Mnehhhh

It's already hard to say NO when you have the chance to say yes. It's hard. It's even harder to realize that you do not necessarily want to say no at times, but you still have to because you know that if you do not, it will reflect on your self image, and make you regret the day you learned the word "moral".
Seeking pleasure put as your priority is just as hard as having morals, just in different ways. And, stands in the face of different people.
But, sticking to certain principles is really hard, too. It keeps you from doing so many things you would have liked to do, things that you might find fun, or interesting.

This post is so very unthougtful.

That 70s Life

I am strange.
I have a crush on a proffesor. It's not like he's in his 20s either, he's old. The thing is, though, how will I ever find someone with a mindset like that one who is not a 70s person.
I just so happen to be born in the wrong generation, or with a wrong mindset.
Whatever the group is, I never belong. I sometimes belong to random people on their own, never to a group. It makes me sad sometimes, even though I got used to it.
If people could be categorized;
The geeks: I am very geeky, still they are oblivious to so many things I consider facts of life.
The artists: I am always considered too "something" to be an artists...too optimistic, or too conservative, or too happy. Artists have to appreciate melancholy, something I am not good at.
The fundies and the co: obviously, I dont have what it takes.

and it goes on and on with all kind of different groups. Always too something to belong,
Never lonely, though. Sometimes alone, but never lonely.

Maybe I am too much like my parents, I feel like I belong to the 70s kids more than I belong here. I have more interesting conversations with my parents, and their friends than I have with my very own friends. It's strange.

Time machine would have helped.
Maybe at one point, I will quit the belonging idea and just start to exist around the group that is closest, if any. And maybe I will just continue having that crush on the professor for being a 70s kid, the personification of a man that does not and will not exist today. Even his son is so completely different from him, he doesnt have 1% of the imagination his father has.

Mneh.

Personality

is appreciated in everything, except computers.

My computer has been restarting on its own for the passed 4 days.


Cheers.

The Fantacies

It's strange how some people's lives are all about a fantacy or a set of fantacies. I am not only talking about sexual ones, there are many other kinds. I met lots of these.

There's a man I know whose mind and thoughts circle around the forbidden fruit fantacy, sex with the mistress, away from all eyes. It's strange how nothing else will satisfy him, he will not try to enjoy anything else, either. It's as if his life is stopped till his fantacy comes true, and when it does, he continues looking for another one just like it, slightly different in the physicality maybe, but the same experience none the less.

There's a girl I know whose fantacy is to live like a monk, in the desert maybe, or the seaside. To runaway from all things that people are busy with in their every-day life. It's strange how she never wants it to come true, though. Perhaps the reason for her to want to keep it in a journal and not work for it is because it's so real in her mind that she wouldnt know how to live if she got there. Like the man, she refuses to enjoy anything not related to it, but unlike him, she doesnt want it to come true.

Now that I wrote this it makes me want to ask if I am putting my life on hold for a fantacy. And, are we all like that, except subconsciously?

The Key to Understand the Experience of Another

Is to realize you will never understand.

Fears

I never realized being abanadoned was one of my phobias and fears. I never realized that until today. Maybe it has to do with my father leaving the house when I was 5. My father...my father left the house.

I never realized I had a fear of people underestimating me. I realized that today, too. I realized how much for most of my life I had been underestimated. How happy I was when someone said I did something well, or well enough. Something I think I am good at. My father, again.

I never realized that I had a fear of dying, or leaving without having given enough. I realized that today! I realized that I feel guilty when I know there was something I could have done to make something better and I didn't. I dont know who gave me that.

I never realized I had a fear of fitting in, and being left out. I never realized that I have both of these fears at the same time. Fitting in feels as if it's a lie, and being left out feels cold, estranged. Now that's because of my mother, because she's both at the same time, sadly.

I always knew I had fears that I do not know of. It's good to realize them. Now that all these nightmares are coming true, I can realize that I had them in the first place.

Sometimes

Very few time in my life did I tell myself this "Oh, wow, look at me, I am pathetic and I am all alone. No one will help me". Actually, only once. In that one time, I decided that my way IS the highway. I decided that the face I am sad is all my fault, and that I am going to change it.

Well, I thought this time had passed. Life surprises me, all full of surprises. It's so strange how idiotic I turn out to be each single time. Sometimes, I try not to learn if learning will make me not trust people, and so I realize that I am an idiote because I fell for the same thing for the second time. This is my second time to fully-comprehend that no one will run after me if they know I am heart. No one will try to hug me again if I pushed them away. It makes me realize how naiive i am about the world, how young and easily-heart.

Last time I did it, I didnt care about people so much. This time I care about people a lot. Last time I had no friends, this time I do.

I always thought of suicidal as a remantic thing, it's so dramatic, and so "forever". I always smile when I think of people's reaction to my death.
Shehab will not cry, shehab will run his hand on his face and decide not to come to my funeral.
My father will not cry, he will laugh remembering me doing the silliest things.
My mother will cry because I died before she did.
Leila will cry because she will never see me again.
Nada will not know that I died, they'll tell her I left the country.

All people whom I call friend or who call me friends will/will not cry depending on their belief system and sadness-management.

Fouad will cry because he thinks I am the only one who will ever love him.
He who shall not be named will not cry because he knows he will always remember a little detail about me in his heart.

Now, thinking of everyone's reaction to my death makes ME tear because only I know how much I love life in all its forms.

My stomache hurts because I havent eaten is so long. My throat hurts because I'd like to cry and be a drama queen but somehow I cant seem to be able to do it and the rest of my body hurts because the yoga was too hard on someone who hasnt exercised in ages.

Isnt it strange that the more you give people the less they realize it? OK, it IS strange. Oh my god, I'm being such a drama queen. What the hell am I supposed to do when my life turns into drama? pretend that everything is OK and live with it? No idea.

Recognition of Stereotypes.

One of the reasons why I never read "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" is because I think it's stereotyping. Two of the married couples I know, though, the man blames the woman for everything. And thinks that she has a hand in the problem, whatever the problem is. Here's a thought; do stereotypes about men and women come from an extent of truth? Do men and women act according to these rules that were made based on other men and women, or were the rules made on the behavior of Everyman and Everywoman?

An Inquiry on Egyptian Nationalism.

It's sad to be this country. Not much people love it. And even fewer people love it for its existence away from the rationalization of how it it.
People hate this country for everything they see in it, and blame it for everything they have to do. Blame Egypt for sexual harassement, blame Egypt for the poverty, and the corruption...blame it for everything.
Egypt is tired. Egypt has been going through changes none-stop since Alexander, or maybe even before that. Not one century was left for it to breathe in and out without wars, and troubles. How can we blame such a country?
Why do we never blame ourselves for what happens to us. See, I am not talking "start with yourself" adversitement bullcrap, I'm talking obvious things, we never teach our children to respect any form of "otherness", why do we blame Egypt, then, for being cruel on the minorities of all types?
My sense of belonging is threatened every single day, in every single way there is.
The way people look at me in the subway like an alien, the way students in my university dont give a shit about people with the injustice when it comes to financial and social standards. The way no one gives a shit except about their own holiday time and their new nail polish colors.
It threatens my idea of Egypt, and being Egyptian. Maybe I live in a dream world, maybe people dont want to be egyptian anymore...it's unkool to be egyptian, we want to be German this week, or whatever.
People ask, why do you love egypt, instead of asking themselves why they hate the very country that held them till they were old enough to think by themselves.
When I say that I love this country, that it's home, people tell me it's because I dont know this country. They claim it's because I live in a bubble, well I dont. My mother works with working children from the age of 5. I know what injustice brings upon the people of this country, but if I don't love it, I will never be bothered to try and change the very little things, the details of life.
People find it strange that I say that this is home. They find it strange because I look like an alien if put in a group of egyptian girls in their early twenties, I would stand out. I do not fit in.
I dont fit it, but I belong.

Home is where the hurt is. And that's not even me, that's U2.

What do YOU know?

Monologue:
"Can I be honest? I have no idea what I'm doing here(pause)it's like that line from paradise lost "Did I request thee, maker, from my clay to mould me a (pause)sixteen year old transvestite living in the Bronx? Bronx Bronx, Bra's, man. They're in your face all the time. There're the hawaiian coconut ones, and the pointy madonna ones. That's not right, that's not right. And yet they have the nerve to look at me in my perfectly acceptable, conservative, catholic school uniform and judge, and point, and whisper: (pause) Sex. Sexual preference. Gender. What do you know? What do you know?"

This monologue was written and performed by Gogo, my dearest friend :D

I Shall Be Relieved

It will never get better till I make it so, or so I realized. I can get lost in the life I lead, or I can stop and think about it so I figure out a way to enjoy my stay better. And i say stay because I know even though one thinks one will be staying here for 60 years, they have all the time to think about the way their lives will turn, they dont. Time passes by quickly, ask me about that.
I have all I need. I have few people I can talk to, feel familiar around, I have a family that can undrstand a lot of me, I have me.
All I need.

Lovely.

P.S for readers, Yah, I too think that this is a diary of someone turning insane. lol