tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23186968386582848712024-03-14T08:20:27.097+03:00ஐΡоѕнгцѕтAn Amethyst WorldAmethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.comBlogger209125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-57867583416427811032008-08-06T15:57:00.003+03:002008-08-06T16:00:50.730+03:00*Sniff*<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cccccc;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1364/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Dave/comicseagull1.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000000;">Moved </span></strong><a href="http://anamethystworld.wordpress.com/"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000000;">HERE</span></strong></a></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-81118002384705627722008-08-04T15:49:00.003+03:002008-08-04T15:59:49.596+03:00"3ayem" -C.<div align="center"><strong><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1361/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Rob/deal.png" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">Cyanide & Happiness @</span> <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></strong><br /></div><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SJYJFuowUII/AAAAAAAAAiw/om4d2_NX4Gg/s1600-h/there_is_no_love_here_by_suo_me.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230378011260375170" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SJYJFuowUII/AAAAAAAAAiw/om4d2_NX4Gg/s400/there_is_no_love_here_by_suo_me.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: Alo?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: Hala, shlounech?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: I'm okay. How are you?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: I'm good. Can you come over for lunch?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: No, I have a final at two.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: Right, I forgot.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: Don't forget for a change.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: What?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: I said, don't forget for a change.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: Hehe, iyey menich akthar.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: Likewise.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: Are you feeling any better?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: Yeah, sort of..</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: Sort of?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: Well, I'm okay enough to go take finals aren't I?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: That doesn't count. You're not doing it willingly.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: It does to me. And I'm not exactly doing anything willingly at this point in my life.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: *Sigh* You're a handful.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: Bite me.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: You're being ridiculous.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: So are you!</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: What do you mean?!</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: You know e x a c t l y <exactly><exactly>what I mean.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: Can we not-</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: Yes, if we don't-</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: Alright!</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: I love you.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: I have to love you back.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: But you're doing it willingly.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: Why wouldn't I? You're... almost perfect.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: Haven't I failed you yet?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: I doubt you ever will.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: Really?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: Yes, really. I'm super sure and confident. You're going to be something bigger than I am one day. Much bigger.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: You know what I really want?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>A: What?</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;"><em>Amethyst: I want to be someone else's magician, like you are to me. That's big enough.</em></span></strong></span>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-88194489292010928502008-08-03T17:30:00.003+03:002008-08-03T18:38:44.490+03:00C. Not Burning on the Inside<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000000;">[HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD!;* (yesterday)</span></strong><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000000;">HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DR. H!;* (today)]</span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SJXE1Ko4ARI/AAAAAAAAAio/G8f32YuM6Lo/s1600-h/Falling_by_Kvikken.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230302959928606994" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SJXE1Ko4ARI/AAAAAAAAAio/G8f32YuM6Lo/s400/Falling_by_Kvikken.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">Mr. Therapy Man, I need to ask you: how can I live on?*</span></strong><br /><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">And so she woke up after four hours of sleep with that song stuck in her head. She's falling. Falling into a pit. An eternal pit. And only she can pick herself up, flip the pit around, and make sure she falls out of it rather than into it. She sighs and turns over to get out of bed. She's been spending most of her days in bed. Might as well stay in there today.</span></strong><br /></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">She picks up her book and starts to read, ignoring the fact that she has two finals the next day. She has no sense of time. Her brother peeks in to ask if she wants anything to eat. She shakes her head. When was the last time she ate anyway? She shrugs and closes her book. She drags the laptop over her legs. Should she?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">She opens it up. And signs into her multiple accounts. The only person she feels like talking to isn't online. Her status says busy. Busy doing what? She's got to be busy doing something. Not really. Says who? She can be busy doing nothing. But she isn't really doing nothing. She's thinking. Overwhelmingly. Is that a word? She can't remember.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Does it surprise her? No. She's already forgotten how to count. She's already managed to dismiss the fact that a red light means stop. Next on the list? She won't even mention it. Last time she felt this way was Summer `07. A book got her through that. Nothing will get her through this. Not even knowing what's next.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">What if what's next is worse? She wouldn't want to live anymore. She's already living for one person only. She's already lived enough for everyone else. Wow. What is she thinking? What is it? She's driving herself over the wall. Blasphemous. She giggles. She really is insane.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Nostalgic. A song plays that reminds her of way too many memories. They are flooding her head. And in turn, the thoughts in her head flood her eyes. She needs to leave her bed. Or change its sheets. Maybe all the negativity would shed itself away once the sheets are gone. No?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">She doesn't only need to get out of her bed. She needs to leave. Soon. It would do her some good. It has to. And she wishes when she comes back, everything will be less hurtful. People would have moved on and dealt with their issues. And then maybe she can smile genuinely on the inside as well as the outside. She wipes her tears.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">She sighs. She sits up on her bed and glances at the mirror to her left. She needs to deal with her hair. It's big from the tossing and turning before the four hours of sleep she managed. Her eyeliner is smuged at well, adding a horrifying effect to the dark circles under her eyes. Her collar bones are starting to protrude. When was the last time she ate, again? Oh, wait. She couldn't remeber that the first time. She reaches out to the elastic band on her bedside table and ties her hair back. She attempted brushing it the day before, but she gave up. As long as her bangs are okay, she'll look fine. Or will she?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">She would love to shatter the mirror until she feels better. She knows that'll happen some time soon. But she also hopes it happens sooner than her soon. She wants to be able to live like her name implies. Her brother peeks in again. Does she want anything to eat? No, just water. Can she have a bottle? Two big ones? Sure.</span></strong><br /></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Maybe the water will cleanse her of all of this.. Or maybe she'll look back at it and sing, </span><span style="color:#6600cc;">I remember when I lost my mind. There was something so pleasant about that phase.**</span></strong></div><br /><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;color:#6600cc;"><em>*Mr. Therapy Man - Justin Nozuka</em></span></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;color:#6600cc;">**Crazy - Gnarles Barkley</span></em></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-44025015418258485282008-07-31T17:15:00.008+03:002008-08-01T21:29:05.107+03:00"Wain elnakhwa?" -C.<strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000000;">Here's why I love kids...</span></strong><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SJNU5_l6beI/AAAAAAAAAiY/cGeh14llKxI/s1600-h/7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229616947607006690" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SJNU5_l6beI/AAAAAAAAAiY/cGeh14llKxI/s400/7.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Little K: Laish labsa qalb el7ub? (Why are you wearing a heart?)</span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Amethyst: Le2ani a7ebik;* (Because I love you;*)</span></strong><br /></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Little K: 7ata ana a7ebes;* (I love you, too;*)</span></strong></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff9900;">M: Fi dodo meni! (You're hurt there!)</span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff9900;">Amethyst: Adri *Pouts* (I know)</span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff9900;">M kisses the bruise: Al7een etrou7 eldudu:) (It'll go now)</span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Amethyst: Chan yrou7 eltheeb w ygoul 7ag elkharoof, "Ra7 akleeek!" (Then the wolf went to the sheep and said, "I'm going to eat you!")</span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Little K makes claws out of his hands: Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawr!</span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">K: Saway chedi wayh elsmecha elfish. (Do the fish face)</span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Amethyst sucks her cheeks in and does the fish face..</span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">K: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Meta etrou7een elba7ar? (When will you go to the sea?)</span></strong></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Amethyst watching <em>Horton Hears a Who</em> with Little K, M, and K.</span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Little K: Shoofay, al7een et6ee7 3alaih elshyara! Wa3alaya.. *puts hand on cheek* (Look, now the tree will fall on him! Poor guy..)</span></strong></div><div><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><strong>---</strong><br /><br /><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SJNUt6df95I/AAAAAAAAAiI/cfByXm51lzo/s1600-h/Library_by_FreakishLemon.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229616740071110546" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 367px" height="377" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SJNUt6df95I/AAAAAAAAAiI/cfByXm51lzo/s400/Library_by_FreakishLemon.jpg" width="265" border="0" /></a></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">For everyone who is wondering who A is, A is for real. A exists. A is the person who made me who I am now. If it weren't for A, I'd probably be suicidal. Some of the readers know who A is, and for those who don't.. You don't have to. It's okay if A is a mystery to you. And so:</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><br /><br /></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Amethyst: How come you never cry?</span></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">A: How come you always cry?</span></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Amethyst: I don't cry. How come you never cry?</span></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">A: There's no point in crying. I cry on the inside.</span></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Amethyst: There is.. You let things out. You can't keep everything inside.</span></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">A: I thought you didn't cry.</span></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Amethyst: I don't.</span></strong></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">What freaks <em><span style="color:#ff0000;">you</span></em> out about <em><span style="color:#33cc00;">yourself</span></em>?</span></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-90196194043131484292008-07-30T22:01:00.005+03:002008-07-30T22:46:30.837+03:00"What are you all about?" -C.<div align="justify"><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SJDAC0qEEeI/AAAAAAAAAiA/PijMKG99h9Y/s1600-h/consolation_by_phatgurlslimm.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228890322104488418" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SJDAC0qEEeI/AAAAAAAAAiA/PijMKG99h9Y/s400/consolation_by_phatgurlslimm.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="color:#000000;">A: Why do you think a lot?<br />Amethyst: I don't know.<br />A: Nothing is for no reason.<br />Amethyst: I know.<br />A: So, why do you think so much?<br />Amethyst: It's normal to think about things that concern you or people you love and care about, and there always has to be someone going through something.<br />A: Right.<br />Amethyst: This book is funny.<br />A: Radaina 3ala the book?!<br />Amethyst: Wallah! 7ada ytha7ek!<br />A: Drop the book and look at me.<br />Amethyst: Okay?<br />A: You need to get a grip.<br />Amethyst: I know. I will when I get back.<br />A: No, you need to get a grip now, before you lose it completely.<br />Amethyst: I know.<br />A: Red lights like that, can't count, a3sab, excessive thinking, sleepless nights, not eating.. Get a grip.<br />Amethyst: Inshallah:)<br />A: No fake smiles. Not with me, anyway.<br />Amethyst: Okay<br />A: What the hell is going on with you?<br />Amethyst: Nothing. I just feel misplaced. Like I'm in the wrong time and place?<br />A: No, elaborate..<br />Amethyst: I don't feel like it. You want food?</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><p align="justify"><br /><span style="color:#993399;"><em><strong>Lesson learned: No matter what, people who read you can do it all the way. You can't fake it. You got them used to knowing everything about you. And when you decide to withdraw, it scares them. And it also scares you.</strong></em><br /></p></span><p align="center"><br /><strong>---</strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Randomly:</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">No more school from 8-4</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Finals will be over on the 5th!</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I need a massage.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I already miss my jam3a buddies;(</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"><em>Fishbowl</em> is funny;p</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I really miss J;*</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I.Need.Sleep. Pills?</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">...</span></strong></p>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-45226342676394628872008-07-29T20:28:00.005+03:002008-07-29T21:32:08.749+03:00"Salamat" -C.<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#99ffff;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1354/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Matt/interrobang.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffcccc;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1357/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Rob/freaksofnature.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Tagged by Balqees</span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#663366;">ID</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Name: Amethyst</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#663366;">My friends call me: ..different things;p</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#663366;">My Nickname(s): Too many, the best of which are Butterfly and Angel Eyes;*</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Birthday: Feb 2nd, 1989</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Major: Engilsh Literature</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Job Title: Student</span></strong><br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><p></p><strong><span style="color:#993399;">FAVES</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Boys name: Hmm.. I don't have a favorite.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Girls name: Fajer:)</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Perfume: Irresistable (and Amethyst;*)</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Fruit: Bananas and pineapple</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Veggie: Nothing comes to mind;\</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Fast food place: Currently McD's;p</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Favorite cartoon character: Didn't watch cartoons.. *Cough*</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Animal: Serpents</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Ice Cream: Chocolate <3</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">HAVE YOU EVER?!</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Bungee jumped: Yeah, and loved it!</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Used someone: Maybe, but I hope not;\</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Had bloody nose: Once </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Played truth or dare: Lol, yes! Countless times;p</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Put your tongue on a frozen pole: No</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Been in a physical fight: Yes;p</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Knocked on wood: Yeah!<br />Broken a bone: Yes;\<br />Broken the law: A bit too many times..</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">LAST TIME</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Laughed and why? Around ten minutes ago, my friend was umm.. playing around with a concept;p<br />Cried and why? I'm not answering that.<br />Hugged someone and whom ? My mom, around two hours ago..</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Recieved a call and from whom ? A, around 20 minutes ago..<br />Used a pen and what did wrote ? At like fourish, "Enjoy, Darling!" <- Our housemate wrote me a note to tell me that she borrowed some books, and I wrote back on the same note.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Lied and whats the truth ? Said I was okay when I'm really not;p<br />Recieved a message and from whom ? Just now, from N.<br />Took a shower: Around four hours ago..</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Put make-up on: My trademark eyeliner, this morning;)<br />Ride a bike: Weeks ago;\</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#333399;">WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO YOU?</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#333399;">Your family: The people who invade my room;p</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#333399;">Your home: Where I am at the end of the day..<br />Your friends: The people who make me smile:)</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#333399;">Yourself: An amethyst in the process of being shaped for a ring..</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#333399;">Your birthday: The day I was born?<br />Your bedroom: My place to think which is frequently used as a living room;\<br />Your car: I don't have a car of my own.<br />Your mobile: Reaching out to people..</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#333399;">Your PC/laptop: Access to things I love, esp. music..</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#333399;">Blogging: The most suitable outlet:)</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#333399;">Money: A necessity</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#333399;"></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">RIGHT NOW</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Eating: Nothing, I'd rather not eat;\</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Thinking: I <3></strong><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Smelling: No sense of smell;\<br />Watching: A hort film posted on F.'s blog;)</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Listening to: Clocks - Coldplay<br />Feeling: Drowsy -> Migraine deprived me of sleep;(</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Wearing: PJ bottoms and a tank top</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Waiting for: Too many things:)<br />Hating: My migraine?<br />Missing: J<br />Loving: I don't feel like long lists;p<br />Worried about: Someone</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Planning: To sleep off the migraine;\</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Annoyed with: My migraine</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">MENTION TWO THINGS THAT</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Make you happy: Someone I love is happy + Sleeping well:)<br />That you're obsessed with: Fixing people's hair/eyebrows + Reading<br />Make you sad: Helplessness + Feeling lost<br />You hate: My migraine + Madry;\</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">You're doing: Listening to music + Talking to my bro<br />You like to eat: Pasta + Ice cream<br />Smell Bad: Cheap perfume + Raw fish</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">That we probably dont know about you: I eat pizza with my hands + I feel naked if I'm not wearing a ring</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">That you did today: Screwed up a midterm + ran a red light;\<br />That are dangerous: Running a red light + Jumping off a building?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">That you're good at: Reading thoroughly + Witty comebacks<br />That hurt: Being blown off/Feeling unappreciated + Betrayal (including being kept in the dark)</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">RANDOM</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Tell us something your "3ax el nas" about: I don't brush my hair or tweeze my eyebrows.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Can you play any instruments? Not anymore, no;\</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">List four things that you are less than 3 meters away from: The book I'm currently reading, the red teddy bear HAJS got me (his name is Cincinnatus today), my phone, and one of my two Banksy books <3</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#33cc00;"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Have you ever been told you look like someone, if yes, who? Kristen Bell, Jennifer Garner, Maram, my mom, my dad, and the list goes on and on..;\</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Are you enjoying this tag? Not really;p</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">What bad habits do you have? I don't brush my hair. I walk away from things when I'm pissed. I bite my nails when I'm pensive, worried, or helpless. Etc.<br />If you could have one day being the opposite gender, what would you do ? Check myself out as a girl;p</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Worst thing that has happened to you this year: I'd rather not:)<br />What's your current Habba Song? Mmm.. Wonderful - India Arie<br />Any last words? Balqees, never again;p</span></strong></span><br /></span></span></strong>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-74199517568923653742008-07-27T23:25:00.004+03:002008-07-27T23:41:14.608+03:00Overwhelming Silence<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SIzZ5KLG5AI/AAAAAAAAAhE/U5Pwrkl-vLQ/s1600-h/paradise_of_sorrow_by_caperuccita.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227792843477017602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SIzZ5KLG5AI/AAAAAAAAAhE/U5Pwrkl-vLQ/s400/paradise_of_sorrow_by_caperuccita.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;"><strong>---</strong></span></em></div><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;"><strong></strong></span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: What is it?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: *shrugs*</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: You brought me here, so you could sit on the floor and stare through the wall?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: I don't know. I thought I had something to say.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: Talk to me</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: I said I thought I had something to say. Doesn't that mean I really had nothing to say?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: You tell me</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: I don't know. I guess I don't.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: Don't cry</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: I don't cry.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: Whatever you say</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: You know, my friend lent me a hilariously funny book.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: And?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: It's funny?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: Okay. You're crying. This is not working. You can't cry and talk about a funny book.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: Really? Watch me.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: Khebla. Are you challenging yourself?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: No, I'm betraying it.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: And why are you doing that?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: I wasn't doing it intentionally, and I'm stuck now. That's the book on top of that pile..</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: You're stuck?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: Trapped?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: Be brutally honest. I won't bite.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: I never said you would.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: What's going on?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: I wish I could tell you. You weren't there when it first started. And me telling you now.. Well, it would just be a waste of time. You can't help. You know?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: No, I don't know. I can always help. We both know that.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: Not in this case. I feel like I don't need any of this.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: This?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: This equals everything I have or am living.. Everything. Just everything, kel shay.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: Why are you giving up on yourself?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: I'm not. I'm giving up on expecting things to work out the way I want them to. For a kid who didn't like fairy tales, I should've learned that happy endings aren't for real.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: You already knew that.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: Every single time? They're never there..</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: Really? What if-</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: No what ifs, remember?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: Right.</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">Amethyst: Can we just sit here in silence?</span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;">A: Of course</span></em></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-21815210414155763772008-07-25T20:12:00.006+03:002008-07-25T20:59:12.650+03:00Counting Sheep<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1348/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Rob/buffaloburgers.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1351/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Dave/comiclollerthiscomicisjustsofunny.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">I miss blogging. I have so much to say but no time to say it. It's quite frustrating. I'm drained. On the other hand..</span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">I'm finally done with all the responses and papers due for the whole semester!;D</span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Moving on...</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">A question for our fellow males:</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#33ccff;">Do you believe in "The <span style="color:#ff99ff;">Feminine</span> Mystery?"</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>---</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">I love my younger brother. He's such a sweetheart. Every time I feel down, he finds ways to make me feel better without me even telling him that I'm not okay. At times, he just knows that I don't feel like talking, so he simply spends time with me in my room being silly. When I stay up late working, he stays up with me, commenting on what I write and coming up with comic relief. Because I'm so busy these days, I've realized that he's the one who misses me the most. 7bbi;*</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Amethyst: You guys, I need to change. Yalla, leave wela abadel jedamkum.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Friend: Amethyst, hatha elazrag 7ag sheno?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Amethyst: Eye cream, ma et3arfeen tegrain? Enzain 6el3aw bara balbes!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Friend: Once wela twice a day?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Amethyst: Twice. 6el3aw.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Friend2 *holding up a pair of shoes*: Are you going to wear these?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Amethyst: Mm, madry. I'll let you know when I'm dressed! Yalla, leave! We're late!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Friend2 *holding up another pair of shoes*: Enzain hathaila ra7 talbeseenhum?!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Amethyst: Madry, 6el3aw bara albes w ba3dain agoulech!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Friend: Khanrou7 chalet next week.. Meta etkhalsoun dawam?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Friend2: Ana ma 3endi shay w 3adi akshet.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Amethyst: Wednesday, but I have finals after that. Would you guys leave?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Friend: Ee, bas manabi wayed nass khanrou7 bas e7na..</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">*Amethyst starts undressing*</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Friends: HEY! SHGA3ED ETSAWEEN?!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Amethyst: 9arli sena agoulekum 6el3aw balbes, madry 3ankum etha you mind or not!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Friends: Oh, enzain 3adi khalseena we're late!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#009900;">Randomly:</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">I miss J;*</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">I'm growing my hair out.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Banksy's identity is revealed.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">My mom thinks I'm getting too thin.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Sleep deprived</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">I'm considering working during Ramadan, since I have no school. Any suggestions?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">The weather is torture without beach.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Ice cream all the way</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Pissed at society</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">...</span></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-48556504730737581942008-07-20T18:08:00.003+03:002008-07-20T20:19:32.403+03:00;$<div align="center"><strong><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1345/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Matt/arrribaaaa.png" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#66ff99;">Cyanide & Happiness @</span> <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>I've been getting a lot of casual gifts lately.</strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">I got two copies of what I call The Banksy Book, one from Sou and one from a special someone that shall not be named.</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.freshrecords.de/catalog/images/banksy_wall.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">I got Amethyst by Lalique from H and J, and I absolutely love it although I thought it smelled crappy when I first tried it at the mall;p</span></strong></div><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225122334304396306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SINdFEQsZBI/AAAAAAAAAg8/3A0pkdfSf5w/s400/Amethyst.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">*Cat sent me this pic</span></strong></em></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#000000;">So, thanks for surprising me. It made my hellish days a lot better. Love you;*</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong>---</strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Randomly:</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">My rash is much better.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Never tell anyone that you know someone with three nipples.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">The smell of cigarettes makes me high.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">I love my friends. I don't know what I'd do without them.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">When you feel down, always think of the best memories even if they make you cry.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Banksy is amazing.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Books are the best thing to lose yourself in.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Being happy and sad at the same time is possible.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Heartaches aren't only emotional.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Life is wickedly strange.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">I love my phone.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">I just realized that I can only go without rice for a while even if it's a really long while. I crave rice!</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">I'm losing weight without doing anything, and I keep needing to get new jeans;\</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">I need more time to read.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">I should stop being so evil.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Although I'm sleeping better, I'm sleeping less.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">I need a break from everything. I have one more paper to go, and I can't seem to concentrate enough to work on it.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">I love the smell of the sea.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">I'm craving cake. The one my friends call the old-fashioned cake..</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Enzain bas mali khelg I type;\</span></strong></p>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com56tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-22891071363132412062008-07-18T21:07:00.004+03:002008-07-18T21:39:24.567+03:00Marx<div align="center"><strong><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1347/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Rob/soldier.png" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#ffff66;">Cyanide & Happiness @</span> <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></strong><br /><br /><strong>---</strong> </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">The Transcendental Female*</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">She could not help but feel excited about reading something she can completely relate to. She wakes up early Friday morning to the page she opened her photocopied package to last night. She has always had a feminist in her, and that led her to believe that every female is born with that side. As a female grows, she either submits to the patriarchal society she lives in, or she nurtures the feminist within and takes on the challenge other women have started before her.<br />The introduction of the assigned reading triggers her already established annoyance for fairy tales. Since she turned four, her parents have been subjected to an interrogation after reading her such stories. Why does it always have to be the prince who picks the princess? Why can't the princess save herself? Why isn't there a monster instead of a witch? Her parents have soon given up and bought her books that were not fairy tales. Stories she can read alone without having to interrogate them, but she always found someone to ask. Her uncle has become the usual victim. Soon, he introduced her to the world of Hans Christian Andersen, where there is only a subliminal partially dangerous happily ever after.<br />As the reading gets more and more interesting, she realizes that she is merely reading beliefs she has previously attacked from all sides before defending in her somewhat opposing society. She has argued that marriage should not be a female's ultimate social goal in countless gatherings. Women should know themselves and feel complete before allowing the presence of a man. She remembers all her friends who have been done wrong by men only to become a shame to the female race by exclaiming that they might not be able to find a man closer to perfect that the one that has made them feel worthless. It is true what her wiser female relatives say, all men are really just one man.<br />She agrees that gender discrimination spread through religion. After all, the most popular books are holy ones, and what do these advocate? The infamous Biblical story that blames Eve for the fall of humanity and the theory that Eve was created from one of Adam's ribs are only a couple. Furthermore, people do not question stories presented religiously; therefore, they believe them and blindly advocate them whether they are true or altered to suit male dominance.<br />Proud that she knows most of the names that are considered leading feminist activists, she is even more proud that these women unite in the idea that women should be equal to men, regardless of their background and lifestyle. She really believes that if that goal is accomplished, and it will take centuries, the world would be a better place. Women will learn to live a life that will contribute "to the world of reality and not to the world of men."<br />She giggles at the idea that she is a "madwoman in the attic" to male chauvinists. What would all the sexist critics they have previously discussed in class think of this? It is a theory that disputes them all. Women to them are inferior to men, but in this theory, the script is definitely balanced if not flipped.<br />She smiles as she finishes the reading, realizing that feminists are wrongly perceived as haters of men. They do not hate men; they just despise those who think they have the right to take away their freedom of choice of lifestyle because of their gender. She seats herself before a blank document and places her female hands to type a response entitled The Transcendental Female. For once, she does not leave the title for last.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="right"><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;"><em>*One of my theory assignments for Z and N.</em></span></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-17815082381614621492008-07-16T16:31:00.003+03:002008-07-16T16:52:04.067+03:00Outline: Deconstructing Andersen<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1344/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Matt/teabag-wrestling-aka-the-cyanide-and-happiness-kama-sutra.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">I wish I could spend the weekend sleeping, reading, and watching movies.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">More adventures in class with Sou</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">*Amethyst hasn't slept for more than twenty four hours and has been working her behind off to get things in before deadlines. Class is extremely boring.*</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Sou: Amethyst?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Amethyst: Hmm? Hmm? What?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Sou *staring at Amethyst*: You look like you fell asleep.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Amethyst: I did... with my eyes open.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><br /><div align="justify"><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Sou: Did you know that Khaldeya have big ants? Which means they have bigger asses, and you can see them!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#33cc00;"><strong>Amethyst</strong>: I don't want to know.</span></div></div></div><br /><div align="justify"></strong><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">*The example being discussed in class for analyzing felicity conditions is "There is an ant coming towards you."*</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Sou: If an ant was coming towards me, I'd be like: "Hello, what color is your thong today?"</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Amethyst: LOL!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">What is the Kuwaiti equivalent of the word <span style="color:#3366ff;">cute</span>?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-56340939660273060922008-07-15T17:01:00.004+03:002008-07-15T17:44:00.953+03:00The Perverted Freud<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1343/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Dave/comicholycow1.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><strong></strong><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6600;">[WARNING] MAJOR RANT AHEAD!</span></strong></div><br /><strong></strong><br /><br /><div align="justify"><strong>I am so frustrated. Seriously. Two bad days in a row! Two very crappy draining days in a row.</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Day 1.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#6633ff;">I oversleep but insist that I look good for school. So, I make the effort of wearing something nice. I go to school to have my professor gasp at me not starting the research writing process for one of my classes. Then, he gives us something to make thirty five word notes on for five marks. Seriously?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#6633ff;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#6633ff;">I spent the rest of my school day worry about projects, midterms, and papers. Then, I spent the day after the school day to do what? Worry about my three best friends who are all going through some kind of shite. Add to all that worrying, three hours of barfing a McDonald's meal while crying because I'm scared shitless of throwing up, working on a paper until past midnight, and arguing with my mother on which social obligations I should attend this week.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#009900;">Day 2.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">I set my alarm for 4.30am, so I can study for my Earth & Universe midterm which is in Arabic. Because I'm absolutely drained, I silence the alarm while I'm asleep. Hmm.. Let's see what that insignificant event does to the rest of the day. Because I shut off the alarm, I couldn't reset it to wake up for my morning class. I wake up at 7.40am. I fall off my bed from the end that is opposite of the pillows. My class is at 8am. I grab clothes from off the floor and put them on. I rush out of the house. I forgot to print the paper I stayed up working on. Fun, isn't it?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">I get to class at 8.30am. Professor asks me for the title of my topic. I didn't choose a topic, Sir. He gasps again and tells me to give him "a definite title tomorrow without fail." Then, he reminds me that outlines are due on Thursday. And the paper is due on the 27th. Deep breath.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">I leave the class to study for the midterm, but I can't concentrate because of all the stuff I have to do. I go to class, present an oral progress report on a project, leave early, print my paper at the jam3eya, and head to Khaldeya to take my midterm. I submit my paper and get an exam paper in return. I look it over... SEVENTY FREAKIN' QUESTION TO DO IN LESS THAN AN HOUR. Mu sij! Oh, and the professor kept reminding me not to write in English. I didn't do well at all. I wrote half of the answers in English. Example of question and answer:</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Q: Ma heya elnjoum elsayara?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">A: They move.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Anyways, done with the exam, absolutely pissed. I get the midterm result for my favorite class ever. I know I could've aced it, but I didn't because I was having a bad day that day. And now, here I am. Afraid to eat in case I puke, working on choosing a topic and starting an outline, worrying about a response I have to submit before Thursday, and thinking of how much of a bitch I've been for not being able to be there fully for my friends.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">And to top it all off, I think I've added one of the worst feelings ever to my list of worst feelings. Here it is:</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">It's when you really want something for someone you love, but they can't seem to have it, and you can't do anything about it. Basically, it's being helpless knowing that if only you could do something, you wouldn't think about it twice even if it cost you the world. But at the end of the day, there's nothing that you can do..</span></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-74301194760978822202008-07-14T17:31:00.003+03:002008-07-14T17:50:35.481+03:00*SIGH*<p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#009900;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1342/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Rob/cantlivewithoutyou.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></p><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Now, I know why I can't concentrate enough to blog... BECAUSE I CAN'T CONCENTRATE ENOUGH TO DO ANYTHING RIGHT!;O</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Snippets, and I'll leave the commenting to you:</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffcc33;">I fell this morning because I forgot that there were steps.</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">At an attempt to refill my bottle with water from the fountain, I dropped my phone, then poured water all over the floor, my phone's shattered pieces, and my friend's head and arm, unintentionally because I forgot for a moment that the bottle was in my hand.</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Mom: Pass the salt.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Me: Mu yami..</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Mom: Amethyst, pass the salt, kaho jedamech!</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Me: Mako salt!</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Mom: JEDAMECH!</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Me: Wain salt?! Mashoof salt!</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">*Mom stares at me blankly*</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">*I stare at the table before me and realize that the salt is RIGHT in front of me.*</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Bro: I waited for you, so we could eat together.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Me: I'm not eating, now.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Bro: Yeah, but I waited.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Me: For what?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Bro: For you to come home, so we could eat together.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Me: Why would we eat together?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Bro: Because we both didn't have lunch?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Me: Yeah, but you have lunch at one.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Bro: Amethyst, I didn't eat at one, so I could eat with you.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Me: Yeah, but why are you eating twice?</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff9900;">While driving, I realized that I was singing something different to what was playing because I thought it was the song that was playing.</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#333399;">After being very late to class, I noticed that I left my book in the car that I <em>just</em> came from.</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffcc66;">I'm oversleeping everday, but when I look at the time and panic, I get out of bed from the other end: not the sides, the end opposite to the pillows.</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Mixing up names of people I see daily multiple times in one utterance!</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="color:#000000;">I think I need a chill pill..</span></em></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-88453523118846095082008-07-12T12:24:00.004+03:002008-07-12T19:10:33.829+03:00Wall & Piece<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffcc00;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1341/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Matt/those-asian-women-look-exactly-alike-just-like-in-real-life.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">My urge to blog is half dead.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">So, this morning I went to the clinic to check on something, and I'm not big on going to doctors unless it's the dentist. I have this fear of heading to the clinic all alone. Don't ask. It's just there. Anyway, so I went and asked for a female doctor, but I got a male doctor instead. I had to go back to the reception and emphasize that I wanted a female doctor. So, I got annoyed that I wasn't given much importance the first time I asked.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">In the waiting area, people kept turning to see if the number flashing on the screen changed everytime the elevator ding-dong sound rang out. You just heard the frickin' sound that tells you that the number changed! It's a prolonged beep not a ding-dong! Testahbeloun?! Everything was ten times more annoying because I was freaking out.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">When it was finally my turn, I stepped in, and the doctor was... scary? She looked plastic. She had bright orange nails! And when I explained to her that I had a rash and what not, she got up to lock the door, so I could take off my shirt and show her the rash. I had images of her scraping it off with her long bright orange nails.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I think that was the very last time I go to see a doctor alone. Seriously. Annoyances and suspense multiplies and add to my nonsensical phobia. It's just not okay. I need to breathe.</span></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-43447256661865320192008-07-08T17:03:00.005+03:002008-07-08T17:33:37.063+03:00An Uncomforting Rash<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1337/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Kris/flavored.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000000;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000000;">A girl is parked at a cafe next to her college. She sits in her car, her friend accompanying her in the passenger seat. They're waiting for a friend. The friend parks next to them. Why bother getting a table at the cafe when she has to run an errand and come back again? They'll just say good morning in the car. Her friend joins them and sits in the back seat. They start talking. It won't take long. The friend has class in a bit.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000000;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000000;">A police car parks behind her. The cop leans on her window. She brings it down. He asks for their IDs. They hand over their IDs. He asks the friend to leave the car. He gives them a lecture on morality and ethics. He threatens to drag them to the police office and get them expelled from university. He insists that if their fathers found out, they would slap them senseless. Apparently, they are violating their religion. Apparently, they are violating the laws of their country. Apparently, the cop is not a hypocrite. She sits there, taking control of her anger to make sure they pull through.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000000;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Two girls and a guy parked in public to say good morning and have a chat. Infidels. Shame on them. Shame. How dare they? How can they look past their respectable families? How can they think it normal to do such a thing? A scandal! That's what it is. Shame.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">Since when is saying good morning a violation?</span></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com55tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-70406958684558031132008-07-05T19:00:00.004+03:002008-07-05T19:40:47.172+03:00Warmth<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1332/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Matt/he-called-his-wife-a-bitch-get-it.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219569842076599218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SG-jHe1RQ7I/AAAAAAAAAg0/lYyLryD8dDI/s400/pensive_by_rainbow_art.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#993399;"><strong>God works in <span style="font-family:courier new;">strange</span> <em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">strange</span></em> <span style="font-family:georgia;">strange</span> ways.</strong></span></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-76360997533099735822008-07-02T16:47:00.002+03:002008-07-02T17:02:41.059+03:00Opium<div align="center"><strong><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1329/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Kris/attack.png" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#000000;">Cyanide & Happiness @ </span><a href="http://www.explosm.net/"><span style="color:#000000;">Explosm.net</span></a></strong><br /><br /><strong>---</strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>Talking about how our mothers used to dress us and what outfits we kept...</strong><br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><br /><strong>D: I have this outfit from when I was like three...</strong><br /><br /><strong>Amethyst: IT STILL FITS?! *Pause* No..</strong></span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><strong>---</strong> </div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"><strong>I've been busy these past few days, but I haven't been blogging because I don't have anything to say. I think my theory class is becoming too much of an outlet on different levels.</strong></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"><strong>So, umm.. I still have nothing to say.</strong></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"><strong>Readers, be informed that I will be away basking under the sun at an exclusive beach house until Sunday. You'd better miss me.</strong></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Nothing to say. *Rolls eyes*</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">I can't think.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Note: I've been working on this post since I posted my last post. Mu embayen, but I promise you, it's true. This must be the suckiest post here ever, but I'm keeping it;p</span></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-59423733085217514322008-06-29T20:23:00.004+03:002008-06-29T20:35:00.531+03:00I [HEART] Rex<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#009900;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1326/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Rob/beard.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">I went to a Roaring 20s party last night. People should NOT have really good parties a day before school. I'm sick! My voice is gone from all the yelling, and my feet are killing me from all the dancing. I barely got through my classes today. It was worth it though. I looked hot, and I should have been born in that age.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">This afternoon, I drove back to the Kaifan campus from Khaldeya. I opened the car door but didn't get out for a while because I was trying to think what books I needed while I was on the phone.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Amethyst: Sheno olad?! Khal a7mel awal!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Friend: Mu il7een! After marriage!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Amethyst: Ee, I know. What am I saving my virginity for?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">*turns around to find a woman narrowing her eyes at her*</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Friend: LOL!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Amethyst: Umm.. Fi mara ga3ed etkhezni!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Friend: LOL!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">*walks away from the car really fast*</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#993399;">Amethyst: Laish chethi y9eer feni?! W laish gelt ena fi mara ga3ed etkhezni ashkara jedamha? Esma3atni! Allah yal fashla!;\</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">I don't find Johnny Depp hot. Khal y9eer elwath3 3adi ya nass!;\</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><strong></strong><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I'm being random because I'm sick. I can't think. Really. I just watched <em>Dancer in the Dark</em>. I cried my eyes out. Enough, sa7? I should go rest;\</span></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-43364952962378066602008-06-28T13:56:00.003+03:002008-06-28T14:29:00.696+03:00Aj & The Stage<div align="center"><strong><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1325/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Rob/superjerk-is-a-jerk.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1328/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Matt/you-want-some-ointment-for-that-sick-burn.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I walk in wearing an oriental wrap dress and my favorite shoes. My hair is up in a comfortable easy updo. My bangs line my forehead. Eyeliner and gold eyeshadow accent my eyes. I smile at myself in the mirror, ignoring the migraine. I walk into the room filled with people. Familiar and unfamiliar faces look my way. I smile wider and begin formalities and pleasantries.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I nod at the right time, asking appropriate questions about the daughter that gave birth or the sister that got married. I listen to the details that don't really matter to me. I take my place next to my friend, whispering in her ear that I'm going to leave early. She turns to face me, and I remind her that I have another lunch to go to.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I cross my legs and straighten my back. I answer questions about myself, hoping that I won't be asked about anyone else. Soon, we are all sitting at the table eating lunch. I play with my food as they talk about men who have done women wrong and vice versa. I'm angered by such discussions. They don't know enough to discuss these personal issues. No matter how many details they gather, what goes on in the house between two people who are alone is another matter. Shouldn't they be experienced enough to know that?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I stay quiet, refusing to comment on any of the social talk/gossip that is being said. Two and a half hours later, I change my dress and leave. This time, I walk in wearing the same shoes but a different light summer dress. I smile as I apologize for not being able to come earlier. I hug, kiss, and playfully slap. I lay back on the sofa, kicking off my shoes.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I listen to their gossip without commenting while devouring a plate of brownies. Then, I shift the conversation to something else. Something that doesn't concern people I don't care about. Three hours later, I leave to my aunt's house.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I rush in breathless, hoping I have arrived before the awaited guests. Relief. I have. Just as I finish freshening up, the door bell rings. I make sure everything is set right and open the door. Another series of smiles and formalities.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">I sit through the conversations, only present physically. I can no longer digest anything, whether physically or mentally. I stare at a spot on the wall and meditate to clear my head, realizing that the migraine is still there. When the guests leave, I leave.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">As soon as I get home, I look at my bed. Tempted to throw myself upon it, I give it my back and reach for my textbook.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">That is yesterday. Social Obligations Day. They love your company, you have to go. They come to all our social events, you have to go. They invite you by name, you have to go. They ask about you every time you're not there, you have to go. And so it is.. I go.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">When I finally had two minutes for myself, I realized that I would rather deal with academic obligations than social ones. And that doesn't make me weird. At all.</span></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-21377663823114081502008-06-26T17:38:00.004+03:002008-06-26T18:16:34.340+03:00One Butterfly Wing<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1327/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Kris/give.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong>Since I have classes from 8am-4pm, I don't see my family much. When I get home, I have school work to do. When I'm done with the school work, I pass out on whatever book I'm reading. So, I decided that I'd set one day a week to spend with each of my parents and both my brothers. This means I have to make sure that all my assignments are done so that I can really spend time with them.</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong>It's not working. I am getting my work done, but they are either busy or spoilers. Examples? The day I decided to spend with Dad, he took Mom out. The day I decided to spend with my brothers, there was a football match on. The day I spent with my mom got her lecturing me on my lifestyle.</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong>So, yeah.. Blekh;\</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong>Randomly:</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><em><span style="color:#33ccff;">The Jenny Packham boutique doesn't have my aspired wedding dress. I went to try it on yesterday, but it wasn't there. Don't point out that I'm no where near getting married soon. I don't care.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;">My mood swings are getting a bit too extreme.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><em><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc66cc;">I want beige sandals with very high heels and another amethyst ring.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6600;">How can people not know Dr. Seuss?</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:arial;color:#993399;">I've been trying to find time to watch <em>Dancer in the Dark</em>, but it's going to have to wait a bit longer than I thought;\</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;">I don't like it when people I know well think they should explain themselves to me.</span></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;">My sleeping patterns are weird now that I'm sleeping.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;">A bunch of friends and I decided to take a break and head to the beach for three days. Our mothers decided to tag along, inhabiting the chalet next to ours. What a break..</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#33cc00;">I feel pretty today.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ffcc00;">The Archer describes images of children swallowing razor blades to me on a daily basis. That's evil.</span></em></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-82457443316613097572008-06-25T17:25:00.009+03:002008-06-26T16:46:12.700+03:00Big Bean<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">[UPDATE] Bottom of post;p</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1324/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Dave/comicasshat1.png" border="0" /></a> </span></strong><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;"><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#000000;">---</span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">I really need to mark this as a landmark in my university life:</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#6600cc;">Adventures of Having Classes with Sou.</span></strong></div><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Prof: I really can't explain this (The Cooperative Principle in Discourse Analysis) to a five year old.</strong> </span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Sou: Yeah, unless he's a prodigy or something..</strong> </span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Prof: From India perhaps!</strong> </span><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">*Sou turns around and shares a look with Amethyst who gasps, then they both start laughing*</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Prof is explaining something about pronounciation in Phonetics and says a word we don't know. Sou takes out her dictionary and points out "viagra."</span></strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>Sou: Why do we have viagra in the dictionary?</strong> </span><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>Amethyst: Because there's people who might not know what it is!</strong> </span><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>*Laughter*</strong> </span><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>Sou: Men have something similar to PMS!</strong> </span><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>Me: WHAAAT?! Where?</strong> </span><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">*Sou points out IMS in her dictionary. Both share a look of pure evil then laugh.*</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff9900;">Amethyst has been trying to tell Sou an incident for ten minutes, wedging in a sentence every pause in the discussion. Near the end of the salfa:</span></strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff9900;"><strong>Amethyst: So the text message says, "I wish I could just smell your panties."</strong> </span><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff9900;">*Sou turns around to face Amethyst and has the equivalent of a gasp on her face. They both crack up until they are out of breath continuously for the next ten minutes.*</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Phonetics, again.</span></strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#33cc00;"><strong>Amethyst: Sir, fronting a back vowel and vice versa? Huh? I don't get it.</strong> </span><br /><span style="color:#33cc00;"><strong>Prof: Yes, for example: oo-ee-oo-ee-oo-ee-oo... *looking ridiculous*</strong> </span><br /><span style="color:#33cc00;"><strong>Amethyst: Sounds like an ambulance!</strong> </span><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">*Sou turns around and gives Amethyst a you-did-not-just-say-that look and both crack up*</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Prof (addressing Sou): I feel sorry for the man who's going to end up with you.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Sou: That was mean and hurtful, but I'm going to continue making my point. Whoo-sah. So, as I was saying..</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Prof: Playwright<em>er</em>'s of that age blah blah blah..</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">*Amethyst thinking, "playwrightER?!" turns to Sou*</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Sou: Shut up.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Amethyst: I didn't say anything!</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Sou: But you were going to.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Amethyst: No, I wasn't!</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Sou: Well, you thought it!</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">Walking out of class.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">Amethyst: UGH! Mali khelg I do the response. Did you see how many pages we have to read?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">Sou: Did you see the size of the text?! It's insanely small! Teez el-namla!</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6666;">Regarding teez el-namla, in class:</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6666;">Prof: ...being part of an ant colony...</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6666;">*Amethyst shares a look with The Archer. Both crack up. Amethyst looks at Sou, "Psst, ANT colony?" Sou cracks up.*</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Prof: You need to learn how to dress (hint goes to student wearing a t-shirt with a practically naked man on it) and talk (hint goes to Sou and Amethyst) appropriately in class.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Sou (talking to the student wearing the t-shirt with the muscled man wearing briefs and standing on a ball): Yeah, why are you wearing that?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Student: It's Marc Jacobs.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Sou: Right. It's Marc Jacobs. But it doesn't say Marc Jacobs, who would know?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Student: I would.</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#009900;">There are definitely more and more to come, but I'll stop here;p</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#009900;">[UPDATE]</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffcc00;">Today, prof asks a question:</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffcc00;">Student: Let's go and talk about it <em>on</em> coffee.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffcc00;">Amethyst *to Sou*: Yeah, so let's get sacks of coffee, sit on them, and talk.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffcc00;">Sou: No, we should get our actual mugs and sit on them!</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffcc00;">Amethyst: Yeah, cuz they won't be up our @$$3#!</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#6666cc;">Regarding, teez el-namla (again), prof is talking about writing a poem about an ant:</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#6666cc;">Prof: It's an ant. I can't write about an ant!</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#6666cc;">Sou *looking through the textbook at the insanely small text*: I can write about ants.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#6666cc;">Amethyst: No, you can write about certain parts of ants.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff9966;">Regarding Indian child prodigy, different class:</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff9966;">Student: You know, on the news there was this 9 year old Indian boy who can perform surgeries...</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#ff9966;">*Amethyst and Sou share a knowing look and burst into laughter*</span></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-41350595897359498042008-06-24T16:49:00.003+03:002008-06-24T19:08:41.281+03:00I.Need.Sleep.<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#666666;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1323/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Rob/pacostacos.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Got this off </span></em></strong><a href="http://www.swair.org/blog/"><strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Swair's blog</span></em></strong></a><strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">. It looked like fun. Go ahead and tag yourself if you like it:)</span><br /></em></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Rules:</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into </span></strong><a title="Flickr Search" href="http://www.flickr.com/search/?q=&w=all" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">Flickr Search</span></strong></a><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">b. Using only the first page, pick an image. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into </span></strong><a title="FD's Mosaic Maker" href="http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">fd’s mosaic maker</span></strong></a><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">What is your first name?<br />What is your favorite food?<br />What high school did you go to?<br />What is your favorite color?<br />Who is your celebrity crush?<br />Favorite drink?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Dream vacation?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Favorite dessert?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">What you want to be when you grow up?<br />What do you love most in life?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">One Word to describe you.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Your flickr name. (I don't have a flickr account, so I just put in Amethyst;p) </span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215096090062123586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_eQFvR-z3Fz0/SF--Q12uckI/AAAAAAAAAgs/_apxwVCyPWk/s400/mosaic7450292.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#993399;">The answers are obvious, right?</span></strong></p>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-1045270469948658042008-06-23T15:45:00.005+03:002008-06-24T16:45:23.712+03:00Stronger Than Me<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">[UPDATE] I'M ON SAFAT! FINALLY! YAY!</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;">.</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#009900;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#009900;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1322/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Matt/oopsie-daisie.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#000000;">---</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>The person who got most answers right in the quiz is The Archer. Ghalia tied with him, but she annoyed me by mentioning something in her comment, so she's out!;p</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>Here are the answers:</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><strong>My favorite color is <span style="color:#33cc00;">lime green</span>.</strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>FALSE. My favorite color is <span style="color:#993399;">purple</span>.</strong></div><strong><br /><div align="center"><br /><strong>I change the answer to the question in <span style="color:#00cccc;">my profile</span> every once in a while.</strong></div><br /><div align="center">TRUE.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><strong>I've been <span style="color:#ff6600;">single</span> since I've started this blog.</strong> </div><br /><div align="center">TRUE.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><strong>I eat popsicles in the <span style="color:#ff0000;">winter</span>.</strong> </div><br /><div align="center">TRUE.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><strong>I escape reality by listening to <span style="color:#993399;">music</span>.</strong> </div><br /><div align="center">FALSE. I escape reality by <span style="color:#993399;">reading</span>.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><strong>My favorite <span style="color:#ff6666;">movie</span> is <em>The Devil's Advocate</em>.</strong></div><br /><div align="center">TRUE.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">A</span> is my favorite person in the whole wide world.</strong> </div><br /><div align="center">TRUE.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><strong>I've lied on <span style="color:#cc66cc;">Poshlust</span>.</strong> </div><br /><div align="center">FALSE.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><strong>I brush my hair as much as I <span style="color:#ffcc00;">twirl</span> its strands around my fingers.</strong> </div><br /><div align="center">FALSE. I <span style="color:#ff0000;">don't</span> brush my hair much, and I play with it <span style="color:#33cc00;">a lot</span>.</div><br /><p align="center"></p></strong><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></strong><br /><p align="left"><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">*Discussing <em>Lolita</em> with a friend of mine*<br /><br />Amethyst: But Humbert is too much of a pervert.<br />A: He's not a pervert.<br />Amethyst: Yes, he is! What is he, then?<br />A: He's just a mentally sick man of passion.<br />Amethyst: Didn't you just define pervert?</span></strong><br /><br /><br /></p><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Tips for Men</span></strong></div><br /><p><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Facial hair is hot, but don't leave hair that tends to stick out your nose.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Hold the door open for the ladies. At least don't barge through if a lady is opening the door for herself.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Know how to change flat tires.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Be honest. Even with your feelings. If you like us, just say it. If you don't, again, just say it. Save us the trouble of wondering.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Make sure your soccer match isn't more important than your girlfriend. It really matters.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">There are certain shades of pink that you cannot pull off. Look at yourself in the mirror when you're wearing pink. See if it suits your skin color.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">If you're hot and know it, it's not hot. If you're not hot and think you're hot, it's so bleeping annoying. We want to rip your limbs off and beat you on the head with them. Yes.. THAT annoying.</span></strong></p><br /><p><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Any additions?</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">Added by Silver:</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">"lose the american accent, sooo unattractive."</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">"Dont u EVER EVER EVER under ANY circumstances tell her she looks fat. EVER."</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></strong> </p><p><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">And by iRise:</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">"a man who can cook and help around the house, is a dream come true... :)"</span></strong></p>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-17153149343472547622008-06-22T17:21:00.005+03:002008-06-22T17:57:37.015+03:00Holistic<p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;"><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1320/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Kris/hung.png" border="0" /></a><br />Cyanide & Happiness @ <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></span></strong></p><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">I'm <span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"><em>quizzing</em></span> you guys. Because I'm <span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">mean</span>. Not really.. Because I have <span style="font-family:courier new;color:#33ccff;">nothing</span> better to do, I guess. Anyways, it's a series of <span style="color:#33cc00;">true </span>or <span style="color:#ff6600;">false</span> statements. <span style="font-size:180%;color:#3366ff;">Nine</span> to be exact. Let's see how well <em><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6666;">you</span></em> know <span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ffcc00;"><em>me</em></span>.</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><p align="center"><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong>T or F?</strong><br /></span><br /><strong>My favorite color is <span style="color:#33cc00;">lime green</span>.</strong><br /><br /><br /><strong>I change the answer to the question in <span style="color:#00cccc;">my profile</span> every once in a while.</strong><br /><br /><br /><strong>I've been <span style="color:#ff6600;">single</span> since I've started this blog.</strong><br /><br /><br /><strong>I eat popsicles in the <span style="color:#ff0000;">winter</span>.</strong><br /><br /><br /><strong>I escape reality by listening to <span style="color:#993399;">music</span>.</strong><br /><br /><br /><strong>My favorite <span style="color:#ff6666;">movie</span> is <em>The Devil's Advocate</em>.</strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">A</span> is my favorite person in the whole wide world.</strong><br /><br /><br /><strong>I've lied on <span style="color:#cc66cc;">Poshlust</span>.</strong><br /><br /><br /><strong>I brush my hair as much as I <span style="color:#ffcc00;">twirl</span> its strands around my fingers.</strong> </p><br /><br /><a href="http://www.hobokenattorney.com/photos/question-marks.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.hobokenattorney.com/photos/question-marks.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p align="center"><br /><strong><em>Any ideas what the person with the most correct answers should get? I'm thinking a post on Poshlust, or they get to ask me any question that will not reveal me in reality.</em></strong></p>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318696838658284871.post-86877155855466964952008-06-21T14:22:00.005+03:002008-06-22T17:48:26.938+03:00Easier Lifestyle<div align="center"><strong><a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1319/"><img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/Dave/comicfuckoff.png" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">Cyanide & Happiness @</span> <a href="http://www.explosm.net/">Explosm.net</a></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>---</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><em><span style="color:#666666;">Almost all of my writing is from a female's perpective. From what I've posted on Poshlust, only </span></em></strong><a href="http://anamethystworld.blogspot.com/2008/05/hubris.html"><strong><em><span style="color:#666666;">this piece of writing </span></em></strong></a><strong><em><span style="color:#666666;">is from a male perspective. So, as an attempt to challenge me, A has asked me to write a first person male narration.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><em></em></strong></div><a href="http://www.easier.com/myads/images/92557-Body_Tools.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.easier.com/myads/images/92557-Body_Tools.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong>I run the razor over my chin repeatedly. At the back of my head, there's music playing: "If I said I was sorry, would you forget the things I've done? I don't know why I even worry. I don't believe in anyone."*</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong>I stare at the reflection in the mirror. A face haunted by its past. Yes, my face. My past. I think of sliding the razor across my neck... the wrong way. My stare pierces through my reflection, and I wonder why the mirror doesn't shatter. My thought is reflected in my eyes. Isn't a thought of suicide strong enough to shatter a mirror? Its abnormality is dense. Dense enough to squeeze some beats out of my heart. </strong><strong>Yet, my reflection doesn't flinch. Not at all. Not even when a series of flashbacks occur before my eyes.</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong>I see shadows moving in the mirror. I can't make them out clearly. I stare at them, scrutinizing. A lot of movement. I can't keep track. I can't make out the action. Too much movement. I can't comprehend anything. Suddenly, there's a splatter of blood. A grey pitter patter of drops of blood landing on the mirror rings in my ear.</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong>I shudder. Cold washes over me. The flashbacks are suddenly clear. It takes blood to remember blood. As I glance down at the razor in my hand, I realize that I'm done with shaving. I splash water over my face, hoping to get rid of the images that will distract me for the rest of the day.</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong>As I close the door of the bathroom, I realize that I'm neither inside nor outside. I'm trapped. I also realize that there really wasn't blood or the sound of the drops hitting the mirror. Then what is it that seemed so real? They can't just be flashbacks?</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong>The reflection didn't flinch, but the man standing before that reflection did.</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;color:#999999;">*Killing Man - Jack Savoretti</span></strong></div>Amethysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15232155206630700378noreply@blogger.com21