27 Nov 2013

Struggle on all levels

I found my relieve. A temporary one.  I was able to find home away from home and home. Did not have to search far. I just tapped inside. Looked around. And designed it for myself. It changed my approach to things. Made me more free when I was there. I liked to go there against all odds. Surprising myself and others. I go there and I am free. Regardless of all the walls and the regulations, I was free. I can claim that I was the only one free there. I find my space. I find home and I was free.

Free in this 8-3 timeframe. Only. Between this slot. Before and after I switch back. To inner silence. Broken connection. Sole dialogue. Monologue. I enter the duty mode. The delivery mode. Almost switching places. I deliver where i am supposed to be connecting; and connected where I was supposed to deliver. But it was the only way to survive. When you feel lonely. Alone. Isolated. On your own. You need to find an exit. To carve one. To survive. Remember after all I am 'water.' I find my way. And I carve my space.

Then you get bored.

Bored from the continuous focus to stop you. To force you to deliver and connect in the right order. And it does not work. The connection start to overwhelm you. The delivery start to expedite. ANd in between you feel again squeezed.

The problem is not in the toggling between both situations. Or both expectations. It is the realisation the need to be somewhere else.

I always thought and feel that I should be somewhere else. WIth no one. Just with me.

16 Sep 2013

Something in me has to change. Internal. This wound. This scar. This deep flip. Maybe I need to be more pronounced. Stop the fake or even real politeness. To maybe learn from you. Be apathetic. With a cool mind. Detached. I will try to learn from you. Do as my enemies do. Play their tricks. Maybe. 

Now I'm in this stage. Need to reevaluate. Done that before. Many times. Nothing much had changed. Hate to see myself lose. Can't wait. Can't be patient. My firey nature jumps ahead of me.  Patience is not my thing. And I think it's too late to be. 

Now I'm towards the indifference. With him I'm now. I am numb. And I think it will get worse.

I think I might be depressed. Been for sometime. Hide behind many things. And will continue to do that as long as I'm not finding myself again.

Remind me when did I last find it?

30 Aug 2013


Not sure how to not remember you. Or how to actually remember you.

Last time I called I felt sad. Stayed a while after we hung up. I still remember it. You thanked me for calling you. You said that you missed me. And I missed you back then. The next time I called you you never answered me. And I think you will never do.

I remember you with all the memories that I shared with you. Not sure if you would ever knew how I felt. How I cherished those moments we spent together. The little ones. All there. Locked within me. Shared it with myself. Replayed it over and over.

Wish you knew how I never forgot you. How engraved is our little time within me. How little they were. How deep they remained.

You were a good man. And I so loved you.

3 Aug 2013

Switching TV

He keeps switching the TV channel all the time. Toggles between the different programs once a break happens. Annoying. I get distracted. Lose concentration. Lose focus. Distracting. No matter how many times I tell him how annoyed I get, he makes fun of me. Hand me thd remote. Take me on a guilt trip. Of lack of assertiveness to pushing what I want when together. Play on all that and put a pinch of intimidation.

I'd probably next time just go to the other room and watch alone. Safer. Becoming the new trend.

Too bad.

27 Jul 2013


- No matter how many times the machines keep screaming announcing its end, he wouldn't lift a finger to go close it. Not in a million time.
- no matter how tired I am from the many items I'm juggling, he will remain still. Legs on the ottoman, nuts and coke in tht other watching tv
- no matter how he promised to wake up with them at dawn to play, he ends up waking at 10.
- no matter how he promised to make lunch, he will just forget or ignore.

Lots of that.
And he forgot our marriage date. Not that he missed the date, which is ok,but he didn't even remember. What a sign. He should believe me when I say it's a sign. Sign of negligence.

Not for long.


I sit now alone. Deep in my thoughts. In my boredom. My anger. Sadness. Exhausted and annoyed. Trapped in my own thoughts that are all destructive. Secretly waiting for a way out. Anticipating an escape. Planning. Something inside me tells me that I won't last here for long. I won't last long. I know that. It was a mistake. I am now sure. It could be the whole institution that I detest. But also the members. I don't belong with them. I changed. Probably. Doesn't matter. What's matter now is that there's no connection anymore. If there is one its a exhausted one. Losing its spirit. So we chose to store it somewhere safe with a hope that we will restore its value. I played along and I know I'm not into restoring. I just discard. This is my danger side. It's dangerous to walk with me along this road even if I deduced you to taking it. Seduced by being silent. By hiding behind my silence. My strength. My random spurts. And bursts, by my indifference. Excuse me, I've got a self dialogue that I report to every year.  Managed by a woman from heaven. Listensed to if by a woman of endless love. And endless fear. Only recently did this fear came along. Previously it was only strength and love. Now fear tagged along. Could be the age factor.

Conclusion is I'm afraid to disclose how I see this isolated life. I know however that the other can sense. Not for long I suppose.

28 Jun 2013


It's a feeling of isolation. More and more.  Pushed aside. Becoming irrelevant. Feeling marginalized. Only my shadows and deputy remaining. The remote glimpse of me. And my memories. For both of us. Each in his own way. In his own pain. Realization. The fact remains that we are drifting apart. At least I'm sure of one. Certain of it. A brewing feeling of departure. A longing hope of going back. Breaking loose. I feel deceived. Betrayed. By myself and By him. Neither kept his promises. Neither honored the oath. Both ignored the present. Traced the past. Blurred is the future.

Blurred is the future because I wish no more to continue. Like this. It's a dark and gloomy as of now. Scary if I looked through this same lens and projected this life for 20 more. Or even 10. Lost is the word. Disappointment is the feeling. Help is the action. But no one will help but oneself. But where is this self.

Torn between the duty and the more duty. Dusted by being taken for granted. Suffocated by being ignored. Squeezed by being suppressed. Bored from being mute. Intimidated by being asked for explanation. Annoyed from failing to get message across. Captured in the silence and random bursts. Destructive announcement of claiming rights. Right to exist and have a breathe of fresh air. 

For now the only thought is leave. Tomorrow I will give up easily.
After tomorrow I will be squeezed again.
The day after will feel squeezed.
Burst again.

5 May 2013

L & L

She annoys me. Something in her way bothers me. She could and probably is kind and helpful but I really can't be at ease with her or around her. My first direct feeling is that I feel tensed. Irritated. Maybe because of her pretentious way of speaking. The Arabic with this accent. The know-it-all attitude. The endless talks. The endless direction to her daughter. Her speaking with her eyes and way of speaking. Acting like a man: in command even around her husband. Don't really know.

I try that when she talks I look her in the eye. But obviously I looked annoyed that it didn't help. I'm just trying to figure her out. Who she really is. Why all the fakeness or insecurity or maybe too comfortable in her skin. I doubt the latter. I saw her before coming here. Was normal. Less than normal. Now had this attitude of living a role that is not her.

It could be only me.

10 Mar 2013


It has been tough here. A different kind of toughness. Not a back bending one, rather an emotional one. It's not the place. The continent. Or the country. It's the empty spaces that surrounds us. In a slow suffocation tone. In a non challenging way. The lack of intellectual forum. And all the emotions and attitude that surrounds that. Who said living an easy life frees you to do more great stuff. All the great stuff happens in the busy streets.

28 Nov 2012


And the destiny keeps changing. With the baggage getting heavier. And the soul not any lighter. And the choice limited and limiting. Squeezing and intimidating. Urging to take an action. Urging to take an action. But the fear and the esteem is drying it up. Keeping it low. Stressing it hard. To retreat. To take a shelter. To inflate. To keep on hiding behind fakeness. Behind love. Behind connexion that no more feels like one. But rather a fake one. You will never discover it. Yet uncover it. The longer you stay the longer you will feel lost.

The mornings seem long. Juggling between all and none. With every step you are one step away from the real one. That is you. Remember you? I? Do I exist? Hell no. Not anymore.

I just realised something. A deep down wound. That takes you miles and miles back in time. When parents were around. When things were getting shaped. When soul starting to peak. But every time it did, it was pushed down deep. To this corner of the soul. That no one can see. A deep wish to disappear. Yet urging to appear. And see through the window of the heart. And enjoy the company of the soul. But it is always down there. Alone. Not seen or heard. Does not make itself heard. Or seen. It tricks everyone that comes near. Even with those who think know it all. It remains aloof. Joining in and going out. Seeking its solitude. The only time it feels like home. Searching for these moments. Stealing these ticks. No matter how it pretends. It can see where the fakness rests.

I think I was mistaken. I did not enjoy it. I did not yearn for it. I just was playing. And now I can not stop the gaming. It is getting serious. And it is getting painful. I have no choice but continue playing. Pretend I am enjoying. Pretend I am in. Deep down I am out. Totally out.

I fear the separation.

The problem is not in them. The problem is right in. In this neighbour. In this rebel that is dying out. Faced with the selfishness that scratches it and turns it down. Pretend it supports while it actually kills.

Unable to continue......

24 Nov 2012


On the margins of life. Now resting. Standing and waiting. In anticipation. In confusion. Wondering what had happened to the rebel soul. To the daring existence. To the wild aura. Something pierced through it. Melted it down. Without awe. With no respect. Just invasion. Not even barbaric. That would have been caught. Rather subtle. Like an army. An intellectual one. That never fight but rather hide. Hide within and act without. Without grace and with soul-deep impact. You realise not the change. You understand not the pain. And after many more you feel the change.

It hits right on. The centre of esteem. The heart of confidence. Crumble them down. Stomp them flat. With no music. Just plain and flat.With the apparent sarcasm. With the fake sensitivity that hides layers of arrogance. Palette of selfishness. Shades of humiliation. Apparent in every word. With every snarl. Facial or vocal. It is all snarls.

It's I to be blamed. For years I did me ill.

9 Oct 2012


It has been an off and on thought. A conviction that I keep realising from the various situations happening recently-- if a year time is considered recent-- that is never believe anyone who tells you that you are cared for. On the positive note, no one will ever take care of you more than yourself. That is, be selfish. It's a permission to be so. Probably you denied it. Now time to attain to it and embrace. In all cases we are all selfish, so why not admit it and live it. You might not be very selfish as you thought you are.

Some people just are very good at doing what they want to do; convince others that they are taken care of; play on the guilt tone when in reality they care the least about anything but themselves. Which I think is by all means very legitimate. The annoying part is the manipulating aspect of it.

4 Jun 2012


Tonight is M. and myself night alone. We have been alone for sometime now. But this night is different. Consciously different. Yes we have spent a long time together. Most of it alone. But this alone is a different alone night. Maybe because it is a sad alone. Every one of us for her own reason. I know about mine. Not sure about hers. I could wonder a zillion reasons on her behalf but I am sure I will never guess right. Moreover, she will never share. Been silent for sometime. Finally, I found a silent partner.

So, what we decided to do is to stay home. Eat Hefa's Clementine, product of Israel!. Coffee. Assortment of cookies and wafer. Veggie sambousak. Listen to Lorena. Watch the gloomy sky and the rainy day. The flights passing by every 15 minutes. The crazy little black and red bird who sings all day. Go in circles. From the tree to the cable antenna. Too hyper with his newly developed flying skill. Happy with his screaming that we all hear as literally screams. Annoying screams. It does not stop. Screams. Screams. Screams. Even when we went out to get the coffee and the goodies, it chased us in a foolish way. Running after us. Catching its breath between one tree and another. Silly bird.

I feel responsible for developing M, musical taste. Or maybe I am using my commanding silence to impose my taste. Knowing that she will not really mind. Or maybe because I see her moving a bit with the music I assume she likes it. Well, again, she never complains. What I am suppose to make out of that.

So, why the sadness? It has been long time since it emerged. This sadness. Been captured. Immersed amongst many residuals and temptations. Errands. Ambitions. Empty moments. Active moments. Worries and fears. Did not have the chance to emerge. Just got pushed down. Forced inward. Maybe accepted to abide now. Confident that its time will come. Or maybe confident in me. That I will bring it up. And I did.

Main source of sadness is a realisation. Realisation that time passes. People change. Distance prevail. Coldness sweeps in and surrounds. Knit squeezed. Friends disseminate. Relations wear masks. Connexions rupture.

And we grow older.

Maybe the realisation is that I need to grow. Older? Not sure.

3 Jun 2012


At heart? Not exactly. Maybe. I do not know really where. But generally speaking. This feeling that you are still young. Or maybe old. Playing with the contrasts to realise the exact state. It is a strange feeling. Sometimes it is better not to think of it. Why do that? What will trigger you, or anyone to stop and ask oneself: "how am I feeling? Old? Young?" And what is the definition. I mean, how would you know if you are feeling old or young. I am not sure if there are symptoms of that inner feeling. I am not sure what made me write on this at this particular moment. Nothing really triggered that on the age level. It is not that I am suffering from a midlife crisis or seeing wrinkles on my face. Not exactly. I do not look much into the mirror or trace white hair or wrinkles. THe only think I do, or try to keep it as a routine, is drinking olive oil. It does miracles to your skin. Yes, it is skin that I am after. I have to admit that I feel uncomfortable when my face looks tired or has breakouts. Other than that, I feel good.

So what is it? It could be, actually, it is this feeling that almost everyone around you grew older that made me realise that I am still young. Not in a good sense? Could be. Because it makes me feel naiive and still spontaneous. Uncalculated. Still act as if I am in my 20s. Does not carry, or even remember, who I am and what I have done or not done. As if what I do or achieve go to someone else. Or credited to a different account balance.

I stay, as I am, free of it. Unaware of it. Do not use it to get more scores or pin a better position or limit. I just enjoy, by choice or by design, to be 'it'. Whoever this 'it' is. But for sure the barebone one. very lean and very transparent. Hardly would I bring forward anything from anywhere. And now I am not sure if this is good or bad.

But I know that it is time to do that. That grownup tact. Speak like my age. Dress like my age. Be my age. I am still in somewhere else. Living in the 'me', 'it' realm. Choosing, acting and thinking with the same manner. Responding the same way. Not responding the same way. Avoiding same things and accepting with the same attitude. No matter how I say to myself: Act differently here, I found myself just doing whatever I do again and again. With total passion or total coldness. Depending on what it is.

4 Jul 2011


Some people manage to turn everything special into a practical one then blame you for it.

Some people manage to be selfish and then accuse you of that.

Some people decide know exactly what they want and just bet on your flexibility and stupidity for the lack of any better term.

Some people will just drag you along convincing you that their dreams are actually yours and your own dreams are subject to discussion.

I now know where I will end. I see it. Surprisingly unable to take a real step and be serious about it.

15 May 2011


I am disappointed. In many things starting with myself. This is who I wanted to be when I was growing up. Now I am rapidly changing into an ordinary person. Nothing special about. I used to be special. I used to be gifted. Now I am lame. Bit by bit transfering into a neutral, passionless person. I struggle to keep my identity but seems and feels that the subtle yet strong wave that sweeps and controls me is really getting into me. Under any name or purpose, I feel I am being dragged to places and things that are not me. That I never approved. That is not me. And for that I am angry. And powerless.

3 May 2011


I write there. I hide it. I use it to scribble. To take notes. To finish up what is entangling me and cut loose of it. I can not. Unable to. There are lots of things there. Making bigger knots. And sophisticated issues. Unable to resolove it. With myself first. Then with the other or others. I am unable to speak up. To open up. To say where is the pain. Where I am hurted. What are my concerns. I really can not speak up. Some issues are way deeper to talk about it. It needs more opening up. More clarity. I need to be able to feel free to talk and be sure I am well recieved.

I am not.

Unsafe. Insecure. Suffocated. Scared. Seeing myself pushed aside to give way to something else. But not particularly balanced. I feel I am losing it. Being stepped over. I do not like that. Especially if I am unable to speak up.

There is a core issue. It is pyscological. Cant get over it. I need help.

22 Apr 2011


It suffocates me here. I feel as if I am in a prison. Unable to move or do any action. Everything is so small and squeezed. I have to always be pretending. I am not engaged by any means. I draw this smile and pretend I am interested. I am not interested nor smiling. Nor wanting to be here. I just want some space and some distance. It is so different from what I like and what I enjoy. It is even so far from it. Everytime I go there I am turned ooff. I get kicked out of myself to a large distance. It is so uncomfortable to me. I am someone else. And I am sure it shows on my face that I am not interested. I crave some piece and some space, physical and mentally. We are engaged in weird conversation. I so not connected to it. It is not that I want to talk about some sophisticated things. I just want to be interested. Its either revolved around the kids present in the setting. Or a talk about a kid that is travelling or about some prejudgement opinion. I literally don't have anyrhing to say
Or do. And he turns to be sommeone else. An insecure. Controlling.here too? I am suffocating from trying to turn me into a replica of you with the endless over protection that I become intimidated to say or do anything alone. I always feel under pressure. It is amazing how I am so turned off.

2 Apr 2011


Islamic museum. Parking garage. Customized. Inside a building and a mall. Not by any means close in shape or essence to the capital of cairo, city stars. Nor the empire states of the nile, nile city. Just an easy miss parking. In fact, an apartment building changed to be a parking. I am not sure where we parked. Living room or bedroom. Wish I knew.

We went to take the elevator. A typical middle class man. Not sure middle or lower middle class. Just a real man from this old time. He was not old. Late 40's maybe. He entered with us and the whole elvator smelled. I inhaled the aroma and I smiled.
There was this deep armoa of 'leb'. Seeds. He was 'az'az' leb probably on his way to the elevator and he simply filled the whole elevator with that smells.

This smell took me back decades. To the slightly disappearing 'tasaly' shops. This little but famous shop next to the church in heliopolis. Overlooking the metro. The small bazar that sold leather sandals that I so liked. Reminded me of the eurpoean missionaries. Of Soeur Germain and Ann Marie. Of my half swedish friend, Rony Sidky. To the enjoyable trips with my mom, brother when we were visiting in heliopolis. To 13 makabati. The red church. Truimph. Saphire. This back street linking saphire to saint fatima. To the small island that separated the empty street to two lanes. The island where my cousins waited for the bus. 3am nour. The toufi bonbon with a ballerina on its paper. The black and brown shoes of my father's moukasan shoes. How I tried to make a cadence while going up the stairs. Oxford book store. Groppi. To my sleep over at my uncle's house. The 'Basta' infront of the very old apartment that once belonged to my grandmother. Josline and Mireille. Tante Durreya and Soheir.

My brother.


It might be a fear. A fear from getting drifted somewhere. To this remote area where you find it hard to hit a home run. It is spacious and neat. Maybe full of life or maybe not. I can not quite decide for that matter. I swing between this thought and the other. In sparks of realization, dreams and hopes. I try to moderately calibrated for the variation. Not successful at it so far. Again, not sure if I enjoy the swings but at least am aware of it. Can not deny that I am very lazy with it. With finding its real cause. I maybe know and sometimes touch on it, but it seems to be a little farther than I want to dig at this time. I do not know why though.

You know when there is a deep nostalgia that scavenge in these areas that are the most tender. It does not bleed though. Leaves no scars. Only untraceable pain. Haunting you. Associated with every deep smile or laugh or feel of love. As if it is a reminder of some sort. A ghost from the medieval time that is wearing a black head gear. Pretty scary. Even if this ghost is busy haunting others, it succeeded to leave you in worry. To engrave its presence.

I can allocate this ghost. I can trace it. But again, too unwilled to face it and look to it in the face. I preferred to see its reflection but not to just turn my head and face it. I know one day I will.

12 Mar 2011


I am. Something is not clicking. Is not working. Is missing. What it is? I do not know. But there is something that is creeping there. Hidden. Can not be detected in the midst of all the details and the happenings. Does not make sense when exposed. As if it enjoys being hidden in my feeling. A line that sews all the events and knit all the different cadres of this movie. I have no clue what it is. Is it me? Or is it me? Because the other does not seem to be aware of it. Or maybe denying it? Or it might be that I detect it first and then energetically turned it into a reality that casts its shade. It is then that the other will acknowledge its existence. By then? I dont know if I will be there when this happens.

I am. From waiting for her with a no showup. Accomodating this attitude that never got approved. Accepting the fakeness and self centered connection. It is not hidden to both of us. Nor is it apparent to both of us by the same degree. It swings between realization and denial. Dealt with it with kiddish and grown up mix. A mix that get diluted by the day. Get ridiculed by every remote connection. Shrugged at by every struggled meeting. In brief, this connection lost its connection. And it is ok. But not only the connection, the respect. I do not. Not hindered from admitting its new reality by a naiive attachment to a long ago memory. But by being patient for a while. Indifferent for another. Sarcastic the rest of the time. Until I dropped it. Sad? Not really. But interesting the connection cycle. You can never trust it to last forever. Or maybe it needed another personas to handle it.

23 Feb 2011


It has been so long since we met. It is not that we were disconnected. We had what you can call remote relation. Remote connection. Remote something. What is it, I dont know. After been close for couple of years, since the new location, things have tremendously changed. For whatever reason. It changed. And it is ok. I suppose I live with that 'change' thing. It does not really matter to me much. Maybe, as always been accused of, i dont really care. Or it might be that I grew wise and practical that I deny myself the attachment to 'people'. It is ok I would suppose. You need me, you connect. You get busy, you disconnect. And on we both go. I admit I am ok with either. Never felt that it is disrespected. I just feel that it is normal human thing. Over and above, it suits me to some extend. Saves me the burden of expectations. Of obligation. Of having to be totally open and sharing. Although, I hardly have time to share. Or hardly like to share. The time is mostly, recently I have to admit, is about the other.

So the other. I am not sure but I now started to get annoyed. Before I used to brag about my ability to accomodate and accept any ideas or whatever is told to me because I dont really get attached or too involved. I am not a good friend? Not particularly. Just I listen, comment, be involved but once I am in my car, I forget. Maybe wonder a bit about the situation and tell myself my true opinion of the other. But at the end, I just forget. Disengage.

With this friend, I am on the margin of being annoyed. I start to have a strong opinion of what is happening. To 'disrespect' the endless play and twisting of realities. To disrespect the manipulation and the betrayal. I simply disrespect. I am not evaluating or judging. I just can not find any more excuses to what is happening and what is getting led to. It is outside my comfort zone. I can accept weird stuff but when it comes to betrayal I find myself a bit disgusted.

So this meeting, I might call it the last, virtually, i got annoyed. I think I made up my mind regarding this relation and connection. We indeed have gone different ways. We no more match. No more meet at a familiar place. It is clear the choice of mates, the choice of attitudes, the choice of interests. It was before that we were connected with this tiny thread that against all odds stood strong amidst everything. But now, this tiny thread is utterly a thread. A thread that got torn apart with the straining and fakeness that greesed its outer. Made it easy for any dirt to accumulate. And it did. I see no purpose of continuation. No purpose of attempting for rivival. It is actually the end.

The booster got to healthy boost the ruptured thread from so much trial to tighten the knit. Well, it is a knit after all. A knit is suppose to get unravelled to be back again to thread. You wonder about all these threads that once covered the nakedness. But now just used to trap you while walking. The end result is the bin. It is useless to try to re-knit another one. For all the reason that starts from the thread itself.

As much as it feels weird, but it feels it is right. It is unwise to continue. But I am starting to see how this relation actually hurted me in ways that is a bit subtle. I always joked that it was purposely separating me from everyone, breaking connections with my connections. But now, I think it holds a grain of truth. It is a way to possess and control.

Can it be that wicked? Why not suppose that. It is not wrong to think so. It is not an insult as much as a technique. That works.