PRES Design Show 2006

This post is a bit late, seeing that the show was in October; better late than never.

Back in August, while I was doing my internship in KEO, Kuwait, I got a call from Mr. Osama Zarour, who is "Deputy GM, Director, Development & Planning" of PRES. (www.Visitpres.com)

I had recently launched my new website, and he was amazed by the work. I was asked to meet with him at the office to talk and discuss several things. He explained to me the concept of PRES, and showed me the designs that were prepared for the event. Mr. Osama offered me space in the PRES Design Show that was going to be held in October, which was also the grand opening of PRES, located right beside Al-Corniche Club.

After two months of extensive designing and planning, a hundred visits to the printers (where I almost killed the people working there), putting everything together a day before the event (which coincidently was my birthday; there was cake and singing), and last-minute touches, the Design Show was on.

It was GREAT! The F2o booth was constantly filled with people browsing through t-shirts, asking questions, and making purchases. There were 60 unique t-shirts displayed, meaning that each t-shirt design was used once. Lots of emails were coming in right after the exhibition inquiring about customized orders, or to just congratulate me. Thanks!

Set aside all the frustrations, stress, and im7atat, it was all worth the hassle; I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

To my loving mom, sisters, cousins, and friends: THANK YOU for all the support! It means a lot to me!

Mr. Osama & Mr. Iyad: thanks for the support and help!

And to those whom I yelled or got frustrated at: sorry, it just wasn't me heheh; I deeply apologize for being so snappy that day.

A Tribute To You

More than eight months have passed now, yet it feels like yesterday when I got this phone call from my mom telling me that she and my dad had arrived at Dubai to surprize me.

I was very sick then, and that was why they had decided to come earlier than they planned to in the first place.

They drove all the way from Kuwait, simply because my dad loves the road. I did too.

A couple of weeks passed by, and the Friday morning came when my dad decided to drive back home to Kuwait. He wanted my mom to go back on a plane; chena galba 7as. I remember him wearing an exceptionally white dishdasha; that was strange, because he usually wears pants and a shirt while traveling anywhere, even to Gulf countries.

Saturday morning, after coming back from the gym, I got this phone call from my mom; she was oddly quiet, but I know my mom's tone when something's wrong, I know it too well.

The wait at the airport was unbearable, especially when my sister and I had no idea what had happened. Coincidently, my aunt (whom we haven't seen since my late Uncle Saeed's funeral) was with us on the same plane. It was no coincidence after all. Seb7an Allah, el 3ayla matteyama3 ella 3ala el 7ezen.

The news was devastating.

I miss seeing you in the airport, waiting for me to come out of the baggage claim area.

I miss seeing you every morning, sitting in the living room, drinking your coffee with your cigarette tucked between your fingers.

I miss kissing you good morning, and kissing you good night.

I miss how we sometimes played pranks and acted silly; many of my friends don't have that kind of relationship with their fathers. You know what I tell them now? "7aram tara .. Betta7asefon."

I miss the way we made our "malaqa" jokes that we laughed hard at.

I miss seeing you get excited about making my mom her favorite sandwich that looked like it had to be eaten at some gourmet restaurant. I used to call you Chef Fawzi.

I miss how you smiled and your face lit up everytime I showed you my latest drawings, and how you always gave me suggestions to improve them. I remember the last drawing that I showed you on my laptop: it was of an old Kuwaity man drinking tea out of an estekana.

You loved it.

I miss everything that is you.

You simply emulate the true meanings of compassion and love; you are no ordinary father.

Today is your birthday - such a difficult date to go through.

اللهم اغفر له وأرحمه وعافه وأعفو عنه , وأكرم نزله ووسع مدخله , وأغسله بالماء والثلج والبرد , ونقهِ من الذنوب والخطايا كما ينقى الثوب الابيض من الدنس , اللهم ابدله دارا خيرا من داره , واهلا خيرا من أهله , وزوجا خيرا من زوجه , اللهم ادخله الجنه , اللهم ادخله الجنه , اللهم ادخله الجنه , وأعذه من عذاب القبر , اللهم أعذه من عذاب القبر , اللهم أعذه من عذاب القبر , وأعذه من عذاب النار , اللهم اعذه من عذاب النار , اللهم اعذه من عذاب النار .

Just a Thought

I'm the kind of person who whenever something comes up that really bothers me, I just bottle up all of these feelings till one day KABOOM! (Notice I said "one day," because that's how long I take to finally open up.)
Yep. I know. That's bad.
Someone on MSN just asked me today, "what kind of person are you?"
I asked, "In what aspects are you asking?"
She replied, "Well, are you the quiet, subtle type that keeps all of her problems and worries to herself?"
Hmmm. How did I give that away just through MSN?
Weird.
My cousin always tells me whenever I'm feeling down or frustrated to open up and talk to someone, or to write it down on paper.
My reply to her was that I try to cool off by keeping busy with school and design. Ya3ni a6alle3 7arreti bel derasa wel sheghel o allahi 3omri. She pointed out that this is no way to solve the problem; I'm just sweeping it under the carpet and doing other things to forget a bit.
Well, I try to open up, sometimes, to people whom I feel comfortable talking to. Writing - haven't tried it much.
Maybe this blog might come in handy at those times.
We'll see.
Let me just write about "anything and everything" as my cousin oao has it on his blog.