Spreading My Wings

Places

2012-01-24T03:41:00.000+04:00

I'm here.
There's a train due south somewhere, the trip takes hours and it's just about empty. The scenery is breath-taking, hills. Green hills. I'm inside with a book, but I drift on and off into the pages. Two kids pass the cabinet by, one chasing the other. My soul longs to engage in a childhood game, but there's no one to share that joy with. I smile nonetheless, innocence still stands.

I'm there.
They're here. Isn't here where you are? But the you means I, and so I should be here but I'm not. I want to be here, but I'm half-here half-there. I'm always in between. It's as if I was destined to be some sort of link to things, or people. In essence, I'm not myself linked to anything by itself, I stay because of the things I protect, the things I keep glued together. The role I play isn't entirely my own. I can't claim the play mine merely because I play a role in order for it to continue.

She's away.
Life abides outside her window, darkness pressing itself all around her. She walks barefoot to make sure she's connected to things around her. You're here, she reminds herself. Don't drift away again.

He's out there.
You can't be sure where exactly. He dwells here and there. Unlike me, he's not in between. He's on an end, the giving and receiving end. He doesn't merely exist, he's alive. You may not understand, who does anyway?

You're all around.
Someday I will cling to you, tug at your sleeve, give you a tired smile, look at you through my own eyes, forget what the world says, laugh at all your jokes, share all my secrets, cry passionately, demand and ask the impossible of you. You'll do the same, and together we'll be... honest.

They belong in your heart. They nourish there, your heart holds them most fervently.

Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden

2012-01-23T11:26:00.000+04:00

"A certain thought was swelling in my head, growing until I couldn't ignore it any longer. I wanted to turn away from it; but I was powerless to stop that thought from taking over my mind as the wind is to stop itself from blowing."

"If a few minutes of suffering could make me so angry, what would years of it do? Even stone can be worn down with enough rain."

"Some people have difficulty telling the difference between something great and something they've simply heard of."

"We lead our lives like water flowing down a hill, going more or less in one direction until we splash into something that forces us to find new course."

"This is why dreams can be such dangerous things: they smolder on like a fire does, and sometimes consume us completely."

"I stumbled out into the courtyard to try to flee my misery, but of course we can never flee the misery that is within us."

|What if I came to the end of my life and realized that I'd spent every day watching for a man who would never come to me? What an unbearable sorrow it would be, to realize I'd never really tasted the things I'd eaten, or seen the places I'd been, because I thought of nothing but the chairman even while my life was drifting away from me. And yet if I drew my thoughts back from him, what life would I have? I would be like a dancer who had practiced since childhood for a performance she would never give."

PS1: Memoirs of a Geisha is a must-read.
PS2: Thanks to Maryam for lending me her copy, <3

Of 18-01-2012

2012-01-19T17:41:00.000+04:00

- Finished 1st semester of second year. One of the toughest ever (considering I only have two other semesters to compare it with doesn't say much but still, I'm alive!).
- Tried Sushi for the first time ever. Weird, not that bad. I can become a fan. (off things-to-do-before-i-die list, trying something new felt so good.)
- Had black nail polish on (the past tense of put which is...put... doesn't make sense to me.)
- Had sugar-free chocolate ice-cream, and the day was quite cold... (just because that was the only type of chocolate ice-cream they had).
- Read more than 50 pages of Memoirs of a Geisha, I can say I got hooked then. I started writing down quotes like a maniac. Happy times.
- Talked to friends I've lost in touch with because of exams. Voice chat with a friend we haven't seen in a year and a half. Happy times again.
- Watched Ides of March, just because of George Clooney and Ryan Gosling. Turned out a pretty good movie actually, and I got it. Huge achievement.
- Wrote emails.

Good day, no in fact, wonderful day. Let's make every day count.

An Umbrella

2012-01-19T15:50:00.000+04:00

He spotted me drenched in the rain, offered me his umbrella. He held it, and time stopped. We were protected from the storm, together. I hardly remember anything about him now, except how he kept his gaze away from my face. Perhaps that was only my imagination running wild. We didn't talk. He didn't know I was utterly forsaken, that I was always misunderstood, that now, more than ever I need kindness. What does a stranger know about your life? What do you know about a stranger's life? Nothing. A shared moment was all it was. He looked at his watch, gave what might have been a sigh. He left the umbrella in my care, apologized and left because he was late for something. As he was taking his first steps away, I mumbled a thank you. He waved me off. I felt a depressing weight descend upon me, the one you feel when you can't change the course of events taking place in front of your eyes, when you want time to stop to carry out something of the utmost importance; showing gratitude... He was already gone.

I started walking aimlessly, thinking of absolutely nothing. I welcomed any thought, but my brain cells refused to respond. They wanted me to listen to the rain as it hit the ground fiercely. They thought I might find comfort there. It was getting dark and I had no idea where I was. Why didn't he wait till I was safe and sound in a bus that led me to a place that was nowhere near home? Why would this change everything for me? The questions that would soon haunt me every once and a while.

I'm having lunch at my favorite place. It's the summer now, and it never rained again that winter. I have the umbrella in my bag. I'm not one to hold on to material things. Memories need nothing to be triggered into play in my head. The things my friends gave me over the years aren't kept in one place. They're scattered around my room. In the closet, on the desk, on my bookshelf. Some of us rely on things to feel connected to a dear someone or a time they cherished in their lives. A word meant more than an item, yet again these items held an enchanting power over you when your wandering eyes spotted them. There's no denying that fact.
One of my friends saw the umbrella, gave me a look. She knew it was odd for me to carry an umbrella at this time of the year. I laughed it off, told her it was because of the sun. How strange is it that I look for pieces of him in every man I see now, every man that passes me by. I'm beginning to lose the details of that moment and I'm letting myself forget. I don't want to cling to it, I know a part of me, will always cling to his kindness. I am satisfied.

One of the voices in my head

2012-01-13T02:16:00.000+04:00

I stood in front of the mirror. I swallowed, I needed water. Stand still, I told myself. Look into your eyes. But they're so hollow and sunken. I covered my face with my hands. Then let them slide slowly to surround my neck. I was surprised by the strong pulse on the left side. I let my right hand drop. You're alive, this is proof enough. If I put my hand on my heart, will it be beating? I don't feel it anymore. Of course it is, just because you don't feel it's violent beating doesn't mean it's not actually keeping you alive. The stars are there, do you see them every night? I don't even look at the sky every night, isn't that sad? You use the word 'sad' too freely, my dear. There are more aggravating matters taking place around the world, there are those who will never hear their mom's voice again, those with no roof above their heads, those who are scared to even hope, they only have a God.
Are we done here? Can't we talk about this while I'm staring at a book or while I try to sleep. Why don't you torment me then? Everyone else is tormented while they attempt to sleep except for us. Our head goes blank. Is that a blessing? My reflection troubles me. Don't you notice how I don't look at my eyes even as I brush my teeth. Now, don't tell me to smile. Do you worry that we have a split personality sometimes? All we do is disagree and I end up shaking my head at everything you say. Is this how it goes? One being the devil while the other is the angel? Do we switch roles? Am I always the voice of reason and you're the emotional one? Pray, who is who?
I'm tempted to state the obvious; I don't know. Yet, we have that in common. Ignorance. Oblivion. Submission. Do you know what I want? You can't even figure that out for yourself. What now? That is your question, mine will always be 'why...?' Let's see who's answered first. Your question is too intricate, fate sometimes answers mine sooner than I expect it to. Aren't you lucky?! Hah. Go back into hiding, please.

And again

2011-12-31T01:53:00.002+04:00

Assume the fetal position. Lie in your bed with the lights turned off. Hug yourself as tightly as you can. Feel the heaviness of your heart in your chest. Feel it in your gut. Plead for a moment of forgetfulness. Try to make sense of how your heart swells when you're happy and how it shrinks when you're down. You wish you had control over your heart, you wish it had some sort of re-enforcement which stopped it from shrinking, something to stop the void you felt in your gut. There wasn't though, and I'm not sure what to tell you to be honest. I don't understand it.These moments when you tried to sleep, and you couldn't. Your head was empty of any thought but there were all sorts of emotions raging within, a storm that wouldn't quiet down. Suddenly you wish the lights were on, you could read, write, anything. Perhaps escape. It wasn't possible. You hugged yourself tighter. You didn't belong here, you belonged somewhere. Was that how you made yourself feel better? These chains that tied you down were getting rusty. You weren't sure whether this was a good thing, rusty meant easily breakable yet it could mean that any sort of key would no longer work. What tied you down? You were as free as anyone else. Excuses excuses.

What now? This wasn't you. The tortured soul. You were just confused. No idea about what. Saying life was confusing was a statement too vague for your state of being. What do you know of life? Perhaps more than you gave yourself credit for.

---

Come sit by my side, I'll tell you a few things. You'll understand as if you were the voice in my head. I'll have you remember me like this. A subtle being, nothing tied me down and you couldn't use one word to describe me. I was free. Bo assumptions, no expectations, no disappointments. I did everything I wanted to do, I had all the time in the world to just sit and.... think, or not think. To have that luxury.

---

The constants you longed for in your life made you wonder, were you a constant yourself? Constant to something or someone?

A cough

2011-12-28T06:08:00.002+04:00

``Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for heaven's sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces.''
``Kitty has no discretion in her coughs,'' said her father; ``she times them ill.''
``I do not cough for my own amusement,'' replied Kitty fretfully.
Pride and Prejudice

Indeed.

HBBC: First Impressions

2011-12-08T01:23:00.000+04:00

A belated HBBC post, overdue yet a promise is a promise. I try to keep mine, so Noor, here I am.

---
10th grade. This girl had enormous pride, I didn't like her. She wouldn't talk to us, and it was awkward when her two friends came to socialize. She had her own group of friends. This was our place, our school, our teachers. We belonged here. We weren't to be threatened. It was decided hostility, it was weird. Huda and I got along with everyone just fine. She was smart, perhaps we felt the competition. I'm sure she did too. We felt justified somehow.
We were asked to go to a school for a presentation and to our surprise we were to present with her. How fate works. We worked professionally together. We discussed it, agreed at how we'd do it. Till something happened. I can't remember what exactly. She wasn't so bad afterall, we laughed and joked. Even related to what the other was saying. Could this be? Yes. We became friends. Helped each other out with homework, it was good to have someone like her. So the year was spent. A lesson about people.

11th grade. I was put in a class on my own, how could I do this? When you had your twin sister with you throughout your school years in the same class it was only normal for you to feel scared. You wouldn't be able to do it. How could you break awkward silences with people without her joking? The first few weeks I was completely against the idea, it was going to be the end of me. They said it was for our benefit. We couldn't see how. Guess what? She was there with me. I remember her wanting to join another class to be with her friends but she said something about not leaving, at least I was here. There was hope. We sat together in the same group. I became bolder, more confident. I was on my own. I had it in me to be on my own. I kept her close. We studied, joked, read together. The time we had together made us realize of just how similar we were. We had inside jokes about teachers. This wasn't so bad, this was exactly what I needed. We confessed our mutual dislike for each other. We laughed it off.

12th grade. The best year of my school years by far, and mainly due to my friend Ayda. That's her name. I was a changed person. I became an almost nerdy rebel. We would talk every minute we were together. We knew every single thing the other did the previous day, when we went to sleep, when we woke up, what dishes we had for lunch and dinner, what did we study, what thoughts we had. There was no end to the topics we discussed. Teachers would always get annoyed. We didn't care, they loved us all the same. We sat a foot apart at first, then she moved to another place in the classroom. It never stopped us. when a teacher wrote something on the board, we stole moments to communicate what seemed an urgent piece of information to each other then. We were caught many times. She was the one who made me feel there was hope in me to be something, I could make it somehow in the world. She was the one I spent so much time telling about a book I was reading. She listened, like truly. She often told me how she loves my enthusiam for books. I loved her faith. She was honest. She set out to do something and she did it. She was the kind of person who knew what to say in the right moment. I was never that. I looked up to her in many things. We made it through a lot of drama that year. We cherished every moment. Endless texting back and forth.

I don't see her now at all. I miss talking to her endlessly; books and people and little things that happened to us. Life has its ways of keeping you away from the people you love. Yet, we'll always be in touch. I know that for sure. And I know, you'll always live in my heart, thoughts and prayers. I'll look back to my last days at school with smiles because of you, Ayda. So here. First impressions aren't to be trusted. Look at where we were and where we are now.
You're one of a kind. So I dedicate this post to you. I can't believe that you read what I write, that makes me proud. And I take pride in being your friend.

Yours,
Noor

She lived

2011-12-06T15:08:00.000+04:00

They often asked her about themselves, she wasn't sure whether they expected answers. She hoped not, she didn't have any answers for anyone. A silence. A few minutes till they found the right words. They carried on and she realized it was as if they were addressing themselves more than speaking to her. They said her name, you know how when someone says you're name while talking to you. How serious it makes things sound. Not knowing whether they told her because of who she was to them, or they'd have told anyone who would've lent an ear. It didn't matter in the end, things didn't just revolve around your being. We all lived to serve a purpose, perhaps lived to find that purpose.

These thoughts of theirs led them inside the hollows of their souls. She waited. It was a dark place to be in. She let them find their way out. This was what they called comfortable silence. She loved these moments.This was what she'd remember years from now. This moment, this easiness. In her head, this moment filled pages and pages. A sigh of relief. She was blessed enough to be there. Then, they wearily took themselves out of it, asked her about her life. She wanted to tell them that they didn't have to, with her of all people they could simple let go of the strain of keeping a conversation. She gave an answer all the same, as heartfelt as she could make it. It sounded so void to, and she was sad. Sad because it was the best she could do. And there were things you just knew. It wasn't insecurities, and it was far from self-doubt. There were things you knew about yourselves. People denied about you, yet you knew they were true.

They smiled to her, a smile that said 'you have it so easy.' She was too used to that smile, didn't give it much thought. They asked no more, and sometimes they even left. She let them. She had no story, only an imagination. And a combination of half-lived experiences. Don't belittle them. They're everything she can truly call her own. For now.

But everyone had a story. I believed that. How come she had none? Is fate weaving her story without her knowing? So I hoped, she of all deserved it.

HBBC: Supernatural Powers

2011-12-03T01:17:00.000+04:00

This week's topic is Engi Amin's Choice. Meet the rest of the HBBC members here.

I always dreamed of my own super powers. We all did, I'm sure. Flying was on the top of the list for quite a while. One hand in front, a determined look and a place that needed me. Spend time hanging up there, fly along migrating birds and touch the clouds. I always wondered what clouds felt like. Would they feel like cotton candy? Would they melt in my hands? Do you ever wonder about clouds? Why don't they put up a special window in the airplane where you could reach out and touch them yourself? WHY?!
If you think about it more deeply I'd need more than the flying super power to actually survive the flying experience. Oxygen levels are low up there, not to mention the freezing atmosphere. I'm probably disheartening myself... I would love to fly, though. the freedom of not being so pulled towards the earth, defying gravity. The joy of seeing anyone I wanted anytime I felt like it. Perhaps even look at the earth from afar, watch how it kept spinning around itself.

If flying doesn't work out, I can't seem to get better at driving anyway so how about flying, there's a second super power I'd love to have. Reading people's minds. In all honesty, the thoughts that cross my mind do surprise me sometimes. It would definitely be not cool if people found out about them. The silliness, seriousness, randomness, weirdness, and not to mention weirdness. They'll definitely think I have some sort of OCD, which let's face it, I totally do. So why would I want to hear people's thoughts but refuse for them to read mine? Besides having double standards, I just want to get the raw version of things. Emotions, thoughts, words that flew across their mind randomly, moments that played inside their head continuously.
Here's a serious thought though, should we judge others on the thoughts that they have? I always wondered. See, some of the thoughts you had no control whatsoever over. They just came to you, you could say that's your subconscious telling you what you really thought but then again, it wasn't true all the time. Was it?

Perhaps, when I could read their thoughts I'd reassure them of some of the misconceptions they had about themselves and about others. I'd tell them I understood what they were going through. I guess what we really crave for is understanding. If you could grant that to only one lost soul, how wonderful! Would it be too heavy of a burden though? I can't seem to handle my own thoughts most of the time. Just for one day, would I be surprised to the compassion and love and feel a deeper sense of belonging or would I be surprised by the hate and evil? Who knows. You must take your chances. I'm willing to take mine. See, I read too much into things. I want to be able to know what people are thinking of. End of story.

One last thing, I'm just a boring human with no superpowers... Go to the next person, perhaps they have something to wow you with. I'll just continue being... me!

Half of a Yellow Sun - Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche

2011-11-21T23:35:00.000+04:00

When a character I love did something wrong, I usually blamed them. Started thinking why did they do it, the motives and how could that character I personally related to so much do something so awful? It shocks me sometimes, and I begin to wonder about the things we do as humans, the things we don't mean. You see with books you tend to get the whole story, you know that person and they grow on you and doing what they did you live through their remorse and forgive them as they begin to forgive themselves.Yes, I know it's just fiction. In real life, you get the act, you get the apology, but you don't get the before and after. Those moments of conflict inside the person who did all of that.

Now, with Half of a Yellow Sun. Near the end. One of the characters I loved, did something horrible. So unlike themselves. It was war. He was a soldier, he wasn't used to that kind of life so when he found himself in that situation he did what his fellows did. A shameful act. He raped a girl. At that moment, there was no hesitation in him, at least nothing the author thought worth mentioning. He saw the hatred in the girl's eyes. I surprised myself then, I started blaming the author. Why did she do it? I didn't blame the character this time, I just thought of how cold Chimamanda was to do this to her beloved character. And so, I realized the possibility that she mourned him while she made him do it, but she did it anyway. Was it to give the story credibility or was it actually something that happens?

This does happen of course. Sins aren't committed by the evil only. Yet, this time, for that character, it felt like some sort of betrayal. I could be reading too much into it. He's not even my favorite character in the novel. He did that to the girl, and the author did did this to him.

War. The losses they suffered, how much they endured, the people who lost their lives in battle fields and those who died because there wasn't enough food. It's all so sad. You keep on thinking how wars are unnecessary, how evil and how they take away so much from a being. Of course, you're also amazed at people's endurance. It's a sad book let me tell you. Sad in a sense that you love the characters, you watch them fall apart, pull themselves back together and live on baseless hope. There's romance, beautiful love but the presence of loss and how they always anticipated it made whatever joys you found within the pages of the novel seem hollow.

These quotes, each is so true. So simple, yet so profound.

It came with never having had much, she knew, the inability to let go of things, even things that were useless.

Why do you need so much outside of yourself? Why isn't what you are enough?

How much did one know of the true feelings of those who did not have a voice?

Everything was moving so fast. He was not living his life; life was living him.

"You're burning memory," he told her.
"I am not." She would not place her memory on things that strangers could barge in and take away. "My memory is inside me."

I'm not sure this is a proper book review, I wasn't planning one but I had to write some of my thoughts here.
Ruqaiya, I didn't think I'd be this moved to be honest. A thank you is meaningless.

Here, yesterday, today and now

2011-11-21T02:51:00.000+04:00

A tiring day. Exams, one after another. Never ending. You know you've reached your limit when you can't smile to people. You avoid their gazes and start wondering how you got here. You couldn't bring yourself to do it. All you had in you was a tired smile. They deserved more, just not today. You became an introvert. You tried to keep to yourself. You needed time off. You were so unsure of everything. You even started questioning the things you considered your pillars of constancy. You can't keep on shutting off the feelings you don't want to feel. They'll leave a rusty spot on your soul. Perhaps they could fade with time, but will you risk living with them forever?
That was yesterday.

She greeted me with a huge smile and a 'wahashteeni'. I gave her a hug and hoped that it told her how touched I was. The simple act. A reminder that someone cared when you most needed it. Nothing unfazed her. How could you not be affected by everything said and done to you? I wanted to be unfazed, steady and self-assured. I longed for it in fact. One day perhaps. You'll tell me you can do it, in me lies the power to change whatever I feel below my existence but it's so hard. The moment you see yourself falling into a state of self-doubt, you know you're going to be down there for a while.
The slightest comment will unleash the insecurities that are rooted in my being. I need constant reassuring of people's affections. I spend quite sometime getting myself out of that phase. I talk myself into the fact that I can't keep on basing what I think of myself on a million variables...This I hardly show, but it shows nonetheless. And there. You need people. I happily need them though so it's not a dilemma. You just wonder. Do they need you too?
This is today.

I lose track of reality and find myself living through something else. There's a fine line between this being a gift and an easy escape. I can live through other people, books or fictional scenarios. I build the latter in my head. I have conversations with my friends or imagine a scene playing out. Do you know when you stop knowing whether something actually happened or it was just a dream? I feel that with those moments I create in my head. They feel so real I sometimes spend quite sometime wondering if whatever I need to say was said out loud or not. Is this healthy? It could be if it was combined with living it to the fullest with your soul. Was it possible to experience something you didn't actually go through? Even if you only got one thousandth of what that person felt? Are we kidding ourselves here?
This is ongoing.

Is it justifiable to wish the world a shade darker when you're gloomy as long as you wished it was a shade brighter because you're happy? I wonder.

Childish thoughts

2011-11-12T02:37:00.002+04:00

At times, I want to sit on the floor, cry like a kid who's been deprived of his favorite toy, yell and maybe crash a vase into the floor. A proper tantrum.

Perhaps then you'll notice I'm here and that I have feelings. Perhaps you'll remember we all have it hard at one point or another. Perhaps you'll give me what I want only to enjoy your peace of mind. Perhaps I'll fill you with momentary guilt. Perhaps you'll pass by and shut your door.
Perhaps you'll shower me with love and attention. Perhaps you'll listen to my muffled voice complaining of a trifle, how I'm ignored and sad, how I don't understand anything anymore, how people made me feel as if my problems were so insignificant.

Maybe I'll suddenly stop and realize how silly I'm being. Maybe I'll laugh while crying, surprise you with my tangled emotions. Maybe I'll go on till I fall asleep with cheeks wet of tears.
For a moment, I'd have indulged in childish anger that's completely selfish. I want to stop being understanding for one second and let it all go.
Sigh.
Keep turning around, world, I'll be fine.

Of this blog

2011-11-09T05:02:00.000+04:00

Sometimes I think of leaving this blog to another cyber space but I think of the fact that I've been here for five years now and I feel a sudden affection for my blog. I love it here, who am I kidding? This is me, not all of me of course for to say that would be a lie. Yet, it's the part of me that I choose to reveal. I've changed so much since I first started. I was 14 when I started it, what did I know now that I didn't know then? I'm not sure it accounts to much.
It's home, in more than one way. I will say it again and again that blogs are a blessing and I find comfort in reading many of them, so I can only write here in hope that a lost confused soul finds little comfort in mine. I have to convince myself of that sometimes, but at times I think I'm the lost confused soul that needs to be comforted so I shamelessly stalk my blog.

A new found admiration for the written word, and so I clumsily make my way into the writing world faking nonchalance. If you talk yourself into it, it gets easier you know? Writing what will eventually make you more at ease in your own skin. A little of that chaos of your your mind into letters and words screaming out more meaning than they should be asked to carry. So you stop writing, because it's dizzying. Your brain starts asking you to make sense of things words can't simply express. You read instead, and there, here's someone who's managed to make sense of it all when they don't even know the first thing to living your life.

So it's an addictive act. You know it fully well when you're writing a blog post. I used to publish everything right away, now I wait. I edit and sometimes I decide against the whole thing till a few days later I muster up enough courage to share it with the world. I'm not sure if that means I lack courage or it's that I'm more of a perfectionist now? A bit of both perhaps. So, for now. This gets to stay as it is.
Thank you for reading.

A Bad Dream - Keane

2011-11-09T02:17:00.000+04:00

"I was fighting

But I just feel too tired to be fighting

Guess I'm not the fighting kind."

Elegant oblivion

2011-11-08T02:37:00.000+04:00

Some perfume, the lovely dress
One last look into the mirror, a smile
Not what you would call elegant perhaps
But the closest she'll ever get to elegance
Was here and now

She walks knowing they await
Never truly needed
A presence that's merely reassuring
Brushed aside, an afterthought
She was done aching over all of that

Greeting them, a kiss on the cheek
Accepting compliments
The small talk, their pains,
Her prayers offered silently
Sincerely

Stolen moments from her private world
Into theirs
Back in the sanctuary of her room
No one else mattered, everyone else mattered
She lived in contradication more than anything else

And so,
It merely ended,
To start again.

Things I can't write about

2011-11-04T14:48:00.002+04:00

I can't write about flowers. Dwell on my favorite, its fragrance and soft petals. The vivid colors that took me away from the world. Tell you why I loved it so and how I long to receive my first bouquet of that particular flower. I'd then conclude with the fact that my relationship with my flower was out of these dimensions we inhibit. You'd be jealous.
Nor can I write about my favorite part of the day when I'm most myself. When only I exist. When thoughts aren't agonizing, emotions aren't raging, lights are empowering and everything seems welcoming.
I can't even say how walking clears my head and puts everything into new perspective. The ritual I love, my choice of music while I walked alone or the topics I introduced into the conversation with my companion.
My favorite season. Which and why. How it makes me feel. Witnessing the world switch colors swiftly. The memories it carries. What of that too? Was I also incapable of feeling strongly about a season?

I don't know. Buy me my favorite flower, give it to me while I walk under the sky of my favorite season. Make it about me. Then make me understand that these trifles aren't what make a person who they are. That they're simply used to say this is me, when in fact it was better not to have your personality identified by them because you feel as if loving them this much makes you feel as if you own them. Even if all of that wasn't true, tell me it is anyway.
PS: To clarify things, I don't have a favorite flower. I don't have a favorite part of the day. I don't have a favorite season. I don't walk that regularly.

HBBC: Socialism

2011-10-30T01:24:00.001+04:00

Welcome to the HBBC, this week's topic was chosen by Noor. (Why?!)
Warning: Do not expect an enlightening opinion on the matter.

Socialism, capitalism, anarchy and what not. Gibberish. I was 14 and was too curious for my own good, I even thought I could understand these ideologies. Remember VOY? (The good times!) Anyhow. I asked, and asked and asked some more. I think Ash and Rohit explained socialism and capitalism countless of times to me. (Forever grateful to you guys, I still wonder at your patience with my ignorance.) I read so many articles on them. Even printed them out, I am determined. I was going to crack this thing. I was even so ambitious I attempted understanding communism. I won't say I didn't learn anything out of all of those lessons. I did. Socialism is good, capitalism is bad. (Blame Rohit for the last statement.)

Jokes aside, I don't have an opinion on the matter to be honest. I will admit that I can't have an opinion on something I don't fully understand, yes my brain wasn't made to understand politics and economics. So does that get me off the hook or must I form my very own opinion? Or am I simply shying away from the challenge and risking sounding the ignorant opinion-less soul that I am? Whichever really. The conditions some people live in, how poor they are, must make us question governments and the current state of things. There is something wrong. Is it capitalism that's ruining the world? Or our lack of compassion and greed? Or are those basically different sides of the same coin?

Perhaps I should stop and go read an article or two and educate myself, or read a book and wait till all of this magically makes sense. Hmm.

Memories

2011-10-27T12:21:00.001+04:00

Don't worry about forgetting
Go ahead.
It's out of your hands.
But our memories,
they're safe with me.

Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Oman Mobile!

A conversation

2011-10-25T01:46:00.000+04:00

I knew one thing. I had to sit down and have a conversation with him. He didn't talk much, wore a lot of red, had the "I-dont-care" attitude, smoked, rarely smiled and didn't seem to fit in with the crowd he hung around. A bit on the chubby side but I think everyone considered him easy on the eyes. Perhaps the irresistible charm of a man who kept to himself? I don't understand where that charm stems from but I'd be foolish to try and deny it. You see, everyone has something to say. A story to tell. Yet we manage to judge others and deem them boring just because they looked it. We have different ways of sharing that story that's all. Some had the immediate effect, the it factor while the rest of us held on to the hope that people were patient enough with us, waited till we told our story in intervals. These differences should be wonderful. Diversity. I'm not so sure they're regarded so most of the time. In fact people seemed to all demand an it factor of themselves that didn't fit them. I do that too, yes guilty. Then I realize I'm doing myself an injustice.
So anyways back to him. The talk we would have. Our friends would stare, mine didn't like him and his thought I wasn't cool enough. Yet so it was, so it is. That's how your paths cross with someone. He sits behind me in the lecture hall. I wonder where would he rather be right now, who would he rather be with, why was he sitting alone today?

A conversation is a world of its own. I'll learn so much about him, things his "cool" gang would never appreciate. Things he'd surprise himself with, not knowing why he shared them. Perhaps he's waiting for someone to approach him. Any excuse would suffice. How was the exam, a comment on the boring lecture, a good morning if our eyes happened to meet. Who of us remembers how they started talking to someone? It didn't matter. Perhaps it was that I said 'Hello. Excuse my boldness, but I'd like to prove to the world that you have a story. Please let me.' A quizzical smile played on his lips, a rare one. There was no way I'd receive rejection to such a request, was there? Of course everything's possible. Even so, getting out of one's skin is enough of a motive to go ahead and do it. Where did it go from there? I put down my books, I always had more than I needed but I looked the busy student. I sat down at some point, my bag still hanging on my shoulder. Midway I realized this, how do I subtly put it on the table? God, I must have looked awkward. Chillax. I put it on my books. Actually, he didn't seem to notice. The questions resumed but soon enough I stopped asking and there was a flow of bits and pieces of information. The one thing that led to another. For a moment, I was self-conscious at my ability to get some people to open up. It passed quickly. I said trifles about myself, but at least he knew now that there was more to me than met the eye. Emphasizing that fact was important for me somehow. He comes from a certain place, not too sure of where he's headed, doesn't know why he's meant to be here now and doesn't expect anything from anyone. Did he say that in clear words? No, but it was easy to tell.
At the end, I'd make him give up smoking, believe a little more in the world and we'd part as friends who nodded to each other when they passed by.

I never will, you see, I'll never be the one who initiates conversation. We've never even exchanged one word of formality. Why was it so? I haven't lost sleep over this fact, but it makes you wonder sometimes. My pride? Yes, I guess I have a bit of that though I wouldn't admit it easily. Then there was life, and social circumstances. Things took their course, and you simply let them. What was the point of changing the status quo? That moment you know you can do anything in, you can share the secret you've been holding on to for so long, you'll ask the question you've been trying so hard to silence, you'll say yes to life, you're truly soaring knowing there was such a thing as the perfect moment and not only that, you were perfectly capable of seizing it. Ah, shyness, timidity and lack of bravery. They held me back. I'm yet to live that perfect moment. I would be exaggerating if I said we lived in different worlds but it was still true. All I'm asking for is one conversation where I prove my point, he has a story.

A year later, college starts. He's not there. He went back home. They said he found a better opportunity, changed his life plans or was it due to family issues? He was of the silent type, remember? So there was enough room for speculation. The place was no more the same, not only because he wasn't there anymore. It was because he was there at some point. And me? I wished him well.

#MicroPoetry

2011-10-24T22:01:00.000+04:00

Right now
She is just a conversation
Some twists of phrase
Rather than
Of fate ~
#micropoetry

by @sunilgivesup

It's become a ritual before I sleep, checking #micropoetry Some of the tweets are so amazing. I'm discovering a passion for poetry I never knew I had in me.

Tonight

2011-10-21T04:27:00.000+04:00

If every building falls
And all the stars fade
We'll still be singing this song
The one they can't take away
Closer To Love - Mat Kearney

See, at first, you'll have a hold on me if I care for you. No, wait. You'll always have a hold on my if I care for you, but that's a very dangerous thing to tell about myself. You might take advantage of it without knowing it yourself. What you say will be taken very seriously. Yet, I always manage to rise above and remind myself that all I really need is myself. Me being there for myself at times is what gets me through. It's not that I don't want to reach out. I do, and you help. I just like being there for myself sometimes. Knowing I can be enough if (when?) left alone. My thoughts will torture me at first but they'll become a comfort zone, I can then silence them and tell them to be calm. Tell myself to be calm. It's just a phase. It'll go away, because you know what? It's actually normal. What's not normal is thinking it's wrong to feel this way. How can one live like that? How did I manage? I've no idea to be honest. I still struggle with convincing myself that it's ok to be depressed sometimes. A lot of confessions here, I need to stop leaving so much inside. You need to know. The world must hear this. The world cares not most of the time, but that is never the point.

I look tired lately and I need to gain weight. Oh the junk food my body's been exposed to. I haven't had a hearty breakfast at home since so long. I miss my parents. I have exams. I've been living in the bedroom. I need a book that makes me sob in bed, I need that. I haven't stared out at a windowpane in what seems like a lifetime. Please God make it rain. I'm still here, but away. I still remember. I listen. Sometimes everything gets so tiring, I'd like to drop whatever I'm doing and stare into space. Look at the wall. See through a person. I can't make myself write one word lately nor pick up a book. Today this has changed. Let's not jynx it. I try and fail. It happens. I don't even try and there I get what I want. Life, eh?

Should we dwell a bit on people or emotions? Neither perhaps. The world speaks for itself. It listens of course, but it's like when you're talking to your mom in the kitchen. You get heated up, you passionately tell everything, she cares and she's occupied with taking care of you. You get frustrated and speak even faster till she interrupts you to tell you move out of the way. Yet, she's listening and there you are thinking how silly everything you just uttered and want to thank her then and there, that is if you weren't too frustrated with the fact that you didn't finish what you had to say. I think I stopped making sense somewhere above but to me, this makes perfect sense. And today's about me, I wrote this for me. You see, I need me right now. And I'll risk sounding self-centered again. I don't know what it is. Let's just end this walk in my head. I bid you farewell. Myself cares for the world, by the way. Just thought you should know.

Dedicated to Noor for not giving up on me writing.

Clocks

2011-10-09T19:13:00.001+04:00

Wait. Music please. Coldplay is fine. Anything not too depressing nor too cheerful nor too thought-provoking. I need to lose myself into something other than the thoughts eating me alive. On repeat? Why not. There's a great comfort in abusing a song till it's so familiar you feel you're digging in, feeling every word he's singing. Discovering a different line each time. Losing track of how many times you played it. Singing out loud.

"Oh, I beg I beg and plead"
But I don't really want to. Do you hear that? I always sound needy. You hear me out then discard my pleas. You dishearten me when you do.

"Come out of things unsaid."
How?! I'm too scared. I can't be open like you. I try and find myself opening to everyone in all the wrong ways. Instead I tread carefully. The comfort of the things unsaid. Those that should be understood yet need to be voiced out. The dilemma. Please understand without words. You do sometimes and it's frightening. It's as if you're under my skin.

"Confusion never stops."
It will if you manage to find the magical button that shuts your brain off. We swim in confusion, we aim and we miss, highs and lows, arguments, apologies, frienships... Failed attempts at flying. Wait, how are you supposed to live again? Where's the manual that says who to love, befriend, leave, forget? Where's the map to guide you through it? How much are you supposed to trust someone? What am I to do? Where do I go from here? Help. Needed. Now. I can never understand life the way it shows itself to you. Never expect me to.

"Nothing else compares."
That one thing you do. One thing that makes you love yourself at moments. One thing that makes you believe in the world. One thing that makes you love people. That one moment you cherish. That part of your day you eagerly look forward to. That honest hug. That kind word. That smile. That generosity of spirit. That lightness of spirit. That unaffectedness. Honesty Understanding. Acceptance. Freedom. Belief. Faith. Hope. Fate. Trust. Selflessness. Courage. Time.

Special thanks to Nahla for introducing me to the song. It's Clocks by Coldplay. Give it a listen.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Oman Mobile!

2011-10-05T03:12:00.001+04:00

An escape from the harsh reality
Into the soft realm of dreams
Balance, they said.
Tell me how.

HBBC: Hijab Removed

2011-09-30T01:29:00.000+04:00

Welcome to The Half-Baked Bloggers Consortium's (HBBC) fourth post. Meet the members here. This week's topic was chosen by Marwa.

I've been wearing Hijab since 8th grade. My 7th year now. That's a while. It's enough for me to feel as if it's a part of who I am. It was a mutual decision between Huda and I. Though it was originally hers. My parents welcomed it, they wouldn't have forced us to wear it though. They didn't to my other 2 sisters and they didn't to us. Sometimes I wish they were more strict with our religious upbringing. They were a bit more strict with us than my older siblings. Perhaps they realized after sometime that's how they should have brought them up too. Believe me, I wish I was more of a religious person so I can't preach here, not that I like preaching. I won't judge you based on your spirituality, I don't talk about religion, I firmly believe that it's between you and your creator. How can I ever know what's in your heart? And how can you ever know what's in mine?
Anyways. We were young when we wore it, and many people would tell my mom why do you make them wear it so young? Surprise surprise. It was a choice. Till this day some people tell us why do you wear it. It's weird, what does such a question mean. Does a woman have to wait till she's married to think about wearing hijab?

It's sad that hijab is becoming just another item of clothing you wear because it's more of a tradition than something you actually believe in. I just feel sad that some families force their daughters to wear it. They don't understand why they should wear it. If there's no inner conviction of Hijab then what's the point? They're definitely more likely to take it off which brings us to the core of this week's topic. Wearing Hijab then taking it off. Why? It was at the wrong time I'm not ready, it doesn't look good, there's not enough Hijabi wear, my friends don't wear it, I didn't know what I was getting myself into, I was forced by my family, etc.

I hear of stories of girls removing their hijab and to be completely honest I feel sorry for them. Whatever reason made them take it off. Some either take it off for good, or postpone it to a time when they're more ready or simply because they're travelling abroad. The latter happens so often. It's as if you leave your religious beliefs behind.
I'm going to sound self-righteous, and I'm not usually one to take extreme opinion on things but it's wrong to take off hijab. There. I said it. I don't want to generlize. Yet, Allah clearly states that women should wear it so taking it off is against what Islam preaches. So, learn about your religion. Take your time. Believe me, it's not hard wearing it everyday. I live in one hot country, 40 C is normal for us. Yet, I wouldn't take it off. Walk with pride. Be fashionable, yes you can. Don't give in to peer pressure. Nothing matters if you believe in Hijab. Nothing.

A soul learning to dance says

2011-09-28T13:58:00.000+04:00

I'm as naïve as they come. And I used to be so much more. If I had to confess something it'd be that I don't think what I say has any value. Face to face talk that is. I don't want anyone to listen to me anymore to be honest. Can you talk instead? Count on one thing. I'm listening. Even if I couldn't manage a decent reply. Even if I just sat there. At least I care.
I wouldn't ask anything of you. Perhaps I would. But not what I really want. I don't know why. To that, I'm utterly incapable.
And I'm on the sideline. Once on the sideline, always on the sideline? Perhaps. Perhaps not. The world of possibilities. Why are they scary when they're there to give you hope? I have no idea. They are though.
I'm see-through. I feel it.
Timidity blocking my path? That and the other things I must learn to grow out of. Will that do any good, or will that be enough? I don't know if I can shed those traits away.
Oh I'm self-confident. A bit harsh on myself. A bit insecure. Within normal range.
I want a portrait of myself. One that hid those black circles around my eyes. Showed me as an elegant lady. And an intellect. Beautiful too. A face that radiated warmth. Eyes that spoke a great deal of the world. Oh, wait. I wanted a portrait of myself. Silly. What would I ever do with that?
So, sigh sigh sigh. Smile. Glad we said the above. Never mention it again.
Finally. A surge of gratitude to the people who care about me.
That's all.
Yours truly.

You

2011-09-24T01:01:00.001+04:00

I saw you carrying on with your life
Though I knew there was a part of you waiting for me
I knew it yet I always doubted that fact
How can this be?
Don't ask
Just listen
I watched you, smiling hoping my smile changed something
Praying that it did
Made you smile
Lifted your spirit
Washed away the pain
Gave you hope
Saved you from self-doubt
Engulfed you in compassion
Took you away from the world
Brought me to your mind
Even for a moment
A moment can last a lifetime
What about forever?
What is wrong with wanting forever?
Now's enough
And a forever promise is...
Empty
Yet desired

5.30 a.m. 8/8/2011

A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens

2011-09-22T02:34:00.002+04:00

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

The opening lines to A Tale of Two Cities. I can't think of another book that has such a resonating beginning that makes you want to read it again and again to make sure you felt the beauty of each sentence lurking deep in your soul. It lures you in, how could it not?

Dickens takes his time with his story telling. There's such a huge conflict in the book, and a brilliant political plot that is astounding. The characters take time to grow on you, they did for me but at the end you realize there's such a strong presence but it wasn't the characters that made me fall for it so much actually, except for the end in which one of the characters makes your heart weep but I won't go into that because not only was it the best part in the whole book and if I venture to tread on it lightly I'll either ruin it for someone or go on and on about it. Read it for the ending. That's all I'm saying.

The book shifts in the middle to something else entirely. I was hooked then to be honest. I liked the first part, but the second was amazing. Dickens isn't my favorite author, but I was a fan. I think that this book totally shifts the way you view him. It has the feeling of a proper classic, yet it's different. It's full of raw human emotions. Love and hate. Patriotism. Family. Compassion and brutality.

For me, A Tale of Two Cities is about how far we humans go for something we believe in or love. How far would you go for the greater good and how often are you misled in you path? How far we willing to sacrifice for love and the happiness of the one we love?
When you actually think about it, it takes you off your guard. This is what's different about it I think. The fact that it had such a plot that kept changing and surprising you again and again. The language was beautiful. Some of the phrases and expressions will definitely strike a cord with you. You will find yourself staring at a line.

One thing about the characters, they'll seriously surprise you. I know I was. I was quite taken back with them, though they're not what I love about A Tale of Two Cities. Yet, I can't believe what changes they go through, and what they're capable of. Till the very last page you keep on discovering more about who they really are and I love that about the book. That it kept you engaged till the very end.

Here are some of the quotes I loved, some more for the language and the way words are put together, more for the thought they're carrying:

"Is it possible!" repeated Defarge, bitterly. "Yes. And a beautiful world we live in, when it IS possible, and when many other such things are possible, and not only possible, but done--done, see you!--under that sky there, every day. Long live the Devil. Let us go on."

"Nothing that we do is done in vain"

So strangely clouded were these refinements by the prison manners and gloom, so spectral did they become in the inappropriate squalor and misery through which they were seen, that Charles Darnay seemed to stand in a company of the dead. Ghosts all! The ghost of beauty, the ghost of stateliness, the ghost of elegance, the ghost of pride, the ghost of frivolity, the ghost of wit, the ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all waiting their dismissal from the desolate shore, all turning on him eyes that were changed by the death they had died in coming there.

"If you could say, with truth, to your own solitary heart, to-night, 'I have secured to myself the love and attachment, the gratitude or respect, of no human creature; I have won myself a tender place in no regard; I have done nothing good or serviceable to be remembered by!' your seventy-eight years would be seventy-eight heavy curses; would they not?"

A humongous thanks to Yasmine who made me read A Tale of Two Cities now when I was so sure I'd leave it unread for quite a while if I was left on my own. I enjoyed it all the more because of you!

Render me helpless

2011-09-20T00:05:00.002+04:00

Pass me by
Heed me no attention
Don't bother smiling
Don't answer my questions
Don't listen to my words
Don't think of me
Never cry for me
Never plead my case
Never need me
Kill whatever thought you have of me
Forget me
Abolish me from your world
Ignore my efforts
Lie and deceive me
Tie me down
Lock me
Laugh at me
Think me worthless
Take my everything
Forsake me
Render me helpless
Answer them
Tell them what you never told me
Tell them what you exactly told me
Give them the world
Be there for them
Laugh with them
Reach out to them
Whisper in their ears
Crave their attention
Hurry into their arms
Burden yourself with their pain
Bring them joy
And when they've had enough of you
Find others
Just keep walking down the path I never took.

Photo Courtesy http://weheartit.com/entry/5881011

LBC: Breath

2011-09-19T07:19:00.003+04:00

Welcome to the Loose Bloggers Consortium, where Akanksha, Anu, Ashok, Conrad, Delirious, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Ordinary Joe, Magpie11, Maria the Silver Fox, Nema, Rohit, Padmum, Paul, Ramana Sir, Will knot, and I write on the same topic. Please visit the other blogs to get seventeen different flavours of the same topic. Today’s topic has been chosen by Padmini.

To be completely honest I wasn't going to post this week. I didn't have any decent idea for a post though Rohit and I discussed it thoroughly. I then decided I'd share a bit of lyrics to a song I love called Breathe

Breathe... just breathe

Oh breathe, just breathe

That part of the song is the relevant bit to this week's topic. That's not what I mean to say though. I shall stray away from the topic, and I apologize for that. Here's the part of the song that gets to me:

If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to

It's just that those words are becoming truer everyday to me. That's why I have trouble writing on my blog here, or sharing things. It feels as if you're see-through. Letting people in like that. The real you. The thoughts in your head. My words would scream for compassion, sympathy, love, care, attention and comfort. I can't ask for any of that out loud. I don't want to. No scratch that. I can't actually.

So what do you do?

You take a deep breath.

Watch life moving on.

Learn that you have to keep calm, move on and struggle to live. That's what people do. They get by. I get by, too.

Just like any other

2011-09-17T05:24:00.001+04:00

Some chocolate, or popcorn, and a movie. Alone preferably. Lose track of the events for a while to think. Get back and focus. No comparsions made. Too many differences. Hers was an easy life, and the world never fails to remind her of that fact. There was so much condescension around, wasn't there?
So she didn't know much about the world. Big deal. Did everyone who seemed worldly know much about it? So she, too, lived. Just like everyone else. There was a lot going on. So many living in their own private worlds. They didn't want to be disturbed.

A scene went like this:

One of the characters made her case so clear, persisted to the point of demanding things till her friend had no choice but yield. Thoughts and feelings began to show, and you watched her friend's timid, happy to feel cared about, troubled face. The scene ended but she was already lost in its details. Was it a special bond between these two? Surely not. No, she couldn't honestly say. Perhaps it is a special bond, or it will be after this, who knows?
Some people had a way of getting a person open up. She wished she was such a demanding friend, asking because she had a right and getting a chance to show how much she cared. Thinking that people will tell you
things without you asking is very farfetched. She was among those who waited to be asked till she told all, so it was unfair asking any different from people. She was taking her time to do things. Taking time to change things. Time. She knew time was vital, and she was learning patience. No more unrealistic plans that never saw the light of day. No more of that. It did way more bad than good.

Where was the movie going? She couldn't believe herself, she lost track of it. Again. It was coming to an end, what were they fighting about? Did she have the heart to go back and watch again? She must. Rewind. She felt herself close to surrendering to her thoughts again. This time, No. She fought it. The movie ended soon enough. Did she really have to go back wandering where her thoughts told her to go? She didn't want to give in. She didn't want to think anymore, it was agonizing most of the time. It was draining her. She felt like putting everything on hold. Take herself out of there. Away. She didn't want to think about herself anymore. Enough is enough.

A walk. She couldn't go walk alone. What a sad world. Her reflection in the mirror troubled her. The look on her face. How dejected she looked. She laughed it off, tried to make a silly face. It didn't matter.
She knew what she needed, but couldn't ask for it. How she wished she could. I'm there for you. Are you there for me? You're there for someone else. How could this be? Just as her thoughts neared the core of what was getting to her. She stopped them. She couldn't handle it. That was enough. She occupied herself with something else. It worked. Yet, whenever she was alone it came back to haunt her. What would you do? Watch another movie?

LBC: Things I don't tell about myself

2011-09-10T05:10:00.000+04:00

This is my weekly post with the Loose Bloggers Consortium (LBC) including Rummuser, Anu, Ashok, Gaelikka, Grannymar, Conrad, Padmum, Anki, Will Knott, Maria The Silver Fox, Nema ,Paul, Plain Joe, Rohit, Magpie, Delirious, and myself, where we have a Weekly topic to discuss. Please visit their blogs to get different views about this. This Friday's topic has been chosen by Gaelikka and Anu.

I talk about myself a lot. Choose a random post here, and you'll see what I mean. They say write about what you know, and I know myself. Yet, there's a lot of things I don't share with others. I'm excited to hint at them, though I don't talk about them for a reason and I hope I don't say too much.

First off, I don't talk about how how well I do at school or college. I never felt comfortable doing that. I'll reply with one word if asked and then change the topic. I don't want that to define who I am.

Then, there's all these details I won't share unless you ask. Even if you ask, I'll refuse to say sometimes. I contradict myself when it comes to this point, I'll share random useless information with my friends. I always find myself wanting to apologize for that, but then again there are things that I hold back. For an example, how I'm feeling, details about my family or my friends, incidents, things like that. I guess when you grow up (no, I'm not there yet and though I have a long way to go, I find that I'm on the way) you become less and less open with anyone. I'll give you the impression that I can tell you everything if you're willing to lend me an ear, but it's not quite true. I'm not leading you on though, far from that in fact. I am a talkative person by nature, but you have to give me time for me to able to feel comfortable enough to share my inner thoughts. It just isn't as easy as it used to be.

I won't tell you about my insecurities, I won't dwell much on my dreams. I thought before starting writing about these things I'd manage to say a lot, but now my mind's going blank. I think it's because it refuses to share these things. I'll just wrap up with why I think I hold back from telling these things. I like keeping a few things to myself. Sometimes it's because I don't want to bore you with all these details and instead I'd rather listen. I guess there's also a part deep down that doesn't feel comfortable having people know so much about me, then they'd start getting under my skin. Sometimes these things that I choose to not talk about, are very serious to me so I'd hate for them to be ignored or made light of, which happens only because I can't say how much they mean to me or because people simply can't understand. Then there's a part of me that hopes you get those unsaid things without me saying them.There are a lot of reasons, and I guess it's only normal.

The ironic part about this post is that it's gonna get published with so much yet to be told but we'll leave it at that.

HBBC: Forgive and Forget

2011-09-10T02:21:00.000+04:00

Welcome to The Half-Baked Bloggers Consortium's (HBBC) second post. Meet the members here.

This week's topic is Forgive and forget, chosen by Noor Al Zubaidy (me). Please take the time to view the members' blogs just as you viewed mine in order to get different perspectives about the same topic.

Life puts us in all kinds of situations. We've all been wronged, by a friend, a classmate, a stranger. Anger comes first. What did I ever do to that person, I don't deserve this, life's so unfair! You start questioning yourself and the people around you. At the end, you force yourself to think that we all wrong others, and it happens to the best of us. Call it a mistake, imperfection, misjudgement. It's all the same. You learn to forgive, thinking that you have to treat others the way you want to be treated. You forgive. Holding a grudge for a long time isn't healthy. It feels good letting it go. You try putting it behind you when you're with that person. You learn. You grow. These experiences, regardless of how painful and disappointing they can be, really help you become a better person.

The second part is the hardest though, forgetting. It's not an act of will. It's out of your hands. You can't help remember these incidents, and though you've moved on, they come back to you at times. You find yourself asking your brain to forget. I always wondered why we don't forget as easily, does it mean we haven't completely forgiven that person? I don't like to think so. I don't know why our brain chooses to cling to those memories. Is it to remind ourselves of what people are capable of? Is it because it's an experience we should remember to never forget the lesson it taught us? What is it? Why do we remember? In all honesty, I'd choose to forget. I'd rather keep the lesson than the memory. I don't like how my memory works. When I remember those moments, I can't help feel a bit sad and I start questioning my forgiving abilities even though deep down I know for a fact that I've forgiven them.

I'd change this phrase to simple Forgive. That's a better advice. The Forget part makes me feel as if I'm missing out on a secret that allows you to choose to forget. Am I though? Or is it normal? Am I giving it way more importance than it deserves?

So, forgive and if you can't forget then don't. Just don't hold a drudge. Be the better person. We all make mistakes

My head

2011-09-05T05:58:00.001+04:00

I'd like to be original but the first excuse I'm going to come up with for my inability to do so would be that I live in my head, and then I'd go on about how it's normal and how we all do it. I'd then blame the fact that I don't have a life and I live through books. I bore myself with my predictability even as I'm writing this.

Would I like to change this, of course. Yet, I don't want to give up the life I lead in my head. The one where I can be with myself, where I'm not pressured to talk to people because if I don't I start questioning myself, if I can't talk to people then who am I? A world in my head where I think of my friends, their troubles, and remember things they told me. A world of possibilities. Imaginary, fictional ones. How sad. Yet, it's a comfort zone I'm not willing to give up just yet, because you see this world (aka my head) understands me. It does. It can keep track of my every single thought, because my thoughts once they're voiced out they stop making sense even to me. These voiced thoughts are foreign to me when I hear them in my voice, and I'm left with a deeper conviction of my failure to make the world understand. I give up trying at the end. It happens often. I am yet again defeated. I surrender gladly because wanting to be understood this bad isn't good for me. I know that. Perhaps, I can be understood easily if I kept things simpler and didn't want people to understand me so well. At the end, there's so much to be understood not through words, but through being around that person and paying close attention to the things that usually go unnoticed. To be honest, there are hints and you can tell most of the time. Instead, our head tells us not to pry. You don't know that person well enough, if they want you to know they'd have said something, perhaps they're praying you won't notice so just pretend you don't think they're acting any different, you have problems of your own, plus do you really want that awkward moment of not knowing how to comfort them and feel worse? Is that what we're expected to do? God. I always want to ask, always. Who cares about what you're expected to do anyway? I know that when I'm down, I hate to be asked what's wrong because I get angrier at myself for not knowing how to explain what bothers me. This happens almost always. I then make myself believe that I'm upset over nothing, and well, well, that realization does not brighten one's mood. But, honestly. I'm not upset over nothing. I just don't know what I'm upset about. And we're back to point one. I can go back and explain more how I can't express myself because I still haven't expressed that point as well as I'd hope. You see, you don't understand. You can't anyhow. Or, I could talk about expectations and how my head's designed to hate them yet always think about them. But see, I've already exhausted these two things.

What do I say then? Oh, perhaps a bit about how I shouldn't feel obliged to do or say anything to anyone. No? Then what? The movie I just watched? The fact that I'm still up trying to feel a sense of accomplishment through a mere post on a blog I keep? Perhaps. You know, after my head here's the only place I can bore people with my thoughts. I know you think I love talking about myself, and to an extent I do but I shy away from people when they deliberately turn the conversation about me. I usually succeed in steering it away. The problem is that though I need someone to understand, I don't feel comfortable knowing someone is capable of understanding.

There's more to say. That'll have to wait. Another dawn, and another day to depress myself with my never-ending thoughts. :)

HBBC: Self-love

2011-09-03T23:25:00.003+04:00

Welcome to The Half-Baked Bloggers Consortium's (HBBC) first post, where Maha Mohamed, Ammar Al-Majali, Rana Safi, Maryam, Yara Hani, Noha Hanafy, Nema, Deppy, Nouran Ziad, Noor El terk, Salima Al Masrouri, Mariam Tarek, Sara Amr, Yasmine Fayez, Rania Khaled, Engi Amin, Ibhog, Abeer Zaki, Hagar Haggag Yomna Arbad, Salma M San, My Essam and I voice our opinions about a weekly topic chosen by various members. This weekend's topic is Self-love, chosen by Nema. Please take the time to view their blogs just as you viewed mine in order to get different perspectives about the same topic.

I'm full of myself, I've always been the kind of person who replies playfully with "I know" to compliments. My family knows this, and my sisters always tease me about it. Yet, I can be really low on self-esteem and it can get ugly. I love myself, but I often hate it too. And sometimes, it's neutral and I don't have any feelings of either love or hatred, instead they're replaced with a sense of peace. I think that's the best kind of existence. I don't know why. Yet, it makes you love everything around you.

"I love *insert name of friend/family member* more than I love myself."
Think of it. People say that when they want to express the huge amount of love they feel towards others. Do we by nature love ourselves more than we love anyone else? If you have so much self-doubt, if there's so much you want to change about yourself, does that necessarily mean you don't love yourself? Perhaps it does. Perhaps it doesn't. Perhaps self-love isn't connected to the image you have of yourself. Perhaps it is. I'm as clueless as the next person about this, if not more. And I don't have a piece of advice to share with you at the end, just a lot of confusion.

Shantaram - Gregory David Roberts

2011-08-29T07:14:00.001+04:00

I'll start by saying that Shantaram is a wonder of a book. There's nothing like a good huge book to indulge in. Absolutely nothing like it. It's so welcoming, there's an urgency that makes you read it vehemently and a satisfaction like no other.

Roughly, it's about a fugitive running away from his past, crime and heroin to the enchanting Bombay. The Bombay he falls for, where he falls in love, finds true friends, a brother and a father-figure.He begins a new life, his past always ready to haunt him. He learns so much: acceptance, forgiveness, kindness. You're amazed at the simplicity of the writing. Simple words, simple sentences and unpretentious philosophy. Yet, you're provoked by this simplicity. It's like no other. It's so effortless.

I got hooked as soon as Lin, the main character, meets Prabaker who's famous for his smile. Prabaker makes you smile, and you often catch yourself grinning at his words and goodness. I personally loved him, and started loving the book the moment he appeared. Such a genuine person. Take this quote about him for an example:
"I discovered that Prabaker believed with the whole of his heart that his smile made a difference in people's hearts and in the world. He was right, of course, but it took me a long time to understand that truth, and to accept it."
Why don't we smile readily? I know there's so much wrong with the world, and so much sadness but a smile can change a person's day. Read the quote again. Do you know such a person? A person who gives out all of his heart and soul to you in a smile? Don't think that smiling people are naive. Please don't. There was so much about people's smiles in the book, the author is brilliant in that regard. Describing the kinds of smiles people gave you, specially the honest kind. The kind that lifts our spirits. I can honestly tell you that everytime smiling was mentioned, I was ecstatic. It was so refreshing to see the author stressing this, the simple act that doesn't get the attention it deserves.

A big book will have many characters, but there's something so unique about each of them that you can't help loving them just because Lin loves them.This is how Lin describes the woman he loves:
The clue to everything a man should love and fear in her was there, right from the start, the ironic smile that primed and swelled the archery of her full lips. There was pride in that smile, and confidence in the set of her fine nose. Without understanding why, I knew beyond question that a lot of people would mistake her pride for arrogance, and confuse her confidence with impassivity. I didn't make that mistake. My eyes were lost, swimming, floating free in the shimmering lagoon of her steady, even stare. Her eyes were large and spectacularly green. It was the green that trees are, in vivid dreams. It was the green that the sea would be, if the sea were perfect.
Apart from the fact that it's bloody perfect, the quote speaks so much about Lin, and I'll take a moment to tell you about him. I refuse to label him with words, he's a criminal but you struggle with that fact. His openness to people is just so endearing. His character, which in any other book would have been tough, dark, mysterious is the total opposite. He's open, honest, kind and he has such love for Bombay and his friends that you simply care about him so much. Too much perhaps, and he's everything I love about Shantaram. Through him, you meet so many people, through him you attend weddings, live in the slums, dance as clumsily as a foreigner in India would do, wiggle your head, smile your heart out, walk the streets of Bombay, and receive an actual bear hug. He's not an angel. He doesn't lie to himself. He's broken. He doesn't need sympathy, and he's so ready to take everything in. We're often so guarded, but he shows you that you can let your guard down, though you'll get hurt, the amount of love you're capable of will free your soul. And it's about being free isn't it? Free in every sense of the word.

I always wanted to visit India, and now I'm sort of dying to go there now. Doesn't this make you want to feel as acutely as he did about India:
The simple and astonishing truth about India and Indian people is that when you go there, and deal with them, your heart always guides you more wisely than your head. There's nowhere else in the world where that's quite true.

There's a lot of philosophy in the book. Love, honesty, right and wrong, good and evil, religion, spirituality, wars. Details conversations discussing such topics. I was so interested in these when normally I'd have been bored. There's such truth in them, and even if you have your own notions of such concepts, or like me you're a bit on the undecided side and you can't give a ready opinion you'll agree that they offer simple wisdom that gets you thinking.

There's a truth deeper than experience. It's beyond what we see, or even what we feel. It's an order of truth that separates the profound from the merely clever, and the reality from the perception. We're helpless, usually, in the face of it; and the cost of knowing it, like the cost of knowing love, is sometimes greater than any heart would willingly pay. It doesn't always help us to love the world, but it does prevent us from hating the world. And the only way to know that truth is to share it, from heart to heart, just as Prabhakar told it to me, just as I'm telling it to you now.

Of hope he says:

You can never tell what people have inside them until you start taking it away, one hope at a time.

And if you prove to a man how vain his hope is, how vain his hoping was, you kill the bright, believing part of him that wants to be loved.

We live in hope.

I'd love to elaborate on how I feel about each and every quote because to me, they're amazing. Yet, I'll leave that unsaid because you just might find beauty in them too. The simple words. Perhaps they'll talk to you like they did to me. Here are the rest:

One of the ironies of courage, and the reason why we prize it so highly, is that we find it easier to be brave for someone else than we do for ourselves alone.

But the lies we tell ourselves are the ghosts that haunt the empty house of midnight.

The end, when it comes, is always too soon.

The only power that has any real meaning is the power to better the world.

There is no man, and no place, without war.

Read it if you feel you're ready. Take your time. Enjoy every word. I feel strongly about the book. It's like 4-5 different books in one. It's life crammed into 900 pages. It's the end being too open. The beginning being too obscure. The in-betweens so rich. The feeling you get while reading. The hope you feel. It's being transported to another lifetime. It's you entertaining the thought that 'everybody at another lifetime was an Indian'. It's the heartbreak you suffer with Lin. It's me reviewing the book till 7a.m. It's... Shantaram and all the things words will never convey.

Finally, I'd like to say that I owe it all to Ruqaiya who not only shares her books so generously with me, she knows just the kind of books I'll love. I'm blessed to know you, Rux, and I can't thank you enough for this book!!!

I am...

2011-08-28T03:50:00.000+04:00

I'm often told I'm mature. I like to think I'm still a kid, and use that as an excuse. I'm a proud nerd but I don't think I sound like one. Mainly because I'm the slowest human being who ever lived on this planet. I'm very absent minded. I have problems with expressing myself. Animals scare me. I get upset out of the blue sometimes. When I'm silent people almost always think there's something wrong. I'm fairly easy-going. I can't help correcting people. I can't get by without books. Classics are a passion for me. I can read pretty much anything as long as it's fiction. I can't stop myself from buying books. I don't re-read books. My arabic's screwed though my dad teaches Arabic. I have a guilt complex. My smile is a sort of grin and I don't think people smile as readily as they should. I don't understand sarcasm. I'm allergic to all kinds of smells. My family will always see me as the kid who needs looking after. I've been to 5 countries and I've lived abroad for most of my life. I ask the silliest questions. I own a guitar, learned for 2 months and now it's abandoned. I'm boring. I sometimes live on twitter. I think it's among humanity's finest inventions and takes the concept of wasting time to a whole new different dimension. I have a complicated relationship with facebook. I absolutely adore blogs. I hate the assumptions people make about you so freely. I don't like accessories as much as I used to, no idea why. I don't have a favorite color, book, food, tv show, movie, place, shop. A Walk to Remember used to be my favorite movie as a teen. I'm a bit more self-centered than the next person. I write for my personal well-being. Procrastination. I have a serious fear of being a hypocrite. I admire people's self-assuredness. I face a lot of expectations from those around me. I'm pro at making empty threats. Quotes. I take what you say to heart. Read my wishlist. I'm clueless and a broken-record. I'm an annoying optimist. I want so much. I don't expect that much from myself. I'm considerate. I live in my head and it's not so healthy. I'm loving people more and more, there can be so much good in them without them having the faintest idea of it. I hate those who give themselves airs for all the wrong reasons, not that it's ever ok to have airs. One thing I'm proud of; my English. Friends, the tv show, makes me laugh hysterically. I can't do anything alone. I will blabber incoherently if given the chance.

PS1: Inspired by this which was originally inspired by this.
PS2: Did I mention I'm self-centered? Well, yes. That's why I never miss a chance at writing about myself.

Inspired by Life

2011-08-24T16:28:00.000+04:00

NOTE: Check Nema's post which inspired this whole thing, beautifully written and will surely put a smile on your face: http://haiku--life.blogspot.com/2010/11/inspired-by-life.html

This is a list of a few things I consider to be the best of life:

1- Reading; a really good book, finding yourself in a character, relating to a moment, finishing a book, a friend reading a book based on your recommendation, buying a new (or used) book, reading outloud (not such a reoccurring occasion mainly to my sister specially a classic with an accent), finding a quote in a book, and reading it over and over again and BLOGS! I love reading a few blogs, blogs are addictive and some people write so darn well it just takes you to another place.
2- Having a really good cake.
3- Cooking and being told it's good.
4- Talking at dawn then talking and talking some more until you have no idea what you're talking about.
5- Listening to a kid laugh his heart out.
6- People remembering you.
7- Someone trusting you for reasons you can never figure out.
8- Having something to smile to yourself about.
9- A really good hug from a friend you love.
10- That moment of peace when you feel you're free of any obligation.
11- Sharing randomness.
12- (stolen from Nema's list) A friend telling you "I understand" when they really do.
13- Giggling unstoppably over something silly.
14- Having an honest conversation.
15- Not knowing what to say because of a kindness so gracefully bestowed on you.
16- Giving and rejoicing in that.
17- Listening to dad's stories and feeling how animated he is when he's telling us of things that happened ages ago in such details.
18- Acceptance.
19- Going shopping then coming home and trying on everything again.
20- Watching people get on with their lives.

What would your list include?

My Childhood - Loose Bloggers Consortium (LBC)

2011-08-15T02:32:00.001+04:00

Welcome to the Loose Bloggers Consortium, where Akanksha, Anu, Ashok, Conrad, Delirious, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Ordinary Joe, Magpie11, Maria the Silver Fox, Nema, Padmum, Paul, Ramana Sir, Rohit, Will knot, and I write on the same topic. Please visit the other blogs to get seventeen different flavours of the same topic. Today’s topic has been chosen by Anu.

What's a normal childhood, I often wondered. Free of worries, all play, lots of friends and no responsibilities? If those constitute a normal childhood, then I had exactly that. Thoughts of my childhood always lead me to our neighborhood in Babylon, my grandma, the kids we played with, my relatives and the places I haven't seen in ages. The stuff mom used to make for that she doesn't do anymore. Ladybirds, sugared-bread, dresses, dolls, fights, games, small green apples, sleeping on the roof.

I never learned to swim, ride a bike, skate or dance ballet. Ok I never really wanted the last one but it would have been cool. For a long time I felt deprived that I didn't get to experience those and jealous of people who knew how to do them. Why didn't we experience them? Indeed. That is the question. Now, I'm waiting for an opportunity to learn them. Specially the bike. Perhaps in a year, two or five but it will happen inshallah.
I didn't really spend a lot of time studying, though I was a good student as a kid. It was all playing, playing and more of that and watching cartoon.

My dreams as a kid. I try to convince myself that I forgot them, but perhaps I never had any. That's sad isn't it? It seemed sad to me for a long time, but right now it doesn't seem so sad. I couldn't help it. Of course I humored myself with thoughts of being a doctor, a lawyer, a model (still think I'd make a great model in my crazy moments), a TV presenter but it was always short-lived and inspired by someone on TV. Why is that, I have no idea. Perhaps my future sessions with a psychologist would put some perspective to that.

I miss that time. You spend your childhood wanting to grow up, and though growing up isn't that bad, it's not all you dream it to be. I don't know who said this but I think it's really true:
"We never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public."
So, my question to everyone reading this, why so serious?

5 Whys

2011-08-10T03:45:00.000+04:00

Inspired by this post: http://merciless-memories.blogspot.com/2010/08/5-whys.html

Why the silence?
Because I'm learning it can speak louder than words.

Why don't words suffice?
I can't find the right ones to express this state of being.

Why do you need to express it?
Because I need to understand it myself.

Why can't you understand it?
Not everything's meant to be understood I suppose. We can only try.

Why do you try?
What else can I do?