This is Actual.

Continuance!

Hello, friends! You’re gonna love this confusion I am about to effect.

I will be moving back to my old blog. I will continue on to Day #32 there.

Click HERE to follow me there, if you don’t already. :)

It’s been a fantastic Tumblr romp, a mad love affair, but I must go back. Thank you all kindly.

#31

I compare my life now to the one I had when I was in university. When I reminisce like this, there is one word that always comes to mind: FREEDOM. 

But freedom to do what exactly?

In uni, I thought I had the freedom to do whatever I want, because my parents weren’t there to ‘stop’ me, to tell me that what I was about to do was ‘wrong’, to control where I went, who I went with, and what I spent money on. 

Let’s call it irony. Because in uni, while it was true that I had THAT kind of freedom, all the money I owned was really my parents. And because I took money from them, they really had the right to control me. (In fact, they did, because that’s how they got me back to Jeddah.)

Right now, things are different. I earn my own money. But I’m back to living with my parents. I really still have my freedom. My parents can no more stop me now than they could back then. I look to them for guidance, but they can’t tell me what to do, or who to be friends with, or what to spend my money on. 

But I have to respect them and the rules they set at home while I live in their house. I have to be home at a certain time, I have to give them the courtesy of letting them know where I am, who I’m with.

So back to my question. What is this word FREEDOM? 

Here, I have the freedom to lounge about my mother’s living room.

And mess it up while I eat chips and watch reruns of my favorite shows, or attempt some gaming prowess. (It’s important to note here that if I had pajamajeans, I could at least be a stylish pig.)

What Freedoms do you enjoy in your golden cage?

#30

Break time at the mall.

Break 1: The Pizza Company for lunch.

Break 2: Starbucks.

I don’t take such promises lightly. 

The Starbucks staff were pretty friendly. When I was paying, I took out my camera from my bag to look for my wallet, and when one of the baristas saw it, he was all, “Are you a journalist?” (For some reason, I get this a lot.)

I said, of course, “Yes. Well, you can say I’m a writer.” (For some reason, I always say this, too. Haha.)

BLOGGING IS WRITING OKAY. EVEN IF IT’S ON TUMBLR.

Then the barista was all, “Please. Take pictures of us. Here, take pictures of the cashier. He’s new.”

Funny stuff.

I’m at the end of my first month of blogging with the comments disabled. It’s such a strange feeling, not getting feedback. On the one hand, I feel no pressure. On the other, I feel like no one’s reading me. That’s not good for a writer, is it?

Or you know, journalist. Whatever. Haha.

So I went to the Hyper Panda supermarket at the mall with my parents today and hey, remember those female cashiers that everyone made a huge deal about? They’re still around. And it was TOTALLY 3adi. I dunno what the big fuss was about. Tsk.

#29

Happy birthday, Sheri!

Before I proceed, a little disclaimer: I promised pictures every day on this blog. I never said “excellent” pictures. These were taken with my phone cam, as I was without the now-beloved DSLR. 

This is the first time in a few years that we celebrate her birthday; I dunno why we always managed to skip it every year. It’s always some reason, maybe everyone’s at work, she’s not in the country, or most likely, it’s the end of the month and everyone’s broke. So the last time we celebrated it, she was turning 25. Therefore, this year, she turned 26.

Logic, bitches. U mad?

We went to Isabella’s (Italian), where she had been before and whose food she loved. She ordered the same thing she ordered that time she went before, the Fettuccini something something seafood. It was yummy. My order wasn’t as good. I got a Macaroni something something bacon. It tasted like something I could make myself. That’s huge, coz get this: I CAN’T COOK FOR SHIT.

The owner wanted to give us all dessert, on the house, because Sheri knows him and his family, but we had to refuse because we brought birthday cake.

Yes, that’s right, we’re still on Le Notre’s insanely delicious chocolate-crazy-crumbly-mousse Concorde cake (at least I think that’s what it’s called). Seriously, this thing. Evil. 

But I think I’ve had enough of it. Not for a few more birthdays.

Anyway, they gave us free coffee and tea instead, after dessert, which we all appreciate because who doesn’t appreciate free stuff? All 15 of us.

It was indeed a happy birthday, because you know how there’s this saying that “Our families are our unchosen friends, and our friends are our chosen family.”? Well, we got our little chosen dysfunctional family of our own in one place at the same time, something we haven’t done in a while.

And birthday girl got the iTouch she’s been wanting to get for so long. Mabrook! :)

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Jeddah, specifically Tahlia Street, some people gathered to protest. I was on Tahlia when it first started happening - I was picking up the birthday cake - but I had been long gone when things got a bit… shall we say… “exciting”. I stayed long enough to see cops blocking the streets of Tahlia and the crowd getting bigger and louder. 

I’m still not entirely sure what happened, or what was being protested and who were protesting, but it’s something to think about. Jeddah isn’t really primed for protests, even peaceful ones, so we don’t know how this will go. 

Let’s wing it, shall we?

“Haaaaave you met Ted?”

Here are the top 5 reasons I watch How I Met Your Mother.

1. Jason Segel.

He’s like a nicer guy version of Vince Vaughn. Also, he’s (really) hot.

2. Neil Patrick Harris. Who doesn’t like this guy, seriously? He plays the resident douchebag so well.

3. The characters are my age. And Lily’s a teacher. Y3ni I relate. Even though I don’t come from a culture of TV sitcom living rooms where there’s a laugh cue everytime I say something that’s supposed to be funny.

4. I like to watch the funny parts and think of how much funnier it is when I hang out with my friends. Like seriously, we should have a sitcom of our own. But instead of Central Perk from Friends, or MacLaren’s Bar from this show, we have Crusty or any other place on that Khaledia strip. We like to call it Kobol.

5. I wanna try TV writing. 

#28

Her weapon of choice.

Post Trauma.

As with most tragic events that we go through, recovery is always the tricky part. How do we plan for the future, knowing that this may happen again? 

Most importantly, when will my parents “let” us out again? 

“It’s best to stay in. You don’t want to get stranded out there in case it rains again. REMEMBER YESTERDAY? HAVE YOU SO QUICKLY FORGOTTEN? We were lucky this time. The next one, we might not be so lucky.” 

Be prepared to hear this speech. I’ve already heard it 3 times today.

But what if it doesn’t rain?

We worry so much that the sky might fall in on us. But what if it doesn’t? We will have wasted our entire lives worrying.

#26

Nirvana Center (Part 2)

(Continued from Post #24)

I have to stop saying “Alice In Wonderland” everytime I see a pattern that’s even remotely dizzying. 

Alice In Wonderland.

(Like that.)

So yeah, back to Nirvana Center. You can have clothes made there.

You can have your eyebrows did. The lady called Ghada is pretty awesome. She does threading. Also, threading fucking hurts.

Sharifa and I enjoyed looking through their coffee-table books. Not your average. 

And this lady who did Sharifa’s hair was pretty good. And fast.

At one point, while I was taking pictures, one of the employees asked me:

“Are you a reporter?”

And I said: “Yes. Yes, I am.” (I report to myself, that is. Lulz.)

Nirvana Center is behind Mosa3dia Plaza. 

#25

Remember last month and all the merriment made? How time flies.

How are your resolutions holding up?

Mine are alright. They haven’t completely died. Yet. And even when they do, that’s okay. I’ll just renew my resolutions every month.

Anyway, as promised, I shall write about Mo because he has earned his space on this blog.

Here are the reasons:

1) We have a bet. If he can get Katee Sackhoff and Tricia Helfer to follow him on Twitter, presumably by playing his Saudi Arabia card, Didi and I shall pay him an amount that shall only be revealed when (if) it happens.

That’s how we got Eddie Boy Olmos (yeah, that’s what I call him) to follow us on Twitter. I don’t mean to show off, but HELLZ YEAH.

2) Mo has as much passion for The Penguins of Madagascar as we do for BSG, and anybody who can level (and indeed, BEAT) our enthusiasm for this show is in my good books. His nerd indignation when we get things wrong about his show? We know this so well, for we have gone through it. MY BROTHA MAN. WHAT UP! (Yes, that’s me making a connection with him. It’s cute in person.)

3) It’s Mo. Resident squinter. Izzy Stevens of our group (doctor slash model). Come on. He has earned it. 

4) Happy birthday, Mo. You Sleeper Agent, you.

#24

Nirvana Center (Part 1)

Going to salons is not all we do, even though it would seem like it. I WISH it were the case. But it just so happened that Tima got Dee a massage at this place for her birthday, and she loved it, and because I.. am easily swayed, I was all WHAT THE HELL. I NEED A MASSAGE, TOO. I am sheep. Bite me.

WANYWAY. I like the place. It wasn’t too big, but decor-wise it was pleasant. We went on a Wednesday afternoon and it was empty except for us, so we didn’t have to wait, and taking pictures wasn’t a problem. Receptionist lady was friendly and chatty. 

The theme in the hair care area was black, white and some silver, which I always like.

They have these little accessories and details everywhere.

And my favorite ones:

Oh, funny story.

So, Receptionist Lady asks one of the employees to get her an espresso, and then she looks at me and asks if I would like anything to drink. I say Yes, please, a coffee will be awesome. 

5 minutes later, Employee brings in a coffee cup and sets it on table. I go and enjoy it with a cigarette. After I finish, Employee comes back with a big mug of coffee and sets it down.

…

I had drunk Receptionist Lady’s espresso. 

Hahaha. She pretends she doesn’t notice, I pretend I don’t notice, and Tima and I laugh about it later on.

Ya Allah. ONE DAY OF NO FAILS, please? One day?

But yeah, good times.

To be continued.

In the meantime, check out Sharifa’s take on the same day.

This Funny World.

How it works so funnily.

It’s always a surprise to me when my friends insist, insist that I am a workaholic. “ENOUGH!!”, one of them bellowed at me once, after one too many times of me declining yet another of our chillout sessions. 

That’s an understatement, really. I haven’t been able to clear my phone of emails and text messages these past couple weeks, so earlier today, as I was browsing through them, I was genuinely surprised at all my replies to their messages.

“I can’t!”

“I can’t, have work!”

“No, it’s a weeknight, I can’t! I have work!”

“I can’t!”

“I can’t!”

“I ca-

You get the drift.

Seriously, there were at least 40 of those. 

I’ve finally, after almost 6 years of nonstop, no-vacation, 9am-9pm slaving like a dog working, and at least 10 failed relationships later, I’ve decided to take a vacation.

Even then, a semi-vacation. I’ll be working mornings and having evenings off.

Wait, no, I have evenings semi-off. They’re really for me to start studying again.

I can JUST FEEL my friends’ eyes hitting me over the head with the vast circumference of their unanimous rolling when they receive this lovely piece of news.

To my surprise, however, today, being my first day “off” work in the evenings, I check with all of them only to find out that they’re all unavailable. I felt.. empty. I should shut up, because this is just ONE DAY. I’ve been doing this to them for YEARS.

So I just went home and re-arranged my drawers (not my underpants, ya big goof. Although.. hmm..) and did all my laundry, and sat myself in front of the TV with a big helping of Season 2 Dave Chappelle Show (I’ve got so much TV to ketchup on), and just generally didn’t know what to do with myself.

I’ve always had full days of not knowing where to start, juggling so many things, constantly rearranging, rescheduling, making time, prioritizing, slacking off and procrasturBSGing, my brain constantly running. I’m not saying I did it well, I’m just saying that’s all I’ve done.

And now.. I am (semi)free. It’s a strange feeling.

But I’m determined to see the good in it. I can slowly but surely now start the untangling of so many relationships, commitments, plans, that I kept hoarding and hoarding and stuffing in nice boxes that looked pretty on the outside.

Key word here being “slowly”. 

I need to keep in mind a few things.

1) It’s not a completely clean slate, even though I wish it was. It’s not like abandoning one blog and starting another one. So I have to be careful.

2) I will not buy those pajamajeans, they will only make me lazier.

3) I won’t be earning as much, so I won’t be able to splurge as much as I usually do, or go out and spend on fancy places. Did I mention how funnily the world works? When you have money, you don’t have time. When you have time, you don’t have anything else.

4) I will NOT BUY THOSE PAJAMAJEANS. I WILL NOT STAY AT HOME ALL DAY EATING CHIPS WATCHING TV READING BLOGS IN MY PAJAMAJEANS.

5) I will study.

6) MAYBE I WILL STUDY IN PAJAMAJEANS.

You know what, I’ll probably get myself a pair of pajamajeans. I can not fight my destiny. In pajamajeans.

The good news is, I’ll be here a lot more. Internets, I submit myself to you.

#23

The candy bowl at Helmy and Sharifa’s. 

I’ve taken so many pictures at their place that I don’t care to count anymore. I love their house for so many reasons, most of all because so many key events that have happened to me in the past few years occurred while I was there: falling in love, learning photography, creating and producing a podcast, my first EVER sleepover approved by my parents (haha this one’s a LEGEND), getting healthy and losing weight, being taken care of by my good friends while I was very sick and injured, my first real heartbreak, meeting some of the best people (HAMZA!! <3), and so many, many more.

I love their home because I love them. I love them because they love me. Or, I think they love me because I love their home because I love them. 

I’m not quite sure. The chicken or the egg?

ANYWAY, enough of this love crap. Let’s talk about hate.

Seriously, what’s UP with that stupid shop on Sultan Street, “Mac It”? Fuck you, stupid shop. As if Apple products weren’t already overpriced, Mac It goes and adds a few hundred riyals on their products. When you can get a 32gb iTouch everywhere for SR 1,150, you can get the same one at Mac It for SR 1,399. MASHALLAH. 

No wonder the place is always empty. Idiots.

McSweeney’s

One of my favorite places on the interwebz is McSweeney’s, first introduced to me by one of my favorite people on the interwebz Hning. I was later pleasantly surprised that it is managed by one of my favorite writers Dave Eggers. 

All that favorite action can only result in an implosion, the likes of which can only have inappropriate innuendos and connotations. 

Therefore, I shall stop with the word pomp and direct you to an article from the website that has recently made me laugh.

It’s about how some people like to punctuate insults with smiley faces. Presumably to cushion the blow. I’ve never understood this. I’m just amused that I’m not alone in finding this annoying. An excerpt:

You’re meant to reside directly behind mean statements so as to reduce the impact of an insult.

“Your shirt is very ugly.” :)

“What happened to your face in this picture?” :)

“Wow, you are not photogenic.” :)

“You’re a douche.” :)

Smiley Face, you normally have a stupendous reputation. You’re able to turn someone’s frown upside down right? Or give someone the slightest hope that everything is going to be okay? They say, “A smile a day keeps sadness away.” But in your case, I beg to differ. By appearing behind an insult, you upset me rather than cheer me up. You manage to turn my smile upside down.

In fact, I find myself even more pissed off at you than the insult itself. I don’t mean to take my anger out on you, Smiley Face, but you are even worse insult than the insult itself. You make people think that it is entirely okay to offend someone as long as you are there right after the period. Well, you’re absolutely wrong. The mean statement doesn’t come off more affable just because you’ve been added to the ending.