Archive for May, 2002

today was a multicultural assembly
and i was an MC

the first assembly went routinely enough
it was cool

the second, though, had a glitch
apparently one of the wires had broken and this was a key wire for the stage lights
i was hanging with the stage crew, and everything was ready for the show to go, except for those lights
so they told me to go down and tell the audience what was going on, i joked maybe i should rap (the previous day at rehearsals at i had rapped “jump around”)
they said, good idea, and that i should do it
so i told them, fine, turn on the music when i give the cue

then i went down to the pit
grabbed a mic, and alerted the audience as to what was going on with the lights
then i said “how many of you remember the house of pain?”
some cheers
then the music started, and there was more cheering
then i sort of started dancing — just moving to the music
and then i started rapping
and everyone was taken by utter surprise
virtually everyone i talked to was simply expecting me to introduce the song and that was it, they were really surprised when i started rapping myself
(also, imagine a brown guy in shalwar khameez rapping)

but it was great, i’d definitely do it again

in fact, they cut me off (they’d decided to go ahead without the stage lights, made some improv)
and so i had one whole section to go when they cut me off
i feel like i have unfinished business (I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE, MU HA HA)
but it was pretty cool

the audience seemed to enjoy it a lot

and the rest of the show was cool, too

so that was that

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“The word Ash-shams, the sun, is feminine; and Qamar, the moon, is masculine. The sun burns itself to give life and light to everything, and the moon is muneer, it reflects the light. Within itself, it has no light; it radiates the brilliance of the sun. So when we shine as men, we are reflecting the glorious light of our women.”

- Sheikh Abdullah Adhami

(some people on islamica have that as their signatures, a position i agree with — despite all my chauvinistic jokes… :P )

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this is what my arrows look like:

i drew that in flash

the arrows i use have purple aluminum shafts
with plastic flèches (“feathers”) — two are blue, one is white
and a clear plastic yellow nock

maybe i get a bow up later
:P

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ladies and gentlemen

it’s now peanut butter jelly time

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nomespeak vocabulary

jive
n.
a not-so-clichéd substitute for “cool”

(thanks to samir, a.k.a. revolution, for that)

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we had an archery tournament today — ofsaa (entire ontario)

i didn’t do as well as i should’ve done
but i did fairly well, considering i switched archery strands (from standard to olympic) just three weeks ago

well enough, that is, to contribute to the agincourt collegiate institute boys’ archery team’s being ontario bronze medalists!

indeed, the four highest scorers from each school were added up
and agincourt made it to third place in all of ontario
the archery team (in order of scoring): jeff chou, omid tavakoli, sanjeyan kalatharan, and yours truly, noaman ali
shawn wang got bumped off, poor guy
(and i really didn’t so as well as i should have)

considering we were up against dozens of schools that have archers who compete in various tournaments on intensely competitive levels
and none of us do
we did very well

agincourt is — without a doubt — the best archery team in scarborough
(and the third best in ontario)

individually, none of us did as well as we should have, so we didn’t get any individual prizes

but i have a bronze medal here, which is very satisfying

so i feel great
sleepy, but great

:)

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chechnya on fire

i switch positions with my partner so that i can offer my morning prayers. set up in strategic positions around the outskirts of savedeno, we lie in wait. we understand that the russians are liable to attack the town at any moment.

completing my worship, i hear faint rumblings from afar. my partner and i immediately recognize the sounds: russian tanks. although the russians are aware that their bulky tanks are virtually useless in mountainous terrains, they nonetheless attempt to intimidate us. i immediately alert the other fighters using the walkie-talkies.

from the high cliff, we see many of our troops moving into position. we follow suit. creeping around the base of the cliff, i can see the sun commencing its rise. the russian troops are blissfully unaware of our presence. the bushes, trees, and hills lining their path provide us with the perfect cover.

one of our mines is set off. five more explosions add to the symphony of sounds of russian confusion. i hoist my bazooka to my shoulder. i hear a rocket-propelled grenade being fired. the russians are in a state of absolute disarray. i fire at their entourage; noticing their machineguns retaliate pointlessly, littering the sky with bullets. soon enough, almost as quickly as it had started, the battle was over.

we have won, it seems. we swarm onto the path to secure the spoils and to collect the surviving losers, if any. i grab a young russian and pull him up to his full height. looking into his eyes, i sense his fear. he has heard stories of how we treat prisoners. soon, a dark spot forms around his crotch. he is barely eighteen. disgusted, i turn him over to another soldier. he has little to fear. unlike the russians, we treat the prisoners of war well.

this war would not have concerned me had i not seen what i have seen. a child being raped in front of her mother, a father butchered in front of his son, among other such heinous atrocities. such events led me to believe that, as their brother in faith, it is my responsibility to aid them, defend them, and to fight by their side.

on the other hand, i wonder why the russians continue this war. as our brothers in afghanistan and our previous encounters have shown, they simply cannot win. their old are dead, so they send their young. the mothers of russia, the people of russia find this war to be useless. yet they still persist — the lives and properties of millions are worthless to them. i continue to wonder why the russians perpetuate this hostility.

i wonder why, and i fight.

- nomes
(a story about the freedom fighters in chechnya, this was written early in 2001 — the war in chechnya was then well under way, it has not yet ended.
estimates of the dead civilians vary from 60,000 to 150,000, the refugees of the conflict number well in the millions, and russia is given carte blanche to continue its atrocities…)

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well
it was malcolm x day on may 19
and i forgot about it
i blew it
i had so many ideas
like submitting a malcolm x logo to google
and making malcolm x announcements at school
and stuff
but i completely forgot about it

i even had it written in my agenda

damn

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how about defining nomespeak itself

nome·speak
n.
a pseudo-language consisting of moronic (but sometimes practical) plays on the words and grammar of the english (and sometimes other) language(s)

for·mal·de·hy·drate
v. for·mal·de·hy·drat·ed, for·mal·de·hy·drat·ing, for·mal·de·hy·drates
v. tr.
to saturate something with formaldehyde: yo, that pig’s so formaldehydrated it stinks like ****.
adj.
formaldehydrated

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more nomespeak vocabulary

sum·mat
contraction of “something like that”

(i think i picked it up from some brits …)

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