EyeSpy

When we were young and setting our criteria for suitors and those that are suited, the question that always begged to be asked, "What is the first thing you notice about a member of the opposite sex?" had limited and often (but not always) predictable answers:

• Hands
• Breasts
• Wallet
• Shoes
• Hair
• Neck
• Car
• Star sign
  
• Wedding ring etc. etc.

But the one answer I hated the most above all else was the stereotypical 'EYES!' To me that always symbolized the epitome of pretentiousness and arrogance.

Then again, what did I know? I was a kid who believed I would find true love at the other end of a bo-.... I digress; civilizations and years and years of sayings and wisdom have all hailed the eyes as a 'glimpse into a person's soul', 'the window into their being' and 'the true representative of self'.

Who am I to overturn generations of conventional wisdom? Now I'm not the kind who usually buys into it either, but can I help it that certain eyes give me the creeps? Can I help it that certain eyes make me uncomfortable? A pair of eyes I've only just met put my heart at ease? Some looks make me cry? Make me want to reach out? I've met people who had a smile worth a 1000 watts, but eyes who've been through a million hells, do I disregard what is literally right in front of my eyes?

The truth is though, it's not always right in front of your eyes because as a generation, or a society, or something, we've been trained to respect/avoid others' personal space, maintaining a superficial barrier, and although we on a daily basis invite people to violate our superficial being mainly through technology, letting everyone know where we are, where we're going, who we're going with, what we're wearing, if we're happy /sad/excited/missing somebody 'and they know who they are' (so do the rest of us, but we don't really care), we have become accustomed to concealing our true being through an intricate game of charades, and expect others to do the same.

Looking into someones eyes to know if they're telling the truth is considered a naive fallacy, reading a loved one's thoughts through their pupils is no longer common. And not because it's inaccurate, but in order to be accurate, it requires for a person to be honest with their self, be prepared to reveal their own soul and accept it.

The seduction of blue eyes, the shrewdness of green, the warmth of hazel, the honesty of brown.

What would I see in your Eyes?

Of Death and Airports

Have you ever noticed that when disaster strikes, when the unexpected occurs, no one is ever in the right place? Never where they need to be?

I remember hotel check-outs and Expedia log-ins...
I remember call center hold tones and airline change fees...
Online bookings and airport lines.
A disarray of packing and only later remembering to hope nothing was left behind.

Because who cares if anything was left behind.
Everything is transient. Never more so apparent than now.

Memories are the only true measure of time - and when it comes to memories, there's no choosing what to leave and what to take. And I want to take it all; the good and the bad - but what is bad about a memory? What is bad about remembering a beautiful person, and the way they touched your life? I will not refute your memory because it didn't fit in to my mold - I will embrace it because you set the standard.

Can a person be loved more once they are gone? I hope not, because it will mean we did not give you your just deserve while you were with us. Instead I will continue to love you forever, gasping for those memories like oxygen, dwelling in their possibility and never ever forgetting that you gave me so much more than just my name.

And I will never get on a plane again without feeling the presence of your soul and the sadness of your loss.



Rest in Peace Marouf Hasan Suleiman. You will be greatly missed.
My Grandfather left behind a loving wife of 57 years, 4 sons and a daughter, and 16 grandchildren that will forever honour his memory.

Facelifts and Rainbows

This is for all 2 and a half of you that frequent this blog.

Firstly, Thank You. It's fun to feel like people want to know what you have to say by choice, and not just because I am standing in front of you and you're too polite to tell me to shut it. So Thank You, even if your intentions are purely to analyze my thought process as a means to your evil and diabolical plans - and Good Luck.

Secondly, as you must have noticed, I've taken advantage of Blogger's new design templates and got to work making this page vibrant and colorful. The tool has a lot of really neat designs and defaults. Unfortunately I haven't figured out how to add my own picture to the background yet, and don't know if I even can, so I had to settle for one of the defaults, and immediately jumped to the Travel section - if you know me then this is no surprise, if you don't know me, then start following me, and you will be astounded by depth of my amazingness - or not.

Instinctively I went for the picture of the Eiffel Tower; Paris, a city which enthralls and beckons to me, is owed a long overdue visit - and blog post. And then I started playing with the other designs, from something coastal as an homage to my Bride of the Red Sea, Jeddah, to the long skinny palm trees of California, depicting my yearning to past senses and tenses. I even contemplated that big 'Welcome to Las Vegas' theme, a discreet message to all those who read it. Then I thought I had settled for the green hued photograph of the Manhattan skyline from the Brooklyn Bridge. Although I ashamedly admit that New York is a city I have yet to visit, I felt that the bustling traffic depicted somehow fits in with the inspiration, if not always the direction, of this blog, i.e. Keeping Track of Time.

And then I clicked on the colorful technicolor carpets, and I smiled. I actually physically smiled. The colors literally brightened my day. True this is my blog, and yes it is a reflection of my thoughts and ideas, but why must I always be so concentric? Just as I am able to contribute to the Universe, the Universe constantly influences me. Even if I have sadness in my heart, I prefer to allow happiness into my soul from the outside in.

So I chose to keep it. Yes, it may not be a reflection of what I'm thinking right now, nor have anything to do with what I'm writing about, but let's consider it one other way that I choose to Thank You my loyal readership. I hope that even if you don't like what I'm writing, I can in someway still brighten your day.

And if there really is nobody out there, then I guess Dina, this is for you.

Slow Motion

There is nothing deep or emotional or soulful about what I am about to say. This has nothing to do with the little voices in my head, because frankly at the moment the little voices know better than to be talking and are trying very very hard to be very very quiet.

This post is superficial and shallow. An ode to the pain in my ears, the stinging of my eyes, the dryness of my tongue, the stiffness of my shoulders, the cramps in my calves and the disappearance of my feet.

Do I look ridiculous? I don't care, I'm not taking these sunglasses off.
The moisturizer is running dry, the Red Bull sits patiently and waits, this coffee tastes like crap.

The memories make me laugh, the laughing causes pain, the pain makes me wail.
The memories make me wail.

Sunlight makes me cringe but the warmth is oddly comforting. I think I'll ask the tea-boy for some more iced water please. Mmmm..Agua.....Ahhhhh. Another gulp, another deep breath, another glass of water please.

I glance out my window and see a police siren. The red and blue don't bother me much, but imagining that sound is a hot rod through the nape of my neck. I instantly deafen my ears to the sounds of my imagination, the cruel tricks of my mind.

Everything moves in slow motion.

Instead I'll occupy myself with some work. The scribbles don't make sense. I need food. An odd craving for chicken kickers and a bucket of Tabasco - Tabasco and olives and lemon juice...wait now I'm receding back to yesterday. Let's look at another menu. A tuna sandwich makes me smile - reminds me of simpler times. I think I'll order a tuna sandwich from Casper's. I place the order and instantly regret it - I want ice-cream.

Why?

The question persists. So I pick up my phone to call him and ask.
It's dialing....
I want to ask him why he does this to me.
It's ringing....
I want to ask him why he visits so often.
Another tone....
I want to tell him why he should visit more.
Another tone....
I need to explain why I visit him so much.
Another tone....
I hang up.

There will be no answers today - education is for the misinformed, discovery is for the misguided.

I'm With Stupid

The latest Diesel advertising campaign is just amazing.

This is the Diesel Stupid Philosophy

Like balloons, we are filled with hopes and dreams. But. Over time a single sentence creeps into our lives. Don’t be stupid. It’s the crusher of possibility. It’s the worlds greatest deflator. The world is full of smart people. Doing all kind of smart things… That's smart.
Well, we’re with stupid. Stupid is the relentless pursuit of a regret free life. Smart may have the brains…
but stupid has the balls. The smart might recognize things for how they are. The stupid see things for how they could be. Smart critiques. Stupid creates. The fact is if we didn't have stupid thoughts wed have no interesting thoughts at all. Smart may have the plans… but stupid has the stories.
Smart may have the authority but stupid has one hell of a hangover. Its not smart to take risks… Its stupid.
To be stupid is to be brave. The stupid isn't afraid to fail. The stupid know there are worse things than failure… like not even trying.
Smart had one good idea, and that idea was stupid. You can’t outsmart stupid. So don’t even try. Remember only stupid can be truly brilliant. ( Source from Diesel )

So I know it's just an ad campaign to sell clothes, but the philosophy and concept is pure temptation. The idea of carpe diem - seize the day - is not so much forgotten as it is frowned upon. One luxury that my generation has is the ability to plan. We don't have to 'seize the day' because we know what to expect tommorow - we know we will wake up in a comfortable bed and have food on the table, a teacher in the classroom and a check at the end of the month. We know that we will graduate from college, buy a car, start a family and be relatively and modestly, if not ostentatiously, comfortable. And if it ain't broke, why fix it - right?

Foraging into any idea unplanned and under-prepared means being irresponsible; equates to throwing your future away; shows risky rebellious behaviour.

Basically, don't be Stupid.
But if Stupid is creative, then what is the youth of life when drained of the sense of creation and creativity?
Embracing life with a sense of joy and passion, in the pursuit of laughter appears Utopian and Universal enough. Conversely, acting on impulse is not always correlated with embracing Stupid - punching someone in a bar just because you feel like it is not Stupid, it's just plain stupid. Consequences still exist in the real world, as much as we may wish they didn't, but the excitement of Stupid means knowing that the consequences of your actions hurt no one but yourself. You are responsible for the consequences of your actions towards yourself, but similarly you are also responsible of how those actions affect anybody else - anybody at all.

Stealing from the rich to give to the poor is not Stupid - it's theft.Getting behind the wheel drunk to go tell the girl of your dreams you love her is not Love - it's dangerous.

Dancing with your friends on a Monday night is Stupid.

Sometimes to be Stupid, you actually need to be smart - and I'm sure many of us have had moments where what seemed to be the smartest and most logical decision you can make, in hindsight was actually very stupid, while the Stupid decision you made changed your life, your perspective, or just gave you an amazing story.


Because Stupid doesn't mean neglecting consequences, it means embracing that there might be consequences but rather having the courage to deal with them. As a society we have forgotten what it means to expect the unexpected. The unexpected disappoints and jeopardizes and ruins the perfection we strive for on a daily basis. As a generation, we need to relearn to look forward to the quirks and pot-holes of life, and celebrate them as part of our plan, our story, or as my friend Celine has called it, our Unfinished Autobiography

Why does it feel so good to be Stupid? Biologically, I don't know. Something to do with endorphins, adrenaline, dopamine maybe? But emotionally, it is a release, usually an accomplishment. Your being craves the sense of surprise and anticipation. The suspense that something might go wrong at any moment, yet the ecstasy that it didn't. The pride of coming out on the other side with just that much more of a life experience.


So my message to you is to be Stupid (even if it means you're going to be late).

Splurge a little, love a little, and laugh a lot.

Because although Stupid might fail, smart doesn't even try - Diesel

Running Out of Time

A profound week, begging for a step back from reality.
Be it a moment to whisper a silent prayer, or a night of sobbing into the ever-patient embrace of a wilted pillow.

Grief, sadness and fear are the pits of eternal darkness that we spend our lives trying to avoid, yet the inevitability of succumbing to the full spectrum of human emotion means that we all fall prey at one point or another to the harsh and bitter truths of life.

And nothing brings a human to her knees more so than the weight of knowing how powerless and weak we are in the face of the Divine, the celestial, the destined.

Illness and Death.

The process of accepting ones fate, ones illness, a close ones passing, is both devastating to me and humbling. Having the faith to trust in the providence of the Creator is noble; something I don't understand, and hope I never have too, but at moments of sorrow, know I one day will.

On that day, may God give me the patience and wisdom, and ultimately the faith and serenity to trust in His plan.

And on this day, may the Lord give strength to those souls in ailing bodies, give them healing and comfort as only He knows. May the Gracious and Merciful grant patience to those caregivers who sit by their loved ones, and may their prayers be heard. May all those who have lost someone be guided from the darkness and pain back into the warmth and comfort of Love.

And may God have mercy on the souls of the deceased, and welcome them to the glory of Heaven.

إنا لله و إنا إليه راجعون

The End of the Fall

'How far can one go? When the dreams are dreams no more, and the wishes are attainable behind a certain door, how far can one go...We always wish for more, much more' - The End of the Fall

Knights, fairies, wizards and guardian jewels. Ring a bell? Maybe Harry Potter? Lord of the Rings? The Chronicles of Narnia? Maybe not if I told you that our protagonists' name is Majid, an Arabian embodiment of courage, adventure, modesty and honour. Developed so honestly and purely, you can't help but feel like you already know him.


Or maybe it's because I already do.


After reading this article in Arab News, I mentioned it to my friend Majid, who happens to be the brother of the author, Mostafa Fahmi. (Not coincidentally, Majid lends not only his name, but is also the muse and inspiration for our Arabian hero.) I suggest you read the article, but in a nutshell, what started as a personal project developed into a 40 chapter Fantasy, with interweaving mythologies written within an Arabian framework, in English. In a word, Unique. Unfortunately local publishing houses had another word, Dismissed.

As the article states, Mostafa started a Facebook group and invited people to read chapters from his book, establishing a fanbase. That's where I read the prologue and the first 8 chapters of The End of the Fall. Now Fantasy has never been my style of choice, so I started reading with skepticism. After the prologue and the first chapter, I printed out the other seven and curled up to finish them all last night. The story is a creative adventure, where imagination has no limits, yet is carefully sculpted in a way to lead the reader by the hand through this new world without getting lost, yet without losing the sense of discovery and suspense.

Yet what drew me through the 8 chapters was the characters. Arabian in spirit and close to the heart, you can't help but read on just to make sure our heroes are alright, seeing a bit of yourself, or someone you know, in every character you come across. For me personally, the spirited and compassionate fairy Fay, who is Majid's companion and guide throughout his adventure reminds me of my friend Faten, and I can't help but picture her flying around and sprinkling her fairy dust with determination as I turn from chapter to chapter.

I would recommend the light and spirited read to anyone, but alas it is not published. But I do want to be able to read the remaining 30 or so chapters, and therefore recommend you join the Facebook Group here, read a couple of chapters and see how it goes. Maybe with our support, we will be able to get The End of the Fall published.

On a side note, what saddened me the most about the article is Mostafa Fahmi's assertion that publishers rejected the book on the notion that Saudis don't read. An ignorant statement, at the very least. A dangerous perspective and oversight in reality. Mostafa is contributing to a vacuum in the market, which exists not because there is no demand, yet because it is a niche that has yet to be filled, and The End of the Fall represents an excellent first step towards serving this market segment.

And speaking of first steps, "Dreams will always be dreams, but if we believe and take that step, they will be dreams no more. It is our decision, and it's our choice to act on it. It took one first step to fall into the well, as it took one first step to cross the rusty wooden door, but it will take many other first steps..." - The End of the Fall

Losing Track of Time

On a whim, a hurricane of sorts swept me off my feet last week, and where I landed, well let's just say I was not in Kansas anymore.

Beautiful beautiful Beirut.
Simultaneously superficial and shallow, yet cultural and deep, this city embodies a hypocritical enigma.
And after just a few meager hours in the city, I feel like an hypocritical enigma; Who am I? Where am I? And where the fuck are my toes?


My experience with Beirut has had its highs and its lows. In 1998, after an 18 year absence from Lebanon, my Mother decided we would go to Beirut for the summer. Up until then, summer vacations had been either with grandparents in California or grandparents in Lausanne. To me, a family outing meant 12 - 15 people on a busy day. In Beirut, we always had some sort of 'family' stay over, and there was no less than 15 people crashing in the 5 bedroom flat on a daily basis. Whereas North American and European holidays had meant bedtime at midnight, Beirut meant bedtime at sunrise - and this at the age of 12. For lack of a better word, I was fascinated.

It took three more years before I spent another summer in Beirut. This time around, I wanted to kill myself. At 15, life in Beirut meant beach, movies, karaoke, and as simple and beautiful as that may sound, it was not the Disneyland or the shopping or even the companionship I had known from Cali, Switzerland or even Amman, which I had just visited for the first time. Granted, I was also 15 and a teenage pain in the ass. Sorry Mama.

And then, right after that dreadful summer, something happened. Everything changed. Beirut and I embraced...and what an embrace it was. From then on, I looked forward to summers and winters in this Pearl of the Orient. Like a selfish lover, I would tease myself with sporadic short trips, bursting with life and action, and never stayed long enough to get bored. This way, I always managed to miss Beirut before I ever left her.

But like any unhealthy, dishonest relationship built on deceptions and games, it was too good to be true. Winter 2009. How I hate you. How I hate you for taking a source of simple, pure familial joy and nationalistic pride, and throwing it back in my face as a distorted, seductive, sadistic satisfaction.

To Beirut I quote, 'I feel like a hero, and you are my heroine' - Boys Like Girls

Just like any good ol' fashioned destructive abusive relationship, I cannot get my fill. Just like any good ol' fashioned destructive abusive relationship, I can no longer differentiate the good from the bad from the ugly. From the very very ugly. Because after all, this is Beirut, and if it's ugly, there is a procedure to fix it, and nobody really cares if it's good or bad.

The last trip (3 days? 4 days? I don't know) plays out like a continuous reel in my head. Actually scratch that. It plays out like a disambiguated record that keeps skipping - I feel like I'm losing it, have lost it. Not my mind, but rather track of time. I should shut this blog down, pack it up and leave.

But just like Alice, after spending 3/4/however many days in the rabbit hole, I have emerged with a brand new perspective. I've been back for almost a week (side note: this morning I woke up at 8:30am thinking, 'Wow, exactly one week ago I was getting ready to go to bed!') and the perspective remains. Which tells me, this time around it might just be real deal.

I'm not blaming Beirut for my bad habits. She's just doing what she does best; placing me under a magnifying glass, scrutinizing all my faults and misgivings, but it's for my own good really. So I'm not vowing you off. I'm taking a break from you (God knows how long it will last this time) but in the meantime I plan to fix my flaws.

The true test of time will be returning to your lap, and bracing myself for the image you will then choose to magnify. I would love to yell out and say 'Make it Beautiful, Beirut', but instead I beseech myself, and whisper 'Be Beautiful, D, and Beirut will follow'.

Ode to Speed

I initially wrote this on March 13th, qualifying day of the Bahrain GP. Then I figured it was a personal thing and nobody would really care enough to read it and then my Celine rationalised that it's my fucking blog, and I should do whatever I wanted with it. And so, seriously delayed, here's my two cents about the upcoming (well, recently launched) F1 season.

Today marks the beginning of the 2010 Formula 1 Season (okay I'm lying, the official start was yesterday with the first practice session, but as usual I guess I'm late.) But today was the first qualifying session for the year, and for a sport so obsessed with time (much like any competitive sport I suppose, though not quite to the same degree), I felt it was owed a little recognition.

The 2010 season has been greatly anticipated by, well, me, for starters. An avid Ferrari fan, I was a little broken when I heard that our very own protege and legend, Schummi, was returning to the sport but no longer under the banner of the Cavallino Rampante, the iconic black prancing stallion, but rather quite enthusiastically choosing to race for the newly created Mercedes Benz GP (alternatively the recently acquired and re-branded 2009 constructor's champion Brawn-Mercedes GP.) In hindsight though, I really can't hold it against the German man for being excited about driving a German car for a German team, alongside compatriot Nico Rosberg. It just means that although Michael continues to get standing ovations from me, I will personally not be wearing his colours this year round.

Other changes to look forward too this year; among the above change in alliances, 9 drivers have changed teams, 5 new driver's will be seen on the track this year, while 5 more have exited the sport, including the second highest earning athlete after Tiger Woods, Kimi "Iceman" Raikkonen (estimated wage of $51 million per year!)

Given that I did procrastinate long enough that the above is obsolete (okay not really but the Bahrain GP is over, and the second race is actually only 5 days away, it has to be said that it's an incredible start to the season for Ferrari (little dance in my head) and I can only pray that the season picks up speed (no pun intended) and proves to be a truly memorable year for F1 racing.

Ps. For all of those who are going to slam me on behalf of Mother Earth...I conserve too! (Reuse, Reduce, Recycle) Just give me this one little sinful pleasure!

An Indecent Proposal

I don't know how much this has to do with D Time..
Actually I take that back - this has everything to do with time - the appropriate time.
A friend of mine was having some trouble with her upstairs neighbours' "extra-curricular" activities. So I guess one night she had too much and decided to take some action.

So if you woke up to such a pleasant email, what would your response be?

[Note: I'm changing names in the email as per the author's request. Everything else is as is.]

-----Original Message-----
From: myawesomefriend@yahoo.com
Date: Sat, 9 Jan 2010 10:16:21
To: theunsuspectingneighbour@yahoo.com
Subject: From your downstairs neighbor at home

Hi (let's call her Kate),
Not sure how to put this delicately, but me bedroom is right below yours, and I don't think you realize how thin all the walls are. When your TV is on, we can hear it, when people talk, we can hear it; when the dog walks on the floor, we can hear it. And I especially can hear (and occasionally wake up to, like tonight) when you have a guy spending the night. Is there any way you can move the bed, or get extra support or take the frame off if that's what's making all the noise? Cause I hear repetitive squeaky bed noises that wake me up in the middle of the night, and especially for the next couple weeks, since I don't get a day off, would appreciate not being woken up at 2 or 3 am to ridiculous bed noises. Sorry if this seems indelicate, but I've woken up to it several times and something really needed to be said, as it also makes me a bit uncomfortable to feel so literally involved in your personal life and privacy.
Thanks.
(Let's call her Sara), your downstairs neighbor
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

What would you do if you won the lottery?

So maybe it's time for a little update about how my time management, or rather 'on-time' management has been going in the last 5 weeks or so. In a word - pointless. It seems the more I try to stay on track and the harder I work to be on-time, the more obstacles I have to face, the later I am and, undoubtedly, the more rolling eyes I am greeted by.

Not dissimilar to many things in life mind you. Life goals and ambitions paint a great picture of the future; some people actually physically paint this picture, road map, inspirational quote, what have you, and stick it on their mirror, wall, ceiling, as constant motivational oratory. Given the incredible power of human creativity, this practice undoubtedly lends itself to many interesting interior design concepts (a picture of hot girls kissing as a curtain is the latest and greatest I've heard - no judgment. To each his own.)

So you've made a lovely diagram, put it on the wall, written out a road map, done your internet research, hiked your socks up (only metaphorically I hope) and set the alarm to begin your new regimen bright and early the next day.
The next day you wake up to find the sky is falling. Good morning sunshine!

OK so usually the universe doesn't hate you so blatantly, but attaining a goal or a dream feels like a 50 mile jog on a treadmill - you've really done your part, but you're no closer to that picture on the wall than you were when you started.

Exasperation, frustration, anger ensues. Time and effort has been wasted to no avail. Right? Not necessarily. As cliche and redundant as it may sounds, the experience, regardless whether successful or futile, is essentially the biggest gift you can choose to take away from any situation, especially a failure. Although that treadmill really didn't take you anywhere, you now have a killer body and the stamina of an Olympic athlete.

More importantly, the most significant markers in life are the least expected ones. While you are on your trek towards attaining your mission, unexpected obstacles are blessings in disguise. How many people can attest to that truth? Every single one of us has been visited by an unaccounted for occurrence, whether it be an event which blind sighted us, or a person who nonchalantly strolled into our lives, unaware of the significance they are about to play.

I'm not saying humans should live as a creature of happenstance, embracing each day only in anticipation of what chaos will be dumped on their doorsteps today. Chasing chaos should not be the means through which you live (we call them Drama Queens), but rather by finding order in the chaos, you essentially find life; life experiences, life lessons, and once in a while, real life savers (no not the candy.)

Happiness finds you when you're not looking for it, so in the midst of all the chaos of me trying to make it somewhere on time, I predict I will stumble across the answer to all my prayers: a winning lottery ticket. After all, expect the unexpected.

D Time

If there's one thing I'm notoriously known for, it's my absolute inability to be punctual.

I, on the other hand, still maintain that this is not true. I've given the same schpeel over and over again about how time is an oppressive imaginary tool designed to subjugate the masses to widespread conformity, and that it's a little bit ironic how something as intangible as cotton candy munching flying unicorns has become such an intricately woven element in our social fabric. You think Valentine's is a Hallmark concoction? HAH! Time was invented by Mr. Rolex!

But I digress...

In reality I have nothing against the tick-tock. I will even admit, that in the rare few moments that I am actually on time, I usually do feel some kind of bliss, fulfillment, self-realization even? Maybe.

The problem is that for some reason or another I do somehow always manage to be late.

So I'm starting this blog for a variety of reasons:

1. I will try to discover the core reason behind my tardiness. Is it (as my Mother says) my utter disrespect for time? My lack of time management? My inconsideration at making people wait for me? Or is it just the forces of nature of the Universe coming together to prevent me from being there when I should be? (Or maybe when I eventually do arrive, is when I should arrive, and it's the Universe's way of protecting me otherwise I would be hit by a bus? - food for thought...)

2. More than once my tardiness has been the source of some amazing life experiences - I'm sure a few people remember missing a flight with me in Las Vegas, and opting to put an amateur driver (Me) behind the wheel instead and driving overnight 534 km to San Diego. Scariest 5 hours of my life, but: Life Experience. I'm going to use this blog as a tool to document the awesome encounters being late..or trying to be on time...throw my way.

3. Last, and certainly not least, certainly certainly certainly, not least, this blog will record my regenerated and (hopefully) non-futile attempt at reforming myself into someone who is ON TIME! Yes, believe it or not. I have not bought into the conventional attitude and need to be on time, but rather I am conducting a social experiment, and more importantly find the mantra 'Fashionably Late' to be fashionably extinct. Less is More. Save the Environment. Be on Time.

So I'm inviting you to take some time out of your own busy (and undoubtedly slightly lagging) schedules and spend some time in my time...D Time!

x