I just finished watching this movie. For the hundredth time or something. Actually, I was flipping channels between two movies. A Cinderella Story (for the happy ending and the prince charming) and Liar Liar (for the adorable kid).
Don't you just love fairy tales? They just momentarily transfer you to a completely different parallel universe where everything works out in the end. Everyone gets their prince charming. Who just so happens to be the most sweet and considerate soul in the whole universe. And "they live happily every after"- Bleh.
No seriously, DON'T YOU JUST HATE FAIRY TALES?
I honestly believe that I would've been much better off had I not read, watched and believed every fairy tale as a kid, and every corny mushy-wushy chick flick that made it on the screen as a teenager and a 20-something.
And the worst part is, I'm such a happy-ending-junkie, I can't quit even if I wanted to. I can't resist a happy ending. And am only too happy to oblige with the tears and the rest of the parade.
Seriously, my girls are SO NOT going to even know that fairy tales exist. There are zillions of cute kid books and movies that are super engaging and actually teach kids things that would help them in real life, INSTEAD OF STUFFING THEIR BRAINS WITH COTTON CANDY.
Okay, I might be overreacting here just a tad. But seriously, if I can have a say about it, my girls are so not going to be happy-ending junkies. They can go watch "little Einsteins" together, while mommy and daddy can watch "You've Got Mail" for the millionth time. What? I said I was a lost cause.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
On Scents and Massages
So I got a perfume today. From one of the kids. One of the naughtiest kids, mind you. Along with letter that is signed by his name and supposedly from him, but in reality written by his mom. He was more of a delivery man.
I wish they didn't though, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to handle this. Am I even supposed to accept it? The only thing is, it's really almost the end of the year. I'm convincing myself its just a "thank you for putting up with my son" gesture and nothing more. I sure hope they are not fostering the misguided notion that this will in anyway affect the frequency of his visits to the time-out area whenever he deserves it. Or God forbit make me feel guilty about it.
Besides, I don't do perfumes. I can't stand strong scents. It has to be a very gentle- hardly detectable- floral or musky scent for me to even agree to come near it (yes kholoud, and you thought it couldn't get worse than no makeup and no heels! oh but it can and it does!). I prolly should put a sign somewhere saying: "Flowers and chocolates welcomed". Now had he showed up with a bouquet of flowers or little bits of chocolaty bliss, then things would've been quiiiite different. Come to think of it, it's good that he hasn't. A teacher can only be conscientious until flowers and chocolate enter the picture. Hey I'm human okay?
Man my neck and shoulders are tensed beyond belief. It started a while back and only seems to be getting worse. They are continuously aching. I keep picturing those seats in the center of Amsterdam Airport where you can get a quick neck massage before you catch your next flight. Ah what I wouldn't give to have one of those girls suddenly materialize in my classroom and fix my neck. I know, you're thinking well go do just that. No not go to Amsterdam. Get a neck massage somewhere. In theory, that's doable. But I think I've already established that I'm not big on pampering myself. I mean, I can imagine it and think "sweeeet", but would never actually do anything about it. I just can't be bothered. So unless they miraculously appear out of thin air, I'll be whining about my neck and shoulders for quite some time.
Meh.
Maybe I'll spill on a generous amount of perfume, that'll numb the pain. Only because I'd have passed out almost instantaneously.
I wish they didn't though, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to handle this. Am I even supposed to accept it? The only thing is, it's really almost the end of the year. I'm convincing myself its just a "thank you for putting up with my son" gesture and nothing more. I sure hope they are not fostering the misguided notion that this will in anyway affect the frequency of his visits to the time-out area whenever he deserves it. Or God forbit make me feel guilty about it.
Besides, I don't do perfumes. I can't stand strong scents. It has to be a very gentle- hardly detectable- floral or musky scent for me to even agree to come near it (yes kholoud, and you thought it couldn't get worse than no makeup and no heels! oh but it can and it does!). I prolly should put a sign somewhere saying: "Flowers and chocolates welcomed". Now had he showed up with a bouquet of flowers or little bits of chocolaty bliss, then things would've been quiiiite different. Come to think of it, it's good that he hasn't. A teacher can only be conscientious until flowers and chocolate enter the picture. Hey I'm human okay?
Man my neck and shoulders are tensed beyond belief. It started a while back and only seems to be getting worse. They are continuously aching. I keep picturing those seats in the center of Amsterdam Airport where you can get a quick neck massage before you catch your next flight. Ah what I wouldn't give to have one of those girls suddenly materialize in my classroom and fix my neck. I know, you're thinking well go do just that. No not go to Amsterdam. Get a neck massage somewhere. In theory, that's doable. But I think I've already established that I'm not big on pampering myself. I mean, I can imagine it and think "sweeeet", but would never actually do anything about it. I just can't be bothered. So unless they miraculously appear out of thin air, I'll be whining about my neck and shoulders for quite some time.
Meh.
Maybe I'll spill on a generous amount of perfume, that'll numb the pain. Only because I'd have passed out almost instantaneously.
Skipping The Weekend
My Thursday and Friday were spent in their entirety in front of the PC preparing for our last chapter on "Simple Machines" (a broom is a simple machine, hence the pressing need to show up to class carrying one!). I even bailed out on Thursday's family day. On Friday I had some plans with friends, but they fell apart. I didn't mind much then, was actually pretty relieved, cuz I needed every minute and was stressed out. But now I'm thinking that wasn't the smartest move. I needed to take time off work.
It's Saturday morning and I already feel burnt out. Usually I'm sleepy on the way to school, but once I'm there, the engines turn on and I'm back to my daily run around the school corridors. It's already 8:30 and I still don't feel any better. I just don't feel up to it. And the worst part is, I don't have a choice. I have to be up to it. Oh well, I'm counting on the adrenaline rush I'll get when I start chasing one of the kids back in line. That should work.
That's it. Next weekend I'm gonna be chillin the whole time. I just hope I'll get there soon enough!
It's Saturday morning and I already feel burnt out. Usually I'm sleepy on the way to school, but once I'm there, the engines turn on and I'm back to my daily run around the school corridors. It's already 8:30 and I still don't feel any better. I just don't feel up to it. And the worst part is, I don't have a choice. I have to be up to it. Oh well, I'm counting on the adrenaline rush I'll get when I start chasing one of the kids back in line. That should work.
That's it. Next weekend I'm gonna be chillin the whole time. I just hope I'll get there soon enough!
Friday, April 27, 2007
I don't recall reading the word "dignified" in the job description
And for a good reason!!
I'm gonna be walking into school tomorrow morning proudly carrying my handbag, canvas bag full of books and, um, a broom. Yep you read that right. We will proceed, my beloved broom and I, through the admin. corridors, queue up in front of the fingerprint machine, then march up multitude staircases and through a maze of corridors, again with my broom by my side, till I reach the safety of my classroom.
I'm gonna be the laughing stock of the school. Oh wait, that has been taken care of ages ago. Somewhere around the time I walked in the school with pockets bulging with rocks of all shapes and sizes, and that time I was literally thrown off balance flat on the floor by 10 majorly-excited 7-year-old girlies I taught last year. In front of the whole school. Oh sweet dignity, why did you walk out on me?
On the bright side, I guess walking in with a broomstick is as bad as it gets. I can only move upwards from there, right? At least that's what I tell myself.
(On a side note: the fact that brooms usually conjure the image of a witch should not lead you to any hasty conclusions. Much appreciated.)
I'm gonna be walking into school tomorrow morning proudly carrying my handbag, canvas bag full of books and, um, a broom. Yep you read that right. We will proceed, my beloved broom and I, through the admin. corridors, queue up in front of the fingerprint machine, then march up multitude staircases and through a maze of corridors, again with my broom by my side, till I reach the safety of my classroom.
I'm gonna be the laughing stock of the school. Oh wait, that has been taken care of ages ago. Somewhere around the time I walked in the school with pockets bulging with rocks of all shapes and sizes, and that time I was literally thrown off balance flat on the floor by 10 majorly-excited 7-year-old girlies I taught last year. In front of the whole school. Oh sweet dignity, why did you walk out on me?
On the bright side, I guess walking in with a broomstick is as bad as it gets. I can only move upwards from there, right? At least that's what I tell myself.
(On a side note: the fact that brooms usually conjure the image of a witch should not lead you to any hasty conclusions. Much appreciated.)
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Irresistable Scribble
There were four of them and they were getting detention. I wouldn't have it any other way. I marched them to the supervisor's office, whom I found was in a meeting. Unfazed, I stood my ground and declared: "I'm not going home until I am assured they are getting detention tomorrow". I think she saw that I meant every word I uttered (that's a glimpse of the new improved wiser me:P I can pull off a stunt like that, something I was never able to do before! Well that's actually just part of the story, the previous boys supervisor changed. She used to scare the boys, but darn she used to scare me just as much!!) She promised they would. One of them was Fahad, a cute boy that I love. But that was besides the point, he went too far this time.
I entered my class this morning and slowly emptied my things- breakfast Tupperware, glasses, mobile and my lesson plan book. My classroom door opened and in came Fahad. I quickly noticed there was a folded paper in his hands. Great, a note from his parents- I thought. I'm not particularly a fan of parents' notes as it is, but today it ticked me off. If anything it made me more determined to go through with detention. It might as well be from his GRANDPA for all I care- I mumbled under my breath. He silently gave it to me and walked out. I slowly unfolded it, my hand ready for the next move which is to crumble it and swish it in the garbage where it belongs.
That plan's all history now. Written in his cutest own handwriting was this:
My heart melted. He was saved!
Looking at his letter, I couldn't help but remember my own 9-year-old self. That was my secret weapon that never struck out. Whenever I'd drive my mom mad (I'd say 3-4 times a day on average) usually an apology and a hug would do the trick. But occasionally my mom would be extra upset that when I approach her for an apology she'd flat-out refuse to accept, declaring that today that wouldn't cut it. Slinking back in defeat I'd go to my room, and squeeze my little brain for a solution. Finally, I'd do the only other thing I knew how to do; get my pencil and paper and start writing her a hearty apology and place it on her pillow. I'd wait for her to get in the room. 2 minutes later, I'd be in her lap getting the warmest hug. It worked like a charm.
And today I know why. Who can resist a cute scribbled apology?
I entered my class this morning and slowly emptied my things- breakfast Tupperware, glasses, mobile and my lesson plan book. My classroom door opened and in came Fahad. I quickly noticed there was a folded paper in his hands. Great, a note from his parents- I thought. I'm not particularly a fan of parents' notes as it is, but today it ticked me off. If anything it made me more determined to go through with detention. It might as well be from his GRANDPA for all I care- I mumbled under my breath. He silently gave it to me and walked out. I slowly unfolded it, my hand ready for the next move which is to crumble it and swish it in the garbage where it belongs.
That plan's all history now. Written in his cutest own handwriting was this:
My heart melted. He was saved!
Looking at his letter, I couldn't help but remember my own 9-year-old self. That was my secret weapon that never struck out. Whenever I'd drive my mom mad (I'd say 3-4 times a day on average) usually an apology and a hug would do the trick. But occasionally my mom would be extra upset that when I approach her for an apology she'd flat-out refuse to accept, declaring that today that wouldn't cut it. Slinking back in defeat I'd go to my room, and squeeze my little brain for a solution. Finally, I'd do the only other thing I knew how to do; get my pencil and paper and start writing her a hearty apology and place it on her pillow. I'd wait for her to get in the room. 2 minutes later, I'd be in her lap getting the warmest hug. It worked like a charm.
And today I know why. Who can resist a cute scribbled apology?
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
All Out of Threats
*finger pointed threateningly*
"Listen up Abdulaziz, this is your final reminder. If I end up asking you to leave the classroom, not even your GRANDPA will let you come back in, okay?"
Can you tell that I'm running out of good lines now that it's the end of the year?:)
Funny thing is, it actually worked. I was about to burst out laughing at what I just said, but then I noticed that he actually settled down. Apparently grandpa IS scary. Hmm, interesting. veeeery interesting!
"Listen up Abdulaziz, this is your final reminder. If I end up asking you to leave the classroom, not even your GRANDPA will let you come back in, okay?"
Can you tell that I'm running out of good lines now that it's the end of the year?:)
Funny thing is, it actually worked. I was about to burst out laughing at what I just said, but then I noticed that he actually settled down. Apparently grandpa IS scary. Hmm, interesting. veeeery interesting!
Monday, April 23, 2007
MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA
I had a near death experience just now watching this video... FROM ALL THE LAUGHTER!!
THIS IS MY BROTHER WHEN HE WAS A KID. I SWEAR TO GOD.
Someone must've taken a video of him back then and, inspired, made this cartoon!!
OH MY GOD I can't possibly laugh any more!!!!
This is just a glimpse of what it was like having him as part of our family!! Tiny (not anymore:P), cute, BUT INGENIOUSLY ANNOYING :p
Oh but I love you all the same bro! :D
THIS IS MY BROTHER WHEN HE WAS A KID. I SWEAR TO GOD.
Someone must've taken a video of him back then and, inspired, made this cartoon!!
OH MY GOD I can't possibly laugh any more!!!!
This is just a glimpse of what it was like having him as part of our family!! Tiny (not anymore:P), cute, BUT INGENIOUSLY ANNOYING :p
Oh but I love you all the same bro! :D
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Older Wiser Me
Two years ago, I was a 21 year old fresh graduate who had nothing to show for "Work Experience" on her CV except a two-weeks job in a toy store over the Christmas season and some serious tick removal off hairy dogs in the animal shelter I volunteered in.
Now I am 23 and, thankfully, tick-free (wow that rhymes, I am so gifted:P) and nearing the end of my second year working in the same school. For no other reason but to kill time (not that I don't have tons of work, but I wanted to stall) I sat today reflecting on some situations I was put in last year and how I handled them. Some made me cringe, some made me laugh at how silly I was and some I have yet to figure out if I could have handled them differently. I love how we, young people, tend to overestimate how well-prepared we are to handle whatever is thrown at us. Eventually- but not painlessly- we manage to dodge most of the blows, but get our fair share of bull eyes. We have bruises to show for it. Bottom line is, we manage to survive.
Then two years later, not unlike myself today, we sit remembering those days and chuckling at ourselves. What's even worse is that it's a continuous process. So even though I think I'm all wise and stuff now as I critique my fresh-graduate former self. No doubt two years from now I will be remembering what I did this morning and either finding it extremely funny or horrifying (I'll put my money on the second one).
But I guess that's how the game is played. You handle things as best you know at that moment and then bare to be chuckled at by your very own 2-years-older-somewhat-wiser self.
Man I was absolutely clueless when I first set foot in the school (that is not to say that I am no longer clueless, but it has evolved into a more complex form of clulessness:). Thank God I was an assistant then, so I didn't have too much on my plate. And yet I still found myself in complete shock every now and then.
I just can't get myself to forget the first time I went down to my after school duty in the playground. After 15 minutes pass I am supposed to ask the kids to leave the playground and go wait in the reception. I, oblivious to the danger I was putting my self in, approached a bunch of loud teenage girls walking. In the nicest of ways, and with a smile on top, I asked them in Arabic to please go to the reception as we're required to close the playground gates. They stood there, giving me the dirtiest look I've ever seen. Then one was bold enough to mockingly repeat what I said stressing my Arabic accent which of course isn't Kuwaiti.
I don't exactly remember how I reacted, actually I don't think I even did. I just stood there, frozen in shock and disbelief. Yes that was the day I was introduced to the horrifying
impertinence of some of the students.
I learnt my lesson and never spoke to any of the students in anything but English. For some reason, when I spoke to them in English they shut up and nodded. They were unlikely to answer back.
Ah if I can only meet this girl again and have her do the same thing. Man I would skin her alive:P But what did that 2-years-younger Mariam know back then of beating up rude and vulgar kids!
Or that time I was unjustly told off by an unfriendly coordinator for supposedly showing up late to my duty (I wasn't), and when I went up to the supervisor to complain I ended up sobbing in her office and using up her year's supply of tissues. Poor 2-years-younger me. Ah the age of innocence.
But my favorite moment must be when the teacher I was assisting stayed absent and I had to take over and I stood there with only one thought in my head "Geez, why are they all staring at me? Do I have something stuck on my forehead? Man I KNEW I shoulda taken a look at the mirror this morning". Oh yeah, this whole "being in charge of the class" took some getting used to.
Of course that is not to say that I'm much better now. I still get puzzled and self-conscious when they all stare at me sometimes (hehe kidding:P) and still often find myself dumbfounded beyond speech in the face of similar impudence. But at least I don't cry in public now, but retreat to my chosen secret spot.
I also have under my belt some seemingly trivial, but very handy information. I know where the best parking spot is and which gates are open at which times. I can sneak in and use the administration's photocopying machine when I'm in a real hurry. Oh and get away with it:P I know how to carry myself in a way that demands at least partial respect from teenage students who are almost my own height. But I'm afraid I am still completely terrified when I pass by the 12th grader boys. Man they are HUGE. I would not want to get into the slightest disagreement with any of them. To handle those kids, I find myself using the same strategy I used last year: Avoid eye contact and flee.
Oh well, I guess I wasn't completely clueless back then after all!
Now I am 23 and, thankfully, tick-free (wow that rhymes, I am so gifted:P) and nearing the end of my second year working in the same school. For no other reason but to kill time (not that I don't have tons of work, but I wanted to stall) I sat today reflecting on some situations I was put in last year and how I handled them. Some made me cringe, some made me laugh at how silly I was and some I have yet to figure out if I could have handled them differently. I love how we, young people, tend to overestimate how well-prepared we are to handle whatever is thrown at us. Eventually- but not painlessly- we manage to dodge most of the blows, but get our fair share of bull eyes. We have bruises to show for it. Bottom line is, we manage to survive.
Then two years later, not unlike myself today, we sit remembering those days and chuckling at ourselves. What's even worse is that it's a continuous process. So even though I think I'm all wise and stuff now as I critique my fresh-graduate former self. No doubt two years from now I will be remembering what I did this morning and either finding it extremely funny or horrifying (I'll put my money on the second one).
But I guess that's how the game is played. You handle things as best you know at that moment and then bare to be chuckled at by your very own 2-years-older-somewhat-wiser self.
Man I was absolutely clueless when I first set foot in the school (that is not to say that I am no longer clueless, but it has evolved into a more complex form of clulessness:). Thank God I was an assistant then, so I didn't have too much on my plate. And yet I still found myself in complete shock every now and then.
I just can't get myself to forget the first time I went down to my after school duty in the playground. After 15 minutes pass I am supposed to ask the kids to leave the playground and go wait in the reception. I, oblivious to the danger I was putting my self in, approached a bunch of loud teenage girls walking. In the nicest of ways, and with a smile on top, I asked them in Arabic to please go to the reception as we're required to close the playground gates. They stood there, giving me the dirtiest look I've ever seen. Then one was bold enough to mockingly repeat what I said stressing my Arabic accent which of course isn't Kuwaiti.
I don't exactly remember how I reacted, actually I don't think I even did. I just stood there, frozen in shock and disbelief. Yes that was the day I was introduced to the horrifying
impertinence of some of the students.
I learnt my lesson and never spoke to any of the students in anything but English. For some reason, when I spoke to them in English they shut up and nodded. They were unlikely to answer back.
Ah if I can only meet this girl again and have her do the same thing. Man I would skin her alive:P But what did that 2-years-younger Mariam know back then of beating up rude and vulgar kids!
Or that time I was unjustly told off by an unfriendly coordinator for supposedly showing up late to my duty (I wasn't), and when I went up to the supervisor to complain I ended up sobbing in her office and using up her year's supply of tissues. Poor 2-years-younger me. Ah the age of innocence.
But my favorite moment must be when the teacher I was assisting stayed absent and I had to take over and I stood there with only one thought in my head "Geez, why are they all staring at me? Do I have something stuck on my forehead? Man I KNEW I shoulda taken a look at the mirror this morning". Oh yeah, this whole "being in charge of the class" took some getting used to.
Of course that is not to say that I'm much better now. I still get puzzled and self-conscious when they all stare at me sometimes (hehe kidding:P) and still often find myself dumbfounded beyond speech in the face of similar impudence. But at least I don't cry in public now, but retreat to my chosen secret spot.
I also have under my belt some seemingly trivial, but very handy information. I know where the best parking spot is and which gates are open at which times. I can sneak in and use the administration's photocopying machine when I'm in a real hurry. Oh and get away with it:P I know how to carry myself in a way that demands at least partial respect from teenage students who are almost my own height. But I'm afraid I am still completely terrified when I pass by the 12th grader boys. Man they are HUGE. I would not want to get into the slightest disagreement with any of them. To handle those kids, I find myself using the same strategy I used last year: Avoid eye contact and flee.
Oh well, I guess I wasn't completely clueless back then after all!
Introducing... The Push Push Corner!
That was one nice lesson I gave the kids just now, titled "What is work?".
There was a lot of acting out and they loved it. I particulary enjoyed making them push the wall for quite some time! Maybe that's what I'll have the naughty kids do in the time-out corner from now on. God knows writing lines is pretty much useless, oh and I'd rather restrict my exposure to their terrible terrible handwriting! It hurts my eyes (funny, that was the exact line my teachers used to say about my own handwriting!)
So from now on it's officially called: The Push-Push corner!
Abdulaziz, brace yourself! :P
Ah, the joy of being in charge of the new generation!
There was a lot of acting out and they loved it. I particulary enjoyed making them push the wall for quite some time! Maybe that's what I'll have the naughty kids do in the time-out corner from now on. God knows writing lines is pretty much useless, oh and I'd rather restrict my exposure to their terrible terrible handwriting! It hurts my eyes (funny, that was the exact line my teachers used to say about my own handwriting!)
So from now on it's officially called: The Push-Push corner!
Abdulaziz, brace yourself! :P
Ah, the joy of being in charge of the new generation!
Friday, April 20, 2007
Fight Hunger: Walk The World
The event, organized by the UN Food Programme and local partners from around the world, will take place on May 13th as a call for an end to child hunger.
It's taking place almost everywhere. Click here to check out if there's a walk where you're at. I know for a fact there's one in Kuwait (check banner on the left) and in Amman. So you guys out there, make it a point to join!
Put on your sneakers and walk the world!
It's taking place almost everywhere. Click here to check out if there's a walk where you're at. I know for a fact there's one in Kuwait (check banner on the left) and in Amman. So you guys out there, make it a point to join!
Put on your sneakers and walk the world!
Gee Thanks
One has got to love how unpredictable my mom is. Juuuust when I think I got her cornered and pretty much ensured a certain response she goes and surprises me!
Me (plainly fishing for a compliment): Mama don't my new eyeglasses make me look smart?
Mom: Let me see, turn around and face me directly... hmm, yep you definitely look like a smart wannabe.
Honestly mom you should've read the "The complete Guide to Complimenting Your daughter" more thoroughly:P
Me (plainly fishing for a compliment): Mama don't my new eyeglasses make me look smart?
Mom: Let me see, turn around and face me directly... hmm, yep you definitely look like a smart wannabe.
Honestly mom you should've read the "The complete Guide to Complimenting Your daughter" more thoroughly:P
Thursday, April 19, 2007
And the award goes to.....
I'm hosting my very own award ceremony here. Just me, my blog and a red napkin! (a used one at that:P). It is in recognition of the most memorable moments of my second take at a Parents-Teacher conference. Below are a list of the categories and the winners:
Most Frightening Moment
Definitely the first parent that walked in. She had her kid along with her (he didn't look particularly thrilled to be there). She had a look that plainly said: SOMEBODY is gonna be beaten up today. Seeing that there was only me and her kid in the room, I stood a 50% chance of paying the ER a visit. I must say, I did not like the odds. It was a close call, but I think at the end she settled on her kid. Won't deny I was extremely relieved!
Most touching moment
Homoud's mom: You know the other week when one of the teachers passed away and the boys' Sports Day was cancelled? Homoud was pretty disappointed, but I sat him down and explained what happened. I told him to imagine how hard it must be for the teachers to cope and imagine if it were one of his own teachers that passed away. Next morning he comes to me and says: "mom, I prayed so hard yesterday that nothing ever happens to my Science and Arabic teachers because I like them so much".
Me: awwwwwwwwww. Are you sure he said science??
(Background info: I love Homoud but he also drives me insane and only yesterday I made him stay in class during recess writing "I will pay attention in class" like 40 times or something:P now I feel guilty! Darn!)
Most "WHAT THE?" moment
I have twins. They are in different classes. Their mom is not exactly the most amiable creature you'll meet. Yeah. She kinda intimidates me. A lot.
She: So how did they do in the quiz they took 2 days ago?
Me: Oh I didn't have a chance to check it yet.
She: NOT YET? NOT YET???
I dunno how she does that but I almost started apologizing, then I realised: WHAT THE??? Woman go home:P
Most Ridiculous Moment
Me: Oh and he needs to do his own work. I gave him only 5 on his project cuz it wasn't his handwriting. Next time he won't get any marks.
Mom: Oh but it is his work. He told me what to write and I wrote it.
Me: Huh? Why?
Mom: Oh I dunno what to do with him. He can't be bothered to write. He says: Yalla mom I tell you what to write and you write.
And what's worse is that she actually does. I love kids and all that, but I still think you should be allowed to toss kids out of windows when it's obviously the only logical solution :P
Most adorable Moment
BamBam Soud: previously mentioned.
Most Happy Ending
*on our way out of school*
Mrs. Darci: You know I could just kick you now (will refrain from mentioning what I did to deserve that threat:P)
Me: hehehehehe
Mrs D: But I'll forgive you cuz you're Ahmad's favorite teacher.
Me: I AM???? *widest silliest grin ever*
This week has been one of my best since the start of the year. Somehow, I never seemed to run out of little joys that sparkled my day and made sure my smile would not fade. My morale, which took a dip a while back, seemed to make a strong comeback. I was myself again. Can't describe how great that felt.
Yet again the search for something to be thankful for yields innumerable results. Continue search?
Most Frightening Moment
Definitely the first parent that walked in. She had her kid along with her (he didn't look particularly thrilled to be there). She had a look that plainly said: SOMEBODY is gonna be beaten up today. Seeing that there was only me and her kid in the room, I stood a 50% chance of paying the ER a visit. I must say, I did not like the odds. It was a close call, but I think at the end she settled on her kid. Won't deny I was extremely relieved!
Most touching moment
Homoud's mom: You know the other week when one of the teachers passed away and the boys' Sports Day was cancelled? Homoud was pretty disappointed, but I sat him down and explained what happened. I told him to imagine how hard it must be for the teachers to cope and imagine if it were one of his own teachers that passed away. Next morning he comes to me and says: "mom, I prayed so hard yesterday that nothing ever happens to my Science and Arabic teachers because I like them so much".
Me: awwwwwwwwww. Are you sure he said science??
(Background info: I love Homoud but he also drives me insane and only yesterday I made him stay in class during recess writing "I will pay attention in class" like 40 times or something:P now I feel guilty! Darn!)
Most "WHAT THE?" moment
I have twins. They are in different classes. Their mom is not exactly the most amiable creature you'll meet. Yeah. She kinda intimidates me. A lot.
She: So how did they do in the quiz they took 2 days ago?
Me: Oh I didn't have a chance to check it yet.
She: NOT YET? NOT YET???
I dunno how she does that but I almost started apologizing, then I realised: WHAT THE??? Woman go home:P
Most Ridiculous Moment
Me: Oh and he needs to do his own work. I gave him only 5 on his project cuz it wasn't his handwriting. Next time he won't get any marks.
Mom: Oh but it is his work. He told me what to write and I wrote it.
Me: Huh? Why?
Mom: Oh I dunno what to do with him. He can't be bothered to write. He says: Yalla mom I tell you what to write and you write.
And what's worse is that she actually does. I love kids and all that, but I still think you should be allowed to toss kids out of windows when it's obviously the only logical solution :P
Most adorable Moment
BamBam Soud: previously mentioned.
Most Happy Ending
*on our way out of school*
Mrs. Darci: You know I could just kick you now (will refrain from mentioning what I did to deserve that threat:P)
Me: hehehehehe
Mrs D: But I'll forgive you cuz you're Ahmad's favorite teacher.
Me: I AM???? *widest silliest grin ever*
This week has been one of my best since the start of the year. Somehow, I never seemed to run out of little joys that sparkled my day and made sure my smile would not fade. My morale, which took a dip a while back, seemed to make a strong comeback. I was myself again. Can't describe how great that felt.
Yet again the search for something to be thankful for yields innumerable results. Continue search?
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
BAM BAM part 2
Except it's my heart that is BAMBAMing this time, and because of the same adorableness that goes by the name soud.
If I start singing his praises, this post would be nothing short of a hefty encyclopedia . And it's 8 pm, the parents meeting finished (and it went quite well!! No parent beat me up:P more on that later), so I need to go home! Home sweet home.
But just 2 seconds ago, the cutest thing happened.
Soud, nothing short of a ball of cuteness, walks in with his mom. His mom smiles at me and says: Soud has been nagging me to come to the science room to hear that he is "Amazing".
Me: HE IS AMAZING. HE'S THE MOST AMAZING KID ever. He has motivated his entire group to be exceptional, he's 100% attentive, he's smart, and not just that. He's the most considerate and helpful kid I've ever seen.
At that point, Soud was smiling sooooooooooooooo widely while simultaneously glancing down and biting his nails out of shyness:)
IT WAS SO ADORABLE.
Mom (as she walks out): so you are "Amazing" after all!
My heart is BamBaming. This is the cutest thing ever.
If I start singing his praises, this post would be nothing short of a hefty encyclopedia . And it's 8 pm, the parents meeting finished (and it went quite well!! No parent beat me up:P more on that later), so I need to go home! Home sweet home.
But just 2 seconds ago, the cutest thing happened.
Soud, nothing short of a ball of cuteness, walks in with his mom. His mom smiles at me and says: Soud has been nagging me to come to the science room to hear that he is "Amazing".
Me: HE IS AMAZING. HE'S THE MOST AMAZING KID ever. He has motivated his entire group to be exceptional, he's 100% attentive, he's smart, and not just that. He's the most considerate and helpful kid I've ever seen.
At that point, Soud was smiling sooooooooooooooo widely while simultaneously glancing down and biting his nails out of shyness:)
IT WAS SO ADORABLE.
Mom (as she walks out): so you are "Amazing" after all!
My heart is BamBaming. This is the cutest thing ever.
Frostbites In Kuwait
It is a fact of life that on average I feel more cold in Kuwait's summer than in its short-lived winter.
Confused? Well, this should clear it up: AIR CONDITIONS.
Of course they are one heck of an amazing invention but man those things can be merciless sometimes. In most indoor places the AC is on so strong, it literally feels like you've been momentarily transported to the north pole! Sometimes I get so chilly to a point where I actually RELISH the first 2 minutes of sun/heat exposure I get as I finally leave the building. I literally feel my skin defrosting. I say 2 minutes cuz that's how long it takes me to reach my car, peek my head inside and go "OH PRETTY COW THAT IS HOT". I think the Arabic expression
"يا طخه يا اكسر مخه" says it best!!
Apparently my kids were sharing my pain today during their math class. As they walked outside the class in the direction of my classroom, I could feel that at least parts of them were frozen. They were much less wobbly than usual and I could detect a touch of blue on their lips.
Essa (hopping up and down to get some warmth): Ms. Mariam can you please please please make me hot soup?
Gosh, the boys are determined to keep me giggling all through this week!!
Confused? Well, this should clear it up: AIR CONDITIONS.
Of course they are one heck of an amazing invention but man those things can be merciless sometimes. In most indoor places the AC is on so strong, it literally feels like you've been momentarily transported to the north pole! Sometimes I get so chilly to a point where I actually RELISH the first 2 minutes of sun/heat exposure I get as I finally leave the building. I literally feel my skin defrosting. I say 2 minutes cuz that's how long it takes me to reach my car, peek my head inside and go "OH PRETTY COW THAT IS HOT". I think the Arabic expression
"يا طخه يا اكسر مخه" says it best!!
Apparently my kids were sharing my pain today during their math class. As they walked outside the class in the direction of my classroom, I could feel that at least parts of them were frozen. They were much less wobbly than usual and I could detect a touch of blue on their lips.
Essa (hopping up and down to get some warmth): Ms. Mariam can you please please please make me hot soup?
Gosh, the boys are determined to keep me giggling all through this week!!
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
DAM DAM
Time: 2:25 p.m.
Location: In the corridor returning the boys to their advisor classroom before they leave home.
Soud: Ms. Mariam do you know that we're going to get our shahada (report card) now?
Me: Yep! I know!
Soud: My heart is making DAM DAM DAM (along with the cutest illustration of this using his tiny hands).
I laughed. For hours. Still am actually. Isn't this like the most adorable thing in the world?
Gosh, I don't care what I say when I'm frustrated and croaking, but there are some boys that I simply ADORE.
Location: In the corridor returning the boys to their advisor classroom before they leave home.
Soud: Ms. Mariam do you know that we're going to get our shahada (report card) now?
Me: Yep! I know!
Soud: My heart is making DAM DAM DAM (along with the cutest illustration of this using his tiny hands).
I laughed. For hours. Still am actually. Isn't this like the most adorable thing in the world?
Gosh, I don't care what I say when I'm frustrated and croaking, but there are some boys that I simply ADORE.
Mariam's Laws of Boy Motion
Inspired from mighty ol' Newton's Laws of Motion, but with a little Mariam-ic touches:)
At first, I state the original law, then make the necessary alterations relying on my own observations of typical "Boy Motion" in your typical elementary school.
Newton's first law: law of inertia
An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted upon by an external and unbalanced force. An object in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an external and unbalanced force.
Mariam's First law: law of run run run BAM
A boy at rest will remain at rest only if he is watching TV, on his Xbox or asleep. A boy in motion will remain in motion until he runs into something solid (sometimes even this will not be enough to stop him).
Newton's second law: law of acceleration
The rate of change of momentum of a body is proportional to the resultant force acting on the body and is in the same direction.
Mariam's second law: law of sugary fuel
The rate of change of momentum of a boy's body is proportional to how much sugar he has indulged in recess.
Newton's third law: law of reciprocal actions
All forces occur in pairs, and these two forces are equal in magnitude and opposite in direction.
Mariam's third law: law of the "tosheh hosheh"
All fights start in pairs (but grow in size exceptionally fast), the forces of the punches and kicks are opposite in direction but not necessarily equal in magnitude.
These three laws hold to a good approximation for the most part of my boys' daily motion. However, the three laws collapse to bits and are rendered completely and utterly obsolete when a variable is introduced. Please welcome Mr. BALL.
If you have ever made the mistake of underestimating the effect of your average ball (size, shape and color seem to be of no importance as long as it is round and can bounce!). Just try to offhandedly toss a ball in some boy-infested scene and kick back and enjoy the show!
It is truly a sight to see. No matter what they are doing, how involved they are in it, each and every child will abandon anything and everything and rush to chase the ball and try to catch it. It is an irresistible temptation. Not a single boy can see a ball in motion and not spring forth in its direction. Suddenly all eyes are in one direction, all hearts and arms are desperately aiming to capture one object. And when someone suddenly does catch it and holds it in his little hands. You should just see the look on his face... we're talking I-just-won-a-gold-medal-in-the-Olympics proud! But it lasts only as long as it takes for the rest of the boys to catch up and run him over in an attempt to recapture the ball. Wherever the ball decides to go, you can bet your falafel that 30 pairs of feet will be scurrying off at its tail.
I can only conclude that this "Ball Effect" is a natural instinctive behavior. One that happens to amuse me immensely I must admit.
At first, I state the original law, then make the necessary alterations relying on my own observations of typical "Boy Motion" in your typical elementary school.
Newton's first law: law of inertia
An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted upon by an external and unbalanced force. An object in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an external and unbalanced force.
Mariam's First law: law of run run run BAM
A boy at rest will remain at rest only if he is watching TV, on his Xbox or asleep. A boy in motion will remain in motion until he runs into something solid (sometimes even this will not be enough to stop him).
Newton's second law: law of acceleration
The rate of change of momentum of a body is proportional to the resultant force acting on the body and is in the same direction.
Mariam's second law: law of sugary fuel
The rate of change of momentum of a boy's body is proportional to how much sugar he has indulged in recess.
Newton's third law: law of reciprocal actions
All forces occur in pairs, and these two forces are equal in magnitude and opposite in direction.
Mariam's third law: law of the "tosheh hosheh"
All fights start in pairs (but grow in size exceptionally fast), the forces of the punches and kicks are opposite in direction but not necessarily equal in magnitude.
These three laws hold to a good approximation for the most part of my boys' daily motion. However, the three laws collapse to bits and are rendered completely and utterly obsolete when a variable is introduced. Please welcome Mr. BALL.
If you have ever made the mistake of underestimating the effect of your average ball (size, shape and color seem to be of no importance as long as it is round and can bounce!). Just try to offhandedly toss a ball in some boy-infested scene and kick back and enjoy the show!
It is truly a sight to see. No matter what they are doing, how involved they are in it, each and every child will abandon anything and everything and rush to chase the ball and try to catch it. It is an irresistible temptation. Not a single boy can see a ball in motion and not spring forth in its direction. Suddenly all eyes are in one direction, all hearts and arms are desperately aiming to capture one object. And when someone suddenly does catch it and holds it in his little hands. You should just see the look on his face... we're talking I-just-won-a-gold-medal-in-the-Olympics proud! But it lasts only as long as it takes for the rest of the boys to catch up and run him over in an attempt to recapture the ball. Wherever the ball decides to go, you can bet your falafel that 30 pairs of feet will be scurrying off at its tail.
I can only conclude that this "Ball Effect" is a natural instinctive behavior. One that happens to amuse me immensely I must admit.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
A Little Angel Called Nasser
Nasser is one of the 9-year-old kids I teach. You can't meet Nasser and not instantly fall in love with him. It'll take you exactly 1/10 of a second to single him out, 2 seconds to be convinced he comes from the very best breeding, and 3 seconds to completely and utterly adore him.
He's the most sweet-natured kid I've ever met. His smile literally brightens up the classroom and his excitement is fuel to my lesson. I love it when he spontaneously interrupts me with his soft and tender voice "Can I say something teacher? Can I say something teacher? Can I can I can I?", he hops up as he say that, and by the time he's done with his sentence he somehow is standing beside me on the board. He makes me smile, each and every time.
He's brilliant, dedicated and his marks are great. He's the perfect student.
But today my heart broke.
I was in the playground during recess and suddenly boys surrounded me:
"Ms. Mariam do you that Nasser's mom died???"
"Nasser???? which Nasser?" *please God don't let it be Nasser in 4A.*
"Nasser in 4A miss".
I froze for a second. I felt my heart sink and totally forgot about releasing my breath and taking in another one.
"He's absent?"
"No, he's here. Over there", they said pointing at a seemingly normal Nasser, wearing his charming smile as he talks to his friends.
Later I learnt from other teachers that it seems his mom had been sick for a long time and away in treatment, since the dad informed the school that she passed away last Saturday but he only informed Nasser on Wednesday.
His little face has been haunting me ever since and all I can think of is Nasser. My heart tears when I see him. And yet he seemed okay on the outside. I wonder, is it because he hasn't fully realised it. Or worse, has she been sick and missing from his life for such a long time, that she has been effectively dead long before Wednesday.
I try to imagine my life without my mom's presence, then I quickly stop myself. It's a thought so terrifying, I am paralyzed at the mere idea. And yet, millions of kids grow up without their moms by their sides. What we consider as the essence of our happiness and cannot imagine losing for a second, some people never experience. If it wasn't for my deep belief in Allah's wisdom behind any tribulation, I think I would sink in the sorrow of those mere thoughts.
And yet while Allah takes, he also provides. Even with their shattering loss, he provides them with the strength to keep going, despite the huge piece of their lives that goes missing. I sit here devastated at their loss, wondering how will they ever cope. And yet they do, eventually. Life goes on. If you turn to Him, he'll give you the strength. You'll feel His mercy.
I reflect back on Nasser, now that I know that possibly from the start of the year his mom wasn't able to take care of him. Usually the absence of a mother carries instant effects on the child. Psychologically, behaviorally, academically. And yet, Nasser has been perfect in all aspects that not for a second did I or any of the other teachers doubt that something may be wrong back home.
His clothes are always clean, his things ready.. By all standards he is a happy and successful child. Someone must be taking care of him. I mean, he's just nine years old. And this someone isn't his mom. His grandma? His aunt maybe? Whoever it is, they seem to be doing an amazing job of taking care of him and providing him with the love, support and affection a child this age desperately needs. Nasser has lost his mother, but he hasn't lost everything. Allah chose to take his mom, but has given him love and support in the form of loving and caring relatives.
I find peace in the knowledge that he's in safe hands.
After all, who would bestow more love and mercy on this child than The Merciful himself.
Bless you Nasser, and may those who take care of you be rewarded, in this life and the hereafter.
May your smile continue to light up my classroom and fill our hearts with joy.
He's the most sweet-natured kid I've ever met. His smile literally brightens up the classroom and his excitement is fuel to my lesson. I love it when he spontaneously interrupts me with his soft and tender voice "Can I say something teacher? Can I say something teacher? Can I can I can I?", he hops up as he say that, and by the time he's done with his sentence he somehow is standing beside me on the board. He makes me smile, each and every time.
He's brilliant, dedicated and his marks are great. He's the perfect student.
But today my heart broke.
I was in the playground during recess and suddenly boys surrounded me:
"Ms. Mariam do you that Nasser's mom died???"
"Nasser???? which Nasser?" *please God don't let it be Nasser in 4A.*
"Nasser in 4A miss".
I froze for a second. I felt my heart sink and totally forgot about releasing my breath and taking in another one.
"He's absent?"
"No, he's here. Over there", they said pointing at a seemingly normal Nasser, wearing his charming smile as he talks to his friends.
Later I learnt from other teachers that it seems his mom had been sick for a long time and away in treatment, since the dad informed the school that she passed away last Saturday but he only informed Nasser on Wednesday.
His little face has been haunting me ever since and all I can think of is Nasser. My heart tears when I see him. And yet he seemed okay on the outside. I wonder, is it because he hasn't fully realised it. Or worse, has she been sick and missing from his life for such a long time, that she has been effectively dead long before Wednesday.
I try to imagine my life without my mom's presence, then I quickly stop myself. It's a thought so terrifying, I am paralyzed at the mere idea. And yet, millions of kids grow up without their moms by their sides. What we consider as the essence of our happiness and cannot imagine losing for a second, some people never experience. If it wasn't for my deep belief in Allah's wisdom behind any tribulation, I think I would sink in the sorrow of those mere thoughts.
And yet while Allah takes, he also provides. Even with their shattering loss, he provides them with the strength to keep going, despite the huge piece of their lives that goes missing. I sit here devastated at their loss, wondering how will they ever cope. And yet they do, eventually. Life goes on. If you turn to Him, he'll give you the strength. You'll feel His mercy.
I reflect back on Nasser, now that I know that possibly from the start of the year his mom wasn't able to take care of him. Usually the absence of a mother carries instant effects on the child. Psychologically, behaviorally, academically. And yet, Nasser has been perfect in all aspects that not for a second did I or any of the other teachers doubt that something may be wrong back home.
His clothes are always clean, his things ready.. By all standards he is a happy and successful child. Someone must be taking care of him. I mean, he's just nine years old. And this someone isn't his mom. His grandma? His aunt maybe? Whoever it is, they seem to be doing an amazing job of taking care of him and providing him with the love, support and affection a child this age desperately needs. Nasser has lost his mother, but he hasn't lost everything. Allah chose to take his mom, but has given him love and support in the form of loving and caring relatives.
I find peace in the knowledge that he's in safe hands.
After all, who would bestow more love and mercy on this child than The Merciful himself.
Bless you Nasser, and may those who take care of you be rewarded, in this life and the hereafter.
May your smile continue to light up my classroom and fill our hearts with joy.
Sunglasses Hunt
I winced my eyes all the way as I drove back home, I was almost blinded by the sun. That's it, I needed new sunglasses. I somehow managed to snap mine in half. You see, I come from a family who aren't very big on "sunglasses preservation". Sunglasses have the shortest possible shelf life in our household. My sis's speciality is simply losing them. No evidence remains. Oh and she can't be bothered to go and try on new ones. She once re-bought the exact same pair of sunglasses at least 3 times!! (after the 2nd time, she stopped going personally and would send family members to do her dirty work:P)
Although I have lost a pair of glasses before, my speciality seems to be in creatively deforming them! They snap in half, lose a limb, crack a lens or magically reshape until they look like anything BUT sunglasses. Yep, I'm gifted that way!
I went in the shop. I haven't been there in years (since my last glasses have been brought while in Amman), but I remember I purchased my first pair of glasses there.
"Hi I'm looking for sunglasses"- I told the nice shop lady.
"This way Ma'am"
I went "this way" and 2 seconds later I was facing a display of Gucci sunglasses.
Baaaaad shop lady, baaaad shop lady :P
*cough cough cough*
I didn't need to look at the price tags to know that I was staring at 200++ KD sunglasses.
Me (hurriedly retreating as if the display carried a contagious virus): No no no, not Gucci's. I just want normal good quality sunglasses. You know something that isn't worth, well, MY ENTIRE SALARY. Know what I'm saying?
"Ma'am I'm sorry that's all we have".
Honestly. Do you realise the things I could do with 200++ Kds? People die because they don't have a loaf of bread and this woman wants me to buy a Gucci glasses that I will most probably snap in a month of two. I mean for crying out loud it's a pair of SUNGLASSES, not the first installment in my hypothetical son's tuition!!
"I think I like that one there"
"That's the door ma'am"
"Yeah. I'll take that."
My mom and I kept walking around the mall and finally walked in a random sunglasses shop.
"Wait a second... I know you! You always used to come. You would get the exact same sunglasses"- the shop owner's voice was loud and clear.
Me (sheepishly): No actually that would be my sister.
Him: Oh I see! No matter, the whole family are my customers. Come in come in.
I ended up buying sunglasses from him. Of course it wasn't exactly painless; he kept forcing me try on those ridiculously HUUUGE sunglasses that make me look exactly like a fly, never mind that I was yelling "I DON'T GIVE A DAMN that's they are IN." in the background.
But he did give me a 45% discount. Turns out it pays to have a sister who keeps losing her glasses and returning to the same shop for exact replicas:P It definitely pays to be memorable. Apparently, the weirder you are, the better!
Although I have lost a pair of glasses before, my speciality seems to be in creatively deforming them! They snap in half, lose a limb, crack a lens or magically reshape until they look like anything BUT sunglasses. Yep, I'm gifted that way!
I went in the shop. I haven't been there in years (since my last glasses have been brought while in Amman), but I remember I purchased my first pair of glasses there.
"Hi I'm looking for sunglasses"- I told the nice shop lady.
"This way Ma'am"
I went "this way" and 2 seconds later I was facing a display of Gucci sunglasses.
Baaaaad shop lady, baaaad shop lady :P
*cough cough cough*
I didn't need to look at the price tags to know that I was staring at 200++ KD sunglasses.
Me (hurriedly retreating as if the display carried a contagious virus): No no no, not Gucci's. I just want normal good quality sunglasses. You know something that isn't worth, well, MY ENTIRE SALARY. Know what I'm saying?
"Ma'am I'm sorry that's all we have".
Honestly. Do you realise the things I could do with 200++ Kds? People die because they don't have a loaf of bread and this woman wants me to buy a Gucci glasses that I will most probably snap in a month of two. I mean for crying out loud it's a pair of SUNGLASSES, not the first installment in my hypothetical son's tuition!!
"I think I like that one there"
"That's the door ma'am"
"Yeah. I'll take that."
My mom and I kept walking around the mall and finally walked in a random sunglasses shop.
"Wait a second... I know you! You always used to come. You would get the exact same sunglasses"- the shop owner's voice was loud and clear.
Me (sheepishly): No actually that would be my sister.
Him: Oh I see! No matter, the whole family are my customers. Come in come in.
I ended up buying sunglasses from him. Of course it wasn't exactly painless; he kept forcing me try on those ridiculously HUUUGE sunglasses that make me look exactly like a fly, never mind that I was yelling "I DON'T GIVE A DAMN that's they are IN." in the background.
But he did give me a 45% discount. Turns out it pays to have a sister who keeps losing her glasses and returning to the same shop for exact replicas:P It definitely pays to be memorable. Apparently, the weirder you are, the better!
Friday, April 13, 2007
Second Class Citizens My Shoe
For a while now I've been conducting my own unofficial survey. I say unofficial because it isn't based on anything scientific and, well, only documented in my shabby memory.
Here's how it goes: I always find myself surrounded with kids, and not just at work. My after school activities involve kids one way or another (but admittedly much younger and cuter and less destructive:P) and sooner or later they'll say something about their schools; you know the name of their teacher or that naughty kid in math class. Which is where I pounce.
Ah, if I had a Hershey's Kiss for each time I asked a little boy in which school he is, to be told that he's in one of the American/English/international schools, then when I turn around to ask his sister if she's at the same school, I am greeted with an all-too-familiar shake of the head and the name of your average Arabic school.
Before I continue with my rant, I feel I must pause to clarify that what I'm addressing here is not whether international or Arabic schools are better. That's not the point I'm trying to reach, at least not in this post.
At the end of the day, parents are entitled, based on their unique judgement and beliefs to choose the school they feel suits their kids best- the financial aspect included. I'm not questioning that. Send them to whatever school you like, I won't stand in your way!
After all, with the exception of KG, I went to your average Arabic private school all my life and I turned out fine (okay that's debatable, but really I don't think I can blame my borderline-wackiness on my teachers, some things are instinctive I'm afraid!)
My point is that if you decide that Arabic schools are good enough for your kids, then they should be good enough for ALL your kids. And by extension, if you feel they aren't good enough for your kids, then they shouldn't be good enough for ALL your kids. Get that- ALL your kids. Yep that includes males and females. Boys and girls. XXs and YXs (excuse me, but the biologist in me can't help but rear its head once in a while:P)
I just wish I could understand how these people think. I mean, what the heck are they thinking? Are they even?
Okay, that was a lie. Unfortunately, I do understand exactly how their twisted logic works. But it sickens me to a point where I pretend not to grasp it, for no other reason than my own peace of mind. That and not to go strangle them.
That is why if I had a say about it (which I don't, obviously) I would choose to have a girl over a boy any time of the year. Partly because I think little girls are the cutest, most affectionate darlings on earth. But mostly as a symbolic act of defiance against the prehistoric yet remarkably surviving sick notion that boys are somehow better. For some reason they are deemed as "more worth it". Somehow, a boy's success would "naturally" make them more proud. As if their hearts would swell with pride a little bit more. Their smile would be a little more huge and their tears of happiness a little more abundant. And why not when he's the boy.
Those people make me sick. And I'm not even a die-hard feminist. But some things just yell out: WRONG.
Here's how it goes: I always find myself surrounded with kids, and not just at work. My after school activities involve kids one way or another (but admittedly much younger and cuter and less destructive:P) and sooner or later they'll say something about their schools; you know the name of their teacher or that naughty kid in math class. Which is where I pounce.
Ah, if I had a Hershey's Kiss for each time I asked a little boy in which school he is, to be told that he's in one of the American/English/international schools, then when I turn around to ask his sister if she's at the same school, I am greeted with an all-too-familiar shake of the head and the name of your average Arabic school.
Before I continue with my rant, I feel I must pause to clarify that what I'm addressing here is not whether international or Arabic schools are better. That's not the point I'm trying to reach, at least not in this post.
At the end of the day, parents are entitled, based on their unique judgement and beliefs to choose the school they feel suits their kids best- the financial aspect included. I'm not questioning that. Send them to whatever school you like, I won't stand in your way!
After all, with the exception of KG, I went to your average Arabic private school all my life and I turned out fine (okay that's debatable, but really I don't think I can blame my borderline-wackiness on my teachers, some things are instinctive I'm afraid!)
My point is that if you decide that Arabic schools are good enough for your kids, then they should be good enough for ALL your kids. And by extension, if you feel they aren't good enough for your kids, then they shouldn't be good enough for ALL your kids. Get that- ALL your kids. Yep that includes males and females. Boys and girls. XXs and YXs (excuse me, but the biologist in me can't help but rear its head once in a while:P)
I just wish I could understand how these people think. I mean, what the heck are they thinking? Are they even?
Okay, that was a lie. Unfortunately, I do understand exactly how their twisted logic works. But it sickens me to a point where I pretend not to grasp it, for no other reason than my own peace of mind. That and not to go strangle them.
That is why if I had a say about it (which I don't, obviously) I would choose to have a girl over a boy any time of the year. Partly because I think little girls are the cutest, most affectionate darlings on earth. But mostly as a symbolic act of defiance against the prehistoric yet remarkably surviving sick notion that boys are somehow better. For some reason they are deemed as "more worth it". Somehow, a boy's success would "naturally" make them more proud. As if their hearts would swell with pride a little bit more. Their smile would be a little more huge and their tears of happiness a little more abundant. And why not when he's the boy.
Those people make me sick. And I'm not even a die-hard feminist. But some things just yell out: WRONG.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
WHAT is happening to the world?
OH MY GOD
There's HAIL falling from the sky! and with such intensity!! IN KUWAIT. IN APRIL.
Gosh, the world has gone completely mad!
I couldn't believe my eyes or ears, I had to touch it to believe it! And so I rushed out to the balcony, and stepped on its drenched floor with only socks on my feet. In less than 15 seconds I was completely soaked from head to toe. It was actual HAIL. White tiny HAIL. Sweeeeet.
Oh wait. It just stopped and now it's all sunny again. I'm telling ya, COMPLETELY out of whack. I love it! :D
There's HAIL falling from the sky! and with such intensity!! IN KUWAIT. IN APRIL.
Gosh, the world has gone completely mad!
I couldn't believe my eyes or ears, I had to touch it to believe it! And so I rushed out to the balcony, and stepped on its drenched floor with only socks on my feet. In less than 15 seconds I was completely soaked from head to toe. It was actual HAIL. White tiny HAIL. Sweeeeet.
Oh wait. It just stopped and now it's all sunny again. I'm telling ya, COMPLETELY out of whack. I love it! :D
(picture taken from 248AM)
On Being Thankful
Surely we're all thankful for the big blessings that surround us like clean water and a breath of air. But still, little reminders in our lives make us more aware and thankful. I have my own set of reminders..
Never am I more grateful to the blessing of water than after a long run. At that moment, there's nothing I wouldn't give in exchange for a cup of cool water. Aaaah.....
And never am I more grateful to the blessing of fresh breathable air than when I take a run in humid weather. I can't describe the feeling when I'm drawing as much breath as I can and yet I feel like my windpipe is blocked. Oxygen is stubbornly refusing to budge. It's within sight, but out of reach. It's suffocating- literally.
Or when I walk into a cigarette-smoke-stuffed elevator and attempt to hold my breath all the way up to the 7th floor. The second I step outside and gasp for air, there is nothing in the world I am more thankful for than a breath of fresh air.
Let's always remind ourselves of the little blessings we should constantly be mindful and thankful for, no?:)
Never am I more grateful to the blessing of water than after a long run. At that moment, there's nothing I wouldn't give in exchange for a cup of cool water. Aaaah.....
And never am I more grateful to the blessing of fresh breathable air than when I take a run in humid weather. I can't describe the feeling when I'm drawing as much breath as I can and yet I feel like my windpipe is blocked. Oxygen is stubbornly refusing to budge. It's within sight, but out of reach. It's suffocating- literally.
Or when I walk into a cigarette-smoke-stuffed elevator and attempt to hold my breath all the way up to the 7th floor. The second I step outside and gasp for air, there is nothing in the world I am more thankful for than a breath of fresh air.
Let's always remind ourselves of the little blessings we should constantly be mindful and thankful for, no?:)
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
The theme seems to be... weddings!!
Man this guy is AMAZING, I can't get enough of his videos!
I am SO proposing:P
I am SO proposing:P
Parent Negotiations
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
A Marriage Has Come to Town
Just a mere two days after I talk about Mumbai and my love for Indian weddings and my secret desire to be Indian and dress in saris, I receive an invitation to my friend's (a teacher assistant in our school) wedding, in Mumbai on Monday 21st of May!
How cool is that?:P What do you know, Life has a sense of humor!
Too bad I'd still be working then and chances I can make a clean escape to attend a wedding in Mumbai are slim to none, but darn, it woulda been the perfect excuse to start my one-month Indian adventure that I would love to experience!
But still, I cracked up when I saw the invitation. Admittedly though, the first thought that popped in my mind was: SHUCKS, why couldn't I have blogged about becoming Mrs. Godiva or something else worthwhile:P
Alas, I stay at home, Godiva-less and Mumbai/Sari-less. I'll have to make do with jumping around and performing my signature crazy dance (those who know me are certainly familiar with the fact that I DO NOT dance, ever. I am not capable or willing. I'm a hopeless case and happy about it. But at certain times, when I'm overly excited and alone at home, I do what is befittingly coined "the crazy dance"; which basically is just me hopping and flailing my arms until I poke my own eye and end it with a dramatic OUCH.
If I can't go to Mumbai, Mumbai will come to me. It's actually simpler than you'd think; I will wrap enough colorful towels around me, and start my crazy dance whilst singing at the top of my voice my favorite song from "Bride and Prejudice" sound track:
"A marriage has come to town.
Laughter, colour light and sound.
Life is great, let's celebrate
The sacred union 2 souls have found"
Yep, that should definitely do it.
How cool is that?:P What do you know, Life has a sense of humor!
Too bad I'd still be working then and chances I can make a clean escape to attend a wedding in Mumbai are slim to none, but darn, it woulda been the perfect excuse to start my one-month Indian adventure that I would love to experience!
But still, I cracked up when I saw the invitation. Admittedly though, the first thought that popped in my mind was: SHUCKS, why couldn't I have blogged about becoming Mrs. Godiva or something else worthwhile:P
Alas, I stay at home, Godiva-less and Mumbai/Sari-less. I'll have to make do with jumping around and performing my signature crazy dance (those who know me are certainly familiar with the fact that I DO NOT dance, ever. I am not capable or willing. I'm a hopeless case and happy about it. But at certain times, when I'm overly excited and alone at home, I do what is befittingly coined "the crazy dance"; which basically is just me hopping and flailing my arms until I poke my own eye and end it with a dramatic OUCH.
If I can't go to Mumbai, Mumbai will come to me. It's actually simpler than you'd think; I will wrap enough colorful towels around me, and start my crazy dance whilst singing at the top of my voice my favorite song from "Bride and Prejudice" sound track:
"A marriage has come to town.
Laughter, colour light and sound.
Life is great, let's celebrate
The sacred union 2 souls have found"
Yep, that should definitely do it.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
You gotta love endorphins
Today I discovered the joy of reading a book, legs crossed, and snuggled on a bench over a jetty. The sea was the perfect blue and there was a gently playful cool breeze. Aah, complete relaxation... It was just what I needed to de-stress after a tough day at school.
When I reached the level of relaxation I opted for, I decided it was time to have some "happy dozes" kick in, and so I returned my things to the car and started my run. By then it had become pretty windy, and since I was running in the same direction of the wind, it felt like I was almost flying. It was fantastic! I felt like "lubna al sari3a" (remember that cartoon?:)
Not so much so of course on my way back. I had to fight my way through the strong wind. I felt like part of a movie scene played in slow motion!
I usually run on weekends, and the families spending the day there are from all nationalities; Kuwaitis, Egyptians, Indians, and Filipinos. But today, it was like I was walking through a street in Mumbai. Something wasn't right. The first thought that struck me was that, during weekdays, there is some sort of unwritten but understood schedule where each nationality gets a day at the sea and today happened to be the Indians'? But then looking closer, I could see that they were in a festive mood, dressed in colorful silk saris and taking photos. Then it hit me: why it's Easter of course!!! They have the day off. Must say I'm pretty relieved my one-day-one-nationality theory was thus refuted:P
Speaking of Saris, did I ever mention how much I'm in love with them? The million colors, the garments, it's mesmerizing... I wouldn't mind becoming an Indian if only to get away with wearing one!
You know that Indian version of Pride and Prejudice called "Bride and Prejudice", anyway at the very beginning there is a scene from an Indian wedding, MY GOD. I remember the first time I saw it I burst out: I AM SO GETTING MARRIED IN INDIA.
The crazy part is, I HATE weddings. For me the only thing worse than getting invited to a wedding is picturing my own. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean the concept of marriage, but rather the celebration itself. It's just that I have no interest in it, I find all weddings to be a carbon copy of each other. Made up of rituals that I find either uninteresting, embarrassing, ridiculous or downright horrifying. Like that "zaffeh" thingie, I wouldn't be caught dead in one, let alone my own!! Besides, what's the point of having all weddings the exact same thing, they simply kill the element of surprise. Oh and don't get me started on that so-called "cake show"- can it be any tackier?
I think it's about time we revolutionize weddings. Simplicity and creativity would go a long way. Or maybe they can skip it altogether and use the budget to travel somewhere amazing and pamper themselves:P just a thought!
But anyway enough of that, I am so not an authority when it comes to weddings. I barely get invited to any, and when I do, I sulk about it. What I never know what to wear!
I guess what I'm trying to say is, God bless endorphins! They make me smile :D
When I reached the level of relaxation I opted for, I decided it was time to have some "happy dozes" kick in, and so I returned my things to the car and started my run. By then it had become pretty windy, and since I was running in the same direction of the wind, it felt like I was almost flying. It was fantastic! I felt like "lubna al sari3a" (remember that cartoon?:)
Not so much so of course on my way back. I had to fight my way through the strong wind. I felt like part of a movie scene played in slow motion!
I usually run on weekends, and the families spending the day there are from all nationalities; Kuwaitis, Egyptians, Indians, and Filipinos. But today, it was like I was walking through a street in Mumbai. Something wasn't right. The first thought that struck me was that, during weekdays, there is some sort of unwritten but understood schedule where each nationality gets a day at the sea and today happened to be the Indians'? But then looking closer, I could see that they were in a festive mood, dressed in colorful silk saris and taking photos. Then it hit me: why it's Easter of course!!! They have the day off. Must say I'm pretty relieved my one-day-one-nationality theory was thus refuted:P
Speaking of Saris, did I ever mention how much I'm in love with them? The million colors, the garments, it's mesmerizing... I wouldn't mind becoming an Indian if only to get away with wearing one!
You know that Indian version of Pride and Prejudice called "Bride and Prejudice", anyway at the very beginning there is a scene from an Indian wedding, MY GOD. I remember the first time I saw it I burst out: I AM SO GETTING MARRIED IN INDIA.
The crazy part is, I HATE weddings. For me the only thing worse than getting invited to a wedding is picturing my own. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean the concept of marriage, but rather the celebration itself. It's just that I have no interest in it, I find all weddings to be a carbon copy of each other. Made up of rituals that I find either uninteresting, embarrassing, ridiculous or downright horrifying. Like that "zaffeh" thingie, I wouldn't be caught dead in one, let alone my own!! Besides, what's the point of having all weddings the exact same thing, they simply kill the element of surprise. Oh and don't get me started on that so-called "cake show"- can it be any tackier?
I think it's about time we revolutionize weddings. Simplicity and creativity would go a long way. Or maybe they can skip it altogether and use the budget to travel somewhere amazing and pamper themselves:P just a thought!
But anyway enough of that, I am so not an authority when it comes to weddings. I barely get invited to any, and when I do, I sulk about it. What I never know what to wear!
I guess what I'm trying to say is, God bless endorphins! They make me smile :D
Friday, April 06, 2007
You Are My Sunshine
I have been feeling kinda lousy lately. You know when you're constantly feeling like you're about to come down with something, and get initial sympathy from those around you. But then days go by and you're kinda in a frozen state; you aren't feeling better, and you aren't feeling worse. It's like finding just one-half of a pair of socks in your drawer and you're late for work. Okay, I have absolutely NO idea how is that the same. It was just the first thing that came to mind (maybe cuz it happens to me like, I dunno, ALWAYS). If by some miracle you do find similarity, please do share!!
So anyway, come Wednesday night I was positively burned out. I figured it's probably due to sleep deprivation, So I celebrated the arrival of the weekend by free falling on my bed, hugging my pillow and slipping into deep undisturbed sleep. Boy did it feel good.
However, when after two nights of almost 10 hours of sleep, I woke up today still feeling drained and exhausted, I knew the situation demanded major intervention.
And so I slipped on my runners and headed for a most-needed run. I figured, if kicking back wasn't doing the trick, then I might as well sweat it out of my system. After all, I can't afford to have these tsetse-like symptoms any longer, I needed to be fully functioning. I have a deadline for submitting the marks for the report cards, which naturally means piles and piles of paperwork *yawn yawn*
My mom agreed to come along. She enjoys the walk, while I run. I love it when she comes along. But it doesn't happen often enough. I love to see her walk and gaze at the seashore so serenely, then on our way back asks me if I noticed how lovely the color of the sea was. She highlights the beauty that I sometimes overlook, focusing instead on my stop watch and avoiding bumping into that palm tree ahead:)
I swung the car door shut and was about to start my warm up, when I heard my mom...
Mom: Are you going to do that thing where you squash the ants?
Me *scandalized*: MOom!!! I NEVER squash ants!
Mom: I mean that thing that looks like you're squashing ants!
Me: Oh THAT. Yeah I will *chuckle*
She was referring to that warm up for my ankle, where I move it in circles while my toes keep touching the floor. She now officially refers to it as the "Ant Squash" exercise.
Man, I LOVE my mom. She is literally "Our Sunshine". Without her, our lives would be bland, tasteless and downright boring.
I mean, beneath my offended look I can't help but be amused every time we have this conversation in front of the mirror (and you cannot possibly imagine how often we have it).
Me *dressed up in something weird*: Mama, these don't go together right?
Mom *initial shock apparent, but quickly recovers*: no no no why do you say that.. they're not that bad (in mom's parallel universe, this is supposed to be a compliment that'll get to me!!), besides, I always tell you, BE BRAVE!
Me *in a whiny voice*: moooom, I DON'T want to be brave, I just want to look presentable.
Mom: fine be boring. I still think you'd look really BRAVE in it. It's really not that bad (again with that pseudo compliment)
Me: AAAAHHHHHH
I honestly can't imagine being away from my mom again. I absolutely cherished being around her these two years. Not having her around at all times is going to be the single hardest thing about moving away. I love you mom. I hope you love me too, even if I'm a coward (stylishly speaking:P) Maybe one day I'll learn to be "brave". You know, when I'm 99 and wearing that hospital gown, I think I can brave out a clashing hat or something to go with it. As long as it's "not that bad" of course! :P
Oh, that run worked like a charm. I'm fully-functioning again, thankfully!
So anyway, come Wednesday night I was positively burned out. I figured it's probably due to sleep deprivation, So I celebrated the arrival of the weekend by free falling on my bed, hugging my pillow and slipping into deep undisturbed sleep. Boy did it feel good.
However, when after two nights of almost 10 hours of sleep, I woke up today still feeling drained and exhausted, I knew the situation demanded major intervention.
And so I slipped on my runners and headed for a most-needed run. I figured, if kicking back wasn't doing the trick, then I might as well sweat it out of my system. After all, I can't afford to have these tsetse-like symptoms any longer, I needed to be fully functioning. I have a deadline for submitting the marks for the report cards, which naturally means piles and piles of paperwork *yawn yawn*
My mom agreed to come along. She enjoys the walk, while I run. I love it when she comes along. But it doesn't happen often enough. I love to see her walk and gaze at the seashore so serenely, then on our way back asks me if I noticed how lovely the color of the sea was. She highlights the beauty that I sometimes overlook, focusing instead on my stop watch and avoiding bumping into that palm tree ahead:)
I swung the car door shut and was about to start my warm up, when I heard my mom...
Mom: Are you going to do that thing where you squash the ants?
Me *scandalized*: MOom!!! I NEVER squash ants!
Mom: I mean that thing that looks like you're squashing ants!
Me: Oh THAT. Yeah I will *chuckle*
She was referring to that warm up for my ankle, where I move it in circles while my toes keep touching the floor. She now officially refers to it as the "Ant Squash" exercise.
Man, I LOVE my mom. She is literally "Our Sunshine". Without her, our lives would be bland, tasteless and downright boring.
I mean, beneath my offended look I can't help but be amused every time we have this conversation in front of the mirror (and you cannot possibly imagine how often we have it).
Me *dressed up in something weird*: Mama, these don't go together right?
Mom *initial shock apparent, but quickly recovers*: no no no why do you say that.. they're not that bad (in mom's parallel universe, this is supposed to be a compliment that'll get to me!!), besides, I always tell you, BE BRAVE!
Me *in a whiny voice*: moooom, I DON'T want to be brave, I just want to look presentable.
Mom: fine be boring. I still think you'd look really BRAVE in it. It's really not that bad (again with that pseudo compliment)
Me: AAAAHHHHHH
I honestly can't imagine being away from my mom again. I absolutely cherished being around her these two years. Not having her around at all times is going to be the single hardest thing about moving away. I love you mom. I hope you love me too, even if I'm a coward (stylishly speaking:P) Maybe one day I'll learn to be "brave". You know, when I'm 99 and wearing that hospital gown, I think I can brave out a clashing hat or something to go with it. As long as it's "not that bad" of course! :P
Oh, that run worked like a charm. I'm fully-functioning again, thankfully!
Thursday, April 05, 2007
My Fairly Odd Obsession
My article in Bazaar Mag for this month was inspired from my work place. For that reason, I thought it should also find its way into my blog! So brace yourselves.. oh, this is not going to be deep by the way. Thought I might point that out. Some sort of disclaimer :P
I do not hesitate for a second as I declare (off the record, please and thank you) that the best aspect of being an elementary teacher is the constant and pressing need to laminate stuff- an endeavor I am only too keen to embark on. The excitement and thrill I associate with lamination is, to tell you the truth, a bit worrying and cannot possibly be healthy. But I'm hooked. I'm in- ALL in. It's not a love affair, it's a relationship.
My wishful thoughts often take me far as I imagine how exquisite it would be if I were able to laminate actual things (as opposed to being restricted to paper). I must admit that I have reached what I myself humbly consider to be nothing short of revelations. I choose to share some, hoping that one day I might live to see them brought to life.
Oh what the heck, it's not like any of this is gonna happen, I might as well stretch my imagination a bit. Okay a lot.
Things I wish I could laminate:
My Fairly Odd Obsession
Aah, the sheer joy of laminating. It’s quite the miracle, really. I could sit for hours watching ordinary papers gracefully slide through the machine, then slowly emerge in their new and improved forms; timeless, fade-less and indestructible objects worthy of admiration- mine at least.
I do not hesitate for a second as I declare (off the record, please and thank you) that the best aspect of being an elementary teacher is the constant and pressing need to laminate stuff- an endeavor I am only too keen to embark on. The excitement and thrill I associate with lamination is, to tell you the truth, a bit worrying and cannot possibly be healthy. But I'm hooked. I'm in- ALL in. It's not a love affair, it's a relationship.
My wishful thoughts often take me far as I imagine how exquisite it would be if I were able to laminate actual things (as opposed to being restricted to paper). I must admit that I have reached what I myself humbly consider to be nothing short of revelations. I choose to share some, hoping that one day I might live to see them brought to life.
Oh what the heck, it's not like any of this is gonna happen, I might as well stretch my imagination a bit. Okay a lot.
Things I wish I could laminate:
- My hiking boots- poor things. My heart breaks every time I'm reminded of their sorry state. All tattered and torn, covered in what has become a permanent layer of mud, and smelling positively of swamps and "bala3eet" (a term introduced to me by my always innovative cousin, supposedly referring to tadpoles. To this day he insists it's an official word) I don't have the heart to throw them away, they have been my faithful companions through many a canyons and warm camp fires. I am not ready to bid my farewells, not yet.
- My Smelly Cat Peanut. Just imagine what a breeze it would be to "wipe him clean", instead of it being one heck of a risky business; one that often results in human outcries and a nasty collection of bleeding scratches. Plus, with his hair no longer free to shed, I would be theoretically allergy free! (Not really since I'm also allergic to dust, humidity and naughty kids in class) Wouldn't that be grand?
- My watch: It might be the fact that I flail my arms around a tad too much, or that my watch is suicidal, or it might just be a common case of bad luck. Whichever the case may be, the actual survival of my watches constantly falls ridiculously short of the official life expectancy of your average Swatch. And even when they're still working, they are scratched beyond recognition. So lamination would help a lot, that and a little bit of cushioning. Yep, that sounds just about right. I might even write to the guys at Swatch, sharing this revolutionary thought. I think I will.
- All my wardrobe. Or at least just my favorite outfits. I'm a hopeless case. I would always find a way to stain my clothes while eating. The newer the outfit or the dearer it is to my heart, the faster it is ruined. It's not a question of will I stain, it's more of a what and where and how creative will I be this time.
- Facial Lamination anyone? What better way to stop those wrinkles from etching their way onto your youthful countenance? At last, eternal youth is guaranteed. Oh and I daresay it’s much cheaper than Botox injections. Not that I’d know! Ew.
That’ll do for now I guess. Better not get overly ambitious from the very start. We’ll get there eventually; one lamination sheet at a time!
Yep. I am a lamination freak, how did you know?
Monday, April 02, 2007
Creature of Fresh Air
Ever since I moved back to Kuwait and my emotional state has been nothing short of a roller coaster ride. Fleeting moments of exhilaration, followed by an almost instantaneous dip into depression (okay I might have over-dramatized it just a tad). But seriously, it's worrying.
Granted, I have exhibited tendencies to be moody before. I mean, people who don't know me too well think I'm an incorrigible case of a babbling happy-go-lucky gal with a permanent goofy smile stuck on her face. Oh and with a pretty loud laugh too. Some even went so far as to say (and I quote) that they "can't possibly imagine me depressed or anything less than grinning widely". Huh. Ignorance is a bliss they say. And those close to me would be quick to agree.
But even then, my moodiness was kept in check and at least had a pattern. I get whiny and cranky when my allergy fires up into a full fledged sinusitis (which is what I am suffering from at the moment). But hey, before you get all judgemental on me try having both your nostrils completely clogged along with a headache that gives "splitting" a whole new meaning, and let's see you be all jolly-molly.
Anyone who paid us a visit during my finals, or worse tried to actually engage me in a conversation, would know better than to repeat that. Whenever I'm stressed and worried, I become obnoxiously sullen and would even dress up with a frown that would make the Jordanian population proud. But then that would only happen once a semester, during finals.
So you see, it was under control. For the rest of the year, I'm myself- a normal, cheerful and happy girl that appreciates a lame joke (aka. "dabsheh") anywhere anytime and would even laugh her head of if the occasion called for it.
But that's not true anymore. I'm all over the place, I'm confusing the hell out of my own self.
And after much thought (and by "much" I mean the time it took me to cross the street to the toy shop next door to get some gifts for the star students) I have nailed down the reason.
I'm not getting enough fresh air. It's as simple as that. Between spending an entire working day inside freezing AC-ed classes, and the rest of the afternoon in front of a computer screen or a pile of teacher manuals, and in a country where the weather is hardly ever amiable, I am officially suffering from a lack of fresh air. "Fresh air deficiency", if you will.
Spending the better part of the two last years cooped up inside has had its toll on me. I mean, it only took 5 minutes to get to the toy shop but the second I took in that first whiff of cool breeze, I could feel happiness finding its way into my heart. My head instantly cleared up from all the gloomy thoughts and I think I actually smiled at the stray cat on the side of the road. We even had a short, but insightful conversation :P
Now that we've diagnosed the problem, an action plan must be decided on. This can't go on any longer, or I fear the effect will be irreversible. I must get "out of the box" (quite literally as the case may be) and do some serious fresh air breathing, landscape walking, and star gazing. I think maybe a career change is in order! I need to be in a place where the only time I find myself under a roof is when I'm off to bed, and even then it isn't necessary. Now where could I find that....
Hmm... Well, I've always thought that "Doctors without borders" were an awesome bunch. I mean, look at the great job they're doing. They're out there doing great things. Did you hear that, OUT there. I think I should go ahead and join them. I mean, it's doable, no? I think if I seem eager enough they can overlook the tiny insignificant detail that I am not, well, a doctor. That and the fact that if I see blood or anything remotely disturbing I would instinctively run in the opposite direction, shrieking madly.
Like I said, tiny insignificant detail.
Geez, what does a girl have to do to get some fresh air these days?
Granted, I have exhibited tendencies to be moody before. I mean, people who don't know me too well think I'm an incorrigible case of a babbling happy-go-lucky gal with a permanent goofy smile stuck on her face. Oh and with a pretty loud laugh too. Some even went so far as to say (and I quote) that they "can't possibly imagine me depressed or anything less than grinning widely". Huh. Ignorance is a bliss they say. And those close to me would be quick to agree.
But even then, my moodiness was kept in check and at least had a pattern. I get whiny and cranky when my allergy fires up into a full fledged sinusitis (which is what I am suffering from at the moment). But hey, before you get all judgemental on me try having both your nostrils completely clogged along with a headache that gives "splitting" a whole new meaning, and let's see you be all jolly-molly.
Anyone who paid us a visit during my finals, or worse tried to actually engage me in a conversation, would know better than to repeat that. Whenever I'm stressed and worried, I become obnoxiously sullen and would even dress up with a frown that would make the Jordanian population proud. But then that would only happen once a semester, during finals.
So you see, it was under control. For the rest of the year, I'm myself- a normal, cheerful and happy girl that appreciates a lame joke (aka. "dabsheh") anywhere anytime and would even laugh her head of if the occasion called for it.
But that's not true anymore. I'm all over the place, I'm confusing the hell out of my own self.
And after much thought (and by "much" I mean the time it took me to cross the street to the toy shop next door to get some gifts for the star students) I have nailed down the reason.
I'm not getting enough fresh air. It's as simple as that. Between spending an entire working day inside freezing AC-ed classes, and the rest of the afternoon in front of a computer screen or a pile of teacher manuals, and in a country where the weather is hardly ever amiable, I am officially suffering from a lack of fresh air. "Fresh air deficiency", if you will.
Spending the better part of the two last years cooped up inside has had its toll on me. I mean, it only took 5 minutes to get to the toy shop but the second I took in that first whiff of cool breeze, I could feel happiness finding its way into my heart. My head instantly cleared up from all the gloomy thoughts and I think I actually smiled at the stray cat on the side of the road. We even had a short, but insightful conversation :P
Now that we've diagnosed the problem, an action plan must be decided on. This can't go on any longer, or I fear the effect will be irreversible. I must get "out of the box" (quite literally as the case may be) and do some serious fresh air breathing, landscape walking, and star gazing. I think maybe a career change is in order! I need to be in a place where the only time I find myself under a roof is when I'm off to bed, and even then it isn't necessary. Now where could I find that....
Hmm... Well, I've always thought that "Doctors without borders" were an awesome bunch. I mean, look at the great job they're doing. They're out there doing great things. Did you hear that, OUT there. I think I should go ahead and join them. I mean, it's doable, no? I think if I seem eager enough they can overlook the tiny insignificant detail that I am not, well, a doctor. That and the fact that if I see blood or anything remotely disturbing I would instinctively run in the opposite direction, shrieking madly.
Like I said, tiny insignificant detail.
Geez, what does a girl have to do to get some fresh air these days?
Sunday, April 01, 2007
My Very Own Bura3i
I have a proposition to make to anthropologists out there. I propose we coin our era as: "The Gadget Craze Era". Only fair right? I mean, the sheer number of new gadgets that make their way into the shops and eventually into our lives, is frightening. The only image that comes to my mind is that of bacteria multiplying overnight in a petri dish in my microbiology lab back in college.
You buy the coolest cell today, two days later it's old news. Everyone is out on the search for the perfect accessory. It's nothing short of a race, and just thinking about it leaves me breathless.
Where do I fit into all of this? I fear, I am the ugly duckling! :P
I am seriously gadget-challenged, and what's worse is that it is totally and completely by choice. I feel no urge whatsoever to purchase the latest mobile, or the trendiest ipod, or that killer digital cam. I couldn't care less. I mean, I'd check it out and maybe even mutter something that sounds like "sweet", but just when you think this piece of technology won me over, I would walk away without a trace of longing in my heart. Meh.
Just a glance at my mobile would expose that disturbing (to others!) truth. When every one's mobiles now not only work as radios, videos and faxes, mine suffers from what would be referred to in medical jargon as stunted growth. It can do what cells were originally designed to do; make phone calls and send texts. Period. Oh and it works as my alarm clock. That's all it does, imagine? *gasp*
I am perfectly happy with it, but find it amusing how some people are offended by my mobile.
"WHAT is that? you can afford to buy a new one, so DO THAT". But that's not the point at all.
Not that I feel the need to defend my position, but rather to shed light on it. Here's some of the reasons I'd choose a basic mobile over a fancy one any day of the year:
1. It's very light, easy to carry around and can fit in all my purses.
2. I'm not sure if that's universal or if it's something about me, but my mobiles always have a STRONG tendency to free fall whenever possible- the likelihood of this happening increasing tremendously if I am at the top of a staircase, giving the mobile a chance to bump and roll all the way down. Having a simple and inexpensive mobile saves you the heartache of watching good money broken into a million pieces.
3. I never worry about keeping my mobile close to me. I throw it around wherever I am, be it in the gym, restaurant or work. Because let's face it, people are as tempted to steal my mobile as they are my used gym socks!!
Makes sense, no?:)
So anyyyyway, back to the original subject. I hardly own any cool gadgets. My sole pride and joy would have to be my mp3 player, which I got as a gift from my awesome bro. And my hand-me-down digital cam from my awesome sis.
But "times have changed" (that's for you sis:P), and today I find myself staring suspiciously at a pretty cool laptop that claims to be my property. Yes, believe it or not, I have purchased my own laptop, out of sheer necessity. But the thing is, I'm still confused. For years, a laptop on the table meant it was my dad's, sister's or brother's. I would ask permission before I used it. And my relationship with it would last only as long as it took to check my mail. Now this thing on the table is mine. I have mixed feelings really. I'm not sure how to handle the situation. I don't think I was cut out for this.
I was admittedly excited at first when I unwrapped it from the box and eyed it adoringly for a good five minutes. But now it seems that every time I am away from it for more than 30 minutes I need to be re-introduced to it all over again. I'm telling you, gadget-challenged with honors.
Maybe I should personalize it a bit, to encourage a sense of ownership that seems to be lacking at the moment. I think my last conversation with my friend, left me inspired.
Me: So I got a laptop.
Fatima: Ohhh, I miss 3awad.
Me: 3awad?
Fatima: Yeah.. I had to sell him, poor thing.
Me: 3awad?
Fatima: 3awad! My laptop. That's what my roommate used to call him.
Giving him a name sounds like an idea that's worth a shot. So, apparently "3awad" is already taken. I guess that leaves me with, dunno, "Bura3i"?
You buy the coolest cell today, two days later it's old news. Everyone is out on the search for the perfect accessory. It's nothing short of a race, and just thinking about it leaves me breathless.
Where do I fit into all of this? I fear, I am the ugly duckling! :P
I am seriously gadget-challenged, and what's worse is that it is totally and completely by choice. I feel no urge whatsoever to purchase the latest mobile, or the trendiest ipod, or that killer digital cam. I couldn't care less. I mean, I'd check it out and maybe even mutter something that sounds like "sweet", but just when you think this piece of technology won me over, I would walk away without a trace of longing in my heart. Meh.
Just a glance at my mobile would expose that disturbing (to others!) truth. When every one's mobiles now not only work as radios, videos and faxes, mine suffers from what would be referred to in medical jargon as stunted growth. It can do what cells were originally designed to do; make phone calls and send texts. Period. Oh and it works as my alarm clock. That's all it does, imagine? *gasp*
I am perfectly happy with it, but find it amusing how some people are offended by my mobile.
"WHAT is that? you can afford to buy a new one, so DO THAT". But that's not the point at all.
Not that I feel the need to defend my position, but rather to shed light on it. Here's some of the reasons I'd choose a basic mobile over a fancy one any day of the year:
1. It's very light, easy to carry around and can fit in all my purses.
2. I'm not sure if that's universal or if it's something about me, but my mobiles always have a STRONG tendency to free fall whenever possible- the likelihood of this happening increasing tremendously if I am at the top of a staircase, giving the mobile a chance to bump and roll all the way down. Having a simple and inexpensive mobile saves you the heartache of watching good money broken into a million pieces.
3. I never worry about keeping my mobile close to me. I throw it around wherever I am, be it in the gym, restaurant or work. Because let's face it, people are as tempted to steal my mobile as they are my used gym socks!!
Makes sense, no?:)
So anyyyyway, back to the original subject. I hardly own any cool gadgets. My sole pride and joy would have to be my mp3 player, which I got as a gift from my awesome bro. And my hand-me-down digital cam from my awesome sis.
But "times have changed" (that's for you sis:P), and today I find myself staring suspiciously at a pretty cool laptop that claims to be my property. Yes, believe it or not, I have purchased my own laptop, out of sheer necessity. But the thing is, I'm still confused. For years, a laptop on the table meant it was my dad's, sister's or brother's. I would ask permission before I used it. And my relationship with it would last only as long as it took to check my mail. Now this thing on the table is mine. I have mixed feelings really. I'm not sure how to handle the situation. I don't think I was cut out for this.
I was admittedly excited at first when I unwrapped it from the box and eyed it adoringly for a good five minutes. But now it seems that every time I am away from it for more than 30 minutes I need to be re-introduced to it all over again. I'm telling you, gadget-challenged with honors.
Maybe I should personalize it a bit, to encourage a sense of ownership that seems to be lacking at the moment. I think my last conversation with my friend, left me inspired.
Me: So I got a laptop.
Fatima: Ohhh, I miss 3awad.
Me: 3awad?
Fatima: Yeah.. I had to sell him, poor thing.
Me: 3awad?
Fatima: 3awad! My laptop. That's what my roommate used to call him.
Giving him a name sounds like an idea that's worth a shot. So, apparently "3awad" is already taken. I guess that leaves me with, dunno, "Bura3i"?
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