Okay this is either an extremely cheesy movie or a brilliantly hilarious one (impressively enough, I think it's both!:P).
I personally found it excessively comical and enjoyed a good 3 minutes of uninterrupted side-splitting laughter. But I just got back from school and I'm usually a tad extra crazy then. So feel free not to contribute to the chuckles. Gosh, I'm still giggling. Those Muslims in North America are completely out of it, I tell you.
Bless them, they make me laugh.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
You gotta love google
I just finished writing my "very first resignation letter". On my very own.
I feel so important! My pride right now is only matched by that one time in Sabilah when I had to sew on my pants button. I was literally jumping around parading my "accomplishment" (yeah. I have pretty low standards). I could hardly contain my happiness and pride. Is that how the person who invented peanut butter felt? It must be.
I couldn't have done my letter today without the aid of dear ol' Google. I wonder how people used to do their "very first" anything without the gem of a creation called Internet and Google. On the other hand, that's not necessarily always a good thing. I still can't forget the look Dalia and I had when we tried to search for something and started typing "how to..." then we got a list of previously searched questions, the first of which was "How to dispose of a dead body".
And yes bro, I STILL don't wanna know.
I feel so important! My pride right now is only matched by that one time in Sabilah when I had to sew on my pants button. I was literally jumping around parading my "accomplishment" (yeah. I have pretty low standards). I could hardly contain my happiness and pride. Is that how the person who invented peanut butter felt? It must be.
I couldn't have done my letter today without the aid of dear ol' Google. I wonder how people used to do their "very first" anything without the gem of a creation called Internet and Google. On the other hand, that's not necessarily always a good thing. I still can't forget the look Dalia and I had when we tried to search for something and started typing "how to..." then we got a list of previously searched questions, the first of which was "How to dispose of a dead body".
And yes bro, I STILL don't wanna know.
Semi-profound Posts Hiatus
Just a mere couple of months ago running had been my muse; my writing inspiration. It would mostly be during those 45 minutes of refreshing hippity hop that my brain enters that tranquil reflective mode, where my semi-deep writing ideas are free to blossom (and yes they do exist thank you very much. You just have to look for them. Real hard.)
Sadly, I can no longer say that. Today's run made it clear that those days are over. Running has become a struggle for life. A near death experience, if you will. Welcome to the unforgiving summer of Kuwait.
What chance do my semi-profound thoughts stand in the face of hot scorching sun? (And it was only 7 am.!!). A opened can of Whiskas in front of my big fat cat has more of a chance of survival. Okay that's a lie. They are both doomed. Chances of survival: Zilch.
And so where once my thoughts were free to wander far back in nostalgia, fast-forward in the speed of light, or simply immerse in the present, they were now abruptly downgraded to that of pitiful pleas and heart-shattering agony.
These were some the thoughts clouding my mind as I ventured a run this morning....
"Ya Allaaaahh.. this is hot... okay you can do it, you've already been running.... (check my stop watch) JUST 6 MINUTES. CRAP"
To get my mind off things and maintain a steady rhythm, I had to devise a 4-step chant, which was painfully appropriate:
DE- HY- DRA- TION
DE- HY- DRA- TION
DE- HY- DRA- TION
Then hallucinations took over:
"Water.. I need water... I want mommy... water... I need water... biddi mamaaaaaa"
Suddenly I noticed that I was running towards a water fountain. Aaah, the relief. I practically hugged the water fountain as I gulped a mouthful of.... BFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF (me spitting water all around). IT WAS BOILING HOT. I have sustained second degree burns. Not pletty, not pletty at all.
The car was too far and my pace was so slow that at times it felt I was marching in place. A heatsroke was looming in the distance, I could tell. But the knowledge of icy cold water in my car kept me going. Never has a sight of a car brought forth such joy to my heart.
Apart from a burnt tongue and palate, slight dizziness and a brain devoid of even remotely-deep thoughts, I am still alive and partly functioning (I was never completely functioning to begin with). Just don't expect anything deep from this part of the blogging world. Unless I unearth a new source of inspiration. Please do share in case you've got any recommendations. Just keep in mind that I can't stomach marshmallows and can't keep a tune to save my life (as a matter of fact I do realise the oddness of my last sentence. I blame it on sun-induced hallucinations).
Which, I reiterate, is not pletty. Not pletty at all.
Sadly, I can no longer say that. Today's run made it clear that those days are over. Running has become a struggle for life. A near death experience, if you will. Welcome to the unforgiving summer of Kuwait.
What chance do my semi-profound thoughts stand in the face of hot scorching sun? (And it was only 7 am.!!). A opened can of Whiskas in front of my big fat cat has more of a chance of survival. Okay that's a lie. They are both doomed. Chances of survival: Zilch.
And so where once my thoughts were free to wander far back in nostalgia, fast-forward in the speed of light, or simply immerse in the present, they were now abruptly downgraded to that of pitiful pleas and heart-shattering agony.
These were some the thoughts clouding my mind as I ventured a run this morning....
"Ya Allaaaahh.. this is hot... okay you can do it, you've already been running.... (check my stop watch) JUST 6 MINUTES. CRAP"
To get my mind off things and maintain a steady rhythm, I had to devise a 4-step chant, which was painfully appropriate:
DE- HY- DRA- TION
DE- HY- DRA- TION
DE- HY- DRA- TION
Then hallucinations took over:
"Water.. I need water... I want mommy... water... I need water... biddi mamaaaaaa"
Suddenly I noticed that I was running towards a water fountain. Aaah, the relief. I practically hugged the water fountain as I gulped a mouthful of.... BFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF (me spitting water all around). IT WAS BOILING HOT. I have sustained second degree burns. Not pletty, not pletty at all.
The car was too far and my pace was so slow that at times it felt I was marching in place. A heatsroke was looming in the distance, I could tell. But the knowledge of icy cold water in my car kept me going. Never has a sight of a car brought forth such joy to my heart.
Apart from a burnt tongue and palate, slight dizziness and a brain devoid of even remotely-deep thoughts, I am still alive and partly functioning (I was never completely functioning to begin with). Just don't expect anything deep from this part of the blogging world. Unless I unearth a new source of inspiration. Please do share in case you've got any recommendations. Just keep in mind that I can't stomach marshmallows and can't keep a tune to save my life (as a matter of fact I do realise the oddness of my last sentence. I blame it on sun-induced hallucinations).
Which, I reiterate, is not pletty. Not pletty at all.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Correspondently challenged
I like to think I make a good friend when I'm around. But it stops at that. When we enter the morbid zone of "long distance" friendship, I become despicable. I promise to email, but rarely ever do. We could chat from time to time when fate deems we meet online. I would text message only in reply, rarely initiating one myself. There will be times when I won't even answer texts. I'd keep putting it off until it eventually slips my mind. Like I said, absolutely despicable. I just do not possess that gene that makes me a good "stay in touch" friend. I miss my friends terribly and painfully, yet it manifests itself only in the form of a depression, and yet do little to stay in touch. I baffle even myself.
How do my friends react? It varies. A portion of them decide that I'm worthless scum and delete me from their phone book or rename me: "worthless scum"(okay I'm spicing it up a bit ,but there's some truth to it). Some enter a vicious circle of hating me, forgiving me, loving me, hating me, forgiving me, loving me, ad infinitum. They haven't learnt to adjust their expectations of me yet. I'm hoping they will, eventually.
Others, would get upset with me at first. But after we reunite again, and they see how I'm still the same loving friend who heartily admits to being a lousy correspondent and apologizes profusely, and swears by the fatty layers around her fat cat's tummy that they've been on my mind all the time, they come to terms with the truth. I love them to bits but I'm just a plain lousy stay-in-touch person. I'm not proud of it, but at least I'm not in denial. I am openly owning up to it, and if that isn't big of me, then... oh who are we kiddin it is big of me:P
The third category constitutes my dearest friend in the whole wide world, Donia. We are scarily similar in a lot of things (scary in the sense that one would think that ONE person like me in the universe is more than enough) This being no different, she happens to be just as lousy a correspondent as I am. So it works well. And yet our friendship is preserved beautifully. There are times when we'd literally be sending emails daily and cracking each other up, but it doesn't last too long (but when it does, boy I get stomach cramps from all the chuckling). We also make it a point to have a reunion every once in a while. All it takes is an extra long hug and an all nighter of babbling about the entire events of the past 2 years and it feels as if we've only been apart for a day. All has been taken care of.
But every now and then I get sudden pangs of guilt and I go into "mass emailing, texting and calling mode". I suddenly get a panic "OMG I'M GONNA DIE FRIENDLESS" attack and rush to make amends. Yesterday was one of those days. I went and invested in some calling cards. There were so many calls I sincerely meant to make ages ago but never got around to it, not (I swear) for lack of sincere wanting. But because as mentioned above I am a hopeless case.
My first call had to be to my best friend back in college who is now in the midst of her medical school final exams! She was evidently (do you blame her?) surprised but utterly thrilled to receive my supportive phone call. I mean lets face it, this is the same friend who, as a very last resort, gave me a plant to fly home with me (yes I carried it along with me on the plane). She made me promise to send her a text message every time I watered the plant, which was every, umm, I'm not sure anymore. What did I do? I killed the poor thing. Well if you must know, that's another area I suck at. I'll adopt and raise all the animals you want. But no plant can survive with me. Its like I suck the green out of them. I didn't exactly send her a "She'd dead" message, but I guess she eventually found out, from the lack of messages that is. Yet she still calls me her friend. I wouldn't still call me a friend!!
Then I had to call Jumana and Hanna, my two awesome buddies from Sabila days. They were getting engaged!! I've been putting off sending them emails or messages congratulating them for so long that nothing less than a phone call would've sufficed.
I tried to call a couple of other friends, but couldn't reach them. I'll have to call them again.
The point is, during this most recent friend-related panic attack I have made a mid-year resolution. This cannot go on. I mean, for crying out loud I claim to support Greenpeace and can't keep a plant alive for a day. I know what you're thinking, I should take a gardening course? I think not. I have a better chance sending emails. So I am going to make a fabulous transformation from an utter hopeless case to a KICK ASS correspondent! Just watch me.
So, my friends out there (who I seriously doubt even know this blog exists), empty your mailbox cuz you're in for some serious flooding!
This weekend is going to be dedicated entirely for email. Next weekend at the latest. Yep definitely around that time. More or less. Does this post count as staying in touch? Cuz I think it should. No?
How do my friends react? It varies. A portion of them decide that I'm worthless scum and delete me from their phone book or rename me: "worthless scum"(okay I'm spicing it up a bit ,but there's some truth to it). Some enter a vicious circle of hating me, forgiving me, loving me, hating me, forgiving me, loving me, ad infinitum. They haven't learnt to adjust their expectations of me yet. I'm hoping they will, eventually.
Others, would get upset with me at first. But after we reunite again, and they see how I'm still the same loving friend who heartily admits to being a lousy correspondent and apologizes profusely, and swears by the fatty layers around her fat cat's tummy that they've been on my mind all the time, they come to terms with the truth. I love them to bits but I'm just a plain lousy stay-in-touch person. I'm not proud of it, but at least I'm not in denial. I am openly owning up to it, and if that isn't big of me, then... oh who are we kiddin it is big of me:P
The third category constitutes my dearest friend in the whole wide world, Donia. We are scarily similar in a lot of things (scary in the sense that one would think that ONE person like me in the universe is more than enough) This being no different, she happens to be just as lousy a correspondent as I am. So it works well. And yet our friendship is preserved beautifully. There are times when we'd literally be sending emails daily and cracking each other up, but it doesn't last too long (but when it does, boy I get stomach cramps from all the chuckling). We also make it a point to have a reunion every once in a while. All it takes is an extra long hug and an all nighter of babbling about the entire events of the past 2 years and it feels as if we've only been apart for a day. All has been taken care of.
But every now and then I get sudden pangs of guilt and I go into "mass emailing, texting and calling mode". I suddenly get a panic "OMG I'M GONNA DIE FRIENDLESS" attack and rush to make amends. Yesterday was one of those days. I went and invested in some calling cards. There were so many calls I sincerely meant to make ages ago but never got around to it, not (I swear) for lack of sincere wanting. But because as mentioned above I am a hopeless case.
My first call had to be to my best friend back in college who is now in the midst of her medical school final exams! She was evidently (do you blame her?) surprised but utterly thrilled to receive my supportive phone call. I mean lets face it, this is the same friend who, as a very last resort, gave me a plant to fly home with me (yes I carried it along with me on the plane). She made me promise to send her a text message every time I watered the plant, which was every, umm, I'm not sure anymore. What did I do? I killed the poor thing. Well if you must know, that's another area I suck at. I'll adopt and raise all the animals you want. But no plant can survive with me. Its like I suck the green out of them. I didn't exactly send her a "She'd dead" message, but I guess she eventually found out, from the lack of messages that is. Yet she still calls me her friend. I wouldn't still call me a friend!!
Then I had to call Jumana and Hanna, my two awesome buddies from Sabila days. They were getting engaged!! I've been putting off sending them emails or messages congratulating them for so long that nothing less than a phone call would've sufficed.
I tried to call a couple of other friends, but couldn't reach them. I'll have to call them again.
The point is, during this most recent friend-related panic attack I have made a mid-year resolution. This cannot go on. I mean, for crying out loud I claim to support Greenpeace and can't keep a plant alive for a day. I know what you're thinking, I should take a gardening course? I think not. I have a better chance sending emails. So I am going to make a fabulous transformation from an utter hopeless case to a KICK ASS correspondent! Just watch me.
So, my friends out there (who I seriously doubt even know this blog exists), empty your mailbox cuz you're in for some serious flooding!
This weekend is going to be dedicated entirely for email. Next weekend at the latest. Yep definitely around that time. More or less. Does this post count as staying in touch? Cuz I think it should. No?
It's Wednesday Oh Yeah
Yesterday Ahmed performed a very entertaining "Bingo Dance" that sent me chuckling even though it was the end of a very long and hard day and I had decided on cutting the supply of smiles and laughs for the day. But I didn't anticipate the "Bingo Dance". One cannot maintain a frown in the presence of THE bingo dance, take my word for it.
In fact, I was inspired by it to such an extent that today I have, with permission, adopted the dance with few alterations and coined it "The Wednesday Dance"!
It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!
It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!
(To fully appreciate it's hilariousness you must observe the weird combination of hand, body and face gestures, which are totally lost in a blog post-which is prolly for the best.)
It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!
In fact, I was inspired by it to such an extent that today I have, with permission, adopted the dance with few alterations and coined it "The Wednesday Dance"!
It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!
It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!
(To fully appreciate it's hilariousness you must observe the weird combination of hand, body and face gestures, which are totally lost in a blog post-which is prolly for the best.)
It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!
Monday, May 07, 2007
Broken Brooms, Toe squishing, heels, n more!
The boys just loved the game. It involved mom's beloved broom, a nameless stick, rope, three boys and a lot of pulling. But a broom can only take so much. After being used and abused in each and every grade 4 science class, it finally cracked. Right in front of us all, it snapped in half.
I gasped: MOM IS GOING TO KILL ME.
Now although I knew mom was going to feel saddened at her loss (the two seemed to have a weirdly strong, yet endearing connection), I was obviously exaggerating. I mean, I like to think that if she had to choose between me and her broom, she'd eventually decide on me. I hope.
But the kids seemed to take it to heart. A couple of them offered I stay at their place for a while, you know, until it was safe to return home. Another kid ran to the broom, searched for the price sticker, then happily informed me of the name of the supermarket, its affordable price, and suggested I pick one up on my way home.
The rest, however, were finding it extremely difficult to suppress their guffaws. Abdulaziz on the other hand, was fervently pleading I announce him new owner of the said snapped-in-half broom. Goodness knows for what. You know what, I really don't wanna know.
On a more positive note, I have discovered today the joy of leaping about the school hallways. I mean, running around the corridors has been my thing since day one. And while the hall ceilings are often filled with dangling bright decorations that prove irresistible to my boys, they did little to tempt me so far. But as I walked out of class today, hurrying to report to my playground duty, I was feeling a little more bubbly than usual. I unconsciously sprang up and managed to touch the light. The first thought to cross my mind? BOY is that fun or WHAT. There was no stopping me!
Suddenly, not only could I forgive my students for leaping circles around me in the hallways, I was competing with them neck-to-neck in this highly entertaining pastime. I just wish I had discovered this fountain of joy earlier. No matter, you can count on me making the best of what's left of the school year. Even better, in two weeks there would be no kids anymore. So those long wide corridors will be mine to conquer. Oh don't worry, the teachers already found peace with the fact that I'm incorrigibly, umm, weird?
Guess what. I just found out that the boys step on my feet an AWEFUL lot. I never noticed before. But yesterday I was wearing fairly new shoes that I didn't particularly want ruined, so I was more sensitive to any sudden painful strikes. You cannot imagine the rate of toe-squashing I suffer through on an average school day. Seriously, this can't be right. Those things must be included in your job description!! I've half a mind to blame the kids for my not-exactly-narrow feet. Lets just say they aren't improving on the situation!!
Moving on. I went shoe shopping with mom today. I needed to buy some comfy shoes. But all I found where glittery strapy shiny 5-inches long sandals that unconsciously made me cringe in pain at the mere sight of them. Seriously, women of the world, why oh why do you do that to yourselves?
I just got a sudden flashback of the one and only time I ventured to wear heels. Never again. Nope. Not me. It was for our high school graduation party. My dress was a bit long, so I thought what the heck I'll get heels. To make a painful and agonizingly torturous story short, at the end of the party I found myself on a chair outside the bathroom, with my heels kicked off cursing the hour I bought those devils. I wasn't alone.
My mobile rang and it was my dad telling me he was outside in the parking lot waiting for me. I called on every ounce of willpower I possessed and tried to slip them back in. I squealed in pain. Let's face it, it just wasn't going to happen.
And that is how I found myself, striding through the lobby of the Holiday Inn, bare-footed with my sandals in hands. I avoided eye-contact with the bellboy as I made my way to dad's car, still barefooted. I wasn't coming back here until I was 50, that was for sure.
A few months after that, I heard it closed down. I like to think I had something to do with their demise. I mean, barefooted guests prancing around in your lobby has to score high on the "Signs Your Five-Star Hotel is In for a Dip" list, no?
And that, my friends, is the history behind my not-so-discreet disdain for heels. Can you blame me?
I gasped: MOM IS GOING TO KILL ME.
Now although I knew mom was going to feel saddened at her loss (the two seemed to have a weirdly strong, yet endearing connection), I was obviously exaggerating. I mean, I like to think that if she had to choose between me and her broom, she'd eventually decide on me. I hope.
But the kids seemed to take it to heart. A couple of them offered I stay at their place for a while, you know, until it was safe to return home. Another kid ran to the broom, searched for the price sticker, then happily informed me of the name of the supermarket, its affordable price, and suggested I pick one up on my way home.
The rest, however, were finding it extremely difficult to suppress their guffaws. Abdulaziz on the other hand, was fervently pleading I announce him new owner of the said snapped-in-half broom. Goodness knows for what. You know what, I really don't wanna know.
On a more positive note, I have discovered today the joy of leaping about the school hallways. I mean, running around the corridors has been my thing since day one. And while the hall ceilings are often filled with dangling bright decorations that prove irresistible to my boys, they did little to tempt me so far. But as I walked out of class today, hurrying to report to my playground duty, I was feeling a little more bubbly than usual. I unconsciously sprang up and managed to touch the light. The first thought to cross my mind? BOY is that fun or WHAT. There was no stopping me!
Suddenly, not only could I forgive my students for leaping circles around me in the hallways, I was competing with them neck-to-neck in this highly entertaining pastime. I just wish I had discovered this fountain of joy earlier. No matter, you can count on me making the best of what's left of the school year. Even better, in two weeks there would be no kids anymore. So those long wide corridors will be mine to conquer. Oh don't worry, the teachers already found peace with the fact that I'm incorrigibly, umm, weird?
Guess what. I just found out that the boys step on my feet an AWEFUL lot. I never noticed before. But yesterday I was wearing fairly new shoes that I didn't particularly want ruined, so I was more sensitive to any sudden painful strikes. You cannot imagine the rate of toe-squashing I suffer through on an average school day. Seriously, this can't be right. Those things must be included in your job description!! I've half a mind to blame the kids for my not-exactly-narrow feet. Lets just say they aren't improving on the situation!!
Moving on. I went shoe shopping with mom today. I needed to buy some comfy shoes. But all I found where glittery strapy shiny 5-inches long sandals that unconsciously made me cringe in pain at the mere sight of them. Seriously, women of the world, why oh why do you do that to yourselves?
I just got a sudden flashback of the one and only time I ventured to wear heels. Never again. Nope. Not me. It was for our high school graduation party. My dress was a bit long, so I thought what the heck I'll get heels. To make a painful and agonizingly torturous story short, at the end of the party I found myself on a chair outside the bathroom, with my heels kicked off cursing the hour I bought those devils. I wasn't alone.
My mobile rang and it was my dad telling me he was outside in the parking lot waiting for me. I called on every ounce of willpower I possessed and tried to slip them back in. I squealed in pain. Let's face it, it just wasn't going to happen.
And that is how I found myself, striding through the lobby of the Holiday Inn, bare-footed with my sandals in hands. I avoided eye-contact with the bellboy as I made my way to dad's car, still barefooted. I wasn't coming back here until I was 50, that was for sure.
A few months after that, I heard it closed down. I like to think I had something to do with their demise. I mean, barefooted guests prancing around in your lobby has to score high on the "Signs Your Five-Star Hotel is In for a Dip" list, no?
And that, my friends, is the history behind my not-so-discreet disdain for heels. Can you blame me?
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Ethical Question
The following is a *hypothetical* situation:
Lets say a boy shows up to class after recess still carrying his bag of chocolate-filled biscuits. His teacher, bless her, asks him in the sweetest of ways to PLEASE PUT IT AWAY. Five minutes later, he's still slyly munching on them. The teacher has no choice but to confiscate the lot. The lesson is over, the boy leaves, no one really remembers the bag of soft chocolate filled biscuits that's tossed aside. A few hours later, the teacher is finally done with her lessons for the day. She chaperones the last batch of boys to their next lesson then rushes to her classroom and collapses on the floor. She is exhausted, drained and suffering from SERIOUS sugar depletion. She suddenly notices the bag of soft chewy goowy chocolate filled mini biscuits tossed on the side, abandoned, unloved, and unappreciated. She could swear she heard it call out to her in a soft hissing sound "munch usssssss" (but again that could easily be a side effect for the sugar-depletion-induced hallucinations:P).
I guess my questions is: To munch or not to munch?
Oh and if you could get back to me quickly, I'd really appreciate it. My will power can only stand so much.
Erm, I mean hypothetically speaking, of course.
Lets say a boy shows up to class after recess still carrying his bag of chocolate-filled biscuits. His teacher, bless her, asks him in the sweetest of ways to PLEASE PUT IT AWAY. Five minutes later, he's still slyly munching on them. The teacher has no choice but to confiscate the lot. The lesson is over, the boy leaves, no one really remembers the bag of soft chocolate filled biscuits that's tossed aside. A few hours later, the teacher is finally done with her lessons for the day. She chaperones the last batch of boys to their next lesson then rushes to her classroom and collapses on the floor. She is exhausted, drained and suffering from SERIOUS sugar depletion. She suddenly notices the bag of soft chewy goowy chocolate filled mini biscuits tossed on the side, abandoned, unloved, and unappreciated. She could swear she heard it call out to her in a soft hissing sound "munch usssssss" (but again that could easily be a side effect for the sugar-depletion-induced hallucinations:P).
I guess my questions is: To munch or not to munch?
Oh and if you could get back to me quickly, I'd really appreciate it. My will power can only stand so much.
Erm, I mean hypothetically speaking, of course.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Slap Her, She's French
I just finished watching a movie by this name for no real reason except that it happened to be on and I happened to need to chill for an hour and a half before getting back to the grind. I was in the mood for something silly and it did not disappoint. If anything, it was too silly, but I'm not complaining. Later, when mom asked me how the movie was, I found myself saying: Well, there was a lot of slapping.
And yeah there was. What do you know, violence is making its way even in those pointless silly movies. And suddenly I have an inexplicable urge to slap something. Okay maybe not too inexplicable.
This daily "chill time" of mine is what's been keeping me sane. It starts the minute I enter the house, hug mom, toss my 10++ kilo load off my aching shoulders, change and sit with mom on the lunch table. There would be a HUGE bowl of salady goodness waiting for me. Fresh, cold, crunchy and with an extra sour lemony dressing to make my taste buds go "Hallelujah". I love anything and everything that has lemon in it. Completely and utterly dig it. Not sure it's a good thing though, since during my last visit to the dentist she told me (after a long dreaded pause as she stared intently at the contents of my mouth): "Do you like lemon?"
Back to lunch. So its a salad then a nice hot meal, as my mom and I exchange the highlights of our mornings and noons. Her adventures at our next door supermarket never fail to throw me into fits of giggles. Although her "interesting" news (carefully handpicked from our local paper) unfortunately do not carry the same effect. You don't wanna know. On my part, I spill out whatever anecdotes I have from my day at school. Every now and then, one of us would say something really deep (okay okay so it's always mom who does, not for lack of trying from my part:P).
Once lunch is over, I pounce on the couch, grab the throw, complain about living in the north pole, then turn on the tube to see what's on. At that point, my standards are very low. It just has to be light, funny, and silly. Nothing depressing. Once in a while, usually after an exceptionally mentally stimulating lunch conversation, I'd choose to watch something worthwhile on Discovery or the History channel.
Once my chill time is over, I feel energized and can actually see myself reuniting with my piles of teacher editions and dear old PC. And I usually do. Except of course when I start blogging instead. Not unlike this very moment. Yikes.
I must admit though, whenever I'm snuggled on the couch, relaxed and having a laugh, I can't but feel a tad guilty as I imagine what the majority of the other teachers at school are probably doing. Cooking? Washing dishes? Refereeing a fight between two of their kids? Helping them with homework? Tidying the house? Trying to have an actual meaningful conversation with their husbands? Catching up on the piles of overdue school work? Having a nervous breakdown from all the pressure?
I get overwhelmed at the thought. Those mothers/wives/teachers are heroes. I get hyperventilation and exhaustion fits from the mere thought. How am I ever going to be able to do that? Scary thoughts I tell you. But they usually only last as long as it takes for me to perfect the angle of all the cushions, make sure the blanket covers my toes so I don't lose them to frostbites, and watch something like "Slap Her She's French". Works likes a charm.
And yeah there was. What do you know, violence is making its way even in those pointless silly movies. And suddenly I have an inexplicable urge to slap something. Okay maybe not too inexplicable.
This daily "chill time" of mine is what's been keeping me sane. It starts the minute I enter the house, hug mom, toss my 10++ kilo load off my aching shoulders, change and sit with mom on the lunch table. There would be a HUGE bowl of salady goodness waiting for me. Fresh, cold, crunchy and with an extra sour lemony dressing to make my taste buds go "Hallelujah". I love anything and everything that has lemon in it. Completely and utterly dig it. Not sure it's a good thing though, since during my last visit to the dentist she told me (after a long dreaded pause as she stared intently at the contents of my mouth): "Do you like lemon?"
Back to lunch. So its a salad then a nice hot meal, as my mom and I exchange the highlights of our mornings and noons. Her adventures at our next door supermarket never fail to throw me into fits of giggles. Although her "interesting" news (carefully handpicked from our local paper) unfortunately do not carry the same effect. You don't wanna know. On my part, I spill out whatever anecdotes I have from my day at school. Every now and then, one of us would say something really deep (okay okay so it's always mom who does, not for lack of trying from my part:P).
Once lunch is over, I pounce on the couch, grab the throw, complain about living in the north pole, then turn on the tube to see what's on. At that point, my standards are very low. It just has to be light, funny, and silly. Nothing depressing. Once in a while, usually after an exceptionally mentally stimulating lunch conversation, I'd choose to watch something worthwhile on Discovery or the History channel.
Once my chill time is over, I feel energized and can actually see myself reuniting with my piles of teacher editions and dear old PC. And I usually do. Except of course when I start blogging instead. Not unlike this very moment. Yikes.
I must admit though, whenever I'm snuggled on the couch, relaxed and having a laugh, I can't but feel a tad guilty as I imagine what the majority of the other teachers at school are probably doing. Cooking? Washing dishes? Refereeing a fight between two of their kids? Helping them with homework? Tidying the house? Trying to have an actual meaningful conversation with their husbands? Catching up on the piles of overdue school work? Having a nervous breakdown from all the pressure?
I get overwhelmed at the thought. Those mothers/wives/teachers are heroes. I get hyperventilation and exhaustion fits from the mere thought. How am I ever going to be able to do that? Scary thoughts I tell you. But they usually only last as long as it takes for me to perfect the angle of all the cushions, make sure the blanket covers my toes so I don't lose them to frostbites, and watch something like "Slap Her She's French". Works likes a charm.
Friday, May 04, 2007
What you never thought tongs could do!
Mom (as she watched me empty the contents of yet another kitchen cabinet): habeebti.. I think we've reached the point where it would really be much easier if you bring your kids here to see the stuff. You've emptied the whole house!!
For the last few days mom has been seriously worrying on whether she'll reunite with her things ever again. So much so that she demanded I make a checklist that is closely monitored by her for accuracy. She made it quite clear that if anything goes missing or breaking, I'm in deeeep trouble. I knew better than to think she was kidding. And on my part, I was only too glad to convey the message (with minor alteration) to the kids.
"Listen up class. Each group has examples of machines. Now the radio, video and computer are the school's property. So if you wreck those, you'll have to pay for it. As for everything else, it's my mom's. She likes her stuff. If anything happens to it, she is gonna come to school and find you."
They all burst out in giggles. Apparently, they found it more funny than scary. You can tell they do not appreciate the sacred relationship between a woman and her kitchen utensils. They have a lot to learn!
"Miss Mariam! Is this toy car you're mom's?"
"No, it's my brother's. He's 4 times as tall as you are. If you break it, he'll come and squash you."
Again, waves of giggles (myself included) as we all imagined Abdulraheem being squashed flat by my bro like in the cartoons.
"Miss Mariam what is this?"
I was just about to explain that this is what they use to decorate the "ka3ek Eid" (Eid cookies) but Ahmed was faster:
"I know I know! This is that thing they use to remove nose hair"
"Oh my God look at the size of THIS ONE (pointing to a salad tong). You need to have a HUGE nose to use this one!!"
Aaaaand, my daily laughter dose is thus complete:)
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Kids To Remember
The countdown is starting.. Two years here are almost coming to a close:) children-packed years that is. During those years, I have heard a zillion adorable anecdotes, tied a hundred shoelaces, wiped a few tears, got a million hugs, and joined in uninhibited fits of giggling.
I have also chased a dozen boys around school, gawked at the amount of chips an average 9-year-old consumes in a single 20-minute-recess, and swore I'd dangle a few kids down my classroom ceiling (and unsuccessfully attempted to once:P).
There are so many memories close to my heart that I wish to guard and always remember. And yet these things are easily forgotten day by day. That's why I am now infinitely glad that I've decided to record my experiences this year on this blog. I'd like to think that one day I'll be sitting reading them and remembering some of the joy (oh and PAIN:P) that filled my early days as a teacher.
Although I can honestly say that I sincerely loved each and every kid I taught through tout those two years (oh yes that includes you Abdulaziz!) there are a few kids that have touched my heart in a special way just by being. These are the kids I'll constantly remember and in a few years wonder what has become of them. Those are the kids I'll wish I would someday run into and get overwhelmed and choked up by how big they've become. Those are the faces that'll stay fresh in my memory even when I'm 99 and can't remember what a chocolate chip cookie looks like (Gosh I hope I don't ever reach this point:P). These are the kids that made my heart leap, my lips smile and my face light up.. Bless them!
Dalal:
6-year-old girls don't come any cuter. If you thinks kids can't possibly be cute, incorrigibly polite, super smart, gentle, considerate, plain-old ADORABLE, gifted, sweeeeeeeet and with eyes that literally sparkle all at the same time, then you have got to meet Dalal.
Mohammed M. (4B):
I can only say one thing: BLESS him. May Allah protect this kid from all harm and yij3alo qorrat 3ayn la ahlo.
Lets face it. Every kid has his own thing. Some are really bright, some are musically talented, some have poor academic performance but are superb athletes. Some stand out by how polite they are. Some by how easily they make friends. Some by their good breeding. Some by their beauty. Some are just so cute they don't need anything else to work for them.
But what are the chances you get a kid who has it all? Mash'Allah this kid does. He is one of the brightest kids I've ever met. He's an A+ student without even trying. He's impeccably well bred, super friendly and loved by everyone. He is gifted in each and every sport (the Kong Fu show he performed with the Kung Fu master during sports day had my jaw drop for 30 minutes afterwards. Masha'Allah). His recitation of the Quran shivers your heart and revives your soul. He wins every Quran memorization and recitation competition he enters. He is a natural in everything. Masha'Allah. May Allah bless and protect him. I think it's safe to expect great things from him. May Allah guide him.
Abdulaziz (4A):
Compared to him, all kids are hypo-active sloths. He's disaster in the making. He is literally too much for anyone to handle. I don't even know how the squirt managed to make me absolutely love him:) But I will never forget how EXCITED he is when there's anything about dinosaurs. How stone-still he sits when we're reading/watching something about them. The two extremes fascinate me... I will certainly have a hard time forgetting him!:)
Nasser (4A):
Simply a big fat chunk of sweetness (actually he's very thin, but you get the point:P)
Soud (4C):
I have never met such a goal-oriented person with unwavering determination and faultless blockage of any external distractions in my whole life, let alone a KID. He puts adults to shame!!
Ahmed (4B):
Cutest, biggest, goofiest smile ever. You cannot but return it with a huger one!
Ahmed (4C):
His mom says I'm his favorite teacher, if that's not enough to make him score high on my list, then what does?;)
Mohammed (4B):
He is SO DARN CUTE I wanna cry!!! You just wanna squeeze him into a tiny ball of cuteness and stuff him in your pocket.
Egyptian Kids
I realise that this is actually a general category as opposed to a certain kid. But that's how it is. Egyptian kids are a different breed. They deserve to be classified as a separate, unique, category worthy of admiration and awe.
Man I simply ADORE them. I cannot get over how shockingly blunt, outspoken and confident they are. A mere 6-year-old can run circles around you. Literally.
I remember when I stayed over at my Egyptian friend's place in Cairo a few years back. I met her family and every time I had an encounter with a 5 year old Egyptian kid, I was left in complete and utter awe. HOW do they make them this way? Any attempts of mine to describe them will fall pitifully short of the reality. You'll have to sit face to face with a dark skinned, thick and curly-haired Egyptian kid with wide brown eyes that sparkle in a way only an Egyptian kid's eyes can. Only then will you know what I'm talking about. Think the most OUTRAGEOUSLY witty and talkative kid on Bill Cosby's "Kids say the darndest things", multiply it by a thousand, and you'll get what I'm talking about.
I simply adore Egyptian kids. I can't get enough of them. I love how they cut me off with ease, how comfortable they are with voicing their feelings and unreservedly announcing their opinions. I get a kick from everything they do or say. They are not kids. They are Egyptian Kids.
Ahh... Kids. What a blessing. Why can't they just stay all cute, cuddly, huggable and kissable forever and ever?:)
I have also chased a dozen boys around school, gawked at the amount of chips an average 9-year-old consumes in a single 20-minute-recess, and swore I'd dangle a few kids down my classroom ceiling (and unsuccessfully attempted to once:P).
There are so many memories close to my heart that I wish to guard and always remember. And yet these things are easily forgotten day by day. That's why I am now infinitely glad that I've decided to record my experiences this year on this blog. I'd like to think that one day I'll be sitting reading them and remembering some of the joy (oh and PAIN:P) that filled my early days as a teacher.
Although I can honestly say that I sincerely loved each and every kid I taught through tout those two years (oh yes that includes you Abdulaziz!) there are a few kids that have touched my heart in a special way just by being. These are the kids I'll constantly remember and in a few years wonder what has become of them. Those are the kids I'll wish I would someday run into and get overwhelmed and choked up by how big they've become. Those are the faces that'll stay fresh in my memory even when I'm 99 and can't remember what a chocolate chip cookie looks like (Gosh I hope I don't ever reach this point:P). These are the kids that made my heart leap, my lips smile and my face light up.. Bless them!
Dalal:
6-year-old girls don't come any cuter. If you thinks kids can't possibly be cute, incorrigibly polite, super smart, gentle, considerate, plain-old ADORABLE, gifted, sweeeeeeeet and with eyes that literally sparkle all at the same time, then you have got to meet Dalal.
Mohammed M. (4B):
I can only say one thing: BLESS him. May Allah protect this kid from all harm and yij3alo qorrat 3ayn la ahlo.
Lets face it. Every kid has his own thing. Some are really bright, some are musically talented, some have poor academic performance but are superb athletes. Some stand out by how polite they are. Some by how easily they make friends. Some by their good breeding. Some by their beauty. Some are just so cute they don't need anything else to work for them.
But what are the chances you get a kid who has it all? Mash'Allah this kid does. He is one of the brightest kids I've ever met. He's an A+ student without even trying. He's impeccably well bred, super friendly and loved by everyone. He is gifted in each and every sport (the Kong Fu show he performed with the Kung Fu master during sports day had my jaw drop for 30 minutes afterwards. Masha'Allah). His recitation of the Quran shivers your heart and revives your soul. He wins every Quran memorization and recitation competition he enters. He is a natural in everything. Masha'Allah. May Allah bless and protect him. I think it's safe to expect great things from him. May Allah guide him.
Abdulaziz (4A):
Compared to him, all kids are hypo-active sloths. He's disaster in the making. He is literally too much for anyone to handle. I don't even know how the squirt managed to make me absolutely love him:) But I will never forget how EXCITED he is when there's anything about dinosaurs. How stone-still he sits when we're reading/watching something about them. The two extremes fascinate me... I will certainly have a hard time forgetting him!:)
Nasser (4A):
Simply a big fat chunk of sweetness (actually he's very thin, but you get the point:P)
Soud (4C):
I have never met such a goal-oriented person with unwavering determination and faultless blockage of any external distractions in my whole life, let alone a KID. He puts adults to shame!!
Ahmed (4B):
Cutest, biggest, goofiest smile ever. You cannot but return it with a huger one!
Ahmed (4C):
His mom says I'm his favorite teacher, if that's not enough to make him score high on my list, then what does?;)
Mohammed (4B):
He is SO DARN CUTE I wanna cry!!! You just wanna squeeze him into a tiny ball of cuteness and stuff him in your pocket.
Egyptian Kids
I realise that this is actually a general category as opposed to a certain kid. But that's how it is. Egyptian kids are a different breed. They deserve to be classified as a separate, unique, category worthy of admiration and awe.
Man I simply ADORE them. I cannot get over how shockingly blunt, outspoken and confident they are. A mere 6-year-old can run circles around you. Literally.
I remember when I stayed over at my Egyptian friend's place in Cairo a few years back. I met her family and every time I had an encounter with a 5 year old Egyptian kid, I was left in complete and utter awe. HOW do they make them this way? Any attempts of mine to describe them will fall pitifully short of the reality. You'll have to sit face to face with a dark skinned, thick and curly-haired Egyptian kid with wide brown eyes that sparkle in a way only an Egyptian kid's eyes can. Only then will you know what I'm talking about. Think the most OUTRAGEOUSLY witty and talkative kid on Bill Cosby's "Kids say the darndest things", multiply it by a thousand, and you'll get what I'm talking about.
I simply adore Egyptian kids. I can't get enough of them. I love how they cut me off with ease, how comfortable they are with voicing their feelings and unreservedly announcing their opinions. I get a kick from everything they do or say. They are not kids. They are Egyptian Kids.
Ahh... Kids. What a blessing. Why can't they just stay all cute, cuddly, huggable and kissable forever and ever?:)
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Me-Me Afternoon A Success
That would be what the headline reads if I were to ever make the front page of, well, anything. I like to think that I may have already attained that "honor" but didn't know about it since my relationship with the local papers is nonexistent.
Well, not exactly. It's complicated. You see my sister, bless her, was required to cut out any architecture-related articles from the papers back when we were both in Amman. So she'd ask our building janitor to bring us the daily paper. I was usually the one to open the door and get it. He had a knack for driving me nuts. He'd hear my footsteps on the stairs and wait for me to get in. He would estimate how long it takes me to throw my stuff around, change into comfy PJs, find my favorite spot and snuggle in with my big fat cat and release a sigh of contentment. Then he'd strike. Knock on the door. DARN. Cat is tossed aside (snaps angrily in Cat-ish lingo) as I head to the door. I'd crack the door open and extend my hand, get the paper, walk 2 meters and toss it over on top of the pile. But before I do, I'd venture a peek at the headline. I figured, if it was something REALLY important, it'd make the headlines. That was the extent of my news-awareness back then.
I said the word "pile" cuz they were in fact a huuuge pile. You see, even though my sis, bless her, did eventually cut the required articles, it wasn't exactly a day-to-day process. It was more of a once-every-3-months thing. But when she did, it was A BLAST.
Here's how the scene looked like:
Me (cross-legged on the couch, mounting a hefty 10-kilo physiology textbook, and armed with a complete spectrum of highlighters to add color and vigor to an otherwise mind numbingly boring studying process)
Sis (one floor surrounded by newspapers from every direction and armed with that water sprayer thingie to ward off unwanted paper-tearing fat cats:P)
Sis: WOW there's this really cool exhibition.
Me: OH really where?
Sis: doesn't matter it was a month ago.
Me: oh.
Sis: listen to this!!! "SAMI YUSUF ARRIVES TODAY"
Me: OH MY GOD WHEN WHERE?
Sis: oh wait. this is last weeks paper.
Me: dammit woman.
Sis: heeeeeey!! didn't you wanna watch Hugh Grant's new movie. It's ON!
Me: sweeeeeeeet! tonight?
Sis: ummm. Yeah.... sorry. This is last January's paper.
Sis: they say it's gonna snow!
Me: FINALLY!!!!! OH MY GOD! I WON'T DO MY TEST TOMORROW! PREPARE THE GOODIES! WHERE ARE MY BOOTS! I AM SOOOO TEASING ABOOD!!
Yeah. I never learn. I'm kinda hopeless this way. So that is my story with Jordanian papers. I got the news, but a tad too late. But why am I even talking about papers? Oh who knows.
Back to my Me-Me afternoon. It was cool and relaxing. I am happy to report I am no longer stinky (it was really part of a scientific experiment. It didn't go quite well if you must know). Then I went with my mom to an exhibition for the Palestinian Cultural Center. It's stationed in Amman, but they set exhibitions here once in a while. I got some nice embroidered bookmarks. There were so many too choose from, it was a tough call. I stood in a corner and took my time as I went through them. I tried to call on my mom for advise but she wasn't exactly in a choosing mood. I wasn't aware I was drawing so much attention simply by choosing bookmarks!! It wasn't until I made my final choice and called on my mom "okay I'm done", when it hit me like a flying shoe. The whole place had been involved in the process. It was as if the entire place sighed in relief. Everyone was smiling and I got a good number of "good for you!"s, pats on the back and relieved smiles. Siham Abu Ghazaleh who owns the center (she's such a sweet lady) actually hugged me as she said "I am glad you have successfully accomplished your endeavor, but I can't help wonder; if it takes you this long to choose a bookmark, how long will it take you to choose a husband?".
Yeah. This actually happened. I am so not making this up (I so wish I were!).
Geez, we couldn't have stayed in the shop for more than 30 minutes, including everything. Can't a girl take her time choosing bookmarks without making the news?
And as for your inquiry auntie, if husbands-to-be came in a box with such a colorful selection, then indeed I would take my time to choose! :P
Apart from that, the exhibition was wonderful. They had some beautiful stuff.
Then I went home and spent the afternoon with mom and dad, which was nice. Usually they are sitting in the living room while I'm away on the PC. So the boycott thingie was a nice change.
Okay I'm officially too sleepy to type. And What better way to end a me-me afternoon that with a nice long night of sleep? (okay not too long, I still have to wake up before the crack of dawn) but you get the point.
Come to think of it, I'm not surprised I don't make the news front page. I mean, did you just read what I wrote? For the life of me, I can't remember what I was babbling about 3 lines before. Note to self: when you're sleepy head to bed. Not PC room.
That advice was golden, if I may say so myself:)
Well, not exactly. It's complicated. You see my sister, bless her, was required to cut out any architecture-related articles from the papers back when we were both in Amman. So she'd ask our building janitor to bring us the daily paper. I was usually the one to open the door and get it. He had a knack for driving me nuts. He'd hear my footsteps on the stairs and wait for me to get in. He would estimate how long it takes me to throw my stuff around, change into comfy PJs, find my favorite spot and snuggle in with my big fat cat and release a sigh of contentment. Then he'd strike. Knock on the door. DARN. Cat is tossed aside (snaps angrily in Cat-ish lingo) as I head to the door. I'd crack the door open and extend my hand, get the paper, walk 2 meters and toss it over on top of the pile. But before I do, I'd venture a peek at the headline. I figured, if it was something REALLY important, it'd make the headlines. That was the extent of my news-awareness back then.
I said the word "pile" cuz they were in fact a huuuge pile. You see, even though my sis, bless her, did eventually cut the required articles, it wasn't exactly a day-to-day process. It was more of a once-every-3-months thing. But when she did, it was A BLAST.
Here's how the scene looked like:
Me (cross-legged on the couch, mounting a hefty 10-kilo physiology textbook, and armed with a complete spectrum of highlighters to add color and vigor to an otherwise mind numbingly boring studying process)
Sis (one floor surrounded by newspapers from every direction and armed with that water sprayer thingie to ward off unwanted paper-tearing fat cats:P)
Sis: WOW there's this really cool exhibition.
Me: OH really where?
Sis: doesn't matter it was a month ago.
Me: oh.
Sis: listen to this!!! "SAMI YUSUF ARRIVES TODAY"
Me: OH MY GOD WHEN WHERE?
Sis: oh wait. this is last weeks paper.
Me: dammit woman.
Sis: heeeeeey!! didn't you wanna watch Hugh Grant's new movie. It's ON!
Me: sweeeeeeeet! tonight?
Sis: ummm. Yeah.... sorry. This is last January's paper.
Sis: they say it's gonna snow!
Me: FINALLY!!!!! OH MY GOD! I WON'T DO MY TEST TOMORROW! PREPARE THE GOODIES! WHERE ARE MY BOOTS! I AM SOOOO TEASING ABOOD!!
Yeah. I never learn. I'm kinda hopeless this way. So that is my story with Jordanian papers. I got the news, but a tad too late. But why am I even talking about papers? Oh who knows.
Back to my Me-Me afternoon. It was cool and relaxing. I am happy to report I am no longer stinky (it was really part of a scientific experiment. It didn't go quite well if you must know). Then I went with my mom to an exhibition for the Palestinian Cultural Center. It's stationed in Amman, but they set exhibitions here once in a while. I got some nice embroidered bookmarks. There were so many too choose from, it was a tough call. I stood in a corner and took my time as I went through them. I tried to call on my mom for advise but she wasn't exactly in a choosing mood. I wasn't aware I was drawing so much attention simply by choosing bookmarks!! It wasn't until I made my final choice and called on my mom "okay I'm done", when it hit me like a flying shoe. The whole place had been involved in the process. It was as if the entire place sighed in relief. Everyone was smiling and I got a good number of "good for you!"s, pats on the back and relieved smiles. Siham Abu Ghazaleh who owns the center (she's such a sweet lady) actually hugged me as she said "I am glad you have successfully accomplished your endeavor, but I can't help wonder; if it takes you this long to choose a bookmark, how long will it take you to choose a husband?".
Yeah. This actually happened. I am so not making this up (I so wish I were!).
Geez, we couldn't have stayed in the shop for more than 30 minutes, including everything. Can't a girl take her time choosing bookmarks without making the news?
And as for your inquiry auntie, if husbands-to-be came in a box with such a colorful selection, then indeed I would take my time to choose! :P
Apart from that, the exhibition was wonderful. They had some beautiful stuff.
Then I went home and spent the afternoon with mom and dad, which was nice. Usually they are sitting in the living room while I'm away on the PC. So the boycott thingie was a nice change.
Okay I'm officially too sleepy to type. And What better way to end a me-me afternoon that with a nice long night of sleep? (okay not too long, I still have to wake up before the crack of dawn) but you get the point.
Come to think of it, I'm not surprised I don't make the news front page. I mean, did you just read what I wrote? For the life of me, I can't remember what I was babbling about 3 lines before. Note to self: when you're sleepy head to bed. Not PC room.
That advice was golden, if I may say so myself:)
A purely Me-Me afternoon
Yes I know it sounds pretty self-indulgent. But read on you'll end up feeling sorry for me (or at least that's the plan!:P)
My school day today seemed to drag on forever. The grand finale has to be the last science period. For two periods now we've been learning about levers (hammer, broom, pliers, forceps, etc.). The kids have observed examples, held and described their parts and used them to conduct fun activities (hammer a nail, sweep my classroom, lift a rock, separate large and tiny beans). Towards the end, they were given a worksheet to complete. The first question had pictures of simple machines and read: Put an "X" on the levers.
"Miss Mariam what is a lever?"
"2eee wallah, what is a lever?"
If it wasn't for the boy next to them who jumped up and said something close to "it's a simple machine yal khibil"- I would've ended my misery right there and then with an overdose of white board marker ink.
I am exhausted beyond description. These two weeks have been from hell. I need to R-E-L-A-X. This afternoon (effective right after I press the "publish" button) I am boycotting the PC, any work remotely related to school and am just gonna do whatever MARIAM, the nice once-normal (I like to think) girl wants to do. This afternoon, I am not a teacher anymore. I am just me. A hopeless fairytale-chick-flick-cookies-n-milk junkie who goes by the name Mariam.
Let the "relaxation celebration" begin!
(I think I'll start by taking a shower, cuz let's face it, I do stink big time :P)
My school day today seemed to drag on forever. The grand finale has to be the last science period. For two periods now we've been learning about levers (hammer, broom, pliers, forceps, etc.). The kids have observed examples, held and described their parts and used them to conduct fun activities (hammer a nail, sweep my classroom, lift a rock, separate large and tiny beans). Towards the end, they were given a worksheet to complete. The first question had pictures of simple machines and read: Put an "X" on the levers.
"Miss Mariam what is a lever?"
"2eee wallah, what is a lever?"
If it wasn't for the boy next to them who jumped up and said something close to "it's a simple machine yal khibil"- I would've ended my misery right there and then with an overdose of white board marker ink.
I am exhausted beyond description. These two weeks have been from hell. I need to R-E-L-A-X. This afternoon (effective right after I press the "publish" button) I am boycotting the PC, any work remotely related to school and am just gonna do whatever MARIAM, the nice once-normal (I like to think) girl wants to do. This afternoon, I am not a teacher anymore. I am just me. A hopeless fairytale-chick-flick-cookies-n-milk junkie who goes by the name Mariam.
Let the "relaxation celebration" begin!
(I think I'll start by taking a shower, cuz let's face it, I do stink big time :P)
Saturday, April 28, 2007
A Cinderella Story
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.
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.
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?
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