Category Archives: Three minute read

Feb 02 2012
10 Comments
Anecdotes, Humorous, Three minute read

My Ear Infection: Party on the Inside

bring on the ear infection rock surfing

I have an ear infection. Yeah, I said it. My ear is crawling with infection. Perhaps that’s too much disclosure for the blogosphere. Just because I read the forums on Web MD religiously doesn’t mean I want to discuss everyone’s medical charts, especially my favorite authors on the web.

But now it’s out there. I’ve got an ear infection and it sucks. This is also not a ploy to get people’s pity. I don’t want or need your pity. I’ve already had cookies baked for me against my will and yes, they were inappropriately tasty. You see, I was raised on the plains of Oklahoma, where personal illness is usually treated as a case of sissy-hood. We believe most things can be cured by ignoring the pain and/or rubbing bacon grease onto the affected area. In the case of internal pain, the grease is rubbed onto the lymph nodes so the lymphatic system can carry its healing qualities throughout the rest of the body. It’s a highly developed system.

Unfortunately, bacon grease is hard to come by here in Egypt, so I was unable to pour any into my ear at the beginning of the infection and simply tried to ignore it. The infection proceeded to get increasingly hard to ignore, and I was forced to go to the university clinic, where I was given medicines of dubious names and qualities. I’m now taking a few  pills in a variety of shapes and colors and waiting for everything to go back to normal when I can pretend like this whole “being sick” thing never happened.

I feel like there’s nothing dumber than saying you can’t do something because of an ear infection. To me, it feels equivalent to saying, “Oh, my thumb hurts so I can’t come to your bridal shower,” or “My forehead is bothering me so I won’t be able to make it to the awards banquet,” etc. It’s such a small area of your body, but when it hurts, it hurts in spades. If you have healthy ears, kiss them both right now and be thankful. You could also have someone kiss them for you.

I was laying in bed last night, unable to sleep because of the bright, throbbing pain in my ear. I thought to myself “I am in hell,” as it crackled and sparked, reminding me once again of how awesome my other ear feels. (Again, I don’t want your pity. I’m just trying to use my pathetic example of hardship as blog fodder). Then I realized that I was seeing the pain in my mind’s eye as bright colors and shapes. I think at one point there was a recurring abstractly shaped fish figure that had pink and white stripes and I would see it as I closed my eyes even though I was still awake and wondered  if I would be able to skip school for this.

Now here I am in the morning and I’m not skipping school but I am going to the white desert again. At least I can continue my tradition of being sick before camping trips.

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Jan 29 2012
4 Comments
Fiction, Humorous, Three minute read

Captain’s Log: Return to Cairo

A fire roars in the captain’s quarters

I could do an obligatory post about returning to Egypt and re-falling in love with Cairo, but I saw a bare-assed man taking a dump this morning while walking back to my apartment, so I decided to delete that chapter of my return story.

Instead, I will tell a dark tale of hardware and how the fates conspired to make an Arabic student computer-less for an entire four days. This is my story. Some details have been altered to make it more interesting.

The Captain’s Log

“I’m pretty sure I left my converter at my apartment in Cairo.” I thought to myself while steering the Seamstress down a canal in Amsterdam. “Why would I take it to America? I don’t need it there.”

“Drevets!” the skipper yelled, “Let’s rope it up! Them tourists gettin’ more annoying by the second. I cain’t stand them much longer.”

“Right-O, skipper.” I said, “We’re here anyways. The pancake girls will be down soon with our snacks and then we can eat and get out of here. You know, I’ve got a lot on my mind nowadays, what with the winds and the endless darkness. Say, do ever remember me mentioning a converter, like for electronics?”

“No ma’am, captain. I ain’t never seen nothin’ of the sort.”

“Okay. Thanks, skipper. Well I guess we should get a move on, shouldn’t we.”

Later that evening, as I rested in the captain’s quarters at the Hilton Hotel Amsterdam, nursing a glass of whiskey with the hotel dog curled at my feet, the converter still occupied my mind. What had I done with it? Could I have left it in America?

My computer’s battery was not going to last long. I had already used it to help navigate the canals, since the last time I sailed those waterways was thirty years and a universe ago. Those were different times back then, different dreams. I sighed and took a sip of whisky. It was a long time ago.

I boarded the captain’s plane the next day feeling hopeful. I was, after all, a rational person. I was a ship captain, for God’s sake! They don’t just give anyone these puffy captain’s bloomers and special caps. The converter was in my captain’s apartment back in Cairo. It had to be. I was sure of it. My computer was functionally dead by now, and the prospect of a delayed revival chilled me to the bone, more threatening than the winter winds of Amsterdam.

I arrived in Cairo, was enveloped by its cloud and dusty musk. Taxi-ing across the city towards my captain’s apartment, I waited and hoped.

The taxi stopped. Five flights of stairs were climbed. A door was opened. Another door was opened. A light switch was turned on. A converter was not found.

It is not here.

It is not here.

It is not here.

The words echoed in my mind’s blackness.

I saw but did not see. I heard but did not hear. My computer stared at me, mute, a dumb beast. A light flashed on the router, the internet’s waves flowing through me. Yet I was cut off from the life blood. I exhaled slowly. “ ‘Captain’s Log: Return to Cairo’ will have to wait,” I said to myself, and I was completely alone.

End

Postscript: I bought a converter a few days later and it cost less than one dollar so I fully expect it to blow up and/or melt but, on the other hand, I have internet. Sweet, sweet internet.

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Jan 23 2012
13 Comments
Anecdotes, Best blog posts, Serious-ish, Three minute read

Dear Log, Life is Beautiful

one lucky girl and two moochers

Dear Log,

I guess it’s about that time again. I can see my suitcase over there resting near the fireplace. Wait a second…no I can’t. I just remembered I put it in the hallway. But I can see my backpack over there. Next to it are big orange bags of peanut butter M&Ms stuffed in tin cups, waiting their turn to hop in and pile onto the baking mixes I bought after a hungry trip to Wal-Mart. I didn’t know how much I wanted biscuits until I was hungry at Wal-Mart and thought about not having the option of eating biscuits for 4 months and then I realized I would do almost anything for a biscuit. This translated into purchasing the mix.

Mother gave me the peanut butter M&Ms but she doesn’t know I’m taking the tin cups. It doesn’t matter anyways since we never go camping anymore. I’m also taking a ziplock container that my family does use regularly, but what she doesn’t know until I’m thousands of feet in the air can’t hurt me.

Soon I’ll be getting into a big airplane, flying across the pond and then the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea before arriving in Egypt, my dear Egypt, mother of the earth. I don’t believe in the Mayan prophesy of the apocalypse in 2012, but if tiny dinosaurs do flood the earth and devour all living creatures like a plague of adorable but lethal locusts, then I hope they’ll come in late May, when I’ll have returned to America and could see my family one last time. They are good, kind-hearted people, simple prairie folk that enjoy a football game and a cold beer or lemonade. They also hate being referred to as simple people, and it’s adorable when they get mad.

Log, I’ve sure learned a lot over the break. I learned that some people ask you questions about Egypt even though they don’t really care. I learned that my parents sometimes care more about making me feel loved than my complexion so they give me things like peanut butter M&Ms and lactation cookies. I learned that it’s important to force your family to go to breakfast at IHOP at 6:30 in the morning on the day you leave because sometimes there’s a beautiful sunrise and eventually people forget about what an inconvenience the whole thing was.

Most importantly, Log, I learned that relationships are the most worthwhile and exciting thing we have on this earth. Rather, I re-learned this. One bright day I was out run-walking with my two sisters, and I imagined someone driving by and seeing us,  a perfect picture of sisterhood, two blonde ponytails and one brown one swishing in time. In that moment I felt like I was the luckiest girl in the world. I felt so blessed to be outside under the sky with sisters I love so much. Maybe this is just the sleep deprivation talking, but I feel like my travelling has brought me to a place of appreciating what I’ve always had and recognizing it as beautiful.

Log, I’m excited about the future and I’m excited about going back to Egypt because I have family and friends that support me and that my least favorite option for post-Egypt, coming back to Oklahoma and living with my family, is still wonderful.

Drevets out

P.S. I realized while writing this that none of us were wearing ponytails that day. I just remembered it like that in my head. Must be the old age.

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Jan 10 2012
4 Comments
Humorous, Stories, Three minute read

A Victim of Netflix Mania: Part Two

(continued from Part One. Doctor was just about to interview the patient)

Doctor (addressing the patient for the first time): Hi, I’m Doctor, and this is Nurse. We’re your friends! Can you tell us how you feel?

Me: (drooling, eyes unfocused, legs dangling and kicking) Uhhhhh….duhhhh…doh…..bababa. Lalalalalalala. Meow!

Doctor: Hahahaha! Good meow! Now can you make people words to tell me how head feels? (gestures at head)

Me: (waving right hand around wildly, as if grasping the remote control, appearing frustrated, brow furrowed, looking at doctor with dissatisfaction) TV breakie? (bursts into tears).

Doctor: TV breakie bad bad?

Me: (nodding vigorously, wiping nose on sleeve and then rubbing eyes) Uh huh….I sad sad.

Doctor (holding up dum dums):  You want snacky snack? We have tasty treat!

Me (with irrepressible joy and greed): MINE (grasps for the dum dums, shoves handful in mouth, wrappers and all)

Doctor (to the mother while patient happily chomps on the dum dums and spits out the wrappers and sticks): This is one of the worst cases I’ve seen. Usually they remember how to eat suckers. Instead, she’s become a sucker herself. (high fives Nurse).

Nurse: Nice one.

Mother: What’s happened to her?

Doctor: Ma’am, your daughter’s once healthy brain has turned into the equivalent of high quality dog food. One night of reckless Netflix usage has destroyed years of education, a college degree, and any semblance of social skills. Only electronic stimuli and pure sugar can get the neurons firing now. This is by far the worst case of Netflix mania that I’ve ever seen.

Nurse (in awe): whoa…..

Mother: Is there a cure?

Doctor: There’s no guaranteed way of reversing the damage. She may be left handicapped for the rest of her life, sitting in her own filth, clutching a jar of gummy bears as she watches progressively worse television year after year. Friends who once knew her will stop calling, and the family will grow weary of wiping the drool off her cheeks or closing her eyelids for her to sleep. The added tension will cause the family to fray, everyone’s temper growing a little shorter with the passing of the years, sharp words digging into each other’s insecurities. Friends will find excuses to stop coming over, and those who can get away, will.

Mother: (gasp!)

Doctor: But it doesn’t have to be this way. If there’s any hope for your daughter, it lies with you and your family. You will be vigilant, ruthless. You must not let her watch television for a month and monitor her constantly. During this time, you will force her to read and engage in conversation with humans. Begin by reading aloud to her and give her treats if she does it herself. Do not let her near a computer; she will only try to watch television. When she finally begins to speak again, she will attempt to quote things she heard on television. She must not be allowed to do this: you will make her brain revive the lost synapses. I’m also going to prescribe some logic puzzles for her to complete daily. It will be grueling, but in the end, you might have a functioning daughter instead of this pathetic example of lost potential.

Mother: But…what if…

Doctor: THERE ARE NO WHAT IFS. This is your daughter’s last chance. You, maam, are her only hope, and a sorry one at that. Only you, your family, your friends, and your medical practitioner-that’s me-can prevent heartbreaking failure. I have not thought of a plan B. Unless you want to start buying Depends in bulk, you need to get your mind together so you can save her’s. Do you understand me?

Mother: I….

Doctor: DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!

Mother: Yes sir!

Doctor: Nurse, do you understand me?

Nurse: Yes, sir!

Mother (to Nurse and Doctor): Do you understand me?

Everyone, except for me: YES SIR!

Mother: Let’s do it! (high fives all around)

Me: Meow.

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Jan 05 2012
6 Comments
Humorous, Modern Life, Open Letters, Three minute read

I’m Unhappy About This Free Service

this is just how it turns up on my news feed. Is that weird?

Dear Facebook,

Recently I’ve been unsubscribing with remarkable pace from many so-called friends I am connected with on your social networking website. After debating for months over whether or not I wanted to hear about these acquaintances’ marriages, babies, or fun nights staying in with a blanket and cup of cocoa, I have decided against the mundane and released myself from hundreds of people and their accompanying facebook drivel.

I expected my newsfeed to become a haven, a place where I could go and see what was happening in the lives of people who are close to me and the interesting or laughable lives of others I am not close to. Alas, this has not happened. One reason is that as I unsubscribe from my facefriends, friends that lurk deep within my friend well have come to the surface, gracing me with one status update or a tagged photo before I try to recall who they are and then unsubscribe from them. This is obviously my fault. You didn’t force me to accept their friend requests or friend people after knowing them for one evening, after which we never saw each other again except for on the sidewalk where we both maintained awkward silence and averted our eyes.

However, another chief reason for my dissatisfaction with the “cleaned up” newsfeed is the garbage facebook continually highlights. I speak, of course, of the continual promotion of prof pic changes, the ubiquitous “so and so and 10 other friends changed their profile picture.” To be frank, I don’t care who changed their profile picture after spending hours and possibly weeks mulling over which snapshot succinctly captured their humor, beauty, or relationship status.

Actually, I can’t think of anything more uninteresting. It might as well read “so and so and all of your other friends used their computers today.” Honestly, what’s the purpose in knowing who changed their profile picture? Not only does it not reflect in the least bit any change for better or worse in their own lives—it’s quite possible to dig out a prof picture from happier months—it is anti-news. It provides no new information while making one feel vaguely anxious and insufficient: “Should I be changing my profile picture so I can appear to be moving forward in my life?” It is iceberg lettuce, the filler in Taco Bell meat, and worse than Yahoo! news.

Facebook, I know that you provide a free service. I know that I have trapped myself into a cycle where living without this service would be undesireable, if not impossible.  Furthermore, I realize that I am powerless against you and that you  will have your way with the facebook-using pawns and wreak whatever kind of layout changes and privacy destruction you wish. That’s why I’m not asking you to stop highlighting profile picture changes on my newsfeed. This letter is actually an urgent request that you do not harm me or my family once you take over the world. This profile picture thing is my only complaint and despite it I will always be loyal to you.

Your eternal and groveling servant,

Emily

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