Luluwa Tribe

Any resemblance?


Who would have thought, that performing a Google image search on your name would bring up this? Luluwa Mask. Sheez.

I didn't know that I was that influential that there'd be a Tribe named after me.

Men/Women & Aging

Why is it that when men age, they get sexier, and seem "wiser;" whereas women just turn into that "old hag?"

Police Academy

Oh my God. Police Academy is coming on Comedy Central today! Even 10-15 years later (if it's been that many years), it's still Hilarious! There's just way too many great characters in this series.
The black guy with the voice over.
The white guy with the cracking voice.
The The nerdy PE assistant.
The Captain Harris loser.
COP: Collection of Piss Ants.
The gold fish.
The Black girl with the high pitch munchkin voice.
The Gym teacher with the red jump suit, and
Mahoney, Hightower,

David Spade was in Police Academy?

This is all I've discovered in just 15 minutes of watching the movie. I need to watch this movie with other Police Academy aficionados.

Dependency

So, I've realized after having been married for 2 years now, that I'm dependent on my husband. The weird thing is this dependency is not the type that is easily recognizable. I have some friends, who are in the general sense dependent, where they can't do certain things because they need their husbands to do it for them. To them it's not a problem because it doesn't matter whether they do it or their husband does it for them. At least not until they want to do it and the husband doesn't have time, or doesn't want to do it himself. Then the wife, feels like damn, I wish I knew how to do it, and felt confident enough to do it herself.

The kind of dependency I have on my husband comes from a lack of desire to do something. Let's get a little more specific. Cooking. Yes, sometimes I enjoy cooking. But most of the time, I'm a cooker, so we have something to eat when we get home from work. But mostly, this cooking behavior initially stemmed from the need to provide nourishment for my husband. He's a home-meal kinda guy.

When he was away for a few months for work, I was living alone, and I became the laziest, most non-healthy, not taking care of myself person in the world (well, probably not that bad.)Anyway, I stopped cooking, and was living off McDs, friend's dinner, and cereal. Ah, cereal. Who knew cereal could last for breakfast & dinner, and the snacks in between. If only I wasn't lactose intolerant! Argh.

Anyway, what I noticed was that I stopped taking care of myself. Essentially, I'm dependent on Hasnain because when I'm taking care of him, I indirectly take care of myself too. I guess, my motivation for the day to day routines were for the wrong reasons. I shouldn't clean just because Hasnain begins to nag at me to do the laundry (even though the countdown of underwear is the limiting factor), or I shouldn't cook just because Hasnain desires green chatni chicken, I should perform my duties for a more sublime reason, so Hasnain can brag about what an awesome wife I am. Yeah, I like that.

Are you really neat, because you are a neat freak? Or are there other forces at work?

Mood Jam

Yoko put up a link on her blog that one of her friends at CMU created, called MoodJam. You basically use colors, and combinations of stripes of colors to indicate what mood you're in. It's pretty cool.

You can find out what mood I'm in by clicking on the link called "My Mood" in the Must See! section of my blog. Or click on My Mood . Check it out!

-Lulua

Commercials II

I was watching a commercial today (duh, inevitable when you lounge in front of the TV) of a Toyota ad in which the dad & son are sitting in the two front seats. The father is advising the son on the how to-s of the new car, and the son is constantly being amazed by the new features that the car has. Then the father gets irritated and finally blurts out, "It's not like you just press a magic button and you're off." haha. The son, takes a look at the location of the ignition, and finds a Button (Press to start engine). And the father kicks his kid out of the car. hahah. Too funny.

Anyway, so, as I tried to search for that particular commercial, I find these. Check them out if you have time. Some of them don't have any volume, but you get the idea. Pretty creative. That's what I enjoy about the commercials. Not that they brain wash me, even though, I now am "okay" with eating McDonalds, I believe all because of the commercials focusing their attention not on kids, but on young adults, and making McD's fun & cool, but that's besides the point. I enjoy the creativity, not the deception.

http://www.pronetadvertising.com/articles/creative-commercials-that-youll-never-forget.html

80s & 90s After School TV

One of my friends had written an excerpt from the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song as her status note, and I had to complete the Entire song on her wall. You can't just say a line from that song, and leave it at that.

If at any point in time a line from that song is said aloud, the ensuing lines must be completed for personal satisfaction. As I was writing the rest of the song:

I was chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool

shooting some b-ball outside of the school,
when a couple of guys who were up to no good,
starting making trouble in my neighborhood.
i got in one little fight,
my mom got scared,
She said you're moving with your aunty and uncle in bel air.
I whistled for a cab, and when it came near, the license plate said fresh,
and in a dice in a mere,
If I didn't know anything?
I thought this cab was weird ?
I said forget yo home the bel air.

I pulled up to the house around 7 or 8 and
I yelled to the cabbie yo homie smell you later,
looked my kingdom I was finally there,
to sit on my throne as the prince of bel air.
(then you have to do the little foot slide thing as you act out the song, too!)

I probably don't have all the words right, as usual (probably in more places than just the ?ed lines) but oh well, everyone knows the jist of the song..

I remember coming home by 3.45 racing & fighting my sister for the remote, then once the remote was clearly in someone's possession we'd go to the kitchen to whip up some snack (usually Honey nut cheerios) and then both watch the channel we would have used the remote we were fighting for to watch:
the last half of Saved by the Bell (2 episodes back to back)
Fresh Prince--Geoffrey!!!,
Family Matters-GO HOME STEVE,
Full House- That's Rude,
Darkwing duck
Talespin
The Animaniacs
Looney Tunes
I dont' think we really got hooked on Captain Planet until we went to Pakistan and found all our cousins singing the theme song all the time.

Bobby's World - Weekdays 7.30am
Eureka's Castle - Sat Morning, 10am-... Remember dungeon brothers..or something, they had a band, I think.
NICK AT NIGHT
Are you Afraid of the Dark? Those were group events!!
Salute your shorts,
Rugrats - Oh, I don't know Tommy,
Ren & Stimpy - Happy happy, Joy Joy,
Rocky & Bullwinkle,
Rocko's Modern World -Dirty,
The Elephant Show - One fine day the elephant came out to play...,
Dragnet (with dad) - Doors doors galore,
Double Dare - Green Slime,
My Two Dads - the big twisty staircase,
Punky Brewster - ,
Boy Meets World,
Sister Sister,
Clarissa Explains it All - She knew everything, and if she didn't she figured it out,
Roseanne ,
Silk Stalkings -multi colored sports jackets,
90210 - Dillan!!!,
Party of Five,
Blossom - Woah,
Dinosaurs-Baby in the high chair,
Cheers- Where everyone knows Your name,
UnderDog-The super hero DOG
Different Strokes-Whatchyu talkin bout Willis,
Designing Women,
Facts of Life,
Family Ties,
Growing Pains- Kirk,
The Jeffersons,
Night Court,
Who's the Boss,
Alf,
Doogie Howser, MD,
Garfield,
Knight Rider,
MacGuyver,
Married with Children,
Mork & Mindy,
Quantum Leap,
Smurfs,
The Jetsons,
Small Wonder,
Out of this World,
In Living Color --Homey don't play that!


For a comprehensive list of 90s TV shows: http://www.rateitall.com/t-16-90s-tv-shows.aspx?age=&zipcode=&gender=&sort=0&pagenum=7

For a comprehensive List of 80s Tv Shows:
http://www.driko.org/80stv.html



What were some of your favorites??

Peanut instead of Reese's

Halloween reminds me of my first halloween in Atlanta. I'm sitting at my desk studying for a Social Psychology test the next day, and I hear a doorbell. After I get up to walk to the door, I hear the chatter of the children through the thin walls, and slap my forehead.

Did I just forget about Halloween?

Yes, I did. So, I turn the light on, and run to the kitchen. I'm not a chocolate lover, I don't have sweet stuff hidden under the couch, inside the medicine cabinet, or an unopened bag from CVS! So, what do I do. I run back into my room, jump to the desk (over the heap of dirty clothes that I hadn't washed for a long long long time) and grab the big tub of roasted & salted peanuts. You know the ones you get at Costco, with the red cap. Yes. Those. I run back to the kitchen, snag a spoon from the drawer, and run back to the front door, all along yelling to the kids outside, I'll be there in a sec.. Hold on, don't go away. Okay, okay. Take a breath. Open the door...

Happy Halloween. Trick or Treat. I hope you guys are in for a treat because I have something no one else is going to give you. I dip the spoon head first and pull out a PEANUTS. haah.

As expected, the little kids, of course were disgusted with witnessing the grotesque non-colored, non-wrapped non-sweetened little non-goodies I just presented them.

However, right before I closed the door, after saying sorry a zillion times to the little angels & demons, (no literally, angel w/wings & devil w/red horns==brother/sister ) the bigger, older kids who were taking out their younger siblings, run up to the door and put out their palms. YES. Success. I pleased someone if not only myself that night! Yay! Some even stuffed their pockets with it. Ick, but who cares, I was happy my door wasn't the ugh, don't go to A15, she doesn't have anything good doors.

Good thing that only lasted a bit. I switched off the front porch light, closed my blinds, and pretended to not be home for a while. haha. I couldn't stop laughing after that little bit. I ended up writing Emily an 8 page letter about it. This obviously isn't 8 pages, so I must be missing something... hmm .. spooky.

Just a little note: Think of the past to correct your future...always have a stock of candy during the fall season...

Happy Halloween all you Trick or Treaters.

Virtue of Being Sick

I was ill for the past few days with the usual, tonsil inflammed drama. Sore throat, post nasal drip. drip. drip. Snoring with my mouth open, drying up my "cotton mouth" throat even more. I didn't go visit the doctor this time, but the usual diagnosis is... Strepp. Here take these antibiotics twice a day, and FINISH THE BOTTLE.

I won't get into the whole, finish your antibiotic dose issue, but today, I will discuss the virtue of being sick. I'm sure there's a whole lot out there, like your sins are forgiven when you become ill, so be thankful, and your prayers are sent with a better, clearer reception and all that good stuff. But what I'm here to talk about is the present earthly life, when you're sick.

All you need is:
A- a good lovin' someone,
B- 4 pillows,
C- a bedsheet
D- a light quilt or blanket.

Oh yes, I forgot...

E- a night stand with a glass of water, and ....(a water stain preventer on the wooden night stand.....what are they called..someone help me out..glass holder?) yeah, one of those.

Talk about bliss.

If you have a form of entertainment, nearby, that helps out also. A book, computer with internet connection, writing pad & pen. The key is to keep everything in arms distance. Now, the other half of the bed looks mighty enticing to be used as the (arms distance ) location to STORE all those items, doesn't it? Yes, indeed it does. The only drawback is Item A is usually the space saver of that particular portion of the bed, so, there's a definite need of re-arrangement and self-sacrifice needed to be made by ...Item A, of course. If Item A needs suggestions, do not be afraid to point out the comfy futon in the family room, in front of the tv (for Item A's visual entertainment.)

Now that you have your space, since you are coughing, sneezing, and wiping snot on any piece of dry cloth you can find, it's best you elongate your arms, to increase that little bubble of yours. Only allow shrinkage of Your space, when in need of A hug, when you're "really sick."

But what I'm talking about are the times, when you're feeling pretty well for about 1/3 of the day, and 2/3 you're ...somwhat well. It's based on the whole Strong/Moderate/Weak principle. We had to create these rating scales for coding purposes at work, and boy have they become integrated into our daily lives, this talent at coding, sure has posed a dilemma in our lives. OH my GOd. I have to stop that.

Anyway, when I started feeling better, but not well enough to really do any substantial work (me & my drama...yay!), I lay in bed, wrapped in Item D, under Item C (so my fever sweats don't get the blanket all icky), with 2 pillows supporting my back, one on my lap (to prevent the laptop heat from burning the quilt/sheets/pjs), and one pillow to my side to place whatever items I wanted to near by. Okay, actually the fourth pillow was just there in case Item A came by and wanted to be space saver again. hahah.

The water for midnight bursts of thirst (in arms distance) and the glass holder thinga ma bobber, for Item A's satisfaction.

After a day or two in this state, it gets to be really comfortable. Yes, there is the required regular maintenance (showering, changing clothes, throwing away tissues sprawled to the side of the bed where you stand up and consequently sprawl even further) more than anything, you really get used to laying like a slug. Granted, you have to previously have slug-like tendencies, only then would this sloth like behavior seem in the remotest sense, fun. But still, come on, who doesn't like not having to not do nothing? Wait did I say that right? Oh who cares, I don't have to not worry about it. That's my perogative right now. Until I'm better at least.

Oh yes, finally, if Item A, incessantly asks if you're better, HOLD BACK THE TRUTH as long as you possibly can, as long as there is some doubt that you might possibly just possibly be still a little whooozy, because Item A's got a list of chores up the wahzoo lined up for you.

It's best you rest a little before you suddenly get better again.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All this I'm saying is not COMPLETELY true. Actually, most of the time, when I felt "ickhy," I'd walk out, demand a hug, stay locked in the hug until Item A felt fidgety, and then went back 20 minutes later for another hug, if I was still awake. haha.

I think the most relaxing factor for me when I'm sick is Item A's heartbeat. It's the rhythm, the warmth, and the grasp. It just lulls me off into my dreamworld of vampires, ghosts, and monsters. But at least gets me to go to sleep!

Wakey Wakey

Have you ever woken up really early, to get an incredible start on your day not because you wanted to but because you HAD to...To either finish up a project, start an essay, eat sihori (breakfast), pray namaz, study for a test... and realize that a few hours after you've had that cup of tea or coffee or bowl of cereal at 5.30 am that 8am seems just as early?

The house is still dim, dark, and tiring. You haven't yet had the opportunity to pull the blinds back/up and your too focused on trying to not falling asleep with your head either in a book while slouched on the couch, or your face cheek red caused by resting your face flat on one side of the textbook while trying to read at a parallel angle to the actual words on the page (not very good for your eyes, posture or endeavor to stay awake! I might add.)

Anyway, for the past few weeks, I've been waking up at 5.45, squinting my way to the kitchen, deathly afraid of turning the lights on in case I might blind myself, and tripping on half the items left on the carpet on the way over to the tile. "Good morning. " After having sihori, eating breakfast at a ridiculous time in the morning that really only makes you hungry earlier on in the day for some ironic reason, I grab hold of my computer rather than the Quran, and look up my recent ebay activity. haha. Even when I'm half conscious, I can still function properly when it comes to Ebay (if that behavior is considered "functioning properly.") After a while on the computer, I set the comp down, pray namaz, and debate whether I should go back to sleep for a 1/2 hr to an hour, setting myself up for another 4-6 hour "nap." The days I actually do stay up until about 8 or 9am, I'm still in a stupor, because I'm sitting on the couch with the blanket covering my shoulders & my feet and too lazy to open the blinds that block the radiance of the sun telling me to, "Get the hell up, Begin your day, and Brush your teeth, woman!"

Once again, finally getting to my point: the 9.20am it is finally, feels just as early as the 5.30 did without the adjustment to the blinding light of the flourescent bulb flickering on & off. This time, it's the fear of opening that door and exposing all that heat to the cooled apt.

Wakey, wakey. Time to Really get up and start your day.

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

Go Pink Everyone. It's October, and it's Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

All you out there who don't perform Monthly Self-Breast Exams, learn how to do so. Make sure you make a log, for your usual lumps and bumps. We all have them. More often that not, they should feel the same on both in the same areas. No worries. If you feel a little panicked, take it easy, and get it checked. Early detection, means early treatment, means you can pass on the detection techniques to your kids, etc. You will survive!

We all know someone who's been through some life-threatening health situation. Don't let it take you by surprise. Get regular check ups. If you're over the age of 40, you need to get annual mammograms.

Don't be afraid. Be proactive.
Here's a cute little poem...
http://www.englishforums.com/English/LadiesMammiesGrammed/bbnkx/Post.htm

Reference
http://www.breastcancer.org/dia_detec_exam_idx.html

What good have you done, lately?

Mar's blog "Just be Nice" inspired to me to inquire after the altruistic audience. I know normally it isn't appropriate to go around blabbing to the world the good, sincere, and altruistic acts you have performed in the past, present. or even planned for the future. But, I'm curious. I might, and others as well, might learn from your entry of things we can do, too, to help others.

These acts can be something as small and seemingly insignificant as asking someone if they needed a ride, to actually giving your lunch to a man in an overcoat during the hot summer who was holding a trashbag of aluminum cans.

Here's what I did this past week: I prevented a kid in my research lab from taking a horrible horrible class with a horrible horrible teacher. Yes, success. One life, not ruined next semester.

You can (but don't have to) totally be anonymous here, so please contribute:

What good have you done lately?

Can I keep it?

Ooh, I love it. I sometimes get into these crazy artsy fartsy moods, and go all out on these "projects," half of which I finish 6 months to some years later. I still haven't finished a Masallo I started about 2 years ago.

Anyway, Yoko & I got charged up to do some sewing projects. I really wanted a cover for my sofa, so I thought, Baby steps; let's start small, like with a pillow cover or something. We dropped in on a store, and figured we'd make something for a friend, for fun. We ended up splitting the cost for 2 different patterns. One for pillows (that go on chairs) and one for hand bags. I took the latter home, and she the former. Six to seven months later, I finally finished the project, while Yoko's out at CMU making new friends, I'm getting to know my sewing machine better and paypal, need I say more, is my Buddy. I've been buying threads (embroidery & regular) off ebay like crazy.

Anyway, after I finished the hand bag, or, when I noticed I might actually be able to finish this sucker before I lose interest again, I thought to myself (and said aloud to Hasnain), "Can I keep it?" I know, I know, I intended the hand bag, purse, duffle purse, as I like to call it, for Emily, or M for short, really short. She's a crazy fun friend from Cali. But, I fell in love with my own flawed, thread-hanging, duffle purse. Ugh! I want it!

Some may say, "Well, if you like it that much, make another one." Yeah, right! Like that's going to happen. I've always been able to do things ONCE in a spectacular way. Every time I try to replicate something that I've done well, it's always been less than nice. People may expect it, I even do, but whatever it is, from a calendar collage, to a wedding album, to a scrapbook, to a masallo w/sujni, once & that's it. Anyway, I think I might make a pillow out of that combination of colors though. I think that would be fun for college bound kids. Yay, B-day present.

I guess my question is, when you walk out of the mall with the perfect gift, and you think for a split second, Wow, that would look great on my side table, hmmm. Can you, are you allowed to modify your niyyat? your intention? Isn't that contrary to the meaning of intention? Your primary purpose for whatever action you are going to perform (or performed)?

Not to worry, the duffle purse is already in a manila envelope on it's way over to the Golden State. Ain't that Peachy? (If you didn't already know, Georgia is the Peach State).

Next time you pick up or plan to give someone something, make clear in writing what your intentions are. I'm telling you, for people with a "not so strong" will-power, it's for the best!

(Marya, I know you'll have some comment about me giving you stuff that I ended up keeping, yes yes, I can name a few... no need to elaborate. You know what, go ahead, elaborate, "swim in it, until your fingers get all pruny"--French Kiss, hahaha)

Ebay addict

Ebay-ing is such an addicting act. I didn't notice the time fly by, but the moment you realize you need something that you're willing to buy or could possibly be found on Ebay, the whole day passes you by without even a stretch of the leg. Okay, well maybe a couple stretches; how else are you going to sit for hours on end staring at a computer screen comparing prices and shipping costs all day?

The problem with Ebaying is that once you've located the item you wish to purchase or bid on, your mind automatically starts wondering what else in the house you may need. Does your husband, child, mother, brother need anything? It's a one stop shop...ing spree more like it. Anyway, from selling to buying, and buying to more buying. It's like walking through an arcade room to get to the coke machine. You have to drop a few quarters here and there and play a few games in the process. (I would have used a casino example, but "we don't do that." Right. )

Again, just like the arcades, you go in knowing you're going to spend a certain amount. You have to log on to Ebay the exact same way: with a pre-determined amount that you are willing to spend, and just let it rip.

You know you're going crazy with Ebay when you enlist in the "Help" function. Oh, no, you don't want to go there. Paypal is now officially your Buddy. Get out while you can, or make sure you have a Designated (Sober) buyer who is able to turn the sirens on when you're getting out of control; who can take you into the other room, and give you a bowl of ice-cream with hershey's chocolate syrup on top to get your mind off the minute to minute closing deals and last minute bids on Ebay.

Shy girl turns spotlight lover

Who would have thought, the girl who hid behind her father's leg when she was 5 would turn out to be an attention seeker, and lover of the limelight. My sister and brother, and of course mother have always been one of those people who handle the center stage really well. They tell stories really well. They initiate the conversations, and they are definitely the lives of the parties (Unless Taha or Luby's in the room.)

But, me, I was the quiet one. Or at least I thought. I was probably about 14 when I "came out." Yes, I began to take the initiative, I began to shine. I began to take on the limelight. It was around the time Marya left for Jamea, and I was left to take on "her" duty of being the life. haha. Or something.

It could be that I always was an attention seeker from a very young age. Like my little cousin, Buruj, when she was 3 years old, she would walk out of the bedroom after having taken a shower and getting dressed and she would purposely stand outside the door, waiting for compliments on her hair, her dress, her smile, her stockings. This picture is her at age 5. We told her to jump on the couch and pretend to be Cleopatra. I didn't even think she knew who Cleopatra was, and she gave a perfect picture pose. Buruj has a lot of characteristics that are taken straight from my genes. So, the more I think about it, the more I believe that I have always been an attention seeker.

The most famous or infamous of my lines is "I feel neglected." A common quote I use when with my siblings. I think I just go on talking not realizing what/when the appropriate time to speak would be. The use of that sentence, I guess, is evidence for my needy attention requirements. I came up with a new line based on the RESPECT song by Otis Redding, "N-E-G-L-E-C-T, Find out what it means to me, N-E-G-L-E-C-T! Sock it to me, sock it to me" (or something like that) Usually these tactics don't work either. They just muster a laugh or two, and then everyone's back to their normal game.

The point of this blog:

Anyway, I recently spent time with two different groups and felt like I had more fun with one group than the other (in retrospect.) I thought to myself, why? And then I realized it.

The group with whom I supposedly felt I had less fun with was a group in which I was treated as an equal to all the others in the group, as friends. No one more special than the next. Still fun, and good to hang out with, but I wasn't seen as special.

The group with whom I supposedly felt I had incredible fun with was a group in which I was treated incredibly special. I was the in limelight, the center of attention. I was the one initiating the jokes, I was the one people came to to joke around with. It was non-stop laughter. Maybe I was a novelty for them, and so they enjoyed it even more. Maybe, they were to me. I don't know, but it was a blast.

I know this sounds ridiculous, that the more special I feel, the more I enjoy the event. Is that just down right, flattery? Does this mean, I'm incredibly influenced by flattery? I've always liked "ta'areef," but never thought I let it go to my head. But, here, I noticed a distinct difference in my behavior and perspective when I was and was not being flattered. I guess the fact that people wanted to hang out with me was a point of flattery too. That we were all having soo much fun, that I took that as a compliment of my own doing (for some odd [more like retarded] reason.)

My whole point to this is, if you'd like me to have fun when I'm with you, flatter me. And you'll have me thinking you're the best!


*Find the lyrics to Otis Redding's Respect song @
http://lyrics.rare-lyrics.com/O/Otis-Redding/Respect.html
*ta'areef = compliment

Dehydrating Movies

Have you guys ever gone to a movie, and cried so much, you felt a little dehydrated while exiting? Walking DOWN stairs begins to be an exhausting bout of exercise? And then when you've reached the bottom of the movie theater complex, you realize, damn, I need to go to the restroom?

Well, if you were paying attention, you would see that you have lost quite a lot of water throughout those THREE hours you were sitting on your bum wiping your nose on your sleeve, or palm, and waiting for it to dry off in between the comic relief.

I guess this could be generalized to all chick flicks, but more so to Hindi Filums. If you want to go see Kabhi Al Vida Naa Kehna, then take a box of tissues with you. No, actually, a towel would be better. Man, beginning to end. Shirin Bhabi & I were passing a pocket tissue packet back and forth throughout the whole movie, while my husband kept on patronizing me, requesting I try to turn the water-fountain off for a change--Sorry sweety, too late, pipes are busted.

When we walked out, I seriously thought my clothes were a little damp, and Hasnain offered to put them in the dryer when we got home, haha. I lost so much water (especially after the realized, "damn, I need to use the restroom" part, that I really had to get some fluids in me.

Pass me some Gatorade, please.

Enough is Enough

I've realized something, you know, something like an "epiphany" about Limits.

My main dilemma, or better word, problem, is that I don't know when to stop. When I'm helping someone, or giving a gift, or anything for someone else, I don't know how much is enough. I just keep giving, doing, saying, trying, helping, etc., without really realizing, "I think I should stop now."

There are people out there in the world who cannot sense pain. Physical pain. They have no nocireceptors (pain receptors), or they do, but they do not transmit any action potentials to/from the brain. Having receptors that sense pain allows us to know when and how to alleviate the harmful situation our body is in. By shifting our weight while standing in line, or by turning from side to side when we sleep, are all seemingly minor forms of the use of these receptors. Imagine bumping into the corner of the bed, or the nail protruding from the doorway frame, and not realizing you just cut yourself and are bleeding profusely. Again, instances of knowing that pain relates to some ailment in our physical being.

However, people who have no functional nocireceptors, do not know what their limits are to how much "pressure" their hips can withstand in a particular position while standing in line to be seated at a concert. How much is enough time on one leg? on the other?

Am I functionally lacking in a similar but different type of receptor? The receptor that sends a signal to your brain saying, "Alright, wrap up the advice giving, now," or "That gift is way to much for someone you barely met the other day," or "You know you can come home and stop intruding in on their lives now, and let them pack for their move to Oz," or "Stop being too motherly", and things like that. The last one is the most difficult one to control. Oh, I've gotten crap for that. Ever since I was 5 years old, I was nick-named: Dadima (grandma).

The thing about the advice, I've begun to learn, is recognizing the advice receiving person's reaction. If that person seems to become more distant (in conversation), then it's time to "wrap it up." And usually, I realize the reaction much later than I should have. haha. Sorry, all you unfortunate people. So, I guess I'm forming those neural interactions as I become more and more aware of the deficiency.

I know people appreciate my butting-in, but there is a limit. It's a good thing Hasnain is here to help me out with that. He's my "go to guy," and my biggest critic. He's the fella I can always count on to tell me the most brutal honest truth. Then I can cry, and say, "just tell me you like it," and then he'll give in to that, too. But, never without the truth. Hasnain's gotten much better at this truth telling business he's started. So, even when he wants to say something diplomatically (which I thank him a million times over for delicate matters) I can still tell what he's really thinking from his initial expression, the blank look he tries to keep on his face while he thinks about the "right" words to use. Thanks Dah-ling. I appreciate it.

He's my "Limit-man." He gives me that objective feedback I am dearly in need of when he says,

"Hey babe, BAS!"

*Bas means : stop, enough, no? Hey, actually what is bas's translation?
**For more Information on nocireceptors check out http://faculty.washington.edu/chudler/pain.html

Commercials

Don't you just love commercials? I am definitely one of those crazy commercial lovers. I remember once my sister wanted me to go get something from the bedroom while we were watching some movie on TV. So, she immediately changed the channel to a channel that had a commercial on so that I would get up and go get it. Unfortunately, she didn't realize at the time, that putting on a commercial only kept me lingering in the family room longer.

It's so funny that I love commercials, that my siblings actually give me a call when they're watching really good commercials, they know I usually crack up at them just hearing about it!

Here are a few I enjoy:

Kate Winslet's Amex Commercial

Dairy Queen Killer Bee Commercial

Citibank Identity Theft Commercials

Little Richard as a Famous spokesperson for Geiko Insurance

Motherly Love Commerical by Cingular

Psych

Ever heard of Eddie Murphy's Delirious Stand up comedy, with the Ice cream man, and the kids and their daddies on welfare, and the infamous....Wanna lick? Psych! Or is it Syke?

Have you ever told yourself one thing, but decidedly never really believed yourself? For example, with regards to my exam, I kept telling myself, "I am going to ROCK it." But really, I was praying to God that by some miracle all the questions would be just the ones that I am most comfortable with.

In essence you're psyching or syking yourself out rather than the usual, someone else. Why do you think we would do this to ourselves? that we would fall under the false impression of what we would Like to happen? what we would Want to happen? what we would damn well do anything to attain? (okay, maybe not that extreme), but still.

Check out the link... Hilarious.. ehem, I meant, it's Delirious!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpLhdsZuHs8

1 week

In exactly 1 week, 7 days, I will be sitting in a room arms length from people surrounding me N, S, E & W. Oh God.

This is the time to remember the Beatles:

Help! I need somebody, Help! Not just anybody, Help!
(okay I don't know the rest of the song)
but HELP!

Save me.

God give me :
The Courage to not fail my exam,
The Strength to last the whole day (8-5),

The Serenity to think straight &
The Wisdom to know the difference between the right & wrong answers!

Once I calm down, I then say,

Bismilla-hir-Rahma-nir-Rahim.

Let's get this party started.

Resistance

V = IR
So, resistance in a wire is dependent on the length of the wire and permeability of resistance. Is there any connection between resistance in a wire and resistance in a being.

Why are we driven to be a little resistant to change? Is it the length of time spent in one set type of situation, and variability experienced in one's life that gives us the adaptability to "change with the times."

Two of my dear friends from Atlanta have left to begin another set of lives.

Zainab has left in support of her husband and family, to settle in Houston to form another set of friends, and a circle to call family. Zainab, is one who is deathly scared of her memories here in Atlanta fading away, although she pretends she'll never forget anything. She has a distant relative there, but I told her, my family is her family. I will over the course of the next few days give her a list of my close family in Houston and their contact information.

Our silly times together has been transformed into a form of a bond. She is one of2 to 3 people I can talk to, in my natural state, without having to wonder if she "gets" me or not. I have a tendency to analyze, speculate, and over-analyze. I DO do that with my sister. And I do that with her, too. Zainab's son, Mohammed, is like a little experiment to us. When he was 16 months old, I told her about something I had learned in Developmental Psychology, and we tried it out on him. We put lipstick on his forehead, and about 5 minutes later took him to the bathroom and sat him in front of the mirror. We wanted to see if he had developed the concept of "self". If he knew who he was, that he was a person, that the being he saw in the mirror was himself. He didn't notice a thing. We tried it again at age 20 months, and not only did he immediately wipe off the lipstick as soon as we entered the bathroom, he even answered some questions that we asked him absolutely correctly. We asked where is Mohammed, (he pointed to the mirror) Where is Lulua Masi, (he pointed to the mirror at me), where is Mama (pointed to the mirror at Zainab.) Wow. Experiment successful! Yippee.

The car drives to and from parties that became excessively long drives because we were deep in conversation and I would end up taking 285 and completely not realizing we had already passed Atlanta. The u-turn is definitely one of our things. My getting a ride with her & Qusai to the markaz, and then my horrid display of snoring and drooling in the front seat the whole 30 minutes. And our unnecessary Thank yous, and You're Welcomes until we have to beat each other shut. Bas!

Zainab and I have had multiple fascinating experiences like these over the course of the 3 years I've been here in Atlanta. I will miss her dearly. She is my sweetheart.

My second good friend, Yoko, has departed to Pittsburgh to begin her life as a graduate student in a completely new environment, culture, people and weather wise. She knows only the few she has met through orientation, and is hopeful to begin anew, but anxious about creating the same environment: having the same enjoyable comfortable surroundings she's made for herself here at GA Tech.

Yoko is part of an Aikido community, that has engulfed her life, as does most religions. Thankfully, even before moving out to Carnegie Mellon, she's found her niche there, and has choices between three Aikido class settings. Yay, Aikido! But besides, extra curricular, the people she's considered family here, her close friends, routine restaurants, cafes, even Lab-mates, is like a little comfort zone for her. Now that she has broken that zone, she is going to have to create one somewhere else altogether. Hopefully it will take her less than the 5 years it took here. Her creative edge, and grounded sense of being will only be to her advantage in the next few months she settles in. I am confident, she will be happy.

Someone once said, The only thing constant in life is change.

I think I got it. We are made for change. The way we are built. Genetic Diversity, From the first moment our homologous chromosomes separate, they go through periods of recombination, swapping of bits and pieces of the chromosomes, one for the other. If that isn't an appetizer for change, what is? From the moment we are not even a zygote, a precursor to a zygote, as a gamete, we have already experienced change, then how can we not expect it to come as a fully developed human being, with capabilites of understanding adaptation in all necessary situations?

Whatever the case, this change is going to be difficult. I know that the effects of the change are temporary. Everyone falls back into their routine, I guess like the Social Withdrawal post I made earlier. Just give it time. Everyone falls back into routine.

Even without the scrapbook, I know the memories will last longer.

Procrastination

I just realized, that when it comes down to crunch time, there are two types: The time that you keep saying is crunch time, when in reality there is still some time, and then there is real crunch time, where the only time left barely makes it possible to complete the task with any decency.

Right now, I'm in the former crunch time. Even with signs all around the apartment,
"I am not Lazy"
"I do not believe in Procrastination"
"Get into Med School"
"Study for the MCAT"

I sometimes feel jazzed up enough to get some work done. And sometimes, my mind just wanders in the creative realm. These are the times I want to:

• sew a couch cover, pillows,
  
• crochet
• learn to crochet
  
• make some scrapbooks
• buy plants
• not kill the plants I do have
• cook
• learn to make roti
  
• read an interesting book
  
• watch a movie I've seen over 40 times (French Kiss), make that 60.
  
• talk on the phone with old friends and family about memories and laugh until my tummy hurts, or I have to run to the restroom
  
• listen to Hasnain's heartbeat
• pretend like I'm studying while actually blogging
  
• do whatever
  

But this is the time, when I just want to do something other than study. Why?

That whole release your inhibition song, really just puts me at a loss. I need some inhibition. I need to control myself. I need to put away this computer, and just take another practice test.

I will triumph (that's from French kiss, too.)

Social Withdrawal

We've all heard of the withdrawal syndrome. Once a behavior is in the process of extermination, the addicting force that drives behavior to reestablish is an effect of withdrawal.

Have you ever felt the void after a long weekend of having fun with friends, family, someone in your presence? That resistance to fall back into routine?

Well, I think I am going to append the Withdrawal category with that associated feeling as Social Withdrawal Syndrome. There is an incentive, almost a motivation to continue relations with those who contributed to the syndrome. Writing emails, talking about them and the events that transpired to whomever comes in contact with you, replaying the events in your head while lying on the bed, or taking a bite of cereal. Those behaviors are your endeavor to fill the void that all that socializing has left.

What are ways people overcome this void, this Social Withdrawal? Is it the perpetual "routine" that we are so hesitant to return to? Wake up, make chai, eat breakfast, go to work, park car, walk to building; all the while, plastering on the smile that is partially a residue of the exhausting but entertaining weekend, and partially a workday ethic. Even at work, the first day back, you entertain your colleagues with a few anecdotes in remembrance of your socializing, trying to hold on to the dimming, thinning thread of the events of your socialization. But, inevitably, your partial social withdrawal smile fades over the course of hours, days, weeks, months, and your work smile consumes your countenance. What enables this feat?

Maybe it's the law of diminishing returns. Remember in Econ, the first bite of pizza is the best bite, most delicious, and the consecutive bites just don't give you that special feeling as did the first bite. The repetitive action ends up eliminating the fancy and excitement of it all.

Is this what happens? The long weekend, is short enough to enjoy but not long enough to get tired of, so it's still considered a novelty when it's over? And the repetitive motion of speaking, thinking, replaying of the events of the weekend, is just a method of diminishing the return?

So, how do we keep the memories the longest, and keep the feeling the longest? Experimental Analysis of Behavior would suggest you talk, and think about the events in a random variable manner. So as to not get you too used to the memories, or events. That way, when you do happen to encounter someone, you don't know if you're going to talk about the event or not. But usually, this method is only performed on OTHERS. Rarely on oneself. You control your thoughts. So you would know if this was the "variable time" or not.

But what if you can't control your thoughts? Sheesh, this can go on forever. I think I'll stop here, I've exhausted my enthusiasm for this topic with the repetitive behavior of "writing about it."

Postcards

I love Postcards!!!

Well, ever since I started my Bell collection, people have been assuming I want THEM to bring me bells. Uh, NO! Bells are my souvenirs from places I have personally been.

So, as a parallel, I've requested others who so willingly usually bring me back something I don't want, to bring me back a MAGNET and to send me a postcard from the places they visit. Usually from their trip I request ONE postcard and/or ONE magnet (even if they visit 20 different countries or local ostrich farms.)

Well, now rather than a request for a postcard, it has become a nagging process, but I make sure to nag at people who are naggable (i.e., family, friends, acquaintances, anyone I've met or spoken with at least once. haha)

Currently, my freezer door is PACKED surface to surface with postcards and magnets that Marya has so delightfully arranged in a columnar fashion. I think I might have to cross over to the Refrigerator door side.

Anyway, I've found that Snapfish allows for making postcards with your own pictures. How lovely! I sent my first two to my mom and my sister.



Just wanted to plug Snapfish for this amazing treat. "I'm Lovin' It "

Since I've been in Cambridge for all this while, I've been sending postcards of Boston, Cambridge, Harvard Sq, Paul Revere, the MBTA map, etc. to friends/family LEFT and RIGHT. Even now, as Hasnain & I leave this wonderful place, I'm about to drop a couple off for Pakistan & Canada (another set of Mom & Sister).

Out with the new, In with the Old

This is a memory.

Last year, Hasnain & I, and thousands of other mumineen visited Fremont, CA, in the hopes of being in the hazrat of Maulana. As with all trips in Maula's presence, there is a bit more socializing than there is internalizing. I don't know why that occurs, but I think that's in our nature, Bohri nature, and will hopefully be addressed in the future, if reason and time permits (doesn't that sound sabaq-friendly?).

We, all of us, as usual visited the time-honored locations near Fremont, no unfortunately, we didn't hit up the Hotelwala's this time. Instead we got caught up in the X-mi/hr winds at the Golden Gate Bridge for the 300th time, just in case we forgot what the slicing winds felt like on our porous skin (desmosome junctions).

Oh yes, I forgot. The prequel. So it all began, when the Hasnain brought the Double Club to Bako, on their way to SF, had breakfast (eggs, lots of left over meat, and more meat) and we all met up again at the SF airport to receive Maula. I had driven from Bakersfield with Ma & Marya. This leads me straight into my point of even writing this blog (finally!) : Glasses.

It was a bright sunny day with the rays beating onto the tinted windows of the notorious, yet renown black car. I slipped my fingers into the conveniently located driver side door compartment (pocket thingy), and lo-and-behold, I found something so incredibly useful, and functional for the time being, sun-glasses. Yay.

I chuckled my Lulu chuckle and slid on the Top Gun Ray-Ban glasses in a "I'm a James Bond wanna-be kinda gal." But instead the whole scene ended up me looking like one of the officers from "Reno 911" Yeah. Completely out of fad.

After getting really comfortable with them falling off my face because they were really just too big, but enjoying the fact that absolutely NO sunlight was scorching my eyes from any direction foveal or peripheral, I was really getting to likin' them.

We reached safely at the airport in SF, and Marya threatened that she'd not walk near, around, or KNOW me if I was to continue wearing them. Hey, these were the first pair of glasses I actually began to like wearing. Who cares if I thought I was part of the Highway Patrol. Shoot, I'll join the Super Troopers, if I get to wear these!

Anyway, I opted to not wear them when in familiar, recognizable public. I was definitely cognizant (remember that word from Mufaddal's speal at the Masjid?) of the fact that these were people who knew me, my family, and my ridiculous reputation of being simply goofy. Did I really want to solidify that into fact? No. So, I tucked them into my ridah pocket, like my keys, and walked head on.

After we walked back to the parking lot, I attempted the unreal, or how about we put it, surreal. I pretended that no one noticed me with the Ray-bans on AGAIN, and went about my day, in a darkly tinted van with children under 2 years of age in car seats surrounding me left and right with my darkly tinted glasses on. I was a mad rapper in da house (er, Previa more like it.) Yes, back with the Double Club again and their naughty, rotty, and definitely snotty kids. Aren't they adorable?

So, Hasnain & I eventually split up into a smaller car with some friends' family from SC (no not USC.. but South Carolina. ) They were a blast, and they really didn't pay much attention to MY new fad, Mrs. Ray-ban on the prowl. So, we walked about, and of course hit up the GG Bridge again, during the day. Spot light. This time, not just the ridah, but I had a double whammy---rayban girl. The feeling was superhuman. Elasti-girl, invisi-girl, Rayban-girl (Rabbi-girl wouldn't have done so well.)

I was piercing through the crowd, like no other (literally) , and was paying attention mostly to human behavior--as usual. I'm a freak like that. Psycho about psychology.

Did they look at my attire? or my face? Did they think I was funny, weird, or just a Disney character coming out of the forest? Oh, that's another memory, I have got to mention later also...Note to You guys, Remind me: Disneyland Trip after brother's engagement in 2000.

Anyway, all this commentary on one little picture. I have to give it up to Hasnain. He was wonderful. Like letting a little artistic person loose and letting me enjoy the fun for a bit. Okay, there was nothing artistic about it, but it sure was super-fun. Who knew a pair of sunglasses could enable such a(n) hyper experience. We had to get a photo of it (see above).

Books to Read

I have created a list of books that I am going to read. As I read them, I am going to comment on them (somewhat intellectually) and document that, check, they have been read.

Now, keep in mind, I am writing about the content. I have not done this type of activity for about 5 years now. When you attend a technical school you lose the ability to articulate, and you just learn to grunt work. So, hopefully there will be some improvement.

The Pink titles indicate I am currently reading those books. Once I've completed the books, I will give an indication that it has been read, the title will be highlighted Green.

Here's the list:

• The War of Worlds by H. G. Wells
• The Dante Club
  
• The World According to Garp
  
• Sir Gawain & the green knight
• Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
• Ivanhoe
• Journey to the center of the earth
• The three muskateers
• The astonishing hypothesis
• Odyssey
• Who's afraid of Virginia Wolff
• Beyond Einstein
• Hyperspace
• Godel Escher Bach: An Eternal golden Braid
• The western Canon
• Lost Horizon
• The Giver By Lois Lowry
  
• Hold my Gold
  
• Paradise By Judith McNaught
  
• A Fine Balance
  
• Mountain Beyond Mountains "The life of Paul Farmer" by Tracy Kidder
• The Razors Edge
• Kartography = kamila shamsie
• Moth Smoke
• Blink by Malcolm Gladwell
  

Superficial Wonders: Title change

My sister and I have begun to discuss issues of life, liberty and the pursuit of whatever the hell makes you happy. Actually, we've always talked about these types of crazy things. Sometimes we actually hit something really interesting, and sometimes we end up hanging up the phone abruptly to let the other cool off a little bit.

It is only after these conversations that I begin to ponder about what it was that we were really discussing. Most of the time now, I've come to the conclusion that my thinking is really superficial. My perspective on things may not be "materialistic" fine, but superficial nonetheless.

Now do not underestimate what I actually write in the next few blogs, because there may be some truth or ultimate truth to the content of them, but more than likely, there is a higher probability that I really haven't thought through the issue carefully, and need a couple more conversations with Marya to really understand what else the issue concerns.

So the Title states that I've changed the title. Yes, it was initially " The world according to Lulua." But how original is that. It really does not convey anything about me. Nor does it convey anything about what I'm going to talk about. The fact that I am writing the information means it has to be my perspective, duh. But I think Superficial wonders, really hits the nail on the head. Okay, no more cliches for the rest of the time I write in this blog.

If you continue to read this blog, you'll notice, I drift a lot. Similar to someone who really doesn't have her thoughts all figured out. I'm working on that. I think writing like Doogie Howser, MD about my life's events and tribulations will help me out in the long run.

So, no Judging Amy, uh, I mean, Lulua. Okay?

The Beach & the polka dot bikini

I went to Revere Beach today in Boston, Massachussettes. Yes, the name Revere comes from the famous man who rode into the night yelling out that the British were attacking to all the minute men, Paul Revere.

Although I would like to delve into discussion about Paul Revere and the American Revolution, today I am going to discuss the experience of "going to the beach."

What do you typically need when you "go to the beach"? Well, first you must be wearing a swimming costume, for when you only go to dip your feet, you end up losing your balance on those stupid unsymmetrical rocks, and you slip and fall into the water, knee first. So, yes, a bathing suit is a must.

Second, a towel. Of course, the reason of the first grants you the reason for the second. You fall in, you get wet. You get wet, you need to dry off. But before you even think about falling in and getting wet and needing to dry off, you must think about where will you sit!? Sleep!? Lie!? Why of course, on a towel. If there is more than one person going, usually a bed sheet will do, okay beach chairs and an umbrella won't hurt, but a towel is the bare minimum.

Third, while you're not wading in the water, you're back on the towel, doing nothing, unless you bring something (e.g., book, cards, frisbee, rackets & ball, ball) to entertain the hours away. If you don't bring something, there's nothing to do but STARE at other people.

Everyone thought the best place to sit and stare at people was at the fountain in Central Park. No, I'm sorry, unfortunately, no one is more anonymous and stared at simultaneously than at a Beach. You not only form one with the crowd, unless you have some explainable outstanding characteristic that is reflects all light into the crowd's vision, you usually are one of the mass when at the beach. You become on the unknown. Everyone is one with the beach. Everyone is busy idling away in their own particular manner, either by lying on their backs, sleeping, reading or watching, playing in the water, or strolling along side the tide, no one stands out, even though EVERYONE stands out.

Okay, this is getting boring. My point is, that when there's nothing else to do, all you CAN do is stare at everyone. Stare, look at what they're doing, saying, behaving. They're little actions, expressions. Sometimes you even look at who they're looking at, as if you're part of the conversation too. It's really weird. There are gorgeous people out there, and just regular Joe's. Thank GOD for the regular Joes. What would happen if all the Regular Joe's didn't have enough confidence and self-esteem and just stayed home, didn't come out and flaunt their blubber to the rest of the world? We'd only be exposed to the drop dead gorgeous men and women, with the perfect pecs, and the perfect skin tone. It would be a little 17 magazine! That would terribly SUCK.

For the people like me, who wear a bathing suit UNDERNEATH the never take off pants and shirt, we're screwed. I do have to say though, that although I was out there, I don't feel all that low. I feel pretty good about myself. Having Hasnain not drop his jaw everytime a purtty girl walked by was nice, definitely a good gesture, and kept up my spirits. Thanks, Jaan~!

But the notion that you can go out there, have fun, regardless of who the ugly warted hairy bellied man or dazzling gorgeous woman in a "yellow polka dot bikini" apply sunscreen right next to you, you gotta get up, and just go have fun, just like a kid.

Every five seconds, a hot guy passes by with his buds, and a beautiful girl skips along the sand faking her playfulness with her accompanying friend (who happens to be a boy), everyone is really checking everyone else out. That's what you do, you go have fun, and then you Mack out. Crazy. I'm glad I dont have those issues to worry about.

No Macking out on the beach, and no, well, is there much harm in checking out people?

The world According to Lulua

Yes yes, the title originates from The World According to Garp, but I have yet to actually read it. I've never kept a blog, I guess I'm a little insecure about my own thoughts. I usually think I'm smarter than I actually am, so most of that will come out in highlighting my perspective on things. Anyway, let's begin, right?

Dear Diary,
....