the end of an era

im moving on

thanks for reading

considering this closure

black and white

i love life in Cairo. i've written about my love for Cairo, i've talked about it, i've defended and promoted this city at every chance i got

And i still love it whole heartedly and put no other city above it, no matter how glittery and appealing.

but life in cairo is like a movie in black and white. its a classic, irreplaceable. it cannot be created anywhere else or at any other time.

its genuine.

the city's warm buzz cannot be imitated. it's history and culture so prominent in everyday life that everything outside of it feels fake.

but still, it's in black and white

It misses that sprinkle of color. and by color i do not mean an actual rainbow or spectrum. but im talking about the "full experience"

watching a movie in black and white is beautiful. but a movie in color, or better yet 3D, takes you on the whole ride, the full experience. and Cairo is not like that

It can be very limiting. You can go to a soccer game and have a blast, but there is no live music or marching band. You can go to an outdoor concert and the sun would be beautiful but the music would be crap. And that's the problem: the "but" is always there. a great big city festival would be organized, and hard work put into it weeks ahead, but on the day everything goes to chaos. it is a city that does not follow through

it drains you

it becomes a struggle to grasp a full life

and it makes you wish that within this struggle, you were getting the full experience

too good at this

every time i have a dry writing spell i have to force myself to come back on here and just write for the sake of writing

it doesn't matter that i know exactly who reads this and some of those i have no idea who they are or what they do or why they read. it doesn't matter that i've already said everything i have to say

Which brings me to the point of this particular piece: i've said everything i wanted to say

i've done it all before, too many times. I've become to good at this

now before im labeled arrogant, by "too good at this" i don't mean too good at writing, as i am far from being just good, but too good at everything that im thinking, feeling and doing

i know my life goals i know where i am and where i am planning to go and i have a pretty good idea about how im going to get there. i've written about what i like and dislike, maybe more dislikes than likes. I've got too much figured out, I know how everything will probably turn out

I am too deep into my own life. I know me too well

And while i think that is a blessing and a rare knowledge of the self not a lot can claim to posses, it's as double edged as the sharpest double edged weapon.

Knowing yourself too well leads to the inevitable "what now?" and this isn't necessarily a bad thing. I still anticipate and ponder and wonder. but this knowing leaves a form of numbness that can be very difficult to explain.

It's like the second time around on a roller coaster. you get excited and scared still but you know where you are and what is probably going to happen. At some point, you become "too good" at riding roller coasters. And that's what's going on with me now. I've become too good at whatever it is im doing here. So until i find something more interesting to write about, i'll just sit here and know.

un-smart

What i love about the workplace is that you learn a lot. Not just about your job and how to do it better but about other people's jobs, personas and behaviors. You see examples that you want to copy and others you want to avoid. It's social exposure at its best.

What i've recently noticed is that new to the division of smart versus stupid, there is a lost category and it is that of the un-smart. Some people are stupid but are just not smart (often when they're job requires them to be very smart). This is nothing to do with task completion or showing results or managing this or that, but it is about daily behavior and the little decisions that blow up into huge problems. Unthought out decisions.

See, the difference between stupid and un-smart is that stupid is a lifetime label, a place of doom for limited minds. On the other hand, un-smart is wasted potential. People have the mental capacity to make better decisions but they don't just because they are un-smart like that. Un-smart is something that, if slightly adjusted, would prosper. Stupid needs a full revamp.

just one more

"Just one chance
Just one breath
Just in case there's just one left"

-- Nickelback

Just like our dreams are our most favored destinies, our fears could be labeled as our least favored destinies. One of my own fear happens to be settling. I do not want to settle and i do not want to begin a life knowing that it started with settling for something i didn't really want. Now we all (if anyone besides myself is reading this) know that by "something i didn't really want" i mean making life choices that i don't want to spend the rest of my life at: like work, commitment, friendships, et cetera.

And i've probably written about this before in some way or another, but we get the urge to settle and just quit the game every now and then. in our search for stability we sometimes want to get off the ride, even though it's a pretty fun ride, and just stand on solid ground. We think about it over and over and weigh the pros and cons of settling and study every decision to the core. Even when settling isn't such a bad option, we still want what we know and what we have to last longer. And when it's time to actually come off the ride, to step down, we wanna go for just one more spin.

What if i missed something? Even if there's nothing to be missed, why not have one last round of fun? Yes, i think that is the point i am trying to make. It's like when we were kids and asked our moms for "five more minutes only please" knowing that those additional five minutes probably won't bring about major change but we still want them. We get so scared of missing something or leaving something undiscovered that we want to make sure we have ample time to discover everything that is discoverable.

The reassuring feature of all this is that the ride is fun enough to hold on to. That settling is still the undesirable option. That i want to keep doing what i do for just a bit longer. Just in case a bit is as long as we have

this time of year

this time of year, two days before Ramadan, it hits me that Ramadan is only two days away. even though i know weeks before and am psychologically preparing for the fast and the lack of coffee and the lack of energy and the lack of cold water in this unbearable heat.

but this specific time of year, the night before last night before Ramadan, is very special. the refrigerators are stocked up the cook becomes a resident and my mom is making sure all of everyone's favorites is accounted for. I get told to clean up my various messes lying all over and i avoid making a fresh pot of coffee in the morning.

like every year, this time of year i try to help in the kitchen but end up a useless mess, only good for fetching various items but not touching the actual cooking.

this time of year i take a moment to think about what Ramadan is all about and vow to be good and do good by others and stop swearing and getting so angry.

This time of year every year i appreciate the calm before the storm and take a moment to enjoy the quiet before the chaotic, loud, overcrowded joy of family and tradition kicks in

It's a good day

INSPIRATION AND 'BOUNCEBACKABILITY': where i get them i'll never know but i sure am thankful

have a listen and be thankful for whatever it is you have that you can't live without

regret

i don't believe people when they way they have no regrets. we all have regrets, or we all should anyway. When's there's talk of regret the inevitable question arises, do we more regret the things we did or the things we didn't do?

From where i stand, or sit, this summer night, i regret the things i didn't do. I regret all the options i didn't choose, all the things i didn't say, all the thanks i didn't give, all the chances i didn't give, all the stubbornness and repetition of the same belief. I regret it all.

You see, when you actually do something, there are (usually) the options between undoing it or just moving on in sort of denial or choosing to forget it was done and just walking away. The past becomes the past. And as long as you don't let it haunt you, you're more or less fine. But when you don't do something, and time passes, and you can no longer do that thing or say it or express in any shape or form. The "what if's" get to you and they crawl under your skin and you imagine so many different scenarios that your imagination becomes tired. You start to question timeliness and why things happened or didn't happen when they did. You want nothing more than a rewind button for life so you can act differently.

But its not like regret that makes you wanna kick yourself. It's more like uncertain regret. Like you think you regret something but aren't entirely sure. and you want that rewind button just so you can be sure. But there is no rewind button. Or at least i haven't found one yet.

Then you sit here, like me, wishing you had given it a chance or said something or just weren't so damn stubborn.

apple smarts

i wish Apple made everything. Seriously, i want anything i own technology related to be branded Apple or Mac or iGadget-whatever. They're just so much easier to deal with.

I've always used the smart person/stupid person analogy to compare between everything Mac and everything PC, with Mac, undoubtedly, being the smart person.

my favorite feature of Apple is that everything is fixable. No technical problem is dead end or action irreversible. The device, whether MacBook, iPod, or the yet to be explored iPad defines the problem, if one should arise, in simple human words that the average user with half a brain can understand. Then it proceeds to fix the problem itself. Without asking you a million times if you are SURE you want to fix it. I haven't missed that about PCs at all.

Weird thing is, i tend to label everything that is not Mac as stupid PC. For example, my dead printer, even though made by the fine makers of HP is, to me, a stupid PC device. It does not tell you what the problem while simultaneously refusing to solve it. I especially hate non-Mac compatible devices. It's like they're labeling themselves "I'm with stupid."

innocent ignorance

i used to believe:

that 20th Century Fox was a real monument that was shot to place at the beginning of movies

that tom and jerry was one word

that only my house was called 'Agami' and not the whole town

that the escalator would bite off your shoes if you didn't step off in time

that my mom knew absolutely everything, just because she said she did

that if you keep the tap running too long sewer insects will start crawling out

that Michael Jackson was born white

that Cinderella was real

that i was adopted (courtesy of mean older siblings)

that summer was endless

that picking flower petals determined the outcome of major incidents

that if i slept over at my grandma's i would never come back home

that by this year in my life i would have known exactly where i was and where i was going

bang bang bang

"We're never gonna, believe in, the stories, that you're weavin'
We're believin' in the proof, we're believin' in the truth
We're believin' in each other, not you, you, you"

domestication irritation

Culturally, i have been brought up to not make my bed, not wash my coffee cup, not do my own laundry, and not do any such tasks. This doesn't mean they don't get done, someone is hired to clean up after me, and all those like me. Domestic help, such a controversy.

I despise the idea of a stranger living in my home. But then again i am not going to clean up after myself. I don't stay that out of being a spoiled brat, but I'm admitting that i am not used to it, and i don't intend to start now.

Domestic help can be such a hassle though. There are so many issues involved, as i have recently learned, it is not at all as easy at it seems.

Trust is number one. You are forced to consult your gut feeling of whether or not this total stranger is 'safe' to have in your home. My imagination runs wild with stories of workers choking their employers in their sleep. I start to think about any valuables i have laying around. It becomes an annoying conspiracy theory where i am defending myself and my family from a culprit that does not exist, yet.

Looking at the other side though, i imagine how the new domestic employee might feel. A usually young, usually non-native speaker, alone in a home full of and owned by strangers. I would not switch places with her. She has no idea what is expected of her, how she should act, what the talk is about, or even where the glasses are.

It is difficult for both sides. Sometimes relationships blossom and last for years while others end within the hour. But at the beginning it is always stressful. We have been trained to feel lost and helpless without domestic help. Strangely, i have found it is a whole lot easier to work with people in the office than it is in the home.

coffee classes

This morning i headed to a Starbucks to grab my morning fix before heading to work. In front of me were a couple, skinny boy with a low voice, short girl in a veil and jeans too tight, who were taking forever to decide to order. I patiently waited and when they finally made their choice they were having one orange juice, in house. The nice lady employee at the cashier denied them. She insisted that one orange juice wasn't enough to grant them seats in the comfortable, spacious Starbucks branch. The girl fought with her for a while, she really wanted to sit down for a bit with her friend, eventually lost, and left with her friend and without her orange juice.

I, of course, could not shut up and had to stick my nose into it. I asked the cashier if that was true, if there was a minimum order charge for them to sit down. She said there wasn't. Then she got all worked up and told me the story that is the point of this post.

She said couples like that come in everyday, order one drink for 10-20 pounds and occupy seats for four to five hours on end. The problem with that particular branch of Starbucks is that it is open to the street. Customers can walk right in through two entrances and sit down using it as a hang out until they are asked to order or leave. What's worse than that is that they sometimes get (smelly) food like foul and taamiya from other oriental 'fast food' chains then sit down and consume them at Starbucks, stinking up the place. She told me that even when employees want to eat something from elsewhere on their break they place their food in Starbucks branded bags then go outside the premises to eat.

What struck me most was the class controversy. I have sometimes walked into the same Starbucks with a friend and we'd have just coffee and maybe a water and we were always welcome to sit wherever and for as long as we wanted to. Mind you, we'd only stay for half an hour tops. But i know that that particular couple didn't look like the social class that was welcomed at Starbucks and similar venues. It is on the one had, unfair, but on the otehr hand, they are not welcome because they do not respect the place.

These chains are open here for a reason: to make money. Whether a whole ton or just enough to stay open, their sole purpose is money. They import coffee, furnish the place in specific branding, pay a whole lot of rental of prime locations, train their staff, and keep with place in shape with high maintenance all to make money. They want customers in, coffees and food ordered, customers out, and repeat. They don't the sappy couple that will come in abuse their nice seats all for the price of an orange juice or the re-sale of a non-Starbucks branded bottle of water.

I had sympathy for the couple who were turned away and denied seats but then again i had sympathy for the employees forced to nicely turn people away because their attitude behavior harms the franchise.

And in my anti-communist, disbelieving-in-fairness-to-all mind, the franchise wins every time.

birthday glitter

I only dedicate posts to very special people. and this post is dedicated to this week's birthday girl. She's not only special because we go way back and we've been friends since math homework was our greatest fear, but she's special just because she is.

She is my only artist friend. She lets talent flow, she is never doing nothing. But that's still not why she's special

She's special coz she's an amazing motivator, a breath of fresh air, and upbeat rhythm that only sees the good in everything. She's and inspiration and the way she talks to motivate you makes you wanna get off your ass and do something fascinating with your life.

I've titled the post glitter because that's what my friend is, she's glitter. She's real glitter, she makes everything glow and be more exciting. We can take a lame joke and turn it into the joyfest of the month. She laughs and spreads laughter.

She makes you see the best in yourself. She explicitly notices the good in you that you didn't even know was in you.

Before i turned into the blogger that i am, it was her that pushed me to do it. She told me i have great ideas and a way with words and i need to be doing something with it. She got on the phone and told me to blog. We started our blogs together and have been each other's loyal audience. She is probably the only person to believe that i will someday be published. She is one of those who believes in energies, not because its the fad now, but she really believes in them. and her own energy is very positive.

On her birthday i was her so many things, but most of all, i wish her karma. She spreads good and joy and should only get the same in return.

dread

i would say that among the top ten, or twenty, worst feelings is dread. Especially when it is something you have to say or do and you know exactly what your words or actions will result in and what you'll have to do to fix it and how hard and exhausting it is all going to be. And it is really bad when you know there's no way around it and no one else to make carry the blame, no scapegoat but yourself.

It's those couple of hours before a meeting, a confession or a confrontation. It's the queasy feelings of the insides and the tension that builds up in the nerves. It's wanting a bad thing to happen just so it could pass and be history.

It's finding the exact words to sugarcoat then finding their opposites to give it straight. It's the mental struggle to use a carrot or a stick. It's the good cop/bad cop role played at the same time. It is the compassion you feel but the firmness you display.

It is all of that compressed into one short meeting, sit down, and then it passes. And the relief felt afterwords puts you on a high.

I would say, start every work day with a bad meeting, so when it's over, you get to have a great working day. Because everything else is good once the dread is gone and you can breathe.

time is no healer

i don't know where it came from, but the number of times i've read or heard that "time is a healer" made me believe it for so many years.

I was gullible enough to blindly believe that time always fixes things and things get better in time. that is true for some part. but time can do a lot of damage too.

when i was a kid my mom taught me to take care of problems right away. coz some problems only get bigger when not addressed. i should've listened, everyone should've listened.

as i grew older i made too many mistakes that i thought time would fix. Time didn't fix shit. as i try to sound reflective in writing this, i can honestly say that dozens of opportunities were missed and more relationships went sour and contacts lost touch with and misunderstandings not cleared up. All of that was my job to do, not time's.

even those i let off the hook, thinking that time will take my revenge for me, went unpunished.

time fixes some things, not everything. time isn't a healer. time is just time. as it passes things happen or they don't but it has nothing to do with time healing anything.

yes, anger fades with time, compassion gets boring or grows with time, friends become boring or thrive with time, relationships build or break, and so on. but it is not time's doing, that's all i'm trying to say here.

time passing by can mess up things pretty bad. an overdue apology is no good after time has passed. i'm just saying.

almost movie moment

so today i was in my army-like workout outfit at the gym, all with the gloves ipod arm strap, long ponytail, the whole show. Two minutes after i walked into the gym, i spot the one guy my entire high school female population crushed on for so many years. Said guy was looking as gorgeous as ever. i watched from a distance until i felt like a creepy stalker and had to stop staring.

aaaanyway, shortly thereafter our paths crossed. and that was [supposed to be] my movie moment.

i flung the ponytail ever so dramatically, getting ready to look up and smile and give a casual hello and act like my nerves weren't in shock and my heart wasn't skipping several beats. i could swear background, hollywood movie type music was a soundtrack playing in the background. everyone else seemed to disappear. i got dreamy like a teenage girl.

Right then, just as if on cue, some overdressed, over made-up, clumsy idiot banged her right dumbbell on my left shoulder. My moment was gone. I screamed in pain while she apologized at a million words per second rate. When the shock of the pain was gone, so was he. So much for my movie moment. Maybe next time, if i don't act like such a teenager, i'll learn to lookout for idiots playing with heavy dumbbells.

touching stoves twice

A girl is the only being capable of seeing a bad decision in clear vision and heading straight for it. We just don't learn. We're the creatures that have to touch the stove twice and thrice to learn that it's damn hot. We're a cartoon character that climbs to the top of the ladder to fall down, get back up and start scurrying toward the top again.

And most of the time, we know the exact outcome. We know why decisions are bad and we still choose to dive in. I've been trying to understand this complex concept and decision making routine but i've almost given up. Why do girls think in the way they do? We do we give the same models different tries?

Einstein (i think) once said that insanity is doing the same thing over and expecting different results. Im pretty sure this implies most people are insane. Lacking in sanity.

To exemplify, a couple of years back i did something that i cursed till very recently. I made a bad decision and i learned a lot from it, a whole lot. We all get scars and burns and they take their time to heal. Going back to the stove metaphor, when the stove burns you, you eventually heal. Then, in my case, you go right ahead and touch a different stove.

This time, i'm taking a moment to think about touching the stove. But i know that the moment will end and i will reach out with my stupid, newly healed hand and touch the damn stove. And within a few months i'll write about why i shouldn't have touched.

Life before Facebook

A few days ago i deactivated my Facebook account, which afterwards i figured was really stupid because you can activate it by just logging in again. Still, i thought i need the rest from the distraction, and in Eminem's brilliant words, "I promise to focus solely on my responsibilities."

You see, i didn't initially set up my own account. My best friend thought i was missing out so took the liberty of creating an account for me years back and i just sort of grew to using it, overusing it, then avoiding it completely then deactivating it.

Anyway, point of the story is, in the past few days i've been quickly reminded of life as it was before Facebook.

Life was more personal before Facebook. You could pick and choose exactly what others found out about you and what they didn't. If someone were to contact you they'd have to make and actual call or even send a message. You forget about people you haven't seen in years when they don't pop up on your news feed. You are in contact with only those you really do want to be in contact with. No distant relatives surprise you with random bits of information they found out about you through Facebook.

Life before Facebook was status-less. There wasn't a constant urge to tell almost everyone i know exactly what is on my mind.

Life before Facebook was less gossip-y. Now when i get a message asking if i saw so-and-so's comment on something i can shorten the conversation by answering, no i did not see it (nor do i intend to). Life back then gave you chance to miss people. When you hear about people and see their pictures and comments pop up you never really realize how much you truly miss them.

If i were to compare it, i'd say life before Facebook was getting a handwritten letter from someone you met at camp versus an email blog. Facebook came and it was like an addiction. It was something i had to to everyday or at least every time opened up my screen. Any addiction is negative, it's bad, it's something to be avoided. But in this case, Facebook is, more often than not, harmless. I hope i can hold off this controversial addiction for just a bit longer, just a little more time to enjoy life as personal and private.

Just like a pill

I can't stay on your life support, there's a shortage in the switch,

I can't stay on your morphine, cuz its making me itch

I said I tried to call the nurse again but she's being a little bitch,

I think I'll get outta here, where I can

Run just as fast as I can

To the middle of nowhere

To the middle of my frustrated fears

And I swear you're just like a pill

Instead of makin' me better, you keep makin' me ill

You keep makin' me ill

I haven't moved from the spot where you left me

This must be a bad trip

All of the other pills, they were different

Maybe I should get some help

I can't stay on your life support, there's a shortage in the switch,

I can't stay on your morphine, cuz its making me itch

I said I tried to call the nurse again but she's being a little bitch,

I think I'll get outta here, where I can

Run just as fast as I can

To the middle of nowhere

To the middle of my frustrated fears

And I swear you're just like a pill

Instead of makin' me better, you keep makin' me ill

You keep makin' me ill

-- Pink

political inactivity

I've never been politically active and I have my reasons why. and i won't bore you with them like all the political activists that rant on and on with the same three sentences.

First of all, i am not politically informed enough, or up to the level of information, to allow my to call myself "activist." And in my opinion, neither are two thirds of the so-called activists. I just don't buy that updating your Facebook status means that you are taking a stand and being "active." It's a poor excuse for trying to pull of something that you are not. I'm no angel here, I'm not saying I'm right and everyone else is wrong (even though i am) but seriously, when it comes to political activism, a status update doesn't cut it. If that makes you feel better, to call yourself an activist or to think you have any kind of influence by updating your status, then that's just pathetic. Bombarding people with forward messages and requests to be "active" only belittles the thought behind the act.

Also, most political activism is subjective. And no one takes subjectivity seriously. Plain and simple as that. As soon as emotions and misinformation driven by emotions are involved, that's the end of anything real. Look at this this way, you can always listen someone better if they're decently articulating, but if they're yelling and screaming you can only hear and don't necessarily listen. When subjectivity and emotion are brought to the table, it inevitably turns into yelling with no articulation of neither thought nor speech.

ink

For quite a few years now, i've been seriously considering getting a tattoo. Actually i've been considering getting three. But it's scary

For one thing, tattoos are permanent. That's a kind of commitment i don't think im ready to make. that's worse than marriage. i know you can get tattoos removed now, but what if i get it then decide i don't like it a week later. Is is worth the hassle and pain of getting one (or three) only to have it later removed?

Then there's the big question of taboo. Are tattoos okay or are they taboo? How religiously unacceptable are they? We do lots of things every single day that are religiously unacceptable. Is a tattoo (or three) worse than any of those?

But the guilt trip lasts only a few minutes and then i go right back worrying over the permanency of tattoos. It can be such a scary thought to think that ink you put on your skin is there to stay. It just stays there. It never goes away it's there every single day (back to the commitment metaphor). You can't wash it off and in many places you can't cover it up either.

These thoughts consume me so much that on a random night like this i find myself researching (googling) tattoo removal methods and comparing between them. Yes, i am finding out how to remove the tattoos i don't even have yet.

beaching

i miss the beach, i miss being at the beach

i miss that first time you go to the beach, it's like the inauguration of summer. your skin is still winter-y pale and the sand under your bare feet feels so welcoming you want to get buried in it

i love watching kids play in the sand. it still makes me, at this age, want to dig up a big hole till i reach the water and make little sand hills.

i miss the first sunburn and the disregard for sunscreen.

i miss the first tread into the water, which is always freezing but gets warmer each day. i miss almost falling asleep in the sun after a day of getting in and out of the water. i even miss getting sand in my hair.

i miss hitting against the waves and getting teary eyed with salt water.

i miss having to hunt for a good spot on a crowded beach during the weekend. i miss how empty the beach is after all the weekenders are gone.

i miss staying at the beach until it's almost dark and there's no one else around. i miss the glow of skin after an after-beach, after-tan shower.

i miss the smell of the beach, cliche, but i do miss it

i miss losing flip flops in the sand and dropping my phone in the sand and covering up my ipod so it doesn't burn in the heat. i miss chilled water bottles stuck in the sand. i miss freska.

i miss waking up, going straight to the beach and doing nothing all day but swim and tan and maybe even play with the sand and a ball or something.

i really miss the beach and i can't wait to get that first splash, first sunburn and first saltwater sting.

all she is

My best friend has been called useless, worthless, spoiled, and so many derivatives of those.

Taking a first look at her, you might, just might, get that impression. But the minute you get inside that beautiful head of hers, your opinion drastically changes.

My best friend is dependable. She is always wide awake and fully aware of happenings. She knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. She is determined. She does not only want freedom from any constraints, she actively seeks such freedom. She does her own homework. She doesn't share her miseries with the world, instead, she shares her happiness. Being around her is just like being at a thoroughly entertaining, enlightening and hilarious show. She is the life of any party and puts life into any party. Hell, she turns a car ride into a party. She is a loving mother, a wonderful wife, and an angelic daughter. Her home feels like home. She loves deeply and truly, and straight from her pure heart with no fakeness or the least bit of acting. She juggles a million things at a time. She is never too busy or too free. She is never sitting around doing nothing. And everything she does serves some kind of purpose, even if she is only shopping. Her comedy is genius.

To our little, tight band, she plays so many roles. She is the advisor, the caregiver, the one we trust and believe blindly. When something happens to me or to any of us she is the first we want to call, the first advice we seek. If only everyone else did the same, so much would be better.

Calling her worthless is a crime. An ignorant one too

It shows that those who call her worthless are so deep in the ignorance and one-dimensional, single track of thought that they are unable to embrace all what she really is and all what she is capable of.

optional retardation

I refuse to treat completely normal, sane, healthy human beings like they are retarded.

I meet those people everyday, those who are optionally retarded. There is nothing wrong with their mental capabilities, nerve structure, brain composition composition or even their social setting to excuse them as retarded, or mentally incapable. in fact, they are very mentally capable, to be able to act so retarded.

What's more, they know that people treat them in a special way. They think they are free to do what they please because we will all say, "ma3lesh" or "don't hold it against them." But this time i refuse the excuse. I will hold it against them.

They act irresponsibly thinking that others can't see their actions. They are insensitive thinking that they don;t need to be sensitive. They are fake, above all they are fake. They act compassionate, they act intellectual, they act like they care but their are not any of these. They're full of talk, deeply believing that their practiced words actually mean anything.

They are like healthy people who park their cars in handicapped spaces (not in this country of course, but in others). They're like rich people who don't leave a good tip. They're like people who can see a queue and opt to cut into yet. In other words, they're people who act in a certain way just because they know society will excuse their behavior.

Half of the blame is not on them, though. Half of the blame is on the society that tolerates them. Sometimes i think people let them off the hook because that is easier than dealing with them. I think they're just feeding a flame of fakeness. It turns into a vicious cycle, where they act retarded and are not held accountable so they act more retarded and are still let off the hook.

Everyday i urge others not to tolerate them, but they still do despite my nagging. I only come off as hostile and un-understanding. And i become the wrong one in the end. I am labeled "wrong" because i refuse to treat the healthy as unhealthy.

intrigued stalker

it's so strange how people pop in and out of our lives. I'm not talking about friends or acquaintances here. i mean people that we do not know, whom we can only recognize by face and might not even be able to put a name to it. yet they keep showing up here and there.

every time they do that, we are more intrigued by their existence and want ever so desperately to learn more. we see them from time to time over the years that we feel like we know them, and going up for a quick chat seems completely normal. we (and of course, by "we" i mean "me" or "i" and by "them" i probably mean "him") notice how they change and change back. we find ourselves learning bits and pieces of information completely by coincidence, like where they live or where they have breakfast on a weekend.

we mark their existence by places. when we see them out of place we are taken back to those first few times we saw them at a specific place.

and then there come long, very long, periods when they are nowhere to be seen. it's as if they'd disappeared from sight. and when they disappear from sight they disappear from mind and memory.

then they show up again and we wanna run up and hug them as we recall all the memories of unfulfilled encounters and ask where the hell they've been. but just as the grin forms on our faces we remember that we can't do that. because we don't know them. and we're only an intrigued stalker

mr right VS mr right now

in the never-ending battle between the [non-existent] mr right and [the endless supply of] mr's right now, here are the defenses. mr right wins every time. and mr right now is just another mister, that i will always be able to do without

mr right loves to travel

mr right now has been to ten different cities

mr right listens to good music

mr right now has an ipod

mr right has a sense of humor

mr right now laughs at jokes

mr right splashes around a beach

mr right now swims in place

mr right goes for a walk at midnight

mr right now drives everywhere

mr right loves animals

mr right now has a dog tied up in an elaborate garden

mr right ruffles my hair

mr right now pats my head

mr right fights with me in a louder voice than mine

mr right uses the silent treatment (to which frankly, i don't give a fuck)

mr right recommends good reads

mr right now buys a lot of books to put on the shelf

mr right is my best friend

mr right now is just another mister

tomorrow unfinished

As i sit here, staring at a blank text box, wondering what the hell to write, the TV is on to some show and the presenter just asked, "what is going to happen tomorrow?" and that struck me as today's point of inspiration

So I'm going to write about tomorrow, literally and metaphorically

I really don't know what is going to happen tomorrow, and i don't wish i did either

but i do know that i am going to sit here and do nothing about tomorrow. bear with my freudian free association sort-of mood here.

literally, tomorrow i will have no alibi, i know that much is true. metaphorically, tomorrow, any tomorrow, brings unfinished business to its fair end. and i think that is what tomorrow is all about : unfinished business. I'm a firm believer in that nothing we do in this life goes unaccounted for; whatever we have done yesterday, or will do today, is accounted for tomorrow, if not sooner. a little while ago my mom was just talking to me about how your right comes to you, sooner or later. "comes to you" is key here. tomorrow brings us our right, whether or not we have pursued it. It's one of the benefits of the settlement each tomorrow brings. we let things go today, knowing they will be fixed or made right "tomorrow." It's like the whole world is big roll of canvas that just keeps unfolding. the more it unfolds the more you see and the better you understand the parts that have already been unfolded.

A word from the wise, clean up your business (or your canvas) today so you won't have to spend tomorrow cleaning up a mess.

selfish love

we're all selfish, in one way or another. the worst of us deny it and the best of us admit it. And in being selfish, we tend to love ourselves most. My love for ME is and will always be greater than my love for anyone else.

Sometimes we forget though. We forget about loving ourselves. We treat our bodies and souls cruelly, we don;t give them the attention they need. We don't give our mind a break, we don't let it rest. We occupy our minds with the well-being and the happiness of others, and in doing so, neglecting our own well-being.

In what I'm going to call wake up calls to the self, we are reminded of that selfish love. Something happens that reminds them no matter how much we care for others, we care for ourselves more. We get these wake up calls from a person, a place, an incident, it doesn't matter we just get them. When you look at your face and find it pale, or when someone looks at you in a way you don't like, you are reminded how much you love yourself and will not have it ill-treated. You feel sorry for yourself and want to apologize. You don't know how to make it up to YOU.

here's my apology

i promise myself that i will not leave my hair unruly, unhealthy

i promise myself that i will not let my face get so pale

i promise myself that i will not drink enough caffeine to drown my soul

i promise myself that i will not let anyone blame me for something i haven't done

i promise myself that i will not let anyone get away with even looking at me wrong

i promise myself that i will not swallow painkillers like candy

i promise myself enough fresh air

i promise myself to forgive others, but never forget

i promise myself my own, selfish love, that is mine and no one else's

the Fury

In arabic we have a say that goes "fend the malevolence of the meek if [he is] angry."

If you've read James Frey's A Million Little Pieces, you'll know what i mean when i write about "the fury."

The fury is the anger that arises from deep within the self, it is that uncontrollable anger, resentment, and extreme need for vengeance. The fury takes over your mind first, then your heart and soul then your whole being. It keeps you from thinking straight, clouding over your mind like a dark cloud before rain. Then the rain comes and it is a mix of bitter emotion and more anger and more and more anger.

The fury is, above all, an unstoppable need.

When ignited by someone or something the fury must be addressed. Sometimes a row of cursing will send the fury away. Sometimes smashing something or snapping at someone ever so harshly will calm it down. But other times, the fury doesn't away.

Bear with my metaphor, the fury becomes so hot inside you that it burns you. It keeps burning and burning till you get used to it. And you go numb from the heat rather than from cold. The fury numbs you, and the cruelest comeback is from a numb fury. It makes you heartless. Your need for revenge exceeds your need to breathe.

Shauna-me up

It can be tough for someone like me to find an idol. I'm not being arrogant, not at all. But i tend to see faults in people first. Now some people have what i call desirable faults, it makes me want to be them.

Of course, most of my idols are fictional. Real people aren't perfect enough.

Currently at the top of my list of fictional idols is Shauna Roberts, played by the awesome Debi Mazar, is a star publicist on my favorite show, Entourage.

Shauna works with men all the time. She gets along with them and finds them easier to understand, which is my own assumption, just like me. She has one female assistant which she drives up the wall with abuse. Shauna isn't a she-male, she is very much a woman. She has a smart mouth and is so not scared to used it, even with the hottest of hot shots in the business.

Shauna is concise, she doesn't chat uncontrollably like women in the workplace. She has the awesomest east coast accent, "I'm your west coast motha," she tells her star client. She's got no problem telling big guys to go fuck themselves when they do something she doesn't like.

But none of the above is my favorite thing about Shauna.

My favorite thing about Shauna is that she throws her toughness and smart mouth around not because she's rich, powerful, well connected or has any such privilege, she is simply amazing at what she does. She does her job better than anyone, so no one's got anything on her. That's her liability. She is not dependent on anyone or anything other than her brains and skills. Even though she is rich, powerful and well connected, that's not what she "uses."

When I watch Shauna I want to BE Shauna. I don't want to act like her or do what she does, I want to be that person. She's full of faults. Her language is offensive every other sentence, she is sometimes treated like one of the guys rather than as a lady, she abuses the hell out of her assistant, but the end result is that she makes someone like me wishing they could be someone like her.

big girls don't cry

i think i finally understand the reasoning behind "big girls don't cry."

Big girls don't cry because they have learned that crying doesn't fix anything. Girls, by the time we're old enough, understand that situations need to be fixed, not cried over. Crying doesn't fix. As we grow older, some of us learn that crying doesn't make you feel better either. Therefore, crying doesn't fix. As babies and toddlers our tears could get us what we want but the older we get the more meaningless our tears become. We end up with a headache and a pale face. And the same problem we began with.

Crying derives sympathy. And i hate sympathy. Give me empathy if you must, but never sympathy. and crying gives sympathy. and that's why big girls don't cry, because they don't want sympathy.

Big girls don't cry because they don't have time to

Big girls don't cry because when there is a situation that calls for crying, it is much better suited to exert energy resolving, rather than tearing up

Big girls don't cry because by the time they're big, they've cried all their tears and they have no more

Big girls don't cry because it's pathetic, weak and senseless

Big girls don't cry because crying is a waste of precious time

Big girls don't cry because they'd much rather laugh.

Tetris truths

In the past few weeks i've taken up an addictive habit: Tetris. Yes, that old game so popular on Gameboys. And when you do something for so long, it consumes you. as i play, my mind becomes part of the game, and i see it as more than just a game. i see symbols, metaphors, examples and even advice. I'm not making this up, and i haven't gone crazy either, bear with me.

Tetris, in so many ways, resembles life decisions and overall turnout. When you make poor decisions in Tetris, like placing a block two spaces away from where you should have placed it, missing opportunities to create rows, and so on, you obstruct your overall score from increasing. Or sometimes you're concentrating and luck is slightly on your side and the blocks you keep getting fit well together and your score keeps getting higher and higher as rows keep vanishing and never accumulating.

Eventually, you end the game with a pretty low score, or at least much lower than it could have been: and that is exactly life as i see it. Decision we take, especially those early on, affect the outcome of your whole being.

My favorite example is education. From the type of school you attend to your university years, if you happen to go to school or university at all, but let's assume that everyone does. What you choose to study at university, how well you perform, how much passion you have for what you do, all of these are the factors that resemble Tetris blocks and how you place them. Those university years could push you forward or hold you back.

But it's not just limited to education, it's every single decision you take. From what to wear to an interview, to the friends you keep, to the life partner you choose, to even something as simple as how you drive. Everything you do, everything we do, is another block on our Tetris board. How we contribute to rows vanishing and scores increasing is defined by how we co-manage all of what we have and all of what we are.

trusting the doc

Due to current health issues, some of my posts will have a medical twist. Endure it and take everything i say as advice.

A few days ago i looked at one of our doctors and said to my brother, "He's my hero!" and i meant it in all essence of the word. Forget superman and batman, doctors are our most prominent heroes. They are the ones we turn to and rely on completely. Their words become almost holy to us. We ask their opinion and advice before making the slightest turn. And when they dispense that advice, we follow it to the letter.

Having that one specific doctor that you trust with your life is irreplaceable. Having him stand right there is security. Listening to his orders is trust.

It is at these times that we realize what a true hero is. He is not a fantastical character that dresses up in bright spandex. He does not make a dash and appear out of nowhere when you press a button, for sometimes you have to call several times while he's asleep or in surgery or something until you get a call back.

His superpowers include instant comforting. You become more open to everything, less hesitant, and uplifted when he's around. Just by being him, he makes you be more, want more, and do more. You want to get better to please him. You want his opinions to be correct. And you would not move an inch without his blessing. When he visits he is a doctor and a friend and a hero all in one. His visits become a treat. You anticipate them and make use of every single minute. When he leaves you don't want him to go.

Trust then becomes the most important characteristic of heroism. For that is a hero: someone who you can throw yourself at and blindly know you'll be taken care of. Someone who you trust more than you trust yourself.

hiatus

i've been gone. i've missed me on this blog, even if you haven't.

things haven't been stable on the home front, lots of health issues to deal with, that's why i haven't been here. i don't want to go into details because it's been tough and i need a mental escape. So this is my mental escape.

coming back here i feel like i have so much to say, but trying to type it out yields a big blank.

here are a few thoughts and observations from the past couple of weeks. i hope you find them interesting, coz i don't

i want to go to nursing school

a hospital is no place for kids

egyptians abuse elevators. abuuuuse

faith in God is faith, religion comes after

the strong smell of menthol will clear up the worst of sinus blocks

wireless internet is taken for granted

good morning coffee is irreplaceable

a good doctor is my hero. forget superman

i know it's a crappy post, but it's a start till i get back on track

wrong metaphors

sharing is caring- no sharing is just sharing. i don't have to care when i share, and you don't either. this goes back to Joey and Phoebe's bet to find a "selfless good deed," remember that episode of Friends? it's difficult to find a selfless good deed. it takes a little selfishness to be good, thus selfishness isn't always a bad thing. anyway back to sharing, it's not caring, it's just sharing they don't have to go hand in hand, it's fake

seeing is believing- not true either. i believe, i don't have to see. other times, i see but i don't believe. this sounds almost to philosophical so let me give you an example, or two. i believe in God, i believe in love, i believe that good conquers evil every single time, and i have never seen any of those. when you put it the other way, seeing isn't always believing either. like when you see someone crying and don't believe their tears or you see someone laughing but don't believe their laughter is coming from real, genuine joy

happy cursing at the momma's day

today is mothers' day. it is a joyous occasion on which we are supposed to express our love and appreciation of our beautiful mothers an try once and again to repay them everything they have done for us and realize that in doing all that we can, we can never give them as much as they gave us. It is a day we are supposed to remember that they love us unconditionally, no matter how much we fret and give them a hard time with everything. we are supposed to stop and take in every reason why our mothers are beautiful, and let them know how much we truly love them.

and my sweetness ends here

today i took the momma out for some pampering and one-on-one quality time. driving to get somewhere i had to turn the car around. now i know im a semi-capable driver and i wasn't taking long at all, i can be above-average efficient when it comes to maneuvering aroung tight Cairo streets. anyway, mid turn this a**hole of a microbus driver yells at me, "hurry, we wanna pass!" the right thing to do then was ignore him but of course i had to bellow out my open window, "and what do i think i wanna do? just sit here? i wanna pass too!" and i did yell this out pretty angrily. anyway i guess i touched a nerve on his uneducated, lower class, male ego that he started cursing at me. well, first at me, then using "your mother" curses. luckily i drove away before i could have heard to much of it.

of course my mom was sitting shaking her head at me wondering aloud when i am going to learn to keep that angry mouth of mine shut.

that wasn't what i was thinking about though. i was thinking that it's fuckin' mothers' day. why not be pleasant? clearly the older woman sitting next to me is my mother, or at least someone's mother. couldn't we leave her out of this cursing war just for one day? i mean, why do we, as a population, curse at each other using mothers anyway? why can't someone insult me for me, and not bring my beloved mother into this?

now if i were a guy, carrying around an anger like mine, i would probably smashed right into his pathetic microbus then picked a physical fight and thrown a few punches. but i am not. so i settled for denial, regression, and humor. i told my mom that i would be showing her a different kind of mother's day every year. this just happened to be the year we get cursed at by a stranger on the street.

never a boring day Cairo, never a boring day.

it [should be] a man's world

at least the workplace is a man's world. after a day like today i can finally see why men find women so frustrating. women are great, females are awesome, girls are fabulous. but when it comes to work, some don't cut it.

some women demand gender equality, but do nothing to support their argument. i'll leave that for another post since i have too much to say on it. for now:

advice to women in the workplace

1. never cry at work. it makes you look ridiculous. in fact, it makes you just ridiculous

2. if you're gonna cry at work, then at least use waterproof mascara

3. stop repeating yourself. if you said it once to my face, chances are i heard you

4. never ever ever EVER wear flip flops to work, no matter how casual your job allows you to be. flip flops are for the beach and any ground that is not sand makes your feet dirty and disgusting

5. stop gossiping. just stop

6. stop repeating things you hear, for that is also gossiping

7. don't show up dressed like a slut on a night out and expect respect from office boys and security guards

8. never cry at work

9. conceal dark circles under your eyes, it makes you look sleep deprived

10. conceal pms. it's irritating having to work around your mood swings

11. it's okay to swear if you're angry. no goody-two-shoes is ever taken seriously

12. don't cry at work

13. stop flirting your way to the bosses' good graces. since, in this case, most of your bosses are female, it won't work

14. kissing up counts as flirting. stop that too

15. did i mention, never cry at work?

with or without you

another lyrics-inspired post, stop reading now if you've grown bored of them

"i can't live with or without you" was reiterated by U2 and so many other bands. the words were repeated so often because they're so true

we all have those people we can live with, but can't live without. and if you don't have them, you're among the lucky few. the lucky few who can make decisions easily when it comes to dropping people out of your life. There are those we can't drop. not just because they're coworkers, old friends, or even family, but because even if we try we can't live without them.

it becomes exhausting trying to live with and without them

it's sad that we have to be so different from one another. the difference is supposed to be what makes like interesting, right? not. it makes like so much harder than it already is. we keep thinking over and over how much easier life would be if this person or that person were easier to get along with. and on the other side, they're thinking how much easier life would be if you were easier to get along with.

the frustration with those people gets so intense that some days you go insane and all hell breaks loose and you blurt out exactly what's on your mind. then you regret it. you genuinely regret it and wish you could take back every hurtful word, every truth, and go back to pretending you're okay with them. then they do something so stupid and the regret evaporates and more intense anger takes its place.

i was reading something today, i don't really remember what it was but it said that anger is a secondary emotion. that means it stems from another emotion. like you get hurt, so you become angry. or you're afraid, and that angers you. therefore, we're not just angry because we're angry, we're angry because something happened to make us that way. with the type of people in question here, the people you can't live with or without, unleashing this anger is not always a good idea. because since you can't live without them, the actions during your anger will always be remembered. but, also, since you can't live without them, you can't hold on to the anger. you've got to release it so you can move past it.

so at times like these, you just don't know what to do anymore. and when i say you i mean me. you don't know how to act or react. or even whether or not to react. sometimes when you're so busy with everything else, and everything else is going so wrong and its hectic and frustrating and soul-crushing, you need to live without them. you need to live without them so at least you can at some point go back to living with them.

City of blinding lights

i don't know what city U2 were singing to, but Cairo is MY city of blinding lights.

As i write this, im so high on this gorgeous city. Im so high on my gorgeous neighborhood and how beautiful and alive it becomes in the summer. These early days of summer make me appreciate everything SO much more. I long to be outside all the time. At work i look for tasks to do outdoors. I walk from building to building smiling idiotically every time im hit with the rays of sun. Summer makes this city come alive

at night it is so damn beautiful. people are happier. outdoor cafes are busy with the hustle of Cairenes embracing the beautiful weather. Lights are so much more vibrant. There is a rush to be outdoors, to wear a t-shirt and abandon the layers of ugly winter clothing.

I appreciate this city. i absolutely love this neighborhood. With its busy streets, with it's crowded sidewalks. I appreciate the crowd. i appreciate we have reason to head outdoors. i appreciate the summer.

There is nothing like the combination of beautiful places, friends who are family, good music, and a good walk and laugh. It is so rare to be able to walk anywhere in this city. Tonight i did. i met people i love. i walked back listening to music i love. and i feel so damn lucky.

U2 had it exactly right "Oh you look so beautiful tonight in this city of blinding lights"

not writing

i don't write these days. i thought i didn't know why but i do

i don't write because i'm too tired to think

i don't write because when i'm at this laptop it's for either work or class assignments. after both are done i don't have the capacity to think anymore

i don't write because i don't like to just write anything, even though i probably should, and nowadays i just have nothing to say

i don't write because i can't breathe. because i hate March and all the dust it brings

i don't write because i would rather re-watch episodes of Entourage

i don't write because i don't feel like it. no excuses. i just don't feel like it

i don't write because my mind is not at peace. even though writing brings my mind to peace

i don't write because my thoughts are all over the place

i don't write because i wouldn't know what to write or how to write it

i don't write because i get migraines

i don't write because i've been an insomniac for a week. and the migraines don't go away

i don't write because i don't enjoy anything that i have to do. i want to want to write

i don't write because all i ever feel like posting is music. and that's not very interesting to anyone but to myself

i don't write because it will come out sounding like complaining. just like this post. and i don't mean to complain. so i won't write

(don't) respect your elders

When i take a break from work/study time to blog it means something has gotten on my nerves, or i realized something very important that cannot wait to be published. In this case it's the former.

How do you tell someone who works with you and is literally three times your age that they're a useless waste of office space? That their desk and computer are better suited for charity or even recycling? How do you tell someone that without hurting them? Some are efficient at work, some are less efficient, and some just can't do shit. These are the type of people you ask to do something and they come back to you with

1. "i cannot do this. would you do it?" -- if i wanted to or could do it in the first place i would have done so

2. "this can't be done" -- yes it can, watch me, or watch someone else not so helpless

3. "what is it you wanted me to do exactly?" -- this one usually comes two days or so after the asked task had been detailed

4. "this is not in my job description, but i will help you with it" -- your effing job description is to do what i ask you to do

Now when it is someone your own age or a few years within it, replies are no problem. most of the time negative replies don't even sound rude. But when it's someone so much older, and with so many more years of experience under their belt, it can be frustrating to tell them off. Or in this case, holding off telling them off and just doing the job myself or finding a more competent aide. but time after time after time it becomes aggravating.

being old is not an excuse for avoiding work or slacking off or just choosing not to do some bothersome task. and "old" in the workplace is really, anyone over fifty, right? which isn't even that old. And the tasks being requested are not rocket science, nor are they any kind of science for that matter. Therefore, the question still stands: what DO you do when an older person isn't doing what they are supposed to, and should be able to, do? What is rude in this case? I believe "rude" isn't applicable to work, if you take your job seriously. You do what needs to be done, and your counterpart accepts it, f they take their own job seriously, not matter how old or young they are.

Anyway these were my thoughts of the moment, more when i get them.

driving me crazy

When i first got my driver's license, a world of opportunities opened up. No longer would i need to arrange a ride or to be picked up and dropped off. no longer would my driver's day off regulate my weekend. no longer would i need to plan beforehand exactly how i would get somewhere and exactly how i would get back home. you get the picture.

Years later, that is not the case. Now i almost never leave home unless i absolutely have to or really want to. It's not because I'm aging quickly or becoming boring, but because driving has become a recurring pain in the ass. The hassle of taking a car out, struggling through traffic, then parking it somewhere else makes one consider and reconsider if the trip is worth the hassle. Leaving home has to happen at least an hour prior to when you need to get where you want to get. Making a dash for it is not possible anymore.

I don't intend to describe what happened to the streets but i am attempting to describe what has happened to us because of what happened to the streets.

Due to absence of decent radio service in Cairo, a car ride without decent music is hell. Therefore, forgetting my ipod is no longer an option. I remember at least a few times where i would drive back a short distance just to get my music.

My car is becoming a telephone operation base. Almost all calls are made while driving. Long calls, short calls, work calls, gossip calls, everything. The good thing about this is that less time is wasted on the phone outside of the car.

Because of the inevitability of the extended driving durations, car companions have to be picked with care. It is has become a serious mistake to take in someone who is too boring, too talkative, too loud, too nosy, or, worst of all, has an opinion against my own in music, and dares to change my songs. It is even worse when i am the passenger and the driver has terrible music taste and i end up with a physical and metaphorical headache caused by the crap they play.

Everyday i say i'd hire a fill time driver, just for myself. So i would never ever have to drive again. He'd take me to work and back, drive through afternoon traffic, take me to the other sides of Cairo which I'm too lazy to drive to myself after the morning trek. But then i change my mind. I like to be in control in my car. I want to turn up the music as loud as i want, and most of the time sing along. i want to be able to repeatedly turn the air conditioning up and down. at the times when i do have a driver, i annoy him as well as myself with a million requests.

Im drifting off the point here. The point is traffic is driving me crazy and its not getting better and its taking longer to get anywhere and i will go nowhere that is not worth the trip. I'm sure you wouldn't either.

Objection

"This is pathetic and sardonic

it's sadistic and psychotic

Tango's not for three

was never meant to be

but you can try it, rehearse it

or train like a horse

but don't you count on me, don't you count on me"

-- Shakira, Objection

little lies

I never believe anyone who claims to never lie. We all lie, ALL of us. Lying doesn't have to be a bad thing. Some lies are so insignificant, i don't think it's fair labeling them lies in the first place. I told a little lie today and that got me thinking about these little lies. I realized i use them quite often.

When I'm talking to someone about something very boring and the subject changes and they ask what were we talking about, i say "i forgot" and quickly change the subject before they remember. Or when someone asks me to pick between two things that are close to identical, i vote and convincingly argue for one just to get on with it, even though i don't see the damn difference.

They're not really lies but they're not truths either, so that makes them lies. I don't believe in "white lies" a lie is a lie. And the only goodness that comes from telling a lie, no matter how little or white, is owning up to it.

c'est la freakin' vie

the title of this post was my status on one of the too many gadgets/electronic vents i use. friends who saw it were asking what's wrong? nothing is wrong. but i did have one of my frequent breakthroughs regarding life, our life, and what we're doing to it and what it is doing to us

and the only thing that comes to mind is "c'est la freakin' vie"

recently, death hit close to home, not quite my home but close enough. I wrote about that already so this isn't an encore. except that today, once again, death has hit close. it's not so much the pain this time, it's the realization that we're all bound to get there. That sooner or later one of those hits will be at home. so c'est la freakin' vie

we do things for people and expect that they would do the same for us in return. then the tables turn and its time for them to live up to our expectations and they don't. and we get disappointed and mad and upset and even more mad then we cool off. then they ask for something again. and we do it, knowing that when it's their turn, they won't come through. but we still do what they ask for and i don't know why. we feel cheated and abused. we feel disgusted at ourselves for letting ourselves get cheated and abused. but c'est la freakin' vie

sometimes you find something that makes you really happy. and you promise to using it only for your happiness, harming no one else, stepping away if you're about to do harm. not talking about it not complaining not expecting, not wanting, not doing anything. just enjoying. but life takes away that privilege. you are not left in peace to like what you like and do what you do because life gets in the way. and you can't help but wonder why and question if you really deserve what you want to do, and when you realize you do deserve it, you can only think c'est la freakin' vie

sometimes you have problems at work, but c'est la freakin' vie

sometimes you have a killer headache that won't go away for days, but c'est la freakin' vie

sometimes you are just bothered with everyone asking for so much and expecting so much out of you. they expect, expect, then expect some more and you have to stretch yourself to make them all happy, or in most cases just satisfied, and in some cases unsatisfied. and guess what? c'est la freakin' vie aussi

So if you read this and can relate, it might be comforting to know we're all in this together. or it might not, i don't know i just write because i need to vent. We're all uncomfortable in some way or another and sometimes in many ways and others. but this too shall pass, shall it not? i like to read up on inspirational bullshit and one i can particularly relate to this is "when life gives you lemons, make orange juice and leave life wondering how the hell you did it"

mind on my money, money on my mind

Do you ever think about spending habits? i didn't used to but now i do

now that i work for a salary and try to save, rarely succeeding, and finding my salary deposit amount empty before mid-month, i gotta stop and ask myself where the money goes

trying to remember what the past two weeks have been like, i don't remember overspending on anything. but that's not the issue here, what I'm trying to understand is the way we spend.

everything is relatively cheap in cairo, even car gas, so where does our money go? yes i do tend to drift off at the hairdresser's and end up buying hundreds of pounds worth of products whenever i go. yes, i like overpriced coffee and drink it almost everyday, et cetera. but none of that should result in the rapid depletion of my account month after month.

i almost think i should start writing down everything i spend. but im not that neurotic yet.

its times like these i am slightly thankful to live in a male-dominant society. Even though i choose too, it will never be expected of me to fully support a home. that would be a nightmare. i don't know how our fathers did it, they are heroes for providing for us and even bigger heroes for not hating us when they do and when we carelessly spend their money.

sleep tight

as kids, we avoid sleep. as grown ups (or the pseudo grown ups we are) we long for it and cherish its value. personally, i get pissed off when i wake up earlier than necessary on weekends. I love getting sleepy at 9:30 and using it as an excuse to get into bed.

sleep is a recharge. it is a force on your body and mind to shut down. when sleep comes everything else seems trivial, nothing cant wait till tomorrow.

i love those last moments before you drift off, and those first ones when you wake up. It always seems to me that this is when we're at our most transparent. Given the chance, we say whatever we want to whomever we want. Call me childish but that is why i learned to keep my phone and computer away when im falling asleep. the honesty of those moments is just so tempting. i think in terms of everything being so little and unimportant, what does it matter that i tell a little secret before bed? or send a rude message to someone who had pissed me off during the day? it is only after we send stuff like that that leads to "wtf have i done?!" the following morning. Sleep induced messaging is my form of drunk dialing.

the best kind of sleep though is when you don't set an alarm. the kind when you wake up wondering what time it is, and which day it is sometimes. on those rare occasions, stall looking at the time, enjoying my time-ignorant bliss.

inconsideration

Do you ever have people piss you off and push all your wrong buttons, then ask in a chirpy voice, "why are you so angry?" When that happens i physically boil on the inside and feel that im about to explode.

Inconsideration is when people keep shoving crap your way, then they shove some more, unaware or choosing to ignore the loads of crap they've already shoved before. It is when someone asks you to do a million things for them, and you dutifully accept, then ask why it bothers you to do number one million and one.

People make you hard then they wonder what is wrong with you, unaware of their contributions to the heart of stone you are quickly acquiring.

At one point in our lifespan we've got to pay our dues, because we are all due to something or someone in some form. We pay those dues with the dream that once they're paid, we can live not owing anyone anything. i long for that day more than any other day. Girls my age dream of their wedding day, the day they become mothers, et cetera. i dream of two things, when i become a real success at what i want to be, and when i am free of familial, social, and even emotional debt to anyone. I do not want to owe anyone anything.

are you socialist?

I know, i haven't been writing. But my classes are back in session so i should have more thoughts now that my brain is no longer on mid year break.

Speaking of classes, i am learning about myself that i am quick to say stupid things aloud to a room full of graduate students. Then i take in what i just said while everyone just looks at me, not always in a bad way though. My favorite this week was "I'm not an airhead" and it came out sounding lie something a purebred blondie would say.

That's not the one I'm interested in telling you about though. The one I'm interested in telling you about is "Are you socialist or something?"

You see, i am taking this class on the role of government in a market-oriented economy. So naturally, the first day we were discussing what we all think the role of government is and what it should be. Not surprisingly, my outspoken Egyptian public university educated classmates all had the same opinion. The foreigners mostly stayed quiet.

The discussion lured mostly around how the crappy government is doing a crappy job and the crappy business owners are in control and are abusive of the majority of the poor-but-well-intentioned, hardworking, constantly exploited population. And that was the point at which i had my little outburst, telling my classmates i thought they were socialist. When we Egyptians criticize out own government, we tend to forget one very important thing: this government wakes up every single day with 80 million mouths to feed. If that doesn't draw some sympathy even to the most malign of guardians, i don't know what will. I am not defending our government, i am disapprovingly well aware of its corruption. All i am saying is that our constant complaining is not helping. This is a classic case of "if you're not part of the solution you're part of the problem."

We, educated, adults need be doing much more than sitting in some master's class badmouthing for the sake of complaining. I noticed a trend while listening to my classmates: no one gives reasons for why things are they they are, or what is needed to be done by whom to fix them.

At one point we were discussing medicine. One of my opposers threw at me the fact that the aspirin sold at pharmacies isn't as strong as aspirin sold at all other pharmacies over the world. I wanted to yell a him, "Ya think, idiot?!" In a country that still subsidizes terrible quality bread, the guy with a headache wants the bread, not the aspirin. Better and more food, a better transportation system, better curricula at public schools will all make the poor man's headache go away faster than any top-quality aspirin pill will.

What struck me most was that these complainers were raised to oppose and to complain. The tendency to point the finger at the other guy (in this case, the government or the private business owner) was so very strongly inhibited in their reactive mental capacities. It was all like, "this government is crap and it needs to be changed, not only changed but hanged and murdered and burned down because they do a crappy job and i will not help rather i will sit here and order the torture of this evil government then i will laugh as they burn down."

Whether we like it or not, we're all in this together. Personally, i don't like it. I am thankful each and every single day to be educated and to have access to more education and to have the reasoning to realize how i want to give to this country. At least, i will give by not barking at it. I refuse to blame the government fully. I will blame certain aspects of it to a certain extent, but it is not solely its fault that people can't get Panadol.

I am not saying that things are good as they are, things are horrible. But stop complaining you socialists. TRY being responsible for someone else's monthly income first, let alone try to BE the government, responsible for 80 daily food intakes. And when you can do a better job, complain all you want. But as long as you're comfortably sitting in a brand-new campus, being taught by some of the best professionals in the country, put a lid on your complaints.

allergic to winter

I'm allergic to winter, in all that it is and all that it brings

Im physically allergic to winter

I''m allergic to the wind. It makes my eyes hurt i never knew eyes could hurt but thats what wind does to me. It makes my eyes tear up for hours on end. It blows harshly into my long hair. It causes it to get into my eyes and that hurts and stings even more.

The cold gives me a headache. The cold makes my fingers hurt to the point that i can't hold my anything. It puts me in pain to find my keys and start my car. Dialing my phone is exhausting. Keeping the phone in my hand in order to dial is also exhausting. The skin on my hands look like an old lady's no matter how much lotion i use or how many different types and brands of moisturizers i switch between.

And when i get a break from it all i find that my eyes are still stinging and the headache is still there. My lips get chapped and i hate chapped lips because they're ugly. Lip balms and glosses become my permanent carry along and i lose them in different bags and pockets. Coming to work is just sad because it's so windy at work. The air is fresh but the area is cold. Colder than downtown at least.

Im emotionally allergic to winter

Cold nights drain me there's nothing i want to do except sleep and complain. It's sad to stay in every night but that's all i want to do. Then i complain so much that i get sick of my own complaining so i complain some more. i don't see my girls as much during these few cold weeks and that upsets me.

Im mentally allergic to winter

Im more stupid during winter. True. I don't use my brain half as much as i should or as i would normally do. all i can think of is how much i hate this weather and can only daydream of summer to pass the hours. I become so much less productive at work. It really does take me longer to answer certain questions. I find excuses to work at my desk, where there's heat and coffee and comfort even though my job is not a desk job.

I think i have it figured out. I hate winter not because it's bad but because of what it does to me. Im allergic to it so i'll never like it. And i don't have to. Im glad its short i hope it ends right now.

move over, fax

Every generation thinks the one before them was exceptionally slow in the sending and receiving of information. Between our laptops, Blackberries, iPhones and even outdated little Nokias, the world is literally at our fingertips. We Google everything, and personally, i am more thankful for Google with every click on "search." We depend on internet. I would rather have water cut from my home than my precious internet connection. Well maybe not water, but take anything but my internet.

This is coming from the type of work day that is today. So, first, i send an email with an attachment for an order to process, which will be delivered from halfway around the world. I receive and inquiry reply, i respond to the inquiry, and sit back wait for my delivery eight weeks from now. It all takes less than ten minutes. The order is compiled of over three hundred items.

Meanwhile, i receive a phone call, on a landline, transfered through an operator, asking if a fax has been received. It sounds archaic even as i type it. I check that the said fax has been received while promising a call back. I am delivered the actual document in question. It is handwritten. Unprofessionally. In bad handwriting. This order, in comparison to the previous one, will be delivered from less than halfway around Cairo. I conduct the promised call back and am forced to listen to filler phrases for half the call. The whole process takes about half an hour. The order is compiled of twelve items.

I could not help but to notice the huge difference in communication efficiency. The older generation is not kidding when they say we're constantly in a hurry. And that there's no longer time for anything. And every free minute is a minute wasted. Here i am, on a mental break from work, and i cannot sit and do nothing for ten minutes. Instead i choose to pour out my irrelevant pool of thought onto this blog. And this particular pool of thought happens to be pissed off at receiving a handwritten fax, on this day at this point in technological advancement, receiving a handwritten fax.

I recently read Ivanka Trump's book, The Trump Card, in which she refers to the value of a handwritten note. I am not disagreeing with one of my much appreciated role models; a handwritten note is completely different. I would appreciate a neatly handwritten thank you note on personalized stationery. Not a handwritten order processing fax.

It is sad that dependable suppliers in the market i deal with still insist on such communication. But what is sadder is that i don't think they even realize how outdated their methods are. It's like the world is moving on while they were busy not looking up from handwriting the document they are about to fax.

Move over, facsimile. Make room for the email attachment.

biased love

A popular Arabic saying translates roughly into, "I curse my son and hate whoever says Amen." That's exactly how i feel about this chaotically beautiful country.

Living here, it's hard not to complain. It is virtually impossible not to complain. When we try we end up with sentences like "I'm not complaining, but i hate this traffic" or "I'm not complaining but so-and-so service sucks!" or "I'm not complaining, but its taking forever to process my visa." The truth is, we are complaining. And sometimes it's okay to complain, because there i a difference between complaining and whining. But i'll leave that comparison for another post.

Then comes the point where little complaints evolve into angry cursing. The voice of the growing need to get out of this city gets louder and louder. Here's the catch: it is very difficult to accept that kind of anger when it's coming from someone other than yourself. I'll defame Cairo, and complain about it, and curse my way through it's traffic. But when someone else does it, the nationalist in me wakes up. Only then do i feel a thriving love for this place and furious anger at the source of slander.

We are the generation that has never had an incentive to feel the sense of nationalism generations before us experienced. We don't know about war or foreign occupation or even involvement in major political conflict. We have no reason to love. Our particular segment of society takes nothing from this country. When we need schooling we go to international schools. When we need medical attention we seek it abroad. What we wear is seldom made in Egypt. We even outsource entertainment. When was the last time you went to see an Egyptian-produced movie? Better yet, how does the mount of Egyptian entertainment compare to foreign entertainment in our lives? It is a steep ratio and i dare you to claim otherwise.

Our moments of passion show at rare occasions. Like when we watch Essam El Hadary kneel down on the ground in thanks to a game won. Or when we can see the bright, bold colors of our flag dancing out of windows and cars all over the city. Personally, i get the nationalistic rush of blood to the head when others curse Egypt, especially when the cursing is targeted at Cairo.

I love this city with all its pollution, noise, incompetency driven frustrations, traffic, friendliness, warmth, grayness, colorfulness, but mostly for all its soul. I take great pride to have come from a place like this, with its past heritage and its present aura.

Every once in a while Cairo will upset me, so i will get angry with it. And other times it will upset someone else. And in my biased love for this place i cannot take anyone else dissing my Cairo.

the hardest goodbyes

As we grow up we learn to say goodbye. Sometimes it hurts and sometimes we're indifferent. and other times we're kind of glad to be saying it. we say goodbye to people when they die, when they leave, or when we leave. we say goodbye to places wishing some good riddance and praying to come back to others.

I think i can confidently say the hardest goodbyes are those we bid to our dreams.

It hurts so bad when you admit that you can't be what you want to be, just because you can't. It is not something that is possible or ever will be. Its hurt is almost physical and it drains you. It makes you tired when you shouldn't be. It makes you want to sleep and turn off all the lights. It makes you not see the point of so many little things that were so recently entertaining. It makes you dislike yourself and your twisted little brain for ever having those dreams in the first place.

I'm lucky to be an optimistic dreamer, and i know sooner or later i'll live for bigger and better dreams.

but then i'll always be scared of the goodbye. because once you've experienced it you never want to go back. every dream reminds you of the failure of the one before. every time you decide to believe in something, that lost dream is recalled, and you remember why not to believe.

and i know exactly why i don't believe in some things. because they have never failed to let me down. i don't believe in certain dreams because they are such a teaser to my naivety, i lose every single fucking time.

I hate to be sad but i can't help but be just that. i hate to be sad on this blog but i need to blurt things out so i can move on and be happy, because that's the only thing i like to be.

As always, when words fail music is my mouthpiece. Give a listen to Rascal Flatts' Here Comes Goodbye

wake up calls

the only type of a wake up call i like is at a hotel, when they call you so you don't miss your flight. that's it. metaphorical wake up calls i hate.

metaphorical wake up calls make you want to drive your car alone and listen to every meaningful song you've ever applied to your own life. and i've got lots of those, too many for my own emotional well-being.

This morning's song was green day's 21 guns. "Lay down your arms, give up the fight"

I listen and i think to myself, "what fight?" You know how sometimes you think you're part of some huge fight, where everyone involved is struggling for something different. Then the fight ends and you neither win or lose. but it ends when you realize you're the only one left in it. you're the only one still struggling. and you realize that for so long, the struggle has been of the internal kind. a sick internal struggle.

if you're me, you go back to what you are used to. you go back to building walls and having your own little party inside. The walls are safe, they're peaceful inside. There's nothing to disrupt the pursue of your plans. You can work on your career and give it a hundred percent of your focus. when you allow your walls to be broken down and you have to build them back up, the building back up part becomes easier every time. like an automatic garage door. you can literally press a button, or have someone press it for you, and a wall goes up around your mind and your emotion. That is, of course, if you are me. which you are not.

more loving homes

I kept two little pet turtles. When i first got them they were my new toy that i showed around to everyone and beamed while their cuteness was admired. I felt responsible as i cleaned out their water and gave them food and watched them swim around. They were alive and healthy because of what i did to preserve their life life and health.

After days weeks then months of the little caregiver act it started to be a drag. Then it became a hated chore. Then i didn't care much whether they live or die; so then i felt guilty. I started looking for a new home for them and i found one. Today They went to their new home. I hope the new caregivers don't find them as boring, messy, or hassling as i did.

As i sit here without them for the first time in so long, i start to think. and when i think i write.

There are things you can only care for for so long. There is a threshold to our worry, and once you reach that threshold you can worry no longer. you don't want to worry any longer. We grow up and we change and our needs and interests change. We don't always want to care for or expect care from the same things; or the same people.

I don't mean to sound so resigning. Our needs don't end, they change. For better or for worse, our needs are constantly changing. Then they change back or they don't.

Like, i might want those turtles back at some point, or i might not. But if the turtles want me they will always have a home right here.

buying heaven

"forward this message on behalf of the Prophet and recite three verses of the Holy Book and you will be guaranteed a palace in Heaven" with your name written on it in bubble letters, i suppose.

Religious chain messages were first a nuisance, now i think they are downright rude and belittling of religion and the concept of God in whole. We get them every day, and usually they're in three parts: highlight of the "holy" source of the message carried, the message, and a threat/guilt trip insinuation in case you choose not to forward it.

The way i see it, God does not care how many messages you send out, we are not teachers, we do not know our enough about our religion to preach it. We are best fit to try and practice it to its fullest, and in that we are promoting our ideas and beliefs. God does not want us to turn religion or His holy words into a trade. God does not want us to blindly repeat a verse a hundred times, at least not without understanding it.

I highly doubt God works on a points system. It's not give and take in exchange; it can't be. Because if that's the way we'll be judged, i can go commit murder then repeat a verse a thousand times and all will be forgiven?

That is belittling of God, and disrespectful on so many levels.

I refuse to take part in this ultimate sin.