A Modest pride?!!

Right after I finished a 3 hour exam and as i was ranting to a fellow student about the absurd lack of time to study well for the exam, laughing away the 3 hour tension of trying to rationalize an answer since i couldn’t remember the needed equations, that colleague said it simply as a given fact: We will always fail to have the time, you might as well get used to it!

 

I got into my car, made a phone call and thought my current personal status equation.

 

I work 12 hours a day (almost everyday through January), I have two kids who normally need me to study with them…spend time…play and talk, I have two 3 hour classes per week and a test every other week.and if I count ME as something important, I would then have a me time when I should spend most of it going out with  nice friends, maybe get my self a facial or something.

 

Result is a question: How long would I be able to do all that before i crack??!! given the fact that I’m only human…I get dead tired, I want to sleep and rest and get out…I want to read a book…It has been a month since i read anything but balance sheets and marketing reports…I want my kids to get sick of my nagging…

 

yet, I don’t have the guts to complain…because now I can face facts I fought so hard and got into big troubles because of that fighting.

 

I can face that I don’t take my bag and slam the CEO’s office door and rush out of the company with the most arrogant attitude claiming that i don’t need work…not anymore…simply because I (aka my kids) need work!

I can face the fact that I do drag myself every time to class after a long day at work and try to squeeze study time and deprive myself  sleep and rest because I know that my income will accelerate when I have that MBA…and I need that because the only thing i can guarantee for myself ad kids is ME as long as Allah gives me the breath I need each second to live.

I can face the fact that I no longer have the Glamour I had a year ago…I don’t have that flair I felt reflect in people’s eyes and most importantly in my own…I have pale eyes now…

I can also face the fact that the scar has gotten old…I see it yet I don’t feel its pain…It’s only there to remind me of how scars could be made while we’re numbed by our own delusion.

Yeah, I can face the fact and I’m actually OK with it…I have a blunt soul now.

 

I once thought that blunt souls are worse than dead ones…when something looses its ability to function then it’s useless…I beg to differ now, Nothing is wrong with bluntness…Knives may loose the ability to cut, yet they still have their solid steel…afterall they’re never hurt!

 

I’m willing to be modest from the inside with me…I could never loose my pride although I face facts acknowledging my weakness and vulnerability…and Desperate needs.

I could attain a modest pride.

Live it anyway whilei can…It’s not like I ve anyother choice…after all I will always find joy

and pride in passing an exam among that chaos, getting a chubby bonus Or…seeing my kids happy and doing good.

 

Will watch scrubs now then try to have some sleep.

 

What pisses me off at 3:30 am

I logged in to Jeeran to get myself started on a quick rant when i noticed a new blog on the site called: How to get girls!

That could pass under my nose easily but i noticed the published post called: Dance floor approaches!!!

Now, please…for the love of god…Dance floor approaches?!!!

Is it the fifties and i got lost in a time swirl??

It’s as if someone jumped out of ” Dirty Dancing ” the movie!

I do not think who ever hits dance floors nowadays doesn’t know how to get girls and how to ” approach them “…needless to say that the whole concept of getting girls is irrrrrritating, It sounds like getting a pack of cigarettes or getting ****.

 

It’s things like that that get on my nerves especially when i woke up disturbed at 3 am for NO reason whatsoever although I have work at 7 am and i need the sleep after the shitty day i just had at the office…

I can’t be entering the endless circle of insomnia again, can I??

It has been a nice while…getting enough sleep every night like all SANE people…not having to wake up mad nearly at dawn to find silly posts about dance floors…phhhhlease!

 

I was about to call the whole ranting and posting at such late hour off but seeing Ms. FOKO (aka someone else) posting another meaningless saggy post about some love bla bla blrrrrrrra and sticking that small head of hers onto that fake slim body using photo shop ( and she is NOT slim ) just to create a freak looking head is as irritating as the “get the pack of girls post”.

 

Yes, I admit I was already pissed off and drained from sickness and a huge fight at the office…I just recognized that it’s that time of year again when I would get all proud and stuff and stand up for the boss’ bullshit till I leave the office.

 

It happened last year around this time…Maybe It’s the quitting season or arguing season or something…who knows!

I still have my company to run to if things went crappy at the office, right?? right!

 

back to blogging, and why the hell would anyone bother us with all the: quit, won’t quit, quit, ohhh ma2dertesh 3ala bo3dak sanya won’t quit blogging thingie…

No one gives a shit really and even if someone did actually give a shit, you can’t really be serious and bounce between decisions in less than a day…Be a man sucker!! Quit!! or don’t Quit 😀

 

On a last note, I don’t want to know fawa2ed albabooneg nor the dream someone had of hell and how I’ll burn in it if I didn’t forward the email to a thousand people…Hell, I don’t know a thousand people you moron!!! and guess what, Babooneg your a**!

 

A walk down road 9

Sometimes I feel but can’t comprehend and sometimes I feel and I fail to express my feelings in words. When too many thoughts fight too many feelings and I feel that the Universe is abandoning me…that I’m extra tiny amongst it…that I with every mighty thing that this I includes, really don’t mean much to the great existence of mankind.

Only then do I have the urge to walk down some street…

A couple of days ago I walked down road 9, it was a cold winter night…the road was somehow empty and i smelled fresh plants sending pure oxygen down my veins…I was still sick as I’ve been for the last two weeks. but I decided to Ignore the pain I felt with each breath…I focused on the music I had plugged…the road ahead of me and the skies that link me to that bigger meaning I try to belong to…

Just as i try to write and blog as always for the past few days just to feel I still belong to this little hideaway.

It was a strange night indeed…I thought of love and war…how much love emulsifies in times of war. How I feel for Palestine every minute and how i need to speak of it but can’t find a comfy talk-sofa to share on. I remembered all I7san abdulqudoos’ stories about love and war…how love is profound and real in times of war…because at times of war all fakeness melt and masks drop and people show and share their true colours.

I thought of my kids and that cruel world I brought them to…I thought about my fears…right now I fear nothing worldly but not being able to be there for my kids.

Fear of ruining my relationship with Allah doesn’t haunt me now…not anymore, as I made peace with what I was and how I want to be…and since he has my heart helpless in his hands…there’s no need to fear loosing him…He’s what and who I love beyond reason nor consciousness.

I found the power of decision to be a very deceiving intangible tool…it’s like trying to catch mercury that keeps escaping your thoughts to your feelings and back.

One day you can’t get a grip on it and the other you manufacture a special container for it as you want to be committed to that decision that much.

But the most mean decision is the one that follows your heart…not your mind.

And I, Have been suffering both.

But I, Have decided against that suffering….Ironic huh!

I held, that night, a hot snack for my mom…it brought warmth to my fingers…I listened to Verdi…And meanings were different…meanings of war, love, roads and how colorful scarfs don’t produce warmth for being heavy…they do because we decide they do…that night was different indeed.

I reached home and greeted my mom with a smile.

 Here she was, another human being that gave this world a try and did the best she knew of and here’s her fruit…me, Ironic huh!

Fools in command

In a four x four room…In a cold lonely night


After babies have slept….And all seem quiet


I turn to a screen, of a pale gray picture


Hoping for a distraction, a laugh…a lame lecture


A song plays old, of faraway pains


Blood and wounds…An image of rage



They tell a story of a kid, a father…a land that once belonged


To a distant meaning of humanity. It had a story of some killings


A thousand scar and a forbidden Surrender to the other side


Any side…any tide, even an end…a closure



They play tunes and sing songs…To tell the story to which it belongs


As if it’s news…a form of legacy, yet, it’s not forgotten…abandoned…but,


It’s painful hearing those words, I know the story…stop those swords


My heart is aching as I lay still in bed Listening to vibes…not moving instead



Those tears are chocking me…I can’t breathe anymore


I can’t move a muscle or walk out that door


I want to shield those people from bullets and fire


I want to fly away to demolish that invasive desire



But, I’ll grab a tissue for now…and wipe away my tears


The chocking won’t relief or shut away my fears


Maybe I need to learn about aiming and shooting


Maybe a song will be written, someday to mourn my land


That day a picture of men I knew will make it to the stands


That day I’ll hold the gun and lend a hand and pay my dues


Like every other person in this land of fools



As fools repeat every sin again, again and again


A closed dumb circle of misery and pain


A blind justice rules and verdicts are all the same


More hurt, more loss, more agony and strain



I am still in bed…holding those tissues


Tearing them into a million tears


I won’t handle the lot anymore


I’ll throw them in a basket…change the channel


Shut a window….the door and a heart that’ sore

 

Will wait for the words of fools

And fools in command

Although…I know…I’ll never understand

Never understand