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moana

:: 2004 27 December :: 11.37pm
:: Mood: exhausted
:: Music: morrissey - you are the quarry (album) thank you laurence, this one's my favourite

one of those days

here's a really sad day.

for the first time in a long time, i did NOT wake up at 4 this morning just to desperately try to get back to sleep only to finally fall asleep an hour at least later. i slept right through it all and woke up at five to my cat, licking my eyelids in protest, as if saying "hey, we've got a ritual here, you wake up at 4 and you're so bored and tired you brush me for half an hour, then feed me and clean my water. you can't sleep. wake up and carry on with our ritual." black bastard.

at 7 in the morning, i woke up to the sound of my mother, yelling over the phone, "i will not inform you or anyone else! if i feel like going to lebanon for new year's i damn well will!" she's going to lebanon for new year's. i think it's lebanon at least, she didn't say when i asked. but yeah, basically, i'm getting kicked out of the house on wednesday because that's when she's leaving.

at 10 in the morning, my brother woke me up. "fayoor, why aren't you in school?"
"it's right between christmas and new year's, why do you think i'm not school?"
"oh. go back to sleep, sis."

by then i couldn't go back to sleep, and so i got up and started working on lunch for the family. the phone rings and rings, but i don't answer, i never answer the house phone (ask andy). finally, it bugs me so much i pick up. it's my uncle waleed. his daughter diana is in the hospital again. she's got a fever of 40, blood PH 8.6, she literally cried herself unconscious.

noon, my boss calls and needs me in for an emergency. i tell her i'll be there as soon as i can. i'm already thinking, "emergency my ass".

at one, my mom is back home from work, i tell her about my boss and uncle waleed, and we decide we should probably go visit diana in the hospital. we have a brief lunch, i get dressed, and she drops me off at work while she gets some stuff from sultan (giant supermarket type place).

i get to work, and the big emergency is with contracts that i had printed out about two weeks ago. i show her that they were on her illiterate, good for nothing secretary's desk the whole time and sit down to type out a speech that i'd put off the last time i was there until my mother was done shopping and came to pick me up.

my mother absolutely has to go to the salon to get her eyebrows done, and i figure, what the hell, i could go for that too. so we do, and the women botches up my left eyebrow. great.

we're finally ready to go to the hospital, but first, let's stop by aunty badriya's and make sure she doesn't want to come along. guess what, she does want to come alone. so i jump into the backseat and try to get some sleep except my mom's playing a sermon by a saudi arabian bedouin really loudly.

we're at the hospital. diana's eyelids are literally purple and her lips and scarily blue because she hasn't stopped crying in hours. her mother, aunty alexandra, has also been crying, because the doctors don't know waht to do with her daughter. "she needs sodium bicarbonate!" she cries, "why can't they just give her the sodium bicarbonate?!"

when we drove my aunt badriya back to her house, my mother again just had to step inside for a minute to see 7asoon, my baby cousin. i spent 3 hours trying to be civil around fa6ma, the oldest cousin in that particular household, while she watched kuwaiti soccer games and flipped through the arabic music channels. i tried to fall asleep, but i couldn't.

we finally left and stopped by a bakery where my mom spends half an hour making a purchase. they didn't even have a doughnut i could munch on while i waited.

we left the bakery and just as we neared my house my mom pulls into city centre, the ghetto mothership of the city. she shops for 7ajj, i trail behind her, tired and sleepy. i just want to go home and collapse.

just to gild the lily, everytime i got in or out of the car i hit my head on the roof of the car. you do the math and tell me how many times that is.

and now that i'm back home, done with the dishes my brother left in the sink from when he had lunch, done with two piles of laundry, i can't fall asleep.

but that's ok because i got a phone call from shannon crying about how big bad myla hit her in the face. so i called myla, we had a nice talk, the end. if shannon thinks she's going to drag me into this shit, today of all days, she's even more stupid and more french than she seems.

i'm through. i don't feel like anything else for the rest of the night.

4 Critics | Criticize


moana

:: 2004 25 December :: 11.02pm
:: Music: radiohead - street spirit

love

it's amazing what you can forgive just by seeing a familiar, loved face. it's amazing what you can never forgive, just by seeing it happen right in front of you.

it's amazing what you can forget just by spending time reminding yourself why you loved someone. it's amazing what you can never forget because of how often it's rubbed into your face.

it's amazing what you can deny while looking into the eye of someone special. it's amazing what you can never deny to somebody you hate.

it's amazing how easy it is to fall in love with someone you hate. it's amazing how impossible it is to hate someone you love.

all in all, love is a pretty crazy thing, no matter how old it is. all in all, it's all just amazing.

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moana

:: 2004 24 December :: 5.51pm
:: Mood: *wiggles toes*
:: Music: deftones - hexagram

tangenting
you know that saying, "beauty moves mountains"? i like this one better:

"i don't need to be beautiful to move mountains, i'll just kick the mountain's ass if i want it to move."

my stepmom's sick today, so we didn't go to my dad's house. i called him to see if he and i could hang out together, sans the remainder of the bo3rikis, but he didn't pick up. i guess not.

on a more random note, how many of you have ever picked a pocket? laurence and andy, stay out of this, i know neither of you two ever has.

i had a bad dream last night about the milkman. his son, actually, to be more precise. andy, you ruined my life i hate you. i'm kidding i love you. bacher you go tyebeen hatha min hatha, ba3dain tsaween telephone, ok?

in case i don't see everyone else here that celebrates, merry christmas.

Read more..

11 Critics | Criticize


moana

:: 2004 23 December :: 7.57pm
:: Music: naruto intro from my brother's room.

the world's greatest lover...
didn't see this one coming...


You are Don Juan From "Don Juan De Marco."

Woobaby! You are Don Juan - dark and handsome, and the world's greatest lover. Some people find you to be a bit insane (or is that insanely sexy?). While you may not be playing with all 52 cards, don't let that get you down - you're a true romantic at heart.
Take The Johnny Depp Quiz!


but yeah, and THEN!

i go play naruto gektou ninja taisun 3.

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moana

:: 2004 21 December :: 6.54pm
:: Mood: hot
:: Music: radiohead - we suck young blood

are you strung up by the wrists?

this song right now, couldn't be more perfect. there's a light rain outside, but it's smoldering hot inside.

i was hungry.
i was sick.
i was begging for a break.
now i feel sweet.
i feel fresh.
when just this morning i was strung up by the wrists.

i was fracturing.
i was torn at the seams.
i was ready to do anything.
flea-bitten. motheaten.

IT'S CHRISTMAS BREAK! I CAN REST! I CAN GET ONLINE! I CAN STAY UP TIL 'the wee hours of the night' TALKING TO MY FRIENDS AND LOVED ONES!

i'm not yelling, i'm just excited and hyper. ok the end.

and THEN!

3 Critics | Criticize


moana

:: 2004 21 December :: 7.49am
:: Mood: only

where i've been your whole life
if you're applying to college after sending the supplements.

if you stormed out of the gym when the senior class acted like animals in the holding room.

if you haven't had a decent meal since the week started.

if you've been waking up at 4am every morning so that you haven't even heard the sound of your alarm in so long, because your insomnia won't let you sleep through the night and you're up and ready by two hours before you techinically should be awake.

if the only way you can be certain whether or not you took your medication today is by giving yourself a papercut, and you've done this so many times it doesn't help anymore and you've lost track and you don't take your meds until it starts to hurt to breathe, just to be sure you don't take it twice.

if you finally got some sleep, just to oversleep, right through the alarm i haven't heard in forever, and missed your first period religion test.

if you skip therapy so that you don't miss a math class.

if all of this is going on, at the same time, without exception.

if and only if

then. only then.

then you know how i feel.

3 Critics | Criticize


moana

:: 2004 16 December :: 4.25am
:: Mood: sleepy
:: Music: chino's purring and some thunder outside

hanging out with an arab pea


AC (in reference to faisal hamada): call him to see where he is, and DON'T HIT ON HIM.
me: i won't!
AC: so i'll drop you off at marina with faisal and i'll go take care of business at the store, then i'll catch up with you guys. i can't believe i'm leaving you alone with him...
me: come on! don't you trust me?
AC: NO! not when it comes to penis!
me: yeah me neither.

it's ironic how close we are and how little we trust one another at the same time, eh? and this is us,

AC said a whole story, stuff and stuff, and i'm filling in the blanks.

so we're in the car, on the way to marina together because it ends up i didn't go hang out with 7amada unsupervised. well i call to make sure he's still there since he told us the guys were leaving soon and we didn't want him to hang around alone waiting for us, and a gruff, middle aged kuwaiti-ish voice says:

phone: alo
me: this is not person...
phone: alo!
me: do you want to buy?
phone: mino intay? (who are you?)
me: um...
phone: mino?
me: who is this?
phone: an ubu faisal. (i am faisal's father.)

whoa. shit. this is the part where i have complete cardiac arrest. almost. he must have forgotten his phone at home, and i called and his FATHER picked up. he is going to get into so much shit. whoa. shit.

phone: mino intay?
me: ana, um, ibsafa, oo abee kitab, umm... (i'm, um, in his class, and i need a book, umm...)
phone: laish intay ibnaya itdegeen 3ala wildee? (why are you, a girl, calling my son?)
me: um.... 3ami...(um... uncle*...)
phone: intay ga7ba? (are you a whore?)
me: ALRIGHT WHO IS THIS?!

if you guessed it was dzaner by now pulling kuwait's most terrifying prank, then you are correct. oh man. oh man i was scared crapless. terrified out of my wits. shit.

anyway, we get there, and some stuff happens, and someone's father is conspicuous, and then AC has a giant THE ONE mug of coffee and starts chain smoking because she's discovered the wonderful world of softpacks. tard. so i'm sitting there surrounded by 7amada, dzaner, AC, all chain smoking and drinking black coffee, getting jittery and hyper (except dzaner who gets really really relaaaaaaaaaxed), and i order myself orange juice. goody good. ugh.

any way, AC got hyper after downing her coffee and about a dozen fags. uh oh. the girlfriends and co get there and she starts going nuts, "let's do something fun!"

AC: come on! let's do something fun!
me: *looks in the opposite direction* ok ok i have an idea.
AC: *squeals* what?!
me: alrigh, go running outside, as fast as you can, and come around this side, see, and vault off the balcony and attach yourself to that palm tree outside**. then start humping it and make a wish.
AC: ...why?
me: because it's a big one and a magic palm tree that grants you wishes!

praise foofoo for magic palm trees.

she got the rest of the night pretty much covered, i just had to share some tidbits. the end.

*'Uncle', or '3ami' is used in place of 'Sir' in kuwait.
**THE ONE is on the second floor and we'd earlier discussed the big palm tree outside when dzaner told me how he was going to cut down a palm tree and decorate it for christmas. when i suggested he go for the giant palm tree outside the balcony, he said "I think I'd get fucked, a white guy hanging off a palm tree with a chainsaw in Salmiya."

1 Critic | Criticize


moana

:: 2004 15 December :: 8.52am
:: Music: sound effects of rain

You're 22 today! and on the 13th, 7amada was 17, and on the 14th, Sarah turned 21!
Happy Birthday. that's birthday number 3.

(three down, four to go.)

I just want to mention that it rained so hard all last night and all this morning and the roads are flooded. The school is practically desserted (is that how you spell that?). How appropriate is it that the police would turn cars back home because of how much it's raining on the day of Joe's birthday?

8 Critics | Criticize


whitepony

:: 2004 14 December :: 5.51pm
:: Music: Alexisonfire - Happiness By The Kilowatt

A Brief History of a Modern Day Crute
10th grade: History - Alex Camp

Alex: "Hey Joe, wanna write my essay for me?"
Joe: "Hell no!"
Alex: "I'll pay you $200"
Joe: "Alright!"
Alex: "Ummm.. how about $100?"
Joe: "Yeah sure"

*Joe waits until Alex pays him the money before getting started, which leaves him two days, busts it out, gets Alex a B"

*Mr. Skinner's notes on essay* "This looks plagiarized"

*Joe's thoughts* Mr. Skinner suspected it was plagiarized because Alex never did any good work in that class and all of a sudden he does a good paper, tisk tisk


12th grade: English - Kyle Lawler

Kyle: *frantic* "Joe! I really need your help! I'm close to failing my classes and I need this class especially in order to graduate. Will you write my essay? I'll pay you."
Joe: "Yeah, no problem man. But keep the money."

Joe watches Kyle walk down the aisle and get his diploma, a single tear falls (Not really but wouldn't that've been cute?)


Wednesday December 10th, 2004: Philosophy - Kyle Lawler

Kyle: "Hey man, I really need your help. I have tons of shit to do for finals and I need to do a damn essay for philosophy. It has to be 5-8 pages and its due on Monday. Will you do it for me please? I'll pay you"
Joe: "Sure thing, but you don't need to pay"

Joe: *spends all weekend writing paper*

-The difference between the past two incidents and this one is I was actually in those classes so I knew the material and I had done the assignment myself, so I knew what was up, I just needed to switch it up a bit. But I've never taken a philosophy class before nor had I ever heard of existentialism or Friedrich Nietzsche. So this was the hardest essay I had ever written. But I did it out of kindness and friendship and because I love to write. If I can do this for Kyle, imagine the possibilities for the rest of you. Ask and you shall receive. I mean it, I'm here for all of you, or there, whatever the case may be. You all mean something to me, the degrees may vary depending on how well I know you, but still, I care about you.

6 Critics | Criticize


moana

:: 2004 13 December :: 4.21pm
:: Music: everclear - afterglow

You're the Tortured Intellectual!
You're the Tortured Intellectual!
Take What sort of Hipster are you? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.

You're sensitive, you're emotional, and you wonder why everyone else in the world exists on a different plane. You cannot eat, breathe, or sleep without analyzing each action to death. You're usually sombre, lethargic, but you can be overly glad from time to time. You wear whatever you can find on your cluttered bedroom floor. You carry books, notepads, reading glasses with you wherever you go. You have friends, but only a few who truly get where you're coming from. You frequent coffee shops, libraries, and the less crowded bars. You're obsessed with past people, past ideas, past lives. You wish you could die and be reborn as Jack Kerouac.

9 Critics | Criticize


moana

:: 2004 13 December :: 3.47pm
:: Mood: full
:: Music: goldfinger - superman

so here i am
my mom's watching a retarded soap opera on Tv, days of our lives or something, and there's a girl dancing like she has a wedgie on. i'm disturbed.

in other news! chorus class today. last period. was one of the most fullfilling experiences of my life.

(andy helped me make the distinction, it wasn't pleasurable, but it was definately fullfilling.)

guess what was just lying around in the open, exposed to all, in the middle of choir?

blag's drumset. oh yeah. his love. his life. that piece of musical equipment worth more than 1800KD, which comes roughly to about $6000. he could never love a person the way he loves that drumset. he could never love anyone or anything, the way he loves, adores, worships, that drumset. out in the open. exposed to our choir class. oh yeah.

it was beaten. it was hammered. it was battered. it was kicked. oh man. oh man oh man. and there he was after school, standing around with his posse, pretending to be too cool to notice i was like five feet away from him. jackass.

i so wanted to just go up to him and be like "i'd check on my drumset if i were you." i wanted him to know i was there, cheering, calling out encouragment. i wished i could go up to him and tell him how i wanted to beat the drumset with the other one's guitar. their music is their life. their instruments are the source of that life. i wanted to destroy it.

am i evil? oh yeah.

do they deserve it? oh yeah.

oh yeah they deserve it. he totally deserves it. i hope life screws him over so i can go up to him and go, "hey blag, how many guys have really been down your pants?"

omayya was wearing his perfume. it drove me nuts, missing him that is. bastard.

chorus class. last period. more fullfilling than anything he ever did for me.

9 Critics | Criticize


moana

:: 2004 11 December :: 7.11pm
:: Music: dave matthews - an' another thing

I love this song
I want to say something important. But I don't know how to say it. I'm not sure who I'm saying it to. So now I'm confused.

It's not fair. I worked hard, harder than my brother, and he just happened to be born with a penis so he automatically gets to do whatever? He graduated highschool with a 2.3 GPA. I have a 3.4. I hate this country. I hate everything it tries to teach me and everything it tries to force on me, and I hate everything it taught my father and everything he's forcing on me, and I hate the fact that we all know it's a shit country, but just because it's MY country, I have to stay put and make it better when all I wanna say is fuck it, I hope it goes to hell with all its dirty politicians, theiving royal family and sexist men. I don't want to make my country a better place when my country won't let me be a better person.

That was it. The important thing I had to tell you, all of you, is that my chances of ever getting out of here are slim to none.

I may never meet you.

Read more..

15 Critics | Criticize


WhitePony

:: 2004 10 December :: 5.45pm





You Are a Prophet Soul





You are a gentle soul, with good intentions toward everyone.
Selfless and kind, you have great faith in people.
Sometimes this faith can lead to disappoinment in the long run.
No matter what, you deal with everything in a calm and balanced way.

You are a good interpreter, very sensitive, intuitive, caring, and gentle.
Concerned about the world, you are good at predicting people's feelings.
A seeker of wisdom, you are a life long learner looking for purpose and meaning.
You are a great thinker and communicator, but not necessarily a doer.

Souls you are most compatible with: Bright Star Soul and Dreaming Soul



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WhitePony

:: 2004 10 December :: 5.27pm
:: Music: Sparta - Air

DUH
You're the Rock Star!
You're the Rock Star!
Take What sort of Hipster are you? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.

Fuck college, fuck a "real" job! Music is your life! You're a hometown hero! You're in at least two local bands and are thinking of forming a third. You sleep on your friend's couch, eat your friend's food, and borrow your friend's car. You frequent the dark city bars and hang with the other rockers and groupies. You wear dirty jeans, well-worn t-shirts, and your hair is a mess. You're sinister and mysterious and look as if you don't give a shit. You worship the Rolling Stones, MC5, and your older brother's band. You're gonna make it big one of these days, you can just feel it.

1 Critic | Criticize


WhitePony

:: 2004 9 December :: 10.10pm

The Sponge
The sponge soaks in every mess around it. It just gets more and more full, taking in all kinds of burdens. It can't get rid of any of its burdens, because as soon as it tries to push some of it out, it just falls back into a different pore, rejoining the other burdens. The only release for the sponge is to do a full wring of itself, draining itself. I am the sponge.

I hate being the nice guy. Every favor, despite the adversity to my own well being, I accept. I am not free of worry and stress, I have my own, yet I willingly allow others to throw theirs onto me as well. And even when they're not throwing their burdens, I take it upon myself to grab those burdens and heave them onto my back along with the rest. Everyone else's are on there, why not add yours? Why can't I just say no? Why are people compelled to walk on me because I'm nice? Its because they know I won't protest. I won't confront them. I just sit back, hold my tongue and twiddle my thumbs, pretending that everything is alright. Well, y'know what? Everything is not all right. You're killing me. Each footfall that drives me deeper into the earth, each burden that weakens my back, eventually it'll kill me. But I will never tell you this, I will never show this on my face. No, instead I'll put on a façade. A bright mask with a big smile on it, letting you know I'm happy and I'm here for you. Because I am. I am here for you. I am here for everyone. I am not here for myself. No, that'd be selfish. Shame on you, never put yourself before others. This makes you happy but it doesn't make them happy? Well fuck that, that can't be, you mustn't be happy at the cost of others! Now lie on the ground so I can use you to wipe the shit off my shoes. That's all you're good for anyway isn't it? You're not beautiful. You're not talented. You're not worth it. Be proud I chose you as my curb. Why are you so surprised? This is how you've lived your life for the past two decades, nothing is different. You're used to it. You accept it. I accept it....... I accept it.

Here's the part where I critisize this whole online journal nonsense. I've lain dormant because I view this journal as not a place to express how I feel about things but rather as a stage to entertain. I look for laughs, or "awwws" or reminiscence. I need an outlet, but its hard when I feel as if everyone is staring at me all at once. I need one on one time to expose, but this opens the doors to countless others. I go through this in my head daily, but clearly its not enough if its a daily occurrence. I needed to put this down, tear it off my chest. But please, as a favor I'm asking of you, don't ask me about this the next time we talk.

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