confused arab chick

Remember my post about my shampoo?

Well I found about 8 bottles of the stuff at pharmaprix
plus another 10 odd bottle of conditioner
I bought all of them

1:00 am: i tell the girls i want to go home
1:30 am: "10 minutes" passed and we approach my vehicle
1:45 am: i get home

2:00 am: i read old blog posts
2:02 am: i realise that my blog is full of cheese
02:04 am: i decide this must change

rebirth is comin..

yo! i'm almost done.. this year has been- chill?
i gotta say.. even though i _loathe_ the early mornings.. Communication Studies has been a great choice for me so far..

i'm working on finalising my summer plans- the first 'real' summer break i've had since i was 15, and i'm not just excited- i'm gettign fucking antsy just thinking about 4 months of freedom- i don't even know what to do with that!

I will be spending a good chunk of it in Ramallah- more gossip on that soon.

As for the final 6 weeks of madness.. i've been fucking uber hyperactive the past few days. I just want to sing and dance on the streets, in the classroom, at the bar, while writing a paper..
it's those first inklings of Spring..

Oh Canadia, if only you weren't so cold.



With regards to the serious stuff, Quebec election results have come out- a minority government for Liberal Jean Charest.
Referendum? No thank you.

I was walking up the escalators with a very "Arab" (whatever that means) friend this afternoon.. he voted ADQ..
Why?
"One idiot thinks its a country, the other thinks its a nation.. what the hell are they on about anyway?" Man.. these things are just so much funnier in Arabic. But yeah. cracked me up.

As the Quebec elections wind down.. the Concordia Student Union ones are in full swing madness..
Let the games begin.

In my heart, i'm already on the way.

I'm 21 years old, and this year, 2007, is my homecoming.

My father was born in Damascus,
My mother in Beirut.
They had four children:
I was born in New Jersey,
My brother in Dallas,
My sister in Montreal,
and my other brother in Doha.

Noone in my family has eater knaffeh from Nazareth or oranges from Jaffa.
I'm going to do just that.

I'm going home to eat what is rightfully mine, drink that which I have denied.
I will kiss the ground my ancestors have walked on and I will...

I'm getting cheesy.

I'M GOING TO JERUSALEM

I hate being informed
because it makes me cry

Everyday I read the news
because it makes me cry

Baghdad hurts my brain
and it makes me cry

Jerusalem is in my heart
and I cry and cry and cry

And yet I love the Middle East
because it makes me cry

http://www.chattheplanet.com/






It's exhausting

Dear Diary,
I'm sorry. I've sat down to write several times and each time I've had to run off cuz something came up.
I've been to several stimulating lectures- most notably, Micheal Tarazi, who made a compelling case for a one-state solution. I won't bother repeating his points- I don't have a Harvard law degree and I couldn't articulate them half as well. But let's just say.. I'm back on the one-state boat.

Last night, I went to see play. A comedy entitled "Citizenship: Palestinian?"
I laughed. And I wept.
It's scary how fiercly the fire of nationalism can burn in your heart and how deeply the the pain of the nation burn one's soul.

The past few weeks have been hectic. We threw another party, another celebration. Those Arabs sure know how to drink and dance a night away. :P
Been working out the details for an annual Film Festival I've organised. This year, it appears the theme is women- I've selected many films focusing on great Arab women figures. Seems like I have women's struggles on my mind...

I've had so much to say, so many times.. and now I've forgotten it all, lost forever.
So for now, I'll leave you with this.. which I found on facebook and shamelessly stole.




I left Mombasa, island of raha (happiness),
To emigrate to America, land of opportunity.

Forsook the tropical sun,
For cold frigid weather.

Left behind the warm ocean breeze,
For the wind-chill of winter.

Abandoned white pristine beaches,
For brown muddy shores.

Turned away from a turquoise ocean,
For polluted lakes.

Gave up mangoes, papaya, mabuyu, achari and sunflowers,
For processed apples, pears, peaches and cherries.

Gave up white snapper and king fish,
For boxed cod and sole.

Gave up mishkaki, nyama choma mahambri and mbaazi,
For cereal, bagels, cheese, and salads

Gave up drinking coconut water straight from the coconut,
And settled for bottled water.

Left behind the street coffee seller,
For the office coffee pot.

Left behind the exotic fragrance of phapa and langi langi,
For the pungent smell of sulfuric emissions.

Deprived of hearing the call to prayer,
For the sound of police and fire sirens.

Deprived of seeing women clad in mysterious black buibui,
For women dressed in jeans and miniskirts.

Deserted a slow relaxed pace of life,
For the fast lane.

Gave up afternoon naps,
For gym workouts.

Gave up riding a bicycle through the narrow streets,
For driving a car on the highways.

Discontinued a course on the coral marine life,
For a course in stress management.

Discarded mud and thatched dwellings,
For concrete and steel.

Left behind a community-based life,
For a human zoo.

It makes me wonder,
If I have also left my soul behind in Mombasa? I left Mombasa, island of raha (happiness),
To emigrate to America, land of opportunity.

Forsook the tropical sun,
For cold frigid weather.

Left behind the warm ocean breeze,
For the wind-chill of winter.

Abandoned white pristine beaches,
For brown muddy shores.

Turned away from a turquoise ocean,
For polluted lakes.

Gave up mangoes, papaya, mabuyu, achari and sunflowers,
For processed apples, pears, peaches and cherries.

Gave up white snapper and king fish,
For boxed cod and sole.

Gave up mishkaki, nyama choma mahambri and mbaazi,
For cereal, bagels, cheese, and salads

Gave up drinking coconut water straight from the coconut,
And settled for bottled water.

Left behind the street coffee seller,
For the office coffee pot.

Left behind the exotic fragrance of phapa and langi langi,
For the pungent smell of sulfuric emissions.

Deprived of hearing the call to prayer,
For the sound of police and fire sirens.

Deprived of seeing women clad in mysterious black buibui,
For women dressed in jeans and miniskirts.

Deserted a slow relaxed pace of life,
For the fast lane.

Gave up afternoon naps,
For gym workouts.

Gave up riding a bicycle through the narrow streets,
For driving a car on the highways.

Discontinued a course on the coral marine life,
For a course in stress management.

Discarded mud and thatched dwellings,
For concrete and steel.

Left behind a community-based life,
For a human zoo.

It makes me wonder,
If I have also left my soul behind in Mombasa?