ريحة الأرض

ليش هيك صايرة ريحة الأرض بالشام؟ عم تتناثر أجزاء منا، كل يوم في أجزاء عم توقع وتغرق بالأرض، بتشوفها بحافة الشارع، تحت الرصيف... عم يكنسها الزبال من دون ما يعرف ولا نحنا نعرف، ضو الشارع ما بيعكسها ولا ضو السيارات أو ضو الإشارات... بتفيق الصبح وكل يوم بتحس في جزء منك راح، ضاع... وبتحاول تستعيد التحكم بحياتك وبتساوي قهوة، بس بعد ما يروح تأثير الكافيين الظهر ويروح تأثيرالإندورفين لما ترجع من المظاهرة ويروح تأثيرالفودكا بعد ما تكون صرخت عالسكيتي وما حدا فهم، بتنام وبتفيق وبتلاقي ريحة الأرض مختلفة، كل هالأجزاء يلي عم يكنسها الزبال كل يوم الصبح...

Pre 3 km

So here it goes, as it’s been years since I actually sat and decided to put what’s on my mind with words. As my bag is on the floor next to my feet, my iPod is being charged with this laptop as I am preparing myself for my 3 km run in an attempt to shed the remaining fat, frustration and pain. I know what ever I’ll write will suck and I know my English and probably my Arabic will be rubbish but I have decided to get on back to blogging. I don’t know what the point is though, but does it have to have a point? Beside, what’s the point with anything that’s going on with my life recently? What’s the point with all my work from morning to night? What’s the point of those bullets being shot out of the helicopter over my roof? Back to blogging, it could be a good attempt to regain control back, the little bit I managed to keep from myself. I promise myself I will post this as soon as I and the electricity are back. Peace!

26 Oct

On the brown, plain playground in the school close to my house, children are chanting for “Abu Hafez”, a group of children are gathering on the corner playing with a poor bird with a broken wing, a group of older girls beating up a small boy, 2 mukhabart cars outside as usual and I am just drinking more and more coffee and reading articles – it is painful to be on the margin of a homeland, ووطن.

Miss

It's just... I miss blogging... I miss blogging so much!

Eternal Punishment

"That thing of hell and eternal punishment is the most absurd, as well as the most disagreeable thought that ever entered into the head of mortal man."

George Berkeley

Tell it to the fishes

Enchanting Melody

When you decide to give up the ghost...

Every thing else follows

Even in midst of wildest chaos ...

* Henry Miller - Tropic of cancer

Learning Curve

So what has changed…?
I don’t dislike the sun any more rather I only like it when raise up my head to face it when winter is falling every now and then, while reading a quiet book in Mar Mousa Monastery.
I don’t hate Fridays no more, but learned how to avoid them.
I planned to do a solo road trip to mid Europe this fall
I discovered that I am in love with Goethe
I learned how to pack and leave when colours disappear from a place. i.e. a relationship
I discovered that I never get bored!
I like blue and gray Pyjamas
My bag will never be in order
I hate people who take photos next to their cars
I can never do meditation with Sikh People.
My profession depends on disasters and wars.
“We” can’t be a true word as it doesn’t consider individuality.
I hate TV
I like Bjork
I realised basic elements in life… finally!
I like how walking with socks on a wooden floor feels
I like how old books smell
I am still learning, and life is still as exciting as it was to me when I was 7 years old!
Oh… and I really miss blogosphere!

Documentation

Today… out of boredom and in one of those “need to organize something” moments, I decided to organize all the things in my room and get rid of everything that lost its meaning or use in my life.
I am not a “keep it for memory” kind of a person, the only things I keep are my scrap books and even these are thrown away in the trash more often when they bring bad memories or remind me of bad state of mind ,better to say self loathing and confusion… I find it pathetic to keep those things that provoke memories but apparently, that’s what I do.

today I found things I didn’t know they exist, pieces of papers which has poems which I’ve written 8 years ago, I used to write to newspapers and get so excited when they publish them, letters from my penpal Shayma from Iraq, we met through kids magazine “mijalet majed” which I used to read till I was 13, last letter I received from her was in 2000, she was telling me about her failing to go to medical school but she started her uni in Biological studies, I wonder what happened to her, did she survive the war? Did she finish her studies? Did she leave Iraq?.

I found photos of a school trip in the 8th grade, photos of friends who I have no idea where they are. I have 2 friends who we’ve been together since we were in the kindergarten, went to same school till highschool when we went to different schools. However, we kept our friendship, one of them has travelled to UK and is working there now, the other is married to a horrible doctor and has a gorgeous child, we used to make plans to run a way and live in the cherry castle… but we never did. I think we all are living in our own cherry castles in our own ways… I miss making plans with them.

Another thing I found and was shocking to me, 7 pages of anger, I wrote these when war started in Iraq and it’s full of anger and disgust, I remember those days clearly, I remember the smell of salad, my homework I was doing on that day, when Bagdad was invaded. How I am used to it now, to the idea of fatalities, to the idea of human corruption, how cold I’ve grown to become me!
I kept searching finding subway tickets when I was in London, something I’ve written when I was drunk for the first time in my life (2005), plans, lots of written plans, my worries and hopes, photos and post cards.

Why did I need to keep all of these, why did I felt the need to document all those memories, why did I feel weird and irritated to go through them? Why does it feel that I failed in something every time I go through memories? Why does it feel that I gave up on something every time I try to open my scrapbooks, hell… why do I keep a scrapbook in the first place?