tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62656785886627107342024-02-19T11:16:44.157+04:00Arrivals and Departuresmmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-84871902187064885502013-03-15T10:59:00.000+04:002013-03-15T10:59:22.759+04:00Well that's rude<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As we all know, there's a new pope and Google Reader is going to disappear. I find the second bit of news to be very offensive. And as someone using Google's Blogger, I'm a little concerned that my site might be next on the chopping block.<br />
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Well, not really. It's more that I'm annoyed with Google in general at the moment. And I'm a petty girl who likes to lash out irrationally when things annoy me.<br />
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So I'm moving: <a href="http://cantalouqe.wordpress.com/%C2%A0" target="_blank">http://cantalouqe.wordpress.com/ </a></div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-80425227609952390252013-03-08T10:20:00.000+04:002013-03-09T10:49:01.383+04:00The ones I idolized<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I was growing up, there were certain books that had characters I wanted and tried to be. They said things that I could imagine myself saying or wished that I could say. They had qualities that I thought made them great people. They faced issues that I thought were universal, dealing with them in ways that made sense to me.<br />
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Take <i>Little Women</i>. Every Christmas, from probably eleven to fourteen, I would read the book, and then sometimes its sequels. It taught me that I was supposed to constantly be good, even when it was very hard. The characters endure all sorts of trials and either blame their own shortcomings or chalk it up to their lot in life. No pains they endure are unjust or uncalled for or worth actively protesting (beyond lightly reprimanding someone for not trying to be good.) They just swallow their struggles and try to keep their heads up, without ever causing trouble for others. And I loved them for it.</div>
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But in the real world, people like that are called "sheep" and do not get spectacularly far.</div>
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Then there was <i>Franny and Zooey</i>. I still read this often and while I can say that I like the writing style (which I do,) there is also definitely a deeper connection. I will always connect to the existential crisis of Franny. Her discomfort with ego, yet her inability to rid herself of ego, which results in lying on a couch unable to do anything for all the conflict. I just wish I could take her brother's advice and perform for the Fat Lady. But alas, I am Zooey, not Seymour. Nobody is Seymour. And if you haven't read the book then you won't understand any of this....... and also you need to go get a copy of it like yesterday.</div>
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But the point is that I end up on a couch lamenting about ego instead of doing anything spectacular or risky or that might possibly be inconvenient for anyone else.</div>
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I would like someone to recommend a book to me about someone who takes enormous risks and doesn't care about offending other people or asking for favors. I want a strong protagonist who is ego and doesn't give a damn. A strong protagonist who does not fail and does not make me hate him/her. Although if you can't, that's ok too. I'll just blame myself and wonder who I think I am to request such a thing from others. (Insert winky emoticon here.)</div>
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mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-71976632439690592802013-03-06T17:25:00.001+04:002013-03-06T17:25:18.711+04:00You can tell it's spring....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You can tell it's turning towards spring when people become social again. We don't have spring here in terms of weather. (It's 5PM and currently 36 Celsius, aka 97 Fahrenheit. Summer is in full swing. In March.) But about a week ago, I noticed a change in my American friends. Suddenly they were all contacting me! I received a chatty email from a friend who has never emailed me. I received emails from others who had let the conversations lag. Skype dates have been requested. My Facebook wall and inbox started getting sprinkled with attention.<br />
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It's very lovely. And I think perhaps it has less to do with the weather and more to do with the longer daylight hours. Because even I feel that effect here in the land without seasons. And on that note, I must go shower to prepare for my later plans. Happy socializing!</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-23321472812836529592013-02-27T16:19:00.000+04:002013-02-27T16:19:17.458+04:00A taste of Arabs, through YouTube<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here are two YouTube videos that I find highly entertaining now that I live here. They mock some stereotypical things that Arabs do. Although both of them are made by American-Arabs, they definitely apply to many people here too. Enjoy!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/iyhpCZVmP-A?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
The first one is about Arab Hand Gestures. <a href="http://oxalic.intensify.org/" target="_blank">Sabrina </a>sent me this through email and the first gesture I did when I read the title was the "shway shway" one with the pinched fingers. It means "relax, wait" and I see it constantly! I used to think it was rude because a lot of time it's used similarly to a person putting up a finger in your face to tell you to wait one moment. But it's not meant to be rude, it's just meant to tell you to chill out or slow down or wait. And now I do it all the time, so....<br />
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This one was shown to me by my boyfriend. The part where the guy is playing video games and he's like "I'm on my way, I'm stuck in traffic" is the moment when I was like, yes, this is you. Also the bit where he says "I want her to smell me in Palestine." My boyfriend wears at least two colognes at a time and when he puts each one on, he sprays it at least twenty times. And the whole "Do you eat pork?" and the "astaghfirullah" is totally on point. Astaghfirullah means something along the lines of "May God forgive me" and is said when someone does something truly heinous. And eating pork is the one thing that is, for whatever reason, non-negotiable and worthy of horrifying people, even if some of the other rules have been bent. </div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-32769194069830238192013-02-20T15:08:00.000+04:002013-02-20T15:08:00.951+04:00Experience difference<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It constantly amazes me what a difference there is between my experience and the experiences of people I meet here. One person I know, for example, likes to insist that he's going to have me deported. Because he's an Emirati and has power in this country he thinks it'd be easy. But when he first informed me of his Emirati status, with all sorts of entitlement, I just laughed. "I'm American," I reminded him. And I meant it in a million of my own entitled ways. (My citizenship is more valuable worldwide. It's very hard to deport an American. And even if somehow he managed the feat, he'd be deporting me back to America, the land that people dream about.)<br />
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He didn't get it though, and I muttered to myself, "You know nothing of the world."<br />
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But really I meant that he knows nothing of <i>my </i>world. Because my experiences growing up were nothing like his. I never would have made an obnoxious comment about deporting someone, but that's because I had no concept of deportation until at least high school. This guy has possibly witnessed many deportations, former nannies or co-workers. At the very least, he's heard about it as a possibility for someone. Because it is always a possibility for the majority of the population here.<br />
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My boyfriend also constantly shows me how differently he grew up from how I grew up. This weekend, for example, there were roses. And I put a petal in my mouth, as if I was going to eat it. And he encouraged me to do so. And in a halfhearted attempt to convince myself to do it, I rambled about how some people do eat them in salads. But then I wavered because I wasn't actually sure about rose salads. So I said that I definitely knew people ate dandelions...<br />
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And then I paused and stated flatly, "You don't even know what dandelions are."<br />
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He's never seen snow either. As someone who grew up seeing feet of snow pile up at times, that is insane to me. On the other hand, I'd never heard a call to prayer before I lived here. And that's probably just as insane to him.<br />
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mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-34284579881207112932013-02-17T16:45:00.002+04:002013-02-17T20:50:44.908+04:00When education is a business<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This past weekend I met a large group of teachers through a friend, which lead to typical sharing of teacher stories. And one teacher was complaining about the changes to her school in the past few years. Originally, she loved the school and thought that it had great programs and goals. But lately it has become increasingly apparent that the school is for-profit and money has become it's number one goal, rather than education. The new principal, for example, refers to students and parents as "clients."<br />
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If you've ever worked retail (or been a self-entitled/unsatisfied customer,) you know that the client is always right. But the problem with applying that principle to education is that the client is rarely right. Education is full of being wrong, then being told that you're wrong so that you can fix it. But if I can't tell you that you're wrong, how are you going to become educated?<br />
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Many children have learned to take advantage of this system. Worst case scenario, a child knows that he cannot be kicked out of school (since his parents pay for it) and he also knows that he cannot be failed (since that would displease the parents.) So no matter how much trouble he causes and how little work he completes, he will always get a passing grade. And his parents are one of two types. One type just doesn't care about the education of their children. The other type spoils the child mercilessly and thinks he can do no wrong; clearly its the teacher's fault that he is misbehaving and not getting better grades. In either case, the child doesn't suffer for his mistakes, and gets to keep coming back to school and moving up the grades with his friends. It is entirely possible for the child to learn absolutely nothing, with zero consequences.<br />
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And nobody wins when that's the system.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-83441081303011647662013-02-08T21:06:00.000+04:002013-02-08T21:10:48.926+04:00Secret lover<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Roughly (slash exactly) two months ago I sent a text message to my exboyfriend that read, "I think we should secretly get back together." His response was, "Are you drunk?" But I was not drunk, and we did secretly get back together. We got back together because love or whatever. And we did it secretly because our break up had been a mess in the worst possible way. A lot of people have very negative opinions of him because of that mess. So I did not want to deal with anyone else weighing in on the reunion until it was clear that it was really going to stick.<br />
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It seems like an odd concept, to secretly date someone. But I so preferred it. I didn't have to hang out with his friends and try to impress them. Or pretend that I like the annoying ones. I didn't have to invite him to everything that I did. My friends didn't have to pretend to like him, and I didn't have to listen to their unwanted opinions. I never had to answer questions like, "Where's your boyfriend?" I could have conversations about things besides my love life (because I was pretending I just didn't have one.) And I still got all of the perks of having a boyfriend.</div>
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Now that it's clear that it's going to stick, I'm supposed to tell people about it. (He is not a fan of the secretive bit. His best friend has known about it the whole time, contrary to my explicit instructions not to tell even him.) A few of my friends have been informed, briefly, about our renewed relationship. But I am dreading the way full publicity will change my life outside of him. My conversations with people are going to be about him too often, and if my life was a movie, it'd suddenly fail the Bechdel test. And people will always wonder about my other half, even if only briefly. I will be considered part of a whole, rather than whole by myself.</div>
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It was nice to have the private aspects of a relationship without the public aspects. And if I had an alcoholic beverage in my hand, I would raise a toast to the glory that it was. To secret relationships!</div>
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mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-549310579961415112013-02-04T19:06:00.003+04:002013-02-04T19:06:40.044+04:00Values<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This weekend I went on a yacht for a little party. At one point, one of the fellow boat goers asked, "How many time have you been on a yacht for a party?" I thought about it for a moment, then raised two fingers. Then remembered another time, and put up a third finger. The guy looked at me with surprise. He made a comment about how he wasn't as awesome as I am, so his answer would have been zero. Apparently he had meant the question to be rhetorical.<br />
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The entire time everyone kept going on about how awesome it was that we were on a boat for this party. I'm sure someone sang the "I'm on a boat" song. It was like this monumental moment of glory for some of them. But in all honesty, I have no clue why on earth everyone seems to value this nautical experience so much. Don't get me wrong, I think it's great to be on boats. But we live on an island and they're pretty common, so... get over it?<br />
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I'm totally becoming one of those people who's jaded to things that other people find noteworthy and exciting. But at the same time, there are things that I lack that others don't even think twice about. To me, a party on a yacht isn't a big deal anymore. To you, having an oven and your own bathroom might be no big deal anymore. But I would totally trade a yacht party for my own bathroom and an oven.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-46025289912021993932013-01-30T16:06:00.004+04:002013-01-30T16:06:37.011+04:00I'm sure my future self is a sap too<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday I got an email from <a href="http://futureme.org/">Futureme.org</a> (which is the greatest website ever and if you don't have an email waiting for you in the future, get on it ASAP.) The English in it was absolutely terrible and sometimes I had trouble following my own syntax, which was amusing. Who knew that I was a terrible writer? And yet when I got the end of the email, I still managed to make myself cry.<div>
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I'm such an emotional softie, you have no idea.</div>
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It's from a year ago, (which is quite a coincidence because I just read <a href="http://www.wittytitlehere.com/2013/01/the-5-year-diary/" target="_blank">someone's blog entry</a> about a 5 year diary that has you write each entry below last year's entry from the same date, and I was so jealous that I didn't have it and all its nostalgic glory.) A year ago was the time right after getting my current job. I was awash with trepidation and fears and uncertainty. So much uncertainty. I'm still just as uncertain, but I can totally remember that the trepidation of yore was way more paranoid. I sort of felt bad for my previous self, but at the same time as if nothing in my life now was really great either. But then I got distracted by the end, which was this super sappy note about how my friends and boyfriend were there for me, despite all the other terrible shit going on.</div>
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Cue the tears.</div>
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I'm going to try to out do the email by writing one for my future self that is even more sentimental. Wish me luck!</div>
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mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-58786662944806217012013-01-26T22:29:00.002+04:002013-01-26T22:29:26.059+04:00Go see Jane<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday we got a new roommate. There are now five of us living in this crumbling apartment. We barely had enough fridge space when there were four of us, so I have no idea how that's going to work out. I also have to share a bathroom now, which is something I was hoping to never have to do again.<br />
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The worst bit is that I wasn't even told that it was going to happen, I figured it out on my own and then surprise, there she was!<br />
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One day I will live by myself. And it will be absolutely wonderful. One day...</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-81053191054500048112013-01-21T16:42:00.002+04:002013-01-21T16:42:55.074+04:00Sometimes I forget<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The other day I asked the students what made oxygen and the overwhelming response was, "God."<br />
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Sometimes I forget how pious children can be here. But it's cute to hear that answer said so completely without shame. And to see all of the other students nodding along because obviously that was the correct answer.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-14858036078841193672013-01-11T14:44:00.002+04:002013-01-11T15:19:36.131+04:00Because sharing is caring<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today I am going to share some internet with you!<br />
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<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/13/magazine/here-is-what-happens-when-you-cast-lindsay-lohan-in-your-movie.html" target="_blank">This article</a> in the New York Times magazine about a movie that Lindsay Lohan and James Deen star in. Having worked on movies and knowing people in the industry, it was interesting. I've always found it insanely obnoxious that the talent (that's literally what they're referred to on sets) gets treated as if they're gods. The general hierarchy of production sets is obnoxious, actually. There was one movie I was an extra in, and even we got treated like gold compared to how my friend, who was a production assistant, got treated. She spent all day tripping all over herself to hand the director the right whatever or get the talent that one ridiculously specific thing they wanted. We sat on our asses eating free food and then had to occasionally get up and stand in backgrounds. (This was a slightly higher budget film than usual ones my friends worked on in those days, roughly around where The Canyon budget was.)<br />
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I'm sad the movie will be terrible. James Deen is my favorite porn star and I just want to give him a hug and tell him that everything's going to be ok. I often contemplate his number of friends. He and I could be such lovely friends. With such lovely benefits.<br />
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<a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/daves4/every-male-celebrity-is-actually-really-really-sh" target="_blank">This chart</a> of heights of movie stars. I always knew that movie stars were short, but it was fun to see it in a chart. And then to put myself on the chart and see that I could still date Johnny Depp. Phew. Also, I have a theory that shorter people are more attractive in the face than taller people, but I can never quite find enough evidence to definitively make the correlation. (I have a lot of strange theories that would confirm your opinion that I am crazy.)<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RIeawspOnP0" target="_blank">This video</a> of the Egyptian parody of Gangnam Style. I don't understand a word of it, but I just like to watch Arabs dancing. And the part with the girl with the phone held to her ear by her hijab is so Arab. My students are obsessed with fucking Gangnam Style too. Basically I feel that the video will give you some nice pictures of Arab life. One day perhaps I will post a bunch of Youtube clips shown to me by my ex-Arab-boyfriend so that you can get more glimpses of Arabian culture.<br />
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<a href="http://thelastpsychiatrist.com/2012/11/hipsters_on_food_stamps.html" target="_blank">This article</a> about why we hate hipsters on food stamps and why that's a good thing(?) I don't know if the author was actually trying to stay that it's a good thing, to be honest. I don't know what the author was trying to say at all, really. And I definitely don't agree with everything in it, but it was good food for thought. I constantly mourn my decision to go to graduate school and hate anything about myself that is vaguely "hipster." But my life when I lived in NYC was insanely hipster and sometimes I just like to beat myself up about it by reading articles like this.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-40548297942473110052013-01-06T18:46:00.003+04:002013-01-06T18:46:57.645+04:00One of the most difficult languages to learn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today was the first day back to work after three blissful weeks of break. It was odd. The teaching bit is like riding a bike, but the language barrier was like a slap in the face. I forgot how little English my students can actually speak. I forgot the constant chattering of Arabic in the staff room. I forgot that my students will constantly have side conversations in Arabic to explain anything I say in English. I forgot how impossible it is to know which Arabic conversations to allow and which are just for fun. I forgot that knowing a few Arabic words doesn't help me at all.<br />
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I wish I could say that it encourages me to learn more Arabic, but I'll never learn enough to be useful. I took a class in it when I first came here, but I didn't learn much and it was formal Arabic. (I.e. mostly useless on the streets.) I have multiple books that I could study from to at least review some formal Arabic, but I never manage to find the time. And I know countless people who speak Arabic, but I feel awkward whenever we have "teach me Arabic" conversations. It wasn't awkward when I demanded it of my ex-boyfriend, but he mostly taught me swears...<br />
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I'll never be fluent in the language, I've accepted it. If this was a Spanish speaking country, I might be able to reach fluency, (I took Spanish for roughly 8 years in school,) but a brand new language just isn't going to happen.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-36486741306046112242013-01-02T16:01:00.002+04:002013-01-02T16:01:42.593+04:002012 in review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
January: Began the year in India, riding tuk tuks and trying in vain to not get groped. Returned to the UAE to deal with my whole unemployment issue. Found a new job at a new school with surprising ease.<br />
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February: Moved into shitty apartment with new Russian co-workers, who dissuaded me from ever letting my boyfriend step foot in the place. Hated them with a passion.<br />
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March: Played tourist when my brother came for a visit. Tried to figure out what modern Arab culture was.<br />
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April: Went to Thailand with boyfriend. My best friend (and the reason I came to the UAE) went through drama with her job and decided to go back to America.<br />
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May: Got extremely frustrated at my job daily. Felt lonely without best friend. Broke up with boyfriend. Confused about everything in life.<br />
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June: Went to Dubai with girl friends to celebrate birthday. Failed to be properly broken up with boyfriend until there was enough drama that I cut him off completely. Waited out the end of the school year.<br />
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July: Avoided ex-boyfriend and try to keep myself entertained as friends began to leave for their summer holidays. Finally headed back to the United States for a blissful vacation. New York, Maine, and Illinois, but more important than the places was seeing all my friends and family.<br />
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August: Finished vacation in the States and returned to Abu Dhabi. Attempted to be friends with ex-boyfriend, but everyone knew that was a bad idea. Lived at friend's apartment because mine had no A/C for far longer than appropriate in this climate.<br />
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September: Started new school year. Watched new people flood my friends's school and flounder about. Learned that I would not be paid money that I felt entitled too. Hated financial hole of a life that I live. Ignored issues by going to brunches.<br />
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October: More brunches. And some new friendships began to form. And I avoided other friendships. Realized that I actually know a lot of people in this place by now. First desert safari trip. Hurt my foot while playing soccer at island party.<br />
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November: Went on a boat cruise and desert camping. Tried not to commemorate anniversary of first date with ex-boyfriend. Attempted to date new boys, but they all bored me. Played tourist when mother came to visit.<br />
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December: Kept secrets from friends. Spent far too many days at the same bar with the same people. Played tourist when a friend came to visit. Spent holidays with old and new friends. Rang in the new year with no resolutions or plans for 2013. Because let's be real, my life is totally not up to me.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-67505568634919853992013-01-01T12:25:00.001+04:002013-01-01T12:26:40.024+04:00I've been busy, ok!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I haven't posted in awhile, apologies. I had a friend visiting me from the states, so I was busy entertaining her. We mostly hung out around the city. And went out. We went to the same bar so many nights that the waitstaff recognized us and greeted us like old friends. One of the waitresses knew our shot preference and I'm pretty sure she convinced men to buy us drinks one more than one occasion. We went to Dubai too of course, which I loathed, which made my friend loathe it too, haha. I like it when people prefer Abu Dhabi. (One day I will fully explain the difference between Dubai and Abu Dhabi and you too will prefer Abu Dhabi.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyl7AJfbQsU4hIEyORXhbmSQw0Yg5_EZtvALC26CnVk-3KyMbxj_mZ3AEJIvexTb51jme19vsDkygU6glx7kdIAz8oBrqkBntyN3CCgfdipwImUHiAi7PTOaApVj9BCX6Ns_w8u15nFcA/s1600/birdhospital.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyl7AJfbQsU4hIEyORXhbmSQw0Yg5_EZtvALC26CnVk-3KyMbxj_mZ3AEJIvexTb51jme19vsDkygU6glx7kdIAz8oBrqkBntyN3CCgfdipwImUHiAi7PTOaApVj9BCX6Ns_w8u15nFcA/s320/birdhospital.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture stolen from my friend, (c) her</td></tr>
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We also went to the falcon hospital. See picture. That was a new experience for me. I don't particularly like birds (or anything that can fly at me,) but my friend wanted to go and so we went! It was pretty touristy. But it was also clearly a hospital. We passed a room marked ICU at one point, which boggled my mind. The picture is the room where they keep the birds who need to be examined or are waiting for their owners to come get them. The falcons are used for hunting, but the hunting goes down in Pakistan mostly, so they have to be ok-ed before they can travel. They also have their own passports, which is hilarious.<br />
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We watched them cut the nails and beaks of the birds too. The bird was sitting there on his perch and this bird doctor came up from behind and clutched him around the wings so he couldn't move, although he definitely tried to. Then this other bird doctor put this thing over the falcon's head. It had anesthesia, which made the bird go limp like he'd died. Then they clipped his nails and then resharpened them. Then they did the same to his beak. Then they took off his anesthesia mask and took him back to his perch. When he fully woke up, he sort of tried to fly off, but they're all tied to the perch, so that didn't work. And the bird doctor just caught him and put on the mask-hood that covers the eyes so the falcons stay calm.<br />
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Birds are strange little mini dinosaurs. And they still scare me. But I am glad I went.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-52241215997601332962012-12-21T15:50:00.003+04:002012-12-21T15:50:53.955+04:00Break lifestyle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Being on break is an absolute joy. This week there were only a few people around, so I basically hung out with the same two people every day. I'd wake up around noon and talk to my two friends about how I'm never drinking again. I'd spend the day lying in bed watching movies. Eventually I would get up and get pretty, then go off to dinner. Then we'd go out and dance until the wee hours of the morning, making temporary new friends to bond with for a dance or a drink. Wake up the next day around noon and repeat it all again!<br />
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Today one of my friend arrives from America for a stay. And my other friends are starting to trickle back in from their travels to foreign lands. So things are about to get busy, in the best possible way. We have sights to see and Christmas dinners to eat and brunches to drink! It will not at all be like my holidays growing up or the typical holidays in America. There will definitely be no snow. I won't be with my family, but with people I've barely known for a year, some of whom I've known less than that. The Christmas trees are all fake and the ornaments lack all sentimentality. Nothing about it will be traditional. But in a weird way, I delight in that.<br />
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I take far too much pride in being unconventional, perhaps. But at least this year will be more normal than last year when I was in India being rudely awakened to the meaning of "third world country."</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-83423174499305799302012-12-14T21:28:00.003+04:002012-12-14T21:28:34.046+04:00Today's random sharings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday my taxi driver turned to the classical station, which I've never heard in a taxi before. My ex used to play that station when we were hungover and driving somewhere, but I hadn't heard it in forever. I was hungover yesterday, so it was appropriate for the driver to find it and it made me very happy. I tipped him roughly 25 cents as a thank you.<br />
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I'm currently on winter break, which is 3 glorious weeks in this land. I am poor, so I can't go anywhere exotic like many of my friends are doing for at least a week or two, but I don't even care. I am so excited to have zero responsibilities. I can just sit back and enjoy the classical music!</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-90092864674157166092012-12-11T15:56:00.002+04:002012-12-11T15:56:17.563+04:00Income Based Repayment!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I just found out that I qualified for income based repayment for my enormous student loans! I have never been more excited about anything concerning my finances! My life is saved! If you don't know what income based repayment is, it's exactly what the words imply. I get to pay 15% of my income to my loans, no more and no less. And after 25 years, America will eat my debt.<br />
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Greatest windfall of all: my taxable income for this year is going to be very close to $0 after adjustments.<br />
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Now, obviously I can't rely on this plan for the next 25 years, especially if I ever plan to get rich. But with no foreseeable means of becoming rich, it's a pretty sweet deal that will allow me to save up a safety net for when I get fired again, etc.<br />
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I know it's impolite to talk about money, but I am just too excited about this new crutch. Anything to avoid paying that damn fortune I owe, haha.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-16942682292946818062012-12-09T11:54:00.001+04:002012-12-09T11:54:10.505+04:00Cutting Ties<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I haven't decided if I'm going to be staying here beyond this year.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzBEKVOshe0ADAp3wC-VFG4NZJLfWeXvSbRF-XHsQWLs4EN3qggV9TU_tK-8Q550ikrR_MijeIKYdsJ_Q3SypTHt0uYe2Y_YeDX4A-sowgYvr0J-TPXTc0lhvpzOrvDM6PrZu72dAm_4/s1600/cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzBEKVOshe0ADAp3wC-VFG4NZJLfWeXvSbRF-XHsQWLs4EN3qggV9TU_tK-8Q550ikrR_MijeIKYdsJ_Q3SypTHt0uYe2Y_YeDX4A-sowgYvr0J-TPXTc0lhvpzOrvDM6PrZu72dAm_4/s200/cat.jpg" width="135" /></a></div>
But I have given my mother permission to give away my cat. I got a cat when I was in graduate school and she is the most wonderfully friendly cat in the world. She's super needy and talkative, so whenever she happened to be somewhere besides my room and I wanted to snuggle, I would shout her name (which was Cat) and she would meow back, then come closer until she found me. It was like Marco Polo, except our roles were "Cat!" "Meow!" And I gave Cat to my mother when I first came here, thinking I would be back in a year, no big deal. But by this point, it's a hassle for my mother, and in the interest of simplifying life for all parties involved, I have accepted that I won't ever play Cat Meow with her again.<br />
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I have also tentatively declined an invitation to a friend's wedding. She was my roommate for 1.5 years of college and we went to Europe together and by all typical standards, I should definitely be at her wedding. But the wedding falls a month before I technically finish here. If I know I'm moving back to the States, I'm all for ditching out a month early. But if I'm staying, that's a terrible plan. Thus, the tentative declination.<br />
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It's slightly unnerving to be so untethered. It's like being in high school all over again and having existential crises about where I fit in. And exactly like in high school, there is no real good answer to those questions.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-38483925090407788512012-12-03T14:50:00.000+04:002012-12-03T14:50:22.952+04:00Conversion Challenge Accepted<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are many people who have attempted to convert me to Islam and all of my students are deeply confused by the fact that I'm not. I once received "A brief illustrated guide to understanding Islam," which attempts to use logic to prove that the Quran is flawless and therefore, holy. Another student offered to give me a Quran to study. And once a student tried to trick me into saying the Muslim creed. (I might not know much Arabic, but I can recognize the creed.) When I refused to say it properly, he was very upset.<br />
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It's like a challenge to try to convert me. I don't blame them. It's a great boon for their place with Allah if they teach others about religion. I just don't know that they realize that includes teaching, not just forcing someone to recite a creed or handing someone a book that they'll likely just throw away. (Although to be fair, I have skimmed my illustrated guide. Apparently the Quran is flawless because it likens mountains to pegs.)<br />
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I once had a conversation with a man in a bar about how I couldn't be a Muslim because I didn't speak Arabic. And he nodded sagely, then insisted, "But you could learn!" My half-Lebanese friend insisted that I didn't need to know Arabic to be a Muslim, but the man and I shook our heads sadly. And that's my newest escape. "Maybe when I learn Arabic I can be a Muslim...."</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-55234758043112700962012-11-28T22:29:00.002+04:002012-11-28T22:30:01.293+04:00Things I miss about America<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I miss being surrounded by people who all speak languages I understand. I miss eavesdropping on conversations in English or hell, Spanish. I miss being able to make an offhand comment to the person next to me and have them understand it and possibly become my new best friend. I miss being able to understand all verbal announcements and signs.<br />
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I miss my best friends. I miss having a phone that receives action every day, from multiple people. I miss being in the same time zone and being able to call a friend at noon and have it be noon for them too. I miss having guy friends who aren't just friends' boyfriends. I miss having so many friends that I can pick ones to hang out with based on my mood. I miss having friends who'd just meet me at the bar at the drop of a hat for no reason.<br />
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I miss organizations that are organized and follow rules. I miss shops being open for the same steady hours all the time. I miss the subways and their schedules and convenient routes and that map I basically have memorized. I miss contracts meaning something and wasta meaning nothing. I miss the predictability of American politics and government.<br />
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Tomorrow my mom is coming to visit for about a week. I don't know how to show her how different it is here without sounding pessimistic. "Hey, look at how absurdly impossible it is to communicate with our extremely rude taxi driver!" is not the proper way to phrase that novelty, you know?</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-62119177021140608232012-11-23T11:14:00.001+04:002012-11-23T11:14:16.694+04:00National Day decorations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7VuKYlUd5YtwesNvfsJu_aB76rlzTB9L1650t8-hFXOvVqo_vXaEdNO7ERNyVANKB6-_yvozXPmCbGS25kCa6eUpllyIiuduJzGjvsqqZQvkuM5_iqPt67Ho_JgS1D249avAFR6AekU/s1600/IMG_0206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7VuKYlUd5YtwesNvfsJu_aB76rlzTB9L1650t8-hFXOvVqo_vXaEdNO7ERNyVANKB6-_yvozXPmCbGS25kCa6eUpllyIiuduJzGjvsqqZQvkuM5_iqPt67Ho_JgS1D249avAFR6AekU/s320/IMG_0206.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The villa across the street from my apartment.</td></tr>
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December 2nd is the day that the UAE celebrates it's independence and formation. Only 41 years old. Your parents are older than this country, haha.<br />
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Perhaps because the country is still so youthful, it likes to celebrate big time. I have been in various cities across America for fourth of July and none of those celebrations compares to the way they do patriotism here. Everybody gets these huge UAE flags and drapes them over the sides of their buildings. Cars get done up shamelessly with paint and stickers, with the best decorated cars winning chunks of cash. My school looks someone shredded a UAE flag all over it.<br />
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The colors of the flag are the Pan-Arab colors, which were chosen during the Arab Revolt, which was meant to bring the lands out of control of the Ottoman Empire and form one unified Arab country. That didn't happen, but as the countries eventually formed later on, they adopted the colors to symbolize their Arab loyalty. And those are the colors that are slowly taking over the city as we get closer and closer to December 2nd.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-57258621962965988212012-11-17T19:52:00.001+04:002012-11-17T19:52:53.657+04:00Contrary to popular belief<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I just made some really amazing tomato soup from scratch. I like to perpetuate the myth that I can't cook, but the truth is that I am at least adequate at following recipes. I am also a shockingly healthy eater. I rarely eat meat at home, and my shopping list is always half vegetables. I have sesame oil in my cabinet and frozen shrimp in my freezer. Later this week I will be making a cauliflower and quinoa kugel. My kitchen is far different than anyone I know would ever guess.<br />
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The myth that I don't cook comes mostly from my laziness. When I lived with my first roommate here, I let her cook for me. When I had a boyfriend, he brought me food that his mom had cooked. (I still have one of her plastic containers and three of her plates, which is probably rude of me, oops.) When I stayed at my friends' places this summer, they all cooked for me. And I never cook for anyone, so they assume that when they're not there, someone else must be cooking for me. I also will eat anything that is put in front of me, so they probably think I lack any taste buds.<br />
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The other day I was at the mall with some friends and I kept harping about how I wanted fried chicken like whoa. They probably imagine that all I do at home is order fried chicken. Or that I just don't eat because I'm too lazy to even order for myself. I find that myth highly amusing and plan to keep it up forever. So please, keep the truth on the DL.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-89353019218198835502012-11-16T10:50:00.003+04:002012-11-16T10:50:32.337+04:00Sad<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
October and November are two of my least favorite months. Perhaps I have mild seasonal depression because there's a certain point in the earlier evenings where I realize the day is over and I just crash and hate everything. The shorter days make me too moody. Yes, I'm aware the shortest days are actually in December, but the dwindling hours of these months feel more suffocating for me. They remind me of my impending death and the fruitlessness of life. I get invited to do things or think about being productive and then I lie back down and wonder, "What's the point?"<div>
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And then I hear how melodramatic I sound and I smile an ironic smile and it's a little bit better. And soon it will be December, which is vacation, and then the days will widen and life will widen and everything will be better.</div>
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In other news, I think that I look more Arabic today than I did a year ago. Sometimes I look at my eyes and my nose and I wonder when they got to be quite so Middle Eastern. Do you think that's really a possibility? People say that couples start to look like each other. Maybe I'm starting to look like everyone around me too.</div>
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mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265678588662710734.post-25707822748351689602012-11-10T12:46:00.004+04:002012-11-10T12:46:44.607+04:00Welcome to my weekends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm pretty sure I slept for like two hours last night.<br />
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Here's how my day went yesterday: Wake up absurdly early, after not enough sleep, for no reason. Surf the Internet and watch <i>The Hills </i>to occupy myself. Wait for friend at bus station and run away from creepy Pakistani man. Laugh at friend for breaking a bottle of vodka. Take bus to Dubai and fail to sleep. Argue with multiple idiotic taxi drivers who refuse to drive us to our destination and don't know where anything is in Dubai. (Dubai taxis are the absolute worst.) Arrive at McDonalds where we stumble upon some of our friends. Go to wrong dock, then right dock to get on yacht. Hang out on a boat for a few hours. Try to convince friend to text my exboyfriend and wish him a happy anniversary from me. (One year ago we had our first date. I spent the day after it jumping on the couch and exclaiming to my friend about how happy I was.) Watch sunset over the ocean. Take taxi to middle of nowhere petrol station because that taxi driver is yet another idiot. (He was nice, but still an idiot.) Wait for acquaintance to pick us up from middle of nowhere petrol station. Laugh at friend for her drunken beat boxing. Get text message from exboyfriend (who has followed orders and avoided me over a month now) because he wanted to commemorate our anniversary too. Wax nostalgic about ex with friend because she's drunk and missing him, who would never have let us end up stranded at a random petrol station. Take another taxi with an asshole Pakistani guy who overcharges us and kicks us out of the taxi at a random roundabout. Which is ok because our acquaintance was waiting for us there, to save us from our wanderings and take us into the desert. Get drunk with strangers and predict drunk friend's wandering to another dune. Laugh when acquaintance finds wandering drunk friend at the next dune. Make a new friend and crash in his tent because I sure as hell didn't come with a tent.<br />
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My new friend wants to marry me. But I told my drunk friend that I want to marry my ex, and I feel that multiple marriages could get complicated.<br />
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Did you keep all the people straight? I hate not being able to name the characters, but let's just call them all Mohammed.<br />
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Sleep deprivation makes me a little nonsensical, apologies.</div>
mmarinaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16530766837837932504noreply@blogger.com9