26 Sep 2008


Is it the crave for connection that is keeping you up tonight; urging you to come here to read me; bored? Am I entertaining you? or is it just an attempt to connect?

But why?

And I am sure you are here. Now. I just know it. Funny? Scary? But it is true. I can see you beyond this page.

I know I did not make it yet to your 'favourites'. But I feel it when you google 'a message from within'. Click the first link to come to me.

And I wont sleep unless you do.

Please go sleep.

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I am frightened because i have realised the full extent of my imprisonment. He has fostered my love for solitude.


25 Sep 2008


The night seems so long. Sleepless.

I pulled the mattress to the floor. Placed it in the balcony. Sleeping on my back while watching the dark sky. Full of stars. All so vivid and shiny. Glittering and sending me signals. I stare while lying there. Wrapped up in the fluffy blanket. Hugging the pillow. Feeling the warmth of the company coming in. I look and see the moon. A full cresent. Rising up by the minute. Peeking at me and reminding me of nights I stayed out talking and sharing. Witnessing good and sad time. Happy and agnoized heart.

I feel the warmth in the cool breezed night. Between the mountains. Full sky. Stars and planets. Understanding moon. Encouraging and supporting. Triggering and asking me to let it all out. I did.

Been so long. Since I witnessed all that and let myself connect. Been so long. Have not wished to connect. The dryness and sadness dried my heart and squeezed it to the last drop. Swept away all the security and hope. Far and away. I wished to be seen. Empathized. Helped. SUpported.

To be protected from the wildness of the road. To be accompanied in the journey. To be embraced from the pain of separation. To be rewarded for the patience of the heart.

The destiny is folded. The will is within. The message is delivered. And the life is over.

And what is left? The following of the shepard.

The heart is aching and cracking from all the disappointments. A small voice is whispered in the ears of the heart.

I realized.... there is nothing wrong in letting the cave be used by those who need it.

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24 Sep 2008






This ache is depriving. Drilling and soaring.

Love does not liberate us. It is no matter how much I keep saying how much I love you. The reality will always prevail. Love is not enough. Love is not enough.

I reach the same conclusion.


No. Always. Just the matter of me seeing it. Both seeing it.

I want to rest.



The weather is sad here.

Nice breeze. Amazing view. Clean and neat. Luxurious. Simple. People are so friendly and helpful.

We had a walk past midnight after we arrived. Dressed up simple and classy. Went food shopping and we choose the best quality products. Made me smile. And realize, that this is a trait. A gene.

But still it is sad smile.


22 Sep 2008


...i would say how much i miss this presence in my life and situation. But I can't.

...i would say how many times i space out with my thinking in many situation and know that it would be different had this presence been here. But it is high expectation.

...i would have a home to go back to, feel supported and secured in the midst of any day-to-day encounters... knowing I have someone with him i shed off all my masks and knows me well without explaining. But proves impossible.

...i would play and giggle. dream and plan. progress and move steadily. according to god's plan and orders. soul level. supported by this presence. But it is hard.

...we would talk and talk. discuss and discuss. learn and unlearn. teach and receive. smile in awe. in appreciation. of one another's opinion and sharing. But is never attained.

...we would share share share. listen listen listen. understand and empathize. contain and hug to rest and include. silently affirm and invite to a safe shore to cry. rest. stay silently. for ages? lifetime. bored? never. Ah..... priceless.

...we would together mirror one another. form a plan to move out of this world while enjoying it. prepare for the next while living here. building extensions and solid bridges. spacious for the two of us and for everyone special to us ..... A dream

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21 Sep 2008


It is beyond the world of 0's and 1's. So they told us. Promised an out of this world connection when the 21 was given and the essential 1 was trusted.

Sometimes when the channel is opened. The longing is present. The truth is apparent. The whole world is presented. And you have to trust what you see and feel. It is an ability. To reach you wherever you are. When the need calls for. Just expand it. Forget the blame and go beyond the seen. Reach for the code that once served as a sign. You find it all. Is this a sign? Maybe. But we do not have to interpret it more than it can endure.

I smile. And maybe wonder in awe from the ability. Diminish it to my mental ability. Mind. But deep down. In the corner of the map. The legend says: it is the heart that masters all this game.

But I once again ignore. And attribute it to the sight tracing the 21.

and not the 1?

The 1 is not to be traced. You only trace what is away. You only trace what is outside.

But I also for sure learnt to let all that go. And move on and away. Away from all the 22. They took what they took; contain what they contain. But I know they are all not for me. I no more wish for a space there. Not anymore. I swear.

I know the 23 will be better that away. Away and alone. And Iwill keep it that way.


20 Sep 2008


- The topic of inflation has been dominating me recently since the Greenspan book. It is affecting my routine, but asserting my previous thoughts and inner attitude. Today I parked my car away from MJ, my hairdresser. Why? Because I used to give the valet 5 pounds for taking my car and parking it, when I could do that myself. I always thought when giving him the 5 pounds that this was way too much for the service you are giving me. I was not happy, but its the price of the showy people, and I dont want to pay less than any other woman going up there. Why? EGO. But recently I decided what the hack? I start giving 2 pounds as I used to do. Why over pay? And I endure the look from Rizk. The nubian guy. But why would I over price the mediocre service. Why let them get used to getting high pay for a effortless job? And recently, all the valet guys are Nubian? Is that part of the 5 pounds I am paying? Being served by those people colour?

- My mother's house doorman has these 2 boys who are serving the building. I liked them but would hardly talk to them. Always give them generous tips and deny them carrying my stuff. I feel akward. I do not talk much to them. But I think I do look scary because they would, even the father and mother, appear self conscious whenever I pass or comeup. They pay me certain attention that I dont see them doing to others. So, the little boy who whenever I say Hello, or how are you? He would mumble a word that I dont get. I feel so irritated. Why on earth is not he answering properly. So once I passed and said, 'Salamou alekoum.' He mumbled... so I turned to him and asked, 'what? What did you say?' He was red and said, 'wee 3alekum.' I gave him this look and a wicked smile and went up. Today, he was at the door waiting for someone. I did not want to greet him, but I felt bad ignoring him. So I said, 'Ezayak ya ahmed?' And here again he mumbled. I again, turned to him and said, 'What did you say?' and smiled. He said, 'al-hamd allah.' I smiled and told him that he speaks too fast. And you donot want to answer me. He denied. But he smiled. Well, I am not sure why he is too shy or afraid or whatever from me. I dont abuse him like the rest of the ppl including my mother. I fought with my mother when she asked him to take the garbage. I told him, 'do not do that.' And I took it down myself. Anyways, I will just resort to me having a serious, aggressive, sharp face when I am not smiling. Which I do. I do not smile much especially when they decide to clean the stairs at the time I am leaving to work. And I ask them to be consistent in the time they do that. Too much to ask from the doorman.

- N is cute. I actually was thinking that I do like her. We had a rough 1.5 years together. Between good and horrible times during which I gave her and the team a full-fledged dictatorship attitude. Pressing on them to the max. Now looking at that time, I was totally depending on their 'love' to me. And 'fear' from my modes and aggression too. At times abused that, but in all cases, felt that I need to do that. Why? Coming from me feeling superior and whoever is with me has to be different and dig down to his/her core. I do not accept BS and so should them. Not even from me. I am happy seeing her go and be a star of her own. And I am proud that she was in my team, and now among my list of whom I respect. The reason I smile everytime i remember how bad I was with them, I excuse myself by saying that I loved them actually without showing that to myself or them. And more, because I know when I love someone I push him/her (to the worst at times)... to be anything but an 'acceptor'; just another someone who can be easily overlooked of no value or glow. And whoever can endure me, I would arrogantly think, will spin-off to be good. Learn something not about what he/she does, but about what he/she can do. Is not it enough that they got along with my demands and attitude? I am not sure if this is part of my 'teacher' nature or more arrogantly, 'motherly' nature. Or simply, 'arrogance.'

And more and more, I know that I would do that to my kid. I will teach and love. Protect but wont spoil. Give him a hard time, because I see what he can do. Support to the end. And set him free. Try to show him the pleasure of freedom ; of tasting together the pleasure of simplicity. No matter how other sees it simple or trivial. In their eyes. But in our eyes, it is worth life. Worth the gift of being here.

- Went to book a ticket for this play at the opera. I went to the ticketing kiosk. It does not open until 9:30 and the play starts at 9:45. I thought this was stupid. What if I want to book a ticket for the other day, which I was going to. So I went to the guy in the main hall and asked him what's the logic behind that? He gave me this look and gave me a stupid answer, that I did not get. All I understood was that there was no advance booking. I have to come early and stand in teh line, maybe I am among the lucky people who will have a seat. I cursed the logic of this country. They treat us like slaves. Why? Oh well. I texted N. to tell her about the stupidity and I got the answer: 'It is a free play. You pay no money.' Aha, that explains it. Because I am not paying money, I pay it in a different currency: Waste my time waiting for 1 hour at least; accept being treated as a slave. Indeed, nothing is for free. I am not sure why they still insist on doing that. Why not like any decent country, price it. To spread culturism among youth. Well, this is not the way as far as I know. Nothing is for free. Nothing is for free. This I sure know.

- Driving my car back, this guy sitting next to his girlfriend in the back of the microbus kept looking at me. His girl friend noticed that, and she looked back to me. She immediately kept pushing his face away whenever he attempted to look at me. I smiled at them. And thought how cute. He looked back to me, and made some signs telling me that I look good but she is in his heart. I smiled and waved good bye. They are cute together. He surrounded her with his arm and pulled her closer to him. They were happy and at ease. Despite the modest financial status, despite the culture boundaries, the crowded transportation, but they managed to feel the love and intimacy and easiness among one another. I had good time in the micro- and mini buses myself. My prefered ride. Along with the metro. Tram. Red bus. Train. There is soemthing there that brings intimacy. With those who ride along. And with yourself. The memory of me taking teh minibus from infront of AUC at 7PM, going to heliopolis when I used to stay at my grandmothers villa, accompanied by A., S., I who lived next to me. I feel some aching in my stomach. Was great memories. And this is what kept us close. Until this moment. No matter how far we go, I always found a message on my answer machine checking on me.

- I learnt that people have their own intimate reasons for choosing what they choose. Clear or unclear to me. That I comprehend or dont. That I accept or not. But the bottom line is, they have their reasons and it doesnot have to make sense to me. On the contrary. And I have to accept that choice. Out of respect to them. And in most cases, out of respect to myself too. I am no one's mother or guardian. So I should never play that role ever. 'Practical'? Yes, I am very practical actually.

- Choose someone who wants to be with you because of who you are, not because of how you make him feel.

- Relationships are subjected to inflation too. Some are sold for free, others are bought for more.


I dont wanna talk
About the things we have gone through
Though its hurting me
Now its history
I have played all my cards
And thats what you have done too
Nothing more to say
No more ace to play

The winner takes it all
The loser standing small
Beside the victory
Thats her destiny

I was in your arms
Thinking I belonged there
I figured it made sense
Building me a fence
Building me a home
Thinking I would be strong there
But I was a fool
Playing by the rules

The gods may throw a dice
Their minds as cold as ice
And someone way down here
Loses someone dear
Its simple and its plain
Why should I complain.

But tell me does she kiss
Like I used to kiss you?
Does it feel the same
When she calls your name?
Somewhere deep inside
You must know I miss you
But what can I say
Rules must be obeyed

The judges will decide
The likes of me abide
Spectators of the show
Always staying low
The game is on again
A lover or a friend
A big thing or a small
The winner takes it all

I dont wanna talk
If it makes you feel sad
And I understand
You have come to shake my hand
I apologize
If it makes you feel bad
Seeing me so tense
No self-confidence


It is a dominant feeling. At times dormant, at others alive. So alive. A constant feeling of suffocation. A look forward to simply leave. To be able to breathe. Feel the expansion.

Not sure what is stopping me. Has nothing to do with being ungrateful, or less loving, or whatever accusation. It has all to do with level of comfort.

But the question is: leave to where?

19 Sep 2008


You smile. Laugh. Eat. Say stories. Share..... but when they look away, down to their plates, and in the midst of your laughs and giggling,.... you find yourself look away. with the corner of your heart. to this place. to this face. to those moments...... and weep. remove the tear. of course the laughing tears. to them. but to you....

you immediately know you are not happy. and also realize that you were not happy there too. only clinging to a projection that has no existance only in your imagination. and between the reality and the projection, you reject both. need neither.

and you find yourself excusing yourself to go wash your face. and you keep on weeping. and the more you wipe away the tears, endless come out again. look in the mirror, and force a smile. you do not even perfect it because the fans are too naiive to see the reality. to pierce and recognize. they just are content with the mask. and it is not even a good mask. but this is their ability. and this is the cheap price you pay for the mask.

but regardless the cheapness of everything. the price is huge. Priceless


It is a realization..... no matter how you clean the room. rid of all the garbage and unneeded. lick it clean. it has a capacity.

question is... what is wrong with changing the room?


'...some spend a lifetime embracing their pains. they know that no matter how or how much they share, no one will care or understand. they are too sensitive to accept interest without sincerity, and too proud to accept sympathy without comprehension. ' Annonymous said.

indeed no one will understand. even if they care. some of us has special nature. need certain attention. long for particular recognition. not to praise them. not to worship them. not even to fear them and do what they would like. out of fear. and maybe love. some are very sensitive to all that 'fakeness'. in a better mode, i will say 'inability'. they just are different. i am not sure where the line is drawn between acceptance and letting go AND doing an effort to bring people closer!

i personally tried. almost all my life. starting from my family. the closest clan. to understand. to see things my way. did not work. i tried again. explained my way. how i like things. where i come from. how i sense and feel and recognize things. did not work still. between glimpses of pity and sympathy on the crazy daughter, and a need to show love and 'do whatever she wants'--that ends fast once they forgot how I looked when totally wired. totally losing control of myself. on the frings of getting crazy... when they forget that. they revert back. ruthlessly. at serious chances, they will backfire at you reminding you subtley of you being a burden! your negative tiring difference. that is making everyone uncomfortable. Immediately, you lose home. well, already had lost it decades ago when you knew, dead knew with no doubt, that this is not home. you are a stranger. and you wonder!!

more and more find refuge in your little space. and maybe in the 'other side of the night'. or the other side of the world. to visualize. home.

and you leave and come back. try here and there. follow false promises. all for a hope to find this home where you can be. just be. with no burden. no burden of being yourself. this self that you recognize very much. know from years. get in touch with it since one day old. even before that. just this peace of the come back is what some, only some, are looking for. all what is missing is a place. it is not that these some dont know who they are, they do know. just surrendering. or maybe losing hope.

and for myself, i get angry. at them. for not recognizing. for not seeing. for wasting. for not appreciating. for not helping. for pretending. for being fake. for being selfish. for not loving this life. for not accepting me as i am. for not listening me. just allowing themselves to be triggered. for revealing only the insecurities. even their love is out of insecurity. of fear i would leave.

truth is..... i already left years ago.

they manage to corner you. to silence you. to make you surrender when your only trait if fighting your will around. they manage to break you. and you.... losing hope in home. struggling with all the obligations. trying to be kind and grateful. ....you just leave. what they see is a ghost. an actor. but a real actor. because when the play is over, the character does not leave him. haunted by it. and from that, there will be no escape.

and 'some close their eyes to cry.' ........

when there is no place even to cry. when the room is so small. almost squeezing you. with no space for a tear to come down......... you dont cry.

i dont know what you do....


I feel emotionally drained to the max. Inability to connect. Can not seem to want any company or connection. I think it is a 'scorpio' state, that even Medhat Saleh yesterday was not in the mood. The concert was energy-less, which is not a scorpio thing by any means unless irritated. I did not enjoy it much. I was irritated. And wished for a good relaxed time with something I enjoy: Live plays and concerts. But it was not it.

Do not want to say that I am disappointed. I am not. I just wanted to load-off. With a perfect cool air yesterday. I drove there while listening to music and sipping my coffee. Slowly. SLowly. I was not super excited, nor was bored. This state... Wanting to enjoy. The opera was nice and I was feeling very balanced. Just not wanting to talk. Or even able to listen to anyone talk to me or engage in any conversation.

I throw myself on the floor and sat waiting. Did not move much until the 1 hour of music was concluded. Hardly uttered a word. My mind was actually blocked or not concentrating. I was just looking to Medhat Sale7 and wondering that indeed Scorpios are the best! Can excel at almost anything. Swing sharply between being very sensitive and very practical. He is in love with Asala's sister, and they are fighting to get married.... Being a scorpio, they feed-on impossibile situations. Once they get it, they lose interest. Or once realizing they are stupid, they drop it. ANd it is scary, because they can't switch them back. When going there, they were only driven with sincerity and hope, when stalling on the whole issue, they are driven by rational and practicality. In between the sharp extreme swing, they survive. No calculation during the initial stage, so if you want to get them hocked, trigger them in that first state because once they realize the slackness, they literally stop. Shut-down. Scary. For them too.

I drove to zamalek. Parked by the club and entered Marriott. It was after midnight. It was quiet. Passed by the gardens. Smelling the kabab and watching people drink and play. I had this faceless mask on. Only concentrating on the sound of the shoes ticking the ground. Walked to diwan. Chatted with Ahmed regarding a book they endlessly promised to send me. Will see what will happen there. Picked Thomas pizza and Cherry cheese cake to go. And walked back home.

Read a bit in Alan Greenspan before falling asleep. Not a word uttered. Which is funny, because yesterday I almost did not talk at all. Was working from home. Between working on this new thing that I want to break-grounds with, totally concentrating, and suddenly walking in the apartment straighten things, cleaning the kitchen, doing the laundry, adjusting the carpet and the curtains. Changing the bulbs. Scenting the bathroom. Throwing away food and un-needed things. Almost anything that was misplaced, I throw. Even if the other needed it. I justify, 'sorry... misplaced.' And I throw. Literally throw. Not put aside.

And then back working.

Had a totally silent breakfast on yesterday's food. Just made a plate for everyone: a spoon of rice. the remaining small piece of the Lazania. One small baked potato with sour crea. A piece of tomato. 5 stems of rocket. Cup of water. Big lemon sliced to eat. Ate in 7 minutes exactly, and left silently. Watched my routine shows.

Sat on the bed. Listened to music. Shower. Dressed. Out.

Nice life indeed!!!

16 Sep 2008


I heard you.

This is your voice. Your words. Full of everything that the three of us only know. And how can I not recognize it and respond with endless tears when every breath carrying the words scratches the heart deep. Squeeze it hard. Very hard. Reaching places only opened through this sacred code. While looking me in the eye. Mirroring the pain and maybe the pleasure. Of us. Asking me to allow us feel the mix together. I, lost in the feeling and in figuring out the way, you say it again. Stronger this time. Deeper that way. Asserting the places. Our places.


15 Sep 2008


I do know what I miss and I brush aside with the low expectation, give-up attitude.... It is a silent company. A totally connected silent company. And to find someone to do that with you is almost impossible. I miss that feeling yesterday and left in search for it at Starbucks and Diwan, and during my ride there. Refusing any company that is asking for a normal right. But I refuse. Gently or sharply. Does not matter. The suffocation is not in the breath, it is in the weight I carry. Of my accumulated heaviness of myself and the other. Of the....choice

Previously, I would look forward to that company/feeling because I know it exists. Now, I feel stuck with my choice, that I know that a compromise had been made. And the first item to give-up was the 'company' and all the comfort associated with that dynamics.

I justify the refusal to include with my need for space-- and for any invented lie. It is funny, but I see myself escaping again. Just not feeling comfortable. Regarding the other as a burden!

And now with the new news.... I guess I am stuck for long!

Just realizing that.... I start to vent anywhere else. Blogging. Driving. Not sleeping. Irritation. Picking on stuff. Finding faults. And here, I am not sure how can someone find peace with all that.

It is a choice.

But actually and to be honest.... there was no alternative. So maybe this is where I should focus. I had no alternative. So....



It could be that I have been recieving this far away calls and whispers since more than 2 weeks. I recognize the calls. I know from where it comes, from this very familiar source. It arrives so vivid and clear to a degree that I could never miss even if I wanted to. It leaves me no choice but to receive and sit silently with the voice. I have nothing to say or respond. A small prayer might do. A prayer in no particular direction. At times positive direction. At others......

I just receive the galloping part gently and welcoming. Letting it join me silently to share the inner loneliness. And leave whenever it wants. I welcome it because it leaves always a trace of pain that reminds me life.

In my heart, I know the thoughts will one day stop coming. Not for anything, but the sender and receiver will be too deviated from the signal.


14 Sep 2008


I guess I am annoyed.

That's why I drove after breakfast to Starbucks for coffee. The weather irritates me. There is a smell in me that annoyes me. Maybe the perfume is annoying. Well, could be. But i was pulling my legs to go. Did not want to stay, and did not want to leave. But I did. Must.

After a long traffic jam, I parked. Went inside. I stood in a long line. I looked like an alien. I can tell people where looking to me. I stare to the front. Waited in the line but could not stand still. I go back and forth. I do not even know what I want to drink. Cant drink coffee. They dont have anything else. No juice. Water? No. What? what? What? I actually do not want anything. Why am I here? No clue.

There are like 4 infront of me. Telling her about her dentist appointment she just had. Irritating. I accidently made a stupid eye contact with a freak.... and he kept staring... UFFF... Not today please.

My turn coming... but I leave. i dont want to stay there. Too crowded. Too noisy. Too unorganized. And above all I dont want to drink coffee. I want some silence.

I walked back. Drove to Diwan heliopolis. I took the side streets all the way from Starbucks to Diwan. Interesting ride actually. Cool, dark streets with old villas. I reached diwan. Thank god, almost empty. I sat on the sofa infront of the AC. I was going to suffocate. I really could not breathe. I read a bit. Then drove to this old villa next to Beirut street. Deserted. I walked there. i had this feeling... but I just approached it. I sat next to the fence. Feel strange.... Had this thought.....

I really dont want to answer the phone!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Going crazy with the sick attachment to my places!!! Feel as if I will be taken away from myself.


I did all these choices for this to happen.... and when it happened.... I feel so much pain!!!! Wish I never wanted it.

No wonder the deep feeling of regret that I cant hide. He is happy, but for sure I am not.

The thing is Haal, that no one changes for anyones sake. People can pretend, can fake it, can even sincerely try to do what you like, but once the pressure is off, everything returns back to its origin place. When there is no need, there is no attempt. And you cant have someone do what is not in his/her nature. and even when he does do it, it is not natural and I feel indebted or been done a favour. If I left it undone, I get annoyed. Not sure what to do. I know I am hard to please because of the very particular nature of mine, but I just really does not ask anyone to change. But at least dont pretend. Not that I get disappointed, or have expectations, I really dont. It is just I dont want to disrespect. If you pretend once to change, I will immediately put you on the watch list of when you will revert back. I dont want sudden changes, I dont even want changes, I want natural personality. Whatever makes everything comfortable. Whether I take you as you are or not, does not matter. I go to hell. Who cares.

Why I say that, because I am not going to change and likewise I dont want to ask for somehting I personally cant do.

But I can choose.... choose not to take that. to drop that. Because I simply wont take it on my kids. If I see something I know is wrong, I can personally ignore after couple of whisky, but would beat the hell out of you if this extended to them. And it will.

For that, I do make early choices.....

Control freak... Yes I am. I have a particular way of doing things. And I do have a vision. A way. A style. A methodology. They will be whoever they are... but I have a responsibility. And it starts from the initial choice. The will.

I am bla bla bla... but I am boiling......


اغار من قلبي اذا هام برؤياك
و كيف اغار و قلبي لم ينساك
اني بشوق متي الايام تجمعنا
واسعد فؤادي بقرب من محياكي
اهيم فيك و نار سسسسسس
وقلبي يخفق بالشواق ناداكي

Beautiful song I tuned into it coming home. The music is amazing. Just Oud. No other instruments. I had to record bits of it on my cell to remember.

Seems like when you tune into the oldies, they call come rushing to you.

Indeed Music is Amazing.

Last year during Ramadan, Mahmud Sa3d had a program that had an amazing song and touching music by Fayrouz. Something about the 'Night'. Could not remember it til now.


I picked his CD from Diwan. A broken copy. I opened it and tried it to see the voice clarity. A. was concerned of the sound quality. I smile, fianlly someone more detailed oriented than myself.... well, not particularly good all the time. The details annoy me at times if it is something I want, so to heaven with the details and analysis, What the heck I just wanted it; and second because I am becoming a bit of a bigger picture WITH the detailed one. Brilliant Mix I must say!

And... I got the CD. A. insisted that we test it, and I did. The quality was not good and that I loved. I can detect the scratching, and squeezing of the old gramaphone needle, and that what I wanted. Something to transfer me to that old time. To Monsieur Madgy, my physics professor who I adored, singing to us one day at school (8th grade), Mounira el Mahdeya and we laughing and he being serious. I remember that I went home that day asking tons of questions about this lady, and totally in love with the agnoy and sad song he was singing.

I shoot-off topic ---these days a lot!

But anyways, I am just inlove with whatever is Ancient. God is ancient..so they taught me..... I love whatever is Sad. Whatever touches and comprehend silent. Whatever is silent and I do is squeezed in pain yet produce the best music. And proud of the pain that can produce music... because he/she/it knows that only through pain the best music is produced.

So I got the CD. Sayed Darwish. 2 songs. I put it in the car and drove. Listening to it. And I could detach from the company. It was the best music ever. COuld not get all the words. But the music is enough to take me there to visit this feeling that i know. The feeling transcended inward to me was so touching. For some reason I miss Alexandria and the feeling that I get there. It makes my stomach aches, but I just like that. Something in Alex intrigues me. A distant place that although I have no physical home there, but I recognize it and sink in it. On what level? I do not know.

I have never left Alex happy. Everytime something would happen to make me feel sad and at time angry. I never went there when I am happy either. I go there whenever I do feel sad. And I leave more sad. I had glimpses of some good times. Actually only once. I guess I love this place because I can be alone there. Be free to walk around and sit silently. I have my places. It was the first place I went to when I came from the states. When I was suffocated. I found out the little motel I stay in. I liked the room; the old smell; the sea; the location..... There is something familiar there that I love. I always wondered why.... but I have no traces of why Alex in particular would drill deep. Maybe the sea? I do not really know.

In my room, next to my new library, I have 2 maps of alex. Hanging on the wall. A new framed portrait of AbuQueer battle of the french. There is something there. The scent maybe, the people could be.....

Maybe because it gives me the freedom to walk by the sea. An open space to which I could just walk endlessly and look forward to. I do not know.

But Sayed Darwish..... i saw glimpses of his theatre that I walked by last summer; of the old movie by Karam Mutawe3 that I saw when I was 9 or 10. Intrigued by a scene of him listening to his 'watch' ticking and he alone can produce a tempo and music in his ears. In between the tick-tick-tick, he was able to insert his music and feelings.... I, at that age, when I saw this shot, I remember that I immediately recognized a similarity with him.

SENSITIVITY. Extreme sensitivity to everything around.

A bless or a curse! A curse I would say.

And it ruined my life... yet gave me pleasure..... fully mixed with deep pain... And at times, melanged with the smell of death.

I do miss Alex



Over dinner and a cup of Choclate Mint and apple crumble I had an interesting conversation a while back. I did not participate much other than in asking questions to clarify and understand more of the theories. I am not so much interested in economics as theories, but more and more interested in investments and linking everyhing together. This is what intrigues me. The exact theory of economics I dont grasp and usually escape from. However, its history and the 'watching' of it, interest me. I am still naiive in that, but I am getting to understand. More and more dig into it whenever I find some person who's able to trigger me into thinking 'economics'. I wonder why not since I am a big fan of numbers and curves; relations; and relations.

THroughout my life, 2 persons only were able to catch my attention in that direction. Both think alike to some degree, but I have to admit, one is more longer planner than the other. I suppose because of the nature of the job. Both are 'Earth' signs.... and I assumed always that they enjoyed my detailed, 'but(s)' questions that I ask out of curiosity. Both showed me something new; each allowing me to see ad differnt side of investment and money....and economy. Very intriguing. The reason I went on and allowed this was Trust. The trust that they both say the same theory, same analysis, different twist... I at times would test both theories against one another to see how the other will respond. I think again that I am interested in the thinking and the analysis of reaching whatever they say.

And it helped tremendously.

Back to the cup of choclate mint. He introduced me to 'Alan Greenspan'. I got hocked-up and got his book. In arabic, called after him 'Alan Greenspan'. Pick it up. It is like Poor dad, rich dad...but for grownups! I like it and it helped me understand, even on my amateur level, the various relations between 'Housing bubble', 'investment', 'stock market', 'global economy', 'globalization', 'world's economy'.

I am half through.....I got it from 'al-shrouq'... but i am looking for the english version.

Whoever interested in finance, monetry policy, economics... might find this interesting

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12 Sep 2008


When you look in the mirror and only see a remains of someone you used to recognize. When you not look again because you do not want to recognize. The recongition had brought you endless wells depth of pain and sadness more than you ever wanted. You run away from the recognizing. Hide the immediately tears in the eyes and ignore. Be indifferent. Not to anyone. This is a year old stage. But be indifferent to yourself. This is the new one. I never thought I can do that. And I really did not. It just creeps on you. A must-do stage else you will kill yourself. The thought visited a lot.... so this was the counter reaction. The mercy hand that extends to transform you to the indifferent type to save you. And it did. In so doing, it brings the end to everything. Tighten the fuel so that the flame burns less. saving you from burning yourself because people like me do that all the time.. But since this is life, we learn from our mistakes. But people like us dont learn. If they learn this means they are digging something else. Their grave maybe. And even that they do silently. Like all their self-life. They love silently. Suffer silently. Think silently. And also die silently. All the time un-noticed. And this is the bles that comes from the only thing they can not do, and also do very well.

They close their eyes. But unfortunately not to dream.



It is hard to describe it this time. And was hard to describe the time before. And I am sure the time after. I know this feeling. When you know you are watching yourself being distant from yourself. Not fighting anything as before. Just silently delving into this space of yours at the end of the day. Avoiding all what is happening in the corridors and the wide huge area outside. Just saying what will get you to pass by any situation or topic. When you know longer fight for placing a poker face, to normally have one. Avoid. Reserve. Avoid. Diffuse. Hide but never seek. Say no opinion in any general conversation. Preserve. You look to everyone and just wish they never stop talking lest they ask for what you think. And you know that you think nothing because you are actually outside this life already. Not interested and not you. But just doing that for any sign of life. I stop pleasing. I stop contributing. Fighting or even saying what I want. I am not sure what happened.

I just am feeling more and more sad. Less and less asking for what I want from those close. I said what I want before. Major and minor. But the wave-length is surprising different. SO you stop. Even if you chose them with low expectation, the bar keeps going lower. Until one time, you just silence your feelings and whatever makes you comfortable. Accept whatever because this way they give you a space to move in. And this is surprisingly, after all these years and attempts, is what i want. Just a space to leave me alone. I promised myself to not say what I want. I do what I can to spare me the annoyance. I see only what I want to see and the rest, I literally drop. I invented a world and I live in it. And I walk around as a watcher. It is hard to describe.

But i fight less. Far less. The worst I say is 'you offended me.' If I ask for something that was not done. I dont ask again. I do it myself or just retreat. And I do retreat with no hard feelings. I just really retreat. There in the corner and be with myself, do mystull until I am called back again to join the gathering. And I go back and normal and continue.

This i find it easier. Less confrontation. Almost no demands or expectation. And it assures me that no one is keen enough to see you. And there is no right or wrong choices... Just a choice and it actually is easier to be or choose someone and be with someone who does not see you. Really easier. I am sure that it is not done on purpose. Just it is not really there in everyone to notice and observe. 90% of those we know, even close ppl, wives, husbands, family, hardly will see or know you. So when I really realised that, i just give them excuse.

Before I fight. Now I ignore.

And what i cant ignore is the horrible sad feeling I am accumulating. I just look to him or them, even who i chose, and be silent. endless talks coming from that direction and I hear nothing. i am there. a statue. listening but really cant be engaged. and i know i will stay there forever. first because i have no energy to be engaged in anything. and more important, i really am ok with whatever. all i am waiting for is this little floor i lay on and this silence i get to observe for sometime. I leave them and him alone because i jsut want to be left alone. whatever you want to take from me, please take. i no more want to offer anything.

and in the process of that, i do realise that i am being diminshed. but there is no other way to be nurtured.

today i heard this name million times. over and over. as if she intentionally wanted to have me react. but i did not. i know she knew what i have been hiding. i always had this feeling. on and on she said it. and looking to me in the face. i just answer and show indifference. tell her what she would never expect me to say in that situation. i am determined in that little gap to not show her what she wants me to reveal. i even said how much i think the love is and the caring is.... and i watched her with the corner of my eyes....looking to me in surprise....

why some people enjoy to see others in pain....

i showed my pain before to few. but very few from those few who respected it.

And i am not intending to show that again..

I surprise myself.

As I Doug told me.... I am someone totally different. the other side of who i used to be.

Closed. Shut. Blocked. Mute. Blind.


11 Sep 2008


Any one got the book عزازيل? I will start it this week.

Any recommendation for a good book. Any one reading or read lateral thinking?

I recommend the monk who sold his ferrari... Never mind the naive narration, but the idea is good. can be a tip book.



I am sure that the egyptian government did not think about the possibilities they might have from the Letter/Number combination. But honestly they dont need to. It is already done in other arab countries and for sure all over the US and Canada.

My concern or sarcasm or maybe curiosity started with the translation of the letters. It did trigger me. Why the translation? Apart from the insignificance of this translation, also comes with it the limitation in mapping of the letter to numbers. NOt sure what is the benefit. First it does not show and second it wont be written in the license, even if it will be, it wont be recorded in the ticket.

On the practical level, apart from the big picture thinkers guys I am surrounded with, the possibilites are not huge. There are a max of 17M combination that might not be enough in 10 years. So illiminating couple of letters (6 at least) will affect. Also the letters that will be illiminated are nice ones. I personally love the ز and the ظ and wished i had one of these. And for a person like me, who loves number and its significance, and adore letters and its energy.... when both combines together I am super thrilled. Instead of driving calculating the numbers on the car plates all around me, and finding quicker way of adding, discovering relations between numbers, hate-love-weak-strong-arrogant-timid-neutral...., now I watch the combination and will find new rule that combines numbers with letters.

And apart from all, it was fun exercise.

The news is.... till this very moment, we did not have the most accurate final final final, TRIO solution. 1) because we are assuming 26 letters when we have to exclude the non included letters, 2) we didnot decide whether there can be a plate that have xxx and 001. Will they start with Zeros in the numbers or have to be filled.

A la Uno, A la Deuooo , A la............

And apart from all, the connexion with you helped.......

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8 Sep 2008


It was as if every element but my own nature had contributed to create this life. Who had made the marriage decision? who had desired the children?

I could remember the first impetus, the first choice, the first desire for these, and how they came to be. I, guided by my own background, habits, blindness in regard to my own desires, had made all this and then lived in it, but it had not been made out of the deeper element of my own nature.

I am indeed a stranger in it. Just a stranger! And my own nature is still imprisoned.


6 Sep 2008


I have not had a haircut since a long time. Not sure why. Maybe because I was already losing a lot since 2 months. Tons of it. Just a hope that I will not look bald. This is the worst wave of hair loss since a long while. Everytime I go to Paul, I look at the basin or the floor and I see my hair covering the floor. The car seat, all covered with hair. I actually got a bit sad. The hair is falling from the roots.

Are you tired? Depressed? Not eating well? They would ask. And I say no. All is good. I guess!!! Externally at the least.

A. got me this nice hair cooler from Rene furtere. Amazing. I ran it on the skulp and it refreshed it. However, the hair continue. Maybe it is just the change of weather here. Starting to be cool.

At any rates, I decided to go have a hair cut. I did. Chez Paul. The french quebicoise! Really sweet guy. Gay? I dont know. But his hands smelled so manish with cigarette. Oh well, the french and the smoking. Dressed up so neat and simple. Hair very short. Wide lovely smile. Decent compliments. I like the place. For some reason he is using the arabic theme or maybe parisian theme.

Black wooden floor. Big wooden tiles covering the arches. Wooden tables and mirrors. Wooden chairs. Light wine red curtains. Arabic chandlier. His staff are all wearing white. Nice.

The villa he is in is very european old style. Have its own Haram. Entrance with garden in the side. Door is at the side not at the heart of the main street. I love it. Old stairs. Oh well well well....very nostalgic to Zamalek and garden city like buildings!

So, my appointment was at 5PM. I took a shower. Did not wash my hair instead, twisted it and inserted a black pencil. Wore me haircut white plain t-shirt. Wore no perfume, just my lotion. My theory is I should wear something very neutral with no collar. No jewelery or accessory. Just a plain simple look. Just me. This way I get a cut that suites me. Not a mood or a style. I let him see me the way he wanted to. Not forcing any egyptian, morocan, gypsy, stylish, plain, academic, professional, agressive...... whatever he sees me.....i want the cut to be so. So, white t-shirt and jeans will just do it.

I passed by starbucks. Got a coffee and walked there in the nice weather. I was there before my appointment. He came to greet me and ordered a drink for me. When my turn came, I let him cut it the way he wanted with 2 requests: Simple cut please. Not short from the front. I always ask for that. Anywhere. My issue is I dont want short hair that I can not manage. I dont want a complicated cut that needs a master to brush. I need something that I can just hold with a pencil and it looks fine. And he did.

He cut off all the damaged hair. Made it couple of lenghts. Simple simple simple cut. long enough. And i like it. Hoping the losing will stop. I am insisting it will stop. The rene furtere produits. Vitamins. Spirit. I will do that. I know I can do that too. I like to treat myself actually. Proven success so far in other things. Something I brag about with myself because it means something to me.... I know what is wrong with MYSELF and I know how to trace it. Not lazy. Not stupid. Not dull. Not victim who just waits for someone to rescue me.

The good thing is, my hair looks nice. And I look better with slightly short hair. After I am done, I went downtown to pick the book I wanted 'Lateral thinking', and got our clothes from the dry-clean and dropped a couple of more pants.

There is something..... but I do not know what!

4 Sep 2008


The weather here is starting to be great. Cool and refreshing. Brings back the elegance and serenity from deep inside. The smell that is discrete but so vivid to me. Only. I stood in that place and let the vent hit me. I heard it whispering. Softly and gently. Words that made my heart soar. I knew and remember this feeling. Confused how can someone be addictive to pain. I guess for this pain I had been searching. Even as a kid. It is interesting.

So, I took my car and drove around. It is clean and smelling nice. I found myself passing by so many old places and this soaring returned. And I started narrating to her some stories from the past.

I smiled and started, 'I guess it all started with Monsieur Sayed' our bus driver.' The blue autobus touring cairo. I was the first to come in, and almost the last to get out. He took me places. Sitting alone towards the end of the bus. Eating a sandwitch that I kept with me while sitting alone on the coach after almost everyone leaving. I sat next to the window. Squeezing my head to the glass and absorbing every house and street we passed by.

Until this very moment I remember my feelings. I remember the houses and the people and friends.

I remember Pakinam Usama. She lived in this small house. 2 floors only. OVerlooking a huge garden. Whenever we passed by her to pick her or drop her, her family (2 aunts who were living with her in the same building) would be sitting in the veranda garden. They cheered and came to take her. Her father used to wear round glasses. I still remember how he looked. I always liked this seclusion and this spacious area infront of their house. I would imagine that in the summer they would play soccer and hide and seek. Take their chairs and sit in the garden with their neighbours. I doubt they did that, or even anyone did that. I still remember that one of the 2 floors was yellowish. I still pass by this place and here my stomach crumble. I met Pakinam at the club one day. She got married when she was 20. But they sold the house and moved out. The house now is no more 2 floors.

Dalia Mustafa. Her parents were architect. Both of them. She lived in this side street close to a main stereet. In a nice old villa. I can close my eyes and remember how the villa looked like. Old english villa, iron door and fence all surrounded with 'guhanameya' plant. I loved it. She would always wear flat shoes and would walk like a ballerina to the villa. Ring the bell outside and her grandmother would come open the iron door. She never invited us in. But I wished I would go inside to see. The villa looked so old and so sad. Indeed this girl was sad. Her parents were always travelling and she lived with her grandmother. How lonely this house could be. I memorized the name of the street til this moment. Now the villa is gone. And a huge building is up instead. DOnt know where dalia went.

Reham el saban. She was syrian. I kinda had a crush on this girl because of her manish voice. Her name triggered me. Although we were kids, but I used to love Rafek el saban and nicole barakat and tarek habib. Something in them attracted me. And reham's last name reminded me of Rafeek and maybe that's why I loved her. Wanted to be her friend. She did not live in egypt but came from france on 3rd grade. She lived in this corner house, 2nd floor. Her house entrance was forming a welcoming corner embracing the 3 intersections. very unique. The entrance arches were rounded like a temple, and there was an iron window up there. What I mostly love was their bedroom window. It reminded me of my grandmother's house becuase it was in teh same area. whenever we pass by her, she would be sitting in the window (i imagine there was a sofa below the window) watching and waiting for the bus to pass. The window is not the fenetre type. To open it you would roll the handle until it is opened. I loved that. On the other side, there was this balcony that overlooked the entrance where her grandmother would be sitting. They put an old high sofa. The house entrance was always dark and seemed a bit humid. There was also this hiding area from the bombs. Anyways, Reham was a nice girl.

Azza and Amira. They both were good friends to one another. Azza looked Koka from goofy. Very tall. Dark skin and she has big nose and wide mouth. Amira was so so white. Red hair with a thick glasses. Extremely thin and fragile. Together they would come to school walking when they missed the bus. They lived just across the street at the end of the school's main street. They both lived in an french style connected house. Underneath it were tons of shops and little markets. Huge rounded windows. Very dense entrance. Not so clean but super old and amazing architecture. There was this barbar shop that has 2 mini floors and my brother used to go there. We would sit upstairs and I crawl to the iron window and sit watch the people buying from the small shops. Cats running and hawling around the shop. Both Amira and Azza used to take a private lesson with me at Mme Omnia.

Mme Omnia lived at the end of my grandmother's street. An old old building infront of the ancient hospital built by my mother's cousin. I remember so much that the house was so cold. I would freeze inside during winter while taking the lesson. SHe taught us math and english for some reason. Omnia lived with her mother and 2 sisters. When you enter from the door there was this huge reception with an old sewing machine her mother used to sit on. There was not so many furniture and there was this sad and humid smell in the house. She used to have us sit in the dinning room where there was a huge table and 12 chairs. Again the smell would dominate the place and trademark some feeling in me. A melange with the cold weather and the no carpets on the ceramic...all left a shivering feeling inside me. I remember now that I used to wonder what happened to these people? I had a theory that they were not so rich and she was working to support her mother and sister. They were not poor by any means, but I think the no furniture plus the sewing machine from the movies made the scenario. But her father died a while back. I remember 3 incidents. first one when she was joking with me and drew a green star on my forehead. I grew very angry and thought that it was an insult. She kept apologizing and removed if for me. I remember till now that she got a soap and cleaned it. I guess I gave her this angry look with my big eyes, that made her feel guilty. I was very expressive. Second incident when my mother was late to pick me up, we together sat in the living room watching tv. She got me oranges, peeled it for me and fed me. I think she loved me. And I know that i was attached to her. I enjoyed the intimate cozy time we spent infront of the tv, eating and watching. The chairs were wooden and I would place the dish on the wooden hand. I was happy...I had a private time with my teacher. Third time, when there was no light and Azza, Amira and myself had to go down the stairs. I remember that this soaring feeling visited me dearly. The feeling of excitement. Of almost hearing the stairs whispering me. The cold stairs, dented at parts from being stepped on tremendously challenged me. We three carried a candle and found our way down. It was fun. The following year, she was no longer our teacher, yet she came to visit us. One day she came to school to see us. I ran to her and said hello. I remember that I was cold. But I was sad she was no longer my teacher.

Rasha Samir. The tallest girl at school. She was palestinian who lived in the next building from the school. Amazing old house. During 3rd grade, our class window overlooked her own house. I envied her. For some reason I always felt so far away from home. Wished to always see my own home whenever I can. I loved my own home which I never found, but knew existed and assured myself that I was forced to leave it. I know I have a home and til the moment I knew I never found it yet. I would look from the classroom's window to the residents of the house. The servant putting the old carpet out, the living room, the bedroom. I would keep looking to them and wonder what my mother was doing at that moment. Oh well...at work!! BUMMER!! I guess I wished my mother was staying home waiting for me to come back. But this was never the case except on saturdays. Instead, I was the one who always waited for her to come.

My school. Beautiful architecture. Huge gate with stairs and french ornaments. An old palace in a beautiful old place. I always played with myself. It was home and I owned it. I discovered secret places there. Would explore passages deep down. Every day I would do that and this was the only thing that kept me excited til my mom come picked me up.

When she used to pick me up, it was a blast when she decided to walk together and pick my brother. We walked together in the crowded street. I loved it. I looked at every house, scanned the veranda, and street name. Look at the entrance. the iron door. the falling stairs. the wooden mailboxes inside. the smell. the crowd. People going and coming. My mom would buy stuff and I would just wait for her silently. I enjoyed the trip in the nice air. Smelling her Chanel No 5 perfume, her short hair, kind smile and the space I delved in.

I walked and walked. Drove and drove. With my mom. Sometimes we parked in a small street waiting for my brother. I would take my homeworks and make the back of the car my little house. Study and adjust myself to the street lamp for a perfect lighting. I had my mobile home. And I enjoyed it. In the winter, the smell was scary. But it is what remained. And what connected me. And what made me who I am. When I walk in these streets, I see my mother. I see myself. I see my brother. I revisit myself. And I found a tear or a smile dancing down my face. I sigh. And greet the place.

And I know when I have a kid, I will take him down there. Tour the streets. Open the old books. Smell the air. will close his eyes and let him feel the places and detect my presence. memorize the names. illustrate the maps. salute the buildings. inhale the scent. sit on teh stairs. bond with the heart beats. tune to the walls. fly with the elevator. touch the iron and warm the bricks. silently narrate the stories. Embrace the ages. And enclose the pain to preserve the connection. recognize that he is special. This I never did with anyone except one. But I swore that I would never do it again with anyone. it is my secret. it is me. only my kid will understand because I would want him to know me. And this knowing he will pass to his kids. this will be the only way i will assure my immortality. through the silence. through the places. through the many homes that i sensed and loved, connected and acknowledge..... but insisted to wait until i go back home.

and i will soon

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I do not know how to start. But there are this thing that is limping inside me. Wanting to come but I force it to go inside and remain there. A consistent insistence to float. I keep telling it that it is not time yet. Simmer more.

But it is when I see him that I get touched. Maybe because he loves me dearly and deeply. More than anyone else around. In a very mature way. Maybe because he does look like me in many things. This standing-up look and deep sensitivity. Absorbing eyes. Very refined and deeply elegance. I love him when he hugs me and calls me with 'my Nickname'. Keeps telling me that he loves me. Bought me a present and made me tons of cards when I was sick. His eyes paniced when he knew the news. And he was silence. Kept inquiring in a shy scared way. Very sincere.

I actually love him a lot. I see myself in him all the time. I do hug him dearly and love him when he is excited. I love his arguments. His wisdom. His connection to things. His judgement. What he says. very smart. He talks talks talks talks. ANd amazingly I am so patient with him and try to understand. Encourage him. Like to take him places. To tease him into eating sushi. Walking in zamalek. Choosing a book at diwan. I like him so much. I get mad and my eyes are in tears when anyone shuts him up or does not see the gift and elegance and for sure the sadness.

But he does know that he is sad. He keeps saying that. And I wonder, why? Why a kid can be sad? I was sad. I was very sad. He once said that he wants to die. And I used to ask for that silently. I dont know why I did that. I had nothing to suffer from as a kid, and so does he. Maybe the endless search for home and endless search for safety is what --had been, for me, and has been, for him,-- we both are/were looking for.

I dont know.

There is a sad gene. Some people are born with it.

It is a bless. And a curse.

3 Sep 2008



2 Sep 2008


So no more Shoubra, crazy guy spitting on my passenger car window, following car plates, bonding with Doudiz....

But it is better!