Thank you Lord for blessing humans with creativity, the technology to make it happen, and my eyesight to see it.
I don’t know how the movie would look in a regular screening, but getting one of the best seats in the IMAX theater and enjoying the movie like it was envisioned in Cameron’s mind is something truly extraordinary. I feared that I may have been too over-hyped about the movie given the buzz surrounding it, but believe you me I have read nothing on the movie and have had it, for a long while, mixed up with Avatar The Last Airbender movie, coming out later.
So yes, you could say that I was entering the movie knowing that it was in 3D and that it featured blue people.
And I was SHOCKED!
I need to get this out of the way: though the IMAX gigantic screen really did help in the immersion into the movie, like all other movies shown in 3D (IMAX or not) there is this general fuzziness and softness to textures that degrade the quality (if you’ve seen it and seen the trailer below, you’d know what I am talking about).
Still, a loss in quality was a small price to pay, for it is a beautiful world of the Navi-inhabited Pandora that Cameron created, too beautiful to not allow yourself to be sucked in. To thoroughly enjoy the movie you either need to be a tree hugger or truly let go of rationality. And unlike many sci fi flicks out there, the characters that are out of place are the humans. Avatar’s world is rich in history, nature, lore, culture, and even language. It is blatantly apparent that a lot of effort has been put into the realization of the world, yet at the same time you do get the gut feeling that some stuff had to be cut out to fit the movie, like the Lord of the Rings flicks.
What’s beautiful about the movie is that it takes everything ordinary and turns it into extraordinary. Lots of rituals, beliefs, animals, plants and landscape exist in reality and are recognizable in the movie, but they’ve been made into truly magical elements.
The overarching story could become preachy at times, and there are many subtexts you can indulge in (terrorism, invasion of other countries, colonialism, the whole mother Earth narrative), however, the face-value story isn’t something that has not been done before, even the tribal wars and the inter-species love stories. What accentuates the typical, however, is the immersive magical world that makes everything endearing and breathtaking. As for the acting – thankfully most of the movie focuses on the animated Navi, which animated beautifully, and the human counterparts do a pretty good job, with Sigourney Weaver throwing in dry humor here and there typical of her Alien experience. Worthington’s Terminator experience helped with the grunt work too.
If there’s anything to say to people who are to see it, the movie is about the experience, much like the Matrix and Lord of the Rings when they came out. You can read into the story as deep as you want, but like the previously mentioned movies, it’s the experience that will keep you talking for a long time to come.
The Christmas of 1988 is an unforgettable one, as hard it is to remember how a single day was when you’re only four years old, but it is still unforgettable.
I still lived with my family back then and Saudi Arabia was pretty much like it is now, only friendlier to live in, I am told.
There was no hope of a white Christmas, so we all decided to dress up in white. Our neighbors were Christian, and with my dad being a fresh convert (to Muslim) it was a good time to enjoy some form of celebration in the conservative kingdom. Up went the Christmas tree and the decorations were lighting up the whole tiny apartment.
I can only remember the name of the lady, which was Denise. My memory has no recollection whatsoever of her husband’s name or her two daughters’ names – which is an embarrassment for me as one of the was my first girlfriend.
Ah yes! Young love! Pure and innocent, two young lovers exploring the never ending sea of… well… I’d leave the photo below to tell the story
Apparently I still have my “handy” habits. Have a great Christmas everyone!
Don’t you just HATE people OBSESSED with grades and ONLY grades?!
Those self proclaimed geniuses must be peed upon and dragged through a pool of poo before being ignited and burnt to death. Yes, I am talking about them treacherous, imbecilic excuses of human beings who claim they have the God-given right to dominate the class through their “intellect” and memorization abilities.
And, typically in this part of the world, they’re the Hijabi girls with attitude problems. You typically see them boasting on how much they pray on time, how everything should be prim and orderly and proper, and how dedicated they are to their studies and predestined schedules.
Admittedly, there could be found some admiration in their determination to be achievers. If only they could drop the self centered attitude, and their obsession with grades.
There is one in my class, and, for better or worse, I am with her in a group project. The course is on management (like pretty much else in this degree), and therefore I am exercising my managerial skills in utilizing her OCD and grade obsession by giving her the green light on handling the “tough jobs” – because, according to her, she “doesn’t want to be blamed for the other potentially sloppy parts”. Apparently her sense of team work has eloped with her understanding of achievement and fled to someone else. With two more people in the project, my role typically transforms to the Negotiating Diplomat.
Now here is an example that truly pissed me off. After a midterm – which of course she had been preparing for for two weeks (while I on the other hand found out about the exam a week prior) – she came up to me to ask about how well I did. I told her I did the best I could do given the amount of material I had to cover in a week. She discussed all the questions with me – 3/4th of which were numerical – and her grin widened with every incorrect answer I gave.
The next week, when the grades were out, she was appalled that we both took the same grade. She told me explicitly that it is illogical and unfair that she should study more than I did, get all answers correct, and we both end up with the same grade. I sympathized with her, myself wondering the same, though I knew the case study questions had something to do with it. She was so upset about it she kept reminding me of her disbelief at 10 minute intervals.
For the record, I was given a good grade because as I was solving I knew the numbers I was giving were incorrect and have explicitly stated how the trends should be, and noted some error in the calculation somewhere (through question marks and sad faces, of course). So the professor knew, at least, I understood the material.
Just yesterday I was telling her that we are putting too much effort researching on supply chain management (we read over 30 papers), especially that people do their PhD on the wide-open subject while we were doing a mere introduction to it. She simply answered “no we put the right effort, we will get FULL MARKS” shortly followed by “inshalla”, in case she ends up jinxing herself.
Now I understand grades are important, if you’re factoring in scholarships, future admissions to universities as well as the “excitement” in being called a “Cum Laude” (what were they smoking!). But there’s more to passing courses than grades – namely understanding the material, interpersonal relationships as well as appreciating other human beings on the same boat.
The UAE has been the media spotlight – both positive (Abu Dhabi F1) and negative (Dubai World hiatus) – heralding a new era of Dubai Bashing (see my thorough how-to here) as well as justified criticism and the typical market flux a la Pelham 123 (so who made $300m now?).
But today is the 38th UAE National Day, and these special occasions, like Eid and Thanksgiving and Christmas, are here to remind us of the greater good that we keep tucked in the shadows. For it is easy to dwell on our miseries and use them as our crutch to move forward, but it takes a movie scene, an Oprah episode or a family-feud-free-family-gathering to remind us that we have it good.
What has the UAE given me? A good beating! Yes, and I am thankful for it. Tough love is what everyone needs, and tough is what Dubai is about. Being exposed to so many cultures (and, seriously, there are just so many nationalities here) teaches you to be tolerant and respectful to people around you. It teaches you how to collaborate and communicate effectively in teams and with individuals. It gives you pleasure when expats greet you with “Eid Mubarak” and inform you – genuinely – that their perception of Arabs has significantly changed through their stay in Dubai. And it lowers the barrier of the “them vs us” concept, when we all hold hands together for a cause, raising awareness through marathons and walkathons around town.
On the sombre days, Dubai teaches you patience. It teaches you to network, to use your wits, to appreciate the value of money (and damn this city is expensive!). It shows you who your true friends are and how much value do you have in people’s lives, and they in yours. With Dubai’s every-changing population, and the tough competition – both on personal and career levels – it becomes quickly apparent who you should place your trust in.
But most of all, what I am truly thankful for is to be part of this “movement”, to celebrate the rise of a nation, no matter how much it stumbles on the way. When I have visitors over and show them around town, not all of them are impressed. “We have tall building in NY, so?”. Indeed, NY is a class of it’s own. But you won’t appreciate Burj Dubai unless you have seen it being built over the years, floor by floor. It’s difficult to appreciate or imagine that the 25km stretch of land between Dusit Dubai on Sheikh Zayed Road and Jebel Ali was a desert only 7 years ago. It won’t make sense to an outsider as you describe how Garhoud Bridge was only three lanes, and how the 7 lane roads were 2-3 lanes only a few years back. It’s sounds ludicrous as you describe how one thing was here a few months back and now it shifted in its entirety to another location.
Yes, Dubai functions and looks like a living being. It evolves and changes – too rapidly sometimes – but you, too, grow with it, and grow to love it. I don’t know about you, but I feel a deep sense of pride when I show someone around town or talk about the city. There is a sense of awe as I drive around town at night or take a trip on the metro just for the heck of it, to see the city from a slightly higher altitude.
So yes, you can bash Dubai or the UAE as you like, come up with rhythmic news titles and call yourself an expert in laughing at Dubai’s constant stumbling about, mediocre media, censorship, and the cult that is known as Etisalat.
But what has your city done or achieved in 30 years? 10 years? Last year?
The car engine hums gently as I drive the long winding road on the stretch of desert between the city and my new home, a concept that my mind does not appear to grasp. Home, what is home?
My journey home starts as I tune in to what I, in my humblest of opinions, consider a musical masterpiece, Fields of Coral by the legendary Vangelis.
The lights dim as the road in front of me melts into despair. Despair soaked in evil, spawning dark wakeless waters where I set sail. Tempestuous winds billows the sands, molding them into mountains before whittling them into voiceless cries.
I enter the borderless waters of insanity. A black canvas with blots of cracked paint and torn fragments of skin and decaying double faced overweight demons. A mad world where the artist holds a brush, soaks it in water instilled with fear to mend the cracks of broken canvas with an idea that may save it from utter oblivion. To save it from the demon with the flaming hair and the halos around the wrists.
Jellyfish-like monstrosities glow in the deep, yet serene and peaceful the ambient, muted light they provide. It’s the fear in the cell, the genetically coded nonsense we code ourselves. Fine wonders, artistic fiends with tentacles gripping the truth and feeding on the obtuse, the very artist.
And yet I pass with no fear here. I am welcomed, lauded with a fiery display of magnetic winds and sands, an aquatic dance with thoughts and desires, lustful intimation and an ardent embrace of letting go.
It’s like a biological clock that mothers have. Though most women have their brains wired up quite loosely and everything is interconnected (and I am probably the only male like that), all women are born with an agenda that they stick to, regardless of everything. Items on the agenda include, but are not limited to:
dreaming of the Big Day with the White Dress
driving all guys insane until Mr. Right comes along
driving Mr. Right into financial/mental crisis
having kids from said man (career women can donate children to Brangelina)
tormenting kids through emotional blackmail throughout their lives
Now, I am not saying mom is a horrible person. Indeed she isn’t. Like all mothers, she is the best cook in the world, and the best mom in the world. And like all mothers, she wants to have her son married. Now.
Two years ago I avoided this bride shopping business by claiming that I just started my “career” path (which led me to the Forgotten Chapters of the Abnormal Psychology textbook) and that all the girls I knew were either hitched or a bit too young for me.
Last year, mom didn’t have the time to open the topic – to my surprise – though she repeatedly hinted through the mention of grandchildren or moving into a bigger apartment when I get married or, most importantly, growing up (ie getting rid of Moogle and my Xbox).
Mom was here (woohoo!) and that was the topic I dreaded most. Now that I don’t have a girlfriend it was quite a ripe moment to open the marriage topic. As usual I had to be eating first.
“Mama,” she said, “I need to talk to you… something serious.”
She caught me off-guard, with two weeks without her opening the topic, I thought it was something to do with dad’s diabetes or some terminal disease I have had since childhood. Reluctantly I swallowed what could be my last meal and gave her all my attention (that’s 5% brain capacity, 95% daydreaming of my funeral).
never discuss marriage over kibbeh
“I am just worried about you,” she said in a sombre tone. This was it. I must have been born with a pacemaker of a discontinued model and which batteries were obsolete. My 25th birthday was in a month. It was just like the manual said.
“Lifetime warranty” except that by lifetime they mean the product’s lifetime, not yours. This device’s lifetime was linked to mine and unless I am Iron Man with an extra pacemaker lying in a vacuum chamber somewhere there was no way out of my deathbed.
I shouldn’t have broken up with my girlfriend. At least she made my heart beat!
“Yes mom, everyone is worried about me,” I replied. I wasn’t lying – since I got unemployed everyone was worried about me. Oh dear, all my friends and family and acquaintances knew I was dying in a month and they were worried the post-getting-fired depression (which I didn’t have until everyone’s worrying rubbed off on me) would just stop my heart completely.
That also explained why my trainer did not want me to do lots of cardio. Even HE knew!
This must all be dad’s work. I dunno why or how but I need someone to blame and since my sis didn’t contribute to my birth, dad’s just easier to blame than mom.
“Yes well, I wanted to talk about your love life… are you still with that girl?”
She could have said “Are you still on life support?”
“No, we broke it off…” I gulped. Memories of the breakup rushed back. You know that site, Fuck My Life? If you read it you probably came across an entry that read “Today, my boyfriend called me to celebrate my birthday. Turned out he called to dump me. FML”. That was probably my ex right there posting it.
“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” mom said, “well that puts you in a tough situation…”
I’m dead anyways, what do I care? Right? Let me enjoy this last month of my life and let me be!
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Hmm, well, see, now that you are jobless,” she started, “no girl will ever consider you.” Then she gave me the Traditional Look of Exasperated Mothers. The one which says I cooked for you and raised you all these years so you can be jobless and unmarried!
“huh?” no this isn’t happening! Not again!
“I think you need a job. So we can find you a nice girl to get you married to.” She was quite enthusiastic at this point, equating job with marriage. I thought marriage is a job. Something to add on your CV. Marital status: Single (ie independent, confident); Marital status: Married (ie walkover, may ask for more money constantly to please woman).
“Look at you! You’re handsome, successful, charming, witty, weird, and intelligent. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!”
O_O
“Well anyway it’s something for you to consider. You should get married as soon as possible, like in two years or so.”
“Well mom,” I said, nonchalantly I might add, “that’s just brilliant, as I would have justfinished my Masters and would qualify for a better job, ergo, I would qualify for better girls.”
“Oh wonderful! It’s all settled then. Looks like I forgot to add black pepper to the kibbeh, I am so sorry! Is it OK? Should I do another batch for you? I need to freeze for you some. How does it taste like?”
“Wonderful!”
“Oh, and, of course this is between you and me. Nothing on the internet like last time.”
Or buckle up, whichever you prefer – I am gonna force my way back into your lives and cheer you out of your mundane, boring daily routine.
And if you don’t have mundane, boring, daily routines, why do you have a blog? In any case I would make them even better!
I will go into details on what I have been doing in separate posts (the next post, scheduled in 36 hours, is epic and hilarious), but here’s your “quickie”: I moved out of UAE’s local parking lot (Sharjah) and into the jungle (Dubai), mom was here, went and had a nice Eid in Syria (and met Batoul and Qabbani too!), some of my photography would be put in a “zen clinic” (woohoo!), became a contributing blogger to Shufflegazine, gained some weight, changing my style a bit, and I just noticed I am awesome (allow me to indulge in some vanity here!) and lots more.
I have always loved the way children behave and think. I have always believed that they possessed an irreplaceable spirit, one that would carry them through the hardships with a smile, one that would offer forgiveness to other friends if a mistake has been made. They had the ability to absorb and endure emotional and physical pain more profoundly than older people do, and most of the children manage to solve their conflicts with a candy or a symbolic game where they are taught that friendship is the most valuable treasure a human soul can acquire and possess in his or her lifetime.
It is sad that many of us abandon these ideologies as we mature into adolescence, an age marked by inner and outer conflicts. I have always wondered why such simple techniques to resolve a conflict are abandoned as well. Hatred evolves and grows, jealousy becomes more profound, and our ego becomes consumed with a marked selfishness. We resolve our conflicts with more conflict, and we endlessly spiral around in a vicious struggle between our wants and our needs, between what we expect and what we are offered, until we miraculously grow out of adolescence and emerge as young adults who have [reasonable] control over our attitudes. We grow older, and spread into the many wings of society, gaining painful and pleasurable experiences. We love, we marry, and we re-experience the burden of our youths with our children. We grow old, remain seated in our grandchildren’s houses, and resolve our great grandchildren’s conflicts with candy and memories. We are then confronted with the inevitable thoughts of death, we fall into denial, and then we accept our fate. We spread whatever love we have to offer onto the people around us. We give them part of our spirits so that they would live on fond memories of us when we depart into the immortal realm of souls, where we are born anew
I have always loved the way children behave and think. I have always believed that they possessed an irreplaceable spirit, one that would carry them through the hardships with a smile, one that would offer forgiveness to other friends if a mistake has been made. They have the ability to absorb and endure emotional and physical pain more profoundly than older people do, and most of the children manage to solve their conflicts with a candy or a symbolic game where they are taught that friendship is the most valuable treasure a human soul can acquire and possess in his or her lifetime.
It is sad that many of us abandon these ideologies as we ‘mature’ into adolescence, an age marked by inner and outer conflicts. I have always wondered why such simple techniques to resolve a conflict are abandoned as well. Hatred evolves and grows, jealousy becomes more profound, and our ego becomes consumed with a marked selfishness. We resolve our conflicts with more conflict, and we endlessly spiral around in a vicious struggle between our wants and our needs, between what we expect and what we are offered, until we miraculously ‘grow out of’ adolescence and emerge as young adults who have [reasonable] control over our attitudes. We grow older, and spread into the many wings of society, gaining painful and pleasurable experiences. We love, we marry, and we re-experience the burden of our youths with our children. We grow old, remain seated in our grandchildren’s houses, and resolve our great grandchildren’s conflicts with candy and memories. We are then confronted with the inevitable thoughts of death, we fall into denial, and then we accept our fate. We spread whatever love we have to offer onto the people around us. We give them part of our spirits so that they would live on fond memories of us when we depart into the immortal realm of souls, where we are born anew.
I do not know how to describe it now,
Beautiful nature limitless that night;
The cascading gold at the mountain peak;
The shimmering silvers against the stars;
Emanating emeralds ethereal
Blessing the sights whose eyes lay upon them;
A ruby cave silent, but whispering
“Forever I seek you, Purple Iris”.
Moonflowers sway in the caressing wind
Chanting the whisper across silent lands.
Lavender buds scenting the atmosphere;
The Wild Roses hear the Moonflowers’ chant,
They channel the message to the river
To carry it where winds would never reach.
The ruby cave awoken; now humming
“Forever I seek you, Purple Iris”.
A humming bird quenches from the river,
Took off to relay the message across
This distant, foreign land where trees swing free.
From a flowering tree, the bird seeps his
Nectar, humming a song to the trees’ veins.
The trees listen, and swing to call new winds.
The ruby cave hopeful; deep in prayer;
“Forever I seek you, Purple Iris”.
Above the woods, a mountain rises tall.
An olive tree grows at its dark-rocked peak
Protecting a treasure only one seeks.
The other mountain, its soul channeled through
The vast lands of nature, always seeking,
To give up all the treasures it contains.
The ruby cave, silent, no more longing;
“Eternally bonding, Purple Iris”.
Kinan Jarjous Dubai, United Arab Emirates
Moogle LaLa Land, KJ's Head
Bulbus Abrainus: 1. (noun) A round structure that litters the brain. A Balbus Abrainus will produce invigorating juices that are guaranteed to make your head explode.
If you recall the last time, I had to wait for that oaf for hours at the airport. He claimed they were scanning his eye. That’s one giant retina he has.
Anyhoo, he said he’d be arriving here at 9:30 PM which allowed me ample time to go check my 7afartal friends in the kahwe.
He SMSed [...]
I have had this file lounging around for a couple of years till I decided to give it another look. My HDR skills are an obvious improvement (you can see my first attempt at this here) but there's always a room for improvement.
I'd like to revisit again and take another photo with my MKII. Unfortunately the files that make up the HDR composite are full of dust spots, abberations and movement, giving an unsatisfactory result that had me do lots of extra work to get it proper.
I like the current result, though, as faults are typically hidden on lower-res images. If I need to blow this up for print, though, I need to trek back to that spot in Latakia!
Experimenting with some HDR techniques here, I am trying to give the image a surreal look - as that is how it was - without over-bloating the HDR effect. Ramped up the saturation and contrast and it was good to go!
I am not totally satisfied with the result as the lower portion of the image looks flat (there was more mud there, anyway) so I might rework it at a future point.
and Saudi Arabia was pretty much like it is now, only friendlier to live in, I am told.
