Let this find you wherever you go…

I wish you’d cry in blood all the rivers that gushed from my eyes…

I wish you’d taste manure in your throat for every time I tasted blood in mine after every nosebleed you caused…

I wish your guts would be filled with puss just like you filled mine with fear,anxiety, and desperation…

I wish you’d feel that painful rage stiffening your neck and wrecking your nerves for every time I couldn’t breathe because I was too angry…

I wish nightmares would haunt all your sleeping hours depriving you from any peace and quiet, just like you keep taking mine away…

I wish looks would kill, and that would have you taken care of…

But most of all, I wish you’d disappear, like you never even existed, and that my kids would do well without you…

This is not hate, this is anger, and I hope it burns no one else but you, for it has already gotten to me! I just hope it would be inflicted on you multiplied by millions…

Oh, and in case none of that ever happens, I wish I could find the ability to use all my curse words in one long abusive sentence that would insult you like you’ve never been insulted, badal ma batahteh zay el habla every time you get on my poor nerves…

*teeet*

My phone rings, an unfamiliar number…

Me: Allo
Female Voice: Alo, salamo alaykom, telephone Madam (ana)
Me: Aywa, ana (me), meen ma3aya…
Her: ana (can’t remember her name aslan) men maktab bostet el zamalek…
Me: ahlan wasahlan… *waiting for her to say what she wants of me, I had no clue what a post office employee would want of me!!!*
Her: howa geh le7adretek 7ewala bareedeya be nafaqa mosta7aqa men abu el welad
Me: *rather alarmed at the mention of the x*, ah, azon keda, khelal el esboo3 elly fat…
Her: we mageteesh estalamteeha leh??
Me: *huh, since when do they check if post payments are cashed by phone* umm, asl… mama estalametha we heya ma3aha tawkeel, fa momken 3ala yoom el sabt *surprisingly, I was being as honest as can be, I knew mama received the notification but I didn’t know how the procedure went and I never asked mama for the money, they go to the boys account*
Her: la mesh moshkela ana aslant agaza ennaharda, ana kont 3ayza bas akallemek 3ashan ashoofek yoom ma testelmeeha
Me: *sort of alarmed!* na3am!
Her: asl ana 3ayza atkallem ma3aki washoof eza kan momken nessala7 el denya… *then she paused waiting for a reaction from me*
Me: *both startled and offended* AFANDEM!!!
Her: na3am? *she obviously didn’t get that I was objecting*
Me: afandem!!! *I obviously couldn’t find any other polite word to express my dismay without subjecting her to my ultimate rudeness*
Her: esma7eely, ana set kebeer, 3andy 7aga w 50, ya3ne fe ma2am mamtek (did she just lose even more points??) we 3arfa ad eh el denya sa3ba, ana 3andy 5 welad… we lama shoft el ostaz (the x), we 3ereft eno mettala2 fel senn da (he looks younger than his age according to some, and so do I!) sa2alto 3ando welad walla la2, we 3eeno damma3et we howa bey2ool asameehom… fa oltelo yedeeny nemretek 3ashan akallemek we neshoof ezay momken nerraga3 el osra…
Me: (TEEET) ma3lesh 7adretek, 7adretek abelty wa7ed mate3rafehoosh, wetkalemty ma3ah 3ala wa7da mate3rafehash; 7adretik shofty ganeb wa7ed we seme3ty na7ya wa7da, wana ma3andeesh este3dad a7ky mawdoo3 et2afal le7ad ghareeb lemogarrad eno 3eenoh damma3et!
Her: *baffled* ya habibty ana batkallem le masla7tek, enty akeed soghayara we weladek me7tageenek enty we babahom ma3ahom…
Me: *getting really agitated we eh "habibty" de!!* ma3lesh, ana me2adara sho3oor 7adretik, bas ana asfa geddan, el kalam fel mawdoo3 da entaha we ostaz (the x) 3aref entaha ezzay w leeh, we mayenfa3sh yet7al be mokalmet telephone… ana beggad asfa le ta3ab 7adretik (bent nas ana awy)
Her: *really embarrassed* la ya habibty wala yehemmek, salamo 3aleiko
Me: 3aleikom al salam *and I hung up*

Ok, again *teet*!!!!

I mean is he dense?? We’re divorced; he is still in the place where he thinks we can reconcile and “nerga3 le ba3d”!!!! Moreover, he was not the one who had granted me the divorce, I had it through court, and appeal; I whined and cried on this blog for two years before I got my freedom!!!! And all he can do is make a stranger call me!!!

Not that it matters, but it’s so freakin’ demeaning!!!!

We kaman, el "osool" bet2ool en the right thing to do is for him to come in person, talk to my dad, show all signs of remorse and willingness to fix all things granting all the crazy requests which he should acknowledge our rights to!! I mean that’s what I hear is manly according to this sick twisted society, mesh wa7da ma3rafhash tekalemny tebaketny 3ala welady… eh el *teet* da!!

I am sort of glad though he’s not that kind of “reformed” to behave that way because I still don’t want to have anything to do with him aside from the boys. I just don’t get it!! What kind of a person thinks that’s a way to fix a marriage, la2, to remake a marriage; there is nothing to fix!!

And what kind of woman would think that another woman would want any man back after she got her divorce through court!! I hate those women who think women can’t do without their ex-husbands just because they have kids; they weaken our perceptions and self worth and make shitless assholes think they can dominate us – and no, this is not the feminist in me talking, I am just angry a person thinks all my pain and humiliation are worth no more than a silly phone call! I hate how my strong opinion will be taken as “batar” according to Egyptian society terms… 7aga tesed el nefs 3al sob7!!

A much needed reminder…

So yesterday, I got to my car which was parked right in front of our building to find that some (insert bad BAD words here) – ahem idiot- had broken my left rear view mirror and it was dangling so miserably from the side of my door! I tried to put it back but it was obviously broken beyond my attempts to repair it, so I opened the door to get in and I found that the black plastic thingy (greeda, according to the driver) fell off too!

I kept summoning curse words in my head and I really wished I could see the piece of scum who did that to my car!

Luckily, having personal belongings “hurt” does not get to me that much. Of course I kept thinking that perhaps it’s time I fix this car and sell it and upgrade, but I got over it by the time I had arrived at work; after all, I have an ugly scratch on my pretty phone and a bruise on the speakers thanks to my Beem!!

Only I had a nagging thought all day… WHY?!!!!

Why would an idiot hit and run a car without having the decency to leave a card or a number behind? Why would he/she bump into my car to begin with?! I mean, I was properly parked without any car pieces bulging in the way!! WHYYYY? Ya3ne howa I need more reasons to be in a bad mood masalan?? And I don’t remember owing karma anything recently 3ashan da yetla3 3alaya keda!!!

The thought didn’t leave me alone all my way home driving without a side rear view mirror that I happen to use, unlike most people in Egypt!! And then, while waiting for a retard to let me pass through an intersection instead of blocking it, I found myself bursting in hysteric laughter… things, bad things happen all the time, whether we earn them or not really!! Ya3ne heya de awel marra?! I have lost my fair share of favorite personal belongings, hell, I’ve had my life turned around enough times to stop wondering why such things happen!! They simply happen because they do; they’re meant to happen for whatever reasons I might never really understand!

But I still wish that idiot bumped into a tree or like I publicly wished on my FB status “we2e3 fe asas 3emara” and in case he survived both, I hope he/she might get a bad diarrhea like my uncle suggested!!

I think I need to be constantly reminded that I should take it easy on all the WHY’s I have in mind; the world does not owe me explanation for everything really, and neither do people, at least not most of the time!! If I just learn to keep that in mind and hold on to my smile and positive thinking; at least my car still worked, and alhamdulilah I am in good shape and so are my boys and loved ones.

Ok, it’s alarming how good I rather feel today considering all the crap I have in mind!! I’m grateful, and I’m smiling too!! I think I’m weird!

Something I just have to blurt out!!

Ok, I can understand if you’re an atheist…

I can also understand if you’re agnostic…

I can even try and tolerate your endless obscene and crude remarks on almost everything…

I just can’t take the condescending attitude or how offensive you get when you describe those things you dislike…

Seriously! Why the hell offend the very same things you accuse of being offensive!!! I mean, hello, you’re doing exactly the very same thing you resent and reject; don’t you accuse all religions and those who practice them of judging you, labeling you, and cursing you? Whatever makes you think you’re any better than them in your own eye?

News flash, YOU’RE NOT!

You’re merely someone who couldn’t fit anywhere and decided to make a world for you and those who feel exactly like you! If it had just stoped there, I’d completely respect it; hell, I’d start my own world with my own beliefs and invite people who are like me to join too…

But don’t offend, don’t judge and don’t curse anything or anyone just because you don’t fit or you don’t understand… yes, we all hate feeling rejected or labeled, that’s why I understand that you’re angry…

You don’t need to offend me because I happen to believe, you shouldn’t assume my scarf covers a brainless scull just because I chose to practice that little… And you simply can’t assume that I am dumb because I pretend not to understand the sex jokes and give you the satisfaction of seeing the disgust on my face…

And don’t think I don’t understand your sick words, I just choose to pretend like I never heard them before because it’s easier than throwing up all over your twisted notions!!

I would have really tried to understand and even respected all the things you are, if only you had tried, just tried to show a little understanding of who I am and the things I believe in…

So there is another side to the coin you so much dislike, and guess what, you’re on it!

(and I didn’t offend, at least not as tastelessly!!!)

P.S. this is addressed to all the idiots who go about publishing their garbage of so called free opinions offending everyone and giving a bad name to those who share their beliefs!! It is not against any belief or practice, at least not those who do not offend others.

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

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

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

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

Thanks.

In theory and in practice…

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

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

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

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

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

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

In practice, it means NOTHING.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Such a shame…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the thoughts explode in my head…

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

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

Now that’s a shame…

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

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

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

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

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

Such a shame!

On Boundaries…

Almost a year ago or something…


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

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

Looking at me…

“Why is that??”

I smile and I shrug…

“It’s just who I am I guess!”

Still looking at me…

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

Avoiding eye contact…

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

Still staring at me, yet maintaining the quiet tone…

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

Nodding…

He resumed…

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



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

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

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

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

Pending Reflections…

At the Physiotherapist’s…

“Just relax, let go!”
“I can’t!!”


At my Birthday Party…

“I am just too happy that I have nothing in mind that I can possibly wish for!”


My friend…

“Well sounds like you're surrounded by ppl who love you”

“What would you wish me?”
“Happiness, eternal happiness”


Will…

“Life is treating me well since my BD!!!”
“I think life thinks you've had enough”
“hehe, only it's never smart to actually believe that; life usually waits till u completely let your guard down”
“Well sometimes it's smart to believe that for a while”


At the Hairdresser’s while having my nails done…

“enty betsheddy a3sabbek awy!”
“haha, ma3lesh asfa, asly wakhda 3ala keda!”


So to sum up what I had in mind…

I am incapable of just relaxing and enjoying the good stuff that life gives me!

Yet, apparently when I am happy, my friends seem to wish me more happiness because I am such good company that way!

I worry… and I am too afraid of letting my guard down; it's understandable given all I've been through! Or so I would like to believe.

I am too tense, even when I am supposedly relaxed!!

What can I say, I’d rather be hit to the face as painful and humiliating as it can be, rather than being stabbed in the back; at least I can see it coming.

Today I was slapped at the face, and it still felt too personal and as painful as a stab in the back!

Bounced back instantly though; if there is anything for me to have learnt during those past few days was that happiness is too precious to be lost over such a jerk, or any other jerk for that matter!

I have a couple of things to learn… keep on my exercises so that my back wouldn’t relapse… and learn to bask in my happiness and enjoy it to the fullest; let my guard down and hope my happiness will protect me!

Still, hold on to the things that make me who I am because these are the things that make me deserve the good things I have…

So change, and yet remain who I am!

And I thought it was gonna be hard!

A not so welcomed déjà vu!

Listening to Nina Simone’s strong deep blue voice, I lay in bed as I try to recall the day and figure out what it was that got to me that way.

So what? I spent yet another day unable to avoid him as we took the boys to the pool. As usual, he tried to say and do all the things that he knows get under my skin and I pretended not to be bothered as I shot back my share of insults at his character. Pretty much an average Friday out with him!

I am grateful to how he keeps ensuring me that I made the right decision choosing to leave him, but I wish I never had to see him again and I honestly wish my kids didn’t need a father. I feel like I did something horrible bringing them into this world with such a person, he doesn’t deserve them or the way they love him! Touché!

I keep remembering everything trying to point my finger at what shook me so hard…

We drove by so many places that held not so pleasant memories; it made me more receptive to his attempts to ruin my mood. Or was it the other way around; perhaps he he said or did something that made me receptive to remembering all those bad memories!

He was mean to her on the phone. I don’t feel the least bit sorry for her. He said he was into someone else now, someone new! It made him see how he doesn’t want to be with her.

He made me hear him talk to her as he implied those meanings so bluntly and so coldly… and I remembered. I remembered the resemblance between the way he talked to her and the way he talked to me, I remembered.

I didn’t feel sorry for her, but I felt sorry for me, all over again! And I hated the way I felt back then, and I hate it now twice as much.

Later, on our way home he said he was not in love with the new one. He said he was drawn to her because she was “angelic” and that he knew she’d make a good wife. He said he knew he wouldn’t have her outside of a marriage. It sounded familiar.

I found myself those words when he asked me what I thought of it all “you don’t deserve angelic, if she is really as good as you say, then I hope she sees you for who you are soon enough, lest you will only ruin her chances of having a good life with someone who actually deserves her… otherwise, I just hope she’s like you”

Yeah that’s probably it; he ruined my chances as well as my kids’.

I wish him no happiness and no peace for he simply denied me mine.

Ignorance and Prejudice, two sides of the same coin!

That happened around three weeks ago, and it popped into my mind today as I was driving to work. I just had to rant about it before it festered and gave me emotional poison!

“you know them, you know how they think 7egab is bee2a” said by my good friend of 16 years!

She’s been married for a while now, her husband is more on the religious side than her mother’s family; he had asked her not to wear swimwear where men could see her and not have her hair cut by men. He also said he’d love it if she gets veiled but he’d never really ask her to do it because it’s her decision.

She started dressing rather modestly; no more shorts or sleeveless tops to put his mind at ease. Her mom noticed how she’s been dressing up so differently and told her point black “enty mesh hatet7ageby, mayenfa3sh, ana olt mesh hatet7ageby”.

She was telling me how she wants to get veiled to please her husband and to stop her family from asking why she no longer swims when they go to the beach, but she’s dreading their reaction because they think veil is not classy!!

It actually felt a slap to my face in so many ways! Not from my friend, I know where she stands from veil; I know she respects it but just doesn’t think she’s ready to wear it. She’s one of the most tolerant people I’ve known and most of our mutual friends are veiled… hell, I am veiled and I know she proudly refers to me as her best friend.

I just resented her family twice as much as I already did. Those people have been pressuring her into a life style she was never able to keep up with because they view everything religious as “bee2a”! I am not saying they’re ill mannered or generally unethical; all I am saying is that the only way they’d positively judge a “religious” group of people would be if they were filthy rich, but in a classy way, whatever that’s supposed to mean!!

I’ve always known her mom never liked me because she first heard of me when I had gotten veiled; you see, tant lived away from my friend to make the money which she keeps bringing up whenever they quarrel, so she never had the chance to know about her school friends!

Yes, I am being judgmental because that woman had done nothing to make her daughter’s life easier except send money and then rub it in her face!! Yes, I am being judgmental of that same classy woman who kicked her own daughter more than once for the most trivial of reasons! The woman didn’t even see that my bee2a veil had never influenced her kid in anyway, that her daughter and I manage to go out together and have fun despite how different our attire is! How shallow can one be?!

And don’t get me started on her brother! I’ve stumbled on the guy so many times and he never recognized me, not that I'd stop and say hi! To him, I am invisible. Of course I didn’t make it easier for him to recognize me because my defense mechanism had picked up on his prejudice and I ignored him back twice as much.

The same guy –to whom people refer as sociable and friendly- had small talk with the x when he met him in a business presentation because the x drives an expensive car and does the “classy guy” talk (Rasha, please try to not throw up!). When he told him he was Inso’s husband, the guy sat there trying to put a face next to the name and he couldn’t until the x said “your sister's best friend”, and I bet even then he didn't remember my face. I asked my friend if her bro had actually met the x and she laughed and said “you know my bro, he’d talk to an ass wearing a brand and driving an expensive car - he is sort of the ass who wears a brand name and drives an expensive car, only he’s my brother and I love him, and of course if he was trying to land a deal with your ass of an x, he’d be even nicer!”

Now, I am not judging people who do not practice religion; I am not the best practice-r by any means, I don’t even consider myself religious enough. What’s pissing me off is the ignorance and the prejudice over something that’s supposedly no one’s business! I’ve known people who live in the least “religious” ways, yet somehow have it in them to respect those who practice their faiths! I know of atheists who remind their religious friends of prayers! It’s called tolerance!

And for whatever it’s worth, I resent the idea that hegab is in anyway not classy! I mean, I believe I dress nicely, and I am very particular about how my scarves match what I wear not just color-wise, but also style-wise and fabric-wise! When H got veiled and people asked her why she did it, she said “I always thought of wearing it, but I was held back by the thought that it would be hard to dress as nicely once I get veiled, but seeing who Inso does it so easily, it made me feel silly for ever thinking that way”

I won’t say that all my friends do not wear hegab, but I will sure as hell say that I have friends who do not wear it whom I love and respect for who they are, not what they choose or do not choose to wear!! We like/dislike people based on their personalities and how they treat us, it is that simple, and why do people insist on complicating it?!

And again, it is always those people; the ones who are always speaking religion, or those who are always blabbering about liberalism! AGAIN, you guys suck!

And to my dearest friend, do not wear hegab just yet; I think you should only wear it when you’re not worried about any reactions be it the happy husband or the mad mother, brother and aunt! Either way, you’re a beautiful person who makes my world a much better place and that will not change.

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.

The obscene post…, aw bema3na assa7, el post el abee7!

This is the first post I ever write with the intent of being obscene. Usually, people who know me say I sound funny when I curse, and they have seen first hand how I can’t contain laughter when people start using language in front of me. My sisters on the other hand are more used to my aba7a and it sort of offends them when I am angry and cursing, this is one of those times!

And here is why...

I drive be adab and I got 1160 EGP mokhalfat, while everyone I know who does all sort of mokhalfat got less than 50 EGP!!!! Mesh moshkela, zeka 3an se7ety el kharbana….

Laken da keteer…

Ya3ne ya welad el *teeeeet* I lived in maadi all my f***in’ life, even school and college were in maadi, even my first years of marriage were in maadi, I only moved out of it for the worst three years of my marriage!!!

You do not even know which moroor I belong to with my zamalek address, some say 3ataba and some say boulaq… we sanya wa7da ba2a, eh elly gab el zamalek le esm asr el neel le boulaq wala el 3ataba ya bahayem ya welad el bahayem!!!

We ghayartelko om el zeft el 3addad we ba2aly esboo3 mesh baroo7 el zeft el shoghl because I am pre-occupied with all the shit in my life on top of which my almost expired car registration! And I actually went with my smiling decent attitude despite how exhausted i was, only to be told I should use that document to change my ID address to Maadi, i got over my embarrassment and explained that I can’t change my ID back to maadi because there is a zeft ongoing divorce case for the last two years and that ba2aly sanateen back in my original residence!!!!!!!

And ok, I get that there are rules and order and that they’re there for a reason, bas seriously ba2a, *TEEEEEEEEEEET*, the f***in’ rules only apply on people like me who respect them, but those who ignore and defy them get away with it!!!!

The x, who happens to claim that he has license plates of mokhabarat (aslan the fact that such thing exists is appalling) did not know how to drive when he had his driver’s license… yeah motawaqa3 eno bel wasta, bas 3ala fekra ba2a makanetsh wasta; it was in exchange of two packs of Viagra (3ameto mowazafet wezaret el se77a el mo7tarama wakhdahom tazbeet men mandoob mabe3at Pfizer so that Pfizer would get chosen on another drug deal) and some sexual performance enhancing vitamins!!!! Which concludes that mowazafeen el moroor are basically some impotent bastards who abuse drugs!

And FYI, I did earn my friken diver’s license because my righteous dad refused to call any of his friends since he believes that people’s lives (whom I might jeopardize if I drive without knowing how) are worth a lot more than the hours I’d spend in el moroor sweating my heart out! And I f***in’ drive better than nos regallet masr awelhom el *teeet* betoo3 el moroor elly *teeet*

Asfa geddan 3al aba7a, I will probably delete this post once I read it after I calm down and feel extremely ashamed of myself!!!

Would someone bother explaining!

So I already realize people do not respond to me and that I am not in charge of making sure they behave up to my liking.

That being said, would anyone care to explain the following so that I’d stop obsessing and move on…


First, here are the facts that apply to me…


I do not know how to ask for favors, and even if I did, I HATE it… it’s really hard to ask favors even from those I love and cherish…

When my friends, even those who are not close enough ask for favors, I automatically do them without even recognizing them as favors; I only recognize them that way because it’s the word they use when they ask for stuff. I personally don’t believe that I am capable of favors; they are usually trivial stuff I think anyone other than me can do, so why not do them as long as they’re not much trouble for me, I am not a hero!

As for those I do not like, they are more or less eliminated from my calculations when I want stuff; I only think of whatever obstacles they might cause out of their utter dislike of me. Bottom line, I make sure I burn bridges with those I don’t like at all, and I am hundred percent sure I will never look back and wish I hadn’t; I am not a believer of “اللي ماتحتاجش اناهردة وشه، يمكن بكره تحتاج قفاه”, I’d rather die before it happens actually!

It goes without saying that I do not expect those I don’t like to ask favors of me; it doesn’t even cross my mind that it’s possible that someone who is aware of my dislike of him/her would be that delusional to think that not only am I willing to talk to them, but also I’d be willing to go out of my way to do something for them!!


Now, explain that to me…


How could people do all the things, the wrong things that would put me in the place where they are eliminated as explained above, yet have the nerve to ask favors of me!!!

Yes, I can understand that they might not like me yet have it in them to ask something of me… ok, not really understand it, but at least I know it’s possible to happen since people don’t have to do by my own code of ethics.

But to have already burnt most of the bridges, and to have done that knowingly, and then ask for things that require me to pretend nothing ever happened, and act like my usual decent and nice self (kinda), that’s beyond my understanding!!!!


The reason I am wondering...


He called saying he wants to take me and the boys to his family in Zamalek on Friday to celebrate his aunt’s birthday which is one day before Mocha’s. That way, he’d be giving them a chance to be there for Mocha’s birthday since as assumed they’re not on the invitee’s list (he barely made it himself), and to make it look like he could make me forget about the grudge I have for being kicked out and testified against!!

I just can’t believe the nerve, and neither can I find the right words to insult him for such request, which was by the way proposed as a suggestion!!!!! THE NERVE!!!

I just couldn’t help myself anymore!

I have no idea if my fluctuating blood pressure is ruining my mood, or is it the other way around! All I know is that I found myself having this conversation!

Him: *walking slowly behind as he was talking to her over the phone and leaving me handle the boys all on my own*
Me: *looking at him and saying in an annoyed tone* could you please help me with the boys and leave that phone for a while!
Him: *giving me attitude* I am on the phone now!
Me: you can call her in 20 minutes after we drop you off, I am too darn tired!
Him: *rather yelling* I am watching my kids and taking care of them that way, but I am on the phone!
Me: *getting too angry and making sure she hears me*you cannot yell at me that way in front of your bitch!
Him: *disbelief*
Me: *walking faster and grabbing the boys as I was getting REALLY angry for losing my temper that way*

As I was putting the football in the trunk, my son had jumped out of the car while I was closing the trunk and it was stuck. For a second there, I thought I hit his arm with the door and I freaked. Meanwhile, he was still on the phone!

Me: *yelling* BEEM edkhol el 3arabeya la teddereb ba2a!
Him: *finally wrapping up the call and coming closer* gara eh ya (my name) malek 3asabeya leh we bettala3eeh 3al walad?!
Me: *trying to contain the temper* malaksh da3wa beya khales!!!

We got into the car…

Him: *in a rather scolding tone* ya3ne enty lama teegy tetgawezy, would you like me to show such disrespect of your future husband?!!
Me: *making sure all our dialogue is in English so that the kids wouldn’t grasp much* if I am ever to get married, he’d know better than to consume that much time on the phone when I am out trying to spend time with my kids!
Him: ya3ne mateteselsh beya 3ashan ento ma3aya???
Me: tetssel da motawaqa3 menha, but you should know better than to let it take that long!
Him: and what’s with the name calling?!
Me: she’s a bitch, here, I said it again!
Him: e7termy nafsek
Me: B.I.T.C.H BITCH!! And that’s the most decent word I can think of given that she was married when she had an affair with you while you had a son and your wife was pregnant BITCH!! Otherwise, her husband wouldn’t have left her!
Him: tetkalem bera7etha, she’s my fiancé now
Me: well then, maybe you should choose between talking to her on the phone and being with my kids at the same time!
Him: telephone eh, babaky is always on the phone!
Me: my dad lived with us all our lives, he didn’t see us once a weekend!!
Him: he spends every weekend in Alex because he can’t stand….
Me: *interrupting* SHUT UP! My father is a much better man than you’ll ever be, so I don’t think it’s in your favor to even mention him…
Him: *with a VERY sarcastic tone* ok your father is a great man, I am not a great man…
Me: *with more anger than I could handle* you’re not a man, period!
Him: nazeleeny hena
Me: *pulling over* enzel

I’ve never been that rude, and I hate that it happened in front of their boys and I hate him so damn much for pushing me that far!!!

I didn’t want to ruin the day for the boys, so I took them out all day and we visited my friend H and they had so much fun with her baby. I still feel guilty nonetheless.

Today’s Lesson…

I got in my car, so angry and determined to vent my anger at the right person. No more suppressing or pushing myself to live up to my own high expectations; I will do what anyone as angry as I am would and give that shithead a piece of the anger he so intentionally causes.

I was lost in my own thoughts and driving too fast when the traffic officer decided to stop the mainstream (where I was), to let the people in the u-turn pass. I was too fast to stop and I pushed the break-pedal so loud and I could hear the tires screeching too loud and my car off balance.

Alhamdulilah, nothing happened. I am not saying I was gonna die if I had that accident; my guess is I would have had a serious dent on the car followed by a nervous breakdown over bad things and only bad things happening to me lately!

I took it as a sign that whatever it was I was about to do was as crazy and stupid as my instincts told me, so I headed back home.

My lesson now is…


When life gives a brief moment of victory - even if a fake one-, ENJOY IT! Even if it’s on the expense of the jackasses who caused you such distress! Bask in their misery because the sad and disturbing fact is, jackasses don’t get hurt so often; even when they do, they’re so thick-skinned, they wouldn’t be half as affected as you do by the smallest of thing!

You “goodness”, or whatever it is that makes you feel bad about enjoying others’ misery will not be affected when you savor a brief moment of justice; God knows they do not come so often!


Now, next time I say I feel sorry for that piece of scum, will someone slap me on the face or hit me with a baseball bat on my stupid head and put me out of my self-inflicted misery!

Stupid Passion

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

I guess so; I’m a living proof!

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

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

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

Wait, it gets better…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deep breath in… aaaand out…

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

Anyway, back to the reason I started writing this…

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

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

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

Only I found myself writing this post….

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

Darn!

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

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

What do you know, another incoherent rant!

And I strike again…

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

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

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

She hung up…

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

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

I hung up…

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

Some unresolved anger

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!