For those who have been wondering why I disappeared, the reason would be a new blog of course! For the past couple of months, I have been freelancing, getting ready for graduate school, and working on my plays. You can check out my new blog Freelancer 2.0 – Making Money Sans The Early Mornings, it’s a blog guiding freelancers around the world to kickstart their career.
I saw the water,
Brown with anonymous entities floating about.
I remembered that year when they told us
That the water’s contaminated, that only
Those who drank water from X
Are likely to go to the hospital
Hell, who would know from which dam did your
Tap water come from.
I saw the water,
I looked at the water cooler
The ones I only saw in a publishing office
In a foreign country when I was eight.
Now they are casually standing in our home
The waterman (as I love to call him)
Comes every Friday, interrupting our early breakfast
That I promise every week not to be part in
For sleeping in purposes
But I still do.
The waterman brings us the blue bottles that
Make me lose a life or two as I lug them
To the kitchen
My mom watching, warning me to check if the plastic
Bags covering them are dripping.
How can I check with 2 gallons of water
Held in one hand and a nagging voice behind.
The water cooler is the place
Where my brother and I casually meet
He says I never have the time to talk
I say… I’m writing
He says whatever
I say I have to go
The water cooler is only three meters away from the sink
Yet, late at night when I wake up
I run to the tap and cup my hand under the waterfall
And drink like a thirsty animal
I remember at that moment what they told us about the water
The germs, the Jews — yes they’re always in the story
But I cannot stop myself.
It is satiating.
It fills me like never before
I feel it run down my throat and into my stomach
It seems like a lifetime though it’s not even
A cup’s worth
Like our early breakfasts, when I promise myself I won’t wake up,
I promise myself that next time I’d wake up
At 2 or 3 am
That I’d bring myself to pour myself a glass of water
From the water cooler, yet
I cannot. It is just not in me.
Finals are over and I’m busy working on my new play. However; I must tell you what I observed about finals. Before even saying “Good Morning, my professors tend to switch my place the moment they’re in class. It bugs me off, since I always have to change my “comfy” seat and go to some squeaky chair I don’t like in the front row. Not to mention, that the professors keep on hovering like Dementors around my paper. Sometimes I feel like a cheater, although I wouldn’t cheat even if you cut my head off — goes back to my childhood complexes. My grades are good, and I don’t see any reason for them to do that. Sometimes I feel like asking them “Why! Why!” It’s unbelievable. It’s either they think I’m a cheater, or that they think students are going to cheat off my paper. In both cases, it’s very disconcerting. Why not move the cheaters/saints?
Another observation about finals happens to be also about cheating. I was sitting in the last row; this guy comes in late and decides to sit in the middle, thus crushing every foot from the right. Later on, he pretends to be cleaning his shoes (with the back of his palm, how hygienic) and then he opens his book and starts going through it page by page. I was flabbergasted not because of his courage, but for the fact it’s a writing exam. How can you cheat on a writing exam?
Students come in without pens. Yes, that’s a fact. I could never leave home without packing at least three or four, a pencil, ruler, and two highlighters. The funny part is, they come in late and then start “whispering” — more like screaming — “Does anyone have a pen?” The professor always watches in silence, with a frown or a smile of sheer amazement. Now, the funny part about this, is the fact that one guy in my English Literature in the 19th Century final, told this girl who was kind enough to give him a pen: “Oh, I don’t like blue. Don’t you have black?” You know what Arabic proverb comes to mind?
Students always seem to ask for extra answer booklets, that makes me a bit anxious. I only use one booklet with like three pages left, yet they go on asking for extra booklets. What are you writing? Did I miss anything? Where we supposed to write a manuscript for the final?
Finals are over. I’m glad they are, for one reason: I can actually sleep without dreaming about sleeping in and missing the exam.
It is surreal to think that I only have one semester and a summer session to go. I’m currently lost between the walls of references and photocopies in my room; I can hardly maneuver without tripping. With only 3 exams to go, I will be updating soon. May I just say “Whoohoo!”
Yes, Yes, Yes. I know that I’ve disappeared (I’m quite good at that, ain’t I) and most of you were asking me if the documentaries were that depressing, indeed, they are. Quite morbid, if you ask me! So here’s what I did, I started playing The Longest Journey since it was on my “To-Play-List” of 2007, but never got to actually play it. Let me just tell you one thing, I’m a huge fan of adventure games… Indiana Jones, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Gabriel’s Knight, you name it. The Longest Journey, however; have exceeded my expectations. I’m not sure what made me love it so much, maybe it’s the very realistic touch of the plot and dialogue, no censoring or fancy schmancy voice-overs. What I really liked about the game, is the characters’ sense of humor. So, back to my game. Tomorrow, I’ll be wrapping up some loose ends of the dying year, and making some preparations for 2008. Yay?
First of all, Happy Eid and Merry Christmas everyone. I was thinking about this the other day, why not make a hybrid version of ka’ek and cookies, something like a huge chunk of dates and chocolate; the wrapper would be this lil’ fat sheep posing next to a beautiful Christmas tree. You’d only be given one in the numerous trips. It would be more of a ration kind of thing, a card you’d stamp, and when you go visit another relative, they’d go: shit! Your card is stamped, maybe some other time?
Wouldn’t that be awesome?
That’s just me high on sugar.