I NEVER WISHED TO BE SAVED

Oh yeah.

And you should've been there at the salon for the revolted looks from Arab women thinking 'but what dashing young man is hoping to sweep a rapidly aging young woman off her feet? Poor her. She has no idea.'

I stuck out my tongue at one thinking 'poor them!'

I did the whole navy blue tra-la-la just over a month ago - pic when I can be bothered.

Note the striped nails to match. Purely unintentional.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

GETS ME TO THE CHURCH ON TIME

A very Tim Burton Thursdsay night...

with Castle lager and cool clothing courtesy Noi.se magazine.

Fox and I just had an unofficial spat tonight - probably because he found me actually having fun with a guy friend - so I'm typing away at this in the dark in the company of his turned back. I dig the word 'spat'.

Fuck him.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

I LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL

Unfortunately, I wake up at ungodly weekend hours now so here's what I've just done. No bloggers have ever tagged me in that 'What's in Your Bag?' thingie so I thought I'd take the liberty of tagging myself this morning because

a) I was frantically searching for something anyway so my bag's contents were already littering the hotel room

b) I didn't find that something, which was a USB stick containing some new 'fashion' photos I took for the blog

c) I thought it would make for interesting insight in a few years time as to what my life was like via the contents of my bag

d) It would show that I don't really give a fuck that I was left out of a fun blogosphere ritual and that I'm shameless enough to do it on my own

So here goes...

WHAT'S IN MY BAG, MINUS THE BAG (I'll do bags later)

1. Two sets of headphones, one regular external noise cancelling pair, one water/sweat proof pair for the gym. I keep it on me at all times these days because I've stupidly started training for a half marathon with my co-workers and we got a good corporate deal for the gym down the street from where we work.

2. (At this stage) a VERY old school 30GB iPod, still going strong

Currently listening to: Deep Purple - Mandrake Root

Get on it.

3. Hand sanitizer. For someone who spontaneously asks her boyfriend to come lie in the spit/shit/piss ridden grass with her and who has no problem abiding by the three second rule and drinking water from the tap, I feel kind of silly carrying this, but I mean, you gotta keep SOMEthing clean, I guess. Do you carry it? Just curious...

4. Planner. I love planning.

5. One of many circular sixties sunnies.

6. A painfully old Motorola phone. In the last 5 months, I have either lost or had stolen three mobile phones. Touch screens, cute bumble bee coloured Blackberry-esque Samsungs, all sorts...in taxis, on highways, in bars...hence a re-connection with this trooper I used in the UK. The battery only lasts about halfway through one 10 minute conversation, mind you, but hey, text messaging is still a handy way to keep in touch, right?

7. Digital dictaphone - a journalist's best and worst companion

8. Office building access card

9. Travel-sized bottle of CK Summer - I love the CK Summer scents so a while back I picked up a travel-sized collection of the last few released. Speaking of perfumes though, I kinda dig Thierry Mugler's 'Alien', but I never quite imagined myself wearing a scent called 'Alien'? Ah, fuck it.

10. (underneath bottle) those nose blotcher thingies for greasy-faced people. Thank you, daddy, for such a gifted T-zone!

11. Wallet containing 500 borrowed dirhams, a silly library card-esque laminated Trinidadian driver's license, a new Emirates Identity Card so no bouncers will laugh at my library card license anymore, a newly activated bank card (had mine stolen recently), an expired HSBC card (guys, obviously, you're fired so stop sending me mail), Waterstone's card, business cards, photos of exes it's probably time I stashed elsewhere, Chinese, American and Filipino dollars (interesting...a combination of my ex's origins), and a loyalty card for the Pinkberry of Abu Dhabi  known as Yogoday (HEY, THEY DO TAKEOUT NOW!)

12. Two sets of house keys - mine for my new studio, the other for my parent's place becuse my dad's convinced I'll be back soon. Works wonders when they're out of town though.

13. Cup'O'Soup and green tea, just in case I feel faintish during fasting, although my stomach pretty much calls it a day from noon after realising that furiously grumbling has been getting it nowhere.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

IF ONLY HIDING WERE SO EASY

Having not a scrap of internet in my new flat is sort of refreshing. I haven't read this much in a long time...
Some I've just finished or am working my way through...

I suppose I recommend all, but none of the others have been quite as sexy to read as my Murakami's Norweigan Wood. And I hear The Passage is something to hold on to so hard your knuckles turn white with fear. I'm still only at the beginning of this 784-page grownup, uncuddly vampire saga of the summer, but I'll let you know if and when my knuckles fall in line.

(And Becks, dearest, if you're reading, I am still trying to make my way through Kafka on the Shore, and that's only because I want to fully capture every moment. Riveting stuff. And I know my absence from Facebook makes it seem as if I've died but Facebook just isn't my ideal way to spend the last few remaining months of the year. Miss you too!)

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER HOTEL

I may be on the verge of taking advantage of everyone's Ramadan inspired goodness by begging on the streets but I haven't had much to complain about recently, it seems. Take last weekend, for example, on a private island not so far, far away...

...completely secluded stretches of pristine beach, your own villa with private splash pool and amazing claw food tub, et al. They weren't so keen on letting me off scot free with this review, though, which is why I had to pinch a few bills off mother dearest yesterday. I think the tub (and being greeted in the morning by dozens of elegantly grazing gazelles) was worth it though.

This weekend, I am here.

doing fuck-all...

Business chain, heart of dirty down town, kiddie-sized pool, so-so food...

But pretty nice rooms, gorgeous city views, free wireless...

and my favourite type of lighting!

Anyway, I am off to enjoy my room serviced suhour (the later than late late night snack Muslims indulge in before fasting at sunrise - yes, I am fasting this Ramadan. It's going really well, in case you were interested).

RAMADAN KAREEM!

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

PICTURES OF HOME

I've been dreaming of seating a lot over the past few months. I guess it's a new home (studio) owner (renter) thing...

Above are my favourites at the ridiculously swanky Fairmont Hotel opposite my house. Sometimes I just go sit in their lobby with the cheapest beverage I can find on the menu just to enjoy them. I even already have the contact for the chair buyers and will spit out shitloads to grab those rope ones before anyone else does the next time the hotel does a design/decorating overhaul.

But like Fairmont furniture, rent in Abu Dhabi is merciless, and I don't have shitloads.

So I was well excited when I stumbled upon my very own chair project one day on the bus home from work. I somehow managed to find a pair of dusty wing-backed armchairs perched on the edge of a construction site one day. And with some less than flawless Arabic conversation with the labourers - thanks to the boyf - I got them for free (AND they put them in the back of the car for me!). Since then, dumpster diving has become my new thing.

BEFORE...

MIDWAY...at the upholsterer's

MOVING DAY!!!...

TODAY!!!...

WITH ITS SISTER!!!

Very much in love! I almost never sit on them, or let anyone sit on them. If I do, I'm constantly vigilant for spills and stains coming from their person......that's how much.

Seriously though, Abu Dhabi is the best place to dumpster dive because it's one of the most wasteful cities in the world. My daily 30 minute jogs around my hood on an evening reveal many a secondhand pleasantry! I always come home with some great junk or other that keeps The Fox's eyeballs rolling.

P.S. Speaking of chairs, while I was away on holiday last week, someone replaced my comfy office swivel chair with a uncool, uncomfy stationary one, and I am not at all pleased....but with these babies, I easily let that slide by the end of the day.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

I'M GONNA TAKE YOU FOR WORSE OR BETTER

I have to admit, I'm back on this thing a lot sooner than I had expected, but this really great girl emailed me last week with the sweetest words about my blog, and she made me realise that there are still people out there reading and enjoying my bullshit, and I really shouldn't deny them that. Especially not now when I'm about to do tons more craziness.

Like fasting and training for a marathon in the same month. For one. It's just nearing Ramadan time in the UAE and I have decided that I will fast this year. Properly. Last year when I did it, I didn't have a job so it was more a matter of partying all night, sleeping all day then waking up just in time to start eating again around 6-ish. But this time, I have a full time job...a little more than full time since being a journalist often involves many unfortunately very attractive after work engagements...and this time, my office building isn't cutting us fasters any slack. I will be at work surrounded by British expats chowing on beans, eggs and toast in the morning and tuna ciabattas at lunch while trying hard not to swallow my saliva or faint in between typing a really witty paragraph. No food or drink between the hours of 6am and 6pm. No sex...in all its forms (which should be interesting since I now live with my constantly erect Palestinian boyfriend and being off the pill has sparked a similar situation in my loins). And a LOT less booze (sorry, I'm an alcoholic).

I am also pretty big on Muay Thai these days (especially on a Friday morning as punishment for unruly drinking habits the night before) and am about to be honoured with those special fringed shorts the fighters wear, but with a cobra smack on the crotch area to represent the club I roll with. YEAH! So excited about that. 

AND I found a sick tattoo artist in Sharjah that my MT teacher is going to take me to see for my next piece (in case you're wondering why I'm so excited about a fucking tattoo artist, tattoo and piercing parlours are sort of illegal in the UAE and sort of don't exist - it's so bad, I can stop traffic if I leave the house in my bullring).

And it's true what they say about Indians - they know how to make money out of anything and are total businessmen. I'm now rolling with this new girl at work that I'm going to call The Mogul. She has a passion for fashion and money making and despite the way I used to feel about working with other people (pretty much 'NO'), she really gets my ass in gear and things are getting done just BECAUSE someone else is involved. So, although a little distracted from our real work in the office from time to time, we work really well together and we might see this "thing" launch soon. But I won't say anything else just yet. 

So back to that sweet girl who wrote to me...except I have to retrace my steps a little to tell this story right. 

I've been seeing this reiki practitioner some weeks to get my colours cleaned and my body healed and all that (don't ask). And during my last session, he told me that he had a vision of an owl while he was working on me and that I should be aware of them if I see any in the near future. He said the owl was a sign of protection. And I thanked him and left. The following day was when this girl wrote to me. She told me she had just launched her clothing line and I checked it out...and it's pretty cool...Owl prints and all...

"The Owl print was the first made specifically for women, I won’t bore you with the symbolism of the owl at the end of the day it’s a kick arse pattern for kick arse girls. Being black and white it’s great for mix and match and the t-shirts look good tuck in or out, take it and make it your own.
Made from naturally sustainable bamboo a resource that is being used increasingly in the world of fashion. The material itself is light, near translucent and softer than cotton, it’s cool in summer, warm in the winter and feels almost as if you’re wearing liquid gold. If I had my way I’d wrap the world in it.
Its machine washable and suitable for use all year long, save the world one t-shirt at a time!
Blend 70% Bamboo 30% Organic Cotton"

And I just love these other two

 ...couldn't hurt to buy a couple tshirts, right?

 IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

SOME PEOPLE DIE JUST A LITTLE

I figured I needed a comeback soundtrack. This'll so fucking do.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

DON'T CALL MY NAME

HIATUS

I took some time off work, and in that time off I...got dumped and got a UTI so far advanced it had me rolling around in bed for a week with high fever, body shivers, heart palpitations, breathing problems and body aches. And I just missed two days off work on top of that. People have been throwing cold water on me, poking me with needles, forcefeeding me, peeling me off of floors...It sounds like a Gaga video but I promise you it wasn't as visually stimulating. So yeah, I think this is called for.

But honestly, it's more than that. I feel like I've outgrown this space. Originally, the idea was to shut it down but I'm the competitive type, and even though I am not striving to do 'Blog of the Month' blogging or be plastered on the sides of buses or billboards (what? :D), I know I'm going to regret no longer being 'part of the loop'. And outside of London, this still is the one space where I feel completely free to be the real goof that I am, because as open-minded as this city wants to be (the same city that Sex and the City 2 is based on, but which refused to let their crew in for filming because "we just don't have sex in our city like that") they still have a long way to go. I've already turned it down several notches, and it's still not enough for these people - I just don't know how much lower I can go. But anyway, another reason I won't shut it down is because what's also great about blogging for me is that it's like producing your own shitty magazine, which in turn works wonders therapeutically as I'm currently working under a slightly unhinged editor.

In conclusion, I am very drugged up and I will probably see you very soon. I just love feeling sorry for myself.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

MAKE ANYONE CRY TODAY? SADLY, NO, BUT IT'S ONLY 4.30

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KA9rNLZX2G8

I have the DVD and watched it again one lame night last week, but seriously? The whole movie is up there! Look how good I am to you. I used to want to be Katerina Stratford so badly. Now I'm back on it. And Heath Ledger in this is just...is it wrong to put the deceased in your spank bank? Sorry, that was majorly offensive. For what it's worth, I always thought he had superb talent.


IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

PATCHIN' THAT SHIT UP

I don't know if it counts as rock star sexy or as plain rude if you drunkenly propose to your girl with a cigarette in one hand and booze in the other, but I'll take it.

Just kidding. He would never marry me. Not unless he valued his manhood.

...Looking over some pictures from last weekend...If I hadn't taken Susan Miller's advice and booked myself in for a mini break at the end of May, then I probably would've fainted last week at work - it was very testing. Not only was one of our main writers off on holiday in London, we moved to the supposed new media hub in town that's actually really so far out of town, you can get lost wandering around in the desert looking for noon time supplements - too much to ask? Jesus, I've been eating ziplock bagged grapes and granola with green tea (and occasionally packaged organic miso soup) everyday for the last week, and it's starting to show. I know, I know, I'm learning a very valuable and wallet-friendly lesson here, but it doesn't really mean shit when it's Print Day and I'm scrambling to piece together another feature because we had to drop the last one due to someone failing to advertise, and everyone's already half past frazzled not because it's 6pm, but because there's no more sugar in the entire office for tea. Needless to say, that weekend getaway to Yas Island replenished my energy levels and I made it through. On the other hand, if I hadn't taken that mini break, I would've had a lot more money to work with this month instead of 1000 dirhams MAX!

But that's when being a journalist becomes the coolest - when you're really down and out but you have a business card file full of reliable clients who will practically suck on your big toe if you so much as mention THINKING about spending time at their establishment for your precious 5 days off. DAY 1 of my 5-day holiday sees me, yes okay, applying for a national ID card (because they're threatening to make my money innaccessible if I don't get one, among other things), returning a leather fringe jacket and neon green crop top because they are just only okay and I'd much rather have some money to feed myself over the next few days, but also meeting with a PR person I actually adore for a 4 star lunch on Radisson Blu. I also have some 'I owe you one' spa treatments and hotel facility day passes lined up over the week that I've been saving up for a time just like this. A bit pathetic, but I think it comes with the territory.  

As for now, I'm just enjoying the fact that I've been lying on my bed for the whole morning, that there's plenty of sugar for tea to go around at home and that I have ample reading material to plough through from way back when I was under the impression that I would still have time to read one novel a week and still work.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

DIE AND GO TO HEAVEN

There's no denying I've been a bad blogger, and all I have to say about it is that it has recently been drawn to my attention that I am a workaholic...so much so that a couple weeks ago, I ordered some scrambled eggs from the cafe at work on my way into the office, paid for it, ran up to get set up on my Microsoft Word, swore I collected it 15 minutes later when it was ready, ripped my way through it with glee and was told the day after that it was still there in a bag behind the counter waiting for me. Now if I've been working so hard that I'm imagining eating things (and doing god knows what else - shitting? fucking?), then I should be catwalk ready and bound by now, but bulges one through seven on my stomach suggest otherwise. 

Today, however, for some miraculous reason, they've let me off early - Tuesday is print day so we typically listlessly roam the office hallways well past 8pm waiting for fuck-ups to pop up on the printer and wondering if anyone would miss us if we skipped over to the hotel next door for a shot of tequila. So here I am..for you. But where the fuck are you? No more Japanese spammers, please! I want actual reader commentary!

Fuck, I'm a mess. I have actually been forced into accepting that a holiday is long overdue for me. Susan Miller has foreseen a few days of rest for me this month. Umm, really? Where? Apparently, it's this weekend so I am now grumbling as I book myself and The Fox in for a retreat. 

Other things I'm doing: hardcore hatha yoga by candlelight (found an amazing teacher), plastic bottle recycling (or rather I have a heap of bottles under my bed pretty much getting the same treatment as regular waste, AND I am now being referred to as the girl with the drinking problem at work (probably a double entendre) - people are sneaking empty bottles onto my desk while I'm away on one of my overly long leaks), carpooling, home finishings shopping, obsessing over this article and feeling more and more pointless with every paragraph.

And now instead of enjoying the softness of my fat ass as I sit on it doing nothing (which I never have the liberty of doing on a Tuesday), I am going to go to the gym, then walk (not carpool) over to yoga class. See you on the skinny side.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.