I found myself alone in fake darkness; the rays of sun tried to infiltrate the dark shades and their attempts miserably failed. There was no one in the room, no one upstairs, no one for miles ahead. I found myself staring in oblivion, that's when I noticed the presence of something I have forgotten, although at one point in my life it was a daily requirement, there in the corner lay my piano, or rather our piano, on which I practiced immensely as a child to try and get these classical tunes right; my stubby hands would try to jump from octave to another and strained to get the timing right, while my piano teacher always blamed me for not practicing enough... Bittersweet memories.
I took a step forward, it was summoning me with its solemn loneliness, it has been long months since anyone has touched its keys; it suffered from neglect. I lifted the ebony cover to be greeted by the sweet smell of the old keys, some of them were missing their white covers, and so they laid bare and brown, but when stroked they produced the same strong sound they were known for; their core was the same, but their appearance differed, just like anything that suffers the effect of time. I hesitate to sit on the small revolving stool, but then my resolve strengthens, I drag it out from under the piano, wipe the dust off of it and then sit. I position my hands on each octave as I try to remember one of the tunes I used to play; meanwhile my fingertips are acquainting themselves with their old friends, it has been a great while and the touch of the keys is almost euphoric. I try to belt out "Fur Alize"; unsteady as I try and get every note in its right place at the right time with the right force. As I became more sure of myself, I close my eyes and let the music infiltrate my soul and lift my battered spirit, and a smile starts to materialize itself through my lips.
I play it over and over again until I am sure that I have perfected it, and then a thought comes to my mind, something that my teacher has told me when I was young; "You can play one piece of music in several different ways while keeping the right tempo, it is all about channeling your emotions through the music, but it's hard to do that and maintain the tempo, yet the music is so much more beautiful when you do." I decided that I will try and channel my own feelings through "Fur Alize". I first try calmity; I take a long slow breath and as I exhale slowly, I play the notes with ease trying to remember the feeling of utter serenity that I experienced as I reached the top of St. Catherine mountain, I visualize myself there and it worked; "Fur Alize" has never sounded so whole, intact and serene.A vision of "Alize" (or Alice) comes to mind, sitting by a window, a french styled one; huge with white panels while sun rays are pleasantly shining through. She sits with a Monaliza smile gracing her child-like face,emitting serene confidence and wisdom beyond her age, her hands are holding her golden long hair, which seems to be reflecting sun rays and bedazzling the beholder. It is a scene you could watch forever, but as soon as the last note is played the scene dissolves into a million twinkly particles and as I open my eyes, reality greets me.
I then move to "sadness", I remember an incident in my life that I could never forget even if I tried and I struggle with holding the memory, I never was one who could handle deep emotion and sadness is one of the deepest. I start playing the same music again, but this time it is sluggish, almost hesitant and it is no longer smooth or serene. It is a melody of utter defeat, of isolation, of an empty soul and all that I could see was a barren desert, with the sun smoldering, it's empty and distant. As it ends, a great sense of depression washes over me.
I quickly move to "anger"; it's a very strong emotion which is very abundant inside me, it's always on the surface threatening to explode any moment. I start to play and this time the notes aren't sluggish or clam, but rather reckless and out of control. I can barely touch a key without it being in the wrong tempo or sometimes the wrong key all together and even when I get the key right my hand mistakingly plays neighbouring keys that have nothing to do with the melody. It is hard to control my hands, they are flying out of control and my body is radiating strange heat that just annoys me even more. This time, there is no vision, no picture, my brain is incapable of picturing anything and my head feels like it's going to explode or rather implode and my body to self-combust. I give up midway through the piece of music just when my body was shaking so hard it was impossible to strike the right keys; it was pure chaos. I couldn't maintain enough control to get myself to focus and I realize that my temper is maybe beyond control.
At this note, I remove my hands from the white keys and put them at the edge of my seat as I stare at the piano for a while, I reach out for the cover and I gently close it and pat my faithful piano. I smile.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
A medley
I want to write something, it has been a while, but I don't know what I want to write about; many topics come to mind; parents, defeat, longing, mellow music, myths, imagination, but nothing is really pushing me towards something in particular and so I will try and encompass them all within the post.
Parents:
You are brought into this world crying, only to find two people(hopefully) comforting you and making you feel safe; it's a blessing and you realize it even before you begin to comprehend your existence. As an infant you try to exploit it as much as you can, which is amazing given that your brain is still forming, but instinctively you demand the presence of one of these big figures, to be held in their arms, smell their closeness, feel their care; all because you need to feel safe, protected and cared for. As a child, you learn to respect the adults who give you candy, drop you off to school and prepare lunch for you. You don't really have distinctive feelings towards them, it's a combination of emotions and thoughts that you don't understand, but you know that you want them to be with you as long as you can hold on to them and that they are very important to you. As a teenager, you start to realize the difference between you and them, and they start to feel different, distant and in-comprehensive. You still respect them and you still want them, but you don't really understand them, and so you start trying to fill the gaps, make amends, rebel, appeal or imitate. It's a mixed up time and the feelings of love and affection for your parents become blurred midst the realization of your existence and wonder of the new world discovered. The love is still there, but just not fulfilled or realized, it is in fact distanced; isolated and unused within the corners of your mind. As a young adult, you start to learn and realize that there's something called a relationship with your parents that you need to cultivate and breed; a shrub in need of water and air to breathe. You start experimenting with it, what makes things flourish and what other things that causes a storm to rip the roots of the shrub; the delicate balance is very exhausting at first and sometimes you feel like giving up. As an adult, you start to feel their love, affection and concern, but you revel in their understanding of your personality and their respect of your existence and decisions. If you survive all through these phases, you attain something of great significance and an experience that couldn't be replicated in any other circumstance. It's not heavenly, but it's earthly qualities promise to amuse and entertain.
Defeat:
People always try to avoid defeat, and it does make sense really to try at all costs to stay away from such a result. I guess the most difficult thing to do is to accept defeat, to raise the white flag and say "I surrender", and it seems really scary to do so. Defeat isn't sweet, or encouraging, and it's not similar to failure either, because you can be defeated as a winner. Failure is not being able to succeed at something, but defeat is realizing that nothing can be done to change an outcome and any attempt will be met with failure. Defeat encompasses failure and it's such a great concept that it seems like a whirlpool. Accepting failure is easy, because you always concoct another method for fighting, but defeat is a whole other matter, where you realize that you have in fact lost a war, not only a battle. It almost seems like the whole universe is on one side and defeat is on another completely different side and the dividing line is so clear and so definitive; we're all crowded behind this line, pushing each other to cross it, but only a few have the strength to do so, as we all watch in bewilderment. Being defeated isn't a great feeling and you don't really learn anything from declaring defeat(as opposed to declaring failure, where you learn what not to be done), but what you get from accepting defeat is a solemn serenity that is different from any other calm; it's almost like the quietness before the storm; it's empty with some distant prospect of hope. You might enjoy it and you might hate it, it really depends on your personality, but for one thing it's like nothing you've experienced before.
Longing:
It's strange, very strange when you start to miss things you never really knew you could miss. Some people like it, but I just find it very weird and almost obtuse; just like a blunt knife, it doesn't really cut you, but it's still dangerous, threatening to be used in another manner to destroy you. Longing is not intense at all, in fact most of the time, it's in the background lounging about,doing nothing, it resembles someone who stands idly by the side of the road; he's neither crossing nor walking, just standing there making drivers anxious and crowding pedestrians and people wonder why he's standing like that, but they aren't really bothered by him. Longing doesn't fade away quickly, it takes time, because it was built up inside of you while you were taking care of more intense emotions, so you weren't really paying attention to what was happening, it snuck up on you while you weren't looking and now it boasts its existence in your face and you just have to ignore it, because there's nothing else to do really.
Mellow music:
Thank God for cool people; those like Jack Johnson, John Mayer, Norah Jones, Alexi Murdoch,etc... I love mellow music and I really count it as an essential element for the survival of our species. It's really comforting and nice and non-pressuring, you can just enjoy it and it makes you feel good and whole. It's a wonderful feeling. I do recommend "Chasing pirates" by norah Jones; her new single... PURRfection(cat's perfection)
Myths:
I love legends and myths, when I was a child I thought that mermaids and nymphs exist and there was a giant guy whom you can get to if you climbed a giant bean stock. I guess I can thank my mother for my love of myths, because she was the one who introduced me to Gulliver's travels and I used to go shopping for books with her even though I couldn't read, but she used to show me the covers and I would choose the ones that appealed to me. I loved bed-time stories and she never really turned me down when I asked for one.
Some little part of me still hopes that I will run into a mermaid.
Imagination:
I don't really want to consider the world without such a gift as imagination; it would have been very boring. Novels such as Harry potter, lord of the rings, Chronicles of Narnia, a series of unfortunate events and many other wouldn't have existed. Really, the world without imagination would mean no inventions, no ideas, nothing. We would have been still in the caves being hunted down. I love imagination, it gets me through a lot of crap. However, you don't want to be sucked in your imagination, that's how you develop mental illness.
Right now, I am imagining a beach in Greece on a perfect summer day. HEAVEN...
Parents:
You are brought into this world crying, only to find two people(hopefully) comforting you and making you feel safe; it's a blessing and you realize it even before you begin to comprehend your existence. As an infant you try to exploit it as much as you can, which is amazing given that your brain is still forming, but instinctively you demand the presence of one of these big figures, to be held in their arms, smell their closeness, feel their care; all because you need to feel safe, protected and cared for. As a child, you learn to respect the adults who give you candy, drop you off to school and prepare lunch for you. You don't really have distinctive feelings towards them, it's a combination of emotions and thoughts that you don't understand, but you know that you want them to be with you as long as you can hold on to them and that they are very important to you. As a teenager, you start to realize the difference between you and them, and they start to feel different, distant and in-comprehensive. You still respect them and you still want them, but you don't really understand them, and so you start trying to fill the gaps, make amends, rebel, appeal or imitate. It's a mixed up time and the feelings of love and affection for your parents become blurred midst the realization of your existence and wonder of the new world discovered. The love is still there, but just not fulfilled or realized, it is in fact distanced; isolated and unused within the corners of your mind. As a young adult, you start to learn and realize that there's something called a relationship with your parents that you need to cultivate and breed; a shrub in need of water and air to breathe. You start experimenting with it, what makes things flourish and what other things that causes a storm to rip the roots of the shrub; the delicate balance is very exhausting at first and sometimes you feel like giving up. As an adult, you start to feel their love, affection and concern, but you revel in their understanding of your personality and their respect of your existence and decisions. If you survive all through these phases, you attain something of great significance and an experience that couldn't be replicated in any other circumstance. It's not heavenly, but it's earthly qualities promise to amuse and entertain.
Defeat:
People always try to avoid defeat, and it does make sense really to try at all costs to stay away from such a result. I guess the most difficult thing to do is to accept defeat, to raise the white flag and say "I surrender", and it seems really scary to do so. Defeat isn't sweet, or encouraging, and it's not similar to failure either, because you can be defeated as a winner. Failure is not being able to succeed at something, but defeat is realizing that nothing can be done to change an outcome and any attempt will be met with failure. Defeat encompasses failure and it's such a great concept that it seems like a whirlpool. Accepting failure is easy, because you always concoct another method for fighting, but defeat is a whole other matter, where you realize that you have in fact lost a war, not only a battle. It almost seems like the whole universe is on one side and defeat is on another completely different side and the dividing line is so clear and so definitive; we're all crowded behind this line, pushing each other to cross it, but only a few have the strength to do so, as we all watch in bewilderment. Being defeated isn't a great feeling and you don't really learn anything from declaring defeat(as opposed to declaring failure, where you learn what not to be done), but what you get from accepting defeat is a solemn serenity that is different from any other calm; it's almost like the quietness before the storm; it's empty with some distant prospect of hope. You might enjoy it and you might hate it, it really depends on your personality, but for one thing it's like nothing you've experienced before.
Longing:
It's strange, very strange when you start to miss things you never really knew you could miss. Some people like it, but I just find it very weird and almost obtuse; just like a blunt knife, it doesn't really cut you, but it's still dangerous, threatening to be used in another manner to destroy you. Longing is not intense at all, in fact most of the time, it's in the background lounging about,doing nothing, it resembles someone who stands idly by the side of the road; he's neither crossing nor walking, just standing there making drivers anxious and crowding pedestrians and people wonder why he's standing like that, but they aren't really bothered by him. Longing doesn't fade away quickly, it takes time, because it was built up inside of you while you were taking care of more intense emotions, so you weren't really paying attention to what was happening, it snuck up on you while you weren't looking and now it boasts its existence in your face and you just have to ignore it, because there's nothing else to do really.
Mellow music:
Thank God for cool people; those like Jack Johnson, John Mayer, Norah Jones, Alexi Murdoch,etc... I love mellow music and I really count it as an essential element for the survival of our species. It's really comforting and nice and non-pressuring, you can just enjoy it and it makes you feel good and whole. It's a wonderful feeling. I do recommend "Chasing pirates" by norah Jones; her new single... PURRfection(cat's perfection)
Myths:
I love legends and myths, when I was a child I thought that mermaids and nymphs exist and there was a giant guy whom you can get to if you climbed a giant bean stock. I guess I can thank my mother for my love of myths, because she was the one who introduced me to Gulliver's travels and I used to go shopping for books with her even though I couldn't read, but she used to show me the covers and I would choose the ones that appealed to me. I loved bed-time stories and she never really turned me down when I asked for one.
Some little part of me still hopes that I will run into a mermaid.
Imagination:
I don't really want to consider the world without such a gift as imagination; it would have been very boring. Novels such as Harry potter, lord of the rings, Chronicles of Narnia, a series of unfortunate events and many other wouldn't have existed. Really, the world without imagination would mean no inventions, no ideas, nothing. We would have been still in the caves being hunted down. I love imagination, it gets me through a lot of crap. However, you don't want to be sucked in your imagination, that's how you develop mental illness.
Right now, I am imagining a beach in Greece on a perfect summer day. HEAVEN...
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sovereignty
An accusation involving open-mindedness annoys a lot of people, in fact most people get very upset if you accuse them of having a closed mind or a lack of open mindedness, and sometimes it's more insulting to them than disparaging the quality of their lives. A lot of people pride themselves for being open-minded and they often declare it with such honour and self-respect that you instantly think that they must be the world's most open-minded person. And yet the matter still remains that like most things in the world, open-mindedness is very relative and subjective. What is open-minded to me, might be very closed off to someone else and I think that this is very apparent when comparing eastern and western civilizations.
There are degrees to everything and that is understandable, but the thing is people should really differentiate between being open-minded and living in an open-minded manner. For instance, I can be accepting of all the views around me, but when it comes to my own life open-mindedness is very rare and vice versa.
I do think that each person should be accepting and understanding of the people around him/her, but when it comes to your own life, you should lead it the way you want to and in the manner you believe to be beneficial to you and nobody should dictate how your life must be even if you're leading it in the wrong direction. People are entitled to their opinions, but they don't get to judge and belittle you way of life and they don't get to accuse you of being close-minded either. I believe that each person's brain works in a unique manner and it is that unique pattern that our brain forms that we relate everything within our lives and form a comprehensible life-path. People always say "be flexible" and "Consider something other than what is in your mind.", but really, what's the point? My way might be wrong, but then it is my way and I should learn from it, enhance it and perfect it, but not obliterate it. If each person who has a different idea gave in to the public demand of being flexible, we wouldn't have had a lot of the luxuries or basic rights we revel in today.
We might hold open-mindedness as a complement and something to be sought, but we don't really have a measure to how much open-minded we should be or how much of our brains should we let go in favor of being normal. And my answer is none. I am one person who likes to see her ideas come to life and witness their birth into existence and then see the results of such birth and how these become sinister or positive, but I don't like smothering my ideas and my way of thinking just so that I can fit in. This is not open-mindedness, this is surrendering and I would die first than surrender to any external force; my brain has sovereignty and shall remain so.
There are degrees to everything and that is understandable, but the thing is people should really differentiate between being open-minded and living in an open-minded manner. For instance, I can be accepting of all the views around me, but when it comes to my own life open-mindedness is very rare and vice versa.
I do think that each person should be accepting and understanding of the people around him/her, but when it comes to your own life, you should lead it the way you want to and in the manner you believe to be beneficial to you and nobody should dictate how your life must be even if you're leading it in the wrong direction. People are entitled to their opinions, but they don't get to judge and belittle you way of life and they don't get to accuse you of being close-minded either. I believe that each person's brain works in a unique manner and it is that unique pattern that our brain forms that we relate everything within our lives and form a comprehensible life-path. People always say "be flexible" and "Consider something other than what is in your mind.", but really, what's the point? My way might be wrong, but then it is my way and I should learn from it, enhance it and perfect it, but not obliterate it. If each person who has a different idea gave in to the public demand of being flexible, we wouldn't have had a lot of the luxuries or basic rights we revel in today.
We might hold open-mindedness as a complement and something to be sought, but we don't really have a measure to how much open-minded we should be or how much of our brains should we let go in favor of being normal. And my answer is none. I am one person who likes to see her ideas come to life and witness their birth into existence and then see the results of such birth and how these become sinister or positive, but I don't like smothering my ideas and my way of thinking just so that I can fit in. This is not open-mindedness, this is surrendering and I would die first than surrender to any external force; my brain has sovereignty and shall remain so.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Somebody already broke my ...
Ever wonder why people always say "S/He really broke my heart"? It just doesn't make much sense really. I mean the mind is the one that does all the reminiscing, all the alternative scenarios, all the what ifs, all the what happened and all the maybe if this or that. The mind is the one that keeps relating current events to ones that you want to forget and all the while, the heart is just beating away, not knowing what is happening with the "tenant upstairs", it's just pumping blood in the veins, cheerfully doing it's part and being blamed for something that it has nothing to do with. Think of the heart as the line worker in a factory, making sure the line is going smoothly and occasionally unclogging the lines, he's just sitting on his chair with a toothpick in his teeth. Even when you get upset, the mind is doing that, you just feel it in your heart because the pumping has increased per-mind's request. Imagine the line worker getting a direct order from the factory manager telling him "speed up the line", the worker jumps off his chair, spits out his toothpick and focuses completely on speeding the line and normally everyone in the factory is affected since they all work according to the speed of the line.
The point is people should say "S/he broke my mind." It just makes more sense.
The point is people should say "S/he broke my mind." It just makes more sense.
Party of one
I am really tired, mentally exhausted and I am starting to get circles under my eyes even though I am an early sleeper and riser, I exercise regularly and I try to eat healthy stuff and I take vitamins, so the circles under my eyes shouldn’t really be there, but maybe it’s the toll of this month. Weird things have been happening all over the place this month; I am just hoping that it ends on a better note than this.
I have been having a really bad feeling for the past week, and I don’t know if it’s because of me being upset or a premonition. I am not psychic; in fact I am the type of people who don’t dream and if I do it’s usually nonsense and scenes of utter annoyance, which eventually results in me waking up with a vicious headache.
I am on my way to Alex on some business; my dad wouldn’t let me drive, so I took a car and a driver from work; he’s driving really slow, which is annoying, but it’s ok even though I am probably going to be late. I haven’t been to Alex in a couple of years and the last time I went, I spent 2 days or something in it; I’ve never really spent enough time in Alex and this time is no different. I really should make some time and go spend a week or sth there; I mean I know Sharm, Ein El Sokkhna, Taba, Noweiba3 and El Gouna really well, but I don’t really know Alex. Shameful, huh?
I am very comfortable on my own; being with other people makes me tense even if I know them really well. I am most relaxed on my own, and I am really starting to think that I am one of those people who HAVE to live alone. I just think it’s much better for me as well as the people around me to just be on my own.
I have been having a really bad feeling for the past week, and I don’t know if it’s because of me being upset or a premonition. I am not psychic; in fact I am the type of people who don’t dream and if I do it’s usually nonsense and scenes of utter annoyance, which eventually results in me waking up with a vicious headache.
I am on my way to Alex on some business; my dad wouldn’t let me drive, so I took a car and a driver from work; he’s driving really slow, which is annoying, but it’s ok even though I am probably going to be late. I haven’t been to Alex in a couple of years and the last time I went, I spent 2 days or something in it; I’ve never really spent enough time in Alex and this time is no different. I really should make some time and go spend a week or sth there; I mean I know Sharm, Ein El Sokkhna, Taba, Noweiba3 and El Gouna really well, but I don’t really know Alex. Shameful, huh?
I am very comfortable on my own; being with other people makes me tense even if I know them really well. I am most relaxed on my own, and I am really starting to think that I am one of those people who HAVE to live alone. I just think it’s much better for me as well as the people around me to just be on my own.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
The list
1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? I am named after my paternal grandmother and incidentally my mother as well.
2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? don't know.
3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? No.
4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? I'd rather have chicken or fish.
5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? No.
6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Depends on the kind of person I am; but I think we would probably just be acquaintances or sth.
7. DO YOU USE SARCASM? Yup, taught by the best 2 sarcastic people in the world; my sisters. Before that, I didn't use sarcasm.
8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Nope.
9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? I would totally do it, just get me a rope.
10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? oatmeal with chocolate or bran flakes with raisins.
11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? No, unless the shoes are too tight to get them off without untying them first.Sometimes, I wear my shoes as a shebsheb and my mom really hates that because it ruins them.
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Mint ice cream with chocolate chips.
14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? their demeanor and then their eyes.
15. RED OR PINK?none, but if I have to choose, then Red for sure.
16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? my stupidity; sometimes I am really naive and stupid it really annoys me and no matter how much I try, I just can't stop myself.
17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My grandmother.
18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO COMPLETE THIS LIST? sure, give me stuff to read :D
19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? black pants, red shoes.
21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? into the ocean by Blue October
22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Honestly? Purple, don't know why, but I've always liked purple in crayon.
23. FAVORITE SMELLS? Prada Milan, the best aroma ever and my mother when she's going out, because she would spritz some of her perfume and it always smells better on her than when it's in the bottle.
24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? Texted? My sister, telling her about the nationality of a singer that we were arguing about yesterday.
25. HOW DO YOU KNOW THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? I picked it off a blog.
26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? I like tennis and I watch football sometimes.
27. HAIR COLOR? Deep Dark Brown, but a lot of people think it's black
28. EYE COLOR? hazelish brown
29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Nope.
30. FAVORITE FOOD? General cuisine? anything made by my mother and greek cooking.
31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? none, i want a realistic ending.
32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? He's just not that into you.
33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? faintly striped grey shirt.
34. SUMMER OR WINTER? winter and any winter anywhere.
35. HUGS OR KISSES? none; i'd be happy with a smile and a wave or a handshake.
39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING RIGHT NOW? Neither here nor there by Bill Bryson and Al Naby by Jibran Khalil Jibran.
40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? don't have one.
41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? My family were watching Oprah; watched for a while then left.
42. FAVORITE SOUND(S)? the wind in any hilly area and the sound of the car's wheels on the road. and airports' hustle.
43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Beatles.
44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? USA
45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? not really.
46 WHERE WERE U BORN? Giza, Egypt.
47. FAVORITE PIECE OF JEWELRY? earrings.
2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? don't know.
3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? No.
4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? I'd rather have chicken or fish.
5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? No.
6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Depends on the kind of person I am; but I think we would probably just be acquaintances or sth.
7. DO YOU USE SARCASM? Yup, taught by the best 2 sarcastic people in the world; my sisters. Before that, I didn't use sarcasm.
8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Nope.
9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? I would totally do it, just get me a rope.
10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? oatmeal with chocolate or bran flakes with raisins.
11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? No, unless the shoes are too tight to get them off without untying them first.Sometimes, I wear my shoes as a shebsheb and my mom really hates that because it ruins them.
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Mint ice cream with chocolate chips.
14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? their demeanor and then their eyes.
15. RED OR PINK?none, but if I have to choose, then Red for sure.
16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? my stupidity; sometimes I am really naive and stupid it really annoys me and no matter how much I try, I just can't stop myself.
17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My grandmother.
18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO COMPLETE THIS LIST? sure, give me stuff to read :D
19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? black pants, red shoes.
21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? into the ocean by Blue October
22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Honestly? Purple, don't know why, but I've always liked purple in crayon.
23. FAVORITE SMELLS? Prada Milan, the best aroma ever and my mother when she's going out, because she would spritz some of her perfume and it always smells better on her than when it's in the bottle.
24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? Texted? My sister, telling her about the nationality of a singer that we were arguing about yesterday.
25. HOW DO YOU KNOW THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? I picked it off a blog.
26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? I like tennis and I watch football sometimes.
27. HAIR COLOR? Deep Dark Brown, but a lot of people think it's black
28. EYE COLOR? hazelish brown
29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Nope.
30. FAVORITE FOOD? General cuisine? anything made by my mother and greek cooking.
31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? none, i want a realistic ending.
32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? He's just not that into you.
33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? faintly striped grey shirt.
34. SUMMER OR WINTER? winter and any winter anywhere.
35. HUGS OR KISSES? none; i'd be happy with a smile and a wave or a handshake.
39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING RIGHT NOW? Neither here nor there by Bill Bryson and Al Naby by Jibran Khalil Jibran.
40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? don't have one.
41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? My family were watching Oprah; watched for a while then left.
42. FAVORITE SOUND(S)? the wind in any hilly area and the sound of the car's wheels on the road. and airports' hustle.
43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Beatles.
44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? USA
45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? not really.
46 WHERE WERE U BORN? Giza, Egypt.
47. FAVORITE PIECE OF JEWELRY? earrings.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
FRICK IT
I don't really know how you wake up one day and you find yourself in a situation that you not only hate, but despise. I also don't know how you can become in a period of less than 2 weeks someone you respect and then a feeble person then a triumphant one then a victim then a friend then a mediator then an advice-giver then a shallow person. The thing is I have gone through all of these roles in less than two weeks and I have to say that right this very moment I am comfortably numb(quoting pink floid); incapable of any emotion what so ever and I have to say that I don't mind it. The only thing I really mind is the strange gut-wrenching pain at the pit of my stomach which ensues when I think about the past two weeks and when I think of my current state. I don't really know why, but every time I do think of my current state I laugh in disbelief; I can't believe that I am where I am or that I am thinking the way I am thinking or that I am doing what I am doing and I am laughing in cynicism not amusement.
3ammatan, ana maba2etsh far2a ma3aya, so FRICK IT, FRICK THE HELL OUT OF IT.
3ammatan, ana maba2etsh far2a ma3aya, so FRICK IT, FRICK THE HELL OUT OF IT.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The return
He stepped into the airport and as he did so, his feet bent and he almost fell flat on the ground; he didn't realize that his feet were shaking and his whole body seemed to sway left and right like a tree on a windy winter day. For the first time in quite a while, he felt afraid, genuinely frightened and worried.
It was a fairly cool day, and yet there were beads of sweat on his forehead, his palms were sweaty, and despite his olive complexion, he looked flushed and strangely white, almost as if he's seen a ghost. He could barely breathe and he seemed to have trouble swallowing as well; every time he would try to swallow, his Adam's apple would come up and down very slowly and with true difficulty.
Luckily, the airport wasn't very crowded, despite it being a weekend, but he didn't feel like it was a blessing. He wanted the place to be crowded, he needed idiotic families, waiting for the arrival of their children, to annoy him so as to offer some distraction to his raging wondering mind. He craved the anger that crowded places offered just so that he can reclaim his strength, instead of feeling feeble and anxious. He was putting himself on the line and the last time he did so, he regretted it immensely and he still suffers the consequences of that disastrous year, and although he sought revenge for his battered heart and injured ego, the hurt never really went away, chasing him all through his existence and tinting every event of his youth.
He checked the board; he was an hour early, luckily he brought his iPod with him and he made sure to fill it up with all sorts of upbeat shallow songs so as to distract him from his current state. As the iPod played Amy McDowell's "this is the life", he stepped outside the airport, onto which some call a street, but he always thought that those streets inside the airport were make-believe; they were just too empty for the usual streets of Cairo, too clean and the backdrop of these so-called streets was too vacant for the over-crowded metropolitan. No, according to his logic, these were you-are-at-the-airport streets, so as not to be confused by the normal Cairene streets and hence encourage the lingering of people. This was his usual line of thought, but today he can't seem to be capable of one single coherent thought. Every time he would try to focus his thoughts on one single item his brain would go back to the email he got several days ago. He opened it up expecting some funny or cynical forward; the type of emails he was used to getting from her, but this one was different. It started the same way; with her upbeat greeting, but this upbeat manner soon changed into a melancholy cynical sentences and emotionally felt words. He wouldn't have guessed the contents of this email even if his life depended on it. What amazed him is that she started the email with the most important part and then she didn't even give him a chance to process it as she went on describing the reason for such a confession, and even then he wasn't given the chance to comprehend as she continued on with instructions about what he's supposed to do and the fact that nothing was demanded of him, but the act of discretion. In some way, her manner annoyed him; she should have given him an option, a way to respond, a window of opportunity, but alas, she didn't. She was very specific and to the point, but he knew her too well to be fooled with these well-crafted sentences; he knew that behind those lines of comic cynicism lies great sorrow and self-reprimanding.
She was so final all through the email and he knew it wasn't an invitation, but rather a distant farewell and a way to attain closure. Yet, how can one attain closure for something that hasn't been given a chance to even begin, he wondered. She was too proud, that's why there was a great sense of rejection in her words; she was just protecting herself and he understood all that and more. He just wished she would have told him earlier and not in this distant manner. He must have read this email a hundred times or so, going over every sentence, every punctuation, every pause; desperately trying to understand her state of mind as she wrote this blatant confession. He figured that her own logic and obstinate mind guided her to this impersonal, but final solution, as she was a firm believer of the saying, "desperate times call for desperate measures," and she must have been desperate for closure.
She sat there crushed in between two large but quite jolly Scottish gentlemen, who were on their way to Cairo for business. She was really immersed in conversation with one of them about the similarities and differences of the Scottish and Egyptian culture; especially comparing their historic clan system to upper Egypt's tribal one. She was finally letting go of that chip on her shoulder and forgetting that which she must forget. After a while it seemed like the whole plane fell into deep sleep and she was alone with he thoughts and her mp3 player. She distracted herself by singing to the tunes; only inside her head of course so as not to wake the sleeping passengers. Everything was fine until the song "neither one of us" by Gladys Knight started playing. A specific line in this song always gets her; "lord knows that it is only me that I am deceiving." Indeed she was deceiving herself and lying to her whole being, but right now it was the only thing she could muster up and she was to be satisfied with this shaky state until the sands of time pile up on these hurtful memories, burying them under a sea of new unimportant and shallow memories of things she doesn't want to remember. She dreaded the day that will come when she would be incapable of conjuring his image, or laughing at a joke he said, or get annoyed at a smirk yet true remark he's said about her. She kept reminding herself that a sign of growing up was doing that which we must do even if we don't want to.
Her train of thought was interrupted by a sudden jolt of the entire plane, which was successful in waking up the whole plane as well with a sense of great shock, and then before they started to wonder what just happened, the calm voice of the pilot came through the plane's speakers, announcing that they were experiencing some turbulence and asked the passengers to remain calm and seated, restricting trips to the bathroom for utter emergencies. The announcement seemed to cast an air of worry and suspense upon the whole plane, and many people grabbed their seats tightly as if that their firm grips will keep the plane from plummeting to a disastrous end. She observed people around her, registering their reactions and she noticed for the first time during the whole flight, the Scottish gents beside her were in complete silence while being awake. The panic-stricken passengers experienced 20 minutes of this until the pilot's voice came through the speakers, announcing that they were out of the woods and turning off the seat belt sign. Upon hearing the jolly news, the whole plane broke into applause; many of the passengers uttered signs of relief, while others crossed themselves and others said "El Hamd leAllah" in a loud voice and others hugged and kissed their kids. The Scottish gents beside her were laughing their heads off, while the cabin crew distributed complementary drinks to calm every body down. What amazed her the most is that during those nerve-wrecking 20 minutes, she had never considered the option of a crash or her own death, but only one thought remained in her head, that of him. When the friendly flight attendant asked what should would like to drink, she asked for diet coke with ice, a slice of lemon and a sprig of mint, which always seemed to calm her down.
The monitor indicated that there was still two hours and half left for the plane to touch down and so she decided to watch one of the movies available as in-flight entertainment; the choice fell upon "angels and demons", which she failed to watch when it was released. She hadn't seen the previous film "The Da Vinci code" because she had read the novel and feared that she would be disappointed as often blockbusters of famous novels do, but she hadn't read "angels and demons" and so proceeded to watch the movie without fear. As the final credits rolled out, she stretched and yawned; the movie was entertaining enough, but the strange thing was that she knew how the movie would end from the start of it and so the "surprise" ending offered no surprise, which was a bit disappointing. Nonetheless, she enjoyed the film; especially Tom Hank's performance,which never seemed to disappoint. There was still 40 minutes left for the plane to land and she wondered what she would do to waste the time and distract her troubled mind. She had with her a novel; "atonement", which was fairly interesting, but she found that the narration sometimes ran a bit long especially that a big portion of the novel is told from the perspective of one character, constricting the reader to one view of the events, which was a bit disheartening. Since she was annoyed, restless and frustrated, she found the idea of reading to be dissatisfying,and so she decided to bury her conscious mind in the tunes of her mp3 player and try, even if it is in vain, to rest.
Miraculously she slept through these 40 minutes, only to find that the Scottish gent on her right gently tapping her shoulder and telling her that they're about to land. She looked out the window to find the shimmering lights of Cairo shining, framing the urban city with a strangely yellow aura that cast a shadow of mystery upon it and made it interesting to the eyes of the beholder. She has always been amused by the sight of Cairo at night and every time she would find it to be slightly different than the time before, which made it even more amusing and beautiful. Somehow, the sight of her hometown offered some comfort to her wandering soul, and yet at the same time it seemed to conjure an annoying feeling that lodged at the pit of her stomach, sending pain all over her exhausted body. The plane started to travel through the layers of the atmosphere trying to reach solid ground, just like a swimmer diving in the deep end of the swimming pool trying to reach the bottom of the pool. Every stroke of the swimmer's hand and every kick of his legs brought him closer to his goal, but increased the agonizing pressure on his lungs, in an effort to try and force the air out of his lungs. Even though she was in a pressurized plane with plenty of air around her, her lungs were completely constricted and she would have gasped for air if she hadn't noticed that she was comfortably breathing on her own. The sudden jolt of the plane as the wheels touched the hard ground was normal for most passengers, but for her, it shook her whole being and made her heart pound greatly as if sounding out for help.
The "lady in the mike", as he liked to call the airport announcements, announced the arrival of flight BA 145, but he figured that the baggage reclaim will take a bit longer and so he stepped out of the airport for a quick smoke, which took a bit longer and by the time he finished his fourth cigarette, 15 minutes have passed. He reentered the airport and made his way to the arrivals, which has become utterly crowded as passengers of flight BA 145 started to flood out of the initial gate to be greeted by anxious families, bored drivers and weary travel agents. He strained his eyes, stood on his tiptoes, jumped and squeezed himself between the crowds of people trying to find her...
The baggage reclaim has taken her a bit of time and by the time she actually found her bag, people were so piled on the moving belt that it seemed impossible to get it, if not for an elderly gentleman who stepped away to give her way. She got her one bag and wheeled it out to the initial entrance, to be greeted by the ultimate chaos of terminal 2. The trip through the customs was fairly easy, but she was exhausted more mentally than physically and she hoped that she would find him easily. She strained herself as she tried desperately to look through the crowds, examining the faces,looking beyond the converging mess of bystanders, trying to find him...
"7amdellah 3ala El Salama ya mama," he said as he reached for her two bags, she kissed him on the cheeks and held his face for a while. "Thanks hun, how was the drive up here?" she said as she adjusted her veil. "It was fine," he responded half-heartedly as he put her bags in the hood of the car. She got in and immediately looked at herself in the passenger side's mirror, shaking her head left and right, which he noticed, "You look beautiful ya mama," he said. She smiled at him, "You look like there's something wrong, is something the matter?" He sighed as he inserted the key in the ignition and then said, "work stuff" and then they drove away.
"Ya baba," she cried as she saw her father, who,as soon as he saw her, came towards her and took her bag as she hugged him tightly; she hadn't seen him in 15 days and she missed him immensely. "You are not to travel for that long again, your mother has been driving me crazy. She called me 8 times in the last 10 minutes, is she there yet? is she there yet,I..." just then his cellphone rang, he answered, "Yes, she's there, we're on our way, if you can allow me half an hour of driving time," and then he hung up. "You know I have to go back in a month," she said as he started the car. He looked at her and said, "well then, we'll just have to make the best of it then," and he paused for a while and then looked at her again, "You look awfully pale, is something the matter?" she looked at herself in the mirror and thought if only you knew, but responded "I am just tired" and then they drove away.
It was a fairly cool day, and yet there were beads of sweat on his forehead, his palms were sweaty, and despite his olive complexion, he looked flushed and strangely white, almost as if he's seen a ghost. He could barely breathe and he seemed to have trouble swallowing as well; every time he would try to swallow, his Adam's apple would come up and down very slowly and with true difficulty.
Luckily, the airport wasn't very crowded, despite it being a weekend, but he didn't feel like it was a blessing. He wanted the place to be crowded, he needed idiotic families, waiting for the arrival of their children, to annoy him so as to offer some distraction to his raging wondering mind. He craved the anger that crowded places offered just so that he can reclaim his strength, instead of feeling feeble and anxious. He was putting himself on the line and the last time he did so, he regretted it immensely and he still suffers the consequences of that disastrous year, and although he sought revenge for his battered heart and injured ego, the hurt never really went away, chasing him all through his existence and tinting every event of his youth.
He checked the board; he was an hour early, luckily he brought his iPod with him and he made sure to fill it up with all sorts of upbeat shallow songs so as to distract him from his current state. As the iPod played Amy McDowell's "this is the life", he stepped outside the airport, onto which some call a street, but he always thought that those streets inside the airport were make-believe; they were just too empty for the usual streets of Cairo, too clean and the backdrop of these so-called streets was too vacant for the over-crowded metropolitan. No, according to his logic, these were you-are-at-the-airport streets, so as not to be confused by the normal Cairene streets and hence encourage the lingering of people. This was his usual line of thought, but today he can't seem to be capable of one single coherent thought. Every time he would try to focus his thoughts on one single item his brain would go back to the email he got several days ago. He opened it up expecting some funny or cynical forward; the type of emails he was used to getting from her, but this one was different. It started the same way; with her upbeat greeting, but this upbeat manner soon changed into a melancholy cynical sentences and emotionally felt words. He wouldn't have guessed the contents of this email even if his life depended on it. What amazed him is that she started the email with the most important part and then she didn't even give him a chance to process it as she went on describing the reason for such a confession, and even then he wasn't given the chance to comprehend as she continued on with instructions about what he's supposed to do and the fact that nothing was demanded of him, but the act of discretion. In some way, her manner annoyed him; she should have given him an option, a way to respond, a window of opportunity, but alas, she didn't. She was very specific and to the point, but he knew her too well to be fooled with these well-crafted sentences; he knew that behind those lines of comic cynicism lies great sorrow and self-reprimanding.
She was so final all through the email and he knew it wasn't an invitation, but rather a distant farewell and a way to attain closure. Yet, how can one attain closure for something that hasn't been given a chance to even begin, he wondered. She was too proud, that's why there was a great sense of rejection in her words; she was just protecting herself and he understood all that and more. He just wished she would have told him earlier and not in this distant manner. He must have read this email a hundred times or so, going over every sentence, every punctuation, every pause; desperately trying to understand her state of mind as she wrote this blatant confession. He figured that her own logic and obstinate mind guided her to this impersonal, but final solution, as she was a firm believer of the saying, "desperate times call for desperate measures," and she must have been desperate for closure.
She sat there crushed in between two large but quite jolly Scottish gentlemen, who were on their way to Cairo for business. She was really immersed in conversation with one of them about the similarities and differences of the Scottish and Egyptian culture; especially comparing their historic clan system to upper Egypt's tribal one. She was finally letting go of that chip on her shoulder and forgetting that which she must forget. After a while it seemed like the whole plane fell into deep sleep and she was alone with he thoughts and her mp3 player. She distracted herself by singing to the tunes; only inside her head of course so as not to wake the sleeping passengers. Everything was fine until the song "neither one of us" by Gladys Knight started playing. A specific line in this song always gets her; "lord knows that it is only me that I am deceiving." Indeed she was deceiving herself and lying to her whole being, but right now it was the only thing she could muster up and she was to be satisfied with this shaky state until the sands of time pile up on these hurtful memories, burying them under a sea of new unimportant and shallow memories of things she doesn't want to remember. She dreaded the day that will come when she would be incapable of conjuring his image, or laughing at a joke he said, or get annoyed at a smirk yet true remark he's said about her. She kept reminding herself that a sign of growing up was doing that which we must do even if we don't want to.
Her train of thought was interrupted by a sudden jolt of the entire plane, which was successful in waking up the whole plane as well with a sense of great shock, and then before they started to wonder what just happened, the calm voice of the pilot came through the plane's speakers, announcing that they were experiencing some turbulence and asked the passengers to remain calm and seated, restricting trips to the bathroom for utter emergencies. The announcement seemed to cast an air of worry and suspense upon the whole plane, and many people grabbed their seats tightly as if that their firm grips will keep the plane from plummeting to a disastrous end. She observed people around her, registering their reactions and she noticed for the first time during the whole flight, the Scottish gents beside her were in complete silence while being awake. The panic-stricken passengers experienced 20 minutes of this until the pilot's voice came through the speakers, announcing that they were out of the woods and turning off the seat belt sign. Upon hearing the jolly news, the whole plane broke into applause; many of the passengers uttered signs of relief, while others crossed themselves and others said "El Hamd leAllah" in a loud voice and others hugged and kissed their kids. The Scottish gents beside her were laughing their heads off, while the cabin crew distributed complementary drinks to calm every body down. What amazed her the most is that during those nerve-wrecking 20 minutes, she had never considered the option of a crash or her own death, but only one thought remained in her head, that of him. When the friendly flight attendant asked what should would like to drink, she asked for diet coke with ice, a slice of lemon and a sprig of mint, which always seemed to calm her down.
The monitor indicated that there was still two hours and half left for the plane to touch down and so she decided to watch one of the movies available as in-flight entertainment; the choice fell upon "angels and demons", which she failed to watch when it was released. She hadn't seen the previous film "The Da Vinci code" because she had read the novel and feared that she would be disappointed as often blockbusters of famous novels do, but she hadn't read "angels and demons" and so proceeded to watch the movie without fear. As the final credits rolled out, she stretched and yawned; the movie was entertaining enough, but the strange thing was that she knew how the movie would end from the start of it and so the "surprise" ending offered no surprise, which was a bit disappointing. Nonetheless, she enjoyed the film; especially Tom Hank's performance,which never seemed to disappoint. There was still 40 minutes left for the plane to land and she wondered what she would do to waste the time and distract her troubled mind. She had with her a novel; "atonement", which was fairly interesting, but she found that the narration sometimes ran a bit long especially that a big portion of the novel is told from the perspective of one character, constricting the reader to one view of the events, which was a bit disheartening. Since she was annoyed, restless and frustrated, she found the idea of reading to be dissatisfying,and so she decided to bury her conscious mind in the tunes of her mp3 player and try, even if it is in vain, to rest.
Miraculously she slept through these 40 minutes, only to find that the Scottish gent on her right gently tapping her shoulder and telling her that they're about to land. She looked out the window to find the shimmering lights of Cairo shining, framing the urban city with a strangely yellow aura that cast a shadow of mystery upon it and made it interesting to the eyes of the beholder. She has always been amused by the sight of Cairo at night and every time she would find it to be slightly different than the time before, which made it even more amusing and beautiful. Somehow, the sight of her hometown offered some comfort to her wandering soul, and yet at the same time it seemed to conjure an annoying feeling that lodged at the pit of her stomach, sending pain all over her exhausted body. The plane started to travel through the layers of the atmosphere trying to reach solid ground, just like a swimmer diving in the deep end of the swimming pool trying to reach the bottom of the pool. Every stroke of the swimmer's hand and every kick of his legs brought him closer to his goal, but increased the agonizing pressure on his lungs, in an effort to try and force the air out of his lungs. Even though she was in a pressurized plane with plenty of air around her, her lungs were completely constricted and she would have gasped for air if she hadn't noticed that she was comfortably breathing on her own. The sudden jolt of the plane as the wheels touched the hard ground was normal for most passengers, but for her, it shook her whole being and made her heart pound greatly as if sounding out for help.
The "lady in the mike", as he liked to call the airport announcements, announced the arrival of flight BA 145, but he figured that the baggage reclaim will take a bit longer and so he stepped out of the airport for a quick smoke, which took a bit longer and by the time he finished his fourth cigarette, 15 minutes have passed. He reentered the airport and made his way to the arrivals, which has become utterly crowded as passengers of flight BA 145 started to flood out of the initial gate to be greeted by anxious families, bored drivers and weary travel agents. He strained his eyes, stood on his tiptoes, jumped and squeezed himself between the crowds of people trying to find her...
The baggage reclaim has taken her a bit of time and by the time she actually found her bag, people were so piled on the moving belt that it seemed impossible to get it, if not for an elderly gentleman who stepped away to give her way. She got her one bag and wheeled it out to the initial entrance, to be greeted by the ultimate chaos of terminal 2. The trip through the customs was fairly easy, but she was exhausted more mentally than physically and she hoped that she would find him easily. She strained herself as she tried desperately to look through the crowds, examining the faces,looking beyond the converging mess of bystanders, trying to find him...
"7amdellah 3ala El Salama ya mama," he said as he reached for her two bags, she kissed him on the cheeks and held his face for a while. "Thanks hun, how was the drive up here?" she said as she adjusted her veil. "It was fine," he responded half-heartedly as he put her bags in the hood of the car. She got in and immediately looked at herself in the passenger side's mirror, shaking her head left and right, which he noticed, "You look beautiful ya mama," he said. She smiled at him, "You look like there's something wrong, is something the matter?" He sighed as he inserted the key in the ignition and then said, "work stuff" and then they drove away.
"Ya baba," she cried as she saw her father, who,as soon as he saw her, came towards her and took her bag as she hugged him tightly; she hadn't seen him in 15 days and she missed him immensely. "You are not to travel for that long again, your mother has been driving me crazy. She called me 8 times in the last 10 minutes, is she there yet? is she there yet,I..." just then his cellphone rang, he answered, "Yes, she's there, we're on our way, if you can allow me half an hour of driving time," and then he hung up. "You know I have to go back in a month," she said as he started the car. He looked at her and said, "well then, we'll just have to make the best of it then," and he paused for a while and then looked at her again, "You look awfully pale, is something the matter?" she looked at herself in the mirror and thought if only you knew, but responded "I am just tired" and then they drove away.
The lucky one
She was usually fairly friendly, easy to talk to and nice, but not today. She has waken up with the worst memory ever and the day's events keep pushing her towards thoughts, memories and feelings she wants to push back. And so, if you meet her today, your first impression would be that of an aggressive, unfriendly mess of a human being, and no body would really blame you, not even her.
It should have been an extraordinary day, she was in fact going to tick one thing off her long unwinding bucket list, and it wasn't a tiny item that she happened to do, but rather a substantial to-do that required months of planning, some hefty sum of money and a whole lot of daydreaming and pleading. Not to mention the amount of effort that went into doing all that, it was of tremendous thinking,calculating and decision making, and for the first time in her life it was up to her to do all that; she was for the first time in a long time her own boss, something she have been looking forward to for a long time.
Today, in her own mind, should have been a glorious day of fulfillment and self-assertion, a reaffirmation of her independence and a celebration of her late introduction into adulthood. She thought that this day would bring her incredible peace of mind and an appreciation of life, but alas it hasn't, and although everything has run according to plan, she still felt the pain of her existence and the trouble of her mind.
The possibility of this day not happening was great, in fact she just made it to the bus station in time, a second or so before the bus left. And as she went on the bus, the driver smiled and said "you're a lucky one, aren't ya?" and in her mind she thought that if he knew that which pained her, he would have uttered these words in cynicism rather than his cheerful upbeat manner.
The trip was long and it went in a loop, ending where it started and it reminded her of her mind and how nowadays it seems to always go in frivolous loops, that only tire and weaken her resolve, while offering no relief for her weary soul. The driver/tour guide was joking and jesting all the way through, and in its own tiny way it offered some comfort and distraction to her troubled mind. Yet in another way, it reminded her of what she lacked; a cheerful spirit.
The boat ride seemed to calm her down a bit, and it was the raging wind of the lake and the freezing weather that reminded her of her feeble state and she realized that she was being unfair to her relentless self; because by surrendering to her melancholy state she was admitting defeat, and the lake reminded her that she was neither feeble, failed or defeated, but rather the opposite. Indeed, she was a winner; and although there was no real prize to claim, her reward was that of trial and experience. She has delved into the most wild and untamed part within her; her virgin heart, where she engraved a small x at the edge of it. Yet, the truly amazing achievement is that it was her head which prevailed, reluctantly, but decisively.
It should have been an extraordinary day, she was in fact going to tick one thing off her long unwinding bucket list, and it wasn't a tiny item that she happened to do, but rather a substantial to-do that required months of planning, some hefty sum of money and a whole lot of daydreaming and pleading. Not to mention the amount of effort that went into doing all that, it was of tremendous thinking,calculating and decision making, and for the first time in her life it was up to her to do all that; she was for the first time in a long time her own boss, something she have been looking forward to for a long time.
Today, in her own mind, should have been a glorious day of fulfillment and self-assertion, a reaffirmation of her independence and a celebration of her late introduction into adulthood. She thought that this day would bring her incredible peace of mind and an appreciation of life, but alas it hasn't, and although everything has run according to plan, she still felt the pain of her existence and the trouble of her mind.
The possibility of this day not happening was great, in fact she just made it to the bus station in time, a second or so before the bus left. And as she went on the bus, the driver smiled and said "you're a lucky one, aren't ya?" and in her mind she thought that if he knew that which pained her, he would have uttered these words in cynicism rather than his cheerful upbeat manner.
The trip was long and it went in a loop, ending where it started and it reminded her of her mind and how nowadays it seems to always go in frivolous loops, that only tire and weaken her resolve, while offering no relief for her weary soul. The driver/tour guide was joking and jesting all the way through, and in its own tiny way it offered some comfort and distraction to her troubled mind. Yet in another way, it reminded her of what she lacked; a cheerful spirit.
The boat ride seemed to calm her down a bit, and it was the raging wind of the lake and the freezing weather that reminded her of her feeble state and she realized that she was being unfair to her relentless self; because by surrendering to her melancholy state she was admitting defeat, and the lake reminded her that she was neither feeble, failed or defeated, but rather the opposite. Indeed, she was a winner; and although there was no real prize to claim, her reward was that of trial and experience. She has delved into the most wild and untamed part within her; her virgin heart, where she engraved a small x at the edge of it. Yet, the truly amazing achievement is that it was her head which prevailed, reluctantly, but decisively.
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