“I love acting but I don't like all of the other stuff associated with it. The interest in celebrities, the press, the Internet..."

-Nicole Kidman

Why is everybody so intrigued and fascinated by the lives of celebrities?

The other day, I was at work and my coworker, a woman who's probably 30...ish? Anyways, she's a talker. I'm a talker, so I know what that's like, but this lady blows me out of the water completely. She will not shut up. I really feel sorry for all those poor customers who go through her lane. All they want is to get their items checked out, instead they get a 15 minute summary of how "Those cookies you're buying...Ohhh my God, I love 'em. Can't get enough. Ate so many I almost threw up last week" (awkward laugh) "Yeah you know they say that the chocolate in them..." And that continues on and on and on until finally God relieves you of your suffering and your receipt prints.

Hallelujah, you're free to go.

Well, this lady, not only does she love to talk, but she loves her some celebrity gossip. Be it in the form of a trashy tabloid, late night Hollywood show, or email updates, she gets 'em somehow. And if I stumble upon the misfortune of being in the lane next to hers, I always get an update, too. Each time, I explain to her, that I really don't care if Kristen Stewart or Robert Pattinson are actually engaged, or if it's just a rumor. I don't care how many women Tiger Woods cheated on his wife with or how much the divorce settlement's going to be, or how Angelina Jolie's relationship with Brad Pitt's on the rocks.

I'm not really all that savvy when it comes to Hollywood and its going ons. I found out about Tiger Woods from my driver's ed teacher, and any follow ups I heard were from my peers at school. I've never subscribed to people magazine, either.

I just don't see the big deal in celebrity gossip. I honestly do not care about these people. They do me a service, yes, they entertain me, but I don't really want to know anything further than that. I don't really care to know if my dentist's wife is suspected of cheating on him, I don't care to know if waitress who serves me is planning on leaving her husband, really I don't. The same goes for the singers I listen to and the actors and actresses I watch.

I do, however, feel very sorry for them. What they do seems respectable enough (in most cases), they act, I suppose, because they want to act. Just like some of us want to become doctors and writers and astronauts, they follow their dreams of being entertainers, in the form of singing or acting or sports or whatever. The point I'm trying to make is that, I find it so stupid when people try to justify their nosy curiosity by saying, "Oh, well, if they didn't want all this publicity they shouldn't have become famous."

Okay, yep. Sorry, Jennifer Garner, but the only way that you're going to finally attain some privacy is by switching careers. Tiger Woods, you're just going to have to suck at golf for you private life to become obscured from the world.

I'm not saying that what they do is necessarily good, I mean, it's quite obvious that Tiger Woods' screwed up big time, if all they say is true, but that doesn't mean that he should be forced to hang his dirty laundry in public.

It just seems grossly unfair. Problems become so much harder to deal with once more people know about them. I can easily understand why no celebrity relationships last. How could they? Every move, every glance, and every quote is anaylzed until something out of that can satisfy the angle that the certain tabloid is going for.

Well, at least they have PR's.

Writer's Block...

..sucks.

Lately I have been suffering. Suffering badly. Writer's block, they call it. I am a writer. My writing ability has been blocked off. Therefore, I am suffering from writer's block. And I wasn't lying about it sucking. Because it does. Suck. A whole lot.

It's not that I can't come up with ideas to write about-I can-it's just that I can't seem to word those ideas. Even when given a topic by my teachers, even when I have to write an essay about Theodore Roosevelt and his progressivist reforms for my APUSH class, I can't seem to spit the words that I want to use out, or at least make it sound somewhat okay.

So I try, patiently, to make the story flow better, to use better vocab, and to mix up my word choice. I find that I'm unable to. And then I become frustrated. Once I become frustrated my fingers fly across the keyboard and I begin typing nonsense words.

And once the nonsense words start, well, I might as well just stop whatever I'm doing, but I know it's only going to go downhill from there. I've gotta save what I have, "x" out of the word document, or whatever it is I'm writing on, and come back later when I can think more clearly.

I figured a post about writer's block wouldn't hurt. I thought that maybe talking about it would be some sort of solution.

We'll see.

"A good book on your shelf is a friend that turns its back on you and remains a friend."

There's one thing I can always count on. One thing I'm sure can take my mind off of anything, and take me anywhere, without even leaving the comfort of my bed. Things that don't make sense fit right into my head, and seem to settle where they belong. You're taken right along with all the characters throughout the whole thing.

They're your best friend. They speak to you without ever looking your way. They love you, but to them, you are nothing but a spectator.

The only thing I can ever count on is print on a page. Black on white; symbols, letters, words that make up a beginning, a middle, and an end: books.They comfort me. They console me. They relate to me. They're always there, and they're always within my grasp.
I love reading books, I love reading that make you think, books that are nothing but fluff, books that tackle unusual and uncomfortable topics. I'd rather sit down with a 600 page book, than watch a movie. I can read a book over and over again, but I can't do the same with a film.

I know this is going to sound extremely nerdy, but I absolutely love libraries. Not the ones that they have here at school, where it's more of an IMC than a place to check books out. I read A LOT, and I don't have the funds to keep up with what I read. I can't buy my books, and I love English teachers who have the best books to recommend. I'm pretty partial to English teachers in general because they teach what comes most easily to me, what I'm most interested in.

Maybe it's because I'm highly imaginative. I become deeply involved in whatever it is that I'm reading. I cry so easily when I read, I smile when something touching happens, I laugh out loud with the characters, and my mother always tells me that my eyes always go wide when something shocking happens. It's pretty ridiculous, I know, but I just can't help but become that involved in what I'm reading. I prefer reading when I'm alone. That way, I can completely let loose and do whatever I want without worrying people might think I'm a lil' bit out of whack.

As I said before, I read just about everything. Fiction, nonfiction, romance, science, fantasy, biographies, memoirs. My friend and I, when we were in grade school, would sit outside during recess and we would try reading the dictionary. We didn't get nearly as far as we'd hoped, but it was a good representation of how dorky we were when it came to literature.

And I didn't just do it alone. Oh no. Whenever I finished a really good book, I'd always call up my best friend and talk her ear off about whatever the book was about, repeatedly making her promise to read it. She was remarkably patient, and would listen to everything I said. Now that I'm older, and I realize that most people would punch me in the face if I ever did such a thing, I've stopped.

I've always been a nerd. When I learn something new in class I'll always go home and tell my parents all about it. There are some classes that I just find so interesting, and I love learning really trivial little facts that would otherwise be pretty useless.

Memoirs of a Hipster

So I was sitting in front of my vintage vanity, its lights illuminating my face. I had on my dark Skinny jeans, with a green over priced American Apparel tShirt hanging off my Petite body (my coffee only diet reduces me to nothing but waifness). My Zooey Deschanel-inspired bangs brush the tops of my eyes, under which you could barely see my winged 60's style eyeliner. Further obscuring My eyes were the pair of Prescriptionliess Ray Bans I had on. I felt that their Irony completed my look. What look Was I going for? A perfect blend of all things hipster.

You see life as a hipster is life if life were a fabulous, high end, yet grunge cocktail party in one's basement. It is Andy Warhol, and records of unknown Indie/Folksy bands, it is flower prints, skinny jeans, it is artsy wittiness, it is quirky irony, all in my vintaged garage, it is photography with my Great aunt's slr camera from the 70's. it is writing without correctly following rules of capitalization because capitalization is conformation. It is abstract Thinking. If Louis Vuitton and Bose got together and designed a pair of headphones, I would be those headphones. Those headphones would be hipster. Those headphones would be me. I am hipster.

Hipster is ciggarette stained kisses. Hipster is hugs that smell of that last coffee drink. Hipster is a blend of all things elusively charming.

life as a hipster is a constant Effortless struggle. It's a boxing match minus The punching and the Pain with the addition of cotton Sundresses and ankle boots and over sized sunglasses. It's Life as life would be if life were a feminine Painting that your Grandmother bought from a Pawn Shop and hung in her garage. It's reading books that somebody with a Bachelor of the Arts would read (meaning above your ability), while drinking Chai at the Starbucks down the street. It's my going on meaningless Tangents of how Unfair it was for Those words in the middle of my sentences not To be capitalized. they Deserve to be capitalized. I will tell you.

hipster is a Culture. We hipsters have our own music, our own fashion, our own beliefs. Beliefs that are well thought out and deep. hipster is a Belief. Hipster Is a religion. Hipster just is.

I ponder all this as I open my armoire, deciding what baggy American Apparel v-neck I should wear for the day. I have burgundy, azure, cobalt, indigo, espresso, burnt auburn, jade, lime, gold, and silver T's. I carefully pick out a nice ivory cardigan to match the ebony tee I've got ready for myself. I look in My vanity one More time, and I decide that my hair looks much too neat. With a little Fekkai hairspray, I muss it up some more, and deem myself fit for my date. I am meeting my boyfriend at the coffee shop down the street from my apartment. you've Probably never heard of it. It's extremely Urban-Bohemian, yet you can't fail but notice an underlying elegance to the west Side joint. I grab my over sized hobo/Messenger bag and make my way down the street, and laugh as I see that my boyfriend, seated in a red booth, reading a book that he got from our last date (one of my boyfriend and my's activities include vintage book shop hopping, something that sets us apart from most other couples), and I match. We both have on slim jeans, his, however, corduroy, a cardigan of some sort, a simple striped tee, and our thick rimmed Ray bans. Although he seems to have outdone me, in his Paisley print scarf.

Most of our dates consist of pseudo-intellectual hipster conversations. We talk of books, small scale, low budget indie films, new bands that you've never heard of, upcoming shows. We speak deeply of philosophy and we ridicule the notion of love, and accept that while, we, in our relationship, are deeply devoted to each other, we are not in love. My boyfriend and I are so alike in that we are such nonconformists.

This is one, unadorned, day of your average hipster. Simple, yet meaningful, and not at all tragically mediocre as yours so sorrowfully is.

“High School: the mouse race to prepare you for the rat race”

-Author Unknown


There are those who can't escape childhood. They bring is with them as they transition into the higher stages of their careers, like, ironically enough, a child clinging to his blanket.

I don't know if their immaturity they find in themselves seems to comfort them, or whether or not it's just one of those bad habits somebody just can't seem to give up.

High school is high school, and it will be high school. And you know what high school is? It is getting in trouble with your parents for staying out way past curfew and other aspects of a typical teenage-parent relationship, it is terribly hard classes that have got you sleep deprived, and it is relationships that can never just be simple.

When I think about high school, I sigh, out of exhaustion. It's just a big never ending cycle of he-said she-said, dramatic antics, and everybody seems to be a walking tabloid, full of information on who's just had sex, how Joe cheated on Sue, or how plain Jane's actually THE BIGGEST SLUT EVER. LIKE OMG. Few ever rise above it, and too many succumb to it.

I personally try my best to avoid all this, and I know, that I haven't. I am a girl, and I'd be completely bull shitting you right now if I said that I never sunk to those lows because I have. I've had my good share of silly, petty drama. I try to do my best to express myself, and let people know how I feel if I am ever upset, to avoid the troubles that are: BITCH. I HEARD WHATCHU BEEN SAYIN BOUT ME.

But really, I'm going to be an adult next year, and I'm trying to start facing all my problems like one. To keep all lines open for communication, but sometimes, communication and honesty is exactly what you need not do.

I've also realized that it's pretty silly to expect people to treat you the same. Most people (cough girls cough) won't be polite if they have a problem, but in fact, do just the opposite. They'll ignore your attempts at cordiality, at trying to be civil. They'll ignore a question as simple as: "Hey! Do you know if we had homework?" They'll look at you, with lips pursed, brows raised, not respond and walk away, leaving you with your mouth open and face burning.

Sometimes being the bigger man sucks.

Everybody reassures me that it's just high school, and that it happens to everybody. It's almost a rite of passage. High school's just a part of growing up, and it rips every last bit of naivety you have left, that middle school didn't get around to doing, right out of you.

"There is no endless devotion that is free from the force of erosion."

I've always been a person that's been at odds with change. I always try to overcome change, try to keep everything the same for as long as I can. It's a quality many of the adults that have worked with me and have known me for a long time easily notice.
Recently, I have undergone lots of change. Serious change. I've done things that I never would have believed that I could do just months ago. I've met people that I never even knew existed. People that I have both liked and disliked. I found out what I've been missing, and I can't believe that I've lived without it for as long as I have.
Sometimes, it almost seems that the more you fight change the harder its hits become, that the more you keep your eyes open for it, the more you notice it in places you never expect to find it.
No matter how much the idea of change is unsettling, sometimes it can be exactly what you need. It's hard, but it's benefits you in the long run.
There are certain things, however stressful they may be, you look to for comfort. They comfort you, not because they themselves are reliable, but they're constant. They're what you're familliar with. They're always there, but sometimes, and I'm finding myself dealing with this more and more recently, you just have to realize that letting it go is exactly the kind of relief one might need.

If gay and lesbian people are given civil rights, then everyone will want them!

-Author unknown

You know what really gets to me, what really makes me angry? When people accuse me of something that I'm not guilty of. Recently, I've been accused of hating gay people.
The finger was pointed in my face and this person was so certain in their accusation, as if they could see right into my brain. As if they knew me better than I knew myself.
I had been talking about a protest against a protest that my friend was going to. A church was planning on protesting the production of The Laramie Project. A play about the unjust murder of a homosexual. I was retelling what my friend had told me about the protest.
The person I was talking to about it scoffed and said, "Why do you all of a sudden care so much about gay rights?"
WHEN had I ever not cared? I asked. To which they responded, "You used to think that being gay was awful, Asmaa. I remember you said that word for word."
What. The. Hell.
This was so not fair. Putting me on the spot like that in front of everyone. Spitting out a serious accusation that was so untrue it made my head want to explode right then and there. I was shaking. Shaking with anger at such a terrible indictment that was spit in my face.
I just want to make it clear that I honestly do believe that gay people should share the rights that everyone else has. The government has no right to intrude on matters of social affairs. If we are such a capitalistic nation then the government should go all out "laissez faire" on such a motion, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.
I don't necessarily agree with a gay lifestyle, although, I don't agree with a republican lifestyle, I don't agree with a Christian lifestyle, I don't agree with an atheist lifestyle. But do I hate Christian, Republicans, Atheists? Do I believe that they should have their rights taken away from them? Not at all. Hell no.
Then as I tried to make my point, I was told to calm down, and that it wasn't a big deal. So I was basically denied the chance to get my point across.
I just can't stand people who think that they know you, and form an idea about you in their head that's based very little on reality. Letting thoughts fester like that is bound to produce something smelly and unlike the original.
So to all you who don't love who the government says you should love, well, you can have my support to your civil liberties and a hug.

"Retail is detail."

-Howard Schultz

Today, I went into work expecting another long four hours of trying and failing to keep up my positive Target team member attitude. I had recently been moved to the sales floor. Now, what do I do on the sales floor, you may ask? Well, it's nothing special, I just stock shelves and help customers find things, but it's such a step up from cashiering because I get to use a walkie.

I walked into Target, coat and purse in hand, with a quarter in my pocket for my locker rental, as I said before, preparing myself for another normal day of work, but, almost instantly a coworker of mine ran up to me (he's always pretty enthusiastic, it's kind of sweet, almost) and informed me that I was going to be the day's GSA. You may be wondering what the hell a GSA is, and at that moment, so was I.

A GSA is a guest service ambassador. As a Guest Service Ambassador you circulate the store looking for anybody who looks lost or people who look prone to becoming lost, and ask the Target Inc. TradeMark'd words "Can I help you find something?". That is literally all you do. And when you do help them find something, you mark it on this little clipboard that you carry around with you. (Actually, it's not little at all; it's pretty normal sized, really. I don't know why I used that word. Just an adjective filler, I suppose.)

So (let's call him Jay) runs up to me and fills me in on what my day holds. He says that it's no sweat and he'll walk me through it. I go in, hang my coat, find a locker in which I put my quarter, and clock in. The lady at the TSC front desk instructs me on what to do. For that day I got to carry around with me, not only a walkie, but a PDA and a clipboard. I was all set to help people make their shopping experience more enjoyable and efficient.

And boy, did I feel all official, struttin' around in my new dark red button up work shirt, with a clip board, a PDA, and a walkie. I was pretty enthusiastic about my assignment. Plus, I was an ambassador. I had never been an ambassador before. The name alone sounded official.

My enthusiasm wore off as quickly as it came once I realized that the job was pretty tiring. You circulate Target over and over and over again repeating the same words. 75% of people you ask are going to reject your offerings of help and tell you that they're "just looking". A few people are going to feel offended, as if you're insulting their intelligence by offering your guidance. As the rejection piled up, I began praying for somebody to accept my assistance, if only to occupy me. Pretty soon, however, the store became busier and I found that sometimes as I was on a mission for one guest, another would stop me and ask me to help them with something.

So many things happen on the target floor. I had a couple who broke two jars of baby food, a man who asked me all about a 64GB iTouch that he was looking to buy, and a lady who put her arm around me as she asked me all her questions.

All in all it was an interesting, tiring, headache inducing, and ultimately a good experience of a day.

“Pessimist: One who, when he has the choice of two evils, chooses both.”

-Oscar Wilde

Of course, the saying goes, life is a roller coaster. It goes up and it goes down, and your feelings coincide with the roller coaster's directions. As your inching towards the top, you feel giddy and bright and hopeful, and you tweet things such as, "omgggggg. i loveeee life."
Unlike a roller coaster; however, the plunge into the low point sometimes does not happen quickly. It takes time, the car you're in descends, and you don't even realize it; however, other times, the car races. You think you're having a good time and BAM, lyfe sux. And, really, unlike all the crazy rides I went on at 6 flags, it's not at all any fun. By the time you're at the bottom of the thing you look around, dazed, as if having been struck, trying to figure out how you got to where you are now. And as it gets to the point where you feel that all is lost, the car starts inching its way up.
The uphill climb can sometimes go ZIIIIIIIIIP and arrive at the peak before you even know it, and you find yourself smiling and singing along to the songs on the radio again.
Pessimists, however, even as their at the highest point of the roller coaster, can never forget the suckiness of being at the bottom. They hold onto it, and look at life through a fogged window. The fog being there to keep them from getting a good look as to what's on the other side. The fog reminding them that they need to stay behind the window, and not venture their way outside.
I should know because I am a board certified ohfishal pessimist. I used to roll my eyes when people would call me pessimistic. How absurd! I'm outgoing, I'm friendly, I'm comical, how could I possibly be a pessimist? Then I realized, you can be all smiles and sunshine, but that doesn't mean that you haven't got that cloud in sight that threatens to cover your light. And when you're a pessimist, you can't take your eyes off that threatening cloud.
That cloud threatens to hang above you, to rain on you and your day, wetting your clothes, and ruining your hair.
When you're a pessimist, you look at life through wide opened eyes, taking in everything, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.
Maybe I'm not a pessimist, maybe I'm just a realist. Maybe I know that there are no such things as people you can always count on no matter what, that the grass looks greener on the other side, but is probably just because of the lighting, and besides, the greener the grass the harder it is to remove the grass stains.

"I wanna take a ride on your disco stick."

-Queen of Pop, Lady Gaga

Laaaaddyyyyyyy Gagaaa, oh you, with your rock star pin up girl look. You've completely abandoned your Italian roots and turned into our pop culture's new Madonna.

I really do believe that she is one of today's most underrated artists. She's the perfect example of the American dream. Lady Gaga literally went from being nobody to being...well, Lady Gaga, rich, famous, and full of talent, and talented she is. She sounds just as great live as she does on her CD's. She has been playing the piano since she was only four years old.


Lady Gaga, pre-Gaga


Her claim to fame didn't just happen overnight. No. It took time and commitment and perseverance. In one interview I saw of her she admits that she was sometimes boo'ed off stage at some clubs she sang at; however, she didn't let this get to her.

Lady Gaga is completely and totally bizarre. She's out there, in her looks, in her music, in her actions and words and just...everything. Her outfits get her all the attention that they're meant to attract, and at least part of the reason why she's always done up so crazily is, no denying it, attention.




and her videos and songs are outrageous. Almost all her songs are about sex or have sexual references in them.

Example: "I'm not bluffin with my muffin."
"I want your psycho, your vertical stick."
"Baby, if it's love, if it's not rough it isn't fun."
"Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang."

She herself admits that sex isn't something that she holds too serious. She's made it very clear before that she goes both ways, and that she's just lookin' to have some fun with some good lookin' people. She says that what she looks for in a partner is (and I quote), "A big dick."


Although I don't at all agree with her lifestyle choices, I can't help but have some respect for her. It's hard for me to come up with any other major names that have risen up from completely nothing and become something as big as Lady Gaga is now.