Currently Playing: Ella Fitzgerald-Stardust.
There’s nothing quite like the magic of jazz. You gotta love a good classic piece.
—————
I sit here flushed after a one-sided debate with Abah. He opposes what he says is my glorification of English football, and proceeded to lay down the underlying negative points for his argument. This all erupted after I gleefully announced to no one in particular that the Reds had beaten the Bolton Wanderers 3-0.
Abah then launched into a lecture about the weakness of English football and their lack of prowess and skill, about how the Premier League was all hype but no walking the talking, English hooliganism, the drinking, the gambling, the profits they make from supporters, etc.
Lutfi, my Gunner of a brother, left the room quietly but offered over his shoulder that the EPL wasn’t only dominated by English players. I guess he didn’t want to stay for the bloodshed. Debates between Abah and I can get pretty messy, with my father winning most of the time mainly because he gets to wave the "I-am-your-father" authority card around.
I listened before calmly disposing off, one by one, each of his fears about my fascination with English football. He mistakenly believes that I’m a fanatic just because I can name the first team players and some of the reserves, including their table standings and brief history. Mild, basic stuff. Nothing too wacked, like when each player had his first dental trip or something. Before I could conclude though, he touched a topic he knew was a most sensitive case with me: the Iraqi and Palestinian issue. His point was that we as supporters are one of the main sources for funding the English government, and thus, have indirectly assisted in the Iraqi invasion. Also, he reminded me that it was the English who were responsible for the 1948 Palestinian invasion–a fact I already knew. Before I could even gape at him in utter disbelief, he sweepingly ended his little speech by drawing comparisons between squash, badminton and tennis, and the reasons behind why the West (excluding Denmark and England) prefer tennis the most. It was all very political and conspiratal. Maybe I should just print the last paragraph of this entry so that I can get a word in. Anyway, he then promptly stood up, gave me a look, and exited the room.
Unbelievable.
I’m not giving up the next round. Just you wait.
—————
My sister made a somewhat brief evaluation of my personality the other day, while we were busy bent over household chores.
"You’re deep lah Kauna. I’m not saying its a good thing, because you don’t smile much, you’re always sarcastic, you like the dark and the cryptic, and you look like you’re about to cut yourself any minute."
"What?!" When you’re hunched over a pile of mess, that’s the last thing that crosses your mind to come out of a 15 year old.
"Yeah. Just look at you. You should be more like me. Enthusiastic! Lively! See, even your friends say you should be more carefree! You…you’re so goth."
That did it. I hooted with laughter.
"You’re calling me goth?! Do you know that some goth cultures can even sometimes border on becoming deviant?"
"Ok. So you’re not goth goth. You believe in Allah…so that means…you’re a religious goth."
My sister doesn’t need to try to be funny. She just is.
With that said, my New Year resolution for 2007 is to not look like I’ve just dug myself out of a grave. How’s that sound, eh?
—————
To New Beginnings
Edinburgh, Scotland.
June 2006.
With
Bismillahirrahmanirrahim,
In the name of Allah, the Beneficient, the Merciful,
I begin 2007.
I wish you all a blessed and pleasant year ahead, Insya Allah. =)
Enough said here.
