hello ...

Yes, I have a new xanga. I was looking through the very first couple of entries on my old xanga ... I couldn't help but laugh. I guess I thought that it was time for a change? I think that we all change, and so, why not change my xanga-life by creating a new xanga? Sounds fun I guess. I'm without a doubt going to be more low-key with this xanga though. I don't know. I've always found it fun to type everything up on xanga. I have my journal, yes. But, it's a completely different feeling from xanga. I don't know .. maybe it's just me. It probably is. It's ALWAYS just me .. haha. Well not always, but most of the time. Always would be an exaggeration. Ugh .. I annoy myself with my exaggerations sometimes. Actually ... most of the time is how often to be exact. Not that that's being precise in any way because it's more of  a general statement. Oh wow ... if you look back at the last couple of sentences, it's nothing but me saying something then correcting myself over and over and over and over again. Pathetic. haha.

Anyway, I've been upset for the past few days. I hope most of you have heard about this news, if not, then I'm sincerely worried about your living conditions. The bombings in Jordan. Now, I've lived in Jordan for about 5 years of my life. From 2nd semester of first grade, till the end of 6th grade. I grew up there. I miss it there. I wish I was back at home. I had some of my best memories and a lot of my worst memories there. It's become a part of me. I'm only half arabic and the other half is filipino, yet, I feel so loyal to this country. Why? I don't know exactly how to explain it. I am honestly more proud to say that I am from Jordan than from the USofA. I feel honored to have lived there. I feel honored to have been a part of the Jordanian lifestyle. I feel honored to have once been a part of the population there. Honor. That's one thing that matters to me, my honor. Wednesday night I had gone out with Ann and Angie and came back home late. We had an awesome time hanging out but like all sleepovers, we fell asleep. The next morning, I woke up to my cell phone ringing. It was my mom. I picked it up. She told me that there were 3 bombings in 3 hotels in Jordan and not to panic if I saw it on the news if I watched it at Ann's house. It was 9 in the morning when I got this news. I felt like dying. I didn't know the full details of the event yet, but I felt horrible. They bombed my country. Why did they bomb my country? I don't want anyone I know to die. This can't be happening. That's all that ran through my head for the rest of the day till i got home. I wanted to go back.

My mom picked me up because my brother was busy cleaning his room. I got home in one piece. My mom told me that I couldn't go online to email my relatives and friends in Jordan or to read the news until i finish cleaning my room like I had promised her earlier. It was torture to clean and then pass by the computer that was turned off, knowing that I could disobey my mom and maybe read an article or two online and possibly check my MSN Messenger (since that is what I use to communicate with my friends in Jordan) if anybody was on. I resisted temptations. I finally finished cleaning up my room and I zoomed to the computer. Emails, articles, messages ... everywhere. This could not be happening. I lost it and began to cry. This isn't fair. Life isn't fair. I hate this. I hate this all. I want to go home to Jordan. I want to check on my grandmother. She's such an elderly woman and her heart is set on Palestine and Jordan, and she's so fragile. I wanted to run to my friends' house and hug them and make sure that they were in one piece. I wanted to cry ... so I did.

The three hotels,  Days Inn, Radisson SAS and the Hyatt Amman are all three hotels that I have been to before when I was in Jordan. Not to mention, the Days Inn is pretty close to my old house, pretty close to my uncle's furniture store, pretty close to a lot of my friends' house. The Radisson SAS is where my cousin's husband of less than a year, who is currently pregnant with her first child, works as an executive for the Hotel Management. He was working that day. We have no news with either of them so far but are hoping that we will finally get ahold of the couple sometime soon. The Hyatt Amman is where one of my mom's good friends reside since she is the General Manager of the hotel. She was in the building at the time of the bombing. We have no news of her so far, no contact.

Later that night I went out to dinner with my Dad and my two brothers. We passed by my dad's place to pick him up since we thought that after the news, he'd be in no condition to drive; my brother drove. The minute I saw my dad I looked into his eyes, now, I have never really been on good terms with my father because of circumstances that had occured in the past and remain till today, yet, when I looked into my father's eyes, I saw pain. I saw tears. My father was crying. This was the first time in my entire life that I had seen my father crying. I later told my little brother to be a little more respectful next time he enters a situation like stated. Instead of jumping on the couch, switching the TV from news to cartoons then singing and complaining loudly about how tired he is, maybe he ought to be a little more respectful. He may be younger than me, but he is 11 years old. He has to learn. We all do.

Throughout the next couple of hours leading up to this very hour, I have been in pain. Receiving emails from friends and close friends who have been reassuring me that they are okay and they are alive. In many of their emails I have read through the lines and can clearly sense the presence of anger whilst typing up the letter. They are angry, so am I. Yet, I have been a mess. I had make up on from the night before I knew about the bombings because Angie had succesfully persuaded me that I should put makeup on for once in my life, and I did. Yet, two days had passed, and as disgusted as you may become, yet, I had not washed my face once, till this afternoon. Thus, I would walk around my house with Mascara and Eyeliner clearly tear-stricken and falling down my face making me look somewhat like a raccoon and somewhat  like a clown. My mom insisted that I go out today though. She wanted to make sure that I was okay. She told me to hop into the shower and she'd take me out to lunch then the movies. We, my family and I, watched "Goodnight and Good Luck" which I thought was a brilliant movie and not appreciated as much as it ought to. If I were you, I would watch that movie. Anyway, enough with the Public Service Announcement. Thankfully, were it not for my mom, I probably would have carried on with my miserable appearance and mindset and would have gone to school on Monday looking like a zombie of some sort, messy, hungry, cold and miserable. Thankfully, that is not the case.

I felt a little upset at myself because I had actually had to be comforted by my friends IN Jordan. I feel as though I should have been the one who should have comforted them. Yet, they did my job. I love my friends back at home. Though, I am still upset that I could not comfort them any more than I had because they had to end up comforting me .. an example:

[an excerpt on my conversation with a friend back from home, Ali, via MSN]

koOkie * carpe diem says:
ali ..
HAkIM. us says:
yup
koOkie * carpe diem says:
ali !!!!
koOkie * carpe diem says:
omg .. how are you ??
koOkie * carpe diem says:
are you ok ?
HAkIM. us says:
yeah babe
koOkie * carpe diem says:
ali !!! are you sure ? oh God i was crying today .. i'm so worried ..
HAkIM. us says:
don't worry about us here just take care of yourself
HAkIM. us says:
were fine babe
koOkie * carpe diem says:
are you suuuuuurrreee?

How lame do I sound in that conversation? Then again, I have always been a bit on the emotional side of things, maybe a bit too much. My mother had always told me that I am a passionate person. I never fully understood that. I hope that I will. I think that I am truly blessed with such great friends. Before heading out to the cinema my mom had given me a 5 dollar phone card which would permit me to talk for 55 minutes. I knew the one person whom I knew I wanted to call: My brother's best friend and my 'adopted brother': Samer. Laith, my brother, and I called his home line and his dad picked up. Laith was the one with the phone. He began talking to Samer's father who is a very cool guy and gave us Samer's cell phone number because Samer was out with his friends. It was 8pm there in Jordan, I figured I might as well call him. I tried his cell phone, but it was busy. I was a bit saddened by the fact. Yet, I had my friend Ali's cell phone number on a post-it on my wall from a summer ago when he randomly gave me his cell phone number in Jordan although I didn't quite know of what use would it be since he was in Jordan and I was here in the states and the chances of communication through phone was low. Yet, I looked at the post-it and smiled ... I dialed the number and he answered. To hear his voice again was so uplifting. It had been 5 years since I had seen or talked on the phone both Samer and Ali. Our only means of communication was through the internet. I talked to him for a bit then handed the phone over to my older brother Laith since he was Laith's friend first. Me and my older brother shared friends back in Jordan. Then, that one year when my older brother left to the states one year before my mom, my younger brother and I, my brother's friends were great. Especially Samer. He was like a true brother.

Samer Nusier. My brother. Since we moved to Jordan till today, him and my brother have been and are best friends. He was always the blond kid (since his mother is Ukranian whilst his father is Jordanian) who would hang out with the three Qumei kids. What can I say about you Samer? You would even spend both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with us by sleeping over. You would sleep over practically every weekend. With the exception of when my brothers would sleep over at your place, when that would happen I would take the opportunity and sleep over at my other friends' houses. You will never forget the day that you broke my mom's favorite antique hurricane lamp that she treasured above all else. Yet, when the lamp broke, all she asked was 'are you okay?' Yeah, you're definetly a part of the family. You loved my mom's lasagna and till today still ask about it. In school during recess we would hang out together. The year my brother left was a miserable one for my mom, little brother and I. Yet, the day before he left, you slept over at our house so it was my mom, my little brother, me and you as well who sent him to the airport the next day. Sad to face the fact that we wouldn't see him for a very long time. After his flight left, I thought that you would ask my mom to send you home so you could hang out with your other friends and not waste such a beautifully perfect summer day. Yet, I was wrong. You stayed with us. While I cried that my brother was gone you told me it was okay and that you'll be my brother. You played with my little brother and I like how we used to when Laith was with us, cops and robbers, hide and seek, tag, make believe, everything. Till the day we left you stayed close to us. We still talk about you very often and miss you very much. Today, after I talked to you on the phone, although your voice changed and turned very much deeper rather than the squeeky Samer I used to hear, your heart stayed the same. You reassured me endlessly that all was well. I thank you for that. You're such an awesome person, an awesome friend and an awesome brother. Us Qumei kids and mother will always have a place in our hearts for you. After all, you're one of us.

After that phone call I couldn't help but smile. My day went smoothly after that. Yet, as I sit here now .. I am beginning to feel miserable again, though not as much as before. I have been chatting with several people about this issue, yet I was surprised by one person's response. I do not know whether he will be reading this entry due to the fact that he has no xanga, the entry is quite lengthy as well as he may not know of my new xanga, yet, I will write with his name anon. It's much easier to deal with that way. He says, and I quote directly, "i know ... i know ... it's a terrible thing that they did it ... they could have their reasons ... and you have to respect their reasons ... if there are any ... i mean, yes innocent people have died ... but you can't automatically accuse them of being [ censored ] until you know both the stories"

Truthfully, I respect your honesty with your opinion, however, I disagree with it. There are several reasons why. Now, I can type up a whole new essay concerning this matter, however, I do not believe that I would have enough energy left to accomplish anything else before I sleep if I do rebuttal in that fashion. But, I will dare to disagree because I do not find your argument a good one. I cannot say what you said because it is your opinion and everyone is entitled to their opinion. It is an opinion. Nothing more. It is not a fact nor a law. It is an opinion which can be easily changed.

First of all, do you seriously think that I have not taken into consideration the other side of the story? I know that there are always at least two sides to every story. The people who did this are most likely, though investigations are still taking place, Arabs themselves. I have been living in fear for a long time thinking that something scary was to happen during wartime while living in Jordan. I have experienced much. I do not mean to brag or to put myself apart, yet, I believe that I have enough experience to judge a bit more properly than others regarding situations such as these. While living in Jordan, neighboring Palestine had bombings and shootings on a daily basis. Joining the protests for the Intifada while wearing my 'Intifada' shirt and my Palestinian Hatta at the mere age of 10 while going to school or going to the market. Being in a gunshooting while in Guadeloupe where a man died by two bullets to the head not very far from myself. With living through seeing my own MOTHER being hit and abused by my father. To visiting refugee camps with my aunt who worked with the Noor Al-Hussein Foundation [ the former Queen of Jordan who origianlly hails from New Jersey ] and watching those poor children be actually EXCITED to be going to school, to watching their mothers sit through lessons with my aunt while she taught them herself. Meeting family from Palestine who had been evicted from their homes in the middle of the night due to Israeli bulldozers wrecking their homes while they were inside it ... sleeping. I have experienced much although my experiences will most certainly pale in comparison to MANY MANY MANY others. I am lucky to be alive. I am lucky to be where I am today. I do not like taking things for granted. I consider myself extremely lucky. I would not have forgotten to take both sides into account before giving my statement. Trust me.

Secondly, you said ' ... innocent people have died ... but'. I am sorry, but I do not like seeing 'innocent people', 'died' and 'but' in the same sentence in that sense. Perhaps an 'innocent people died, but no one did anything about it.' or a 'there were lots of innocent people who died, but that should not take away our hope, rather, make us stronger as a country ... as humans'. Something along those lines would have worked out better. I am sorry .. I hold few people in great esteem ... you lost a lot of respect from me from saying what you said. I will not treat you cruelly or in a different fashion from the usual, however, I am deeply hurt by your suggestion. I realize that the bombers are humans too. They think like everyone else. They laugh like everyone else. They bleed like everyone else. They're just like everyone else. I know that. THAT is exactly why this happened ... because they ARE everyone else. The human community at large, and even animals and plants  is suffering from every attack anywhere in the world, to anyone in the world, by anyone in the world. We are all suffering. Negativity leads to more negativity. It is a never ending cycle that we cannot asking. We WILL NOT escape it because no one will ever take the initiative of doing so. This is who we are.

Now, my heart is wounded, it bleeds for Jordan. No one deserves death. No one. Absolutely no one. This is only the beginning .. more is to come so brace yourselves, as negative as that may sound, but it is true. I am not being negative, but being real. Over the summer I had been crying my eyes out over the hunger and poverty conflict in Nigeria. I had been ranting on and on about death and children and how they must suffer ... I remember my mom saying "Kholood .. what happened to you? What happened to the daughter that used to bright up the room when she walked in and smiled? What happened to my optimistic daughter?" Mom ... I'm still here. I'm still optimistic. I want to believe that there is good in the world and i DO believe that there is. I do mom. I love life. I love living ... I've grown up, that's all. Not merely physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. Mom ... someday, I'm going to go out there and make a bigger difference. I promise mom. Nothing will bring me down.

Live Love Laugh Die.

-Kholood Qumei