Thursday, April 15, 2010

Paranoid journal

Entry 1

My nascent attempts at starting this journal is in order to leave behind a testament of my existence in the event that something......terrible should happen to me. For I suspect that someone or some people are trying to put me to sleep. Permanently. Perhaps the NWO or the hobo down the street who I never bother giving money to.

My suspicions increased not so long ago when I strolled into the kitchen in order to grab a snack from the refrigerator. As I picked up the inconspicuous looking white box of Hostess Twinkies from the bottom shelf, I noticed something strange. The once white linoleum of the area underneath where the twinkie box lay was stained with something that appeared to be oddly dark green in color. On a closer inspection I realized to my horror that this was no mere stain, but the growth spores of........a fungus. All this time I was consuming food placed in a refrigerating unit that was contaminated by a deadly fungus. I was slowly being poisoned!

I immediately alerted my younger sister to the threat and it was resolved that a quick and evasive extermination of the fungus was the only appropriate course of action. After much debate I decided that while my sister would isolate the unwelcomed creature and sanitize the fridge, I would take my box of cream-filled yellow spongecake treats and consume them while updating about the perilous incident on my blog. Judging from my sister's unamused reaction it seemed obvious that the fungus had no intention of vacating the premises, and tough actions would be needed.

I admit the use of a deadly biological weapon was clever however because of my never-ending vigilance, an almost successful attempt on ending my life was averted.

Yours Sincerely,

P.S. I eventually suffered some minor bouts of sickness which I believed was due to unprotected exposure to the deadly fungus, however it was only after my mother scolded me for eating the twinkies that it became apparent that they were way past their expiration date.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Ima arukidasou nanika ga hajimaru!

What is it with anime and underage teenage schoolgirls? Why this incessantly perplexing trend of having the protagonist either being an underage teenage schoolgirl or being involved in a relationship with an underage teenage schoolgirl? Hmmm.
In case you're wondering the pic is a promotional ad for "Full Metal Panic?", an anime series that I recently snagged off a friend. The story is basically the life of a 16 year old special ops soldier (the logical choice) who masquerades as a high school student in order to protect a high value asset (aka a 16 year old girl) in a school where all the other 16 year old girls apparently wear C-cup bras, mini-skirts, and sport bright lustrous hair in about every color you can find in a box of Froot Loops. The stoic and somewhat frigid demeanor of the hero creates awkward situations between the bad-tempered heroine and other girls to comedic effect. That along with the funny yet vulgar off-color sexual jokes and the somewhat crude occasional shots of cartoon breasts, legs, buttocks, and groins make this yet another amusing run of the mill anime cartoon. 

What makes this all the more disturbing and creepy is that the animators of these cartoons are all middle-age 30 or 40 year old men. I wonder whats going through their minds when they're drawing semi-naked teenage schoolgirls being stalked at night by a strange man wearing a horse mask whose only desire, is not to molest them, or rape them, but to use a hairbrush and some glue and wire in order to tie their beautiful hair into long pretty ponytails? Who are these people? 

Theres only one answer. Hentaaaaaaaiiiiiii.


Back in the day (aka a couple of months ago) I would make the regular rounds to the gym and the running track to keep fit and trim. I would sweat it out like Stallone preparing himself for another lame sleep-inducing installment of the Rocky series. So what went wrong, you ask? Where did this lumpy belly come from, you ask? How did I get chubby all of a sudden, you ask?

How? I'll tell you how. By snacking on cakes, muffins, pasta, lasagne, and a whole plethora of other rich tasty yet artery clogging treats and goodies baked and cooked by none other than my little sister. You see when family becomes involved, it becomes almost near impossible to refuse. Especially when they look like this.

Chocolate chip oatmeal cookies hot out of the oven. May the Lord have mercy on my greedy gluttonous soul.


Now on a serious note I wanted to commemorate the passing away of Howard Zinn last month on the 27th. Zinn was an american historian, writer, and political activist who was involved in the anti-war movements and the fight for civil rights in america during the 60s. He along with Noam Chomsky were both against the invasion of Iraq and the ongoing Israeli occupation of Palestine. His death along with the death of Edward Said in 2003 is slowly bringing to close the chapter of the prominent voices speaking out amidst the increasingly loud war chants emanating from the american right wing. The only person left from the old-school is Noam Chomsky who himself is over 80 years old. Does it mean the future is dark and bleak? Not necessarily. I have yet to make my appearance in the academic and political arena of my home country. So I guess only time will tell.

"We were not born critical of existing society. There was a moment in our lives (or a month, or a year) when certain facts appeared before us, startled us, and then caused us to question beliefs that were strongly fixed in our consciousness-embedded there by years of family prejudices, orthodox schooling, imbibing of newspapers, radio, and television. This would seem to lead to a simple conclusion: that we all have an enormous responsibility to bring to the attention of others information they do not have, which has the potential of causing them to rethink long-held ideas."— Howard Zinn, 2005 

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Happy (late) new year

"I believe I can see the future
Cause I repeat the same routine
I think I used to have a purpose
But then again
That might have been a dream
I think I used to have a voice
Now I never make a sound
I just do what I've been told
I really don't want them to come around"

NIN - "Everyday is exactly the same"

Time: 3:00 am
Its funny the odd and unexpected places where one stumbles across bits of packaged wisdom, even if its from a song. At the turn of this year I rose from bed in my relatively undersized apartment in Riyadh and realized that perhaps everything IS exactly the same. My routine was basically to work, eat, and sleep. However looking back at my past life it becomes abundantly clear that a constant uniform routine or stream of experiences has been against my nature (and my namesake for that matter) from the very beginning of my existence. I always need my immediate reality to be dynamic and changing. Simply put, I thrive in the Verve. 

Either that, or I have Attention Deficit Disorder. Hmm. 

Anyways I quit my job, packed up my things, moved out of my apartment, drove back to Dhahran, and spent the new year and much of January visiting relatives in pakistan. Aaahh the land of the disenfranchized.

Time: 3:12 am
"To buy a bullet-proof vest, or not to buy a bullet-proof vest?" is the first question which popped into mind before my flight to pakiland. Alright I'm kidding. (It was the second question).

Time: 3:15 am
After quitting my job I have intentions to continue my higher studies this year back in Texas, mainly in animation. Though I do also intend to study various other related and unrelated fields like philosophy, poli sci, linguistics, art and of course, architecture.  

Time: 3:20 am
A muffin in the hand is worth two in the oven. True story.

Time: 3:21 am
If I have to endure hearing Lady Gaga's name one more time I will hang myself with a shoelace.

Time: 3:22 am
While my appreciation for good art tends to go into the far flung nether-regions of graphic novel-dom and comic bookry, I am able to discern good art when I see it. Take this piece for example, by iranian painter Iman Maleki titled "Omens of Hafez" or in farsi فال حافظ.

A prime example of an impressive style of art known as Realism.

Looks real doesn't it? In a way its almost like a reflection of life itself. Some things that are real seem less real to us, and things which aren't seem more real than they should be.

Time: 3:30 am
All right thats all from me now. Adios!

(And for the record I have no idea why theres so many huge gaps in my paragraphs/lines. Must be a new year's glitch in the blog matrix.)