Monday, April 23, 2007


It's finally happened. The nerd has experienced a quasi-celebrity moment.

It went down yesterday when I decided to celebrate spring's reemergence from the lingering pall of winter with an unpalatable iced coffee and a delightfully delicious manuscript at my local Starbucks. Judging by the line that snaked it's way almost out the door the entire time I was there, most of the city's inhabitants seemed to have the same idea--minus the manuscript. That I found a table amid the bustle verged on miraculous. It was rather easy to slip into anonymity among the anonymous multitude.

I sat there, absorbed in my reading, coming up occassionally to rest my eyes on the faces floating around me. My table was next to a window overlooking a promenade that brimmed with people who could have become more placeable had I looked at them longer. I wasn't interested, however. I only had eyes for the manuscript and I hoped more than once that I wouldn't run into anyone I knew.

But then there was an "Excuse me," and I looked up to find a young man standing before me with a venti cup in hand. His smile appeared frozen and a little forced, as if he was still trying to decide whether or not this was a good idea. "Isn't your profile on (insert name of networking site here)? And you have a blog..."

I clutched onto the corners of the manuscript. I didn't want to be rude so I slapped on a smile. Okay, so my lips were more likely contorted into an anxious and horrified shape than an actual smile but it was the best I could offer Mr. Stranger Danger at that moment. He nervously prattled right along "...and you're from Libya..." at which point I found my voice, albeit for a moment, to correct him. "I was born in Libya," I said.

"Oh, right," he said, waving his venti cup. "I recognized you so I thought I'd say hello."

He stood still. His venti cup was still. He continued to smile too brightly. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, into hours. My mind drew a blank and, finally, the only words I could managed were:

"This is weird."

"Well," he said and I imagine he would've rubbed his hands together or slapped me on the back in order to defuse the situation if he could. "Have a good day."

I said bye. I accompanied the bye with a wave. I watched him scamper away.

Later, when I told my mother the story, she declared that I was stuck up. "What did you want me to do?" I asked her, "Ask him to sit in my lap because he's recognized me?"

"No," she replied, after a good laugh, "you should've just shrugged and smiled and said 'It's a small world, isn't it.' 'This is weird' was just rude, Sabila."

Oh well. At least I'd smiled.

Friday, April 20, 2007


Starting today, I'm turning the cab light off.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

My Left Eye

It's 4:23 AM. I've woken up in the middle of the night. An itchy left eye is the culprit and although it feels weird, like I have something foreign floating around in the aqueous humor, a trip to the bathroom mirror reveals that there's nothing visibly wrong with it. So, I make sure one last time that I haven't left my contact in there and when I'm certain that the eye is debris-free, I wash it out with warm water and head back to bed.

Except I can't sleep now. Instead of spending the couple of hours I have before I must wake up and get ready for work in sweet, sweet slumber, I've taken a drowsy plunge into the sleepless world of hypochondria. The eye still feels heavy and irritated and now I swear that I have a newly acquired blind spot. I'm going blind at 28 and I don't want to go blind at 28 or ever. Oh, dear, sweet God, WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS? I happen to like sight very much. It happens to be among my favorite senses.

But what if it isn't simply blindness? What if my eye's infected? How safe are contact lens anyway? And, yes, I admit that sometimes I just throw the lenses in their case, without first rubbing and rinsing them clean. HOWEVER, there was this film student girl in my creative writing class who would remove her contacts from her eyes, pop them in her mouth to wet them, before reinserting them into her eyes. IF ANYONE SHOULD HAVE A PROSTHETIC EYE, IT SHOULD BE TISCH GIRL! How could it possibly be right for someone whose only mistake is not cleaning, rubbing and rinsing every single time she removes her contact lenses to have an eye removed while Tisch girl gets to keep both of hers. And, sweet jeebus, if I thought popping a contact into my eye was an impossible task that first time at Lens Crafters, nearly a decade ago, I can't even begin to imagine what fitting a prosthetic eye into my orbital cavity will be like.

It's 4:39AM and I'm lying in bed, kicking myself for not rubbing and rinsing my contact lenses. So, I pull out my G4 and Google "prosthetic eyes," and find this site of the Prosthetic Eye Institute and, oh my God, this is the absolute last thing I need. Between a bum hip and a prosthetic eye, I'm done. I'M DONE.

Speaking of the hip, it's not feeling so hot at 4:45AM. So, I plug in my electric heating pad and wallow in the realization that I have a bum right hip and a bum left eye. And I still can't sleep, so I continue Googling "prosthetic eyes" and am somewhat relieved to read that ocular science has taken leaps in bounds in the area of prosthetics, that todays prosthetics use porous materials that allow blood vessels to grow right into them. I don't know how that helps but it sure sounds like it does.

I imagine forming a support group for all wearers of prosthetic eyes; we can meet weekly and discuss phantom eye crusts and tears. Oh, the phantom tears! And, to think that, only this morning, I was bemoaning something as simple and repairable as the snugness of my jeans. Silly, silly Sabila. If only you'd rubbed and rinsed those contacts, you wouldn't be awake with an infected eye at 5:15AM....., the eye doesn't feel half bad anymore...THANK GOD!

Maybe I should try to get some sleep. Goodnight.

Friday, April 13, 2007


Watch the video on this site.

Yes, that's a giant squirrel rapping William Wordsworth's "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud."

No wonder Will's holding his head in the pic above.

Thanks to my favorite former expat for bringing this most, um, psychedelic poetic experience to my attention.

Thursday, April 12, 2007


Oh dear. I just heard the news and it makes me very sad. Oh dear.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007


Remember my cryptic post from a few days ago? Since I'm pretty sure the magic's going to go down, I figure I can tell you folks about it.

I read a book recently, which claims that it is only when you clearly know what your passions are, that these passions begin to manifest themselves in your life. The book comes with a test designed to--through self-evaluation and a process of elimination--reveal a person's top 5 passions. The authors also say that people who take the test are often surprised by what makes it (or, perhaps just as importantly, what doesn't make it) to their top 5.

My number 1: owning luxurious real estate around the world (the authors encourage readers to be as unrealistic--or, ahem, ambitious--as they must be in order to stay true to their passions).

I want to own cribs around the globe? Really? This came as a shock to me. I mean my interest in real estate has thus far been limited to watching Cribs on MTV. And, to be honest, the last time I watched anything on MTV was when I spent a Saturday night a couple of years ago with a Date My Mom marathon; I'm not even sure if Cribs is still on.

One week after taking the test, I find myself on the phone with a mortgage broker, discussing mortgage rates. A week after that, I'm pretty damn close to signing on the dotted line. Once I became clear about my passions, the universe magically tossed them into my lap. How awesome is that?!

The real estate isn't, by any means, luxurious,--it's a fixer-upper studio apartment --and of all the places around the world that it could be, it's in Jersey (well, I've always liked to think of Jersey City as a renegade colony of Manhattan...) but I'm this close to owning it and that makes me very scared and very happy (and something of a believer of West Coast juju...I mean seriously? S-E-R-I-O-U-S-L-Y?!)

Monday, April 09, 2007


The honeymoon with Netflix is over. The same three movies have been sitting atop the DVD player for a couple of months now: 24 Grams, The Prestige, and Flags of Our Fathers. And these are movies I want to watch; but what do I find myself watching instead last night? The NeverEnding Story II: The Next Chapter and the first inning of Ken Burns' Baseball. Now, the former was nowhere as entertaining as the first but I already knew that. The latter, I own and can watch whenever the fancy strikes. So, why I'm not watching these tremendous movies that I need to watch and return to NetFlix in order to watch the other tremendous movies in my queue is beyond me.


I'm so there. If any of you kittens want to join me, just let me know.

Saturday, April 07, 2007


Dear Friends and Stranger (I'd like to think this is minus the Danger) Friends:

I haven't posted since Tuesday and, yes, four days is an awfully long time to go sans posting but I've been so immersed in this one, very real life thing that 1) I haven't had a moment to post and, 2) frankly, this real life thing is precisely what I want to talk about here; however, since it's only 98.2% confirmed, I fear that, if goodness-juju forbid, this doesn't pan out, I'll be left feeling rather like an asshole.

So, there it is. Now, I take my leave and, who knows, I might just cave in and blog about this real life thing once it's 99.0% confirmed. Let's just say, kittens, it has something to do west coast juju. I know, I know, it's bizarre and crazy and SO WEST COAST but, wow, it's all coming together and kinda falling into my lap.

Kisses and more to come!


Tuesday, April 03, 2007

ON PEEP TOES AND HIPS: A Haiku Penned at 6AM, in Pain

Oh fair peep toe pumps,
you've broken my hip, but looked
damned good doing it.