A Message from within

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 s...

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.

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.  

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. Ann...

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...

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.

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.

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.

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...

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...

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. Pret...

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. De...

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, recentl...

I spent a good two hours browsing through my very old posts. God! It has been 5 years since I started this blog. I read those initial posts where I was talking about Religion; this endless debates with Dallula and her friends; the decent Muhammad who was so dear on the blog. I miss you. If I am allowed to say that. I at times could not believe that I am the one who wrote all that. So filled with ideas and passion not to be compared with the situation now. I am still passionate but in so many different directions that I cant even recognize. I am not sure if I will ever be able to write again in the same way. I wonder what has been of me during these 5 years. No clear answer. A word from here and there. A nostalgic feeling from cairo and from within. But the real thing is still in the making. Where ever you are from Cairo, I send you my salutation. HR

Seems like I forgot how to write. I substitute this blog with a random thoughts in my diary book. I now write. Not as elouquently, not as crisp, not as real like I used to do. I now write 'Fake' stuff. Fake not that it is unreal, but I write just to keep the habbit. To preserve the memory. To persuade the emotions to stay, and the feeling to not flee away in despair of its owner that once took care of this place. The west of the soul; the nucleus of the spirit; the ancient of the being. This endless glimse of something that I failed to capture, yet once recognized the existence. I wish to come back here often. Naturally though. How can it be when most of my time now is captured between the worlds of fake and unreal. There is a difference? I am not sure. I guess I have to discover this little field that lies in between. It is so true that once you forget, you are forgotton. Not by someone, but by your ownself. 'انساهم انفسهم' not sure how this relates. But it does. WIll ...

I bought a car freshner from 'on the run'. It is vanilla. Intersting. I am not sure why I bought it, but I did. In fact, I am excited about it. I keep spraying it until today I was coughing from the dense smell. I prefer the lemon-ish one much more. I prefer the car to smell like me, naturally, my smell without having to impose a smell or another. Not sure why I bought the freshner. Well, it is part of the mental state I am in. Cleaning. Cleansing. Reshuffling. Embracing the many changes that will carry me somewhere. So, Vanilla.... Let it be. I ate the best ice-cream today at Cilantro. 'Mr. Cream', he said. Well, it was good. I got Choclate and strawberry. Worth trying.

We are forever haunted by this idea that jews are the enemy who is trying to destroy egypt, islam, arabs; lived and breeded on the conspiracy theory from this enemy who is monitoring us so close. Almost all flaws we have and any critical situation we attribute it to the 'Enemy' and the 'conspiracy theory. Well, this is the Egyptian vs. Jews. Now we are in a different conspiracy inside Egypt. Muslims vs. Copts... Copts vs. Muslims lest they pick on why I put Muslim first!! So the Copts are really under the impression that there is a conspiracy against them from the Muslims. Ridiculous as it is, but it is really alerting. Not only so, but the people who are really believing that are a well educated people who are suppositely enlightened. - Muslim Brotherhood are the ones who burnt cairo during the king's time! (Never heard of that...) - The Pigs were all slaughtered to destroy the christians financial situation and to annoy them and was called for by the Muslims at the pa...

So if Islam was not the religion, and Prophet muhammad invented everything and the koran was stolen from poetry, hinduism...etc as the christians now are trying to claim and exerting all efforts to dig this out, still what will make me take christianity? What is so certain about Christianity that is beyond debate that will make me choose it without any doubt. Nothing They still eat biscuits and drink wine as a symbol of blood and body. They fast after this event for hours after they eat and are not allowed to get anything out of their mouth lest 'part of the body' gets out! PHEW!!!! Sounds like pagan times to me! I understand it is a symbol, but still, what is that! If u are smiling and nodding...yes, we talk a little about islam and christianity.. I maintain a cool face and dont debate almost at all. Consciously diffuse talks away from islam..As much as i can I let him talk about his christianity and ask clarifying questions. Opinionless attitude (who does that better than me...

Same group. My brother's friend, A. I played social and connected with him. It was first time to see him and his wife since he got married. He used to come to our house a lot, and we were friends because of my teasing to him. It is this connection that allows us to be super simple with each other, yet know almost nill about one another. But we liked each other. His wife, N. Never saw her except in the wedding. I had one impression, 'Sloppy'. When I first came to see her was at their house. Chateau. 816. She was inviting me to ftar. I did not particularly like the attitude. She is simple and all, but not this elegant, understanding simplicity. More of this shallow simplicity. The thing I noticed is her sloppy way of eating. Twisting her mouth to catch a bite. Her way of dressing up or down, i hardly understand. Her hair too unmanaged. Maybe her face, a but undefined. En bref, this elegance aura is all missing. Coupled with her attitude, I got the point. So we ended up talkin...

He is from singapore. A 51 years old person. I am stuck with him for almost 10 days. Initially, he is this cute person who talks his life out. And I used to listen while working on my computer when he goes in circle asking everyone what are their plans, what are they cooking, ...etc. I would just mumble couple of words with this smile and back to my laptop. But he does talk a lot. Not only that but he has this 'gayish' attitude. Not particularly 'gayish', but maybe i am harsh. Just woman attitude. here is some of his statements, (along with some facial and body language....) ' I have to wash my teeth. I am used to that. i can sleep without washing my teeth. oh oh, the bathroom is not empty.' What the hell.... why do you have to tell me!! ' I will cook beef. Beef is so cheap. It is 2$. I will go get beef. the brocoli is 99c. i got brocoli.' 'I dont want to change my room. I like it here. I cant sleep in the other bed. They can move. It is darker here....