April 28th, 2006

Hi everyone.

Back again. And how time flies. A week has gone by. Friday is here once again, and the forecast is 38 degrees (100 degrees Fahrenheit). It has been a week where if I had the chance to emulate an Ostrich, that is, hide my face in the sand and hope bad things would evanescence, then that is what I would be praying.

However, it had plus points. Met pretty and the charismatic Veena who took my interview for the Evening Post. It was, perhaps the only ‘fun hour’ during a tumultuous week. I have never met a more charming interviewer, and I could have gone being interviewed for probably the entire evening. I just hope she doesn’t quote a few drastically self implicating ideologies that I presented. I do not want to turn into another S.R.

Well, we did discuss spirituality, and also positive energy, which brings me to the topic of negative energy.
What gives one negative energy? I think the same things that gives us positive energy. Then where do we store such energy? And can we have enough of any one of the two?

Well, sometimes you wonder and hope that 'enough' in life would sustain us, yet when you apply it to different aspects of living, you get new meanings and varied levels of wants and wishes.
So, Is 'enough' an actual measure of satiation or just a word contrived to put some sense in an otherwise drab and desolate life? Try applying it and see whether you are far away from your dreams or have 'arrived'. The word 'arrived' is another such word that is derived from 'enough'. When both put together we wonder whether we have had 'enough' in life or have merely 'arrived' at a certain point or place, which is either the pinnacle of our lives or merely the 'nadir' disguised as our highest achievement. The words 'pinnacle' and 'nadir' are once again drawn from figments of our imagination in which we conceive things one way or another. A 'nearly won' concept could be interpreted as coming very close to accomplishing or merely having not accomplished at all. Again accomplishments are 'feats' that differ from one individual to another. Feats are only measurable to the 'limits' one sets up for oneself. When one pushes his or her limits, then the accomplishments can generally be termed as a 'feat'.

Wow, that must have bored the guts out of you guys? Tee hee. Well, you all do deserve this. If you are going to waste your time reading my blog instead of doing something erstwhile, then what can you expect?

I was all geared up to take on the ‘Mongolia’ challenge in September. Our two hour trek was a big disaster this morning. I have just become too lazy to want to do something different. I prefer to lie down and sleep and sleep.

Remember Robert Frost, when he wrote
The Woods are lovely dark and deep,But, I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,And miles to go before I sleep.

I guess, Frosty had too much of positive energy in his kitty. I rather keep all my promises for tomorrow, and if tomorrow is going to arrive sooner than expected, then how about , day after tomorrow.

So, why do Flamingo’s come to Dubai? No, not for the shopping, I can promise you that. But then, why? Do they love this hot, humid weather?A lady wrote back and sent this joke in response to my 4 stages of reaching dotage in men. It is not what I had asked, but, probably, makes some sense.
Annie wrote:One day, a tall, handsome life guard looked at himself stark naked in the mirror and was shocked, when he saw his entire body was so beautifully tanned, whereas his well endowed manhood glistened like an albino in a dark and cloudy night. So, he decided to cover himself totally in sand, and just let his best friend to float freely in the breeze and get its much deserved tan.
Two old women passed by. While one of them was amused, the other screamed in a shocked tone. When asked what was the problem by the other lady, the old hag replied:

When I was ten I was frightened of it,
When I was twenty I was surprised
When I was thirty, I wanted it,When I was forty, I was just plain in love with it.When I was fifty, I paid for it,
When I was sixty, I prayed for it,When I was seventy, I forget it.And now that I am eighty, these damn things are growing wild!

Well, I never told you my site was for the faint hearted or for kids, so all of you grown ups out there, just grow up!
Did you know,
Life:Living it, is achieving the Highest level of satiation in ones Spirituality, and finding out the meaning to be true with oneself. Existing is merely growing old.So, I will end my thoughts for this day and week with the above quote written by his highness, that’s me, and hope that you guys are going to do something different in your life this week. Different does not mean going out and killing someone, or you randy old guys, imagining you are sleeping with girls half your age (that is only reserved for me). Different is when you do something that will make you happy. For you know one thing, you owe a lot to only one person in your life. And that person is . . . . (no it is not me) it is YOU.Good luck and good day.

April 20th, 2006

A very good morning to all of you .
Well, it is nice to be back. It was fun, and hectic, and many sleepless nights as my best friend will confirm, but then, all good things need to come to an end. Well, in any case, this forms a prelude to looking forward to the good things once again later on in the year. Oh Yeah.
Well, away from the biting, cold frosty evenings to the welcome, er . . . humid, hazy, sweaty, sort of nice, healthy warm weather. Actually we are all getting ready to start this new season once more (well most of us, maybe). I am not surprised at all, really, there are some people, who are actually deferring the thought of welcoming 115 degrees, 100% humidity, and the funny thing is, hoping that if they did not think of it, the season would delay its onset. Well, I have bad news. Just you wait and see, it will soon be as hot as hell was intended to be hot.
I don't think I realized how fortunate I was. It just didn't occur to me when a guy actually offered me a seat to sit down as the bus disappeared into the melting stream of cars and buses in the busy evening traffic. I thought he was pointing to some elderly non-existent gentleman standing behind me, and when I realized I was the only taker of the magic seat I quickly took charge like children playing musical chairs. I was elated at first, hoping that the guy was getting off at the next station, but when we both alighted at a bus stop eons later, it struck me. There was an old man on the bus, and the old man was . . .ME.
At a dinner function later on, we talked about this, and we all came up with different stories related to absent mindedness. My favorite was the time when I was actually wearing my spectacles, and I began looking for it all around the room. Then I decided to retrace my activities in the past hour, and only when I used logic to reason that if I was seeing things very clearly, then I had to be wearing them. Clever, wasn’t it?
André’s favorite was the time he was talking to his friend on the cell phone, (and he usually keeps his cell in the left pocket) and he absentmindedly tapped his pocket, and he told his friend, “Wait a minute, will ya. I think I have left my cell phone in the grocery store.”
Marisol’s favorite was the time her father was looking for his slippers all over the house while he was actually wearing them.
So, do you have any such interesting tales then I will be happy to post them for you.
Did you hear of the ‘guy’s four stages’ to becoming old and decrepit? Well, the first stage is forgetting names, the second, forgetting faces. The third is when you forget to zip your trousers back on after an altercation at the ‘urinal’, and the final one, this is good believe me, is when you forget to unzip going to the urinal.
Jeepers, we are then all ready to swear, ‘it was that little kid with the water balloon, just let me get my hands on him.’
So, ladies (this one is for you, Aimee as you come up with witty ones) do you have your four (ahem) stages. If yes, then write back, and I shall be very happy to post them for all those sex starved male lunatics who will be tuning in to read my blog next week (tee hee).
A friend asked me about a particular married woman, and would I fancy her if I had the chance. I replied, of course, she is very sexy. My friend said, “But, she’s married?” And I replied, “Oh, well that's good, she wouldn't call me on weekends, that's fine. She’d be busy. She's not going to start stalking me and bothering me, that would work out beautifully, actually.” Unfortunately, I wouldn’t mind her stalking me. You know what that entails. Yes . . .
My writer’s block is turning into a ‘tsunami’ of blocks, and while I am lying down on my bed and imagining, I get all sorts of vivid tales and stories hammering against my temple like migraine, however, as soon as I sit next to the PC, I just stare at it and expend time surfing the web to download naughty, I mean, er . .natural images to ferment my dissipating delusions and aspiration. It is like going to bed with a beautiful woman (or the other way around for all of you who are twisted or rather straighter than usual) and you discover you are impotent.
Do you think I am a little too conceited or swollen with pride? Well, when My Mom tells me, she loves me, I always reply, me too. It can mean, either, I love her too, or similar to her, I love myself.

So, have you heard the song,
“O Lord, it’s so hard to be humble,
for I’m perfect in every way,
I look at myself daily in the mirror,
I’m getting better each day.

To know me is to love me,
I must be a hell of a man,
O Lord, it’s so hard to be humble,
I’m doing the best that I can.”

Well, amigos, and amigas, it is all over for this week, the fat lady has already taken up position, so I will be back hopefully next week, and until then, take care of yourselves.

April 4th, 2006

Hi there once again. Marhaba. Como estes.

This week is going to be an hectic one, but for some reason I do not appear to sound so dejected. Right. I am off on a ‘two week’ break, and I am going to keep this away as a secret from everyone. Tee Hee.

I hope quite a few got the chance to read our interview in Khaleej Times this week. It was a nice interview and Lubna Al Midfa did a terribly good job which I hope will attract some much needed attraction to our venture. However, cannot say the same for the photographer who had been shoving the camera right inside my face, and my foto made me look old and decrepit. Priscilla, our training coordinator corrected me and said, ‘Ayadh, you are old and decrepit!’ I wonder from where they all get their imagination.

I used to get plenty of ideas before to write poetry or merely add bits and pieces to my repertoire. So I’d keep this little notebook next to me, even when I was asleep in the night. This hasn’t happened to me for some time, and again Priscilla thinks it is due to the fact that I badly need a haircut. Haircut! What hair? Have you heard the catch phrase, Here today, gone tomorrow. Well, my story is all about, Hair today, gone tomorrow.

Writing is perhaps one of the loneliest jobs in the world. The only way it will work is if you are in love with someone. Someone, that’s YOU. If you love your company, then you are indeed a great writer. But nothing beats the propinquity, the warm human contact and a vague sense of being wanted, when all you want to do is to write and get published. So, how difficult is it to get a book published by a commercial publisher?

Well, the odds are better gambling in Las Vegas. It has been estimated that 25 million people in the United States consider themselves writers and only 5% have been published anywhere. In Dubai, we have an estimated 50 % of the population who wished they were writers, and perhaps only a meager 0.5% have had the defeated opportunity of getting their work read, and let alone being published. So, does that make sense to you. Better, take a job elsewhere.

A friend who read my second novel told me that the book was quite rated. Well, I know it has a lot of sex stuff in it. But then, isn’t that a part of our every day life. We all wouldn’t have been here if that had been a taboo word all along. And sex is healthy, mind you, and one of the few inlets into one’s spiritual mind or self. A private education on this would make it more feasible as then I wouldn’t annoy some of my (little narrow minded) brethren.

By the way, I have decided to rewrite my second book. I have thought of adding some value to the characters by introducing new ones to complement them. You will like them. There is Tina, an 18 year old girl, voluptuous and bubbly, full of life, and she uses such words like, ‘gook’ (good + ok), ‘sibilly’ (silly + billy), ‘sweepie’ (sweetie + pie), ‘odokie’ (okie + dokie) and ‘Extrange’ (extra +strange). Then there is Jud, her drooling friend who is obsessed with the idea that he is the most comical person in the world, and suffering from mythomania, and is forever mimicking and deriding others.

I think I will give up laying tennis forever. Not that I want to give it up, but last week I had the ultimate of all pleasures when down 4-1 against a rampant Paul, and also love thirty down, I mustered al my strength and came from behind to humble him 6-4. I am certain I will not be able to emulate this ever again. So, what is the challenge then in continuing playing.

My pretty friend Aimee Pecile from Canada, (who I also call, My little fairy princess) sent me this joke. I thought it was very funny, so I needed to share it with all of you’ll.

WHAT DO RETIRED PEOPLE DO ALL DAY?
Working people frequently ask retired peoplewhat they do to make their days interesting.
Well for example, the other day I went into
town and went into a shop.
I was only in there forabout five minutes. When I came out there was a cop
writing out a parking ticket.
I went up to him and said, "Come on man,how about giving a senior citizen a break?"
He ignored me and continued writing the ticket.
I called him a Nazi bastard. He glared at meand started writing another ticket for having worn tires.
So I called him a s---head. He finished thesecond ticket and put it on the windshield with the first.
Then he started writing a third ticket.
This went on for about 20 minutes.
The more I abused him, the more tickets he wrote .
Personally, I didn't care. I came into town by bus.
I try to have a little fun each day now that I'm retired.
It's important at my age.

By the way, I am nearing retirement age too, so beware if you see that many tickets tucked against your windshield wiper, then guess who has been trying to get ready to take the plunge into a ‘no-work- man’s’ land.

I was challenged to show off my culinary skills the other day, and I decided it would be great if I self-learn how to make myself an omelet. No one told me that cutting onions would leave one to cry, and that the tomato soft-inside should not be used in the egg mix. In the end, I got myself a fluffy, sludgy, vague sort of thing that tasted like an omelet, but looked like a concoction of . . . er whatever. It did taste kinda nice, and I managed to finish the last morsel. So there!

Well, I guess it is time for me to go, and hope to write to you once again when I do return from my vacation.Take care amigos, and/or Linda senoritas from all over the world. I am off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz.