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?!

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.

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.

Such a Misleading Quote, Such a Misleading Notion!

Years ago (nine years to be exact), I saw the movie The Story of Us. For whatever reason, I liked the movie a lot, a part of me still does to tell you that truth! Back then, I was more into happy endings and that movie provided more than just that; it provided an example of a marriage that worked despite all the problems, what else would a girl who had just met a guy (whom she thought was one) want!

One of my favorite parts, or perhaps even my favorite was the part right before the end where Michelle Pfeiffer breaks down and decides to give the marriage another try, which apparently saves the marriage, for perhaps another 15 years or so!

Anyways, here is the quote from that scene since I wasn’t able to get the utube embedding code!


“I'm saying Chow Funs because we're an us. There's a history here, and histories don't happen overnight. In Mesopotamia or Ancient Troy there are cities built on top of other cities, but I don't want another city, I like this city. I know what kind of mood your in when you wake up by which eyebrow is higher, and you know I'm a little quiet in the morning and compensate accordingly, that's a dance you perfect over time.

And it's hard, it's much harder than I thought it would be, but there's more good than bad and you don't just give up! And it's not for the sake of the children, but God they're great kids aren't they? And we made them, I mean think about that! It's like there were no people there, and then there were people and they grew, and an an an I won't be able to say to some stranger Josh has your hands or remember how Erin threw up at the Lincoln Memorial

And I'll try to relax, let's face it, anybody is going to have traits that get on your nerves, I mean, why shouldn't it be your annoying traits, and I know I'm no day at the beach, but I do have a good sense of direction so I can at least find the beach, which isn't a weakness of yours, it's a strength of mine.

And God you’re a good friend and good friends are hard to find. Charlotte said that in Charlottes Web and I love how you read that to Erin and you take on the voice of Wilber the Pig with such dedication even when your bone tired. That speaks volumes about character! And ultimately, isn't that what it comes down too? What a person is made of?

That girl in the pin helmet is still here 'bee boo bee boo' I didn't even know she existed until you and I'm afraid if you leave I may never see her again, even though I said at times you beat her out of me, isn't that the paradox? Haven't we hit the essential paradox? Give and take, push and pull, the yen the yang. The best of times, the worst of times!I think Dickens said it best, 'He could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean', but, doesn't really apply here does it?

What I'm trying to say is, I'm saying Chow Funs because, I love you”


I remember how that quote got me to stay in the marriage when I first had doubts (strong ones) shortly after my Beem was born, or was it a bit before I had given birth! I remember the moment cut from all its surroundings; I remember sitting on the couch, rather collapsing when my friend who was trying to give me advice said “he loves you, he might have screwed up, but he loves you still, and it should count for something”!

I don’t blame my friend, he saw the x through my loving eyes for a very long time it was hard to even imagine that I was that mistaken about someone! And like me, he always thought people would live by his own ethics and standards, not theirs!

Anyways, that line echoed in my head so loudly, I even told my friend about that scene, and it helped him encourage me to stay married to the x for a couple of years until my second pregnancy and his next affair! I think given all the stuff mentioned on this blog as well as more that I kept to myself, no quote would have made me stay any longer!!

Seeing that scene again, it made me feel like the ending of the movie was fabricated to strengthen the notion of marriage or perhaps to give people a false hope that a marriage can survive no matter what!

Correction! A marriage can survive alright, but without the “no matter what” part! There are relationships that are worth fighting for, and I am all pro two-way communication, but don’t bullshit me into believing that love conquers all or people should overlook communication problems because they love each other!

Ok, I must admit I still like to believe marriage works and love conquers, not necessarily all, but conquers ay 7aga!

But does it????

Right now, I have seen enough examples that confirm that marriage doesn’t work, not the way I have seen people doing it anyway! The examples I see are basically divided into the following:

- Couples who are like time bombs waiting to explode due to piling up all sorts of lack of communication issues,
- Couples who are too preoccupied with their daily struggles of income-making and bills-paying and post baby-having issues that they keep telling themselves “all will be ok, once we work all those things out”, or
- Couples whom I don’t know well enough who seem perfect, and I am honestly too afraid to find out if they aren't!

So I leave it to you dear reader to tell me how cynical and bitter my own experience had made me! And if I am that cynical and bitter, don’t be kind because I once promised myself I won’t be, so help me keep that promise! Oh, and I didn't even mean for that post to be cynical, it just felt like one as I was ending it!!

Oh oh! above cynical opinion of marriage shall not apply to Slop & Sou who are currently on their honeymoon, yet they keep logging on!! I wish those two the happily ever after they deserve :) And guys, if you're checking this post, log out and enjoy the honeymoon already!!

On death, compassion, and things better left unsaid…

This post might make me seem heartless and cruel. Speaking about death usually makes me sound heartless and cruel, but it could have to do with my upbringing and how somehow I learned in the process that death is something we don’t talk about, it is something we should rather learn to deal with and accept, eventually. I understand it is only true as far as I am concerned and that it does not apply to other people.

Some relatively long time ago, when my nana died (Allah yer7amha), I didn’t cry because I thought it was better for her to pass away rather than live an non-dignifying life with the paralysis that left her unable to move or speak or even recognize any of us at some point. She was a strong woman who deserved to die with her pride and dignity intact, or so I believed.

Around a year after her death, my uncle (who had just turned rather a bit more religious) was talking to me about someone’s death, I don’t remember who exactly, but I remember saying that a short death is much better than a prolonged one. My uncle argued that the prolonged death is sometimes better for the person because it’s a way for them to repent and pray for Allah swt, as well as it is for those around them to earn thawab for taking care of them. He said I was blinded by my pride and life-related calculations, while the bigger picture is about humility, thawab and takfeer zonoob!

That was when I mourned my late nana (Allah yer7amha). That was when I kept praying that the suffering before her death was counted for more thawab and that all her zonoob were repented already. That was when I found myself wishing she had more humiliation in life for the sake of a better eternity. Oh well.

Still until now, death baffles me. it shocks me beyond my ability to cry and it paralyses my tongue from saying the right prayers for the people I know are dear to my heart.

Uncle A died around three years ago, I cried from the shock even though I knew he was terribly sick. I cried his loss; that such a good person was taken from such a horrible life leaving it one good person less, until I went to his wake. Seeing how strong his family was holding up, seeing how peaceful things were where he had once been, it made the peace seep through my soul. And later, I had a very good dream of him, a dream that meant a lot as my mom told me later. May he rest in peace.

Last month when Dr. Magdi died, I was shaken so hard. It was probably the shock of losing him so suddenly and unexpectedly, especially at a time when I relied on him to feel better about all that was going wrong in my life. I cried so hard -to my own surprise- over someone whom I barely knew, yet had such a positive impact on my life. I didn’t want to stop crying over him because it was the only way I could hold on to his memory; until I realized that I had special memories of him to hold on to, things I needed to remember for my own well being. And so I let him go with my prayers.

Two days ago when S passed away, it was another anticipated tragedy. She was badly sick and I knew she was dying after 5 years of fighting cancer that kept re-attacking more viciously one time after the other. I tried to use my previously learned lesson about death to not collapse or cry, I tried to find the right prayers for her, but I just couldn’t. Tears just fell silently without any control when I pictured her walking around us like she always did, right there while I was at her wake. I kept murmuring “Allah yer7amha” and I kept thinking of how amazing she was, and it made me smile even through the tears. Her strength will be missed, but her beautiful spirit will always be there in my head reminding me of all the things she used to tell me.

It could be that I lost a few good people whom I mourn on daily basis as little things in life remind me of them or when their memory just lingers in my heart. But hearing about the president’s grandson dying didn’t get to me at first. It may make me seem heartless like I mentioned, but when you had just lost an idol to death, hearing that someone you simply do not like had lost someone dear to him doesn’t touch you, you find your angry self (at death, life and all the people in it) murmuring “so what, people lose loved ones every day and they hurt and ache and their lives are forever scarred that way”.

No, I didn’t instantly feel any sympathy because in my head that man never had any sympathy for the pain people go through on daily basis; pain I can almost taste when I deal with people until I forget about it once I go by with my own daily concerns. Not to mention the agony and fear caused by the injustice and abuse that you hear of happening to othe people and thank God on daily basis that it is not yet your turn to be that kind of victim and fear the day when you will be.

Until I saw the photo, a family photo one of my FB friends posted with the little kid, the father, the uncle, and the grandparents. It completely changed how my heart felt and I instantly found myself aching. I couldn’t see people I didn’t know or care for; I saw my own son, and my parents surrounding him with their happy faces and I felt my heart clenching had it been my boy who was taken.

And that is compassion, the kind of compassion you feel without any control, the kind of compassion that makes you human, it makes you able to sympathize with people for whom you would normally feel no sympathy. The kind of compassion that makes you feel for people for their own loss rather than refrain from feeling because you’re judging them for their actions that you condone.

But like death, compassion is not something you should talk about, at least not in my book. You don’t walk around parading those human feeling you have just like you don’t walk around parading the tears you cried over a loved one lost to death. You say those things with a low tone of voice because they are supposed to come from the heart and they are not supposed to be for show; they lose their meaning that way.

So watching the Amr Adeeb segment on u-tube, the one with him urging the people to support the grieving family and reminding them of all the good that family did and make it sound like the people owed them that compassion, it made me angry. Sorry, but he was more like beating compassion out of them. Compassion is not something you feel because you’re asked to, and you never feel it out of gratitude, especially if gratitude is barely due!

To me, it sounded like nothing short of a cheap attempt to suck up by using a painful tragedy; if not, then it was just plain rude and insensitive, to all people including the president and his family; because if I were them, I wouldn’t like someone to beg others to feel sorry for my loss and support me.

I was not going to comment about that, or the tragedy of losing a grandchild for that matter out of my respect to the tragedy itself, and out of my own belief that such things are rather private.

Until I was provoked by reading an email a guy on the cultural group I’m in sent as a letter to the mourning grandfather. That letter reeked with pretense and lacks substance, and who the hell is that person and who died an made him in charge for him to say “Mr. President, I address you today not on behalf of the people but on behalf of myself, not as a citizen but as a human being…”! Speak for yourself man, and don’t trivialize other people’s feelings by implying that your words are good enough for them, especially when those words are not even proof-read!

Sometimes “el baqa2 l’Ellah” and “enna l’Ellah wa enna elayhi rage3oon” is much more eloquent than big phrases that give compassion a bad name.

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.

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…

The Feather, the Flower, the Tree and the Rock

.

The feather is so light; its weight is almost insignificant. There is a mysterious beauty about its pale color and its tiny hair and frail curve. It has no roots; air blows it around to wherever it pleases.

It flies all over; it has no home, how can it when it barely ever settles. I am not sure if it’s a slave to the wind or if it’s free of all ties, but technically, it’s not alive to enjoy the journey, and I wonder how it would feel –if it were alive- about never belonging to one place.

----------

The flower is a piece of art with its beauty. It has colors so intriguingly matching its green crown and stem and you can see how each flower belongs to its tree. It is tied down alright, but it moves so gracefully in an eternal dance as the gentle wind carries its fragrance all over the place. There’s always a piece of it flying around making you aware of its existence.

With its beauty and its fragile ties, it can easily be pulled out from its roots by strong wind or a hand that wants to possess that beauty. Its life ends so abruptly, the sadder part is that its death seems to be so insignificant; even to the people who see it, it would be a truth to be accepted and then taken for granted! Shame!

----------

There is some sort of majesty about a tree; it’s a green kingdom in its very own way, it has branches, leaves, little flowers and sometimes even more! Most importantly, it has roots; roots running so deep under the ground tying it too strongly that it would take a hurricane to pose a threat to its existence.

The tree is giving to all its parts, it nourishes every little leaf there is; moreover, it gives people shades in hot summer days that would make them enjoy an occasional gentle breeze. But if a hurricane ever pulls that tree up its root, it is a disaster. Like the fall down of an empire, the tree falls, taking down everything on it, and perhaps even destroying its surroundings. The death/murder of a tree cannot pass unnoticed and cannot be forgiven; you can’t just shake something so strong and not deal with its wrath!

----------

The rock is not much of a charmer; in fact, no one ever stops to look twice at one! It could have a smooth surface or one that’s too rough. It could have a precious core or it could be just another rock inside and out; either way, people hardly care. The rock has no roots, it’s tied down to nothing; it's only held down by its own weight yet it is very stable. The rock is a small mountain; it would take an enormous change of its surroundings to move it, like tides in the bottom of the sea, or the grains of sand around it burying it or brushing away from it!

The rock lives for no one; it doesn’t even have a life for all I know. The rock is affected by almost nothing; it takes years and years to change anything about it, and the change is always gradual and almost invisible to the average by-passer. The rock lives a long rhetorical life simple because it has none.

----------

I think we’re made of all four, I think having them in the right amounts is what makes us survive trauma and stand up on our feet again. But I also think that the “right amounts” are relative; there are no right amount simply because each one of us is made differently despite being made of the same things.

I don’t know which parts of me are feather, flower, tree or a rock, but I surely related to each.

Like music to my ears…

Some songs have a familiar friendly tune, with music so intriguing and inviting and always making me smile…

I play that music day and night; I just can't get enough of its effect on me…

I hum, I mumble, I sing and I dance… I just can't resist music when it’s so comforting and soothing and not too loud, can anyone resist harmony?

As the song plays over and over again, I know every tune, every moment of silence, and I learn when and how to sing the lyrics; however, it sometimes gets a bit harder when I sing along and skip a breath or a word to catch up with the music…

When I’m on my own, singing the song without the music, I pause to make sure I’m singing it right; it makes me pay more attention to its words, their meanings, and their significance… Sometimes I don’t like the words much; they’re too shallow or perhaps I just can’t relate... Aparently the friendly music was hiding a lot more behind it...

Then, when the same song plays, I think twice before singing along… No, I don’t want to say words I don’t feel; they lost a meaning they never really had; I was only singing along because I was charmed by the music, but now, the meaninglessness takes away the charm from the tune I once liked making

The music becomes an unpleasant reminder... When the song plays, I just skip forward to a familiar tune that I still like, or a new song with a new meaning that perhaps would make me smile…

Sometimes I never let that song play again, sometimes I just smile and let it play in the background without paying any attention, and sometimes I just smile and sing along, for old times’ sake… but never like before…

And you… you’re like that music to my ears…

You’re calling ME to do YOUR job!!!

I was sitting at work, trying to juggle so many activities and spreading myself why too thin to finish as much tasks as possible before I take tomorrow and Thursday off to relax a bit.

I was writing vouchers, filing documents, talking to colleagues about things I will hand over during my days off, typing emails like a mad woman and balancing the petty cash so that I can re-cash it, all at the same time!!

That was when my mobile rang! Normally I would have silenced it, but I saw a number that looked almost identical to that my sons’ nursery, so I assumed it would be a number I failed to register!

Assuming the worst, I answered to find a Vodafone agent so calmly introducing herself!

Her: Hi, Ms. M? I am R from Vodafone, we have talked before about the USB modems you purchased in the name of your company…
Me (getting really irritated that she called me on my cell and not on my land line! So I decided to develop some attitude especially that she was nowhere to be reached when I tried to resolve a pending matter last week!): *a bit aggressively and impatiently* yes R, I know, I tried contacting you weeks ago about an error in your last bill for those but your company has serious issues letting people get through!
Her: *pretending or not noticing my tone* oh, I was calling to ask you about the number your company bought from us…
Me (interrupting): you mean the original subscription number?
Her: Yes…
Me (really shocked and trying to contain my emotions): excuse me, you have your company database right in front of you, you have my name as a contact person and my personal mobile number which is NOT a Vodafone number, and you’re calling ME because you don’t have the first number my company purchased from yours?!!!
Her: yes, I keep trying to enter the sim no. for the last purchased ones but it doesn’t go through!
Me (practically giving her a shovel to dig her own grave deeper): you realize it’s the second time you do that, last time I assumed you were double checking, apparently you were not!!
Her: yes…
Me (interrupting and trying so hard to not let the victory dose seep through my veins): you mean your system failed to gather all these information when you put my company name?? you realize I had troubles settling the last outstanding invoices because your good ol’ system did not record that my boss signed an authorization in my name to handle all matters with you, that I had to keep calling different people in your company and I eventually had to go down the nearest store myself to meet with your representative because he wouldn’t handle the amended invoice that YOUR COMPANY screwed up, because your system does not read those sim nos.! so instead of fixing all that since the time you first called me a month ago, you’re actually calling me again so that you can issue the wrong invoice AGAIN, so that I can repeat the same vicious cycle AGAIN!!!!
Her (realizing it was TOO LATE to say anything that would fix things): ya fandem, we’re a big company and we have over 10,000 big business accounts…
Me (interrupting): then I would like to think you have the efficient system that supports that much business accounts, and more importantly the efficient employees who know how to correct their mistakes rather than repeat them!
Her: Please give me the number…
Me (interrupting with a cold tone): I am sorry, it’s not my job to help you do yours that way, it’s not my job to help you work around a problem instead of solving it, now excuse me I am having another call on hold and it has to do with my real job
Her: so you won’t give me the number?
Me: NO
*she hung up!*

My Colleague (he was standing there the whole time): *with utter disbelief* WHO ARE YOU?!
Me: *smiling*

I am both overly excited and guilty for torturing her the way I did! I don’t know why I behaved that way, I am usually sweet to people who call for help, but I was really upset she called me too often on my personal cell phone from time to time to ask if I need more lines and that she overlooked my polite request to call on the company number. Or perhaps it was that I kept the erroneous invoices from last month hoping Vodafone would screw up again so that I’d give it all back to them and she just called when I was too busy making me feel interrupted! Bad day for her I guess!

Now, I must really concentrate on how I’m doing my job because I can foretell some serious karma coming my way…

Ordering food, the Egyptian way and so much for going local!

Months ago, while heading to my office, the security man gave me food delivery flyers. Apparently someone in the building made a delivery and the delivery guy left more flyers for people, quite an efficient way to market for a place if you ask me.

So they were for two different subsidiaries owned by the same company. An Egyptian brand if you may; however, it sounded promising to try out!

I will refrain from using the names until I see how the story turns out, since I refuse to give my support to brands unless I am 100% sure of their quality.

So anyway, the two brands are as follows: X is for burgers, and Z is for soups, salads, and juices. I had already tried X more than once and their burger is just GOOD, and not for a too high a price especially that they didn’t start charging for delivery until recently.

Today, given my new diet plans, I decided to give the Z a try. I tried to tempt one of my coworkers to join me, but he said he felt like eating something “yeshaba3”; so I told him they were the same place from where we get our usual burgers, he said he was in for a mushroom burger.

I called them and here is how it went…

The guy (who was really friendly and polite): is it your first time to order?
Me: yes, I think I use another number, and I always called the X brand, so to save you time I can just give you all the info all over again and then you can merge them on your own…
*after giving him all the necessary information*
Me: so this is my order, cob salad, and I want to make a burger order, so how does it work, do u put me through to a colleague or I just tell you??
Him: no, you will need to hang up and call the X number
Me: oh! But it’s only one number different from yours, so I am assuming you’re in the same location, no???
Him: yes, but it’s a different concept, we offer healthy food while X offers burgers
Me: yeah I get that, but I want both orders to be delivered at the same time, since I don’t want to start eating and have my colleague watching me or the other way around!!
Him: yes, I understand, don’t worry; I will make sure they are delivered at the same time…
Me: no, I meant to say you should make sure they are delivered by the SAME person!!!!! It’s cost efficient for you, you know!!
Him: yeah of course, but… ok, I am so sorry, but the owner clearly stated that deliveries from either brands should be separate….
Me: ok, I understand it’s probably because you want to charge me for the delivery TWICE, no???
Him (really embarrassed about it): I am so sorry, owner’s order, it’s a branding thing!
Me: look, you don’t have to give me any invalid justifications, I really like your burgers and I have a good feeling about your salads, so I will assume you don’t have the authority to change the owner’s rules and let you charge me twice for the delivery, each order in a separate receipt, ok, but make sure they are delivered by the same person… and you can leave a remark in my name that this rule is rather silly, ok now??
Him (seemed to be relieved that I didn’t start a fight, and really appreciative of my calm tone of voice): ok ya fandem, ana asef geddan 3ala el ez3ag.
Me: wala yehemak!

I hung up and called the other number to order my friend’s burger….

The SAME guy: alloo
Me (pretending not to notice it was him): hi, I want to make an order please…
Him: is it Ms. MA?!
Me (pretending to be surprised): omG, it’s you again
Him (embarrassed): yes
Me (jokingly): you gotta be kidding me!! Tab khaly 7ad gheerak yerod 3ashan el manzar 7atta!!!
Him: I am so sorry, walahy owner’s orders…
Me: ok, I am even more serious now; please tell the owner that he really pissed off a customer that way…
Him: I am really really sorry!
Me: it’s ok, I am not upset with you, I just think this rule is LAME
Him: would you please log on our website and leave a comment in the customer feedback area, I know the owner checks it on daily basis but he wouldn’t listen to any of the staff unless a customer leaves a comment!
Me: ok, I guess I’ll leave a piece of mind there for him…
Him: thanks, and I am really really sorry again…
Me: it’s ok, you don’t have to keep apologizing to me!

So, I hung up, and I logged into the site. I left a brief comment to the “owner” stating that it’s more convenient to allow his agents to place orders from different subsidiaries on the same receipt since otherwise, the average customer might be more tempted to call another restaurant and make a salad order from a more familiar place since either way they will be charged for extra delivery charges!!

Now, I am really questioning the owner’s IQ! Well, not to offend, I am questioning his Business IQ! There are online stores who would not charge you for delivery if you buy from more than one subsidiary, even if the items you choose are not available in the closest store, they ship them from a different branch on their own expense for your own convenience!! And that guy is getting two orders from the same kitchen and charging you double the delivery!!! I will stop criticizing him for now; perhaps I would get a positive feedback on my note.

However, is it the kind of service Egyptians offer! I mean with the whole campaign of going local, is that the kind of treatment I should expect from local brands!! I was really thrilled that I have local alternatives for all the junk food on which I spend most of my money. Yes, the food is of good quality, but the service has its own set of flaws! And it worries me that one day; the quality will also decline just like it always declines as far as Egyptian brands are concerned.

It makes me question the whole concept of going local; most of the local brands in almost any product/service is of low quality, and those who provide half decent quality overcharge you because they are supposedly targeting the “elite”!! I always wanted to have a discussion with those brand owners and tell them something that perhaps they never considered; the “elite” do most of their shopping from Europe and North America, or at least from European and North American brands in Dubai or other Gulf countries, and if they travel regularly, it costs them a lot less than to buy half decent Egyptian brands for the same price!!

It could be the case for a lot of people who read this, or I could just be justifying my way into placing that online purchase that’s been saved on my mailbox for weeks now!

Oh, the salad was ok, but I can so make my own salad before I leave to work if I wake up half an hour earlier; so no, not so exquisite, at least not the way their burger compares to other burgers!!

It's such a complicated society!

I don’t know if it’s our human nature or our society, but I find our tendency to complicate all matters very disturbing. I know it might sound a bit ironic and contradicting coming from someone like me who over thinks everything, especially with how long this post is expected to drag!

So here is where this is coming from…

I went out with my x last weekend, along with the kids; like a hallmark happy family and shit.

So this is how it was like…

Surroundings:

Thursday Evening – After I got off work, I picked the kids up from their nursery and met him at Carrefour Maadi, where the kids knocked themselves out in the kids playing area after getting more than their fair share of toys!

Friday – He picked us up from my parents’ after prayers and we spent the day at the club where the boys behaved like they’ve never seen sand in their entire lives!

The impact on the kids:

My Beem was glowing with happiness being around his daddy. He was so proud of the little toys he got and kept saying “babaya gabhomly”, he kept going on and on about how he loves his “baba M”. He behaved his best to impress his daddy and he told him “ana ba7ebak ya baba M” all of a sudden as they were sitting next to one another (of course the x had a bag full of toys next to him, but my Beem is unconditionally sweet when he feels like it nonetheless).

The next day at the club, Beem was happy showing off his scooter-riding skills. Surprisingly, my very cautious and rather easily scared Beem jumped from what would normally be a scary height to impress his daddy after his daddy taught him how to climb those monkey bars. I almost screamed myself; luckily the sand made his fall less painful than it would have been otherwise, and my Beem landed on his feet rather than his knees. *me so proud*

Mocha was rather calm and peaceful. It was his first time to interact with his dad. We’ve been separated less than a month after he was born and he refers to my father as “baba”. So I kept referring to my x as “baba” so that Mocha would pick up on it. He didn’t talk to him at all, but whenever I asked him to give something to baba, he obeyed smilingly.

The impact on me:

Strangely enough, I didn’t burn with jealousy when my son said he loved his daddy; in fact, I was proud that all the negative feelings I have for his dad did not get through, I was glad he didn’t pick on it. Alhamdulilah.

I cannot deny I felt some peace watching my sons having fun and running around happily. I sensed Beem’s sense of security every time he called for his dad, and I secretly kept hoping his father would live up to the father’s role in my sons’ life and that he would bond and make up for them for the past two years.

Generally, it was not straining for me. I was neutral; I was not angry or resentful, neither was I all sunshine and rainbow. I remained silent most of the ride and I barely had much to say unless it was about the kids; otherwise, whenever he tried to start small talk or befriend me, I pretended not to hear him and justified it by being tired and sleepy. My way of politely telling him that I didn’t want to talk.

I think he noticed how I quietly looked away whenever he tried to make eye contact. I think he also noticed I looked the other way whenever any of the past events were mentioned one way or the other; either by passing by a place that holds too many bad memories, or by him mistakenly mentioning something that has the wrong connotation. I still felt sick having to remember any of it.

I didn’t like how he kept asking if I was happy. I didn’t like how he tried to overdo the whole gentleman act either. Nonetheless, I did appreciate how we didn't have any physical contact and how he didn’t try to find excuses to make any. At least until he waited outside the door then held on to my hand for a while after the handshake was over. I never liked it when guys did that; it’s cheesy. I looked him in the eye as I pulled my hand a bit aggressively. I hope he got the message.

NOW

My mom is getting her hopes up that’s we’d be back. My sisters seem to have their own suspicions of his intentions and wondering how his next screw up would be like, I kinda have my own concerns as well. My father is avoiding the whole topic.

What’s upsetting me is that whenever I tell any of my friends what happened, I sound like I am defending the reason behind it and I feel like I have to clarify that NO I do not want back.

It’s really that simple; I agreed to let him meet with the boys because he has the right, getting a ruling from the court will only take time and it’s better for my kids' benefit that I do it amicably as long as I am not compromising any of my rights or security. It seemed to be a good idea given its effect on my boys.

Now, will I be considering a way back? HELL NO! He crushed me and my ability to trust in the whole notion of love. I am not devastated or heartbroken like I once thought I’d be, but my faith in love and marriage has forever been compromised.

As for him, I can’t look at him; I don’t even like looking at him. I don’t find anything he says interesting; in fact, most of the things he said the other day were extremely shallow and I would have normally grilled him with my ruthless sarcasm if I knew he could take it. So if I can’t look at him and I don’t find him interesting, not to mention the whole trust and respect issues I have clearly and repeatedly expressed on that blog, it is OVER.

According to the Egyptian norms, I am a crazy crazy woman.

I have been repeatedly told that I am making a big fuss out of something all men do and that any good wife belongs to her husband’s home. “Go home” they say, “you’ve already shown him your strength and made it clear that he cannot mistreat you and get away with it”. In addition to that, the man is a catch according to the lame Egyptian standards; he’s tall enough for me to never be his height no matter how high my heels are, he’s athletic, he has a career, drives a pricy car, and “shareeny”!!!!! Ya far7ety!!!!!!

Like all has been forgotten!!

Well I remember it all…

I remember how I first stumbled on each of his affairs…

I remember how my heart almost stopped the first time, I remember how hard I cried and I remember how abusive the confrontation was…

I remember that in the midst of all that I agreed to move out of the one home I ever belonged, so that his life would be easier and mine harder just to “be there for him” and “prove my love”…

I remember how my health kept deteriorating and how I kept going through one surgical procedure after the other, not to mention that my first c-section was due to severely high blood pressure which he caused in so many ways!

I remember how I made a huge fool out of myself forcing myself to believe his lies so that I can continue living with him only to stumble on more disturbing proofs of his lies…

I remember how my life turned to hell because I couldn’t trust him, and how humiliating it felt going through his messages and analyzing his words to find lies!

I remember how he finally stopped hiding his tracks and decided to do it all in the open and hide it by making me doubt my own sanity!

I remember wanting to die…

I remember the hospital fights, the worst postpartums, and the stitches that wouldn’t hold because of my constant sobbing!

I remember I almost caved in to all the pressures, and almost went back to him, more than once…

I remember each and every time I collapsed because I couldn’t…

I remember how angry he got because he couldn’t believe I rejected him after he “came clean”…

I remember the lies he said about me, lie after lie…

I remember how he said he no longer had kids, that they were dead to him, my kids…

I remember the ugliness that followed with his family showing their true color…

I remember my desperate cries and prayers and I remember very clearly the physical pain I went through in the process…

I remember how I managed to stand on my own two feet again, mostly with my father’s direct and indirect help and sometimes with my mom's and sisters', not to mention my friends…

I remember a lot of things that can make me angry all over again!! What people do not get is that the reason why I no longer get that angry is NOT because I am willing to go back; it’s because I realized I am too strong for him to break me and that I have nothing to fear of him.

I see how I bounced back, and I am proud of myself for it. I realize my losses and the damages he caused and I am ok with them. I have moved on, and knowing that, I can handle seeing him every day if I have to, as long as I am no longer his wife and I do not have to answer to him when it comes to my life.

It’s that simple, but people keep making their own assumptions about my feelings according to the expected behavior of women in my society, and the more I try to explain it, the more complicated it gets!! Look at how long that post have got when I tried explaining something so simple!!!

Sorry about that!

Back to Phase IV: Depression

Who knew depression can pile up and sneak on me all of a sudden at the very time I would normally think I even passed Phase V: Acceptance!

I was fine, I was alright, and I was accepting, even embracing my life and finding my little joys. A friend of mine was telling me a while back that he was impressed at my ability to shake off the negativity by getting involved in whatever distractions that come my way instead of wallowing and sulking in my bad mood.

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!!!

Thanks to my mother for wanting me to reconsider “saving my marriage”; I can’t believe her! I can’t believe she’s still forcing me to have that discussion; I’ve been speaking my heart out all through the past time, wasn’t she listening!!!! I mean hello, the whole blogsphere knows how I feel about that marriage and they don’t even know me; what’s wrong with my own mother and why the hell can’t she just understand, accept and support me? Why is it so freakin’ much to ask?

And oh no, not just that, she’s saying that my dad has hope I would change my mind under his thick layers of disgust at my x. Seriously?! Although there is a considerable degree of untruth to everything she says, especially assumptions she makes about my father; she has successfully managed to alienate me from talking to him!

She is scaring the crap out of me. The fact that someone so close keeps reminding me of how hard raising those two boys will be without a marriage, and the fact that she keeps stressing that I won’t be able to do it and that they will grow up to resent and blame me for it, just cripples me and sends me back to my worst place.

I’m back to my worst days during the end of my pregnancy. Of course I don’t cry as much, but I’m choking on my words every time I speak, and I feel like I really can’t breathe, and I am so close to having a panic attack right at work that I keep rushing to the washroom because I don’t want people to see it happening!

Thanks to all the stress and the fear to which she’s exposing me, death does not sound half as scary as raising my kids; how freaky is that?! If I die my kids will idealize me and they will definitely love whatever memory I leave behind; sounds much better than “hating me for ruining the home they could have had” ME!

You know what ma; if I am such a lousy person and an extraordinarily horrible mother, take over, please. I will completely shut up about all the mess you’ve made; I will not share any of my therapist’s opinions of you or your role in how I picked the notorious x.

Who am I kidding? I can’t just sit back and let go of my boys for either you or him to raise them so that you’d get off my case. And neither can I go back to him; sadly my personality is too strong for his taste, not to mention that I cannot hide my contempt for him.

When you push so hard, you make me wish I were as submissive as you are, but it’s not in me to live that way, and I am sorry but I am not that crushed or broken to let people decide for me how I should live my life for anybody’s sake, even my kids, ok!

Please stop scaring me, I can’t take any of it anymore and I feel so freakin’ alone and I am sick of looking for support because I know that at the end of the day, I am completely alone in this and you’re taking away from me every ounce of strength I need to do it on my own and alienating me from everyone! I can take it from him, but coming from you, it just stinks!

Egypt… bigotry hidden under thick layers of religious and liberal pretences

Coming from a religiously conservative family, I was brought up to take extra pride in my faith, even though I did not necessarily understand it enough to practice it properly. Almost everyone in my family (from both sides) has a meaningful name influenced by religion.

My dad gave my sisters and me very unique names that make people go “ohhhh” when they know our names; they are simple, short and have quite the religious significance.

Mine however is not exclusively Islamic, it goes back to Jewish origins; a fact which makes it easier to pronounce than my sisters’. My father’s name on the other hand is esm morrakab; meaning, he has two names to count as a first name, more like the western verion of middle names, only everyone I know acknowledges his second name since the first is Mohamed, which is pretty common in our culture.

Until college, I used to go by my first name and my father’s middle name. That combination made my name sound perfectly neutral; people couldn’t guess my religion and accordingly treated me cautiously in fear of offending me.

I won’t go through with the whole issue of whether religious tolerance exists in Egypt or not; it’s fair to say that some people (either Christians or Muslims) are tolerant of the other religion, while some others simply aren’t. As a child, it was confusing, and it led to a huge deal of misconceptions that took me quite some time to overcome (not in a traumatizing way though).

I resented by name, because it made people ask me too many questions. I really wanted a simpler name that did not raise so much questions and wonderings before people started getting comfortable.

Until I got veiled!

I was confronted by how cruel society can be, judging people by their looks. I realized that my neutral name and non-significant appearance shielded me from awkward moments. I realized it was a blessing having been treated with extra caution!

And no, it’s not the expected group of people who judged me, whatever that is. Against the general assumption, I travelled to the US the next summer, and I barely had any troubles because of my veil. Average Americans, aside from the “notorious” political agenda (which is not up to me to support or condemn), do not judge people based on their looks the way people do in Egypt (and perhaps the Middle East). We are such racists and bigots and the sad part is that we hide it under thick layers of fake religiousness and liberalism which we barely practice when unwatched.

Please meet those who judge me…

- Strictly religious Muslims who consider what I wear not hijab, and expect me to dress more modestly, and
- Pseudo-Liberals, either Christians or Muslims who seem to be very appalled by my veil!

Now I won’t go defending my choice or my religion because I don’t think those who judge me or my likes would either understand or appreciate what I have to say. All I can say is “SHAME ON YOU”, both parties.

“Religious Muslim Practicers”, you should know that “الأعمال بالنيات”, you should know that “الدين يسر، و ليس عسر”, you should “بشروا و لا تنفروا”, and if I am that offensive to look at, you can totally “غض البصر”!!

And “Liberals”, shame shame shame, the people who had passed the “liberal heritage” to you fought for big notions like “freedom of choice” that should be accepted without consequences, but what can I say, you were obviously never involved in such fights and simply cannot appreciate the trophy, freedom!!

I find both parties hypocrites, who miserably fail practicing what they preach and give their causes a horrible horrible names.

It used to hurt and offend me when I felt mistreated because of my veil, but then I realized something; it’s a unique way of blocking all the fakers and pretenders who can’t handle but judge me based on my appearance rather than my personality. To those people, I say it’s really your loss, touché!

RANTS

Despite that I am in a good mood, I have been piling up some rants about current events; internationally, locally, and of course personally. I planned to keep them for myself but Rasha hates how quiet my blog has been lately, so there…


- Barak Obama. mabrouk 3ala amreeca, I really mean it, but for the Arab world, ETWEKSO. All talk shows had nothing to discuss but that; analyzing the crap out the whole thing, hell even my x gave me his sick analysis through email! News flash people, the man does not owe you a thing, he owes whatever it is that he owes to the American people. Yes, America’s regimes do affect the world, I understand, but for the love of God and all that’s holy, stop analyzing something you can never experience, let alone achieve; you better work on things that you can actually do something about! Government officials and political specialists, analayze khebetko el te2eela or try do something about it instead of talking about things you have no first-hand knowledge of!!! And for the rest of the Arab world who just talk, 3ala fekra, da elly gayebko wara; el kalam wel faty el mas7oob be 3adam el entag… so, to sum it up ETWEKSO!!!

- I’ve been getting all sorts of enlightening suggestions through email about improvement of education since that poor child died (God bless him and his family), but again, seriously, why do we do nothing but making unrealistic suggestions. Most of those who can’t keep their pie holes shut have nothing to do with education and have no power to change things!!! I’m sorry for being a cynical bitch but unless there is something you can do, or unless someone asks you your opinions, keep them to yourself; it’s extremely frustrating to hear over and over and yet over again how crappy education is and knowing all the same that there isn’t much one can do about it.

- Noha Rushdy. I don’t get the controversy, I don’t! If she has been harassed, then I completely respect what she did and how she stood up for her rights, it’s really as simple as that. Her ethnic origin, whatever it is, should not be of any importance, and fellow Egyptians, Noha Rushdy is not how the el 3adow el sohyoony gets us, again, please ETWEKSO!!!!

- The court ruling regarding exporting Natural Gas to Israel. Do you seriously believe that ruling will be enforced?! Makansh da ba2a 7alna, this is not a transparent country with transparent politics and economics, and I really hate talking about those things because 1- I don’t know enough to say something meaningful, and 2- there is nothing I can do to change any of it. It just pisses me to see people cheering for an illusion.

- That statistics report about the Egyptian society and its notorious results. I find it extremely unprofessional that the specialists working on that report have failed to take into consideration something like Hofstede’s five cultural dimensions (which was taught in freshman year at college) when comparing awareness and satisfaction results of the Egyptians to those of other countries!!! It’s no secret theory and anyone who works in that field should be aware of it, mesh 3ashan kont ta3leem agnaby!!! And while I’m at it, how come no studies were done/regarded to understand the collective Egyptian culture before making any statistical report on the Status of Egyptians, and I mean the average mesel7y who walks the streets elly beykhaf mel 7asad we beydary 3ala sham3eto 3ashan tewala3 feeh we fe ahloh!!!

- The doctors in KSA. I’m appalled and it makes me angry every time I think about it. I know Egypt is rotten in so many ways, I know every country in the world is rotten in its own way, but the one thing that makes Saudi Arabia more obnoxious is that they inflict social and legal injustice using the name of religion which is just *insert sheteema*. I say social and legal injustice because I have serious doubts the same court ruling would have taken place had the doctors been of Class A nationalities or God forbid Saudi royalty. People who make such horrible things and hide behind religion disgust me. And I don’t give the least care if the are religious scholars because I still doubt their fairness and objectivity.

- My x sent me yesterday (the 18th) a text on my cell wishing me a happy 8 years and 6 months anniversary. Why does this person like to remind me of my lost years?!


Kefaya keda, I think that was too much ranting and I think I ended up doing what I just mentioned above that I dislike; giving my unneeded and unasked opinions about things I can’t change. Well, in my defense, I would have kept my opinions to myself had people around me refrained from providing me with theirs.

Random Randomness…

I have a head cluttered with thoughts again… so I will put them all here in no specific order; the good and the bad. I will put them for the sake of reference; who knows, may be some day I would talk further about any of them.


I just love R! The other day, I was too sleepy at work and I had to send tons of emails to too many people in which the two common things were 1- that they were all men, and 2- they were all my superiors! So to avoid confusion, I started all mails with “Dear Sir”. Minutes after I sent my mail to R, he responded saying “Thanks! P.S. Inso, my name is R, not Sir!”… It woke me up for a minute or two, put a smile on my face and then I continued being sleepy! I could have replied saying “Dear R, I love you”.

I am my father’s daughter, I just am! Everyday I stumble on a thought that makes me realize I take a lot after my dad even more, despite how people keep saying we have nothing in common looks-wise!! What no one ever noticed before is that even though we do not share the head shape, skin color, eye color or shape, nose (thank goodness), mouth; we do share the same faint dimple on the chin!!! I just saw that resemblance a few days ago and it was like a revelation (I did mention on so many occasions that I am easily amused)!!! Other than that, we share too many things character wise, it scares me yet somehow reassures me in another way! I say it proudly; I am my father’s daughter, with all his annoying flaws, or at least most of them!

I enjoy my kids’ company beyond measures. I know I rant a lot about missing my own space and the little things I can’t seem to do with them being so dependant on me; I guess it goes back to me being restless and easily bored generally. However, truth is, I spend my happiest moments tickling, laughing and playing with them and I feel the safest when Beem hugs me saying “ba7ebik ya mAmmy” or when Mocha holds on to me to feel safe! I hope it will forever feel this way, and I hope I could be the best mother I could be to those two.

I still can’t find it in me to forgive him. I manage to speak of him without calling him names he very much deserves, but I can’t seem to even be willing to forgive him. Every time I think of my status and pray to God for all to end, a part of me wanders away wondering “howa 7asses howa ad eh zalem?! Wala faker eno keda bey7afez 3ala beet howa haddo? Wala faker eny momken fe yoom arda arga3lo?” and I refrain from cursing at him in my prayers and just say “يا رب ارفع ظلمه عني و لا تجعل مني ظالما أو مظلوما”. The worst thing is to feel oppressed and helpless; kelmet zolm is more than just those two. الحمد لله

No matter how more accepting or wiser I get, I will never NEVER understand people’s ability to inflict harm on others. It’s just beyond my ability to understand, let alone accept. This makes me too vulnerable to people’s constant deceit; however, it scares me that the day may come when I learn how to accept it, because in my head it means I would be capable of it at some later stage after which. I think too much!

Whenever I sleep right after prayers, my last prayer is always for my late Nana and to see her in my dreams. I can’t remember when it last happened; however, three nights ago I saw her in a terrible nightmare, it filled my heart with pain and fear instead of peace, and made me no longer wish to see her in my sleep. May peace and serenity find her and keep her company.

My best days at work are when I work REALLY hard. I feel active and my mood and attitude are noticeably better!! I hate boring days where I just stare at my screen and browse away!

Words just fascinate me. I appreciate thoughts, but my appreciation for words is just indescribable; it impresses when thoughts are described in the right words. This is probably why I fall too hard for kind words to the extent that it might take me longer time to see that they could be fake. Not just that, cruel words have such a huge and exaggerated effect on me; they make me dwell too hard for my own good! What can I say, I’m such a sucker for words; may God protect me from those who know how to use them without really meaning them.

Every time, every single time I decide to follow local news 3ashan mab2ash “gahla” 3ala ra2y babaya; I end up realizing that I made one wise decision to live in my own head, detached from this scary scary reality. Everything around saddens me and makes me worry about the future and my kids; I worry that one day they will be in the same place I see people in, and it just disturbs me. It leaves me to my defense mechanism, meet denial and cynicism. So please, stop giving me newspapers to read, sometimes ignorance is a blessing.


Kefaya keda!