The World Is A Mess and i just need to rule it

hah. did anyone catch that reference?


I posted about this last year but I just watched the Half the Sky episode of Oprah (more cool linkage here and really amazing stories here) and feel the need to post it again, since most of you don't know about my old blog, and because it is really a cool video (and an even cooler reality).

source: www.girleffect.org
I'm reading Half the Sky right now and it is amazing--by which I mean, surprisingly hopeful. I'm inspired by the strong women highlighted in the chapters and where I used to believe human trafficking could not be stopped, I now have hope that it can be. It's immensely more complicated and widespread than the slavery of previous centuries (ie Transatlantic Slave Trade), but the British put an end to slavery in like 10 years and at significant economic loss. It was a grassroots effort largely won on an ethical argument.

I read Disposable People: New Slavery in the Global Economy last month. It's written by Kevin Bales, the founder and director of Free the Slaves, (here is its supah-cool website).

Both books take an unflinching look at the horrifying realities of modern-day slavery. They recount, in what is often graphic detail, the experiences of former sex slaves. Half the Sky tells story upon story of rape and torture. Disposable People took me two months to read because I had to keep putting it down. It was too harsh to read all at once. Half the Sky, I think, tells much harsher tales, but they feature heroic women and hopeful endings. For that reason, I find it both harder and easier to read.

Ultimately, they are very inspiring, uplifting, hopeful books full of amazing stories and courageous people. I recommend both of them--but especially Half the Sky. (along with all of Nicholas D Kristof's NYT columns :D )

I shared one of Kristof's columns with Meggo earlier this summer. It's about a Pakistani girl who was gang-raped, reported it to the police, and was then gang-raped by four officers. Her story is similar to that of Mukhtar Mai who was sentenced to a gang-raping in 2002 because her brother was accused of a crime (one, might I add, that he didn't actually commit). Her story is one of those featured in Half the Sky and it is amazing. I found out today--by reading the appendices--that she wrote a book! It is called In the Name of Honor: A Memoir. I know. Who wants to read about gang-rape? (Me!) It's sickening and horrifying and depressing and really, what's the point?

I really don't care if you read it. I'm throwing it out there, though, because I have been so impressed and motivated by these other two books and I am sure that Mukthar Mai's memoir will not be as depressing as "gang-raped on behalf of her brother" makes it sound. If you read Kristof's column, you'll know exactly what I mean.

All this was sort of a discombobulated way of getting to this point: The Girl Effect is real. All it takes is some women's empowerment and BOOM! World changed. Isn't that cool?

I recently came across the organization Love146. The folks over at Cakewrecks featured over a dozen charities this month and Love146 was one of them. The organizations president responded with this post. I love the donor comments.

So, that's my plug for the night. Nicholas D Kristof, The Girl Effect, and ending sexual slavery.

I'm ready to clean up this up this mess. How 'bout you?

Merry Christmas :)

Love,

Anna

Six to Eight Black Men

I'm a big David Sedaris fan.

I am also a big fan of the Holidays.

And when these two intersect, I must blog about it.

The following is an excerpt from his piece, 6 to 8 Black Men. The full version is here. The last paragraph is my favorite, but it can't be fully appreciated until you've heard the rest. (Also, the last paragraph of the full version is brilliant, too, but you have to have read the first three paragraphs to understand it. And they're funny. In fact, it's all funny. Go see what I mean.)

I recommend reading it in its entirety.

I recommend even more listening to it in its entirety.

Really. I've even put the audio right here:



Don't miss it.


"When do you open your Christmas presents?" is another good conversation starter, as it explains a lot about national character. People who traditionally open gifts on Christmas Eve seem a bit more pious and family oriented than those who wait until Christmas morning. They go to mass, open presents, eat a late meal, return to church the following morning, and devote the rest of the day to eating another big meal. Gifts are generally reserved for children, and the parents tend not to go overboard. It's nothing I'd want for myself, but I suppose it's fine for those who prefer food and family to things of real value.

In France and Germany, gifts are exchanged on Christmas Eve, while in Holland the children receive presents on December 5, in celebration of Saint Nicholas Day. It sounded sort of quaint until I spoke to a man named Oscar, who filled me in on a few of the details as we walked from my hotel to the Amsterdam train station.

Unlike the jolly, obese American Santa, Saint Nicholas is painfully thin and dresses not unlike the pope, topping his robes with a tall hat resembling an embroidered tea cozy. The outfit, I was told, is a carryover from his former career, when he served as a bishop in Turkey.

One doesn't want to be too much of a cultural chauvinist, but this seemed completely wrong to me. For starters, Santa didn't use to do anything. He's not retired, and, more important, he has nothing to do with Turkey. The climate's all wrong, and people wouldn't appreciate him. When asked how he got from Turkey to the North Pole, Oscar told me with complete conviction that Saint Nicholas currently resides in Spain, which again is simply not true. While he could probably live wherever he wanted, Santa chose the North Pole specifically because it is harsh and isolated. No one can spy on him, and he doesn't have to worry about people coming to the door. Anyone can come to the door in Spain, and in that outfit, he'd most certainly be recognized. On top of that, aside from a few pleasantries, Santa doesn't speak Spanish. He knows enough to get by, but he's not fluent, and he certainly doesn't eat tapas.

While our Santa flies on a sled, Saint Nicholas arrives by boat and then transfers to a white horse. The event is televised, and great crowds gather at the waterfront to greet him. I'm not sure if there's a set date, but he generally docks in late November and spends a few weeks hanging out and asking people what they want.
[...]
The words silly and unrealistic were redefined when I learned that Saint Nicholas travels with what was consistently described as "six to eight black men." I asked several Dutch people to narrow it down, but none of them could give me an exact number. It was always "six to eight," which seems strange, seeing as they've had hundreds of years to get a decent count.

The six to eight black men were characterized as personal slaves until the mid-fifties, when the political climate changed and it was decided that instead of being slaves they were just good friends. I think history has proven that something usually comes between slavery and friendship, a period of time marked not by cookies and quiet times beside the fire but by bloodshed and mutual hostility. They have such violence in Holland, but rather than duking it out among themselves, Santa and his former slaves decided to take it out on the public. In the early years, if a child was naughty, Saint Nicholas and the six to eight black men would beat him with what Oscar described as "the small branch of a tree."

"A switch?"

"Yes," he said. "That's it. They'd kick him and beat him with a switch. Then, if the youngster was really bad, they'd put him in a sack and take him back to Spain."

"Saint Nicholas would kick you?"

"Well, not anymore," Oscar said. "Now he just pretends to kick you."

"And the six to eight black men?"

"Them, too."
[...]
While eight flying reindeer are a hard pill to swallow, our Christmas story remains relatively simple. Santa lives with his wife in a remote polar village and spends one night a year traveling around the world. If you're bad, he leaves you coal. If you're good and live in America, he'll give you just about anything you want. We tell our children to be good and send them off to bed, where they lie awake, anticipating their great bounty. A Dutch parent has a decidedly hairier story to relate, telling his children, "Listen, you might want to pack a few of your things together before you go to bed. The former bishop from Turkey will be coming along with six to eight black men. They might put some candy in your shoes, they might stuff you in a sack and take you to Spain, or they might just pretend to kick you. We don't know for sure, but we want you to be prepared."

Last Week

I quilted.

A lot.

Because I am jobless AND Mormon.

These are the first three blocks I finished:




It rained:


^That's the view from my window. I've never seen such a forlorn dumpster.

This is the river that formed in front of our house:



And this is our carport (and our neighbor's):



I love when it rains.

And the sky when it's done:



The other night I went to bed and, after turning out the light, noticed blue and red spots flashing across my walls. A UFO?

Nope. Just this:



It's been there for days. I'd rescue it, but I haven't a clue how, except to hop out my window and risk falling through the...what is that wood thing called? Anyway, if you have any ideas...

Two weeks ago, we put up our Christmas tree. And by "put up" I mean unveil last year's Christmas tree that never really got taken down:






And last night, I went to a Christmas party and gorged myself on pheasant, duck and pork sausage. Mmmmmmm. I love the holidays.
Photos here.

This week, I will be quilting, figuring out what gifts to get which people and how, getting out some cards, finishing the transcribing job for my prof (YAY), and baking and frosting 4 dozen gingerbread cookies. And getting paid for it. :D

I'm looking forward to this week. Lots of fun things to do. And I won't ever have to leave my pajamas :D
Next week have a high school reunion! It's only been 4 1/2 years, but what the hey. I'm excited.

And, I will be topping off the year with a trip to EGYPT. I'm not all that thrilled, what with the men and the harassment. You may recall that I did not do so well in Jordan--and the harassment there is nothing compared to Cairo. ACK!
Still, I've been jobless for MONTHS and I need to 1 get the freak out of my house already and 2 find a job. With any luck--or maybe with lots--I will accomplish both.

One week left before Christmas. Enjoy the heck out of it!

My friend said "I got so bored without edward there. I just wanted that other guy to put his freakin shirt on!" Needless to say, we are no longer friends. If there was one thing that could've improved the movie, its more shirtless Jacob time.

Writing is Wonderful

I'm doing work for my former writing professor. I met her fall 2005 in the very first writing class of my college career and worked as a writing tutor for her in subsequent semesters. Her daughter is the 8 yr old I often write about and currently I am working for her as a transcriptionist while She does research on how English-Arabic bilinguals and negotiate the writing process. Tonight I was listening to a girl talk about something she had written in a previous class, and I was like, Hey. I had that same assignment. Where'd it go? And instead of finishing the transcript and freaking going to bed already, I decided to answer that question. I found some pretty funny stuff and because I still don't feel like finishing the transcript, I am going to blog about it.

When I was hired as a writing center tutor, I was asked to write a little blurb about myself for the Tutors section of the website. I did, and somehow it never got put up. Today, I am remedying the oversight by posting that bio here (but editing out the university's name):

Anna is in her second and final year at [this university], majoring in International Relations. Next year she will return to the States to complete her education, though she has not yet figured out where. Her interests include her iPod, House MD, and finding creative ways of avoiding schoolwork. Her disinterests include math, economics and washing dishes. Once she's finally done with school, she plans to travel the world. She will have many extraordinary adventures including scuba diving in Jeddah, sky-diving over Sydney, and ice-fishing in Antarctica. When she's done roaming the world, perhaps she will return to the greatest place of all--Northern California--to contemplate life's great mysteries while jumping on a ridiculously-huge trampoline.


Hahaha. Oh, Sophomore Anna. You were a riot.

Then I found this Eid letter (Eid letter, since we didn't get a letter out in time for Christmas. I wrote it in January 2006. It's funny and informative. Check it out:

Dear Friends and Family,

I hope you'll forgive our lack of correspondence, we've been quite busy. Summer of 2004 we decided to pick up and move to the sandy dunes of the United Arab Emirates. We weren't planning to move for another year (at least!) and definitely not outside the country, but such is life, eh? So [Mom], [Dad] and Anna have all been making the most of this sweatfest while [Sister] works hard back in California and [Brother] stoically refuses to buy a coat at Fort Drum, New York.

Mom and Dad are kept sufficiently overworked. Mom helps run the library which is twice as much work when there is a second library being built. It's draining, trying to convince the planners that the stairs don't need a gold-plated banister. ("Well this red velvet carpet is going to look really out of place"). Dad works to keep the academic side of the IT coin nice and shiny so the students won't have an excuse for missing an assignment.
[...]

I graduated from high school in Dubai last year. Instead of going back to the the States for college, I decided to stay another year at the American University of Sharjah. [<--Free education! WIN!]* Life has been treating us quite well over here. Vacations are strategically interspersed throughout the course of the year to keep the working class from melting down. This has given us the chances to do some long-awaited traveling. We've seen the beautiful sand dunes of the Empty Quarter, the gorgeous sea life of the Arabian Gulf, and have even made it to Europe. Last January we spent a long weekend in Istanbul. It was beautiful! At the end of March we spend spring break touring Italy. Walked the streets of Pompeii (and Herculaneum), got plenty of exercise seeing all the sites in Rome, and Dad and I got to spend a pleasant day in Florence (Mom had a conference to go to so she had to leave early.) This year we've only managed a quick trip to Egypt. Definitely not what I expected. More traumatic than I would have liked. But Alexandria has a beautiful view of the Mediterranean and if you're interested in getting to know the locals, well, the only trouble you'll have is getting away from them (and recovering from the trauma they inflict upon you. ACK.*). Mom and dad also went to Beirut in June. That's right, they left me behind. I did, however, manage to squeeze in a weekend in Kuwait as part of a school activity. I won't pretend that it was anywhere near as neat as I'm sure Beirut was, but the Hard Rock Cafe was pretty sweet.

*Not part of original letter.

So, DANG. We traveled a lot. I did finally make it to Beirut. In 2006! in fact. It was cool. And I passed a Hard Rock Cafe and my Dad was like, Hey, we should totally get a t-shirt.
Me: Eh, what do I need that for? Let's just go back to the hotel. [WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME??]

Yeah, so days later we returned to the UAE and that little war with Israel broke out. And then I spent the summer in Utah and all I could think about was, Why oh WHY did I not get a Hard Rock Cafe BEIRUT shirt?

Because then it would be like, Oo cool. You were in a war zone!

Even though...I wasn't. And that really isn't cool. And now I don't even care about bragging rights I just want the darn t-shirt!

Moral: When you are in Beirut and your dad offers you a t-shirt from the Hard Rock Cafe, SAY YES. (Also: buy me one, too.)

*ahem*

Also that year, the library was completed and many a dignitary made an appearance for the grand opening in May. BUT, Sharjah and Dubai have this little feud going on so while all sorts of important people came from all over to get a tour of the region's premiere book domain, including Jordan's own Prince Talal and Hamid Karzai(!) from Afghanistan(!!), no one from Dubai came. Aw crap! I totally just gave away the university. Ah well. Until one day, the head librarian received a call that the RULER OF DUBAI HIMSELF was going to be there in 20 minutes.

And twenty minutes later, this is my mom shaking (harhar) hands with Sheikh Mo!


I have a scanned copy of the next day's paper where this picture--this very picture!--was on the front page. I'll have to post it some other time, though, because it's buried somewhere in the depths of my old email and I do not have time to go digging around THAT box.

So, yeah. Pretty much the only thing cooler than shaking hands with Sheikh Mo on the front page of Gulf News is getting checked out by Barack Obama.

WIN.

In conclusion, I never did get around to finishing and sending that Eid letter--even after mom nagged me for MONTHS to write it and even after I went to all the trouble of writing it and sending it all the way to her inbox. But, I did get Barack Obama's autograph so whatever.

As for my bio, I have all the same interests and disinterests (and then some), and have yet to embark on any of those extraordinary adventures.

And Northern California remains pretty much the Greatest Place of All.

THE END.

Quote of the MONTH

Leela: Anna?
Me: Yeah?
Leela: Have you ever had an astonishing amount of earwax come out of your ear?

In Case You Needed A Reason To Join Team Jacob

You know, other than NEW MOON.

I'm watching Jimmy Kimmel now and the Twilight Love Triangle is on. I just have a few things to say before I get to Mah Point.

1. Edward and Robert Pattinson are very different. I think, firstly, that Edward should have an accent. And secondly, Robert Pattinson--surprisingly--has a personality. Why couldn't he have shared any of that with Edward?

2. Kristen Stewart was freaking made to play Bella. SO DULL.

3. But she's also very white. White! Like, her legs are way whiter than her body. I didn't know they allowed actresses to look like that. Alright, Kristen, I can cut you some slack.

4. They showed a clip of the movie (part of the Volturi scene, ♥ Aro ♥) and: Bella's hair. *want*

Finally, The Point.

Jimmy Kimmel whipped out these awesome magazine photos of Taylor Lautner busting some sweet breakdancing moves and they were so amazing that I decided to make a post of it and share them with you right here on my blog. But Google, instead of bringing me the pictures I asked for, brought me a video:



Google, how do you always know what I need?

And Taylor Lautner, dayy-yuhm.

Everywhere I Go, The More I See The Less I know

Today, this is my favorite song ever:



Just TRY not to feel good. I dare you.

Also, see if you can through it without shaking your shoulders or bobbing your head or tapping your feet. I submit that it is IMPOSSIBLE.(<---Just right there I had to stop typing because the beat compelled me to clap loudly.) Bonus: Rio de Janeiro! I actually don't know if that is a bonus because I don't know anything about Rio, but today I had an hour-long conversation with a friend about past travels and future destinations so any video that features an overseas destination is a BONUS to moi.

This is the band's website. Part of it. I actually directed you to the propaganda portion of the website. (hahahahahaaaaaa.)

But it's cool because the message is positive AND: does anyone else think it's cool that this band is socially-engaged? I mean, other than at like clubs and awards shows. Because I think that may possibly be an even bigger bonus than the one about Rio. (How many people just thought of burritos? [Because Cafe Rio duh])


In Other Feel-Goodness: No headache today :)

I love you.

I love you.

I love yooooooooou.

---This post dedicated to positive social change, peanut butter spoonfuls with chocolate chips, and traveling the world.---

(I love you. I love you. I love yooooou.)

Death Please!

Day four of Headache From HELL. *chord*

No end in sight.

You remember that movie Mousehunt with Nathan Lane? What, I'm the only one? Alright, well, basically like it's a movie about a guy who has a sweet old mansion that he's fixing up to auction off or something, but then there's this little mouse that WILL NOT LEAVE. And he's tried everything to get rid of it--including hiring Christopher Walken to exterminate it--but it won't freaking leave. So finally, at the very end, there's a hose running in the walls of the house (I guess they planned to flood the mouse out) and the auction is happening and they are about to rake in a fortune on this place, but then, right as the auctioneer is going to pronounce it SOLD, the waters break through the walls of the mansion, the place buckles, and everyone gets blasted outside by small but powerful river of water. River? Waterfall? Jetstream? I'm not up for great descriptions tonight. THE POINT IS: My head is that house! Pressure. Pressure. PRESSURE. AAAACK! IS GON 'SPLOOOODE!

Except that bone doesn't buckle as easily as an old mansion, and neither do eardrums, and so I just feel this enormous pressure all throughout my skull and it just keeps building. Thursday and Friday, it was mostly around my eyes and forehead, but now it's throbbing in my ears. And no explosion means no relief. Which I guess is good, because I don't really fancy bringing shreds of tympanic membrane to the doctor in an ice bucket and saying, Remember Mousehunt?

Because he probably won't remember and I'll have to admit that actually I've felt pressure in my head my head for months but didn't do anything about it because I can't stand you creepy medical types with your cold waiting rooms and harsh fluorescent lights and the poking and prodding and--hey wait! I DID go to the doctor about this. Remember? But it wasn't really this and maybe if I could have been examined instead of jabbed repeatedly in my face my head wouldn't have SPLODED.

Rawr.

In other news, I cooked today. Like, real cooking, not my usual, Voila! Ze Ramen Noodles are preparrrred. Yeah. Chicken, onions, herbs, wine--the whole bit. Mmm.

When I began writing this entry, I actually had a point. I don't anymore, so I'll just end with this little glimpse into my life:

My parents are in Maraysia at the moment celebrating the Eid al-Adha break. They took the extra-strength Excedrin with them, and any and all trace of mom's nasal decongestants. I guess they heard about my party plans and decided if I were writhing in pain on the couch, no one would be around to get crumbs on our Persian rug. They win. I pain.



Yesterday was day 1 of the break(ing of their daughter) and I spent half the day in bed asleep (till 12:30) and the other half downstairs on the couch, curtains drawn, wishing (loudly and, in the absence of an ice pack, with frozen rice on my head. We don't believe in ice packs, okay?) that I were dead. I emerged only to water dad's plants (I don't even like tomatoes!), but then decided that they were not going to win so easily. Fine. I won't have friends over to eat on the Precious Persian Rug, but I'll be damned if I don't drive the car two hundred feet to the mini-mart and buy myself a Reese's. Oo, and these Ramen-like instant noodles look deliciously processed. TAKE THAT, ENVIRONMENTALLY CONSCIOUS PROCESSED-FOOD SHUNNING EXCEDRIN THIEVES!!

But I didn't cook the noodles and only ate two Peanut Butter Cups (sooo good) and the pain was worse than ever.

So, I got on MSN and spent the evening whining all over a friend. And then he was like, Uh, why don't you go to the pharmacy?

...What? Are pharmacies open past midnight.

Dude, pharmacies are open 24 hours.

Hmm. I don't believe you. But you've given me a brilliant idea. *rubs hands together*

And then I tromped upstairs and reached under my bed for the little green and white E capsule that fell there three-and-a-half months ago that I was too lazy to retrieve. Moral of the story: Laziness wins! (Uh, the E capsule being Excedrin, though perhaps the other E would have been an effective sleep-inducer as well. I really wouldn't know.)

Tonight I'm supposed to spend 4 hours finishing a transcript. It won't happen CUZ DA EARSZZZ but--

Oh right, but the point of the picture was threefold:
I went to the store in my pajamas
With dirty hair
And no make-up (yay for sunglasses!)
Actually, it was just one-fold: To show you my pitiful condition. But actually, it doesn't make me look pitiful at all. BLASTED SUNGLASSES!

Today, I worked out but couldn't bring myself to change out of my workout clothes (still in 'em!)--or to shower. It's okay though because I didn't go out in public today, and also: my head is going to explode. So, you know, mote in the eye and all that.

And would you look at that, an MSN contact has just signed in. Ah, Therapy.



[EDIT: Yeah, so like the wine bit above? I didn't actually drink the wine. I just cooked with it. And that's totally Kosher. But like, Mormon-Kosher, because I'm pretty sure realy Kosher allows for the enjoyment of whine. Wine. Whatever.]

Thanksgiving: Breakdown and Wrap-up

Today was Thanksgiving. I celebrated it at the mall with my mom for the first half of the day, then at a different mall with some friends the second half of the day. No one did any cooking (well, my dad made some popcorn. And mom baked cinnamon rolls, so I guess some sort-of cooking was done.) so we didn't even eat together.
Today being what it is and all, I suppose I should be seguing-way into the obligatory "I am thankful for..." Thanksgiving Blog Post, but I'm not going to. I didn't celebrate T-day this year, and that is that. [But to everyone who did: Happy Thanksgiving! I hope it was great.]

This morning I got up at nine because we were all supposed to hold strong with the Thanksgiving Day Tradition of Seeing a Movie, but the Informant is no longer in theaters (anyone see it? I am so bummed I didn't) and after reading reviews on Rotten Tomatoes, Dad decided seeing Where the Wild Things Are was a bad way to spend two hours (hah! Not even two hours! 94 minutes! yeesh) so it was just me and my madre. I wanted to see This Is It (for the third time! It's so good) but instead we walked around a mall for like 4 hours, and all I got out of it was a mouse and a stupid headset that doesn't even work!

Speaking of stupid headsets that don't work: does anyone have Skype? Because WOW. I mean, I've used it before but I just forgot how stunning it is! It is better than phone quality, and I am in the Middle East where internet sucks, so it's really saying something that Skype's quality is stunning. STUNNING! But do you know what is not stunning? My beloved PowerBook G4. It is 5 years old in computer years, which is what, like...150 in people years? Yeah, and it's not doing so well. It isn't even external microphone capable! Can you believe it? UGH. I wish I had known that before I went to the trouble of buying TWO. *idiot*

Also, my mom got this really amazing massage-y thing for like a buck at some Japanese dollar store. It is amazing. I shall post about it some other time.

Today, I will post about ugly lamps and expensive cereal.

These are the ugly lamps:


I know that not from the brilliantly hideous display, but from the description on the price tag. What would you pay for these?

You probably don't know this, but my favorite cereal is not Lucky Charms. I mean, I love me some Luck, but dang. There is nothing in this world quite like:


Wheat Chex. They are a bit hard to come by in the States, and more expensive than most cereal, but then I moved to the Emirates. The only place they can (sometimes) be found is at western grocery stores (never mind what I mean by that) and when I say it is expensive, I am talking *expensive*


Have you ever paid $9.25 for a (tiny) box of cereal?
Me neither.


Missed Photo Op: the bright green WTF trailers outside the mall. But THEN! I found this. Heh heh heh. I love living here.

So after the trailers, we got home, I took a nap, and then my mom woke me up to tell me Khalisah was on the phone, they're going to New Moon in a half hour, would I like to come? Let me tell you, there are few things so annoying as being woken up from a nap ohmyGOSH. But! When it's Khalisah, and she is inviting you to New Moon, well, forgiveness comes quickly.

I went in my pajamas mostly because I was already in them and couldn't be bothered to change, but also because my 6 AM workout class ended two weeks ago and my pants are really taking notice. Dangit! But, I did refrain from wearing slippers. This time.

Thoughts About New Moon:

1. Loved it. Tremendously superior to Twilight, which I guess isn't saying a whole lot since Twilight gave the impression of a 7th grade after-school project.

2. Love Jacob. Last year at this time, I was being mocked by my roommates for reading Twilight. Evidence. You punks! *shakes fist at the both of 'em* Then Megan got hooked--more hooked than I have ever been!--and here is that evidence. HEM HEM. This year, I am seeing New Moon on its first day in the UAE! YAAAAA!
But more importantly, last year at this time I was a biiiiiiig Edward fan. Like, I bought a little button from Hot Topic that said Team Edward. Because New Moon was sooooo boooooring. No descriptions of vampire-y hotness. No "I could lose control and CRUSH YOUR SKULL" romance. Just talk of a jagged hole and russet-colored fur. Gag.

But, I reread New Moon this summer and fell deeply in love with Jacob. What was I was thinking the first time through?! Jacob is so clearly, obviously, and wonderfully superior to Edward. He actually has a personality, for starters. And he doesn't make romance all about death and accidental death and Damned Because I Am Without Soul. *Drama Queen.* Nope, Jacob is just plain cool. (And hot. Amazing how that works.)

He was so real and true to character in the movie. Bella is so lame, and Edward so wearying, and the Cullens so....not stunningly gorgeous. So many of the cast are just disappointing but Jacob! Jacob is so delightful.

3. The Volturi. Oh my gosh, The Volturi. Namely, Aro. Wow. You should all go pay to see the movie if only to see Aro because he is just so good.

4. The line, You need someone who laughs at the gore that makes weaker men vomit.
Hahaha. I normally don't laugh at gore jokes, but Jacob, you are just so darn delightful.

5. The hair. I mean, what is it with the HAIR in this movie? It's like the stylists know that all I want from life is deliciously-auburn hair and decided it would be fun to taunt me with it.
Bella, for all her faults, has quite possibly the most gorgeous hair I have ever drooled over. Oh my gosh. Like, I have this fantasy where I wake up one morning, and suddenly all my hair is auburn. But not just "auburn". It's a deep brown and with a reddish tint and in the sun: red streaks. Good heavens, I dream about this hair! I pay eight bucks every 3-6 months to have this hair for just a few weeks. And there Bella is. Her boring, dull self all over the screen with two gorgeous guys chasing after her lameness--one with the body of a freaking olympian. Who is that kid?!--and all I can think about is, Man, I want that HAIR.

Other great hair: Edward, Alice, Charlie (Charlie!) and...actually just them. Oo, and maybe Laurent, too.

6. Charlie. The unsung hero of the movie. I mean, not hero--hottie. The unsung hottie of the movie. All these young guys in their bare chests and bulging muscles overshadow Charlie's deep brown eyes and lovely dark hair. And mustache! Who even looks good in a mustache?? Charlie. The only one in the world, I am convinced.

7. Jacooooooooooob. SOB. The end killed me. I was so sad for him, and so mad at Edward. Stupid Edward! And stupid Bella! I love money and good looks and sweet cars, but Bella. Seriously? It's JACOB. Forget it. I can't even look at you right now.

8. I laughed a lot during the movie. It was kind of funny, but mostly like overacted and dramatic and all those things the book was. yeesh.

So: New Moon! Yay!

And finally, Pictures:

So, like, I lost track of the post, but I once mentioned going to the movies with my mom and seeing a poster for The Rebound. The panties (isn't that an awful word?) in his mouth had been blacked out with a marker, which of course we found hilarious.

Well, tonight at a different mall there was this version of the poster:


Instead of a marker over panties (ekh!), a rose. How tactful.

This is me, objectifying Jacob.


*whoo*

And finally, the whole gang:



And that was the only take! I am an awesome single-handed self-photographer.

Not My Words, But Definitely My Feelings

From Girlsinc.org

Dear World,

To most people it's simple: man, woman, boy, girl. But I wonder, when the word "girl" comes out of your mouth, is what I'm about to say what you think of?

Being a girl you're expected to look, act, just be a certain way. In the world today if you aren't stick skinny, have the right bone structure, walk this way, and talk that way, you're not accepted. For example, how many girls do you know who have won a karate tournament against all boys, cheerlead, hip-hop dance, is a "drama geek", and maintains honor roll throughout the entire school year? You wouldn't believe some of the things I've been told. Like it's not possible to be a girl and succeed.

As a girl, there's almost never a day where you can walk down the street or hallways at school without hearing a whistle, being grabbed, or degraded and disrespected in some other way.

But, the best thing about being a girl is having the strength and the courage to stand up and speak out about these things. As a girl, nothing has or ever will stand in the way of my dreams, and no man, boy, or public perception is ever going to change that, or take it away. As a girl, I know what it feels like to want and need love and respect, and as a girl, I have the strength in my heart to give it. My dreams and goals are bigger now more than ever, all girls deserve to have the strength and confidence I've developed and grown into in my life, be comfortable in their own skin, and I will give my all to make sure that they do, even if its only one at a time.

But most importantly, as a girl, I have the pride in standing here and being able to say:

I CAN CHANGE THE WORLD!

Love Always.
Destiney, age 14

*************************
Destiney, you are awesome. Keep it up, Girl.

Spiderman at the Park

I babysat yesterday. No, that wasn't quite right. I spent all afternoon directing the actions of an adorable energetic 5 yr old. I've been babysitting since I was twelve but this was the first time I actually felt like a mom. A mom! I don't know why I suddenly felt so parental. I mean, I've been with my 8 1/2 yr old a couple times a week every week since getting back from Jordan (3 months ago) and never felt any such inkling. But there I was, telling him to take his clothes to his room and to do his homework (he complained about it for five minutes before looking in his backpack and discovering he didn't have any) and to share with the other kids. It's not like I normally let my charges languish on the couch, clothes strewn about and homework untouched while I drink a martini on the chaise. But I said it with such authority! Sure, he argued, but only when his little arms were full and his legs were already carrying him up the stairs.

Weird.

That was a tangent. Actually the whole point of this post is to tell you about my afternoon at the park, which actually has nothing to do with the boy I was babysitting or the sudden So This Is What It's Like bit.

When we got to the park, there was a small flock of children. These kids, in fact:





And then a few more. They were shy, but unmistakably curious. I said hello as my non-son ran off to the playground. And then the oldest introduced herself in Arabic and I realized they really weren't shy; they just couldn't understand what I was saying. She introduced her sister and brother and another girl that was with them entirely in Arabic.

Oi.

I did my best to understand, and did a good job of it. But as for communicating? FAIL.


It struck me as I was uploading these pictures: I could retake them. But my camera is upstairs and I am lazy.

Onions and Nick Hornby

My dad makes this really delightful French Onion Soup. As a kid, I was a staunch opponent of All Things Onion and so when dad made this soup, I just slurped the broth with some bread and cheese and shunned those rogue bits that snuck their way into my bowl.

But in the past year, I have come to find Onions quite indispensable and just this weekend my dad made yet another winning batch of soup, and I not only ate all the onions, I scooped up seconds--and even thirds.

And wow, do I reek. I woke up smelling onions. Was I imagining it? Perhaps. But real or not, "onion" is not a great morning smell.

Also, they don't sit so well with me. I can feel them in my stomach and I'm sure they're plotting revenge for all the years I dumped their American compadres down the sink.


*********************

I babysat Thursday night.

We watched Hannah Montana, and afterwards played frisbee in the street.

We went to the bowling alley and bowled barefoot.

I scored a 43.

Then we cranked up the radio on my phone and danced all the way home.

It was a good night.

**********************

On Saturday, I checked out some movies and a book. Tonight we watched Men in Black, which is still one of my favorites. Probably in my top 20. Or 15.

I checked out About A Boy and have been reading it since Saturday, and enjoying it immensely. I can't recommend it because of its copious use of the f-word, but if any of you are so inclined, I will buy you a copy and edit it myself. And I'm not just saying this because I'm an Anglophile. It really is great writing and delightful characters.

Tomorrow night, I will have some friends over to watch Jumanji (Jumanji!) and play Balderdash (woohoo!).

**********************

I'm doing my best to squeeze all the life out of my days (in a good way!) because today I sent in my cover letter and resume to the IOM. My fingers are crossed, but not too hard. I was initially quite excited but in browsing the web on Thursday afternoon, I found an even better potential opportunity in Egypt. I don't know if I could intern or work there (also an IOM project) so I wrote the lady in charge of the counter-trafficking program and am eagerly awaiting her response. My fingers are crossed so tightly they hurt.

Since returning from Jordan, I really haven't been eager to travel. I know! Me! Not wanting to travel! (Amman will do that to you.)

But in the last two weeks, I've been itching to get out. To see new things, to shop in souqs, to be a part of a crazy Middle Eastern city with noise and beat-up cars and teetering high-rises. Not so much to be harassed on the street, no, but falafeeel. It is calling my name and I am doing my best to heed its voice.

Today's AWESOME DISCOVERY...

...Is dedicated to Miss Meggo.

:)

The Angels May Quote From It

Keeping a journal--a "record"--is a big deal with Mormons. We're told from the time we're small that we need to keep a journal of our life. (In writing this post, I couldn't remember exactly why this was important, so I asked Google and found just what I was looking for. Google. Where would I be without you?)
Well, I was a great journal-keeper in high school and in an effort to de-crap my life, I have been going through closets and drawers and boxes, and have stumbled upon my stash of journals. Oh man, did my teenage self write some funny stuff.

Tonight, I came across journals from EFY and Sunday school. Boyhowdy, the fun never stopped, not even in Sunday school.

Before I share this with you, I must preface it with some words from the late Spencer W. Kimball:
Your journal should contain your true self rather than a picture of you when you are “made up” for a public performance. ...
Get a notebook, a journal that will last through all time, and maybe the angels may quote from it for eternity. Begin today and write in it your goings and comings, your deepest thoughts, your achievements and your failures, your associations and your triumphs, your impressions and your testimonies.

And, apparently, your best jokes. From one of my Sunday school journals, scrawled in sparkly-blue gelly roll pen (remember those?) on a page of its own, I wrote this:

Oh my gosh! I am sooooooo bored!!! It's like sitting through a meeting where Ben Stein is the featured speaker!
I heard a joke yesterday...Let's see if I remember it...
girl: if you were my husband, I'd put arsenic in your coffee.
guy: If I were your husband, I'd drink it!
Ha ha ha

I hope the angels quote that one, and my posterity, too because that is a funny joke. Especially since its written in one of the journals distributed by the church. You know the purple one with the temple on the front and a little flower at the top of each page? Yeah, That one. (I hope I wrote it during a lesson on eternal marriage. I think the angels would really get a kick out of that.)

Ah, my true self recorded on glossy, flowery paper in sparkly-blue teenage scrawl.

Yep. I am going to heaven.

My Life Is Average

Have you met MLIA? If you don't know what I'm talking about, don't even finish my post. Just go here. Now. NOW I SAY!

Because it is the funniest, feel-goodest site on the internet. I spent hours a very reasonable amount of time today reading excerpts from the lives of others, and laughing. Laughing and laughing and laughing because we humans are just so darn funny. Life is funny. It is! It just is.

Here is my own MLIA story, contributed by my 16-yr old self:

Like every other holiday, Easter ends with a 75% Off All Candy sale. A spur-of-the-moment decision led my friend and I to target 10 minutes before closing. We ran to the aisle with all the Easter merchandise, grabbed several bags of jelly beans, and ran back to the checkout. I read the cashier's name tag as he rang up the sale candy: Clarence. MLIA.

HAHAHA. Don't you love 16-yr old me? I sure do. More of my teenage hilarity to come!

The Brits Have Done It Again

It's one and I am supposed to be fast asleep right now so I can wake up for my 6 AM workout and have like, proper hormone levels or something. Instead, I am sharing this video.




HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA

Pretty Soon I'm Going To Start Asking for Money

Yes, Sister, I am looking at you and your insomnia.

Today she told me that I had to update again QUICK because she read my blog immediately instead of during the insomnia as we negotiated. So I said, with the help of my keyboard, HEY. My updates are not like my amazingly delicious chocolate chip cookies--I can't just whip them up and have them be great. I mean, for starters, I need something to talk about.

And then I realized, When have I ever needed something to talk about? Anyone who's ever gotten an email from me knows This Girl is a master at talking about nothing. Isn't that how I passed college? Yes. Yes it is.

So, for your insomniatic pleasure, I present to you: This Post.

Today I went to the clinic. I waited in the waiting room for an hour, just sitting there, staring. I didn't have a book with me because I usually only have a to wait a few minutes. ("Usually" meaning "the one other time I visited the clinic".) I couldn't listen to my iPod because I had a headache and all I could think about was my throbbing
forehead, and the pressure all along my cheekbones. Music would have been painful. So, I sat there, mouth slightly open, temples throbbing, and made my own music. It went something like this:
*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

The bright fluorescent lights in the white-walled, white-floored room enhanced the experience. Unfortunately, it was one experience that would have been better without enhancement.

I have never had a sinus infection before, and can't say for sure whether I do now. It seems I do, but the drug-happy doctors here don't need things like a "diagnosis" to prescribe antibiotics. Nope. She just jabbed at my cheeks and forehead and asked if it hurt (YES) and then sent me away with a prescription for three different medications, as well as a referral to some hospital in Sharjah for a face x-ray. Would you believe that some people actually want a reason for starting a course of pills called "anti-life"?

I came home and swallowed some Advil Cold & Sinus and slept curled up at the end of my parents' bed. I can't explain why I did this; it was rather canine of me. But two hours later, I felt good enough to be productive, so I guess those animals are on to something.


*******************


Ah, look what I found. Photographic evidence of my Life.




That's my mom in her Halloween costume. She went as a souq. Dad insisted that didn't count as a costume, that it was more of a routine--a shtick, if you will--and she needed to find something more orthodox.
Of course she didn't, and obviously it was a hit.

My least favorite part of Halloween is the dressing up, so I didn't.

This is me at the Halloween party, jumping off an armchair:



Lest you find me completely unfestive, I did don a wig for part of the evening:



I look like a lioness, but actually I'm a She-wolf. Like Shakira.

******************

This is a clothing store at Wafi mall:



I am not kidding.

******************

Last night, my mom left the country for a conference in Denver. She'll be gone for a week.
Today, I met Dad for lunch. He was having a hard day because Mom is gone and so he didn't sleep well. It's only 12:30? He said to me. It feels like 5:00 will never get here.

When he did come home, he asked what we should have for dinner. This was sort of a trick question because all we have in our fridge is salad, pickles, and a thawing turkey. We thought about making pasta, but were too lazy to make a flour-run.

Well, we could have salad. Of course, then we would have to make the dressing...

We thought for a minute, then he said,

How about popcorn?

So we ate a bowl of popcorn in front of the television, and then spent the next two hours staring at our laptops and occasionally flipping channels on the TV we weren't watching.

*************

I've been switching between MTV and VH1 for the last 3 hours. I love MTV. I'm sorry, that wasn't quite right. I *LOVE* MTV. I love Made and My Super-sweet 16 and True Life and Pimp My Ride and Punk'd and music videos. Most of all, I love getting caught up on pop culture. I get so isolated out here and watching MTV makes me feel like a part of something. Is that sad? A little, right? Well, anyway. I love it. *LOVE* it. Music videos are cool, too. Especially since much of my self-worth is dependent on my ability to identify the song title and band name of any song on the radio. Lately, my self-worth has been increasing.

But tonight, just in the last few hours, they played She Wolf (Shakira) four times. Four times! And I've heard 21 Guns (Greenday) twice. And both VH1 and MTV played Madonna's new song. I watched the Lady Gaga video (Paparazzi) once and it was...strange. And cool. Coolly strange. I love Katy Perry's Waking Up In Vegas, but am not crazy about Rihanna's Run This Town. I was not impressed with Kid Rock's All Summer Long video. But, it is Kid Rock and when have I ever been impressed by one of his videos? Zactly. Oh look, they're playing Circus again. Which is okay with me, because I like this video and song. But you know what? Womanizer is a dumb video. And, like, I'm a fan of Britney and all, but what the heck is up with that video? Brit, I expect more of you.

Tonight, VH1 wins. Because they played a Michael Jackson video AND they didn't repeat one video four times. (Yeesh.) Michael Jackson is The King. Have you seen This Is It? I have. Twice. And MTV, you really need to follow VH1's lead on this and play more of his music. His dancing is good and his videos don't rely on the pornification of women to be entertaining.
(Halo. VH1, this is the second time tonight. What up?)
(Run This Town. Third time. I think it's time for bed.)

*****************

So, now it's time for bed. And it's evening over there in the Western hemisphere. I am setting this to post at 9 PM. See what I do for you, Insomniacs? Forget travelogue. This is like, ... shoot. I can't think of anything clever right now but someday I will come up with something and it will be funny and it will have to do with insomnia and this blog.
Yeah, I'm spent.

Good night, you crazy insomniacs!


[Edit: I lied. I'm making it 10 PM. I think. I hear you guys just when on daylight savings time, so I'm not so up on time differences anymore. 12 hours to California? Hm. I think so.]

Time for An Update

Evidently this blog serves as a great antidote to insomnia. Tonight my sister said, "You need to update your blog. It's what I read when I'm up late at night. " Oh. Well, then. Please let me put you to sleep with more tales of my post-college bumming.

No, wait. Let me put you to sleep with a defense of my post-college bumming. I have talked a lot on here about my what I don't do and it seems to have left at least one reader with the impression that I really don't do anything. Um, Hello, At Least One Reader, did you miss this post? Yeah, it appears you did. I am busy these days!

I mean, when was the last time updated? Yeah. I can't even answer that because I have been so absorbed in My Life and Doing Stuff that I haven't even thought of this poor little blog.

In case you care, this is what I have been up to the last several weeks:

Dubai.



Beach parties (in Dubai).


I don't have pictures from the second beach party. Hm.

Wandering around Dubai. Bur Dubai, to be more specific. Here's a cool sign I found:


Big prize for anyone who can tell me what the heck that center-right picture means.

Going to malls (in Dubai). Like Dubai Mall:





Dating a Brazilian of exceeding hotness (in Dubai).
















Hah! And you were expecting a picture.


Spending money in Dubai:


Taken from the Metro. Oh, Metro, one day I will devote a post or two solely to your lovely presence. If only the taxis between Dubai and Sharjah were as cost-effective as you.


Transcribing interviews for one of my former professors.
No pictures of this, obviously.

Socializing like a freakin fiend.
(Totally have photo evidence, but completely out of hard drive space to prove it.)

And, most time-consumingly, planning out my future. Suddenly the What To Do fog is clearing and I am gearing up to Move The Heck On. Probably to Jordan.
Hey! Speaking of Jordan! I found a blog! But I think I've posted it before. Ah well. I shall post anyway because it is one of the few happy things I wrote while in Amman:


Today was a good day.

It started last night at 11 PM when, after a long and tiring day battling the city, I fell asleep. I woke up this morning shortly before 9, but lay in bed dozing for another hour.

Class was a little boring, but I love my teacher, the challenge of the language, and my group members. So, overall, not so bad.

I then spent a good deal of time on Facebook and successfully uploaded 15 pictures. YES.

I also sent off my CV to the Amideast office in Muscat, where I hope to be teaching English this fall. And learning to scuba dive, and eating lots of Omani food.

But then, while waiting for an empty cab to pass by, this Jordanian guy did instead. Not even my threat to call the police could get him to stop tailing me, so I ducked into a store and spent a dinar on cookies. Hey, getting chased takes a lot of you. Especially when it’s the fourth time in a week.

I felt better again when I got to the mall. The grocery store there was amazing. So amazing I nearly cried.

When I got home, I cooked myself the best meal I’ve had all month. I’m so glad my dad taught me how to sauté onions.

This evening I watched Rachel Ray, and then turned to MTV and watched True Life, Punk’d, and this show I’d never heard of called Taquita and Kaui.

And now I’m here in the comfort of my living room, the fan keeping me cool and the incessant booming of fireworks and honks of carhorns indicating the celebrations taking place all over the city.

I haven’t written much about my daily life in Amman because the few times I’ve sat down to write, all that’s come out of me are bitter observations about crappy internet and creepy men. And those are not the things I enjoy writing about. I already have those documented in emails and vivid memories. Here, I want to talk about how today brought another clear blue sky and more kind taxi drivers.
That I haven’t seen the cockroach in 3 whole days!
That I have a bag of Turkish raisins on my table.
And that tomorrow is the start of a weekend.

Maybe Sunday I’ll have an upbeat post about life in Amman. Right now, I’m just going to savor it.


Did I ever tell you about that cockroach? Or, it turns out, those THREE cockroaches? Well, there was a cockroach that used to spend its nights roaming our kitchen countertops. My roommate got hold of some poison and charged me with the task of ending its nighttime jaunts. I guess if you're fearless enough to flip off Jordanian men in SUVs, you can handle a cockroach. It's not like he's going to chase you down the street. I mean, he's already in your kitchen. Several days later, I still hadn't seen the little bugger (*whew* I really hate killing things, especially cockroaches. Men In Black will do that to you.). And then one afternoon, I awoke to a vile smell and a cockroach lying on its back beneath one of the dining room chairs.

Roommate:Hey, uh, would you mind cleaning that up? I don't want to touch it.

Oh goody! Because I can't wait!

Uh, sure. Thanks for killing him. But, uh, why is he in the dining room?

Roommate: I got a little carried away in the kitchen and I guess the fumes got this guy too.

Too?!

Turns out, it actually got THREE. Two in the kitchen (one she didn't see because it was under the cupboards) and the third in the dining room.

Yeah, so, cockroaches, Jordanian men--I can handle anything. Even dirty skeezy good-for-nothing pond-scum human traffickers. Yep. I hope to be doing an internship with the IOM helping victims of trafficking. I haven't even applied yet so I am totally jumping the gun BUT...no--wait. No but. Just jumping the gun with my fingers crossed.

Oh yeah, and I didn't even mention my 6 AM workout class. THREE TIMES A WEEK. Yeah. And also, that I haven't been hooked on a TV show in a whole MONTH, nor have I read any books. I just got Catching Fire and have not opened it because I have transcribing to do and a cover letter to write. Take THAT, post-college bumming!

So there you have it. A solid defense, complete with visual aids.

If you are still awake, I hope you are very impressed.

Aw, Man!

Check out my Jordan pics here :)

The Ugly in Beauty

Guys, I have lots of cool pictures to show you. I just filled up a memory card but can't upload the pictures because my hard drive is already overflowing with pictures. *irritation* This weekend I rode the metro and took some pictures that I hope to get up soon. Tonight I went to a really awesome drum concert (I'll come to this when I post about it, but for now I just need to say: I ♥ Atsu).

But I'll begin at last week, when I went to Abu Dhabi and visited the Shiekh Zayed mosque. Sheikh Zayed is sort of the UAE's version of George Washington. Or was. He died in 2004, just a few months after we moved here and so we got a week off and I took a trip to Oman. But that's a story for another day. Today I am telling the one about how he got a HUGE mosque named in his honor. His tomb is there, too, and there is always someone there--round the clock--reciting the Quran. I would have taken a picture but it wasn't allowed.

See the No Photography sign? Bahahahaha!

I'm hilarious.
So, I've been hearing about this mosque for years. It was only done last year (I think?) but they've been building it for several. It's very detailed. And I finally got to see it.

*cheers*

I realize only now that this is just not a great shot. This is like, a third of the mosque. I'll have to dig around and see if I took a picture of the whole thing. But still, domes! Cool!

This is right above the entrance. See what I mean about detail? Bricks! And carvings and, well, you'll just have to see what else.

This is the inside. It's really enormous. And the whole floor is covered in this carpet:

I think it's the largest in the world. It took over a thousand women several years to make. Oh look, I have stumbled upon information: there's a brief bit here and a newspaper article here. Also, a wikipedia entry! And it was really silly of me to guess that it was the largest in the world. I mean, OF COURSE it is the largest in the world. Go to all this trouble to build a gorgeous mosque in honor of the UAE's George Washington and not even achieve a world record? Unacceptable. Unthinkable!

So, enormous interior--40,000 worshippers enormous. World's largest (most gorgeous?) carpet. All topped off by this incredible ceiling:

I'm sorry, did I say incredible? I MEANT HIDEOUS:

So obscene. Why couldn't they have done something more like this:

Actually, it's really the dome interior I like. The chandelier only looks good because it doesn't look like this:

Ack!Ack! Avert your eyes!! It's the world's most hideous chandelier!

The mosque has hundreds of columns, all (nicely) decorated with (lovely) inlaid stone flowers:

And those hideous gold palm things. Ekh.

Despite its HIDEOUS chandeliers and those weird palm things, the mosque is glorious.

oooooo...

aaaaahh....

So there you have it. Sort of. You really need to see it in person to get the full effect.
Stay tuned for Ats♥♥♥♥♥