A piece of my mind

(1) She said: Remember how you told me that I should pursue a job that I actually enjoy not just one that I'm good at. I actually took your advise ; I quit my boring monotonous job a couple of weeks ago and decided to take time off and discover what I enjoy doing best. And guess what, I discovered I looovvveee to cook. I'm not sure how I will turn it into a job yet; I'll figure it out , eventually. But, honestly, I have you to thank. I never realized how I could be so happy just by doing simple things. (2) He said: I was flipping channels the other day and I saw her show. As a professional chef, you see, I don't usually pause on cooking shows, these are for amateurs. I'm not sure why I paused; I think it was the way she looked. I don't know, she isn't that beautiful in terms of physical beauty, but there's something about her. She's so passionate about her cooking. She makes Spanish omelet sound like the grandest gourmet meal. I know that this would

This old post is one of my favorites, an output to bitter feelings. It's a bit scary and twisted, but i was in one of those moods So suffer! I will get my revenge I will make you suffer I will absorb you Yes, your very soul. Your smiles, your laughter, your every joy. And you will want me But you will fear me And there will be a part of you always longing for me You wanted my love, my attention, my obsession Now you have it, So suffer! January 3rd, 2005

I can't remember if I blogged this song before or not and I really don't care; I absolutely love it. I'd almost call it my favorite song, but we all know how my mood swings can affect my taste. First time I heard it I think was inhigh school. It just clicked, though , then I couldn't relate to it in any way, but I just understood what she meant. Now, I realized, this is the typical pattern of person I fall for everytime. The " always the mysterious one with, dark eyes and careless hair " is my typical physical description of a special someone to my friends, " brilliant " is a quality I can't go without, " smoking your cigarettes and talking over coffee " is the part that confuses me.. why do I always fall for smokers when I have serious objections to the principal, " philosophies on art, Baroque moved you, you loved Mozart " is for the fact that I tend to go for the cultured sophisticated type, who happen to have the opposite

-I wish I had your life! -That's funny coming from someone like you. -I've always wanted your life -I was too scared to want yours. -You were stable, straightforward and content. -You always did what I never dared to do. Your life was a fairytale for me. -You kept the friends you had since pre-school. I never had a friend for longer than a year. -Yes, but any of your friends have more interesting stories than all of mine combined. -Everyone adores you. You've been the best friend everybody wanted. -I always gave. You always received. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be on the other side. -You're a success. You have a great job, and a promising career. -Career! You had more interesting jobs than I knew existed. -Yeah, but nothing lasted. -You were building experience -Naah, I just got bored. Now, I'm too old to start over and too young to retire. -But your name was known. I'm just one of the ants -But at least you can support yourself. I'm either i

Pre-London, I had many groups of friends, each with their own mindset, sense of style, definition of what's cool and what's not, what's wrong and what's right, what is fun..etc. I used to try so hard to belong to each of these groups , to fit in only to realize that I was just a little bit different. Yes, they are all my friends. Yes , I have a lot in common with them. But there was just something missing. I always felt like something was missing, no one understood what I felt, what I want ...etc. I made it a point to prove I was different than everyone I met. Post-London, I had much more groups of friends, again, each with their own everything. I refused to admit I belonged to any particular one, but naturally, I found myself at ease with everyone. I believed in the concept of "one", that we are all the same, no matter how much we claimed otherwise. I made it a point whenever people would say that I was every other person. When people would say that I change

I had a dream. An awful dream. A dream of you and me. Yes, you and me. Together again. You came back. You took away every horrid word you ever said to me. You asked me to forgive and forget For the past is gone and tomorrow will sure be a better day. You promised everything will be okay. You said that you now understand and feel why I was so true. You said you want nothing else but to have me back. And it was right. It was our night. Hand in hand, walked all night, Looking at each other's eyes. I learnt a lot from your hopeful eyes. You learnt a lot from mine. We both looked at the moonlight. That little ray of hope that comes from the sky. We saw the flowers blossoming in the silver light. We saw the stars move together to write our names in the open skies. We saw the power of God's creations coming to celebrate our night. We saw what it could be like to be eternally in love. You ask why I call such a dream an awful dream. Because I woke up. I woke up and you weren't there

BECOMING A VIRTUAL ME Becoming a virtual me… To exist logically but not physically… To answer Shakespeare's question; to be or not to be… I decided to be a nameless, faceless entity in cyberspace… Let go of the gender, the age, the race and nation… Become an emoticon with a font.. A Me++ in cyberspace... A pixel, a dot, with no display picture… And why would I like to display what I don't have… I am faceless as the wind… See me however you please I am nameless like a dream… Or a nightmare.. Or both… Because virtually, dreams and nightmares are the same… They coincide in me… The me that I chose to be… The me that I don't understand.. The virtual me **M++ is a term by William J. Mitchell from his book "Me++: The Cyborg Self and the Networked City " CINKO Daddy, please come home… Where are you? And what is taking you so long? Mummy says, you don't love her anymore.. But you love me, daddy, don't you? So why not come for me… Daddy, you have to come take care o

This post is a bit long, so bear with me. Let me tell you the story of the worst thing I ever did; maybe you'll find it useful, and avoid doing the same mistakes I did. But before I tell you the story, I have to tell you about my best friend, Merna. Merna has always been everything I couldn't be ; I sometimes despised her every action and sometimes wished I was her. We were friends since we were 12, but it has always been a love-hate relationship. Sometimes I felt, she only befriended me because she needed to boost her superiority. See, Merna was the pretty blond party-girl, with the fun loving careless charm; while I was the nerd with the long braid and eye glasses. She was the prom queen, every guy's dream girl, in school, university and to this day. I , on the other hand, was never that popular until my senior year in university, when my long braid was seen as hippie and rebellious by an intellectual few. Only then have I made friends. Only then have I started dating. I

For today's post, I'll just put a quote from one of my favorite movies, and a line from one of my favorite songs. These represent my mood now. From Love Actually , Daniel : So what's the problem, Sammy-o? Is it just Mum or is it something else? Maybe... school - are you being bullied? Or is it something worse? Can you give me any clues at all? Sam : You really want to know? Daniel : I really want to know. Sam : Even though you won't be able to do anything to help? Daniel : Even if that's the case, yeah. Sam : Okay. Well, the truth is... actually... I'm in love. Daniel : Sorry? Sam : I know I should be thinking about Mum all the time, and I am. But the truth is I'm in love and I was before she died, and there's nothing I can do about it. Daniel: [laughs] Aren't you a bit young to be in love? Sam: No. Daniel: Oh, well, okay, right. Well, I mean, I'm a little relieved. Sam: Why? Daniel: Well, because I thought it would be something worse. Sam:

I haven't been to my late grandmother's house since I was a little girl. I remember she used to have in her bedroom, a huge wooden frame that contains different pieces of paper, pictures and other things she holds dear. No one was allowed to touch it, look at it or ask about it. It was her secret treasure. I remember seeing her talk to the frame a few days before she died, she said something like "I think it's my time to turn to dust now old friend" but I never understood what she meant then. I knew it was a dying person's intuition but never totally understood what she really meant. I went to grandma's house this morning to move some things there I saw the huge wooden frame and suddenly I was back to my six-year old self, curious to see what she was hiding there. As I moved closer, the first thing I saw was a piece of paper in her own handwriting, I'd like to share it with you…… I had an important wedding to go to a couple of years ago. I usually hate

We all sometimes have things to ask of people, maybe favors, embarrassing questions, asking someone out, asking for something you need...etc. Some people are too embarrassed to ask, or they fear rejections. These, in my opinion miss out on a lot of good things that could be given to them should they have had the courage to ask. On the other hand, some people are quite comfortable with asking you any favor however big, and really get offended when you say no. These being bolder, are often met with acceptance, but sometimes just because you are cornered into saying yes.. so you do the favor, but do it unwillingly. Trying to find middle ground between the two extremes; I came up with a technique. What I do is, I ask the question straight forward (men3'eir laff wala dawaran), yet manage to leave a way out. And if the person replies willingly, great. If they kept silence or commented on the way out, then ideally, I'd wrap it up and feel no offense. Here are some examples: - I would

A bad habit I re-acquired lately , is singing in my car. Now, the reasons I consider it catastrophic news, are the same reasons that made me try hard to quit in the first place; which in a nutshell are: I have a terrible voice, probably one of the worst you'd ever hear. I think this ,on its own, is a good reason to give singing up completely and never even contemplate on singing. Knowing that I am an expressive person by nature; I'm sure anyone driving beside me will find me completely ridiculous smiling, crying or making stupid faces as I sing! When I start to sing in the car, I basically recap on many of the songs that I enjoy, in turn , these songs stick in my head, and keep playing over and over and over again; which really doesn't help when I try to concentrate. I go back to remember the days of when I loved music so much, that I wanted to take voice training lessons (I have absolutely no talent in playing any musical instruments, so I thought, hey I'll just sing).

Katie Melua's In my secret life lyrics. One of my favorite three managers in the world shed the lights on this amazing artist (Merci beaucoup K, vous êtes le meilleur), I fell in love with her instantaneously. I highly recommend her to everyone! Anyway, Nag, this song is dedicated to you, reminds me so much of our IBM talks , our London Emails, our Zamalek walks, and our crazy night phone calls when we're both lonely. Babe, I miss you.. come back! I leave all of you with the lyrics: In my secret life I saw you this morning, You were moving so fast. Can't seem to loosen my grip, On the past. And I miss you so much, There's no one in sight. And we're still making love, In my secret life. I smile when I'm angry. I cheat and I lie. I do what I have to do, To get by. But I know what is wrong, And I know what is right. And I'd die for the truth, In my secret life. Hold on, hold on, my brother, My sister, hold on tight. I finally got my orders, I'll be marchin

Oh my darling, how I wish you were here now , after the day I had. You couldn't possibly imagine how your absence is affecting me. My life is lifeless and shallow without you. Oh , darling, how I miss you so! You've been way for quite sometime now and I am counting the days, hours and minutes till you come. I waste my time through night and day waiting and waiting. And I wonder, is there a one percent chance that you feel the same way I do? My darling, be sure that I am not greedy nor selfish. I love you just the way you are. I love you knowing that you will never feel the same way for me. I love you knowing that all I can be , is just a tiny insignificant detail in your life. But, darling , it's fine, really! I never expected and never will expect anything in return. I might appear to crazy to my friends; but, the way I see it, is that love is the ultimate goal. To love you, is enough for me. To see you happy, makes my day. To have you to think about, fills my time. To wa

On the way to work this morning, after parking my car , walking to the office building, I came across a hunchback in a white galabeya, holding a transparent plastic bag of groceries, and a big musehaf of Quran. I usually tend to stay away from people, but from the corner of my eye, I was watching him. He was so pleasant, in his white spotless galabeya and with a big smile, talking to all the men on the street, not the ladies out of courtesy. He was no beggar, contrary to what I thought at first, nor was he the "I am holier than thou" preacher. He was just a nice guy with a big smile, wishing everyone on the street happiness and good health. And when asked about his own health or affairs, he just smiled and said "Thank God". In my opinion, this hunchback is the best example of a religious Muslim. He's not going around preaching people , yet he is setting an excellent example of his beliefs that we, Muslims, should concentrate on; that is good manners. How har

Studying for my new degree, I came across two words; "ازل" and "ابد". The first means what has no beginning, the second means what has no end. Imagine; something that existed before time began, or something that existed after time ends. It's such a fascinating concept, don't you think?!

-Oh, thank you, really. It's so beautiful. -Then wear it! -I can't. -Why not? -I told you before how I feel about rings. -Actually you didn't. -Can't you just accept that I don't wear rings and that's it? -I would have accepted that, if you didn't just say there's a story behind it. Now I'm curious -Baby, I really don't want to talk about it. -Then wear the ring. -Don't be stubborn -Who's being stubborn? Either wear the ring or tell me the point behind not doing so. I'm giving you a choice whereas you're not. -You won't like what you hear. -Try me! -humm. I made an oath not to wear a ring. -I'm listening - Every time I went into a relationship, my partner would give me a ring. And although I never wear rings, I'd wear it just for his sake. And he'd never want me to take it off, so out of respect I don't. Until my fingers get used to having a ring on, and start hoping for THE ring. And that's when it always

I've been fascinated with the concept of the "seven deadly sins" ever since we studied "An inspector calls" by J.B Priestley middle school. I can't quite remember the details, but it was the first time I was introduced to the concept of the deadly sins. Then of course the movie "Se7en" starring Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman in 1995. I tend to go and read more about the fiction and history of the subject every-once-in-a-while; especially when I feel evil inside. Perhaps just to prove to myself that I'm not that bad after all, or at least not harmful. Anyway, having been in one of these down moods recently, i decided to write a series of short stories, one about each sin. Naturally, being me, these will be modern relationships stories, not those of the "if you go this way, you'll end up that way". Anyway, here's the first... She knows she is supposed to be happy; they just won the big case they've been working on the last si

I call myself a falling star; between a fallen angel and a shooting star. A fallen angel is one who is an angel no more; fell from grace; damned for eternity; for one mistake; how he'd like to go back; to correct the mistake; to make amends; to ask for forgiveness; but that's not possible no more. A shooting star, is one that has flown from afar; and it so shines; lighting the way ; from the sky above; and it makes you smile; and make a wish; but it travels alone; and it dies alone; fading into the air. P.S.. this does not particularly apply to me, it's just a mindset.

I was born to catch dragons in their dens And pick flowers To tell tales and laugh away the morning To drift and dream like a lazy stream And walk barefoot across sunshine days. - James Kavanaugh

I want to write a bit about the color beige. To give you an idea which color of beige I'm talking about; I need to rule out some colors: -I'm not talking about the pink-ish beige.. that's bois du rose - not yellow-ish beige.. that's camel or ochre -nor white-ish beige.. that's off-white or cafe au lait - not the glittery beige either.. that's champagne I'm talking about the pure color of beige, similar to sand only lighter, and has equal amounts of pink, yellow and white. Beige is such a neutral color, no personality of its own, so it can always blend in with any other color and you never see beige alone. In clothes, beige is the perfect color to tone down excessively bright colors like red, electric blue and leaf green. You can also use beige to look peaceful and angelic, adding white or cafe au lait. Also, adding beige to black, grey, or brown will give a touch of subtle elegance. I have never seen a lady who actually looks good in a beige hijab; in my opi

Why? Why now? You never liked the way I dress, my shoes, or the way I curl my hair. You said I wear my hijab too big and my sense of fashion was hippie and improper. Why say that I'm beautiful now? You said my education, my work and the way I act are too masculine for girls. You made up terrible stories about my childhood and spread them making everyone think I was a monster. Why claim I'm your little angel now? You loved everyone else, but not me. All the other kids, even my brother and sister, but not me. Why love me now? Why be kind and nice when you have always neglected me? Why make me love you just before you go? Why make me sad for your leaving when you have never been there in my life? And you? How many times do I have to kill you? ًI tried to drown you, I tried to strangle you, I even tried to bury you alive. Why come back? I am happy living as a heartless bitch. I am happy not getting emotionally attached to anything or anyone. So why show up again and give me a hard

It can't be a daydream; day dreams are supposed to be pleasant. It can't be a nightmare either, because it's isn't night , nor am I sleeping. Listening to songs that remind me of times of hardship, in a crowded street on the way home, I see, feel and hear all those sobs of pain and tears of heartbreak. I feel my heart sinking, my breaths getting heavier and my pain materializing all over again. And I don't hear any cries for help, I always did it on my own. But the anger emerges , not anger.. rage. Yes , I don't have secrets, and I will tell you anything that you want; but what if I want to make belief that some history has never taken place? Why are the skeletons showing up in my closet , although I have given them proper burial? So many demons come to haunt me. It's so crowded, in my head ,that there is no room for more. But at the end,I grow wings. Wings like those of a dove; only bigger, whiter and stronger. Strong enough to carry me. So I can fly And k

This piece has been on my mind for a very long time.. but I never got through to actually write it. It's my first post in Arabic... I need some encouragement. الله اكبر ...الله اكبر ...الله اكبر ...لا اله إلا الله يا بابا ﻷ, مش عايز اجي , سيبونى انام شويه الله اكبر ...الله اكبر و لله الحمد يوه يا ماما, الدنيا سقعة اوى... علشان خطرى سيبونى انام شويه الله اكبر كبيرا و بعدين انا اصلا مش بحب الوح الجامع.... زحمة اوى و الحمد لله كثيرا طب خلاص انا لبست اهه... ممكن بائه يا بابا تشيلنى لحد الجامع و سبحان الله بكرة ة اصيلا بابا... هو ليه الاذان مش زي كل جمعة؟ لا اله الا الله وحده تكبيرة العيد!! يعني ايه تكبيرة العيد؟ صدق وعده ايوة صح , انا ولد كبير ... دا حتى انا صمت السنة دى لحد الظهر و ماما قالت السنة الجاية ممكن اصوم لحد العصر ونصر عبده ياااااه.. يا بابا الجامع زحمة اوى... بص بص... التاس بتصلى على الرصيف و في الجنينة و هزم الاحزاب وحده لأ بابا .. ممكن لو سمحت نصلى مع ميدو و بابه... انا شفتهم فى الجنينة .. لا اله الا الله انتا برده صحوك بدرى يا ميدو؟ ولا نعبد الا اياه لا... بابا قال اسم

I received the following little poem in PTP (a cultural eGroup that I'm subscribed in, where I used to publish my short stories and random thoughts before I started blogging). Anyway, I thought it is worth sharing, it reminds me of the time I was leaving ITWorx. الثور فر من حظيرة البقر، الثور فر ، فثارت العجول في الحظيرة ، تبكي فرار قائد المسيرة ، وشكلت على الأثر ، محكمة ومؤتمر ، فقائل قال : قضاء وقدر ، وقائل : لقد كفر وقائل : إلى سقـر ، وبعضهم قال امنحوه فرصة أخيرة ، لعله يعود للحظيرة ؛ وفي ختام المؤتمر ، تقاسموا مربطه، وقسموا شعيره ، وبعد عام وقعت حادثة مثيرة ، لم يرجع الثور ، ولكن ذهبت وراءه الحظيرة -- أحــــمــــد مـــــطـــــر* * شاعر عراقي معاصر، ولد في البصرة في مطلع الخمسينات من القرن الماضي، وهو مستقر حاليا في لندن بعد سلسله النفي التي واجهها بسبب شعره المعارض الذي تميز به حتى الآن