Just out of Habit

It isn’t that I don’t have anything to write about that has been keeping me from writing. Actually I have plenty of thoughts to share. And it is not really that I can’t hunt the words to form a meaningful sentence because most of the things I posted here didn’t make any sense.
The thing is I am cornered in my old favorite “loser corner”. Simple incidents trigger infinite loops of, I don’t really know if this describes it well, “I am nothing”.

So, now you will get me when I tell you that the fact that I am feeling “I am nothing” is the major factor contributing for my reluctance to share my thought-less thoughts. you will understand that sharing ideas like maintaining lists of little things that might make my life happier or lists of the little silly things I pray God for or the last list of the people I think will cry me if I died, sounds so silly. Yet out of habit I just shared it anyway.

You will understand that I didn’t find it as cheerful to celebrate the second anniversary for the blog. I really wanted to do but I didn’t really know what to celebrate. Should I celebrate that I have been doing the same thing for the last two years without losing interest?! I can’t claim that I didn’t have multiple thoughts about taking a long break like what Fadfadation did or maybe disappear from the whole blogosphere like what Arima did.

I can’t claim that Brad’s words about how superficial my ideas are and how they lack depth really got to me. I can’t deny that his words got to me because I am really writing to be read. I am really writing to communicate certain things I have in mind. Though I have always believed that I have always been writing anyway but as my sweet brother pointed out. You have always been writing but as far as you are posting in a public blog you are no longer doing it for yourself.
So being superficial and boring as Brad pointed out is an enough reason for me to quit. I am a narcissist constantly moaning about her life, who would really like to read this?! I occasionally get outside that shell and start talking about the world. But yet again, I am writing about the world from my narcissist view. These are enough reasons for me to stop, but yet again out of habit here I am moaning about what I think and really not doing anything about it.

And again out of habit, I decided to take one more into my narcissist world and tell you why I believe you should do start your own lists of little things. You can’t even imagine how little the things that are really getting under your skin are. Juts by writing out the little things that if ever changed you will be happier. I discovered that things as little as a missing pair of shoes can really ruin my mood. You can’t imagine the amount of blessings you have until you start writing out the little things you pray for God for and how many times God granted your wish. I discovered that I pray for things as little as finding a taxi and things as big as getting back home safe because that taxi driver was carelessly driving. You won’t know how many people out there really love you unless you start writing the list of people you believe will cry you when you die. I discovered that I have people who will really cry me. I discovered that I am being loved. I discovered that even long after I will go I will still be remembered. And I discovered that this deserves more work. I discovered that I should invest more in certain relations and I discovered which relations that I have really over invested in. and though I stopped planning for new years and I am officially hope-less person yet this year I decided to start wishing for others. I decided to start wishing for those people I think will cry me if I died. I decided to start hoping for them as long as I can’t come up with something to hope for myself.
And just out of habit I have to say this, it is the seasons of wishing. So wish, wish, wish, may all your wishes come true.

Current Thought - Children

I never thought of having children. I am few months away from being thirty and it seems that my biological clock isn’t really working. I still didn’t get the urge of being a mother. And regardless how hard I try the longest time I can spend with a child is two hours.
Recently I have been spending more time around children. Nothing of my choice but it happens that most of the people I know got married and got kids. So their children became part of the package. The time I spend with my friends and their kids makes me appreciate my single status more.
I am not sure if I am a mother material, the same way I am not sure if I am a marriage material. I don’t know what makes a mother material. Motherhood is tricky on many levels. It starts way before getting married. I believe women should plan their motherhood early in their life. First by being healthy, we waste our health on many levels believing that our bodies belong to us. But the truth is, our bodies belong to our unborn children. Next comes choosing the father. Most women forget that factor while choosing a partner. We look for many things, we fall for different people and the least we think of is if they will ever be good fathers.
And when we eventually get married we just get pregnant because this is how things are done. Pregnancy is unplanned decision. There is even a common saying in Egypt, “that child was a mistake”. We are all children of mistakes. Our mothers and fathers never planned the time of having us. They just got us because this is how people get babies. Even after pregnancy the myths control the mother. A woman will probably believe old wives sayings rather than believing her doctor. A mother won’t put a delivery plan. The default option is natural delivery and a c-section only if there were complications. I rarely hear of women who opt for c-section because if it was her decision she would take lots of criticism.
When the baby is born, they would probably react as things occur. No one gets ready ahead. Out of the people I know only a couple invested some time reading about raising children and children psychology. Only few read about what to expect as their children grow. And only these few are the ones who thought of the principles they would raise their children on.
Only these few earned being mothers. The rest are those who give their children different complexes.
I am not sure if I will ever be a mother, I still didn’t plan it anyway. But if I ever to be a mother I think there is one thing that I want to teach my children. I want to teach them that anything isn’t right because everyone is doing it. An action can be wrong though it is widely accepted as right. I want to teach my children to believe in the right things they do even if they are the only ones who are doing it. I want to teach them the story of the little boy called Ibrahim who rejected the Gods his people worshiped and followed his instinct to truth.
I will teach them to stick to what they feel is right even if it was against my own beliefs.

What would you teach your children?

The Bucket List

Inso was right; I am too busy these days to log on. My sister is visiting after a whole year in Dubai. You can never imagine how long a year can be and how short a day is. But because I am addicted to the internet and consequently blogging and I really liked this tag here I am doing it.
This list is composed of things that I think I can never do, and things that I know I can. The list will start from number two because number one is something that I am going to tell Inso in private ;)

2- Breakfast in front of the Eiffel Tower

3- Meeting the city of Fog, walking in London’s rain and trying the unhealthy fish & chips.

4- Touring Italy and dating an Italian guy. Luca Toni is what I have in mind ;)

5- Exploring Africa. One thing I really envied Brad for was visiting Zambia. The stories he told me about the cruise he had or the safari were more than terrific. I really wished I was there (for the fun not the work) and I really hope I can explore the black continent. I want to see the rivers, the falls, the wild life and the people.

6- Eating some original cuscus and tajine :) yes, Morocco is on the list too and not only for the food. I have always found Morocco a charming place.

7- Discovering India. Not necessarily the food because there are rumors that real Indian food isn’t as good the Indian food we know but yet, India is a treasure and it seems that I am a treasure hunter. I want to buy a sari too ;)

8- Checking China out. I don’t think I can eat real Chinese food, but I really have to check on the people who were there when my ancestors, the ancient Egyptians, were there too.

9- Visiting Brazil to see why my aunt says that Brazilians believe God must have been Brazilian else why he created Brazil to be that pretty.

10- Diving in the great coral reef.

11- Touring the rest of the world as far as I have gone that far ;)

12 – Driving

13- Having my own place, something with a big kitchen and a little garden.

14- To find my destined path in life. Be it starting my own business, finishing my masters degree, or even finding a new passion. I would really like to just find that destined path.

15 – To leave a legacy, something good to be remembered for.


Actually this list could go forever, I never though that I would like to do all that traveling I have always thought I am not that much outgoing and traveling is an outgoing activity. I am also a believer that we only die when we are done doing things we really want to do that’s why I keep adding to the little things I look forward to. Dying young was never of my hopes.

I tag Haz and Noly as it seems that everyone has done that tag already but if you still didn’t consider yourself tagged.

Patience

I know it is kind of late but Haz posted something on Patience that I really wanted to share with you.

You can find it here

About the Carrot

Remember a couple of weeks ago I marked a day for cutting a finger while cutting a carrot because I was thinking of someone and something. I marked the day and didn’t really plan to talk about it.
It isn’t as serious as it sounds; I wasn’t drowned in a thought to the extent that I have forgotten the sharp knife in my hand. Actually I was aware of both the knife and the carrot. And the thought was supposed to be another silly thought but some how it led to rage, which led to me being unaware of the amount of pressure I am exerting on the knife hence the nasty cut.

He is a friend of mine, a dear friend of mine. Among my friends he is the newest, though I have known him for almost 3 years now. He is new compared to people I have known for at least 20 years yet he is dearest.
I wasn’t thinking of how he made it to my top friends list. I wasn’t actually thinking of him. I was thinking of something silly that I can’t remember and I thought of sharing it with him. I automatically grabbed my mobile phone to txt him and as I wrote that silly thing the thought crossed my mind. Things for the last 3 years have been going in the same way. I bug him and he keeps me company. I tease him and he keeps me company. I never stop being pushy and he never stops keeping me company.

I thought what if I was pushing my limits? What if I wasn’t but he suddenly became unavailable? What if he got married? What if things changed as it always do and I don’t have him to keep me company?

I don’t remember when I started depending on him that much. I know how we met, how this friendship was bonded but I don’t know when he became the most reliable line of defense. Maybe it is because the others, literally, fled away. They relocated to the four corners of the world. (I even doubt I have friends on other planets!) Or maybe it is because he has an eye for the unseen things. He always remembers little details, which is one of the things that made him win many parts in my heart that many people couldn’t. Actually he won those many parts of my heart by many things not only by having an eye for details but mainly because he is flawless. He is a little bit stubborn but this was never a flaw.
It might be a logical thing to depend on a flawless person, but depending on him wasn’t really the thought that led to the scar on my thumb.

It was the thought that I might be abusing my friend by this dependence what made me furious. And it was the thought that he is too polite to ask me to stop that made my mind freeze.
I put the phone down in a try to stop abusing my friend and I got back to the kitchen to finish dicing my carrots. But it seems that I couldn’t control my anger as I controlled my silliness, even if temporarily, hence the injured finger.

On Being a Sister!!

This picture represents me, my sister and my brother. My sister always said that she is pooh, I am Eeyore ang my brother Tigger. I couldn’t find a better family picture!!

Life is a bitch. that was how the infamous Mr. HH commented on my feelings. For those who don’t know my brother’s best friend died last Thursday. He was only 23 years old. He didn’t die out of illness or out of natural causes. He was killed in combat with a drug dealer. He was a police officer. He died bravely leaving behind him lots of people wondering about many things.

I believe that his death is a test for many of us who knew him, a test of faith. Such incidents test the core of the faith. Unfortunately most of us occasionally fail such tests. Only few really thankfully accept God’s will.

From where I see things I believe that Mr. HH’s comment is a failure to that test. We are not supposed to blame life because life has nothing to do with it. Life isn’t really guilty of his death, actually life isn’t guilty of any one’s death and life isn’t guilty of any of the bad things that occur. The same way it is not the cause of any of the good things that happen to us.

Life in my belief is just another creature, just a medium God created to test us. Only God is capable of life and death. Only God gives. And whatever God gives us is good. Even what we think is bad is only for our own good. We fail when we fail to believe that we are just creatures of God. He created us so that we worship him. And to worship him we should always praise him in all cases, in better and in worse.

My feelings weren’t only about the loss of someone I have always looked at as younger brother. Some how I managed to praise God, pray, cry and pray again. Some how I managed saying “see you”. He isn’t gone as people might think. He is just some where we can’t directly communicate. Actually, another thing that I don’t tell people, in my belief life is just a dream. Nothing is really real. The real life is the after life, and God said that when we will be asked how much did we live; we will all answer a day or some of a day. And when we will be asked how much we have been dead, we will give the same answer. Time is something that we only feel because we live in this medium called life. Once it ends, we won’t even remember what time was. So, we will all be meeting him (and all our beloved ones) soon regardless how long this dream will take us.

My feelings were also about how I functioned or, if that matter malfunctioned as a sister. For those who don’t know, I have lost my mother to cancer in 1994. So since that I have always liked to view myself as the good elder sister. It seems that Sameh was right pointing out some narcissist deficiencies in my character because that belief has been proved wrong last Thursday. Actually, it wasn’t only what happened last Thursday that proved that I am not the good sister I have always wanted to be and thought I am. It was just the straw that broke the Camel’s back.

My relation with my brother is strong. Or at least I believe it is. I love him like crazy and he loves me back. When mom died he was just that little boy. Actually my failure to function as an elder sister started that day. I remember that we were staying at my grandma’s. We were sleeping on the same bed, and I woke up on my aunts discussing if I am old enough to go attend the funeral and the burial and everything. I slightly opened my eyes, I saw one of my aunts all in black and the other still holding me thinking I am asleep and fighting with the one in black that we are too young for this and she’s better be gone before we wake up. Actually I believe that my nerves of steel started developing that day. I kept pretending that I am asleep, and I didn’t move till I felt that my little brother is moving only then I got up and my aunts told us you mother is dead.

So, what would you expect the one who thinks of herself a good elder sister to do? Guess what?! I shouted at the little in shock boy telling him, mom died. Don’t cry, we are not supposed to cry because God will punish her if we did. I didn’t hold him though I wanted, but I didn’t cry too. I maintained my nerves of steel, I don’t even remember if I ever took care of him. I didn’t know how to show him love because I thought it would be silly. And honestly I didn’t know if my nerves of steel would have survived any emotional move.

Life went on in the last 14 years, I remember one night we were out in a walk and I discovered that I am not holding the hands of a little boy anymore. And that he has become a man. And that he isn’t depending on me and I am the one who is really depending on him.

I can’t claim that I have contributed by any means in that change, unless feeding him counts. And he was going to be fed anyways. So, I can’t claim that I have supported him. It maybe something related to the fact that I don’t keep memories (good or bad. But I certainly remember that I was all bossy and that I could have been a better sister. I could have strengthened our relation. I would have insisted to be his friend, but I was busy being bossy and thinking of maintaining a house an enough job. But the truth is when I failed being his friend I counted on others to be. I counted on his bond with my sister and I counted on his friends (among them the one who died). I counted on others to take care of my brother thinking that I am doing a good job.

And now, when his friend died I added one more failure to my list of failures. I kept waiting for him all day planning to give him a hug, or at least try to show support & love. When he finally returned back home, I again thought it would be silly doing it. And again I acted the same way I acted when my mother died. I acted as if nothing happened.

He is acting strong, out of faith and out of being him. But I can’t stop blaming myself from not supporting my brother in such a situation. Actually the real problem is, I didn’t really know what to do to support him. I never knew, and I think I would never know. I am just a bad sister who has been thinking she was a good one.

I just love him too much. I love him more than anything in this world.

But who said love is enough?!

Bastards Live

Ever thought of counting your blessings? What are the things you are thankful for, Health, Mind, Family or is it Wealth?
Will you ever sacrifice your life for any of these? Would you really take a bullet for your brother? Could really die defending your family? Would you really put your life on stake for anyone else?

He just did.

He was only 24 yrs with future supposed to be ahead of him. He took a bullet for me, you and everyone else.

He died so that we can sleep tight at night, so we can fall in love, make babies, and enjoy health, wealth and long age.

He died to give us a safer place to live. And you know what. He died and I don’t feel safe anymore.

Today is just another day, a good man died and a bastard lived

P.S.
بابا قال إن أهل الجنة مكتوبلهم يموتوا على إيد أهل النار و لو كان فى عزاء فى موته فهو إنه شهيد ، و إنه طلبها و نالها و لكن بالله عليكم اللى يقرأ خبر إستشهاد ضابط شرطة فى حملة على تجار المخدرات يدعيله .لإنه يستحق كل الدعوات الطيبة و كل الخير و يدعى لأهله بالصبر على القضاء
إنا لله و إنا إليه راجعون

Political Buzzes - And The Winner Is?!!!

I want a democrate in the white house, I admit I was naive as everyone else 8 yrs ago and prayed Bush. I bet that 8 years later I might admit that I was wrong hoping for a democrate in the this election. But I just can't help it, I love the guy.

If I can vote, I would have voted Obama. I would have voted for the change even if this change is just more destruction ...

A Commercial Break ;)

Today my favorite team Al Ahly will be playing the 1st of two matches to win the African title, it is not the first final and hopefully it won't be the last cup to win.
So, if you live abroad (outside Egypt)and you are searching for a way to watch this match you can always check egytube actually if you are into sports generally they offer coverage for most of the important events.
If you want to mingle with some fellow Ahly fans, you can always check AhlyCorner, even active members are offered links to view matches.

So, good luck to my most favored Egyptian team in defending his lost title.



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If you are a girl, go enlist your blog at girlygator, an all girls aggregator :) really cool - Thanks Lost Within for the reference :)
If you are a man, still you can go check what those girls had to say ;)

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This will be the end of our commercial break, thanks for following :))))

A little Advice

When the universe gives you a gift for no reason, respond appropriately. Say 'thank you' and use it. Stop shaking the package and wondering what the trick or the deceit is. And a thank-you note wouldn't hurt, either!

Another Old Page

Dated: Jan. 1st, 2007

Page 3: The Break Up

So, this is my 4th or 5th break up, I went through a lot, I even broke up twice with the same person. It never been that hard.
I remember the time when we broke up. I looked in my mirror talking to the only friend I trust in such cases, myself, I said, so I have memories with him everywhere, this is nothing, songs that reminds me of him, this is nothing too, even feelings fade. My only friend, myself, told me that day "it only takes time and good work to get sorted". Now I look back in my mirror, telling the only friend I have, myself, that not only old songs remind me of him, more over the new songs that we never listened together, reminds me of him. New places that we never been too, New people who never knew him. Everything shouts his name. There is nowhere to hide, and no way to run!
I broke the mirror … it reminds me of him too ...

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God, Time is really a Bless!!

A Marker

So, this is completely nothing I just wanted to remind myself that today I have cut my finger while cutting a carrot because I was deeply thinking of someone ...

hmmm .... maybe some other time I will post about who & what I was thinking of

That Mix of Lines, Circles and Numbers

“I hate being a woman”. That was how I concluded a talk I had last night with Sameh. It is not that I really hate being a woman but I bet that each of us, men and women, will have that moment when we really hate the downsides of our gender.

It is never an easy thing to be a woman, one day you are a child the other day you wake up to some bruises on your chest and you know that you are growing breasts. Another day you wake up to the fact that the thing that makes you a real woman is a misery called periods. Not only that at that early age you have to learn how to deal with sudden unexpected embarrassing situations (like how to cover the stain on your school uniform) but also you learn how to bear intolerable pain that will probably accompany you till it gives you away to the menopause pain. You are introduced the PMS world and hormones start controlling your life. One minute you are cheerful the next you are irritable and suddenly you are calm as a lake only to find that this calm lake was a sleeping volcano.
At a point, you will believe that you must have been created for a noble purpose. You will keep convincing yourself that this unknown purpose deserves to suck up the pain, frequently apologize for you unexplained behavior and most importantly get used to reviewing your decisions because there will always be a chance that it was the hormones telling you to kill your partner not your mind.

Along the package comes the nesting emotion. You know that feeling that occasionally, in some cases always, crosses a woman’s mind of having a partner, someone to love and probably marry and have a child with. And believe it or not even those women who really hate children don’t really hate them but they fear (or can’t see the divine wisdom of) pregnancy, labor, breast feeding, changing diapers and the whole extravaganza of raising a child.

That very emotion or generally being emotionally is a reason most women start developing a defensive mechanism against loneliness, bitterness and desperation.

Other than building a career or academic success women use little tricks to keep their moods boosted. Things that vary from one woman to the other but being a woman and though this is completely my personal opinion I yet believe that someone some where is using the exact mix of lines, circles and numbers or at least some of it.

When things go sour, my very first line of defense is girl friends. You know, after a break up or under the stress of the aforementioned nesting emotions a woman will probably feel vulnerable. So after the regular “I wish I have done so” - “I have told you so” kind of conversations, girl friends are the first line of defense. Your friends are always there for you, or at least most of the time they are. Where you can cry, talk and find sympathy. You will always find a supporting opinion reasoning why it was so important for you to have the new pair of designer’s jeans or that stunning top that you will have no chance to wear. Girl friends are the best company to eat the mood away, and the best company to get educated about the newest places to go. By the end of that phase and under the pressures of more hormones/ mood swings you will find that this line of defense didn’t do miracles. It was like pain killers; they ease the symptoms but never cure the disease. After eating and spending your crappy mood away with your girl friends you will find yourself fat and probably broke and you will discover that those designer’s jeans aren’t really an investment and that stunning top doesn’t fit your new shape.

The second line of defense will always be “the male” friends. You can still talk, cry and have sympathy but along with testosterone which seems to be an important factor that adds reason to things. You will start taking a man’s opinion into consideration. Male friends won’t take you shopping which will help restoring your financial status. Male friends will always have different interesting topics to gossip about not only the regular girl topics. Along with the first line of defense things are supposed to be perfect if it wasn’t only for those fluctuating female hormones that will eventually pose the feeling like a female issue and then your second line of defense will fail. Because as one of my friends once told me I can see you either as a woman or as a friend. I can’t see both. The guy didn’t notice that I have lost more than 20 kgs. And he is still insisting that I look exactly the same way he has always known me. Another night as I was talking my bad mood away with Sameh, I told him that I am feeling ugly. He started talking about how beauty is an inner feeling and tried to cheer me up. He is a good friend but at that very point all what I needed was a man to tell me that I am beautiful. Not a friend telling me how to set that mood aside and how beauty is an inner feeling (Yes dear, inner beauty is a code women use to talk about ugly peers).

And when the second line of defense fails, it is the Mr. Big’s turn (or is it Mr. Pig?!). And Mr. Big is Mr. X. In the famous Sex & the city, Miss Bradshaw had that complicated relation with her ex. Mr. Big was an ex abusive relation, that she didn’t really get rid of (sounds familiar?!).
Mr. Big will always be an option, because after the break up he is counted among friends but he isn’t really one. Mr. Big actually sees nothing but the woman. Mr. Big is the one who would complement that slightest change in size (regardless the change). And Mr. Big is that someone who knows, and probably taught you, how important is alphabet and that letters should have started with “C”, or “D”!! He is the very one who will assure the prettiness of the outside not only the spirits.

The trick with Mr. Big’s defense line is that he should be spelled Pig not Big. He didn’t get the “ex” title for no reason. And because of that reason he is hated by your first two lines of defense. None of them will get your point of keeping such a relation. And none, including yourself, could give a proper explanation for even considering him a line of defense.

But as Miss Bradshaw once cheered as she was about to meet Mr. Big “I am gonna get laid!”. Which isn’t the typical case, but getting laid here is the best metaphor to explain Mr. Big’s role. He is the one that feeds the feminine ego, but because things never always work the way we want them to work, not to mention that the Mr. Big’s step is a completely hormonal step.

And because some how he knows the terms of trade, he will start to getting pushy and demanding. And when he is almost successful, it will be the turn of the very last line of defense. Going global!

Remember the X-files, the truth is out there. It seems that the solution for any X-file is really out there. And the best thing to offset a bas x influence is to get involved with the world. Smile, flirt and start building a line of fans. You know those people you know they like you but you don’t really like. You start dating those unappealing dates on a hope that things might end up fine, a step that will be supported by your female friends and slightly objected by your male friends. a step that you know won’t stop neither the hormonal stress nor the X’s pressures and isn’t granted to give the desired mood boost. But at least you can know for real that regardless how ugly you feel, someone still can take this ugliness for the beauty inside.


In a second thought, I don’t really hate being a woman. At least I don’t have to live fighting a moustache and a beard and scientifically I can’t get bald. And the most amazing thing, my hormones actually save me from heart attacks. And even when I am not PMSing, I can always blame the hormones.

Isn’t it great to be a woman?!

I am actually that old!

I woke up this morning singing this song, I can't really believe that there has been time that I really listened to what "spice girls" had to say ... Actually I remember something like "Girl Power" as a motto too ... !!! *shocking*

See, another good reason to apperciate growing up *sigh*

Time to Talk!

One more time I don’t really know where I should begin. I have multiple incoherent thoughts that I want to pour out into somebody else’s heart. But each time I try to speak these things up I end up silent. It is not only my typical fear of rejection and not because I can see another couple of “I have told you so” but I am not sure that if I finally managed speaking my heart out it will ever make any sense.
Yesterday, as I chatted the morning away with the infamous Mr. HH we got to the point where he asked me about what’s really wrong with me. Amazingly he finally noticed that I am not the person he used to know, if he ever knew me, he showed concern before but it was only yesterday when he started listing the things he thinks have changed in me.
“You have lost your shine” that was the first thing he noted. He said that I used to shine in a way but some how I lost this shine. I am not shining as I used to be when we first met. He said that I used to be smart, I used to think a lot and he believes that I really stopped using my mind. He believes that I have become extremely lazy; lazy like in that I have no urge to seek anything. I have stopped dreaming and I lost my will. He said that I have become indifferent to the world. And he wondered what went wrong for that I couldn’t resist as I have always done and why I have ended like this.
I couldn’t really find an answer to his question. I don’t believe anything went wrong. Though he admitted that he has noticed this change for a while now but the thing that made him talk was the fact that this change is becoming the norm. He said that I have stopped making troubles as I used to do and this, according to him, is a bad sign.
I can’t deny that I kind of appreciated his concern, because he has noticed the things he wasn’t supposed to notice. He noticed the change in character and he also felt that mood swing I have been into for a while. And though I have successfully maintained a life that he knows nothing about yet he still could figure out that I have not been enjoying those things I enjoy for unknown reason. He noticed that the talkative me isn’t that talkative, and that I have been avoiding certain subjects including the very subject he posed.
I kind of appreciated he noticed because I have been doing a tremendous effort so that none would notice that I am not really feeling good. I appreciated his care though he is part of that bad mood I suffer, along few other things.
He is part of that problem because he never stops pushing, he never stops brainwashing, and he never stops doing the things he has been doing for years. He is part of the problem because I never stop listening no matter how hard I try and I never stop falling regardless how hard I fight. He is part of the problem because I don’t want to fall and he knows that I was supposed to be fallen long time ago so he is literally nagging. And nagging is devastating. On one hand I know believing him will only lead to the same place we have always ended and on the other hand I can’t really say game over. I want to, but I always fail to say it because I don’t really want this game to end. (This is something that I will write about later)
But it won’t be fair if I claimed that the nagging HH is the only cause for that mood. Brad is another reason, though I don’t really want to talk about it but the things he did a couple of months ago, the things he said and the fights he made up out of nothing. The way he deliberately hurt me in the name of laying grounds for our friendship has left a scar on my heart that I don’t think I would forget soon. And has hurt that friendship in many ways regardless how it might seem intact.
Still, accusing HH and Brad of being the reason behind that mood will be unfair. Because I am also to be blamed as my reactions to the surroundings is behind 99% of the pressures that ruin my mood.
My problem is that my love life ( I don't know how could this be related to what I wrote before!!)has that effect on the other aspects of my life and because I barely had one that might explain why I have always been hanging between desperation and hope.
I guess these days I am on the hopeful side though I have never felt that desperate!!

A Hint!

Never do something that you haven’t been asked to do because eventually when the time comes and you have to say “I did it for you” the only answer you will get is “but I never asked you to do”.

Current Thought – Devilish

One characteristic of the month of Ramadan in Egypt is the family gatherings. I come from a very big family, my father has 8 brothers and sisters so you can imagine the number of cousins I have. Add wives, husbands and you will end up with a small tribe.
So, in one of those gatherings one of my uncles decided to analyze the similarities between those 9 brothers and sisters in a try to find which of us (the sons and daughters) resemble them.
After an hour of back and forth talking between the uncle and the aunts and giggles from the sons and daughters side my uncle said that the only thing in common between them will always be the religious background. He said that they were raised religiously, and he hopes that they have passed that way of life to us.
His words reminded me with something that my father once said about the way he raised us. He said that the most important thing that makes him rest assured that we, me and my brothers, will choose the right direction is that he raised us on religion.
I am not sure if I ever questioned that religious background. As I have said before, religion is one of the few things in life that I take for granted. Occasionally I would have caught myself guilty of questioning the essence of faith, I am a Muslim and a believer that Islam is a great religion and I am also a believer that religion is all about accepting the unknown and this is exactly what usually leads me to what I call my devilish thoughts.
One of the most recent devilish thoughts came to me after a talk with one of my uncle’s wife. She went to Umrah right before me so in another Ramadan family gathering we chit chatted about our experiences there. And then she popped the question, have you seen those black women with amputated hands. I replied, I didn’t really notice. I noticed that there were lots of black female beggars in the streets of Mecca and I even noticed them in the Friday prayers in Medina. She then started telling me a story about another black woman who was dragged by police officers. She said that the woman was screaming and crying to the extent that she almost cried for the woman’s misery. I wondered what she might have done to be dragged that way.
She commented she might have been stealing and this explains her screams as you know they cut off the thief’s hand in Saudi Arabia.
Then the talk got drifted to other things. Later that night as I started recalling what happened through the day I remembered what she said and some how I related to the scenes she described. I remembered those black women with amputated hands asking for money in the streets and in the mosque itself. I never thought these missing hands are the sign of their crime. And when I finally related I couldn’t keep that devilish thought away.
In Islamic Law, there are penalties called “Hudud” and in Islam the penalty of theft is amputating the thief’s hand. Something that I never questioned before, I even remember that I have argued that maybe amputating the thief’s hand is the best way to stop people from stealing till I started recalling the pictures of those women and the only thing that I can think of is that they have turned them into nothing but beggars. They are women, ignorant and poor. They must have stolen out of need. And though in Islam petty thieves are to be exempted of that penalty I doubt that anyone considered any of these women petty thieves. And even if they weren’t petty thieves, I believe that amputating their hand should never be the solution because it is not a way of reform. When you cut off someone’s hand, you turn a healthy person to an impaired person. What type of job could a person do with his dominant hand amputated, given that this person is ignorant and poor and at the best he will only be capable of physical jobs?
What if this person was caught at his first theft? Can we punish someone on a non-recurring mistake that severe punishment? Even those calls to only amputate three fingers in the first theft, does this count as mercy?
Umar Ibn El Khattab, canceled the theft penalty in the time of starvation, which can be compared to our current days where scarcity is the norm. He withheld that penalty because the Islamic state who was responsible of the fair distribution of resources couldn’t maintain that job. So how dare current governments who enforce Islamic law apply that penalty in the time they don’t do the same function? I can understand cutting off the hands of big thieves who steal directly and indirectly from innocent people. Gangs that live of theft, gang leaders and old members who take theft as a profession, but casual thieves? Poor thieves who steal to support families?
I am not talking about the cruelty of the act, as they amputate hands while the person is conscious as if the amputation itself isn’t punishment enough but I am talking about the rationalism of application. It such penalties are almost performed on small thieves because they are the most likely to get caught I believe that these governments should start reconsidering the cases where such a severe punishment should be applicable to have what so called preventive effect.
I believe that there should be some Islamic reform. It is not possible to stick to interpretations that are more than 10 centuries old in the time we have proofs that thinking outside the box was common back then.
I believe if Umar Ibn El Khatab lived our time he would have canceled lots of these punishments. Because you can’t put the man who steal a pound with the man who steal millions. You can’t simply cut off the first man’s hand because he was dumb enough to get caught while labeling the other one as a businessman because he is indirectly stealing.
A chance to repent and be reformed should be given to those who committed minor mistakes. Minor means a crime that didn’t form a threat on the community and only for once because a recurring crime is a threat to a community regardless how small it is.
I mean that those governments applying the Islamic law should give them a chance to live healthy and productive instead of being impaired and beggars.

I Am A Muslim

But who said this is Islam?!!


I got this by email, someone sent this promotional email selling a customized version of windows to the Muslim female.
I don’t really know what to say, but if I could accept someone customizing any software to fit the radical Muslims taste. I guess I will still have troubles accepting the promotional package of that CD. It is kind of insulting representing the Muslim woman as a black ghost, because such pictures along with the slogan “ana muslima” (I am a Muslim) frames anyone who doesn’t fit such standards in the bad Muslim frame.
I am a Muslim but who said it was ever a crime to be a female?

Why Italian ;)

This recipe is really Italian, it reminds me of Italian men “minimum effort and lots of satisfaction” Gino D'Acampo



God, If only I can be that lucky :)

Current Thought – Al Lemby

Lord Allenby is a symbol for an important era that shaped the history of Egypt and the whole Middle East. He was a man of war and a man of politics two things that harmed Egypt for many years.

Egyptians hate Allenby (at least those who know history do), not only because he was the British high commissioner sent by the government of his majesty to control the

1919 revolution but also for his role in the WWI and forcefully using the Egyptians in paving his way to conquer Palestine and Syria as he chopped the last pieces of the old Ottomans empire. (I know that Arabia love Allenby as they love Lawrence but this is another long story).
Out of that hate, Egyptians (those who live in the Canal area) celebrate their oldest feast (Sham El Nessim) by burning a dummy representing Allenby. A tradition that was passed through generations and is still maintained though a lot doesn’t even know who that Allenby was.

And because many kept burning the dummy without knowing the symbol, a movie genius took the Egyptianized name of Lord Allenby and made a fortune selling a character that represents the crisis of the Egyptian community.
In Arabic, the word “Al” is equivalent to the English “The”. So Allenby’s name was promptly broken to “Al” “Lenby” making a noun out of the word “Lenby” a noun that is completely meaningless. And because of some Egyptian phonetic problems the letter “N” is sometimes confused with the letter “M” (and this deserves a whole post) so the new born noun was pronounced “lemby” not “lenby”. And consequently “Lemby” has become a description not only for the dummy burnt every year but for that bizarre character representing the collection of Egyptian negativity.

The new Al-lemby can’t be called a typical Egyptian because he is everything but typical. But though he is nothing like a typical Egyptian he resembles the original Allenby in being a symbol for an era. Allenby was a symbol for Egypt under the British influence. Al-Lemby is a symbol for Egypt under the new world system influence. He is a combination of the worst of everything in Egypt. He is illiterate, with no definite job, which leads him to use whatever he can to earn his day, he uses scams, little insignificant jobs and anything that will lead to a few pounds so that he can eat and get stoned or drunk according to the case.

He represents Egypt under the influence of the new world system because he prefers unconsciousness as means to face the cruelty of life. He represents Egypt under the influence of the new world system because he is a first degree consumer regardless the fact that most of the time he can’t afford his basic needs. He is Egyptians under the influence of the new world system because his moral system has been affected by those who found there ways up the ladder and he doesn’t really mind the means to get him where they are.

He is Egypt though he represents the worst in the Egyptians. He is Egypt because he was created to criticize Egypt. He is Egypt because making fun of things is the one thing Egyptians didn’t lose through time.

And though he was created to be shallow & illiterate and those movies about him was categorized as for laugh only yet he still represented the deep Egyptian philosophy, unintended philosophy of course which is another thing that makes him representing Egypt in away, as every Egyptian is his own philosopher. Egyptians make fun out of their miseries and find the virtue in the darkest moments.

Mr. AL-Lemby in one of his movies posed a very important question that made everyone including me laugh. The scene was about two prisoners who tried to escape prison and as the new prison governor he was supposed to punish them. So in between laughter he asked are you punishing them because they tried to escape or because the failed?

Just like Hamlet’s eternal to be or not to be the question poses itself do we punish people because they tried breaking a rule or because they failed breaking it?
The question might seem shallow, because typically we will punish those who will fail not on their failure but because if they succeeded we won’t have anyone to punish.
At least that was the answer I had in mind until recently, when something popped up. When we punish someone we don’t punish them because they failed and not even because they tried we punish those we punish only because we can.

For everything we do (good or bad), it was never about the reason we give for doing it. If we do something we do it only because we can!

Picture by: Hossam Hammad

29

29 years ago my mother suffered some unbearable pain, it was before the golden time of painless labor, to bring me to world. 29 years ago I didn’t promptly scream like any new born, seems that I was suffocating with the umbilical cord so I took a bit longer. 29 years ago the moment I breathed was the turn point moment of my life. It was the moment I accepted that strange uncertain world.
After 29 years of screaming as I was introduced to Miss Life, the world is still as strange as I first met it and everything is still uncertain. After 29 years I guess I am still as hopeful as that baby.
29 is an important sign in the road called my life as it marks the final count down to the 30 years milestone. 30 has always been the age I mark as the end of history and though I have slightly changed this idea I still believe that 30 is a number and it is still an important mark on the road.
I never thought that I will really ever sit and assess the little victories I call achievements. As I always fail to count the good things I do. I am best at counting mistakes, I am best at mourning failure and I am best at degrading success. I don’t know if this makes me a perfectionist because I am not but though I keep telling everyone that I am perfect, sometime I mean it, but I know I am not. And I have to admit that my eyes are trained to see only my imperfections.
So, the last year I put a list of things to do before turning 30. The last year was the year I decided to take a break and reflect. I decided to cut off my list of ambitions to few things that fit the definition of a goal. A goal should always be specific, measurable, attainable, realistic and timed. And that were the criteria I used to define my goals.
The first on my list was to quit my old job. Something that I am proud I did. I am even more proud of hanging on without a job for a little more than a year. Mainly because this time means that I didn’t cave and do something I hate. I am still hanging onto the NO I said and meant.
The second on my list was to lose weight. I decided to lose weight the day the scale screamed 84 kgs. That meant that I am dangerously overweight and that my eyes, and pant size if that matter, are not cheating me. I didn’t like my reflection on the mirror and I didn’t want to age bad. I have always wanted to age good. I want to be healthy for as long as I will live.
I am 62 kgs now. I managed losing a little more than 25% off my body weight. I did that with the help of my brother who supported me when my will failed. Something that I am really proud of, because losing weight isn’t an easy task.
The third on my list of to do’s before the age of thirty was my masters degree, though I am not really into it and I have been thinking tp omit it off the list but yet I am still keeping it. Maybe I will change my mind this year.
The last goal was to finish writing the project I call book. It Something that I am doing solely for myself to prove that I can do anything I want just if I was patient enough to put on the effort needed to finish it.
Now as I revised my pre-30 list of goals I discovered that I have already accomplished two of them. And the other two could be accomplished in a year if I maintained the same determination I had as I achieved the other two goals. Something that doesn’t sound as bad as I feel towards these accomplishments as I feel that these two things can’t be compared to running a profitable business or having a brilliant position in a remarkable organization.
Yet, these are not the only accomplishments of my 29th year. My major achievement for the year was something my sister discovered. I managed surviving as a loner for a year without her and it seems that it will be the norm from now on. She got married last November and she relocated to Dubai. And for the first time both of us had to deal with the world alone. When she travelled I discovered that I have done every little thing with her. I can’t even decide what to wear without asking her opinion. She is my best friend, my sister and even daughter. And one morning I had to kiss her goodbye because she has to pursue life somewhere else. That morning I felt that I ripped my heart out and that heart grew legs and is walking away. I didn’t cry, though I am now, and being in control of that moment is an achievement. It is a little moment of victory when my sense of responsibility took over my sense of loss. I didn’t cry because she was worried. She is young and travelling into the unknown. I made sure that the last thing she sees was an assuring smile that everything is going to be good and that if at anytime things went bad. There is something strong that she can run back to. I didn’t cry because I knew I needed that assuring smile too. That the shy me will manage a way to deal with the world without hiding behind her little sister. It is really an achievement. A victory for both of us.
If surviving alone is the only achievement for the year it is fair enough to make that year fruitful. And even if that year came with no achievements I wasn’t really going to be disappointed as my last birthday was wish-less. I wished for nothing last year. I was too hurt. And I didn’t want more hurt. So I didn’t have expectations for that year which is reflected in my high satisfaction with almost nothing.
But this year I feel hopeful. I don’t know how and why I got the hope back. But this year I will have wishes. Wishes that might or might not be turned to goals. Simple or maybe shallow but yet I still have the right to dream.
This year I will wish for finding the thing that I will be doing for the next 30 years. Something that will add to the world as it adds to me, something that I enjoy doing even when I am bored, and something that will solve the important equation of value. I want to do something that will make use of the things that I have accumulated in the last 30 years as I accumulate more.
The second wish will be for a decent relation. Regardless the name, but I am done with undefined and unstable relationship. But I want to be in a place where I know that my partner won’t flee the next morning, something that maintains a minimum degree of emotional stability. And my third and final wish will be finishing the rest of my 30 years goals. I am not sure if I am asking for a miracle. But I am in the mood to believe that I deserve one. So Miracle, I am waiting.
And just in case anyone wondered why I am so hopeful celebrating the last mark before turning 30 the answer will be because my friends and family gave me a whole month of celebrations.
This birthday is really special not only it looks special 20-08-2008 but also because everyone that matters remembered. So for all those who remembered and reading this I don’t really have enough words to show my appreciation. Thanks for remembering and thanks for being around and a special thank you goes to those who never forgot.

Happy birthday to me :)

The picture is designed by my friend Hossam

P.S.

I wanted to call that year a name can anyone guess it?

Saved by Insomniac :)

My good friend Insomniac decided to be practical about getting me out of the silence mode. She tagged me and on my turn I am tagging you if you are suffering from an episode of silence. It is really fun and I discovered that my music player must be psychic!
I tried translating the Arabic song names into English. And though I tried not to comment but couldn’t fight the temptation.
I would like to see how psychic is the music player of Egyptiana, Askandarani, Nourita & Sherif
It is really fun. Thanks Inso ;)

RULES:
a) Put your iTunes/music player on Shuffle.
b) For each question, press the next button to get you answer.
c) YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER WHAT!!


After you’ve answered all of the questions, tag 5 other people and then let them know they’ve been tagged to do them themselves.

1. IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY?
La ba27lamak (Not even in your dreams) – Julia Butros
[Fair enough ;)]

2. WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Never Gone – Backstreet Boys
[yeah, just like a good stain LOL]

3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
You are still the one – Shania Twain
[so true]

4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Love is – Backstreet boys
[hmm … I doubt]

5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
Keda Reda (that’s good/satisfying) – Hesham Abbas
[do you think so?!]

6. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Killing me softly – Cassandra Wilson
[:(]

7. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
Something about the way you look tonight – Elton Johns
[?!]

8. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
raye7 3ala fien (where are you going) – Mahmoud El Essily
[yesss!!!]

9. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Total Eclipse of the Heart – Bonnie Tyler
[unfair]

10. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Je suis malade – Dalida
[to some extent]

11. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Hotel California – The Eagles
[this tag is psychic]

12. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Nassam 3alina el hawa (can’t find a proper translation) – Fayrooz
[exactly]

13. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
I will always love you – Whitney Houston
[This is the only thing I am sure of]

14. WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
No mes Ames – J-lo & Marc Anthony
[I love the song but does it fit for a wedding!! will I have a wedding?!!]

15. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Meshwar Taweel (a long ride) – WAMA
[it might be a good choice as it is how I feel about my life sometimes]

16. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Babe – Take that
[Really!! Is that a hobby?!]

17. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Ya Rait (I wish)– Ragheb Allama
[yeah, it is not even a secret. I have a wish, a dream that I hope one day will come true]


18. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
For the first time – Rod Stewart
[huh!]


19. WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS?
Meen Hay2dar (who would dare) - loai


20. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOURSELF?
I won’t say I am in love – Hercules sound track
[ok you got me :)]

The Blah Post

It has been a while; I don’t know what’s wrong. I just can’t finish a post. This morning I thought that I finally grabbed the words. I neatly arranged everything in mind yet I couldn’t type them the same way. I tried every trick I used to do and I ended up with the same result too many thoughts lining up in my mind causing a severe headache and no writings at all.
I want to write about how the human is always the result of any equation in this life. Actually the human is only the factor that matters, humans are the equation not only the result.
I want to write about emotional stability, about how women go through everyday cycle of hope and relapse. I want to write about one of the dark faces of me.
I want to write about the question and the answer I discovered.
I want to finish the list of pending posts.

I want to write. I can't even write emails :(

More Butterflies

As I promised my good friends Miss Egyptiana & Insomniac here are more butterflies pics.
Pictures were taken by my cousin @ the Butterfly conservatory, Ontario, Canada.
I will be enjoying a couple of sunny days with cousins so when I am back ISA maybe we will discuss the relation between ugliness and insects :)

That's Wise

Q: Why men pull away just as things start to get serious?

A: Probably married, gay or stupid.

Feeding The Butterflies, Please Don't Disturb

My cousin took this pic @ Butterfly conservatory.

Random Reflections – News!

I have decided to boycott all Egyptian newspapers because I couldn’t take how they keep cheering for the current government. I can’t take how those who oppose the government oppose it so I am not into opposition papers too. So that limit my knowledge of the current issues to the few hours I forcefully spend watching the news as my father happily hold the remote.
I do my best to keep myself busy during these couple of hours as I believe that the world news is the shortest way to depression. Natural disasters are everywhere, more innocents are being killed in cold blood all over the world and prices are going sky high with expectations of a world wide starvation. But though I try keeping my safe distance some news makes its way to me. In the last couple of weeks three headlines really made me wonder.

The first one was about a Cambodian man who married two women at the same day. Apparently, he was confused between marrying his current girl friend and his ex girl friend. He loved them both so he married them both. The only thing he worried about was working extra hours to support his two women.
The first thing that came to my mind was “God, I like the guts this man got”. He was stupid enough or may be brave enough to admit that he loved both women equally. He spared himself the hesitation of choice and spared his women the pain of indifference. He married them both because he loved them both. The second thing that came to my mind was “God, that guy proved all my men are lying he married two women in a country that bans polygamy in the time they gave lame excuses in a country where men are saying that God created them to polygamy!! Which led me to wonder what was on these women’s minds when they decided to share a man. I don’t know why I remembered the story of the child and the two mothers. Each of the two women claimed that the child is hers and when the judge ordered to cut the child into half one of them agreed and the other willingly admitted that the child isn’t hers. The judge seeing what the woman who was crying a moment ago claiming that the boy is her son sentenced the boy is hers because only a real mother will never accept to see her kid being cut into half. I bet that both women love the man the same way the other woman did. If any of them really loved him she would have let him go. His happiness would have been her priority but because we are not in a perfect world these women agreed to cut their man into half. I bet he has more things to worry about other than how to support them.

The second thing was the pregnant man. I am a believer that God created us equal but with different jobs. And a woman’s job is to carry babies so knowing about a man who voluntarily gone through the dreadful process of pregnancy was a bit shocking for me. not only because it has messed with all the biology classes that I have had in my life but also because I could never understand how can a man ask to do something that most if not all women hope they will never do. I was enlightened by the fact that he isn’t a real man; he is a transgender who kept his female organs and that’s how he managed to carry and deliver a baby. And that fact explains why he was the ova donor and he had to get sperm from a bank. I am not the type of person who judge people for their sexual orientation but I can’t deny that I can never understand the motives of someone who turned to be a man to do a woman’s job. Only a woman could long to carry a baby in her womb but a man?! Even if he has a womb, God where did all the testosterone go?

Last but not least was the news about the death of the famous Egyptian director Youssef Chahine. Personally, I didn’t understand or like many of his work. But yet I can’t deny that he had a view and that most of the Egyptian Cinematic Masterpieces has his signature. Egypt has lost another man with a view, and people with a view are rare to find these days in Egypt. Whether I agreed with his views or not, the man was a man of opinion. He stood for those opinions regardless how fierce the opposition was. I respect the man though I might not be a dedicated fan. He taught me one thing. When he died my brother said that he can’t understand the reason for all those people mourning a man who made a legend of himself. He, my brother, said that most of Chahine’s work was about himself or how he thinks of life, Egypt and the world. That comment about Chahine reminded me that what really matters was never the world because the world starts from within. May he rest in peace.

A Look onto the Circle

I guess most of you have missed my very first post. I guess I have been telling the very same story about how I started blogging but I always forget to mention that my very first post was to welcome whoever comes across my little space on the cyberspace into my world. From day one it was about me and till now as I am writing the 216th post it is still about me. About my very tight circle that’s formed of many other circles. It is about how I see the world from the very little window I chose to open onto it.

Along comes the question, why a public blog if whatever I am to write isn’t about the public but about myself? I guess my answer will be that I am just like thousands of people who really believe that their ranting is worth the time, the time spent writing it and the time spent reading it. If it doesn’t really worth we wouldn’t have that amazing world of the blogosphere and we wouldn’t have personal diaries on the best sellers. I might not be talented but in my brother’s words who eventually caved to my right to write “even those who can’t write and has nothing to say do it, so keep doing it you are not worse than them”.

Those who knew the little Shimaa at school would have known that she had written short stories, trials to novels, essays and even poetry. Those who knew this little Shimaa knew that her friends and teachers used to call her Socrates because she was the best at debates. Those who knew that girl must have known that she has been writing on a hope that one day she would become a writer, someone who can always add another angle to view a very old thing.

Those who know this Shimaa know that she is keeping the essay that won her the prize on the district competition because it is the only living proof of that dream. Those who know this Shimaa know that she knows that dreams aren’t always meant to become true but even if they were meant only to be dreams we should never stop enjoying them. Only those who know the little girl and the almost 30 years old version of Shimaa know that even she neither has the talent nor the quality thinking she will always keep a scrap of paper at hand because for her the whole world is folded in that scrap.

For me blogging was unfolding that scrap and unleashing the dream. I am writing and I am being read. I am even having instant feedback. Something that I bet Shakespeare would have envied me for.
This very feedback was the reason for changes in the pattern of my writings. It is different to write for yourself than writing knowing that certain people would read. The very same reason those who know me know why I have always chickened out of taking my dream out of the secret drawer. My little scraps of paper have always been the only thing I really did for myself. Having others judging it endangers the whole process of communication between me, myself and the world. So knowing that there is audience who would judge me I started keeping things off and I started looking for more value to add to my nonsense. And as I started doing so I started losing focus. As I opted to impress I forgot my aim. I forgot that it has always been about me and that it is me who only matter. I forgot that dreams are meant to be enjoyed. I forgot that if I was to have audience in the first place it was because I was honestly speaking of myself. It was because I needed to scream certain ideas that have been echoing for long in my head.

I forgot that I didn’t create this blog to entertain the public. I created this blog because certain people push me to certain limits and I have to pour my pain and ideas out else I will explode. I created this blog on the belief that someone out there will hear me screaming.
I can’t believe that I was that close of blowing up the last pleasure I have in this life. I can’t believe that I was that close of being muted forever searching for something deep!!

A Tribute to Her

Almost a year ago a sequence of incidents eventually led to burying the woman I used to have inside along with some memories and that sequence of unfortunate incidents in a big black box and throwing this big black box in a big dark sea.

Actually it was the woman’s choice to quit the known world. She preferred to live in a selected solitude where she can watch the things but never interfere. That decision was taken out of guilt and humiliation, feelings that I thought will fade in a year but unfortunately it didn’t. Laying in her chosen grave that woman forgave everyone but herself and forgot everything but the pain she brought onto me.

She can’t forget that she’s placed the wrong bets. She can’t forgive putting everything on stake and eventually losing everything because of a poor instinct. She is still blaming herself for dumping the safe shores of certainty to the blowing winds of uncertainty. She weeps of guilt for my restless nights that was brought with the new set of facts built on the results of her decisions.

It was the woman’s choice to be buried; she wanted to give me the chance for a fresh start. The last thing she said was “tomorrow is always a new day, seize it”. Now I believe that I have done the wrong thing burying the woman. It was never her mistake it has always been mine. She‘d always known, she’d always warned me but it was me who dragged her into everything.
It wasn’t her instinct that failed me, it wasn’t her intelligence and it was never her heart. The heart that was sure about the pull away, the intelligence that was sure it wasn’t a phobic attack and the instinct that just knew. It was her who felt the void and it was me who pushed her away.

I miss her. I miss how she used to know things. I miss how silly she used to unveil her cards. I miss her smart foolishness. I miss her confidence in things and in people. I miss her belief in the goddess inside.

I never thought I will ever miss her, I never thought that one day I will wonder if I buried the wrong person. I never thought that digging her up will be so hard. I never thought that burying her wasn’t the way to free my heart but it was another way for my heart to fail.

A Potential Neverland

That place keeps hunting me, I don’t know why I am so much attracted to visit it. but each time I read a book I read the name Cornwall. The other night my happy thought for Sameh was visiting Cornwall and a dinner at Rick Stien’s restaurant. Only when he asked me how did I know such a place I decided to search it up. These were the results I got

P.S.
So, happy enough ya Samoo7?

Alexandria?! Why Not :)

I can’t count the number of weddings that I have attended in my adult life; I am always having an occasion to attend. The other day Brad teased me that I seem to be a marriage registrar because I attend too many weddings!!
I hate weddings part of my hate of unnecessary socialization (look who is talking!!)And because I hate the fact that weddings are organized occasions so that people can have a legal way to show off.
First the couple, the bride shows off her dress and the man who bought it as the groom shows off the beauty he is going to spend the night with. As for the parents, they show off the wonderful kids they brought up and they show off how much they paid in that party. Then comes the guests turn who will happily show off the dresses, the jewelry, the bodies and last but not least the spouses.
I am arrogant but I am not a show off, so I will always try to keep things simple unless provoked by a competitor. But being simple never meant going underdressed, that’s why with each wedding on my calendar my hunt for a new outfit starts. It is my cousin’s turn to tie the knot; he is the second cousin in less than 3 months and the 4th wedding in the same side of the family in a year. If you are familiar with the Egyptian wedding customs you will know that for a single girl like me, I am expected to show up wearing a new dress. So as soon as I remembered the upcoming occasion I started my new hunt for a new outfit.
My plan for this wedding is shocking simplicity, I hate the bride. I won’t even honor her with a post. They won’t be having a typical Egyptian wedding (sigh!) they will be having a formal dinner instead. I am a person who keeps classifying occasions in mind, and this occasion didn’t fit under my definition of a full evening dress so to impress (as my grandma who also hates the bride asked me to do) I got a pure silk blouse by Zara (I never wear silk, that change is impressive enough, huh?!) thinking that it would do the trick but unfortunately my jeans won’t be appropriate for the occasion, so I asked my cousin to hunt for a pair of pants with me.
These shopping sprees resulted in no pants. She got me my first birthday gift for this year, she bought a new bag and a matching pair of shoes and she got her daughters some toys, shirts and shoes too. And as she shopped she started selling a new idea to the open for ideas me. The idea she was selling was a place, Alexandria. She is supposed to be living in Alexandria but she is one of the unsettled souls who keep moving back and forth from one city to the other (her beloved husband is an officer). And as her days in Cairo will be coming to an end in around a year and seems that she could use some family in Alexandria she started tempting me to relocate.
When I pointed to a pair of shoes saying that they look nice, she happily showed off the pair she was wearing saying that she got them for a bargain price in Alexandria. When I was frustrated because I can’t find the pants in the color I am searching for she said that she has seen the pair I have been looking for in Alexandria. And when I finally decided to dump the whole idea of hunting the simple yet impressive outfit she smiled pointing at the set of table cloth that I thought will go well at home saying that this very set is being sold in Alexandria at half price.
I admit her trick worked and I caved saying that I really wish I could live there. I have always wanted to escape busy Cairo and live in a less crowded city. A place with a view, and what’s a better view than the wonderful coastline of the Mediterranean (I can think of a couple of places but won’t ruin the idea *wicked wink*)
Though it is the main summer escape for the Egyptians I am not that familiar with the city. My parents were never Alexandria fans because it is too crowded in summer. I visited the city for a couple of times I hated it in summer but I adored it in winter. I almost hated the city the last time I visited it a couple of months ago. We have better malls in Cairo and we have the same traffic. I liked the sea but I have the mighty Nile cutting through Cairo and I never bother to go enjoy it, I bet if I ever lived in Alexandria I won’t be seeing much of that sea. If Sameh didn’t eventually save the day I was going to get back home hating Alexandria for good. Actually, when Sameh saved the day I loved Sameh I can’t credit the city for the fun I had!
Anyway still, my cousin had a point to make as she believes that I didn’t know the real Alexandria yet and whenever I do I will never stop falling in love with her over and over.
Between you and me I won’t really mind relocating to Alexandria, Alexandrian women are known to be of the Femme Fatal type. Maybe if I moved I would get some of that quality (I need that even more than the outfit!!)
But if I am to be Alexandrian this will be for one reason that I won’t say and will let it for you to guess. LoOOoL

A Journey from the Sacred Valley

A little more than a month ago there was a movie playing on MBC2 called Juggernaut. It was about a ship that was about to explode of bombs planted by a smart terrorist (a pre- Qaeda movie). The chief of the bomb squad team was having an interesting conversation with the captain of that ship about life and death. Till they got to the point where he looked the captain into the eyes and asked him “What did the goldfish say?” and as the captain looked puzzled the bomb squad chief completed “There must be a God … I mean who changed the water?!!!”
That goldfish swimming in the tiny tank thinking that it is a whole world was the only picture I had in mind for the past 10 days. The moment I laid feet in Medina and mingled with the crowds I knew that we are just different shaped goldfishes who know that there must be a God because someone keeps changing the water. It wasn’t until I headed to Mecca for Umrah when I knew that it is not about the fact that there must be a God, it is really about how I perceived this fact into my life.
It wasn’t easy for a person like me to perform the Umrah rituals. For someone who weighs actions with commonsense and for a true believer of the Oneness of God performing such rituals of Tawaf & S’ai seemed out of this world. It wasn’t till I laid feet in “Masjid al-Haram” when I really knew that whatever I am going to do is the most honest proof that I do acknowledge that there is a God. I am doing a ritual because it was never about the stone or the ritual itself. It is about letting go and believing that the force does exist. And that there was never a way to run and there will never be a way to hide.
The moment I started circumbating Kaaba and started saying my little prayers I felt that force taking over me. I felt how arrogant and disgraceful a human can be. I felt how tiny a human is. I knew that this hand that keeps changing the water is literally everything and everywhere. By the end of every cycle I learnt something new, by the end of the Tawaf I knew that who ever started it wasn’t the same person who ended it. The new person is someone who learnt to let go and accept whatever that force decide. I was a believer but I guess it wasn’t till I was done with my Tawaf till I exercised that belief.
As a new believer I moved to perform my final ritual of S’ai , where I have to move back and forth between the hills of Safa & Marwa. If Tawaf was the thing that taught me to let go, it was S’ai that let me to discover the need of humans to have a religion & a ritual, a ritual that symbolize things that they know and things that they can’t understand ,a ritual that address the unknown part of the human construction, the soul.

As I stood up the Safa saying what the prophet (PBUH) said at the very same position “I start from where God started “and reciting what God said in Quran “Behold! Safa and Marwa are among the Symbols of Allah. So if those who visit the House in the Season or at other times, should compass them round, it is no sin in them. And if any one obeyeth his own impulse to good,- be sure that Allah is He Who recogniseth and knoweth." I discovered that the soul is like anything else in this life that needs to be maintained in order to fully function. And because the soul is the unexplained part of the human construction, it has always needed some unexplained forms of maintenance that took different forms of rituals over history. Being it a polytheism religion or a monotheism one whether it is a Hindu Circumambulation of a temple or a Jewish weeping on the Wailing Wall. That soul has always needed a way to keep emotional sanity, a ritual to purify and get closer to that invisible hand, the force that keeps changing the water.
I moved back and forth between the two hills and the more tired I got the more I got closer to the core of that ritual. The more tired I got the more I related this ritual with many different rituals that included physical effort, where a person approach different degrees of tiredness. I came to the point where I discovered that this physical tiredness was one of the rarest moments when I managed to stop thinking without falling asleep. I turned to be a tongue that praises God, an eye that sees the way drawn by that invisible hand. It was the unexplainable soul in command of the situation. By the end of the seventh round the fear that got over me with my first steps into the sacred mosque subsided to be a form of satisfaction and a different form of inner peace.
When I finally packed to get back home, I knew that my journey wasn’t a journey to the sacred valley as it was supposed to be. My journey started from that sacred valley, my real journey is a journey to re-discover another sacred valley that resided deep inside me. A sacred valley that resides in each and every one of us, the place where we know that hiding is of no use as God is everywhere, the place where we believe that running is no good as God is everything.
Before leaving I said that I am not the type of person who smiles proposing toasts for ends and new beginnings. I am still that very same person; I didn’t miraculously discover myself, God or even the deepest philosophies of this world. The only difference that I am aware of is that now I know where the sign to the road of letting go is. Now I know that sometimes I can stop thinking without falling asleep. Now I can see the light emerging from me secret sacred valley.
To that light and that goldfish who led the way to believe!