Application

Why are you interested in being a part of the PRISM board?

150 words ..

-- I have always been interested in ..

-- What attracted me to PRISM originally was the idea of being a part of the religious life at Penn and having the ability to connect with people from all different religions. This reason changed once I learnt about all the outreach programs and activities PRISM hosts. I have always been an advocate for learning about other religions and teaching others to respect different religions and cultures. I am interested in being a part of that here at Penn.



What do you bring to the table when it comes to the position(s) you are running for? *Please limit your response to 200 words or less. Additionally, please note that this question is intentionally ambiguous, as every candidate is unique. Feel free to discuss what is most important to you as a candidate (whether this includes ideas, experience, or something completely different). If you are considering more than one position, you may (but are not required to) submit a separate answer for each position you are considering.
-- Coming from a house of mixed religions, learning about different faiths and teaching people about mine has always been important to me. What I hope to bring to PRISM are my experiences, from discussing religion over coffee with friends to trying to convince a teacher that not everyone who is not muslim is the devil incarnate. I have  ran projects that promote critical thinking in many respects including that of interfaith. The two biggest were a forum on Gaza and a Model United Nations (MUN) Conference. The forum had the purpose to eliminate many of the rumors floating around my school about what was happening in Gaza and to promote the idea of stopping the concept of hating all Jewish people simply because of their religion. As for the MUN conference, over two hundred girls were exposed to world politics and thinking about global problems, something that is not very common in Saudi Arabia. It was a two day conference that promoted the advancement of global thinking and being a member of community that incases the whole world. Events that encourages people to take a different look at the world around them and prompts them to think about topics they never touched on before is what I strive for.

Stress Relief

Ok, I need to start writing again.. at least as a form of stress relief
or to get my writing better .. tralalalala ..??

Ok.. ok.. how about this:
What is going on in my life?
1) I am a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania (not the molesting party school but the Ivy League)
2) I am studying computer science
3) I am probably might fail some of my classes --> oh my god !! look at that redundancy !! probably and might !!
What is my writing coming too?!


Now lets try this:

Once upon a time not so very long ago, at least by the standards of the never aging witches, in a land not so far away, by the standards of the man with the seven-league boots, a girl named Minny lived in a little house on the outskirts of an old city. The city was over-packed with people spilling out of every nook and alleyway that you could technically consider even the outskirts to part of the city. And because of how crowded it was, houses were built on top of each other, to get to one you had to climb up stairs that were buit along the outside of the buildings. During a good day and if you were young and in health, this was never a problem, but when the wind picked up, the stairs would creak and moan, swaying more than slightly in the wind.


Minny lived very near the top of one of these piled up house towers. Her house was very small with only two rooms and a little bathroom. But that was not a problem; Minny only lived with her cat, Princess. Minny really wanted a dog but dogs could not make it up and down the steps as easily as a person or a cat could. 

and that is all I have for now

Hello Old Girl

I once decided to join the circus.
The end.

But really.. the circus called college life. Ok now that is cheesy..
Life is hard but I guess I am pulling through..
oh ya, you know how I used to be really bad at writing?
I have gotten even worse! never thought that was possible but I guess with no practice..

Oh the woe of an engineer!

to Much Twitter

My past two post were to short to be even sweet. Twitter has been getting to me..

Here is a speech I wrote for a speech contest which I, surprise surprise, lost.
The topic was bout how the youth change the world or some random crap like that, I swear the topics get stupider and stupider each year

Kids are naïve, they lack real-life experience, and they have not completed their education. And that is exactly why they are the movers and shakers of the world.

I am the first one to admit that I am naïve. And I am the first one to state that being naïve is not a bad thing.

The word naïve has a very negative connotation. Being naive is something bad.

Why is being pure and innocent a bad thing?

Believing that World Peace is possible, that global problems can be solved with words, that it is possible for everyone on the planet to work together.

These are thoughts usually labeled as naïve thing.

Not possible

The naïve are dreamers, who believe that anything is possible.

Is that a bad thing?

I ask you this: how can someone solve a problem that they believe the solution to be unreachable?

Answer is: they can’t.

How many people, two years ago, said that it is impossible for the Tunisian or Egyptian people to liberate themselves? And that it is naïve to think that goal can be reached?

Yet here we are in 2011 with both of those countries free because the younger generation believed.

It is a common misconception that while the younger generations are energy filled bottle rockets, they are somewhat obsolete when it comes to facing reality.

“They lack experience, they have not passed through as many events as us”.  Can be heard from adults when talking about us kids.

Yet what those adults fail to realize that sometimes having experience is more detrimental than not having any.

Kids believe the world to be filled with possibilities and no boundaries.

Yet adults believe the opposite: the world has limits and walls.

Now how did this happen?

As one passes through more of life, they will be faced with difficulties and problems. And at this point they are opened to two choices: fight and try to perceiver or to give up and move on.

Every time someone is not able to succeed in something, they create a limit.

And as life goes on, and as experiences add, more and more of these limits are created. Creating walls around all those possibilities.

 Now let me make this very clear: these limits do not exist

They are only in the mind of the beholder.

Two boys wanted to raise money for Breast Cancer research. Their goal was 1000 US dollars. Their teacher told them that that amount would be impossible for them to reach. That there was a limit to how much they are able to collect.

These two boys raised over 15 000 dollars.

They did not see the imaginary limit that was embedded in their teachers mind. 

Though we must applaud the teacher, the fact he went through all those years of education and still ha an imagination. That is something truly amazing.

Schools kill creativity

Let it be known that these are not my word, but the words of Sir Ken Robinson.

A simple social experiment was conducted:

Ask people of different ages and grade levels to list the ways you can use a paper clip.

There was a clear difference between the lists. As the ages went up the list sizes went down.

An adult sees a paper clip as, well, an ever day paper clip.

A child sees it as many different things: it could be 100 meters tall and made out of rubber, or it could be the size of an ant.

Adults do not have the creativity needed to solve todays issues 

During 1361, about 700 years ago, a wall was built in Prague; it was called the hunger wall.

 Its purpose was to provide the poor with a lively hood after the appearance of a widespread famine.

In 2010, Obama suggested a bill that would create $50 bill worth of new roads, buildings, train stations etc in order to provide people with jobs after the economic meltdown.

700 years and adults are still coming up with the same ideas!

What the world needs is creative ideas, innovative thinking, looking past limits, thinking outside the box, and thinking of the “impossible” possibilities.

What the world needs is to listen to the people who can change it, the people who can shake it. The world needs to start listening to its youngest generation.

The world needs to start listening to us.

Thank you. 

To Dance Through the Fields of To and Fro

Chillin to this song




But American Pie will remain as my number one 'chill' song

Birthdays

I wish my birthdays were always on a weekend. Then it would be easier to ignore the fact that nobody gets me a cake.
emo emo emo

Oops

I just realized the last time I blogged was about a month ago. In my defense I was very busy.
 any ways...

Names can be what they want to be

If I could change my name to anything, at this current time and place, I would change it to Basil. This is not to be confused with the the Arabic boy's name. I would change my name to be named after the Basil leaves. This is because at this point in time and at this place where I am currently at, Basil seems like a cool name. 

Hoping on the Hopless

When he laughed, teeth stained orange from cheetos and raw meat showed, and clouds of breath that smelt of death filled the air around him. Nobody around him cared about that; they all had similar laughs. The people around him called him Dinga, no one know his real name. No one even knew where that name came from. 




bored of life and death and all that is in-between. why is life so like your own? 

Other's Inspiration

When you look at an example of work done by someone extremely qualified, most people feel an awe that leads to an 'aha' of inspiration. Not me. And this is my reason for not posting a post on a blog that no one reads but me, myself and I. Yes, I am pathetic. 

When I read blog posts written by talented people with amazing ideas, I feel so inferior that my mind goes blank and I loose all ability to write. This is double when I read popular political blogs. I am a very political person, yet I do believe that I have never written a post that relates to politics. My cousin is on a list as one of the world's 17 most bravest bloggers. I feel so lame in comparison. 

There are kids my age who are changing the world with their thoughts and ideas. I, on the other hand, feel so out of the loop. And even with all this complaining, I will most likely not write anything very political at this time.

She was a pretty girl, who could easily pass as beautiful if not for the fact her face was marred with hazy eyes and teeth turned yellow from cigarettes. Leaning against buildings on busy streets in the city while puffing away, she would be easily mistaken for a prostitute. She never was, mostly, because she lived in a small town and second, she only smoked when riding in a car.

I have come to the realization that I enjoy writing short character descriptions about girls, in specific, who smoke. I find this weird because I hate smoking and think it is a disgusting habit.

I wish I had a type writer to write stories on, I feel like it would be a lot of fun.

I might try writing a super short story with Shakespearian dialogue.  What can I say? I have fallen in love with Mercutio and Benvolio.

 

My love be with you, wait it 'may' not. Love is defiantly with you because I send it.

Short

For some reason I feel really sad.

I wish I could get away from everything for a while. 
I wish I could just get in a car or buy a plane ticket and go somewhere else for a few days. 

I wish when I go to college something good will happen to me.

I wish that I could go to Italy by myself.

I wish that I will meet someone who will love me, even the me that nobody knows.

I wish I was skinnier.

I wish I was prettier.

I wish I was braver.

I wish that I was smarter and that I was not so dumb.

I wish I could fall asleep on the beach.

I wish my friends would actually like me.

I wish I could like my friends.

I wish I could meet someone who shares all my interest.

I wish I had someone to talk to about everything.

I wish that my mom would not be so disappointed in me.

I wish that my family would love me.

I wish that I was not so weird.

I wish I was cool.

I wish I was famous.

I wish that one day I will look back at my life and not regret it.

I wish that I loved myself.

I wonder why?

Changing Hosts

As much as I love wordpress, I am thinking of either going back to Blogger. This is for the simple reason of that I know how to edit the layout of my blog and personalize it better on that site. I love how easy it is to post stuff using wordpress and how easy it is to edit stuff, but I need an easier way to change the appearance of my blog. I have had a lot of problems back when I used to use blogger but that was two years ago... Worse comes to worse I could always use tumblr :p

Long Time No See

It was just a few posts ago that I made a promise to myself to post like everyday. And yup, look how that turned out. But in my defense I had finals.

In the time that has lapsed since my other posts, I have gotten into two of my colleges. And that is all I am going to say about that.

It seems like I am never going to pass that 500 word mark.

I miss... I not sure what I miss, but I am missing something. I just feel oddly empty and all those Emo stereotypes.

I need a hug.

Hmmm, what to type what to type, That Is The Question

*

*

*

Once upon a November in a small town in the middle of here and there, it snowed. Now this is not at all out of the ordinary. This small town was incredibly ordinary. Even its name was ordinary. The town was called Casper Lake after the lake that resides to the west of it. The town was small with one main road that had all the three shops and four restaurants, three schools one elementary one middle school one high school, and a small factory that made tissue boxes and another that made salsa. Most of the residents of the town worked either in the factories or in the city that was two hours north of the town.

"Oh, dearest God of mine, what is this crap that I am writing" howled the insane looking human who was now ripping up a piece of paper that was just in the typewriter. This somewhat less then balanced human was actually a girl, something you would not be able to tell if you were to look at her from a distance. With her hair that was at some parts right below her chin and at others above her ears, her sweatpants three sizes to big with the crotch near her knees, her oversized jumper that looked comfy in that covered in stains filled with holes very lived in way. What gave away her gender was her face, it was to feminine  to belong to a man. This girls name was Matti. As a child she aspired to be an astronaut, but when she realized that meant long years in an Engineering school she decided to be an artist. She was a surprisingly good artist or at least that is what the art critics say, the critics find her art deep and full of strong and subtle emotions. Her mother says otherwise, her mother feels like all Matti does is haphazardly throw paint at a canvas. This is in truth what Matti does but Matti feels that if someone would like to believe that she actually thinks about what she is painting, let them. People are more willing to pay higher prices for art that has backstory.

It was three days ago that Matti decided to start writing. She was on her way back from a showing of her latest works with the knowledge that two of her paintings had been bought for the combined intake of nine-thousand six-hundred and forty-three dollars, she was also slightly high, someone had put some lit weed in every single air vent, when she saw a puke green typewriter sitting in the display window of a greasy looking pawnshop. Matti knew at that moment what she wanted to do with the rest of her life: sit at a desk next to an open window overlooking the Eiffel Tower, while sipping coffee and typing on this very typewriter.

The shop was closed so Matti vowed to herself to come back the next day to buy the first step of her happiness. When she woke up at three twenty-four P.M., she took a shower, ate, changed into clothes that did not reek of smoke and wine, and watched the clock strike five oh five and then decided it was a good time to go to the pawnshop. It was only after five blocks of walking did Matti realize that she could not remember where the shop was located. Matti went back to her apartment.

The first thing she did was turn on the laptop she had bought two years earlier, it was a chunky looking black thing with a few missing keys from the keyboard and a few flicks of paint in the screen that would just not come off, Matti had bought it with the money that she got from selling a photograph of a shoe that she had stuck Hello Kitty stickers on. She then proceeded to go on Ebay using the internet she stole from the apartment below her and proceeded to buy the first typewriter on the list that indicated that the seller agrees to let you buy immediately. Matti also paid for overnight shipping. The total cost was around three-hundred  dollars, the shipping cost nearly double that of the typewriter itself.

When Matti got her typewriter the next day, she placed it on the makeshift desk she had fashioned the day before out of slabs of wood, paint cans and cardboard boxes. She then poured herself a glass of cheap red wine she had bought yesterday into an old plastic cup that comes with kid's meals in chain restaurants and lit three huge candles that had no bases that were destined to drip wax and leave a mess. Matti did not open her window; the air outside smelt of garbage, and she decided on wine instead of coffee because it made her feel French. To make her feel even more French, Matti had opera playing from the old boom box that played both tapes and CDs. Matti did not realize that she was listening to Italian opera, not that she would have cared if she did know.

Matti took a small sip of her wine, it tasted so retched it made her feel extremely sophisticated even though she was not sipping it from a glass, and placed her hands on the keys of the typewriter. The typewriter she had bought could not hold a flame to the beautifully ugly sickly green one she saw in the pawnshop, this on was shiny blue with an engraved name on the back that read Michel, it was much to nice for Matti's taste but Matti plans to paint it or at least cover it in old scratch and sniff stickers after she finishes her first great novel. Sadly, her hovering fingers stay that way, hovering. It seems unlike painting where she could fake emotion, writing did not allow her to do that. And she could not think of anything to write. She then decided to write about the most wonderfully boring town that she could imagine. Matti wanted to retire to a boring town with rundown houses made of wood.

The fictional town that Matti dreamt of and was sure that is was real, would be surrounded by either a small forrest or of just miles and miles of nothing. It would be full of teenagers dreaming of escaping and old washed-out has-beens who wished they could have escaped. It would be the type of town that would give Matti a warm welcome when they hear that she would move there even though no one will know of any of Matti's work, they will just know that she is a rich eccentric artist coming from the big city, and she would be the town celebrity. That was until they find out that Matti talks very little, but they will confuse her quiet demeanor with conceitedness and they will soon all turn on Matti. The town's people that once flaunted her would slowly start spreading lies of her rudeness and how she believed herself better than them. She would be like a nice female Mr. Darcy. Sadly, Matti did not have the ability to transfer these ideas onto paper. This lead to hands covered in black ink from her ripping of still wet sheets of paper into small pieces.

For someone so relaxed with life, Matti is very passionate about books. Her apartment is filled with stacks of old paperbacks, used hardcovers, and a few books that she rescued from dumpsters. Matti knew what good writing was, and what she was writing was an example of everything she hated. When It came to writing, Matti demanded perfection and she was not producing that. The way Hemingway's words flow so easily and the way Pamuk uses imagery was something that Matti could not do. When all the wine had either been drunk or poured down the drain and the stack of papers  Matti bought just for her novel had started to finish, Matti decided to realize that she had no hope for being a writer. This thought brought tears to her eyes, but Matti ignored her sight as it got blurry and chose to blowout the candles that had made great waxy puddles on her floor.

Bla didi Bla didi da

OK, let us try to post at least once a day. If I keep on writing, even meaningless things, I will stay in practice. At least with typing.

There once was a girl named Sam, who ate to much ham and then she went and swam, so she drowned and died. The end.

 

I have a physics midterm tomorrow, happy happy joy joy. May sarcasm ring from every bell on this joyous evening.

 

One of these days, I am going to write something that is over five hundred words. Or maybe over a hundred.

 

Cheers.

A Story

Munching slowly on the eraser of her green pencil, she daydreamed of a boy. His name was Cat ...

and then my inspiration died... Well, that is proof I should never become a writer or a poet (my poetry sucks butt). Maybe I can just become a philanthropist, wait that was random. And you also need money to do that.

Today I discovered a song that I used to listen to back in 2007 called Robot High School:



 

Still makes me dance...

Old writings

I am not sure if I posted these on my blog but whatever. Most of these poems were written when I was in tenth or ninth grade, so beware.

Black

The world is black. At least that is how it is to me. My eyes are doorways to the dark abyss.

Is this the world of the blind?? Sitting idle in our little safe zone hoping nothing will happen???

Event when we close our eyes we cannot experience the world of darkness that haunts the blind. We cannot learn to see with our ears and hands no matter how hard we try. If we lose our way we open our eyes a crack. The light piercing the dark. Making it wither and withdraw. This allows us to find our way so easily.

We can never ever event begin to imagine being blind and lost. For it is not the blind that are sitting idle in comfort zones but the seeing.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Think Positively

Think positively

You will be happier

The world will have a shine

All your dreams will come true

Ooh ya, you will also face hearts breaks every second

Things don't always go your way

The world is not a nice place

Its built on broken dreams

Only when you admit that

Can you start living

Hiding behind rose tinted glasses

Will only bring sadness

Be realistic

Your dreams wont always come true

Things wont always go your way

Believing that it will make your heart break

And broken hearts hurt like...

____

When I try to be positive, when I think everything will be great, when I think a day is perfect

I end up crying

Back home

All alone

My greatest moments happen when I think negatively

Or more realistically

Because life proves me wrong

And that feeling is better then anything in the world

____

When you think positively,

When bad stuff happens,

When you fail,

Life really sucks

You feel like crap

When good stuff happens,

You don't really get excited

You already knew that god thing was gonna happen,

Or at the least you were expecting it

When you think realistically,

When bad stuff happens,

You were expecting it,

You don't feel as sad,

So ya,

And when the world proves you wrong,

And all goes right,

It feels amazing

It feels right…

____

Proof:

*I thought I was gonna do soo bad at BERMUN,

I called my friend, nearly crying

And I became a main submitter

*I thought I was not going to get into MUN

cause I rushed and stuttered through my speech

but I got in

*I thought that I was going to die one night

I woke up alive :P

*I thought that my friends gave a shit about my Birthday

I was wrong (this does not include thani thanawi or maism or doodi or lulu)

*I thought I bought Sims 2

I got a fake

*I thought that my parent were gonna get me a thing I really wanted

They did not

Soo ya

Thank you :)

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

I am a Storm

Flexible

Flexibility

Adaptable

Accommodate

Ever heard of these words???

I guess not

Because you are obsessed with your cookie-cutter essays,

Looks,

Words,

Everything,

Not every one is like you

Like your perfect little vision

We are our own people

And you can’t control me

You never will be able to

I’m a storm

Deduct my marks

Get me in trouble

I’m going far places

And you are never gonna move

Change

Learn

You say you want to teach us to be leaders of tomorrow

Truthfully you are teaching us how to be followers of today and ever

You are not helping us

You are bring us down

You lie

You discriminate

You CRUSH creativity

And that is why

We will always hate you

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Type type type and see what comes out no backspacs no editing let your mistakes shine like  stars because that is what mistakes are . when they r first born they shine and shine but no worries they will die but sadly the after affect of the mistake still lives with us we most learn to ignore them.

Reaserch reasech I hate spelling lol spelling is for the weak minded

When false is reality and reality is false.

Dragons. Flying on the sky. That's what I do. Watch them. Blue brown red. Black. A waste of time is what land lady says. Better off  focusing on my job. Shucking corn. I do both. Watch and work. I want to fly. Like the dragons.

“Where is that good for nuthin’?”

vocabulary makes u sound smart.

Vocabulary makes one

Bored

What to call this?

Ode to long lay overs

I hate I love I am

Love? Hate? Wich is wich?

Why is spelling important?

Itachi’s theme song has finished

Now mystical ninjas I belive  ahh no shikamaru’s theme

How do people write?

How do they get words on apaper?

How do they link one sentence to another?

How do they stick to topic?

When writing a story…

What 22 write

Let the words flow

No wrong or right just me and me beliving

Writing what comes 2 mind

Tears. They were all crying, so was I. I did not want to die. A fool could sence the lust in him. The lust for blood, our blood.

In the world of dragons , elfs and mygic Non mygicals were considered the lowest of the low. Mothers killed their non mygical children or left them in the slums and waste areas. Rats were more revered then the non magicals. For rats had mygic benefits. I was two when I was left at the slums of the fourth sector. AKA: the worst of the worst. I had less mygic then a door knob there for I was useless.

Fucked sector is what the inhabitants call it. That is because if you live here your have been fucked over are fucked over or will be fucked over by a mygical.

I walk to the job asined to me by the sector head. The roads are filth and there are bodies of dead that have yet to be carted off littering the paths. This is a normal walk to work for me.

In the world of dragons , elfs and mygic Non mygicals were considered the lowest of the low. Mothers killed their non mygical children or left them in the slums and waste areas. Rats were more revered then the non magicals. For rats had mygic benefits.

Ona stood at the gate of the Fourth Sector of The City of Igar. The walls around the sector were over 50 paces high. To a out of towner the 4^th sector might be the home of the richand the walls were for keeping the rifraf out. Ona knew this comin mistakes was far far from what the truth was. Igar’s

Sarcasm is what I do

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Ok I realized that some of this is not poems at all

wow... I wrote weird stuff

This blog needs a new look

Dear Blog,

You are ugly

The end.

 

I still have not been able to find the perfect layout for my blog that screams ME. I have had over ten layouts for this blog, and like the blog's name, nothing seems to stick. What I need is a layout that is simple yet ... hmmm I don't know... sigh. OK the only way to find out what I want is to list what I want and what I don't want:

I like simple

I like dark colored lines

I like having the side bar on the left

All those seem easy enough to find... lets get looking!

 

I also need a new name for this blog. Nameless is so cliche and slightly emo. I am most definitely not an emo child. I am a hyper self-proclaimed pessimist who is actually a closet optimist! Maybe that could be my blogs new name: The Diary of a self-proclaimed pessimist who is actually a closet optimist. I like it! But it is a bit to long, just a bit.

Who cares? Until I find a better name, that will be this blogs new name.

A toast!

The New Year

Welcome 2011, let us see what you bring to the table?

College deadlines - hmm that is both good and bad

College rejection letters - BAAAD

College acceptance letters - GOOOD

Finals - 2010 had them too

Senior Project Deadlines - Meh

College - both good and bad

Graduation - Heaven

Saying bye to my friends - HELL

 

God please help me through this year. Please help with graduating and college and everting else too. I am depending on you.

 

 

 

 

My type of hero

 

Once upon a time that happened not that long ago and not to far away

In a land that is neither here nor there

There lived a princess with brown hair

She was average height with a little tummy

She was not extremely clever and just a bit funny

She likes to cook and dancing but is not very good at either

She was nothing if not absolutely incredibly normal

 

She was never captured by a dragon

Or a wizard for that matter

and she never had reason to be rescued by a prince

 

She was as fair and as wise as a young girl could be

riddled with flaws and thoughts of good deeds

She tried to always do her best and when that fails she would give up

 

This  is why this girl is my hero

she is someone just like me

 

....................................

 

This was a really weird poem thing that I started writing during my global issues class... I wonder how it turned out??

PS Afnan is the greatest ever <3

She pretty much saves my life everyday and I love her tons. I am going to miss her like hell when I go to college.