A Letter from Zeus

Zeus is beautiful and wonderful. He is kind, caring, and thoughtful. He makes me feel like I am a lady and a baby girl. Everytime I try to describe him, I run out of words, I don't know why. It's just that no adjectives, adverbs, nouns, or verbs are enough to describe or even try to give him justice. Almighty Zeus is over protective, jealous, and yet he is as cute as a newborn panda bear. He is my King and my little adorable baby boy. It's weird how I feel like a mother with him and his princess. He makes me feel special, beautiful, like I am someone out of this world. He takes good care of me. He is patient and accepts how deranged I am and dare I say loves it? My Zeus awakens my nonexistent jealousy and fear. I cannot believe a day passing without reading his texts, listening to his raspy seducing voice, my day would be horrible. A huge fan of Deadpool, Reggae and post-rock music. The guy has the best music taste ever. Every track takes you on a new adventure; their emotional rollercoasters are endless and addictive. Zeus drives me crazy when he pinpoints what am I feeling without seeing me; I am impressed and scared, but I am getting used to it. Zeus is not good with written words, he doesn't like it that much, yet he wrote me a letter. Well, it is not really a letter, but just read it. He is my happy ever after. That's him and God forbid it doesn't work, I am okay living as a nun because I know I will never find a replica of him anywhere. He is that special!

Today Zeus wrote me this: "you are by far the sweetest person ever, you do panic a lot and you seek perfection which sometimes makes you lose it but that's you. All I can do is be there and comfort you even though I would like you to take it easy. I love the way you blush and I love the way you talk and I love your glasses (the round ones.)You have a good taste in makeup and I like the way you jump every time I come near you or explain something with my hands. I love the way you put your tongue out to tease me. I love the way you say "ya Allah", with that being said, I wish you a happy new year and may all your wishes come true."

It warms my heart everytime I read it and I assure you I have read it more than once; I think I have memorized it, and imagining his voice saying all this makes me have goosebumps. I cannot thank you enough for putting up with my tantrums, stress, madness, and meeting them all with patience and reassuring me that you will always be here with me, comforting me and making me feel as if I am the most special person ever. I cannot wait till I get over my shyness and idiocy to really show you what do you mean to me and what how I feel when I am with you.

Happy New Year Zeus, may it be one of warmth, beauty, happiness. May you finally find what you have been seeking all along and may I try to repay you some of the happiness that you make me feel every single minute with you. Happy New Year darling!

Peace Out! H!

A Hug

A hug could hold different layers of meaning. It can be protection, love, friendship, and sexual engulfment to mention a few. Some underestimate and even ridicule the power of a good honest to God hug; they believe that a kiss is better, more powerful. Something that might knock you off senseless, if done right.

I have experienced a hug from a friend and it was warm, sweet, and full of care. My mom's hug was never one of those motherly hugs, it was distant. She doesn't like physical contact I believe, but that does not mean she is distant or cold. She is good. I tend to give the people I love squeezy hugs, those powerful, strong, tight hugs that knock out the breath out of them when they are sad, or when extremely happy. They appreciate it because I don't tend to give them haphazardly all year round, just on special occasions.

 Lately, I want a hug, but not any kind of hug, not a motherly, friendly, or even a distant hug. I want a person to hug me. Someone who is like twice my size and strength preferably, I just want to feel vulnerable, yet impossible to break in it. Something that would be warm and full of love and emotions. I want a special kind of hug that no one I know has the ability to provide, so I keep dreaming of it. Maybe one day it might show up.

What's the point of all this, basically nothing, just a description of what a real hug in my point of view should be. Is it relatable? I am not quite sure, and I don;t really care. Will people comment on it? Again, I don't know.

Snappy believes I am weird, which is normal, but I don't think he knows about the hug-complex I am exposing. Exposing is such a fancy word, you would think I am talking about some sort of a celebrity scandal.

Peace out! H!

Satisfaction and Introspection

Last Tuesday was my birthday, I am 22 years old. I am to some extent balanced. I know what I want for now, my goals are rational, achievable and to the point. I want to pass my Masters pre courses with good grades, to have fun and break the routine as much as possible. I have managed doing this. Snappy has been of great help. He managed to get me out of the depression and self-loathing I have been in. Drowning in work does nothing, but sucking the life out of you. On my birthday, I received a lot of presents, love, peace, and joy to which I am grateful. I celebrated my birthday yesterday going out with some friends out of the blue! It was pleasant.

Yet, I feel the need to find someone to share my happiness, I feel the need to search for a partner, an equal. I want someone to encourage me and get me to project the best in me to the outside world. I want to hear sweet words to make me swoon and I want the intellectual debate. I want my mind and heart to be fed. I need to feel that I am special, not that I am not. I am quite aware of myself being strange and unique, I love it and I bask in it. It is just that now, although I have a plate full of assignments, corrections, studying and work, I am ready to experience what it truly is to be in a stable relationship with adventures, operas, theatre, workshops, dining out, travelling and romance. I think I am mature enough to specify in exact details what I really want and need. I want a man, responsible, mannish yet kind. I want someone who is understanding, someone who could try to capture and embrace the roller coasters from within me. A man who is confident enough that he would be able to do what he promises. Because, I know what I can add to the upcoming relationship, I know I am capable of leaving an imprint that would take ages to be swept away. I know I am cheerful, vibrant, lovely, not a hopeless romantic, but I would show what I feel, and sometimes express it verbally.

I feel like I am writing an advertisement for an apartment. I am aware I have materialized the abstracts, but I know this is for the best.

Peace out! H!

Smile and wave, boys!

I like having my own mini adventures, where I pretend that I have finally moved out of my parents' house, working by day, attending classes by evening, and meeting friends by night. My latest adventure was yesterday, when Snappy and I decided to meet. I baked him a chocolate cake, which he ate like a hungry pig, the highlight of my day was seeing him turning into a child and eating it with glee in his eyes! We took a walk and decided, although we weren't hungry, to go for a pizza and some chocolate buns full of a complete Nutella explosion, you know because we are dieting and aiming for the slim figure we all aspire to.

While eating a little toddler comes in with his family and decides to just come over and say hello, to be honest the little sucker made me happy because the last time a child and I had eye contact, he screamed bloody murder as if I were some sort of pedophile, to be told later.

After the cute guy returned to his family, Snappy goes all Yoda-assing me saying I am a natural mother; I was born to do this job. Yeah because it is so magical having an alien creature inside of you for 9 months or so and then pushing it out of your not so beautiful body making you feel like an empty vessel, used and useless. This reminds me of the Matrix, when Neo got this freakishly looking worm inside of him by force and they had to cut it out. Yikes!

Back to my adventure, after we ate the pizza and the Nutella explosion buns, we walked to the bus station, and went home. What's the point of all this? I have realized that I am capable of defeating the system, not by fighting it, but by smiling and waving, just like the penguins in Madagascar. I get to treat myself every once in a while with a mini outing, a breather. I don't have to suffer and suffocate in silence. I don't have to simply be the ultimate drowning, overwhelmed working woman I am. I can simply just work in my working hours, prepare my lesson for the upcoming class, and treat myself to an outing at the end of the week. See? No harm done and instead a sense of harmony and balance is created. What happens at work, doesn't exist after the working hours are over. What happens in class, is applied when preparing and doing assignments. What happens with my friends, remains memories and pictures to go back to in times of stress.

I have finally decided to give myself a break and enjoy myself even in the most tensed stages in my life. I deserve it, I am powerful, beautiful, smart, independent, and in control of my own life. I set goals to surpass them not to pile them up next to me and watch how I grow older by the minute in front of a shattered mirror called society. I am in control, whether they like it or not. I will be happy whether they accept it or not. I am a fighter not a quitter and whatever shit you throw at me, you will find me standing, smiling and waving back to you.

What defeats you comes from within, the outside is just a set of tools aiding with the process. You are powerful from within and you can always choose whether you want self-loathing or self-empowering!

Have a blessed morning full of pancakes, freshly brewed coffee, and fruits cut into adorable bite-size. You have earned you day-off, fair and square!

PS: I bet you Snappy will go all sarcastic on me after reading this post.

Goodbye seems to be the easiest word.

Dear blog, dear whoever,

I have spent a considerable amount of time moaning and whining and just moping around. Yesterday, the worthless pity came to an end. The flashbacks are still there, I am not going to lie about it, and the what ifs and could haves are still there too, but I manage to keep them at bay way back in my memory. One day I will forget, or remember and move on to the next thought without dwelling on it much.

Now let's get back to yesterday! Yesterday I woke up, got dressed, had a long walk on one of Egypt's rarely quiet streets, I had coffee, got my earphones plugged in and kept walking like there was no tomorrow. It was quite refreshing and has been on my to-do list since forever!

I later on met a friend, we prepared our assigned presentation together had breakfast and went to our separate ways. For over two months now, if not more, Snappy and I have been trying our best to meet and chat. Well guess what? We did it finally yesterday and it was awesome!

I had a good day, I came up with closure and I am feeling some peace. Whatever I have been through in good time I will come out of it, you know why? Because, I was born a fighter and I will die a fighter, I save myself and I am done with the self-pity detour I was on. Why deprive myself from my happiness when I have everything I have ever wished for and even more. I am a working woman, financially independent, a masters student, I have good friends and interesting colleagues. Life is good for it to be wasted on moaning and whining.

To my used to be Person, if you are reading this, this is my official goodbye. Thank you for the experience, the temporary happiness, the heartache and for helping me unlock a new stage in my life.

To my readers, life is too good to be wasted on heartache. Smile, you all look beautiful with it!

To Snappy, it's destiny and you know it.

Random Post Number: 634

I have lost my muse, I cannot write. I have a lot to say, but nothing to share with anyone. I want to write about everything and anything, and all I can do is just keep it bottled down. I smile, laugh, joke, and along the road, I screw something major that gets me to think and over-think about the whole thing till I get myself into some deep ugly depression that sucks the happiness out of everything I like. I am happy, free, confused, lonely, sad, energetic, and depressed at the same time. I am a stupid mess. I want nothing to do, but curl up, read and listening to music.

I need intensive therapy, or someone to talk to who would not judge, comment, or even blink while I talk to them. I need to talk to myself and reconnect.

My Wish-List

Ever since my brothers came to life, and I have had a recurrent dream, that is to have my own room, my own space, my privacy. After twenty-one years, I have managed to transform the balcony into my own tiny space and I could not be any happier. I actually cried some happy tears after seeing my dream materialize right in front of my very own eyes. It was an overwhelming feeling to which I am eternally thankful! The cute little place has my bed, small desk, a small library, and closet. I love it, no I adore it!

This made me think of all the things I wish and hope for, so I thought of writing them down here:

1. Human-size teddy bear preferably beige or brown in color.

2. Getting presents in the form of books, novels, and short-stories.

3. Traveling to Disney-Land, Venice, Rome, London, and Australia.

4.  Walking on the beach at sunrise.

5. Publishing a novel.

6. Watching Despicable Me with my future Person.

7. Getting a chocolate cupcake for my birthday.

8. Attending an Evanescence concert.

9. Finishing my Masters degree.

10. Having two beautiful twin girls.

11. Receiving white tulips out of the blue.

12. Having breakfast in the balcony.

13. Dancing with a partner.

14. Riding the world's most dangerous roller coaster and feeling the adrenaline pumping with intense velocity.

15. Spending a day getting all pampered for no reason at a day-spa.

16. Going to the Opera with my future Person.

17. Sitting in a park.

18. Wearing a long skirt without feeling entirely stupid.

I have faith that I shall be blessed with them all, one day.

Peace out! H!

Milestones and Perspectives

Some time ago, I found out that I had a devoted reader and it had truly made my day! Thank you!

Ever since I have started this blog, I have taken it upon myself to try not to reveal as much as possible anything about my physical aspects. I wanted whoever was reading to just try to visualize my speech and not my body. I don't know why, but that was the main theme for myself. To provide an air of mystique and allure, I believe. However, I have decided today to reveal a drastic trait in my physical appearance, that, for those who know me have had a hard time adjusting to it.

I am a Muslim woman of 21 years of age, and I have recently decided to wear the hijab. I don't know why people were surprised, if not confused by this act. A lot were utterly shocked and the meaningless question: "Why did you that?" kept popping all day long at work. When my answers were not that satisfying for them, they have resorted to their own speculations. Allow me to humor you with a few of them:
1. "Were you sexually harassed?"
2. "Is there someone about to propose to you?"/ "Are you engaged?"
3. "Do you have body issues?"/ "Do you hate your body?"
4. "You were the last person I would think of to do such an act!"
5. "Is this for the holy month of Ramadan only?"
6. "You will regret this act soon!"
7. " Oh dear, now you will never be able to get married!"

When I decided to wear my hijab, I did it because I felt that I needed to do it. I did it to please no man on Earth, but for inner peace. I feel calm, to some extend. I am aware that my hair that used to run wild in every possible direction was a distraction to people, but it was my pride and joy as well. I know that by deciding to cover it up, all of sudden, might be seen as shocking to some, but this was not how I have seen it. I thank God that my abrupt and sudden decision to wear it did not hinder me or make me look back. I just looked in the mirror and decided that it's time now.

My hijab today is one week old. I am still having a hard time adjusting the head scarf and making it stay in its place, but I am working on it, and soon, I know, I will be able to add my personal touch to it.

Now, to be fair, not all the reactions were as negative as the ones I have mentioned earlier. I have received a lot of "Congratulations!" on Facebook, mainly, in addition; some friends of mine bought me head scarves as a form of encouragement to which I am thankful.

So, how is life after the hijab?
Well, it is not restricting as I thought it would be. So far, I am living my normal life as if nothing has changed, which is good, I believe. Sure, the harassment on the streets has almost disappeared for me to which I find as something sad. For people to give themselves the right to harass a girl just for choosing to let her hair run down her back is just heartbreaking and not fair. Who are you to give yourself the right to do such an action? It is her right to enjoy her hair as long as she pleases, and it's your obligation to lower your gaze and start behaving like an actual human being and let her be. Her choice must be respected, regardless of what you think of it. I mean seriously, hasn't it occurred to you, for a second, that this girl might not share your religion? That she could be a Christian, Jewish, Atheist, Buddhist, who does not wear it because it does not say so in her religion of choice? She might be a Muslim who isn't ready to wear it yet, who are you to force it upon her?

What about your wardrobe?
Well, I was never the type of girl who would walk on the streets with super short skirts and tiny T-shirts, I was modest, so the change in that department was not drastic as well.

Do you care about people's reaction towards it?
No, why should I? My action has affected no one but myself, it did not harm any of them; so why should I care about their puzzled faces and dumbfound looks?

This post was written for no purpose other than documenting this event.
Peace out! H!

Reminiscing.

As I was cleaning my old Facebook page, I came across some of my very first writings I thought I would share it here:

1. Love Sucks: (2009)

 Very powerful for someone who, back then, had experienced love and romance through really bad shows:

 "She loved a man once who promised her life would be heaven. They used to dream together about the day they both were going to be together forever. The perfect wife she was and the ideal husband was he; that was in front of the people. But inside, at night, when doors were closed; all one could here was her screaming to him to leave her alone, and his nonstop beating to her. Now does it ring a bell? Of course it does! Like a friend of mine once said: "in this world, there is no romance or love; only greed and materialism that concurs our reality. Those who believe that love will solve whatever problem one faces, are day dreamers. They do not know that love is the main cause of destruction and sorrow." I mean, why on earth would people believe that love is the way to happiness or that baloney they talk about? Love is just a reason for people to keep believing that tomorrow will be a better place."

2. Valentine's Day: (2009)

I guess I was in a better mood than the one before:

"Valentine's day was never made for lovers only to exchange presents and express their love to each other. It was made also for us, to make us appreciate the fact that we are surrounded by true friends and family members; who simply love us for being us and not for hidden benefits. So let us just enjoy this wonderful day with our friends -and our lovers-for those who have- and Happy Valentine's Day to u all."

3. Goodbye Love: (2009)

My early attempts for poetry. I do not really quite understand the domineering theme of angst, and hatred I have been sporting back then:

"I was a little kid,
 Not knowing what love was,
 And one day you came by,
 Your smile was sweet and your hair was messed,
 You asked me how I was,
 And asked me the direction to my heart,
 I was naive enough to show you and not make you search for it,
 And when you reached it, you took it and smashed it!
 I built the sweet castles of happiness for us both,
 But you simply came by and blew it away.
 I tried to convince my heart that you were upset that day,
 But my brain refused to believe my lie,
 Reminded me of the other day,
 When I waited for you under the rain,
 You did not bother yourself to call and apologize.
 But guess what Mr. Arrogant?!
 I am a big girl now!
 I have restored my brain,
 Welded the pieces of my broken heart.
 I do not need a pathetic loser like you no more.
 You can kiss my love goodbye,
 Weep for the days you did not appreciate my love to you.
 Goodbye Love."

4. On My Own (2009)

Another poetry attempt:

"When roses bloom and trees become green,
Spring is here!
Oh what a relief!
My heart's gone numb along with my soul,
For you, no longer, have me under parole.
You were never nice,
But I don't need you!
I am on my own,
Thanks to you, I've never felt relieved.

That's my story what about yours?
You were selfish, cheap and always in need.
I was generous, blind and easy to deceive.
Run along now, I need you no more,
Thanks to you, I am a big girl now.

Fuck love and life who needs them both?
I am on my own and need you no more.
Love's a big lie you made me believe.
To you I was a bet, you were challenged to beat.
My love was true,
Yours was a fraud.

The hell was I thinking?
I should have killed you!
On the count of three,
When you lied and said you were in love.

Silly me to believe life's pink,
For you have made it simply stink!
Who are we kidding?
We have never been in love.
I am on my own and I am not going to love no more."

Ken (2010):

I don't think I was a big fan of the opposite sex!

"In the mall, I saw you with your perfect dazzling eyes that would make any girl sigh. You would make Adonis jealous with your mere presence. Perfect from the outside, empty on the inside. I look into your eyes, and I see nothing and it makes me frustrated. You have depended on your looks for too long, you no longer have a soul, and the problem with me is that I do not care about how you look. You would rather stay for hours styling your hair than sit and have a conversation about literature or the upcoming music fair. You are a "Ken" with no views on live what so ever and my last advice for you is to stay out of the sun because no one likes the smell of burning plastic!

5. Hot Pink (2010)

That was inspired by my daily journey to the university via public transportation:

"This is dedicated to every girl who suffers from public transportation; just bare with me.
Of course we have all seen what happens when we all have to take public transportation. Someone passing elbows you, a mother with her crying baby, and someone taking the bus with his gigantic backpack. For all these reasons, my future company Hot Pink presents to you the Hot Pink buses for transportation.
So how do these buses look?
Well, for starters, its colour is hot pink, naturally. It has black curtains. The bus is provided with very comfy chairs with enough space for your poor feet who have the right not to be squished and squashed after a very long day at work. There is a basket bin next to each chair so as to throw away tissue papers and gum wrappers. The fee depends on your destination. There will be air conditioner. The bus driver will be a lady.

The Bus Rules:

1. The bus has specific stops so no need to stand before you destination.
2. No children allowed on the bus under the age of 15.
3. NO MALES ALLOWED ON.
4. Smokers are not allowed on the bus.
5. Once the bus is full, it will no longer stop for anyone.
6. Passengers are not allowed to listen to music loudly.

Have a pleasant ride!

6. Untitled (2010)

Still sad poetry, but better writing, I believe. I moved from full pure angst to yearning:

"She looks up and sighs,
As she gazes high in the sky,
Stars twinkling here and there,
While poor her, has nowhere,
Loneliness is a curse,
She wishes for her worse.

Being down and blue,
With absolutely no clue,
She wanders over,
To the fields of clover,
Sitting and thinking,
As her depression comes down sinking,
For she has no home,
To call her own.

Darkness wraps her,
Hatred blinds her,
Full of envy and green,
As she watches then so keen,
Laughing and dancing, all in white,
As she waits for her shining knight,
To smile and bow his head,
The way she wanted before being dead,
To take her to a castle, that will be her home,
And gets to call it one of her own"

7. Thoughts I: (2010)

Still being a drama queen:

"I saw you today, being gentle with her and all kind. Why couldn't you be like that with me? Was I too much to handle? Did I do something wrong? Because I saw her, and I am sorry to say she is “not all that”. Hell I am way better; but it looks like you cannot handle those who are out of your league, who once loved and cherished you, who were willing to do anything to see you smile. Do you remember our first walk on the beach hand in hand; I was the one who touched yours not the other way round. I just realized it was always me who went and made the first step. Our relationship was a mere convenience for you, for you not to be out from the "IN-Group". Wow and you accuse me of being shallow! How ironic! But after all is said and done, I still love you and I wish you happiness with her because I am not a witch and because I have no control over my heart."

8. Thoughts II: (2010)

"Who am I?

I am that type of a girl who her male friends would confide in; who would give them advice on how to treat a lady. I am the girl who would have no problem getting her hands dirty for work or enjoyment, who boys think of as another male friend and would joke around freely knowing she would understand them and not criticize them. The girl who would be friends with her love and would be strong enough to help him get his “perfect other”, from his point of view, the one that would go and spread a good word for him just for “her” sake. The one who would set up the date for both of them and have the courage to raise the telephone and ask about it after it’s over. I am the girl who would listen to him being in love and saying he finally got it right; she will be thrilled for him from the outside while crying on the inside. She will never tell him though, in hopes that he would one day realize she was the one for him. She still would be hoping to catch his eye, that he might consider her a girl and not a boy. But for now she is contented as long as he is happy. I am that girl waiting patiently to realize what a fool he was all that time."

9. Thoughts III: (2010)

How I have envisioned my prince charming:

"My Gentleman

I do not want you to be perfect, for perfection I seek in dreams. I want you to care and make me feel special. A little jealousy won’t kill for it will show me that you still care. I want you to be my friend when I need one, my protector, and my soul mate. I do not care about fancy dates or expensive gifts, some alone time with you makes me over the moon and a small “I love you” will mean the world to me.

I know you are a human and you are allowed to make mistakes, but so am I and I am allowed to feel disappointed when you stand me up with no word of apology what so ever.

I want you to act like a gentleman, to open the door for me, to stand up when you see me approaching and to give me your coat when I am cold. Those small gestures mean the world to me and show me that you really care. Unfortunately, you never get a hint, and I do not why I still did not give up on you. You are far from what I thought I want and expect, yet there is this strange feeling that keeps pulling me towards you, it is so powerful that I find it hard to resist. You make me overlook all of this, I cannot lay a finger on this weird happy sensation I feel when I am around you. Why my heart flutters when I am around you, why my hands become freezing in the middle of the Summer when we shake hands, why am I so shy and nervous to talk to you, and why do I feel so down and blue when you go, maybe am sick after all, for you seem to revive me with your mere presence."

10. Thoughts IV: (2010)

What I have recited in my first poetry recital:

"Silence in a noisy crowd,
Screaming at the top of my lungs,
No one listens! No one cares!
Looking in a mirror with no reflection,
No shadow in the sun,
Who am I? What is going on?
No one answers! No one bothers!
Everybody is idle.
I run past them, shaking some,
Do you hear me? Do you see me?
-No response-
I give up and my reflection is back!
My shadow is there and my voice is clear!
I am like you all now!
Now they hear me!
I hang my head in shame
As I have lost my identity."

Thoughts V: (2010)

I was feeling numb back then.:

"Shattered glass everywhere,
 Windows crashing down,
 Gun shots going wild,
 Children screaming,
 Chaos! Chaos!
 No help? How typical!
 Fire blazes and eats away the building,
 As their screams fade away.
 The crowd is silent as they watch the fire in awe.
 The bodies come out barely recognized.
 I pray a silent prayer,
 For all those who I watched them go.

Well I guess that I have evolved since then a lot.

Peace out! H!

My Blood!

Imagine opening your blog and you no longer have access to your own blog. I feel like my baby has been stolen from me. I see my posts yet I cannot add any new documentation. I panic and I am incapable of breathing. Suddenly, I am a little child lost in a huge toy store with no mommy and not enough toys in it to compensate such lost. Add to this, listening to Alice in Wonderland's playlist was not helping; “but how will you find your way, Alice?” Really now?

I need to document. In the morning I am neutral, well as neutral as I can be. I have decided to be passive. Yet, I realized that I have this crazy and scary ability to hold it all in and not burst to a thousand mad women screaming at the top of their lungs at the same time. To be honest, I have no idea what am I waiting for; for the final blow, but it did not happen, yet. My world is hectic and crazy and I need to feel I have control over it to relax and not to loose my sanity.

Yes, I am a control freak. I must be one. I love rules and working according the book; it makes life so much easier. I also love to just throw all the paper work behind my back and shout "to hell with everything!" I used to be easy going. I was F***everything; I am here to have fun not to moan and complain. I used to be sophistical; wanting to know all about the hows and the whys; then I started working and it was like being on the receiving end of a Dementor's kiss, sucking life till the very last drop. Not how I imagined my first kiss, mind you.

I miss literature and analyzing and counter analyzing everything. I miss my eight in the morning discussions; with my professors and the smell of coffee as we sipped it to keep us alert of the throwing accusations of one character or another as we jumped in with our analysis to save him from his doom. I miss how I used to wake up eager to start the day. Of course, there were days when I hated getting up and when I pulled an all nighter to finish an assignment, but now I miss it all. I wont replace them for anything. My Pre. M.A. friends are more blessed than they could ever possibly phantom.

I believe that my artistic side has been brutally butchered right in front of my very own eyes, and I did not even take the time to grieve over her; I moved on. I embraced this impossibly pragmatic persona that gets her job and her whole life done, always on the go, no time to stop, contemplate, and take it all in. I still have dreams, but as far as I know, they shall forever be dreams. I do not think in ten years I can make my twenty year old self proud of what I have accomplished; there will always be a missing piece, yet I wont be trying to search for her because I know where she is, under the bed in a dusty shoe box.

I have been Egyptianized, ladies and gentlemen. I became normal. I am not creative. I am not unique. I am suffocated and voiceless. A typical Egyptian woman, someone who would be on the look for the eligible bachelor to wrap around him the invisible threads of allure and romance and then fatten herself up and cry when he moves on and finds him a sexy mistress, but she wont do anything for she would fear the alternative; she would fear divorce.

I feel myself slipping away into the vortex of normalhood. I don't go out because I have to save money for the upcoming soon to be future of a possible husband. I have to sleep early, because I cannot function on five hours of sleep and coffee, like I used to. I am not the hero I drew and promised myself to be. I am normal. I am so depressed I cannot verbally communicate it. One day my writing shall slip away. I want to cry, but I know no one will understand. The Egyptian word I detest the most when I cry: "Aww, poor you, it will be fine." No it will never be fine! You are not in my shoes and you will never be!" What pains me is nothing but trash for you. You cannot truly understand my misery. You ridicule it and you gossip about it and you have enough audacity to pretend to sympathize with me. Screw you, kind sir; screw you, fair lady. You only heard the story. You have not truly lived it. Screw your sympathy! I am mad and furious and I refuse to be narrowed down to a voiceless mindless housewife who does nothing but bare her burden in peace and silence. No! I will complain and I will bitch about it. I will bitch about inequality and I will complain about how the sink is always full of dirty dishes. I will force him to put the toilet seat down and I will force him to do the dishes. He is to listen to me in silence when I reach my breaking point.

He will shut up and gaze in awe as he sees me rise up gracefully from my nervous breakdown and he would be speechless when he sees me carrying on as if nothing had happened. He will always wonder but never truly understand. I am a woman. I used to be powerful and I shall forever be. I am everything and its opposite. I am your sweetest dream and your worst nightmare. I am more than meets the eye. I will live and die and you will never know my complete story. Gazing from Hell or Heaven I shall forever scorn you all. I am to rebel; for I am a phoenix you have not seen the last of me yet; and you never shall. I never regret my points of weakness or my tumbling moments. I take pride in them for they always push me forward. I move on, out of spite and self improvement; to prove to all those who thought they could shut me up in a box, wrong. I shall grow, read, cook, love, get hurt, burn recipes, cry, laugh and evolve. I will travel even if it's the last thing to do. I will publish my memoirs and you would be standing at the end of my book signing queue waiting for my pen to grace your copy of Me, and I would only give you a tiny smile and a little wave and turn my back.

I am not the bigger person. I am a woman who believes in revenge. I am successful to prove you wrong and I am a bitch in your eyes because you cannot and never will top me. I am Hla and this is just the beginning of my open ended story.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFatODUR1CE

Peace out! H!

Vulgarity and Streams of Unstable Consciousness!

To be honest, I thought I should start with some poetry lines, a personal anecdote, but I thought better of it. I will try to cut to the chase. Today, I did not feel like heading to work. I was too tired, too exhausted; mentally I could no longer go on without breaking the inner routine, and physically, my legs just refused to even move from under the sheets. I skipped work today, not a first, yet significant. 

After having more than my rightful hours of deep, beautiful, uninterrupted slumber, I decided that I should help my mother around the house. After breakfast, I have headed to the supermarket, did our shopping fought over offers, which she naturally has won them with her simple "no." Long story short, as we were in line at the cashier, this extremely rude man barges in line with a phone glued to his ear yapping about God knows what with whom, never glancing to see that it was our turn. I was furious! How dare he?! What surprised me was not his audacity, it was my stream of consciousness; suddenly I caught myself saying: "If dad was with us, he would not have dared to do such an action." I was quiet shocked that I was thinking this way, I have always claimed to be independent, yet I did nothing to prove that to the vulgar man. I just kept silently glaring at his back, as if he would suddenly turn around and apologize. I am naive, I know.

Why did I all of a sudden deem myself unfit, or weak to stand up for him alone. Who the hell was he to walk past us as if we were thin air? I should have told him off, I should have stood by my grounds and did not let such a thing slide down that easily. I was a passive viewer. 

As if my stream of consciousness was not done screwing with my mind, she suddenly decides to link this incident as a result of me being smitten over my Person, that I have for a very subconscious way have weakened myself for him and for the entire male species, by default. This should not have been the case, this thought did not have the right to trespass my mentality. My Person does not weaken me, he cares, and he is logical, so far when we discuss stuff together. He is funny and knows how and when to listen. My Person is an addition to my entity not a replacement. Yes, I started to change some concepts that I have firmly implanted before meeting him, not because he told me so, or because I am having second thoughts; no, it is because he has managed in his indirect way to change these misconceptions to the better. He is giving me perspective in a lot of things. The fact that I am justifying all this is not pleasing me. You see, prior Person, I would be something along these lines: "I did it because I can and I want to, not to please you and not to piss you off, I did it for me, I owe you nothing and if you demand an explanation you might as well be kissing my boots on your trip to Hell town for questioning me you son of a *****!" But that changed.

Well, now I have two ways to solve the nonexistent problem, I can either pretend that I was drunk on God knows what or I can just turn a blind eye and dive into working like a crazy workaholic and avoid it, him and everything else. Most probably I will go for number two since I have a lot on my plate right now regarding work. New tasks, responsibilities, teaching, studying, creating God knows what, and the good old panicking mode I will be in, the following couple of months. Gosh, I love being me so freaking much right now. Distraction should be taught in the psychoanalysis classes as one of the means of therapeutic solutions.

Anyway, enough madness for one day.

Peace out! H!

The Dr. Jekyll, Mrs. Hyde, and Lady H Mexican show!

Ever felt like a moving corpse on auto pilot with only one person capable of reviving you and making you ecstatic? Well it is not that good of a feeling, when you hang your livelihood on only one person, it's trusting but scary, especially for an over-thinker like myself. I mean in five minutes I am capable of coming up with at least one hundred of the worst case scenarios that I end up panicking and wanting to call everything off for fear that one day, I would be all alone and that I will never be able to be the independent person I claim to be. Pretty messed up, right? It does not make sense for me or any sane person to give himself misery for fear of being miserable thanks to another person. The end is still the same regardless of who does what to whom. Try explaining that to a stupid over-thinker at three in the morning. Good luck with that!

It's like by day I am a persona and by night I am another and when the Person is away, God be with all those who come across me. Boy, don't I have issues!

I am a stupid love-struck case of Dr. Jekyll, Mrs. Hyde and your beloved Lady H.

Dr. Jekyll by day is a lovely, fun persona, so loving, hopeful and dreamy. Someone who wakes up counting down the hours till she meets Person. Yet, when she meets Person, she just says: "Hello, good morning" and vanishes. End scene. To you, this is stupid; to me, perfect sense, I am, in a way, protecting my personal life. I hate how people love to interfere in what's not theirs in the first place; I mean seriously, mind your own bloody business. Moving on, the couple of hours of each day that they spend together, make the day bearable. When you bump into each other out of pure coincidence and do your best to pretend you have never seen him before now, is quiet amazing and funny, at least for me. Dr. Jekyll believes the great finale, where she and Person are united for eternity, loving and killing each other simultaneously. Dr. Jekyll is such a girly girl. Meh! She loves her Person, but she does not forget her friends, she tries to balance between her career, Person, family and them. She even tries to go out at least once a week to meet them.

Mrs. Hyde is one crazy mid-forty lady who just adores panicking and driving Person to the hills thanks to it. That woman has a strange ability to panic over things that are still going to happen in two-three months in advance. She is a whole new level of crazy. She is very meticulous and organized in her panicking. She panics in a systematic way. Let's tackle her M.A plan, shall we? "I hope I have all my papers with me. I need to get pictures for those papers. What if I fail in the admission exam? What if I pass it and fail the interview, this means, I would have lost a whole year of my life; I am such a failure! What if I get in and I fail in finding the balance between work, assignments and exams? O.M.G What if something happens and I cannot reach my lecture on time? Would I be deprived? What would I wear? I need to buy new sneakers and a nice durable backpack. I need new stationary and a new desk." That woman is really ballistic, trust me. I live with her everyday and when she decides to show up, she does at two in the morning, so I can kiss sweet sleeping goodbye. Evil, pure diabolical.

Last, but never the least is Lady H, the moping girl when Person is not around. She claims to be okay, but she is not. She is not depressed, when he is away, she just hates everything and would love to spend her days sleeping till he comes back so Dr. Jekyll would drive him crazy for her. She deals with this moping by eating like there is no tomorrow and leaves the weight issues to the doctor. H is very stupid to be doing such moping around. She keeps reminding herself that she is someone important with many accomplishments and that Person is an addition to her life not, essential. He is not the air for crying out loud! After some pep talk she goes around searching for stuff to do to distract herself. She reads, cleans, eats, listens to music, and writes. See she does have a life after all, but at this stage, she prefers to be a selfish cry baby. What I love about Lady H, is that no matter how much she yearns to talk to her Person, she would never be all lovey-dovey and call him and tell him how much she misses her honey-boo. Bleh! Lady H has pride to forbid her from such a thing, and I respect her for that.

I am messed up. Good luck Person, you will desperately need it, if you are planning on continuing this miserable journey with me, I mean us.

Peace out! H!

Rain and Rainbows

This time I know exactly where to start; 24 hours ago I agreed with a friend to deliver her some papers that were in desperate need of correction, ASAP. The next morning, I wake up happy and dancing all around the apartment. I was blasting music so loud, I was sure the neighbors woke up cursing the lunatic next door playing Urban music at five in the morning. I could not care less. I was happy! I showered, had breakfast, danced, while getting dressed. I decided today was a perfect day to wear make up and contacts, and headed down to street to wait for my bus that would take me to work. I was not grumpy, I looked and felt beautiful, radiant, and most of all I was happy!

I reach work, sit at my station doing random stuff till it's around eight then I walk around and chat with my colleagues then go and meet Person. For some reason, I felt he was surprised to see me all giddy, but he would not give in and tell me, so I decided not to pressure him and let him be. Anyways, after we all head to our respective working areas, during the break I decide to head down to the cafeteria and hang around with some students and colleagues which apparently sets Person off. So, what does he do? He stamps his foot like a five year old, makes a face and disappears till the day ends. I am quiet sure he is avoiding me, and I believe he is being extremely childish over a normal, if not repetitive situation. I mean, I am a teacher, I am bound to have professional interactions with my students. Sometimes the boundaries are blurred into friendship when they confide in you something that bothers them or when you take special attention to a certain case, but that's not the norm.

The day ends; I go to my bus and I decide to ignore Person till he realizes that this is not kindergarten any more, which in return makes him even more stubborn and starts pretending that I do not exist in his life. Fine! I go and meet my friend, we sit in Starbucks for some much needed cold beverages on such a steamy hot day while listening to some desperately trying to gain attention wanna be hipsters, as if the world is not full of enough misery, yet. We have fun, get our work done and then go for fries and burgers at Macdonald's around the corner.

In general, the day was good, I met a friend, had a good time and got my work done. A perfect day. Person seems to be enjoying this, so let him have his own twisted version of fun and I will continue with my life as if nothing has ever happened.

I know I have never talked or even mentioned Person before to you, and I would hate that the first thing you ever read about him is the Rain, so here is the Rainbow:

Person is well, a person. He is very calm, charming and has his own kind of handsome. He has a twinkle in his eyes and looks like a foreign Keanu Reeves. If you have ever watched the last scene in Sweet November, you will get what I mean. Person is patient, and understanding and has unique random doses of madness that suddenly pop out of nowhere. These wild episodes are enough to make you smile, when you do not want to. He is contagious when it comes to feelings, he knows how to project them out. The most important thing about Person is the connection. He just "knows" what to say, well most of the time, to give my pretentious "misfortunes" new perspective. He is a child, a man, a brother. He is everything and anything I need. He is perfect, but childish.

That's enough for all of you now!
Peace out! H!

Episode 1: Back to the basics.

I remember when I was a little girl and I would have a huge fight with my brothers; and although I was the one who was wronged, I always turned out to be the guilty one which would only increase my agitation further. As I grew up, I still lost my rightful place till one day my father told me: "You have a problem because you cannot negotiate your way through. You are always blinded with rage, there is no room for logic. You will never get what's yours this way." I admit I was too stubborn and too stupid to fully understand what he said to me back then, but now, he is correct. I am stupid and stubborn, as well as, I lack basic communication skills that allows others to understand me.

I know I cannot get people to understand what I am saying half of the time, and it reaches to frustration so I either mumble or talk aimlessly hoping that they would catch the drift amidst the madness, hopefully.

Sometimes I really hate my job, I like to think of myself as the strictest, most professional person on planet Earth. It helps to know that I have an unchangeable fact in my life. You know, since life ends, friends come and go, love does not last forever, people die, etc. The other day, a student places a flirtatious poem in my purse while I was outside class. When I discovered the wretched piece of paper, I was disgusted from myself. I kept thinking and going back to what did I do to give him a glimpse of hope that I might be interested in him. I always make sure that their is a 50 meter high wall between myself and my students, specially the boys. I make sure that I am not in anyway appealing to them, I don't ask them how was their weekend, or how did they do on an important test. I try to show that I could not care less about their lives outside my class. Yet, I got the wretched poem. I felt my skin crawl. It was terrible. The comments I got weren't that helpful either, it was a joke for my colleagues, something, I did not appreciate at all. In fact, I despised it more than the wretched poem. So what did I do? Well, I told him off, I told him I was his teacher and he was my student regardless the fact that the age difference is not that huge. That did not matter to me, so it should not matter to him. I threw the poem away and writing about it is the last stage for me to get it out of my system.

However, the Universe refused to let a silly poem ruin my day, so she got another student of mine to write me the most adorable letter I have ever read. To be honest, that was my first letter ever. I have never received a letter before, and it sent me to the moon! It was so sweet, caring and respectful. It was a thank you letter from the quietest student in my class! In it, he thanked me for being his teacher and how I have influenced him. I almost cried, the good crying, not the sad one!

And yet, when you go and tell a special someone about it, never a good idea. Lesson learned: Perfect the poker face.

I don't know how to communicate, but I have expectations. Spending time with me without running away, gives me faith and hope that I might be somehow predictable and that you can read what is not said. I wanted support and that it was okay, that I got, which was fine. However, next day's attitude was strange. I am a social retard but I feel stuff. I felt I was something to be avoided so as not to cause trouble and I was right. Maybe the best reaction for now is to not react. It is pointless, and I am disappointed.

Peace out! H!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lTPsuyXXgbo

Random Episode: 201

Possible scenarios are the worst scenarios ever, they get you to have fucked up twisted expectations. In the end, if you get a lollipop, you are darn lucky. I hate surprises, but I secretly love them; although I really don't know how to make them, well at least to certain types of people.

If she was sane enough, she would not be writing each and every single thought. She would be out there living the moment and having her time of her life. A student just flirted with her, she did not stop him, she actually felt it was flattering. The poor kid was astonished when he found out how old she really was. Is this wrong? Yes. Does she care? No. Why? because every now and then a girl likes to feel wanted, and desired. These little flirtations they just come at the right time. The Universe senses one's troubles and sadness, even when they themselves are not aware of it, yet. When the  rethinking and the over thinking creeps in and reconsideration makes you deconstruct each and every single thing you believe in, in hopes it would all once again make sense.

The little flirting is not permanent, she knows, he is saying that out of politeness; and he knows she will never give him her time of a day, but she mentions him here, in her most sacred documentation, letting the whole world know that she acknowledges, if not welcomes it.

She wishes to go to the Opera, to wear a gown and enjoy the music. She wishes for flowers, some tulips or daisies, maybe they would have a touch of lavender in them. She wishes she could go to a ball and dance the night away. She is a girl, a lady, a woman. She is the embodiment of youth, even though if confronted, she would ridicule it and laugh it off. Deep down, she sometimes craves them.

Though now, her navy blue sweat pants and white top are her couture and her chocolate chip chocolate ice cream is her new BFF. She now listens to nothing, with her hair high in a messy bun. She is okay for now.

At some point in her life, she did her waiting for her prince, she had the fairytale dreamy expectations and she was disappointed and she did not mind, it was a phase, she told herself. She was always ahead of herself. Always eager to know, what is the next step. She is bored from all of this. She wishes she could desert people, humanity, social interactions and sit with her books in front of the beach under an umbrella and some ice cold lemonade. She would buy the beach to guarantee no one intrudes on her reading time.

Now, she writes and dreams, tomorrow, she gets them to come true. She will, because she can.

Peace out! H!

The 101, you thought it would be that easy, Manual.

Tomorrow, I head back to work. That was a statement. That was me stating the obvious. Again. This is not the case.

I am tackling today romance. I know I am not the flower and candy Valentine's Day typical girl, but I am one nonetheless. I kept thinking yesterday about the most ideal way of proposing to me, if I ever find that wretched soul! I found that the bending down on one knee, is not the scenario for me, nor is the romantic dining in a restaurant. It is something wild and over the top, something fun and exciting. Something that would have my name wrapped up around. A proposal based on my character and mine alone. A proposal that would be impossible to recreate for any other girl, not because it is too expensive or exaggerated, but because it simply cannot and will not suit anyone but me. So, ladies and gentlemen, without any further due, allow me to represent the 101 manual to: How to propose to Halo?:

First step is, well, you really thought it was that easy, to copy my master plan, to make my expectations come true by reading a blog? Are you dumb or something? There is no manual to how to propose, nor how to pick the perfect moment to do the deed. You just have to think on your own. Usually, I would spell everything out to get what I want, but I want to give myself that girly feeling, that whoever knows me has enough sense to figure out what I want and need.

However, I don't believe there would be a proposal, and if there is one, it would go something like this:

Strange Dude (later on to be referred to as: SD) and Halo (H):

SD: Say, you know that I like you and you get me and all that crap and I kinda have the feeling that you like me too, so let's get engaged on (Insert a random date), okay?

H: Yeah sure, what the hell.

*Insert a bunch of people who act all happy and God knows what*

Random people: Oh how did he propose?

H: What proposal? It was a deal. End of story.

Random people: Oh, how um interesting. *Can you believe them?*

*Insert nosy girl looking for pieces of gossip*

Nosy girl: So where would be the reception?

H: Don't know yet.

NG: What colour is the dress?

H: No idea.

NG: Did you book the food caterers and decide who would be your bridesmaids and maid of honor?

H: The who and the whats?

NG: How does he look like?

H: Who is "he"?

NG: The groom, silly!

H: Oh, yes, he is, well, a dude with black hair.

NG: and...

H: He has two feet and two arms?

*NG finally realizes that it is really pointless to try and pry away information that I am not willingly ready to give so she walks away muttering "bitch" under her breath as I laugh out loud*

Then when everything is about to get real and finalized, I would call the whole thing off. You know, because of my fear of commitment and stuff.

Peace out! H!

Random Episode 111

Why cannot you wake up before sunrise and meditate?

Paint your toe nails a deep shade of red then wear socks, make it your own little secret. Just for you?

Have toast and butter with a cup of coffee?

Go to the movies alone, incognito. Book two tickets, one for you and one for your purse?

Dance like no one is watching, no need to follow the beat, just dance and let it all go?

Paint a bedroom wall?

Join a ballroom dancing class?

Take out all your photos and make fun of them with your best friend?

Call a person you dearly miss?

Write letters on pink paper instead of white?

Go outside without brushing your hair?

Have a signature lipstick for a month. Pink bubble gum? Cranberry red?

Treat yourself to a home spa?

Go out on a date, with yourself?

Wear your favorite heels while you grocery shop?

Enjoy life?

Have a cheesecake for breakfast with black coffee?

Peace out! H!

Random Episode 21

I love my OCD, I love how I get to arrange each and everything I own, down to my feelings. Order is beautiful. You get everything you want to accomplish, well accomplished! You save time and effort. However, someone commented saying: "You are too practical, you are not living." I didn't respond. I just smiled. You know why? A year ago, before I started working, I lived. I lived everyday as it was meant to be. I never cared or gave a damn about tomorrow or whatever that has happened the day before. I was fun, pleasing and people loved going out with me. I would crack them up. Where we would be spending time was never a problem for me. I didn't care as long as I was having fun, which was a real plus for my friends. You see some of the people we went out with had, well, they had reservations regarding certain places, where we would generally hang out. I just didn't care. I didn't care how would I go back home or when. Of course, my father would flip. But, that's his job, he has to let the neighbors know that he is doing his parental tasks. He screams in my face and promises me that's the last time I would be seeing the streets; and that the only way I am going out would be to attend my classes, which for some "superstitious" reason always ended at 9:00 pm. Oh my! Well call it whatever you please, rebellion, cheeky, I don't care. It was all fun and games. This doesn't mean that I became a boring person after I started working. On the contrary, I believe I am still the way I am, but with priorities.

Nowadays, I need to prepare for the lessons, predict what sort of questions my sneaky little students would ask me in order to see me stutter and trying to find a quick way to answer them or at least divert them from it till I find a good comeback, just to see their disappointment in failing once again to defeat me. It's like an undeclared subtle war. They see me young and inexperienced, I see them as cocky and arrogant, full of nothing but hot air. When in fact, just two semesters back, I was in their places, I used to argue and counter-argue with my professors. It still beats me how on earth did they restrain themselves from throwing a chair to my head, but they did it. Thanks to their restraint, I am still alive, I am successful and I am on my way to establishing a prestigious name for myself.

But that's not my topic, that's my goal, mind you, not a dream. After I started working, I am, well, more logical, I like to believe, I still have my days when I am a complete moron, goofing around and laughing in the office, but so what? I do not need to justify this "switch" to anyone. It just happened. If I have exclusive tickets to an Evanescence concert and papers that are due tomorrow, I would sadly let go of the tickets. I would convince myself that around the corner, I would be rewarded by something else for choosing work over fun. I mean, I can always Youtube them and have the best karaoke sing-a longs to it.

I used to be 21 in every possible way, yet now I feel like an old soul, it is a nice feeling. Like an out of body experience, I get to watch how am I behaving, acting and thinking in a third person kind of way. I beam with pride when I am praised for my intellectual skills, for my logical if not extremely practical way of thinking, for my listening, patiently, for being objective. Now, I find myself enjoying my two favorite pastimes: reading and writing. I am reading more than before and writing as well. I get to sit with myself more and frankly speaking I am enjoying the shattered self image of myself.

She is a very intriguing person to talk to. She contemplates. Her "what ifs" are mind blowing, and her honesty is brutal. I admire her for being brutal to herself. She knows her points of weaknesses and strengths. She is a vision; a shattered vision, but a vision nonetheless. She would do Dali proud. For her, fun is reading, writing and thinking. She adores the seclusion. Loudness is an exterior she uses to keep away the nosy wanderers off. For she likes to give the impression that she is just another girl, fresh out of the oven, still oblivious to the real world and its dark side. Halo is more than just meets the eyes. She is my Inferno and my Paradiso.

I wish I could find a garden with a rocking chair, a cup of hot green tea with a lemon zest and a piano playing in the background, and me thinking and recalling the days when I used to teach with a smile. I would always wonder how was I seen? What type of teacher was I? Was I good, bad, or kind? Was I inspiring to anyone, or just another traditional teacher in jeans? I'd never know.

My vision is of me at the age 65 walking on a sandy beach at sunrise with a shawl, a summer dress and a dog running near by. I would have a smile and a reminiscing glance tilted to the great past and the nice warm future I get to spend in Australia. That is my dream. Australia, its Opera, my novels, writings, poems, and my green tea.

Earlier, I have claimed that I can control my emotions, I OCD-them, well that is true. I believe that feelings should come according to a time-line. When we are young, feelings of hope and happiness, as we grow and enter teenager hood, we have feelings of pretentious hate towards our parents and wild accusations of how they are to never understand what we are going through. How they cannot seem to realize that having a crush on the most handsome guy in school with ginormous thighs can do a number on one's already shattered self confidence. But, thankfully, we out-grow it with a bit of a heartache and acne that is way too stubborn and attached to let us enter college in peace. Then the struggle between junk food and the perfect waist line, the perfect hour-glass figure. Now, it is time for feelings of confusion as we approach senior year. The "what's the next step?" question that pops in. The doubt, did I enter the wrong school just to be with my friends? Oh wait, you never had any, you went there to follow your passion. But, does following one's passion equals having a career that is capable of supporting you? Will it be something that could help you climb the pretentious social ladder? We graduate with good grades and confusion takes over. Now what? Do we continue studying till we hang the PhD certificate on the bedroom's wall or do we work? And if we do work, what would we be? That's when optimism shines in, finally, saying: "Oh, you could be whatever you want, just be patient and take my hand!" and you do! You follow optimism. The optimism of a freshly graduated person, you apply for jobs you never thought you would apply for, with optimism encouraging you whispering, that it's alright, that you need to start somewhere to pursue your bigger unknown dreams and you believe and oblige it. But it takes too long, and doubt creeps in saying: "I told you so." You sit back watching hope and doubt fighting with each other, to try and get you to join either side and you cannot find it in you to care, that is until your savior shows up; it is the phone ringing saying: "Congratulations! You are accepted! Be at work Sunday morning." Sunday morning comes in real quick, you think you are unprepared, but deep down you know you will ace it. From this moment, you are way too overwhelmed to notice anything else around you. You start loosing count of all those friends who just leave because you no longer have time for them. And as if this is not enough, you enter an existential crisis with yourself when you finally realize that all your believes are being tested over and over. Each time harder than the other. But, this also ends, it ends with peace and tranquility, you just shake it out and continue as if nothing happened.

This is simply, life. You jump on board whether you like it or not, but you get to decide if it's worth the fighting for or not.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePLKJSfjb8M&list=RD02FIy14j3VnL0

Peace out! H!

What not...

This letter is for the person who is to join me on whatever journey that is to come:

Dear, you asked me yesterday who am I and frankly speaking, I really have no idea. I admit that I did answer a very silly answer. But if you have been reading, you would have known that I have no clue to who am I. I know I am H, 21 years old, trying to figure things out on her own. I know that for the past two weeks, I have drifted apart. I know that I no longer enjoy people's company and I would love to be alone. I know that I am not depressed, but that I am confused.

Dear, I sometimes wonder, is it really important to have a modal answer to: Who am I? Cannot we just discover it along the way? Why box me in? I used to be angry that I didn't know me. Hell, I started this blog in order to help me with my findings. Yet, I have came at peace with me not knowing. I am the most curious person on planet Earth. I admit that. I also admit how much I abhor surprises, except for not knowing what will happen tomorrow. That type of surprises does not really pisses me off. You want to know why? Because I know that no matter what, I will wake up to a text from you saying: “Good morning” and it would make me smile. I know that when I see you, I feel calm no matter how agitated I am. I also know that I am very stupid when it comes to me showing or expressing emotions; that I go through hell to say what I want to say out loud; because I am not used to it. But you know what? It is worth it. That smile on your face makes my struggle worth it. But just so we are clear, please do not think of this as a habit or a ritual. I would go eat fish than to do that again.

At times, I am scared of the future. I am used to making long term plans, regardless the fact that they work or not. But I do them. They make me feel more organized and they are pretty to look at. I cannot plan things with you, yet. I am still waiting till I can. You have no idea how many blue prints I have on my mind now. The amounts of endless ideas fighting for survival inside my head are to the roof. They sometimes scare me at night. I have insecurities I cannot share with you for fear you might run away when you hear them, and you know what is even worse, than you hearing them? That when you do, you would not understand me.

I love my keyboard because he understands what I want to say exactly. I have always joked around saying that I speak with my fingers better than my tongue. When I use my fingers, words flow, my logic is clear and you cannot find a flaw in it. When I speak – dear God help whoever is listening- I share too much information. Information I didn't want that person to know. The look I get is even worse, if I talk about my life with my family and that wretched look of pity and sorrow that comes up when I talk about my brother, I feel like wanting to scratch the looker's eyes out. I have come to terms with the fact that not everybody wants me or loves me. Your sympathy is pointless. I am okay. I cried back then, but I am okay now. I like to consider living with him, a real piece of work; like a roommate who is there because he can afford the rent.

The keyboard is not beautiful because he has what we all wish for: A backspace and a delete button. No he is beautiful because of his music. I love how the keys sound under the tips of my fingers. Each letter has its own note. They can be sometimes up beat and fun and other times melancholy and lonely. They understand and reflect my mood. They appreciate me more than everything.

A very uncharacteristic poem written by yours truly: 

Chocolates and keyboards and good books too,

My final Utopia has finally come true.

With Waltz and tulips and sunshine hues,

They twirl around and chase away the blues.

A good looking prince,

Who makes them wince,

Chases away demons, goblins and even fish fins,

Who comes and bows with a shy glance,

Stretching an arm and praying for a dance.

My beautiful prince, calm and steady,

Surprises me with a teddy.

A fun silly poem to be written,

For a dear darling who's made me so smitten.

Pink cotton candy and white marshmallows,

With caramel ice-cream to tie the knot.

To live for a while in contentment and joy,

To chase away sorrow and smile, oh so coy.

Rhymes are fun,

But to end such one, clouds have to be gone!

Peace out! H!

?

Ever woke up feeling shallow and naive? Ever felt that no matter how many years you spend observing, contemplating, writing, and creating are never enough? I am not talking about knowledge. I am talking about that vast emptiness that seems to expand the closer you get. You know that kind of black hole. It does not suck the life at of you; it does not make you greedy. It makes knowledge empty.

Imagine this, you are in the greatest library ever; with the world's lost treasures, whatever subject you want you have it presented to you with a blink of an eye. You read, you go deep, you do your best to sink, yet you remain floating. You want to be fully immersed in the book, but not a chance. You keep reading waiting for the moment to finally come when you are unified with the book. You wait, you wait. Connection lost. You daydream. You are reading about Feminism and you are thinking of Sesame's Street and Kermit the Frog. You read literature, you try to enjoy it, to feel indulged, yet pages fly past your eyes and all you could think of is when will it end, when will I reach the climax? Depressing, sad, and downright unjust. You feel robbed of the one thing you have treasured the most. The gift of reading, of travelling everywhere any time. Trashy novels excite you more than deep well written literature. You lack suspense and patience. You lack imagination. You cannot visualize the protagonist; you cannot fantasize about him; you cannot speak to him. He refuses to come to life, to talk to you through the pages. He refuses to tell you his secrets. He is there, but invisible. He is the ultimate passive oxymoron. He is not taunting, nor is he ignoring. He just stares at you; page after page. You hear appraisal from him and his marvellous psyche and you are envious. Why cannot I participate? Why cannot I lift the dead? Frustration. You are dying to end the wretched novel.

It’s done, no more Jean, no more perfumes, no more scents lurking. He is dead, you are neutral. You cannot find it in you to be happy, vengeful, sad, or mournful. Nothing. You simply close the novel, and that is it.

You create excuses saying, you were not in the mood, but you know better. It was nothing; you felt nothing you wanted nothing. You could not even pretend to be revolted by his deeds; no you simply closed the novel. You did not give it a side glance. It did not exist. It never happened. Two weeks of reading and nothing. You doubt yourself and your ability to enjoy your one true love. Is life sucking it out of you? Has it been that long since you last read something that you forgot the sensation? Answerless questions and you remain void of anything. As emptiness wraps you in her cloak, you bow down and the scene ends.

Afternoon Thoughts

I wish I could wear a knee length skirt, preferably a polka dotted one, with a white lace covered blouse and a pearl necklace down the streets, eating ice cream and just seeing the beauty in everything. Watching as gentlemen pass by tipping their hats off to me; and seeing the ladies in their morning dresses heading to work, adding the finishing touches to their make up in their cars.

I wish I was a bit slimmer, a bit taller. I wish I was at peace with how I look and how I behave. I wish I was a delicate 1940s, 22-year old lady licking her ice cream peacefully, while humming a radio tune that just won't come out. I wish my days would be reading endlessly about everything and anything with Chopin in the background or Mathew Fisher. I would read about Sufism, Scientology, contemporary poetry and literature by day and go to the museums in the afternoon and end my day by getting ready to go to the Opera wearing a little black dress, white pearls and ruby lipstick and nail polish. Maybe add to the ensemble a pretty fur coat to add an air of mystery and luxury.

I wish I had my own room painted in green with a huge mahogany library that contains treasures from all over the world. I wish that room had fresh white tulips on a daily basis with sunlight coming through my large balcony; the one where I would be sipping green tea in, while listening to Um Kalthoum.

I wish my hair was thicker and richer in colour and I wish my fridge would never run out of dark, bitter chocolate that either adds to the irony called life or soothes your feelings after a really rough day.
I wish for what cannot be changed. This is my parallel universe where every Saturday I meet with poets and authors long gone, forgotten and dead and talk to them, discuss with them, figure out what they had in mind while writing this or that line, trying to unfold the traumas they went to get to grasp their genius better.
I wish I met Freud, sat on a leather arm chair drinking freshly squeezed lemonade while telling him all my little dark secrets, allowing myself to get a proper psychoanalysis once and for all.

I wish I could meet Van Gogh and ask him, was your lover worth the pain you went through cutting your ear for her? Don't you regret it? I wish I could meet Dali, and get to be part of his mad world, maybe manage to inspire a painting or two, to be immortalized till Doom's day.

My wishes are surreal. They are to be enjoyed from afar. My La-la land includes me running towards the Heights and giving Catherine Earnshaw a good piece of my mind, acting as a gypsy, a fortune-teller letting her know that her wicked ways will result in nothing but sadness to all whom you claim you love, that Heathcliff has vowed vengeance on you and your husband. That being a brat will hurt you more than anyone else. If she doesn't listen to me, or worse if she ridicules me then a good old slap on the face does has never hurt anyone before, but can easily help people to snap put of their cockiness. If that doesn't work, well murder would then sound as a great solution and she would be the one to blame.

I would go to Mr. Darcy, knock on his door, ask for an interview with him and as we fall into awkward silence, for he is to me a man with great communication issues, I would simply inform him that I of all women and little girls have never, not even once fell for your wicked charms, that you are not all that. You are cold and insensitive and you know how to make a girl wish she has never set eye on you.

In my 1940s era, I have been contemplating whether or not am I to take the invention of the internet with me, I have decided against it. Part of the magic was the wait, it adds to the overall sweetness of the thing. It would also be of great aid for me, for patience is a virtue I sadly don't possess.

In my era, I have decided that I will not follow Simone De Beauvoir’s footsteps, nor the traditional footsteps. In my era, I am to explore all the above. Finding a spouse or love is not among it. I don't know whether or not am I to have children there not because the hygienic world was far less modern than today's but because it would hinder me. How would I look if I am with Freud breastfeeding or burping my child? Or worse, how would Van Gough listen to me talk over the cries of the baby, would he be agitated, would he throw me out? How would I be Dali's source of inspiration? His muse? When I would be changing diapers and doing God knows what to whom?
How would I travel to Vienna, the Vatican City, Australia, London, Paris, and Sweden? I can pack for one person only, I could go for days without proper food, but a child, no way on earth would he/she settle for such a thing.
It sounds like an awfully abrupt ending but this is how thoughts work, they come and go all of a sudden. One either is lucky enough to catch the beginning of the thread, or keep on daydreaming, waving to it goodbye.

Okay now, I am done.

A Strange Peanut

I just hoped that it would be different, different from my fairy tales. I changed. I became vulnerable, I am scared. For someone who preaches independence, having someone else other than themselves to make them happy and smile is dangerous. I see it as letting go of my independence, willingly. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like feeling at peace with yourself; happy that you get the prospect of "sharing." Smiling while envisioning all the possible scenarios that might face "us". "Us"' is an interesting word. I never noticed it could be fuzzy and warmish, it feels right, no, perfect.

Usually when things are too good to be true, I tend to gradually isolate myself from them so as not to feel abandoned when it is suddenly snatched from my hands, when the Universe suddenly deems that I have maxed out my happiness account. This time I cannot, no, I don't want to isolate myself. I don't want to distance myself from what may or may not cause me misery as time passes by. I am enjoying it for the time being, in my own absurd way. I get to view things, the way I usually do. Not through the traditional contemplation logical way, just normal, I think.

A simple mathematical problem: 1+1=2. In an alternative universe, it would be a zero or even a three, but I am in this Universe and it fits, it says two. For once, I am not upset that the Universe has set the unspoken, two, an even number that could be easily divided into two equal entities where the two parts have the same luxuries and responsibilities. Even numbers are beautiful they show how things should be done between pairs. No one gets to carry a share larger or smaller than his potential, there is collaboration. Because at the end of the path, they reunite into a One, way more powerful and beautiful than the two separated.

I am not sure whether am I to feel exuberant and radiant, or skeptical and cautious. They say: "Better be safe, than sorry" but they also say that taking risks is good, that leaps of blind faith can turn to a good thing. You never really know, you just follow logic. I listen to my mind, who at the moment is void of any sense. Something really ridiculous, for a multi-tasking brain that corrects papers, listens to music, and chats on the phone at the same time. How could you back off and disappear at my time of need? I rely on you because for the last couple of years you have managed to shield and protect me from disappointments. You've taught me that people are never what they claim. That pink promises are nothing but placebos. That the so called heart, is nothing but a stupid pumping machine that assumes it knows everything when it comes to human nature; and later on rushes to the mind for protection.

Pointless. Disappointing. Stupid. Ridiculous.

The Lack

Fighting through an author's block is never a good battle, one has to usually squeeze the juices to come out, rather than it just flowing. To push what refuses to come on its own, can lead to disastrous outcomes. However, I am going to try my luck, and push to the extremes. If I get to write past this paragraph, it was meant to be, if not, then a draft.

Although a lot has been going on lately, yet I have never felt the urge to not to write about anything that much as nowadays. Days just come and go, the only thing that reminds me of their passing by is my alarm clock. I do not smile that much, and I don't contemplate either. I am just living day by day, waiting for something to catch me off guard. For two weeks or so, nothing had happened, but today. Today was really nice, today was special. When you make a wish, and the Universe suddenly smiles down at you, rewarding you for your patience, for your sadness, and for baring it all silently. The Universe is really beautiful when she decides to be so. You get good news that console your bad ones, and bad ones to remind you to always stick to your roots and never part with them. For, in the end, that's your place, where you truly belong, the comfort zone.

Regardless, me and my Universe are trying to find closure, a treaty, where both can co-exist without hurting one another. I get to try to observe and take in my surroundings more, contemplate about myself and my future. I get another chance to reconsider my writings as a daily ritual that is to be never ignored again by myself. In return, the Universe is ought to be generous enough and to simply let me be till I screw up; at this point, she gets to go all Karma on me.

I usually start these contemplations about myself and my growth rate. I calculate how my mind works, try to chase the stream of consciousness till its very end and analyze it. The result is most likely a puzzle with a constant missing piece. Yet, the irony of that missing piece is that I know exactly where to find it, and how. I just do not want to. There is this enormous grip that won't let go of me, I let it take over me, I don't fight, not even in my worst days and darkest nights, I just don't. There are no clashes between the black hole and myself. It is the monster in my closet, as long as I am keeping my distance, it is not coming after me.

My Monster is one I have been nourishing ever since I was 10 years old, and wow today has been 11 years, such a beauty she is, such power and such a pathetic little owner. Big talk, no action, I used to be the voice of feminism, I used to counter-argue my opponents with logic and sarcasm, now I have shrunk to nothing, a mere teacher talking on and on about something she knows is not of that great benefit to her students. She knows she cannot inspire them. She knows she does not have what they need, but she is working, as if defying no one but her inner logic, that this is not her destiny, her job, her future. She keeps postponing the day of  her resignation, hoping that a miracle would come out of the blue to change her mind. Until then, she teaches in that really boring, old-fashioned way. The same way she has been taught throughout her years of studying. The same ways and the same techniques she detested so much, now she applies them. What a shame! Such a waste! Her alter-ego cannot even fight, she only pities her even more, adding salt to insult.

Her Monster is powerful, because she lets her be so. Her power is inspired by the woman's passion, grief, tranquility, happiness, and sorrow. She is her ID. She needs to be stopped, but "now" is never the right time. "Keep feeding yourself these lies, how you can demolish her in a matter of seconds!" "You lie, she is unstoppable, you know it as well as we all do! She is to be the reason for you misery, the reason for your hate. She is to destroy you. Soon!" The voices in her head battle, they keep getting louder and louder for her to listen to them, to any of them, yet she does not. She simply drowns herself in music, she stopped contemplating. "Rusty doors are not meant to be opened in broad daylight." She tells herself.

For now, she is documenting, she does not really understand what is going on. She has managed to isolate herself from herself, from the voices, she is to document and document alone.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASj81daun5Q
Lady H.

Detoxing: The final phase.

Detoxing is not going to work. To detox, you need to admit that you have a problem. You cannot deny it during daytime, and write about it in the evening. It does not work like that, this is insanity at its finest. I cannot detox what I am still exploring, I cannot detox something I haven't deemed as addictive for me, yet.

Yes, I love to have people around me regardless their gender, I love and appreciate a good argument, a fascinating discussion, I love chocolates and my favorite drink is hot chocolate, my favorite colour is green; it makes me happy, and I don't like flowers apart from one. I know I am a handful and that I can be a very sophistical and contemplating person. I know that every now and then I suffer from a minor identity crisis regarding who am I and what was I meant to do and offer to the universe? I also know how practical I can be, to the point where I believe that I can measure emotions and deem something as good or not by just doing simple mathematics. I know that things are to go along a certain track, a logical one and if they ever fall off it, it will never be good for anyone.

I also know that people like to believe in love, that somewhere out there, a miracle named love exists. People have been searching for it for quiet a while, hoping that it would be a movie-like scenario, love from first sight, or a Disney movie: where the prince goes through hell while his princess awaits in her castle for them to reunite after dreaming of him, or learning about his existence through a fortune teller, or God knows what. I am not evil enough to ridicule that thought and to look down upon it. But why is love connected to the heart? Why cannot a girl love through her mind? Why cannot she reserve her feelings and emotions and let her mind do the math regarding compatibility, intelligence, sense of humour, and other vital parts: like how serious is that person? What are his/her goals regarding the future? Is there some sort of plan or will it forever be a Shakespearean courtship where eyes meet, and the lips are sealed with smiles; promises written in the form of sonnets and vows to never love after their death? To some, that is true romance, but romance dies quiet soon,  if it is not built properly on hard, solid, concrete bases.

How can I love a person for loving my favorite song, or for sharing the same horoscope as mine, baring in mind that there are millions of other people who surprisingly share with us a lot of other stuff like water, air, and sunlight. Doesn't mean that they too are my soul mates, our true partners, the ones I would sacrifice everything for. What about ambition, ever thought of that? How realistic these ambitions are or how insistent that person is to make his dreams come true? How educated is he, could he argue with you on different matters? Could he read and truly appreciate good music and literature? Is that person capable of embracing new ideologies, experiences, and try out life's different tastes in almost everything? Does that person love and truly appreciate life or is he a typical routine loving man? Not that it is a bad thing, that's not the issue, the issue is greater than that: it is whether or not can I adapt to such thing.

In a relationship, there is usually a leader and a settler. Some are born to steer the relationship, while others make sure that it is always floating, and do their best to avoid conflicts that might lead to it sinking at the very end. However, this is not always the case, because there could be two settlers in a relationship and in that case, there is no one to lead which would lead to their starvation, or till someone decides to play a role that is bigger than his, that wasn't meant for him, or they drift apart searching for their leader. In all of these scenarios it does not really work. Yet, things are not better with having two leaders, fighting all the time to assert authority could lead to disasters and an endless competition of who is better than whom. Each will try to conquer the other, and naturally will end up in scars and drifting apart searching for their kind settlers who would gladly clean them up and restore their hope that life is not as bad as they have perceived it. But then, what if a leader loved or was attracted to a settler? How would he cope? Would he drastically change for him, hide his true personality, which by time would show? Would he hand him over the keys to this relationship, or would he drift away knowing that it was bound to fail? Could a leader swap places for a settler just to be with whom he loves, or would he choose to be a martyr and watch his settler find his own settler and become their leader? It never is easy, for that would not be life.

So am I over-thinking? Of course! Am I jumping into conclusions? Again, of course, otherwise that would not be me at all.

All my life, I have been fighting for independence which I haven't achieved a 100%, but whatever I have got, I have cherished. The idea of letting go, the idea of taking a leap of faith is scary to me. I fear of getting too dependent on someone that if they decide to leave, I will be in a shock that would take me time to overcome. I want to feel like a settler, for once, knowing that no matter what, my leader will always be there for me; catching me, supporting me, discovering the world with me, arguing and discussing things with me. I know I am selfish, but I deserve the whole package like any other, and if mine is a bit customized then so what? I can wait. Until then, I can write as long as I am inspired and have something to say. I can read. I can dream, contemplate, meditate and have a successful life and a blossoming career. I can be powerful. I will make his task even harder. He will have to follow me up the ladder into greatness, and to have something equally wonderful to give to the universe to deserve to be with me. I want to inspire him enough to try something he never thought of trying or to change something in him, to make him, for example, see the world in a new perspective.I want him, no I expect him, to change something as drastic in me as I did in him.

I am aware that I have leashed out a great amount of myself in this post, but trying to find myself demands me digging as deep as possible in my mini-universe in hopes that finding what I want will lead to what I was meant to be?

I am considering to change the tittle of the blog, not quiet sure what, yet. Thoughts?

Peace out! H!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bosouX_d8Y