Obladi Oblada.

How am I ever going to be able to explain life to my children? How am I ever going to relate these experiences that I went through at one time or another? Will I have to give up this urge to have them share existence or its background as I see it, with every event that adds to and builds on it?

How will they understand that Tante May was not always this lonely, she actually had a husband, Maroun, and boy did he love her! Did he pamper and cherish her! I could only remember them together, her with a radiant smile, him always so cheerful and playful, him who they will never get to meet.

Obladi Oblada Life Goes On!

Silence. Qu'en faire. Enfer.

Ca y est, le blog prend un tournant encore une fois, un peu plus intime comme même. Il se peut que j'efface ces mots-ci dans les jours qui viennent, mais ce soir je veux que toi tu t'exprimes. Et donc, je ne fais que copier la lettre que tu viens de m'envoyer, parce que vraiment que vais je dire? Comment devrais je répondre? Est ce que je suis supposée savoir? Est ce la vraiment ce qui manque? Est ce le silence dont tu parles? Le silence n'est beauté que parce qu'il laisse libre cours à ta propre imagination. A ton propre monologue. Et peut être c'est la raison meme pour laquelle je ne trouve plus de reponse. Et voilà alors, je te laisse inconditionné:

Je comprends le silence et sa force. La clarte de l'esprit, du corps. Dans la jungle de l'intoxication sociale, ou le poignard de l'envie est l’alter ego du fourreau de la compassion, la vie est non seulement devenu polluee mais lourde, compliquee, socio maniaquo systematique. La loi de la jungle sociale du 20eme est une religion hypnotique. Elle preche l'inconscience, l'amadouement, elle opere en silence. Quand au souvenir quand regne le silence, il possede un sentiment, une excitation, une peur, une verite, un battement honnete et pour un millieme millieme de seconde ou l'adrenaline est liberee dans ton sang, ton corps bat, ton coeur bat la chamade, l’excitation te dechire, l’adrenaline te marque, elle explore ton cerveau, elle est la... L'adrenaline marque. La peur, le sursaut, les idees irrecevables des instants de bonheur intense, chaque phenomene qui te stimule a l'adrenaline, qui te retourne a ton souvenir. Je te laisse avec ces mots; encore au silence.

Of Megane or Spectacles.

Meganekko-moe, 眼鏡っ娘萌え, "glasses-girl moe", describes a person who is attracted to fictional characters with eyeglasses...
--Kichiku and Megane.

Ingenue...

For example, if you order me not to die, I will not die, no matter what.

Of Jediism and Religion.

I try not to question religion or faith, I try not to disturb the almighty, myself or the seemingly natural order of things with such existentialist issues. Besides, why would I or anyone for that matter want to annoy HIM? I don't play with fire, I live in positively undeniable denial, and I'm fairly comfortable so be it.
But then I go over articles like this one, and I find myself laughing at the object of my reading. And yet, in the middle of all this rather pleasant commotion, between laughter and nodding in disbelief, I find Daniel Jones' actions bearing an uncanny resemblance to, well, my own...

Single Life.

The worst part must be the drive back home. alone...

Of Concepts And Conceptions.

How does one look like himself if he is only to be perceived by others? If his own definition, his being, are to be determined by how society conceives him? You might tell me all you care about is what you think of yourself. You might say you don't need an audience to judge you, to praise or condemn you, but what about those daily rituals that have become YOU?
Who are you to your lover? Who are you to your parents? Who are you to your grandmother? Who are you to your students? Who are YOU? Aren't you merely a mix of what those same observers think and expect? Aren't you passionate at times, respectful at others, and then cold and inaccessible all of a sudden. Aren't you going to perpetuate the stereotype because maybe just maybe if you don't conform to expectations, you will be nobody? Nobody you can define...
Don't you materialize when you project your image?...

Of Quiet Emergency Rooms.

So what happens when you decide to overnight? Nothing. Being a med student, my duties at the ER end at 9pm, but tonight was different. Tonight, I decided to spend my night at the ER, partly because I was deprived of sleepovers as a child, being the offspring of overprotective parents, partly because I wanted to get the full medical experience after focusing a bit too much on academics during Oral Exam period, and partly because he was there, granted in a different building, but he was...
And so now, at 5am, when I just figured out that my first overnight experience will be nothing more than a sleepover with a medical student, an intern, and a resident who spent the better part of it actually sleeping, while poor me, pillow and adequate space deprived, will have to spend it awake and wired. When I just figured out that the hands-on experience will have to be postponed since "fortunately?" not one single patient showed up, not even an ankle twist. When I just figured out that when he wished me easy duty at 11pm, it was because he will not show up again during the night. When I figured all this out, I decided to write this little blurb and take my car down to corniche.
I have become much more isolated and schizoid than I ever was, I have become fond of spending more and more time alone, and this is one of those rare moments where I can tell you that I am happy despite the apparently bland if not frustrating circumstances. I am happy I'm alive, I am happy I feel content. I am at peace. And I shall set sail.