Europa!

Well, it's been a while hasn't it?

Middle Eastern Chick has been away... IN EUROPE! Well, she's back to the good ol' Middle East now, but the whole month of July was spent in green lands with perfect weather, quite a world away from the hot deserts of home.

Austria, Spain and Italy were the main destinations. Oh, and seven days on a cruise ship. Sounds brilliant doesn't it?! Not to mention the ridiculous over-load of eye-candy as well. You knew it was coming, didn't you? Don't worry, all Middle Eastern Chick's girlfriends ask the same question: "Were the guys hot?" And frankly, who wouldn't want to know? It's true! Middle Eastern Chick can vividly recall walking down the bustling street of Las Ramblas in Barcelona as if it were a sea of pure eye-candy. One or two guys even made her swoon. No kidding. Of course, she had to swoon discreetly.

Apart from the sizzling levels of hotness, there were quite a few other attractions. You know, secondary ones, like the Colosseum, the Vatican City, St. Peter's Basilica, the Sistine Chapel and what-not. I kid, I kid! The history of all the countries visited was to die for. Every street we walked and every corner we turned, there was a new story to be told. Sometimes it just got quite unbelievable. Like, this one time, Middle Eastern Chick was walking with her tour-group in Rome when the guide randomly pointed to a construction site and told us that the city planned to build an extension to the metro line there. However, once they started excavating for the project, they ran into Roman ruins. Yup, just like that... we want metro, but we found Roman ruins. No big deal.

Now, let me get onto the important bit: the Cruise ship. DAMN. I WANT TO LIVE ON ONE FOREVER! If you haven't been on a cruise ship yet, Middle Eastern Chick STRONGLY recommends it! It was flippin' brilliant! There were 18 decks that housed pretty much everything, from casinos, restaurants, cinemas, comedy clubs, nightclubs and amphitheaters, to a water park (with slides and all), rock-climbing wall, spa, gym, basketball court, running track, pools, bars and social clubs. Basically, one could never get bored. AT ALL. The only time Middle Eastern Chick wasn't on deck was when she needed a little shut-eye in her cabin (which was FANTASTIC! It was tiny, but it was five-star tiny) or when she was out and about in the city when the ship was docked. Otherwise, she was always out on deck with her new friends (yes, there was a teens social club too. It was called Entourage), doing all sorts of crazy stuff, or dancing late into the night at the various parties the ship had.

Oh, and did she mention FREE FOOD? That's right. It's one a.m, you feel hungry? No problem! Head off to a restaurant that's still open and serving and order all the food you want, no charge. It was chocolate brownie sundae HEAVEN. 'Nuff said.

The only downside that Middle Eastern Chick can think of is the obvious withdrawal that one would experience after such an epic get-away. Imagine landing back in Dubai, getting hit square in the face by a blast of sickly moist warmth and realising that you have to start paying for your food again. What a ripper. But hey, it's always good to be back, innit? ...Kind of.

SALES are the Lady In Red of Retail.

50% OFF! COME BUY FROM US!

NO! 55% OFF! COME TO US! 

NO NO NO! 75% OFF! COME! COOOME! 

(Terms and Conditions Apply)

We're all quite familiar with these slogans. They're what make us go nuts and and bat-shiz-crazy when we go out shopping. Men, you do it too, though not necessarily for the same stores. What makes us behave this way? After going into countless shops advertising "BIG SALES" on large red posters only to find that their ideas of sales are raising prices and then slashing them down to original prices, we walk out empty-handed and STILL enter another pointless flashy sale. WHY does it not get into our thick, massive skulls that SALES. ARE. BULL. They're fakes! 

Middle Eastern Chick will provide you with an analogy: The Lady In Red. Who is she? Let Middle Eastern Chick tell you. She is that mysteriously sexy, red-clad woman that will turn heads wherever she goes. She is the woman who can seduce a man without even trying. She is the woman who can tame a man by glaring at him. She is the woman who can turn a man into putty by giving him a smoldering look. SHE is the woman that every other woman wants to be. Now, what do sales and the Lady In Red have in common? Hmm... let's see... 

Oh! Middle Eastern Chick knows! Is it their flashy red exterior? Well, that's one thing, but it's not the main thing. Okay, is it their cheap exterior? That was a low blow... but let's let that one slide. Okay, is it their ability to attract attention come rain, storm, snow, hail or even friggin' lava? Hmm... close. Is it their ability to attract and then ruthlessly put people down? Huh... maybe. Or is it the fact that they're all red hot on the outside but downright trashy on the inside? Yeah, we like that one. 

In fact, it's all of them. The Lady In Red is known to symbolize temptation, and SALES are pretty much the epitome of temptation for a shopper. Too bad they're both just flashy exteriors and rubbish interiors. Let Middle Eastern Chick explain, using one more example, how a SALE is like a Lady In Red. Okay, a SALE will draw you in, giving you unreasonable expectations, quickly giving you a high and leaving you waiting for that perfect buy; but, in the end, you get crushed, realising that all the stuff on sale is pure trash and you walk out empty handed. A Lady In Red, similarly, will ignite your interest (especially for men, unless she- or you- happens to bat for the other team), draw you in and entrance you with her flawless looks and mysterious nature. Just when you're hoping for a little bit more, checking your breath and quickly flashing your teeth on the back of a spoon, she gives you a devilish smile and walks away. There you are, standing like a moron, still checking your teeth on the back of a spoon, only to look up and realise that you're standing alone in the middle of nowhere, possibly even with your wallet missing (if you happen to be really unlucky... and stupid).

So there you have it, SALES are the Ladies in Red of retail. You best watch out... otherwise someday, one of these teases might just take you for a ride that you'll never forget and forgive yourself for. Like the day Middle Eastern Chick bought a dress on "sale" that was probably more expensive than her whole wardrobe put together. 

She kids, she kids. It was a skirt.

MEChick is going to go ahead and use a picture that says "Shutterstock" all over it, because she's just bad-ass like that. Total rebel. 

Goin' All Yogi On The World

So, Middle Eastern Chick has been doing something quite different from her usual pass-times... she has been taking yoga classes. No no, not the sort of yoga that involves stuff like Downward Dog, Cat Pose, Mountain Pose and all that... It's the sort that involves sitting in one place for hours and breathing. That's it. Just breathing. Even writing it makes Middle Eastern Chick all jittery... She likes movement. She likes adventure. She. Wants. ACTION.

So, sitting in one place and just breathing isn't exactly her cup of tea. Or so she thought. Turns out this breathing stuff is actually pretty useful. Being a bit of a skeptic when it comes to stuff like meditation, Middle Eastern Chick started this program more for the raw-food detox that it provided (hey, every girl wants to lose just a little more weight...) However, after meditating for a while, Middle Eastern Chick realised that, hey, maybe this stuff ain't so bad after all! Sure, she hasn't experienced full-on Nirvana or anything of that sort... but the peace and quiet that comes from meditation sure gives some time for thought. Some serious, deep, soulful and life-altering though.

Eyes closed. Body relaxed. Here's what goes through Middle Eastern Chick's mind:


Okay. Here I am. This position is weird. Shh! I need to relax. Just relax. Yes... Let go... Think nothing... Leave my body... Shhhhhh....


...


Just kidding. I'm still here. Am I doing this right? 


My watch is ticking too loudly. It needs to shut up. Or maybe it could hypnotize me. Yeah! Okay, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13... wait, am I at 13 or 14? Oh screw it. 


...


When is this getting over? 


...


I'm hungry. I want a sandwich. A Joey Tribbiani sandwich. With salami and mustard... Oh wait, I'm not supposed to eat meat. So, no salami. What the heck is a salami buddy? Mental note: ask mom what a salami buddy is. 


...


Okay, I lost myself for a minute. Was that it? Did I just PROPERLY meditate? *Mental squeal* Cool!


...


I really need to stop. Okay. Focus. Breeeeeathhhee..... Slowwlyyy.... Innn... Ouuutt.... Iiiiinnnnn.... Ouuuutttt.... 

Okay, the thoughts are usually deeper than this. Honestly. No really. Valuable lesson learned: Don't meditate while you're hungry. Salami will haunt your Nirvana and harsh your mellow.

Are Summer Blues Really Blue?

That Middle Eastern Chick just finished her last day in a school where she spent around nine years of her school life. Needless to say, it has been a very emotional day. However, now that summer is OFFICIALLY here, all she can think of saying is "Now what...?" Such an anti-climax, innit?! To think about all those days during school when we'd moan about the woes of education and the cocktails of torturous pain we could put it's benefactors through... What a waste!

Middle Eastern Chick has realised that this cycle of painful longing, under-the-breath-cursing, relief, satisfaction and then, finally, clueless oblivion is a rather repetitive one. It happens every summer! Yet, we always fail to anticipate the next step! We're always so busy complaining about school, chores, work and projects that we manipulate the idea of summer in our minds to make it seem like the most FANTASTIC thing ever! We start planning the various things we want to do during summer, listing them endlessly, naively deluding ourselves into thinking that we WILL do them this summer even if we failed to do them in previous summers! What a hoot! HA! Just the thought of the mental list that Middle Eastern Chick made during the school year is a laugh!

"Write a book"... Was she being serious or was that the excess of information on pancreatic juices talking?
"Write a personal thesis on anthropology"... Nope, that was definitely the self-pity talking. ME Chick remembers the night she put this on her list. It was a dark, dark night, full of chocolate, cookies, self-hate and Scarlett Johansson.
"Star in a local movie and become a local celebrity"... What the...?
"Tutor kids for extra cash"... That didn't work out last summer for ME Chick... what makes her think it will work out THIS summer. A sudden burst of fairy dust? Ohh Tiiinker Beellll! She's waaaiiitinnng! YOOOHOOO!

The list is endless... and rather embarrassing.

So, Middle Eastern Chick is going to proof-read her whack-job list and edit it a tad bit. She'll probably chop off two-thirds and later complain of being bored during the summer. We humans can be such strange beings, can't we?

For all those who actually DO manage to check off every single little box on their summer check-list... Middle Eastern Chick calls your bluff. She challenges you. Meanwhile, she'll be off to enjoy her blissful oblivion and one-third of her summer check-list.

The Direction Convention. Right. No left. No wait... Right!

My mother made a very interesting observation a few days ago. She was asking her Filipina nurse for directions to the metro station when she realised that the ways in which people give directions are so specific to their nationalities. Now that I think about it, she is absolutely right!

The Middle East has an amalgamation of nationalities... Arab (not to mention all the different types of Arabs!), Indian, Pakistani, Filipino, South African, Nepalese, Chinese, Russian, Romanian, British, American, Malaysian... you name it! Naturally, living in such a diverse environment has changed the way people think around here. I realised only recently that, having lived here for most of my life, I'm used to being part of a society where it's perfectly normal to see an a room full of people from completely different backgrounds, to the point where being a room with people of only one nationality feels a bit strange. At the same time, I've realised that while I am accustomed to being part of such a varied society, there are many others who find it implausible that such different people can work, laugh, eat, joke and even just LIVE together in one place!

Now that I know exactly how different my environment is, I have learned to appreciate the differences between those around me. Not too long back, I never really focused on the differences between people of different nationalities living around me... however, now that I'm alert, many beautiful things have begun to shine from within those very people! It's like living in a place where all the hilarious quirks of people of different nationalities are squished together into one big comedic reality show!

Now, back to my mother's story... Here are our observations on the hilarious ways in which people of different nationalities give directions in the Middle East:

Arabs: 
Large gesticulations along with loud, friendly and enthusiastic responses. I mostly hear this: "Seeda seeda seeda! Yasar! Seeeeeda!! Seeeeeeda! Yameen! BAS! BI'DHABT!!" (Translation: "Straight straight straight! Left! Strrraaaaaight! Strrraaaaaaaight! STOP! EXACTLY!")


I know this, because I've been there and I sometimes give directions exactly like this. Other times, I give directions like an Indian (because I've got a lot of Indian blood in me).  


Indians:
Intense concentration on the question asked, and a sudden leap into directions using all the possible Banks, Sales and Promos along the way as landmarks. It goes something like this: "Hmm... Let me see. Oh! OKAY! Go straight and you'll see the 1/2 Dirham store on your right! Keep going straight until you see the Mashreq Bank and go left from there! Then, you'll see the big pink store with a huge "50% OFF" sign in the window! From there, go right and that's it! You're there!"


Have I given directions like these? Guilty. Have I followed directions like these and shopped till I dropped along the way? Happened so many times that I've lost count. 


Filipinos:
They are the most jovial people out here. Always laughing, smiling, joking and eating. That's probably why all their directions involve food joints and restaurants. "Okay... Just walk until you see the Tandoori Chicken Palace and cross the road from there. Then, walk straight until you reach the Asian Wok. From there, go left. You'll see a big mall straight ahead and see the Delhi Darbar. Just walk a little further and you'll see the Meat House. It's right next to the Meat House."


I love Filipinos, but I try my best not to ask them for directions. They always leave me feeling so damn hungry! 


Chinese:
It's all about the technology. 'Nuff said. "Go to the Plug Ins Store and drive until you see Ace Hardware. From there, just go left until you see the Apple Store. That's it." 


American:
I can never understand their directions... Possibly because in the USA, it's really easy to give directions using street names and coordinates since they have the grid system. Out here, you try using street names and people will look at you like you just popped in from Mars. It's something like this:


Taxi driver: "Where to, sir?"
American passenger: "Building number 11, street number 13B, Al Muwaihat road, Abu Dhabi"

What the Taxi driver heard: "BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH - BLAH BLAH BLAH - BLAH - Abu Dhabi" 


Yeah... we don't do street names out here unless they're the highway names. If you're American and planning to visit the Middle East, keep your eyes peeled on the road for as many large landmarks as possible... because that's how you'll be giving directions. So, the American Passenger should have said something like this: 


"Abu Dhabi, near the Reef Mall, opposite the Radisson." Easy. 

Living in the Middle East has made me pick up on all these little traits (except for the American road naming... that just doesn't go down with people out here) without even realising it! It's quite possibly the best thing in the world to realise that you live in a diverse community and you've got a little bit of every culture in you. I feel like a real child of the world ;)

Mind Blown

A quickie post from yours truly. Some readers are probably aware of my intense love for Doctor Who. For those who aren't... Welcome.

I just wanted to let fellow Doctor Who fans out there know that the latest episode of the sixth series- A Good Man Goes to War- IS FREAKING AWESOME (If they haven't already witnessed it's awesomeness). Watch. It. Now.

I won't say much more in case you haven't seen it yet. I'd probably kill someone who gave anything away. Like, properly kill them. Strangely enough, my best friend had some whacky theories about the characters that we were discussing the night before the episode came out (yes, we spend our Sunday nights talking about the Tardis, River Song, Amy Pond, Rory and, of course, the Doctor and his many enemies because that just happens to be how we roll. Bow-ties are cool) and, get this, THEY WERE TRUE. You have no idea how unbelievably amazing it feels to see a theory be proven true!

When you watch it you will see connections that you missed in the previous episodes- connections that were right under your very noses! It's genius! Unreal! Bloody brilliant! I'm a little excited. Don't worry, you will be as well. If you're not a Whovian, I suggest you start being one now. You will never regret making that decision.

Right, I'm going to stop going on about how a 945 year old time lord makes me squeal and leave you to it. GO WATCH NOW. NOW. Now now now now now now now! I'll be off now.

Here, feast a bit on creepy eye-patch woman:

All Smiles!... Or Not.

I read a very interesting newspaper article a while back. Turns out that according to a study carried out in University of British Columbia, women find brooding men sexier than men who smile all the time; and men find smiling women sexier than those who, well, don't smile.

The men part, I can understand. It's a well known thing that the brooding, reserved hotshots are the ones who make women weak in the knees. Some good examples are Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca, the dude from Gone With the Wind, the dude from My Fair Lady, the dude from Funny Face, and the list goes on (don't ask me why I decided to pick all the old movies... they're classics and better than a lot of the over-hormonal rubbish we see nowadays). One really good example that supports this hypothesis can be found in the movie Pretty In Pink. Remember that one? (Also, don't ask me why I'm talking like a grandmother who actually lived in the time of Audrey Hepburn and is hating on today's youth. I guess I'm just a very different teenager...) In Pretty In Pink, the main girl, Andie, goes for the brooding and slightly mysterious Blane rather than Duckie, her awesome, always smiling and dancing (remember the record shop scene? My favourite!) best friend who was in love with her.

You can guess which one this is. 

There are however exceptions... Sometimes the girl might find the brooding guy sexy but will eventually go with the guy who makes her laugh. I'd do that. Most of the guys I've had huge crushes on are hilarious! The other, more quiet ones are hot, but I got tired of them pretty quickly.

The study about women has left me a little confused. I completely understand why men would find smiling women more attractive, but what I don't understand is why teenage girls STILL choose to give up their pretty smiles for the weird pouts that they always choose to do in photographs??? Wide bright smiles are great, half smiles are cute too, no smile is a little sad but a pout is just... weird. I mean, if you pout once in a while, that's great. But IN EVERY SINGLE PICTURE? I mean, don't their lips hurt after a while?? It's like they're constantly in kiss-mode! I don't mean to hate on anybody who does this... I just find it a little strange that you would want to hide your smiles! Show the world that you're happy! Smile! Be confident!

I know some girls who pout in all their pictures because they want to attract the guys. Well, nothing attracts a guy more than confidence and positivity; and now, this study proves it! *Wink*

Social Retardation

Picture this: you're out with your friends and you're having a good time until suddenly, you spot another friend of yours (who is unknown to the group you are hanging out with at the moment) and reluctantly lock eyes with him/her. Suddenly you find yourself propelled into a conundrum of meaningless verbal exchange, often accompanied by air kissing and/or fitful hugging, as if to relieve each other of hazelnuts stuck in your throats by slapping each other on the back. And then the lovely pleasantries ensue:

"Oh my gosh, (your name)? Is that you?"

"(His/her name)? HI!"

*Delighted squeals* *Dramatized enthusiasm*

"HOW ARE YOU?!"

"I'M AWESOME! HOW ARE YOU!"

"OMIGOD! I'M TOTALLY RAD!"

Then you realise just how unenthusiastic you really are to see this person because you actually had to stoop to the level of expressing yourself with "totally rad". And yet, you can't really do much except keep on the "I give a ****" facade. Eventually, it all becomes too much and your face contorts into a gargoyle-like image before finally cracking under the pressure. Kind of like this guy:

(Kudos to Sheldon Cooper)

Needless to say, this exhausting drama is enough to make you vow to stay at home forever and turn into the next Miss Havisham. At least living in a wedding dress is more inviting than having your face cracked.

Note to self: Next time I go out, I must carry an emergency sandwich bag for taking care of unprecedented stomach roller coasters, disposing garbage to remain green, and, of course, covering my face in case I get launched into a situation as illustrated above. Caution: the sandwich bag may only be used for one purpose at a time, otherwise, things could get slightly... messy. 

Skater Boi of Arabia.

I went for a lovely outing today with a few of my friends. We went to a really popular mall out here where pretty much all of the teenage population can be found hanging out on weekends. One of the main attractions of the place (it has MANY) is the skating rink. Now, this rink is no joke. It's massive, it's fancy, it holds "disco" sessions and it's pretty much always full on weekends. Usually, I go there with my best friend, Violet, just to hang out and reminisce the days when we used to take figure skating classes together (yes, I used to learn figure skating. I got pretty good too, until I stopped in the sixth grade and never went back to it for some odd reason...).

I also like going to the top floor of the mall, watching the rink from above and just observing the skaters during "disco" sessions. These sessions don't actually play disco music per say; they usually play the latest hip-hop and dance hits. The reason I love these sessions is that there are always a few guys in the rink who really know how to skate to the music... like REALLY skate to the music. Before watching the skaters in this ice-rink, I always assumed that figure skating was the only type of ice-dancing. Then, after watching these guys, I was completely taken by their amazing hip-hop dancing ON THE ICE. They wear hockey skates instead of figure-skating skates, enabling them to move really smoothly and pop to the music in fluid motions.

I could actually stand there all day just to watch those guys skate. They dance on ice like it's as simple as breathing air... hip hop, break dance and stunts. I even saw some of them doing the traditional Arabic
"debkeh" on the ice today! How cool is that?! Surprisingly enough, the only guys I see skating like this are the Arab guys. I would have expected them to think of skating as too "sissy"... but ironically, they're the ones who rule the ice! Some of them aren't too bad looking either, if you know what I mean *wink wink*.

If you're ever in the Middle East, look out for a skating rink and watch out for the skater-bois. They're hard to miss and difficult to ignore! You know what, one day I'll just walk up to one of them and ask them to teach me to dance like them! Yeah! I can be bold! Maybe. I think.

Oh whatever. Bois be skatin'.

Arabic... A Whole Bunch of Languages.

Arabic is a strange language... It's beautiful, rather poetic, VERY difficult, but strange. There are many different countries in the Middle East and ALL of them have a different way of talking Arabic. It's not the accent, but rather the dialect that differs.

If we take English as an example, a clear difference in accent can be seen between Americans and the English.

Intended Phrase: "I don't think that's a good idea."
Southern American: "Aaah down't thaenk thaet's a good aahdeeuh."
Englishman/woman: "Eye don' think tha's a güd eyedea"

However, Americans and English people also use different dialects of English slang.

Intended phrase: "This is absolutely amazing!"
American: "Yo, this is off da heazy!"
Englishman/woman: "Tha' is way sick!"

I remember when my cousin from London heard that we'd be taking him to an indoor ski resort, he remarked with "Tha' is sick!" and I got a little bit offended. Upon asking him what exactly was so "Sick" about an indoor ski resort, his mother explained that it was meant to be a compliment. Oh. My bad.

Similarly, in the Middle East, Arabs of different nationalities speak in different ways. This is primarily why I began losing touch with Arabic... simply because I couldn't understand a lot of what others said and they found my language ridiculous.

Here are the different ways in which you can say "How are you" in Arabic:

Proper Arabic: "Kayfa haaluki" or "Kayfa haalak" (f/m)
Iraq: "Shlonich!" (Literally means "What's your colour?")
Lebanon: "Keefekk!"
Yemen: "Kefik!"
Egypt: "Izzayyik?"
Other: "Shakhbarak?" or "Shakhbarik?" (m/f)

How to say "I'm fine":

"Kwayyis" or "Kwayyisa" (m/f)
"Tamam"
"Haalee" (Literally means "sweet")
"Murtaah" (Literally means "relaxed")
"Imneeh"
"B'khair"

It all gets so confusing!! I CAN'T KEEP UP WITH IT! AAARGH!

Snakes on a Plane: Arabified

I've known my best friend, let's call her Violet (just for the fun of it), for around 10 years now. During those ten years, we're done a whole bunch of crazy, zany and downright weird stuff. This was one of them.

Back in the eighth grade, when quirks were peaking, moods were swinging and hormones were raging (that sounds a bit weird...) we ended up translating a song one lovely afternoon during break at school. We picked a song from a band we happened to be obsessing over and a language that frustrated us and made us laugh at the same time. Cobra Starship's Snakes on a Plane into Arabic. The results were beyond awesome... It. Was. Hilarious. Read below for the translation. Sing it out loud... it's even funnier *GRIN*.

Times are strange
We got a free upgrade for
snakes on a plane.
F--- em, I don't care.
Pop the cheap champagne,
we're going down in flames, hey.

Oh, I'm ready for it
Come on, bring it.
Oh, I'm ready for it
Come on, bring it.
Oh, I'm ready for it
Come on, bring it.
Oh, I'm ready for it
Come on, bring it.

So kiss me goodbye.
Honey, I'm gonna make it out alive.
So kiss me goodbye.
I can see the venom in their eyes.
Goodbye.


Al awqat ghareeba
Hassalna tarqeea majaniyya
Lil-tha3abeen 3ala attayara,
Yil3anhom, shu bkhasnee,
Ifta7 al-shambanya arrakhees
'I7na nazleen binnar, AIWA!


Oh! Ana radhiya lo, 
Yalla geebee! 

Oh! Ana radhiya lo, 

Yalla geebee! 

Oh! Ana radhiya lo, 

Yalla geebee! 

Oh! Ana radhiya lo, 

Yalla geebee! 

Businee bye bye!!

Ya 3asal, ana bakhruj hayy,

Businee bye bye!!

Ana b'shoof al-samm b'3ainik!

Ma3assalama!

For those who can actually understand what I've written, I know it's a mixture of dialects. It's because my best friend and I are from different parts of the Middle East. We found it funny as hell... I might even find a video of us singing it. That would be epic. 

Okay... back to chemistry revision. 

The Academy Is... Cobra Starship and Gym Class Heroes. 

Study Motivation.

So... I've a hit a bit of a low. I have four exams left this week and I REALLY am not in the mood to study. Therefore, I shall Tweet or Blog every time I finish a significant amount of studying!

I remember last year when my method of study motivation was to French manicure one finger nail for every chapter I studied. See?! CREATIVE STUDY! >=D

I AM FOODWOMAN.

Is it a bird?! Is it a plane?! Is it a satellite gone awry?! Is it a squirrel on crack?! NO! It's... FOODWOMAN!

*Applause* *Squeals of delight* *Men swooning and fainting* *Tears of joy* *Women offering their babies as presents*

Thank you... thank you... Oh please, that's enough.

*People pull their hair out from overwhelming proximity to her awesomeness*

That's enough really.

Okay, maybe I should explain. No, I don't save food from being dumped into a garbage after picky eaters decide it's not good enough for their golden stomachs. No, I do not save the innocent food from being genetically modified my Doctor Mutationix. No, I do not distribute food to the poor.

What I do, however, is turn to food in times of need.

What? It's a perfectly legit reason to be a superhero!

Is it just me, or does the thought of studying immediately make you feel like you're being abducted by aliens for dissection and experimentation and therefore must depend on the one thing that will protect you? The one thing that will repel those evil book-aliens. The one thing that will make them shrivel up and die like they're eating freaking kryptonite! ...DA DA DUMMMM....

FOOD.

That's right. Every time I have to do anything remotely tedious, I resort to my saviour: FOOD. Ditch the books, forget the exams! Screw them all! You might not graduate if you fail your exams and you might end up living like a pauper on the streets with no money and nothing to your name... that's because education is a b**** that will ditch you if you don't pay her attention. Food, however, is the loyal companion that will always be with you, no matter what! When education breaks your heart, food will nurse your heart to health and show you the joys of living!

So, ditch that ungrateful education and embrace the true love of your life! FOOD.

I want baklava.

Twittersphere!

Aloha!
That Middle Eastern Chick is now flying in the Twittersphere! Follow me for... well... Tweets.

Hunk of Beef vs Twinkle Toes

I just watched a video that made me feel like a hunk of beef. It's not everyday that you end up feeling like that...

I watched Boyanka Angelova's 2008 routine and literally felt like I was a human gone wrong. I mean, if humans have the ability to move like her, then something must be wrong with the rest of us who can't! It must be a deficiency disease... Flexilacktoesis (see if you can figure that one out).

I watched her move, utterly mesmerized by the way she carried herself (and that ball!) with the ease of a person wading through a baby's paddle-pool. As much as I felt elated by the grace and beauty of her routine, I also felt downright terrible for myself. Ugh... self pity is such a tedious thing. I literally felt like a great big hunk of beef with fat globules squelching at my sides and oil dripping down my meaty flesh. Ew. I just disgusted myself.

Of course, things aren't nearly as bad as we perceive them to be. I suppose my feeling of beefiness at this point will just vanish after a dose of reassurance and self-confidence. Thus, we have the vicious cycle of self-pity and... well... something less than self-pity.

Here's the video... the frying pan of my beefiness:

I. R. Embarrassed

While I really shouldn't be saying this... it's very true. I am kind of embarrassed by some of the boys in a certain institution that I happen to be a part of. 

My friends and I went for an education fair at the Commercial Centre out here and we happened to spot a group of boys from the institution we're all a part of. We don't know most of them too well, since we're separated into a girls' section and a boys' section. Just then, we also noticed another group of teens from another institution. They were wearing formal clothes (unlike us who were in uniforms). Now the boys from the latter group happened to be rather, well, dashing. Some of them were even more than just dashing (wink wink). The boys from the former group, however, were... er... how can I put this... far from the furthest thing from dashing. 

Anyways. So, my friends and I went about our work and didn't pay either group much attention until I, having stopped at a stall where I had a clear view of a small group of boys from my institution and a small group of boys from the other institution, began to notice something that mortified me. These were my observations:

Dashing boys:

-Well dressed, polished and positively delectable in rolled up shirt sleeves and neck ties. 

-Actively engaged in conversation with the educational representatives. 

-Polite and hushed. 

-Weakened knees with their smiles. 

Boys from my institution:          

-Scruffily dressed with rather unkempt appearances.

-Didn't really care about what was going on around them.   

-Loud and obnoxious.

-Laughed like hyenas.       

Honestly, it just reminded me of something like this:

THIS...

V/S

THIS...

It was positively mortifying. Our uniforms betrayed us. Like a fart in a morgue. 

Ah well... 

Go Green! Rooh Akhdar!

Just a quick word before I write the main post... "Rooh Akhdar" is Go Green in Arabic! There's your Arabic vocab for the day.

I found this pretty awesome button from a friend's website and decided to check it out. Turns out that all the bloggers out there have a chance at making their carbon footprints a little smaller. For all the blogs that post their button, a tree will be planted in a forest that needs reforestation. For now it seems to be the Plumas National Forest.

I think this is pretty brilliant idea! If we're all going to ignore the fact that technology is contributing to natural deterioration, then we might as well try to counter it by planting trees. At least, it's a step! If you want to give this a shot as well, click on the green button on my footer and GO GREEN!

http://www.kaufda.de/umwelt/carbon-neutral/

I'm a WHAT Now?!

So, er, interesting turn of events.

I've been thinking about what I want to do with my life (career-wise) and have been strongly leaning towards law or international relations. Naturally, I consulted my family and asked them what they thought. They responded in the usual way: supporting, advising, etc.

If there's one person in my family who comes up with the wackiest (and usually niftiest) ideas, it's my uncle. He's like the male-Lorelei of my family... related but awesome and cool. He usually comes up with "brilliant" new career paths for me... clock-maker, actress, director, etc... However, nothing will ever beat the suggestion he made yesterday.

He said that he had a new career path for me. I asked what it was. He responded by telling me to watch Hannah. I had no idea what Hannah's storyline was, so I Googled it.

Here's what my facial transition was like:

AN ASSASSIN. THAT'S my career path?!

Although I probably wasn't dying as much as Marjane here. (Kudos to Marjane Satrapi for that awesome graphic novel, by the way).

I pointed out to my dear uncle that he probably wouldn't know I was in secret service even if I did end up there. However, despite my initial skepticism, it WOULD be pretty cool to be all secret and spy-like. Every girl's sassy-dream-come-true. 

Arabenglish

It's a fairly common thing nowadays to be in an Arab country and still not hear a word of Arabic in some places. I, as a teenager, can confirm that most of the time, even those teens who DO speak Arabic hardly ever converse in Arabic. I do however think that this probably applies more in the UAE than in many other Arab countries merely because of the fact that the backgrounds of people out here are so diverse.

I go to a school in this country and in that tiny community itself there are probably over 100 nationalities. Last year, a teacher conducted a survey to see how many languages were spoken in grade 10. In GRADE 10 ALONE, she found that over 40 languages were spoken! So, naturally, it comes as no surprise that the primary language for communication out here among the youth is English. 

However, despite the prevalence of English, there have been a few tweaks that the Arab teens of today have made in order to keep their roots (as much as they can, that is...) 

One such genius tweak is the development of what I like to call Arabenglish. It's basically typing in Arabic using Roman script and Arabic numbers. If you're friends with an Arab person (especially a tech-savvy one), then you'll have probably already come across Arabenglish. 

Here's an example: 

Salam 3laikum. Keef 7alkum? Fahmeen shay2? 

I just greeted you and asked you how you were and whether you could understand what I was writing. The numbers in the writing represent Arabic phonetics that can't be written in Roman script. The number 3 represents the throaty sound that is made ("aa") while squeezing muscles around your vocal chord (I have no idea if there are muscles there... this is all pseudo science). 

The number 7 is for the "h" sound made from the throat, as if you're Harry trying to speak Parseltongue. Try it!

So, you see, we Arab kids might be "deviating from our culture" (as my grandmother and mother like to point out whenever I speak to my Iraqi best friend in English, despite the fact that we both speak Arabic), but we still use creative ways to keep it alive ;) 

That Middle Eastern Social Butterfly

That Middle Eastern Chick is now on Facebook!

http://www.facebook.com/pages/That-Middle-Eastern-Chick/116385515110149

I'll add an FB page button on the blog soon... just too lazy to do it now.

Bless the Yemenis.

I am sitting on the dining table right now, typing this post and enjoying what I truly believe is one of Yemen's finest accomplishments.

I was studying all day (kind of...) and decided that I'd make up for all those hours when I decided to take a "break" by staying up late and studying some more. So, I turned to my one companion who I knew would help me through this adventure. And that companion is the ancient, the classy, the delectable and the very Yemeni... COFFEE! It's not that coffee suddenly turns me into a very OhMiGoshI'mSoHyperThatI'mBouncingOffTheWalls person... it's just gives me the tiny boost that I need. Although I wish it had more of an effect on me (like, maybe turn me into more of an OhMiGoshI'mSoHyperThatI'mBouncingOffTheWalls person), I am still grateful for the help it does manage to give me during my crazy study periods.

Coffee, qahwa, 2ahwa, cafe, kaffei, kava or koohii or whatever it is you want to call this drink... it's like heaven in a cup. Especially for all the procrastinators (cough*me*cough) out there who just can't help but leave all their studying for the very last minute.

I don't drink coffee very regularly... but when I do, I like to get creative. Here's how I made it today:

Name: BEER MUG ALL-NIGHTER (This might be the coffee talking...)

Equipment: 
-Smoothie blender
-Beer mug (Durr. Again... probably the coffee talking)
-Straw

Ingredients: 
-Milk (I go for skimmed)
-Ice Cubes
-Ground coffee in a flavour of your choice
-Creamer
-Sugar
-Raisins
-Almonds
-Walnuts
-Sugar
-Chocolate powder

Method: 

You have two options:

1) Chuck it all in a blender and go crazy.

OR

1) Pour in the blender: milk, ice cubes, coffee creamer, coffee, pinch of sugar, raisins, walnuts and almonds.
2) Blend.
3) Pour into the beer mug and sprinkle chocolate powder on top.

I think the coffee just kicked in...

Arabian Heights

While thinking of the best way to recount certain incidents that I happen to hear of , I decided that I might as well create a story (so to speak) that revolves around those events. Here's the first installation. 

***

Reem wasn't too sure what to expect. Her ideas on life were constantly challenged by minute details that eventually surmounted to overbearing mountainous obstacles. This time would probably be no different. She was about to walk into a building that somehow differed from everything she had ever known. 

"Are you ready?" Her mother asked. 

"I suppose." No.

"Let's go." 

As the pair approached the building's glass doors, Reem couldn't help but wonder whether her experiences within the white-washed walls before her would change her as a person. 

Well... there's only one way to find out, she thought. 

With a deep breath, just like in the typical high school movies where the protagonist starts a new life at a new school, she opened the glass doors and stepped into the vast room behind them. A blast of cold wind from the air conditioner hit her square in the face, bringing to Reem's mind images of actresses making big entrances with random winds blowing their hair as they pouted seductively. 

Ha. Oh the irony. 

"Good morning. Can I help you?" A woman with a thick accent spoke from behind a wooden reception desk.  She strained her face as her hastily-coloured lips parted laboriously into what Reem figured was meant to be a welcoming smile. 

"Yes... it's her first day." Reem's mother replied hesitantly.

"Ah, ok, ok. Her name and grade?" 

"Reem Hassan. Grade 11."

"Ok," the receptionist licked her fingers and flipped through the pages of her register, "Ah! I see. You must go to Ms Carroll's room. That's straight down the corridor and left." 

Suddenly surprised that the time for her to face her new life was just a corridor away, Reem looked at her mother, hoping that her mother would suddenly decide that the move was too much and that they should all just pack up and go back to California. Alas, wild hope hardly ever lives up to reality. 

"Go ahead habibti, I'll pick you up later today." With a warm hug and a peck on the cheek, Reem's mother walked out through the glass doors and back into the bleached morning sun. 

Reem, with a quick smile at the receptionist, who identified herself as Mrs Anoud, commenced her walk to Ms Carroll's classroom. 

Right... So, my first day at Prudence High for Girls. Here goes nothing. 

Newspaper Blackout

This. Is. Fantastic.

A write named Austin Kleon has compiled a collection of poems... but not just any poems. Newspaper Blackout poems! I won't explain. You need to see to understand:

They're fantastic! I love them! We always look for a next "great idea" to make it big, or the next "get-rich-quick" scheme... but honestly, if we all just delve a little deeper into our imaginations, we'd all be exactly where we want to be. Dump the get-rich-quick schemes out the window and just... be. Check out Austin Kleon's site: www.austinkleon.com

The Gravity of the Situation

I have been studying for final exams for the past few weeks. Frankly, it's driving me crazy... especially Physics. I even wrote a multilingual song: Torque (Pronounced "tor-kay", not "tork" like a lame Physics term). 


Oh torque! Oh torque! Por que? Por que? MI AMOR! TORQUE! Pour quoi es-tu si difficile? Dis-moi, mon amour! 7abibi ya fulcrum! Kallimnee 7abibi! Montre moi tes reponses!Show me your moments! Show me your forces! Oh TORQUE, be the turning point in my life! BE MY PIVOT! Danse avec moi dans le monde de la Physique!


Needless to say, I was in desperate need of sleep. 


I entertained myself with these:

I Come With A Tale to Recount!

It's a well-known fact that females often indulge in "gossip". Now, we might prefer to refer to this activity as "the art of recounting". It softens the harshness of the phrase and tends to make us feel less guilty for all the yapping we engage in.

Why do we do it? Why do we engage in the "art of recounting"? I have often promised myself (after particularly juicy sessions of artsy recounting) that I will refrain from ever engaging in these practices again. Somehow, my promises end up futile attempts that vanish as soon as the next bit of "dirt" comes along from another source. I suppose that the female tendency to share and discuss matters leads to this sort of behaviour. Even when we possess certain knowledge that we are perfectly aware is confidential, we will always tell just "one more person", just to relieve our excitement and have someone to discuss the gory details with. Those incessant voices in our heads constantly scream out, desperately seeking an outlet for the explosive information bottled up in them, ready to blow our brains to smithereens; the over-exposure to mind-blowing levels of juicy dirt makes our eyes twitch with the uncontrollable need to blurt out the itsy-bitsy yummy details to the first unfortunate souls who happen to enter the proximity within a 5 yard radius blast zone of the ticking bombs that are our minds; the slowly dampening and clammy palms of our hands begin to shake as the desperation consumes us, nerve by nerve.

Finally, the female conscience is engulfed by an overpowering itch that pushes out the secret, burdening the subject of our yapping with the renewed urge to run and tell someone else or run and scream in rabid terror.

Must. Tell. SOMEONE!

*Enters a spasmodic fit of diabolical rage*

Right Aligned.

I friend of mine just pointed out that my blog's text was right aligned. I kept thinking something was wrong with the alignment, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it... Right now I realise that there are so many instances in life where things are pretty much staring us in the face, yet somehow we never seem to acknowledge them!

Oftentimes, we are distracted by other minor anomalies that digress from the answers that we are looking for. If we're still to use my blog and its right-alignment as an example, we could say that the presence of stubborn Arabic text that refuses to go or even translate to English is probably the minor anomaly in this case. I kept focusing on the fact that the darned links wouldn't translate (despite the fact that my settings are all English) and I kept wondering why the heck my blog looked so... uneven? After this rather observant friend of mine pointed out that my text was right aligned, I began thinking of all the times in real life (as opposed to cyber space) that we struggle to look for answers that stare us straight in the face!

What other obvious answers are these minor anomalies barricading? Or rather, what other small and insignificant matters are we focusing on, consequentially hindering our own futile efforts to find the real answers that we need? 

Oh World... Ignorance again?

Alright, this is really worrying. I was just on You Tube and I saw a video titled "Three Little Pigs" and was seriously disturbed.

It's basically a video that uses the popular game "Angry Birds" to depict the Middle East revolutions. I won't go into it too much... I think you should watch it yourself and form your own opinions. I have mine, and, to put it briefly, I think people are deluded.

Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0i9acHS_zQ&feature=channel_video_title


Since I'm no expert on politics and have no interest in entering any irrational arguments, I'll refrain from commenting on the video's material itself. All I'd like to say is that we (those of us who have never experienced a revolution and aren't a part of any of the revolutions in the Middle East) have no right to ever assume that we can understand what those people are going through. The hardships that all of them are facing at this point are unimaginable and I truly wish with all my heart that no more people lose their lives. One of the revolting countries (not mentioned in the video) is my own and I sincerely hope that the people can reach an understanding immediately because people are losing much more than just lives. To be alive and to live with the grief of one who has been killed is no easy feat and I express my condolences to all those who have found themselves in such situations.

Now, back to the topic that I originally intended to address: Arabophobia. I just coined the term as I'm sure countless others have done before me. After watching the "Three Little Pigs" video, I went through some of the comments to see what people thought and to see if any of their opinions matched mine. I found myself looking instead at a list of useless , ignorant comments not about the politics of the matter or the graveness of the situation, but rather about people's asinine assumptions of what they thought Arabs were like.
For example: "arabs will be like people soon!"


Judging from this gem of a comment, I'm going to conclude that this person basically just categorized Arabs as... what?... animals? I'm also going to go ahead and assume that this person has arrived upon this verdict via the help of their lovely friend, Media. Oh, and I suppose that he/she also believes that these barbaric Arabs live in tents, ride camels to work, carry guns in the market place and hide khanjars (daggers) under their pillows just in case somebody tries to steal their coffee. Not to mention the bombs they'd happen to have tucked into their belts. Wait, no that can't be right... where the hell would they get belts from? They're bloody nomads.

What this person probably doesn't know is that their friend, Media, is a rather two-faced little chica. She practically has him wrapped around her little finger. She probably even told him a whole bunch of stuff about the "uncivilized" people who live in those "strange lands". All jokes aside, I can't imagine why somebody would attack the people of a place they have never taken the time to get to know. Unfortunately, we live in a world where most people form not only political but even racial opinions based on the lady in red: Media. Personally, I'd hate to ever be the person who judges people based on what some attention-seeker tells me.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to say that everybody in the world is attacking Arabs. I'm trying to say that all the ignorant people in the world are attacking anybody who seems to differ from them in any way. Many Arabs have formed their opinions about "those Westerners" as well. What they fail to realise is that they're attacking people they've never met or interacted with. One might say "Oh I knew some Americans and Europeans! I used to work with them! How can you say that I don't know them?" Oh, I'm sorry, did you say you met every single American and European to walk this earth? Well, that gives you every right to attack them.

So, when you HAVE met all the Arabs in the world and have arrived upon the conclusion that they are all barbaric and ape-like beings, you can then justly use the phrase "Arabs will be like people soon!" Until then, how about you solve some of your own problems first and then decide to solve others' problems for them? Comprendez?

One comment that appealed to me happened to be in response to the one posted above: "yeah, like people, with freedom from money, free for drugs, gangs, whores, free from moral etc"


I'm just saying... we attack others for being "wrong" about things when we ourselves are living in places with serious issues that have to be dealt with. The world is plunging into ignorance, and little Media here knows it. "What's the harm in a few tweaks in my stories here and there? They don't know any better anyways" she says.  

Sweet Tooth Stress Relief

I just saw a little handout from Switch Cafe which made me laugh! It’s a little circular shaped card with a bite mark cut out on one side. It said:

“Stressed? 
It’s ‘Desserts’ spelled backwards.”

Nifty! I must say that it’s pretty awesome advertising for a cafe. I’ll be sure to check that cafe out sometime when I need a real stress-reliever. I think I need one now… but the remedy for that is to get off Tumblr and go study instead of freak out about the upcoming exams. 

I found the quote online too. I feel like eating cake now! Lots of CAKE! 

Souq Savvy!

(Arabic vocab for the day: Souq- bazaar, market place).

Okay, I feel ashamed. I LIVE in Dubai and I had no idea how insanely awesome the souqs were out here. I’m not talking about the traditional spice souqs, gold souqs or fish souqs. I’m talking about huge merchandise souqs where you find the latest Juicy Couture for dirt prices! I found this tiny little shop in a tiny little corner of relatively tiny little souq. I got attracted by the colourful tie-dye summer-wear (I’m a sucker for those things) and went inside to check it out. I think my heart sang opera as I took in all the brilliantly-coloured cotton-wear that could easily sell for ridiculously skyrocketing prices in high-end fashion stores. I felt like I had just landed a plane ticket to heaven. 

Needless to say, I’ll be going back there as soon as I’m done with these pain-in-the-butt exams that I’ve got at the moment. I will shop till I drop… and my purse strings will still have a considerable amount of jingly booty to hold on to at the end of the day. It’s a win-win situation! Forget the rip-off malls. It’s souqs for me from now on! 

Do you know what the strange thing is? This isn’t even the best market that I’ve seen! I’ve seen WAY cheaper market places in Mauritius, Cambodia and Turkey. Cambodia was like living in a permanent Clearance Sale. I bought the most exquisite beach dress from an obscure little shop for $9.00! That was after bargaining for ages… The price had started off at $18.00. I was quite pushy that day… 

Here are some pictures from a brilliant Turkish bazaar that I went to a couple of years ago: 

The Spice Market.

Beautiful Mediterranean art.

Paranormal or Paranoia? I Need a Dose of Optimism.

I think I had a vision. I vision of what I will be like ten years down the road. Let me start at the beginning: the triggers. 

I was on the metro yesterday when I saw something really interesting. I had just gotten in when I spotted a young lady- say, mid twenties- in her work clothes (smart grey dress, light pink shrug and high black heels) looking out the metro window, onto the streets of Dubai. She had a hint of a smile lingering on the corners of her mouth. I didn’t think much of it… after all, I sometimes forget that I’m in a public place and smile to myself like an idiot over tiny things. I even laugh sometimes- it’s gotten me quite a few odd stares. Anyways, this lady continued to look out onto the streets with the sun shining in her crystal-blue eyes. I noticed that she was still smiling. Sometimes, the smile stretched and floundered on her sunlit face, laughing along with her sunlit eyes, glowing like her sunlit hair. 

I kept wondering why… I thought that she was probably just having a fantastic day. Then, just as I dismissed her exuberance as pretty much banal happiness (or possibly a medical condition. What? It occurred to me, okay!), she shifted her crystal gaze to her left hand. She stayed like that for a while, just looking down at her hand. I noticed almost immediately a large silver and diamond ring on her finger. She scrutinized it for a while, sometimes with a hint of a smile and sometimes with the smile less on her lips and more in her eyes. I thought I saw a trace of weariness somewhere in there… but I couldn’t be sure. 

Well, I could only draw upon one obvious conclusion: She had just gotten engaged. I felt like taking a chance and congratulating her… but I’m too much of a chicken. She got me thinking about what those eyes would be saying ten years from now. Right now, they’re perfectly blissful; but, what will happen down the line, if she gets married? Will they express the same satisfaction, bliss, content and love? Or will the crystals no longer gleam in the sun, but rather brood in regret and fatigue? 

Seeing her on the metro and later overhearing a heated fight between a couple pushed me over the edge when I got back home last night. Tears spilled onto my cheeks as soon as I entered my room and the first thing I said was “I don’t want to get married.” The tears lasted for about two minutes… they were tears of rage anyways. The thing is, I’m too much of a naive little sentimentalist to ever stick to my word of never getting married. I know the fact that I’ve never had a boyfriend might contribute to my future as a spinster, but I think of it as quite the contrary. It’s not like I’ve never had a boyfriend because of my intense feminism (although, that applies to an extent); I’ve never had a boyfriend because… well, I just haven’t found the right one. Sappy, cliche, moronic, naive, but damn well true. So, technically, that doesn’t really secure my future as a feminist spinster. A sad, hopeful and deluded loser, however, is more fitting. 

Basically, ten years- or so- from now, my twenty-something year-old self will be too stupid to follow my wise 16-year-old wisdom and will, against all odds and recommendations, get married. So, conclusively, ten years down the line, my brain will have shrunk to minute proportions, my passion will have subsided, my freedom will have sneakily slunk off into a hole and my wits will have had it after having seen a hallucination of my 16-year-old self pointing, laughing and chanting “I told you so!” as I right-hooked the dip-shit in my  bed with china from our wedding-gifts stash and foamed at the mouth with rabid fury. 

Here’s to a bright future.

Added later: In retrospect, I think I insulted a lot of married women during this particular rant. Just to be clear, I absolutely DO NOT think that married women have no passion or no drive. On the contrary, they are quite the fighters! I think my fears stem from the fact that I find it hard to picture myself in a happy relationship. Am I scornful of marriage? Definitely not. Am I cynical? Absolutely.  

All Arabs are Muslims and All Muslims are Arab, right?

I find it so infuriating that certain oh-so-socially-smart people choose to trash an entire race or religion based on “facts” that the media presents them with. In today’s world, what kind of a half-wit dip-shit believes everything that the media tells them? Guess they’re not so smart after all…

I am referring, of course, to people who choose to condemn Muslims (and Arabs automatically, since ALL Muslims are Arabs, right? Pffftt… who doesn’t know that?) because of the actions of a minority. There’s one thing I’d like to set straight for all those who seem to be slightly verbally challenged. Read carefully… I will ev-en type in syl-lables if it makes a dif-fer-rence. 

News flash:There is a sig-ni-fi-cant dif-fer-rence between a Mus-lim, an Ar-ab and Is-lam. Ca-piche?

Or, I couuuld tyyype liiike thiiis aaand streeetch aaalll myyy worrrds. 

Therrre iiisss ay signiiifiiicant diffferrrence betweeen ay Muuusliiim, aaan Aaaraaab aaand Islaaam. Caaapiiiche?

Have you understood the opening statement? If not, I strongly suggest you go back and read it, analyse it, say it, yell it, rabidly devour it, re-read it and re-analyse it until you UNDERSTAND it. Once you’re done, go ahead and read the rest of what I have to say. 

Okay, done? Okay, let me move on and explain said opening sentence. I won’t get into too much detail, because otherwise, we’ll be here forever, and we all know how much your Facebook pages miss you. I’ll start off with Islam: 

Islam is a religion that originated in Arabia. Many people believe that Islam is a particularly violent religion and is the furthest thing from peace that you will ever find. Wrong. If any of the oh-so-socially-aware critics out there bother to read not only the Quran, but also the history of Islam itself, they will find that Islam promotes peace. The only time it is necessary to physically fight is when a) The people of Islam are attacked first, in which case self defense is permitted b) To end persecution. Even during times of war, the killing of women, children and the elderly is not permitted. I could go on and on about why Islam is a peaceful religion…

Second, Muslims:

Muslims are people who belong to the religion of Islam. Let’s pause here for a minute. What did you understand from that sentence? Think about it for a minute. 

Are any of these close to what you understood from the above sentence?

a) Muslims practice Islam.

b) Muslims believe in Islam.

c) All Muslims are a part of Islam. 

d) Muslims belong to Islam; therefore, they pray, fast and read the Quran, just like all other Muslims. 

If one of these is what you thought (or close), you’re wrong.

Notice how I said “Muslims are people who belong to the religion of Islam”? “Muslim” is basically the noun that describes anybody who is part of Islam, but does that necessarily mean that they believe in the teachings of Islam and practice them? 

Think about it for a while. Middle Eastern Chick will continue with her explanation in the next post.

Adolescents Anonymous: Dubai

This looks pretty cool!

Body Shop Campaign

Women are always expected to be flawless Goddesses, and you know what, we ARE Goddesses. Flawless is a notion that we go out of our way to focus on, when actually, it’s elusive. It is something that none of us will ever be, because that way, we’d all be like Barbie: plastic, identical, breakable and we’d topple over. I think we should change our perspectives and see the “flawless” notion as the enemy, because that’s one thing we should strive NOT to be. Who wants to be an air-head who looks like every other air-head around them? We are beautiful in and out and nobody can tell us otherwise. We are Goddesses in our own skins. 


The controversy behind this campaign is something that I cannot even begin to comprehend? So, it's okay for Playboy magazine to publish photoshopped nude pictures of "perfect" women and it's okay for every little girl to have a disproportionate and sexually manipulated Barbie, but it's not okay to show the world what the perception of a real woman should be?