Sleep sleep sleep, bye bye insomnia!

All through the past two weeks I’ve been having some serious sleep encounters, as in I fall asleep almost everywhere, which is my baby sister’s thing actually!! Coffee no longer works, I drink about three huge mugs a day, black, no sugar, and yet I can’t seem to keep my eyes opened, not even while driving, ME!!!

After the second time I fell asleep while driving, I decided to see a doctor. I hate how doctors laugh at me when I speak of my eccentricities as if they were normal. Yes, I barely sleep 4 hours straight a day, and I wake up in the middle of the night having serious troubles falling back to sleep; hence insomniac. Always have and I think I have gotten used to it by now, this is not a change I would welcome actually!!

Apparently, my body has a different agenda! I lose focus; I get dizzy, and eventually fall asleep. My body has decided my insomnia days are over and now I don’t even sleep like normal people, I sleep all the freakin time and I hate it!!

I tried to act all stubborn and stay up late without even a nap that weekend and the punishment was horrible; I couldn’t lift my head off the pillow for the next 14 hours. I had a nasty migraine as if an iron fist was squeezing all the brain cells out of my scull, and when I eventually got out of bed I almost didn’t recognize my mirror image; I was extremely pale and fuzzy, I looked more like a zombie!

So yes, I am surrendering to all the sleep; today I woke up at 10am after sleeping at 1am, only to go for a long nap at 5pm and wake up at 9!!! And I know I will probably be in bed within an hour at most!!!

I sort of have an identity crisis!! If this lasts, I will change my name from insomniac to sleepy head! Oh insomnia, I will miss you.

P.s. The reason I have not been posting is basically because I am either asleep or out of focus most of the time :(

Angry Mode Alert… and time to kick some a**

I am so pissed off on so many levels to the extent that I am screaming in my head with obscene words I am not even sure I understand!!

I could write about five posts at least discussing each –different- reason behind that anger and ranting nonstop about how things are just not freakin’ right! But I am too angry to be coherent…

Now dear blog readers, I need more than your moral support (which I always ALWAYS appreciate) on this one… if anyone who reads this happens to work in the AUC, or knows someone who works there and has the right contacts to make sure I’m heard , please contact me on my email; in case my email is not clear on my blogger ID page, it is myoblivia@gmail.com.

Thanks.

Wrapped within a jazzy tune!

Looking through the window and seeing all those marshmallow clouds around me, I wrapped my shawl around me as jazz tunes tickled all my senses…

It was the perfect setting; finishing up a cup of coffee as my favorite lindt melted in my mouth after a brief chat with the friendly flight attendant, me alone on that row, and Ella and Louis singing… that was when it hit me…

I finally felt that warm fuzzy feeling I was missing most of my trip…

I felt gratitude for it all, I felt the kind of happy I couldn’t feel earlier when I was burdened by all the things that haunted my soul!

The end of my trip did not feel sad like endings are mostly known to be; mine was satisfying.

It all fell into place as the plane slowly came closer to the ground, and I could see the tiny little details through the cotton-candy clouds, I was reminded of my love for details and I remembered those particular ones that made me smile during my trip…

And all of a sudden, it felt like home!

Oh details, I just love you; you make my life!! In you, my true happy moments belong and I am forever grateful that I can see you, even if at the end!

My sweet sweet uncle!!

Late at night after everyone went to bed…

Him: so how are you?
Me: *smiling* I am fine alhamdulilah
Him: and what are your plans?
Me: *babbled on an on about what I plan on doing with my “career” for about 10 whole minutes*
Him: *in a calm tone* I was not asking about your career, I was asking about your personal life
Me: *smiling confusingly*
Him: *almost laughing and using random arm gestures* no one asked me to talk to you about anything I promise…
Me: *interrupting* Khalo, I will get me some water because I’m thirsty and I’ll be back
Him: *laughing* 3ashan tebbala3y kalamy??
Me: Abadan wallahy, bas 3atshana we shaklak 3ayez tetkallem we tenashefly ree2y!

After I got my water…

Me: I have no plans for my personal life… I go to work, I go home spend time with my boys, go out with friends occasionally, the routine family activities and that’s it!
Him: you don’t have plans for what’s next, I mean you don’t want to get married again???
Me: *almost choking on my water* khalo, marriage is not something I’d look forward to
Him: leeh, you’re young, you have your life ahead of you, mat2oleeesh et3a2adti!
Me: *laughing* la2 mat3a2adtesh, bas at this point of my life, I have realized that I never lived for me, and I am also aware that I have two kids of whom I have take care, and between them and myself, I don’t have the time or the energy to work on a relationship, and marriage is just HARD!
Him: it is, but again, you should not be against the concept…
Me: I didn’t exactly say I was against it (I couldn’t tell him what I thought point blank, he would seizure if I do), but let’s look at it from a realistic perspective… marriage is not an easy thing, and we’re a generation of spoilt brats who barely get what marriage really is; I’ve been in an out and I still haven’t figured it out!! Aaand don’t forget, I already have two amazing boys, and I do not want to have any more kids… so marriage is not exactly something I would want!
Him: da sa7ee7, bas bardu you should not rule it out!
Me: *smiling bekhabasa* enta gayebly 3arees walla eh???
Him: *smiling in a way I couldn’t really tell* ya3ne, perhaps I might be of help in that department!
Me: ok, if you find someone whom you think is good enough for me, tell him you have a niece who’s already divorced with two boys, who does not want to have any more kids, who has quite the strong character and is extremely stubborn, she's also opinionated and takes pride to an unhealthy extreme, and finally, she is very particular and picky about everything… and to top it all, she has serious spending issues mostly because she does not realize how much she spends because she doesn’t know how to work numbers in her head… law fedel interested, I’d like to meet him; however, I’m sure that would pretty much scare him off
Him: *looking at me awy* what you said is not all bad, don’t say it like they’re bad things… ya3ne except for the crazy-buying syndrome, which I have too, and apparently it’s genetic!
Me: I never said they were bad things, but they’re who I am and I know it’s a hard thing for a man in our culture to accept... and I really don’t think there are enough men who are good enough for me, as in have it in them to make me happy… oh, tell him also that I have too much ego and think very highly of myself, obviously!!!
Him: ya insomniac, feh nas kowayesa… you can’t rule out the possibility 3ashan you had a bad experience!
Me: ya khalo I know… I just don’t believe en el nas el kowayesa dool keteer, and given how few they are, the possibility of finding among them someone who’d take me the way that I am and be compatible with me are pretty slim, so again, to want to get married again does not make sense if the chances of finding my definition of “good enough candidate” are that slim!
Him: *thinking and nodding*ana fahmek… ana bas 3ayez attamen en you’re moving on and that you have it in you to enjoy your life to the fullest and not let your previous experience ruin any potential chances in your future
Me: *smiling* don’t worry; I’ll try to keep an open mind! But let me tell you this, I don’t need a man or that kind of relationship to live my life to the fullest… I have two amazing boys who need a lot of work, and in sha2 Allah it will be rewarding… and I have good friends who provide me with the company and support I need to survive… and I have a kindhearted dysfunctional family whom I know would stand by my side when I really need it…
Him: *laughing*
Me: sorry about that last part, but you know how we all are!
Him: *nodding* el mohem eny mabsoot enny shayfek kowayessa we 3arfa en mesh de akher el denya!
Me: *smiling so hard and having strong urges to give him a gratitude hug, but surrendering to my inability to show this kind of affection* ana mabsoota enak mabsoot… mesh hatnam ba2a, enta hates7a badry el mafrood (that was my way of showing concern, ya 3eini ya khalo!)
Him: *standing up* ah, yalla tesba7y 3ala kheir…
Me: *standing up and walking behind him* wenta men ahloh

Like I said, my sweet sweet uncle!!!

It’s just hard to explain…

What is happiness?

Is it laughing your heart out? Is it your face blushing with the warmth of those around you? Is it smiling from ear to ear with bright and shiny eyes? Is it contentment and gratitude for everything you have?

I always thought the above were signs of happiness…

Then what is missing? What the hell is wrong with me?

I am laughing my heart out most of the time, my cheeks are all red and my eyes are all shiny and I am growing dimples because of all the smiling! I keep whispering to myself “alhamdulilah” because of how everything just happens!!

But I feel rather sad!!

The kind of sad that creeps inside your heart and makes it afraid of beating!!

It makes me angry at myself for not being able to enjoy all the blessings.

Yes, I am doing my best to overlook that feeling and live each and every moment to the fullest; I literally drag my body to every single experience so that my mind wouldn’t take over with that unexplainable melancholy. But even then, in the midst of my so called “happiness”, I just don’t feel happy!

I am extremely vulnerable to all the little inconveniences, the ones that I know should never bother me, the ones I know didn’t bother me much before because I can always justify them. Now, I just see them loud and clear and I find my face shrinking with disgust!

I try to analyze my moods according to all the colors I buy, but it’s really hard; I keep choosing purple, aquamarine, blue, and then I have strong brown and beige urges, but then I try to focus on pink and coral shades because they bring out my natural blush! When I think of it, I realize I am only choosing those colors because purple matches my new shoes, aquamarine is the closest shade to green that’s not green, and I need to have green to get over my dislike of it, blue, I am just missing blue; it’s familiar, and no matter what I do, I never have enough brown and beige; like I do not belong to earth that way, as for the pink and coral shades, I am just living up to what looks good on me!!

But what is it do I want??? It’s not just about the colors; it’s about everything else I pick!!

Which color? Which mood? Which activity? I find myself choosing everything for a reason, but I never really do anything just because of the utter urge!!

Have I become addicted to sadness? Have I gotten used to resentfulness of all the things I don’t like?

Right now, I have some hole inside my heart aching because I can’t stand certain things that just suffocate me. I wish I could just scream them out and let them fester somewhere else other than my heart, but I am too aware of the potential and unnecessary damage it would cause, so I am taking the chances of harbouring them! I am not even sure I will feel better if I do otherwise.

I found out a couple of things about me though… I am a control freak, at least inside my own head; I want things done in a certain way and I get really angry when they’re done differently even when I don’t show it, and to make it worse, I am usually right, which adds up to my frustration. I also have serious confrontation issues; I’d rather be passive aggressive than point out my dissatisfaction, sometimes out of being considerate to others and sometimes just because I am aware of the futility of acting on my anger!

Speaking of anger, one of the main reasons why I’m angry is that I don’t get why it’s just me who sees all those inconveniences and get annoyed by them the way I do! I hate how my parents made me that way, I am really angry at them for exerting that much effort to teach me to be aware of my behavior so that I would not offend others! I am angry because I am offended by certain people acting on their rather dumb and extreme impulses while I have to hold back my opinions about that because God forbid my opinion would make them uncomfortable!!

Perhaps some day I will just say it and walk out without ever having to look back, just like how I no longer feel a thing about the x! I guess it’s part of who I am; either I care too much or I just give up and replace that built up repressed resentment with indifference, regardless of the person and how close they might be to me!! It’s how I mend my broken heart and my big disappointments; and the scary thing is that I know I would do it with anyone, even my own babies if they ever push that far!!

What kind of person is that who just punishes people by banishing them outside of her existence instead of dealing and talking things through???

I guess the kind who does not pretend to feel things she doesn’t feel, and find it hard to express her gratitude in words, and the kind who has it in her to leave her own babies to go on a much needed vacation.

I am tired of all the judgmental questions. It hurts that my feelings and my pain are taken for granted the way they are just because I guard them so very carefully with all the smiles and laughter and sarcastic comments. It hurts to be viewed as the cold-hearted-ice-bitch I know I'm not but would never admit to it. It hurts to be that sensitive and have people think of me as the other extreme, and it hurts even more that I force myself to fit into the role of that other extreme just to preserve my pride!

It took me two pages of rambling to get a big part of it out… there is more, but like I said, it’s just hard to explain.

P.S. I may not be feeling the kind of happy I wish I’d feel, but I am surely having fun, aside from all the enforced guilt… and I am grateful, for everything… alhamdulilah.

The Futility of the Dance!!

I have high hopes when it comes to people, but when it comes to relationships, especially romantic ones, I am extremely cynical.

After all, I have every right to be, having survived my own romantic relationship that led to marriage, which led to infidelity, which led to humiliation and divorce. I’d like the rest of my life to be of less drama thank you very much.

So to go by, I decided on a list of things to help me survive whatever the years will throw at me… here’s a sample

Love is tricky; you slip in fast, it fills the eye and the heart leaving the mind completely misled. Most tragically, it fades, it always fades, either from your heart or from the other person’s leaving you either unhappily honoring a commitment you promised to maintain, feeling disregarded by someone who wants to honor his/her commitment, or cheating (one way or the other) or being cheated upon.

Before you tell me I am being too hard and bitter on love, walk a mile in my shoes…

I have enough friends in relationships (marriage and/or otherwise), most of which are considering/trying to get out of them!!! And the ones who are keeping the façade of contentment are very obviously trying to convince themselves that they’re facing the bumps on their roads and that this is what relationships are like!! I really wish for the latter that they get through their bumps and find the happiness for which they are searching, I honestly do.

Having heard my share of stories, I have noticed how differently men and women see things; I get to hear the guy’s take and I get to hear the girl’s take and I almost seizure every time I find myself seeing how it’s all a communication problem due to the male/female different perceptions.

And no, I am not wiser than my fellow females, I am just detached from the problems having to hear about them rather than live them. When a male friend tells me his side of the story where his significant other is behaving a way close enough to what I would have done had I been in her place, I tell him how she got there and why she’s acting that way, I say it calmly after I acknowledge his side of the story and confirm that his point is valid!

That’s when my friend would say I am the wisest woman he had met, only what he doesn’t know is that I get to be that wise because I am not investing my emotions on him, I get to be that calm and understanding and let myself see his side because my love and care for him are not the kind that would make me hurt when he doesn’t see mine, while his significant other is blinded by the one thing that makes her want to be with him, her love to him!!! And to complicate things further, being detached doesn't mean you have a solution because in relationships, the only people who can actually make change are the couple themselves!! The irony!

This makes me think that the way couples understand a relationship, at least here in Egypt, they would always need a couples counselor who would constantly referee their relationship and advocate their points of view to one another!! Does anyone see how pathetic that is, or is it just me???

I have always thought of relationships to be like a dance a couple perfect over time; when one of them moves forward, the other knows that it’s their time to move backwards to give them the needed space. Yes, in the learning process, they will step on each other’s toes and probably get hurt from time to time, but the idea of them needing constant coaching is just… scary!

It’s exactly like this: my partner steps on my toe while moving forward, my natural instinct would be telling him he did and at the same time prepare myself that he might accidentally do it again in his attempts to master the moves!! But no one excuses himself from the dance when such an incident happens to go tell the dancing coach “my partner just stepped on my foot!”

I am not denying the need for guidance; I just resent the idea of having to be eternally dependant on it. Actually, truth is, very few people acknowledge their need for initial guidance; as far as each and everyone of us is concerned, we all know best and we don’t need anyone’s help, which is even sadder! Perhaps it’s the reason why we needed that kind of guidance to begin with - damn arrogance!

So to sum this up, in a relationship, being in love does not mean you were born a dancer! There’s a lot to learn about your partner, a lot more to learn about yourself and your ability to adjust and compromise things. Do you know the things you’re capable of doing? Do you know your deal breakers? I seriously doubt any of us knows all of those, it’s a trial-and-error process and sadly you only get to find a few with every failed attempt of a relationship!

I just realized that I have run out of things to say without actually making a point! Truth is, I have none!!! I was just ranting about my constant disillusion at relationships and talking myself out of any future ones because I just don’t have any toes left for a blind fool to step on them!!

*I got the photo off the web some time ago, so I don't exactly remember the photo credits!

A dream-induced nostalgia!

Days ago, I had a dream, a strange one…

I was in the art therapy studio, knowing that Dr. M had passed away, I don’t exactly remember if there were other people, but I was very close to the wall that had his self portraits and none of them was there!

I kept touching the bare walls as I fought to hold back my tears… I wanted to cry so badly…

I woke up feeling extremely down and depressed…

The same day I visited an old friend from my previous job at her home… she had a big portrait of our late boss S, the one I loved and respected.

I kept staring at the old photo with her skin revealing that it was taken when she was younger than when I’ve known her… and I forced the words to come to my mouth “Allah yer7amek ya S” then I paused and said “wa7shany awy!”

Today, I was in downtown running a government related errand. While waiting for the driver to pick me up, I decided to walk around; I was in my sneakers and the weather was nice. I kept walking from one random street to the other until I stopped to read the name of the street - “شارع شمبليون”… I stopped, looked across the street to the far extension on its other side and realized that I was a few blocks away from the Art Therapy Center. I stood there for a while as if I was lost, my eyes had tears and my heart felt heavy, then I said “Allah yer7amak ya Dr. M” and got on the sidewalk and continued walking towards Tahrir Square.

Other than that, I had a good day. Alhamdulilah.

I was off to bed, and I suddenly remembered all that and had the strong urge to write about it, so there!

Not exactly random… as incoherent as it may seem!

In the movies, the scene about the moment where events had escalated to its peak would keep haunting the character over and over making them clench and close their eyes in dismay.

It’s not like that. I mean, the moment, that moment haunts me all right, but it only takes a while until I am over the state of shock, or you know, sort of used to it.

Then, in my calmer moods, I get the mysterious feeling of discomfort that can only be explained by flashes of less significant moments haunting me. The kind of moments that would look completely neutral and harmless if you take them out of context; however, if you see the context and consider my character, they would make a whole lot sense on why I feel that way, at least to me!

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The subtle yet very disturbing moments would be like how I hate climbing the stairs, how I keep trying to look away, how I can never find those words, or how I just hate driving home, in my car alone with my own thoughts… how in all those moments I feel lonely and all sorts of other things...

One of the strong moments was when I closed my eyes hoping that I’d see clearly, just like that girl; and in the clarity of the moment, all I saw was that little girl who used to close her eyes hoping people wouldn’t be able to see her just like she couldn’t see them with her eyes closed. A tear fell, and I had no words to explain why, I honestly don’t know!

*deep breath in, and out*

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“just say what’s on your mind, don’t try to find the right words”
“I can’t! forget about the right words, I can’t find any!”
“I’m trying to help you open up”
“I don’t open up easily”
“exactly…”
“I can’t, I just don’t know how”

I may babble a lot, but I never really do open up. I really didn’t believe it when it was told to me a million times before, but it’s a pattern that everyone seems to identify while I live in my own denial!

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The moments come back one more time, and I find myself trying to explain my own actions to myself; it's really hard to bullshit a bullshitter!

Most of it boils down to one thing – I am discovering the very things other people take for granted on daily basis! It’s not good because they keep taking their toll on me as I keep overanalyzing in my endless attempts to understand.

How do people take those things for granted? And is it a good thing or a bad thing that they still come to me as surprise?

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I’ve got most of it figured out, why I can’t seem to be able to open up. It comes down to two main reasons; one, I still think that what’s inside me is not to be spoken, rather to be felt and understood without me having to find words that would describe it. Two, the one person to whom I have opened up the most has majorly let me down.

Did I ever really open up? I must have at least thought I did! Actually, at this point I realize I never really loved him, I just thought I did; of course now I am not even sure I believe in that L word much!

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If love is a variable, an ever changing one, and if marriages don’t exactly work the way we think they do, then what the hell is the point of all this? Why do we get attracted to that person, or enjoy being with the other, if it all ends up down the drain eventually?

I don’t see myself opening up enough to anyone to either fall in love or get married. I’ve tried both and failed miserably. I open up to friends so easily; not exactly with every single little thing, but at least I do open up easier that I do any other way.

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Oh oh oh, another piece to the puzzle, I mistook my pseudo opening up for love, and accordingly got married, which makes even more sense why I wouldn’t let my guard down that way again, lest I get confused and lose my way again.

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“she has to open up and let her guard down, and allow me to love her” that phrase just makes me laugh, sort of bitterly, but it’s a laugh nonetheless! It makes me feel safe that she will never be me.

It also makes me safe not knowing how exactly he’d have to be, it feel safe how no one feels like him, I’ll freak the day someone feels right!

Ok, like Sandra Bullock cast a spell in Practical Magic so that she’d never fall in love and get her heart broken, I’ll cast mine – he will be able to know and understand those things I never manage to say; he will be the only one who’d know how to take away all the subtle discomfort I constantly feel.

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“how did you get to be so cynical?”
“I’ve been alive for a while now”
“well, I’ve been alive a little bit longer than you have, but I don’t seem to be that cynical! it would drive me crazy!”
“you’re saying that my cynicism drives you crazy?”
“no, I am just trying to understand”
“I guess it just suits me”
“well then, cynical doesn’t suit me all the way; I really have no idea what suits me best, but I know I can’t get that committed to cynicism”

I hate admitting it, I sort of miss him (he who can read my mind like no other), but I don’t want him to ever find me because I know he can’t promise me the happily-ever-after I so sadly still believe in under those layers of my pseudo cynicism. I can’t have him tell me the L word and make me believe in its power again when I know none of it would ever last.

Why can’t cynicism work for me too?!

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Time to get some restless sleep.

Friend of Foe?

Do I see the good in people because it's actually there or just because I desperately want to see it?

And by seeing what could be fake-good, am I setting my hopes too high only to fall after disappointment shatters my silly expectations?

It makes me both angry and confused that everyone else views what I see a nice gesture as a twisted and conniving move.

How stupid, delusional, and naïve must I be? Na2a, at this point, I am not unique or kind or even innocent, I must be plain HABLA, not to mention color blind if I fail to see what everyone else sees in bright colors!! I am still not even sure who’s right, those around me or myself?

Could it possibly be that I refuse to see the bad like everyone else because somehow it might diminish my self-worth – people are playing nice because they want something out of me, not because I deserve it…

Or is it simply because I do by people as I like them to do by me!

I can’t believe I still expect the truth from everyone just because I lay my cards as I promise in my most reassuring tone that I will not flee even if it’s not to my liking.

I have honored my word every single time; I have always told the truth, and I kept a straight face and even a compassionate tonee when told things others would reject, and I never showed any signs of dismay.

As hard as it is to believe, that I’d rather be insulted right to my face than be lied to or used without my knowing?

Why the games? Why the possibility of being played? Ufff!

People ask for honesty a lot more often than they can handle it, and more importantly a lot more often than they are willing to give it…

I will never understand people; how could I possibly when I fail to understand myself on daily basis?!

Mesh la3ba!

I don’t want to understand people, I don’t even care about understanding myself anymore; by the time I do I will either be dead or too old to make any use out of it!

But my question still lingers – have people become that cynical or am I that out of place and the world has gone bad a lot more than I can possibly think?!

الحمد لله

IBHOG came up with the best idea that inspired my long lost Ramadan spirit. For the rules, go to IBHOG’s…

I am grateful for…

- My boys. I remember being pregnant and depressed, I remember my one wish was healthy and smart kids (I have very low tolerance of stupidity), and every time I look at them, I feel grateful because they are much better than I could have ever wished! Beem is loving and tender, and Mocha is witty and hilarious… and they both take a lot more after me than their dad. BLESSED is what I feel when I think of my boys, and sometimes also BURDENED because I don’t know how to cherish such bliss.

- My friends. I have quite the variety, how different their interests and backgrounds are, and yet they have at least one thing in common, me. They make me feel loved and accepted, and the smallest gesture they do touches me too deep, be it a phone call when I am down to cheer me up or a ride when I am too depressed to tell the directions for myself. More importantly, they make it feel like I have well deserved it; they make me feel like I am as a good friend as they are. APPRECIATED and LOVED is what I feel when I think of my friends.

- My Father. He is my wall, knowing that he is there for me gives me a sense of protection I know no one else can give. SAFE is what I feel whenever I think of my father.

- My Job. At first, I thought it was a career dead-end -which it probably is to anyone else-, but now I appreciate the low level of tension, especially with my drama. As overqualified as I think I am for my job (business grad, marketing concentration, yet working in administration), I still have a decent status there, a good pay and benefits, not to mention that I have the nicest boss in the world who makes up for the colleagues who may push the wrong buttons sometimes. LUCKY is what I feel when I think of my job.

- Me. No, I am not being conceited, but I have a lot of good things going for me and I know it; I am relatively healthy, I’ve been told I am smart and good looking, I come from a respectable family, I received good education, and I have decent financial means that spare me worrying about the future. PRIVILEGED and CONTENT is what I feel when I think of all those things God has granted me.

- The wishes I am granted. Every time I kneeled and prayed for something, God has granted it to me; it made me seal every prayer with asking God not to grant me what’s not good for me because I know I don’t know what’s best for me most of the time. THANKFUL, OVERWHELMED, AWED, and CHALLENGED is what I feel every time a prayer is answered.

Those might have seemed like six blessings, but there's a lot more to each, especially the last two; they're ever growing, not to mention too many to count!

الحمد لله

I invite my fellow bloggers on the blog-roll to take the time and do that tag, and those who like to comment as anons as well.

About today…

I woke up to a call from the x telling me that he was getting ready to come and pick up the boys. Today they go with their nanny to his place and spend the entire day with his family.

I’ve been preparing Beem for that all through the week so that he wouldn’t panic when he realizes that I won’t be joining them like every weekend when we go out, so when he heard me saying the x’s name on the phone, he jumped off bed and woke up mocha saying “es7a ya mocha, pappy gyyy yakhodna, yalla”

For the first time in God knows how long, they showered without the usual fuss about shampoo getting in their eyes!

Beem got dressed peacefully without crying about his favorite t-shirt or the pair of shoes I never let him wear because it’s summer! For the love of God, they let me comb their hair and clip their nails without fighting back!!!!

They left with him a while ago…

I almost cried on my way upstairs.

Now, I had a big plan for myself to keep my busy all day… I planned to clean up the room, have a nice long bath, manicure and pedicure, dress up for the Iftar with my sis and her coworkers, and then go to the Pool with Rasha for a nice night swim.

Instead, I am lying in bed with my laptop, the lighting in my room is busted and so is the window, so I am forced to sit in a dimly lit room, which is not so encouraging to clean up! It feels to hot to take a bath; I want to bask in the a/c instead (at least that is working), I am even too lazy to change back into my pjs!

This will be a long day unless something extraordinary happens!

The Visit – an interesting take on humans, justice and revenge…

This is more of a movie review with my own reflections on it. I strongly recommend the movie, but I doubt it will be easily found given that it’s a 1960’s production, so you can just read the review and my reflections for easier access!

I watched that movie on TV with my father years ago; I am not even sure how old I was then, all I remember is that my dad was impressed by its production (French, Italian, German co-production) and cast (Anthony Quinn & Ingrid Bergman), and I, I was impressed by the plot, which I found out later it was adapted from a German play. I researched the play, but I found a few critical differences that make me prefer the movie more for the philosophical meaning behind it. The main theme might seem to be revenge (I did mention that I had such awe for the concept of revenge in this post, but to me, it was about a lot more.

I am not exactly sure what made me want to see the movie again. I’ve been nostalgic to decades where I never lived for quite a while, and in that strange sense of nostalgia, I googled the web until I found the torrent and downloaded the movie (it took me 2 weeks to finally have it on my laptop!). I was afraid that I’d find the movie rather dull and cliché after watching it years after I first did. I am glad I was still taken my every word and every gesture.

I will try to be short yet accurate about the details, at least the ones that got to me, but I make no such promises because the movie is too intense for me to shorten it, and well, let’s face it, I have an entire blog that shows how talkative I am!

Oh and you can skip the whole thing and go straight to the part after the second set of dashes (-----), it will probably be the bottom line that would spare you my nonstop babbling.

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It starts in a small town in central Europe called Guellen (German for manure), a town that was once wealthy on account of its mine, factory and culture, but facing a serious economic crisis and on the verge of bankruptcy. Everyone in town is in anticipation of the arrival of Klara (Ingrid Bergman), a town girl who left 20 years ago and returned as a wealthy woman to whom they referred Madam Zachanassian. On his way to the train station, the Mayor stops at the town wholesale store owned by Serge Miller (Anthony Quinn) to accompany him. He asks Miller’s wife to stay in the background given that Karla and Serge were romantically involved in the past.

The train stops, Karla descends of it and people receive her with awe as she makes a grand gesture to one of the train crew by giving away a thousand dollars for a non-existing widows’ fund that she asks the man to make. It makes the people of Guellen more optimistic of Karla giving them the money they need for the re-rise of their town.

Awaiting her outside the train station, were three fancy cars, a big one to carry her luggage, a sort of sporty on with two men the Sheriff almost recognized he’d seen before, and one with a panther in a cage where she rides with Serge hanging from her arm.

They drive to a secluded hut on the side of the town and they reminisce a night of romance they once had. He seems very responding to the memories she spoke of, yet she seems rather vague. They part to meet at the town dinner arranged for her honor later that night.

After the entire town well known men (the Mayor, The Sheriff, The Pastor, the Town Teacher, the Town Doctor) introduce their wives to Karla, they sit at a table looking at the glamorous woman whom they had once known as a poor little girl. She gives permission to the Mayor to say his word in form of an order and the man rises and talks about her dad the architect, her mom, and how Karla herself was known for her school-smarts and generosity for she once gave an old widow a sack of potatoes.

After people’s applauses, Karla rises and says that her dad was a drunken worker who refused jobs on buildings too high because he knew he’d fall, that she must have been a bad student for being constantly beaten by the Town Teacher, and finally declares that she had stolen that sack of potatoes and gave it to the widow as rent for her own room where she could sleep with Serge, “the barn was romantic, but the bed was far more comfortable” she said, causing everyone to fall in deadly silence that was only broken by Serge’s embarrassed laugh as he affirmed “yes, far more comfortable” and everyone tries to laugh away the awkwardness.

She then promises the township a million dollars in addition to another million to be divided equally on the people of Guellen on one condition. People cheer and praise her name, until she repeats that she has one condition. The people ask. That’s when a man walks in the hall and declares himself as the Town’s former Judge from when Karla left town as she says that her one condition is “Justice”.

The judge explains that there was a paternity law suit filed by Karla to prove that Serge was the father of her unborn child. He introduces two men in black suits (the ones the Sheriff thought looked familiar) who had previously testified back then that they had slept with Karla after Serge had bribed them to taint her name and prove that she was promiscuous, hence deny his paternity. They acknowledge their false testimony, and then Karla says she was forced out town in shame and forced into a life of prostitution after her baby was taken from her, the crowd falls silent. The judge asks her about her demands, to which she answers “I demand Serge Miller to be dead, I want his life”.

The people go loud as they refuse and accuse her of being a murderer. She walks towards the stairs with her head high and stops as she asks them if they are really willing to refuse that much money. They confirm, she smiles and says that she’d wait, and then she leaves the room.

The next day, the Town Men make a meeting including Serge just to show their support to him. On the other hand, people come to his wholesale store to buy his finest of imported goods on credit, always on credit.

The persistent theme is that you can see Karla gazing from her Hotel balcony at Serge’s shop, driving him and his wife mad. It never helps that people’s expenses go higher and higher on credit, making Serge panic as he starts having doubts about them expecting money for his head quite soon.

The Town Teacher visits Karla in her hotel to advise her that her request will never be answered and that the good hearts of the people of Guellen that he had educated for years will never succumb to her sinister agenda. She replies to him in cold blood that those good hearts were of the same people who drove her as a 17 year old pregnant girl out of the town and labeled her as a whore, then she smiles viciously at him as he challenges her with his life that the people will not condemn Serge Miller.

The day after, the Guellen tribune issues an article saying that it is not for capital punishment. Serge rushes to his friend the Mayor and yells at him saying that that article is nothing but an encouragement for people to go after his head, then rushes to the Sheriff’s office and tells him that he’s afraid the people of Guellen would be after him for the money.

At the same time, Karla’s Panther escapes from its cage and the town goes in chaos as the Sheriff gives the good men of the town guns to pursue the panther. She screams from her hotel window that she wants the panther killed without pain, a bullet between the eyes is what she said would kill it instantly. Gun shots everywhere, gunshots seem to be chasing Serge rather than the panther. He goes to his house where his son says that the shots were after him not the panther, and then his wife tells him it’s better that he leaves so not to endanger them.

He goes to Karla and threatens to kill her. They have a long dialogue on how he betrayed her when he refused to marry her after she got pregnant. He tells her that he loved her but that he had to marry his wife for the money and that she didn’t leave him much of a choice but to make a liar and a whore out of her after she sued him. Their conversation is interrupted by continuous shots, they run to the window to find Serge’s wife shooting the panther dead.

The same night, Serge decides to leave town on the one train that leaved Guellen until the next week. His fellow town people harass him and stop him from leaving town. He falls on the floor in desperation as the train leaves town for he realizes that Karla’s plot was finding its way through.

Different scenes with him commenting on how his friends are wearing new clothes and boots freak him out. It doesn’t make it any easier that days and days later big cars come with more and more goods to be bought on credit, cars belonging to Karla. People buy more goods on credit, including his own wife, who buys a new fridge with glass display for their shop and a new dress.

The Town Council gathers again (this time without Serge) to issue a new law, a law stating that crimes of murder, rape, and misleading of justice would be punished by the deathsentence. The only two people who seem to disagree on the implication behind the new law were the Town Teacher and The Town Doctor.

The Teacher and the Town Doctor go to Karla in her Hotel and ask her to spare Serge and propose to her investments in the Town instead. They offer her to buy the mine and the factory and all the Town’s resources for a far less amount of money than she had offered for Serge’s life, and promise her that the mine is good for the money and that they have no idea why it was shut down. That was when Karla bursts in laughter as her lawyer (the former Judge) declares that she is the current owner of all the Town’s resources, and that it was her who practically drove the Town to bankruptcy by shutting all of it down.

During which, the Mayor and the Sheriff pay Serge a visit and inform him that he will be subject to an open trial in front of the Town for his previous crime and ask him if he would accept their verdict. He looks them in the eye and tells them that he would. That was when the Mayor urges the Sheriff to help him present to Serge the idea of ending his own life. Serge stares them down as he says that he would accept the trial as a form of atonement, but he would not spare them having to live with judging and condemning him only for the sake of the money rather than justice.

He goes to the hut that night and finds Karla. She tells him how she knew about her baby girl died. She says in the most profound words of how she had walked with two corpses (hers and her child’s) out of that town and that it was him who had sentenced them to death and it has been her only drive for the past 20 years to make him feel the same way. She looks away as she says that after tomorrow she will have no purpose in life.

The next day, the trial is held where everyone voted against him, even the Town Teacher and the Town Doctor who says “it’s just one vote, what difference would it make if it were for you”. Serge was condemned and sentenced to death. Kalra’s lawyer gives the mayor the two cheques, one for the township and the other to be equally divided amount the people of Guellen.

In the midst of people’s cheering, Karla stands and asks them if there was one, just one person who would beg for Serge’s life even if it meant they would not get the money, no one answers. She looks around as she waits some more for someone to rise from the crowd, only no one does.

She says that they accused her long ago and forced her out of the town, and that now, they condemn and sentence the man they befriended for years to death for her money, that they were all the same, murderers. She screams at them and tells them that she bought Serge’s life for money and that she could have bought it for a lot less if she wanted.

Then, she tells them that she wants Serge to remain alive, because if he died, they would forget their crimes with time. She said she’d rather have him live among them to remind them of their cruelty and immorality day in and day out and to be reminded that his own people, friends and family, not one of them stood in his defense.

She then declares her visit over and fires the Judge and the two witnesses and asks them to stay in Guellen for it is where they belong since she could no longer use them.

-----

I love the movie. I ached and sympathized with every word Karla said, and neither could I help but feel sorry for Serge when he was prosecuted by everyone for the wrong cause.

Yes, he was the bad guy, he ruined her life in a sense, and he was a coward about it for he could have run away from town if he could, only he couldn’t; he only surrendered to his fate when he was left no other choice. Nonetheless, imagining what it would be like to have everyone turning against you, not because they are moral and seem to disapprove of what you did, but because it lies in their own best interest. To know that those people would have behaved the same even if you did no wrong, and that after years of breaking bread with you, they would spare you that way, it’s more than capital punishment to me.

And Karla, she went out of her way and literally bought a whole town to bring it to its doom so that she would get her revenge. One can say she went beyond ethics and morals herself buying the life of a man and turning his own people against him that way. Yet, if I were her, it would probably be the only thing I’d want myself; only I really doubt circumstances could be in anyone’s favor that way.

The sense of revenge versus justice is so mixed up in this movie, perhaps because it’s so messed up in real life as well. In theory, Karla was the one who was wronged by Serge and the Town, but 20 years later, she managed to do them all wrong and put them by her own painful shoes and acheiving her revenge in the name of justice.

But what I really admired the most was the ending, how she understood people’s tendency to forget their own cruelty and managed to remind them by asking that Serge would live. She wanted him to live every day of his life reliving that trial and how abandoned he was, the same way she was when she left that town. She did not have his blood on her hand, she had it on theirs, and she left him to look them in the eye for as long as he would live. She did not gloat in a false sense of victory; she did not look or seem happy or fulfilled, she was miserable as everyone else if not more.

It was poetic despite its cruelty, but aren’t we –people- cruel that way; we turn against one another when faced by our self interest rather than stand for what’s right or wrong. We lose sense of justice until we turn it into heartless revenge and then we do it all over again simply because we forget.

Some of what I have gotten figured out so far…

This is not exactly a post; it is only post material because it was too long a reply for IBHOG’s comment on my previous post, and well, it got me to reflect a little bit on who I am!

I must say that it will be in the form of a comment reply, only with a beginning and an ending for each sentence and appropriate capitalizations when there should be any… here is goes:

I do not hate gray areas as much as I used to (I am 28, no longer 22, it could be an age thing). Now, I acknowledge and accept the gray area, but I never feel comfortable there myself. I remain emotionally detached from those who prefer
the gray area as much as I try not to judge them for it. If I am to give a person the keys to who I am, they can either be black or white; then leave it to me to take whatever risks there might be, knowing what the stakes are!

I would never forgive or trust someone who had lied to my face. I have told my own share of lies when I –thought I- had to out of self-preservation, but they were never told with cold blood. It's actually very easy to tell when I am lying regardless of how brilliant my lie is (I don't lack the logical imagination). I no longer tell lies because they are simply not worth it, not worth how undignified would feel when those lies unravel, and lies always do!

Right and wrong, I see them clearly. Even when I am choosing wrong over right, I would never fool myself or justify by lying; when I do wrong, I either think it's right and admit it later with shame written all over me, or I simply say "it is probably wrong, but I am doing it anyway" (stubborn as a mule syndrome). But I know not everyone sees things the way I do, or at least I keep reminding myself of that on daily basis (I am seriously thinking I’d have it written in a bold font, framed and put on my night stand).

I can’t say I have an eye for victims. If anything, I could be intolerant of the cliché victims, the ones that whine and complain nonstop; I tend to think that the real victims are the ones who have too much pride to sit around and mope, so they try to pretend that it’s all ok. I see them, and I wish I could hold them and let them cry the tears I never could, but then I would ruin the act they maintain to be able to… live?

I’ve been told a lot that I am a child and that I am really naïve, and I am aware of that because I still take certain things for granted. However, I think I have been shocked in a sense because the very same things I take for granted are the ones I am forced to constantly doubt!!!! For example, I am known for that phrase “why would he/she lie, they they really didn't have to!”, but now I find myself analyzing things I’ve been told making sure I didn’t miss any hidden meanings that could change the whole message I was sent!!!

It could be what bad experience has done to me, but why do I still act all naïve like no one would expect?? (I have two friends who constantly send out vibes that they want to snap my neck because I am “sazga”). But with every singly birthday, and with every month away from it, I find myself wondering where my years have gone and wonder how I missed out on the little things I wanted to do when I feel too old to do them already!! It’s sad and I don’t dwell; thank God for my short attention span, sometimes I think I cling to it with everything I got to help me survive.

I talk with myself since the day I mastered speech. I had all sorts of imaginary friends until I finally settled that there is another me who listens and understands like no other. We talk a lot and we get along most of the time, and I am miserable when we’re mad at one another. I see every conversation I had/about to have with anyone in so many scenarios and sometimes I finish the conversation differently in my head just to put my troubled soul at ease.

Would you sleep with a mind that functions that way? I sleep, for two hours, and then I wake up and think some more until my thoughts take me back to sleep and then abandon me two our later to wake up on a new thought. I am a very light sleeper and I barely wake up feeling like I’ve had enough sleep.

I don’t know how to say the words I have in mind, I write them better than I say them. Ironically, my therapist showed amazement at how articulate I am when I first visited her. But I have a friend who agrees that I blurt stuff more than I should, and that it sort of gets me in trouble most of the time.

I only know I live in a bubble because I have been told that by almost everyone I know!! And because since the moment I decided to believe them, and took a real step out of my bubble and tried to see things for what they really are, I rushed back into my bubble and wished I never stepped out. Fetal position comes to mind when I think of my bubble versus the real world!

As for being strong, it comes and goes, when it goes, I see myself falling into little pieces, but Alhamdulilah it comes back shortly after and I see myself being gathered again!! I wish I could describe it more eloquently, but it’s the closest to how it feels most of the time; it could be because I am moody or I could be moody because my strength comes and goes, either way will do!

Compassion and carefulness, I don’t know, but sometimes I find myself unable to show the compassion I feel because I am afraid I would be intruding or that my compassion would be misinterpreted as sympathy and would bruise someone’s pride in the process, and it hurts to think that! Is that carefulness, or just some sort of temporary emotional paralysis? I am cynical, but under that thick layer of cynicism, hides a helpless Utopian who has high hopes, the kind that sends me blindly to my own cliff, don’t they say that cynics are the mushiest, or something of the sort?

Thanks IBHOG for helping me put what I knew about myself in words!

The rest of the reply to your comment belongs to the comment page, because it’s not about me to publish.

In theory and in practice…

As a child, I remember being called “noisy”, “restless”, and “smart-mouth”; I distinctively remember fragments of incidents where people asked me to “pipe down” or “be quiet”, or the infamous “shhhhh”. Yet, I don’t recall being hated for it; I was the apple of my late nana’s eye, my uncle spoilt me rotten, actually all three from mama’s side, not to even mention my youngest two aunts!! I was the grandchild for mama’s side, except for my late grandfather, we disliked each other! As for baba’s side, I distinctively remember how kind my late grandpa was; I can fairly say I loved him. The rest of baba’s side is on the usual good and sometimes not so goodd terms, which is normal given that we live in two different cities.

Probably something changed along the way when I was a teenager. I became more observing and less noisy for I didn’t have any significant mishaps at school that would require my parents showing in for any explanation. I was the kid no one noticed really, but I had an opinion about everyone I’ve encountered. When I tell people that I was rather shy at school, they roll their eyes as they say something like “ya moftareya, you, shy?!” And it never feels like compliment by the way!!

I remember whenever we travelled abroad during those times, my dad would push me out of the car (by yelling at me) to walk to the convenience store in the gas station and ask for directions, 2al eh “khaleeky garee2a”. Of course, until now, I am still sure that it was about the whole men-don’t-ask-for-directions thing. Bottom line, my dad always insisted that I should be roughened up, mostly because “al ne3ma tazool” and secretly because he did not have boys and I was his first born.

I never realized I took so much after him until a prof atcollege who happened to have have graduated from the same college as my dad said “fe3lan, man shabah abah...”! Turns out that my dad was a real trouble maker –like I was in college-, the kind who stands up for what he thought was right and never backed down until he got what he thought was his, except that I did better than he did academically!

Everyone I know who happens to know my father says that I take too much after him, I must have mentioned that quite a few times. Even the things, I don’t take after him are pretty much influenced by him; a few people told me I am that strong because of the way he raised me and I am that tough on myself because I don’t want him to be tough on me. Possibly true.

In summary, I am strong, opinionated, stubborn, proud, kindhearted, responsible, ethically and morally aware, hot blooded, emotional and passionate, capable of using logic, socially smart because I am what he made me. In theory it is like the perfect result for an equation that took 28 years to balance.

In practice, it means NOTHING.

I am strong, but I have deadly weaknesses. Actually, my strengths and weaknesses are very hard to separate; I am deadly stubborn for my own good, but it is how I manage to stand up and not fall, I am borderline masochist in a rhetorical sense because I am too proud to be caught in fault by other, so my conscience (the big bully) takes it all out on me and no one else!!

I am opinionated, but I can lose my focus sometimes because of my kindheartedness, not to mention my stubbornness and my ridiculous pride.

I am forced by myself (and my obligations) to act responsible 80% of the time, which is really hard because I am a 28 year old who still refuses to see anything but a 4 year-old in her mirror image.

As for my so called sense of logic, it’s a joke when faced by my blind passion when I am emotional about something. Don’t I have my dad’s passion after all? I can cry when I am talking about someone I love, or imagine what it’s like for someone to lose a loved one! Isn't death one of the most logical things! I have my dad's crippled-emotions syndrome; until today, I don't know how to just lay in father's arms and cry when I am in distress.

And my ethics and morals, they are challenged on daily basis living in this world and having to deal with things I was never subjected to. things I never thought existed!! Turns out, I only have those ethics and morals because I only lived in my dad’s bubble where it was so darn easy to practice them!!

And socially smart is the biggest joke. It goes down the drain the moment I step out of that bubble; I am constantly stuggling in my head trying to figure out people based on their reactions and lies and pretenses, as much as they’re probably baffled by my honesty and unexplained friendliness or rudeness, not to mention my ever changing moods.

I am a big mess that my father made, and I love him to pieces for it, and I am rather grateful on my good days.

But today, I feel like I was asked to change all that, for him to have more peace of mind because he worries and he would hate for me to get hurt again because of the nasty world we live in, the nasty world he never told me existed or prepared me for!

I love my daddy. I generally love my messy self most of the time. I would change some of who I am for my dad or for the people I sincerely care for, but I would never change for a society for which I have no respect.

I know, not exactly wise, but who said I had one ounce of wisdom in me.

The only reason I could possibly (and very remotely) care about what people think of me is because now I know how badly it affects my dad when people say anything less than how amazing and great I am!!

It makes me want to cry when I think of how disappointed he might be at me because of an insensitive word when I know that deep down he is actually proud! It breaks my heart to even think of all the things he would feel when he is reminded that I am not that perfect. The thought of upsetting him horrifies because I know I'd want nothing but my own death the moment he leaves this world even if I leave my boys behind (like a 4 year old, I pray each day that his day never comes).

That’s why I keep crying like a baby when I remember how he asked me to act more like a divorcee and mind what people may think of me. He said it while affirming that he knows I do no wrong. He said it admitting what he never exactly acknowledged before “da mogtama3 qazer”. But daddy, you never told me how rotten this society is and you left me to find that out on my own in the most scarring ways, and I know I have a lot to yet learn that I wish I wouldn’t .

I don’t know how to practice all I know is right in theory, yet keep my head held high when I worry about you daddy holding yours high if you worry that much about the scum of our society! We Kaman ana lessa ma3amaltesh 7aga astahel 3aleeha kol da!

The One…

“do you believe in the one?” my friend asked.

“there was a time I must have, but now, I tell myself I should know better… it would be such a shame to be a 28 year old divorcee and still believe in a fairytale notion!” I said

I noticed how that matter keeps being brought up, and if not, it’s something that would bring me to think of it!

I don’t remember when I believed there was a one for me, but I suppose I must have thought it was my x!

I try to look back and remember what made me think we were a match made in heaven, and I fail, miserably! We didn’t have the same taste in anything; we liked different music, we preferred different colors and patterns, we liked different furniture styles, we liked to hang with different kinds of people, and we had different dreams! Yet, we used to think each of us was the other’s missing half!!

Ok, hindsight is 20/20.

Now, I am a bit wised up, or so I hope, although I keep stumbling on strong evidence that I am not, I will delude myself long enough to finish this thought.

I think the concept of “the one” is just too… cruel.

Yes, cruel is the word, not dreamy and not ideal, plain cruel.

To be with someone and think they’re the one means you’re practically running towards a cliff blinded by strong emotions that are bound to fade and fail you, and let you fall from that cliff with no one to catch your fall.

No, not cynical, not at all… just plain realistic!

I see myself, I see people around me who had mistakenly thought they found the one, and I see how disillusioned they are.

I see other people who thought they stumbled on the one when they were already in complicated committed relationships and kept torturing themselves over missing that one and I feel bad for them because they might as well have been with that person to yearn for another and wonder!

It’s a cruel cruel joke from whoever came up with that concept; what did he/she know or think to say such thing? Didn’t they know that emotions never exactly last, not with the same intensity that blinds us from the flaws and mistakes and eliminates the boredom from constant monotony? Why did he/she link love to the one? We can fall in and out of love but to think that by doing so we’re getting closer or further away from the one where our eternal happiness is supposed to lie, it’s just painfully cruel.

I think the notion originated from one of those darn twisted Greek myths were their gods were petty and played with people’s fates according to their whims.

I think we indulged in that notion because we tend to treasure the things that bring us pain because we were told somewhere along the line that without misery we don’t recognize joy, only we forget to recognize joy because we dwell too much on misery.

Months ago, my friend concluded, “if there’s a one for me out there, I would like to meet her, even if we’re not meant to be together, I would just like to know her”

I replied jokingly, “I think if I see my one –if he ever exists- I’ll punch him in the face and ask him what took him so damn long”. Then I decided to be a bit more serious, “actually, if there’s a one for me out there and we’re not meant to be together, I’d rather he stays where he is; the last thing I need is more heartbreak”

So to sum this up, I don’t advise people to live searching or even waiting for the one; if the one is the person we love, news flash, love is not what we think it is, not even close! Love is too fickle to be about just one person, and life is too long and ever changing to be just about one person.

I just don’t have an alternative notion, not yet.

On Fate and Futility…

Disclaimer: I refer in this post to the movie Alf Mabrouk, so if you haven’t seen it, wait until you do before you read this post; I hate to be a movie spoiler.

We were in the car driving by one of the billboards of the movie…

Him: Did you see the movie?

Me: Yes.

Him: Nice, you know, it’s adapted from the Sisyphus of the Greek mythology, you know him?

Me: *almost offended by his arrogance* yes, the man who kept cheating death until he was sentenced to his eternal punishment!

Him: no one can really escape their fate, if he had just accepted that he would die, he would have spared himself all the unnecessary effort

*I tried to refrain from commenting and kept telling myself that I should not dignify a conversation with someone who doesn’t have that much appreciation to philosophy*


*A while later, I decided I couldn’t just hold back; I've been having too many thoughts in my mind related to that lately!*

Me: so you think the main character in the movie should have just accepted death? Or were you talking about Sisyphus?

Him: isn’t it the same?

Me: not really, Sisyphus represents a different culture and context from the movie, the movie might be adapted from the myth but there is more to it than just that, at least that’s what I think

Him: didn’t he die anyway?

Me: no, he chose to die at the end of the movie, it took him several do-over’s of the same day to understand the context of all of his misunderstandings, it took him several times to pay attention to the details until he was finally able to shift them away from him… and then, knowing all the details and understanding them, he decided that the best scenario he could accept was the one that ends with his death rather than his loved ones’… he was NOT beaten by fate, he chose to acknowledge and accept it...
And behind that lies the whole idea of the movie, or at least what I think... that there are details that we miss on daily basis either that are either shaped by who we are or have a role in shaping us... and if we manage to take a closer look to see more than one angle, perhaps we’d settle for the fates we first resented… however, when we keep fighting our fates without understanding them, without
realizing the parts of our own doing, we keep going round in that futile circle and repeat the mistakes one after the other…

Him: but it’s all pre-written, isn’t that what fate means? What’s the point of trying to change what’s already been sealed for us?

Me: Are you talking about Sisyphus vs. our own beliefs? There is a difference; the myth does not acknowledge the existence of a fair God, while I personally do! I believe our fates are sealed based on our choices; there wouldn’t be heaven or hell if there was no such thing as free will… we make our choices and the pieces fall in the place where they are meant to be based on OUR choices!

Him: so do you think our fate is to be where we are right now?

Me: what do you mean?

Him: we’re no longer together, is this our fate or is there something we can do to change it?

Me: *giving him a dirty look* if we want to be together we can make the choices that would take us to that fate, but we don’t want the same thing, I don’t want to be with you and I never will... I made the wrong choices before and I am still rolling my own stone up that hill to repent wasting a better chance somewhere along my life!
Don’t you get it, I ruined my own fate when I chose you and I am still trying to fix it!

Him: thanks

*I decided that was the end of the conversation*


Although I have no regrets or second thoughts about leaving him, I can’t stop thinking about what my fate could have been if I had not taken my first step towards him. I still wonder if I will repeat any of my previous mistakes either because I never acknowledged them or I am simply too weak or naïve to hold on to the path that would lead me to a better fate.

I know life is not futile by nature, I know we choose to make it so when we insist on our behaviors and attitudes without leaving room for the flexibility that could come from looking a little bit beneath the surface and understanding that there are details to which we need to pay attention.

I judge every word I say, every little thing I do, and I keep asking myself… am I rationalizing right from wrong? Am I being to arrogant to admit my own faults and that’s why I can’t find my peace? Am I still reacting to pain and thus unable to break free from that vicious circle?

I know I don’t have ill intentions, but I also know that I didn’t deserve better than what I got and I don’t want to be that person again…

A Quote that got me where I started!!

"لو أن كل انسان عرف متى يمتنع عن اتخاذ الخطوة الأولى، لتغيرت أشياء كثيرة"
(موسم الهجرة إلى الشمال لـ الطيب صالح، على لسان (مصطفى سعيد -

I had a task to finish that book today. I actually locked myself in my room and began to read so determined not to lose focus in my surroundings or drift to something else while reading, like I usually do.

Until I came to that phrase…

I stopped to read it again, and when I was done, I read it again. it was captivating how that phrase echoed in my mind, how I could relate to it. I am sure everyone does, but it was one of the millions of thoughts that were haunting me lately and the words describing it were right there mocking me in a book where I didn’t expect to find it.

For a while there, I sat and tried to trace all my first steps that led me to unfavorable places. But then, I shook my head and decided that I would think about it some more when I’m done reading the book.

I went half way through the book until I felt rather tired and sleepy, so I decided to take a break and nap.

I woke up an hour later, having almost forgotten about that phrase. A while later I decided to resume my reading and as I read some more, I noticed how baby sis marked her favorite quotes, ones I liked, but they got me back to that one immediately because it was the quote that touched me the most in the book.

The book did not exactly fascinate me, not half as much as the quote anyway!

I can’t seem to get my mind off my first steps, at least those I remember…

Is there a way we can identify those first steps before taking them? Apparently, you can’t really take them back, it takes a lot of effort to fix the consequences, and it’s just draining! Why is it so hard? Why can we only see them in retrospect instead of in advance? Silly naïve me!

I finished the book in an attempt to focus on one thing and stop thinking about the millions of things that don’t do me good, but somehow it got me where I started… I am still mad at myself and completely unsettled.

Okay, I’ll try another book, but not today, I think it’s time to go to bed and struggle with my insomnia.

Evidence that I shouldn’t be left alone with the voices in my head…HELP!

*stupid stupid stupid*
-ok I am stupid, no need to rub it in!-


*ya ghabbeya*
-we ba3dein ba2a!!-


-I’m bored-
*don’t do something stupid*
-ufffff-


I sit and overanalyze…
The why’s and the how’s and what the hell’s…
I hide from my mirror image; she knows too much!
Yet she follows me every time I wash my face, and her eyes stare right into the thoughts I hide, humphfff!


Flu bad…
I don’t need more time resting, not that way;
I’ll have more space to overanalyze some more, ehe2!!!
I lost my voice, I am not even sure it will be back…
I don’t have the energy to talk, ME!!!!
I sit back some more…


I sit an observe…
Are those mistakes similar to mine? Was I like that?
In my heart, I know I wasn’t…
Damn you self doubt!!


*you know it’s not the same, stop it*
-I’m bored!-
*and hurting yourself is entertaining?! IDIOT*
-uffff-


I stare myself in the mirror…
My eyes are red, blood red, and they hurt…
A7san bardu, I didn’t want to see whatever it is I was looking for!


-I miss…-
*shhhh, sleep! It’s the time when you’re of least danger to yourself, etkhemdy*
-but…-
*shhhhhhhh*


I keep coughing in my sleep, I can almost feel someone is snatching my throat out and tearing into it with a coarse knife…
It’s too hot and I can’t seem to have any good sleep, I lower the a/c temperature…
I go back to bed and fall into a comma that ends with a nightmare of the x going all coocoo and trying to kill me and the boys…
I wake up to find the scratches on my arms and my neck…
My eyes are still red like I’ve never slept in my entire life…


-I don’t care, I miss… I don’t know, I am missing something, having a goal perhaps, doing something I enjoy, anticipating something I want… I feel restless despite being sick and I wanna go out and do something about it-
*etweksy*
-na3am!!!-
*aywan, etweksy, need I say more?*
-uffff-

Mafeesh Fayda!!

I'm joking and laughing as if there were no tears a while ago!

I'm telling myself that it was no big deal and that I better stop obsessing and move on already!

I'm too stubborn to allow myself to ache and take time to heal, God forbid I would collapse in the healing process, hasn't he said that in my stubbornness lies my strength!

So I lock it in, stand up and pretend nothing ever happened, it's easier, comme d'habitude!

I do it knowing that I am just burying something that will rise later to haunt me, and I am saying it's ok; I'll be stronger by then!!

But I know it will hit me when I need to be strong to make me weaker...

Yet I'm doing what I do best, I laugh and change the subject with a witty joke!!

In retrospect

The movie…

He looked like him. In real life, he doesn’t; just the petite structure and the haircut and the little beard.

He behaved like him. Not exactly, just the humor and the charm and the selfishness, only in real life he showed more kindness that hid the selfishness, kindness that made all his mistakes forgiven.

He reminded me of him when he shaved off that hair. Only in real life, he had bigger brown eyes, and higher cheekbones, the features we share.

I cried because under layers of years that hold anger, contempt and disappointed, I realized that I missed him.

The club…

I needed someone who would charm my boys and play with them like he did with me, I thought of him.

I needed someone who’d throw a punch for me without thinking of consequences, I thought of him.

I needed someone who’d hold me and tell me that it will be ok, and I realized I needed him, not him him, the him I thought he was.

The restaurant…

I finally talked about it, it was too clear in my head that I missed him and I needed him. I knew I did because I was vulnerable. Alhamdulilah, I had a great friend to listen.

I didn’t say how he disappointed me, I don’t think I really remember anymore, but I still don’t forgive him, and I know for a fact that I would never tell him how I miss him or need him if we ever talk again, not that I think we ever will.

Yesterday…

I kept going back to that little girl; I envied and pitied her for all she had…

She had the warm loving arms that she appreciated…

She had safe arms that she missed and idealized…

She had warm, loving, safe and overprotective arms that she resented and couldn’t appreciate…

She didn’t see things clearly. Like the movie, she needed lots of time to figure things out for what they really are, but in her case, a lifetime…

A lifetime where she stopped hanging around the warm loving arms that she loved until they were no longer there to hold her…

A lifetime of mistakenly believing in the safety of the arms she missed to realize that those arms were nothing but a heartbreaking disappointment…

A lifetime of avoiding and rejecting the warm, loving, safe and overprotective arms that she couldn’t bear, now, all she wishes she could do is hide in those arms and cry all those lost years… but she’s afraid… afraid of all the questions, afraid of the tears, afraid of being overwhelmed… but most of all, terrified of losing those arms the moment she surrenders to them…

A lifetime full of stupid mistakes she did because she never turned to those arms...

Yesterday, all I wanted was to run in those arms and cry, but I didn’t want the questions that I couldn’t answer and I didn’t know how to show my vulnerability, so I didn’t… I couldn’t even cry on my own…

Right now…

Tears keep flowing with every word I type! I am not crying, tears just fall out of my eyes hurting my eyes but not easing my soul.

And I still feel unable to find the words that tell any of it, it’s too hard to describe it to begin with…

I miss when my pain could find its way out without me looking for words, and I miss him and how he could have fixed me… I take a glimpse at my little mementos and try to remember his words to guide me, but I feel too confused right now…

I’m trying to learn from all the things that revealed themselves in the past days, trying to figure out how to fix myself so that I would not repeat any of my mistakes.

I don’t want to compile unpleasant experiences and lock them. I don’t want to pretend they never happened and they never affected me until they find the chance to haunt me and mess up my life like tides ruin sand castles… I want my life to be more than sandcastles, and I have no idea how…

Arms that once held me…

I remember arms that held me so tight, arms where I found warmth, love and unconditional love, arms that felt ever tender, arms where I wish I could have stayed forever. I miss those arms, I miss how they smelled and how loved I felt in them, every night before I sleep, I pray I’d have those arms around me in my sleep like they held me long ago…

I remember other arms, arms that felt like home, arms that I missed for so long and lingered for with tears only to be wrapped in them for brief minutes before yet another separation, arms that disappointed me like no other. As genuine as it was then, it lost its meaning now for I didn’t know better. I miss those arms, I wish they lasted, but I would never want them back…

And there were arms I thought were mine, arms I thought would never forsake me, arms where I thought I felt safe and loved, arms I mistakenly thought would protect me, arms that squeezed life out of me. The memory of those arms makes me noxious and sick and I find myself gasping for air when they come to mind…

And there are those arms, arms I know are loving and sincere, arms that I know would keep me safe and protect me from all harm, arms I really need, arms where I long to be, hoping I would be able to cry my heart out without losing my pride. I love those arms, yet I am too scared of surrendering in them; I’m afraid they’d get tired of holding me, and I am more afraid of ever losing them that I force myself to do without them. I wish I could melt in those arms… no, I wish those arms would be there forever even if I never let them hold me, but I need to know that they’re always there…

There are also those little arms, arms that barely wrap around me, yet give me a sense of happiness and joy mixed with traces of sorrow and hurt, arms that fill me with hope and yet fear, fear of the unknown. I love those arms…

And then, there are my arms…

Arms that are only capable of holding those I love so close to my heart, hoping it would be enough to ease away their pain… Arms that want to be warm, safe, protective, and loving… Arms that are terrified of being cruel, hard or disappointing… I think of how much love I need to channel with those arms every time I hold my kids, I need them to know the things I can only say with my arms as I hold them…

Such a shame…

I hear those words a lot, “such a shame”…

When people look at me and realize I’m a divorcee, they shake their heads and very bluntly imply it...

“You’re young, too young to be a mother and a divorcee already…”

And it’s worse when they see my babies; you see, as annoying as my kids can be, they’ve been blessed with some sort of charm that I can’t really understand… it could be Beem’s radiant smile or Mocha’s big brown eyes that steal people’s hearts away!

And when they know they belong to a single mother and an absent father, they shake their heads even harder and say it with such disbelief and disappointment…

“Such beautiful kids, such a shame, la 7awla wala quawata ella b’Ellah”

Those words are not necessarily said; they don’t need to be, they are too loud in their eyes that it deafens me and disturbs my peace!

And the thoughts explode in my head…

It hurts to see my kids loving someone so unworthy, it hurts to see them getting so attached to someone who’s only there for them to get to me and make me pay for breaking free and doing it with my head up high without any sense of regret or defeat that would satisfy his sick ego.

It hurts me that I am not able to fight back and play as dirty to stop him, that I can’t get back at him because I worry about my kids’ wellbeing!

Now that’s a shame…

To have that much anger, hate and resentment for someone and not be able to use it to hurt him and cause him as much irreversible damage as he caused…

It’s such a shame to hold on to my ethics and upbringing, stick to right and refrain from wrong when every cell of my body is screaming “PAYBACK”

It’s such a shame to feel that much rage and yet still listen to that frail voice telling me that everything evens up at the end and that he will pay one day, and that he’ll pay dearly!

Right now, that’s not really enough…. I don’t want him to pay one day, I want him to pay NOW! I don’t want him to wonder what he could have possibly done to deserve the pain and agony I wish him; I want him to know it’s because of what he’s done to me and to those boys and spend the rest of his days trying to think of ways to fix it hoping his pain would stop…

It may sound like I want revenge, but all I really want is justice, poetic justice, the kind they spoke of in fairytales and fables, the kind I should be old enough to know does not exist…

Such a shame!

On being a parent, the things they never told me!

I know I am not alone and I surely know I have it a lot better than other people, alhamdulilah.

However, that does not deny me the right to rant and wonder how to make it better, no???

So here is the deal…

I have two boys, ages (almost) 4 and 2, we live with my family (father, mother, two sisters), my father is usually away Wednesdays to Saturdays and the boys see their dad on Fridays.

Anyone who’s followed my blog long enough would know for a fact that the their father is “zay 3adamo” as an efficient father figure; his only job is to spoil them rotten in the sense of “you’re missing out on lots of fun” which the kids do not pick up on much due to their short attention span. Their father is the same guy who calls me on my cell phone around 5 times when I take a bathroom break away from them and decide to sit down and have coffee to help me survive the stressful outing. AND, he’s the very same guy who keeps receipts of clothes, toys and meals he buys them!!!!! Do I really need to say more?!

I love my kids to pieces; I mean yeah, I whine 30 hours a day about how I miss being just myself without worrying about others the way I do... and yeah I run away in outings with friends whenever possible… but when I am out and I see other people’s kids within the same age as mine, I almost cry because I miss them!! I almost feel my uterus contracting like when they used to be in it and kick!!!!! It makes me feel guilty, an emotion I am not that much used to… momken awy la2enny 7aloofa!

That’s still not the issue; that was an introduction because I am a very talkative person…

Beem (my almost 4 year old) as cute as he is, is showing signs of needing tarbeyah, which I think is critical at his age if I want him to be a half decent human being at some stage of his life, hopefully right after surviving the horrid teenage years.

Looks wise, I think he looks a lot like me despite how everyone keeps saying he takes more after his dad. The reason I am mentioning the looks is that I don’t want anyone out there saying that I am emotionally unstable because he reminds me of his dad that way.

But the poor thing takes after his dad; he’s too analytical, he has very selective memory, he LOVES preaching and arguing like there’s no tomorrow, he never takes the blame and when he does it’s ALWAYS justified, and he uses his charm to get away with EVERYTHING!! For the astrological people out there, his dad is Libra and he’s Virgo; these are more or less the stuff they have in common as sunsigns too!

Now, I keep reminding myself that those things are general things about kids, but let me be accurate; he takes them to the next level!!! And I also realize few of those are good stuff if they’re developed the right way, but I don’t know how to, especially that they remind me of his dad a lot which makes me overreact, yes, I am aware that I do overreact and I am trying to control it!

I appreciate Beem’s IQ, and I love how he is so analytical to the extent that he doesn’t miss a single detail! I like how he remembers things I said; it keeps me on my toes keeping all the promises I make him, but it drives me crazy how he would just pretend to not remember my specific instructions, yes I know he’s only 4, but I have lately realized I can be a perfectionist Nazi (and an ethics Nazi like my friend was telling me)! His arguing skills impress me; very few people leave me speechless the way he does, but the kid has to know at some point that it can be annoying like hell!! And I won’t even comment on placing blame and getting out of it with charm, it makes me want to kill him, and then I look at his cute little face and I want to keep kissing his cheeks and eyes; he’s my CUTE Beem!!

And there’s another problem, the kid barely hangs with people from his gender aside from the rest of boys at the daycare! Between my dad being away and being entitled as a grandparent to spoil him rotten and his dad being a spoilt brat, I don’t have a strong authoritative figure who can also be a role model, which leaves me to do that role! Like I needed more reason to be more “man-like”! Now, I yell in thick scary voice when I have to, I do the threatening walk, and sometimes I hit… my heart aches when I overhear my mom telling him “hatesma3 el kalam walla 2a2ool le mama 3aleik” the way she used to tell me “haaaah, 2a2ool le baba!!”; I don't want to be the bad guy to my kids, not that kind of bad guy anyways... I've always pictured us being more like friends, not really happening :'(

I hate it when I am angry at him, especially that he is so sensitive; all I really want is for him to be able to realize right and wrong on his own and stand up and admit it when he’s wrong and be a man about it!! I realize very few men behave that way, and I realize the little thing is not even 4 yet, and I can tell I am being cruel, but I am scared of the alternative!! I don’t want to be one of those parents who bring more jerks into the world and end up defending their sick actions because there’s nothing that they can do about it!! My friend tells me that being too righteous is just as bad because it might actually lead to the same outcome, and the sad thing is that he’s right and I know it, but it’s HARD to figure out a balance, let alone keeping it!!

And that was just Beem!!!

I have double the worry about Mocha because he copycats his own brother and adds up more attitude since he’s the trouble maker!! I also have to watch out for sibling jealousy and be really smart about it when one of them tries to get the other in trouble (Mocha is a master doing it to Beem!!!), and I have to be very subtle about teaching them a lesson and being fair especially with how hillarious Mocha is (I respond better to good sense of humor than I do to charm!)

I feel tired just writing this, I can’t even imagine having to live it day to day, let alone doing it right!

I love them, I REALLY do, but I keep thinking “I didn’t sign up for this, I wasn’t even that enthusiastic about becoming a mother” (yeah not so motherly of me to say it!!)… A friend of my father laughs and tells me “if you do all the things your dad did with you, you’ll be safe; you and your sisters turned out great”, as sweet as it is, it’s not exactly true; MOREOVER, I am not the father in this scenario, I am the single mother and it makes it twice as hard especially when the other party is such a bad influence and barely acts as any sort of support!!
I don’t know how to be like my father when I still feel like one BIG child myself! I don’t think I’m fit to behave like an adult just yet!! I see now why baba did so many things I once disliked, and I feel for him.

When did it become not-ok to cry and kick the floor when things didn’t go my way!!

After midnight blabbers…

It’s been a while, and I keep having random thoughts in my head that drive me insane, but not long enough for me to write them down. However, tonight I just have an unbearable urge to let them out, or at least some...


This is one of the loud thoughts I have in my head…

Wouldn’t this world be a much better place if each one of us believed that everyone is someone else’s father/mother, son/daughter, brother/sister and/or, husband/wife… as in that each and everyone one of us has a bunch of people in his/her life who think great deal of him/her!!

Yeah, I am starting to understand why exactly most of my friends think I need to be admitted into some facility that “protects” people like me! But really, just take a moment to imagine it; better yet, take a minute to think of someone you dislike as someone else’s special person! (I don’t necessarily mean special special)



This word keeps echoing in my head for no good reason!

Yearning, as in: Longing, aching, nostalgic… I have no idea for what!!



Current Soundtrack…

Charles Aznavour Duos!! I still can’t get over the intensity of his voice in different languages! The way he says each word makes my heart skip beats!!!!

Nina Simone’s The Keeper of the Flame made me tear up when it played randomly in the car; I wasn’t even paying attention to the lyrics, but the music definitely hit a nerve I am unaware of!

I am not sure if the soundtrack stirred the nostalgia and the yearning or if I am vulnerable to the music because of those feeling; either way, they get along fine!!



The daily annoyances…

The infamous X… the annoying colleague at work who wouldn’t let me ignore him… and the governmental officials that make me want to forget about them being someone else’s special and kill them or wish them horrible deaths, especially that freakin’ officer with the dirty looks, I wish that one turns blind!!

I should have also mentioned the evil side of me since I am wishing all the above all the shit they made me go through during the past few days!



My little blessings

My cute little monsters of kids; I can’t get over how sweet and kind Beem is, and how hilarious and cute my Mocha is, pretty much makes up for how nagging Beem can be and how crazy and aggressive Mocha is!!

The little extra bonus at work and the medical insurance refund (yeah I kinda need the money)

My dad’s little surprise that I hope would come to term without any disappointment (God, I know I am asking for way too much!!)

The few laughs I had with Rasha yesterday and today, aside from the nakad movie that had the poor thing sobbing!



The things I KNOW I should do...

Show God my gratitude, as in do my prayers on time we balash estehbal… Clean up the damn room… save money… spend more time with the boys and enjoy them… watch out… finalize all pendings at work on daily basis or whatever closest ( I hate loose ends at work and I’ve been leaving a lot behind!)… catch up with a lot of my friends…

There must be a lot more but I am too tired now; I think I’ll call it a night…



Hoping and praying for a good weekend pour moi and for all of you out there… be well.

On Boundaries…

Almost a year ago or something…


Looking into the random scribbles and smiling without looking back at me…

“You’re very aggressive. Thing is, you have every right to be; you don’t just burst for no reason, you hold it in for too long until you can no longer handle it and then you become too aggressive, it comes from pain”

Looking at me…

“Why is that??”

I smile and I shrug…

“It’s just who I am I guess!”

Still looking at me…

“It’s not ok because it gets to you more than it should. You let people abuse you in a way because you don’t want to acknowledge that you’re not ok, they push you far beyond your limits and you still try to pretend it’s ok until you no longer can… at that point, it’s pretty much too late for them to fix things and also very late for you to forgive them for messing things up… you’re already too hurt and you burn those bridges with both pain and rage”

Avoiding eye contact…

“I don’t know what else to do; I expect people to understand me well enough to not cross my boundaries!”

Still staring at me, yet maintaining the quiet tone…

“Do you know your boundaries? I don’t think you define yours clearly enough although you're very aware of others'; it’s a loose term when it comes to you because once someone gets close enough; there is almost nothing you wouldn’t take from them … isn’t that what happened with your x? It does not change that he was not a good person, but you let him get away with a lot of things he shouldn’t have until you no longer could, right?”

Nodding…

He resumed…

“You should make boundaries, clear ones, especially for those you love and care about because those are the ones that hurt you the most. If you let them know in advance that you’re not as strong as you come off, they’d be more careful… and if they don’t, at least it would be early enough for you not to hurt. Be as assertive as you seem to be”



He was right. Boundaries are such a loose term for me, not just with the ones I care for! Once I feel comfortable enough, I sort of let my guard down and make room for jerks to take me for granted.

Problem is, there is a nice-gene in there somewhere that doesn’t recognize harassment or abuse even if it hits me in the face! No not a nice gene, I’ll call it stupid-naïve-gene, and it keeps causing me emotional trauma and my mind keeps blocking it somewhere until the next one!

Ufff, when did people become so damn evil! I feel like an idiot just like my friend kept saying yesterday… no, not utopian like I kept correcting him, a complete idiot.

And now, I will try to figure out how aggressive I will have to be with that one! Given the circumstances, passive aggressive is the way to be… and complete avoidance, like the couple of ones before him. I see a pattern, one that I do not like, and I am thinking it’s also me, not just them.