And then there were 20...

Who left from American Idol this week?

The boys: Professor Rattigan (AKA Bobby Bennett) and the wedding singer with soul (Patrick Hall).

The girls: the insanely-hot-but-can't-sing-worth-crap girl, Becky O'Donnohue... and the girl I hated with a PASSION who looked like Cera from "The Land Before Time", Stevie Scott. She sounds like a little girl on helium and thta's just her speaking voice. I'M SO GLAD SHE'S GONE! Ew, seriously.

I don't know who'll gone next, but the two weakest girls in my opinion (now that Becky and Stevie are gone) are 1. Melissa McGhee and 2. Heather Cox.

The two weakest boys in th bunch (and this is a hard choice) are 1. the Hickville vampire, Bucky Covington and 2. Will Makar or Kevin Covais. I can't really choose between the two. Will Makar is more packageable because he's cute and has a charismatic personality, but Covais has a stronger voice (even though he looks like he had some kind of genetic malfunction, poor fella.) We'll see who makes it through next week.

Au revoir!

American Idol part II: The Boys!

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the second part of this week's American Idol: the mens' contest. Here are my observations on each contestants: (I dont think this is in the right order, but you'll get the picture)...

1. PATRICK HALL, age 27: Pretty good, likeable, seems a little like a really good wedding singer to me.

2. DAVID RADFORD, age 17: So adorable, and is completely like a crooner from the rat pack. Seems like your friends' little brother. His dimples and haircut make him seem like a cute little boy in your neighborhood. Great voice, btw.

3. BUCK COVINGTON, age 28: EWWWWW! Seriously, you know how Brad Pitt was all pasty and blond in Interview with a Vampire? This guy has that creepy feel without the intensely smoldering sexiness of Brad Pitt. He's just a complete hick and looks like he'd be waiting in the back of a parking lot to kill you with a silver wire. Jeez.

4. KEVIN COVAIS, age 16: I agree with Simon, this dude appeals to 80 year olds. He has no passion in his singing AT ALL, and, sorry to say, but when I saw him first I thought he had some mental postponement. I know, I know, politically incorrect, BLAH BLAH BLAH; but come on, you know what I mean. By the way, this dude has a receding hairline and is 16 for God's sake. Good voice, but he needs to put some major emotion in it. And when he sings, he looks like a little old lady squinting to see something far away.

5. WILL MAKAR, age 16: Is the cutest kid ever! But I don't think his voice is strong enough to pull him through all the way. He's like the kid who's in your high school choir and is really good, always gets solos, etc. He also looks like the main Geek from Freaks and Geeks. Awwwh!

6. JOSE "SWAY" PENALA, age 28: Reminds me of Frankie J. (and I love Frankie J). He sang "Reasons" by Earth, Wind, and Fire. The real amazing part, though, is that he switched between falsetto and natural voice as easy as a nascar driver would switch through lanes. Easier than Prince, the king of falsetto. He's super good. A bit shaky at the beginning, but pulled it through.

7. GEDEON MCKINNEY, age 17: Pretty good. Sang "Shout!" and was pretty smooth, but not a memorable performance by any means. His smile and eyes freak me out though, really. It's like he's a mask from Halloween of a freaky guy standing in the dark with a machete.

8. CHRIS DAUGHTRY, age 26: SUCH A GREAT, POWERFUL, PURE voice!!!!!!! SO good looking, too. Sang "Wanted Dead or Alive" SO well! He's gonna make it far, because he's presentable to all audiences and still has an edge.

9. BOBBY BENNETT, age 19: LOVE his PERSONALITY, HATE his VOICE! He tries to sing Manilow stuff, but I think Manilow's gonna through himself off the top of the Palms when he hears this kid sing his stuff. He sounds like he's trying to be an opera singer for fun, while just chillin with his friends. AND he looks like the evil dude, Professor Ratigan, in The Great Mouse Detective, but more beady-eyed and less Mafia-ish. Can't remember him? here's a pic:


10. ELLIOT YAMIN, age 27: Okay, this guy really displayed his singing chops. Furreal, you know. Great voice, great control, great energy, great likeability. Unfortunately, he mouth looks like someone threw a bunch of broken marbles in his mouth and told him they were his teeth. Poor guy. Oh well, there's always reconstructive surgery.

11. ACE YOUNG, age 25: The heartthrob. He has run-your-hands-through-it-for-hours-on-end hair, and to die for eyes. And here's the clincher: on top of all that, HE CAN SING! DING DING DING, WE'VE GOT A WINNER! Phenomenal, and very packageable. Go, Ace!

12. TAYLOR HICKS, age 29: I HEART THIS DUDE! He is so cool. He seems like such an underdog, but he has a PHENOMENAL, and remember me saying this, because I stand by it, PHENOMENAL VOICE! He's got a shock of grey hair and the sweetest demeanor ever. And the reason I love him so much is this: besides his sweet demeanor, you can tell he damn well LOVES singing for itself! Not for money, not for fame, but for SINGING. I'm totally and completely rooting for this guy. Go, Taylor Hicks!!!

I'll keep y'all updated on AI for the next season. See you next time, guys and gals!

American Idol: It's all about the Young'uns

While writing up my lab report, I was watching American Idol, as usual. So, it was the top twelve girls tonight; and as I was watching, I noticed a trend: the best vocalists were among the younger of them.

1. LISA TUCKER- SIXTEEN FRIGGIN YEARS OLD and an astounding vocalist. Her voice really got your attention and her cute-girl demeanor was a clincher to win America's heart.

2. PARIS BENNETT- 17 years of age, granddaughter of Anne Bennett, one of the great R&B singers of our past. At her first audition, she amazed us with some Billie Holiday and voice control beyond her years. Tonight, she sang "Midnight Train to Georgia" by Gladys Knight and the Pips and had such energy and charisma in her flawless performance.

3. KATHARINE MCPHEE- 21 years old. She is ADORABLE. She will remind everyone of their cute, down to earth friend who is self-effacing and doesn't know how cute she really is, without have a lack of self-esteem. She flat-out had the best voice of the night.

The last great performance of the night was by MANDISA: Mandisa is 29, but has an amazing Aretha-esque voice. She is fantastic. For those of you who don't remember her, she is the one who is heavy and had words with Simon about his joke about needing a bigger stage.

Although there's some major talent in this competition, there are some people that I'm surprised as hell they made it through. Are these judges serious? I usually agree with what Simon says, and I have all night. Randy and Paula have sent through some seriously vocally-impaired human beings. I just don't understand how they made it through. Take for instance MELISSA MCGHEE, she was a pageant contestant and Paula keeps talking about her "sultry" voice. All I hear is some chick who's smoked way too much in her 21 years. You know those people who have raspy voices naturally? She's not like that. She must've done some serious smoking.

NOT EVERYONE WHO SINGS BELONGS IN THIS COMPETITION: There was a girl named STEVIE SCOTT who was trained as an opera singer. My advice: stay in opera. You do not belong in pop. Really, she tried singing this one song Josh Groban sang (not "You Raise Me Up"), I don't remember the name of it and was talking about becoming his female counterpart. Um... NO. She sang it in this falsetto voice that was an octave higher than she should've done it and was purely annoying to listen to. Seriously, innovation's good, but not like that... not like that.

Unfortunately, tomorrow I will be in class when American Idol's on. Maybe I'll have Maggie TiVo it or my parents tape it, because the boys are on tomorrow. And I've heard a lot of promising voices from them. More on that when I see that footage.

Ciao!!

Traffic Jams

I hate snow. Yesterday, when I went down to the basement of the Science Classroom Building for my bio lecture, the sun was shining and the grass was clear. The moment I step out an hour and a half later, there's already a one-inch layer of snow on the ground. "Shut up!" I say loudly, pulling my hood over my head. Unfortunately, my cultural anthropology professor was walking by the moment I said that and turned to say "Excuse me?" Then she recognizes me and we hike together through the snow and I walk with her to the Weisman, where her car is parked. She's such a cool lady. She's all Southern and stuff. She reminds me of a more sassy version of my grandma.
After trekking back to bio lab, then doing a stupid computer-simulated activity about ecosystems, I waited at the bus stop for the Campus Connector for like 10 minutes and then I went to West Bank to retrieve my car from my new-found parking spot in front of my friend Reha's place (it's a little far, but it's cheap and I think I'll get the hang of timing soon enough). So after braving the snow for about 15 minutes (slipping and sliding on both East and West banks with reprieve only in the Connector), I'm so glad to get back to my car, I'm calling to it from 50 yards away. When I finally make it in the car, I realize that the whole thing is completely covered in an even 2 inches of snow all around. I had already taken off my coat. The exertion from plowing my way through the unshoveled sidewalks and snow in my eyes made me hot and I stripped down to my inside clothes the moment I got into the car. Still hot, I convince myself that I can quickly clean the car without freezing any body parts off.
So I jump out with my scraper/brush and prance around the car, cleaning the windows and rearview mirrors. Then mother of all snow clean-ups: the roof. Having an SUV sucks in the sense that you always have to clean off your roof lest the snow on top of your car drench the car behind you on the drive back home (unfortunately for me, I didn't realize that I'd be crawling at a 2 mile per hour speed all the way home, so cleaning the roof was no necessity). After cleaning the roof, I realize that I saved others from my snow in their faces but neglected myself: the nose of my Jeep Laredo is covered with ever-falling snow. So I play a game with the windshield wipers, who seem bent on locking my darting scraper in their timely grasps. I clean the nose of the car, around the base of the wipers, the tops of the rearview mirrors, everything. By the time I'm done, the car looks like it just came from a long vacation in Pasadena. Then I realize my stupidity.
After clearing all the snow off the car, I sent it all crashing down on my shoes. By the time I get into my car again, the pinky on my left foot feels like I put a small non-melting icicle in my shoe. So I slip off the soaking-wet Deisels and stick my foot in the deep recesses under the steering wheel. I put the heat on the foot mode, but the only thing coming out is cold air. So I panic and scenes of people calling me Madam Limps-a-Lot come flashing through my brain. I whine a bit to myself and as the air heats, the smell of wet feet permeates the car. "EWWWW!" I cry. I decide t o crack open a window then I jump over my back seat in search of my emergency kit (every Minnesotan car must have one) and retreive my brand spanking new blanket. It's electric blue. I got it at Old Navy when I went with Aliyah and Basmah this summer. So I tuck it around myself, but I don't want to put it by my feet because, frankly, I don't want it to smell like wet feet.
When I finally finish whining about the snow and my toe falling off, I pull out of the parking lot and end up waiting to get on 35W for approximately 9 minutes. I counted. The light next to Bobby and Steve's auto world went red about 7 times before I was the first car at the front of the turn lane. I'm listening to the new Amr Diab CD. I don't know if you categorize belting out the lyrics while looking into the eyes of perfect strangers stuck in the traffic with you as listening, but I do. Just as a side note, he is such a talented vocalist. All the crap people say about him being cheesy is true, but it will never undermine the power of his voice. I'm obsessed with this new CD. Although, unfortunately, a couple of tracks have been cut short in sacrifice to the gods of song piracy.
When I finally get on the exit to 35W, I see that the highway is either on pause or there's some major traffic. The stillness was so surreal, it made me uneasy, so I decide to take 55/Hiawatha home. Don't let me make decisions again. Why? Hiawatha is clear up until about 200 yards after exiting onto it. There are stop lights all the way through and about a million cars driving in two lanes. It takes me 48 minutes, or about 14 repeats of my favorite song on the Amr CD to get to the interection of Minnehaha and Hiawatha. Although I'm tempted to park my car and walk home (it's like 20 more miles, but I'd get home faster walking than driving), I force myself to look on the bright side: at least this gives me some time alone to think.
While still marvelling at the wonder that is Amr Diab's voice, I decide to see what's on the radio. "Calling All Angels" by Train is on, so I chill there and listen to the song while watching the wheels of the car in front of me spin slowly as we inch forward on this epic journey. The snow the car treads on packs onto the wheel and as it is lifted from the ground, breaks away in chunks like the pieces of a puzzle about a cloud. I serenely watch this process until the car in front of me changes lanes and I snap back to the radio. They're having some call-in thing about people who've found messages in bottles. After listening for a while and wanting to smack the DJ for saying "by golly" seriously, I switch the station to B96. At least they don't say "by golly" here.
By the time B96 has reached its 2nd commercial break, I'm on 494W next to Hwy 77. All my "at least you have some time on your own" talk falls away as I go from one packed highway going 2 miles per hour to another packed highway going 2 miles per hour. What made me think this was better than 35W? Frustrated, I go onto Killbrew Ave/Rd/St/Blvd and take a loop around the Mall of America. I feel like that Street Racer guy just because I'm going 30 miles an hour. Maybe I better slow down. I see Old Shakopee Road in the distance. YYYYYYES! My eye then slowly retracts itself from the sign that seems to be glowing and my ears turn off the choir singing "Hallelujah" and I see the 60 cars that stand between me and the road to home. Bring back the choir!!! I think. Unlikely for me, there is nary an outlet in sight. So I concede to the fact that I still have about 20 mnutes to get to my house. I slowly make my way through Old Shakopee, and then a cop turns onto the street. Naturally, I check my speedometer, but I'm going 7 miles per hour. I doubt I have much to worry about.
By this time, the heat has been on for so long that I can just turn it off and generate my own. Where's my switch? Did I grow a defrost, foot, foot-face, & off dial on my body somewhere, too? I pull into Burger King to get som pop. I'm so dehydrated. So I count some change from the abundance in my car and get back on the dreade Old Shakopee road.
20 minutes and a meduim diet coke later, I was pulling into my driveway. My leg's tense as hell, I don't think I can get out of my car. I get out and run in place a bit to get some blood back into places I forgot I had. Next time, I'm just gonna go to Coffman and chill there until I know that not one person will be on the high way on my way home. It's been three hours since I left the U. I walk into my kitchen, vowing never to get into my car again, then my mom informs me that I will be taking my little brother to basketball practice today. If it wasn't five minutes away, I tell myself, I'd never get in that car again.

Secret Friends

I was thinking about this Sex and the City episode when Carrie first starts dating Big in the first season. He takes her to tis greasy little Chinese place. At the restaurant, Carrie runs into an old friend, but when she tries to introduce herself to her friend's frumpier-than-usual date, she's quickly pushed away. She later finds out that this girl isn't someone he's "dating openly." Despite being smart, funny, and great in bed, she's not quite as sexy or as polished as his usual girlfriends, so he keeps their relationship under wraps.

This made me think of my life --could I possibly be a person someone is not befriending openly? Sometimes we doubt ourselves and create circumstances in our minds or misjudge an incident into what we want to believe. If I want to believe that someone is using me, for instance, I will think of all the moments that I've done stuff for them or a time they've ditched me for something better to do... yet I conveniently forget all the times they've done stuff for me and all the times they've been there for me. Is it the same thing here or am I just making drama out of nothing?

This obviously reflects my own insecurities and bouts of self-loathing, but I notice with certain people that they befriend me when no one's around or just when it's convenient for them. Most of us have a friend we feel never hangs out with us unless there's nothing better to do. The friend who when they answer the phone when they're with you say "Nothing, I'm just sitting around" or something to that effect. The friend who when you call to hang out or invite them to a gathering say "Who's gonna be there?" or "Um... I'll see what's going on tonight and let you know" (when it's not checking with their parents or seeing if they have homework) instead of "Yes". The friend who you call up to go to a restaurant then you see at the same restaurant that night but with another group (then they say they didn't know if you were busy or whatever).

This is just an observation. I'm not sure if it's true for everyone, but just a passing thought.

Disappointment and Forgiveness and wherever it leads...

Disappointment only occurs when one's expectations are not met. Disappointment in yourself, disappointment in friends, disappointment in your family. The last is the most piercing because it's something you feel should never happen. Family, at least, should be your rock and your wall against all winds. And friends, whose disappointment isn't as impactful as a family member's failings, still owe you something if they are to call themselves your friends. They owe you loyalty and truthfulness and compassion and openness and belief in you and support and protection and they should pounce on anyone who would try to do you wrong.

There's much to say about diappointment. I think that disappointment is far worse than anger, because you can be angry towards anyone, but when you're disappointed, that means that you had that person on a pedestal high enough for them to fail you. That means that you expected them to do something and they did not meet your expectations. When you're a little kid, you are anything but encumbered by your duties to your parents and fear them when they are angry; however, as an adult, disappointment is a much harsher punishment than anything they can do to you. Your parents' disappointment in you as an adult, they believe, reflect on their failings as caregivers and guardians, and to push them to believe they were bad parents is your worst punishment.

Disappointment in yourself is not only the worst kind of disappointment, but it also makes you lose a sense of yourself. Your whole life, you're thinking "if I don't have anyone, at least I have myself (and God)", and once you let yourself down, bouncing back up is harder than anything. You want to wallow in self-pity and eat macaroons all day. If you can't trust anyone else, you can trust yourself, and thusly, when you feel like you can't even trust your own self, your world will start crashing down around you.

Although disappointment is difficlt to overcome, one has to forgive in the end and be able to build up the relationship (if it is worth rebuilding --and you will know when it's worth rebuilding). Forgiveness takes a lot of personal strength and ability to heal. One important thing about forgiveness: forgive but never, ever forget. I feel that if you forgive, you avoid one thing that is a sin that not only affects you, but others: you avoid being unjust (in Arabic, "dhalem"). It is not your place to deem a person good or bad. You live your life and you learn from your mistakes, but even Allah gives second chances, what makes you think you can't? Now, even when you forgive someone, I suggest that you not forget (this just reflects your naiveté and dimwittedness). You need to learn from your mistakes. If someone leaks your secret, you can forgive him (after facing him with it), but obviously, unless he proves himself trustworthy, it wouldn't be the smartest thing to clue him in on another one of your secrets.

I've learned throughout the years, that our community collectively neither forgives nor forgets (specifically if you are a girl). It's like in Seinfeld when Jerry was talking about how he forgot his jacket on a bus when he was 14 and till this day his mother reminds him of his jacket when getting on/off any mode of transportation (the episode in the parking garage). Well, if forgetting your jacket on the bus can be translated into any mistake, then our community is Mrs. Seinfeld. They never let you forget anything you do wrong.

Recently, it was brought to my attention that apparently, some people think I'm a loudmouth. Translation? I leak people's secrets. Admittedly, this was true in middle school or early high school, but I've matured and learned not to put myself into other people's business. "If I keep to myself, then no harm will come to me" has been my motto since then... unfortunately, life is slightly more complicated than that. If someone is a drama queen or king, they will pull you into any drama or badmouth you into the next town if they want to, based on either previous facts, anything they know about you, or just made up stuff. For instance, concerning the loudmouth label, this person who thinks I'm a loudmouth has had firsthand experience with me refusing adamantly to spill any secrets about someone he wanted to know about. The person also knows that I have stood up for him when people were talking about him without him earning my loyalty --it was a part of my character to do this.

Really, I'm not sure of what to do anymore. I mean, you're pulled into drama even if you're living in a hut in Barbados with this community. And as a friend of mine said last night, "this community is full of animals". Is the answer just to move away and sever ties with any group in the community? It seems to me that in eschewing all major cliques in the community and staying on the outskirts of life while befriending one or two trustworthy people, one may be able to have a chance at a better quality of life. I think it's depressing that rather than joining together to create a community with a safety net for ourselves and future generations in this strange country, people are alienating each other by creating unnecessary discord. I may sound like a misanthrope, but I'm actually a Ghandi masquerading as an Oprah masquerading as a realist masquerading as a cynic... who sounds like a misanthrope.

But really, have a nice day and watch the roads. They're slippery.

Eh... A List of Five... and One.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, for those of you who have seen the facebook picture of this little guy:



know that I am not in the best of spirits lately. And instead of boring you with long paragraphs on why, I've decided to make a list:

1. My hand hurts (I cut it with a PLASTIC knife right in the middle of my palm so now I can't reach beyond the W on the keyboard with my left hand; and it's diminished to becoming not "Ayah's Hand" but "The claw" (the claw being my thumb and forefinger being used for everything because if I stretch out the rest of my hand, it hurts like HELL. This'll teach me to eat bagels on Maggie's Bagel Wednesdays again).

2. My dad may come back later than planned (apparently something needs tending in Egypt --I don't really know the whole story, but I do know that that's one more week without one of the only people I still like).

3. They're using puppies to smuggle heroine now. PUPPIES! Apparently, Narcs got their hands on 65 POUNDS of liquid heroine stitched into the inside of 10 puppies' stomachs. What kind of monster would do that to some puppies? That's just too fricken sad, man.

4. I don't think I can trust anyone. That's right, no one. The statement may exclude some people, but in general, I'm done thinking that people are actually my friends. Who knows who's talking about you behind your back? It could be anyone. And no one has the hoojees to stand up for you either. It's like everyone expects loyalty and whatnot and no one is ready to give it. It doesn't make any sense to me.

5. This is the saddest one: the highlight of my day is coming back home to watch Seinfeld, and twice a week, a ray of sunshine after seven: American Idol. And of course Friends are readily available at all times with the help of a little something called buying-all-the-DVDs and Channel 45. Man, it's pathetic, ain't it? It really is, because sometimes I feel like I'd rather just stay in and watch a bunch of people on sitcoms instead of going to interact with actual people. That way you can't get hurt and you can't hurt anyone else.

6. I feel alienated from everyone around me. (Pretty self-explanatory, n'est-ce pas?)


Anyhoo. For those of you still enjoying your life, laugh it up and all the best from someone who's lost hope in humanity.