Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Of Familiar and Familiarity

--Fouad's Drawing. The one he concluded his last lecture with.
I met Fouad.
I met Dr. B.
They turned out to be the same person.
If somebody had told me two years ago that one day I will be back in Lebanon, studying medicine and that I will be meeting Fouad and he will teach me a lesson. I would've brushed it off in disbelief. But life has its ways and the fortune teller would've been right on the spot: Fouad actually taught me a whole course about Reproductive Pathology. How one's existence can twist and turn and ridicule your plans and scenarios... I never saw myself as an AUB student, I never expected to come back to Lebanon for good. I think Fouad didn't either. But low and behold here I am today, ironically writing this post in the AUB computer lab, thinking to myself how did I get here? I made some friends along the way, I learned a thing or two, I said my goodbyes to a few people, some for good, I got my heart broken, and yes I broke a few. All in a year and a half. My whole life turned upside down. I was one of the first people in my entourage to leave this country and now I might be the last one to stay. If I can be grateful for one thing, it's the precious time I spend with my parents for I know in two-years time I will leave the house to no return. It is unfortunate that this time is not as well spent as I would like it to be. I blame the circumstances, the stress, the exams, the disconnect, the independence I developed living alone. But I ramble on.
So Fouad. For some reason, you feel you know the blogger, you've read his most penetrating thoughts on a subject or another and you feel entitled to call him an acquaintance or even a friend. You can't say the same about the teacher, although you're able to interact with the latter, you're able to confront him, to see his emotions and his expressions. But you never get to be as intimate. He's your teacher, he tells you about the size a lump in a woman's breast should be to qualify as suspicious or not, but he doesn't tell you about his heartbreak, or his dissent regarding the current socio-political situation in Lebanon, or even his opinion about that book he read a few days ago. He thinks. But he doesn't tell you. And you become part of the experiences he will relate to someone else, someone he can confide in, someone like his blog readers.
I'm glad I was able to couple the person to the blog, however, they're still separate entities in my head. I still read Fouad's posts from time to time although he has stopped writing. And I can still FEEL with the blogger, I can still laugh and cry with him. The person however, that body I met is a whole different story.