Saturday, March 29, 2008

So I get on the internet to play scrabble. Is there anything wrong with that?

Didn't think so.

upcoming quarter of a century

For my birthday I have decided what I'm going to do for myself. I would like to get my hair done, but that's so....NORMAL. No, what I can't wait to do is even better.

I'm getting my nose and belly button pierced! WOOHOO! I've been wanting the nose piercing for a while, but the belly button thing is rather new for me. As a matter of fact, when I saw one of my friend's stretch marks around the piercing after she got pregnant (of course she removed the ring, but the holes are still there), I nearly puked and changed my mind. Instead, I don't care. Besides no one will see it but me and I'll be happy that I went through with it. Well, maybe. I still need to see how much it costs. I'm not keen on spending lots of money, especially for someone to poke a hole in me.

When I told my friends what I wanted to do, they only ask, "What's your dad gonna say?" My response is always that my dad won't even see the belly button ring! They always roll their eyes at me and ask what my dad's stance on the nose ring is. Truthfully, I don't think my dad will really care all that much. I'm getting a small stud to put in that will be barely noticeable, just utterly adorable. Besides, if I don't like it, I can always just take it out. My loving friends also remind me that I'm still single and the nose ring just might "give the wrong impression." But whatever. I can always just take it out on the first meeting, right? :)

I still have a couple of weeks to decide what to actually do, but I'm pretty sure I'll get my piercings. I'm so excited! Besides, if it's too expensive, maybe I should just buy myself an ipod. It's about time I got myself one. :)

Tuesday, March 25, 2008


my tooth hurts
it is nearly four in the morning and my tooth really hurts
i cannot sleep on my right side
i cannot sleep on my left side
i cannot sleep on my back
i simply cannot sleep
i swallowed a few tylenol, though i hate medicine
i am still in pain an hour later
it is because i thought to myself,
"i have a high tolerance for pain
i can handle it
see i have handled it before
the other day i put my pain out
of mind and out it went
i have high tolerance for pain
i don't need a dentist"

well i do
and they need to pull my freakin' teeth
so i can go on with my life

let's be rational...
my tooth hurts
and it is four in the morning
rationality was dropped off in dream world

it is four in the morning and my freaking tooth hurts
*it'll be better in the morning insha'Allah*
-dust off the fairy glitter and go to sleep-

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Pissed off

I've been angry with my brother for some time now. When he said, "All you ever say is 'That's a stupid idea,'" I almost smacked him. Are you freakin' kidding me? Yeah, that idea you had of doing things without consulting the parents was stupid. Sorry, I couldn't lie. But are you seriously going to pretend like: a) you invite me along very often. b) I don't try my best to be 'normal' when chaperoning the two of you immature children. c) I didn't try to help you out by inviting you along to do things in a group or coming up with ways to 'get to know each other.'

I'm only mad right now because of other things. I can't believe he's such a pushover and easily swayed. I feel a bit sad for him and I guess I feel sad for me. We are losing him. It's not like he'll be gone, but it's clear he's not here. Yeah, it sucks.

I guess I'm just mad right now and only for the right now. I will get over it. It will be forgotten years down the road, insha'Allah. But for the right now, I don't want to just let it go but I don't want to make a big deal out if it either. I know that I'll have to talk to him about it again and again, but it'll be worth it in the end.

When I stop being mad at him, maybe I could talk to him again.

Not tonight though. He left before I came back. Not seconds after he walked out, he forgot our plans. Then, after texting, he cancelled them altogether. Not that I was really fooled into thinking we'd do something together again. No, I'm not that naive.

Maybe I won't stop being mad for being left.

So when I have the power of my full reason once more, I will talk to him.

(Salah, just in case he talks to you more than me-which is likely-, don't mention this please.)
Just read something...made me laugh....HARD!

I can't believe it. It made me happy, not even a tad bit sad! I was glad.

It's still funny though. Jeez! I wish I could say what.


Ohmigosh...meeting new people and 'chatting' with them online is not only boring, it's gay! BLAH! Can I just say "I'm not interested!" and make them leave me alone? Sheesh! Do you really think I want to hear about the last girl you 'talked' with? Men...*shaking head*

Friday, March 21, 2008

Today, I wished for a camera when I saw something interesting on the highway today: a garbage truck. Of course it wasn't the fact that it was disgusting and stinky or because it was going so slow I wanted to shoot somebody; it was the small American flag attached to the back of the truck (yeah, the MOST disgusting part) that was awe inspiring.

Nothing says patriotism like a small flag on the back of a garbage truck!

Slaughterhouse Five

Before I ever read of the Tralfamadorians, I think I believed in their philosophy: life sucks, focus on the good times.

I am also amazed at the Tralfamadorians' ability to see things in four dimensions; the fourth dimension being the ability to see time as a continuum. Things always have been, always are being, and always will be.

Interestingly, the Tralfamadorians are fictional.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

After sunbathing I feel better about everything I've dealt with and anything coming my way.

Warmth, inside and out: SUNSHINE.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008


I now have an account with an online "matchmaker."

No, I am not joking.

Yes, it is freaking hilarious.

No, it most likely won't work out.

Yes, I am pessimistic.

No, I am not desperate.

Yes, I am nearly 25.

No, I don't really do the online dating thing (or really believe in it either).

Yes, I realize the irony.


Last night I had a dream.

He was married.

He...(no big deal; I'll get over it)...was...(I could feel the knots tightening in my stomach)...married...(I feel like I am falling into a bottomless pit, but it's okay) a white girl. (I knew it would happen this way. What can you do? I'm not going to cry over it. Afterall, it was a dream. Right?)


I am going to write a book.

It will appeal to the schizophrenics out there.

I'm sure you'll be my #1 fan.

Me (She is on vacation)

Chicago Wedding (Draft Part I)

Why keep some aspects of a culture and lose others? I am amazed that the people in that large Palestinian community kept dancing WITH a man taboo but wearing short dresses with cleavage exposed OKAY. It is weird to me. A culture where dancing (albeit men by themselves and women by themselves, though in front of the others) is okay but people don't date is extremely interesting. I am confused by the choices they made in what they keep and what they don't. Although dancing is one of the most shocking cultural differences I've noticed at these weddings in Chi-town, it is the marriage itself that is most interest.

Maybe because I am grappling with the issue of marriage or maybe because I have my own issues with the process in our community, I am in awe of the way, much like that of 'back home', that these second and third generation Palestinians have kept. (I am sure that it is not just the Palestinians in this community that have kept this tradition, but I can only draw my conclusions based upon this particular community since I have only observed Palestinian weddings when in Chicago.) Choosing a spouse is still a family project. Parents make suggestions of potential spouses. Young men go to the girl's house and formally ask. Kids who grew up together may not always know that a suitor is interested because they are 'friends' and acquaintances. These matches seem to work out well in this community, and I have no quarrels with such an unspoken arrangement. However, in a culture that so closely lives among the American fragmented culture of 'independence' from parents at 18 and sexual activity before love, commitment, or marriage, I find it remarkable that this aspect of a 'foreign' culture remains among an actively 'American' generation.
It is the same everywhere.

The sun shines,
the wind blows,
the rain falls.

It is the same everywhere.

I think inside,
I speak aloud,
I sleep alone.

It is the same everywhere.

I drive around,
I break apart,
I sit aside.

It is, indeed, the same everywhere.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

10-12 hours? Really?

Try 9!

Friday, March 14, 2008

Tonight, off.

Tonight, away. Chicago!

Dearest friends,

here I come!

(WOOHOO! It's only ten hours drive...TEN HOURS?! It is a good thing I love driving.)

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Nora said,


and then we laughed

for at least two minutes,

pausing only to breathe.

Taking a deep breath before

finishing, she told the rest of the

story of the "exciting" princess named

Jasmine and the amazing "pomegranate" fruit.

She began classically ("Once upon a time there was

a girl named...") and ended just as classically:


the last stand of the desperate

titles that were never meant to be

Can I just stand
and look upon
thy beauty?

(I promise not to say a word) Really!

Weak knees and broken ankles

Stalking, walking, talking (to myself)

Tears inside the eyeballs of tomorrow (always just a day away)

Harmonica wailing in the background
(no it's not my heart,
it's my soul).

Losing grip, things begin to slip

I know what it's like now
to fall
to slip
to give it up.
I know and I don't want to stop
not yet.

Being bad and not getting caught? Can I do it again?

Just passing... by....
as we glance into
....the other's eyes...
just for a moment...
"Where did that...
come from?"



Slap your own forehead,
mine's constantly taken
care of

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Which is worse?

To live with companionship, love, and mutual respect but limited freedom?

To live with unlimited freedom to do as you please but constant loneliness?

I could have curtseyed.

I didn't say anything back. I could have screamed. I could have thrown a fit. I could have pointed out the flaws of such...hypocrisy? unfairness? crazy assumptions unspoken?

I didn't.

Instead I played the good daughter. I've played the good girl role for far too long now. I'm sick of it. It hasn't gotten my far. I could just stop playing this role and then we'll see what happens.

I won't.

I have this burning inside me that makes me want to say "screw it all!" but I don't let that burning catch fire. I feel it, but I don't let it catch. I have this feeling inside that wants to yell "what about...?" but I don't just believe in my feelings.

I don't.

I have begun to wish I didn't ask. I have this tendency to be nonconfrontational. It hasn't gotten me far. I want to quit my job as lead actress in this charade. I'm so sick and tired. I want to scream.

I can't.

I believe in it. Deep in my core, I do. I just wish I didn't sometimes. I wish I could simply be. But I leave it to fate. And it eats me up inside. It should.

It doesn't.

Monday, March 10, 2008


they come to me
they just come to me
the words flash in front of my eyes
they are whispered into my ears
i don't know why they come to me, but they do
i love that they come, but i don't know why i am any different
the words come without being called
sometimes i don't want them to come
sometimes i cannot add them here for their magnitude is disturbing,
their honesty unnerving, their reality moving
sometimes i say them, sometimes i sing them
sometimes i just forget them
sometimes i'm in the car or in the middle of a book or talking to someone
i'm there but i'm all in here-in my brain-thinking of new words
when i'm there (here really) i think of something
and when i think of that something i think on it long and hard
and then the words come
sometimes i say those words over and over to myself
don't forget them, i say to myself
remember this line, i say to myself
why did i think of that, i question myself
sometimes i just type
sometimes i think it must be the sound of the keyboard
or the satisfaction of writing so much,
though of little essence
sometimes i think it is for the shock factor,
though i don't always find it shocking
sometimes i think it is vanity,
i think i write so well and should share with the world
sometimes it is the only way i feel i can let it all out
the words are like the stones that make up the dam
one day all the emotions just might steal out from behind
the dam walls and flood the dry land
after such a long drought.

sometimes i just write and don't
think about it.

It was the look.
Lunch? Dinner? —Breakfast?
It was contained in that look.

I stand on my tower,
the one made of steel
and iron and all stuff tough,
and I laugh at all those
who dare to think they
can penetrate these walls.

It was the look.
Aren’t you going to ask?
It was contained in that look.

I sit at the table,
the one behind
the wall of the tower
made of steel
and iron and all stuff tough,
like the shields around
my beating heart
and tormented soul,
and I chuckle to see
the few who try
to scale the walls
and enter (only
a dungeon awaits).

It was the look.
Take me with you?
It was contained in that look.

I now hide in
the closet of my
room where the strong
oak door will keep
me safe; this room in
my tower
made of steel
and iron and all stuff tough,
like the warm dagger (hand)
at my throat
or the metal lock (hand)
against my cheek
stealing my breath.
I sit here
and giggle to see
the one who has
spent hours upon
hours, minutes
upon minutes, trying
desperately to
break one brick free.

It was the look.
Forget me never?
My undoing was contained in that look.

Sunday, March 09, 2008

To whom do you tell your secrets?

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Someone needs to
take my head
in his arms
and give it a slight
rattling to the
effect of
awakening those
thoughts so
put to rest out of
sight and so
out of
mind and hearing
and sight
just so.

Someone needs to take
my head in his hands and
place it back upon my
shoulders where it used
to lie upon the mold
which is me.

I had in my head
a much bolder,
a much more sincere,
a stronger verse.
All in my head,
but then I lost it
when I lost my balance
and dropped my
head and thoughts
while driving
to the darkness,

Friday, March 07, 2008

So I get myself into these situations. I almost do it in such a way that makes me think I didn't mean to. But then I think about it and realize maybe I did. And then I think some more and make a promise not to do it again. That's precisely the time I forget about it and do it anyway.

And then I try to find a way back out. It's like trying to find a way out of the mall. Just when you're on your way out, something catches your eye and you can't help but go check it out. That's when you realize you left your purse in the car and you're broke besides.

Circumlocution: Talking in circles, never just saying what you mean.

I don't mean it. I just can't say it. I've been explaining it all day but now I'm really fearing it. I mean, could I really do something like that? Where exactly does this all take me? Am I leading myself downhill or underground?

Poison. I always write it as my poison. Can a 'he' be poison? Maybe it is just me. I am the poison and the temptation and the greed and the evil deeds of this world. That makes more sense that blaming everyone else.

I want to date. I don't believe in dating necessarily. I want to date. Just a cup of Joe. I don't drink coffee. Just a discussion on what-have-you and what-have-you-not. I don't want idle talk. Just a break from reality. I'd rather keep it real. Just a smile and a sigh. I sigh too much as it is. I want to date but I don't believe in it.

Paradox: one having seemingly contradictory qualities or phases.

I am not a pair o' ducks. Just rational in a most irrational way. Just sincere in a most pretentious way. Just kamlah in a most fragmented way.

We never really talked on the phone

First, I miss the sun
on my face and in my
eyes and on my

Second, I miss your voice
on the other end of
the telephone

Third, I miss the feel
of muscles flexed
tightly in my

Fourth, I miss the days
when we could go
out and just

Fifth, I miss the times I
could write all words
without fear of

Sixth, I miss the happy years
of our innocence when I
would take you all

Seven, I miss the unapologetic hope
that left almost immediately
with the angel of

Eight, I miss the days
passed without the
mention of