This is one of my favourite poems by one of my favourite writers Edgar Allan Poe

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;–vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow–sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me–filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
“‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”–here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore!”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”-
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
‘Tis the wind and nothing more.”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and
flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed
he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no
craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning–little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered–not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, “other friends have flown
before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never–nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and
door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee–by these angels he
hath sent thee
Respite–respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!–prophet still, if bird or
devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted–tell me truly, I implore-
Is there–is there balm in Gilead?–tell me–tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil–prophet still, if bird or
devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us–by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend,” I shrieked,
upstarting-
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!–quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
door!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted–nevermore!

This morning I woke up early I guess out of anticipation of my much delayed English lit. exam. I felt like I can’t study anymore even though I didn’t really study well for it so I just lied down a bit and checked my email waiting for the time to come so I can go to the university. When it was time I tried to start the car but it didn’t start. Awwww , that can’t be happening. By the time I called someone and got it starting I was already late by about 10 minutes. I was driving like 190 Kmph (thank god roads were clear) and I arrived late by about 20 minutes. I thanked god that I have a lecture first and the exam was at 1 PM.

This incident reminded me of when I first got a car and this one time the car wouldn’t start and I spent a lot of time trying to get it to work only to discover, after quite some time, that it won’t start because the gear stick was on D (drive) . I really felt stupid.
I don’t have to say that this was a really bad omen or should I say foreshadowing, because when I saw the exam papers I felt like my mind won’t start and needs charging.

We had an interesting event yesterday at the university. It was the second UoB video conference.

It was organized by UoB (ASC: American studies center & ELC: English language club) and Georgetown University. The video conference was held in the UoB E-Learning Center. It was even better that the first video conference because while the first one was more like a lecture, this one was a debate where Bahraini & American students talked about “American and Arab Media Coverage of the War in Iraq”.

It was a little over an hour and a half in duration. We discussed the war and the withdrawal from Iraq, the public opinion and American government, the American media overage and Arabian media overage and many other things.

The event was excellent and I felt after this debate that I now better understand some of the different outlooks that American people have toward the war, the government and Bush. And I think students on the other side of the ocean now know more about our country’s system and other systems in the area.

Thanks everyone for organizing and participating and I hope that more similar events will be held soon. See the photos.

Here is a poem of mine that I wrote few weeks back, I’m not that experienced so I want to know what you guys think it’s called Times Not Complete.

O, colored roses of this lovely site,
What a sight you are to greet!
Bathed in waves of the sun’s light
Your scent perfumes the streets.
I wait, for when the time is right,
My love and I will meet.
The sun fell from its height
And I heard not my lover’s feet.
I saw ravens Black and White,
As I prayed and took a seat,
And when day turned into night,
My prayers again I did repeat,
“Be it nothing, no harm or plight,”
Thought I, as I burned with heat.
Then came running with a lamplight
A creature with a smell so sweet,
Its beauty would have given delight,
But I am not one to cheat.
My love is gone I was told outright,
Though our times were not complete,
For death is fast and hard to fight,
And even much harder to cheat.

A.H Fardan - 2007

I’m back to complain some more.
I have this lecture with this professor, who shall remain nameless , where we study writing, it’s really boring stuff especially when the professor color my entire paper with red saying that, while my paper is correct, it’s not “Good English”. Well, before the exam, I had missed some classes so I just took what’s in the book as a model; I basically had no mistakes so the professor just noted that I should use Formal English, the irony is that the model in the book not only uses informal language and contractions but also uses colloquial English.

BUT, what really pissed me of is that he did the exact opposite to a girl in my class, that is, he told her she shouldn’t use “do not” or “can not” etc. Anyway this girl apparently did a survey of our classmates’ grades, apparently the highest mark was 8.5 out of 10, which is the grade we both got along with half a dozen of other students who had at least few spelling & grammatical mistakes, I don’t know how he does his assessment!

To top all that of, at the back row of the class we have this group of continuously-chattering noise-making bubblegum squad. It seems that half the lecture is spent on either shutting them the hell up and changing their seats so they can’t talk, or asking them to respect the class enough to stop chewing gum the entire time.

I know the lecture is boring, I know the course is boring, I know the professor is boring but I really sympathize with him sometimes because when I put myself in his shoes, I can’t see myself putting up this kind of crap all the time, damn girls GROW UP!!

Hello every one,,

I think the best way to start my blog is to complain

There are a lot of things to complain about. University, professors, life and even my damn car, but what can one do? As destiny’s child say in their song, I’m a survivor I’m gonna make it … doesn’t mater how much I complain >> the last part is not a part of the song if you’re wondering hehehe.

I guess I made my point. I’ll come back soon to do some more complaining

Ciao.