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.

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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!

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