Long Time No Post

A beautiful mix of politics and pop culture: Remember the middle section of The Graduate, where Benjamin follows Elaine to Berkeley and keeps asking her to marry him? Finally she says, "I'll think about it." Benjamin reacts in shock: "Really? You'll really think about it?" That's how some Europeans and several American observers are reacting to Bush's comment that he'll think about joining the Iranian nuclear negotiations. Now it is worth noting, Elaine did end up marrying Benjamin, or at least running out on the frat boy that she'd agreed to marry. So who knows, maybe a shift on Iran is in the works, too.

More on rap! This time it's in Sudan.

This guy is very attached to his hamster. And I say, more power to him.

Rami kindly invited me to his place for a wine-tasting a few days ago. A lot of people showed up, mostly young intern-types like us. Now I am cultured and know all about "fruit-forward" wines and how to tell if a wine is "flabby" or "has legs" or is "dry." We all unanimously liked the Picpull (Picpul?) white wine, very nice. By the end, though, all the reds started tasting like all the other reds, and having never been much of a red wine fan, I preferred the whites. And now I know why.

I've also been able to keep up with the weekly tango lessons, and I can now do backwards AND forwards ochos. I discovered that the place I dance on Saturday nights lets you in for free if you volunteer for an hour beforehand. I like free almost as much as I like dancing. Probably more, in fact. So this is a happy discovery.

Fatema and I saw and approved of Born into Brothels, the documentary that won the Oscar this year. It's really touching, with a litte hope and a little sadness (well, ok, a lot of sadness.) I highly recommend it.

Careers I Won't Pursue

Rapper: Ok, we've discussed Palestinian hip-hop and I wrote and article (published! published!) about Palestinian and Israeli hip-hop, and now I've happened upon an Evangelical Christian Puerto Rican rapper named Vico C. The hip-hop market is hot! Even South Africa is in on it. Maybe I should switch career tracks and work on releasing my own album! Well, at least, as a night job? No...? ....Anyway, the interview is interesting and I want to see if I can find his music somewhere.

Oscar-Winning Actress: I stayed up past my bedtime last night, just to watch the Oscars, which I make fun of in public but secretly enjoy. Actually, I just like seeing the dresses. Great dresses on Halle Berry, Cate Blanchette, Scarlett Johansen, except for the fuzzy-hair-nest-thing she had going on, Hilary Swank, and. Kirsten Dunst's bob made me want to get my hair cut. Penelope Cruz's 'do made me want to grow it out. Annette Bening looked classy, hip, and happy. I was amazed at Beyonce's eyeshadow. No only did it change every 30 minutes, but it completely covered her skin. No skin showing. Impressive. Renee Zellweger, though fit and toned, looked a little off to me, something about the proportions of hair to face to dress...I kept thinking of a toy soldier. Natalie Portman had the Roman Goddess look going on, but I'm afraid it just didn't work. Gwyneth Paltrow is beautiful, but does anyone else think she should start wearing gowns that, well, fit her chest...? Actually, that goes for most women wearing strapless, sleeveless, red-carpet ball gowns. The squishy-chest look is not, never has been, and never will be, flattering. On anyone. (There are, believe it or not, strapless gowns that do not produce the squishy-chest look. If you are a movie star, you can afford one.)

More About Blog

This is great: actual query letters people have sent to Hollywood. Some are hilariously indecipherable. Read the comments, too. I found it at work and had to close the window because I was afraid I would start laughing too loudly...

I've been published! When the newsletter is posted online, I'll put a link up. It's a brilliant article about hip-hop. Ok, maybe not brilliant. But relevant, at least.

All About Blog

Everybody's doing it!

...but some people are getting in trouble for it.

You can even help save the world while blogging. If so inclined, you can donate toward the relief effort for the recent 6.4 Iranian earthquake at the International Federation of Red Cros and Red Crescent Societies, Oxfam, or Islamic Relief.

President's Day

Ok, you can spend your money however you want, even if it's on the previously-mentioned Lincoln French Fry. But isn't it going a bit too far to claim that your purchase marks "a great day for marketing and a great day for Abe Lincoln"?

This has been a strangely good weekend. My uncle is still in the hospital, and was holding on by a thin thread, the doctor warned on Friday. My cousin from California and my uncle from nearby came in on Saturday for the occasion of the removal of the ventilator-if he hadn't been able to breathe on his own, it could have been his last breath. (Long explanation, so never mind. It was serious, anyway.) So in an impromtu reunion, the house was full of relatives: two cousins, a cousin-in-law, a first cousin once removed, an uncle, an aunt-in-law-ish, and a family friend whose relation I am not quite sure of. It made for a crowded dining room and some fascinating conversations. It was great to catch up and gab and play with the baby. On the other hand, the only reason we were all there, from Boston and California and DC, was because death seemed imminent.

All that gabbing around the dinner table, and all those stories about distant cousins and crazy aunts renewed my interest in seriously keeping track of geneology. It's an idea I've toyed with a few times, and I know my grandma has kept track of some would-have-been-lost information from the Range side. If I could just start writing things down in an organized way, collect stories when I can, and keep it up. For me and for my family, for future family, you know...something to have and refer to and think about. Plus, there are some great anecdotes.

Besides spending time with family contemplating serious issues of hospice and nursing homes, I Did Social Things this weekend, like eat Egyptian food, courtesy of Loay and his miniscule kitchen. Rami provided the manoushe and we had a foul and egg breakfast Mubarak would be jealous of. Then, thanks to Google, I found a happening dance community and hit the dance floor on Saturday night. When I parked and saw all the people walking in, I thought, there must be something else going on...this many people can't be going swing dancing. But there wasn't, and they were. It was great, lots of people, live band, information about upcoming classes and dances, non-creepy guys to dance with. Fatema and I hit the Smithsonian and are now Well Educated on various subjects, like First Lady's dresses and the Ipswitch house and Brown vs. Board of Education. We also saw Hitch, the first movie I've seen in a long time where I consistently laughed out loud in the theater (Recommended! See it!) in Union Station, also home to a great food court and some excellent architecture.

Mourning Hariri

Al-Hayat Cartoon,
originally uploaded by Island Spice.

From the online English edition of Dar al-Hayat.

Princess Consort

It's just as I suspected.

I have a hard time being sympathetic with Israeli Defense Minister Shaul Mofaz, who is putting up a fuss about widow's citrus trees. Pick on somebody your own size.

In my first post, I mentioned the Arab superheroes. I wrote an article about them last month for our newsletter, which was set to go out this week. I was unpleasantly surprised yesterday when I found that the Washington Post published an article in the Style section about the Very Same Thing, thus making my yet-unpublished article redundant.

You heard it here first, folks.

Valentine

It's a gray and rainy Monday Valentine's Day. I visited Trader Joe's yesterday and got my favorite treat-dark chocolate covered cherries (could anything be better?)-for my Middle East Dept. coworkers and fellow CSIS intern Mai Lan, whose birthday is tomorrow. Loay brought me a nice red rose and there were free pink cupcakes on the sixth floor. (Though I appreciate the festive thought, I generally avoid things that are unnaturally pink, especially where food is concerned.) Plus, I get bright, cheerful popups on my computer screen all day that remind me that it's not too late to order Valentine flowers from FTD.com. But I already blew my budget on the chocolate covered cherries. Even though I know Valentine's is a Hallmark holiday, and suffers dramatic over-commercialization, and even though I've never had a Real Valentine's Day date with flowers and candy, I still like it. It's like the first whiff of spring.

I joined an Argentine Tango class. (And not just because I want to be more like Lisa, who is persistently inspiring and joined a hip-hop team!) Because I've always wanted to learn how to tango. It's nice to actually get up and do something you've been meaning to do for a long time. I swing dance, occasionally, when the mood hits me, and I do that decently, or at least, not embarrassingly, but I thought I should branch out and Try New Things. It meets on Sunday afternoons - and what else am I doing on Sunday afternoons? - and it's cheap and taught by a small and spunky woman. "What is the difference," you say, "between Argentine and any other kind of tango?" Well, I'll tell you. The frame. In Argentine, you stange straight, but lean forward slightly, so you're leaning on your partner, but in International (or American) you stand straight, independent of your partner. Now I have to find a place to go practice!

Friday night-Saturday morning was a weird 24 hours. I took my online Econ final, and the grade turned out merely mediocre, despite my confidence while taking the test. On my way home, while stopped at an intersection, the car in front of me BACKED INTO ME and then drove away through the green light. A hit-and-run. Luckily, I wasn't hurt, and neither was my car, but dude. Unacceptable. Everyone at the intersection kind of stared with bewildered smiles. A few people stopped and yelled at me, "Are you all right? You're car's fine!" It was just odd. Then my phone started beeping hysterically (it's old, I think it will spasm to death one of these days) and turning off and on. The next morning I woke up to the sound of two ambulances and a fire truck: my uncle was taken to the hospital for breathing trouble, which turned out to be pneumonia - not critical, but still serious enough for hospitalization. It was surreal. By the time the previously-mentioned, almost-22 Mai Lan and I saw Andre Kertesz's exhibit at the National Gallery on Saturday, things seemed less surreal. At least, nobody was backing into us or our cars.

My new favorite blog, not counting those of my friends, whose blogs I read religiously: Chocolate and Zucchini. For fellow foodies. Also check out some of the musicians and CDs she mentions in the interview. They're great!

Lori, all soundtrack-related news makes me think of you and your deft ability to name composers.

Part of me thinks this is amazing. The other part is horrified that they dare touch Gene Kelly's legend.

Ash Wednesday

I didn't know what Lent was until I went to college and met all these people fasting for Lent. I thought that it was required to give up chocolate, since everyone talked about giving up chocolate. (This immediately made me suspicious...why would God make you give up chocolate for 40 days?! I dont' think that's in the Bible.) This year, I actually asked people to explain to me what Lent is. So now I that I know what it is, and that you don't have to give up chocolate, happy Ash Wednesday (Maybe "happy" is inappropriate...? Blessed?)

If I had 50 thousand greenbacks, I wouldn't spend it on this.

I should have posted this on inauguration day: the Washington Post Inauguration Blog has an amusing story about an important protest:
12:28 p.m. ET
Put Down Those Forks
The group of protesters stood a few feet away from the entrance to the Federal Triangle Metro station, holding signs and timing their chants for the arrival of Metro riders: "Two, four, six, eight--no more forks!" One protester asked, "Were forks mentioned in the Constitution? No!" A sign read, "Jesus hates forks." The young men identified themselves only as members of the anti-fork movement. Their chants drew stares, guffaws, and expressions of bewilderment. It wasn't long before a transit police officer made them move away from the Metro entrance. They regrouped a few feet away and resumed their chanting. --Susan J. DeFord

Global Intifada

Fatema invited me to Cafe Mawanaj on Saturday night for "Hip Hop, Spoken Word, and Poetry from the Global Intifada." It sounded cool, and it was in a cafe, and I like cafes, and I like spoken word, and I like Fatema, so I went. I put on some respectable clothes and a reasonable amount of jewelry and drove from my chichi neighborhood in Northwest Northwest DC to downtown T street and started looking for the Cafe. As I drove, the neighborhood quickly evolved from chichi to, well, sketchy. I reached the cafe, drove a few blocks looking for parking, parked, and promptly removed all my jewelry. I only had to walk half a block to the cafe, which was long enough to get compliments from two groups of men wearing eau de hashish.

No worries, though: the cafe (think: not Starbucks) was hopping (far beyond the 84 person limit posted on the wall) and the poetry and spoken word performances were truly impressive. A lot focused on Palestine, but in the context of the global intifada, or, "the various ways that people are being oppressed around the world and why that's bad." Sounds depressing, and it was, but it was also thought-provoking and unifying with a we-can-make-a-difference vibe. I felt slightly revolutionary, like I should be wearing hemp, or dreadlocks, or both. (I am, after all, part of the institution, and I work in downtown DC, and I wear herringbone suits, and I go to private schools, and I'm a military brat...hardly a typical revolutionary.)

And, oddly, I ran into a girl I studied with in Beirut in 2003 who lives in North Carolina. What are the odds that we'd meet at an obscure cafe in ghetto DC? Wild.

The Welfare Poets' skills were particularly impressive. And look for Slingshot Hip Hop, a forthcoming documentary about Palestinian rappers, male and female, who use their art to challenge Israeli occupation in a nonviolent way, and also check out Ramallah Underground and some examples of Palestinian hip hop CDs.

DC

Rami schmoozes on Crossfire,
originally uploaded by Island Spice.

My friend Rebecca, who is one of the coolest chicks you'll ever meet, and who has exotic stories about adventures in Sinai, and who works for a women's rights organization in Cairo, came all the way to DC this week and met me for lunch. Well, I'm not the reason she came, but I got to see her while she was out here doing Important Grown Up things for her job, like asking people for money. Anyway, it was neat to see her again after a year and a half, and tonight we are going to Chi-Cha, which sounds like a fun time. Plus, they have hookah, whose smell I grew addicted to living in Beirut. (But I only smoked it once.) Click here for amusing website about hookah!

...Maybe it's just me, but Abu Mazen and Dick Van Dyke look remarkably similar.

Why do busses ALWAYS have squeaky brakes?

Sara, Lori, Meg, this made me think of you, mainly because I saw this SNL episode with you.

My esteemed co-worker Rami persuaded me to go with the other interns and watch a taping of Crossfire (which, as you know, has been in the news lately in its own right) the other day. Having never actually seen the TV show, the experience was slightly less exciting for me than it could have been, perhaps, but I'm still glad he convinced me to go. Usually I am glad when people convince me to go somewhere, but I never think I will be glad. I'm kind of a homing pigeon, and once I get home, I don't want to leave, even if I know that I am leaving to go to a fun place ad I will have a good time.

Anybody know of cheap places to live in DC? (Ok, how about relatively cheap?) I'm in the market for an apartment due to upcoming house additions, which will mean no roof on my bedroom. And when it snows, that can get uncomfortable.

I had to drop off a packet at the State Department yesterday, which should have been very easy. I had the address, 301 4th St. NW. I saw 400 4th St, so naturally I thought that 301 would be across the street on the next block. Just to make sure, I asked a security guard, who had no idea. So I walked in the direction of 301. But 301 wasn't there, so I turned around and asked a bunch of employees who were on their smoke break. "Is this 301?" and they said, "Yeah...what are you looking for?" And I said, "State." And they said, "This is 301." So I went in and halfway through security check, I asked again, "Is this 301, where the State Department is?" But Ms. Security Guard said, "Oh, that's 401, across the street by McDonalds." And I said, "Oh, I have written down 301." to which she replied, "301, 401, yeah, whatever." (Which makes one wonder about the effectiveness of even HAVING numbers on the doors...) But I found it, 301, right next to McDonalds, which is 400. This numbering system does not make sense to me.

Saving the World

Can Angelina Jolie Really Save the World? I leave it to you to decide. But I say that just because celebrities are, well, celebrities, they shouldn't be an authoritative voice on things that they don't specialize in, like saving the world. (That's reserved for Lisa and me.) They already make a bazillion dollars and have private yachts and are gorgeous.

Even so, Angelina might do better at managing money than the USG. "A billion here, a billion there...pretty soon it adds up to real money."

This is really, really cool.

Sara! Here's a job you can apply for!

A good excuse to doodle in class, play with your hair, and tap your foot to the music in your head.

It is unfathomable that anyone could look this good after giving birth.