Sep 30 2011
6 Comments
Lists, One minute read, The Cairo Metro

Love Is as Strong as Death

Bad news for you guys

Last week I went through a regrettable period when I was obsessed with discussing love, its meaning, and its ostensible relationship to marriage with anyone and everyone. Unfortunately for the people around me, I was especially interested in muddling myself in others’ affairs by collecting their personal stories and opinions.  Much to the relief of my friends, I am slowly recovering from this bizarre phase. But just as I thought the subject was closed and I had heard everything possible, the other day I spotted a purse on the metro that discussed the subject in a new way.

It’s not unusual to see all kinds of nonsensical, semi-sensical, obscene, hilarious, and otherwise egregious English splattered all across this city on billboards, t-shirts, walls, etc. Not a day goes by that I don’t see something ridiculous like a shirt that says “who’s baby is this?” or “living in the lap of subset luxury.” But this bag was a different case: it was a beacon of knowledge that stated, matter-of-fact like and without sequins, that “love is as strong as death.” When I read this as I entered the metro car, I was first startled, then amused, and then pensive as I considered why the statement had made such an impression on me. There must be some kind of truth in it, I thought to myself, as I wrote it down and vowed to analyze it later. Upon completing said analysis, I decided to leave everything else I had learned behind and take this as the one source of truth on love.

Allow me to share what love means. By the way, I realize that the statement only compared the strength of love to death, but I go hard core in my analyses, meaning I ended up comparing love to death.

1. Love is unavoidable.

2. Love is damaging to your health.

3. Love’s grip is as icy cold as the embrace of the grave.

4. Love lasts forever.

5. Love ruins lives.

6. Love ends things.

7. Love brings family members together for occasions at which many of them would rather be apart.

8. Love requires accessories.

9. Love’s real damage comes after the fact.

10. From the moment we are born, we are meant to love.

11. Love does not require talent or skill.

12. Love is a bummer.

13. Love does not play favorites.

14. Love only happens once.

15. Though love is extremely common, it is a very personal experience.

16. The end result of love is always the same.

It’s a deep analysis, to be sure, and the odds I missed anything are slim. But if I did, please feel free to add your two cents and no more.

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Sep 29 2011
2 Comments
Fiction, Humorous, Two minute read

A Word Problem: Sleep, Hopelessness, or Success

206.26 words…and it’s all in Arabic.

A word problem:

It is 11:50 pm, and an Arabic student has 206.25 words that she must learn for a test that begins the next day at 8:30 am. In order to pass the test, the Arabic student must go through the entire list of words at least three times, weeding out one third of the words each time. In the first round of reviewing, she has gone through 33.33333% of the words in 3 hours.

Currently, she is at 60% wakefulness. This percentage drops by 8% for every 30 minutes of studying.  If at any point her wakefulness drops below 30%, she will need to take a 20 minute coffee break, followed by a nap of desperation and then a slapping fit upon awaking. This will take one hour, and will raise her wakefulness to 70%, but after recommencing her work, she will move at a pace that is 23% less efficient than her original speed. Furthermore, her wakefulness will deteriorate at a new rate of 16% per every 30 minutes of studying.

One minute in every 6 is lost to facebook and email checking. Every 4 hours there is something new on one of these sites, resulting in the loss of an additional 4 minutes. The student must also write one email, which will cost 24 minutes as and result in a 30% decrease in concentration. The equation for calculating efficiency is e=chilz, with c=concentration, h=hunger levels, i=interest level, l=location, and z=zoo location. The email will be written when wakefulness hits 43%, but will also raise wakefulness levels to 55%.

Her current level of hopelessness is at 20%, but this rises exponentially as she continues studying, at a rate of x to the (1.3h). If her hopelessness ever reaches 80%, she will instantly go to sleep. If she sees her bat friend, it will result in a temporary boost of wakefulness and a decrease of hopelessness levels at a flat rate of 5 and 8 percent, respectively.

Will the student finish studying? If so, how many hours of sleep will she get if she wakes up at 7 o’clock in order to enjoy the new brand of granola her roommate bought?

If not, will she be overcome by hopelessness or sleepiness? If she had to complete at least 80% of the original amount of work in order to make an A on the test, with each ten percentage points below that corresponding to a lower letter grade, what will she make on the test?

What are ways she could avoid having this happen to her again, if the words were given to her over the past two weeks at a rate of 20 words per day, and if she is has 7 hours of free time every day?

Choose the answer that is most correct:

a. What was the question again?

b. Get back to work.

c. Really, you should stop blogging and study for your test.

d. Why are you still blogging?

e. All of the above

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Sep 28 2011
6 Comments
Best blog posts, Humorous, Open Letters, Two minute read

An Open Letter to the Youth Who Said He Loved Me

Who’s that girl?

Dear Motorbike-Riding Youth:

First of all, I would like to thank you for shouting “I love you” at me while I was minding my own business on the side of a narrow road in the mid afternoon autumnal heat. For a moment I had forgotten that I was a foreign woman, and you, having clearly never seen a foreigner or a woman before, were so overcome with true love that it inspired an immediate reaction from you that thankfully reminded me of my feminine, alien, identity. Moreover, I am no stranger to similar feelings of passion, especially for pedestrians, and so I completely sympathize with your socially inappropriate utterance.

However, if you would allow me to critique one aspect of your harassment strategy, I would simply like to point out that your outburst of passion occurred just seconds before you passed me as we were going the same direction. This means that you had only seen the back of my person at the moment you realized you had fallen for me. I, of course, am no Scrooge, and would be the last person to deny the possibility of love at first sight. That being said, in common usage first sight usually indicates some sort of eye contact or facial recognition, which then (if successful) progresses onto the collar bone and shoulder region or whatever pleases the parties involved. In contrast, you were brave enough to display your ardor heedless of what might have appeared on the other side.

I heard your zealous declaration first and then saw you zoom past me, as you continued on into the great wide world of Cairo. Before you turned out of sight, however, you must have realized your mistake. You doubted whether you could you actually love me without seeing my face, my features remaining unknown for eternity. Worse yet, what if I was wholly different than expected? Suppose I were actually an Egyptian man wearing a wig and Chacos? What if I had one large walrus tusk and a furry lip? A unibrow and scaly skin? Three eyes, a peg leg, and tentacles for a nose?

You realized quickly that you could not live with this uncertainty, and so turned around while continuing to move forward, all at once holding onto the past, plowing into the future, and throwing yourself into danger. Once you looked back, you saw that I was a foreign woman, just as you had hoped. It no longer mattered whether or not my features could be considered attractive, since they were non-Egyptian and female. You were content with knowing your love had been real, even if the interaction was all too brief. My advice to you for next time is to be careful of who you fall for, since you never know what they might look like.

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Sep 26 2011
2 Comments
Anecdotes, Stories, Two minute read

Look Right Into My Ocular Spheres

5 “lanes,” 40 mph traffic, no respect for crosswalk, hospital on the other side. Impossible? No. 

An update on my daily street-crossing life:

I see you. You’re sitting in your car. You’ve got your buddies with you, all lined up in a pretty little row like pretty little ducklings lurching around in giant metal cages made of steel and glass. I see you too, Mr. Motorbike Delivery Man. I know your kind; you’re the most lawless of all. You believe you can fit anywhere, especially the foot wide corridors between moving cars that young pedestrian lasses like me like to squeeze through.

But let’s all admit the hard truth: I need to cross this street and you’re going to let me do it. It’s something none of us want to think about, but it’s reality. What you all don’t know is that I’ve got a secret weapon, a hidden asset, an invisible advantage, a clandestine tool. And I mean invisible in the figurative sense, since it’s actually as plain as the nose on my face, the arms on my sides, or the goose on my head. I’m talking about my eyes, friends. That’s right: My peepers. My lookey-loos. My soul-windows. My ocular spheres. Too many synonyms? No apologies: the power that lies within my seeing globes deserves an inappropriate amount of description.

With this weapon in face, the crossing begins. My eyes are refrigerators, and the eyes of every driver in Cairo are magnets. My gaze sweeps across the expanse in front of me as I hop down from the curb. My vision pierces the car closest to me. Schlooop! We have made an avatar-like connection. The deepest desires of our hearts are now known to one another: you want me to get out of your way, and I want to live. Paralyzed by the power of ocular bond, you let me pass in front of you. I look to the next car and the connection is made again, equally powerful, and equally effective. Eventually, moving car by car, I reach the other side of the street no worse for the wear, though this cough isn’t getting better.

Discovering this power was the most rewarding thing I’ve done in my entire life, aside from emergency delivering a litter of baby platupuses in a bathtub. After weeks of perfecting the stare, I feel more confident than ever when crossing the street, especially in the height of traffic. Furthermore, I have gained moral ground because the driver, should she hit me, will have my piercing gaze emblazoned on her mind for the rest of her commute home, and that’s gonna spoil dinner.

May I have continued success in this daily activity, because the only other alternative is injury or death.

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Sep 26 2011
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Fiction, Two minute read

Buffalo Kisses Smothering My Face

Buffalo Kiss Residue

Friend and I volunteered again today, and by some miracle I was neither starving or exhausted. As a result, I feel like I saw the place for the very first time and realized there are less bats than I thought were there.

As we prepared classroom decorations to create a welcome environment for the little ones, I noticed one of our co-volunteers was wearing a shirt that read “Buffalo Kisses” and had a large picture of luscious, red, glittery lips . Now, this may be a classic case of  “lost-in-transit,” with the intended phrase to be “butterfly kisses.” Or it may just be someone’s ideal description of desirable actions performed by lips.

Regardless of the original intent, I began thinking about buffalo kisses and what they would be like. Then I remembered the Bob Carlisle song called “Butterfly Kisses,”  and was so inspired by the imagery of buffalo kisses that I wrote up some new lyrics to go with the original music.

Buffalo Kisses

There’s few things I know for sure

She came in from pasture

And she’s a untamed beast

As I try to get up and flee her might

She wants to nuzzle and I close my eyes

and I pray that this moment won’t finish my life

Oh I’m terrified

(chorus)

“Cause buffalo kisses smothering my face

Slobberin’ all over me, we’re way past first base

Stinking, heaving, yellow teeth, I’m in hell

I barely keep from vomiting, this won’t end well

Oh whatever did I do to deserve the Big Guy’s spite

and earn  this quadruped’s love

with her buffalo kisses tonight

(verse 2)

Godless, hairy thing

With eyes that look right through me, even though I’m screaming

One part whisker, the other part tongue

there’s no escape, cause it’s one foot long

If she gallops away, I’ll repent of every wrong

I can’t forget

(chorus)

Her buffalo kisses smothering my face

Slobberin’ all over me, we’re way past first base

Stinking, heaving, yellow teeth, I’m in hell

I barely keep from vomiting, this won’t end well

Oh what did I do to deserve the Big Guy’s spite

And earn  this quadruped’s love

With her buffalo kisses tonight

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