Chronic Pain

It is dark gray; it is getting darker… and darker…
When I left the council, when my foot stepped out side the BC and the nice cold breeze gently touched my face, I fell inside my self, I lost the ability to hear, their voices started to fade away, a dark dusty wind was running fast toward me and it hit me… it hit strong… it hit me fast, it left dark spots on my soul… I walked with them, but they seemed like they are living in their own world, or better to say I was separated from their world… isolated alone, scared, panicked… and lost in a storm of thoughts.
I tried to get back to normal… I tried to talk, to breath… to stop this weird feeling of sickness inside my stomach.

Then it was time to leave, I put my big bag on my back, carried my big huge red scrap book, said good bye with a fake smile on my face and walked away…
In every step I made I was sucking in all the pain around, inhaling all the yellowness around… I tried to focus on music, but even Radio head couldn’t help… nothing did.
Anger… rage, over it all
Over myself, disgusted by the way I was judging people from the way they dress, I feel horrible, why I am unable to stop myself being a jerk?

Angry at that man, walking his child pulling him from his tiny arm

Angry at that woman who is pregnant for being pregnant

Angry at the stupid driver who was about to hit me while I was walking on the SIDE WALK not the streets!!! I hit his car calling him names… but I don’t feel that was enough.

Angry at the death of 8 innocent Syrians who were living their lives normally before the hands of the devil slapped them hard, angry at the weak reaction toward this violence of our national security…

Angry at my father cause he died when I was so young and before I was able to have a proper conversation with him…

Angry when I passed by the hospital, when I looked up to the third floor when I witnessed the death of a 19 years old beautiful girl I knew from brain tumor last year, angry at God and at her "well Educated mother" who said while she was leaving in her fancy car "it is God will… nothing could be made"… I wanted to scream at her "yes there were …you asshole, when your daughter had headaches you said it was normal, when you kept her at home hiding her from life because you wanted to create a demon like yourself… you killed her you pastured"… I didn’t say so to her and so I feel angry cause I didn't.

Angry at the police man writing ticket to an old poor taxi driver, damn it… where is the mercy?? Fuck the system then… fuck it a million times.

Angry at them saying that we should stick to priorities when considering community development projects and so using the fund for helping young deprived people is more important that using it for helping people with disabilities to be included in the society, the mentality of decreasing the human's life value cause they can't benefit us!!!!

Angry at people who are happy all the time, and angry at myself because I am angry at them.

Fuck…. Fuck…. All that darkness inside us… life is a weird selection of all kinds of pain… my soul is in pain… chronic pain.

I can't breath my throat is swollen with sorrow, and I cry and cry and cry… and nothing changes except for the traffic lights…

Let the rain fall down and wash my tears away
Wash my souls away
Wash all that pain away
Wash me a way…
My whole existence...


"Update: this was written in a very angry state of mind, no damages happened ;)"

CEDAW with some discriminations allowed!!!

What the fuck is the meaning of this statement:
"Syria signed on the CEDAW convention but with conservations "????

Notice the "ALL" in here:
CEDAW stands for The Convention on the Elimination of ALL Forms of Discrimination against Women.


So if it is OK for me to be treated as a second degree citizen, if it is OK if I was discriminated against when it comes to rights and responsibilities if I got married, if it is OK if I didn’t have the right to pass my nationality to my kids because I am a woman, if it is OK if I was stopped at the airport and asked for my "husband who is my sponsor's" permission, if is it OK if I was killed because I fell in love with some one, if it is OK for me to be considered half human by the Syrian law…


what in hell is the meaning of this statement:
"Syria signed the CEDAW convention with some conservations"

If our "respected" head of the Parliament was insisting that: "women are not considered as citizens" in the Parliament meeting through many statements he made...
http://www.nesasy.org/content/view/6569/110/

I leave it here, I just can't find any more words to describe the anger i am holding right now, nothing to describe how frustirated and disgusted i am feeling right now.

it is DARK... DARK AND DOORS OF HOPE ARE SHUT AGGRESIVELY ON THE FACE OF JUSTICE AND HUMANITY ON THE DOOR OF THE PARLIAMENT... FUCK!!

Boycotting Nestlé alone

A new decision...
we all heard about the Nestlé's Unethical Marketing policies , I was refusing to research it because I was too selfish and didn’t want to feel the guilt.
But now after reading the research my friend did on the Ethical Consumer and the horrible unethical marketing means that Nestlé launches in the poor parts of the world for its babies' milk products causing the deaths of hundreds of infants for the sake of increasing profit and keep selling, I will say... NO FOR Nestlé, what so ever…

Nestlé is using the ignorance of African women who were not fortune enough to have any health education, forcing these moms into using water that could not be clean enough for the babies who didn’t develop immunity toward the pollution in the water… the moms think that the infant formula of the milk that is produced by Nestlé is better for their babies, with medical staff being bribed by money or so by the Nestlé sales agents , plus with the clinic getting all these free samples from the company, which they give it back in their turn to those moms who will keep using the samples till their breast milk will be dried… that will get these mothers to work soon, the work that they need it much to feed their family in their poor villages.
Thousands of infants died from diseases, diarrhea that is caused by poor nourishment and ill immunity that is caused by not having breast milk.
After knowing all that, how would I ever make a coffee with Nestlé trademark on it??

I know we don’t have fair trade -and actually I don’t trust fair trade's organizations like the co-operatives stuff- and we don’t have awareness into promoting for becoming ethical customers, we don’t have Oxfam in here, some of my friends and family will laugh at me and call me idealistic even after I explain why, I can care less... I will do what I can for now

I will give away my perfect Nescafe minutes, I don’t give a damn care...
All the chocolate products they make... what the heck, there are better taste chocolates out there.
There will always be alternatives, maybe better alternatives with less marketing aggression.

One less customer in Syria will not have any impact over this huge company, but I will not be part of this disgusting consuming blood sucking company.

please research this, and think about it

Bloody Fridays

Painting my nails with dark red… red hot chill peppering… chilling around my messy room… sipping from the blue rosy mug some weird coffee that taste like Pepsi with Vanilla … not in a mood to read… not in a mood to eat… not in a mood to cry…not in a mood to walk… not in a mood to talk… not in a mood to breath!


I hate those bloody Fridays.

My dear lovely Brain, You Need Some Time Off, and so DO I

Once I have done it (for 2 days) I reprogrammed my self into hope. My brain didn’t respond very well though.
How cool it would be if we could control our brains for every thing, if we had a control panel when we close our eyes, so we just click with our sight over the wanted option like " on hope", on" temporary numb", on" lie on your self and believe the lie" or on "lalalalalala…siiiiiinging in the rain, just singing in the rain, what a beautiful day what a .." moods?
You should be extremely good to be able to lie to yourself.
I know people who do it, who lie on themselves and then they believe the lie, they seem so happy, they see the word in pinky eyes, birds all around cheering and singing lullabies to laughing babies, nice clever people every where, talking rabbits and singing cows, cool air even when it is as hot as the Moroccan desert's 60 degrees that we learned about in the elementary school.. And above all, even if they were the biggest screwed up jerks in the world, they see themselves as the best successful, moralistic people ever!

I envy them, I mean … I really wish I can be a jerk like them, and stop cursing and hating every thing I do, nothing is enough to me, I am turning into mom … nothing is ever good enough.

I … its so freaking shit, I want to control my brain but my brain is like a crazy asshole, running around, laughing at me all the time, if I asked it to love, it will hate and if I asked it to sleep it will stay up all night, it put the "in your face" mood all the day, it put its tongue out laughing and dripping at my "hopes", calling me nuts all the time, screaming at my rationalism complexes all the time, I think my brain needs a break.
I love you my brain, you made lots of fucked up things in the world senseless to me which is saving my heart beats keeping them going, to learn that "fucked up world" is not sensible… which kept my hopes alive.
You were able to stop me crying out lewdly in several occasions, spared me embarrassment.
You were able to control my rage when meeting stupid arrogant people saying the most stupid ugly disgusting inhumane things in the world, spreading blackness and sickness around.
I know you have a good heart, but you need a time off.

Oh my stupid lovely weird brain, why you are forcing me into posting this crazy stupid post….

I want to give my brain a break, buy it some nice sunglasses, pinky rosy Hawaii t-shirt, a big bar of flake chocolate and some maltesers for the journey and send it to Alaska to freeze for a while, any one knows a nice brain travel agent?

An ordinary faceless man

"A very long boring story"

Waking up 20 minutes late, I didn’t have much time to put my washings in or even having my law-fat "Yukky" cereals, I just took a quick shower, had very little time which I chose to dedicate for my holly coffee 10 minutes rather than brushing my teeth.
I picked up my backbag, made sure I have got my essential sacred items: my MP3 player, pocket book, keys, camera, cellphone, and the meeting stuff.
Slammed the door behind me, and pressed the bottom for the elevator, it took ages so I ran down the stairs, I tripped down in the 2nd floor and it looked like I hurt my ankle but what the heck, I am late on the first meeting..
I walked down the street to reach the bus stop, it was crowded that day and my ankle really hurt , with no time the bus came and I went up, I was fortune to sit next to the window cause I wanted to avoid any visual or any other kind of contact with people in the bus, like usual… I put the headphones on and played some Coldplay to fix my mood.
I took my book out of my bag "the kite runner" page 39, I started reading and I took a look at the window each now and then so I don’t miss my stop.
When I look through the window, all I see is just ordinary people doing ordinary stuff, buying some homos from the homosatie (homos shop), a woman holding her baby who is sucking a pink lollipop with sticky hands begging his mother to give him the freedom to move… all these kind of ordinary stuff…
I was flipping the page when I looked out of the window and there it was, a man with a black suit staring at an ordinary tree…
"Crazy people…!" I thought.
I looked closer; the man did not have a face!! A faceless man…!
I thought I was hallucinating; I asked the driver to stop and went down… I froze there for few minutes and then I thought… should I approach him? Is he dangerous? Is he infectious??? But my curiosity fraction of my brain stopped all these programmed electric movements that were moving crazily in my brain and send orders to my healthy leg and the one with injured ankle to move toward him, I obeyed and poked the man…

He turned to me and said: "what do you want you crazy girl?"

I answered with a petrified smile on my face: "I know that is a bit rude but I can't stop myself from asking you, why…"

And before I finished my question he side "am I staring at an ordinary tree?"
"Well, why you don’t have a face? I know this is none of my business but it is just …"
He answered with fragile, shaky voice: "for the same reason that you have red blood on your ankle missy, an accident… I just grew up"

"So you were born with a face?" I asked with poise
"yes, every one does" he answered and then he explained " I remember my face in the eyes of my mother when she used to kiss me, when her face was moving closer I used to see details of my face, my eyes… they were brown, and my nose.. my cheeks were as red as an apple.. she believed in me, she used to sing to me something about birds and she used to look to me while she sang to me night after night… but I grew up… poor as a stray cat, and days passed by and I kept loosing face features… one detail after an other, I went to the doctor to see what's wrong with me but he couldn’t figure this thing out…"

I interrupted him and said with all the excitement in the world "I know a cosmetic doctor who can do wonders, the best in Syria… no in the whole Middle East!!"

He laughed in a sarcastic way and said "as I was walking away from the doctor office, I lost even more features and so on.
I used to walk every day in these very streets, trying to see my reflections in the eyes of people but I couldn’t see but the judgment, blackness… they looked through my eyes while they were looking at me, I didn’t see me, I wasn’t there, some perspectives were there.. and so I became faceless"

He picked one leaf of the tree and gave it to me saying "smell it… touch it… feel it"
I took it from him and smelled it, it smelled like a something I knew but couldn’t recognize, for some reason the smell awaken my senses and I felt …sensi-tive

He took my hand and asked me to come closer to the tree, I took two steps forward and he said " look at the color of the wood, look at those ants climbing it, look at those yellow leafs moving under the sun giving them the good bye kiss… can you sense the character of this tree?

I looked at the tree, from every angle and touched the wood… out of sudden, that ordinary tree looked so interesting… it was "the" tree, not a tree.
I looked at the faceless man and I swear I could see him smiling… I could see some features, sparkling eyes…
"Thank you for listening" in a deep warm voice, and he walked away…
I wanted to say something, but he just disappeared among the crowd.

I spent that day walking aimlessly, looking at the people in the eyes and making sure that they can see their reflections in my eyes. And I could see, not ordinary… every one has different experiences every minute.

The sky was raining colors…

At the end of the day it hit me:
"It was a lemon tree… "the” tree was a lemon tree"

Side effects

Here I am, feeling like writing something but don’t have any thing to write, did some doodling but not satisfied… how weird are those moments… it's just like there is some one else inside me want to tell me something or express something to me but can't reach my conscious for some reason!
Two minutes ago I was going through my stuff, searching for a pen and a piece of paper like an addict craving for her fix… but my brain is getting blank.
Something feels weird about my room; it smells like a doctor office! I think it's because of the meds and all the Ethanol stuff next to the lamp. I swear I can see them having a dancing party getting ready for my immune system's white flag that will rise very soon.

I have a love-hate relationship with diets, like I hate spending time in the kitchen making cabbage soup, calculating calories and worrying about not having enough proteins, I feel really sad over my self getting excited about the fact that I will have a non-law-fat cereals with skimmed milk this morning because I ran out of the law-fat one.
But at the same time, I love those glorious moments when I loose sizes…But most importantly, those moments of feeling high on the low blood-sugar. The feeling of carelessness. A painless existence of me… staring at the cover of the book I'm holding and thinking of…

nothing

Not all side effects are bad; sometimes they are good, some times they are needed if you look closely in'em!

Who is protecting the vulnerable? -1-

Illegal immigrants in the UK are targets for criminals and armed gangs, illegal immigrants have no rights, the state won't provide protection to the "illegals", inspite the fact that according to the UDHR, those "illegal" human beings must be guaranteed the very basic human rights, most importantly PROTECTION!

Home

My home is not a place… it doesn’t have walls or trees.

رزق الله!

بتتذكروا أناني الحليب القزاز, يلي بدها فتاحة كازوز؟؟
بتتذكروا الكازوز شو كان بارد وطيب لما يكون في شوب و عجقة و غبرا...
بتتذكروا شبابيك السيارة القديمة كيف بتنفتح و بتتسكر يدويا؟؟
بتتذكروا أغطية الأدنين الصوف لما كنا نطلع على بلودان كل ما شفنا بنشرة الأخبار الجوية أنه في ( تساقط ثلوج على المرتفعات)
بتتذكروا أشرطة الفيديو الكبيرة قديش كانو يتشربكوا.
بتتذكروا الكنكنة و الدفا لما يمدوا السجاد على أول الشتوية؟؟
بتتذكروا لما كان بابا كتير طويل و جدو طويل كتير و طانت ماجدة عملاقة و الكيت كات الملفوفة بسولوفان من مضايا كتير طيبة؟
بتتذكروا صوت الرجلين و هنن حافيين عالبلاط لما نركض بالكوليدور قبل ما ينمد السجاد؟
بتتذكروا لما كنا فهمانين كلشي بس عاملين حالنا ما منفهم شي.
بتتذكروا لما كنا كبار, كتير كبار بس الكل بيقولوا عنا صغار؟