Which finals week student are you?

•May 15, 2012 • Leave a Comment

It’s that time of the semester again: finals week. The week where we all just aren’t ourselves. But after being exposed to this ferocious week for a few years now, I’ve come to the conclusion that this week is different from student to student, and the students can be divided in the following categories.

1. Stressful Idiot

This person doesn’t sleep, either eats too much or too little, randomly bursts into tears or blind rages, and keeps constantly complaining about how their lives suck during finals week. They tweet and write facebook status about every single thing they do during the day. For example: “Going to take a nap now, hope I can sleep so I can pull an all nighter #ihatefinalsweek” or “2 down, 3 to go! #finalsweek”.

This person never really performs very well because the stress comes in the way of good studying. So they stress over the exams and then later stress over how awful their grades were. To cut a long story short: Drama Queens.

They also dress in their worst clothes ever during finals week, because finals week makes people oblivious to what the hell you are wearing. Say hello to dirty sweatpants and really distasteful t-shirts!

2. Stressful Perfectionist

This is like the stressful idiot except somehow more annoying. They don’t post on facebook, but rather on BBM statuses things like “Oh my God this is, like, my last spring semester at uni!” or “I’m gonna faaaaaail!”.

And we all know they never fail.

Beware of ever getting into a project group with one of those, because then you will have to cope with late night panic attack phone calls and annoying accuracy in your work. If you have a project due in two weeks, you finish it in two days and then spend the remaining time showing it to the professor and editing it, then showing it again…etc, because screw all your other subjects.

3. Cool Cucumber

This person is awesome. I urge you all to become this person. They know their work, they have it organized and they don’t stress over it. If they have to stay up all night working, they’ll just stock up on good snacks and energetic music without complaining about it on social media. They will tweet about regular things and make jokes.

And they won’t be on facebook, because facebook sucks.

4. Denial King

This person is a bit like the cool cucumber, but not because they are intelligent and organized. It’s because they are too dumb to grasp the fact that finals are around the corner. They live in la-la land until they show up one day and find out it’s the day of a final. Then they proceed to put their noses in a book for five minutes before the final, throw up, and possibly faint.

5. The Disappearing Magician

This person simply disappears. You don’t see them, hear from them or know anything about them, because they are quietly studying at home. The best thing about them is zero drama, but the worst thing is that they miss out on all the gloomy atmosphere on campus.

 

I won’t lie to you, these people are all annoying one way or another, even the cool cucumber (because you get jealous that you aren’t them). But each one has his perks -except for the stressful idiots and the denial kings.

So, tell me, which finals week student are you?

PS. I’m a cool cucumber. You know it.

The Terrors at Night

•May 12, 2012 • Leave a Comment

You can run. You have legs, don’t you?

Run like the wind.

Look behind you, they are after you, but surely you’re faster. You used to be the fastest on the track team in high school.

But no matter how far you run, or how fast, know that it is useless.

The problems will hunt you down. The abandoned issues, the confrontations and the ugly truths will all gang up on you, and you will be deemed helpless.

You can run in reality, but you can’t run in your dreams.

Your legs will feel vague, vivid and heavy. You will literally see the air pushing you back. You will wake up drenched in sweat. You will gasp for air and put your hand on your chest. It will physically hurt, even though it was just a dream.

It will traumatize you when you are awake, and it will terrify you in your sleep.

But remember, even though the voices in your head scare you, they will always be there for you.

They are listening. They are waiting.

Why I admire the Blind

•May 12, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I admire blind people.

Imagine the amount of trust it takes in order to live life without seeing. They live on trust. They thrive on trust.

If I were blind I wouldn’t trust a soul. What if the person picking out my clothes had bad taste? What if they told me a crowd was cheering for me but instead held a TV machine producing applause sounds? What if they stole all my belongings and replaced them with cheap novelties?

I wouldn’t trust a soul. And that’s why I admire the blind.

They have the courage to do what I don’t even have the courage to think about.

دعوة الظلام

•May 8, 2012 • Leave a Comment

.وقفت في الظلال و نظرت إليه. إنه لم يتغير بتاتا..ما زال وجهه مبتسما, و لكن عينيه حزينة

.وظيفته المرموقة و بيته المثالي اثبتم ان المال لا يجلب السعادة

.تغيرت الأوقات و لكن الأحوال أستمرت كما هي

.وقفت في الظلال و دعوت للغني المسكين بالسعادة

.لكنه لن يجدها, لأنه لا يبحث, و لم يقال له إنها أبسط مما يتصور

Image Copyright 2011 Erica Dinius

أنا مش خايفة

•May 7, 2012 • 5 Comments

وجدت نفسي أشعر بالبؤس و الحزن و لم أفهم لماذا. أحسست بالدمعة و هي تبلل عيني…و لكنها لم تنزل, بل كانت تظهر و تختفي كل بضعة دقائق و كأنها تقصد أن تحيّرني

أنا لست سعيدة

ليس هناك وسيلة لدي لأشرح كيف أحس قبل المنام. إنه إحساس إرهاق معنوي و عذاب داخلي. و الغريب هو أن حياتي مر عليها أيام أسوأ بكثير

بل بالعكس, هذة أيام جميلة, فلماذا تطاردني الأفكار السوداء؟

فكرت و فكرت حتي أرهقت عقلي, و أخيرا فهمت

و دلوقتي هتكلم معاكو عربي “إن فورمال” بقي

مبدئيا, حد عارف إن لما بتكتب علي الكمبيوتر بالعربي في مدونة أو “بلوج” مش بيسمحلك تحط نقطة في آخر السطر؟

آه والله

كدة بالظبط.

فهي حاجة مستفزة بصراحة كان لازم أعلق عليها

عمتا نرجع لموضوعنا, أنا متضايفة و معرفش ليه, و فهمت ليه

عشان خايفة. من إيه؟ من كل حاجة. خايفة الناس هيقولوا إيه عليّا, خايفة مرضيش إللي حواليّا, خايفة أفشل, و خايفة من السعادة…أصل أول ما ببقي سعيدة دايما مصيبة بتيجي علي دماغي

بس هحاول مخافش, و أول خطوة هي البلوج بوست دي

إللي عاوز يتريق يتفضل

إللي عاوز يشتم يتفضل بس هادّيلو علي نافوخه

أنا مش خايفة

قولوا عليّا بيئة و غريبة و “ويرد” و كل إللي إنتوا عاوزينو

أنا مش خايفة و مش هستخبّي…و مش مكسوفة من العربي سواء كان ده أو إللي فوء..أتكسف ليه أصلا؟ العربي لغة جميلة و غنية

أنا مش خايفة

و قعدت ساعة و نص بكتب البوست ده علي كيبورد الكمبيتر و أنا فخورة

من النهارده مش هخاف, و مش هقارن نفسي بحد لأن المقارنة هي حرامي السعادة

آه والله

:-)

 

The Mask

•May 6, 2012 • Leave a Comment

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

And it really was. It was great; she enjoyed her solitude and did anything she wanted. She hid her feelings and enjoyed being herself behind the mask. She smiled and frowned at the same time.

No one asked any questions.

And it was bad. No one asked any questions. No one cared. Solitude turned into loneliness, and loneliness became a disease. Her tears would burn her skin. Everything tasted bitter.

She was happy. She was miserable.

She didn’t know where the truth was, and she got lost in her own lie.

 

Beautiful Disaster

•May 1, 2012 • Leave a Comment

“But she would change everything, everything, just ask her. Caught in the in between; a beautiful disaster.”

Maybe I am meant to be a screw up.

Go on, break me. Shatter me into a million little pieces. I’m starting to think maybe it’s some sort of destiny.

I’ve gotten used to the lonely nights and the cold feeling in my chest.

It still hurts but I can ignore it now. I can fade it out.

This twisted turn of events was not a surprise.

When you are hurt as many times as I have been, nothing is ever a surprise. You never trust the future. You never trust fate.

You learn to keep a bandage in your hand so that when you fall you can stop the bleeding. You can pretend it’s all fine.

And the horrendous cycle will go on and on, until it finally strikes and kills me. It’s a life-long Russian Roulette.

“She would change everything for happy ever after. Caught in the in between; a beautiful disaster.”

 
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