Going Green

No, not recycling, although I wish I could throw the piles of papers in a recycling bin in Oman for a change.

But, I've started a 'fruit and veggies' diet only a couple of days ago and it's going pretty fine, thank God. Reason is, rice have never appealed to me, the only reason why I had it for lunch is thanks to our Arabian culture to have it daily. And I was just searching online to spice up my meals, or in other words, getting creative in what I eat now and I found the most delicious-looking recipes. Simple ones, to be exact. You could check them out here.

Think you'd like this one too? I know I have.

White Beans and Cherry Tomato Salad Recipe

INGREDIENTS

1 15-ounce cans of white beans, such as Great Northern or canelli beans, drained and rinsed

1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved

1/3 cup coarsely chopped parsley

Dressing ingredients:

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

3 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed

1 3-inch sprig of fresh rosemary

3 anchovy fillets, coarsely chopped (omit for vegetarian option)

1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

3/4 teaspoon Kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

1 teaspoon lemon zest

1/4 cup of lemon juice

METHOD

1 Start by making the dressing. Put the garlic and rosemary in olive oil in a small saucepan. Heat on medium until the rosemary begins to sizzle. Remove the pan from the heat and let sit for 20 minutes, allowing the rosemary and garlic to infuse in the oil.

2 Remove rosemary sprig from the oil, discard. Remove the garlic from the oil, reserving the oil. Add the garlic, anchovies (omit for vegetarian option), Parmesan cheese, salt, pepper, lemon zest, and lemon juice to a food processor. Pulse until smoth.
3 In a medium bowl, gently fold the garlic mixture in with the beans until they are well coated. Let sit for a few minutes for the beans to absorb. Gently mix in the reserved olive oil, tomatoes, and parsley.

Or THIS.

Hiatus Lane [5]

A recap of the previous chapter;

Ali

The moment she held the phone tight next to her left ear and spoke to him, her mind had wandered a million miles. When Nouf asked if she could go, she’d agreed. Even though I was dieing on the inside to head to the zoo, Fares was, in fact, the last person I wanted to be escorted with.

Hiatus Lane: Chapter Five (Part one)

~ By: Kitten

- ‘Nouf, are you done?’

- ‘Wait! I just need some more minutes’
- ‘Ali?’
- ‘I’ve been ready for hours, can you please tie her shoes so we can move on with our lives already?’
‘Don’t give me that tone’
- ‘I said please’

Nouf finally came out and Deema was checking if she'd turned all the lights down when the bell rang. Ali lazily opened it and they all went out that night at exactly 7, just like Fares promised.

Fares

It was all I could do to not stare at Deema and start to joke around with Ali and Nouf. She’s been excited ever since she heard the word zoo earlier and I can’t blame her. I’ve read many great expectations about the place and I wasn’t going to go alone as usual.

We ended up enjoying playing around with the monkeys most of the time but I wish we’d heard the sleepy lion roar. It would have been awesome though nevertheless, Nouf liked to stare at the giraffes. Something about their long necks appealed to her. Or maybe they reminded her of ballerinas’ supposedly long and thin legs?

As much as I enjoyed the kids’ company, I wish I had a little more time to chat with Deema. She seemed distant…not at all the same when I first met her. Was I too pushy? If so, why didn’t she say exactly that to me? During these rare occasions where Ali would run to show how he's not afraid to get close from the lion’s cage, I fiddled my way around to Deema and asked if she was having a good time. She merely nodded and never spoke to me again. I wondered if it was my talkative nature, or if she’s not in the mood, or… I don’t know.

On the way back to our hotel, Deema received a call. By the looks of it, the person on the other end of the line did all the taking when all she said was a couple of yes, no’s and okay.

*****

House Rules: A Glitch?

Since I'm working on a book-review kind of presentation, I chose to write about my latest read, House Rules by Jodi Picoult. The main plot is that the lead character Jacob sufferes from Asperger's syndrome; a high functioning form of autism that enables him to understand social clues and make an eye-contact.

He's also obsessed about solving crime scenes and when his tutor is found dead, he's the one to blame. Long story short, his brother, who's perfectly fine and who had a habit of breaking into different houses, have entered Jacob's tutor house. She was surprised when she saw him and slipped, hitting her head badly. When Jacob came for his lesson, he saw her lying in her own pool of blood, cleaned the mess and properly dressed her and wrapped Jess in a quilt. All the while knowing that his brother was the one who killed her.

Now, my question is; Asperger's patients are supposed to lack the ability to show the empathy, and not totally emotionless, or am I mistaken? Jacob's act of carrying a dead body wasn't in the least bit sensitive, given the fact that he had a crush on his tutor, Jess.

Is it a glitch in the story? If not, are we left with the conclusion that people with Asperger's are a danger to community and hence should be locked away?

Vintage Snapshots

I was rampaging through my old files and found these shots. I used the Sepia settings on my camera so as to give it a vintage vibe.

Spark Of Inspiration

Imagine what you are writing about, see it and live it. Do not think it up laboriously, as if you were working out a mental arithmetic. Just look at it, touch it, smell it, listen to it, turn yourself into it. When you do this, the words look after themselves , like magic. If you do this, you do not have to bother about commas or fullstops or that sort of thing. You do not look at the words either. You keep your eyes, your ears, your nose, your taste, your touch, your whole being on the things you are turning into words. The minute you flinch, and take your mind off this thing, you begin to look at the words and worry about them..then your worry goes into them and they set about killing each other. So you keep going as long as you can, then look back and see what you have written.

The above was a quote by the great poet Ted Hughes which I found in a book whose name I can't seem to remember that revolved around improving your poetry skills. Funny how a single paragraph can excite that living creature inside you who have been waiting for the exact moment to get inspired back and help you get on with what you enjoy doing the most; writing.

I believe my writer's-block have stayed for so long and I know I must do something about it. I'm glad to say that I haven't got out of the zone totally as I still write my article every week but story-wise, I've missed the thrill and excitement I get over scribbling down the next scenes and scenarios through my characters words. Good news is, a couple of days...Thursday, tops, I'd post a new chapter of Hiatus Lane, inshAllah.

Recommended Blog: Epicure-licious

I don't normally advertise for blogs unless I mean the dedication, so once again, here's an interesting blog for all of you cooking-lovers out there:

Epicure-licious

A blog just recently started by my good friend and classmate who enjoys trying out new recipes and shall share them on her newly-started blog. Don't hesitate to e-mail her or leave a comment about your 'kitchen adventures'.

Bon appetit.

The Perfect Way To End The Year

After 7 years of wanting to perform Umra I finally had the chance to on Monday. We took off from Oman on Friday night after lots of drama from my part as mom didn't agree about me hitting the road with my uncle and aunt without my parents. Her only reason was that she'd worried sick about me. I tried to talk her into it but she'd refuse to answer my requests so I got frustrated and left her room, my heart shattering into pieces: After all the planning and when everything was all set for us to leave that night she says no. My older sister then asked me to pray 9alat elisti5ara and ask Allah if it was good for me, then he'd let me go and vice versa. I prayed and when mom woke up that afternoon she told me to start packing. I was overwhelmed and started doing what she asked. She then went shopping for me and resumed the packing dilemma while I went out to say good-bye to my close family and relatives.

We took off that night at 10 PM with tears welling in my eyes to be parting from my parents but knowing that I'd finally be able to do what I've always wanted to experience, I let the drama pass. We stopped occasinally to use the restrooms and for prayers. At 2 AM, we stopped at a mosque in AD so that my uncle (the one who drives) could rest for a while. And boy! It was freezing cold. I slept for a mere of 30-45 minutes due to my non-stop shivering.

Then time flew by really fast and we reached AlMadinah at 10 or 11 PM on Saturday. My aunt pointed out AlMasjid AlNabawi to me and I was speechless. The dazzling lights that englightened the mosque's minrates didn't leave words for me to utter. We then took out our bags and chose a hotel to settle in for the next two day. Early the next morning we visited the mosque and it was HUGE, mashallah. My aunt and I headed to the women's praying section and visisted the place near the Prophet's grave which is call the raw'9a. We prayed and made du3a and left the mosque. On our way back to the hotel, a little farther than the mosque entrance was a souq called Aswa8 AlHaram and I did a lot of shopping for my cousins that day and the next.

After 2 chilly (yes, I had to wear my sweater at all times) days, we packed and got ready to leave AlMadina and head to Makka to perform Umra. A 10 minutes distance then we reached the Mi8at and did abultion with the intention of being on our i7ram for 3umra. And on the way we met a group of monkeys (who didn't say to bits of cakes)

At 8 or 9 PM we reached Makka and I was even more astonished by the sight of the HUGE alharam almakki. We then checked in at a hotel, left our baggage there and walked to Alharam to perform Umra. The moment my eyes set upon the Ka3ba I silently made du3a for myself, my family and the rest of Muslims worldwide. The ka3ba is literally larger than the size we're used to see on TV obviously and then we did the 6awaf which was easy given the quite reasonable amount of people. Afterwards, we did the sa3i 7 times which was harder than the latter due to the distance but I kept praying and thanking Allah for this valuable opportunity.

On Thursday, I came back home to be welcomed by my whole family for it being my second time. They kept calling me half 7agiya and I took the gathering as a chance to distribute the gifts I've brought along for every single person.

What a great way to end the year! InshAllah tkoon 3umra ma8boola.

Article Topics Needed

These lack-of-inspiration moments occur to me more than any person you've ever met (or will, in fact). So here I am once again, asking for topics to write about on my column. Almost every Monday an idea just pops to to my mind out of nowhere but I'm trying to stop procrastinating and so far, staring at the blank MS Word sheet didn't do any good to me.

Generally, I feel passionate about writing topics related to society; things like local issues, etc.. though I can't seem to think of anything right now. Your help will be appreciated.

/End of blog post.

[Excerpt] ولدت هناك، ولدت هنا

I've never been interested in reading in Arabic since 06 when I read more than 100 stories for an international competition and won (then headed to Dubai for the awarding ceremony. It was fantastic!) . I guess I didn't because I hated being forced to by my teacher although she apparently did for my own benefit. Aside from the that, English speaks loud and clear to me. Arabic, on the other hand, have never kept my interest.

After having started reading ولدت هناك، ولدت هنا by مريد البرغوثي I can take back all my previous assumptions back. Even though I haven't even reached halfway through, I can assure you that I'm hooked already.

Here's a little spoiler for you guys;

"أقول هذه الأشجار قتلى. وهناك، في مكانين مختلفين، في اللحظة ذاتها، فلاح فارغ الكفين وجندي ممتلئ زهوا. وهناك في غرفة الليل ذاته، فلاح فلسطيني يحدق في السقف، وجندي إسرائيلي يحتفل"

"بقعة في الهواء المعلق التي نتأرجج فيها الآن هي غربتنا نحن السبعة عن هذه الأرض. إنها إرادتنا المعطلة، وهي محاولتنا المشوبة بالشجاعة والخوف معا لفرض إرادتنا بالتحايل والمكر. فقاعة الهواء هذه هي الاحتلال الصلب ذاته. هي التشرد الفلسطيني في هواء بلاد الآخرين. نلجأ من أرضنا إلى هواء الدنيا. نحن نغرق في الأعالي. نغرق إلى فوق. رحم الله سلفادور دالي الذي لن تخطر له هذه الصورة بعد موته. وهذه البقعة الهوائية العبثية هي أسلوب محمود في أن لا يهزمه أي أمر أو يرغمه أي عائق على إعادتنا فاشلين. هنا يصبح بالانخفاض أمنية من يعلو كما علونا في تلك اللحظة. بريئة جدتي وهي تدعو لي في طفولتي وشبابي، "روح يا مريد يا ابن سكينة بنتي الله يعلي مراتبك" أو "الله يعلي مقامك بين الناس"، لم يصبح لي مقام "عال" بين الناس يا جدتي ولم ترتفع مراتبي في بلادي إلا بفضل هذا الوحش المعدني الأخرس. ألكثرة ما دعوت لي بالعلو استجابت لك السماء هكذا ساخرة منك ومني؟ أريد أن يهبط بي مقامي يا جدتي، أن أنزل عن "سموي" هذا ، أن ألامس الطين والتراب مرة أخرى لأسترد صفة المسافر العادي. الاحتلال هو لحظات الوحشة هذه بين أرض البشر وسمائهم"

[Book Review] Daddy-Long-Legs

Daddy-Long-Legs, largely known to us as صاحب الظل الطويل . When I knew it was an actual novel, I borrowed it from my friend the same day because who can miss such a chance? Turned out, it's a famous classic written by Jean Webbster back in 1912.

Back in the days, I used to ADORE the cartoon show so much that I had many dreams revolving the mystery identity that is Daddy-Long-Legs. And in each time, someone from real life appeared to be him. I was forever indulged in finding who this mysterious long man was. Because, apparently Judy was in love with him as much as I was myself.

However, the book is a bit different. It is divided into two part, the first is of a narration of the incident when a trustee of the orphanage that Judy was in, came forward and offered to send her specifically to college. The second part, which is the whole half of the story is a bunch of letters sent from Judy to the trustee whom she calls Daddy-Long-Legs. She saw his long shadow when she was asked to have a word with her teacher about her future. The trustee's condition was that she writes to him, telling about her academical progress, without expecting a reply back. That she write him once every month without the knowledge of him real name, etc.

Even though she was asked not to, she still required about his real name in most of her letters, his descriptions but there was no answer back. Although there was some good gestures here and there when he sent flowers or have his secretary reply or give her permission to do several things. Meanwhile, she met Jervis, her friend Julie's uncle repeatedly. All along, she wrote to Daddy explaining every encounter and confessing about her love. It grew frustrating at times because I already know Jervis is Daddy himself and it was kind of awkward.

Either ways, at the end, Daddy agreed to meet her when he was sick and it turned out he was Jervis himself all along. The book came to an end at this point which made me curious to know more in the sequel, Dear Enemy.

Keeping the fact that it's a classic, an easy language was used to provide a high-schooler flowing way of talking and some humorous parts were added. This was a total bonus in making it a fast and enjoyable read. My rating: 8.5/10

The Tate Britain

As published on Oman Observer today, December 15th.

Visiting the Tate Britain exhibition at Sayyid Faisal bin Ali Museum was the highlight of my week. It was all about ‘The Art Of Seeing Nature Masterpieces from Tate Britain’ which is a very famous museum and the Ministry of Culture and Heritage took part in spreading this magnificent art by transporting six valuable paintings that date back to 300 years.

We were greeted by a cheerful Omani man who took great pleasure in giving us the basic history of the museum which was first opened by His Highness Sayyid Haitham bin Tareq al Said in January 2008. Then an enthusiastic Omani woman toured us around and gave quite an insightful information about each painting and advised us into noticing the tiny details lingering in each of the paintings.

The six paintings were drawn using the method of Oil on Canvas by prolific painters who were born or working in Britain: (1) Thomas Gainsborough — Sunset: Carthorses Drinking at a Stream, (2) George Stubbs — Mares and Foals in a River Landscape, (3) John Constable — The Grove, Hampstead, (4) Joseph Mallord William Turner — The Golden Bough, (5) Sir John Everett Millais — Dew-Drenched Furze, (6) John Singer Sargent — The Mountains of Moab.

My favourite painting was ‘Mares and Foals in a River’; first exhibited in 1763-1768 and is probably the oldest one at the museum. The idea that the animals (who are said to be from the Arab stock and was a great deal in Britain back then) were drawn first instead of the background is an ingenious one; also, George Stubbs applied his knowledge in anatomy and dissection on the animals’ specific details starting from its very hair and ending with every muscle shown on the body, making it one of the flawless drawings out there.


Second favourite was the Dew-Drenched Furze, first exhibited in 1889-1890. John Everett Millais painted this amazing drawing of nature that includes different plants in such a way that it doesn’t lead the eye to a central point, but allows it to wander in the other areas. It represents the unknown distance to a man through the colour levels used in order to portray an almost perfect 3 dimensional figure of a lake.


The great bond between Oman and Britain enabled us to have this one-of-a-kind opportunity and we’re forever grateful for the mere fact. Pay the museum a visit; you’ll be wowed with the incredible historic painting.

All Sorts Of Updates

Process of reviving the blog: Activated.

Here's what I've been up to today; We payed the Tate Britain museum a visit as a school field trip and it was very interesting and informative. I got to see 6 historic paintings that dates back 300 years ago. You could know more about that on my Wednesday's column if you're interested.

Currently reading; Daddy-Long-Legs. Yes! It's an actual book which I haven't known about before. It's quite entertaining reading all those long letters from Judy Abbott to the man who sent her to college. All this bring back a rush of childhood memories when I used to dream about the mysterious long man.

Upcoming events; I can't really wait for the national day holiday, a mere of 11 days from now because, maybe, and I stress on the 'maybe' part; I might go to KSA and perform 3umra. Praying for my long-awaited wish to come true, inshAllah.

Untitled Post

I'm sick of checking my blogger account, as if I'm waiting to read a comment or two when there's absolutely nothing in it that deserves commenting. I'd be honest if I said that Twitter took Blogger's place for me but I have a good excuse for it: My PC crashed two weeks ago, my brother's laptop battery has gone mad and I hate working on Dad's PC or sister's laptop. My phone acts as a great way of tweeting but sadly to say, it's really hard to write a blog post through it.

I've been on a roller-coaster lately given the school work and the numerous quizzes I have to take. Although I'm extremely grateful for the national day events that kind of decreased the stress a bit. Attending the Students Parade has to be the most important highlight of the past couple of weeks along with the Fireworks championship, plus my siblings' school celebration. I wish I had the time to upload the pictures I took during those occasions but as always, I'd do what I'm good at; procrastinate.

Muharam's 5-long-holiday was okay; full of laziness, unscheduled routines and a bit of reading here and there. I'd wanted to tag along with my family to Dubai but the whole packing dilemma pulled me back. What can I do? I'm just lazy like that. Holidays aside, school starts tomorrow. Like people my age, as much as I hate going, I know I'd have to at the end of the day. Let's just keep our fingers crossed for it to be enjoyable. No, scratch that. For it to end as soon as it started.

Speaking of school, I literally haven't written for a while now and I missed it epically. Hearing a Lebanese accent the other day made me realize how out-of-it I've grown to be and especially reminded me of completing my latest story, Hiatus Lane. When? Can't make any promises so stay tuned anytime soon from now on.

My Mother

'My Mother' is a poem written by an Omani poet called Fauzia Ali Khalifa Al-Maskary who happens to be a relative of my friend and we did an analysis of her poem today at class. The fact that an Omani wrote something worth teaching in Lit class makes me feel proud beyond belief.

My Mother

Among those I hold most dear
You, mother, are just in all spheres
First with love unstinted and clear
First with joy and lots of cheers
The cheers, although familiar
Nevertheless, very sincere.

You are the sweet scent from heaven
A spring in the middle of the desert
You are a star that brightens my dark nights
A lovely tree that gives all good
You are a gift from God
A paradise without a limit
Your heart is the vessel of love and consolation
You are the warmth in a cold winter night.

Among the angels God has created
You are the one to us most suited
A well of joy, a no fancy ploy
Straight clean heart giving the best
Mother, dear mother, your love is always the finest.

I feel your tender eyes
Cast on me when I used to cry
To me then they were a pair of pearls
And I was happy they were mine
Mother, it was simply divine.

I remember too the warmth of your lips
As you bent down to kiss me goodnight
It felt like all the pains of the day
Just vanished out of sight
I reach to touch the same spot
And I can swear I still feel the same comfort
Mother, you are truly a magnificent sort.

What about those fingers
Gently stroking my hair
Giving me peace beyond compare
Lifting my spirit from all despair
My soul was floating in the air
Filled with ecstasy of love so rare
Mother, so much you gave me
So much I took from thee
Such love, I believe
No one could ever give.

As I go through the path of life
Mother, you are always there
To shelter me from my inner fears
To shower me with love I hold so dear
Mother, I declare you are the most sincere.

Firm at time times you may have been
You taught me all and more still
Striving to lift me above difficult hills
To a life of joy, happiness and goodwill
With your live my heart fills.

Mother, how can I ever find words of praise
To fit all your beautiful traits
Perhaps I should simple say with mighty grace
Thank you all for the days.

I found it poignant and deep in meaning yet I admire the simple words used. Metaphors were used frequently to give it a special vibe in order to describe the poet's mother or any mom, in fact.