After a long unexplainable absence, it is rather odd to think about what drove me back into the reassuring familiarity of a blank page and a blinking cursor. Stranger than that however, is that the force that brought me on here is the very thing I do not wish to discuss. Suffice it to say that over the past six months I have found that it is actually possible to make me feel bad about myself, and that I am more emotionally demanding than I ever thought I would or could be. On to funner things...or rather things that are not so personal.

 

I recently saw a commercial for a new show starting in the UK with Paris Hilton. The voice-over sounded super-psyched that she was in the UK and said something like "we're sorry US but you can't have her back!" I couldn't help thinking that the Americans were probably saying "Keep her!" This made me chuckle a little (yes, I do often chuckle at my not-so-funny jokes. It's how I keep myself enteratined) before realizing that I hate modern technology for making the option of flight possible to annoying people like Paris Hilton and Britney Spears. Imagine how much less pain would be inflicted on the world if each country got to keep their annoying fame-seekers to themselves. I guess it'd be like most British celebrities. It's quite funny watching British people go on about their celebrities and you have to sit there with a smile on your face and project their excitement so that you give off the impression of being a good listener, while having no idea who they are talking about.

 

But seriously, I think we need to fine tune our criteria for who gets to be a celebrity. With the recession going on right now, the amount of money we can afford to give to famous people for being famous has diminished. So we need to be more selective as to who gets the title and for what. Take for instance Latoya Jackson. Why is she famous? I ask this because she's on Celebrity Big Brother (Big Brother's a whole different issue for another time.) So as to be as accurate as possible with my judgment of this Jackson I am googling her now. One site labels her as a singer/songwriter, actress, and a writer among other things. But why can't I name a single one of her songs? Nor one of her acting parts, or books. Oh wait...does getting someone to write your autobiography for you make you a writer?

 

The longwinded point is that we should set up a committee with specific criteria as to who can become a celebrity. No more Vengaboys making an appearance for a year and then disappearing after brainwashing people into buying their talentless, cheesy albums. Horrible music has infilltrated our history and we can't pretend it never happened. Why? Because the Vengabus is coming and every one is jumping. Yikes! Why the Vengaboys (fondly known to a certain Indian radio DJ in Oman as the Wengaboys) you wonder? Someone who will remain nameless has one of their videos on their D drive. I watched it hoping that I could find one redeeming quality. I didn't. What killed me though was the Vengaboys were making fun of the Village People! That's the square calling the square, square. Did you see what I did there? Did you? Come on...humor me and laugh...even if it is a pity laugh. It's the wittiest I'll ever be. Please do not allow me to sign off shunned.

 

Wishing you all pretty purple dots with green smiley faces drawn on them.

I recently learned something about myself, and while it is strange that I only found this out recently, it's not surprising. Given the upbringing I had where my parents, and more specifically, my father would make all of my decisions for me, presenting them in a way that made it look like they were my own, this late self-revelation is understandable. I found that I detest being told I can't do something. It makes me even more determined to do it and do it great too. Which is why at the moment I find myself teaching 3 college courses, working full time elsewhere, studying full time (my big exam's in November. Yay! LOL), translating/editing/writing stuff for a thought forum, and upkeeping a house that I live in but do not own any part of. Oh, and absolutely no social or love life to speak of. Oh and of course how could I forget the founding of an evil lair?!

 

He says I'm stubborn. Isn't determined a nicer word? I feel this insane need to prove to everyone that I am capable of overtaking the world if I chose to do so. Sure, it's taking its toll on me, but in the end I have the world and the haters have nothing. The truth though? I believe subconsciously I've been thinking a lot about turning 25 this past year, and realizing that I haven't made my mark yet, I panic. It's less than a month away, and I have nothing to show for my 25 years. Which is why I take on so many things at once, in the hope that in one of them lies the mark I'm looking for. If anyone finds the mark - it's a little gold star with a red dot in the middle - in their cereal bowls, please mail it to me. It'd be much appreciated.

I HATE MAKING SPELLING MISTAKES AND I HATE SPACES EVEN MORE FOR MAKING IT SO DIFFICULT FOR ME TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO EDIT AN ALREADY PUBLISHED ENTRY   I know it's irreconcilable and not unreconcilable...the prefix ir- is there rather than the un- because it's easier to pronounce.

 I've got beef. I know, it seems that lately I'm not too happy with anything. I blame it on drivers here. Yep. They drive so horrendously badly that it puts me in a bad mood.

 

But right now my beef's with movie makers. What's up with the movie scene these past 2 years or so? Has the industry peaked and is now taking its natural course of plummeting to the ground where it will lie with every bone broken gasping to get air into its crushed lungs? Yea, I know it's a cliche. My mind's not working at it's normal rate tonight. I blame it on Music and Lyrics. Yep...the movie. Now, I generally enjoy movies that are either about singing or dancing, yet strangely seem allergic to musicals. Go figure. But Music and Lyrics was just one disappointing scene after another. I found it to be a rather cliched plot with cliched lines. I should've known to leave when the movie started off with a song that had lyrics to the effect of, "pop goes my heart" and I kept thinking, "pop goes the weasel." Come on! I couldn't have been happier when I turned 8 and the memory of that rhyme magically vanished from my memory. So I wasn't too happy to have it resurface years later and play in my head on repeat.

 

Another thing that bugged me about the movie was that the near 50 year old man hooks up with a woman at least 20 years his junior. Why are movies trying to push that crap on to people? Fine, we know that older men can get younger women (although I personally think that if there's a huge age difference, these women usually have daddy issues that they need to deal with) but how many movies show an older woman hooking up with a younger man? Sure, there was How Stella Got Her Groove Back...but can we in all seriousness even consider that a movie? That was a 124 minutes of...for want of a better word...crap! The point is there should be an equal division of older people hooking up with younger people. I'd also like to see a movie which ends with "they lived happily together for 6 months before they started having problems. Thinking they could solve these problems by getting married, the two planned an unbelievably expensive wedding, and while still in the process of writing thank you notes to all their gift-givers, they realized that they were never meant for each other, and decided to get divorced citing unreconcilable differences as the reason for the dissolvance of their marriage. Then they each went their way, stupidly looking for love, only to repeat the same mistakes, and end up alone all over again." What? Don't look at me that way! The divorce rate in the USA is a little over 60% I believe. That's a little more than half. Which means that if you have 2 couple friends, it's almost certain that one of them will get divorced, if not both.

 

And they ask "when are you getting married?" Ha! I'm no fool.

When I was 10 years old I found out that a family friend was diagnosed with cancer. Having read somewhere that the Japanese say that a thousand origami cranes can cure a person, I decided that that’s what I needed to do. However, for some reason I only managed to make 60 cranes. I gave them to the woman while almost in tears, disappointed that I hadn’t been able to make the full 1000, and convinced that I had failed her. Looking back now, I realize that she must have thought it a colorful pile of garbage, so whether it was 60 or 600, it made no difference to her.

 

While I have grown and become (slightly) wiser, and now know that origami cranes don’t cure people, I do still wish things were as simple as they seemed 15 years ago. I wish I still believed in things like Peter Pan and the power of origami. Since age wont allow me, let’s just review Evanescence’s Open Door album.

 

Lacrymosa: Typical Evanescence track. Good words, good voice, just a little whiny, and the feeling that the music is overpowering the voice. I find myself yawning as I listen to this track, so have not as yet heard it in full. Moving on.

 

Lithium: This track sounds very similar to Whisper. Quite irritating actually as she keeps repeating “lithium” and I haven’t quite figured out what it has to do with anything.

 

Lose Control: Sounds just like the first two tracks, with a slightly louder guitar. Just as whiny. Difficult to understand the words. Not something you could dance to. But also not something you can relax to. I’m not quite sure where this track could be played and one would think, “perfect!”

 

Snow White Queen: Please kill this track. It rather sounds like the track’s being played backwards. Not something someone who’s sober or not high would appreciate.

 

Sweet Sacrifice: I think the way this album was made was by making one music track, and using it on the entire album. This song sounds very much like Everybody’s Fool. Not bad, but being an imitation detracts from the art.

 

Cloud Nine: Boring.

 

Your Star: Sleep-inducing. But that’s typical Evanescence anyway.

 

The Only One: This was the one song that stood out from the entire album. Different beat. This is the only song worth listening to on the entire album. **So afraid to open your eyes. You know that you’re not the only one.** 

It's been something like over a year since I last tuned in to a radio, so while this may be old news to everyone living outside my cave, it is new to me. In the song, It ain't a scene, it's an arms race the word God is censored. Instead of: "it's a god damn arms race" it's now "it's a *drum beat* damn arms race." Since when has the word god become offensive?! So, "god" is censored, "gun" from the song Teenage Dirtbag's censored, yet Khia's My Neck, My Back gets uncensored airplay. Oh wise ones of the spacing world, how the hell is that possible? Pray do tell me. I thought that the point of radio censorship was to make the listener's listening experience "wholesome" and "good" :p No, but seriously, someone please try to explain to me who worked out such an equation, and what possible logic was behind it.

 

I will now depart in a much more confused state than when I logged on.

Ok ladies, I’d like to ask you as politely as I can, to please cover up. I’m sick of seeing so much flesh. We think that men are disgusting because they’re always turned on, but can you really blame them when you wear your breasts as chin guards? It’s all they see!

 

How can a woman in a plunging neckline and a tiny skirt expect to be taken seriously and demand to be respected for her mind? Whether intended or not, that much exposure is telling everyone “Don’t listen to anything I’m saying. Look at what I got! Peek-a-boo…I see you!” Only women who have nothing to offer the world feel the need to do that. If you truly are an intellectual, then put that ish away and speak with your mind, not your body.

 

Some will argue that this is freedom of dress and we shouldn’t let man dictate to us what we can and can not wear. My response is simply, imagine your boss in a banana hammock. Will you be able to take him seriously? Enough said.

"Hey ho. Let's go!" Whatever happened to cute baby messages like "My mommy loves me" or "I'd win a baby beauty pageant hands down"? Do we really have to teach our kids what a ho is at such a young age? Unless of course the manufacturers are taking into consideration their changed target consumers. Now baby clothes manufacturers also have to cater for those grown women who think it's cute to wear their baby's clothes.

 

Oh, and I'm sick and tired of seeing stupid, meaningless place names. Earlier today I passed by a store called Fag. Yes, you read right...fag. Why on God's green earth would anyone want to name their store Fag?! I'm not going to delve deeper into my thoughts on that. It's just too weird. I'm just disappointed I didn't get to see what they sell.

A lot of people lately have been posting lyrics up, and I figured don't knock it until you've tried it. So here's me posting up the lyrics to one of my favorite Creed songs - With Arms Wide Open.

 

Well I just heard the news today

It seems my life is gonna change

I close my eyes begin to pray

Then tears of joy stream down my face

 

With arms wide open

Under the sunlight

Welcome to this place

I'll show you everything

With arms wide open

With arms wide open

 

Well I don't know if I'm ready

To be the man I have to be

I'll take a breath, I'll take her by my side

We're standing on, we've created life

 

 

Was it good for you?

No.

Flustered, you think you heard wrong. “N…no?”

No.

Why? What was wrong? I would’ve thought you’d love it.

Nope. For one, the beat was all wrong and stuck to a safe, uninspiring dada da. The voices are bland, and there are few traces of the old Linkin Park left. They sold out, god knows for what reason! Gone are the days of Place for My Head, and enter the era of My December-like songs.

 

The first track on the album should’ve been fair warning. It’s an instrumental titled Wake that awakens nothing from the listener. It did make me kind of sleepy though. It would sound good as elevator music. It would be even better suited for hold music when you’re passed from one agent’s ear to another while trying to sort out your DSL problem.

 

Track 2 – Given Up starts off with a very worrying similarity to Snap’s I Got the Power. That’s never a good thing. But it does mature into something reminiscent of good old Linkin Park, yet still manages to sound a little strained.

 

Track 3 – Leave Out All the Rest. Again with the abab cdcd rhyming: I dreamed I was missing. You were so scared. But no one would listen. Cuz no one else cared. After my dreaming. I woke with this fear. What am I leaving. When I’m done here.

It’s a soppy love song. But may have been rather pretty had it been the only song on the album of that kind. Unfortunately, it isn’t.

 

Track 4 – Bleed It Out. A fusion of rap and rock, but nothing like the songs off Collision Course. It sounds like a line-dancing call. So it’s really country rock! Intentional? Quit the music business now! Unintentional? You guys have sub-conscious issues you need to deal with.

 

Track 5 – Shadow Of The Day. Another slow song. That’s three tracks so far. They don’t have the voices of Live to pull that off. Where’s the hardcore stuff you taught us to love? All the edge has gone.

 

Track 6 – What I’ve Done. The one good song so far that you can put on your playlist and listen to over and over. This is the Linkin Park we know, but still a little on the slowish side.

 

Track 7 – Hands Held High. This song is very Fort Minorish, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing in this case. While the sound isn’t great, the lyrics are quite good. It’s a criticism of a leader’s decision to go to war. My favorite line: When the rich wage war, it’s the poor who die.

 

Track 8 – No More Sorrow. It begins with encouraging Metallica-like music. Then a lot of yelling follows, punctuated with more rhyming. Not terrific, but not terrible.

 

Track 9 – Valentines Day. Run! Run for your lives. This one put me to sleep. I keep waiting for the beat to pick up. It doesn’t, except towards the end where he keeps repeating “on a valentines day.” Seriously dude, just because you scream it doesn’t make it sound masculine. That’s 5 slow tracks, if we count What I’ve Done.

 

Track 10 – In Between. Slow song number 6. They sing, “Let me apologize to begin with…” so yes please, I’ll be waiting for my apology because I think every Linkin Park fan deserves one. What the hell were you guys thinking?? You don’t have good enough voices to pull off slow songs! The voices are ok, but they’re not spectacular.

 

Track 11 – In Pieces. Another sleep-inspiring song. That’s 7 slow songs. This is one of their more creative pieces…not. How long did they have to think to come up with “your lips say that you love. Your eyes say that you hate. There’s truth in your lies. Doubt in your faith.” Did you learn all about paradoxes and wanted to show off your new-found knowledge? Color me unimpressed. I’m making that a phrase now.

 

Track 12 – The Little Things Give You Away. You just know from the title that this is going to be a huge disappointment, don’t you? You’re not wrong. It’s another slow, badly sung track. The music is bland. The voices remain on one constant tone throughout. There’s absolutely nothing in this track to excite or interest the listener.

 

Ok, so to recap…8…yes…8 out of 12 songs on the album are slow. Of the 12 songs, only 4 are ok-ish. An extremely disappointing album. Their breaking up was for good reason. Had they gone out with a bang, their fans would’ve remembered them fondly. Unfortunately now, they have an eternal blemish on their record that very few people will forget.

 

 

 

 

 

Every once in a while disjointed bits of the family history are recounted to anyone willing to listen. Images of tree boughs weighed down heavily with oranges, big green olive clusters ready for the picking, and corn fields stretched to the end of the horizon, all replaced with flea-ridden water, intense hunger, scorching heat, bloody blisters, and the stench of death. A captivated audience trying to comprehend will ask for specific timelines but will be impatiently silenced. The question is of no importance. Time does not matter. It does not make their history any less real or any less fresh in their minds. But to those who have not lived it, time is the missing element. We are frustrated when things refuse to submit to fitting into an easily identifiable timeframe.

 

So the listeners sit quietly and receive passively. Later they try connecting as best they can. Realization hits like a brick in the face. They left too soon. They are disliked by their own people for being cowards. Refusing to accept the role they played in the course of their lives, they mourn their loss. Uninterested the listeners listen, yet hear nothing. History, when repeated frequently loses meaning and simply becomes a string of words to them. Guilt consumes them. None of this means much. They did not suffer the loss nor felt the pain that came with losing a homeland. Unsure of how to react, they nod sympathetically and wait impatiently for the story to end. They are in a hurry to go back. ‘Home’ is not the same for all people.

 

 

I was recently engaged in conversation with a friend I thought I knew quite well. My assumption was wrong though, and this was quite saddening. While I do understand that people change over time, there are some fundamentals that are supposed to remain static. You do not usually go from a sweet, caring, intelligent person to a materialistic, evil-driven, dumba** in a matter of months. Which leads me to the conclusion that I wasn't seeing the real person to begin with. Which in turn leads me to be mad at myself. How could I be so stupid?!

 

Aah, who cares. I'm out of that circle now, and it is no longer my concern. On a different note, it's been a while since I've mentioned books. That's because I quit reading for a while. Too much to do, and no good reading material were the cause of that. But then, enter new books, and exit TV (I haven't watched much of it for about 4 months now, and NONE AT ALL for 2 of those months!) and I'm back to reading. I recently finished a collection of short stories by North African writers, and started on The Cairo Trilogy by Najib Mahfouz. More on that next time though, because my backspace key isn't working, and this is a pain in the neck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A blank red page. It's daunting but oh so tempting. I've been away for a while, in part because I've been busy, but also because I didn't want my crappy mood to be reflected on here. I think I've had enough though. I'm not sure. Let me check. Yep I'm fed up. I've been silent long enough and pretended that everything's alright with the world. It's not. The evil genius within me is withering away at an alarming rate.

 

What's the point of this? I don't know. Earlier today a new acquaintence thanked me for looking hot. Of course, it's my civic duty! But the compliment was followed by, "do you have to wear that veil?" I wouldn't call it a veil, because I think of a veil as being the piece of material that covers the face. What I wear is a scarf. Anyway, they made me realize that while the biggest part of why I wear a scarf is because of my belief in what it stands for, a small part of the reason is my assertion at belonging. I figure, while I may not think like you, or talk like you, at least I look like you! Doesn't that count for anything? Apparently it counts for very little.

 

The moment I open my mouth I'm looked at curiously and the genius will say, "you're not from here are you?" How the freaking hell does it matter? I'm not trying to interact with you on a social level. It's none of your business where I'm from. Besides, you don't even to have to open your mouth and I can tell whether you're an idiot or not. Do I wait for you to speak, and then say, "you're a jackass, arent you?"? I can honestly say that even though it's tempting, I haven't said it to anyone....yet. I'd appreciate being treated in the same manner.

 

 

I'm drained from having to prove myself to everyone and then being cast aside as though I am of no importance. I know I've said this before, but why the insane desire to categorize everyone? Just let things be! There are bigger concerns out there that could use your attention. Like the deterioration of society. The gaping hole in the ozone layer. The melting of everyone's brains into mush. I'm insignificant compared to these problems. So, how about we reach an agreement? You quit marginalizing and dismissing me, and I'll stop calling you out for the idiots that you are.

With my unmatched perceptiveness, I just noticed that whenever I type T in a search bar, it automatically prompts me with "The Hot Boys." Why would I search for The Hot Boys? Who/what are they? I can't help but think you'd have to be hella goofy to think The Hot Boys was a good name. I must look for these geniuses and invite them to my geekdom, which just in case you cared to know, is under threat of attack by Nerdom.

 

Someone has incurred my wrath and I'm on a war path. I'm not sure who that someone is though. To make my job easier, would whoever advised me to watch Hostel please stand up. I spent three quarters of that movie with my eyes and ears covered. That was a sick sick movie! The queen is not happy with having to watch a sick movie. They were drilling holes in thighs and cutting off body parts. Again, who was the genius who thought this movie was a good idea? I had to watch 3 episodes of That 70s Show straight after before I could allow myself to go to sleep. Doing that made me realize that it'd suck having to smoke marijuana and then not finding anything to eat afterwards. Ah yes, so to the creators of Hostel...watch your backs because you may become servants of Geekdom.

 

Muhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhaah

Geekings loyal followers of my newly established geekdom! I know my absence has been long and hard on you, but it was for good reason. I spent the time carefully plotting and planning (the best p words in the English language) so that our geekdom would be the greatest geekdom around!

 

Now, I'd like to know something. Can keys have contagious illnesses? A few days ago my F got stuck, but then because it's a fighter it struggled and pulled through ok. Now it seems that my D is starting to come down with something. It's not always responsive to my taps and I worry. Truly I do. What will I do if D gets horribly sick and doesn't pull through? D is not as strong as F and may give up a lot easier. When you have a moment of unoccupied thought (and yes it's possible), please take the time to think of D and wish it a speedy recovery. Thank you.

 

I do have yet another request. Last night while on the treadmill, exercising and thinking about the greatness of our geekdom...for this is a geekdom of the people, for the people, and by the people...only I'm it's breathtakingly lovely Queen who everyone will obey and respect. For while I have the face of an angel, I have in me the wrath of a cat who can't quite get at the itch. I digress though. So yes, I was on the treadmill looking for some exercise-encouraging music, but did not have much success. It was then that I decided I needed to make a workout playlist. Yes...it was something I hadn't done yet. Of the 3,000+ songs on my mp3 player, I only found 115 I could exercise to! Please help! I need suggestions that don't include Evanescence and Nickelback.

 

I will bid you happy geekiness for now. Oh and always remember...love yourself for who you are, because nobody else ever will! Geeks are destined to be alone.