a part of an email

Is it entering a new decade of my life, or is it the fact that cockroaches are taking over my kitchen, I'm not sure. I'm sure, though, I'm growing up. I clean around me like a freak. I think I feel more responsible. People around me are getting married, it scares me. I'd get married, but I'm not sure I'd respect what ideas and stereotypes that comes with what some define as a married woman.

I miss the cigarette I used to smoke with you on Asr-El-Neel at night, watching the boats, and laughing inside that passers-by think we might be lovers. It was warm, and thoughtful.

I've been writing poems about silence, Odes to Silence. I think I've been obsessed with silence for quite sometime, I still can't trace it back to my childhood. It's funny/strange how many things I'm obsessed with and can be traced right back to my first years. It's scary. Sometimes you don't wish to know, or want to believe that little obsessions are born in you when you're old.

Sarah is reading "Foundation of the Metaphysics of Morals". I gave it to her; it's an interesting read that's for sure, and she gave me "The Bat Tattoo" which is also a very good book. The characters are so alive and are full of details.

I wonder how I would be described in a book, if I'd have that many details in me to make someone read through the pages. The problem with being consistent is that you become boring.

The Way Things Don't Work

How everyone starts leaving.

How everyone starts leaving, some in the mind, and some leave most physically.
Both hurt.

I didn't know how to cry in the airport this time, it feels like it's already been done for me, the crying. I've done it before, too. And then I think, maybe because people never change it is that I'm not scared of meeting them years later. I know that if I really know them, there's no way that I can un-know them, and so years later, I still know them.

What am I talking about?

It seems for a moment that driving is not as fun as it looked when I drove my friends' cars.
And TiledFace is jealous of anyone who touched her book, her book is hers and hers alone. Sometimes I feel that if i had to travel light, I wouldn't know what it is that I want to keep more.

And, old friends.
Old friends.

Sometimes I just think of showing up at their house without telling them, and then see whether or not they forgive me for having not been there, and whether or not I forgive them for having left.
Life moves on so quickly that it scares me. because my rhythm is slower than that, much slower. I take my sweet time getting older.

Treatise Concerning the Last Two Weeks.

It's been such a long time since I trusted my judgment enough to say that something is bullshit.
I feel smart being in theory classes. Theory is an amazing thing, you get so into it, and you think you understand all that's going on. Suddenly, you realize how stupid you are, you forgot that theory is just an attempt to add spice to some really tasteless food.

Some people will never understand that tasteless food is just tasteless food, and it should not be a part of their "intellectual" image that they say they like tasteless food.

I will never understand how anyone can enjoy "Breaking the Waves". Lacan, and other theories don't make a film like this one any better.

Now that I've read, I can safely distinguish good stuff from bullshit.

My characters move on their own now. I don't move them anymore, they do what they really want to do. not necessarily what's expected of them, but what they want...and that makes me very comfortable. I mean, you don't want to create a character that you always have to drive, that has absolutely no will power, that would be like writing your auto-biography.

I have fever. I had a dream that a friend met me when i was on my way to Hughada, and he was going to Vienna (so I met him half-way there!), and he said he was tired of this country, and that he wants to get out. I didn't ask him why.

This entry and the couple of entries before it are so dry, I realize that. I have various techniques to kill my readers .

Birthday Blues.

Not really blues.
Yesterday was a nice day... It's fun to have friends around you, celebrating the day you were born.
(#), (#), (#)...it still feels like I'm 17.
I guess time goes by so quickly. I have to read faster. My birthday is the alarm, like, beeeeeeep, you're getting old and you still haven't read the books you wanted to read, taken the pictures you wanted to take, written the things you wanted to write.
It's about time I start.

It's been a long while since I've sat in my blog-writing position. On the desk, the chair is fitting, the little chair/stand thing for my feet so they're perfectly comfortable.

Now what's interesting is that there seems to be TWO anonymous entities. THE anonymous, and IMU. One of which had sent me a text message earlier that day to tell me that he's going to comment. What's funny/strange is that I had lost my cell phone a few days earlier so I ended up now knowing who it was.

My life has been a little hectic. I mean, you can tell just by knowing that it's been that long since I blogged, me being the obsessive blogger that I am, that I haven't been sitting on my desk for more than 30 min in a long long time. It's true. I check my e-mail at wireless network stations. It's pathetic.

In the middle of all of this, I have endless reports to write about plays that I watched/will be watching. I have to write a paper about Naguib Mahfouz (they're still not over the fact that the guy is DEAD). And sometimes I catch myself sounding like a Gucci corner person.

My brother is going to be visiting very soon, that's one thing I'm excited about.

I got new AMAZING glasses. Retro as should be.
I'm working on my play, trying as hard as I can to make it a play, not a closet-drama thing. Maybe I will be a playwright.
I'm tired of not-knowing what I want to do with my life.
I watched a play that is a part of a project that's supposed to be empowering for women. I was a part of that play last year, I did acting. This year, I watch it, and I'm greatly GREATLY disappointed it's not even funny.

At this point in my life women-empowering stuff just gets on my nerves. I find myself saying things like, it's about time we get over ourselves! It's really sad that I keep finding "stands" in general rather pointless. :/

So, no I haven't stopped blogging, I've just been busy and tired (and typing too many papers)