Thursday, March 1, 2012

Notes to myself

Alhamdulillah, today's a big day. I hope PP is happy!

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I'm doing a lot of writing these days, of course all of it is work-related. You'd think by now the words would flow on their own, without being prodded from well-worn cliches to enlightening, buttery-smooth persuasiveness. I find that while it is tough, I don't mind the grappling, holding the words by their shoulders and pushing them into the mould -- it feels good when they settle down, take the shape I want them to. It makes me wonder what my two degrees are for. Why am I not scared to take up writing but in spite of two years of experience and two years of education, the thought of doing some financial analysis still makes me jittery? I wonder if it's right to assume that you're not going to be successful at something because it doesn't come intuitively to you. Or should I grapple with numbers the way I do with words and make them fit? Only there's no motivation, they don't call me to set them right and if I can afford to keep them away, I do. Then I think of those numbers, the ones that went into my relatively expensive education and feel remorse, short-lived as it is.

This post by Karen McQuestion makes me feel better about the struggle, I hope things will get easier one day:

Here is the image from her post:

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I found this link via Dooce's blog today. Like M of Mimmu said the rooms make you go "awwwww maaaaaaaaaaan". Go take a look, really.

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I've been reading on the kindle again. Nothing really great, just some ebooks M had found online. One was a book by Danielle Steel called "The House on Hope Street". I wonder if ALL of her books are so predictable! There were some other really unremarkable books I read too. Two I enjoyed reading were "Anansi Boys" by Neil Gaiman (hadn't read him before) and Ray Bradbury's short stories, "The Day It Rained Forever".

We hadn't been out shopping in a long time so I made M take me to a Crossword here that I really like. To be honest, Landmark and Odyssey have much better collections, but not only are they too far away from home, Landmark's outlets are old and have almost no seating space and Odyssey just doesn't feel cozy enough to sit in a corner and read. If we lived closer to one of these places, I'd probably finish some books at the store itself! I was browsing through the Indian section and picked up two books, one is "What the Body Remembers" by Shauna Singh Baldwin and the other is "Witness the Night" (don't remember the name of the author). I'm reading the former and I like its pace and the way she sets the atmosphere. It's a huge book so I thought "Ah! Value for money!" and bought it.

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We're all set to add more than an A and an N to the PAX. HE HE HE HE. Insha'allah. I wish I could be there with her!

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I don't know what it is, but I keep recalling bits and pieces from my Dammam-childhood. Details of furniture, mattresses, the AC that I cannot think of without imagining its green eye, white bedsheets we got for our new beds that had cheerful stars and stripes on them, the thin mattress in the TV room. Even though we stayed in nearly three (or was it four?) houses, I only think of the Baba-Habbas house. I wonder who lives there now. When I reminded sister of the mattress' cover, its silky feel and how we would pretend we were swimming across it, it was so slippery, she agreed and said, 'Come to think of it, it was such a cheap print". Come to think of it, there were many things I could find fault with now, because of (hopefully) better taste among other things, but as a child these things didn't matter. You didn't mind that your bed was a hand-me-down from another family, it's a detail that you recall only now many years later. Then there were more important things to be concerned about: whose side of the headboard has more Suntop and Ricoh stickers? When we got two separate beds and they were joined together, how could you make sure you marked the groove in between so your sister wouldn't enter your territory? Now I recall all the yummy things we took for granted there: the shawarmas, the zatir, the broasted chicken, the vast variety of chips from Tasali to Zizo to Chipsletten, and the ever-favourite Red Hot chips... I see falafel being sold here for crazy prices and remember how we always used to frown at it. I still don't remember the taste. 

If I ever went back, would the enchantment remain the same? Or would I pick flaws in everything with my new adult eye? 

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A TV memory springs to my mind now, a pause in the TV program as an announcement is made: "It is now time for the Maghrib prayer". It is. See you soon!

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