Reflec-shun.

I haven't had time for reflection in quite a while.

Back...candle-lit room, and blogging position. I might get a job at a store...a salesperson. Needless to say, I will not be using my mental abilities in performing this kind of job, only smiling, and standing abilities. Not a very challenging job. The challenge is doing well in the interview tomorrow, that is.

I need a job, I have free time, I read so much, I go out so much. I need money to do both. I need money to go to the expensive ass gym down the street. Now, how would I get the money if Baba will not PAY!? I get a job that pays well that doesn't eat up all my free time, and that gives me money to read MORE plays. Maybe I'll even be able to fund my film project that's been in process for like one whole year now.

Speaking of films, out of my respect and support for independent film, and filmmakers, alternative styles and cinematic language, I go to a festival held by the British council thing.
I watch "Wingrave" http://www.wingrave-film.com which made me feel stressed, and anticipating for a whole i don't remember how long. People walked out in the middle of that film, now, I don't walk out in the middle of a film, I just don't do that. I watch. There were ideas in there, where did they all go in the end?

Maybe I'm not the best form of audiences, but this film is really already overrated. It makes me sad that you can take strong cinematic language and highly stylized work and throw it right in the trash with your awkward, abrupt, deus ex machina ending, to resolve nothing, and leave nothing unresolved on purpose.

It was that sad.

I need to sleep, I can't show up to the interview with huge black blobs around my eyes.

My iGoogle City-scape theme is designed to match the time of day it is with my location; Cairo, Egypt. It's wonderful. It's night now so it's dark theme thing and it has stars.
I wish I was outside, not looking at some ugly computer-designed city scape on fucking iGoogle.
What assholes, they know people who're on their computer opening freaking iGoogle are losers and low-lives that don't even know what their own city looks like.

I'm going insane, I've been spending too much time inside this house. The walls are talking back to me now.

I want to watch the stars.

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 .