The Lilli Doll: The Barbie Origins

Hello there Barbie fans! You will definitely hate me for this...

Bild-Lilli Doll
(Source: Making the Modern World)

Barbie has a German grannie; Lilli.
Lilli started as a cartoon character created for the Bild-Zeitung, a German tabloid - currently known as The Bild - back in 1952 by Reinhard Beuthien. Lilli was an open, fortune-grabber, impudent, post-war figurine. As Lilli was very unashamed about her attempts to score a wealthy suitor and had no preservations about sex, she was the perfect discreet sex model.
The German tabloid decided to market a representation of Lilli in a form of a novelty doll, following Lilli's success as a cartoon character. The dolls were sold together with miniature Bild-Zeitung in a clear plastic tube. It was produced in 2 sizes; 30 cm and 19 cm.
The doll was made of plastic. The head, up to the chin, was moulded separately from the rest of the body. Most bizarrely, the hair was not attached directly to the head piece. The hair has attached first to a separate scalp piece, which was then attached to the head piece by a well-hidden screw.
One feature which Lilli was known for is directly related to the doll's legs! Lilli's legs did not spread open in a sprawl when she sat down.
Lilli was marketed in tobacco shops and pubs - obviously, not for children, but for adults - to only those who could afford her. Lilli cost about one DM per inch back in the 50's!
Alas, the production of Lilli stopped in 1964 when Mattel bought the rights to the doll. However, before it killed Lilli, Mattel had in fact cheated and had produced a Lilli-like doll, by the name of Barbie, in the US in 1959. Ruth Handler, a co-founder of Mattel, had visited Europe and returned to the US with a number of Lilli dolls, redesigned the doll, and, voila, Barbie was born. Just to make sure that Lilli would never be a threat to her American child-friendly copy, Lilli had to be officially assassinated.
However, saying that, Grannie Lilli still lives, but now, as a rare-ish collectable doll and costs a lot to acquire.


Technically, Bild-Lilli should have celebrated her 60th Birthday, only a couple of weeks ago.


Mattel (NASDAQ), the so-called giant of the toy world production, doesn't only acquire rights to small-scale successful original creations, it also reproduces re-designed versions of them with massively reduced costs through producing them in countries like China... Unoriginal and an exploiter of cheap labour... Tut tut tut...

A Steampunk Animation

I recently discovered a beautifully made animated short, influenced by the Steampunk genre. Written and directed by Andrey Shushkov in 2010, this short was a graduation project, which combined a Russian style alternate Victorian-like reality with folklore and original music.

Well done Shushkov!

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More from the director here

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Teddy Bear Teddy Bear Where Art Thou?

Toys... toys... toys... Everybody likes toys from simple stuffed and cuddly resemblances of mascots to plastic nightmares.
I used to be a "normal" child once, who seemed to enjoy cuddly teddies - not to be confused with shimmies - at night and on family trips, but also obsessed about puzzle and structural games. However, I seem to have lost my playful child properties at the age of 9, when I was introduced to war, like a smack on the face. I knew fear and lack of settlement at the age of 4, but the concepts and the reality of things were not clear until the big hit, also given the age factor.
I remember the day my 8 or 9 year-old teddy bear was murdered. This was one of the very first teddies I even snuggled up with at night and read stories to. It was battered with small patches missing. It also had a fantastic quality; it had a velcro patch on each hand (paw) and came with a colourful fuzzy ball that stuck to the velcro. I did lose the ball at some point and the velcro had lost most of its 'stick' qualities. However, I loved that teddy that I didn't mind him ageing. It only felt fitting that my teddy grow older, 'just like me', I thought.
I remember the horrifying journey we took to safety - at least that's what we thought at the time. We had finally made it to the 'borders' of the West Bank from Jordan, little we knew that the journey hadn't even started. Too close, yet too far. We had to go through all sorts of security checks. Now, when I reflect on this part of the journey, it looks like the process some 'lucky' Nazi victims had to go through, those who didn't end up in concentration camps - or at least, in our case, not straight away. The process took almost a whole day and the procedures varied from multiple identity checks, to stripping of, to being locked in a small room with many other people, to searching for our shoes and belongings amongst piles of items, to having items confiscated, to interrogations, to shoving and verbal abuse... We almost lost our family 'treasure' - as my mom calls it. Photos... reminders of a past reality and people that we miss, missed, or may never see again, of smiley faces and kids stuffing their faces with birthday cakes, of presents under a Christmas tree or a granny hug, of the sea and the desert, of camping trips and roller coaster rides... "These shall be confiscated" we were told by an Israeli soldier and that's when the other horrifying thing happened... My teddy was gutted in front of my wide opened eyes by an Israeli soldier with a blunt knife. I was 9, damn it, and that teddy was my best friend. That was my treasure and a symbol of my childhood. I felt like I was a year older with every stitch that popped off teddy's front. I felt that the invisible boundary that separated me as a child from a woman was abruptly and untimely vanished in a most brutal way...
I realised later that teddy had sacrificed himself and my childhood to save the family's treasure. The soldiers seemed to have felt 'sorry' or 'ashamed' - I could never be certain - that they let my mom, who was nearing collapse of exhaustion and panic, have the many boxes of photos back...

I never cried teddy, you know, even when I watched it being thrown in the bin head and guts first. The transformation in my state-of-mind was instant... I was a woman then... I was a responsible human being... A Palestinian with a couple of stories and a big baggage of traumas...

Losing Teddy was just the beginning...

A Little Voice Speaks to Me and There's No Body There!

You know when you sometimes wake up with this overwhelming urge to sing and you hear voices already singing on beat, you start having lucid thoughts of potential insanity... Still, you go along with that urge as it makes you feel grand and somewhat strong and ready to face the ailments of this - apparently - tangible and true reality.

Bless you my brother - or sister - "from the ceiling to the solid oaken floor" and "bless you with a herd of vertically striped baby elephants bearing umbrellas with a deep violet hue"...

Life is a Roller Coaster... At Least From Where I Stand

Argh... Things just keep on happening, or not happening, depending on how you're looking at it at the time of the event...
I wonder how people generally cope. I mean, a normal human being would react, would have a some sort of an inclination to shake, cry, shout, be illogical, be hysterical, become introverted, or just go in shock. Some would probably just ride it through awaiting the next ride. Either way, PTSD seems to be the end product.
It's like going on an actual roller coaster ride and getting all this adrenaline. When the ride is over, you've got two choices; either go on yet another ride, or move on until you find yourself on another roller coaster ride anyway. With the first option, you would keep generating a "satisfactory" amount of adrenaline that would keep you going with whatever emotion and expression you're encountering or experiencing at the time. However, if you step off, which is the second option, you would have to encounter the adrenaline "come down" before the next "high". This latter might be more terrifying than the first. You would have to face some dark demons which reside within you. They would start undermining your judgments, character and deeds. They would criticise your every move and would remind you with the past and may show you a future that you may not like. Then, you would have to fend them off, try and corner them as they tried to corner you. You would lash at them, and may sometimes agree with the points they are making. They might even form an alliance, join forces and go for a coup.
The more times this happens - and in the occasion of you being successful in fending off the nastiness, with whatever weapon you've reserved for these special occasions - the stronger you become, "like the skin on the drum (Spearhead)".
Regardless, this all remains a ride on the roller coater of life, brought to you by our sponsors;

• Personal decisions, mostly flavoured with "obligation" and "lack of choices"
• Mindless advertisements and news, topped with the most innovative techniques of mind control
• National phobias, a fantastic resort where there is something for everyone
• Oppression and prejudice, our promise to you remains solid
• Suppressants, we shall take away your fears and past... Huzza for dreamless nights. 

I conclude this with a short animation from James Lee, a very talented animations maker (music by Hania Lee).

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Watch Tarboy (my favourite so far!) and other animations by James Lee here

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Note: Feel free to add more sponsors!

Geek Points... The Geek Shall Inherit The Earth... Or Is It "The Obsessive Compulsive"?

I had a lovely time last night with some friends, drinking and chatting... It is amazing how many topics you can cover in a short period of time, yet, at the same instance, manage to connect all those topics in a some sort of a loop, which gives you a sense of security, or is it achievement, or possibly just the satisfaction of being able to conclude the night with no loose ends!
At some point we were talking about 70s & 80s sci-fi films, following a chat on "reality check" modern advancements into the field of planetary travel for "tourists". It's becoming more apparent that our world is moving rapidly into "real" fiction! However, saying that, this requires a huge sums of money, sums that don't exist and shall never exist except on computer screens and bank statements. That's all what those sums are; numbers. They relate to no actual substance, no tangible real assets, not even gold. Well, the amount of gold accessible in the world at the moment does not reflect the "wealth" portrayed in those numbers, not to mention the other "numbers" which reflect the inflation in the various markets.
Anyway, back to sci-fi and that, one of us pointed out that everyone, absolutely everyone has "Geek Points".

Bearded Man: Everyone is obsessed about something. Some would go in depth into computers and IT, some into a specific genre of films or novels, and some others into collecting things, like stamps, coins, cardboard, stickers, cards, empty Pringles containers, and so on.

Collapsable-bike-er: Well, I suppose, this sort of thing is quite trendy in Metropolis!

Bearded Man: Ah... Geek Chic!

This leads me to thoughts on OCD and how much people totally and utterly stupidly - please excuse the expression, but it's bloody well true - misunderstand and undermine the severity of this disorder.
I agree with lots of people, out there, who are pissed off with how "trendy" the term OCD have become. If someone seems to show the slightest tendency to react to items not being in the "right" place or not conforming to a certain pattern, they go something like; "OMG, I'm so OCD" as if it is a fun fact about them. It's really disturbing how much those can connect to others with similar thoughts on the matter, as it is the subject of the day. If you've got OCD, then you are a wow or a trendy nurd. Well, ... NO! ... If you really have OCD, the disorder that is, you would be shaking or going into fits in a corner of the room because you have just witnessed a crime against pattern or an open door, or even a pubic hair in the bath tub.
It is a damn serious disorder that hits a portion of the population on varied degrees. It happens when your neurone signals go into overload with certain triggers and your brain just can't administer a simple "pull-out" mechanism, which enables one to let go.
Some would have created a new path for those signals so to be able to generate a varient reaction to fits or relapse. Some would just verbalise their findings - in some cases, mis-contempt - and just get on with their lives as if nothing happened. Some others would still have to change the circumstances of their findings so to be able to get on with their lives. It is basically like taming down the compulsive part of the equation and finding alternate means to express the obsessive part.
There is also the fact that lots of people could be classified or termed as compulsive and others as obsessive. Those would not have OCD as in, they would not have the combined neurological reaction to triggers, and would certainly not have a disorder, but more of an annoying - sometimes useful - character traits!

This takes me back to GEEKS. If you put both OCD and GEEK in the same baskit, you would trigger an explosion of stupid remarks from people who want to be seen as trendy. Being a Geek or having OCD is not necessarily fun or hilarious. These people cannot generally connect to those others who so want to be trendy. For once, those who are not real geeks - or don't admit to having real geek points - and those who are "OMG, I'm so OCD" actually only function as parasites that feed on what is "trendy" in social networks. Who bloody controls those?

Anyway, being a geek is really being obsessive about something or another. You would be so good at that thing you obsess about that you become a master, a wiz, a head full of info, but, you may also be a risk of turning into a social freak, a nurd, disconnected from society, especially if you are an IT guy!

I conclude this rant with, The Geek Shall Inherit The Earth... Not the Meek... My reasoning being;
1. All real geeks are really good at what they are geeky about
2. Collectively, they posses the know-how towards survival after a major earthly disaster
3. They have the capacity to destroy the world as we know it - which I am all in favour of
4. Although point 3 is valid, they would not choose to do so unless being driven by a real trigger, an ultimatum, or an attack on an idol or god-like figure (think Assange and you've got a real and very recent example to support point 4)

There you have it!

The Geek Shall Inherit The Earth!

A Rainy Day

What do you do when you are being genuinely nice and supportive to someone by telling them how thankful you are for their attempts to settle things down between you after a series of not-so-good emotional outbursts, then you make a random observation that unintentionally upsets them to the point that they treat you like dirt and when you are told that you are the one that treats them like dirt?
Do you lock yourself in a room and have a think? Do you carry on the conversation with them and point out that you didn't mean to upset them? Do you just dismiss the whole thing and consider it a freak incident? Do you then believe that you have done something wrong and need to apologise? Do you go cold and wait for them to apologise? Do you become more observant and conscious about what you say in the future? Do you dare ask for the reason why that little observation was classified as you treating them like dirt?
Take that incident and multiply the number of repeats by about 10 per week over the course of a number of years. So, with that package in mind, what would you do?

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On Your Own

Someone had mentioned to me today that they had been met with indifference from certain people around them several times and from some others on a regular basis. He said something in lines of, 'Well, I suppose, when you get used to people disappointing you, you have no choice but to get used to living your life without them - on your own'.
How right you are, my friend. I have been there for a while, well, on both receiving and giving ends. I do feel ashamed of myself for casting on the impression that I don't feel for those people anymore. I stop all communications. I become totally irresponsive. Most of the time - if not all - I just cave in to other stresses and issues I have to deal with at the time. I resort to pulling all my energy resources and placing them were they are most required at the time. So, I end up, involuntarily, irresponsive. By the time I am done, it is then too late to reconcile with your friends. Only a few of them remain over the years as they are the select few who understand me and have managed to cope with my changing circumstances, well sometimes better than me!
However, I have been, quite often, on the receiving end of indifference. I have been made to feel like I am a some sort of a super machine. The moment I show signs of vulnerability, I am cast away as "aggressive" and unsympathetic. 'I am only human', I keep on reminding them and myself. I have been told that I have to take responsibility for my actions. Well, I do, regularly. That is when I feel utterly demoralised, alienated from the human race. I feel that I cannot rely on people to show understanding or compassion. I feel that I am further treated as a machine who have had a malfunction, and thus, have fallen from grace - or have temporarily gone to silicone limbo!
Why would anyone be expected, in this time and age, to actually genuinely keep up with the shyt capitalism throws at you. One has to keep up with living life comfortably and do the things that make them smile, alongside a mortgage, an unsatisfying or demoralising job, an emotionally unresponsive partner, little spare time or energy - or both - for projects of your own, stigmas, persecution, news, economy collapse, advertisements, bad music... and the list goes on.
On the plus side, having those few friends that genuinely understand what you're about makes a world of difference. Humans are not meant to live independent or separatist lives. We are designed to rely on each other, in a community form, to aid each other along the way, to give and take, to pull and push, to bleed and heal - to genuinely be a human being; a graceful being with flaws and faults, only reconcilable when in a "pack" or "tribe" of likeminded human beings.

Our Wolvies are Back Home!

We have got our canine wolves back home a couple of weeks ago. Thanks to Anne and the team at the Snowdonia Animal Sanctuary, our dogs were extremely well looked after while we went hunting for a more suitable accommodation.

Ghengis

Ghengis and Khan, yes, these are their names, are from Palestine. They are par-wild (wolf) and par-canine domestic dog. We are absolutely thrilled to have them back after almost 9 months. Well, to be honest, my feelings are a mixture of joy and pain. It had been a long time since we enjoyed the company of each other. Part of you just moves on, and the other part decides and devises future plans based on the hope that, one day, we can provide these lovely dogs with a good home.
I have always thought of Ghengis, now 6, as my first child. We adopted her when she was a few weeks old and have, since, treated her as one would his own child. She grow up to become a right spoilt brat!

Khan

On the other hand, Khan, who is now 5, had a very traumatic life for the first three months of his life. Before we adopted him, he was snatched away from his mother when but a couple of weeks old and placed in a barn with a number of goats. He was to be trained by his previous owner as a goat guard dog, but he was ill-treated, malnourished, and riddled with flees and ticks. At some point, we noticed that he used to scratch his right ear vigorously. When we had a closer look, we found an unimaginable number of maggots feasting on the inside of his ear. It looked like a scene from Pink Floyd's The Wall. Seriously, he had a massive bulge on the side of his head and barely any inside of ear left. His owner cared less about his state and expressed intentions of replacing the poor dog with a healthier pup. This was when we came in. We took Khani to a vet, well, erm... WE didn't... A close friend of ours did. Well, the closest vet who specialised in other than kettle and domestic fowls was in Jerusalem. We lived in Bethlehem at the time and Jerusalem is out of bound to Bethlehemites unless possessing a special permit (generally given to a portion of the Palestinian population for special occasions, like Christmas and Easter, or worshipers, and sometimes, to aid and foreign organisations workers and staff). Our friend had a foreign passport and as such was allowed to access Jerusalem.

Khan enjoying the breeze!

Pampered doggy

To cut the story short, Khan was absolutely lively and healthy a number of days after the vet pulled an odd 30 maggots out of his infected ear and a dose of antibiotics. However, a number of months later, we realised that this incident had resulted in a heavy trauma to the right ear and left eye. So, our beautiful cuddly bear is partially deaf and blind.

When we left Palestine to the UK, we could not possibly leave the dogs behind. So, we went for the "Quarantine" option. Palestine is not on the Pet Scheme and although Ghengis and Khan were both tested for and injected agaist rabies, they still had to serve 6 months in quarantine in the UK. This whole process of getting the dogs into the UK cost us large sums of money, not to mention, stress and agony. We had to fill in a numebr of paperwork and make even a higher number of local and international phone calls to arrange for the dogs to travel to quarantine kennels close to where we intended to live in the UK. There was also the fact that the dogs could not travel directly from Palestine as the Israeli Authorities have full control over land borders and air. We had to arrange for an agency to collect the dogs from a point past the "borders"in Jerusalem and to deliver them in carrier kennels to Tel-Aviv airport and for another to collect them from Manchester and deliver them to the Chester Quarantine Kennels.

After the quarantine phase, Ghengis and Khan joined us in our humble, but beautiful accommodation, next to a public foot path leading to mini-woods, waterfalls and reservoirs. They stayed with us for about 16 months before we realised that what we could afford to provide the dogs with at the time was not sufficient. So, this time, we went for the option of providing them with temporary accommodation at the fantastically loving Snowdonia Animal Sanctuary in Capel Curig, until we can find a farm or a more suitable accommodation, or a suitable home that would adopt the two dogs together.

Nevertheless, the family is now reunited and happy!

Thank you Anne, we owe you one.

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Please support the Sanctuary through spreading the word about their great work, achievements and unconditional love to animals.
You can visit them on their official page; http://www.snowdoniaanimalsanctuary.com/, or read their latest news on the sanctuary blog; http://snowdoniaanimalsanctuary.blogspot.co.uk/

My Latest Contribution

This is a 16-minute documentary film, directed by Kheridine Mabrouk for the International Prize for Arabic Fiction. The film is of short interviews with the six finalists to the prize. It was screened at the award granting ceremony in Abu Dhabi on 27 March.
My humble contribution was in producing the English subtitles to the film.

Shortlist, an IPAF film


It was a pleasure working with the producer!
Thank you for granting me this chance to work with such a professional team.
Onwards and forwards!

What do you want from me?

All what I ask from you is to put things into context and you will get me
It is so easy to make me happy, with food and shelter, and some company I meet
Over the days and weeks, and maybe some chocolate for a treat
But all that I ask is, I was told
Imposible to behold
As it requires a refusal
Of a life-style, a routine, that is no longer viable, but functional
I ask you, pray, you have seen the errors of your way
Yet, prejudice and greed sit beside you and may
Bring destruction to hopes of our coexistence
Why do you feed your fire regardless?

Come, come to me, come to the water and find your peace

Where Eternal Life is ours for the taking, and trust in the truth;
Darkness and Light here are mere impressions of Death and Rebirth
So, come, come to me,
But don't forget to bring chocolate with ye!

Inspired by Coleridge and a number of recent dreams...
(I wake up with no chocolate nor peace of mind...)

Blogging For the First Time in Ages!

Well, it has been a few years since I enjoyed the freedom to rant, publicly!
It is amazing that regardless of the number of topics one could write about, very few words seem to want to be written. This part of the brain that thinks and creates seems to, unfortunately, be alienated from that that forms the actual sentences - and even speech, sometimes. I wonder if many bilingual and multilingual people share this dilemma.
This does not, generally speaking, pose as a serious problem, as long as I can "communicate" a thought to others. I seem to have always treated language as a set of symbols, it being music, science, maths or in fact any form of communication. Is good, no?!
However, saying that, translating a piece of work already written by another person does not seem to follow the same suit. That part of the brain that digests the concepts from the source document - or audiovisual - seems to be in alliance with that that works out the fingers on the keyboard!
At the end of the day, and while posing as a translator, one aids the transformation of text from one set of symbols to another, rendering the experience most satisfying! Well, basically, just to posses the ability to break the code and rewrite concepts is a hell of an achievement, which I am mostly proud of.