That's What I've Always Done...

I've been an avid Dashboard Confessional fan since I was 15. I cannot begin to describe their geniosity, all that can be done is listen to their music.

Listen to their music starting with  Hands Down (my all time favorite), Stolen, and all the way down to Belle of the Boulevard and you should get a sense of their brilliance. There is no official video for the track I've posted yet, but the music and the lyrics say it all.

Dashboard Confessional genius

Personally, I've never done anything else. And I'll continue to do that right this instant too, because it only takes a small word, a small sentence or a small gesture to change eveyrthing that's been in the making for months. In the end I'll always blame it on the changes.

As much as I like living my "right nows", as much as I'd really really like to fast forward 3 years in to the future. You know... just to check where it's going and if things would ever fall into place, or where I'd really end up in that time.
Suddenly, I feel 16 again saying that... and listening to Dashboard Confessional... and not making a shred of sense.

And Finally, Winter Comes Home

18th floor balcony, 10:09 pm.
Tip of the Island; perfect view of the Nile where its branches reunite.
I stood there and I let it all rush in: It was magnificent.

It was cold and it was windy and it swept my hair in all directions.

The shiver that fleeted by my body brought back many memories, the scents attached to that temperature made me dizzy from all the things I knew I craved, and the scene I had my back turned on caused a slight smile to form on my lips. I can't quite explain it, but it felt like winter had finally come home. And it came home exactly when it should've.

There I was

Even though it's almost end of January, we -the Cairo people- hadn't yet witnessed the cold season. This week, the visiting rain that cleaned out our air and the fast dropping temperatures we hosted in the evenings, constituted what could possibly the one honest-to-God winter week this year.

I actually wouldn't mind if there won't be any more "winter weeks", because I know that on that particular day in that particular week, the portrait that I had become part of made me happy. I knew where I am, and where I wasn't any longer. I knew what my options are, even if I do not know which to pick. I knew who I am, and who I would definitely like to be. And I sorta, kinda knew with whom I'd like to share it with.

It's been an exhausting couple of weeks, but the calm content they have bestowed upon me is unimaginable. It is spectacular how one can be introduced to a whole new world they didn't know existed. And to be guided to its door step by sturdy hands. New people, new perspectives.

And there is still more to come. As long as you're ready and willing it to come, it will.

Letters to Existence

Ici

A 17 year old I used to know once wrote:

"I feel envoked to walk this path and go through with it. Like the endless night-time roads that make me feel at ease, only this one has a stop. A stop that may decide whether the road really is endless.

My heart swells and soars at the mere thought of the future. My future. And it bursts when I think about the seconds that have passed, not by me, but through me. Do I notice? I do. I do during those nights when -astoundingly- everything is so clear yet so confusing. When I lose touch with everything but feel so in tune with the world. Where does all that faith come from?

I seek more. Not out of selfishness; out of eagerness. Out of passion."

Brilliance

That 17 year old was me.

Two Thousand and... Oh Give Me a Break!

I refuse to be the resolutions-forming kind of girl. I won't waste an entire week of my life thinking of sassy, witty, creative "new year's resolutions" that I'm bound to forget about a week later. It's a week like every other and time is precious.

Once a year we celebrate a night that takes us into a new year. We have this absolute conviction that the New Year will bring us happiness, that we'll change our lifestyle, that we'll lose weight, that we'll fall in love, that we'll be successful and independent. God bless man's forgetfulness; to repeat the same night and same mental routine year after year. I say "we" because, up to this point, I am a part of it. But that is no longer.

I'm a part of last year, I'm part of next year, I’m part of every year to date. Every year is a part of me.

A friend told me a couple of days ago "if you can't beat the system, be part of the system"... or something like that anyways.
I laughed it off at first. It just sounded too... preach-y. But then I gave it second thought this evening. I've never tried to fight the system. I was born different, and I did my absolute best to systemize myself ever since. Excuse me, but I think I've succeeded to an extent- at least I'm capable of humor that other people actually get.

Freak the system.

Self-righteousness is unbecoming. I am flawed. Seriously and in all the ugliness the word could imply: flawed. I hate it, I accept it, I do not brag about it. At least I try not to- I can at least admit that.

Borrowed from Postsecret

My graduation was on Thursday the 24th and it was to be one of the most signifcant events of my life. It was absolutely amazing to be there in cap and gown. My older sister was in tears the second she saw me step out in the march. Her tears brought tears to mine, only then did I realize how major it was. The excitement, the day, the rush, it flowed through my veins; I was high on "graduation-stacy". Yet the second my foot crossed my home's threshold, the bubble burst. It was imperfect, it was unsatisfactory- it was not what I expected. I ignored it and moved on. Just like I did my high school prom.

Actually when I think about it, I'm rarely ever satisfied. That's one more very common human flaw (duh?). Some people get over themselves and learn how to be contented and fulfilled, and some people fail miserably. I can safely say I'm with the second group. I'm not satisfied with the job I have even though I like it plenty. I'm not satisfied with my financial situation. And I won't even begin to discuss my personal life.
Will I ever be satisfied though? Do I need to be? Or does this come automatically with ambition?

Another friend snapped me out of it for about two seconds though: "saying that you lack inspiration and achievement is just lame, you just achieved something you sought for the past 18 years: you're a college graduate. From one of the best schools too!"

Eye-opener, while it lasted. But it has its repercussions.

Achievement is engraved in the depths of me. "Demotivation" is a big recurrent word in my dictionary, but "quitting" is nonexistent.

She's the mommy, she's the sister, she's the motivation

A third friend whom I truly do appreciate got me a new truly fantastic book (that my mother started reading before me. So much for the concept of "property"!).

As I sat and stared at the book's cover and smelled its -then- unread pages, I made a grand discovery: I am not in the least bit interested in writing a book. I do not care about seeing my name in bold on a book's spine- I've already done that. I'm not one with fiction-writing talents either. Not the least bit. And I do not have a certain message that I'd like to convey to the world that I cannot articulate through my blog. Not that anyone would read a book I write, people barely read my blog.

There is a saying in Arabic "من يطلب الولاية لا يولى". He who asks for authority, should not be given authority.

Based on those exceptionally wise words I theorize the following: who ask for fame, should not be given fame. Fame, power, authority and all other similar concepts are consequences, they should not be targets. Does that sound too self-righteous? I apologize.

I have my eternal inspirations. I have inspiration that pops in every six months. I cannot be brought down -intentionally or not- for long. To a lot of people's misery, I do re-surface.

(Again this is someone's secret as much as it is mine)

And that is all I need to know to go on.

Pop Tarts and Their Mystical Powers

I walked very casually into the Quick store. Just browsing, nothing more.

Their vast array of imported sweets, candy, snacks and cereal proves to be irresistably tempting more times than not, but after much effort and wasteful money spending, I had finally taught myself how to resist the irresistable. So now I just walk in very casually, buy a pack of Egyptian made gum for 1 pound 75 pt and just as casually walk out. This time, however, something happened that made the system I had programmed myself on go haywire. There it was, sitting innocently on a shelf was a box of pop tarts... not just any pop tarts: S'mores Poptarts!

Now, I'm not a poptart fan or anything; wrapped toaster baked thingies don't really get to me; it was the word "S'more" that did me in.

20 pounds later, I walked out of there with a memory in my pocket.

here

First time I tasted s'mores was almost a year and half ago during my first ever All-American camp night and I have to admit they were sensational. Who could ever say no to fire roasted marshmellows sandwiched between biscuits and melted chocolate?

S'mores American National Holiday!

            Recipe with a "Skinny" twist              

That specific camp night is one to be cherished, not only for this exquisite introduction to what may very well be the most delicious dessert on Earth, or the magnificent view and open greenfields I have never seen in my life before, but also for the spectacular introduction to fireflies!

Lake Elmo

Like most people I've heard plenty of stories and songs about fireflies, -mostly about how people try to catch them and put them in jars- so when I first saw some light blinking about 2 meters away from where I was sitting after night fell on the camp sight and the camp fire was almost out, I had to blink twice and register what I just saw. However, seeing how "out of it" I was at that moment due to a sever case of s'mores-over-consumption, what I registered was that someone was walking the distant trail with a flashlight and that they weren't 2 meters away at all, more like 200.

...not very bright with too much chocolate and marshmellows in my system it seems... it took me at least another 5 minutes and 10 more blinking fireflies to realize what I was looking at.

Getting up ever so slowly, I walked closer to where they were.. or at least I tried. Fireflies are mischevious creatures, they flash their fancy lights, and just when you think you know where they are the go dim and reappear 50 meters away, how on Earth people manage to catch them still baffles me to this day. The thing is, the more you concentrate, the more you can see them; you could be walking right through them while immersed in a conversation with someone and you won't even notice they exist, but if you're out there in the wilderness with the soul purpose of finding them, you'll find them every where you turn.

After some chasing, I decided to stop. Watching them dance around me was beautiful enough, there was no need to waste so much energy and breath in trying to catch something better left alone: wild, free and provocatively stunning.

And in that I learnt the most important lesson of my life.

Borrowed from Postsecret

The poptarts didn't taste so good afterall, but the forgotten memories and lesson were definitely worth every piaster..

Lame John

At the age of 12 my mother handed me down 2 Beatle's tapes. Having been bought in the 70's and survived almost 3 decades, I guess it's safe to say they're vintage.

(Bad image but it's mine!)

I still listen to them daily, and I still sing along with every single song. Honestly, you can't help not sing to those ballads. The songs are short and to the point, usually with the same verse being repeated over and over and over, so it isn't that difficult to know every song by heart.

I had a friend in the car one day as the cassette played and she made a comment that immediately rang truth: "those songs are made for simpler times and a simpler world".
Well... it isn't entirely true seeing as the Vietnam war was underway, Japan was still going through its post A-Bomb reconstruction and Egypt was still in a state of War with you-know-who and had just witnessed its greatest defeat at their hand. "A simpler world" isn't really the right description, but we get the gist of the comment: musical tastes were simpler and music itself was more to the point.

Take the song Michelle for instance: who on our planet today could ever get away with a song in which the chorus says "I love you, I love you, I love you" in the cheesiest way possible? Some might... but I doubt they'd win a Grammy for it and I guess it would hardly ever be the 42nd most played song in the world.

Rumor has it was John Lennon who suggested this "I love you" bridge to McCartney (who was the mastermind behind the song that was intended originally as a slight mockery of the French Rive Gauche culture that was taking England by storm).

Oh John... how lame!

(better image)