An 18-year old I was having a good, immature, laugh with at NEXT asked me my age.
Elest (suddenly feeling rather ashamed): errr...22.
18 Year-old: REALLY!? you don't look it!
Elest: You think?
18 Year-old: Yeah! you must love it.
Elest: Love being 22?
18 Year-old: No, not looking it.
Elest: He he, yeah, coz I sure as hell don't love being 22!

Mom figures I don't look it coz I don't act it.
I reackon I don't look it coz of the fairy dust! He he he.
...
:(
All my friends are growing up, and getting married, and moving on.
Ordinarrily I wouldn't give a crap but people won't get off my F**ing case about being single. Bro reackons (since this is the hot issue of the moment) I can only get with someone younger than me coz I'm such a big kid. Hypothetically speaking (since I refuse to let this be the hot issue of my moment. And absolutely refuse to give it any real thought) I CAN GET WITH AN OLDER GUY! ALL THE MORE REASON TO BE IMMATURE! ...Maybe I need a father figure instead of a man. Maybe that's what's wrong with me :(
...
Tas reackons I ACT like a kid but I THINK older than I am.
I reackon I act like a crazy person and I think like a crazy person.
Maybe instead of a father figure I just need a room with soft walls.

Maybe I should go to bed.

...crap, appetite is back with a bloody vengence and it's not even that time of the month. What's wrong with me?

Listening to: Krwlng -Linkin Park ...and trying to be as productive as yesterday in regards to the Novel-In-Progress. In any case, Zachariah or Zacheria or Zechariah (haven't decided how to spell it yet) is becoming a very 3-dimensional character, 'I'm a real boy!'-style.

Will fast tomorrow.
Meanwhile...

Art as flirtation with surrender: or wanting new silk harp strings.

C. Barks & J. Moyne:

Art gives a teasing taste of surrender without the full experience. Beautiful poetry can keep one on the verge of oceanic annihilation in God. Rumi says, we've been walking in the surf, holding our robes up, when we should be diving naked under... and deeper under.

Rumi:

The old poet (...) threw the harp on the ground and broke it. "These songs, breath by breath, have kept me minding the musical modes of Iraq and the rhythms or Persia. The minor Zirafgand, the liquid freshness of the twenty-four melodies, these have distracted me while caravan after caravan was leaving. My poems have kept me in myself, which was the greatest gift to me, that now I surrender back."

Little Minx- (and if you don't already know, 'Little Minx' is what yours truely was nicknamed by a handfull of repressed 'brothers' at Kings. We find it hilarious now because it is so absurdly un-befitting. You would too, if I told you I was 'Little Minx' with the straightest of my pissed off, asexual faces.) where was I before I was so rudely interrupted by myself? ah yes,
so...
Little Minx woke up a few hours ago, saw the world and thought: Augh! not you again, you benign pain in the ass, can't you just piss off!
But now, I'm feeling good in a shiKKt way (with a double 'K'), and I got a big stupid grin on my face to prove it, and I think I must have hit bottom. This must be what Sisyphus feels after the horror of watching his bolder roll down the mountain again (for the millionth time), and he's eyeing it with vague irritation where it sits at the bottom, and he's thinking: well, it's just back up now.

Find me in this resignation and 'well-crap-happens'-shoulder shrugg, and in the contentedness of discontent because sufficiency is only ever suffoncified and there is no point in wasting a life angsting over wasting a life when you can waste it trying not to, and climb out of this already because perfection and symmetry is only reserved for the divine and you can sing your praise to it with the ugliness of your flaws and imperfections, because even Sisyphus made meaning out of supreme pointlessness and meaninglessness.
Do I see my point?
I think so.

Quote of the week: 'Miyavi Desu!' ...AAAAAAAARGH! (Acts like a maniac)

Listening to
John Mayer: Split Screen Sadness
...
Mazzie Star: Fade into You
...
'Allow it' -coz you know you can get used to this, and it's not what you need.
But every so often my mind's retrieving snippets of memory from lost time,
and I'm trying to piece together six hours,
and I'm trying to convince myself that it didn't feel great.

HAI HUSSAIN! (shant let it go till it's dead and twitching no more. bloody hilarious, wot?!)
I'm sitting here thinking of something to write, but most of what went on in Rome is better left in Rome. Of course there was the less embarrassing stuff; the pleasant Kodak moments that no one really gives a crap about. Speaking of Kodak moments:

Cute Chinese Guy at photo shop, peering at Elest's photos: ...ummm, I won't be nosey (puts them back in the envelope)
Elest: Actually you guys already see everything you print don't you?
Cute Chinese Guy: Yeah, because we color correct them... (grins) ...so we... (grins bigger) ...well that means you get these perfect pictures... (grins huge) ...but I don't do all of that, I'm not qualified to...yet.
Elest, worried about the pajama pictures: I always wondered...do you get a lot of really... nasty...stuff?
Cute Chinese Guy: Yeah we do!... (grin is ginormous) ...errr but that would be telling.
Elest: Ugh! No, I don't want to know.
Cute Chinese Guy: No, you don't, coz they're just nasty.

Lo and behold though, By some curious turn of fate, all the pajama pictures came out blurry. And so our modesty, dignity and cool have been saved. For once.
In any case, what you certainly can't get Kodak moments of is...

• Stromboli trying to pull a fast one on us but failing miserably coz..."These Italians don't know that Asians don't part with their money that easily." (-Tas)
• Walking for miles to get to our hotel in a city we don't know with no subway working after midnight, no night service for our particular bus, and some freaky guy following..."start praying Ayatul-Kursi and walk fast. START PRAYING!" (-Tas)
• Tas being dirty the way married women shouldn't be, but Faaria being dirtier still, and the two together being too much for Shakila and Elest's lungs to endure.
• Italian food resuscitating your dead appetite. (We are still dreaming of that clam starter, and waking up in terrible fits of passion. The withdrawal symptoms persist.)
• Italian men not only being stylish, but keeping the romantic dream alive. This is in comparison to our part of the world of course, where chivalry's dead because women killed it, because English girls are so damn cheap, because. So maybe, it's the Italian women keeping the dream alive then...hmmm...worth pondering this.
• Sitting on the steps of an ice cream shop, watching street toy vendors shoot little glowing disks up into the night sky over a buzzing square, and just not talking.
  Silence.
  Faaria: "What are you thinking?"
  Elest: "What, now?"
  Faaria: "Yeah."
  Elest: "Well I was having some real deep thoughts, but then I got interrupted by those flying stuff, and thought how funny it would be if one fell on your head."
  Faaria: "Ha ha! Yeah I thought that too."
  Silence.
• Familiarity. and how it doesn't breed contempt.
• Striking up instant, close friendships with strangers who speak your language, where everyone else speaks in a strange tongue.
• Being without the things you take for granted, making life a little more interesting and meaningful.
• And drinking green tea out of coca cola cups in the hotel grounds, on a wet wall that's freezing your butt, and under some tree still dripping rainwater...giving you the chance to look at your life from this distance: you still feel lost, small, and helpless...but less alone.

'Speak in the name of those who cannot write. If the poet did not make himself a spokesman of the human condition, what else is there for him to do' (Neruda)

This is not the quote of the week. The quote of the week is below, by Chrono (sigh). What's that? The quote of last week? The quote of last week was: "I'm sorry, did my pin get in the way of your ass!? Lose five pounds this instant or get out of my building immediately!" (ahem, Mugatu)

Anyway, so the former was inspiration, which has got me wonderring once again weather I should try to publish my poetry... But then, no one really reads poetry nowadays. Maybe I should sell my poetry to some band who'd wanna use it as lyrics, and that way I can get people listening to it! ..Nah, I'm not sure if that's a good idea.

In any case.
Rome.
(Grinns like an idiot)
..Has almost made me forget my maddenning desire for a lip piercing, which I have concluded, would add charm to my otherwise daft smile. And yet no one in the Ali nuclear or extended family seems to appreciate someone with creative vision :( -that's just another way of saying, they're tired of tollerating my insanity. Pish. Elest cares not.

Oh yeah,

Terribly impressed interviewer, staring dreamy eyed at an Elest who's been blagging off a bunch of rubbish about customer service like she really can't be faffed: "You know, you seem like a very intellegent person and you have previous retail experience. I won't ask you any of the other questions." (Puts down pen) "I'd like to offer you the position."
Elest: (thinks- what tha? Oi!)

I got a 2 day job during Christmas sales. And I dind't even want it. Conclusion: If you want something, don't want it, and you'll get it.

What have you done, lowest of the low. You so beneath my contempt, you have not even a name! You dare touch my contractor, you dare hurt what's mine!!

Ahem... quote of the week courtesy of Chrono Crusade.
-oh Yeeaah! (does silly dance. Stops. Does Mugatu-)...Chrono Crusade, it's so hot right now.
This of course, means there is a new anime I have no money to invest in and yet will find a way to non the less. All in good time (Muwaha haa he he he).

Meanwhile, I'm listening to Rise by Origa, which I stumbled upon by chance while looking for something else from Ghost in the Shell. In fact, I think this whole week has been full of stumbling upon cool things. Funny that. How life has a way of imposing things on you when you think you don't want them, but then you realise: hey, this is neat.
Elest has had an epiphany.
Let it go.

Thank God for absurdities.
Thank God for great distractions.
Thank God for the inspiration and those unexpected moments of epiphany that silly little things are capable of instilling.
Thank God for Pathos when you thought you'd turned to stone.

Now listening to Inner Universe by Origa and Yoko Kanno.
I'd started on a light note and now I've gotten serious again. Sorry, lets end this light ;)

Thank God I'm immature as hell! WOOHOOoo!! -The current object of Elest's effections is Chrono. :)
(does a Mugatu-) Chrono, he's so hot right now.

I recomend getting your heart trampled on to anyone
I recomend walking around naked in your living room
Swallow it down (what a jagged little pill)
It feels so good (swimming in your stomach)
Wait until the dust settles

I recomend biting off more than you can chew to anyone
I recomen sticking your foot in your mouth at anytime
Throw it down (the caution blocks you from the wind)
Hold it up (to the rays)
You wait and see when the smoke clears

You live you learn
You love you learn
You cry you learn
You lose you learn
You bleed you learn
You scream you learn ...(Alanis Morisette)

-and a fat lot of good it ever does you.

I'm staying up at nights, with no excuse and nothing to do, because I don't want to sleep.
I'm putting myself to sleep in the middle of the day, because I don't want to be conscious.
I'm sitting here staring at this screen with nothing to write, nothing to say and nothing to think.
I'm listening to music, the irrelevant kind, trying to block it all out.
And it's working.

Feel Yippeeee!-fied: Got an email just now from Father Figure no. 2: Gordyy! He's sooo sweet :)
(I just had a thought, I get more emails from Father Figure no. 2 : Gordyy than I do from Father. In fact, I suspect that if I was to write to Father Figure no.1: Sting, the chances of me getting an email back from him would be greater than getting one from Father (and speaking of Father, I had the absurd desire to listen to Joe Cocker and I've been doing so for the past few days (not now. Now I'm listenning to Savage Garden, which I haven't heard in ages)))

Feel vaguely amused: Crazy Irish neighbours have found another excuse to rejoice in celebration of having no reason to celebrate, no doubt (Because the frequency at which they celebrate, thay aught to have run out of reasons long ago). They're blasting crap Irish music again and what's worse (wait for it) singing along to it. I suspect by 3:00 am they'll get pissed enough to start fighting amongst themselves, at which point, said fight will spill out into the street and guests/friends will tuck tail and return home. Until the next excuse to resume this cycle.

Feel like pot: How do I cope with this? I don't, I'm imune to it. I'm also wearing freaky eye makeup which Huden (talking to Daoud abi) just told me to wash off coz it looks freaky (which was the point) - man, haven't I the right to do what I want to my face at un-Godly hours of the night when no one has to see it? They never let me get my lip pierced either :( WHICH I STILL WANT BY THE WAY!

Feel sick: Has any one else noticed that Hershey's choclate has a vomit like after taste? Bloody yanks aint got nothing against Cadburys.

Feel the need to be superficial: otherwise I might succumb to the urge to shave off half my hair- which would be a big shame coz it's only just started looking half decent after the last dissaster. In fact it's looking rather rock stylish- hmmm...maybe I should get the scissors and give it a more punk edge...NO STOP, YOU'RE DOING IT AGAIN!

David Bowie was cute when he was Ziggy Stardust.
Jeff Buckley was cuter.
I'm listening to Hallelujah and feeling like a razor blade.
...
Damn.

This is not exaggeration. It's not self indulgent, live journal, angsting. And it's not vomit-ranting of all the thoughts that don't agree with my system.
I've lost sleep trying to make sense of this.
And this is what it looks like:
I embraced my disillusionment a long time ago.
I've been taught to compromise everything.
And I'm grateful for every last bit of it.
Now I'm at a point in myself where I've very nearly given up trying to fight for the second half of my life.
The half I grew up hoping I wouldn't have to compromise.
But the things you said last night brought back every one of my doubts and every last self-destructive bitternesses towards an injustice I have no power against.
And who's gonna take responsibility for it?

You know the great classic romances...no kisses...Nothing at all. Very pure. That's why they're great. Feelings that are unspoken are unforgettable. (Nostalghi- Tarkovsky)

They exchanged notes like children. My grandfather made his out of newspaper clippings (...) Meet me under the wooden bridge and I will show you things you have never, ever seen. The "M" was taken from the army that would take his mother's life: GERMAN FRONT ADVANCES ON SOVIET BORDER; the "eet" from their approaching warships: NAZI FLEET DEFEATS FRENCH AT LESACS; the "me" from the peninsula they were blue-eyeing: GERMANS SURVIVE CRIMEA; the "und" from too little, too late; AMERICAN WAR FUNDS REACH ENGLAND; the "er" from the dog of dogs: HITLER RENDERS NONAGGRESSION PACT INOPERATIVE...and so on, and so on, each note a collage of love that could never be, and war that could.

(J. S. Foer)

Sadness of the Fickle Human Nature:

or Why Being Enlightened and Being in Love is the Same.

-another one of those rants by someone who thinks too much at ungodly hours of the night-

I'm sitting here finding new sadnesses for Brod's list. I'm wonderring why it's so easy to come too dangerously close to losing something that ought to justify everything about why you ARE. And what do you call that then? What's close enough when even 'if', you have no other way to be? I'm listenning to crap, sad music (because everything human is imperfect and with it we have a tallent for creating bathos) and drawing out the difference between believing that God is One, and knowing that God is One.

How do I attest to a single truth when I'm condemned to change? How many faces can you face in a single reflection?

My enlightenment is not the life of a recluse nor an end to anything, when life persists.

It is to be constant in an inconstant world.

-And here's the Shakespeare part, not because no self respecting rant should be without Shakespeare, but because I don't know anything more relevant to all that I want to say these days, and fail so miserably at doing so.

Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

(...) it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

This here, is me flirting.
I am not in love.

She wished there were another commandment, an eleventh etched into the tablets: Do not change.
(J. S. Foer)

I'm gonna go back to writing poetry no one reads.

Sounds: very loud Hajime Chitose.
What am I trying to drown out? My life. Is it obvious? Does my honesty scare you? Then piss off coz it gets worse.
Speaking of which, my ingenious bowl-of-fruit metaphor to justify Ryo's Musical snobbery has gone hay-wire after listening to the last CD he gave me.

Elest when checking out CD: What tha-??? Wha-?? What is this? Is this right? Did he get the CD mixed up with one of his sister's stuff? ..SHIT, WHAT'S GOING ON? WHAT IS THIS?! AAAAARGH! MAKE IT STOP! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY MORE!

ahem. I like Hajime Chitose. Hajime Chitose rocks. I think I'll make it louder.

Meanwhile: Hope that after I've gotten all this out of my system I'll have the courage to delete it and everything will be fine in the way it is when you have a secret you'll only tell to tree hollows, and cats stuck on roofs, and bottomless wells, and holes.
So I'm telling it to cyber space.
To the space that no one can read, that is the between of The Lines.
Or the space where speech-bubble-question-marks would appear above your head in an ideally cartoon world. (wouldn't that be ideal? If we were all more expressive.)
Because this is just too absurd.

Now to answer the most-asked-question of the moment, upon popular demand.
Our question was: "Elest are you blind? Or stupid? or both?"
And the answer is: Both. And a tad pathetic.
But you can't stop just because you're told to.You can't pull a switch or simply turn it off from the mains. You can sleep. And then wake up again and want to pull a switch, or something more humanly possible. (pause rant.)
...
I'm not writing this for you, I'm writing it for me. And I'm so glad you'll never read it.

So I'm starting all over: Count the days and the weeks and hopefully by the time it's months, I'll wonder why I was being so stupid.
I wish I could tell you not to call me again. But that'd just make me seem more pathetic.

I promise I'll delete this when I'm feeling better.
I promise I'll feel better.

-Grow up believing you're gonna change the world,
And you lose faith in your humanity.

-Grow up believing you're gonna become something meaningful,
And you lose sight of what that meant, in a plight to find your calling by trying to draw meaning out of every meaningless thing.

-Grow up with a crush on Peter Pan,
And you end up a late bloomer attracted only to 'boys' who are boys in all the wrong ways and the half-starved-feminine types, for reasons which couldn't possibly be sexual.

-Grow up daydreaming,
And your scepticism towards dreams has driven them away from off your pillow forever.

-Grow up seeking lonely roof tops,
And you're forever trying to surround yourself with people to drive away the dissapointment of all those lonelinesses never having done anything for you...
And you're avoiding starry skies like you avoid an old frined you never bothered to keep in touch with; because the awkwardness of not knowing what to say, even after having been so close once.

-Grow up wanting to grow into Amalthea,
And you become something dark-goth, in mourning of the innocence and puirty that never stood a chance.

-Grow up not believing you'll ever grow up,
And you don't, even though you do.

Standing at this crossroads, jet-lag from the disilusionment still lingerring, is a kid. And they keep telling him/her, already (not a moment to lose), that apparently he/she's got his/her whole life ahead of him/her.

I've got my whole life ahead of me
And I'm terrified because I don't know what to do with it.


The world's your oyster. Have it raw.
And if it make's us sick, maybe we can get our money back.

I am not sad.

When it comes to falling, do men hit harder? Is the velocity stronger? Has it something to do with weight? Our physical make up? Or is it that our masculine fellow beings are the pansy girls who moan more over their pain?
Maybe it's cultural?
Maybe we've been fashioned by a world which has no sympathy for melodrama; so that we can't allow ourselves the the indulgence...to wallow in self pity, to wallow in desperation, to wallow in the sadness eating up inside.
You do not deserve sympathy.
You do not deserve comfort.
You do not deserve this sadness, when others have sadnesses that are so much more real.
I hate you for wanting to.
I write it on your flesh, your limbs, where you can see it and not forget.
So it begins all over again. Some things just won't take the hint and piss off for good. They're like those annoying acquaintances you never wish you made.
Any way, initially there was more to this crap I've been needing to spew all week, but couldn't. I deleted it all and fealt real good afterwards.
Sometimes though, it's better not to say anything. Not because apparenlty in 22 years of not saying what matterred to make a difference, because I never knew what it was, and because it may not have been proper -(and I'm sorry if you're reading this and still finding it improper and too personal. If it makes you ashamed, then don't.) -but because words are so ugly.
STOP TRYING TO GIVE MY CONFUSION A NAME WHEN ITS TOO BIG AND MESSY FOR ME TO CONTAIN IT IN SHAPE. STOP WATERING DOWN MY FEELINGS.

J Rockers are Dorks
-I have no idea who made this, but thank you. Lol!
Ps. Spot the Haido.

Film: Kung Fu Hustle. (one hell of an original plot, don't think there was a single cliche in the story- except the obvious spoofs which were necessary to make it a...well, spoof.)
Sound: You Already know -Devotchka (we're spreading our musical interrests to the Balkans now. Japanese was extraordinary for a while, but the novelty is wearing out.)
Literature: Everything is Illuminated. Again.
Inspiration: Falling In Love, 1791-1830 is the most beautifully written chapter in the history of beautifully written chapters.
Imagination: Somewhere between an Egyptian Oasis and the Jewish/Human fault line of Trachimbrod/Sofiowka.
Withdrawl Symptom: It's not what you're thinking. If it was, it might be much easier, and less scary. Because sometimes nothing seems more right.
Angst: A would-be writer reading a brilliant writer is like a hamster in a hamster ball. The ecstatic inspiration you draw from a piece of literary genius makes you want to run a marathon with your own words, but you're always restrained within the orb of your mediocre tallent. You'll get to where you want, but only in hamster-in-a-hamster-ball way.
Something to be proud of: I dropped my mom's mobile phone into the soup during sahoor (and that means the time when you wake up before sunrise to eat. If you don't know that, that means you aint Muslim or Shakila. And that means tough!)

Mom: Give I'll show you the message.
Me: Here-
SFX: Plop.
Mom & Me: AAAAARRRRGHHH! (arms waving about. extended and exagerated expression of horror, Greek tragedy chorus style.)
-It survived though.

Speaking of Sahoor: ...

Huden: 1, 2, 3, 4...errr, Why is there an extra egg at the table?
Mom: Because someone whose kismet it is will show up to eat it.
Elest: What, at this time of the night?
Mom: Shutup!

Huden: It's way past the time now, stop eating.
Me: Everyone spit it out! Spit it out!
Saimecan: Nooo, I have to drink water. Where's the water? QUICK!
Mom: Huden, you finished all the water again!
Me: Spit it out! Spit it out!
Saimecan: I have to drink water! Give me water quick!
Huden: You can't man, it's past the time.
Me: Ha ha ha ha ha-
Saimecan: You shut up, you sponge! you finished all the water!
-I'm going to miss Ramadhan.

Sound II: Sura Ya'sin (that's a bit more befitting.)
Angst II: ...So I'm going to curl up in a foetal position and immerse myself back into my brilliant book and not come out.

I am not sad.

I swear by time
Most surely man is in loss
Except those who believe and do good, and enjoin on each other truth, and enjoin on each other patience.

-Holy Koran: Surah Al Asr-

(Thanks Jarrad.)

• Steven Spielberg must be one hell of a pain in the ass to watch films with, because ever since Saimecan started this media course, she has been meticulously scrutinising the life out of every film I've attempted to watch with her. 'But this is what they teach us. This is what you have to do to be a director!' -I don't give a toss, take it some place else!
• Cute guy sitting next to me on the 29 bus takes out a copy of Alan Hollinghurst's 'Swimming pool Library' and begins reading it. Said book is an incredibly graphic piece of Shi(K)t about the escapades of gay men (I know this because of Queer Theory.) ...'should have sussed it by the way he was dressed too cool.
• What's that? ..Oi SHUDUP, I can't help being attracted to metro-sexual men!...and any way, how was I supposed to know he'd crossed the border?
• I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: Tauwba, lower your gaze in the month of Ramadhan at least...otherwise direct it some place else!
• And I'm thinking: You are absolutely right my friend. See if everyone in my life actually gave me some advice instead of just thought things, I may have been a better person.
• Since we're on the topic, notice how in the Koran it's: 'Tell the believing men/women to lower their gazes.' Whereas in the Torah and Bible it's: 'THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOURS WIFE!' and '...And if thine eye offend thee,(in regards to oggling thy said neighbour's wife) pluck it out, and cast it from thee!' respectively. (Wow, sometimes I reallys surprise myself.)
• ...And yet it seems I won't hear the end of people telling me Islam is harsh.
• Meanwhile I've decided that life is too short and it could be too beautiful to waste away doing things you don't want to. I'm talking about office jobs. I'm talking about admin or racking your brain energy for the benefit of some empty, boring, greedy fatso you gotta kiss up to coz he writes your pay cheques. I'm talking about selling your soul, and I hope to God I don't regret saying this one day.
• If this means that I'm never going to live up to some people's standards of a respectable individual complete with mortgage, car, family and good bank credit -I show said people my middle finger. And I show it some more to everyone who asks me if I have got a graduate-befitting-job yet, because I am very generous with my middle finger.
• And I'll tell you why. Because I aint living for this life. I aint gonna build an empire I have to leave behind when I'm DEAD!
• The plan then, and I mean the immediate future plan, is to get one or more remotely interesting part time jobs, which will not only be intellectually stimulating or fun or rewarding or all of these, but will also give my brain the space to breath and work for itself, so that I can concentrate on what really matters, which right now is: Writing (tada!). I think I could do this until the opportunity for a drastic change in my life shows itself at some point.
• Also, maybe I can start trying to change the world, one good deed at a time, like Amalie.
• Sarah, I think You're right, I think my Blogs are starting to get very serious and maybe a tad dark :(
• In that case, let's lighten things up: I WANT CUTE SNOOPY UNDERWARE FROM H&M! I WANT IT IN PINK!

Time: 01:16

Oww: Head ache.

Ha ha ha -notice the tone of sarcasm: 'Elest, does any one ever mistake Haido for a guy?'

'Riddle me this': Has any one heard of The Mars Volta? Televators? No?

Sigh: Ramadhan is not going as well as I'd like it to.

Grrrrr: This is because I'm just real crap.

Ah! Is that me? make it go away!: I think I'm gaining back the weight I lost this summer- according to some people, that's a good thing, but personally I was feeling the Ramses's mummy look, hence, am not feeling this. Not to mention, hair has now got a red tint to it. Thank you shiKt henna treatment- next time, I'm putting the whole pack of ebony in there, and I don't care if I turn out goth-black. Apparently we are Dark and there is nothing we can do about it. (and by 'we' I mean that in the multiple personality sense of the word, not the queen's-anal-retention sense of the word.)

Clang clatter clatter: Time to pull off emotional armour and start losing appetite and losing sleep again. Might as well turn Dark into Tortured-Byronic-Poet Darkness, think I can pull it off with my new Highway man coat too (and I mean Highwayman, in the cute-heroine-out-of-Shakespearian-cross-dressing-play sense of the word. Freedom to the female roles! Or Freedom to boy actors from the indignity of wearing dresses on stage, even if only for a little while! -Take your pick.)

Hmmm: Oddly enough though, as unattractive as we've been feeling (and by 'we' I mean that in the Shakila and I sense of the word, not the multiple personality sense of the word.) apparently two silly young ladies turned quite a few heads down in London today! Oh behave! -By the way, we've decided to speak Jane Eyer English from now on. Out with the 'crushes' and 'liking' and 'chemistry' nonsense- a direct result of the bane of our day and age; being cynicism and scepticism, and basically the Beauty-of-Simple-Innocence making cartwheels in its grave.
From now on, I'm falling in love man, there and then, on the spot! Ideally my true feelings will be concealed by deep hate, intimidation, or fear, until the fateful moment: OH MR. ROCHESTER! -'reader, I married him.' end of story...and no false promises of anything happily-ever-after either...after all the guy is too old, ugly (though I refused to accept it throughout the book.) and now blind too!

Here's my spin on what Jane Eyer should have said at the end (mind you, Bronte's ending sucked): 'Reader, I promise you we encountered a great deal of human waste in our lives- and the kind that thoroughly disagreeable company generally use that obscene 'S' word to describe with. That kind.
Our relationship was far from smooth, our lives hardly Barbie, and there were many a rainy day when we could find no bread to have with our broth, because the last shilling went towards paying for the marraige councelling bills. Not to mention, I hate dogs, and Mr. Rochester is so attached to his guide bitch.
But you see reader, if I didn't marry him, I would have regretted it till the day that my miserable essence ceased to linger in this cold and lonely world...Because I believed for an instant that flawed little me and flawed little he were meant to perfect each other. Jigsaw puzzle style.
So do you think me daft, that I call this, the ability to endure a togetherness that was often times very vexing and taxing and all that stuff, love? We are human after all, very capable of hating one another...so why is it I must understate those kinder feelings in me?'

I think once upon a time we believed we were deserving of wielding an emotion very near to something divine. A heroic, romantic history of poetry and stories attest to it. When did we lose faith in ourselves?

Close parenthesis. I'm going to bed.

Know, oh beloved, that man was not created in jest or at random, but marvellously made and for some great end.

(Al-Ghazzali)

-Daifuku Mochi...yumm :)
and it's an acquired taste, thank you.

You know what rocks about writing free lance and earning peanuts for the articles you are then forced to edit, re-edit and cut down (damn, unappreciative creativity stunters!) even when you were originally given a large word limit?

Walking up to the ticket desk at the Barbican and saying "I'm press". That rocks! Especially when you're then pointed in the direction of the press desk, where you will be collecting your free, pre-booked tickets :) Heh Heh heh...But remember:

1. Shakila is never on time.
2. DON'T RUN IN YOUR KNEE HIGH NEW ROCKS!
3. Never take your 17 year old sis to see Kronos Quartet, and expect her to behave herself or refrain from making very politically incorrect remarks, and loud enough for you to wish you were invisible.
4. Never try to be in two places at once.
5. A Kronos and Asha Bhosle concert, Bollywood as it was, is by far more enjoyable than any private view full of Shakila's idea of 'buzzing beenies!', especially when said beenies are pissed.
6. (In fact, I rather enjoyed it (The concert.).)
7. (...augh, hate being arround people who've been drinking. Human beings get so stupid when they're in that state, it's insufferable (and if you think making small talk with people with whom you have nothing in common is bad enough, try doing it when the barricades of self control and self awareness have fallen, and you're standing there trying to console a complete stranger when she's ranting at you about how difficult it is to be a phtographer in a male dominated system (I really felt sorry for her, not only coz she's been having a hard time, but God, the state she was in! (It's not that she was doing anything really embarrassing, but you can see it: that numb resigned look, the loss of human grace, an absence of dignity...and it's times like this i really appreciate why alcohol's haram (So why do we do it? To fill the emptiness? For lack of something to cling on to? -sorry, it's just that I'm having a hard time grasping how ending up like some of the people last night is fun (from what angle like? (Am I not seeing something? (Have I boxed myself in too many brackets? (Aaaah snuggly bug...this is comfortable- feels like receding into your self on a train of thought.).).).).).).).).)
8. Right, out we get (9 of them!) ..where was I? -ah yes:
9. Posting yourself by the toilets to say "Heyyy, you gotta pee too eh? ;) " to the said pissed beenies in the toilet que, is a hilarious chat up tactic, but is not to be put into practice under any circumstance. (This is feeling a bit shallow after my parenthesis thing.)
10. Heh heh, it's a funny thought though...Shakila you crazy cookie!
11. And finally, Never eat anything after midnight, no matter how many meals you've skipped and how starving you are.

So far Ramadhan hasn't had a very good start at all, but I swear I felt something the first two days, and I aint giving up yet. We're still at the beginning. I'm getting this article out the way and pulling myself together. Lets hope we stay together for the duration of the month...and, perhaps if we're lucky, the duration of what follows.

My next door neighbour died two days ago. He was really nice. Now his wife's all alone, and she's an old lady and i don't think they had kids. I'm ashamed of myself when I see how strong she is. Allah (swt) rest his soul inshallah.

Right, I'm off to find myself some more brackets.

'...And whoever fears Allah, He will make for him a way out, and will provide for him from where he does not expect. And whoever relies upon Allah, then He is sufficient for him.' (At-Talaaq)

• Bloody stupid two-hour-long-anti-climax-of-a-film!
• (Why the hell can I not get onto Blackwells Online?)
• (Sod it, getting back to yesterday...)
• ...Howl was fit though :)
• Yes I'm immature, you got a problem? I still have a crush on Peter Pan!
• (And Aladdin)
• (And inspite of the fact that now I'm old enough to see just how politically incorrect Disney's little spin on Sherazade's immortalised quite-litteral-life-saver is, I still go all fuzzy inside watching it.
• (I suppose that just makes me a stupid girl, right? Dispite the New Rock boots, and freaky don't-mess-with-me jewlery.).)
• (Sod Aladdin too. Where were we? ...ah yes.)
• I'm a bad daughter who got lectured yesterday. But it wasn't the thought of fit Howl that got me through it, and yet also added some turbulance to the bumpy ride that was Guilt Trip.
• Come up to meet you. Tell you I'm sorry. You don't know how lovely you are. I had to find you. Tell you I need you. Tell you I set you apart. Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions. Oh let's go back to the start. [...] I was just guessing, at numbers and figures. Pulling the puzzels apart. Questions of science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart. tell me you love me. Come back and haunt me. Oh when I rush to the start. (Cold Play- Scientist)
• Wow, what a waste of time...It's 4:00 in the morning, should probably go to bed and try to sleep.
• I kinda feel like Ice cream though.
• Well since we started this blog with movies, maybe I can finish it on that note: Motorcycle Diaries has made me want to buy a one way ticket to the remotest corners of some random country (preferably South America or Morocco), and just try to survive. In the hunter gatherer sense of the word- like screw hotel lobies, it's all about hitch hicking and taking shelter with strangers.
• There is a great deal of comfort in the thought of getting lost.
• Don't think anyone would come back packing with me though :(

- I laugh at your misfortune, stupid steriotypical female character, comfortably self indulging in the clear cut black & white dilemas your stupid Hollywood film is capable of throwing at you: HA HA HAAA!

**Hmmm, now where did we put that mug of green tea? Oh bother, it's in the kitchen.
You know, I got so desperate for feline affection this morning, i nicked our neighbours cat :) ...This is post-my encounter with Molier/Moliaaaa however u spell it. (sigh) it matters not, because for me, he will always be snuggly-tubby-puff-cake, memories of whom are making the pain in my back more easy to bear. Ouch. Yo guys aching too? I got home at exactly 1:19 last night, and everyone was 'manufacturing zzzzzzs' in the ever memorable words of Sasha the Shapka. -"Do not dub me that!"

That was so fun though, let's do it all again sometime soon. The heavy boxes too.
Meanwhile I gotta go and wash the dishes. Ouch...Woe to me, the world is so insensitive. Hence, I will put it off for as long as I can, just to spite it. The world I mean. The world which doesn't really give a shiKt about my dishes or domestic chores. That world.
But I pretend it does, coz when you make out like you're some '(you are) THE ONE (Neo)' super-heroin, whose great powers (which are destined to benefit mankind) still lie dormant and waiting to be awoken at the appointed time -and once enough kitchen utensils have been cleaned-...then life becomes more interresting, ne?

But has anyone ever asked me about my feelings on the matter? Oh No, fate's just dumped this thing on my lap, like an unwated puppy, without caring weather or not I'm ready for it. Perhaps I want to lead an ordinary life like everyone else. Perhaps I just want to wash my dishes...how do you think I feel about benefiting mankind. Does anyone give a crap? WELL?! (sigh) -thus is the fate of the super heroine :( at least I have my trusty snuggly-tubby-puff-cake by my side. He will roll on your face and suffocate you!

"Hey lady, don't die! Uh oh, her life's passing before her eyes, this is no good is it."- Ehem, sorry, the crazy is trying to come out again. Wait let's back track and try one more time.

**Hmmm (again), now let's see who's online: My bro, Jarrad and...Mooshoo? -oh, it's Misaki's Pat. Ok, I'm off. OFFFF I SAAY! and also, as of now, I have decided to spell my 'ouch'es with 'W's: OWCH!
...man this film Saimecan's watching, Hollywood as it is, has started to sound interresting, maybe i should join her.

Owch.

This whole emotional armour thing has really gotten out of hand i think, because last night i accidentialy dealt a worm in my balcony a fatal step-on and didn't even wince when i realised it. Bare foot. Kill Bill style, you know with the eye thing...OUT VILE JELLY! -no, that's King Lear. Oh God, I think I've really lost my mind :)

CURSE YOU MR. DARCY! ...It's pot lid and bunocuilars, what you want? -These are not withdrawl symptoms, and I swear on the HIGH I hate least I am not Uncle. wooo hooo, this is fuuuuun!
'Go and catch a falling star'...Here's to the annoying butterfly in The Last Unicorn:

Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, ..........Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark ............That looks on tempests and is never shaken.
-When you've gone and said/done something completely idiotic, you can always suddenly quote Shakespeare and people will think you're some tortured, maddened genius with a great deal of depth beneath that shattered surface of what is your public facade!
WOOHOO, I SPEALT THAT SOOOO WRONG!

I used to have some depth to me, I swear...it just seems to have gone. Traceless like. And I have this sneaking suspicion that it may have something to do with the emotional armour I've been clad in for so long. Which is useful for when you don't want to let things get to you, but then, while it's keeping out the crap, non of the stuff which actually does matter can penetrate either...and it leaves you out of synch from that more subtle rythem of life, that plays itsself on a level apart from the obvious.
And you can't face a night sky or the sound of rain any more. You feel guilty. Like you owe them something, and you've put off paying up, for so long.

What I'm trying to say is: I can't break down yet.
But DAMNIT, it's killing me.

Great, and it's 2:00 in the morning now.

...It's the rain that I hear coming. Not a stranger or a ghost. It's the quiet of a storm approaching. That I fear the most...Darling, when. When did you fall? when was it over? ... I suppose it is the price of falling in love.

-Delerium, Innocente-

boredom is fundamental non-awareness.

-Robert Wilbur-
(quote of the day courtesy of Bro)

Pre-Millennium Tension

-Tricky-
(inspiration courtesy of Ryo)

Vague feeling of annoyance followed by shoulder-shrug-indefferance.

-The awkwardness of answerring the door without a headscarf-
(courtesy of the Electricity Metre Guy)

Irritation

-Bladder is full and I can't be faffed to go bathroom-
(courtesy of Green Tea)

Insecurity

-People keep telling me I look like a cute guy in my Free Palestine T-shirt :( -
(courtesy of Tas and now Misba)

Revelation

-I need a job, quick-
(courtesy of regularly updated Blog)

Wow, the sky is so blue today I wouldn't mind if it fell on my head :)

Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a second's encounter with God and with eternity.

- Paulo Cohelo, The Alchemist-

(thanx Tas)

The fate lying in store for you is just too cruel...But there must be some meaning to it all. There must be some meaning.

-Casshern-
(An overblown video clip clinging to the excuse of a 3 hour movie, which by all accounts aught to suck, but is strangely moving at times...and beautiful.)

-I had cereal clusters and rubarb yogurt for breakfast. Apparently we're not feeling Barbarian today...although Yogurt is a Turkish invention (and a most ingenious one at that) but that's a different story ne?
-Augh! Which reminds me; a most rivvetting discovery about Elest, courtesy of my Bro Daoud: apparently I speak Turkish with Japanese intonations. How scary is that?
-Meanwhile I am still feeling very dejected over the prospect of having blown my chance to see 'Howl's Moving Castle' yesterday. Cursed be the dozey cow who informed me that the tickets had sold out, and without so much as a note of sympathy in her voice! (sniffle)
-Any way, it's being released officially on the 23rd. Plan is to take little Saimecanii with me, but anyone else who is up for it, pray do let me know (by the way, if you don't already know, Saimecan's a lunatic (she takes after me) so it'll be fun!)
-The qourn sausages I just had don't seem to have agreed with my anatomy, I'm feeling kinda...well how to put this...I think I'm gonna be sick.
-And speaking of being sick, went for a blood test yesterday and they sucked me dry of 5 bottles worth of the stuff.

Dude: Ok, last one...
Elest: (with the needle still in her arm) 5 Bottles!? If I'm aneamic I'm just gonna get worse!
Dude: Ha ha! Yeah that's what I was thinking! (takes needle out) Ha ha...right, could you put your finger on that please, just hold it in place- (sees the claw ring) BLIMEY! THAT'S GRUESOME, AND YOU WERE AFRAID OF THE NEEDLE!
Elest: Uh, yeah. Heh heh. (thinks: Oi I was SO NOT afraid of the needle!)
Dude: I'll just pop that on there, and thats all... Are you ok?
Elest: Yeah.
Dude: You sure?
Elset: Yep, sure. (thinks: Yes mate, I always look like I'm gonna pass out. it's perfectly normal.)

-And I been thinking about Shakila's question since last night (couldn't sleep again (wasn't alone it seems.).) why is it that we never like the guys who are nice to us, and instead we indure all this heart ache from the evil bastards in our lives?
Here's a hypothesis: maybe we deserve it? -Aaah, SHI(k)T! Mom just sprayed me with the spray gun she was watering the plants with! What the hell was that for?!

Time: 12:12
Day: Wednesday 7th
Location: Uncle's Biiiiiiiiiiig snooty house.
Sounds: Listenning to my cousins iPod- and she's only got Britney Spears on it, so I suppose I can be forgiven this time arround for jamming to 'Hit me Baby One More Time'. Maaan, this brings back memories of watching the video clip with Tas and wonderring how her stomach could be so flat. Now Britney's being air brushed on her album covers and WE'RE THE ONES WITH FLAT STOMACHS AND TWO PACKS! Sometimes the world is just :) Speaking of which, either my uncles mirrors are increadibly flattering, or I've lost even more weight (al). According to my mom, grandmother and (not so curiously) my grandfather though, this is nothing to be happy about.

Mom: Elest that skirt's too big for you and you're not pretty any more.
Elest: Hmmm (-and she's thinking: I'M UGLY! I HAVE NO JOB, NO MAN IN MY LIFE AND NOW I'M UGLY!)

Paternal Grandma: Oi where the hell's your butt gone? What did you do to it? I don't like this at all, men want something to grab. What's your man gonna do?
Elest: Errrr. (-and she's thinking: Huh, like I want someone grabbing my butt...bloody sexist cypriot ideaologies.)

Granpa: (addressing grandma) She's not gonna get a man! Sorry.
Elest: ... (-and she's thinking: crap, what's he doing here? More sexist cypriot ideologies!)
Grandpa: There are two things in life a woman should not be without; a good butt and a perfect belly button...
Elest: ... (-and she's thinking: Not the drinking out of a womans belly button story again, man this stufff is x-rated and I was subjected to it since I was 10, I can't take any more of it!)
Grandpa: ...and then it's the legs and so on and so forth. BUT THOSE (finger waving) ARE PRIORITY! Now I am proud of your belly button- and you have me to thank for that by the way, because I bullied the doctors into surgically fixing it for you when you were a baby- but as for your backside, you're useless. Sorry.

-and as if that wasn't enough, I had a 'life' talk with my uncle. Which included the inevitable, unavoidable reality of being stuck in the rat race till you die, once you have kids and get a morgage. To which the only alternative is being a bumm who no one will employ if you're idle for over a year 'so get your act together now!'
Elest: ... (and she's thinking: Thanx for doing the father talk with me, I really appreciate it, however it would be nice if you could be more encouraging and less threatening because the father-shaped-space-of-an-individual called DAD already gave me the "you're useless, and you're living in a dream world, you'll never amount to anything" treatment when he was here last month.)
And then he tells me his friends daughter (my age) is dating 'a muslim bloke, and religion doesn't seem to be a problem', followed by a questioning stare.
Elest: ... has the comfortable look of someone who is with a guy, but who doesn't feel the need to tell relatives about it yet. (and she's thinking: What a load of bollocks, I'm just very good at looking cool.)

Basically I've been torn to shreads :)
The only way to not care is to pretend you're made of stone and try to stop other people being hurt the way you're hurting, if only you'd stop ignorring it.
But it builds up right?
So here's my plan: In 2046 there is this ongoing theme about how in the olden days, when people had a secret to tell they'd climb a mountain, find a hollow tree and whisper the secret inside, then they'd seal it up with mud, so it was just a little easier to bare and no one would ever no about it. Now, post not-telling-your-problems-to-other-people talk with Ryo...which made me sad (and especially coz I don't like talking about myself either, but I don't want anyone else feeling like me)...I've decided that (drum roll) we each gotta find ourselves a tree. :)

It is my melodramatic ovary's turn to ovulate and so the blasted thing has had me twisting in pain all night, and now still all morning. Ouch.
Point: From now on I shall take after my friend Olga, and exercise my rights to claim moodiness when ever it suits me, based on the instability of my merciless female hormones.
I also exercise said rights to have a chocolate binge when I like. I woul'd like one now.
...
Cursed be the one that devoured the last of the toblerone!

Uh oh, what's that smell? ...have I mentioned before that barbarian Turks have fried liver for breakefast? If it so happens to be a special occaision breakfast, they will redily partake in some fried heart and lung aswell...and while preparing a salad they have a tendancy to sticking the ends of cucumbers to their foreheads, and the foreheads of anyone within close proximity of them. Yet there must be some meaning to all of this madness coz they did rule half the world once upon a time. In fact, the only reason why Turkey's going to the dogs today is coz of this national desire to conform to secular, european and capitalist imperialist ideals in the name of modernism and freedom.
Now where the hell is the freedom in suppressing culture and history and beliefe, and human rights along with it?

I say up with fried liver in the morning, cucumbers all arround!

Augh shiKt! The post I just wrote dissapeared on me! Sodd it, can't be faffed to write it again, so instead, here:

It's a beautiful dayyy

Right, now that I've stated the obvious and gotten that out the way, lets move on. But before we go any further, to clear this matter of, you know, all the pictures on this page...firstly, the fact that they're all Japanese is quite simply an absurd coincidence, and means nothing at all. The real androgynous one below with the maniac smile, is merely there to model my future lip piercing. And Kimura Takuya on the side is merely there for comic purposes (...yes, it was actually funny to start with, but now its essence still lingers coz I can't be bothered to take it off or put something in its place). Basically, and for the last time, I do not like them.
So that just leaves Hyde (who I do like), and frankly I don't care if no one else finds him attractive, Piss off man!

Jeez, what a crap way to start the blog which marks this glorious occaision of my connection to the net eh?

And here's an even crapper way to end it: Fin.

-HAA HAA HAA, How You Like That?! :p


...Nah, ok, I'll be back when I got somthing worth writing to write.

(sigh) the suspense of expecting your net connection to cut off any minute when your time runs out at the Net Caffe... :) Hello. Limbo has started to feel like home now, but by no means do I intend to settle in, coz it's makeing me a very iratable person, and apparently, 'resigned to my cynicism'...which means I'm just loving my misery. But it will not be so. Oh no. and now I must TALLY-HOOO-OFF! coz i got 2 minutes in which to post this.
He he, adrenallin rush, lets see if i can beat the clock :)

Now:
I am a graduate.
I am a graduate with nothing to do.
I am confused.
I am a would-be writer with writers block.
I am taking my angst out on junk food.
I am a sister in law.
I am not an aunty-(that rocks)-to-be...yet ;)
I am craving sushi.
I am skint and in debt.
I am listening to Accoustic Alchemy in my mind.
I am regretful whenever those black wings cast their fragile shadows on my mind.
I am haunted by existentialism.
I am a full time cynic and a sceptic who is trying to believe the glass is half full.
I am still trying to win my mother over by applying to her aesthetic taste.
...so she'll let me get my lip pierced.
I am a 22 year old child, and more immature than my little sister.
I am pissed off at my father. Truely and forever.
I am having very strange dreams.
I am a brunette...once again.
I am smiling :)

...In retrospect, a new spin on Eelst's aspirations:


A lip piercing...


...along with the maniac smile.

How do you react in the face of utter not-knowing?
See what I mean.

ps. It's a guy.

No brakes.

Looking at it now, there is this sick sense of selfishness about the blog of late Wendsday night and early Tursday morning of the London terrorist attacks.
There is a sick sense of selfishness about how oblivious and superficial this piece of self-preoccupation is.
When you stand back and look at it all now, as a larger picture of past and present, there is something so small and self-absorbed and so increadibly stupid about it and about us and how we are and what we do
...and you think, God, knowing and watching in an existence outside our reality and perception limmited by the states of past, present and a future we will never know, even mili-seconds before it becomes now, must see us for how futile and ridiculous we are.
There is a sick sense of selfishness in feeling relieved over the fact that no one I know got hurt or dead.
There is an even sicker sense of selfishness about being able to move on.
We are selfish by nature. And I think it is because we're all so increadibly alone even in the misery we share.

...And finally there is something selfish about words, and about trying to explain or write or speak of other people's sufferring, in a selfish plight to show sympathy.
And though no one I know was hurt or lost, this has effected all of us more than we think...and not only because with every such act of selfishness we commit, we lose just that much more of our humanity.
Fasten your seat belts, from here on, either it ends or it's a chaotic plummet down.

I got a 2:1! Woooohooooo!..err, I mean, Alhamdullah! and what's more, Subhanallah!

Now getting back to..Ehem, there...getting back to ordinary life: The Da Vinci code rocks. it rocks so hard, it is a most ingenious and convincing book which has convinced me that my own gal-bladder is a free mason.
Suspect everyone.
Oh my God, as I write this (it happens to be 2:06 in the morning by the way) Saimecan is talking in her sleep! lol, she said somethig about openning something or other...and I probed her further, but everything else was unintelligeble, and now she's quiet again.

By the way;
Peas porridge hot. Peas porridge cold. Peas porridge in a pot, nine days old.
I bring this up because I noticed during dinner today that my grandma's Tarhana soup had little bits of potato and green pepper floating arround in it, although Tarhana soup isn't supposed to have any such thing (and if you don't know that, it means u aint a Turk, and it means tough!). Curiously enough we had had potato and green pepper stew the night before, which reminded me that in the Youghurt soup the night before that, there were bits of beans floating about, which also did not belong, and this drove me to conclude that my Grandma has been recycling left-overs. and for the remainder of my meal, I found myself mulling over the following hypothesy: If my grandma, hypothetucally speaking, used left-over bean meal in the yoghurt soup, and then left-over youghurt soup in tomato rice the following day, and then left-over tomato rice in meat and potato stew the day after, and left-over stew in Tarhana soup, until technically I can be having traces of the five day old bean meal, or something even older and more gone off, in my soup today. Apetizzing right :)

Also;
Much earlier in the morning today, Saimecan and I sat with the newspaper, looking through the TV times when my grandfather (who is hard of hearing (which is irrelevant here, but just so you know)) walked in, stood over us and asked if 'that' was today's paper. We told him yes, at which point he promptly, but not impolitely, took it from us, gave us the childrens colouring pages (apparently overlooking the fact that Saimecan is 17 and I'm 22) and then went off to spend the rest of his day in his chair and behind the Turkish daily news.
What did Saimecan and Elest do? They started colouring of course. But that is besides the point, because now I come to the most vital part of my narrative, which is when Saimecan had to go and colour in a green ground and blue sky behind the two little children they'd coloured into mice, and this is what followed:

Elest: Why did you do that for, It looks awful!
Saimecan: You wanted to leave it blank?
Elest: YES!
Saimecan: Wha- WHY?! ...Isn't this better?
Elest: It's depressing!
Saimecan: (bemused) Ha?
Elest: It places the mice against a flat, banal background, and frames them in an empty, meaningless, 2-dimensional world...like they're trapped in an immovable, unchangeable reality...a grim eternity of running across flat green fields and under an ugly blue sky...like beyode the pages waits an infinity of more of this...like there is no way out!
Saimecan: ...
Elest: Can't you see it? It's yelling: this is all there is to LIFE, you insignificant little non-entities!
Saimecan: (taking the pcture from Elest) Someone should analise you.
Elest: Yes, thats why I was seeing a shrink.

Hello. Been away from home for the past few days and hence no net. The latest news from this part of the middle east (CNN tells me Turkey is located in the Middle East apparently, inspite of the fact that Turks will swear on their old mother's lives we are European, and Asians will say we are in Asia coz someone loves us thank God...but then the Yanks think the entire world is divided into the U.S and the Middle East, right? so sod them.) where was I? woe to me, such is the curse of the Literature student (and I still havent gotten my results yet)- ah yes, latest news from this side of the Middle East is that Huden (with lovely tan and red Samsonite suitcase (damn, I have to get me a suitcase still (damn, I also have to get Ryo his Darbuka still)) has gone off to visit beloved Hubby Daoud in Yank Land. havent heard from her yet, so dont know if she got there safely. (Hint, hint, if you are reading this call, onegaishimasu!)

And also, I seem to be rather ill apparently. Now usually I just ignore my illnesses until they feel neglected and get bored and go away, but this time my mom's convinced I need to see a doctor coz who would be coughing and feeling feeverish and tired and head-ache-ified and yellow in the face in the middle of summer? (oops, sorry I'm always yellow innit? make that green then) any way, I'm determined to spend tonight making my mystery illness feel so unwanted, it pisses off before tomorrow morning, coz honestly, I don't feel like going to a doctor.

Speaking of illnesses though, here's an observation I made recently:
The greatest fear of the Barbarian Turk, is a draft. they would rather suffocate to death in the swealterring heat of a stuffy bus, than open the windows and get a draft. why? -'oh coz we'll catch a cold!' ....IN THIS DAMN WEATHER, BLOODY PANSYS!?

...ponderring over this, I also realised Cyrpriots, who like walking around naked in their houses, and going to bed in the nude, are the complete oposites of Turks who are so terrified of colds, they stuff towels down the backs of their kids/ husbands shirts. why? -'oh coz he's sweated so much, he's all soaked, he'll catch pnemonia and drop dead this instant!'

so what has being a mix of nude-walking Cypriot and overdressing-Turk made us? I like walking arround in my underwear when no ones at home, Saimecan wears trousers under her skirts even when it's not cold, and Huden is the normallest out of the 3 of us I think.

Thank you.

Day: 26 June 2005- Sunday(It's been a month since I turned 22. Still no significant occurance in my life, unless it somehow escaped my attention.)

Time: 15:22

Location: Bedroom.

Sounds: Polonaise...and Saimecan bickerring on about how when we were small and we were playing a game I'd tell her I was bored and leave at the most important part. She can be so begrudging sometimes...MAAAN, AND NOW SHE'S VACCUMING THE ROOM AT ME! She's seriously intent on ruining my music!

Smells: Cooking. It used to be lentills and rice but since my Great aunt and Grandmother came down and found their way into the kitchen, it's become a curious mixture of other things too.

Feelings: Pissed off at the stupid mosqiuto that bit me last night. Yes, still.

Aspirations: To sort out the family photo albums in the attic.

Long term aspirations: To acquire a very maniac smile. :) ...nah that didn't work, I need more practice.

Something meaningful: Apparently you have to starve a chicken for a day before you slaughter it. And apparently very enlightened Buddhist monks used to stop eating when they knew they were going to die. Now the question is; how do we know they weren't just starving themselves to death? ...Is this called scepticism, cynicism(AAH! Mom took the nuttella jar away, Iwas still gonna finger lick that!) or just disilusionment?

oh and also...I'm becoming more like my dad. and I need to go pee now.

meanwhile the strangest thing encounterred me the other day when I least expected it...




...As you will gather this p..ed me off very much, so this is what I did to it.

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/#110830722827025317

Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So its not hard to fall when u float like a canon

Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to cry
So come on courage teach me to be shy,
Coz its not hard to fall, and i don't wanna scare her...
its not hard to fall, and i don't wanna lose her...
its not hard to crawl when you know that you just don't know.

-Damien Rice-

Day: A very deceptive Monday.
Time: 05:36 in the morning.
Place: Bedroom, in front of PC.
Sound: This really funky new Turkish band called Manga (yes, like the comic)- they're kinda dark rock and heavy metal mixed, and I've liked all their songs till now coz not a single one has been about that all time terribly rinsed cliche, love...yes, 'tis all very angsty and miserable :)
Occupation: Have non...MAN IT'S DA HOLIDAYs, WHAT U TRYING TO DO, PISS ME OFF?!
Immediate occupation: oh, downloading anime and blogging.
At 5:00 in the morning?: There is actually a very good reason for this, other than the fact that I may well be sad or losing sleep over something. You see after Fajr I had some cat errands to run- namely giving Dibby attention and waiting over him while he eats (he's very depressed you see and he's lost alot of weight...not to mention the Evil Siamese has been bullying him).
Other than that I do actually have a reason to be writing this...yes, for once I has something to say...ehem...drum roll please...Huden and Daoud had their nikah four days ago! Why am I yelling? ...yes I know this is old news for me by now, but it isn't for you! Thats why I'm Yelling! :) So now in the eyes of God my Siss-poo be married. And then there was much rejoicing, bible style. And yes they be very happy. And yes they be terribly in love. And oh shut up you foo'. ...ntch, idiot! Ok, thats it, I'm changing the subject coz this is turning into one of those self indulging- 'dear diary, today Mr. Rochester was ever so wicked to me. I do believe he is quite in love with my Rhododendrons.'
...yawn. maybe I should go back to bed. Yeah thats what I'll do, I'll come back to this later... oh, Sasha just logged in.

If there is no love in the world, we will make a new world, and we will give it heavy walls, and will furnish it with soft red interiors, from the inside out and give it a knocker that resonates like a diamond falling to a jewellers felt so that we should never hear it. Love me, because love does not exist, and I have tried everything that does.

(J. S. Foer)

This morning 10:58
Elest: If I'm gonna royaly screw this exam up, I shall royaly screw it up with style. Therefore I intend to have a coughing fit in the exam hall, the duration of which I shall send all of my stationary flying, fall out of my chair, topple my table and the table next to mine over in an attempt to get back up, fail miserably at it, fall on my face and pass out in a glorious climax of coughing, wheezing and chocking out a few final lines of 'I'm the only gay eskimoo-ooo-ooo in my triiiiibe.' :)

Post Jap exam 17:00
Elest: ...

Now 19:10
Elest: That was not funny.

Right, well the question begging to be asked is thus: Why has the blog hype, suddenly fizzled out? I don't know.
Next question: why is Elest suddenly writing here again, after all she hasn't written here for almost a month now, and she didnt write anything memorable or comemorative on her last day of uni, or even on her essay deadlines. So why now? I will tell you. Because she finds herself at uni with a lot of time to kill. Gordy is having a meeting.
Personally I would say today is warm, however, its the wind you see, that makes it a bit chilly every now and then and blows the clouds about the sky, solely to spite me by casting a dark shadow over where ever I happen to be. Nah actually, I'm just taking the piss. Subhanallah!
Now, in addressing the issue at hand, which is life, as always, can Camus's take on the myth of Sysiphus be described quite simply as human resignation? I don't know, it's worth ponderring over a fag though. Meanwhile, I think I'm vaguely hungry...I also happen to hav a box of baklava here with me, but its not mine.
(Sombrely takes out a Terry's Chocolate orange from her bag. Scrutinises it. peals off sme of the foil. scrutinises it once agin. hesitantly takes a bite. chews. considers the taste. chews again.) ...OH MY GOD THESE TERRY'S CHOCLATE ORANGE EGGS ARE DELICIOUS! (takes another bite, with very less enthusiasm. chews. considers it. )...so why the hell am i not enjoying it then? What is wrong with you Elest?
Pish.

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.
So tell me when you're gonna let me in.
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin.

So if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know.
this could be the end of everything.
So why don't we go... so why don't we go-o

-Keane-

...Heeh heeh heh heh!

Since we were on the subject of Lacan..

'Fantasies have to be unrealistic, because the moment, the second that you get what you seek, you don't, you can't want it any more. In order to continue to exist, desire must have it's objects perpetually absent. It's not the 'it' that you want it's the fantasy of 'it'. Desire supports crazy fantasies. This is what pascal means when he says that we are only truly happy when daydreaming about future happiness. That's why we say the hunt is sweeter than the kill, or be careful what you wish for, not because you'll get it but because you're doomed to not want it once you do. The lesson of Lacan is, living by your wants will never make you happy, what it means to be fully human is to strive to live by ideas and ideals, and not to measure your life in terms of your desires but those small moments of integrity, passion, rationality, even self sacrifice...because in the end, the only way that we can measure the significance of our own lives is by valuing the lives of others.'

-The Life of David Gale-

Go figure...maybe thats why there is that little fleeting measure of beauty in the pang of pain you feel, when your heart is breaking the most...It might be the comfort of knowing that your suffering, or the immediate sacrifice of your desires is worth it in the long run...or it might be God telling you that he's there.

I can sense another surreal day coming up.
Meanwhile:

The cynic is a person who has a desperate faith in those things, which others are able to grow out of. We hold on longer to the lies we were told in our childhood...hold on and put off, for as long as we can, the responsibility of taking seriously a world, which is cold, and brutal and empty and so utterly lonely. Until eventually, the cold, the brutality and loneliness kills the will to keep standing up every time we're knocked down...and crouching safely in our corners, enduring the blows, but taking comfort in maintaining at least the dignity of not having to keep falling on our faces...disillusionment comes home, and shows us the abyss.
When the emptiness is a huge reality that will not go away, when all our little vehicles of escapism fall short and there is no fix, no amount of pixie dust which will transport us to an eternal plain of never having existed here, and like this; all we are left with is the world we've already rejected.

I'm looking for the strength to believe again.

• 
• Ideally I would like to start off by saying something in regards to Monday 14th, however an encounter with a certain individual a few days ago reminded me that wallpapers have ears, thus I shall be as quiet, quiet, quiet as a little quiet church mouse hiding in the vestry from the pervy priest. However, those of you who already know will understand when I do this: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
• Ehem...so, since I can't say anything in regards to Monday, I could instead start off by saying that the last blog I wrote pissed me off immensely by disappearing before I could publish it.
• But I won't.
• How is this for randomness: the night before last I got a call from Tarik. Just innit.
• And this: The contents of my refiridgerator (and I know I've spelt it wrong, I did it on purpose u see) amounts to slice cheese, 3 cartons of Innocent fruit smoothie (Shut up, I had to stock up when they were half price) and a lemon :) This tells me I should probably go grocery shopping.
• Perhaps I should start thinking about going today...what say you stomach? Hmmm, it growls: You'd best get some basic sustenance soon before I start consuming my own walls you irresponsible dimwit. And I don't like your hair!
• Yes, stomach has touched on a good point...The 'need-to-make-drastic-changes-to-my-life' mood has hit the shores of that fickle thing that is Elest's temperaments again.
• Thus on Monday I got 2 more piercings. We are now 6 piercings and counting. Heh heh heh!...though really I have no reason to chuckle idiotly about at this point in time because THEY HURT!
• And I am giving some serious thought to dying my hair purple.
• And no, I did not do the Boy George thing (yet), so anyone who intends to get married this summer (of which there are so many of you, that I'm beginning to suspect it is all just a ploy to spite me) don't worry, I shant be ruining the happiest day of your life by showing up with rock star hair that so doesn't go with the sari I borrowed off someone.
• Instead I am plotting an even more elaborate plan.
• And since we're on the subject of marriage, I am giving further serious thought to adopting a baby...and a Chinese one, preferably. Alternatively, I may go to China and work in an orphanage. Time will tell.
• Misaki chan gave me some DVDs of a popular Japanese teen drama called PRIDE last night. Say what? Of course it's in Japanese, foo! Does it have subtitles? Yes actually, it has Chinese subtitles. Now as useful as Chinese subtitles are, I'm afraid that since my Chinese is worse than my Japanese, I doubt I will be getting any of the jokes.
• Misaki chan said it'll help improve my Japanese. You will grant that under the circumstances, the likelihood of this happening is rather grim...but who gives a toss, the main actor in it is DAMN CUTE (well...kinda), so I'm gonna watch it any way.
• Have you noticed how this blog is following a very cohesive train of thought sequence...hmmm, neat that.
• Any way, before I dash off to engage in the increadibly important task of composing my shopping list, I no longer have a stupid crush on Joshua. It was the dorky bandana that did it I tell you. It was not Mexico.
• ...D'oh! I was so close! Noooo!...It was the final post!
• Stinky Covent Garden Cheese shop, here we come :(

Don't mind Ed, he's just running away from great balls of fire.

Now leaving Ed to his thing. I've had my poll up for an entire week now, and really you'd think people would be more enthusiastic about playing about with a persons life...i mean image, we are living in the sad age of reality TV post Big Brother after all. But noooo, I only got 3 votes. 3! WHAT THA HELL AM I SUPPOSE' TO DO WITH 3 VOTES? Ha!? Not to mention, 3 votes out of which, the validity of one is questionable, since it came from Misba... leaving me with a grand total of 2! I speet on them! ...and yet I am forced to make a decision. Both Sarah and Saimecanii chose hairstyle number 3... and the only other person (whose vote doesn't count coz she's Misba) in oposition of 'popular demand' chose the Spike. What does that tell me? That tells me the following:

• That tells me that Hairstyle 1 was propably too out of my league any way, coz I don't thinkmy hair is long enough to cut it in an anciaent Egyptian slant.
• That Hairstyle i-donno-what-number from the Hello video clip was probably too Rock Starish for some.
• And also that hairstyle Boy George was the least popular among voters.

So what will Elest do at this most critical moment? Elest will (drum roll) go for hairstyle Boy George. (Mad screaming and booing and confusion and utter chaos amidst the audience. Rotten vegetables are hurrled. In the panic old pensioners are crushed under the bustling crowd which has gone mad. the HOOLA HOOPS man yells 'oi you, walnuts! Noooooooooo!' The only gay eskimo in the crowd starts singing and waving a big pancart that reads 'We want more crazy naked runners down Camden High street.' People start beating each other up for no reason at all. John Stikes does a funny dance.) SHUTUP! (the crown freezes) I might be tempted to change my mind if I get any other votes by the end of today. (utter silence. a cricket can be heard chirping. somebody stomps on it.)

Now, I shall get back to my reading...will keep checking back here every so often. Meanwhile, be good :) ...what's that? Someone has a question- Why am I discriminating against Misba's vote? Coz she's Misba, thats why, and watch your stupid political correctness, you'll offend her.

I lost my wallet on Thursday.
My wallet was found.
But the wallet theives will never be.

On Saturday, (and as I tell you this, bear in mind that it's been snowing lately) at work, a heard of crazy naked men went running past the shop as they joged down Camden High Street...in nothing but their underwear. No, I don't know what to make of that either...it made me laugh though, for lack of anything else to do.

Oh yeeeeeees, and before I go I have one last thing to say. Drum roll please:
Check out my little Saimecanii's photography at Diviant Art! here's a direct link to her spot: http://raquhel.deviantart.com/ I'm so proud of her. she's so tallented, Mashallah!

Tally ho.

DIE WALLET THEIVES!
I lost my wallet. Thank You.
Now Lets move on.

To all mankind they were addressed, those cries for help still ringing in our ears! But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late! Let us represent worthily, for once, the foul brood to which a cruel fate consigned us! What do you say? It is true that when with folded arms we weigh the pros and cons we are no less a credit to our species. The tiger bounds to the help of his congeners without the least reflection, or else he slinks away into the depths of the thicket. but that is not the question. What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in this immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come.

-Samuel Beckett: Waiting for Godot-

Today's lesson children, is that if you sit arround waiting for your life to get some closure, not only are you gonna be disillusioned, but you're also gonna waste it away looking for things to pass the time. Basically, you either get busy living, or get busy dying...and that, is a quote from Shawshank Redemption, just so you can't sue me.
There. That concludes today's lesson.
You can run along now and forget about it.

And as a side note, we will not go to Starbucks again. Because Starbucks charges £1.75 for Hot Chocolate they are too stingy to put milk in. I've had it confirmed, by a branch manager no less, that 'StarBucks Hot Chocolate is made of powder chocolate and hot water madame, therefore it could not have made u sick.' ...Elest eyes him in the light of this unexpected revelation 'you mean to tell me there is no milk in your hot chocolate?' ...Manager, unmoved and unashamed 'No madame.' ...Elest, obstinately 'I don't care, this hot chocolate is OFF I tell you, I want my money back.'

Elest got her money back in the end. End of charming little anecdote.

Moral: If you don't want your money going to Commercial Imperialists cum Zionists, you will have to give up Star Bucks choclate cheesecake. And what is the liklihood of that happening? Pshaw! what do you take me for, someone with willpower? What's that? You wouldn't go so far? I'LL SHOW YOU WILLPOWER YOU STUPID FAT HOBBIT! mark me, from now on, no StarBucks...now the following question demands some acknowledgement, because I wrote it differently about 3 times during the past paragraph: how do you write StarBucks? With the space? without the space? 2 joined words? one word? 2 seperate words? Who gives a Shikt right? Yes. I agree whole heartedly.

Why do I waste my time doing nothing? I am waiting for the closure that is Godot, because I will never learn.

Ps. if you haven't noticed, the object of Elest's effections is currently Edward Elrick...sigh, beans will never be the same again :)
Pps. Now say 'Hagane no Renkinjitsushi' without falterring, or my little blond Alchemist up there will shock you with his mean lightning bolts.