Saturday, January 26, 2008

so it seems...

"For the great majority of mankind are satisfied with appearances, as though they were realities, and are often more influenced by the things that seem than by those that are." -Niccolo Machiavelli




laying in my bed

head spinning full of confusion

dazed by my mental and emotional state

not able to concentrate

I used to know of something called fate

it's never too late

taking everything for granted

I'm still bemused at being used

starting to lose my fuse

unable to choose

looking for a purpose

it was never too good to be true

so delusional

Confined... is this a prison ?

distorted

chained

free will

looking right through everything

taking second glances all around

have I lost myself?

I know my destination

my aspiration

withdraw

nothing left

it's all gone

secrets

what oracle has made me so bizarre?

yearning for

sentiment,tenderness,enchantment,devotion

thoughts lingering in my head

its all I've ever wanted

we collapse

intact once again

patiently anticipating

I might have changed

so it seems ....

trying to get out of bed

open my window once again

contemplations make me cringe

I didn't know

young...youth

deceived

memories of my childhood

what does the future behold?

a sense of belonging

look deep inside

I only wanted to find myself

so it seems....

the truth

path of righteousness

purity

light a candle

say a prayer

seeking refuge

asking forgivness

the cycle

so it seems....

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Tribute to ex blogger

A tribute to an ex blogger named jij.This is one of my favorite writings of his.He is truly missed and we wish that he will soon return to the blogging scene once again.

I love coffee shops. Not the poisonous mushroom kind of coffee shop (that’s Starbucks, by the way), but the small, private-ownership, idiosyncratic coffee shop.

College towns are full of such coffee shops, each with its own atmosphere and its colorful patrons. Here, in Blacksburg, there are four such coffee shops I know of. The nearest to my house is the Easy Chair coffee shop. Every time I feel suffocated from working in my room (which is practically everyday in all honesty), I grab my laptop and my notes, take whatever book I happen to be reading, and go to Easy Chair.

This is basically how I spent last summer. I wake up, I eventually get bored, and so I take a book and go to Easy Chair. The place had some couches and easy chairs (hence the name) lying around. My favorite was a black lazy boy (you know what I mean, the comfy one that comes with something to rest your feet on). I spent hours on that chair. Delightful times. I must have read 20 books on that chair.

Now, two weeks ago, I go to Easy Chair, buy my usual medium black coffee (no sugar, no cream, no milk; they get in the way of the coffee) and go towards the couch area. The lazy boy is gone. All the couches are gone. What the hell happened, I ask the girl behind the counter? Oh, we had to get rid of them, because we needed more space for study tables, she said. What? You need more space? It’s called Easy Chair coffee shop, for god sake. Where are the easy chairs? How could you do this to me? The easy chair is gone, donated to some church.

I’m still aggravated by this incident. Easy Chair is not comfortable any more. I’m like an abandoned orphan. I hate those fucking wooden chairs. They break my back. And the table is too small for my legs. And the lighting system is all off. You either turn on that little light on your table, and it gets to 100 degrees in five minutes, and you start sweating like it’s the desert, or you try to read in utter obscurity, and ruin what remains of your eye-sight in the process. A lose-lose situation.

Maybe I’ll stop going to Easy Chair. Those profit-driven whores. Maybe I’ll start taking the bus to Bollos, or the gay people place, as my homophobic friend puts it. They don’t have couches either, but they never had couches, so I let it slide. The death-of-coffee place (i.e. Starbucks) has a branch just five minutes from where I live, but I refuse to go there. I’m not that desperate. Not yet.

Speaking of coffee shops, I was in Beirut in July, and I decided I wanted to go read a book in a coffee shop, just like I do in Blacksburg. Now, the problem with Beirut coffee shops is that there really aren’t any. There used to be one in Hamra Street, but it closed down a couple of years ago.

There’s the Wimpy, but it’s really a restaurant, not a coffee shop. I wasn’t going to sit there and smell the burgers, no way. I attempted to go to that new happening place, De Prague but it’s just too crowded all day long, even in the morning. There’s a Starbucks, but I there was no way I was going there. There are a few super-traditional, Abou-El- Abed type coffee shops lying around, but they’re not made for reading. In fact, I don’t think books are allowed in those places.

The only remaining possibility was to go to one of those sea-side large coffee shops (Rawda, Shatila, etc). I was afraid that the place would be packed with loud kids playing on their bikes, but I went anyway. It was about 4:00 PM. I chose the seediest, most abandoned-looking coffee shop of the lot. I don’t think it even has a name. It was practically empty. In one corner, there was some kind of middle age poet/writer/intellectual newspapers (the messy long hair gave it away) sitting behind a small hill of. In another corner, a guy and a girl, all smiles, engaging in what appears to be the early stages of courtship (the quiet stages).

In the background, an abandoned restroom. Further back, a guy with a huge moustache sleeping on what looked like a late-nineteenth-century couch. To the right, two waiters (white shirt, black pants) playing cards and cursing each other in the shade. To the left, the Mediterranean. Absolutely amazing stuff, I thought. I wish I brought my camera. I felt like a tourist in my own city.

So I sat down on the most isolated table in the place. I could see the beach from there (The Military Beach, on Manara). Some kids splashing in the pool, an obese fifty year old man not-so-discretely eying a twenty year old girl in a bikini, five teenage boys screaming and gesticulating around a teenage girl, competing for her attention… A few garbage bags floating in the sea, two or three ships further away, and then only blue sky. The monotonous sound of the waves, splashing on the rocks. Life can be so fucking violently beautiful sometimes. I didn’t open the book that afternoon. I had tea, not coffee.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Wishing all Muslims around the world a happy and blessed Eid Al Adha.


Thursday, December 13, 2007

Tent Glimpse

A tiny glimpse of the tent city in downtown Beirut taken with my small camera.



Monday, December 10, 2007

Did Iceland Teen Call Secret White House Phone?



When Vífill Atlason, a 16-year-old high school student from Iceland, decided to call the White House, he could not imagine the kind of publicity it would bring.

Introducing himself as Ólafur Ragnar Grímsson, the actual president of Iceland, Atlason found what he believed to be President George W. Bush's allegedly secret telephone number and phoned, requesting a private meeting with him.

"I just wanted to talk to him, have a chat, invite him to Iceland and see what he'd say," Vífill told ABC News.

A White House spokeswoman Emily Lawrimore insisted to ABC News that the young man did not dial the private number but instead dialled 202-456-1414, the main switchboard for the West Wing. But that was not the case. The student gave ABC News the number. It is indeed an extention off the White House switchboard and goes to a security command post office in the building next door to the White House.

Vífill's mother, Harpa Hreinsdottir, a teacher at the local high school, said her son did, in fact, get through to a private phone.

"This was not a switchboard number of any kind," she told ABC News, "it was a secret number at the highest security level."

Vífill claims he was passed on to several people, each of them quizzing him on President Grímsson's date of birth, where he grew up, who his parents were and the date he entered office.

"It was like passing through checkpoints," he said. "But I had Wikipedia and a few other sites open, so it was not so difficult really."

When he finally got through to President Bush's secretary, Vífill alleges he was told to expect a call back from Bush.

"She told me the president was not available at the time, but that she would mark it in his schedule to call me back on Monday evening," he said.

Instead, the police showed up at his home in Akranes, a fishing town about 48 kilometers from Reykjavik, and took him to the local police station, where they questioned the 16-year-old for several hours.

"The police chief said they were under orders from U.S. officials to "find the leak" -- that I had to tell them where I had found the number," he said. "Otherwise, I would be banned from ever entering the United States."

Vífill claims he cannot remember where he got the number.

"I just know I have had it for a few years," he told ABC. "I must have gotten it from a friend when I was about 11 or 12."
Atlason's mother Harpa, who was not home at the time, said she was shocked to find her son had been taken away by the police but could not quite bring herself to be angry with her son.

"He's very resourceful you know," she said. "He has become a bit of a hero in Iceland. Bush is very unpopular here."

Vífill was eventually released into his parent's custody, and no charges have been brought against the high school student.

When ABC verified the number, it was the Secret Service Uniform Division, which handles security for the president.

"If the number were not top secret, why would the police have told me that I will be put on a no-fly list to America?" Vífill asked.

"I don't see how calling the White House is a crime," he added. "But obviously, they took it very seriously."

Calls to the Secret Service press office were not returned.

Saturday, December 08, 2007

Refugees Resort to Prostitution

The U.S. invasion of Iraq has definitely not benefited anyone. It has
caused great hardships and adversities for the many Iraqi refugees that
have escaped from worn torn Iraq. The majority of the refugees fled to the
neighboring country of Syria. Many of the men have been killed and left
widowed wives and young children behind. The number of Iraqi refugees in
Syria is an estimated 1.5 million and about 2 million in other countries
in the Middle East.

Violence, inflation, and the absence of government aid have left women
with very few options. There arent very many job opportunitues for
refugess; and especially women. With children to be fed, clothed, and
schooled women have to resort to prostitution in order to keep their
children alive. As little as $8 dollars a day women are compelled to sell
their bodies and souls just to keep a bit of food on the table in fear of
their children starving.

With the exception of Palestinians, refugees are not legally allowed to
have jobs in Syria. Numerous Iraqi refugees are living off their savings,
which are dwindled by daily expenses. Many are marooned in Syria,and few
western embassies are now authorizing visas, claiming that Iraq has
become a liberated country after the fall of Saddam. With the economic
situation worsening for refugees, officials say, “It's no surprise that
Syria is seeing a rise in child exploitation and prostitution”.

The silence surrounding the predicament of prostitution draws attention to
the international community’s failure to recognize the distressing
conditions of Iraqi refugees and provide them with better opportunities
and advantages.

Some of the women, in search of work outside the home for the first time,
and living in a country with a very high unemployment rate, find that
their only profitable way to make money is to resort to prostitution.

The inexpensive cost of prostitution has made Syria a well known place for
sex tourists from wealthier countries in the Middle East.

There is an estimated 50,000 Iraqi women working as prostitutes in Syria,
but it is not known how many of the prostitutes are children and teenage
girls.

The United States has repeatedly claimed that they have come to Iraq to
liberate and free the Iraqi’s from the tyrant ruler Saddam. But what I
really see in an imperialistic country that has bullied and vandalized
Iraq, caused sectarian violence, robbed the country from its only useful
resource, and have caused almost half of the country’s population to
become refugees.

The women who are 60-65 percent of the Iraqi population are being ignored.
Action needs to be taken to help these neglected women who are suffering
from casualties of war, the loss of their husbands and family, and the
cruel standards of living that they are forced to live as refugees.

The real victims of this chaos are women and children; they are left to
pay the price. I find it quite ironic that women consist of half of the
human race and they are subjected to oppression and degradation. I wonder
if life for women will ever change and become any better.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

major quiz



Which College Major Should You Be?

Your major should be Psychology. You enjoy understanding people, especially if it helps you get their numbers. You can save the books for grad school, right now it's all about field work.
Find Your Character @ BrainFall.com

World Aids Day, December 1




I think it makes sense why those two girls were making a peace sign from their car window yesterday.

Today in your spare time, remember all of those lives lost to HIV and AIDS. You can make a difference in the global fight against HIV and AIDS. World AIDS Day isn't just about one day. With infection rates continuing to rise globally there is a great deal still to do, so get involved.

HIV is one of the biggest social, economic and health challenges in the world. It is a global emergency claiming over 8,000 lives every day. In fact 5 people die of AIDS every minute.

Young people (under 25 years old) account for half of all new HIV infections worldwide - around 6,000 become infected with HIV every day.

In 2006, over 4.3 million people acquired HIV, which means there are now over 40 million people living with HIV and AIDS. Despite best efforts from governments, non-profit organizations and healthcare practitioners around the world, HIV and AIDS is still having huge global impact.

More than 25 million people have died of AIDS since 1981.

Friday, November 30, 2007

Math has always been one of my many weaknesses.I seem to have this blackout whenever I think of math. But I had one teacher that made me look at math from a different perspective;it didn't last that long though.Hopefully with my new tutor I will be able to succeed and do much better.The worst thing would for my GPA to drastically drop just for one subject which would be math.

Someone once told me this joke about math, I don't remember it quite well.It was that the math department in some universities are next to the psychology department; i.e. psychologists use mathematicians as lab rats....?


Today when I was in the car, the most peculiar thing happened to me.I don't know if it was a coincidence but two young girls made a peace sign to me from their car window. It was quite random, but what really puzzled me was that it happened twice. Green Peace or Save the Whales... pondering


The man with the green tie at the co- op smiled and I was wearing a purple coat.Earl Grey tea with organic chips.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Friday, November 09, 2007




A tale of online love inspired usually cynical New Yorkers this week to help a young man find the girl of his dreams after he spotted her on a crowded subway train.

For Web designer Patrick Moberg, 21, from Brooklyn, it was love at first sight when he locked eyes with a rosy-cheeked woman while riding in Manhattan on Sunday night. She was writing in her journal.

The train was so full that he lost her in the crowd when they both got off, so he set up a Web site dedicated to finding the mystery woman -- www.nygirlofmydreams.com.

He drew a picture of the girl, who was wearing blue shorts, blue tights, and a red flower in her hair, and posted his cell phone number, e-mail address and an appeal for help finding her.

It worked.

Within hours Moberg's inbox was overflowing with e-mails and his phone ringing non-stop. He told the New York Post that he even received e-mails offering him love. "Some people said I'm not the girl but you're so adorable, pick me instead."

Tuesday night a friend of the woman contacted him and sent him a picture so he could confirm her identity. "Found Her! Seriously!" a notice on his Web site said.

"We've been put in touch with one another and we'll see what happens."

The mysterious subway brunette was named Thursday as Camille Hayton, an intern at magazine BlackBook from Melbourne, Australia, who also lives in Brooklyn.

"This is crazy. I can't believe it's happening," Hayton, 22, told the New York Post.

But Moberg said he is now pulling the shutters on his love life, scribbling out the cell phone number on his Web site and leaving a message on his phone saying he will do no more interviews.

"In our best interest, there will be no more updates to this website," he wrote.

"Unlike all the romantic comedies and bad pop songs, you'll have to make up your own ending for this."

Some New Yorkers may already, wondering if Moberg had made it sound too easy to find a needle in a haystack in this city of eight million people.

Friday, October 19, 2007

in to to ...

The train ride was considerably relaxing.I tried to go to sleep but I was too afraid that I might fall asleep and miss my stop.So I remained fully alert.I looked out the window and watched my surroundings while wondering about things, contemplating life, and envisioning paradoxical memories.I got off the train and went on the bus.But then I took the wrong bus stop.They didn't announce the stops on the bus.So I just went with my intuition and got off the first stop.I should have double checked before I got off.After about two minutes I noticed that I had taken the wrong stop.I wasn't nervous at all.I actually started laughing at myself.There wasn't anywhere to sit because the bench was full.So I just sat in the bush.I got a few funny looks,but I didn't really mind.It was actually pretty comfortable.Some sort of mossy grass.I was trying to remain discreet.

I finally got a hold of my sister and she was only a few minutes away from where I was

ring ring ring..

Hey where are you?
I'm right here.
Right where?
I'm in the bush!
lol I'm right across the street.
My car lights are flashing.Do you see me?
oh yess.I'll walk over there.

The next day I went to get the morning coffee.I felt so funny.The cafe was right across the street but I had to ask for directions.Terrible navigation skills.

For lunch I had sushi.New York rolls, spider rolls,mi so soup, and green tea.

After a long day of rigorous walking I had blisters on my feet and the back of heal was bleeding.I should have gotten more suitable shoes for walking.

Pete's Coffee was quite interesting.I had a green tea smoothie which was in to to delightful.

I learned a few new things about accounting, stocks, and shareholders.Its always nice to hang out in the city...

Monday, October 08, 2007

mahabat paggle



It was the year of 1987, on a warm summer’s day in Bombay, India. Masumatra was making chai (tea) and nan (bread) for an afternoon snack. After she finished cooking, she tended to the laundry and went to the balcony to dry the laundry. As she was drying her clothes on the clothes line, she noticed someone sitting on a bamboo mat on the balcony across from hers.

The balcony was not too far from her sight. And Masumatra had an almost clear view of the handsome young man, who appeared to have noticed her as well. It seemed as if he was drinking a mango lassie (smoothie). She could tell by the faint orange color seen through the clear glass cup. It was one of her favorite drinks. The young man obviously saw Masumatra eyeing the glass and asked if she would like some. They both smiled, and by the brightness of the young mans smile, Masumatra’s cheeks warmed and turned brilliantly red. She was so bashful that she left the laundry and ran back in to the house.

Her mother saw her change of face as she came back in to the kitchen. Masumatra’s mother asked her if she had any secrets but Masumatra said that she hadn’t any. Her mother felt that there was something but remained quiet nevertheless. Masumatra waited till after dark to dry the remaining of her clothes. As night prevailed, she lied in her bed envisioning the handsome mans face. She slept soundly in her bed and dreamt as she usually does.

As she arose from her sleep, the sun crept through the window and the loud screech of the rooster forced her to inevitably awake. She instantly remembered the laundry and rushed to the balcony. She ran so fast that she almost tripped as she was going up the stairs. It was still quite early in the morning and the sun hadn’t fully risen yet. She removed all the clothes from the clothes line and put them in the basket.

After all the clothes were taken off from the clothes line, she could see the young man prostrating and reciting a verse from the Quran. Rushil was Muslim and she was Hindu. Even though it was her second time seeing him she had fallen for him the first time she laid eyes on him. Masumatra started to fold the laundry at the edge of the balcony, and as she raised her head she saw the handsome man staring her in mesmerization. She neatly and precisely folded the laundry and the young man watched her every move. She put the laundry aside and looked back into the young mans eyes. They locked eyes for the longest time which felt everlastingly. They didn’t talk but their eyes spoke for them. There is a hidden language of the eyes which only the free spirited can understand.

They remained like so for days and days at a time. On the days where they were not able to see each other, Rushil would write Masumatra a letter and toss it on her balcony. Masumatra’s mother kept quiet for a long time but couldn’t help noticing that she was not doing a very good job with the housework.

One day Masumatra’s mother called her but she did not reply. So her mother decided to see what she was up to. She looked all throughout the house, the corridor, the bedrooms, and the kitchen but she was no where to be found. There was only one place that that she had not searched for Masumatra: the balcony.She saw Masumatra and the young man speaking to each other by the edge of the balcony.Masumatra’s mother was so furious that she grabbed Masumatra by her sash and dragged her into the house. What do you think you were doing? Are you crazy Masumatra? I never want to see you on that balcony again!

The tale of the two admirers had become so notorious that even the goddesses had heard about their account.Maya the goddess of illusion was especially spellbound by their story and decided to help the two.Maya sprinkled powder from the clouds into their eyes during their sleep. The powder was called Samadhi powder.Samadhi is a state of complete control over the functions and distractions of consciousness.This special powder is supposed to bring and end to illusionary senses and also help the realization of truth.

The next morning they woke up at the same exact time. They both felt a sense of relaxation and peacefulness. Sometimes in life we want something so bad but we cannot attain it. You can never go against your fate. What’s written is your true destiny. Rushil and Masumatra remained in love until the last moments of perpetuity, but they couldn’t go against their parent’s wishes. They were both obedient and did not rebel. And because of their noble actions, Brahma gifted the two with a special endowment. Brahma awarded them with the gift of aum which is the gift of tranquility.

The pain of love is the pain of being alive. It is a perpetual wound.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Makeup Tips



The less oxygen your makeup is exposed to, the longer it will last, so always screw those caps on tightly. And keep your cosmetics in cool, dark places - heat and light can cause makeup products' preservatives to break down.

If you use makeup with retinol, the retinol will "expire" and stop being effective in about a month. The makeup itself, though, should still be perfectly usable but you will not be getting the benefits of retinol.

Mascara is the item in your makeup arsenal with the shortest lifespan and the highest susceptibility to bacterial contamination. Experts agree that you should replace it every three months. (And remember basic precautions: Never share mascara, and toss any open tubes if you've had an eye infection.)

As a general rule, creamy products need to be tossed sooner than powders. Your cream blush, foundation, and concealer should last about a year. (Oil-based foundation, however, lasts longer than water-based - up to 18 months.)

Powdered products - facial powder, eye shadow, and powder blush, for example - are among the longest-lasting items in your medicine cabinet, and should last for two to three years.

When sharpened regularly, liners - eye and lip are good for up to three years. Thank goodness for self-renewing beauty products.

Lipstick is another one of the makeup world's great values, and should stay with you (barring any changes in fashion, of course) for a good three years.

These guidelines refer to the most common makeup brands. "Natural" products, however, have fewer preservatives and typically need to be replaced sooner. Another tip I've heard several times is that storing foundation and lipstick in the fridge can extend their shelf lives.

Of course, all of these guidelines are trumped by common sense: If you notice any unusual odors coming from your makeup products, toss them immediately. Changes in color or texture (like clumping or separating) are also a sign that you're due for a trip to the makeup counter.

Finally, don't neglect the tools you're applying all these products with - makeup brushes and sponges can harbor bacteria that lead to acne. Some unconfirmed studies have also suggested bacteria may contribute to rosacea.

Wash your makeup brushes and sponges in mild detergent every week (and replace sponges regularly). Always lay brushes flat to dry - stand them upright, and water can seep into the metal bands that hold bristles together, causing rusting and damage to their handles.

Thursday, September 27, 2007




“His branches shall spread, and his beauty shall be as the olive tree, and his smell as Lebanon.”



“The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree: he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon.”

Thursday, September 13, 2007