Run In A Perfect Circle.

Because the world is round
It turns me on.

Friends moving back, friends leaving for good yet again.
Friends breaking up, friends finally confessing true love to each other.
Friends getting into physical fights, friends getting in trouble over something said.
Friends found after five years, friends no longer as such.
I sit and watch. The silent observer takes it all in, sometimes approving, sometimes not, but mostly amazed at the way things can only go round and round. Especially in a country like Lebanon, some sort of bottomless recycle bin, where everybody comes back in your life in a way or another, but never the same.
Reminds me of an episode of Seinfeld "The Opposite" where Jerry discovers that everything seems to even out in his life. Where even George becoming Elaine and vice-versa fits perfectly in the grander scheme of things where Seinfeld himself always breaks even.

Elaine : What's all this?
Jerry : Played cards last night.
Elaine : Oh yeah? How'd you do?
Jerry : Broke even.
Elaine : You always break even.
Jerry : Yeah, I know; like yesterday I lost a job, and then I got another one, and then I missed a TV show, and later on they re-ran it. And then today I missed a train, went outside and caught a bus. It never fails! I always even out!

La Boheme.

Ah the simple pleasures in Life.
Here we were on a bright Tuesday morning, passing by AUB's main gate on our way to class, thinking to ourselves how we gave up life's diversions, gratification and indulgence by getting into Medical School, and how by now a good plan consists of having some time out while watching a DVD.
And there they were, those professional Tango dancers moving to upbeat and fiery Latin music blasting from two speakers set up right in front of College Hall. It was a scene right out of an indie movie. We sat on the stairs to take in some of this truly positive energy offered by this very unusual setting in the middle of AUB's campus.
And there among intense Latin passion, music, and moves, a feeling of elation flooded me, as if sitting on the Montmartre Stairs, in an artists gathering, living up to my Bohemian Fantasy, remembering Charles Aznavour. I was happy.

So maybe it's still possible to let go, forget class for a day, forget one's responsibilities and whatever is expected and taken for granted, just sit there, enjoy the display, and choose the background you want for your own life.
And maybe AUB should make it a habit to play some music between classes...

I was able to take some pictures with my camera phone, I edited them in ACDSee since photoshop is down. Yes, I have editing fever, even if it's unorthodox, I just love changing the color here and there and coming out with different versions.

As for the Tango Festival at AUB, you can still catch some of the activities where world-renowned musicians and performers of Argentinean Tango will perform shows and lead instructional workshops and master-classes for participants of all levels.

-- Tango In Beirut, April 2009.

Phone Uploads

Them' Cell Phone Pictures Of Mine.

--Bekaa Valley, Chateau Kefraya April 2009.

--Shadow Over Kefraya.

That last picture was taken at 7 am, on a regular Tuesday morning, a couple of weeks ago. I had arrived early at AUB. Nothing out of the ordinary. That day, however, I decided to pass on my regular hot water plus Nescafe and Coffeemate instamix, or what my beloved Kiosk Owner Fadi calls coffee.
Instead, I indulged in an overpriced Krispy Kreme American Coffee, Black No Sugar, the way God intended it. I took my car down to Corniche, and got out to look at the serene view, to spot those early morning joggers and to try to grasp some of that morning breeze that was to calm me and guide me through another hectic day.
I loved every second of it. I enjoyed it even more because I was alone, I was free to contemplate, to look into the horizon and envision how to go about the stressors in my life. Those stressors are being dealt with at the moment, and I can say that things seem under control.


I'm glad, however, that even in the midst of it all, I was able to escape and find refuge in the middle of Beirut. Who would've thought that the comfort and inspiration I was looking for were to be found only a few minutes away, in a place obscured by cars honking, fish smelling and oglers scouting? Forget Everything Around You. Give In. Seize The Day.

Listening to Susan Boyle, Dare I Say "Vintage"?

Songs 11.07 pm

-- Keane, Somewhere Only We Know.

Did you know that imeem doesn't have Mind Games by John Lennon? This was the song originally in my head.
Actually scratch that they have the video:


John Lennon - Mind Games

Mom, What's an Ecosystem?

I'm Lebanese, we don't interact with squirrels. We only read about them in books, just like this mystery sentence I kept coming across over and over again while growing up, never to understand its exact meaning:
"ALWAYS look left and right before crossing, even at a red light".
-What's that device that is the so called red light???.
Oh, but Lebanon is getting modernized as we speak! And you thought we're still a third world country? (The shock and horror on my face!) We HAVE red lights! HA! Oh, cars have to stop when said lights turn red? Why fret over such insignificant formalities? We'll work something out eventually!
And so, to get back to the essence of today's rant, it is only natural that my first encounter with an animal of the sort, a squirrel, leaves that special something something in my memory files.
He was a New Yorker, in Central Park. I was 11 years old, I caught him looking at me. I was intrigued and flattered, and just as curious as he was if not more! My books were coming to life. I was Alice in Wonderland!
That is when I snatched the camera from my mother's lap and started running after him with all the power my tiny 11 years old legs could provide me. To no avail. The cheeky little beast had mastered the skills of hide and seek.

S. and The City

Andy Warhol.

Today, Andy Warhol on display at the Geant Supermarket.

--This IS Campbell's Soup.

That Monday Breakfast.

What more can a girl ask for?

--Of Chocolate and Cognac.

Forbidden

You're my fries and ketchup.

Hairdrescuous

My disturbed little mind dreamt of me cheating on my hairdresser and getting caught in the act.
I've had about 12 hairstylists, not counting the one night stands. Just last week I had a close encounter with three of them on separate occasions. Having a hairdresser is just like being in a relationship: you have to keep looking for the perfect one,(and I'm still in my everlasting quest). They all start off great, trying to show off their skills, something worthy of a mating dance to say the least and then the magic is gone. They start slacking off, you want to voice your concern but you're too scared to hurt their feelings, there are things that you would like to improve, but you can't sound too picky or demanding.
And so, one of these days, you go astray, you start looking elsewhere to relive that satisfaction, and out of nowhere, usually for convenience purposes, you go into that parlor next to your workplace (because your original hairdresser is closer to home), and Yes! you like the final result. You dump the first one or try to juggle both, depending on your location and/or sought after style of the week.
Then that new relationship cools off too, sometimes too quickly. And you become increasingly frustrated. And as you keep looking, you slowly reminisce about how perfect your hairstyle was when you first started courting that stylist next to your house. But how will you ever be able to go back? He will notice the haircut and he will demand an explanation as to where you have been for the past couple of months. And even if you brave the obstacles and you do decide to go back, there is a reason why you left in the first place. Have you forgotten all the carelessness and neglect?! How can you get him to be as attentionate and committed as when you first started off?
And so I am still looking. I've had hairdressers in Hamra, Mansourieh, Hazmieh, Dekwaneh and Jal El Dib, some might say I'm hairdresser promiscuous and that I can't commit. However, in my defense, I'd like to believe that I'm still looking for THE ONE. He's out there, maybe even playing with somebody else's hair at this very moment. And until then, Until I find him, I will have to brush off that guilt of being too much of a hair floozy. And I will ignore any recurrent dream involving me, my hairdressers and cheating.