A corrupted manual

It is not an easy thing to realize consciously that you are not behaving as normal people would do in certain situations and have no power or will to change your behavior into something more socially accepted.

It is easy just to accept the way you feel and the way you ache and just be yourself.

It is not an easy task to stop your mind from thinking in a certain way that you know for sure can trigger more pain and sore feelings.

It is easy to surrender to fatigue, let go, drop your hands weak and give up trying…but for some, that’s even a harder task…when it’s impossible to drop on your knees, lie down and accept the crawling sensation of fainting just to enforce a necessary shut down.


Earlier this morning right after dawn, and after I received that phone call from my brother telling me in a reluctant voice that our grandmother, My late daddy’s mother has passed away, I felt…tired…I felt beat…I cried, not loud ugly cries, not hurtfully, I cried quiet sad tears…a minute it was because I was crying my dad actually, still not over not having his hug…protection…content. another minute I was crying because I’m going to miss her, or because I was terrified of her situation at that moment…but the most overwhelming feeling was that I am tired, exhausted…and the only thing I needed at that moment was for hiding in my daddy’s chest, reassured and safe where it was OK for me to feel fragile, weak and scared.


My kindhearted brother was reluctant because he knew I was tired already…I, as I stepped in my grandmother’s house, hugged him tight…I knew he felt the same…the same daddy’ scenario is replaying bit by bit…even the same faces, the same talk, my aunt calling and crying and screaming for her mother who laid in her room…dead.


The Idea itself is so uncomprehendable…for someone to suddenly NOTآ exist. Becomes lifeless…all his belongings loose their owner…his place is emptied…his presence becomes a past…his opinion, worth, history are no longer his…theyآ are someone else’s to messآ them up.


Typical Egyptian Ladies talk too much, reassuring us that heaven isآ granted…that they were so sad, they had lots of loud sobbing to prove it anyway…and I’m sure most of them really meant it…I was the unnatural one…just kept mumbling to myself: la elah ela allah and asking for mercy to be granted to my grandmother, father and all the dead.


I stayed with my aunt till noon, I couldn’t say a word, and actually I couldn’t force my self to…didn’t want to force myself…or, didn’t have the energy nor the will to do anything but what I felt…and I felt tired, sad and numb!


Around noon, I started to feel very sharp cramps in my abs…They became sharper and sharper but I had to take the pain and shut up…


As the doctor and the nurses who were supposed to prepare the deceased for her final trip arrived, I received a phone call from the office asking about me…I realized I’ll be messing the whole day for them especially that the keys for the safe, doors and the CEO’s office were at my possession.


I had to leave…headed for the office…the cramps became sharper…the CEO felt for me and took me to a nearby hospital where the Doctors in the ER said that it was my nervous system playing the physical game on me…again!


Prescribed me a muscle relaxant…then, I insisted on going to the office…the CEO started the: maysa7esh ya madam Rasha, you have to attend the funeral.

He nagged, I said: Mafeesh 7aga esmaha elmafrood…mesh 7a2dar ashoof daddy’s scenario tany…mesh 7a2dar asma3 soot 7ad beysarakh aw bey3ayat…

I’m going to the office!


Went there, I could see them around the office puzzled not knowing how to handle how hyper yet quiet i was…I finished a great amount of work…hiding in my documents…being the Machiavellian that I am, took advantage of my situation and enforced a decision or two on the CEO and got what I wanted…They were in place though…I do have ethics…


Among all the chaos in my head, a nice breeze of kindness or two blew in my way…I am blessed, I know.


And a mean selfish steam or two tried to annoy me…but, nothing couldآ hurt me more than I was already.


The typical manual in relating to similar situations is corrupted in my system.


I don’t know if I’m becoming less sensitive or what…but, after my dad, I doubt that anything would come close in effect.


May all people find the peace of mind, heart and spirit.







Forget the Question WHY!!

She made a great point in one of the few times she did any talking when i visited her.

I was in tears when i started to raise my voice a little bit, talking with so much frustration and saying : Why do i always do that…why am i following the same pattern and doing the same mistake? Why does my mind shut down completely the momentآ i want something soآ much even though it is so CLEAR it’s wrong?

She told me: STOP!! Why is disabling! and it has no short term answer, instead ofآ letting it trap u in an endless pitآ what should u do?

I stoped the next tear from rolling and said after a moment of deep search: I can decide not to follow the pattern any more.

She said:آ  EXACTLY, but does that guarantee that it won’t happen again?

I said: I don’t know…

She said: It doesn’t…look, deciding not toآ do something is the best thing we can do yet- just like in business – there’s always a risk there…keeping that in mind and accepting itآ is a must on that ride…we can stumble and fall and stumble again and fall and it’s ok as long as we are still decisive that we want to stop it someday…as life experiences don’t come in the same shape and form which may decieve us that a certain situation isn’t the pattern while it is….and the answer to the why may come along the road and may not.. but reaching the goal will happen!


No more whys for me…just an eye wide open on the decisions…آ آ آ آ 

last night

Last night and after work i had an appointment with her again, it was 18:30 and my appointment was at 20:00 so i headed down town, parked the car somewhere with a miracle as it’s always jammed and walked around the block to find myself a coffee shop near the AUC.

As i walked down the shiny streets full of the remains of the rainy couple of days beforeآ that head of mine started to flow some thoughts into me…not loud annoying thoughts…comforting smooth realizations.

I remembered the first time i walked down that street more than two years ago…i was trembling…scared of people…trying to watch myآ steps as i always felt like falling…

last night i felt comfort and harmony…i looked up to the sky…it wasn’t pitch black…it was still cloudy so the moon light made amazing gray shapes with silver shades that reflected here and there…i felt part of a waltz…of a wave of breeze taking me and all the people walking with so much living brought by their breaths, heart beats and foot steps rocking the ground softly.

I felt hope and a crunchy cheer brought by the crunchy cold weather.

A thought of the new phase i decided to begin crossed my mind and i smiled at the thought that I’m practicing my freedom to take a risk and follow a willآ …for a moment iآ pan-iced…fear hit me again…visions of failing…of loosing everything i hadآ …i shook them a way and found the coffee shop sign to distract the fear.

I walked in..the place is so small and warm yet so crowded…i found a high chair…i sat down, ordered a nice cup of hot chocolate …got out the book i wanted to read…it was The Zahirآ …itآ was an advice from her to read itآ and it was one of the most revealing experiences I’ve ever had…what is tricky about this book is that – in my personal opinion -it would only affect those who haveآ a certainآ experience and way of thinking…those who can walk throughآ mud up to their fancy blouses to reach their destination with a smile on their faces…anyway, i engaged in the words i was readingآ …sipped my drink slowly…felt so warm…till it was about time to pay the check and head to my appointment.

Enjoying the streets, the air, the feeling and walking …i took the long way to her to walk even more and remembered Mohamed mounir’s song….edaya fe gyoobi o’ albi tereb…7ases bghorba bas mesh meghtereb ( hands in my pocket and my heart is singing…feelingآ alone but not lonely ) started to hum it when i reached her office.

I don’t know what brought my dad up when we were talking, but a certain memory flashed in my eyes…his silk Parisian shit and his great black hair when he visited my school 28 years ago…i can still smell his perfume and hear his voice and laughs as he talked to the headmistress and how they were all grinning so wide as he showered them with money…how did they take it and why was he positive that they’d take it…is a question that made me dislike that day yet cling to each memory of my sweet kind charming dad.

We talked about my new phase and i explained the way i feel about the whole thing and what i felt as i walked to our appointment.

Fear was a word repeated by me more than once which caught her attention so she asked me: have you feared something before?

I said: sure!

She said: and ??!

I said: Did my thing anyway.

She said: and??!

I said: fear diminished and i succeed.

She said: are you sure it diminished? you stop ed fearing ..period!?

I said: well no, but i kept on doing what used to scare me and it didn’t scare me anymore.

She Said: fear has a bad reputation that makes people hate it…but know this…if you had fear as your friend, your success is guaranteed!

I said: fear makes me restless..makes me want to give my best and excel so i wouldn’t fail…but it’s a very hurtful feeling.

She said: who said success or life with all it’s aspects aren’t about hurt?! it’s the most basic human feeling…the drive to survive…peopleآ who live the myth of the desire to achieve comfort in a certain wayآ loose so much of their spirits…she paused for a few seconds and asked me:What do you want? for you and only you?

I answered with a long listآ of five or six goals.

She asked again: Can a shooter aim for more than one target and make the hit?!

I answered: A shooter can’t but i can…i will try because i have no more time to waste.

She said: Can you sum all of the goals up in one?? well, even if you can’t, go ahead!

As we were about to say good bye she asked me: have you ever thought about performing?? acting i mean??

I laughed and said, no way!!

She laughed too and said: well, why don’t you try…play it with your kids…with friends maybe..

I laughed again and asked : and that would manifest what??

She laughed even more this time and said: you’ll feel it then so i said laughing: well, I’ve always wanted to sing but that would ruin my career 😀

She said: well, you can die fulfilled or die otherwise…it’s your choice!

A slight brush of mania

It has always been said, that artists of all types are slightly queer…a little bit mad.

I don’t think that it’s about being crazy…I mean, artists do see things differently. they are with deeper views of the universe and their own world.

It is having a special vision that makes them care less about what ordinary people strive to attain. and care more about matters that seem trivial or of no sense to the majority.


I’ve been around artists all my life. Musicians, writers and painters. non was ordinary in comparison with the everyday corporate employee who thinks and lives a routine of repetitive incidents.

Artists have mood swings, Impulsive enthusiasms and sudden depressions.

What I’ve noticed as well is that no matter what kind of artist or how goodآ you are…If you have a special talent you tend to think, act and feelآ things differently.


Some are so private…as if their own minds hold a universe that revolves exclusively andآ people, life and society become more of a visualized manifestation ofآ how silly the world is.

Some are exchanging universal knowledge and they would let their thoughts andآ art out…expressive they are…loud and articulate.


I believe that every human beingآ has some kind of talent inside of him…either hidden somewhereآ or crystal clear…either acknowledged by the talented himself or left to rust and decay by his own hands willingly or by others’ influence.


It takesآ spirit and inner clarity for people to courageously allow themselves to interact with the talent seeded in them.


Just like it takesآ some kind of superiority to allow art to flow from you…to accept speciality and it’s very own brush of mania.


Many artists and scientists were called mad…check out this article: Mad/ Geniusآ 


My favorite exampleآ ( because i love his poems ) is Edgar Allan Poe and he said:


Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence — whether much that is glorious — whether all that is profound — does not spring from disease of thought — from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect”