The Irony of Hygiene

Going somewhere into what we made ourselves believe is an era of no more plague or disease, neglecting STD’s and third world countries!! I come to look around me and find the facts rather humorous.

 

 In order to prevent the spread of any type of disease, everything that is introduced to us nowadays is either plastic or in a plastic cover to prove that it is clean and free from the fingerprints of anyone else other than the user himself/herself. Well that’s great, because now I don’t have to worry about my food being contaminated. But somewhere in the back of my head as a Chemical Engineer I know that ALL plastics cannot be recycled and they can only be burned to give poisonous gases that might someday be the reason of the destruction of our planet. And don’t get me started about detergents, pesticides and other "cleaning" utilities. Well, good luck next generation I say!

 

In other news Saudi Arabia lost 4-0 to Ukraine. Why are people mad? You guys better of with 8? I quote "هذا إلي جاك"

 

2006
06/20
CATEGORY
Health and wellness
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How Easy They Make it Seem

One oclock in the morning I walked into a fast food restaurant to find a father with two kids. At that time at night?!?! And he looked like everything was totally cool. Just after I spent a couple of minutes judging the father for bad parenting, I realized how I misinterpreted what was so obvious, something was totally wrong with that family yet that man took his kids for a happy meal and as if nothing is wrong and they’re just going out for a late snack.

 

I remember as a kid my father would take us every evening to ride on our new bikes for a couple of hours. My mother told us ten years later that my dad woke up daily at 7am in the morning to take us to school, go to work and after work he would take us for the bike ride. Not one time did I remember my dad mentioning a headache.

 

I’m not sure if I grow up to be a father half of what my father is. But I guess men can only prove themselves men on the line of combat.

2006
06/15
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Whenever You’re Ready

On the road from Dhahran to Jeddah, 12 hour drive if you are a sane driver. Every 300 km we would switch drivers. So at the end of my 300 km, osama told me "whenever you’re ready". I drove an extra 100 km thinking about these 4 words (four not three!)

 

Am I ready? Isn’t that the question that keeps us from making a big change or taking a huge step? I kept thinking of the so many times in life that I could’ve done something great or maybe helped somebody out, but I thought I wasn’t ready.

 

I came to believe that we are never ready, how could you be ready? All what we do is just prepare for the worst that could happen, and even after that still worry of that something that we don’t know might happen. It’s really ironic that we are afraid of what we don’t know!

 

I think somewhere in tsunami a student thought he was ready for his exam until the disaster occurred. I Quote my brother Tariq
" Limits only exist if you make them"

and also let us not forget

"اعقلها و توكل"

2006
06/07
CATEGORY
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Eyes Wide Open

In Saudi
Arabia teenage years extend right up to 25
years old somehow. And not much attention has been paid to their negative acts,
until recently.

The problem has been dealt with, now there are part time jobs.
Police have better routines for facing disturbed youth. The Saudi football team
has been prohibited from making it to the world cup finals.

Generally, eyes are wide open, and in a matter of no time
there will be no such things as car accidents or vandalism.

However, I’m not really convinced. I came to see these acts
of our youth. There is always a signature or a trace. If a somehow decent
investigation was made, you would get to the wrong doer in a matter of hours.
Why would I videotape myself in a “taf7ee6” contest? Why would I spray paint
the streets with my name? Are teenagers so naïve they think they are
untouchable?

Maybe, it’s not about a game of catch me if you can. Call me
crazy, but maybe our youth are pleading. A plead for recognition. That’s all
they want, to be heard.

__________________________________________________________

Now, I must go back to my studies, for tomorrow is my last
final. And I must do well in order to be a rich successful chemical engineer.
How else will I bail my son out?

2006
06/04
CATEGORY
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A taste of Sarcasm!

A couple of days ago I met a person
I give a lot of respect to, let’s call that person 50% of the Saudi population.
Let me tell you why I think much of this guy.

 

            This person
makes sure that everyday he comes back from work and stays at his mothers’
house for a whole hour. Yes that’s right, a complete 60 minutes. That is about
4% of his day. Isn’t he the perfect son? To spend a whole hour daily with your
mother for no reason at all.  A normal
mother keeps her baby 9 month’s in her, and then spends approximately the next
20 years getting him on his feet with a wife and a stable job.

 

            Of course,
our friend does not forget all what his mother did for him, he pays her back. A
whole hour every single day, you know what, on a good Friday they have lunch
together.

 

            That’s much
better than the loser who gave up a great job opportunity to live with his mom,
who lives with his mom these days? What a loser. Getting half what he could get
in another country, just because he wants to live with his mom. Just so he
could get her groceries and take her places. Of course, our other friend is
smarter than that. He took the job opportunity and with the extra money he got
his mom a private driver AND a maid. WoW! You know what? Standing ovation
everybody, he deserves it.

 

I Quote Ahmed Bokhater

“فكم أسهرت من ليل... لأرقد ملء أجفاني...
 
 
وكم أظمئت من جوف... لترويني بتحناني...
 
 
ولما مرضت لا أنسى ... دموعا منك كالمطر...
 
 
وعينا منك ساهرة ... تخاف عليه من خطر...
 
 
ويوم وداعنا فجرا ... وما أقساه من فجري...
 
 
يحار القول في وصف ... الذي لاقيتي من هجري...
 
 
وقلت مقالة لا زلت ... مدكرا بها دهري...
 
 

محالا أن ترى صدرا … أحن عليك من صدري…”

2006
06/03
CATEGORY
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Have you met death?

Yesterday I finished my final
before last, after that final we went to Al-Rashid mall for lunch. Sitting with
two of my best friends (gash+xfox), I came to memories of sitting in the same
place with 13 of my best friends. I couldn’t help feeing sorrow, how life got
the best of us, how easy it was to break us apart. Some left for better places,
some for worst, while others just drifted away.

            I imagined
myself talking to life, life was a she. I looked her straight in the eye, and
sternly asked her “Why? Why so cruel?” The old lady looked at me, smiled with
sympathy and replied “Silly boy, have you not met death?” Shocked with her
answer I replied with silence and a few steps back. I turned around and ran out
of my imagination. It’s true, I am merely a child, I haven’t met death, and I
haven’t seen its deeds. But I have heard. How death doesn’t wait, how death
comes unexpected and how it giggles when we take life for granted

            As I thought of the
inevitable I felt rather weak and tearful, I tried fighting my tears for a few
seconds until I gave in. Only then is when I learned a precious lesson about
what makes a man.

2006
06/02
CATEGORY
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What Makes a Man?

At age 19 going to 20, an age where
one thinks he goes from teen to adult, from crazy to wise, from careless to
responsible. I walk the grounds of earth
like a king, like? No. I am king. Head up high with pride, for I am a pure
arab, I am a Muslim. I am a man. I smile at little kids and nod to whatever
foolish words they babble, I pass by teenagers and give them my words of wisdom
from so many years I have lived, I now look at women as objects of lust and
desire, they are the weaker sex and I am the superiour man. It was obvious for people to
see, the big stamp on my forehead “MAN”!

I walk back to my manly room, which
I did not build nor did I pay rent for. I stood to look at my manly facial hair
in the mirror; I read the words on my forehead with a smile. But something
looks wrong, the N isn’t so clear. Hold on a minute, That’s not an N, that’s an
S and using my manly untrammeled sight, the other letter seemed like an H.
“MAHS”??

Is that what I have become? I look
into myself; I dig deep into my thoughts. Yet I cannot face myself, for I am
full of shame. And my thoughts hide deeper from me, the truth is out there and
obvious. Yet, admitting the truth would be devastating. I, the man, carrier of
the family name, carrier of the Muslim flag, proud son of a proud heritage, am
nothing but a SHAM.

Born males, we jumped the content
and concluded ourselves to be men. We found pride in what is not ours; we found
pride in what is no reason to be proud.

Now I find myself restless, I can’t
spare my thoughts for anything other than this mystery (good excuse for bad
grades?). Until I find the answer, until I fulfill my quest. What makes a man?

2006
06/01
CATEGORY
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