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.

Never Mix Sheep and Mental Notes

Don't you just hate it when you're itching to write something and its just. not. coming. to. you.? I find it quite despicable. What's more sickening is how often it happens to me.

The bigger problem is, however, when all the inspired ideas and topics gracefully arrive in the middle of my nightly ritual of counting sheep. All day I rack my brains out trying to tame the words and compose the structure with no sucess, and then I actually get a decent idea with the right formulation of words in the middle of the night?! Outrageous!

All the same, I try to get around that problem through the masterful utilization of what is generally knows as "mental notes". See, I always had the strong belief that mental notes are better and more comfortable than real tangible ones; you do not have to go through the hassle of finding a piece of paper and a good pen that actually works in the middle of the night, nor keep looking for that piece of paper the next morning for at least an hour before you give up and eventually find it a month later in the middle of a stack of rubbish you were about to throw out. Mental notes are simply easier and better: you just tell your mind to remember it and there you go, the thought/idea is safe and sound.

I absolutely completely believe in them... I even test myself every once in a while to prove it.

I focus real hard on a specific moment so that next day when I try to remember what it was I was thinking about, I can easily trace it back from that sole moment I focused on. After many self-tests and trials, there appeared to be one hiccup in the "mental note" plan: 8 times out of 10 it doesn't work.

That does not mean however that I ever learnt the lesson.

So last night when I was hit  by a wave of inspiration as I watched the pretty sheep jump the fence, I decided to make a small mental note to remember whatever genius idea occured to me and to not to forget to put it down on my green book's slightly yellowed paper the next morning. But of course to no avail. I woke up with a vague recollection of an idea and of my constructing a mental note. What the note said however had completely vanished from my memory.

Allow me to illustrate:

1 sheep. 2 sheep. 3 sheep. I hate not having good ideas. 4 sheep. 5 sheep. 6 sheep. 7 sheep. They're pretty jumping that fence, thank God they don't lock sheep up in zoos. 8 sheep. 9 sheep. 10 sheep. 11 sheep. I can't find anything to write about. 12 sheep. 13 sheep. Ouh animal abuse is a good idea. 14 sheep. 15 sheep. Or maybe how some people like to use overcomplicated words with no real point or substance. 16 sheep. 17 sheep. That's a good idea I should remember that when morning comes. I won't forget. 18 sheep. 19 sheep. 20....

*Poof* the idea is lost for good.

Hmph. That darned sheep ran away with it.