Silliness of Life

One of the very main reasons why I love this blog is that it's one place where I am not required to be prfound! It's one place where I am not required to be anything, actually. I could be however silly I want. There's no risk! People who read this blog are either people who never even met me, or people who know me well enough to realize that I am silly and dorky most of the time! And, acutally, being the silly person that I am is a relief.
Days ago I went to a soft ball match, a friend was playing. All the players and even the watchers were "white people" like Gogo calls them. The thing is, (again, being the silly person that I am) I didnt know what the hell was going on. I dont understand the rules of the game or anything so the only thing i was doing was commenting on how silly this one is, or how this guy has a big butt or like, the fact that this guy looks like a pirate etc, :D
And, it was so much fun! Seriously, this was just as fun as being in a Gender and Literature class and having to think about prfound, deep ideas of gender and stuff!
Believe it or not, the ability to be silly is one of the best things in life :]

حقايق - متابعة

خمسة، النهار أحلى بكتير. النهار بداية جديدة و علشان كدة فيه بهجة. فيه ناس بتعترف انها بتحبه، فيه ناس مش بتحب تعترف انها بتحبه علشان الكآبة بتحسسهم بالأهمية. و فيه ناس فعلا بتحب الليل و بتحسب بداية اليوم منه!
ستة، الصراحة من أكتر الحاجات اللى بتخلي الإنسان قوي لأنه مش خايف من نظرة اللى قدامه. بس الحقيقة اللي مش هتفيد أنانية لأن الشخص الوحيد اللى عمل قرار هو اللى قالها و قراره مش فى مصلحة أي حد غير نفسه اذا كان قالها عشان ما يبقاش عليه حمل لوحده.
سبعة، الأجوبة مهمة، و مريحة. بس ان الواحد يختار انه يجاوب على حاجة مش عارفها، دة خوف م المجهول و جبن.

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واحد اتنين، حقايق مملة!

من سنة أو حاجة أنا و سارة صاحبتى كنا ف سلينترو الكوربة و قررنا نكتب 10 حقايق. مش اللى هو الشمس و النجوم لأ حاجات احنا بنعتبرها حقايق...من بعد اليوم دة أنا و هى اتغيرنا كتير. دة غير ان الورقة ضاعت! فانا قررت اكتب 10 حقايق جديدة على ضوء التجارب الجديدة و التغييرات. ممكن تكون اكتشافات كمان مش حقايق

1- ان الواحد يحب الحضارات المختلفة، و السفر...و انه يعتبر انه "وليد العالم" دة مش معناه انه مش منتمي لمكان، أو ثقافة معينة.
2- الانتماء مش معناه الاتساق و لا الاتفاق. الانتماء اختيار و اعتراف بتأثير مكان (أو زمان) على الشخص.
3- المشكلة ساعات مش ف ان الناس مش فاهمة أنا مين، المشكلة هي انى أدي الفهم، أو عدم الفهم، التدير أو عدم التقدير أكتر من حقه. المشكلة لما الخط اللي بين رأيي ف نفسي و رأي الناس في ما يكونش موجود.
4- ان الواحد يعترف انه غلطان مش بيقلل من غلطه. ان الواحد يعترف بعيوبه للي حواليه مش مفروض تكون دعوة ان هما يستحملوا ان العيب دة يجرحهم.

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Inquiry on Ramadan and What Nut.

Ramadan...everyone's favourite month. My least favourite month! Ramadan is there to stay *twenty eight days* for good times' sake! I have to stop eating in the street, I cant even have a gum in my freakin' mouth. In university, I am the christian who doesnt have respect for muslims, OR the muslim who doesnt fast. Both are bad...
Today in the kitchen as I was preparing my breakfast my mo7agaba sister says: "hah, zay kol sana?". And I laughed. So she replies, "la2 begad, zay kol sana?"
"zay kol sana", I said.
"tab leh keda ya3ni, afham weg-het nazarek"
That puts me in a position that I hate. I promised my dad not to talk about religious views in this house. So, I have to shut up, or say something really really stupid. I chose the latter.
"Ana mat3awedtesh 3al seyam, w mesh fahma nazareyet el seyam kwayes. Mabasomsh".
At that point, she gave me the "La 7awl wala qowata ella bellah" look from the corner of her eyes and she left the kitchen.
What am I going to tell my youngest sister. My 7 year old sister now? Am I going to have to fake the me having all the diseases on earth again?

Twenty eight days of me, eating when no one else is. Twenty eight days I have to go to school earlier (7:30) which means I will have to wake up extremely early (6:00).

Twenty eight days of endless T.V shows on T.V, of people doing the things that they should do all year long. Twenty eight days of feeling left out!
I don't like this month.

البوصلة: عبادة ابن رشد : فلسفة التنزير النخبوي

البوصلة: عبادة ابن رشد : فلسفة التنزير النخبوي

This is an article, written by my brother whom I very much appreciate both as a brother AND as a thinker. It's an article about Ibn Roshd and his philosophy counter-arguing the theory that Ibn Roshd is a modernist. Take the time to read it, it's interesting.

Loving Things

Loving people, and things does not mean that you let them force their aura on you. I sit in the middle of downtown listening to the music of downtown, which I do not necessarily like. I love downtown but I dont always like its music. I play music in my piece on technology and I listen. I watch the people move and imagine them being the video-clip of my own music. They suit my music, all of them. They all have a place in my cadre.
People pass by, some of them I know. I smile at them, some smile back. I realize that the more I love people, the more space I give them to choose or not choose my own company. Sometimes, this makes me suffer. When they choose not my company. I feel abandoned, but I still do it.
Last night I watched for the second time the movie "The Seventh Seal", and Ingmar Bergman movie. I loved it. Somehow, it made me feel familiar with the persona of death. He's there to stay! And even though the movie ends with an almost religious ending, I still love it. I keep my own theory of nothingness. The character who respresents my skepticism is skeptic till the end, and that's how I liked the last scene.
Why are you reading this? :D

Expression

I was walking down Mohammed Mahmoud street today when I decided to take off my glasses and see the world from my eyes' point of view, not from the glasses' point of view. People started to become blurry shapes. The blurry shaped moved in the midday light. There were too many of them that I lost track and decided to look for something else.
Suddenly there's this huge wall that I am walking next to. The wall was lonely. It decided to have a conversation with me. So, I sat down next to wall and talked.
The wall has been here for many many years, long before I was born. It turns out the wall knows me and my whole family,too!
My grandmother was a psychopath, my father is a cheating bastard and my mother is just hysterical. My brother used to pass by here everyday on his way from one university campus to another.
I stopped liking the wall, and I got up to continue walking when the tree slapped me on the face and told me to sit down again.
Somehow, my roots are covered with mud.
Somehow, I will never see the people closest to me from the air's point of view.
Somehow, I don't know why I grew up to be one thing and not the other.
I got mad at the tree, but I kept it in. I sat down again, this time, crying. I wished I had never even noticed the wall in its loneliness and the tree protecting it.
I was sitting there, looking at my feet when I realized that, I know least about the people whom I should know about most.

My New Room

The new room is small, but not cozy. The new room is tidy, but not settled. The new room is Fresh but forgetful. The new room is the pill I need to start a new phase of my life.

Days ago I dreamt that I lost my teeth without realizing. In the dream, I look at the mirror and suddenly I realize that I have no teeth now. I have no teeth. The interpretation would be, I feel old. Suddenly, I realize that I had been alive for more than 19 years. I have no idea where they went or what I spent those years on.

The room has a bed, a closet, a mirror, a desk and two windows. There's also a bamboo chair.
The bed is small and comfortable. On it, two pillows lay. They are hard, just as I like them. The bed is small. The room is mine, alone.
The closet is a wooden one. There are things in the closet, now. My things are in the closet. Things that belong to me are in the closet. The closet looks like a classic 80's closet. I love it, and it seems to like me back.
The mirror is oval-shaped like the frames that have sepia pictures in them. It is familiar. It is the only familiar thing in the room, other than myself. This mirror is different. This mirror is dreamy.
The desk is the only stranger. It's a very modern-style, I hate the colors of it. I sit on it because i have to. The things in the room are all in harmony, and the desk is the outsider. Sometimes, I feel sorry for the desk.
The windows are looking on the street, and on the balacony of the house. The windows are big, glass windows. The let in the sun, and that's why I like them. One window is the other window's company. Their company makes the room warmer, or maybe it's the fact they let the sun light in.
The bamboo chair is my new friend. It is elaborate. I like elaborate people and things. The bamboo chair is comfortable, it is the only thing that hugs me in the room. The bamboo chair's hug is warm, it reminds me of Sarah's hug.

My new room is new. My new room is small. My new room is tidy. My new room is a lot like the new me.

The Missing.

For now, we can call him O'. O' is an ex. He lived in another city. O', till now is one of my favourite people...even though he hurt me, and he left me. I miss him. I miss him because he never pretended to be anything, he never claimed to be anything. He knows exactly what he is, and it's true. He is what he is.
I miss him because after that, there have been placed a big chunck of pretense in my life that is now unremovable. A chunck of cliches, extreme emotions that make me miss him being so cynical and satirical all the time. He was one of the first people to acknowledge me as a person. To tell me that I make a difference in someone's life.
I don't know if I ever loved him, but I miss him.

ثلاثة روائح

رائحة البحر
تذكرني بالحياة
في عالم
صنع خصيصا للوحدة
فالسمكة في صحبة
لا تتواصل.
السمكة جزء في صحبة لا تألفها.
رائحة الرمال
تذكرني بالقصص
التي شهدتها الرمال.
قصص...
أبدا لن تكتب.
و رائحتك
تذكرني بأن الرغبة
مهما علت هوجائيتها
لن تغير من مفاهيم
المستحيلات.

The Mania

Too many things to do is good sometimes. So other times, however, it's bad! Simple, yes? No. I am pressured. I will be pressured till the end of the semester and then, I will miss being pressurd. It's really sad. Why cant there be something in the middle...like being a part-timer at uni or something? Taking things slow? Now, of course dad wont allow that! I have to get through my studies and this and that. That's what life's all about.
I just need to take a deeeeeep breath and tell myself that everything is going to go just as planned. I will do the work on time. I will go to classes early morning because it's important. I will write my essays even if I dont want to. And so on. Get through the semester. It's sad, though, because if only I had a little time to breathe it would have been "living the semester" which, in my perspective, is a much better thing to do that just waiting for the semester to stop being hectic. Or to end!
I am happy. I am not only convinced that I am happy, but I am happy. Why am I happy? It's becuase I like being happy, it makes me smile! Gogo says: I belive in god, the thought makes me smile. Now, I believe in happiness because the thought of having a good thing in life makes me smile.
A friend says happy people are stupid people who want to convince themselves that it will be OK. They are people who want to be comfortable, and that's it.
I might be stupid...I'm not sure. One thing I know, though, is that I am only satisfied with what I am, and what I become, and how I change. I am not satisfied with so many things the world brings. At least, though, I am satisfied with the energy inside of me.
Mmeh, I'm boring.

دخان

اليوم رسمت دوائر من الدخان
كما كان يفعل
عندما يفكر،
و أحسست بالشكل يتلاشى
في الفضاء
كما الاحساس في صدر
أبى أن يصادق الهواء النقي.
اليوم نظرت بأعين مسافرة
كما كان ينظر
حين يملأه الحنين إلى عالمه الخاص
و تذوقت الحنين
لعالم بدونه.

تنام

لا تعرف ماذا تفعل،

ليس هناك شيئاً تفعله،
فتنام.
لا تريد أن تفكر،
ولا تريد أن تتذكر
أو تتألم
فتنام.
على أمل أن تتركها أحلامها
في سلام.
على أمل أن تموت
أو تموت الآلام،
تنام.

13 2006يوليو

Forgiving

Forgiving. Or not. Forgetting, or not. When does forgiving stop being a virtue and start being a disease? When does it become addictive and destructive?
If someone slaps you, and you let them slap you on the other side, they might learn from it...from the fact that they had been mean to you and that you were good to them. But what if someone slaps you on one side and you let them slap you on the other one...so, they slap really hard it breaks your neck?
Forgivingness, and too much forgivingness...where do you draw the line?

And the questions IS:

Today I just watched this movie about a guy who works as a reporter in a newspaper. The guy fabricated over half of the articles he wrote there, they were funny and people didnt pay attention to the fact that these stories might not be at all real. He then got fired when he was caught and wrote a novel. He probably realized that fiction is only appreciated in certain places. The movie is called Shattered Glass.
Now the question is this: How much does the truth really matter?
The question is this: How much truth is from the heart, and how much fiction is from the heart?
If fiction is from the heart, it is the creation of imagination, imagination is the creation of impossibilities, the dreams, the fantacies. Imagination is what we want, not what actually happened. The question is: For what extent do we tolerate stories from the heart?