4 days

I am signing off my single status on Friday. I am officially going to be a man's wife in 4 days.
For the past three months all I have done is work my ass off to put a house, honeymoon and wedding together. My hand bag has carried catalogs, magazines, wood samples, fabric samples, knob samples and handle samples, sporadically and sometimes all at the same time. I have made lists of people, items, food, gifts, dates, songs and lists of the lists themselves. I've gone through three notebooks and all the favors i have been offered. My finances have been stretched beyond anything i could ever imagine and any decision is only taken when the excel sheet of my life approves.
I have discovered in these three months that i am undoubtedly a nerd. My budget goes down to the towels and serving plates.
I have also discovered that i like olive green enough to paint a wall in it and furnish alot of my house in it. That i will not get along with my mother in law and that the best i can hope for is her not stopping our getting married before friday, and that brides are actually slaves/maids that wear themselves out completely by the time they get to the wedding date. And that the reason people have honeymoons is to recover from the pre-wedding slavery.

I am getting married on Friday. I do not comprehend it. Amidst this madness i got caught up in the details and forgot that huge fact.

Today while i was driving i realized that i am deciding to stop exploring the options of the world and am deciding to go through the world with this one companion, always.
I have decided that i need not try to search further, i am set.

These are big things to decide. Does one really decide these things consciously?
I think not. One meets someone, likes them, they get to know each other, they get to love each other, the good times outweigh the bad and one grows attached and things unroll smoothly till it is time to move forward. The excitement of the many festivities then overshadows any real thinking, and the rest just happens.
Till one day when you have an hour to yourself for the first time in months on your bachelorette trip while your friends are decorating the house for the big bash, and your wedding is two weeks away, you realize; you are marrying this person.

You realize the responsibility of the decision, and you do one of two things; brush it off as nerves and do not think about it, or actually revisit the idea if this is what you really want.

I want to say i did the latter, but i will not lie straight to your faces.

I brushed it off and put on my hot top and went downstairs to play all these fun violating games and then went dancing all night with my girlfriends and drank so many kinds of alcohol its a wonder i have any recollection of that night at all. I had the most fun ever.

And then i went back home and fought with my fiance for 10 days straight. I think that was my way to try to push him away one final time from the damaged girl that i am. Try to see just how much he can take; i AM marrying him after all.

Two days ago we sat down and had the talk; should we really be doing this? If we have so much to fight about, should we really be getting married when everyone knows that things get worse after marriage?

"If i was still your best friend i would tell you not to go ahead with this, but i am not your best friend anymore, i am the man that loves you and wants to spend his life with you and i am telling you that marrying me is the right thing to do"

I laughed, we laughed. "Leap of faith it is then?" "Yes, leap of faith" he said.

It is idealistic to think that binding yourself to another person raised in a different house with a different family will work out for you. It is idealistic and downright naive. There is so much to fight about. "We do it this way", "but we do it that way!". So so naive.

But i think of our mornings in bed together to come.
I think of us watching a movie on our couch.
I think of coming home after a long day to a warm house and a man that is waiting to take me in his arms.
I think of the trips we are yet to take and the plans we are yet to make.
I think of our terrace with the view.
I think of the little things and i say what the hell? I'll be naive like everyone else and get married.
Eshme3na ana?

Wish me luck, i am getting married in 4 days....

Leap of Love

i leap
out the window, down the steep
you catch, our roles
were assigned from days of old
we play, our parts
we walk the footsteps
and check the marks
the fear, so real
it manifests itself in me
why leap? why go?
why change the few things that we know?
why must? why more?
why take my anchor off its shore?
we love
i know
we leap together because we know
i leap, with you
with my feet feared to the floor
i try, i do
to only think that i love you
the fear, so real
it manifests itself in me

Love II

I love him so much, it hurts
I am about to marry him
I know he loves me
Every day he tells me he loves me
Every day i ask him "how much?"
"As much as the whole world" he says
"As much as the sea is blue"
"As much as you ask me"
"more than you want"
"More than i ever loved or will love anyone"
He always tells me how much
It makes me fall more and more in love
And it hurts
This complete falling
This complete surrendering
This dependency
This feeling that a part of me is missing if i am not touching him
This amount of care and tenderness i feel to one person
Even when love is complete
It still manages to ache somehow
This constant want
This constant want

Trousseau

I've been in the states for a month, hence the disappearing act. I was in Philly for an advanced executive education in Wharton Business School and then i was in NYC buying my getting married gear.
I've always wondered what that was. I'd always hear about girls going abroad to get their "trousseau". I have genuinely truly always wondered what the hell that meant. So for the benefit of all my single friends reading this out there, let me let you in on a little secret, trousseau is french (i think) for guilt free shopping spree.
It does however entail some no brainers:
1. your wedding dress / gear (veil, shoes etc)
2. lingerie (for those of you who only ever do cotton basic like myself and need to take it up a notch)
3. honey moon outfits (the super little cloths that you will wrap around your body when you are thinner than you have ever been as you have been starving yourself to be the thinnest version of you on your big day), i am yet to be the thinnest version of me, but after ten days of ten hour shopping marathons carrying weights (shopping bags), i am not too far behind. The soundest piece of advice anyone will give you is not to get all your clothes in that ridiculous size you will not sustain.
4. nice clothes for all the events to come, as somehow when you embark on getting married and enter into that form of coupledom formal events that require soiree outfits seem to pop out of nowhere weekly
5. your katb kitab outfit and shoes
6. shopping spree! swimsuits, shoes, makeup, pajamas, more clothes, that estee moisturizer you always thought you deserved, a new toilet case (i mean everything else is new why stop there?), that super expensive guerlain blusher that transforms you with one stroke (surely if not now then when?) the designer belt, the CK bag, etc etc
7. Whatever you convince yourself you must buy for the house from the country you are in. In my case this amounted to table cloths, napkins, runners and place mats (you'd think i was going to be spending my life camped under my dining table), a down duvet (yes, i carried it ten blocks and packed it cross Atlantic) and bathroom sets. Oh, and an apron, a pealer and kitchen towels. (i really don't know why i was so obsessed)

Girls, trousseau is fancy for take some money and go spend it at your every whim. I had to save up this money myself so i was a bit more careful, and took the rest out on my credit card and will be paying it off for the year to come. But for once i do not care i am in debt again, it's my trousseau! It is meant to be guilt free.

After 14 ten hour days of simulation, role playing, lectures and extreme business practices, it was a fine break to invade Manhattan in such a way. Should anyone need to know where to buy what of the above from NYC, i am an email away, do not let all this research go to waste!

May you all be well and happy and look forward to that shopping spree.

Soft

I see his faults.
I see them as clearly as i see the sun or the stars.
I see them and see how i could let them turn our life into a living hell.
I see his stubbornness, his over sensitivity, his insecurities.
I see them, so very clearly i see them.
I remember a very far away time, when i was blinded of faults by love.
Where i could have sworn that every inch was perfect, every trait endearing.
Where i had no need to change a thing.
So long gone are those days of innocence, of blinding passion, of naivety.
I never thought i would be this me of today.
Where i see his faults, like the sun in the sky, and at the same time see my smile in his eyes.
I am always smiling, i am always loved, it is always gentle.
It is so very soft, this thing we have.
We can talk, and we can laugh, and we can argue, and we can get angry, and we can hurt and get hurt, but it is at the end the softness that always wins.
I see his faults, and i see the choice to let them ruin us or let the softness smooth it all out.
Growing up has it's virtues, you get the chance to choose happiness.

4:00am terrors

I didn't know what that meant. I thought i did, but i didn't, not really.
I go to bed tired, having spread myself too thin across the various areas of my life that demand my full attention.
I go to bed exhausted from the decisions, responsibilities and the commute.
I go to bed to face the only time in the day when i am truly alone.
The weight on my chest fills into its full heaviness.
The pain in my shoulders from all the clenching becomes prominent.
The muscles of my face are tense from all the frowning.
I am alone with my thoughts.
I try to trick my mind into going elsewhere.
I am too tired to even do that, so i just close my eyes and hope for sleep.
And i start to feel the fear.
I feel it starting in the pit of my stomach and flowing slowly and steadily outwards stretching into every part of my body till it is all consuming and overtaking.
I am aware of the flow of my fear through my soul, and it scares me.
Fear itself scares me, i know what is coming.
I feel my nose tinkle with the warning of tears that need to be let out.
I will not cry. There will be no cracking of the dam.
I bite it back and will myself to sleep.
Out of sheer misery i sleep.
It is somewhere between 1 and 2am.
I dream, i dream that i am sick.
I dream that i will die.
I dream that worse things happen than what is actually happening.
I wake up traumatized and tired.
It is 4:00am.
I have had one hours sleep and nightmares that would grey the hairs of some.
I look forward to an hour of terror.
Where i contemplate getting up to sleep next to her to ease the pain.
Where i will try to comfort myself that it was just a dream, and remember reality, and remember that it is not that much better than the dream.
I start feeling that my heart might stop.
That i might not get through the night.
I wonder if dying would a solution.
I remind myself that i am happy by day, and that this is not rational.
I yearn for the day where i am not so afraid.
I wonder how i will get through the next few hours to sunlight, to safety.
It's 5:00am.
I know that sunlight is near.
I calm down enough to sleep.
I sleep.
I snooze the alarm 4 times and drag myself out of bed an hour late.
I have slept 4 hours in total, for the tenth day in a row.
Except for the weekends. I can sleep in on the weekends.
But it's ok, it's daytime, and i am good at the day time.
I can get through the day where my daily duties distract me from the pain.
I consider taking a valium at night before i sleep.
I discard that thought, as i discard the thought of therapy and many other thoughts.
If only i could get through the nights.
If only i could get through the nights.

First Times

At night in bed after he left my place and went back home, after i spent the weekend at the beach with my friends without him. I reach for my phone and start typing a text message...

"awel marra to3od 7adenny keteer kedda in silence..."

"i just wanted to enjoy taking you in my arms..."

"you've never done that before"

"yes i have"

"when?"

"i can't remember habibi"

"it felt like the first time"

"that's because you miss me"

"i do"

"i miss you too love"

And then i went back in my memory to the many many times he held me for long intervals in silence. Can it really still feel like the first time?

It amazes me this falling in love with same person every once in a while, its like little leaps of emotion within the same emotion. I never thought it possible.

Dreams

I dreamt of you last night. It was in an apartment crowded with people. My long since dead friend was sitting with my friends on a couch at the end of the room telling them stories of where she'd been and i was desperate to cross the room to her. But i couldn't, then i could, then i was back in my spot standing in the middle of the room. The ex i never loved was on my right making noise, calling out for attention, and i felt that same wave of annoyance of wanting him to just disappear. And then you called me, out of nowhere, and asked me how i was. I was civil, as i always am when abusive ex's call me. I was trying to tell you that now was not a good time to talk, i was thinking about crossing the room to my dead friend to finally get to see her, hear her, feel her presence, when you asked me to look to my left. Then i saw you, you were thin, and you were playing poker on the table with my fiance. He didn't seem to recognize you, or didn't realize that you were you, he just played the cards he was dealt, not bothered. Our eyes locked, and you were smiling. That over confident cocky warm affection smile. That smile that is so seemingly sincere and genuine, and i felt tricked all over again, and somewhat nauseous, how could i possibly get confused again about your intentions after all this time? And then i was on the couch next to her, and her voice was her voice, her very voice. And then i woke up.

And as i type this my itunes played on shuffle plays this song:

save a place for me
save a place for me
in your heart
in your heart
save a place for me
save a space for me
in your heart
in your heart
cause if you wait, i will come for you
if you wait, i will come for you
if you wait, i will come for you
if you wait
if you wait
if you wait
if you wait, i will come for you
if you wait, i will come for you
if you wait, i will come for you
if you wait
if you wait
if you wait
save a place for me
save a space for me

The song i listened to over and over and over again when she died.
If only i believed in coincidences.

And the first thing i remembered from my dream was that you were thin. My fiance seems to think that is because i believe you just want to spite me.
He also thinks i need to see a shrink.

CRYSTAL BALL

I sit in the vintage orange colored tent; the noise from the carnival fades into a background to the ethnic music this woman plays. I wonder how I got here. How did my feet walk into this tent? To the home of a gypsy with incense burners and crystal balls, with long strands of hair and tie-dye scarves, how did my reason lead me to here?

I sit out of place, I sit uncomfortable in my own skin, I sit and I watch this gypsy woman take the chair across from me and look me straight in the eye.

“You’ve come a long way” I watch her say, “you’ve come with much silence, and hunger in your soul”, “give me your hand girl, give me your hand”.

I extend my hand and expectantly turn my palm to her, she turns my hand over and reaches for my other hand as well, and I watch her close her eyes as she asks me to close mine. “Shush your noises and free your heart, let me feel what it is that took you away from your home and brought you here”.

I do as I’m told, in the most unlikely obedience I hold the woman’s hands and close my eyes. I block out the noises, I silence the contradicting voices that live in my head, I unblock the passage of all the feelings from my heart to my blood. My shoulders lose strain, my spine releases bottled up pain as I stop my minds control over me and hear myself breathe.

She opens her eyes and asks for my palm, she takes a few minutes to confirm what it seems she felt through my pulse, I watch her eyes rise up from the lines of my grip to meet mine.

“You have been far from home my girl, what is it with water that makes you yearn so?”

Expressionless I look at her and wait for her to go off mark and lose her guessing ground.

“Since you are here with a mistrustful heart, but here nonetheless, I will tell you what there is to know”. “I will tell you why you come here; I will tell you what questions you need to ask your soul”.

“Your home is neither here nor there, you are one with the people whose home is in their hearts”, “your life has had much sea and sun and too many farewells for your years”. “You change with the wind, you live inside your bones, you build yourself every day, and your heart is lost at water”.

To this she sees my eyes light up.

“Yes my girl, you feel like the fire and act like the steel, your soul is a battle field between your thoughts and your desires, you are always happy and always tired, you are so very alive and so very quiet, and your heart is lost at water”.

“Which of these two men do you love?”

I look at her pensively; “What men do you mean? There are no men in my days, there was only one, he is now far away and lost to me”.

“Sweet girl, why do you come to my tent then tell me lies? In these past moons, and past season’s whole turns you met two men by the sea”. “One of them loved you the moment he saw you, and the other one played you till he loved you too”.

“Gypsy woman, I tell you, there was one man and many, and the many meant nothing for more than days each time. There was only one man, we met by the sea, he loved and unloved, and loved me once more, and I tell you gypsy woman, he is now far away with only the winds guiding his way”.

“Why are you youth so blind in the heart?”, “I tell you again, and listen to me, the first man you met melted when you smiled, the first man you met travelled for you, the first man you met wanted homes and fireplaces, the first man you met held your hand through the rough, how can you not know this man from the other?”

I answer the crazy woman in confusion; “The man that I had, was sometimes like that, but who is this other? My soul hasn’t moved for anyone else in such a long time…”

“Sweet girl, I will help you”, “the other man you met is a smiling sunny man though he is sometimes dark, he lives out of a bag, and is always on his feet, he rushes you often, and plays with you often, and had your heart not been more free, he would have hurt you more often”.

“He comes and he goes, and when he goes he loses touch with what he loves when in your arms”, “but you are no fool, you know he always comes back to you”. “You wait for him without waiting; you welcome him back with a smile without asking, you care for his happiness more than he knows”. “You didn’t know this man loved you just as much as the other who made you coffee every morning did”.

“Now do you know the men in your life?”, “Now tell me my child, which of these men kept your heart with him at sea?”, “which of these men do you miss when you laugh? Which of these men would you have if he asked? Which of these men would give you a life you’d build another you for?”

“Which of these men is missed by the soul?”

I watch her watch me frown, I watch her watch me ache, I watch her watch me understand every word she had to say. I watch her wait for me to say anything at all since I walked into her world.

“These two men are one and the same.”

I watch her go quiet; I watch her sympathy as she understands why she finds me in her tent today.

“My girl, your heart soars and your mind needs the earth, my child your soul misses but your reason won’t let you weaken, daughter of this universe you are strong in the now, you must also be strong with the unknown tomorrows.”

“Which of these men do you want to come for you?”

I exhale my sigh, I look at her with despair, I talk to her with conviction; “Gypsy woman, I want them both. Gypsy woman I know them both and I’ve lived with them both. I’ve held one’s hand and packed the others bags, I’ve taken one’s flowers and planned the others trips, I’ve seen the home of both. Gypsy woman, I love them both.”

She looks me at, and she is the only one who looks at me with understanding, looks at me like I am sane, looks at me like I know what it is this worlds about. She understands me better than I understand myself; “but you love yourself as well.”

And she watches my tears of conflict stream down my face; “Yes Gypsy woman, I love myself as well”.

She picks up my palm, looking for the answers, she looks at my hands lines, looking for a premonition of what will become of me, she spends minutes or hours lost in her thoughts of my path and my knots.

“My girl, I can’t see.”

I look at her in despair; “What are you telling me?”

“In your years you have learnt more than your day’s worth, in his years he has seen plenty more than he should. With players so aware of life and your own choice, what can a woman in an orange tent say? The two of you are of the people whose palm changes every day. You make your lines, you make yourselves, you make your tomorrows, to people like you I have nothing to say.”

“Oh girl, why does the water overpower you so?”

I take back my hand, I pick up my bag, I remove myself from that chair and prepare to leave.

“What will you do girl? What will you do?”

“I’ll live gypsy woman, I’ve already done all that I can”

“And what about the part of you that stays with him at water?”

“It shall stay with him at water, for as long as he may need”

“You give a part of you away and sacrifice life for love?”

“Wise woman, the day I shared it is the day it stopped being mine. I will live well dear woman; life and love never were separate for me.”

“And you’ll love yourself well?”

“Yes gypsy woman, I’ll love us all well, I know no other way.”

“Go my girl, you shall never find yourself in harm, for you have understood the mystery of this world.”

And with unlined hands, I walk out of the orange tent back into the world.

The Blade

Living with the knowledge that someone you love has cancer is like living with a sharp blade pressed against your throat.
You live with the unsettling feeling of cold steel constantly pressed against your skin
You live with the pain of the knife scraping the outer layers of your skin carving out what is, for now, a shallow wound
You do not move too abruptly, you do not breathe too deeply, you do not think too much, lest the knife slip and cut you
You live with the fear that the blade will at any given second cut through your throat and maim you
You live wondering just how much it will hurt when that knife finally cuts through

Living with someone you love who has cancer is like living the few moments before watching someone get shot, over and over and over....

It is entirely and consistently devastating.

2009

For 2009 i resolve to:

1. Accept my best friends choice of significant others
2. Spend smart. No more 20$ Starbucks coffees, 10 coffees = 1 potential coffee table
   
3. Have more fun at work
4. Be more adventurous with colors (orange kitchen?)
5. Not fall into the conventional marriage procedures/ceremonies (i WILL get married barefoot on the beach!)
6. Wear my hair completely down when curly, at least once!