Stars with no makeup

People really delight in proving everybody's much less nice/beautiful/gifted/successful than they appear to be. They remind me of...vultures. Like those silly slideshows of celeb pics with and without makeup or before and after plastic surgery. It always strikes me as malicious and moronic. I mean if you weren't malicious why would you set out in search of pics and go to the trouble of making a slideshow and post it and invite people to check it out, all trying to "expose" those women for the monkeys they originally were? And nothing seems as moronic as trying to prove those women were less pretty than they are now when it's no secret the work they had done (surgery/makeup/whatever) does in fact make you look prettier. I mean they're not even acting like it's a secret.

I just saw one of those slideshows and it was in a class by itself, idiocy-wise. I mean the guy didn't even bother to put pics that looked bad -- some of the pics he thought proved the women's ugliness were obvious cases of bad lighting and horrible angles. The rest weren't even bad! They were simply candid pics of real human beings relaxing or hanging out, you know, without the primping and preparing that is usually done for, say, a big photoshoot or the red carpet or whatever. He was also really tacky: He put a flashing pic of a monkey's head right after Tyra Banks "ugly" pic and a lightbulb closeup after Brit's pic in her shaved head phase. Sheesh. They are human beings after all.

People actually did a shoot of some stars without makeup (translation: with minimal makeup -- I'm not that naive) and they looked pretty good. Bottom line in my opinion: If you work in the movies you're probably not scary to look at in your natural skin. You're probably actually above average. This fascincation with ugly...sort of "gotcha" celeb pics is morbid to me. Why would a sane person like to look at something ugly? They should publish pics where stars looked especially good instead. Ugh.

Sick

If you are one of my friends then you probably know I hate to talk about the "latest" hot topics and things of the sort, I hate to discuss politics and religion, and I hate to tackle touchy topics because I am the textbook definition of nonconfrontational. But I can't help it this time.

I cannot for the life of me understand why some people hate us so bad. I know it's only some people but sometimes it feels like everybody hates us Muslims. Egyptian Christians hate us, or so the media tells us. Why? I have nothing against Christians, Buddhists, atheists, anybody. I don't even hate Jews, and they are usually portrayed as the one group many other religions hate and fear simultaneously. And not every Christian I've met does in fact hate us. I wonder if any of my friends from the MAC at AUC is reading this -- do you guys remember Mary? She was one of the sweetest people I've ever known -- a tiny soft-spoken beauty with large green eyes and lots and lots of golden curls and the warmest smile you'll ever see. She was Egyptian, Christian. She didn't hate Islam or anybody for that matter. I'll never forget the time we were on our way home after a class at AUC (precious memories!) and the Ishaa adhan was fading as we were about to step out of the subway when she said, "That adhan sounded so beautiful and sincere it really gets to you." I have always admired the beautiful colored glass windows in churches and the way the light seems to...seep through, calming you, and the hymn music -- I grew up right next to that back in the UAE. I can still hear my Christian classmates singing in their religion class. Back then they separated students at religion class, and it never struck me as strange or weird or something to, you know, fear or anything -- it was just logic, if a chance to be fascinated and healthily curious about other rich religions and read about them.

Anyway... I always turn to memories of my childhood and of a certain wonderful period of the MAC when I'm upset. Not entirely happy times, but they were just amazingly special. Funny, because I don't enjoy remembering my days at Hindawi as much, and those were so...suffusingly happy for the most part, and I was no longer the insecure scared scarred person I was before. Go figure.

I'm rambling. What I'm upset about is this sick business of the Muhammad cartoons. Why? I mean when Madonna appeared on a giant cross she was slapped with "blatant insensitivity" and the Church of England wondered why someone with so much talent would offend "so many people." What about us Muslims? Don't we qualify as people? I don't think the same cartoonist -- or any other for that matter -- would have gotten away with it if it was a caricature of a figure in any other religion, any religion at all. Why us? I mean I'm not even sure I believe in boycotting Danish stuff. I rarely buy it and there are tons more options at the supermarket, but the idea of boycotting an entire nation's products because a number of its citizens were grossly and unforgivably insensitive doesn't appeal to me. I really honestly carry no hatred toward them or anybody, I'm not this monster roaming the house wearing an suicide belt waiting, drooling for the moment to kill the next unsuspecting American, Christian, Jew, whatever. I hate what the cartoonist did and how the newspaper allowed it but is it logical to assume that every single Danish person there is happy with the cartoons? I mean surely there are mothers there who try to raise their children to be kind, forgiving adults, and village folk who work hard for the few pennies (Euros, whatever) they get to have food on the table for their families, and just regular folk, you know, people who can't possibly make the absurd sweeping generalizations everybody seems to love making about Muslims these days...

I mean I can certainly understand that the reason the media portrays us so negatively is because of the so-called Muslims who terrorize and vandalize and kill people and do that kind of thing. But, you know, back when Slobodan Milosevic brutally murdered Muslims in Bosnia, nobody accused his entire faith of barbarism. I don't even know what he believed in. I know he was a Communist, but I don't even know if that's a belief in itself or if he belonged to a certain religion. See? I really am clueless when it comes to politics and details of various religions. I only know for sure that I am Muslim and that I am tolerant and not an inhumane brute thirsty for the blood of others not like me.

I do actually know that everyone's not like me. I'm not so eccentric that I'm unaware of the fact that I am eccentric. But is it only eccentric people who are tolerant and hate stereotyping and discriminating and the rest of it? This man the cartoonist sketched means a lot to a group of people. It shouldn't matter what their name is, where they're from, whether they prefer to cover up -- it shouldn't matter. I don't understand. This is just so sad and disgusting.

Funny Seinfeld Quote

I adore Seinfeld.

"There's very little advice in men's magazines, because men don't think there's a lot they don't know. Women do. Women want to learn. Men think, 'I know what I'm doing, just show me somebody naked.'"

Cause of Death (originally Feb 6, 2008)

So it was an accidental overdose after all. Rest in peace, Heath.

Reminds me of the sadness in Annie Proulx's words toward the end of the novel when Ennis is thinking about how Jack was choking on his blood and nobody was there to turn him over.

Below is the first kind article I've come across in a long time -- kind and bright, because the Ledger portrayed is very much the Ledger we all thought he was. RIP. I couldn't help putting the whole article below despite the hyperlink...

From The Sunday Times

January 27, 2008

Heath Ledger was a lonesome cowboy

For Heath Ledger, stardom led to a fatal need for prescription drugs. Our writer, who met him six times, asks Jack Nicholson how a young man can survive Hollywood

Jack Nicholson pointedly lit up a cigarette in the public area of Claridge’s and gave a piece of his mind on the prescription-drug-fuelled world of the late Heath Ledger.

It was only a few hours since the young film star had been found dead in his Manhattan bedroom. Drugs he took for anxiety and insomnia, including Ambien sleeping tablets, had reportedly been found at his bedside.

“I warn them about Ambien,” said Nicholson. “I don’t take sleeping pills, but somebody said, ‘Take this – it’s mild.’ I then got a call in the middle of the night, an emergency, and almost drove off a cliff 50 yards from my house up in the mountains in Aspen.” He breathed out, for effect, and watched the trail of smoke. The message was clear.

Nicholson has confessed to the lot: pills, pot, LSD, drink, shrinks and legions of women. He has partied hard and lived harder. He always seems to get away with it, whether it’s cigarettes in a nonsmoking zone or group sex. At 70, seemingly indestructible, he is here to tell the tale. Yet Ledger, who was 28, is already in the morgue.

Hollywood, Nicholson said, is like a monster. It is to be ridden, understood and conquered. There are rules of engagement, and those who do not grasp them can be swept aside.

He was not being cruel to the talented Ledger. He did not know him. He did not even see Brokeback Mountain, the film that won Ledger an Oscar nomination in 2006 as best actor. There is a message nevertheless.

“Let’s go back to when I was first working in Hollywood, nearly 50 years ago,” Nicholson told me.

“The movie business was star-driven then and it is star-driven now. There were people like Kirk Douglas and Burt Lancaster setting up their own independent movie companies. There was the gossip, the tabloids and the news stories. They had to handle them – as I’ve had to handle them. If you don’t like it, it’s exceptionally tough.”

Nicholson is a survivor, the biggest beast in the jungle. He’s a rogue who, when not at his Colorado home, delights in living in the road known as Bad Boy Drive (Mulholland Drive, Beverly Hills, the old haunt of Warren Beatty and the late Marlon Brando). For most of his working life he has never explained and never complained.

Ledger, on the other hand, was a victim: a young man who pushed himself too hard to live in the big time. He looked set to achieve a great career but there was something lacking. A ruthlessness, perhaps, or a thick enough skin to deal with the demands of celebrity and the publicity machines of the film studios.

One of his latest roles has special relevance. Nicholson played an iconic deranged Joker in the 1989 film Batman. Ledger has delivered such a striking and frightening Joker in the latest Batman film, The Dark Knight, to be released this summer, that it easily matches the original. Michael Caine, who reprised his role as the butler in the film to Christian Bale’s Batman, told me a few months ago that it was so good it made him forget his lines.

Yet away from the studio Ledger was nervous and uneasy in the spotlight. That vital flaw was exacerbated by his personal and professional life. There was a broken engagement in September to his actress fiancée Michelle Williams, mother of his two-year-old daughter Matilda. There was overwork, with The Dark Knight, a complex role in I’m Not There and most recently a punishing schedule as the lead in the director Terry Gilliam’s film The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. He was taking the make-believe world of acting too seriously for his own good.

The contrast with Nicholson was only too evident on a day when the old master was launching his 60th movie, The Bucket List. He and Morgan Freeman, who is also 70, play old men with less than a year to live. They make a list of what they want to do before they die. It has surprised everyone, even Nicholson, by making No 1 at the American box office, becoming a hit with a young audience.

Ledger’s own bucket list will never be written. He did not live wild and fast like James Dean. He did not die in dramatic fashion like River Phoenix, who collapsed on the pavement on Sunset Boulevard outside the Viper Room and died from a cocktail of heroin, cocaine, marijuana, speed and Valium.

Ledger slipped away by himself after apparently taking six prescription drugs in a rented apartment in New York, on the other side of the world from his native Perth in Western Australia. Most of the drugs were supposed to make him relax or induce sleep. Quite frankly, he worried himself to death.

He became a star at 21 with his third big Hollywood film, A Knight’s Tale, and seemed to suffer from an allergy to fame. I met him six times in nine years and for the most part he was awkward about being in the spotlight. He worried about his roles and fretted over the consequences.

When I last saw him, at the Ven-ice film festival in September, he looked shattered. He could have been 50, with lines etched deep in his face and the weight of the world on his 6ft frame. He complained to The New York Times in his last official interview in November of getting only two hours’ sleep a night.

Film acting in the premier league is not supposed to be like this. In the hellraising days, rip-roaring Brits such as Peter O’Toole, Richard Burton and Richard Harris worked out their frustration on the bottle – and on their leading ladies. Now, Hollywood’s top ranks seem to be riddled with those who agonise: young men who take tablets with unpronounceable names in private.

Where are those who might put an arm around their shoulders? The Hollywood agent, who was part friend and part uncle or aunt to young actors, has long been replaced by corporate money men. Business managers, lawyers and senior studio executives look at the financial implications of every career move on every film. An army of personal publicists is more interested in cover-ups than revelations.

And what about the film sets them-selves? I have been on hundreds over the years. They are inhabited by overgrown schoolboys still playing with their toys, needy women who fear reality, and those who run a mile from anyone with a problem. The only aim is to get the film made, however ill or despairing some of the cast may be.

“There are too many around today who are lonely,” Nicholson said. “Film acting will drive you nuts – if you let it. You can get everything out there if you are young and famous. Any woman. Any drug. But you have to build up your safety zone. You’ve got to build up friendships and keep to them. When I was wild I would tell my friends, ‘We have to develop some social graces’.”

He set out rules early on: “I planned a certain life in leisure. I decided to take up tennis at 28, skiing at 35 and golf at 50. I hit those targets pretty well on the nose. I also made my own rules for publicity. Don’t do television interviews – I never do it. And when I do [print] interviews, I talk. You cannot take too much of what I say too seriously. But this business is about being on show occasionally.

“I’ve never even written a letter of complaint to an editor. I had one legal thing in London once, but it was over in two weeks. It involved something like £20,000, which I gave to a boys’ boxing club. You’ve got the rewards and you have to take the heat. It’s not an easy business.”

Ledger, unfortunately, was never even on the opening pages of the rule book. He was a star in his twenties and had clearly not thought out what that meant or where it would take him. He loved women. He had a succession of older girlfriends such as Lisa Zane – sister of Billy Zane – who was nearly 20 years his senior. He also dated Heather Graham and Naomi Watts, who were a decade or more older than him.

To get him to relax and enjoy the nights out they had together was impossible when there were paparazzi around. I met him when he was just 19 with one hit, 10 Things I Hate About You. I wrote at the time: “He talks, like many actors of this type, with eyes averted for much of the time. But very mature for his age: seems in his thirties rather than his teens.”

The big roles started to come in: The Patriot, with Mel Gibson, in 2000; A Knight’s Tale; Monster’s Ball, which won Halle Berry an Oscar for best actress, in which he played Billy Bob Thornton’s younger brother, Sonny; and the heroic Harry Faversham in The Four Feathers. In truth, though, he rarely seemed to enjoy it away from the film set.

I have looked over the transcripts of our interviews with sadness. Ledger was a nice guy, not a natural at self-promotion and tense and uneasy when discussing his various girlfriends. There was a naivety, too. It was as if he expected to deliver high-profile films without the photographers, the television cameras, the interviews and the sheer weight of living in the public eye.

When we met at the Dorchester in London in November 2002 he was already suffering the first side effects, but he was confident that he could cope. Sporting a neat beard, which made him seem even older, he was wearing a grey jumper over blue jeans, rather like a mature student on a postgrad course, and seemed taller, fuller and fitter than I recalled from previous meetings. As ever he was polite but unenthusiastic about the interview; he wanted to give little away about his then girlfriend Watts.

He reflected on what had happened to Gibson, whose career had also hit early heights in his twenties. Gibson turned to drink and had to try to wean himself off it. (He has since fallen off the wagon and had to go back to repairing the damage.) Ledger felt he could do better.

“I don’t think such things will happen to me,” he predicted. “I do not feel anything has changed inside me and I am bored with the fame thing now. It has changed my life but I have to deal with it. I can put it behind me.”

He was clearly spelling out what he would like to do rather than what was happening.

When 10 Things I Hate About You was released he was inundated with offers for other teen movies. He rejected them, preferring instead to live off the money in Los Angeles while searching for more serious roles. He went to the beach, invited friends over from Australia and enjoyed the sunshine and beers. It sounded one of the happiest times in his life.

“I don’t feel any richer than I did when I had that year off,” he said in 2002. “Living on the beach I felt extremely wealthy on a different level. And I think I know which way I want my career to go. I don’t want to be a superhero and I am not inspired to make $20m a picture. I don’t feel that I have sold out and that keeps me alive. That keeps me thinking that I am in control over my own destiny.”

But he was far from being in control. As his career accelerated through films such as Ned Kelly (2003) and Lords of Dogtown (2005) he became more nervous and uncertain. There was, however, a breakthrough by the time we met again in late 2005. He had launched three movies: the excellent Brokeback Mountain, an entertaining Casanova and the comic fantasy The Brothers Grimm. He was also in love.

He had fallen for Williams, his on-screen wife in Brokeback Mountain. She was a year younger – a girlfriend close to his own age for once – and they had a baby. He could not have been happier.

“We are like two peas in a pod,” he said, with untypical candour. “It is astonishing, the profound effect it has had on my life and beliefs.”

He was also preparing to take time off after completing five films in the previous 18 months. He was planning a life between America and Australia, where he had his parents, sister, two half-sisters and old friends.

“I feel that I need the sanity of my family around me,” he said. “I can get the best of both worlds.” But again his awkwardness proved his undoing. While filming Candy – about a drug addict – in Sydney, he had so many standoffs with photographers that a deep resentment built up.

The photographers took revenge when Brokeback Mountain was premiered there in 2006. They squirted him with water pistols. Although he should have been used to such wind-ups in his homeland, he promptly sold his Sydney waterfront home.

His father, Kim, went public with the details of the trauma several months later: “Heath had to go into the cinema and introduce the film soaking wet. He cried all night. He rang me and said, ‘Dad, that’s it. Sell the house’.”

Kim Ledger said that he had urged his son to think it over for 48 hours. “Two days later he rang me back and said, ‘Dad, it has been 47 hours and 57 minutes. Sell the house’.”

The plush property was sold for £2.5m two months later and a vital link with Australia was over.

Such sensitivity over a few water pistols brought to mind a remark that Ledger’s father had made a few years earlier.

“Heath doesn’t want to even squash an ant,” he said. “He worries about everything. He’s very soft inside.”

If only he had met Jack Nicholson. Asked about his own advice for life, the old survivor replied: “Do not lie, do not steal and do not be afraid. Mainly, do not be afraid.”

Well-said (originally Jan 27, 2007)

Great answer from an old interview with Heath Ledger when he's asked about the biggest supporter and detractor in his playing the gay role:

Everyone was very supportive of it. I understand everyone else or people found it risky. I hate to call it "daring" or "brave"; firefighters are daring and brave. I'm acting. I didn't get hurt and I'm not mentally wounded from this experience.

Rest In Peace (originally Jan 26, 2008)

Sigh. I can't get over the beautiful emotional journey in Brokeback Mountain. I definitely think those who dub it a gay movie are sadly narrowminded. It is by far one of the most beautiful impossible love stories I've ever come across. I must find the book -- it's bound to be even more beautiful, albeit heart-wrenching. And the kiss...amazing, but what else can you expect? I mean it's Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal, who by the way is Heath's girl's godfather. How beautiful! Just like the Aniston-Cox bond. I mean when I look at pics of Jennifer Aniston with Coco it's obvious the little girl adores her godmother.

Brokeback Mountain... I just cannot get over the feelings in the movie. Thank God for the heaven that is YouTube... I don't want to go on and on about poor Heath... I've loved him since watching 10 Things 9 years ago... It's just so sad... I was really upset when he and Michelle Williams broke up and turns out that wasn't the worst thing... It's very, very sad -- I yelled "What? No way" when I first saw the news on a Yahoo bulletin...

And now all the inhumane (to say the least) brutalities going on in Ghaza... I keep imagining mothers who are forced to watch their babies shiver in the cold or cry in hunger... Mothers who have sick babies that can't do anything but cry helplessly, in pain, while the mother croons meaningless soothing nonsense, her heart breaking, all the while knowing help would definitely be too late, if it ever did come...

I mean I truly thought Heath was a rare type. Just look at his pics with Michelle Williams or their baby, or listen to the words he says and the way he talks in interviews... I believe he was one of the really true artists...and I feel for Michelle Williams and the poor little toddler... And those who are starving to death in freezing temperatures, stripped of everything... I mean I heard clean water was running out and medications were almost all used up... All lives are precious, but it's heartbreaking to see there are no Facebook memorial groups of over 20 000 people for the civilians (civilians, for God's sake -- that's women and children and old folk) who roll over and die silently, not much different than cattle, really, or bugs... I was almost sure the globe-trotting supercouple (no, not TomKat, who I actually happen to like -- the "goodwill" ambassador and New Orleans "rescuer" with their big hearts) would stop the siege, being Brangelina and everything. Apparently their "goodwill" and "rescue" efforts don't stoop to certain places, or Ghaza suddenly became invisible or something.
Ah well... All I can do is pray for them and hope Heath Ledger rests in peace and close my eyes to all signs that someday soon we might be in those Ghaza folk's shoes...what's left of them.
And keep looking for impossible love, heart-wrenching stories to hide in.

I Hate Wooden Floors! (originally Dec 27, 2007)

So I'm reaching down to unplug the heater and one of my fingers (the finger...if it wasn't so darn painful I would've thought it funny) hits the wooden floor tile and a tiny piece of wood gets lodged under my nail. And yes it is painful, in case somebody feels I'm being a baby. So now the top quarter of my nail hurts bad and is occupied by the stupid thing while the rest of my whole finger is throbbing... Now what? I never imagined I'd say this but this is actually scarier than visiting my dentist!
I show it to my Mom who tries to unlodge it with a pin. I don't give her a chance though because it hurts too much. My Mom feels I'm making too big a deal. It's like having someone a knife into you and be expected to smile it out...
I'm so scared. My hands and eyes and ears are my main assets, career-wise...what if they have to chop off my finger because of gangrene or something? Or I develop an infection because of the germs and bacteria and what not in the wood...
Elegant as it may be, the wooden parquet floors in my place have to go...the problem is what comes in lieu of them. Wall-to-wall carpeting? Every health website advises against it to avoid dust mites and stuff. Porcelain? Too slippery to be toddler-friendly.
Aaaaaaaaaaaargh.

Proud to be an anti-homophobic Muslim (originally Nov 16, 2007)

Yay! Finally, finally someone other than me who is also Muslim and also anti-homophobic! He's way well versed in religion, which I can't claim to be, and it makes me all the more happy to know I was right all along.

I never understood people who slammed at homosexuals or thought they were "sick" or anything like that. They are different, and I believe that in the eye of Islam they are just like us heteros -- only better, I guess, because their needs can't be satisfied even through marriage whereas we heteros are only ordered to refrain from out-of-wedlock sex. That's it. Marry and you can hump all you want. But gays and lesbians can't. They have to keep it in check, bottled up -- even though it could be not just sexual desire but romantic love, true love, which makes it even harder and sadder... But that's the way God made them and that is the test they've been chosen for.

See, I've always felt it was no more different than any normal person, being hungry in Ramadan, thinking eagerly of a sandwich. You're not a sinner for being hungry, you're a sinner if you act upon it and satisfy your hunger in spite of Ramadan's fasting. The same goes for gays and lesbians. They can be in love and they can want someone of the same sex and there's nothing wrong with it in my book. But act upon it and you've gone where you shouldn't have... But even then. In Islam there's no like maximum allowed repentance number... So even the lesbians I know I have never judged. I mean for all I know they could turn their back on it and repent and even pass on while praying, and I could spend 20 years wearing my hijab and praying and then just lose my faith right before I die... You don't judge people. You just try to set a good example.

So anyway, the guy is Moez Masood. God bless him. He really made my day.

It's The Smart Who Don't Breed...Or Is It? (originally Nov 6, 2007)

It amuses me very much the way people smugly tell me, "See how right I was when I told you wouldn't want to be single and child-free forever? See how wrong you were? We all felt this way at some point but then you change" or anything along those lines. Not all of me is amused of course -- a big chunk of me wants to slap the self-righteousness right out of the little asshole preaching to me but I don't dare of course. Too many ties are holding me back -- religion, not making my folks or dear hubby or my girl (in the future) look bad... I wonder why I'm the only one I met (and to a great extent you, Dania) who has never made a conclusion, let alone such a smug one, about anybody's thoughts or motive or change in attitude. How can you tell why people do stuff? Is there anything shallower than assuming you know that?

Some of the more smug acquaintance-friends of mine might (might, see? MIGHT, not will, or certainly will, or are) gasp in horror at the above words and think I'm not grateful for having my gorgeous Mona. The same ties I mentioned stop me from searching for a finger emoticon and sticking it in here... Sheesh...

I probably sound bitter, but I'm not. I'm just a little sad at the new more resigned me... There's still fire inside me and my wings are whole and the cynic is still watching wryly and all -- I guess I'm just surprised at how I turned out to be a born compromiser. Even dear hubby was surprised. He told me he was worried I'd be a lot more quarrelsome and stubborn, you know...

But this is not what brought on the child-free thing. I'd never take this back or trade it for anything in the world -- not even my utterly hilarious dream of the -- yep -- Pulitzer Prize. Never. My baby's God's best gift to me -- I'm worried whether I will be that good to her. I mean I'm crazy about my folks... But do I have it in me to be as good a parent to her? Because I just don't feel I'm mom material at all... Apart from having spent 25 years bent on living child-free, I don't think I have it in me... It' so overwhelmingly scary that it amazes me how girls have been doing it since forever: get married and have kids, no second thoughts, no fuss, no worries. I feel like I've aged some 20 years since having Mona simply out of worry... Then again I think of all the poorly mannered kids I met in school and elsewhere and I think that maybe I'm right into putting so much thought into this.

*Sighs*

Degeneres Doggie Drama (originally Oct 18, 2007)

Is Ellen DeGeneres for real? I mean breaking down like that over a dog? Seriously? Even though I feel sorry for the little girls -- they obviously miss their pooch and I don't have a problem with that -- I'm on the agency owner's side. I used to really like Ellen, especially the fact that she is so in love with her girlfriend she has no problem showing it off everywhere. But sobbing like that over a mistake they made? I mean... I don't know but I didn't like it.

How True! (originally Oct 17, 2007)

I haven't read something this refreshingly interesting about a topic this painfully boring since God knows when. I especially love the part about "aj7ash sha3b". Oh, and that comment about old notebooks -- oh, the sweet, sweet memories!

Now That Is Sexy (originally Oct 3, 2007)

I love Gwen Stefani. I love her music, how she has her son with her everywhere, how she can still make Gavin Rossdale look at her so adoringly after...10 years, is it?...of marriage. This only goes to prove she is bright and does have depths. This is definitely not a shallow airhead.

"Everyone's in such a rush to show they're sexy," she says. "Anyone can be sexy. We all have the same body parts. It's pretty boring. Life's not so short that you need to give it all away in five seconds. That was never my thing."

Telling It Like It Is (originally Sep 26, 2007)

Well said, Jason Bateman! My sentiments exactly.

"Just watching her become a kid, it's kind of cool. Simple things, all the cliché, annoying boring crap you've heard everybody say – it's pretty true."

Ugly Beauties (originally Sep 13, 2007)

One thing that really gets to me is the number of women out there who the world sees as stunning while I see them as just really awfully ugly. Don't get me wrong -- I actually believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and that it really is who you really are that makes you pleasant or unpleasant to look at. What I'm talking about is celebs on covers and party pics we're bombarded with who don't look even remotely pretty.

One of them is someone I've never been able to stand: Tori Spelling. Even back in her 90210 days she was unbearable to me and I never understood what everybody saw in her.

Another is someone I cannot -- just cannot -- stand to look at: Jessica -- ugh -- Simpson. Where is the beauty in her for heaven's sakes? Not only is she almost always ugly but she is also always heavily made up, repulsively so.

I mean what's with everyone? Really beautiful women are the likes of the baby-faced Mrs Cruise (not that I agree with what's on that particular site) or the beautiful beautiful Charlize or the fragile beauty I can never tire of looking at: the stunning Penelope Cruz... There's loads of others: The beautiful Aniston and Cox-Arquette, Kirsten Dunst (though I'm never really quite sure if she is in factbeautiful and not very ugly)...

Freelancing Moms vs Office Moms (originally Aug 30, 2007)

You know what amazes me? Of course it is true that many things amaze me, but I'm now talking about the specific case of how people view freelancing moms. I can't believe the number of people who actually think this is a piece of cake! I'm talking adults, experienced adults who are also moms and so are persons you'd think had been there once. I'm trying to cut the single girls my age some slack although for the record I knew while I was still single that freelancing was going to take a lot of work to work out. I'm not pretending to be wise – usually I'm the last person to get a joke, the only person to fail to get subtle sarcasm, yada, yada, yada. But I mean I already knew it and it turned out just like I'd imagined it. Like with the pregnancy thing – every time anybody said, "Hang on there, only a few weeks left and it'll all be over and you can rest," I felt like strangling them. Rest? How in the world can anyone possibly imagine being a new mom to actually be easier than being pregnant? How? Some people of course were just trying to say something nice or encouraging and probably they thought I expected the period after pregnancy to be easier than during pregnancy. But some people really meant it!

I'm rambling. I'm pissed off at the freelancing thing and that's what I need to address. Let's take a look at the two situations, shall we?

First, the mom who is a full-time employee. Let's see: She gets up really early even if she hasn't slept all night and has to try to look presentable and pack all baby paraphernalia after of course hunting for it all over the house because Murphy's law says it will be in the least expected places since dear mom is pressed for time and fix something for lunch that she can finish when she's back from work and fix her husband breakfast/iron his clothes/fill-in-the-blanks and get baby to wherever she's leaving it and get to work on time and be alert and productive and nice and not nod off a half an hour after getting there and pick up baby after work and finish lunch and look nice for dear hubby by the time he's back hungry and impatient almost 2 seconds after she gets back. AND repeat that 5 or 6 days a week.

Horrible! Drudgery! Pure slavery! The freelancer mom is in heaven and is a bitch if she won't admit it, right?

Wrong. See, I feel for moms who work outside the house. I really do. My mom was one of them all my life and a very dear friend happens to be one of them too. I know how hard they work. I wouldn't dream of trying to discount their hard work around the clock. I'm just pissed off at the image people have of us freelancing moms!

Now let's look at what the mom working outside the home has that freelancing moms don't. Check this out:

She works in an office, not at her home. While this means she has to stick to office hours even if she hasn't slept all night or is sick, it also means:

1) She can actually work uninterrupted. Her baby isn't sitting at home looking at her typing away and crying - in spite of all the dazzling array of toys around it – because it wants mommy to pick it up and play. The janitor, the boy from the ironing shop, and unannounced visitors won't drop by her office. She has at least 8 whole hours in which no one expects her to do anything but work. Sure, it means she can't decide to nap for half an hour to recharge, but what most people don't realize is neither can the freelancing mom. We can't. Your presence at home all the time automatically means to most people concerned that there's no reason why you haven't completed the housework and lunch and groomed yourself and finished your freelancing assignments for the day.

2) She isn't bombarded with calls from family, friends, and everybody who "know you're busy but I only wanted to say hi and see how you're doing" and end up keeping her on the phone for at least 30 precious minutes that can make the difference between dear hubby coming home to dinner on the table and dear hubby scowling because there's still 30 whole minutes while "you had all day and you know exactly when I come home". That is of course if the phone doesn't wake the baby first ruining all plans of finishing your work.

I have tons more to add, but I have to run now because of the baby! I hope this gives the folk I had in mind some insight. Take care everybody.

Talking about Disney Characters

Quote (from the user Seriously's Live Spaces page)

Disney Characters

Why is it that Goofy can walk and talk, but Pluto cannot?

I know! And Donald Duck feasts on a fat scrumptious chicken! And -- to quote Chandler Bing -- his bottom is always bare except when he comes out of the bathroom after taking a shower, in which case his bottom is wrapped in a towel!

By the way, love your absolute-wisdom-tee-shirt comment. How true! I tried to add this to your above quote on your page but the page wouldn't load. I hope you'll find it here. Have a great day!

Ugh...more hair loss (originally April 7, 2007)

Apparently there's more than one way hair you lose can fall out. Case in point: clumps. Not individual strands, but clumps. No matter how many hairs I lost before, no matter what a tangled snarl they were as they breezily left my head in the shower, they were still individual. Now I'm losing fistfuls of the stuff, just like what you'd get if you hacked off a ponytail.

I've got the cod liver oil capsules and the supposedly amazing Biopoint treatment, but I have yet to start seeing results. I should start browsing wig stores… Anyone out there got some great instant-regrowth treatment thing? Greatly appreciate your thoughts.

Kids & proverbs (originally March 8, 2007)

Hope this starts your day off just right.

A first-grade teacher collected well-known proverbs. She gave each kid in the class the first half of the proverb, and asked them to fill in the rest. Here's what the kids came up with:

Better be safe than... punch a 5th grader.

Strike while the... bug is close.

It's always darkest before... daylight savings time.

Never underestimate the power of... termites.

You can lead a horse to water but... how?

Don't bite the hand that... looks dirty.

No news is... impossible.

A miss is as good as a... mister.

You can't teach an old dog... math.

If you lie down with dogs, you... will stink in the morning.

Love all, trust... me.

The pen is mightier than... the pigs.

An idle mind is... the best way to relax.

Where there is smoke, there's... pollution.

Happy is the bride who... gets all the presents.

A penny saved is... not much.

Two is company, three's... The Musketeers.

None are so blind as... Helen Keller.

Children should be seen and not... spanked or grounded.

If at first you don't succeed... get new batteries.

You get out of something what you... see pictured on the box.

When the blind lead the blind... get out of the way.

There is no fool like... Aunt Edie.

Laugh and the whole world laughs with you. Cry and... you have to blow your nose.

My favorites were "strike while the bug's close" and the blind leading the blind one. Just in case, the originals are below:

Better safe than… sorry.

Strike while the… iron is hot.

It's always darkest before… the dawn.

Never underestimate the power of… a kind word or deed.

You can lead a horse to water but… you can't make it drink.

Don't bite the hand that... feeds you.

No news is... good news.

A miss is as good as a... mile.

You can't teach an old dog... new tricks.

If you lie down with dogs, you... will rise with fleas.

Love all, trust... none.

The pen is mightier than... the sword.

An idle mind is... the devil's workshop.

Where there is smoke, there's... fire.

Happy is the bride who... can remember when to forget.

A penny saved is... a penny earned.

Two is company, three's... a crowd.

None are so blind as... those who will not see.

Children should be seen and not... heard.

If at first you don't succeed... try, try, try again.

You get out of something what you... put into it.

When the blind lead the blind... both shall fall into the ditch.

There is no fool like... an old fool.

Laugh and the whole world laughs with you. Cry and... you cry alone.

The lesser-known milestones

Again from the great BabyCenter.com. Thanks for brightening up my days folks!

• Baby can successfully "latch on" to your lips and/or the cat's paw.
• Baby can impersonate a larva for upward of 15 minutes at a time.
• Pooping baby can be mistaken for an active volcano.
• Baby cries so hard that tonsils become visible.
• Baby pulls out a dozen or more hairs with a single grab at your head.
• When doughnut crumbs fall on her head, baby swivels neck 45 degrees to look up.

You didn't know becoming a parent meant... (originally Feb 14, 2007)

Many thanks to the amazing BabyCenter.com for reminding me to laugh. You rock guys!

• Stacking today's unread newspaper on top of yesterday's unread newspaper.
• Eating dinner like you're trying to break a Guinness world record for the most pasta swallowed in the shortest amount of time. Standing up.
• Letting your partner choose between poop and laundry as a conversation topic.
• Figuring out how to pee without putting the baby down.
• Wearing a bra that looks like something from a 1930s Sears catalogue.
• Spending three hours getting the baby to sleep and then waking her up two minutes later to make sure she's still breathing.
• Forgetting what you were...

A blessing in disguise? (originally Jan 27, 2007)

Or is it? I avoid dwelling on this but I can't help wondering sometimes. What will it mean? Another heart surgery? But my Dad's cardiologist said his heart couldn't handle another surgery. The foreign doctor, when he arrives? I mean...is he really going to have hiatus hernia for the rest of his life? Just because some surgeon goofed and chopped off a piece of his diaphragm?

And my little sister... Is it really not alarming when the right lung of an asthmatic is way too swollen with inflammation? If it's not alarming why are my folks so worried?

And gosh...my Mom. My poor Mom. Playing Florence Nightingale to everybody's wounded soldier... I pray to God all this sleep deprivation, poor nutrition, worry, sadness..doesn't take its toll on her. God bless her.

Numb belly - C section the culprit? (originally Jan 20, 2006)

I was wondering about this one. My belly's still numb. I mean in 3 days 3 months will have passed since the surgery. Does your belly stay numb that long? It's not really painful but boy is it irritating!

Moms-to-be baby-clothes-shopping (originally December 19, 2006)

I thought I'd put up some of the lessons I learnt from baby-clothes-shopping in case someone else out there is in the same situation (mom unavailable to come along when shopping) because I actually learnt a lot. Most of the tips will seem totally obvious. I know I'm ditsy but trust me, they're not really obvious at all unless someone who's already been there points it out. So here we go...

• Onesies: Onesies with snaps on the front and sides (and the crotch of course) are a must for newborns. Ditch the ones that you need to pull over the baby's head. Newborns' skulls are very...umm...flexible, yes, and it's dangerous to pull and stretch necklines over them. I only bought 2 pairs of good onesies, and only because Tamer wanted white-colored onesies after I'd stocked up on purple and pink and blue pull-down onesies... Good thing he did.
• Size: Do NOT buy lots of clothes in the tiniest size. You'll find several items marked 0-3 but not the same size. Your baby will probably outgrow the smallest items pretty fast and you'll discover you've run out of clothes.
• How many? You can never have too many but we all have economic restrictions. For me, let's see...we got around 4 onesies. We got a bunch more as gifts and yet it's barely enough so I guess...10 is a good number.
• Stretchies: Grrr... You'd think baby clothes manufacturers are among those who've been there. Apparently not. I bought a cute stretchie with a giraffe tail. We never used it and never will: zipper on the back instead of crotch snaps. Translation: when you attempt to change your baby's diaper, you will first need to flip her on her tummy. Then you need to unzip the stretchie, thereby exposing her entire back to the cold. Then you need to flip her back and lay her down and wrestle with her to pull her legs out of the stretchie (do NOT do it while she's on her tummy: she may be so alarmed she could throw up). Then you'll change her diaper and go through the previous steps in reverse. With crotch-snap sretchies, it's a snap (no pun intended). All you need to do is unsnap the crotch snaps, take out her legs, change her, and you're done. One thing though: don't get the smallest 0-3 size stretchies because she won't begin using stretchies anyway until she's almost a month and a half at least, by which time she'll have outgrown the smallest size.

Gotta run now. Be sure to check this again though cos I've tons more tips to add.

Never really an ex-Hindawi I guess

So I'm surfing the web while waiting to see if Mona really is asleep so I can jump into bed next to her or if she's gonna wake up fully rested after 10 minutes as usual, and I decide to Google Hindawi because I love the place (the place I worked in though - which basically means I miss the good old days rather than what it's come to now). Anyway I find an article about Hindawi in Information Today magazine. I feel so happy and so ridiculously...proud! Not like I belong there, more like a Yay-this-dear-old-place-I-believed-in-all-these-years-has-finally-gotten-the-recognition-it-deserves. I think of emailing them and congratulating them on the nice things mentioned about them in the article then...what else? Reality check.

Since quitting (after being, thankfully, asked to quit in March 2006) I considered emailing them several times. Once it was after I saw the new website. Several times it was because I just plain missed them.

The only thing I've got against them is what they did to Doaa. But apart from that...those were beautiful days. First fulltime job (telemarketing for a month in 2002 and teaching for 1 week in 2003 don't count). First time I discovered my hobby was actually a job: copyediting. First time I found a place you could spend a whole day discussing a grammar rule without being labeled stickler (proud to be nonetheless).

And the people of course. Happy times with Marwa & Samah regardless of what happened at the end. Who cares? All I can remember is the good times. Very special times with the very special Ayat. Not all were happy, but they were all very special. The gentle Angie (can't wait for you to tef2esy darling!). 3am 3atef.

In praise of...guess what...mo3'at

Yep. The renowned postpartum must-have. I was determined never to try it at first because I thought it was an unnecessary fatty combo of sesame seeds, molasses, stuff like that. Turns out it's actually simply ground roots, problem is the way it's prepared. They fry the powder in margarine then add water and tons of sugar and serve it hot. Yummy, but the thing is...you won't believe the wonders it does to your hair and nails! I mean half my hair is supposed to have fallen out by now because of the breastfeeding and postpartum hormone changes but thank God everything's really OK. And you know, it's not because I'm eating well or anything. If anything, my diet's poorer than ever. I can't stand meat or poultry or fish now, which leaves…what? Rabbits? Pigeons? I love both but neither is an everyday form of protein. And I don't take any vitamins because I'm too lazy. And even the good fruit intake I kept up during pregnancy (the carefree days!) has gone down the drain. I hardly touch fruit now. I drink mo3'at and eat bread and cheese all day.

So anyway I really want to integrate the ground mo3'at into my diet on the long term because of its hair & nail benefits, but without having to add all the scary fat content. I'm making a slight variation of the Oreo shake: gonna add some mo3'at powder to the shake mix. If it works I can even add it to Koukou's diet when she's older.

Seriously, Sunsilk is the best shampoo (originally December 10, 2006)

I can't believe there actually is a brand out there that's not lying about how good it is. Since having Koukou I switched from Sunsilk to whatever shampoo happened to be in the bathroom in the very few times I managed to dash for an ultra-fast shower. It was just coincidence. I never remembered that I was out of Sunsilk until I was in the tub so I just grabbed the nearest bottle there. My hair deteriorated steadily. A maddening snarl of tangles, impossible and I mean impossible to comb. Coarse ends that look almost totally burnt. It was awful. I attributed it to the infamous postpartum shabby hair, nail, and skin condition everyone said was inevitable and just resigned myself to the fact that this would be the gal in the mirror for the next 11 months or so. So anyways last time I showered I discovered a new Sunsilk bottle in the room and switched back. The results? Amazing! Seriously, tangles are gone, hair's more like hair once more... Great! I actually emailed Sunsilk about it and they replied. Great people. I'm never switching again. Now if only I could find a reliable skin product as well.

Sleepless now oh... 2 days (originally December 10, 2006)

I haven't slept for more than 2 days actually. I was scared out of my mind yesterday... Koukou stopped nursing and didn't sleep and was lethargic. Even changing her diaper didn't shake things up. Usually she loves it and doesn't stop stretching her legs and kicking them and smiling and cooing. Yesterday - nothing... My Dad said it wasn't a good sign but we'd have to wait one more day before checking her.

Takin after Daddy (originally December 9, 2006)

She's almost a carbon copy of Tamer! Actually more like a female version of him, which I guess means a carbon copy of Amany his sis. She's quite pretty so hopefully Koukou will be pretty too. Of course in my eyes she's the world's most spectacular beauty. No doubt about it, the cynic in me is watching, appalled...a metamorphosis into your average silly proud mom. :)

On another note, her health is not getting any better. She's been awake for...more than 24 hours. She keeps trying to fall asleep, she wails almost beseechingly, but some mysterious pain's stopping her. We've tried everything...colic medicine, nasal drops, keeping her warm while not overheating her, lullabies... And she won't nurse even though she's supposed to be going through a growth spurt around now according to BabyCentre.co.uk... I'm actually rocking her even as I'm typing this.

Another crying fit... (Originally December 2, 2006)

These crying fits are driving me nuts. I tried everything but nothing works...she keeps crying until she's out of breath... I don't know what to do to soothe her and although my Dad says it's normal for babies to just cry for no reason sometimes it still makes me feel like a loser.

God bless my Mom... I would never have managed without her. But I miss my child! I can barely hold her for 5 seconds now... If she's not nursing (since that's the one thing no one other than me can do), she's off limits!

My first entry

Obviously nobody needs me to spell that out: Of course it's my first entry... I've never been good at coming up with titles.

I'm moving my posts from my old blog. Unfortunately they'll all be listed as made on the day I move them as opposed to their actual dates, but I don't like the idea of leaving them behind. Once I'm done with that I can begin posting new entries.

I like everything about Blogger (layout, color, the many blogs I check regularly) so much more than my old blog, but most of all I admire the fact that you don't have to have an account here to read any of the blogs. At my old blog you can't read if you don't sign in, and you can't sign in unless you have a certain email account, and many of my friends don't have that. I'm not sure if mentioning the name will make somebody sue me so I'm not gonna, big companies being only too ready to sue the life out of regular folk like me these days.

I've never been good at closing either, so...um...see you.