Going Metro in Dubai

metro |ˈmetrō|

noun ( pl. -ros) (also Metro)

a subway system in a city, esp. Paris.

• a subway train, esp. in Paris.

• Metro is an abbreviation of metropolitan, and is the name of many products and services relating tourban areas, in particular rapid transit rail systems.

• See also: "metrosexual", a neologism for a male (typically heterosexual) who spends large amounts of time and money on his appearance and lifestyle.

I wasn't optimistic about trying out the Dubai metro for the first time. I expected BO and herds of loud children stuck to their mommies, teenagers clustered together giggling hysterically. But I figured, it's about a quarter of what it would cost me to take a cab towards the same destination so let's give it a shot. It was really quiet at first, but then the escalators brought the crowds along. I was right. But there are expats, locals, and all kinds of internationals walking the platforms. I liked it.

Instead of buying a one-way or roundtrip ticket, I bought one of those cards that you can refill and reuse. Like an Oyster Card, for those of you who have been in London. Everyone was asking the poor lady behind the glass the same questions about tickets and stops so I just bought one and asked her to fill it with 50 Dirhams. Honestly I just wanted to save time, she was taking up to five minutes with each customer. It's like Metro orientation month. Which means it takes forever for people to understand how this works.

When I reached the platform, I waited. It was actually the only time I had to think about what I needed to do, because everything else was automatic. I'm not good with waiting. So my next task was to choose a waiting pose and go with it. I fluctuated between 'bored pacing' and 'leaning back on the rail and staring at my reflection in the glass'. I had nothing else to keep busy with, so vanity is always an easy out. Actually I did that because I noticed that I looked really pale, and should probably get some sun sometime soon.

But in those few minutes of waiting, especially when a couple of kids walked passed me with their skateboards - emo haircuts, tight black pants and everything - I suddenly had a flashback of being in Europe. I remembered this one junkie in the London Underground with a mohawk standing about 20 meters away from me at around midnight. We were the only two waiting for the last train and he was staggering closer and yelling obscenities into the security camera, threatening to take a 'wee' on the tracks if the train didn't show up. I didn't wait long enough to find out if he did, I picked up my bag and opted to take a taxi to my friend's house instead. Junkie aside, I have fond memories of being in Europe, and those moments waiting on the Dubai metro platform took me there. I thought to myself, "Wow, it feels like I'm back in Europe."

My favorite part of the whole ride was this newlywed couple that got on the train. They looked like they were in their early twenties. They looked like they might have been from India. She was wearing a black Abaya and had a scarf around her head - Khaleeji style - and they were arm in arm, walking like they were on their honeymoon. They found a place to stand to my left, in between two of the train-cars, but had nothing to hold on to. So they stood facing eachother in an embrace. He had his arm around her waist, and she had hers up on his shoulder with her head resting on his chest. The train started moving and they barely budged, just sharing their position and the train ride in a quiet moment together. It was so sweet. I started painting a picture of what's behind their relationship. He married her recently and brought her to Dubai from her hometown. It's her first time in Dubai, whereas he had been working here for a while and is some sort of business man, dressed in his white collar with a classy watch and phone in his other hand. She was in wedded bliss, proud to be held by him, eager to send photos of her new life to her friends and family back home. She probably can't handle him talking to other women but has nothing to worry about given the way he's holding her so tight. They probably can't wait to start a family -

"Hey... you..... eksecuuuse me. YOU." A middle aged gentleman in local attire standing to my right interrupts my imaginary scenario and yells over me to the couple on my left. "You i'm atawking to you."

The Indian man looks over, chewing his gum at a steady pace, unfazed by the elder gentleman's hostile tone.

The Khaleeji continues, "Please ... *gestures for them to separate* this is un - ax - eptable. You have to be considerate, there are children on the train. Do not do this."

The husband, still poised, goes "I'm just HOlding her."

"I am warning you this is not acceptable. You have to respect others here. I am here for this reason ha."

They release.

So maybe it's not quite Europe. But that's going Metro for you. It looks like a liberal but deep down it's a homophobe.

Cheap Thrill

I realized today that on the Common Application for US universities, they added a new ethnicity that didn't usually exist before. I never used to find my ethnicity on these forms, but now it says "White (including Middle Eastern)".

We made it!

We're acknowledged as an ethnicity!

Victory fist pump!

Check it out, hicks of America, your country says we're white. Yeah, us AY-RABS and SAND NIGGERS.

We're white.

And we were here before you.

So eat my dust.

I Have a Confession to Make...

I'm a girl. And I DON'T love chocolate. I like it, yeah. But not the way about 100% of the females I know love it and can have it anytime. On that note...

I just had a delicious cupcake. I never really liked plain cake. Never really been a cake person. But give me a cupcake with icing on top and I'm all over that. Icing is always my favorite part of the cupcake, or any cake. I feel like it's a chore to eat through the rest of the cake before/after I savor the icing, but I do it anyway. I could just lick off the icing and throw the rest. But I NEVER do that. And it's not because I don't want to waste food, I waste ridiculous amounts of food all the time, and no I'm not proud of it. I COULD just lick off the icing and rid myself of the chore, but I don't. I'm trying to remember if I ever did that when I was a kid, I mean I was indulgent enough, but I don't think I did. I'd have killed icing for myself for good. But I somehow had (and have) the sense not to.
I mean my taste buds know when to tell me to quit. They know what's too much, and what to avoid. Why doesn't my heart do the same?

Airplane Exits

Ladies and gentlemen if you look to your left, life is lovely, you will learn humility and patience, find unconditional love and happiness.

To our right is the valley of unaccommodating truth, opportunistic neighbors and self-doubt. Skepticism and fear will guide you. You will never find happiness.

Tread carefully. If you take the right exit first, you're going to have to swim through De Nial river in between to get to the left. There's no other way to get there, unfortunately.

she deserves better

Her heart must have skipped a beat when she answered the phone. It was his voice.. boy who didn't know how to love her. Boy she loved very much. Boy whose hypothetical children she abandoned because he was not committing. Boy who made her feel love again.

Is he back? Did he decide he wants her finally? Will she bring back those imaginary children of their future together?

Songs I Can't Get Enough Of These Days

Sadly I can only list a few. There are many many more.

1 - Florence + The Machine - Blinding - I recommend the whole album, called Lungs

2 - Nico Vega - Gravity - don't know album names but I've heard one of them at random and it's a full night of rock and roll

3 - Jason Mraz - I'm Yours - have not explored the rest of his music too much but he's totally a drop of sunshine

4 - Coldplay - Viva La Vida

One sounds like she's on heroin, the other one sounds like she's on coke, and third one sounds like he discovered Prozac. Coldplay is just always cool. Their songs give me goosebumps now, ever since I saw them live. 

Florence sounds a lot like a sharp voice in my head. No more, no more, no more NO MORE .. The plucking of violins and the jungle-beating of the drum. The melancholy in her voice. It should start raining everytime I push play. Why is it so dry? Every note should be hitting my skin in a droplet of water, it's the only way this song should be heard. 

No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone

No more crawling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world

I mean holy shit man.. read the lyrics. Listen to her. This is what I was ranting about in the last couple of posts. Or has it been longer and I have no concept of time right now? This is totally what I was feeling. And it's also why I won't be having Optimism over again for tea. You know, in case that wasn't clear.

Aja (Nico Vega) sounds like the rock n' roller in me who's dying to come out and sing my heart out. I so fucking wish I could sing. Fuck my performance phobia. She's so energizing, I can't get my eyes off her when she's performing. And she reminds me of someone I met recently. This girl even had that throaty raspy voice. But I don't think Aja hangs out anywhere around here.

Jason you silly boy. You found Jesus, didn't you? I want to pinch your cheeks. Come sit next to me, I'll sway and harmonize with you. You're not really my type, your face is kind of weird, but I'd like to chill with you for an afternoon or something. Facebook me, we'll keep in touch.

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My belly button itches. I swam in saltwater today. It felt great. Now not so much. Shit.. maybe it's infected. But it looks fine. Maybe it's fine and I'm just paranoid. Maybe I should stop thinking about it, and it'll stop itching.

So in an effort not to overkill the songs I mentioned (because I tend to do that), I'm going to shuffle my music rather than go back the same Nico Vega and Florence + The Machine albums (which are also excellent) So..... next on iTunes shuffle, Frank Sinatra - Somewhere Beyond the Sea. Hey look at that, it worked. No itching.

Here's one for soulful moments:

Jason Mraz - On Love, In Sadness

do NOT, I repeat, do NOT listen to the recorded studio version. bluh.

Before I go, it's a full moon out tonight. I had to take a picture. Even if it's with a shitty camera, I had to.

Tea with Optimism

Optimism 3.0?

Sure, come on in, the kettle is boiling.

Take a seat, rest your feet,

You're back, I see, here to pull at my sanity? 

Let me humor you as I always do. 

Oh this time, you mean it, do you? 

This time it's the real thing is it? 

Show me what you got, honey

While I pour you a cup of tea. 

"Original skins and newer plug-ins,"

you smile so purely in my face.

"Attention span sliced in half,

Haunting memories will fade,

Loves that were lost, well good riddens! 

Distractions galore, say no more, 

You'll explore a whole new plane

That'll bare no resemblance to the same 

Mistakes and heartbreaks 

No you won't make them again!"

Is that all you got this time?

Won't you please, on my knees, 

Let me be a cynic?

It has really grown on me,

I really can't go back...

Please stop tugging at my dress...

I'm sorry I embraced you so long ago. 

How was I supposed to know

You'd haunt me forever...

You're like a child who I nursed for a while,

And thinks I'll always have the teet to bare.

Dear I never knew how cruel you were

Until I glanced away for the first time.

 

Now I beg you please release.

Come back later if you can't resist,

I'll let you in if you really insist.

Just another cup and be on your way.

Locating the Love for Lyrics

Jason Mraz and his quirky insightful lyrics about lost love and the madness that is the journey of love. How is he not a bitter man yet?

I could advise any troubled relationship at this stage practically fully out of experience. I've been through so many heartbreaks you can't imagine. Some were my fault, some were his, and some were just of the "it just didn't work out" nature. All of them hit me hard and none of them, were successful. 

I've learned so many life lessons from failed relationships, failed attempts at love, and the growth each of them has put me through. The one thing, and perhaps the most valuable thing to take from a breakup is how not to get hit like that again. That is the one thing I can never learn. Maybe it has never happened in the history of relationships, and that's why it cannot be taught.

They hit me everytime. The mutual interest. The unreciprocated feelings. Whichever kind it was. It's hit me hard and it happens everytime. I can't believe I still believe in something honestly. I must be some breed of spiritual, moronic, emotional, neurotic, obsessive, sexy, impressive human.

Oh yeah, wait... I am a woman.

Seriously

I just got myself a new piercing. My belly button. Navel. Navel is such a funny word.

I went to see a doctor once about my back. I had damaged my sciatic nerve somehow. I’d like to know how, because I’m seriously inactive and unathletic. I’m somehow not a ball of lard, but I’m ridiculously inactive. He told me that my sciatic nerve stretches from my nipple down to my foot. Nipple, he said. And then his face went red and he corrected himself. “I mean, navel.” I laughed. He was nervous around me. Which I took as a serious compliment as he is drop dead gorgeous and conveniently, for his wife, married.

My navel. It’s my only chance, really, to feel like I’m still cool and youthful. My job seriously makes me feel like such a conformed fool. I make it a point to remind my students that I have a vulgar sense of humor and listen to better music than they could imagine. I think they’re buying it, because it’s true. I make more dirty jokes around underage boys and girls than I do around people my own age. Something’s gotta be off, there.

If my belly button ring is going to do me any good, it’s going to make me feel sexy. It really does. It makes me feel less pasty white, less like the geek I really am. It’s a name tag for sexiness.

Hi, I’m a member of the sexy women fanclub, here’s our logo, right above my navel. It’s our navel seal.

The Sad State of Single Women

What is it about a girl sleeping with a guy that makes her magnify his qualities as JUST WHAT SHE NEEDS?

He might be lazy or unemployed. She'll see him as chilled, easygoing.

He might be self-involved. She'll see him as introspective and deep.

He might be emotional and needy. She'll see him as sensitive and in touch with his feminine side.

He might be materialistic and a spendthrift. She'll see him as well-to-do.

He might be a momma's boy. She'll see him as a family man.

Woman - take a step away from him, wash his sex off you so that you're not pheromonically whipped, and then take another look at him. See? He's got acne and he's not all that. You could still love a human being, you know. It's possible.

Just don't bullshit yourself.

La Vie en Gris

Je ne veux pas travailler. Je veux seulement oublier et puis je fume.

What amount of believable bullshit is it going to be? Does anyone believe a word out of their mouths anymore? Can they? Can they form a reality from this twisted, overlapping, contradictory, overflowing junkyard of word bubbles floating above our heads everyday?
How do you choose? How do you believe what you see? How do you accept this mediatheism? How, in the world, can one of nature's greatest and most complex offspring, walk around this world and not run home everyday to scrub themselves free of the debris of insanity?
I am certain we are an experiment. How many trials do you need to find positive results? Several, if you're lucky. You don't just have sex once and hope for a baby. You keep trying. And then you get one. And then you try again, a million times, for another. We humans walking this earth, are a result of that experiment. Not all of us matter. There are only a few who will actually fertilize into something worth keeping. The rest of the kids are great and all, and you'll nurture them and love them and weep when they leave you, but they're not really the point, right?
The rest of us are not necessary, and are just extraneous to the real thing.
I am not necessary, and neither are you.
The world will not miss you.

Don't be offended. I'm sure you knew that on some level anyway. That's why we have blogs and facebook profiles and brand new shoes and hair dye and book signings and music and sports and marriage. And Disney movies. We have to give ourselves a purpose, right?

who are you to tell me you love me

so here's something i learned about myself tonight.
on my one year anniversary with my long distance boyfriend, with whom i am madly in love, i call him at midnight.
i felt nothing when he told me he cheated on me.
twice.
i feel nothing.
i was right.

but wait..

I know a secret.

In less than 40 hours, I return to my adult life. The life I lead without rebellion, without youth, without blithe. This is not my secret. My secret will do two simultaneous things to my carriage. It will pour a heaviness on my shoulders. Simultaneously I will glide as if half my bodyweight has been left behind. It is an emotional slither that I can only gain after orgasmic moments. I will be walking through mud, but without disdain. How often can you glide through mud?

When I accepted this adult role, no more than 8 months ago, I unfastened my youth from my waist. Everything I had said I was, I no longer was. I had no idea the power of denial was so strong. Where did my ideals go? I remember now.

I remember now who I am. I remember the beauty in life, what makes one glide through the mud. I remember that part of myself that I liked. She ain’t so bad. The girl who walks with a smile that hides a secret no one knows. A secret she will share because there is always room for love.

Take a sip of this refreshing wine and feel what I say. I will always make room for love.

I feel with you, I really do. You have had to walk through the mud just like I have. Your feet get heavy, you end up looking like shit. Not to mention you’ll feel humiliated if you dwell on it. I am begging you to reconsider. Mud washes off. You can scrape your shoe along the pavement and scuff it off your person. Take the pain and play in the mud. You’ll stink, you’ll need a shower, you’ll get yourself dirty, discouraged, and dominated. Wouldn’t it be more worth the hassle if you found yourself empowered and alive? I swear to you, it can be done. Please please do it, enjoy yourself.

Any language but her own

I am incapable of pure love.
That’s the first time I’ve said it in admission. I knew something was wrong with me. I kept trying to rationalize it out loud with my late-night conversation companions, the girls who would come over or be up all night studying with me, and they always told me I was crazy.
-“You are SO not a selfish person! You’re one of the most loving people I know!” Thanks for the compliment but there's no need to exaggerate.
-“You’re just hurting. You’ll get over it.” I was hurting. I stopped hurting because I gave my heart to someone else. It doesn't matter what he did with it, the point is, he took it. I didn't want to deal with feelings anymore. Feelings made me lose my health, my innocence and my mind.
-“It just feels that way because you’ve been robbed of the love you gave.” This one had me fooled for a while. This one comes from the girlfriend who turns everything around so meticulously to the point where she can deflect any kind of blame away from herself. She uses her skill here to come to my rescue as my poise has developed a sclerosis of some kind. She tries to show me that I have been betrayed, that it was all his fault. Watch her wise words at work. --> I "gave" my love to someone. He "robbed" me of my love. Contradictory statements, but it makes sense to the weeping woman who desperately wants to hate her heartbreaker. It works. It will work on almost any woman in tears. I urge you to keep a close eye on the woman who is not susceptible to this trickery, she is likely to see the truth. If he left her because he simply couldn't stand her overbearing, clingy, and frankly dull personality, she's likely to grasp that notion on her own. Beware, you cannot bullshit a woman like this. She knows her weaknesses. Power to her.

-To you women who want to grow past your weaknesses, beware the friend who won't let you see them.-

It’s been over for a year. I still can’t feel love for anyone. I “looooove” a lot of people. But I don’t truly and deeply and selflessly love anyone. And I can't bring myself to do it either. I'll hang up if you're getting in the way of my sleep. I have work tomorrow and I'm not losing sleep because you broke up with your boyfriend. ... What a bitch. I'm waiting to discover that person who will change me back. It's been a year since I gave my heart away. I have not yet found a person I will unconditionally love. This makes me feel tremendous amounts of hopelessness like you can't even believe.

Well. Maybe one person. The child. The only creature that excites me to the bone. The creature whose first breath on this earth I was witness to. The inchling whose first blink made it impossible for me to do so. I don't matter when I'm around her, I care the least about myself.

Maybe that's true love. It has nothing to do with sex. They should have told us that in high school. Maybe we would have been more comfortable in our bodies.

Maybe it's because she came along before anything else. He left me. He left me too. I left a few as well. That hurt. But after she came along. I always knew what would make that hurt insignificant, and it was always her. Hurt right now is different. Now, hurting is just motivation to learn, to be better for her. Funny how she can do that, just by continuing to exist. She'll never know what she means to me. Not until she has a her of her own.