Last Thursday of exhausting March

Dear Blog,

March has cracked my bones…It has been confusing, exhausting and mind draining…and really tight with the bucks…

But Today is a brilliant day…It ends and takes March with it.

It takes all the waiting…All the confusion…All the back and forth annoying movement between offices, decisions and urges.

March ended and I’m happy that i can mark the end of a 120 days critical phase in my life.

Today, I settled in my work…made up my mind and settled…and I am happy with what Allah gave me…and i will build from there…not build anywhere else.

Today, although i was very worried about my sick mom, Her spirit lifts mine…she is a very courageous lady, don’t know how i forgot that and expected her to stop caring for her health…Inshallah she’ll be fine.

Today, I decided to recall my old forgotten ability to gain friends…for real. i tried to deactivate Facebook (i don’t need virtual communication,,,at least for a while) but i couldn’t as I’ll be deactivating Dad’s page as well…so, i made it a private profile…i don’t wanna read two liners from people…I want to hear from them…I’ll focus on the real people in my life and the real people i would like to earn their new existence.

Today, I will buy a book and read…and I will write as vivid as i did before “news” took over my life…and I will work for causes…and all that with the help and will of Allah.

From now on, I will have fun with my kids…I will listen to old music i love…I will dance and walk down my favorite street.

and I will welcome a new month…a new quarter of the astonishing life changing year of 2011 and i will set new fresh goals…I will enjoy life, love and people…I will fight when i need to and i will relax as often as i can.

I’m glad i have you bloggy…forgive me for looking elsewhere 🙂

Love will kill me

I love deeply but i don’t love much.

Most of the time i like people or dislike them…i rarely love them…i don’t usually invest deeper feelings, or to be more honest…i don’t allow myself to get attached.

But on the few occasions i do attach, i really and deeply and faithfully and devotedly care…to an extent that such very close friends or family become as essential to me as my kids or my mom…and with that depth comes a whole package…a package that was the main reason why i hardly allowed myself to get too close to someone.

I fear for my loved ones…i become protective…i become so uptight when it comes to their safety and well-being.

A choking kind of love i assume..well, at least to some.

Accordingly i get mad and lose my cool…my blood pressure hits the roof and anger shuts down my better judgment and steam comes out from every possible opening in my body.

I fail to maintain my generally nice attitude and sometimes i try to imagine how i must look like in one of those burst outs and i think positively that i turn from the angelic baby face teddy roosh to a devilish -thin lol- woman dressed in red leather and holding a huge fork in her hand while sticking out her claws.

I feel that either my anger would kill me or my love will do the job.

Of course if the bad way applies on my beloved friends and distant family, it maximizes upon my kids.

I love them with every fraction of a cell in my body and every fraction of my being…LOVE…i mean i would easily DIE for them…I want the BEST thing in this world for them…I can’t tolerate any form of harm to ever touch them…or ever be inflected by themselves.

Last night i freaked out when my kid explained coldly that he didn’t find enough time during the Quran exam to write two required Surahs…I thought: WHAT…my SON coldly LEFT TWO QUESTIONS and didn’t even feel bad about it…then, boommmm trrrrrrrakh brrrrrrrakh crrrrrrak!!

(of course the rational speech was delivered to him afterwards)

so, i am adding emotion control to my 2011 wish list.

Will cool down, contain myself, 7a7ot 3ala alby a zillion watt marawe7 and detach as much as i could.

May love revive me…not kill me.

High beat On a ring road

I was never into hip hop…NEVER…I am more into consistant type of melodies…soft tunes…passionate tunes…rhythmic is ok too sometimes…but hip hop has always been a No No for me…well, there was exceptions but not significant enough to even remember them right now.

But…the past few days i have been tuning to the radio on my way to and from work and Safi, my favorite radio host has been playing two hip hop songs that just rhymed the high speed drive down the ring road and spiced up my wheels.

I absolutly love them…nice lyrics and nice tunes…hope you enjoy…is it a change of taste…a middle age fling with hip hop 😀 ?? have no idea and couldn’t care less…enjoy:

Love, movies and I

I have to confess…I have great experience in the heart matters.

Broken or joyous…kollo 3andy.

and lately I have been enjoying my quiet evenings with movies to watch…it is quite impressive how calm i am now…

I watch romantic movies without crying and I can enjoy comedies without substituting the giggle with a smile!

Speaking of movies…new romantic comedy themes are: married couples hungry to be single and when given the chance they choose the good old loving spouse and/or the commitment…it repeated in different scenarios in movies like:

– No strings attached

– Freebie

– Go with it                                                                                     

– Hall pass                                                                          

– The dilemma

All are pretty funny and amusing…you know…the watch in bed cozy flick that can make you giggle hard two or three times along the watch…yet simple…very simple.

And because my social life is moderate but not intense, i sort of analyze what i see in movies about relationships.

And I try to figure out the truth behind behaviours.

Why do some married spouses  fantasize about single life?

Why do some married spouses go ahead and cheat?

Why does the word love means nothing at times so it is repeated just to get the undies flying or not said at all fearing the consequences?

In those movies mentioned above…there were all happy endings…when spouses (mostly men) prefered their wives or old comfortable girl friends than the boobified dolls who offer college wild quickies…noting that the age category in all movies was above 35.

I was so glad it had happy endings…It was so refreshing and hopeful.

in our lives b2a and apart from movies…Does everything in life have to go down the sexual affection stream?

ya3ni…Can’t people love 3ady and show affection without being emotionally involved?

Asdy normal healthy friendly love.

Is it movies or mere human nature that need to sexualize every type of human emotion that could exist between a man and a woman?

Well…my take based on my life experiment…mostly other stuff are mistaken for love…the need to feel voids rule and trick us into thinking that the emotion we feel…the feel good thing that delusionally and temporarily fills the gaps is also mistaken for love…or miscalled: love.

Lust is called love…flings are sweet talked as love…crushes are represented as love.

Maho love glorifies every meaningless urge and validates all related physical acts.

Tab3an, THE HUGE HUMAN MISTAKE EVER!

I thank allah…humbly and gratefully.

Anyways…Can’t be but glad that my heart is at rest…that i neither follow a mad dog urge to pursue romance nor allow such a pursuit touch my peaceful life.

Focus is what we need…good interpretation of feelings and calling every emotion by its suitable name…and really, really, people should fall in love out of deep valuable emotion mesh este5sar!!

حسمٌ خاطىء ثم تعلم تتبعه حيرة

ماضى…

لم أكن يوماً ممن يحتارون…كانت لدى مشاعر تقودنى وميل وهوى يغمض عيناى بسحر ويمسك يدى بقوة ويسرع بى فى إتجاه أريده

لم أكن يوماً من حادى النظر…كانت لدى عيون واسعة ترى فقط ما أهواه وتسمح لزغللة الرغبة ان تموه الوجوه والحقائق

لم أكن يوماً بلا حُرية…قيودى أصنعها أو أسمح لآخرين بصنعها…حريتى أباها قوة وأمها نظر ضعيف وأهواء تقود بتهور

لم أكن يوماً أعرف تماماً أى شىء…أعرف بعض الشىء عن كل شىء..أحب أشياء لا تلتقى إلا عندى..أحب أناس بمقياس لا يفهمه إلا أنا

لم أكن أتقبلنى وحيدة…فالراحة فى تقبل الآخر والراحة فى وجود..أى وجود..الراحة فى السماح لمسخى ومسوخ الآخرين فى التآخى…الراحة فى الصراع

لم أكن أنسى أبداً…كنت أتذكر الحدث بألفاظه ورائحته وألوانه وتفاصيله وصوره وظلاله ونوره أو ظلمته ومشاعره وغباواته..كنت لا أتخلى عن ذكرى مؤلمة..بل أضعها بحذر كإسطوانة عتيقة حتى تدور وتتكرر وتعذبنى وتجتر الدمع القديم حتى يغرق صدرى

لم أفقد موهبتى فى خلق المنطق..أخلق المنطق وراء كل كسر لقيمة…أخلق المنطق وراء كل تخلى عن حق..كنت أخلق منطق نبيل لتغطية دناءات النفس وعللها

ماضى قريب وحاضر

تعلمت من…أخطاء حرقتنى تأنيباً وندماً

تعلمت من …أخطاء تاريخى والآخرين

تعلمت من…معلمة رأت متاهة ورأت العلة ورأت الموهبة وربما رأت الخير

تعلمت أن…أنقب داخلى بشوكة من حديد عن المعنى  وأدواتى ثم السبب

ثم…كان لابد للنمط أن يتكرر مرة أخيرة

كان لابد لإجتماع كل ما مضى لى وعلى وتجسده فى تجربة

كان لابد من مشروع للتخرج وكان لابد من تحويل مسار الحياة من ضحية نفسى لملكية نفسى

وكان…ومرت…وتملكت

وثُرت قبل الثورة…وثُرت مع الثورة وثُرت بعد الثورة

وقفلت باباً وسمحت لأبواب الكون أن تفتح

وإنتظرت…إنتظرت نفسى القديمة ان تطل على بنمطها المعتاد..او أن تفاجئنى بنمط جديد قد تَخَلَق

وأصبحت أحتار بين أشياء حميدة..عرفت معنى الحيرة..وفى حيرتى عُدت الى الاصل: استخارة ومشورة وبحث وتحقق

حارنى الأمر لأنى لم أكن أعرف كيف يحتار الناس…حارنى لانى لم أشعر أبداً أن لدى ما أخاف على فقده فأحتار…إنما الآن..ربما القيمة حملت معها خوف دعى الى حيرة؟

ولم أتوقف عن إنتظار أشباح الماضى أن تلبس أثواباً جديدة وتأتى لتلاحقنى…

إنتظرت ثقة يطير بها الهوى نحو مهانة أخرى أسَكِن بها مرارة

إنتظرت عيناى ان تموه لى الرؤيا…إنتظرت إبداعى فى كسرى

إنتظرت رغبة مرضية تلح وجود ما حتى أوجد…فقد صاحبتنى تلك الرغبة بصداقة وفيه منذ ان كنت طفلة…لم تتركنى يوماً وانا لم أخذل تلبيتها يوماً

وكنت أنتظر كل يوم…أترقب…وأستعد بأسلحة من تركيز وعدسات مكبرة محددة وتمكين مهارات أخرى وتدقيق قضايا حياة…

وكنت أترقب مشاعرى…وأسألها مراراً…وترد على أن أتركها تعمل فى سلام

ومرت مائة من أيامى الطويلة

ولم تظهر علامات الساعة

وجئت أكتب هنا…ربما إحتفالاً وربما تذكيراً وتوضيحاً وتعليماً

يمكن للأنماط أن تنكسر

بل أخاف أن أترك الجملة السابقة هكذا..أخاف على نفسى من التيه بنفسى..فلأحولها لسؤال

هل يمكن للأنماط أن تنكسر؟

أحب أن أقبل أن الإجابة نعم

بل..سأستجمع شجاعتى وأقولها عالية: نعم

نعم..ولكنى لن أرتاح فخدعة النفس أمهر الخدع

سأبقى على أدواتى وأسلحتى

سأقبل تعليماً جديداً ومعانٍ جديدة

أعلم أنى سأختبر الحياة لأنى لن أرضى إلا بأن أعيشها تماماً

وأعلم أنها ستختبرنى

سأجتهد..وأستعد..وأواظب

أريد أن أموت شبعانة

أريد أن أموت وأنا فى منتهى الحياة

أريد أن أكون حال عبادة

أريد أن أنطق الشهادة بدلالة حياة بإيمان وإيمان بحياة

اليوم…قبل ساعة…إنهمرت بضع قطرات من مطر خفيف على زجاج سيارتى

كنت خائفة وقتها..ترقرقت القطرات وفرضت إبتسامة وحمد وطمأنينة

نحن نسير فى الحياة بكل ما لدينا من قدرة…والله يرى قلوبنا بكل بقدرته سبحانه..ثم يهدينا من رحمته ولطفه إن شاء

سأتنعم بحيرتى…وحسم أرجوه راقياً..وتعلم

Force Sandwich

In my book, I expressed how the manifestation of force shocked me…How the sight of hundreds of guys in black costumes and the sound of their pounding feet on the ground and the grip of their hands on innocent protesters grinded my heart…I expressed all that and more, and it was like losing my “naivety” to the police force on Jan 25, 26 and 28.

 Fear broke the platinum curtain that hid dimensions of evil I have never been aware of.

 Now, I like all, have a brand new format that included practical politics, a country and respect of our right to a will.

 But now, on daily basis, I see other forms of fear…Fear from the sight of endless numbers of guys in ordinary outfits and the sound of their everyday noise and their hidden fists.

 Everyday my colleagues, my mom, in emails, on the radio, in mobile text and on the internet, everyone is warning us from the road traps that muggers create (rather innovatively I must say) to rob people and hurt them by the way.

Warnings like:

– Don’t drive in an isolated road alone.

– Always keep your window up.

– Never stop if someone asked your help or if you see a woman crying with a child on the side of the road.

– If someone threw eggs on your shield don’t turn on the sweepers, it runs milky and you’ll have to stop to wipe it and muggers will attack then.

– Don’t drive at night alone

…..etc.

My first reaction, is the same reaction I have when at some point of my life someone told me that women cheat on their husbands as much as men do, and when I knew that there was male prostitution in Egypt, and when someone would point at a car full of young dudes and say: oh…they’re shooting drugs!

My first reaction was always: OF COURSE NOT!!

Out of ignorance, I always refused to believe that such ugliness and evil existed to that extent.

I just wanted to believe that very very very few women could cheat…as I wanted to believe that only one half of the human kind are that weak…I needed to feel that families have a good shot at surviving human nastynesses and its results.

I just wanted to believe that manhood: the father figure, the provider, the strong protector, the support, the wisdom and the loving spouse could never sell himself…that when women through out history did that, it was because they had no respectful father/spouse…or self value.

I just wanted to believe that drug users are not that much and do not feel that their problem is that mild to the extent of showing it on the streets and that they wouldn’t drive high and risk killing people.

I know how silly, half logic and how far from reality my thinking was.

 But I never thought that after growing up enough to realize fully the amount of potential evil in myself and in other people, that I would still meet those warning with the disbelief I had.

 I had to see for myself to believe.

 I had to see two trucks hitting intentionally a police microbus carrying no one but a driver, the two trucks that were driving to the left and to the right of the police microbus kept coming closer together till they made the police microbus a sandwich and totally ruined the sides of the car.

The poor driver didn’t even wave an arm.

He kept moving…He met fear of people…He knew he was to be tortured if he would stop.

Ordinary microbuses and taxis break your mirror because you happen to be driving in a lane that they see more appealing.

 Beggars on a desert road -that I take everyday to reach the office- frighten people not ask them for help.

They pound on shields and they approach ladies inappropriately.

 A colleague was robbed the other day and the egg plot was used on her.

 Fear people feel from ordinary looking people could be traumatizing as you can never anticipate when it’s going to hit.

 My main concern is this: How can we reach truck and microbus drivers, beggars and such angry segment of Egyptians to spread awareness on the importance of having security in our streets?

How can we…who will do this?

Those Egyptians don’t have facebook (how I feel so alienated from them now), many won’t be able to read flyers and of course they have no time to watch TV.

 Don’t we need to work with them…face to face…with a nice attitude and in down to earth tones and language?

 Will it be an only guys plan?

I am brainstorming here…suggest…spread…do whatever you can.

But what we must all realize here, whether we are egyptians or not…The real deal is not only about changing titles and names…The real deal is not only about force…The real deal is not about slogans or even meanings we are newely trying to taste/indulge in…

The real deal is about all the aspects…aspects that show in neon lights or in tabloids and aspects that is so deep and so rooted in the very mud of our land that many of us don’t even realize.

The correction plan need to work to reform all aspects as we might be correcting the frame of the country, but without the real people of the country nothing will be worth it.