Memories are like old friends. It eases your pain when you think of it, offer its shoulder when you're crying and just be there whenever you need it. It comes back and goes, protected by your mind and heart...And when you want to talk to it, it'll listen and keep reminding you of what happened or might have been.


I miss seeing things from one perspective, which was mine alone. The way I ran and ran, just like any other 3 years old, without fears or worries. And how I would scream at the top of my lungs or jump off the ground excited, not because I was supposed to, but wanted to. I miss getting hurt and when things seem like they’re falling down, without hesitation, I’d leap into my mother’s outstretched arms, the safest spot in the whole world. When she says ‘Everything’s going to be just fine’ I believe her because it will, eventually.

I miss my best friend, her focused attention on every detail possible and the sudden urge to question every question. I miss the times we used walked side by side to the library, discussing our latest read or mentioning our little brothers and sisters funny incidents. I miss the rush hour; the time of registering the borrower’s details and how we’d help each other out, wearing the position of Junior Librarians as a badge. I miss stuffing my bag with the books she needed to read so that we would discuss the plot together later on. I remember how she always tried to catch up with me when, in fact, my book-shelf have already flooded with novels she’d never even heard of before.

I miss teaching and my outbursts at the end of the day but then going back the next morning and repeating the circle all over again.

I miss the holidays, the way I used to wake up at 1:30 because of prayers and thinking that if it weren’t for that mere fact, I’d sleep the whole day. I miss having no worries about tomorrow or something else I am supposed to do and the thought of having nothing planned, just living the moment and anticipating what the next day had in store for me.

A lot of things I miss of the past but that, they tell us, are some of the advantages of growing up:
leaving the rest behind you and moving on. But what if I keep thinking non-stop about them?

The One Who..

I'm the one who stares blank-faced thinking of tomorrow, next week or next year when people think she's angry, sad or just mad at someone and don't want to talk about it and when she admits the truth, they think she's trying to wave them off.

When her classmates are roaming around the corridors, gossiping about this girl or that, she'd be sitting behind at class, reading. At the bus, she'd take down a paper and a pen, waiting for inspiration to strike when the others are chattering about their day and how unfair particular teachers were.

During lunch breaks, she'd hurriedly have her meal, eat it alone or with some friends at class then ward off to the library and start moving her fingers over the titles of the English section, looking for a new and interesting book to read or some cool facts to learn about. When she comes back to class, without asking where the hell she was, they'd laugh and tell her it was totally expected as she's a nerd.

At home, she's either doing her homework, researching, reading, watching TV or writing. At bed time, she'd grab the book on her nightstand and start reading where she left, slowly, her tired eyes lull her to a good night sleep where she dreams of extraordinary things that the moment she wakes up, she'd jot them down.

When asked about her opinion, she speaks out truthfully, not afraid to edit some thoughts for the impression that she's rude, because, after all, they asked for it. When told off, she'd learned not to take it personally and simply listen, take what she thought was relevant and flush down the rest.

While walking, playing or even laughing, words form into her mind in their own way as if it was the force of habit that she narrates everything. When looking at certain things, she'd see them as words in print or in her scrapbook or her blog...she keeps searching for minor details to spice up the topic, and immediately, everything takes shape within minutes.

As soon as she's been given money, she thinks of which books to spend it on. She'd do her homework: logging on to special sites to check reviews and best-selling lists and type down those that interest her. Printing the paper, she insists on heading to Borders and buying whatever on the list. Then, she just can't wait to get back home and start reading already.

She's the one who dreams of her own library, her huge book-shelves and the smell of books filling in her place. She dreams of her library filling in with people, close-marching in lines for her to sign on their copies of
her novel.

She knows so much of this might come true, but till then, she'll keep dreaming.

Hiatus Lane [4]

Hiatus Lane ~ Chapter Four
By Kitten


The phone was ringing alright. And I was absolutely sure who it was. She must have given him the number.

'Ali' Deema shouted. She was drawing in her room, with her door standing ajar. She always left it that way. I guess she had to because Nouf and I do not get along often.


'Pick up the phone, will you?'

'I'm busy'

'Damn it!' She fumed and got up, causing the chair to knock down on the floor abruptly.

Storming into the living room, I slowly glanced from on top of my PSP to see her. She was a mess, really. Her hair worn in a messy-kind-of-way pony tail, her eyes tired. I was laying on my back on the sofa and the phone's stand was right across. I could have picked up the phone but I didn’t.

‘This better be good’ I heard her say. She might not have been aware that she voiced her thought out loud. I kept quiet, regretting my childish behaviour. And then a voice from far away that must have been Nouf’s said ‘swearing box’ which Deema responded to by saying ‘gosh, sorry, get a penny from my wallet’.

‘um..hi?’ I said, interrupting the mini talk.

‘Yes, who’s this?’

The moment she heard my name there was a hesitant pause.

‘How’s everything going on?’

‘Good, alright’ she said softly.

‘I thought of escorting Ali and Nouf to the zoo, what do you think?’

‘The zoo’, she repeated.

‘yeah, I thought they ought to attend the opening tonight’.

‘Thoughtful of you, but…’ and Nouf’s thrilled voice stopped her mid-sentence. ‘I want to go to the zoo! Please, Deema, pretty please!’

‘It’s settled then. Meet you guys at 7?’

‘Okay’ and she hung up.

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 [3]

Hiatus Lane ~ Chapter Three
By Kitten


The landlord was a nightmare. What if I forgot (okay, intentionally postponed the date of) handing in the money? Would he lose a dime? He would, technically, but god! He had the whole building for himself. But then again, I wouldn't have rushed through packing 2 years of my life if I weren't forced to.

I had moved into the Pearl hotel luxury when mom sent a reasonable amount of money –god bless her- for the fear of her only son being thrown out to live on the streets. She wouldn't do that under normal circumstances, but what about me that can fall under the normal category, I ask you?

To that day, I was still thinking of Deema's little family. My gut feeling told me she was on a vacation with her siblings for a reason. You don't just get on a plane for the heck of it.

The lobby was muffled with hushed noises, people making deals, others texting and like the majority, I was enjoying the view outside while sipping my latte. I have always favoured these few free-of-work minutes that I made sure to asset some every once in a while.

Outside, there was a teen-aged girl sitting on the bench, checking her wristwatch every 3 minutes. She must be dating someone, I was sure. Then, not far away, I saw the same dude with the dog. Now these two are an art alone. I don't even know why the dog-dude bothers anymore.

Ali's been acting weird ever since Deema met the very tall man whose name I couldn't remember. He would ask Deema about him, where's he's from or what he exactly wanted. But I didn't care about him; all I cared about was enrolling in the ballet course. The ad I saw made me go crazy and I quickly ripped it off the wall and shoved it right under my sister's nose. I knew she would get furious because she was working on this particular painting for two days in a row.

'Nouf' she said, using the kind of voice that meant get-away or this-isn't-the-right-time.

'Before you say anything, please read it' I squeaked.

Saying 'Hmm' was good so I waited till she skimmed it and agreed. For it being too good to be true, I had to rush into Ali's room and announce my victory once again.

He said 'Okay' lightly and asked me to shut the door behind me while getting myself out of our room.

The phone was ringing but I took it as if they're out or they're busy and cancelled the call. I thought of calling again but decided not to. What would she say if she knew I'd been miss-calling the apartment's phone twice?

Summer 2010

This is the last day of summer 2010. I worked, read, played, watched movies, read some more, traveled, fasted Ramadhan, enjoyed Eid, spent my eidiyah and most of all, met my uncle and cousins for the first time in 3 years.

In every summer, I try to achieve as much as constructive things as possible and in this particular one, I've bought and read more books than I thought I would. Putting the good memories aside, school's starting tomorrow and like every year, the only motive that keeps me going is that if it I went, I'll be getting it over with.

Eid was great too and more than that. I wish if I could sit here all day and get my heart out about what happened but I have to write for my column, get some things straight and be ready to face tomorrow. Even though I'm not one to be attached with friends, my good friend moved out already and I'm afraid I'm going to miss her epically.

Other than that, wait for the upcoming chapters of Hiatus Lane which I've scribbled down during Eid holiday and after polishing them up, they'll be up on here soon. Ciao for now.

Hiatus Lane [2]

Hiatus Lane ~ Chapter Two
by Kitten

If it hadn't been for his polite way of talking, I wouldn't have been at ease talking to a total stranger. Strangely though, with his broad shoulders, he reminded me of a giant bear.

When he complimented my drawings, I had the urge to show him some of my other doodles lying around. I didn't know why, but he seemed interested and I saw myself falling for the attention he gave me.

I quickly took a bath, changed and peered through the balcony that, luckily, gave me a clear view of Deema and the new dude we met a while ago, Fares. Being the man of the house I am, I reluctantly allowed him to be with her this time, given the fact that they were surrounded by people and I was watching his every move.

I first noticed him earlier, while I was teasing Nouf. I'd stopped splashing water all over her without Deema having asked me to, and that was a first. But I really had a strange feeling about this guy once my eyes set upon him. He could fool Deema but I'm not one to be fooled. He grinned and laughed and cracked joke as if he'd known her his whole life. Heck, he might even think she's his friend from now on. Hold on a second and don't get me wrong: I'm not jealous. It's just that my sister doesn't usually talk with random tall and tanned boys.

'What are you doing?' Nouf startled me. As though I was found guilty of cheating in a Math exam, I tore my eyes away and gazed at the dog that was pulling his owner somewhere near my two targets who also, by the way, looked like they were having the time of their lives together.

Wafa hadn't stopped nagging about calling her daughter every single day once I thought they should go and have a blast, without us. Deema herself especially needed that, I knew.

'Let them have fun' I told her.

'Fun?' she gritted between her teeth.

She could be so cute and annoying at the same time when she's angry. Ignoring her, I flipped through the channels till The Simpson characters stood out of all. 'Homer is a God' I shouted 'In India'.

As soon as I said it, I knew it was a mistake for Wafa stared at me, resentfully.

'You don't have a heart in you, do you?' she just said.


Hiatus Lane [1]

A/N: As promised, here's the new story that I've been working on lately.

Chapter One

'Deema!' Please ask him to stop!'

Nouf''s pleas of help reached to her oldest sister Deema who wanted some change of scene: instead of having her paintings filled with green-ish materials, she went for blue ones thus she chose to come to the side of the hotel that had a huge swimming pool and the whole accessory of a beach. The sun-kissed sands lay around here and there and the umbrella-shaded benches made it all the more convincing.

'Your sister is calling' He said, the tone of sarcasm filling his voice. Deema looked curiously at the man who was now sitting next to her. He had a muscular complexion, but not the same muscular type you'd see on wrestlers, a pale skin with a slight hint of a tan spread across his face and the most gorgeous emerald-green eyes she’d ever seen.

Deema, as her sister called, took a moment to reply back, 'Yeah, Ali is a natural teaser, he'd never stop splashing water on Nouf, and it's actually becoming a habit'. I laughed genuinely and reached my hands across and said, 'I'm Fares and you're probably Deema', she grinned and asked, 'Fares, as in..Are you an Arab?'

I wasn't particularly astonished that she'd ask this. People have always mistaken me for several nationalities that were far than mine. 'Yeah'.

'Where are you from?' she asked and quickly added, 'or let me hear your Arabic'.

'Hmm, okay, shu bedii oul?' I said and she immediately said,'Lebanese'.

'You're good. Now it's your turn'.

'Eish tabeeni agool?' she said with a gulf accent.





'Before I could make a total idiot out of myself, you're from the gulf, right?' I said.
'Of course, keep guessing'.

'Bahrain, Qatar…'

'No to all of those'.

'OMAN!' I almost shouted.

'Yes. I thought you'd never mention it'.

'My bad. I've never heard an Omani accent so..'

'Well' she started saying, and at that moment, her brother and sister approached. She took out two towels from a backpack and handed them over.

'Hey guys', I said, shaking hands with both of them, 'I'm Fares. Do you swim in here often?' I asked.

'I'm Ali', he said and his young sister said, 'we live in that hotel' she pointed at the same hotel I've been living in for the past three days.

'Well, that, happens to be where I am living as well' I replied back and caught a glimpse of Deema offering me a gentle smile.

'So…' Deema said to break the silence, 'how about you guys race each other to the flat and get dressed while I gather around my things?'

'Okay' both Nouf and Ali said in unison as they ran off, their towels wrapped around their bodies.

'Hmm..' I muttered while Deema started stuffing in her belongings inside the brown backpack. There were painting materials everywhere, from brushes to hefty artistic drawing papers.

'I noticed you were drawing something before I came in and interrupted you', I said.

'It was nothing', she shrugged.

'Can I see it?' I inquired.

She handed me the drawing that if someone was to look at it, he'd defiantly mistake it for a photograph. The scene ahead was captured intensely, with every detail standing out perfectly.

The only words I could master were 'Wow'.

'Really?' she asked.

'I'm amazed, Deema, you're very talented but I'm sure you know that'.


[Poem] Once Again

The crouching murmur fills the air,
An echo hisses within the walls,
A lady weeps underneath the blanket of darkness.

Protected by its secretiveness,
The crying continues.

Hours and seconds,
Misery corrupts the wave,

And an absolute stillness takes control.

She stops,
Notices the indifference
The scene then is a blend of both,
Crying and silence,
Once again

Note: You've probably noticed how short and simple this poem is (if it can be described as one) After all, this is my second attempt in poetry after Isolated Soul.

Few Thoughts

(1) A lot of things happened with me at the past week. Two of my family members, both mothers, passed away on the same day. It confused me and I had to get things straight before getting back to cyberspace. I learned not to take anything for granted, especially our own parents.

(2) The true blessing is having the chance to do the Taraweeh prayers daily in Ramadhan at a mosque.

(3) Khawater is becoming interesting by the day. Yesterday's episode hit an all time favourite after introducing a straight-forward point.

Hearing the British lady and the Jewish man standing up for what's right, regrardless of their nationalities or religions spoke loud and clear to me. To all of us. When humanity is being ripped apart, there's no excuse not to stick with the truth.

(4) خطوة | A Step blog is created by 3 intelligent Omanis and 2 Palestinians. Follow them to take a step forward to Palestine's history.
"In 1895, Herzl started his fake dream: "The state of Israel penetrates the Red Sea through the gate of Jordan" A dream to have their own state. And his dream became true by a single book, protocols & global summits. He united the Jews from east to west to build the evil state on the Palestinian lands, tooling away farms, hourse and family members of Palestinian’s Jews, Christians & Muslims. So would we ever start making our own dream?"
(5) Eid is approaching by each passing minute. Even though I'd miss Ramadhan greatly, I'd love to enjoy the happy vibe Eid spreads around amongst people of different ages.