June 03, 2007

Random Thoughts

I am still working on two chapters of my project I call book, illusions and analysis and the forbidden fruit. Seems that I need to taste the forbidden fruit to give the proper analysis as for the illusions seems I had too many to analyze!!

Flags – possession obsession, how we use flags to mark some persons as our territory, how effective are those flags, and do they really matter.
Is love is just a possession obsession.

I miss my old work, I never imagined that one day I will miss all the bad things I hated about it, I miss my nickname “Raya” and sure I miss working with “Sekeena”. I miss the way we used to track our victims, then slay them ruthlessly. I miss the ping pong game, while the victim is the poor tiny ball.
I miss deciding that a certain name should be slain, I miss those who got on my nerves, I miss controlling those nerves, I miss the payback time.

An advice old advice “mator2oseesh 3ala tablet 7ad” i.e. don’t get dragged to a fight that you didn’t start, don’t get dragged to a war that you won’t know how to end.

I am not the sweeping type, he (they) need to be swept of the ground. He (they) need a super character to make the dramatic entry to their stagnant waters. I don’t tend to be dramatic. I am arrogant enough to think I am an experience that can’t be missed, but I am wise enough to admit that I am not a sweeping experience.

To Whom It May Concern; every person has the right to contradict himself, because keeping integrity of opinions over time isn’t the wise choice, as everything in this life is dynamic, opinions should always reflect the dynamicity of life keeping in consideration the stativity of beliefs and backgrounds. So, it was never bad to have a second thought about anything, regardless how many second thoughts you have. It is only bad when beliefs are like ties changeable by a fashion decree.

He said, who is the poet now, you are the poet. Every time I read your writings I wonder who wrote them, this can’t be the girl I am talking to right now.
Sure, the one who writes is the one with the pain. The girl who talks to him every morning is the girl with the smile. I guess that defining a poet it will be a person with a pain implanted, or we can define the person as a poet with the pain extracted.
Hollowness makes ideas echo … I guess I need to be hollow one more time … I need the missing poet back.

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