Wishing and Hoping

There’s an old saying, careful what you wish for

I have this as my greeting on my mobile to remind me to never wish for things…

To just hope and accept when my hopes do not come to reality, and move on…

Never wish so hard because you spend too much energy and you will always end up disappointed, whether you get what you wished for or not.

It's that simple, or at least it should be!

Yet a wish always finds a way to sneak into my heart and into my prayers…

And for whatever reason, it comes true, as farfetched as it could be!

And it's just never the right wish!

I just wish for once that the right wish comes true for a change! And by the right, I mean the one that would really make me happy even if I don’t see it right now!

If that is not possible, then I wish I could just stick to hoping and learn not to get my hopes too high; one simple thing at a time should do…

I wish, no I hope…

I could listen to this all day!

I first listened to this song when I watched Love Actually. I like this version from the movie better than the original one with the perky guitar; I feel it, I relate.

I give you Joni Mitchell's Both Sides Now.

Bows and flows of angel hair
and ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere,
i've looked at cloud that way.

But now they only block the sun,
they rain and snow on everyone.
So many things i would have done
but clouds got in my way.

I've looked at clouds from both sides now,
From up and down, and still somehow
It's cloud illusions i recall.
I really don't know clouds at all.

Moons and junes and ferris wheels,
the dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real;
i've looked at love that way.

But now it's just another show.
you leave 'em laughing when you go
And if you care, don't let them know,
don't give yourself away.

I've looked at love from both sides now,
From give and take, and still somehow
It's love's illusions i recall.
I really don't know love at all.

Tears and fears and feeling proud
to say "i love you" right out loud,
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds,
i've looked at life that way.

But now old friends are acting strange,
they shake their heads,
they sayI've changed.
Something's lost but something's gained
in living every day.

I've looked at life from both sides now,
From win and lose, and still somehow
It's life's illusions i recall.
I really don't know life at all.

P.S.: Looks like this will be a radio station until I figure out a way to let it out!

And when the anger subsides...

this is exactly how I feel; every note and every word. I feel tired, I feel old, and I feel sad. I don't know if it's causing my anger or caused by it, but I know it's how I feel now.

I will bounce back, I always do...

Until then, enjoy the music!

Stupid Passion

Is it possible for someone who doesn’t know their passion in life to get so passionate over the stupidest of things!!

I guess so; I’m a living proof!

Months ago, my therapist told me I needed to find my passion; that I was lost and I needed to find my soul doing something, and that I had to figure it out. It made m look at him desperately asking for a clue but he kept looking at me and said I should find my passion on my own because no one else would know it if I don’t.

I’ve been thinking of all the possible things I could be passionate about. I replayed my life trying to remember the things I liked doing, the things I was good at doing, and there was the shocking truth…

I never really liked anything long enough to be the best at it; it could be because I was afraid I would never be the best, so I gave up at the stage of it being just a hobby to escape any potential failure.

Wait, it gets better…

The things I was actually good at, I kept them at a distance because I didn’t want to wake up one day to discover I got bored and stopped liking them!

How pathetic is that! Yes, my fickleness scares me from getting too close to things or people because I could either disappoint of be disappointed. Like I said, pathetic!

I decided to stop searching; I told myself my passion will catch up with me and find me.

It kinda did a couple of months ago, or so I thought anyway. It was helping people; helping people gave me a feeling of euphoria I enjoyed so very much. For a couple of days I could sleep better, my diet became healthier, and something about me was radiant, people couldn’t help but notice!

The Caller actually sent me text message saying I should do more work on the other blog because I am good at it; it made me post a couple of times before I went to my ridiculous state of hibernation! Yes, I admit it, I don’t know how to make that blog work, and given what happened next (or below), I was not ready for another disappointment!

So here is what happened next, I thought I should help people!! I contacted my shrink whom I knew started an NGO about creating awareness against violence and providing psychiatric help to those who had been traumatized. I told her I was willing to volunteer and take whatever courses and take a parapsychology degree so that I can do it professionally, no medications involved, just compassionate and professional help to those who seek it.

It was such a disappointment! I know my shrink could read this, and I hope she does because I never had the guts to tell her in the face how disappointed I was at the meeting I attended! It was only about raising money for a party that was supposed to help create awareness to the NGO. Mind you that the attendees who should buy the tickets, you know because of whom that specific singer was chosen (wa7ed aslant masme3tesh 3anno abl keda, but I blame my limited awareness of Arab singers), are upper class people who –according to the people in the meeting- only go there to see who got married and who is still man-hunting!! And don’t get me started of what I think about that! Anyway, all the talk was about sponsors and advertising and the tickets prices! No one mentioned the help we were supposed to give, not even for a few minutes on the side!

I know I know, I am too freakin’ utopian and I expect things to be in a certain way. I’ve heard it all before! Every time I remember how disappointed I felt I almost cry! I wanted to help people; I was thinking support groups and nonfinancial gain and there I was looking at people fighting over the best way to bag sponsors! If I wanted to do that, I would have worked in my field of studies, marketing! Oh well!

Don’t get me wrong, I am not an NGO kinda person; if anything I hate belonging to a bigger group where the goals and motives get confused with other things that have nothing to do with the cause! I inherited by dad’s cynicism unlike baby sis who still believes she can still do good even within a corrupt system. My good baby sister.

Today, it hit me. My passion for helping people is only the positive side of how I feel when I see people doing/accepting injustice! I can’t help but feel furious when I hear a story about someone hurting others with no regard to anything but their own interests and I get even madder when I see the victims accept their roles so submissively and endure the abuse and perhaps even invite some more!

I get so angry I wish I could turn into the Goddess of war and rage so that I can rip off the hearts of those who inflict pain! If any of the ancient mythologies were ever true, I would have loved to be Sakhment, Ishtar, Athena or Minerva who ironically also represent good things like health, wisdom and wealth!!

But who am I to mess with anger; all those myths tell how the Goddesses were blinded by their anger and ended up inflicting harm on everyone equally!! I guess I should just stop trying to think like a God and accept that only Allah swt has the key to all and that we’re all in a constant battle testing our strengths and beliefs!

My dad always tells me after bad disputes with my mother that I should stop behaving as if I were an equal and accept my role and live up to it. As right as I believe he is; I just don’t know how to accept my role if it subjects me to be wronged even if by my mother and even if unintentionally!

Deep breath in… aaaand out…

Maybe I should consider yoga like my sis! Oh crap, I don’t want to be around her anymore than I have to; Zen people get on my nerves. It’s beyond me how anyone can see the mess that happens all around and still be calm just makes me wanna hurt them or something, may they’d get as angry!! Yeah, it’s probably envy talking; I am not envious by nature but it seems that anger visits me bringing all its friends lately as a punishment for not letting it in enough, or perhaps locking it in that box! Kick boxing seems more fitting for me!

Anyway, back to the reason I started writing this…

Yes, I have a misplaced passion! Whoever taught me about right and wrong as a child screwed me for life because they didn’t explain that it’s not up to me to make everything right and that the universe does not answer to me, and that even wrong happens for a reason and hard as I might try, I will not always get it, not even often!

I am so darn angry right now I want to cry! That idiot talks about wanting to marry anyone we khalas as if other people’s lives have no regard as long as he gets his needs satisfied! How arrogant!! And the way he says “at least mesh ha3mel 7aga 7aram” makes me wanna kick him where it hurts!!! I keep yelling at myself “don’t argue, don’t argue; he’s aware you’re getting angry and he feeds on it, don’t argue” I would gladly hope he meets his match, the one who teaches him the cruelest of lessons only to balance his own cruelty, but I learned it will not just be about him suffering, more people will suffer, people I care about!

My only defense mechanism helped a bit! God bless heartless sarcasm! I gave him a bitter taste of it and then told him I had to go.

Only I found myself writing this post….

If any of my good friends called me to rant about something so mundane, I’d try to calm them and point out to them how ridiculous it is to get upset about the same thing all over again when they have absolutely no control over any of it! But here I am, unable to get so angry, so passionately angry I could hurt people!!

Darn!

Where is my art therapist when I need him! I can’t see him before next Sunday!!! And I can’t even just draw it out because my mom is spying on me, thinking she can look at the shit I draw and figure me out, or even worse make up silly remarks about me trying to be a painter! Either that or I am developing a severe case of paranoia!

Note to self: “people can be really sick and twisted, including you! So stop whining, get over the shock and accept that there is nothing you can do to change it; you can barely change yourself! Etweksy!”

What do you know, another incoherent rant!

as incoherent as it is...

When I’m afraid, I face my fears. Unless my fear is about consequences that are certain to happen and which I know I cannot handle, I use my stubbornness to do exactly the thing I am afraid to do. I am not bragging, it’s just how I function, and I admit it had taken me to all the wrong places; it’s not a virtue to live fighting with life and do the opposite of what everyone tells/expects you to do. For that, people who see my strength tell me I am daring and unique; they don’t know the battles I fight with my fear and the crazy things I do to win!

I can’t live without hope. Take it away from me and you'll watch my spirit wither and fade leaving nothing but the anger and resentment I try on daily basis to let go of! Yes, I have those; the scars left by my war wounds, wars where I mostly fought myself! I hope it will all be better once I figure out a way to like myself enough to stop all the fighting. I know I have it in me to be better but I get lost a lot because of my pride.

My heart is so… stupid. It’s stupid among so many other things, but stupid makes the top of the list because its stupidity has the power to take over my brains and make the wrong things seem right! I mistake a lot of things for the right things that way. I let go of my mind and its logic and the sense it makes to follow my stupid heart to where I overly abuse my mind and heart thinking about all the things others might take for granted.

My body is frail when my soul is that weak. And my soul is weak because I seem to take my faith for granted most of the time; how arrogant! My hands are cold and they seem to cramp every time I try to move them. I have a huge lump in my throat and I know I could use a cry but unfortunately I no longer cry the way that would ease my soul, I only cry the way that would hurt my eyes, my blurry eyes!

Every day is a battle to keep a balance that barely lasts for enough time to make an achievement! And I want so much of life, I want to make a lot of things and be a lot of things and sometimes it is too draining to be! I expect too much of people, but the tragic part is that I expect even a lot more from me, more than I can ever be.

And you, you messed that balance for such a long time. It gave me perspective on who I was as I was trying to mend and heal. I took what is probably my first lesson of self discovery and I took it through humility. I am grateful because it was an eye opener to a lot of things I took for granted until they were no longer real. It is knowing that there was something bigger to find and realize that made me find it in me to stop hating you.

Why isn’t that enough for you? It was enough for me! I know we’re not the same, but it’s you who insists that we are!

You just had to push until you made me burst! all you had to do was blame me and ask me to "think of the boys and think of sacrificuing for them before throwing us away" and I found myself saying those words...


Stop it, stop it right there… don’t make me set you straight on this one, don’t make me tell the story again, don’t you dare twist that story, don’t you dare believe your own lies and make a twisted truth out of them!
I was there, not just once, but twice, I let you fool me twice because I didn’t want to throw “us” away and I got my heart broken and I got my ego bruised and I took the time to stand on my feet, so don’t you dare pin it on me just because I am handling it better than you, because I seem stronger…
I am only strong because I resent being the victim but that does not mean you get to become the victim and make me the bad guy! I will not let you.
If you need to know that I have it hard, if that will make you feel better to know you’re not the only one who’ll suffers, let me tell you about my suffering yemken te7es be ne3met rabena 3aleik…
I am the woman in this plot, I get to be blamed by society unless they know the dirty details that you know I am too proud to share…
I am the one who’s either too stupid or too arrogant to a7afez 3ala beity we goozy…
I am the woman most of the other married women will fear that I might steal their husbands, or if I’m lucky, they will pity me because I don’t have a man!
I am the woman who will go to bed every night after I kiss my kids in their sleep hoping that my choice will never affect them in a bad way…
I am the one who tries to smile as I try to accept the fact that no loving fingers will stroke my hair before I fall asleep and no arms will hold me when I am restless…
I am the one who people will always tell me “but you’re too young to remain single for the rest of your life” yet would point accusing fingers at me if I decide to live my life in a way that makes me happy without violating any of their stupid rules, they will assume I am a bad mother and I am an easy woman…
It’s all me, not you… and I am facing those fears by telling myself that for the first time my instincts are backed up by logic and solid evidence… I am telling myself there is hope in a tomorrow, a hope that I’d be killing if I come back to you out of fear…
My heart is overwhelmed and it’s driving my mind crazy, but I know in my gut I am making the right thing yet I have to constantly remind myself of that or I’ll go insane!
So don’t pin it on me and say you’ve tried because it was you who sent me in that direction and I stopped blaming you for it!


And yet, you're still pushing!

An excerpt form a conversation that was never finished

This conversation took place between two real people, I could only share that much after removing some of its content to maintain anonymity. Nonetheless, it remains intriguing not because it's between a man and a woman, but rather because it's about what's they think is right and whether it's the only way!

Disclaimer: Like I said, the conversation was taken out of context; hence, it does not really reflect the characters or beliefs of those having it with regard to their gender roles. So I would really appreciate it if the comments did not attack either of the characters; otherwise, you're most welcomed to share your opinion.

X: anyways, women have it in them to endure khan2et their husbands, but it's not always happening the other way around… momken 3ashan men can have affairs while women's only outlet is complaining to their girlfriends, generally speaking… we eyak te2ool en you guys are the miserable ones having to resort to affairs since communication and whining are not your forte

Y: maho i think affairs are a sign of desperation that we are the victims :)… ya3ni wa7ed masalan fi balad kolaha masane3 naseegg… wi howa ma3andoosh elskills bta3et elnaseeg, fa byetarr yesra2 3ashan ye3raf ye3eesh… it’s an act of desperation, not of evil intent(not defending all men that do it, akeed some are evil)

X: so you were fe balad feeha naseeg bas, i say you either learn how to teshtaghal fel naseeg or leave to a country where you can make another living… mesh tesra2, because you as a person, deserve better than to sell yourself short for the easier solution… how would people evolve if they're not challenged?

Y: ana m3aki, thats why i say it’s a sign of desperation… just like turning to alcohol is a sign of desperation… mesh b2ool alcoholics are correct in their decision; i'm saying ppl who do that are desperate

X: el moshkela with your theory is… wait, heya mesh moshkela, i am basically confirming what ur saying… some people go through the same circumstances and don't let despair get a hold of them; desperation denies people better things they deserve… i know it's extremely hard to control if it finds its way to a person, close to impossible… but saying that whatever acts of desperation are ok madam one is desperate is like having a backdoor that's easier to open, and people would end up using that door instead of using the main door; and then the norms, what's right and wrong will be twisted as per the notion of "everybody’s doing it, so why can't we?"… which would take us back to “who will do the right thing ba2a”… we make the right thing harder to do when we say it's ok to do stupid things just because you’re desperate

Y: enti your situation, the "right thing" is simple; other situations it's much more complicated

X: fair enough… but i still insist en just because it's harder, it doesn't mean we should choose the easy way out; people don't grow doing the easy thing, there are lots of famous quotes saying it better bas what they never really emphasize on is that there’s a great sense of achievement one gets when they manage to do the hard thing and survives it… and because people do not hear about that part, they don’t find the right thing to be that rewarding, they just thing of it as part of the burden of “being good”… of course there will always be doubts, but we always doubt, don't we?

Y: bardo i agree, but that sense of acheivement comes afterwards, after it ends. When you're in the situation, to use another anology, when you're in the middle of the sea and you feel as if you're drowning, and your boat isn't keeping you afloat, then you see another boat that will help you, but it's not yours, you can't say "i won't steal that boat because it's wrong", you act out of desperation. I agree, it's illogical, irrational, etc., but all this is when we look back on it. Sa3etha it's a desperate move.

Update: If you have time, please go check Slop's post; I find it to say a lot of what I had in mind as I posted this! Thanks man.

Theme: Randomness

For those who actually enjoy my incoherence…


Seven years ago, my late nana (Allah yer7amha) died on the same day. I say a little prayer for her with every time I wrote today’s date on a piece of paper or every time I come to think of today’s date. Neina, Allah yer7amek, wa7shany awy.


I woke up today in the itching mood of Vaya Con Dios, specifically I Don’t Want to Know. I was shocked to find that my music file at work did not include any of their songs so I downloaded the whole discography only to listen to my favorites. Until the download was complete I listened to Hanine’s version of Fareed’s Ya Zahratan Fe Khayaly. Those words speak for me like no other.


He keeps calling. Apparently he’s really bummed about everything in his life and he’s under the strong impression that I’m the only one he got! I am not happy with that but I am not able to hurt him because apparently his grandma is in such a bad shape and I am not cruel enough to hit someone so beaten up about life already. I keep telling myself that once on his feet, he’ll soon hurt me twice as hard; it’s what he does and I’d be stupid to think that a short moment of remorse can change who he is. I am starting to think of a smart way to set him straight; give him my dad’s strict conditions of having me back (and OH they are dead STRICT), but I feel ethically challenged since I have no intention to live up to my end of the bargain if he lives up to his. Why am I so ethical? I blame my dad.


I have so many plans I should mark in my calendar of people with whom I want to meet and catch up. My boss from my old work for next Thursday, and my friend from the same place for next Saturday, and I’m sure there are things I am forgetting! Oh, I must call H and see her, it’s been a while; still there is something I’m missing!


I don’t know what it is with you, but every time I try to be just nice or I don’t know more me, I find myself blurting out nothing but sarcasm! Ok, I know it’s a defense mechanism, but I thought I was over that with you; only it gets even harder to control. I hate it because this is not how I want to act around you and I hate it because I’m afraid you’re attributing it to the wrong reasons. May be it’s best to keep that distance.


I want a quiet evening in a night landscape with nothing but the moon and the stars in the velvet sky and perhaps some good music. I don’t want people and I am not sure about the company yet. The really sad part is even if I was granted that ambience; my restless nature would have me bored in less than 30 minutes. I’m pathetic!


I also wanna take the kids out and have fun, but they’re too crazy and chaotic and I am too tired to handle them without having a nerve blown out or something.

On the very same note though, yesterday I held both of them as I sat on the couch in the living room (I barely ever get out of my room), and I read them those three little books my sis wrote. My Beem just loves that character and I keep using it to make him do things (evil), but it was him who made me think of it when he said “mommy ana 3ayez aghsel senany zay boxa”


I’m overspending these days. The scary part is that I am a bit low on cash and using my credit card. I know I will have to deal with the consequences but I feel too stressed to start caring.


My mom seems to want me out of the house at any expense. She deliberately gives out instructions of the most disgusting food to be cooked. My parents were in Alexandria for the weekend and they returned late last night; still, Kaware3 was yesterday’s dish! EWWW I mean seriously EWWWWW, it ruined my apetite to walk in the kitchen and see that cooking!! I ended up eating salad from Pizza Hut followed by a muffin from Costa with my dearest The Caller. I want good food ba2a, and I hate home delivery, so they either start cooking real food or let me go dine out without calling me to yell!


I’ve been sitting on my desk all day juggling tasks. During the past four hours I’ve wanted to go boil some water and dump the noodles in it and have a snack to stop my stomach from growling, but something keeps coming up! I’m going home in less than 15 minutes now. Ooh, I’m so hungry that I actually feel sick; nonetheless, I keep getting cravings of Feta cheese & tomato or tuna & corn. It’s only good because I can totally settle for either if they all there was at home were yesterday’s kaware3.


Ok, I should go home now. Good day everyone.

Why doesn't revenge taste so sweet?

Did I ever mention that I find vengeance to be one of the most interesting notions? It is; it’s such a drive that has its very own strong momentum and it can just drag for years and years, and like it or not it’s behind a lot of good plots be it in reality or fiction.

Is it a co-incidence that most of my favorite movies revolve around the consuming idea of vengeance. When I first read A Tale of Two Cities, as appalled as I was by Madame De Farge’s unforgiving pursuit of Charles Darnay and his family, deep down, I couldn’t help but sympathize for the amount of injustice she’s been subjected to which completely changed her into what she’s become. You must react to that kind of hurt and feel for it even if it turns into something so cruel.

When I read The Count of Monte Cristo, I was satisfied with Edmond’s revenge and it was as if I was getting my own. Yes, I believe in payback and it in its healing power just as I believe in the destruction it could cause to all parties.

I could go on and on about vengeance and how I think it could be legitimate, as well as when I think it went to an uncontrollable extreme, but I’m not sure I’d come up with something any more brilliant than all the things that’s been previously written. Just take my word for it, revenge is a very strong thing and it’s anything simple or marginal; it’s also the thought that came to mind as I started writing this.

Where do I begin, I’m sure a lot of those who read this know where it started, or at least are familiar enough. Nonetheless, I find it hard to write this coherently because if I do it will be too long for me to write and it might get more personal than I can afford, so it will just be bits and pieces, and I’ll leave it to your imagination to fill in the details.

I once told him I’d break him to pieces if he’d ever hurt me that way again. I looked him right in the eyes saying I’d destroy him and he’d see a side of me neither of us knew existed. I guess he knew me better then because he never believed; he hurt me anyway! When the time came for me to use everything I could possibly know against him, I just couldn’t. I am not saying I am a better person here, I am not; because I spent enough time thinking of how I could harm him, and there came times when I was very close to doing it, I just didn’t know if I had it in me to live with myself and whatever consequences there were to come.

Some time long after I got over my shock and my agony, I stumbled into a movie, Something’s Gotta Give. At the end, when Jack Nicholson goes all the way to Paris to win Diane Keaton back, only he finds her there with Keanu Reeves (EWWWW). There is that moment where they’re singing her happy birthday and she’s laughing so happily in Keanu’s arms (EWWWW again), and you can see the way Nicholson looking at her an you can almost hear him thinking “that should have been me holding her”. That was when I decided that the only revenge I could get without being a horrible person was to see that very same look on his face. I wanted him to see me living happily, enjoying the life he can no longer share with me.

I forced myself to move on and be stronger just to have that moment. I glorified the feeling I’d get and used it as a motive to get myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again. I can’t deny that I have a relationship phobia or that I have so little faith in love. I can’t deny that in the process of moving on, I almost stumbled and fell, and that I still look back and wonder what the hell happened back there. I always end up shaking my head and saying it didn’t matter; I was never ready and it was never meant to be. Little by little, it started to be less about my revenge moment and more about just getting by day after the other.

Now, that we’re on talking basis again, I see him quite often. He very occasionally hints that he still wants me back and that I’m better off with him than with anybody to the extent that I find it insulting because WOW, if I’m better off with him then I’m really bound to misery! Seeing him, talking to him and having to communicate with him amicably for the boys’ sake, I realized I’m actually capable of being a bigger person, something I never thought I could do! It’s not that I am not that forgiving or that I am vindictive by nature; it’s just because I distinctively remember how hurt I was and how the idea of revenge helped me get back on my feet, or close enough.

Yesterday, I took a leap of growing up. I agreed (without much argument) to have the kids visit his grandma before her surgery. I did that knowing there will be all sorts of people I dislike there. I wasn’t that pleasant except to the one person in his family that’s been decent to me, and the sick person to whom I couldn’t really afford beingharsh, given her age and her health status despite how much I dislike her. I could clearly see how embarrassed he was when his kids didn’t know his own immediate family and were too intimidated to let go of my hands, I actually felt sorry for him and kneeled on my knees as I tried to soothe the boys and tell them to go say hi to people I don’t even like. I don’t know, I really surprise myself at times.

Today, I had that moment I had almost forgotten that I once wanted! I just did a while ago. It wasn’t face to face, and I didn’t have a Keanu to hold me (THANK GOD), only I didn’t think it brought as much comfort as I once thought it would.

He apologized, he acknowledged his faults and he said I was never the bad person he worked so hard to make it sound like.

He said he was lonely and with all that money could buy him, he couldn’t find someone who loved him the way he knew I once did.

He said he was miserable, and it was eating him up that he can no longer see that love in my eyes, and that the best he could hope for was indifference.

He said he found some of my last journals from before I left, and that he read how I gradually lost hope in him, and he couldn’t believe he had become that person he himself detested as he read on.

I wanted to stop him because it sounded too sincere and I didn’t want him to put himself out there when I knew I was going to reject him at the end of his speech. Only he wouldn’t let me, he said his apology was due and it was hard enough for him to apologize so I should just let him.

Why didn’t I feel the warmth and fuzziness I promised myself all those two years? Why did I not smile contently that he’s sorry and suffering? Why did I not find solace in his misery and regret?

I have two theories; it’s either because I have more damage than him only it wasn’t my own doing like it is in his case, or because I have taken my time healing on my own, I no longer need any revenge from him. I don’t think it’s either, at least not exclusively.

Either way, his apology didn’t bring that much of a victory I long anticipated! In the contrary, it brought confusion because as he spoke of good things we once shared, I found my mind drifting to the horrible things that happened and took all the good away. He spoke of memories that were no longer so vivid and it confused me even more to be caught between resentment and sympathy for the same person.

I really wish we could write the words “The End” now, and that we can manage to be good to each other outside the marriage just for the sake of the kids. He still says it’s too hard for him to let me go, but I would like to think he would after all is clear enough to him. He thinks I might change my mind given time, but he doesn’t get that the more time I spend with him, the more I realize we were not a good match like I once thought and that there is nothing in the world that would make me repeat the mistake of choosing to be with him.

At the end of the day, I am glad and grateful I am not in his shoes and I do not have his burdens or his guilt. I realize that it is a blessing that I am not enjoying my revenge because it means that there is something in me he couldn’t change. Did that make any sense?

Years and years later, it still gets to me!

Party Pooper

Today I was out with a friend having fun, pure absolute fun after such a disturbingly annoying day with the x checking out schools. I got my end-of-the-week treat; I was sitting in a chair listening to all my favorite oldies brilliantly performed. Some of the songs brought back memories to which I am nostalgic, I closed my eyes and smiled as I put those memories back to where they belong. My whole body was moving with the same rhythm as the music, I sang along at the top of my voice and no one could hear (luckily), I clapped and cheered so loud until my hands hurt and my voice faded! I was genuinely happy.

My friend and I left so that we can go home before we get in trouble, which is sad since we’re both above 25, VERY SAD. Nonetheless, we both found solace in knowing that we had a real good time and that for the hour we spent, neither of us had time to think of our crappy dramas and got to live a life we never really had anywhere beyond our dreams, fair enough, or so we contently compromised.

Until that call!

“Enty fein le7ad delwa2ty? Enty 3arfa el sa3a kam? Da kalam?” and BAAAMM hung up!

Seriously, this is unfair!! I will turn 28 in June, and it wasn’t even 10 yet!!! 10 people!

And my mood was dramatically changed, in those few seconds it took to end that call, how sad is that, how depressing!

I felt like crying. My good mood was snatched from me so abruptly, the sudden switch of moods had a shocking effect that made me wanna curl and cry.

How cruel, how insensitive!

I really needed that evening out; it’s been a while since I went out on a music night and I reeeaaallllly needed the feeling I get after those. The music just makes me forget all about my problems and my issues and I heal for as long as I’m listening, and I know I can willingly go back to my daily fights and struggles without complaining knowing that I lived those few moments. Why is it too much to ask? Is that so horrible?!

I know it’s useless to try and explain that to my caller, or the person who had him make the call. I know it will be a waste of my breath because even if I managed to get my point through, they will still find ways to make me seem irresponsible and selfish and whatever other labels they will feel like using. So as always, the silent treatment is the way to go; long live passive aggression!

Now that I’ve ranted, I will go to bed trying to remember the thoughts and feelings I had as the music was playing and just dwell in them hoping they’ll visit me in my dreams more vividly.

Goodnight.

On –happy- endings!

There was a time I was big on happy endings and big words like closure. I would jump to the last page of a book hoping it would give me a clue to whether I would like it or not, and even while reading, I’d skip details just to jump to the end much faster missing out on descriptions of surroundings or tones of speech! It never really made me enjoy books less for all I know. Part of it is due to being a Gemini I suppose; luckily, it came with good intuition that helped me guess or rather imagine the things I skipped!

It was not just about my intellectual preference; this is how I lived most of my life, always looking forward impatiently to what’s next. I always looked one step forward, which caused me to not enjoy what I had to the fullest. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy my life, I am just saying that I could have done better, much better actually!

I always thought I’d live my life like a movie in a way, with a rather short duration with too much events, all taking place so rapidly before my time comes! And I wanted a happy ending, I wouldn’t have compromised for less; call it the Disney effect or whatever, but all I ever wanted was my own happy ending just like all those fictional characters.

Years later and on a closer look, I realize happy endings are everywhere. No, let me rephrase that; happy is everywhere, it just isn’t the ending, and perhaps even neither is sad an ending!

I read/watched it somewhere but I can’t find the exact words or the reference for it… They tell you how the movie ends, they make you believe that all the troubles cease to exist and that those in love find eternal happiness and live happily ever after! But they don’t show you what happens next; that in time, they get over their happiness and then troubles and bitterness catch up, and they start fighting over the smallest of things to the extent that their epic happiness is forgotten or no longer counts for anything. He’s never there and she’s always complaining, and then the happy ending turns into built up resentment from both sides… I really wish I remembered where the original lines of that meaning came from; they really speak for me.

Yes, we live our lives with the notion that we’re defined solely by endings when in reality, it is far more complicated; how can one be strictly defined by an ending of which they know nothing?! Or at least this is how I see it…

You can choose a special moment of victory in your life and call it your happy ending, making your life eternally revolve around the fulfillment of that purpose until the day you die.

Or you can freeze a sad moment of losing something you once held so dear and refuse to move on, creating your very own tragic ending.

Or you can just choose to take mental pictures of your happy moments to help you get over your sad ones as you go on in life from one adventure to the next, hoping that at the end of your journey the good will outweigh the bad and you’ll perhaps die with a smile on your face and be occasionally remembered with one.

In fewer words, it’s in the details that you find true meanings, not in the endings; ironically, closures have more to do with those details, only we get it at the end when it all adds up.

And I strike again…

There was a time I was known for my attitude. Actually, I kinda still am. My friends tell me I can be really intimidating to others and that I give the impression that I’m capable of biting people’s heads off or something. I know I keep saying I am so peaceful and all, I still think I am, but I like to know that I can give such impression when I have to; it’s my only defense strategy since I can’t really return harm.

From time to time, some people just push that button and unleash the crazy me who has fiery attitude, like that girl from Vodafone. Today I took another swing…

Me: Aloo, MSE School???
Her: Aiwa ya fandem
Me: kont etkalemt abl keda 3ashan as2al 3al admissions for KG1 wa2abel 7ad, but you said I should call today to arrange for that…
Her *with quite a bored tone*: yoom 15 7adretek
Me *trying to catch her before she hangs up*: sanya wa7da law sama7ty, I called in February you told me etkalemy awel March, I called earlier this week, olteely attesel ennaharda, and here I am! What’s wrong?!
Her *again with the bored tone in addition to a little attitude*: ya fandem e7na lessa mabada2nash admissions lelly malhomsh ekhwat hena…
Me *kinda interrupting*: yess, I am aware of that, but you keep pushing it further and further, it’s conflicting with my own agenda! We Kaman, I have a friend of mine who already had an interview for his son who was accepted here at your school earlier in February!
Her: akeed leeh akh kebeer
Me: NOO, and that’s exactly why I’m a bit upset here, my friend’s son has no brothers in your school and he’s my son’s age, so fe eh mokhtalef?
Her: yemken madrasa Tanya?
Me: (Seriously, how ridiculous is that!)nope, he practically showed me your premises!
Her: ma3rafsh ba2a, yemken feh exception…
Me: no, he did not say that was any wasta fel mawdoo3, he just showed up and was told the applications were not ready but then you worked things out when he insisted that he doesn’t have much free time to come back again…
Her *very impatiently*: ana fe3lan ma3andeesh fekra, fa I think 7adretek etkalemy yoom 15 we 7adedy ma3ad…

She hung up…

For a few seconds I was baffled, and then I decided to attack, so I redialed…

Me: Alo, enty lessa AFLA MA3AYA… listen, I need to interview whoever in charge because I have a deadline before of which I should decide on the school… so I can fill the application later, but I need to meet with someone in charge who will explain to me how you people work and show me around in the school and give me all the information I need about both the English and French sections so that I can decide hadakhal ebny 3andoko wala la2…. If you cannot help me with that, I most likely will not be interested to have my son at your school but I will also make sure that the principal or whoever in charge knows that his administration SUCKS, so will you help me or do I have to make more calls or even show up!
Her *with a completely changed tone*: oh, 7adretek leh ma2olteesh keda men el awel, khalas momken teegy te2ably Ms. S, we heya hate3mellek tour fel madrasa we teshra7lek el nezam…
Me: (now you’re talking) tayeb, shokran, 3ayza ba2a a7added ma3ad la2en I came earlier this week and I was told to call today…
Her: fe ay wa2t men 8:30 le 1:00…
Me: ya3ne agy delwa2ty?
Her: yoom el 7ad…
Me: ok, merci…

I hung up…

This school has lost a huge chunk of points, but I will still go because it had an impressive school portfolio given my criteria of concern. Nonetheless, I can’t promise I will be on my best behavior when I go. Intimidating me is soooo in…

Some unresolved anger

It’s been a while since I talked about the x or any of his detailed stories! It’s about time.

We’ve been meeting weekly on regular basis, we take the kids out on Fridays, have a family lunch and then he drives us home. To any outsider, we’re a perfect family made of two young parents and two adorable boys. However, if you look close enough, neither of us wears our wedding bands and we do not touch or have any private moments at all; and if you look really closer, you’ll see a dirty look I glare at him whenever he tries to move closer to me or flirts.

Nonetheless, I try to help him bond with the boys; when he gets them stuff I tell Beem “ben2ool le pappy eh?” he’d say “merci papa” and I’d tell him “meen bey7eb pappy”, he laughs and says “anaaaa”, and with Mocha I just tell to give daddy a kiss and he does. I love seeing how happy they are around him and how even happier they get when they get him to buy more toys than I would normally get them; I admire their intelligence and how they pick on how he wants to impress and use it to their advantage.

Between him and I, I tell him he should tone down the whole fun figure and act more like a parent when they’re being stubborn. Of course he doesn’t always listen because he’s tempted by the notion that they’d love him more if he always spoils them rotten, but they failed him the couple of times I disappeared to go to the ladies room or something; both times I found them waiting right outside all cried out cause mommy was gone. I just love my boys they make me feel like I’ve been doing an ok job all this time.

Moreover, I’ve had a chat with Beem’s teacher at the nursery and she bluntly asked me if things were fixed between his father and me. I smiled at her and told her that the decision to end the marriage is final but the procedures are taking some time. I confirmed that none of it shall affect the boys. She said she was happy Beem is adjusting because recently he’s been saying papa this and papa that while before that he used to stop talking whenever any of the other kids mentioned their daddies. So my decision to do the whole weekly outings was a good one.

One thing though, the x has been asking nonstop if he could take the boys to Zamalek where we used to live so that they’d see his grandma and his aunts. Normally, I would have been the softie I usually am and agreed except for a very important detail; last time I went there to pick my stuff two Ramadans ago, I was brutally kicked out and had my purse thrown behind me. That day I swore my kids would never get inside the place from where I was once kicked out. I think my pride is still a bit bruised because I can still feel a bit angry when I relive that day in my head and remember my feelings back then.

Today, I told him over the phone that we will not be seeing him this Friday because we’ll be in Alexandria for the weekend and out of the kindness of my heart, I offered that we’d meet on Monday instead since it will be an official holiday. This is how it went:

Him: ok, mafeesh moshkela
Me: tab ok, ana bas olt 2a2ollak abl mansa, bye
Him: tab estanny, 3ayez 2a2ollek 7aga
Me: mmm??
Him: eh ra2yek nekharaghom fe 7etta maftoo7a, zay el nady masalan?
Me: yeah sure, no problem as long as the weather is fine we mafeesh torab…
Him: tab eh ra2yek nekhaly 3amety teshofhom
Me: X, I will say this one more time, welady mesh hayroo7o beet ana edtaradt menno, and I really don’t think you should keep asking
Him: ana ma2oltesh yeego el Zamalek, net2abel fel nady, 3amaty 3ayzeen yeshofoohom
Me: fffffffffff
Him: betonfokhy leh? 3amaty makanoosh mawgoodeen 7ata yoomeeha…
Me: (annoyed that he’s getting around with a technicality and trying to avoid that my father hates for those two aunts to see the boys because they lied on the investigation reports) well, whatever, if anything I do not like happens, I’ll take the kids and walk out….
Him: ok, law 7ad day2ek be noss kelma emshy
Me: and your cousins will not be there, none of them
Him: ana 2olt 3amaty bas…
Me: if I spot any of your cousins I will not be nice or decent, I will probably be very rude
Him: I said none of them will be there…
Me: (mumbling)

I am very disturbed with that settlement, especially that I have just confessed to a friend of mine –as well as myself- that as much as it seems that I have come to good terms with everything that’s been as far as my wreck of a marriage is concerned, I am definitely not ok on a few aspects, like his family. I know he’s more flawed than they are, but I am also aware that he is the way he is because they taught him one way or the other that he can get away with anything; moreover, I cannot deny my kids a father, but I can keep their distance from his family, no?

There was a time back in my marriage when I lived with his grandma and aunt, and they always did things with my Beem that got under my skin, like feed him too much chocolate, yell at me when I try to discipline him or just interfere with what I choose for him to wear as if they were the parents! I used to take all that for the sake of whatever harmony I thought was there. Not anymore, the slightest criticism and I am likely to say something nasty and inconsiderate; not because I can’t help myself, but rather because I want to be nasty.

I am not proud of myself for feeling that way, but I am sure as hell convinced that I have very good reasons to. Yes, I have displaced my anger and rage at him towards them and I am not ready to deal with them on fake friendly basis yet, if that makes any sense.