was no way in the world I would ever go survive without it. I was so incredibly fit one year ago today. I kicked endurance and strength and core, right in the ass. Interval training, cross-fit, boot camp, circuit, I squatted like a motherfucker and STAYED THERE and my leg muscles shamed the boys to submission. Don't get me wrong, I was convinced that I was a fatass, but I could run at 7m/h for 45 minutes straight and I could go vegetarian for weeks, and I did push ups with my chest touching the floor and my knees off the ground. I didn't have Rest Days, I had Yoga Days, when I melted my heart to the sky and saluted the sun. I was also learning Spanish with my friends. Si queremos esposas, no debes jugaremos MTG. I can still read...

Living in Jeddah, where everything is just so difficult to do , always meant that, outside of work, you have two choices for activity: 1) Go to underground parties or gatherings or workshops , or 2) Stay at home and watch TV shows or have a relationship with the internet. Of course, if you don't know the right people, you really only have Choice #2. You and the internet probably already have many children. Me, I enjoyed both options in equal amounts. ACCIDENTALLY INSPIRED In 2011, I just got bored of it all, so much that I discovered I bored myself . I suddenly fancied going back to school. I missed the exhilaration of projects, assignments, professors, goals and beer-induced pseudo-intellectual discussions. University life was so enchanting like that, the ultimate period of youth and stupidity cocooned in academia. But more than that, what I really missed was sharpened talent and skill, both of which I severely lacked. It's so easy to be stagnated in Jeddah because of...

I went to the 2013 Islamic Fashion Festival held in KL last month (November) at the Marriott, because that's the kind of thing I do now apparently, and of course, as with anything that is predicated with the word "Islamic", it raised all kinds of heated, almost hateful questions within my circle, me being officially Muslim and coming from both the Arab world and the Muslim-Asian one. Everyone just getting their tar7as all up in a twist. I don't blame them, but I'm also a little detached. Why can't we all just enjoy some nice fashion style coupled with some religion-influenced culture without discussing who's going to hell and who's not? No? Kk. So, the Islamic Fashion Festival (IFF) was founded by Malaysian royalty Raja Rezza Shah, an entrepreneur, fashion enthusiast and jet-setter, as one would expect. When the infamous 9/11 disaster cast an evil glow on Muslims and Islam far and wide, he repurposed this glow into a spotlight on a catwalk and b...

There's a ripple going through the fabric of internet space-time continuum as nerds and non-nerds across the web's multiverses scramble to get a piece of the 50th Anniversary Doctor Who special. Mine is sitting on my desktop, just waiting to be stared at and wept for, which I will do in just a few minutes. But first, a tribute to two magnificent otherworldly men - The Doctor and Thor.  Here are the top 10 reasons why I loved Thor: The Dark World . 10. The Train Scene. The troubled demigod needs to get to Greenwich, and the only way he could do it is by catching the train, where some lucky woman standing next to him had to steady herself against his chest when the train lurches. That woman could have been any one of us. This woman, and not Natalie Portman, symbolizes hope for us mere humans. 9. Shirtless Thor.  There is justice in a world where Thor can only contemplate his life and the worlds he wants to save while looking out a vast balcony with nary a pi...

Two Things So I find myself in a place where I am so utterly on my own that I have to forage for food. Two things: a) I don't cook. This wasn't so much a problem back when I wasn't living by myself and either my parents or my siblings made my food. Actually, it's not really a problem right now, either. I have a non-functioning kitchen that a friend says reminds her of those vacation houses that we go stay at temporarily on beach weekends ( istira7a s, really) - it's super empty and the gas stove doesn't really work because there isn't a... gas... thing, whatever that's called. I don't have pots or pans, nothing. This empty kitchen is the reason I will never get a husband. My mom agrees. b) I'm not big on taking food pictures, and in fact, I started the hashtag #aftermeal as a passive aggressive stand against those who do (the hashtag is not dead, but it has evolved into something completely different. Don't check it.), where I ...

I can't get over the fact that now I have all this freedom, but I am broke. It's the price of "starting over", and all that post-collegiate Hannah Horvath from Girls rhetoric (except I'm 30 years old now). So yes, I am penniless, but I like to spend some time in the weekend having fun that doesn't involve spending money I don't have, and well, I only have one choice - THE OUTDOORS. You guys, I hate the outdoors. It's no secret. There's only one thing I do when my friends in Jeddah managed to drag me outside the house for some stupid fresh air and stupid outdoor activity - I COMPLAIN. I complain from the moment we step out of the house till the moment I pass out in bed back home. It's exhausting. But I digress. Here's what my weekend looked like. We went to this place and had a picnic. YOU GUYS. I can't believe I just said that sentence. Can you look at this place? It's so fake it hurts my eyes. Below are my friends,...

Dragon Lady Sundays I spend at the restaurant poolside. Sometimes I swim. Most days I sit there with my books and wait for my laundry to finish - I use the communal laundry machines with the built-in Eww Factor because I don't have my own washer/dryer yet. First world middle-class problems, knamean? The restaurant owner lady is a certified Grumpy Cat. I try my best to be friendly. I walk in and I'm all "Good morning, how are you today?" and she replies by looking at me over her reading glasses and waiting in silence.  "I'd like a coffee, please," I says. "Coffee?" she half-yells. "Yes." And she walks away wordlessly.  What did I ever do to her to deserve this? Oh, you know, maybe I ruined her life, maybe I stole her husband, maybe I threaten her with my frizzy hair, maybe my friends and I are too loud when we break out in song so randomly and so loudly at high noon and it gives her a raging headache, I du...

I was cleaning out my iPad when I saw this note I wrote myself on the plane when I moved to Malaysia. I lol-ed at its... hopefulness. It's good. 5:15 pm, 9 July 2013, Tuesday    My already mild fear of heights (and turbulence) is quickly muffled by my amazement at technology, the fact that I am tens of thousands of miles up, right above clouds. I'm a little light-headed even as I type; we're landing, and soon, taxiing! Taxiing! I love that word! We're descending, I'm listening to Astrud Gliberto, and I'm trying to look at the fantastic side of traveling all by my lonesome, chasing a dream, despite my fears of the unknown, despite my dislike for traveling. Wasn't this what I've always wanted, wondered about? Independence? YES.    I have no idea what awaits me. I'll find out in 15 minutes when we land, and then I'll find out again in 2 or 3 hours when I get to my new home, and then I'll continue finding out everyday, every hour for th...

Just give me a few more weeks, you guys, and I'll be one of those 30-year-olds who stay in on weekends watching a show. Can't wait. In the meanwhile, I will continue posting wondrous photos of the normal world.  Yesterday, I walked 20 minutes to the nearest mall, and I realized how stressful it was. Like, I was proper stressed out, about whether or not I was going the right way, about whether I looked like an idiot, about whether I was wearing the right clothes for walking, if someone saw me would they know I'm a dumbass when it comes to WALKING?! I thought of all my Jeddawi boys who would drive me around and wait a half hour in the car while I did my shopping, HOW DID I EVER TAKE THAT FOR GRANTED?! But enough of that crazy talk, because although I miss the luxury of the Saudi Golden Cage, this weird freedom to walk the streets, this freedom to put myself in danger and then this freedom to defend myself, it's a pretty good deal. #FirstWorld Eid this ye...

I want the devil in the details: coherence, clarity, a voice, a story, the right word at the right time. It's those small things that make up the whole, and it's those same small things that are the hardest to get. Minimalism isn't just about eliminating clutter, is it. It's about a perception tilt-shift, and fuck if those minimalist pieces aren't the most expensive and difficult to acquire. I don't merely want to be a writer. I want to be the mover of people and things and mountains. I want to get under the skin and direct the flow of blood cells, hidden in plain sight. I want words to have meaning long after they've lost their function.  I watched The Devil Wears Prada, an unimpressive film (with the magnificent Meryl Streep) until just recently when it became relevant to my interests. I work in the "industry" now, and I understand the ecosystem, but I question myself a little bit every day. How does staying in the Industry contribute t...