To All The Blogs I've Loved Before....

Conversations That Make You Puke....

Ring...Ring...Alo?
Gossiper: Halla...shonich? Haaah...ma daraaitaay?...eflana en7'a6bat 7ag wa7ed ajnabi?

Lady: Sij? Mabrook...Allah yewafigha...ajnabi min wain?

Gossiper: Yubba...7'athat amreeekee...shlon 3ayal...e3yal abu 3abdulla..tadreen Bush ensamee Bu 3abdulla..

Lady: La...amreekee?...7asabt shay thanee...

Gosspier: Shino..inshallah 7esbalich ajnabi e3robee...laaa...fal Allah wala falich...yuba amreekee...tadreen hathaila asyadna...Alo?...Alo??...weee china engi6a3 el 7'a6...gameetha....

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Ring...Ring...Alo?

20 year old: Alo...hala 7'altee eshlonich?

Lady: Zeina habeebti...sha7'barich?

20 year old: Walla zeina...tadreen 7'altee...bagolich shay...shift wa7ed wayed e7law..bass 6ala3 mo a9eel....hada 7asafa...

Lady: A9eel?...wentay eshfahamich ebhasewalif?....entay et3arfeen shino ya3nee a9eel?

20 year old: huh?...la....madree....asma3 rab3ee killa yegoloon chithee...7eta mara....7'altee....ma t9adgeen...kent bel jam3a wagfa asolif weya wa7ed eb 9afee...chan yegoloolee rab3ee entay eshlon etsolfeen ma3a hatha...ma tadreen enah shee3ee.....Alo?....7'altee?...Aloooo?..7'altee?...oh shit..chinha 3a9ibat we saqat el telifoon eb wayhee...

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Ring..Ring...Alo?

Gossiper: Aloooo...haa? wainich? ta3alee bagolich salfa thanya...daratay...eflan fasa7' 7'e6oobta min eflana?

Lady: LAISH??? 7arram...3ad tawa kan mistanis 3alaiha...esh9arr?...la 7awla wala gowata ella billah...

Gossiper: Ma et9adgeen....ohwa wayed kan ey7eb shakilha...bass elebgara..ra7at ew sawat 7'ashimha...ew youm shafha...ma 3ajbita...egool...etha ehya mo wathqa min nafisha..3ayal ma abeeha....

Lady: 7arram...bass hal ayam asma3 kel al banat ga3deen yesawoon e7'shoomhum..sij ma 3enduhum salfa...bass 7'ashimha we kaifha...

Gossiper: laaa...eshlon? mo 7'a6eebha...eb9ara7a ma3a hag.....weee gabel ma ansa...daraitay....eflana 6aligat....

Lady: LAAAAAAAAAA!...Laish...3ad esh7alathum kano ma3a ba3ath...laish?? harram!

Gossiper: eee...bass...kila kan bel 7'shaishee fa ma adree shisalfa..bacher ye6la3 el hachee...we afa 3alaich...ayeeblich el 7'abar killa...

Lady: Agool..tara 9arr 3endi 9uda3 fa sim7eleee...baroo7..

Gossiper: Laaaaaa...salamtich...laish?...eshfeech?...akeed 9ayer shay.....goolay..esh9ayer...tara wallah.....sirich ebeer..

Lady: Yeah...right!

Gossiper: shino?

Lady: La salamtich...Allah ma3ach....ma3a al salama....

Tagged...Dr. Lost's Controversial Tag!!

So you wanna see our bedrooms huh? Dr. Lost is onto something...you know Doctors have their own way of dissecting things..so I suppose he's into dissecting our personalities...Well Doc...What do you think? Messy aren't I...and incase any of you didn't know about the Tag...check out his post, he's tagged just about everybody! Shouldn't the Doctor be disecting a frog or something?!!

Sense & Sensitivity....

When I was a kid, I remember watching movies with my parents and the moment there's a sad scene, my Dad would giggle in an attempt to cover up his tears. My Mom would then pat him on the back, roll her eyes then shake her head and turn to us to say "Obookom wayed 7assas". The fact was my Mom was just as sensitive but being a Scorpio, she did a great job at covering it up.

As I observed other family members, I realized that the sensitivity was actually in all of us but each one expressed differently and depended on the subject. For example, one sister is very sensitive about her career. She can talk passionately about it for hours and if she had an issue at the office, you might even see her cry about it!...I call her the Drama Queen, she actually cries just about everything but the career is what really triggers her.

On the other hand, I have a sister who I call the Ice Queen. Throughout my life I've never seen her cry. I knew she was sensitive but miraculously would store the information for future reference while holding herself together with not one tear. Amazingly enough, fate would have it that the day she had kids, a waterfountain was born! She became so sensitive to her children's needs/wants and so forth that the moment someone didn't comply to her children she'd cry a river! Who would've thought? An Ice Queen turned Mother Goose!

Then there's my independent sister who takes after my mother; sensitive but you'd hardly know it. She's been labeled the "Oh Well..Whatever" sister unless it's related to something she was organizing. Though she keeps her sensitivity in tact and bottled up where she believes it belongs, she'll freak out when things are not going according the way she visualized it. Ever heard of a bride who carried a color coded file on every step of her wedding including assignments for every family member?! If things didn't go her way, you know it meant a downpour. Well, to be fair the other time you'd see her cry is during some sappy commercial! (Sister dearest if you're reading this don't get mad, I love you just the way you are!..:)

She kinda reminds me of The Don. In one his posts he'd complained things weren't going his way lately. He realized he was trying to control things and that he should take things day by day. I totally agreed with him but I never did comment. Know why? Ever since he hurt my feelings by saying something silly to me on one of his posts, I never comment there anymore. That's how sensitive I am!

I've been labeled MissCosmo, The Sensitive One! Although it used to bother me when my Mom would accuse me of being "too sensitive". I've realized that it's nothing to be ashamed of. Afterall, I'd rather be "too sensitive" than INsensitive. Wouldn't you agree?

Oh...and speaking of you, what issue would trigger your sensitive buds?

Quote of the day "Only a fool knows everything. A wiseman knows how little he knows"

New Year's Eve Dilemma..

Back when I was in High School, life revolved around whether you'd be invited to the coolest parties for New Year's Eve and "what the hell am I gonna wear"! dilemma...Pathetic really when you think about it...but at sixteen it was important!

Nowadays, I look at the countdown to New Years Eve with dread and just wish it would fast forward to the first week of January. It's a constant reminder of various issues that include asking one self if they accomplished what they said they would..i.e. Never did end up taking French classes...It's also a moment of rolling ones eyes and saying "Oh My God...not another year!"...and finally..the million dollar question..Where and with whom am I going to celebrate New Years?!

I can't help but be envious of the Senior Citizens who actually still get to go to their social parties and celebrate New Year. I'm not as old as they are yet I'm already dreading it!

The sad part is even if I was to go to some party, I'd probably be considered a Senior Citizen myself! Most of them would be half my age...true that some of them would be mature but once I start talking to a guy, I can't help but feel guilty that he ought be chatting up some younger chick that he can get somewhere with since he's got zero chance with me! Then again, if I did bump into somebody my age at a party, I can't help but think "WHAT A PERVERT!" he's here to pick up naive girls half his age and have his way with them! Ok...Granted that I'm being judgmental...afterall...I'm at the party too...but I can't help but think that it's a different case entirely!

Half way through the party, you'd probably find me standing outside having my cigarette and enjoying my solitude...thinking to myslf "Damn..I could've been home reading a good book or blogging..what the hell am I doing here!"..My friend who happens to be my age but with a lighter attitude would then lecture me on over analyzing..."Just enjoy the party and who cares!" she'd say...I would then snap back and say "You think I enjoy being an OVER ANALYZER...the moment I hear of a workshop that says "How Not To Be An Over analyzer And Just Have a Good Time"...trust me..I'd be the first to enroll!" She'd then go back in and chat up another younger guy who's drooling can be noticed a mile away...!..As I look pathetically at the scene, I wonder to myself, where did my generation go?

When I was in college, Christmas and New Year meant a trip back to Kuwait...and going to reunions to bump into High school friends and catch up on the latest gossip...so the excitement still remained...Now that I'm working...it's either call up all the High school friends and hang out with them or attempt at finding colleagues who share the same background...and how rare is that! The problem with calling up High School friends...I end up seeing the same old faces, who behave the same old way, having the same old mentality and I end up thinking the same old thing..what a bunch of losers...with all due respect to my High school friends!

Sad part is I just don't have the energy. The loud crazy music that I don't connect to...(whatever happened to real dancing music..none of that head banging stuff)..come to think of it..nobody really dances at these parties anymore and much prefer to hang out by "the so called bar".....BORING....hate to sound like a party pooper but back in our days...we didn't have to drink to have a good time...the music and dancing did it for us!

So what's my ideal New Years Eve?

I suppose being picked up by Antonio Banderas but it's not really Antonio...he's a look a like and smells of ba7'oor and dehen 3ood..(yeah baby!)..and as he stands leaning against the white limo...his eyes look up to see me and they tell me that I'm the love of his life...His black tuxedo blends perfectly with my long black sexy dress and as we enter the fancy restaurant..He leads me to the dance floor while Frank Sinatra sings "Fly Me to the Moon"....As he twirls me around...he whispers in my ear..."You look lovely tonight"....Dinner is a full course meal with oysters, crabs and caviar...and under the table my Antonio look a like is playing footsies with me...Just as they announce that midnight is around the corner...he leans over to kiss me and I can hear the bells ringing in the background announcing the New Year...

ok...hold on..need to catch my breath....sorry...

Ah yes...Life as an over analyzer who prefers to live in la la land..is never easy..but that's a different story entirely..in the meantime...What's your ideal New Year's Eve?

Once Upon A Flirt...

OK...I have a problem...I love flirting...not in THAT sense..I mean innocent flirting..You know...like for example...On my way to work...whenever I see the policemen trying to control traffic...I know that he's either freezing his butt off, boiling under the sun or desperately needs the bathroom..and so...in order to cheer him up..I usually wave to him and smile...Granted I shock the hell out of him..but I know he's smiling from inside...

at restaurants..if I feel the waiter is having a hard day..I have to end up saying something to make him feel good...i.e. I've seen you before..I never forget a person with a kind face...I end up making them feel good but in reality..it makes me feel good...so my secret's out.. I love flirting...

There's something about flirting that makes everything seem ok...and the great thing about flirting..it's not illegal...it just leaves you feeling good all over...The other day as I stood next to one of my lovely friends while she admired a good looking guy, I told her to go talk to him...she said "I don't know how to flirt"...I couldn't help but think that she was being modest...i believe it's a women's instinct to know how to flirt...we were born with it...A mother flirts with her new born baby, a sister flirts with her brother, a daughter flirts with her Dad..a cousin flirts with her male cousin...I mean we were born to make everyone feel good about themselves...that's what makes us women so special...

Of course if I'm ever in any form of danger...I also have the ability to make myself invisible..and I believe all women have that ability too...if we don't want to be noticed...we put on our invisible caps on and poof...no one knows we're there..it was created for our safety and it's a wonderful tool to keep us safe...

Lately, life's got me so frustrated that I have this deep need to flirt with good looking men...the type of men that flirt wittingly not arrogantly...(it kills the fun!)...the kind of men that won't be threatened that you're flirting with them because you want something from them i.e. he thinks you're dyeing to marry him...the kind of men that won't presume flirting must lead to something else..the kind of men that appreciate you flirting with them to make them feel good about themselves...and can therefore return the favor...the kind of men that know the difference between confidence and arrogance...the kind of men that are mature enough to know that innocent flirting can be fun and not turned into something perverse!

So...now that my secret's out...could somebody please tell me where in Kuwait can I find a good looking guy that looks like any of these guys? My craving for flirting has taken over me and I'm desperately seeking a guinea pig..:)
Besides..flirting has been scientifically proven to improve one's health...and I love improving my health..don't you?..
I mean, Gawd...just look at this guy's face...how can any women resist!! "Antonio, my darrrrlinnnng! I'd do the dishes for you any day...and knowing me....that is sooooo BIG OF ME!"

ANTI-STRESS KIT

Just had to share that with you....anybody wanna join me while I bang my head??

Bitter Hearts Beating On A Sunny Day In Kuwait...

It's Friday morning and the weather is fantastic..Nothing like a sunny day when you know the rest of world has to shovel snow! A perfect day to fall in love, be with the one you love or listen to stories about love.

My thoughts are interrupted by the comments received by bloggers who think Romance/Love is Dead! How Sad!

I am forced to wonder, have they lost hope in Love? Did they ever believe in it in the first place? If not, why not? Where they born not believing in it or did someone go out of his/her way to make them stop believing in love?

I ask you, would you ever marry a marriage of convenience? Can you wake up in the morning knowing that you don't love the person sleeping next to you? Have the crazy stories of failed love in Kuwait made you believe that love no longer exists?

Are men and women in Kuwait so bitter towards each other that the ugly head of vengeance leaves no hope for love? If mind is over matter and the loss of belief in love is everywhere, does love even have the chance to exist?

Realistically, when you wake up in morning on a sunny day in Kuwait, do you think today I might fall in love or are you one of those who bitterly sits at Marina Mall bitching about the opposite sex with not an ounce of ra7ma in your heart?

Did the battle between Love and Hate in Kuwait mean that Love has lost the war?

Journal of A Single Gal In Q8 - Episode Twelve

From last episode..

"He reached for his drink as his big arm nonchalantly brushed on her left breast. She could feel herself freeze then quickly pushed herself further back into her seat. Great! This was going to be a long and extremely uncomfortable flight, she thought in dismay."

Luckily she'd chosen the aisle seat. She always preferred it for many reasons, one of which was easy access to the toilet and the other was so she could get up and not get stuck. She decided to roam around the plane and see if there were any free seats and there they were three empty seats she could sleep on. She grabbed the static blanket, put the tiny pillow on the first seat, curled herself like a ball and slowly began to doze off.

Her neck was killing her when she finally woke up from the desperate plea of her bladder. She looked at the time and realized that there were just a few hours left when they would be landing in London. Just in time to watch an inflight movie, she thought to herself after returning from the toilet.

She knew that she shouldn't watch anything romantic but hard as she tried, the most one that attracted her was an Indian movie that she hadn't seen. Though some of her friends made fun of her love of Indian movies, her nearest and dearest always appreciated them and shared her love of it. The passion, the music, the wisdom and the subliminal messages left her and her friends arguing for hours and she loved every moment of it.

When she'd finally settled in her chair with the crummy earplugs, she completely lost herself in the movie. She hadn't realized how involved she was in the movie until she was interrupted by the stewardess "Are you ok?" asked the stewardess. She took her headphones off and nodded. "Are you afraid of flying?" she asked worriedly. Giggling, she realized that the stewardess thought she was afraid of flying because she'd been crying! "I'm sorry, I really am fine. It's just the movie. I'm really fine," she answered feeling quite embarrassed.

When the stewardess left, she berated herself for having depressed herself by watching the movie. She should've known better. She was heading for London and with the wrong attitude, London could be a very lonely place.

"Please fasten your seatbelt" announced the stewardess. As she did so, she felt butterflies in her stomach. She mentally prepared herself for the smell of London. It always took her back to her younger days when her parents would leave her and her sisters there at summer school. She had both a love and hate relationship towards London but all in all she always found herself going back to it.

She decided to be the last one to leave the plane to avoid seeing the President again. He gave her the creeps and she just didn't feel like dealing with him again. When she finally stepped out on solid ground, she began the long walk towards passport control. The chill of London ran down her spine and the smell of smog made her smile. God, I love London, she told herself.

The Headquarters of her Company was on the outskirts of London and luckily she was provided with a beautiful apartment right on the river Thames. As she stood outside her balcony, the cold wind hitting her face, she could hear the music coming from the tourist boats sailing by. She giggled when she heard the song being played, "Ah, Freak Out!" How typical of a tourist boat to have oldies blasting away, next she'd be hearing Abba, she told herself. Crossing her arms as though to hug herself, she wished she had someone to share her thoughts with. She was beginning to talk to herself and she wondered if that was healthy!

She checked her email and began replying to each one of them and was touched by the email she received from her so called new beau. Was he? She wondered. His email was short and sweet in which he'd asked for her mailing address and she forwarded it to him.

When a handwritten letter had arrived by post a week later, she was so excited to find a tape of Arabic music that he'd made for her. "This is a sure way to gain browny points with me" she said out loud as she began to read his letter. She couldn't remember the last time she'd read a handwritten letter in Arabic that also had a few verses of poetry. He was definitely romantic and she appreciated it. Listening to the songs, made her miss home and him and she began to feel nostalgic.

When a month had gone by and she had slowly gotten into the routine of things, she couldn't help but feel sad and alone. She'd grab her breakfast in the morning, rush to the station to catch the tube, watch the strange people on the tube, reach the office and finally attend her training classes with hardly anyone speaking to her.

The worse part was watching couples kissing on the tube or at the park close by her apartment or in the movie theatre when she would sit alone and watch with envy as they whispered sweet nothings to each other. She always wished that she could go up to them and tell them to stop and have mercy on a lonely girl. It just wasn't fair and she didn't need the heartache. She knew she should be making the best of this experience but she was beginning to feel home sick and she still had a long way to go.

As she stared outside the window of the training center watching the rain, she wished she'd remembered to take her umbrella. She hated umbrellas. She loved wearing hats but sadly, she'd forgotten that too. When it was time to leave the office, she decided to stand by the entrance of the building until the rain subsided. Knowing London, it would be hard to predict, she thought to herself. It was a long walk to the train station and she knew she'd get soaked.

She took her first step out of the building and noticed a man standing with his back towards the entrance carrying an umbrella. She wondered if he'd mind sharing his umbrella. Just then, he slowly turned towards her and she noticed he was carrying a bouquet of flowers. As she looked up, she realized that it was HIM!

Without thinking, she found herself running towards him and jumping on top of him, nearly knocking him over. That moment in time, years later, when asked what was her most romantic moment in her life, she would remember that scene often wondering if it was a dream or if it was real.

"Where would you like to go?" he whispered in her ear as she hugged him tightly, afraid he'd disappear.

To be continued...

Hello Darkness...My Old Friend...

If anyone remembers this song...you know you'll always go back to it when things are down...I woke up this morning singing it in my head..another proof that I need a break from life's continuous challenges....

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left it's seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
A neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.

Fools said I,you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you.
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon God they made.
And the sign flashed out it's warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the signs said, the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.
And whisper'd in the sounds of silence