Every day my friend at work comes to me with a new reason why she thinks she is fasting, one day it is detoxing the body, the other day it is unburdening the soul, the latest one was self discipline. N, i found it, it's to be taught self discipline!
N: um.. why do you think we need to be taught discipline to begin with?
Silence..
And it goes on and on.
My other friend asked me before Ramadan: will you fast N?
N: Yes i think so, haven't given it much thought, you?
M: I will i guess, but i doubt i will next year.
When i fasted in France my friends looked at me like i was an enigma, sitting with them over dinner having not eaten all day and turning down wine every day for 30 days.
But you're so cool otherwise, how does this make sense to you?
The bf had me on the phone the other day: are you fasting?
N: Yup
Bf (disgruntled): how could people assume that starving themselves all day is something that would make God happy?
I watch the people around me full of contradictions:
some pray but also drink and have sex
some fast and don't pray and drink but wont have sex
some do drugs and bash alcohol
some drink and bash drugs
most of them are on the fence, clinging to the notion of a god in case heaven and hell really were out there awaiting us, or are on the fence still and have some unanswered questions but the idea of god pisses them off, so they take no clear stand.
I had a three hour long conversation with one of my close friends about religion, not God, religion. At the end of which she concluded: so you don't believe in God at all?
I was puzzled, that's not true at all i replied, why does everyone jump to that conclusion?
If i have reservations about religion, i am rendered blasphemous
If i believe in God i am rendered backwards and brainwashed
why does everyone care so much to box?
I am a very simple girl when it comes to my belief in the existence of God.
I believe we are all made of the same thing, we are all essentially good, we shall keep living over and over again through different lives and planes. We are not going anywhere, we are already there, time is like a row of leaves, all happens at the same time, there is free will, and the free will coincides with the free will of the universe, the collective free will.
Hell can be your bad day or mine, hell could be the next life of a rapist having come back as a snail. But no on is to tell me that we were born with instinct that would lead us to rot in hell forever, or that i am to go through life with any notion that i need to be disciplined. The only discipline i need is to make myself stay positive, to prolong my heaven, to enjoy my life.
I have met many great people in my life.
One of the greatest people i met was a gardener in France, she was the kindest and strongest of women, after many months of a lovely friendship, she asked me, so you believe in God?
I said, yes, after alot of thinking i have decided that i do, you?
S: No i don't, i believe in me.
I looked at her admirably, and i told her that for me, that was the same as believing in God.
S: So you don't judge me?
N: Hell no, good on you.
That girl is one of the best people i know.
I have other great people in my life, some of them meditate, some of them believe in Islam and that they are sinners and will calm down one day. Some of them can't be bothered to think about it so pass on making the statement, and some of them are so turned off religion they've renounced the whole notion of it. Others completely and whole heartedly don't believe there is anything more to life than this.
They are all good people, they feed the poor, they try to make people smile, they don't take what is not rightfully theirs and they all earn their living and take care of their friends and family.
What more could you ask for in a person? What more could you want? At the end of the day they all live, we all live, and that is what we were all meant to do, just be.
Whatever your beliefs or actions are, do you think they affect God one way or the other?
You are what you make of yourself, only you lose or gain from how you think or what you do.
I don't know why people think God has anything to do with it at all.
And finally, if it all doesn't matter why do i believe in God? If there are no punishments or rewards, no endings and no beginnings? How is my faith in God so absolute?
Because my faith in God is for me.
It gives me a sense of belonging, a friend at all times, the comfort that i am understood no matter how crazy i am, it makes me feel like i am a part of something.
It's a selfish feeling, i do it for me not him/her/it.
This belief makes me strengthen myself, not expect him to bless me with strength.
This belief makes me able to go on when it's tough, not expect him to make it easy.
This belief makes me feel that no matter how lonely i get, I'm not alone.
Maybe there are people out there who don't need this, who are absolutely happy without this, there is nothing wrong with that, our fingers are not the same, and we would be foolish to want them to be.
So yogi's, Buddhists, Muslims, Jews, Christians, meditators, atheists and agnostics, and all those other people out there, you are all right if you are all happy, fret not, fight not.
I would celebrate with all of you if i were in your culture or with one of you, i'd light candles and chant mantras, i'd eat turkey and wrap Christmas gifts, it's all about sharing love and wanting good things, that's all we have to have in common.
And that is why i fast.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Raw
One day when i was six, i got off the bus and walked the two blocks from where the bus dropped me off to my then home. I went up the two flights, and took a right to where our apartment was, i found the door open.
I walked into our apartment and found random people dressed in black sitting everywhere, there were chairs laid out where there usually weren't any chairs, all there was were chairs and women dressed in black. I recognized one as a friend of my grandmother, she nodded at me and gave me a faint smile. Confused i walked into my mother's room, the one she shared with my grandmother, and i found them both sitting on the floor with their back to the closet.
They were both in black as well, and my mother had both her hands on her head. Our eyes met, she looked at my sister who was also in the room, and motioned for her to take me into the balcony.
I went into the balcony with my sister, who told me in so many words that our father had died. She repeated this several times, and asked me if i understood, i nodded affirmatively, she hugged me, i think i hugged her back and we went back into the room.
My sister nods at my mother, i see my mother again on the floor with her hands on her head. She is not crying, i note that, and that is all i remember from that scene.
Next scene i remember my mother is taking me and my sister to her aunt's house, she leaves us there for what feels like a month or so, i remember skipping school for the while. I remember that the whole experience was weird and surreal. I don't remember crying or feeling any sadness of loss. The only disturbing thought is the image in my head of my mother on the floor, so very unlike her, looking as what i now understand as to be broken.
Everyone was overtly nice to me, and i didn't really get it. At the age of twelve i then realize that from the day that happened i was completely convinced that my father was pulling a stunt. He was living abroad at the time and he was close to moving back home, so to make his coming home extra special he pretended to have died, so that we would be really really surprised when he came back.
Aren't children's minds scary?
From age six to twelve there was to be no mention of my father in the house. I tried once, but everyone broke down and started crying, i decided against getting information from there on, it set the house on fire, so i went without.
Every year we would go visit where he is buried, somewhere in upper Egypt where the rest of his family still resides. At twelve i asked if i could go along as well, surprisingly my mom agreed, and i remember going with them to the family house, then leaving by car, taking a boat across a lake or river to a cemetery.
His tombstone was huge, and i remember being confused about that, wasn't it supposed to be on the level of the earth and humble?
I recited what i knew was appropriate, watched my mother horribly solemn, and waited for them to be ready to go.
I remember that on the boat ride back i felt the need to make things lighter, so i started telling my sister jokes. My sister and i were still friends back then. I knew this would lighten my mothers heart, and i saw her look at us from across the boat with a smile in her eyes.
That was the year i decided to admit to myself that my father had died. Ironically, we never went to visit him again, my mother couldn't do it anymore.
I still didn't cry, i felt no self pity for having lost a father at any point. I had too much pride and developed an allergy to sympathy, whenever someone would ask about him i would say he passed away, i would get the painful twisted face, and i would immediately say, hey no worries, that was ages ago! And i meant it.
I always had so much going for me, i was smart, got good grades easily, loved sports, was popular at school, always had great friends, and life went on. I never grieved the loss, i didn't feel the need to.
Then on my 19th birthday, my best friend of 15 years died in a car crash.
There is no describing how badly i took that, I remember having no grip and dropping things, i remember having no control over my tear glands for several months. I was a happy 18 year old whose only concern was partying on the weekend and saving up for trips with my friends, then came this, it was a blow to my priorities, to my perception of life.
That time, the few weeks and months after the car crash, was the first time my mother talked to me about my father. I learnt how he died, what he was like, what similarities i had to him, how wonderful he was, etc etc..
I was introduced to the man at 19, and i suddenly began to miss him.
I mourned my friend for two years, i am later told it was my mourning of both my father and her, i suppose that makes sense on paper, but the feeling of mourning was so claustrophobic that i just wanted it done with. I continued to miss my father, and i somehow wanted him back, it was not conscious, it was not rational, it was a gap in my heart that i was suddenly monstrously aware of, and there was no shushing it. It would not go away.
And as cliched as our lives usually are, i went from being a straight arrow goody two shoes responsible girl, who had only had one boyfriend who was her childhood sweetheart, to the girl who wanted to try anything and everything, to a hunger struck soul striving to devour all that was possibly out there.
I had several relationships, i broke men's hearts and got my heart broken, i took emotions to extremities, i was looking for an unconditional love that i wouldn't want to push away, i was looking for the love of a man that was so complete, it would fill the gap.
At 24, i began to understand the magnitude of self destruction i was doing.
I began to see that i had everything in my life under complete control at will, i began to understand that i was unbelievably strong in every way, except in my relationships with men.
I packed up and moved to France, i tore myself away from my mother and my then insane relationship, and i spent eight months walking the streets of the south of France, drinking coffee, writing and making my apartment into a home. I learned how to cook, how to clean, how to wash my clothes, how to pay my bills, how to save up money and how to be alone. I rejected all advances made by men, when my ex came to find me i drove to Italy, i realized again all that was great about me, all the things i knew how to do, i started traveling, and i finally accepted that no man or thing could fill the gap a father left. I understood that i had to love myself enough for me and him, and i recognized the power of being independent, of not needing external love.
The dark ages were ending, i was finally dealing with the loss of a father, 18 years later.
I've been in love and out and in again since then, i slip and struggle often with my relationship with men, but i find my peace with it through two things:
1. I know in my heart that i don't want anyone to fill that gap anymore
2. I know this is my baggage, its a part of me, and whoever loves me will love all of me, with gaps and holes and luggage and wounds.
Such is life. We all go through traumas, we all carry scars, we all have mutilated characters as a consequence, we all have our own reasons for aggression, distance and self defenses.
I pride myself on at least being able to see my faults and distortions, and apologize for them when they take over me.
This post is probably about a year over due. I've dreaded writing it, but now that i have i know that i always had to. Contrary to funny, sexy, amusing blogs, mine has always served first and foremost as my outlet.
I walked into our apartment and found random people dressed in black sitting everywhere, there were chairs laid out where there usually weren't any chairs, all there was were chairs and women dressed in black. I recognized one as a friend of my grandmother, she nodded at me and gave me a faint smile. Confused i walked into my mother's room, the one she shared with my grandmother, and i found them both sitting on the floor with their back to the closet.
They were both in black as well, and my mother had both her hands on her head. Our eyes met, she looked at my sister who was also in the room, and motioned for her to take me into the balcony.
I went into the balcony with my sister, who told me in so many words that our father had died. She repeated this several times, and asked me if i understood, i nodded affirmatively, she hugged me, i think i hugged her back and we went back into the room.
My sister nods at my mother, i see my mother again on the floor with her hands on her head. She is not crying, i note that, and that is all i remember from that scene.
Next scene i remember my mother is taking me and my sister to her aunt's house, she leaves us there for what feels like a month or so, i remember skipping school for the while. I remember that the whole experience was weird and surreal. I don't remember crying or feeling any sadness of loss. The only disturbing thought is the image in my head of my mother on the floor, so very unlike her, looking as what i now understand as to be broken.
Everyone was overtly nice to me, and i didn't really get it. At the age of twelve i then realize that from the day that happened i was completely convinced that my father was pulling a stunt. He was living abroad at the time and he was close to moving back home, so to make his coming home extra special he pretended to have died, so that we would be really really surprised when he came back.
Aren't children's minds scary?
From age six to twelve there was to be no mention of my father in the house. I tried once, but everyone broke down and started crying, i decided against getting information from there on, it set the house on fire, so i went without.
Every year we would go visit where he is buried, somewhere in upper Egypt where the rest of his family still resides. At twelve i asked if i could go along as well, surprisingly my mom agreed, and i remember going with them to the family house, then leaving by car, taking a boat across a lake or river to a cemetery.
His tombstone was huge, and i remember being confused about that, wasn't it supposed to be on the level of the earth and humble?
I recited what i knew was appropriate, watched my mother horribly solemn, and waited for them to be ready to go.
I remember that on the boat ride back i felt the need to make things lighter, so i started telling my sister jokes. My sister and i were still friends back then. I knew this would lighten my mothers heart, and i saw her look at us from across the boat with a smile in her eyes.
That was the year i decided to admit to myself that my father had died. Ironically, we never went to visit him again, my mother couldn't do it anymore.
I still didn't cry, i felt no self pity for having lost a father at any point. I had too much pride and developed an allergy to sympathy, whenever someone would ask about him i would say he passed away, i would get the painful twisted face, and i would immediately say, hey no worries, that was ages ago! And i meant it.
I always had so much going for me, i was smart, got good grades easily, loved sports, was popular at school, always had great friends, and life went on. I never grieved the loss, i didn't feel the need to.
Then on my 19th birthday, my best friend of 15 years died in a car crash.
There is no describing how badly i took that, I remember having no grip and dropping things, i remember having no control over my tear glands for several months. I was a happy 18 year old whose only concern was partying on the weekend and saving up for trips with my friends, then came this, it was a blow to my priorities, to my perception of life.
That time, the few weeks and months after the car crash, was the first time my mother talked to me about my father. I learnt how he died, what he was like, what similarities i had to him, how wonderful he was, etc etc..
I was introduced to the man at 19, and i suddenly began to miss him.
I mourned my friend for two years, i am later told it was my mourning of both my father and her, i suppose that makes sense on paper, but the feeling of mourning was so claustrophobic that i just wanted it done with. I continued to miss my father, and i somehow wanted him back, it was not conscious, it was not rational, it was a gap in my heart that i was suddenly monstrously aware of, and there was no shushing it. It would not go away.
And as cliched as our lives usually are, i went from being a straight arrow goody two shoes responsible girl, who had only had one boyfriend who was her childhood sweetheart, to the girl who wanted to try anything and everything, to a hunger struck soul striving to devour all that was possibly out there.
I had several relationships, i broke men's hearts and got my heart broken, i took emotions to extremities, i was looking for an unconditional love that i wouldn't want to push away, i was looking for the love of a man that was so complete, it would fill the gap.
At 24, i began to understand the magnitude of self destruction i was doing.
I began to see that i had everything in my life under complete control at will, i began to understand that i was unbelievably strong in every way, except in my relationships with men.
I packed up and moved to France, i tore myself away from my mother and my then insane relationship, and i spent eight months walking the streets of the south of France, drinking coffee, writing and making my apartment into a home. I learned how to cook, how to clean, how to wash my clothes, how to pay my bills, how to save up money and how to be alone. I rejected all advances made by men, when my ex came to find me i drove to Italy, i realized again all that was great about me, all the things i knew how to do, i started traveling, and i finally accepted that no man or thing could fill the gap a father left. I understood that i had to love myself enough for me and him, and i recognized the power of being independent, of not needing external love.
The dark ages were ending, i was finally dealing with the loss of a father, 18 years later.
I've been in love and out and in again since then, i slip and struggle often with my relationship with men, but i find my peace with it through two things:
1. I know in my heart that i don't want anyone to fill that gap anymore
2. I know this is my baggage, its a part of me, and whoever loves me will love all of me, with gaps and holes and luggage and wounds.
Such is life. We all go through traumas, we all carry scars, we all have mutilated characters as a consequence, we all have our own reasons for aggression, distance and self defenses.
I pride myself on at least being able to see my faults and distortions, and apologize for them when they take over me.
This post is probably about a year over due. I've dreaded writing it, but now that i have i know that i always had to. Contrary to funny, sexy, amusing blogs, mine has always served first and foremost as my outlet.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Things I Love....
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Temptation
This is the nth time i consider posting job vacancies on this blog and decide against it.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Beliefs
I believe in the one God. The force, nature, the universe, the soul of the world, the source, I believe in the one God, and i don't care what you call him/her/it. I believe in the one God, in you, in me, in the drops that make the ocean, parts of one and all the same. The beginning and the end and all that's in between, the abstract, the all, the light and absence thereof.
I believe in the one God.
I follow my own religion, i mix and match all of yours and pick the ideas that feel right for me. Most of you will call me faithless, but i live with no guilt, no shame, no regret and am subject to no vengeance. I am fair and comfortable, i am my own persecutor, the consequences of my actions are my heaven and hell. I talk to God, we have good conversations, i am happy in my own skin and very comfortable with my ignorance and confusions. I am honest with myself. I believe that God is home.
I believe that the truth always comes out. Always. That's why i stopped lying, there's just no point, it's wasted effort, the truth always comes out. The only person i lie to now is my mother, i lie because i love her, and because i love myself, i lie to protect her, and i do it with love. I would have no fear for myself if she found out my lies, my only fears are for her happiness. I lie to her with no guilt.
I believe that good prevails. Eventually, maybe in a very very long time, maybe in another life, but i believe that good will win over evil.
I am right there in the middle, i was a capitalist, then a socialist, now i am right there in the middle. I believe in equal opportunity and everyones' right to medical care and education. I also believe that if you don't get off your ass and grab your life, you only have yourself to blame.
I am very big on compassion, very stingy with sympathy, i believe one bonds people and the other wrecks them.
I believe in education. If there's anything that would save the world it's teaching people how to think - for themselves that is-.
I believe that love makes the world go round. Not money, not contacts, Love. Love makes the world go round.
I believe in trust, there is no freedom without trust, there is no absolute without trust, there are no dreams without trust, there is no hope without trust. I spend most of my day battling my skepticism and trying to find a way back to trust. If there was one thing i didn't want to lose it's my natural inclination to trust.
I am addicted to travel, i believe that travel gives you perspective, gives you self knowledge, gives you confidence, gives you individuality. I am an addict of travel and change.
I believe the body gets ill when the soul gets tired.
I believe in families and children, and having a lot of people around you that love you enough to scream in your face.
I believe in monogamy, sometimes i thought i didn't, but i believe in monogamy. I believe that intimacy is precious and touching anothers' skin is sacred. I believe in monogamy of the body, mind and soul. I believe in only one person sharing my plate and bed.
I believe in freedom. To each his own every day and any day, i am intolerant to intolerance, the worst thing you can be according to me is judgmental. Whatever makes you happy as long as you don't inflict it on me. I am a true believer of freedom.
I believe in the one God. The force, nature, the universe, the soul of the world, the source, I believe in the one God, and i don't care what you call him/her/it. I believe in the one God, in you, in me, in the drops that make the ocean, parts of one and all the same. The beginning and the end and all that's in between, the abstract, the all, the light and absence thereof.
I believe in the one God.
I believe in the one God.
I follow my own religion, i mix and match all of yours and pick the ideas that feel right for me. Most of you will call me faithless, but i live with no guilt, no shame, no regret and am subject to no vengeance. I am fair and comfortable, i am my own persecutor, the consequences of my actions are my heaven and hell. I talk to God, we have good conversations, i am happy in my own skin and very comfortable with my ignorance and confusions. I am honest with myself. I believe that God is home.
I believe that the truth always comes out. Always. That's why i stopped lying, there's just no point, it's wasted effort, the truth always comes out. The only person i lie to now is my mother, i lie because i love her, and because i love myself, i lie to protect her, and i do it with love. I would have no fear for myself if she found out my lies, my only fears are for her happiness. I lie to her with no guilt.
I believe that good prevails. Eventually, maybe in a very very long time, maybe in another life, but i believe that good will win over evil.
I am right there in the middle, i was a capitalist, then a socialist, now i am right there in the middle. I believe in equal opportunity and everyones' right to medical care and education. I also believe that if you don't get off your ass and grab your life, you only have yourself to blame.
I am very big on compassion, very stingy with sympathy, i believe one bonds people and the other wrecks them.
I believe in education. If there's anything that would save the world it's teaching people how to think - for themselves that is-.
I believe that love makes the world go round. Not money, not contacts, Love. Love makes the world go round.
I believe in trust, there is no freedom without trust, there is no absolute without trust, there are no dreams without trust, there is no hope without trust. I spend most of my day battling my skepticism and trying to find a way back to trust. If there was one thing i didn't want to lose it's my natural inclination to trust.
I am addicted to travel, i believe that travel gives you perspective, gives you self knowledge, gives you confidence, gives you individuality. I am an addict of travel and change.
I believe the body gets ill when the soul gets tired.
I believe in families and children, and having a lot of people around you that love you enough to scream in your face.
I believe in monogamy, sometimes i thought i didn't, but i believe in monogamy. I believe that intimacy is precious and touching anothers' skin is sacred. I believe in monogamy of the body, mind and soul. I believe in only one person sharing my plate and bed.
I believe in freedom. To each his own every day and any day, i am intolerant to intolerance, the worst thing you can be according to me is judgmental. Whatever makes you happy as long as you don't inflict it on me. I am a true believer of freedom.
I believe in the one God. The force, nature, the universe, the soul of the world, the source, I believe in the one God, and i don't care what you call him/her/it. I believe in the one God, in you, in me, in the drops that make the ocean, parts of one and all the same. The beginning and the end and all that's in between, the abstract, the all, the light and absence thereof.
I believe in the one God.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
I'm So Screwed!
You Are 4: The Individualist
 You are sensitive and intuitive, with others and yourself. You are creative and dreamy... plus dramatic and unpredictable. You're emotionally honest, real, and easily hurt. Totally expressive, others always know exactly how you feel. At Your Best: You are inspired, artistic, and introspective. You know what you're thinking, and you can communicate it well. At Your Worst: You are melancholy, alienated, and withdrawn. Your Fixation: Envy Your Primary Fear: To have no identity Your Primary Desire: To find yourself Other Number 4's: Alanis Morisette, Johnny Depp, J.D. Salinger, Jim Morrison, and Anne Rice. |
What Number Are You?
Johnny Depp, Alanis and Anne Rice... Can it get any darker???
I protest on the envy part though, where did that come from?
I protest on the envy part though, where did that come from?
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Drunken Blogging
Well of course there have been worse weeks, but this one was quite bad. If there's one thing that gets the better of me it's someone telling me i am wrong when i am right. I'm a child that way. So my chest pains are back, and i had to sit through two doctors telling me that i am imagining the pain and there is nothing wrong with me. It's partly my fault.. I wake up, go to work, hold my meetings, go about my day, walk in to the doctors cabinet, wait, get admitted, tell him my symptoms with a clear straight face, i am factual, i don't whine or scream or hold my chest in agony. So when the x-rays and such come out normal how is he to know that every time i breathe i feel like a piece of glass is cutting through my chest? How is he to know that i need to pause and break between sentences to get my bearings and stop panting? How is he to know that i need to sit down after the effort exerted brushing my hair? If i just say i am in pain and act and talk completely fine, really, how is he to believe me when i say the echo's are wrong?
Then i went to the best doctor in Cairo, and he sat me down, and listened to me, actually listened to me, and after an hour told me that even though everything looks fine, my pains were back because i was sick again. And that was all i needed, someone to tell me i had a right to feel sick, and to give me something for the pain to go away, and things were beginning to look up.
Then a man waved a gun in my face. My first encounter with a gun in real life, in my office. And i saw just how crazy people can get, how logic is not mandatory, how some people really have no sense of right or wrong, how corroded and vain some minds are, how power drunk they get. A gun in my office, the second he took it out of the grip i lost all sense of anything else, i didn't hear the swear words being shouted over my head, i don't know who came out of the office or went in, all i saw was the gun, my eyes completely fixated on it's every movement willing it back into it's grip. Then i spent four hours in the police station, three of which i spent giggling with my friend in a completely out of context way, maybe that was the shock of it.
And then that blew over, and the panic subsided, and i went back to work where everyone had started joking about the gun in the factory incident, and then a girl i had coached and helped get promoted came in and gave me a present, a little silver pendant with my name written in arabic and a flower on top. She hugged me for my belated birthday and made my day sweet again. She had made it herself, she made my heart melt.
It's a good job where you can contain a gun situation and get such a nice present all in one day...
But then the shock wouldn't wear off, so i had to get a drink, and the drink turned into a few too many, and before we knew it the bottle of wine was gone and here we are...
Blogging in drunkenness about the off throwing week.
Then i went to the best doctor in Cairo, and he sat me down, and listened to me, actually listened to me, and after an hour told me that even though everything looks fine, my pains were back because i was sick again. And that was all i needed, someone to tell me i had a right to feel sick, and to give me something for the pain to go away, and things were beginning to look up.
Then a man waved a gun in my face. My first encounter with a gun in real life, in my office. And i saw just how crazy people can get, how logic is not mandatory, how some people really have no sense of right or wrong, how corroded and vain some minds are, how power drunk they get. A gun in my office, the second he took it out of the grip i lost all sense of anything else, i didn't hear the swear words being shouted over my head, i don't know who came out of the office or went in, all i saw was the gun, my eyes completely fixated on it's every movement willing it back into it's grip. Then i spent four hours in the police station, three of which i spent giggling with my friend in a completely out of context way, maybe that was the shock of it.
And then that blew over, and the panic subsided, and i went back to work where everyone had started joking about the gun in the factory incident, and then a girl i had coached and helped get promoted came in and gave me a present, a little silver pendant with my name written in arabic and a flower on top. She hugged me for my belated birthday and made my day sweet again. She had made it herself, she made my heart melt.
It's a good job where you can contain a gun situation and get such a nice present all in one day...
But then the shock wouldn't wear off, so i had to get a drink, and the drink turned into a few too many, and before we knew it the bottle of wine was gone and here we are...
Blogging in drunkenness about the off throwing week.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Note to Friend
Sand-e wrote this as a comment on my last post:
Once upon a time there was a little girl called N who dreamed of that just right fit for her bum on the couch. Warm, comfortable, well fed and content she fell asleep and woke up only to come to the realization that it was just a dream... and in her distress with figuring out the facts she woke up only to find that she'd done so before entirely experiencing her dream for what it was.
Sand-e is a blogger close to my heart, she usually leaves comments on my most heart felt posts, she leaves comments on ambiguous posts i'm sure no one gets, she knows when to say what, and to be honest her vocabulary and sentence construction are sometimes too advanced for me that i have to read the sentences several times to get it.
I read this comment over and over, what does she mean? That i've been delusional? That i burst my own bubble? That i get caught up in analysis too much to enjoy the experience?
Is she wicked enough to mean nothing in particular other than to let me come up with my own afraid to face truths?
So Sand-e, this is for you;
Once upon a time there was a little girl called N who dreamed of that just right fit for her bum on the couch. Warm, comfortable, well fed and content she fell asleep and woke up only to come to the realization that it was just a dream... and in her distress with figuring out the facts she woke up only to find that she'd done so before entirely experiencing her dream for what it was. But then she remembered that dreams are realities, and realities are dreams, because she was once told that our perceptions weave our lives. Now it's a tough paradigm shift back from distress to contentment, especially illusory contentment, after all warmth and comfort are not emotions to be saved in a bottle for emergency need...
So she did what she does best, she inhaled - though that hurts these days- and she fixed her eyesight on her feet, the feet that took her every place she's been, and out of every mess she's made and she smiled at the power of her feet. Those feet combined with lucid reality meant that the shit could just go ahead and hit the fan, and her bum would remain nicely fitting to that couch.
Don't mind me, i'm in the weirdest mood today, please feel free to tell me what it is you actually meant :)
Once upon a time there was a little girl called N who dreamed of that just right fit for her bum on the couch. Warm, comfortable, well fed and content she fell asleep and woke up only to come to the realization that it was just a dream... and in her distress with figuring out the facts she woke up only to find that she'd done so before entirely experiencing her dream for what it was.
Sand-e is a blogger close to my heart, she usually leaves comments on my most heart felt posts, she leaves comments on ambiguous posts i'm sure no one gets, she knows when to say what, and to be honest her vocabulary and sentence construction are sometimes too advanced for me that i have to read the sentences several times to get it.
I read this comment over and over, what does she mean? That i've been delusional? That i burst my own bubble? That i get caught up in analysis too much to enjoy the experience?
Is she wicked enough to mean nothing in particular other than to let me come up with my own afraid to face truths?
So Sand-e, this is for you;
Once upon a time there was a little girl called N who dreamed of that just right fit for her bum on the couch. Warm, comfortable, well fed and content she fell asleep and woke up only to come to the realization that it was just a dream... and in her distress with figuring out the facts she woke up only to find that she'd done so before entirely experiencing her dream for what it was. But then she remembered that dreams are realities, and realities are dreams, because she was once told that our perceptions weave our lives. Now it's a tough paradigm shift back from distress to contentment, especially illusory contentment, after all warmth and comfort are not emotions to be saved in a bottle for emergency need...
So she did what she does best, she inhaled - though that hurts these days- and she fixed her eyesight on her feet, the feet that took her every place she's been, and out of every mess she's made and she smiled at the power of her feet. Those feet combined with lucid reality meant that the shit could just go ahead and hit the fan, and her bum would remain nicely fitting to that couch.
Don't mind me, i'm in the weirdest mood today, please feel free to tell me what it is you actually meant :)
Monday, August 27, 2007
Security
My boyfriend has gotten used to having me around.
He knows that if he sends me a message, i will sooner or later reply.
He knows that if he wants to make plans i will accommodate them.
He knows that if i don't pick up i will be calling him back the next chance i get.
He knows that if i sit next to him i will reach out for him if he doesn't reach out first.
And he knows that if we fight i will want to work things out in the end.
My boyfriend is now secure and knows that i am there....
I have been twitching and twirling in my place for ages avoiding arriving at this place at any cost where he can slack off and get cosy... Where he can sit back and know that i wont just up and go for no reason...
Is there any way to put this off any longer? Or do i just grab a book and make myself comfortable too?
He knows that if he sends me a message, i will sooner or later reply.
He knows that if he wants to make plans i will accommodate them.
He knows that if i don't pick up i will be calling him back the next chance i get.
He knows that if i sit next to him i will reach out for him if he doesn't reach out first.
And he knows that if we fight i will want to work things out in the end.
My boyfriend is now secure and knows that i am there....
I have been twitching and twirling in my place for ages avoiding arriving at this place at any cost where he can slack off and get cosy... Where he can sit back and know that i wont just up and go for no reason...
Is there any way to put this off any longer? Or do i just grab a book and make myself comfortable too?
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Choice
If you woke up today and had to choose all the people in your life again, would you choose the same people you have now?
Would you chose your partner again?
The friends you've had all your life?
If you never knew the brand of coffee you drink today, would you blindly choose it again?
Would you? Really?
Would you chose your partner again?
The friends you've had all your life?
If you never knew the brand of coffee you drink today, would you blindly choose it again?
Would you? Really?
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Seeing Through
She sat me next to her on the beach, and started asking me questions. She's a friend of a friend, even though she was sharing a room with me and this was our first one on one encounter since i had arrived the night before. She was older and from another part of the arab world, and really a testament to educated, broad minded and yet traditional arab women.
She told me to sit close while she asked me all the questions, i was the last one there to be tested as i had displayed no interest really in what was supposed to be a fascinating personality test. The day was beautiful, i had spent most of it swimming and playing in the sand with a friend's one year old, and it was close to sunset and i was beat from walking hunchbacked for hours holding the baby's hands while he attempted his newly found talent to walk/stumble on his own feet.
I sat down next to her, completely slumped in my chair, and lightly answered questions about old keys and apples, dark caves and bears, horses and the sea and finally the perfect house i suddenly saw and the mug sitting on the table.
My answers were short, one sentence if not a few words, and her interest in my answers though i considered them to be very fickle, was truly deep.
"Do you want to hear the analysis?"
"yes, of course" faking an interest to be somewhat polite.
"You carry your memories everywhere you go, you treasure all that has happened to you and your past is very much with you all the time, with all it's very good and very bad.
You are unable to walk away from your fears and threats, when faced with a threatening situation you seek control, you must assess, analyze and contain, and then you walk away when peace is restored, even if within you the situation had not passed at all, if you walk away from a situation that went beyond your control, you never go back to it.
Death is something you do not think about, it is not even an after thought, you have no interest whatsoever in the subject, and you would avoid handling related topics at absolutely any cost.
You like your life to be somewhat difficult, challenging, and you take the challenge every time, you are fearless in the face of life, very little danger would put you off from going after what you want.
You indulge in what people classify as sins or the forbidden, you indulge in peace and truly believe that it is your born right to satisfy your desires should they yield no harm to others, you also understand that others may not understand this, it is very rare that you will offend someone for believing different than you.
People who know you see right through you, and you are only close to those who are the same, you seek clarity and understanding always, and in it's absence you lose interest. You are unable to be close to people who are not as transparent and clear as you are. For the people who are not close to you, you are almost impossible to understand, especially since you cannot be bothered to offer any explanation of who you are, you simply do not care."
She had my full attention as she paused.
"You have been through a traumatic relationship, and ever since you have not wanted anything to do with men. You may have had relationships since, but deep inside it is very hard for you to be with a man. You have very deep wounds that have only healed at the surface making everything look fine, but when anyone applies even little pressure on the skin covering the wound you want to scream.
After this relationship you became much more private and detached, and i would assume that at heart you have no faith in men and have no interest in having real faith again.
Don't worry, this is not a permanent state, it will pass, but not yet, it will still be a while"
I must have been very wide eyed while i looked at her, cause she smiled and said:
"Is any of this true?"
I nodded and said yes, the woman had won me over, i couldn't help it.
I told her that i had nightmares about that part of my life almost every week even though it was a long time ago and i never thought about those times when i was awake. I told her that i was now happy with someone else. I told her i have willed myself to not be that way. I told her i saw no reason why i should be that affected by something that has long since gone.
She nodded and gave no further explanation.
"You try very hard, but it takes time, this is not who you are, it will pass"
I thought about how much little words affected me now, being called over sensitive or insecure feels like digging into a raw wound and pouring salt in the hollow space, and i went back to that feeling of wanting to be alone forever in a very far away place.
She must have read the distraught look on my face, because she suddenly said "i have some good news though.."
I smiled, and looked at her eagerly "tell me.."
"You will have or are having one hell of a sex life!"
She told me to sit close while she asked me all the questions, i was the last one there to be tested as i had displayed no interest really in what was supposed to be a fascinating personality test. The day was beautiful, i had spent most of it swimming and playing in the sand with a friend's one year old, and it was close to sunset and i was beat from walking hunchbacked for hours holding the baby's hands while he attempted his newly found talent to walk/stumble on his own feet.
I sat down next to her, completely slumped in my chair, and lightly answered questions about old keys and apples, dark caves and bears, horses and the sea and finally the perfect house i suddenly saw and the mug sitting on the table.
My answers were short, one sentence if not a few words, and her interest in my answers though i considered them to be very fickle, was truly deep.
"Do you want to hear the analysis?"
"yes, of course" faking an interest to be somewhat polite.
"You carry your memories everywhere you go, you treasure all that has happened to you and your past is very much with you all the time, with all it's very good and very bad.
You are unable to walk away from your fears and threats, when faced with a threatening situation you seek control, you must assess, analyze and contain, and then you walk away when peace is restored, even if within you the situation had not passed at all, if you walk away from a situation that went beyond your control, you never go back to it.
Death is something you do not think about, it is not even an after thought, you have no interest whatsoever in the subject, and you would avoid handling related topics at absolutely any cost.
You like your life to be somewhat difficult, challenging, and you take the challenge every time, you are fearless in the face of life, very little danger would put you off from going after what you want.
You indulge in what people classify as sins or the forbidden, you indulge in peace and truly believe that it is your born right to satisfy your desires should they yield no harm to others, you also understand that others may not understand this, it is very rare that you will offend someone for believing different than you.
People who know you see right through you, and you are only close to those who are the same, you seek clarity and understanding always, and in it's absence you lose interest. You are unable to be close to people who are not as transparent and clear as you are. For the people who are not close to you, you are almost impossible to understand, especially since you cannot be bothered to offer any explanation of who you are, you simply do not care."
She had my full attention as she paused.
"You have been through a traumatic relationship, and ever since you have not wanted anything to do with men. You may have had relationships since, but deep inside it is very hard for you to be with a man. You have very deep wounds that have only healed at the surface making everything look fine, but when anyone applies even little pressure on the skin covering the wound you want to scream.
After this relationship you became much more private and detached, and i would assume that at heart you have no faith in men and have no interest in having real faith again.
Don't worry, this is not a permanent state, it will pass, but not yet, it will still be a while"
I must have been very wide eyed while i looked at her, cause she smiled and said:
"Is any of this true?"
I nodded and said yes, the woman had won me over, i couldn't help it.
I told her that i had nightmares about that part of my life almost every week even though it was a long time ago and i never thought about those times when i was awake. I told her that i was now happy with someone else. I told her i have willed myself to not be that way. I told her i saw no reason why i should be that affected by something that has long since gone.
She nodded and gave no further explanation.
"You try very hard, but it takes time, this is not who you are, it will pass"
I thought about how much little words affected me now, being called over sensitive or insecure feels like digging into a raw wound and pouring salt in the hollow space, and i went back to that feeling of wanting to be alone forever in a very far away place.
She must have read the distraught look on my face, because she suddenly said "i have some good news though.."
I smiled, and looked at her eagerly "tell me.."
"You will have or are having one hell of a sex life!"
Monday, August 06, 2007
During the Night
I don't know why i get such bad nightmares. They are so disturbed as well, mutations of people into other bodily beings, with blood exploding and splashing all over, sometimes even with a perverted sexual twist that is anything but pleasurable, they are so graphic and grotesque, i often wake up wondering what i have done in my life to deserve those kinds of dreams..
After my best friend died in a car crash ten years ago, i spent two years suffering from recurring nightmares of graveyards and death, ranging anywhere from being lost in a cemetery with no way out at twilight battling against time to get out before it gets dark, to watching people i know lying bleeding from open wounds next to a dug out hole in a cemetery waiting for their death so they can be pushed into the slot.
For two years almost i dodged sleep, i slept sporadic hours during day time, and agonized over battling sleep during the night. After that the nightmares calmed down in nature, they went completely psychological rotating around an abusive relationship that was to form much of my character later on. The nightmares were justified even then, i was not leading a good life, i was unhappy with all that i was, i was going through the horrible early twenties where it seems one is known to be quite lost. It was justified to have nightmares, i could live with it because in a fucked up way i thought i deserved it.
I moved to France and life got better, my life style got healthier, my choices were mine and i grew up a bit. My nightmares recurred less frequently, due to the positive life change and regular exercise, but still, every few weeks i'd get a nerve wrecking dream, out of nowhere, flames, attacks, mutations, distortions, and death, always lots of death.
I thought that i must be detoxing from all the suppression i did as a child onwards till i became an independent entity, i decided to give it time and ignore it, and i've lived like that ever since. The thought that my subconscious holds material for these nightmares never stops scaring me though, it really terrifies me that i have thoughts buried somewhere that can be a constant feed to these never ending nightmares
This morning i woke up from yet another nightmare, blood, amputated distorted body parts, combined with disappointments in a parallel scenario. My dreams are always about people i know, and most disturbingly, people who are important to me.
In my frenzy of waking up i sent a message asking if he was ok, he was part of the dream, of course i shouldn't have cause it was 7am or something, and that is whacko mental behavior, but i was still in my frenzy, in the dark world where bad things happen for no reason.
When this happens and i wake up and he's next to me, i crawl up near, listen for a breath, put my ear against the rhythm and take comfort that everything is still the same and all that harm was just a dream, and the rhythm of the breathing eventually puts me back to sleep..
Can someone please, please tell me if this is still borderline mad or if i have always been insane?
After my best friend died in a car crash ten years ago, i spent two years suffering from recurring nightmares of graveyards and death, ranging anywhere from being lost in a cemetery with no way out at twilight battling against time to get out before it gets dark, to watching people i know lying bleeding from open wounds next to a dug out hole in a cemetery waiting for their death so they can be pushed into the slot.
For two years almost i dodged sleep, i slept sporadic hours during day time, and agonized over battling sleep during the night. After that the nightmares calmed down in nature, they went completely psychological rotating around an abusive relationship that was to form much of my character later on. The nightmares were justified even then, i was not leading a good life, i was unhappy with all that i was, i was going through the horrible early twenties where it seems one is known to be quite lost. It was justified to have nightmares, i could live with it because in a fucked up way i thought i deserved it.
I moved to France and life got better, my life style got healthier, my choices were mine and i grew up a bit. My nightmares recurred less frequently, due to the positive life change and regular exercise, but still, every few weeks i'd get a nerve wrecking dream, out of nowhere, flames, attacks, mutations, distortions, and death, always lots of death.
I thought that i must be detoxing from all the suppression i did as a child onwards till i became an independent entity, i decided to give it time and ignore it, and i've lived like that ever since. The thought that my subconscious holds material for these nightmares never stops scaring me though, it really terrifies me that i have thoughts buried somewhere that can be a constant feed to these never ending nightmares
This morning i woke up from yet another nightmare, blood, amputated distorted body parts, combined with disappointments in a parallel scenario. My dreams are always about people i know, and most disturbingly, people who are important to me.
In my frenzy of waking up i sent a message asking if he was ok, he was part of the dream, of course i shouldn't have cause it was 7am or something, and that is whacko mental behavior, but i was still in my frenzy, in the dark world where bad things happen for no reason.
When this happens and i wake up and he's next to me, i crawl up near, listen for a breath, put my ear against the rhythm and take comfort that everything is still the same and all that harm was just a dream, and the rhythm of the breathing eventually puts me back to sleep..
Can someone please, please tell me if this is still borderline mad or if i have always been insane?
Sunday, August 05, 2007
I dream....
I dream of a little house on the beach that my mother loves, a little house to make her happy, i dream her simple dream comes true
I dream of another few years off, a little flat with my own kitchen, with my own sofa, with my own glass window with a view
I dream of a white sandy island, with crystal waters and little waterfalls flowing into fresh water pools
I dream that every night i go to bed everyone i love is warm
I dream of a little girl with curly hair, in a family with lots of love to give
I dream of years of freedom yet, with light weights on my shoulders, and open clear skies
I dream of making someones life, a little better than what it would've been, if i were not there
I dream that my losses come with acceptance, and that my paths part gently and only sweet memories stay behind
I dream that if i went away, i would be loved not missed, wanted not needed, wished for not longed for
I dream for those that came and went, that what i believe is true, that love still lives and breathes through both of you
I dream that all my dreams comes true...
I dream of another few years off, a little flat with my own kitchen, with my own sofa, with my own glass window with a view
I dream of a white sandy island, with crystal waters and little waterfalls flowing into fresh water pools
I dream that every night i go to bed everyone i love is warm
I dream of a little girl with curly hair, in a family with lots of love to give
I dream of years of freedom yet, with light weights on my shoulders, and open clear skies
I dream of making someones life, a little better than what it would've been, if i were not there
I dream that my losses come with acceptance, and that my paths part gently and only sweet memories stay behind
I dream that if i went away, i would be loved not missed, wanted not needed, wished for not longed for
I dream for those that came and went, that what i believe is true, that love still lives and breathes through both of you
I dream that all my dreams comes true...
Sunday, July 29, 2007
One Night
At the end of a perfect day, amidst the softness of familiar yet much missed tenderness..
"Now do you believe that i love you?"
Silence....
"You don't?"
"I believe that you believe you do..." said tenderly, gently, cautiously...
"You think i wouldn't know?"
For a split second he contemplated my question, i don't know what went on in his mind after that, he was too busy containing the situation i think, preventing tears and such to follow..
I couldn't go on, the moment of closeness was gone for me, i turned around to spare him tears for the nth time and willed myself to sleep.
Ever since i've remembered that sentence several times a day, it's my first thought of him when i think of him and every time i wonder what i do that makes him think that? I must be responsible somehow, and i wonder over and over, is it how we started out? Is it because he hasn't seen scribblings and writings of torture and torment over him? Is it because i'm far away? Is it because i say it too much?
This feels like one of the very few battles i cannot fight. I don't think this is a battle meant to be fought...
I can only hope that if i keep being me, he will get it one day...
His response to this post was: "you should give me more credit"
What does that even mean?
"Now do you believe that i love you?"
Silence....
"You don't?"
"I believe that you believe you do..." said tenderly, gently, cautiously...
"You think i wouldn't know?"
For a split second he contemplated my question, i don't know what went on in his mind after that, he was too busy containing the situation i think, preventing tears and such to follow..
I couldn't go on, the moment of closeness was gone for me, i turned around to spare him tears for the nth time and willed myself to sleep.
Ever since i've remembered that sentence several times a day, it's my first thought of him when i think of him and every time i wonder what i do that makes him think that? I must be responsible somehow, and i wonder over and over, is it how we started out? Is it because he hasn't seen scribblings and writings of torture and torment over him? Is it because i'm far away? Is it because i say it too much?
This feels like one of the very few battles i cannot fight. I don't think this is a battle meant to be fought...
I can only hope that if i keep being me, he will get it one day...
His response to this post was: "you should give me more credit"
What does that even mean?
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
When It's Worth It
Today i went to the office after a week off. I'd gone to Turkey for a much needed break and some quality time with the Bf. I had been working 12 - 13 hour days for the past few weeks as the boss was away and i had to fill in for her beside doing my job and i was up against a deadline.
Consequently, whilst packing i left my work phone at home, took no documents to work on if i felt like it, didn't take my laptop with me for the first time i can remember, and didn't check my work email once! (pathetic victory i know).
Part of my job is coaching people to do their job better, i.e. fill their posts, construct their reports, own their meeting and manage their time so they can develop into indispensable promotable people. I have been exerting quite a substantial amount of effort with 7 people of diverse functions in the organization, and on my way back to work this morning i had palpitations from the issues and emails waiting for my arrival...
I walked into my office, coffee mug in hand, turned on my computer and started going through the bunch of emails waiting for me:
The product release team meeting was held, and the minutes delivered on time
Moreover, all the pending collections were launched, and marketing had placed production orders
Marketing had delievered the three collection briefs as agreed, two months ahead of schedule as requested, to push our production calendar back to make room for market testing
The minutes of the factory meeting of before were edited and distributed correctly
The factory status report was comprehensive, with exact production figures, finished prototypes, with a zero lott report attached
The stock repricing was complete and ready for consultant final lookover
The stock report was broken down per collection per production stage
The precious stones appraising project was finished to be presented that week
The bathroom were being revamped, and were almost finished
and finally
All the contract copies requested from employees had been handed in during my absence as requested..
Nothing was missing, everything i asked for happened, no one had excuses for why things hadn't happened, and other than asking me to confirm a tile color for the bathroom, no one needed help.
It was the perfect day. Maybe i should've gone on vacation sooner...
Consequently, whilst packing i left my work phone at home, took no documents to work on if i felt like it, didn't take my laptop with me for the first time i can remember, and didn't check my work email once! (pathetic victory i know).
Part of my job is coaching people to do their job better, i.e. fill their posts, construct their reports, own their meeting and manage their time so they can develop into indispensable promotable people. I have been exerting quite a substantial amount of effort with 7 people of diverse functions in the organization, and on my way back to work this morning i had palpitations from the issues and emails waiting for my arrival...
I walked into my office, coffee mug in hand, turned on my computer and started going through the bunch of emails waiting for me:
The product release team meeting was held, and the minutes delivered on time
Moreover, all the pending collections were launched, and marketing had placed production orders
Marketing had delievered the three collection briefs as agreed, two months ahead of schedule as requested, to push our production calendar back to make room for market testing
The minutes of the factory meeting of before were edited and distributed correctly
The factory status report was comprehensive, with exact production figures, finished prototypes, with a zero lott report attached
The stock repricing was complete and ready for consultant final lookover
The stock report was broken down per collection per production stage
The precious stones appraising project was finished to be presented that week
The bathroom were being revamped, and were almost finished
and finally
All the contract copies requested from employees had been handed in during my absence as requested..
Nothing was missing, everything i asked for happened, no one had excuses for why things hadn't happened, and other than asking me to confirm a tile color for the bathroom, no one needed help.
It was the perfect day. Maybe i should've gone on vacation sooner...
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