"We can make people out to be whatever we want them to be, as long as we don't know them - not even know their names."
Meadows Coffee Shop
12:26 PM
January 23, 2004
Sunday, March 16, 2008
The Power of the Boobs
Remember this?
Only in a city such as Barcelona will you find =
-A middle-aged man who appears to be heavily intoxicated standing about 2 inches from Tanya´s face on the metro. I'm not quite sure if he´s looking at her or staring off into space. He then proceeds to passionately pick his nose while swaying back and forth. All the while I can feel Tanya´s discomfort escalate while she tries not to laugh. Right before we exit the metro I notice that he turned around, put his hands down his pants, and proceeded to ´adjust´himself for quite some time. We got off at the Éspanga´stop and laughed for 15 minutes.
-That men, both locals and tourists, have the courage to pretend to have a conversation with you, when in reality they´re actually talking to your breasts. The only eye-contact appears to be directed between nipple number 1 and number 2. I wonder where this fascination comes from...
-That while walking back to the residence a couple who appear to be in their late sixties, both with white hair and dressed stylishly, are holding on to each other tightly. They look into eachother´s eyes and kiss passionately. I smile to myself and continue walking.
-Also on the metro..I step on and notice a woman in her 20's, dressed in pink from head to toe...she´s wearing cheap, faded polyster and on her head is a stylish scarf. Her eyes are full of sadness as she watches a man who appears to be her boyfriend get off the metro right as we get on. He appears to be unphased and taps the window of the train goodbye as we slowly start to move. Her lower lip quivers and I know she can feel me watching her. The tears pool in her eyes yet they don´t manage to escape. I know how she feels...I know what it´s like to hold them back. I am trying to force myself to look away because she knows I'm watching. But I can´t. The tears pool again as thoughts run through her mind. I finally manage to look away for a few seconds. When I glanced back I noticed she had regained her composure. She got off at the next stop.
Only in a city such as Barcelona will you find =
-A middle-aged man who appears to be heavily intoxicated standing about 2 inches from Tanya´s face on the metro. I'm not quite sure if he´s looking at her or staring off into space. He then proceeds to passionately pick his nose while swaying back and forth. All the while I can feel Tanya´s discomfort escalate while she tries not to laugh. Right before we exit the metro I notice that he turned around, put his hands down his pants, and proceeded to ´adjust´himself for quite some time. We got off at the Éspanga´stop and laughed for 15 minutes.
-That men, both locals and tourists, have the courage to pretend to have a conversation with you, when in reality they´re actually talking to your breasts. The only eye-contact appears to be directed between nipple number 1 and number 2. I wonder where this fascination comes from...
-That while walking back to the residence a couple who appear to be in their late sixties, both with white hair and dressed stylishly, are holding on to each other tightly. They look into eachother´s eyes and kiss passionately. I smile to myself and continue walking.
-Also on the metro..I step on and notice a woman in her 20's, dressed in pink from head to toe...she´s wearing cheap, faded polyster and on her head is a stylish scarf. Her eyes are full of sadness as she watches a man who appears to be her boyfriend get off the metro right as we get on. He appears to be unphased and taps the window of the train goodbye as we slowly start to move. Her lower lip quivers and I know she can feel me watching her. The tears pool in her eyes yet they don´t manage to escape. I know how she feels...I know what it´s like to hold them back. I am trying to force myself to look away because she knows I'm watching. But I can´t. The tears pool again as thoughts run through her mind. I finally manage to look away for a few seconds. When I glanced back I noticed she had regained her composure. She got off at the next stop.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
The Arab Veronica Mars
Someone I know told the story of a girl who got married back in May, 2006. A few months later, she started suspecting that her husband is cheating on her. She even warned him against it. Finally, she decided she’d had enough, and was going to go out of her way to catch him in the act.
She told him that she was going to spend the weekend with her cousins at the family’s beach house, which he gladly encouraged her to do. She spent the night at her cousin’s house in the city and made plans with 2 of her friends to spy on him in the morning. The friends are ones who wear Niqab (the face is covered, only revealing the eyes), which proved great for spying purposes (she wore one as well). In the morning, they drove to her house and waited, equipped with a video camera.
A few minutes later, the husband got in his car and drove to the local hospital. A nurse got in the car with him. The wife followed them to the nurses’ housing, which is comprised of a group of apartment buildings within walking distance from the hospital. Keep in mind this is all caught on tape.
A few minutes later the girl realized her husband won’t be coming out anytime soon, so she ended up calling her father, her uncle (who happens to be a lawyer), and her cheating husband’s brother (who happens to be extremely religious). She asked all 3 of them to come meet her.
The 3 of them took the bride, along with the video camera, and knocked on the apartment door. The cheating husband carefully opened the door, only to be pushed back by his father-in-law. The bride stormed into the room, camera in hand, and found the naked nurse in bed trying to cover herself with the sheets.
The bride demanded a divorce, which the groom initially refused to do because he didn’t want to pay alimony. But after she threatened to release the video and create a scandal, followed by a harsh beating from his super-religious brother, the groom agreed to divorce her. Since couples here are divorced in court, the judge decided to sentence the groom to jail (I don’t know how long for). After all, he cheated on his wife, and they had proof of it.
The most amusing part of listening to this story was the reaction of the other audience members in my office. Sure, they thought the bride was awesome and ballsy. But the most interesting response was the fact that they kept repeating that this poor bride was only married for 8 months before she got cheated on. It was almost as if it would have been more forgivable if he had waited, say, 5 years.
I realized then that I shouldn’t be too surprised. Many men cheat on their girlfriends and wives. These men aren’t just Arab men – it’s a universal fact that some men will cheat. So why am I so surprised that these men, who 99% of the time are forced to marry their women (and vice versa), cheat?
I’m not.
I’m surprised that their wives expect it – and are waiting for it.
Almost like it’s forgivable.
On another note:
Here is a picture of my favorite married couple.
Think any of the locals that marry cheating bastards are this happy? That was a stupid question.
She told him that she was going to spend the weekend with her cousins at the family’s beach house, which he gladly encouraged her to do. She spent the night at her cousin’s house in the city and made plans with 2 of her friends to spy on him in the morning. The friends are ones who wear Niqab (the face is covered, only revealing the eyes), which proved great for spying purposes (she wore one as well). In the morning, they drove to her house and waited, equipped with a video camera.
A few minutes later, the husband got in his car and drove to the local hospital. A nurse got in the car with him. The wife followed them to the nurses’ housing, which is comprised of a group of apartment buildings within walking distance from the hospital. Keep in mind this is all caught on tape.
A few minutes later the girl realized her husband won’t be coming out anytime soon, so she ended up calling her father, her uncle (who happens to be a lawyer), and her cheating husband’s brother (who happens to be extremely religious). She asked all 3 of them to come meet her.
The 3 of them took the bride, along with the video camera, and knocked on the apartment door. The cheating husband carefully opened the door, only to be pushed back by his father-in-law. The bride stormed into the room, camera in hand, and found the naked nurse in bed trying to cover herself with the sheets.
The bride demanded a divorce, which the groom initially refused to do because he didn’t want to pay alimony. But after she threatened to release the video and create a scandal, followed by a harsh beating from his super-religious brother, the groom agreed to divorce her. Since couples here are divorced in court, the judge decided to sentence the groom to jail (I don’t know how long for). After all, he cheated on his wife, and they had proof of it.
The most amusing part of listening to this story was the reaction of the other audience members in my office. Sure, they thought the bride was awesome and ballsy. But the most interesting response was the fact that they kept repeating that this poor bride was only married for 8 months before she got cheated on. It was almost as if it would have been more forgivable if he had waited, say, 5 years.
I realized then that I shouldn’t be too surprised. Many men cheat on their girlfriends and wives. These men aren’t just Arab men – it’s a universal fact that some men will cheat. So why am I so surprised that these men, who 99% of the time are forced to marry their women (and vice versa), cheat?
I’m not.
I’m surprised that their wives expect it – and are waiting for it.
Almost like it’s forgivable.
On another note:
Here is a picture of my favorite married couple.
Think any of the locals that marry cheating bastards are this happy? That was a stupid question.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Who, me?
I suppose I should tell you a little about myself.
I am a dreamer.
I spend a lot of time in a different state of mind – which helps my non-existent acting career.
I am also an actress. It’s just the way it was supposed to be. I was born into a family of actors and celebrities. This might justify why I always feel my life is some sort of movie – it would make a good one too.
I’m emotional, but you’ll never see it.
I’m sarcastic…sometimes even funny. A lot of times I can be brutal.
I’m a social butterfly. I love to laugh and be happy. There are times where I love myself, and times where I am self-destructive.
I’m spontaneous. Not in the “ooohh, let’s go crazy and camp in the desert tonight” way. But in the “Today I’m quitting my job and moving to the other side of the world” way.
I want to do everything, and be everyone. And I probably have (in my mind).
I’m border-line crazy. It keeps my life interesting.
I had a stalker for a few years. He’s been laying low lately, partly because he doesn’t realize that I now live on the other side of the world.
I’ve had my heart broken, and I have broken hearts. And no matter how many emotional shutdowns I’ve had, deep down I’m a sucker for love. But I won’t tell you that. Instead, I’ll just make fun of the situation, because it’s the only way I can deal with it. The truth is, it would be nice to be with someone I can stand still with for a little while.
I suffer from an identity crisis. I was born into a race I can’t relate to, even though I speak the language. My parents come from 2 completely different backgrounds, which has contributed to my confusion. Naturally, I spend a lot of time trying to figure out where I fit in this mess.
I am a dreamer.
I spend a lot of time in a different state of mind – which helps my non-existent acting career.
I am also an actress. It’s just the way it was supposed to be. I was born into a family of actors and celebrities. This might justify why I always feel my life is some sort of movie – it would make a good one too.
I’m emotional, but you’ll never see it.
I’m sarcastic…sometimes even funny. A lot of times I can be brutal.
I’m a social butterfly. I love to laugh and be happy. There are times where I love myself, and times where I am self-destructive.
I’m spontaneous. Not in the “ooohh, let’s go crazy and camp in the desert tonight” way. But in the “Today I’m quitting my job and moving to the other side of the world” way.
I want to do everything, and be everyone. And I probably have (in my mind).
I’m border-line crazy. It keeps my life interesting.
I had a stalker for a few years. He’s been laying low lately, partly because he doesn’t realize that I now live on the other side of the world.
I’ve had my heart broken, and I have broken hearts. And no matter how many emotional shutdowns I’ve had, deep down I’m a sucker for love. But I won’t tell you that. Instead, I’ll just make fun of the situation, because it’s the only way I can deal with it. The truth is, it would be nice to be with someone I can stand still with for a little while.
I suffer from an identity crisis. I was born into a race I can’t relate to, even though I speak the language. My parents come from 2 completely different backgrounds, which has contributed to my confusion. Naturally, I spend a lot of time trying to figure out where I fit in this mess.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)