The Show Is About Nothing

On Setting Sail...

2012-02-01T16:29:00.004+02:00

And the priest and priestesses said unto him:
Let not the waves of the sea separate us now, and the years you have spent in our midst become a memory.
You have walked among us a spirit, and your shadow has been a light upon our faces.
Much have we loved you. But speechless was our love, and with veils has it been veiled.
Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand revealed before you.
And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

--The Prophet, by Gebran Khalil Gebran.

et l'on revient toujours...

2011-08-13T17:27:00.002+03:00

Une absence
~ par etatdecorps le juillet 14, 2010.

Des fois j’ai l’impression d’être comme une ville. Avec des étrangers qui arpentent mes rues. Solitaires. Je voudrais ressembler à Beyrouth. Système chaotique. Que rien ne soit vraiment à sa place. Le sang coulerait dans ma colonne vertébrale, inondant mes nerfs de cette folie ambiante. Agressif.

La synovie suinterait difficilement aux carrefours. Embouteillages. Avec des fauves aux yeux farouches qui attendent le pied sur l’accélérateur. Que la ville gronde. Que la victoire approche. Celle d’être le premier des cons à foncer dans le tas. Je voudrais un soleil de plomb à la place du cœur. Comme ça la chaleur calmerait le temps et les intentions. Tension.

Alvéoles gonflées à bloc. De pollution. Mes artères bloquées par les racines des bougainvilliers, mes veines par le jasmin. Et parfois au détour d’un chemin, comme une lourdeur. Coin d’immeuble ombragé où dormirait un concierge. Vieux chien oublié depuis des années dans ce ventre qui court mais ne gagne jamais. Et puis caché derrière un trou dans le béton, le regard fixant la petite chose qu’on appelle l’âme, une absence.

et moi en cet instant. rien ne peut m'exprimer mieux...

Passion Fixe

2011-05-12T15:12:00.000+03:00

tu m'as tenu la main...
est ce que tu as remarque?
un bonheur pur.
une sensation nouvelle.
aussi intense.
toujours plus.
et je t'aime.
je te le dis, sans peur.
sans crainte.
et je te fuis...
encore des desirs inacheves.
cette destruction reciproque.
et je fuis encore plus loin.
peut etre pas. qui sait.
mais pour l'instant. je fais ma vie.
et toi la tienne.
ton bonheur absolu. je te le souhaite.
et peut etre dans mes bras un jour.
parce qu'il existe cet amour.
cette passion. si intense qu'elle detruit tout ce qui se trouve sous son etreinte.
si fatale. si tourbillonante. si absurde. et si vitale.
libere moi pour l'instant.
et au risque de te perdre.
je te fuis.

«La vérité n'est pas le sol stable, mais le mouvement sans trêve qui détruit tout ce que tu es et tout ce que tu vois.» --Philippe Sollers, Passion Fixe

New York for the 5 Senses

2011-04-03T09:16:00.001+03:00

On a journey to experience New York with everything it has to offer. Back to the city that took my heart and my senses away. This time a bit more mature, and a lot more intrigued. And so I decided to undertake a small venture into food for thought. I am on a 10 day schedule to experience a new wine everyday paired with different cuisines. And by God! I am in heaven if there was ever any! Enjoying every sip. Exploring it intently, as it tickles my every sense.
And yes more details to come.

--Indian Food. Color, aroma, texture, taste, on sitar background

Confessions

2011-03-26T06:44:00.003+02:00

j'avance de ce pas etourdissant...
cet elan
et pourtant je ne souhaite que toi...
mais dis moi! retiens moi!

me secouer. m'arreter. me gifler.
m'effleurer. me prendre dans tes bras... tes bras...
me saisir. m'etouffer. m'epuiser.
m'executer. me bercer.
m'aimer.

Tout en Douceur...

2011-03-22T01:05:00.003+02:00

j'ai encore reve de lui.
je n'ai rien fait pour ca.
j'ai mal dormi...

si je pouvais me reveiller a ses cotes...

Of Tim Burton Wisdom

2011-03-13T22:52:00.003+02:00

It's great to know a girl
who has so many eyes,
but you really get wet
when she breaks down and cries.
-- The Girl with many eyes

Noir Beyrouth

2011-03-09T04:31:00.003+02:00

"Parce que trahir est plus facile qu'achever frontalement. L'hiver ici a le visage d'un phantasme. Le regard franc et enchanteur. Il promet l'illusion, jamais le vraiment. Incertitudes."

"Alors je comprends tout. Ma seule maison, c'est ma tete."

--Noir Beyrouth, Extraits, Emilie Thomas Mansour

et je laisse les passages les plus intimes en moi.

Love is a Carrot

2011-03-07T17:58:00.000+02:00

so peaceful.
nothing like the sound of silence. in the morning. coffee in hand. finding your way through the snow. mildly falling on your coat. reminding you of simple pleasures. of standing in awe. of feeling naked. within.
--Of Forgotten Bikes

On How to Seek Silence

2011-03-05T20:56:00.004+02:00

and here it is my journey to me. you wait for it. unconsciously. and then when the time comes your emotions take the best of you. you develop some unknown illness. a myalgia of the sort with deadly yet vague symptoms. and yet you seem to survive. against all odds. psychosomatic...

you can't dismiss them however. even at the tender age of 25. anything goes. you rethink your lifestyle choices. you take measures.

but this is not what this will be about. i bought the lottery.
no i didn't.
i don't.
i never do.

This is about the poor man who prays in front of a statue begging dear Saint please please, let me win the lottery...dear Saint please please, let me win the lottery... and finally, the exacerbated statue looks down at the man and says my son please please buy a ticket!

and so i move. to a remote area. no not India. nor Nepal. I will look for myself in Cleveland, Ohio. and does it rock? I hope not.

running away. not to be distracted. not by anything. not even nice scenery. ok maybe i will get the chance to see the great lakes. but i am looking for something far more fascinating. far more personal. i need to get bored. with myself. alone. because of myself.

Quand Leo Invite

2011-01-21T14:17:00.001+02:00

So Leo Burnett reaches out to bloggers, offering them free meal tickets every once in a while. The idea is to try new restaurants and enjoy the full experience while targeting young and hip, yes hip, twenty-sth-year-old semi professionals or not at all, who for a reason or another like to broadcast their opinions and their alter ego selves in the online realm.

so here is where I come in.

The task was to venture into Eau De Vie at the Phoenicia Hotel and investigate.
Not too shabby if you ask me. I'd investigate that place over and over again. A blogger's gotta do what a blogger's gotta do right?

You go in and you find yourself in a loungy bar with dark purple and brocade tones, dim lights, and nicely set 2 chaired tables with candles. This has got to be my favorite part of the place. It is definitely inviting for a relaxing drink and appetizers post your everyday 9 to 5 job. Not that I am promoting alcoholism but what better way to relax than to meet up on the 11th floor of Phoenicia, listening to lounge music, drinking an exotic drink and enjoying the view.
Very reminiscent of the Gansevoort Boutique Hotel and their rooftop lounge in NYC. Minus the pool and the Hudson. But who's reminiscing now...
--The mood
Then you go in and you have a spacious dinner area. And this is where Eau De Vie lost me. No, they didn't lose me at Hello. Their welcome area is actually exceptional. They lost me at let's move to the dinner table now.

I wasn't quite sure what this place was targeting anymore. Is it a lounge? Is it a restaurant? Is it the Lebanese strategy of let's do all-into-one-combo and get more people in, depending on what they're looking for?

Why oh why can't we have an after hours lounge to relax and have a drink? Ok maybe not that dramatic but you get the gist. Know what you want and find your identity Eau! I'd recommend drinks and a tapas menu. Tea or coffee for those who prefer to stay sober. And that's it! No dinner, no steak, no salmon. There are enough restaurants in Lebanon and in Phoenicia as well to cater to these needs.
--The dinner party
I must say however, the staff was noticeably nice and friendly. They gave us a tour, explained their view of the place and listened to everything their guests had to say, intently. It was definitely an enjoyable experience. The food was good as well. And Eau is trying to create something different, like your own customized traveling salad bars on wheels! And the desserts. Yum.

So why fall back into the typical Lebanese modern fusion restaurant theme? Lose the main courses I say. Stick to appetizers, desserts, drinks and good music. Lounge it up. Or down. Lose the big tables. Add a few couches. And you have your own go-to-one-of-a-kind hotel lounge in the heart of Beirut.

of self reflection

2011-01-09T11:35:00.000+02:00

would my face give me away
but i know it wont
cause i don't even feel

if you dig under my feet
you will find things that you don't want to see
things that i hide deep down inside
a menagerie of the tragedy i caused and all of my flaws
and my demons are all you can see
then what would you do ...if you only knew

Thank you Death. Thank you Cadavers.

2011-01-01T13:08:00.003+02:00

Dr. Cox --Alright, and listen up, murderers. As you know, we are approaching the end of the semester. The Ceremony of Thanks is quickly approaching.
Turk --That's where you publicly thank the friends and families of the cadavers you've been dissecting this semester.

So Hurry Down the Chimney Tonight

2010-12-21T19:43:00.002+02:00

of funk

2010-12-19T19:59:00.005+02:00

she says im not romantic.
i says she's too dramatic
--Ines Van Lamsweerde

Of Alcoholism and Pregnancy

2010-12-19T11:02:00.002+02:00

Pseudocyesis--

Cases of pseudocyesis have been documented since antiquity.

Mary I (1516–1558), Queen of England, was perhaps the most famous of western historical examples, who believed on two occasions that she was pregnant, when she was in fact not.

Some even attribute the violence that gave her the nickname "Bloody Mary" to be a reaction to her disappointment on realising she was without child.

Mademoiselle et le moine Tibetain

2010-12-09T18:55:00.002+02:00

tellement hate de finir de ces journees imbeciles.
hate de voir ma montre s'arreter.
comme on peut mettre du temps pour enfin arriver.

Take a Deep Breath

2010-11-25T11:06:00.005+02:00

you don't appreciate the importance of the air you breathe until you're face to face with a patient fighting to die. yes to die. not to stay alive.

it's 2 am and the patient is gasping for air. every little breath counts. he wants to sleep but his body is not letting him. his brain is constantly aroused by human's most primal instinct to keep breathing. to compensate. to overcompensate.

and then with his puffy eyes, forgetting what it's like to fall asleep. fully awake. fully conscious. he begs you. let me die.

yours truly- Soon to be EX smoker.

Of Chocolates and Cigarettes

2010-11-20T13:35:00.002+02:00

ils veulent me deporter. pour mon propre bien dit-on.
et toi
tu en dis quoi...
je suis captive. non pas clandestine.
juste captive. piegee.
on deporte les prisonniers aussi. tu sais.

et pourtant j'ai cette idee vague de ce que je veux vraiment.
et ils me disent.
ils me disent de prononcer les mots et je serais pas exilee. bannie.
mais j'y arrive pas. je connais pas encore les mots exacts.
la vie n'attend pas. tout de meme.
alors...

Of Seeming or being

2010-11-10T21:09:00.000+02:00

"Et Puis il manque quelqu'un près de moi
Je me retourne tout le monde est là
D'où vient ce sentiment bizarre que je suis seul?" -Michel Berger

Come Undone

2010-11-09T19:20:00.001+02:00

As one diminishes doing — here 'doing' means those intentional actions taken to benefit you or actions taken to change the world from its natural state and evolution — one diminishes all those actions committed against the Tao...and 'having arrived at this pointless point of non-action, there is nothing that is left undone.' -Wu Wei

Of broken angels

2010-11-07T23:46:00.001+02:00

i saw her and...
she wasn't wearing an engagement ring.

il est loin le temps

2010-11-06T21:11:00.004+02:00

there was no evidence. no witnesses. no sound. no image. no recording. just memories. lost in your head. ideas to drive you crazy. to drive you away from life. as you hold on...
as you hold in the anger...the uncertainty, the questions, the reckless abandonment...
and you keep dragging your empty carcass in the crowd
and you never forget to nod politely...

faut que ça saigne.

2010-10-24T15:20:00.000+03:00

-- Edvard Munch

Bloodletting is the withdrawal of often considerable quantities of blood from a patient to cure or prevent illness and disease.

Of Time or Einstein for Dummies

2010-07-21T22:10:00.005+03:00

Time is an illusion. It's always NOW. What varies are the circumstances.
Once Again, the 21st never fails to deliver...

Tic Toc or Life Will Not Wait Forever

2010-06-12T12:24:00.004+03:00

a few months are ok to miss. but what about a lifetime? medicine is an extremely fast moving field with new responsibilities, duties and expectations every step of the way. speaking of steps... i decided i need time. time for myself. time for my dreams. for self fulfillment because i am not a career. i am me. so diverse or trying to be. and this idea, this living on a prayer is helping me hold and stay on hold for another month. dreams, wonderland, personal aspirations, here i come.

Philippe

2010-06-04T13:19:00.005+03:00

People love tear-jerking stories... it must be too harsh to be realistic.

I never thought Philippe was supposed to get the transplant to begin with.

It must sound unethical, inhumane, Oh Dear! But consider the debate, with advancing medical technologies, patients who were not to survive are now given a very slim chance of survival, on the expense of exorbitant utilization of medical and communal resources, which could be redirected towards multiple less complicated but equally life threatening cases, making up the bulk of congenital heart disease among other medical conditions.

Philippe had a very small chance of survival and with the current limitations, a heart transplant is not a miracle procedure, rather it is laden with complications and morbidity.

So in the end, here you have it, Philippe is dead, the people have their story. We are reminded that we are humans who like to rally behind emotional causes. And mostly, we are reminded that we are but humans, not ready to deal with terminal illnesses and death as a natural course. And although we think we can save the world, yes we can, yes we will...Wake up call. No we can't.

A Little Slice of Heaven

2010-05-27T12:28:00.004+03:00

The Garden Show at l'Hippodrome de Beirut

Catch Souk el Tayeb and over 200 exhibitors at l'Hippodrome de Beirut, Tayouneh, May 25-May 29

La Chance Tourne Tourne et Tournera Toujours!

2010-05-19T16:50:00.001+03:00

dizzy yet?
gone is the age of innocence
behold the age of reason...

بلا ولاشي...

2010-05-17T17:57:00.000+03:00

bala wala shi...

The Start-ish of Something New.

2010-05-17T17:44:00.004+03:00

the more you know the less you want to find out.
and thus begins the way that stops you from making your own truth. you believe that what is preset is set...
and you give up before even starting...
but don't you get it? YOU make it!
go ahead. make illusion reality.
go ahead. ask less. think less. judge less. analyze less. feel more. go! go with the flow as cheesy as it may sound.
and whatever may be... may be.

is a manic bipolar merely over tuned to his or her surroundings? living intensely every single feeling, reaction and situation?

Ma Dalide

2010-05-15T10:07:00.002+03:00

Mais c'est fini
le temps des reves
les souvenirs se fanent aussi
quand on les oublie...

of Charlie, Milk and Solved Mysteries

2010-05-08T12:33:00.009+03:00

Charlie, who the hell is Charlie?
--Got Charlie?

If you happened to stroll down Hamra, Abdel Aziz or Bliss street, or even those small streets that make of Hamra your very own east village, you might have noticed stencils of Got Charlie? or the less often seen, Charlie is in Da BLDG. and well you might have been wondering, Charlie? Who the hell is Charlie? ...

And this particular marketing strategy as it finally turned out to be, makes you wonder more than billboards because it's more underground, closer to you as a commoner walking down the street, rather than a giant poster that you know someone must have paid thousands of dollars for them to commercially market like who the hell is nesreena? but that's another issue. Here you might expect a play, a concert, a drug dealer? an ad, a graphic design project, anything. But mostly something really unique, because it's the effort of individuals and not that of a depersonalized industrialized company.

Turns out Charlie is a group of 4 talented young girls studying at AUB and designing accessories on a budget, so I'm assuming they don't have a store yet, one more reason behind the extra zealousness one might feel to support this creative endeavor. The girls tell you on their Facebook Group to

*please leave a message after the tone. 03 049461/ 03 361776

or send us cosmic vibrations on-

vivalacharlie@gmail.com

--Charlie's Designs

check them out. love them. call them. encourage them and well be unique!
Listening to : Parody of Living Next Door to Alice: Who the Fuck is Alice?

Draft 109

2010-05-08T09:14:00.003+03:00

It's better to rationalize, yet so much more fulfilling to be governed by emotions... yet for such a little window of time where you feel the instant gratification of knowing you exist, you too have feelings, as if you exhibit your borderline personality and cut yourself to see if you can bleed. in the hopes that if you do, they will notice. but what do you really end up with? once its out there, once you've said it. with no solution in sight. once you've hurt yourself. once you've used that knife. you're only left with pain. the endorphins are temporary. transient. gone. fast. the pain is more intense now. a bleeding wound that once you keep open will only cause you disgust with your own self, and pain more pain, with pus coming out. you're infected. you're dealing with dead tissue. you're partly dead. this part you want to show. that which you want to explore. it's dead. questions unanswered. still. what did you achieve? you're ugly now.

--Shush

Jewish Monster In the Background

2010-04-27T17:31:00.003+03:00

--Gefinor Center, Beirut

I have a vague remembrance of reading somewhere sometime that Gefinor was designed by Victor Gruen (aka the Mall Maker), of Jewish descent. And since then I've become proud of this architecture, not that I am affiliated to Gruen's ancestry in any way, but only by the mere mesmerizing fact that celebrates Lebanon's paradoxical diversity where we still treat far easterners who might conquer the world very soon as potential house maids, and slaves, and where we claim to have 18 different sects with the 18th being Jewish, taboo taboo on the wall who's the fairest of them all? definitely not the Lebanese government. So here we are, with a Jewish heritage we are not even aware of for the most part. To Gefinor, to Wadi Abu Jmil, to not losing any part of our Lebanese identity by concealing history and works of art!

On the other hand, the real reason behind this picture is the contrast with the small blue house that seems to have withstood the test of time and war, with scars and stories to tell nevertheless. It's tiny, borderline kitsch, on a background of what appears to be a monstrous Gefinor, standing so proudly and modern-ly (although built 50 years ago) ready to engulf it.

And That's the Way the Cookie Crumbles...

2010-04-14T16:46:00.003+03:00

Of Jasad, Body and Soul

2010-04-13T22:44:00.002+03:00

Here I was at Bardo Cafe, Hamra listening to Joumana Haddad, Lebanese poet, translator, journalist and editor-in-chief for Jasad Magazine. Joumana was launching the second issue of the magazine in a salon like setting where she engaged in a discussion about the Jasad or the "Body" along with topics that are mainly considered taboo in Lebanon and the Arab world such as sexuality, virginity, eroticism and relationships to name a few. Joumana started off by reading an essay entitled "I killed Scheherazade" because as she put it, Scheherazade was a master of negotiation, negotiation leading ultimately to male approval. She, on the other hand, was looking for her own approval in this jungle of machismo and penis ruling. And so she mentioned a few points that drew the crowd's attention and mine.

I will not be mentioning the fact that Joumana would have been more credible in her quest to abolish female attempts to seek male approval through the way they look, had she had less make up or less screaming clothes on. She claims it is for self satisfaction, and this just goes to show you how this dilemma is in the mind of every Lebanese woman, living in Lebanon. And I shall not be afraid to generalize, because we all want to be recognized for our intellect and our capabilities and abilities at work and in society, and we strive, and we try, and we do succeed, however we have got to look good. Women are more listened to when they look good. Whether they are taken more seriously is another issue. I will not claim to have a solution or an explanation. This is more of an observation.

It is what has come to be expected from Lebanese women competing amongst each other, for whatever prize (and is it really a prize). To the point that, nowadays, in malls around the country, when you are walking nonchalantly, with your significant other or by yourself, as a female, YOU are the one being checked out by same sex vultures, trying to discern what it is that you might have as added potential, what it is they could acquire or maybe even get done. Even physicians, artists, scientists, those who are stereotypically not expected to look as good as models are now putting more emphasis on the way they dress or dress up, because, well, is it just not enough anymore?...

Anyways, this shall not be what this post is about. Jasad is your Arabic Language Magazine about social and private thoughts that might be inferred or mentioned out loud in Lebanese and Arabic circles, never to be put in words. Joumana sums it up by describing it as a "serious cultural, intellectual, literary, scientific and artistic project, which demanded a great deal of thought and thorough examination before crystallizing and becoming manifest. It is a project related to the Body, the body of life, the body of the mind, the body of the heart and the body of language." It is not a pornographic magazine, nor an activist one, nor sex ed, it is a social one as I most humbly gather, tackling serious subjects to reflect on.

However, what do YOU really picture when you read or hear the word JASAD. Do you really imagine a man, or a body of things coming together? No. "Shou hal Jasad ya Asad". Jasad is a woman, a sensual one. Ironically, just as I am writing this post and cruising through other blogs, I come across a JASAD as presumed by our culture on a fellow blogger's website PLUS 961.

Here it is, that JASAD is selling YOU a car! And who better to drive this car than a Wealthy Arabic Male Businessman? Of course, with his main (or not so main) squeeze on his side. He might even get the JASAD attached to the car as a complimentary bonus!

So here is my post, throughout the discussion, two main points were maybe personal enough to have me put my drink down and listen closer. When do YOU as an Arabic woman get in touch with your sexuality? And What about sexual language in Arabic?

The way I see it, an Arabic woman, whether liberal or conservative, will be learning (or used to at least when I was growing up) about her sexual identity through her male companion. My sex ed class was summed up as a one hour biology video about reproduction and mainly the microscopic aspect of it (and by microscopic I mean Egg and Sperm) sponsored by Always Hygiene Pads. Yes my teachers were afraid to get scolded for putting ideas in our heads, or maybe they did not know enough themselves, especially as to how to approach young innocent girls. However, sexual desire and appetite comes naturally, and I was thrown in the teenage world and its hormones, with no genuine education on the matter, to discover my identity on my own, through teenage boys who wanted to get intimate, going through said bases respectively. And holding hands, led to touching, to kissing... You get the picture.

I then started reading magazines and erotic literature, to discover how to please my significant other. But did I ever do it to learn for myself? Was this curiosity to learn about my own body instilled in me while I was growing up? Was I taught to respect my body and cherish it? No. It was a means to please males. It was not to be touched by me, or even asked about. At that time, my significant other was getting his own sexual education through porn movies, so you might imagine how this led to problems, seeing how, by instinct, and NOT by educated decisions or conscious choices, I said NO. Leaving me confused and perplexed as to what was right or wrong, as to whether I should trust him, and were all the other girls doing it?
Because, again, being a taboo subject even among girls who mostly claim to be virgins, being forbidden to even kiss or touch, feeling guilty about having a significant other in my twenties if we are not to be married eventually, getting physical with someone who I love but who I am not committed to officially, this brings about a feeling of blame and maybe even disgrace. So shut the hell up and do NOT mention it!

The other issue was about sexual language. Rarely do we use words in Arabic when talking about sexual behavior in a serious and legitimate context. Rare are the people who KNOW the words to use. Everyone can cuss using words like a woman's pussy or a guy's penis in Arabic. You hear it more often than not. But what if you want to open the taboo subject in a sensible and purposeful way? Are you comfortable using the word "2adeeb" which is the official written Arabic word for penis? NO. And why is that? Does this further prove the point that the lack of sexual education is at stake here? Yes. Yes it does. We need to be sensitized to sex, not as a dirty deed, or a taboo, or a means to please your man. We need to be comfortable with it, with our bodies, our JASAD. Because, here I am, in the medical field, embarrassed to ask a male patient about his "Adeeb", as he is embarrassed to answer me. And even more embarrassed to ask an unmarried woman about any sexual behavior because God Forbid I assume she is not a Virgin!

So here you go, this needs to be out in the open, publicized, in Arabic, not to lead to a more decadent and immoral society, because as mentioned, sexual desire comes by instinct and by nature, but to become more comfortable with our bodies, our identity or at least part of it. OUR JASAD. And Kudos to the Magazine for bringing this to the table.

Invisible

2010-03-28T13:55:00.003+03:00

Mes pas dans cette rue
Résonnent
Dans une autre rue
Où
J’entends mes pas
Passer dans cette rue
Où
Il n’y a rien d’autre que la brume.

--Octavio Paz

Si Le Ciel Existe

2010-03-28T13:48:00.000+03:00

--Si Le Ciel Existe, Nathalie Simard

La Marelle ou Comment Arriver Au Ciel

2010-03-28T13:19:00.009+03:00

Et si le Ciel n'est pas le Ciel? Et s'il s'enfuit? S'il joue a cache cache?

Marelle redeviens. Enfance. Indifference. Saute Marelle vas-y Saute donc!! Epuise toi, essoufle toi.

Saute toi qui croyais que le Ciel etait a portee de main, toi qui l'as vu a l'horizon, si proche.

Mais alors, il est ou? Il est parti ou? Tu le perds de vue Marelle?

Le Ciel n'est plus.

Inseparables Separes

2010-03-27T09:58:00.005+02:00

Inséparables mais...

Intouchable mais touché
Inavouable mais avoué
Imprenable mais pris
Inséparables mais séparés

Impénétrable mais pénétré
Inconsolable mais consolé
Insaisissable mais saisi
Inséparables mais séparés

Insoupçonnable mais soupçonné
Impardonnable mais pardonné
Inattendu mais espéré
Inséparables mais séparés
Séparés mais inséparables
--Arthur H, Inseparables Mais...

Coitus Wal Tayyara

2010-03-26T21:22:00.002+02:00

Grounded.
--pertaining to the ground.
--reduced to fine particles or dust by grinding.

To M. with Love, Carbs, and Icing

2010-03-24T22:05:00.000+02:00

Quickly Come Quickly Go

2010-03-22T18:09:00.000+02:00

Recueille Toi

2010-03-21T17:02:00.002+02:00

Et, comme un long linceul traînant à l'Orient,
Entends, ma chère, entends la douce Nuit qui marche --Charles Baudelaire.

Of Clouds of Smoke and Ghosts

2010-03-21T02:31:00.001+02:00

Sometimes you lose people and thats ok?... Sometimes nice dates and memories become bittersweet to the point that you expect others to understand. you expect that radio show to stop wishing happy mother's day or happy everyday-day... and yet they're all oblivious, all around you. they expect you to be a-ok... by default. and how come you aren't? huh? they never wonder whether they might be triggering a flood of bad memories associated to said event. And you're left alone... the odd one out.

Maybe it's better to keep it as your own private journey... your own recollection.

And it's true. Unforgettable... that's what you are...

Half Goos Half Fraba

2010-03-20T20:27:00.002+02:00

Of Apples And Oranges

2010-03-19T21:05:00.000+02:00

Sphinx

2010-03-18T17:49:00.000+02:00

The Barber Shop

2010-03-17T18:05:00.001+02:00

What's YOUR Going Rate?

2010-03-17T00:18:00.001+02:00

Peek-A-Boo

2010-03-15T17:08:00.004+02:00

Taking the Chinese out to AUB

2010-03-14T15:36:00.000+02:00

Of Existentialism And Eggs

2010-03-14T11:35:00.001+02:00

The Start of Something New

2010-03-13T18:40:00.001+02:00

I'm studying for my Steps exam, part of the Board Accreditation for Medical Students or Doctors to be. So here is an exam that you have to study for, for at least 4 months, going on 7. The first of My "baby" Steps or Giant Leap, depending on the outcome, will be on June 31st. The decision has been taken. Awaiting Amideast Confirmation for available places.

Anyways, so here you are focusing your life around one thing and only for at least 4 months, in my case let's set it at 4. This is what you see, what you think of when you close your eyes, what you breathe. It's not enough to pass the exam you need to score high, actually with the current competitive spirits becoming highly more competitive, you actually need to score in the 99th percentile so you need to do better than 99 percent of the people taking the exam. How do you say does everyone aim for this? Don't ask. Don't tell. Don't mention it. Don't remind me that others are taking that same exam and that my score will depend on them just as much as on myself... Where were we?

Your life revolves around one book really, the First Aid for USMLE Step 1. And yet does it really stop there? What happens to life when you start seeing it through one and only perspective? Does it wait for you? Does it keep moving? Does it move faster? Or do you move slower?

I want to document every day, during these four months, with a random picture taken on my lousy 3.2 megapixel camera phone. Yes, gone are the days when 3.2 megapixels were enough. The idea though is that I know that in these four months, while I would be looking at this one book, my own background, my surroundings will be changing, as if life will be revolving maybe even spinning around this book, this one-on-thing relationship and I have but this camera to document it.

And it's not just about the book. It's also about how settings change, how the unexpected that I might actually be expecting seeing how I am anticipating to take pictures of it, this unexpected will be something to remember eventually. In this 4 months period, I already know that I will be moving from Hamra working with kids, to some random house away from civilization, some kind of detoxification from urban life, some better and more efficient way to study, some time out... I will be coming back to Beirut in May, to the Psychiatry ward, then to Family Medicine. Along the line, I will be attending weddings, birthdays, maybe even funerals but those are unannounced as of yet because, well, we plan our future to feel optimistic about our present, so live forever, and forever young...

The idea is rather simple. Life doesn't stop. So bring it on.
And maybe as a tribute to the book that defines my next 4 months. My everyday. My ambitions. My journey.

Here it is, my binoculars, my vision of the world, my blinkers.

--The Book

Of Observations and Observance.

2010-03-07T15:06:00.006+02:00

It's been a week or so that I'm silently observing the people around me. A way to reassess maybe. A way to let the world know that I have nothing else to add... for now... and so I'd rather see what other people are adding to this world... to my life, and well, to theirs... Mostly because the period that everyone around me, including me, seem to be passing through cannot be described any better than being in a rut. Yes a rut.
rut, /rʌt/
noun, verb,rut·ted, rut·ting.
–a fixed or established mode of procedure or course of life, usually dull or unpromising: i.e. to fall into a rut.

So here I am sipping drinks at L'Osteria, them' sips of white wine that the waitress kept recommending, although I had never heard of it before... Talk about taking chances! The white wine was a rather delightful "Chateau Khoury" chardonnay if I'm not mistaken, come to think of it, it must have been pretty good since we ordered a couple more bottles. So...here I am sipping drinks at L'Osteria, observing the people around me and gauging their happiness. Not that I have named myself a judge of good standing, but these are people whose lives are transforming right in front of my eyes, some get into relationships, some make mistakes with ex-es, some are unhappy with their jobs and wonder where is this life taking them... And this seems like a recurrent theme, as if, men especially, who appear to have had wonderful, over-the-top-out-of-this-world ambitions, are now left with a regular 9 to 5 job, only to be overworked from 9 to midnight, without any significant gratitude from their colleagues, their bosses, nor the people around them. And so their dreams are crushed... Time to readjust, time to think smaller but steadier... Time to think of starting a family, the last resort to prove that YES you're a man GODDAMMIT!

FlashBack To the day before when we decided to go skiing only to get to the middle of nowhere right before Faraya Village and have the car break down on us. And so what was planned out to be fun in the sun, ended up with me taking part in some voodoo religious ritual to get the car fixed. If this sentence has you lost, dazed or confused, imagine me observing a godsend? mechanic fixing the timing belt, with godsend being the right choice of words seeing how the said mechanic initiates his task by burning incense over the car, saying a little prayer, and insisting that God is working through his hands. The car got fixed eventually. The misadventure turned rather funny incident to remember, showed me how some people, even if living in the middle of nowhere, are grateful for their lives and whatever God sends them. And oh how true it is, when the guy was earning money for his hard work, as we decide that it wasn't worth it to go skiing anymore "Le malheur des uns fait le Bonheur des autres."

FlashForward to Today when I was sitting with R. at Ramlet el Baida for some much needed timeout, for staying at home two days in a row can be a recipe for disaster, and wallowing in self righteousness. So here I am, sipping on a fresh cup of coffee since drinking alcohol at 11 am is frowned upon, but what about Sunday Brunch?! Anyways, here I am observing the sea, the landing Air France Airplane, the Down syndrome child who comes up to say Hello, the rather ugly faced hot bodied 20 something making her way through Corniche with heels, and as of yet intact clothing and makeup. And finally here comes the highlight of my morning, the little boy who made me laugh, the -as R. put it- "Psychomotor Delay"... A seven-ish-year-old boy, learning how to ride a bicycle, falling every once in a while, laughing at his clumsiness, persevering, hitting the garbage can, the rail, the sidewalk, hands and head forward. And laughing... He was a rather fast learner... I'm not sure what he'll end up to be. A mechanic maybe? An engineer? A bum?

It didn't matter then and there, he was learning how to ride his bicycle, and this achievement by itself was ENOUGH!... Unlike my friends who seem to have their great expectations crushed, unlike my own self, dreading the day I will have to settle for a job and so continuing my never ending, rather life consuming, medical education, unlike those who have come to be disappointed by this life and its treacherousness, and so they decided to find fake comfort elsewhere, be it in relationships, in God, in writing, in drawing. Life is not to be trusted. But you are. Trust yourself. And nothing but.

Of Wigs, Battles, and Breast Cancer.

2010-02-28T19:23:00.007+02:00

There's a wig stand going around from Breast Cancer patient to Breast Cancer patient in Lebanon. The story started when a friend's close relative was hit with Breast Cancer in July 2006. Fortunately, the woman in question has been cured, since the malignancy was caught relatively early, and chemotherapy led to a successful recovery. However, chemotherapy is a rather unpleasant treatment with side effects such as nausea, vomiting, GI problems, hematological problems and hair loss. The latter is definitely one of the most vicious repercussions, since a woman's mane is a defining feature. However, the patient in question was stronger than the disease itself, and even stronger than the treatment and its atrocity! I remember seeing her, fashionably combing her wig into different hairstyles, she was and still is a source of inspiration to me and to every woman in her surrounding, be it her daughters, her friends, or those battling the same malignancy who now draw strength out of her own experience.

Which brings me back to the wig stand. The wig stand, as my friend explained to me, is traveling from one woman's home to another, wherever needed, to be adorned by wigs being used to complement women on chemotherapy who are suffering from hair loss. The wig stand thus enters each woman's bedroom or powder room, with a different story to tell each time; all to be compiled, to raise Breast Cancer Awareness, and to provide support for the patients and their families.

On the other hand, part of the project as well, there are wigs wandering from one event to another, to raise awareness on the ground by having people wear them after mentioning to them the importance of Breast Cancer Awareness. Thus, you will be hearing about Breast Cancer in Gemmayzeh, in Hamra, or even in the comfort of your own home. Maybe this small difference would remind you and push you to have your own breasts examined, or to incite your family members and your loved ones to do so. You can check the One Wig Stand Website HERE.

You should also take the opportunity to take a look at the American National Breast Cancer Website on how to get one's breasts examined,what symptoms to look for, what are the risk factors, how to deal with the diagnosis and the disease, and what are possible treatments, along with success stories of people who overcame the malignancy.

Don't forget to check out the May Jallad Foundation Website about Breast Cancer Awareness in Lebanon! Hoping to have more alertness in Lebanon, and to be able to eradicate this disease in the years to come. Cancer is not taboo, it is not that "unnamed disease", as sometimes referred to in the Lebanese society, and one should not fear examining herself, and acquiring knowledge.

Remember: EARLY Cancer can be CURED!

Of Inhumane Vocations.

2010-02-22T21:54:00.003+02:00

"But that's medicine, the art of prolonging disease."
"Jesus", I said, with a laugh. "Why would anyone want to prolong it?"
"In order to postpone grief."

--Peter DeVries, The Blood of the Lamb. 1969

Of Broken Angels.

2010-02-21T10:56:00.008+02:00

Ceci est ma lettre à Toi, je l'écris, j'écoute Terrible Angels de CocoRosie, j'ai essayé de trouver la chanson que j'avais aimée hier, mais je la trouve pas...J'écris cuccuruzzu paloma, je cherche, je trouve pas...Je me souviens de cet air, quelque chose de pareil but not quite...I can't pinpoint it...I remember the feeling, l'extase, but I can't pinpoint it... Do you believe that life is merely subjective feelings of what one sees? Do you believe that if you were programmed not to have these feelings, you will forget... Don't you understand? Soon it will go away, I will forget that song for good... Because this is how the story goes, Doesn't it? You start losing the details first, then the bigger picture, only to stay with this blurred hazy image of what once was, of what you were... I read your letter again yesterday, before I sleep, maybe so I can finally sleep... Only this shall stay, it's between my arms, my hands, under my finger tips, I can feel it, unlike you, unlike yesterday... Those will be lost forever, because they were never mine... Maybe you were... for a flying second, juste quand je déposais mon corps sur toi, assis sur la chaise, et je te chuchotais, tu es à moi... à cet instant, ce dernier instant, juste avant que tu me gifles avec la réalité des choses, juste à ce moment, je sentais que je voulais rien de plus dans la vie, que je pourrais juste me donner à toi en paix, en sécurité, que je pourrais enfin défier ce monde... merci comme même pour m'avoir rappelé de mes illusions et de leur éphémerité...

Et je deviens plus silencieuse encore, et tu te demandes pourquoi...Je sais pas, tu savais peut-être, tu avais une idée... c'est quand j'ai effacé les photos de la camera, c'est quand j'ai commencé à te perdre de vue pour 5 minutes, puis dix, puis une demi heure... puis à jamais... tu n'es pas à moi... et donc je me donnerais jamais à toi... et puis on arrive à l'aéroport, j'avais envie de te demander pourquoi tu es tellement en hâte, tu te souviens quand je t'avais dit de ne pas conduire pareil? juste au virage de l'autoroute? te souviens-tu? but... I couldn't say it, instead all I was able to mutter was how worried I was about the car... trêve de banalités... et on arrive, tu descends, je te serre tout contre mon corps pour la dernière fois, i try to retain the feeling of every muscle in your body around mine... i wanted to tell you... et c'était pas la première fois d'ailleurs, i wanted to tell you the words... goodbye... I'm probably never sending this letter anyway...

The song kept playing in my head... I replayed it again, again... if every angel's terrible... if only i could see an alternative...
D'une facon je suis désolée... je suis triste...

if every angel's terrible, then why do you hide inside her...

--Cocorosie, Terrible Angels

Of Bracelet Stories.

2010-02-20T18:24:00.006+02:00

I'm not blogging, and I'm planning on blogging even less... Less than nothing, because if the show started by being about nothing, désormais, the show itself is nothing. I can look through evening dresses all day long, I can feel guilty about not studying for the American Board exams, I can smoke because I can't quit... I can also spend the day on your chest. Just like yesterday...I still hear your heart pounding, your pelvis thrusting, your deep breathing... I still hear the words, only to give me one more excuse to be more distant. How can I be looking for signs to prove the hopelessness? And I become more silent. You notice. You ask why the silence. But...do you not like it? The silence?...I couldn't tell you that I was planning to end it. That I was trying to get you under my skin, your scent, your taste, your voice, your touch, your lips, your essence... If only I could see an alternative, anything, a reassurance... So I stay with images flashing back, modest consolation... And a wrist adorned by that red bracelet...

Suspension, ou Pause Dramatique.

2010-01-10T14:00:00.004+02:00

C'est une chanson qui nous ressemble... I put your perfume today. The one you say reminds you of me. The one you say you have rarely smelled on others. The one that keeps vanishing into thin air. Parce que la vie sépare ceux qui s'aiment...Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit... And so let me be. Keep this silence, ce temps musical, dramatique... Let me be. Let me grow. Let me become.

Et quand la douleur passe, la beaute reste... et je t'aime encore plus. Juste parce que tu deviens mon passé. Je t'aime au passé. Donc restes-y. Let me remember you, memories that will only be achieved once I'm able to forget you... et quand l'envie de m'eloigner passe, je me retournerais peut etre, pleine d'espoir, parce que ceci n'est que nature humaine, faiblesse, avec le temps qui rend les images et les sentiments flous, ne reste que la passion, les traces de parfum, les desseins inaccomplis, qui attendent, patiemment, en silence... en suspension indefinie.

La Confession...

2010-01-06T16:27:00.003+02:00

--La Confession, Lhasa De Sela
Je n'ai pas peur
De dire que je t'ai trahi
Par pure paresse
Par pure mélancolie
Qu'entre toi
Et le Diable
J'ai choisi le plus
Confortable
Mais tout cela
N'est pas pourquoi
Je me sens coupable
Mon cher ami

Je n'ai pas peur de dire
Que tu me fais peur
Avec ton espoir
Et ton grand sens
De l'honneur
Tu me donnes envie
De tout détruire
De t'arracher
Le beau sourire
Et même ça
N'est pas pourquoi
Je me sens coupable
C'est ça le pire

Je me sens coupable
Parce que j'ai l'habitude
C'est la seule chose
Que je peux faire
Avec une certaine certitude
C'est rassurant de penser
Que je suis sûre
Se ne pas me tromper
Quand il s'agit
De la question
De ma grande culpabilité

Je n'ai pas peur
De dire que j'ai triché
j'ai mis les plus pures
De mes pensées
Sur le marché
J'ai envie de laisser tomber
Toute cette idée
De "vérité"
Je garderais
Pour me guider
Plaisir et culpabilité...

Reste Encore Un Peu...

2010-01-03T23:36:00.001+02:00

--Cary Grant, Only Angels Have Wings, 1939

Quand les annees nous quittent, quand le monde accelere. Reste encore un peu. Donne moi l'illusion du temps qui s'arrete. Laisse moi oublier ces heures ephemeres. Juste pour une minute. Juste pour un chateau de sable. Juste pour retarder le jour. Peut etre meme pour le vaincre. Pour bousculer le provisoire... Le perissable.... Reste encore un peu.

Fresh.

2010-01-01T16:42:00.006+02:00

--Happy New Year, 01/01/2010.
A roundup of 2009 would seem trivial now. It's been erased. How big a difference a day can make! I'm all full of hope and excitement for the year to come just knowing that we started a new year! It's psychological, this feeling that as the clock turns so tritely from 11.59 to 12.01 just like every other day, you feel a burst of life in you as if you let go of all the worries and problems of the past year and you started looking ahead. again... I'm happy though. I'm optimistic. I'm ready! Happy New Year! And years to come. Here's to a breath of fresh air, here's to getting your head out of the waters, here's to good health, here's to good luck, here's to new beginnings!

Kolena Laila

2009-12-25T10:37:00.001+02:00

This post is part of the Kolena Laila Campaign:

And you wonder who Laila is... Laila is a Lebanese girl, actually she's not sure if she should be considered a girl or a woman, she has her moments of indulging in childish behavior, with her own whims and silly laughter, which she secretly enjoys, maybe an opportunity to feel protected by others, maybe some freudian remnant, maybe just the need for innocent affection, some interdependence among a daily fight to be the liberated woman she strives to be. Yes, she also tries to be as woman as can be, sometimes in bed with the lights dimmed just so the right glow dances around her curves, sometimes she suddenly metamorphoses into a well educated young lady most probably at a family dinner to please her parents, and then at other times she's the comforting professional who deals with patients and physicians on a daily basis. Why patients you ask? Well Leila is a student in medicine, part of the reason why she hasn't been able to delve into womanhood just yet, yes she's still a student. With the anxiety of exams and grading and attendance.

Trying to define who Laila is depends on the situation she's into. Laila is not real, she's not a person, she's only the reflection of what those around her expect her to be. No she's not a hypocrite but did you honestly think that those around her were looking to understand who she is? Did you really believe that they might have thought just for a second that she might be different, that she might have her own perception of life, that even though she's talking to them, maybe right at this moment, and she seems so genuine, so accessible, so real, so transparent, she's actually still trying to find out who she really is. Yes Laila doesn't believe she fits the definition that she has come to be associated with.

So you failed to define Laila, can you at least try to find out if Laila is happy? What would make her fuzzy inside? What can measure happiness in this Lebanese life that she's leading? Laila wants to conform. Unfortunately she has come to realize that in the society she's living in, the only way to be happy is to please those around her, maybe you agree and maybe you don't. It seems like such a defeatist attitude coming from the girl who was once so independent, so free, so self-ruling. And it is. Laila has discovered that in Lebanon there's only one way to live, you're part of this herd and God forbid you try to channel your own path. And no Laila is not worried about what "people" might say, people being those complete strangers who will have something to criticize no matter the situation, Laila is mostly worried about how her actions might reflect on her immediate entourage, being her parents, her family, her friends. Laila is not an individual anymore. Laila is intrinsically unhappy. She says she's content. Why wouldn't she be? It seems that everything is going for her, her performance at Medical School, her dear friends who she has come to carefully select, her health, her parents' health. Something is wrong though. Something doesn't fit. Could it be the fact that although Laila considers herself successful, it still bothers her that at social gatherings, a histrionic, typical Lebanese woman, the one she secretly dreads to become, the overdone makeup and hair, the revealing, and in no way age appropriate, clothing, the pretentious attitude, that same woman living off her husband's money and yet putting him down in front of his own friends, that same woman comes up to Laila and tells her: "Haram, 3am ta3emleh Medicine? Nshalla nefra7 mennik..." Translation: "You poor thing, you went into Medicine? I hope you eventually find yourself a husband..."

Here it is, success measured in this society. But beware, for it is not by finding yourself just any husband. You needn't look for the love of your life, you needn't take too long at the risk of drying up your eggs, you needn't look for someone of another religion or another nationality no matter how compatible you might be. You need to look for money. Marry money. Yes, if you're a Lebanese woman, it's not enough to make your own. This can actually turn out to be a source of utmost pity. "Haram she's so career oriented, she's never going to find a husband!"

And so, with all the holidays coming up, with my closest relatives wishing me the happiest of days to come, with them genuinely wishing me a happy marriage with the so called prince charming I haven't found yet, with the only thought in the back of their mind being for me to find someone to love, with them also prohibiting me from spending these holidays with the one I might find myself happy with, with them actively seeking my own happiness thinking they're of a clearer mind. With all this, with the nefra7 mennik at every sip of wine, Laila leaves the dinner table. She tells her parents it's time for her to go meet some friends, yes it's Christmas eve but Laila wants to get away. She gets into her car and she drives, she drives up to the closest mountain, she lights up a cigarette, although she promised her parents she'll be quitting soon. Laila turns off her car lights, it's 11pm on Christmas eve, rarely does she notice anyone driving by, she opens her windows, no radio, no sound, nothing. Laila finds herself far away, she escapes. She's gone. Only the time to finish that last cigarette. Laila dances. She imagines herself dancing her life away, twirling twirling and then some more, just enough to feel dizzy, just enough to have her thoughts all mixed up with nothing left to think about, cast away with a feeling of unexplained unjustified happiness brought on by a simple physical exercise. Dance Laila Dance.

Of Rain, Wine, and Duty

2009-12-01T21:01:00.004+02:00

--Careless Summer.
And the living is easy...

Designing Women.

2009-11-08T20:39:00.006+02:00

When Boredom is the Mother of All Inventions and Necessity the Root of All Evil.
My hairdresser decided to get me a present seeing how I must be one of his most loyal customers. Yes Hairy Sally, I've come a long way from them' days of salon hopping (?saloon should have been more appropriate in this instance?), I have found my hair mate, my soul mate. His brush glides like no other!

So Mr. R offered me this really nice blue bracelet as a token of affection. The bracelet in question is nothing fancy, a piece of flashy rubber with a hanging 60's peace sign, which I found to be really tasteful! And so being blessed with some extra time this weekend, and those seamstress genes that come with the XX package, I decided to make my own bracelets. And all it took is a few pendants and threads of colorful fabric.

-- Hair Affair.
-- Work In Progress on an Accidental Background.

Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening. --Coco Chanel

What's in a WALL?

2009-11-06T20:10:00.012+02:00

YOU, ME, Everybody Else or what's in a WALL?

Yes it's Friday night, Friday night lights, lights off. Maybe I was supposed to be sipping on that Strawberry Champagne with what I could only describe as goo at the bottom of the glass, as exhibit A of the failed attempt of that MYU Bartender to make a decent somewhat cosmopolitan drink. Maybe I was supposed to be having Dinner with close friends at Leila's. Maybe I was supposed to be talking to YOU on the Phone. And yet, I'm here, naying all above mentioned suggestions and all odds. SO what's in a WALL?

A WALL is something you build in a budding dysfunctional relationship, as part of passive aggressive behavior with your current flame, as part of the so called mating dance, more like a one step unfinished Waltz, unfinished Symphony, unfinished Sympathy of BitterSweet Symphony. (Thank you Beethoven, Thank you Massive Attack). Only to find out that the unfinished Wall will come crumbling on your uncoiffed, unadorned head of hair. Too many negations in one sentence, to let you know that NO, I will not be at MYU tonight.

A WALL is also a shield you build to protect yourself from unwelcome interactions. Only to find out that it is impossible to isolate yourself when you are part of a group. Only to find out that taking a distance DOESN'T actually entail isolating yourself or the "OTHER", taking a distance merely wants YOU to take more precautions. More of a Self Exercise. SO, be Selfish in your rapports, condition yourself to be Selfless with true friends, at least on a theoretical basis, maybe for better communication, but be Self aware of your surroundings and mostly be Self assured that you can be happier if you make those around you happy. SO, YES I'm sleeping a bit cheesier tonight, with a proud and slightly less crooked smile, but NO I will not be having dinner at Leila's. Yes, I AM taking said appropriate distance. This WALL is more of a Glass Door tonight.

A WALL is time and distance. And each day will seem like another brick laid over the previous one, cemented and strengthened by events on either side that are not visible to that other perimeter. And your field of vision narrows, even more, until I become part of your distant Imagination, and you of Mine. So, NO I will not be talking to YOU on the phone today, because, well because, I have traveled Away, because you must be sleeping, who knows in what bed, who knows in what country, who knows if that phone rang, will you be the one answering, will you have that special ringtone still assigned, will you put it on silent to let HER sleep some more?

A WALL is finally the cherished, off white four corners of my bedroom Tonight. SO, YES I shall sleep with the feeling of safety and comfort these cold pieces of lifeless, austere, 24 years old, stones bring me. Goodnight WALL.

And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall.
--Outside The Wall, Pink Floyd.

Food for thought. All this Hummus talk got me Hungry.

2009-10-25T19:20:00.004+02:00

We first invented the Alphabet. We saw it was good. And behold it was very good.
So, We invented Hummus.
And then, We invented Tabbouleh.
Nevertheless, We still can't form a government.
But hands off our Hummus and Tabbouleh or as God is our witness we shall make the biggest dish and get into Guinness for such amazing feats!
--Zeit Baladeh 2assil.

Thank You Delirious.

2009-10-25T16:00:00.002+02:00

True Story.

2009-10-13T21:01:00.003+03:00

Breaking News: A 5'11" foreigner was just run over in Gemmayzeh.
So how random is random? Here I was driving back home, trying to look in all directions, ok maybe not, but driving back home nevertheless, and suddenly out of nowhere, or maybe out of the sidewalk an American lady decides to cross the street. It's Gemmayzeh, it's dark, not that I'm trying to find excuses (well maybe I am), I hit her with my car, very gently I must add since being the SAFE driver that I am, I was doing about 20mph. She starts shouting, I apologize profusely, she picks up her scattered belongings and yells yet once more: How could you not see a 5'11!!!!
I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry for that woman I almost injured. I'm sorry for my car that she kept slamming and beating. I'm sorry for Lebanon because I'm pretty sure one less tourist will visit our country next year. I made a difference today. I changed the natural course of things. (Not that there's anything to be proud of! :)

The New Man. Four exercises in Utopian Movements.

2009-10-05T22:50:00.009+03:00

Here it is, my new life. Well into the medical internship and comfortably installed, maybe a bit too comfortably, seeing how I have become accustomed to do nothing BUT Medicine, I decided to change. Yet again. The circle closes once more and it's about time for rebirth, or just recycle.

It's amazing how much I enjoy the simple things in life, how much I can stand at awe just observing them, describing and analyzing them, try it, NOW, just the fact that you're reading this, you're reading something somebody else was writing, can you picture them typing on the keyboard? Can you see them tilting their head to one side and then a tad backwards, as if pleased to what is coming out at their fingertips, can you see them following the typed letters one after the other and being amazed at how quick they can go, faster, faster! Anyways, Here I am, in front of the screen, this is not a laptop, not this time, this is a PC, in my room. In my field of vision lay a picture, a necklace and a book. The book in question is Pathology 3rd edition of the Board Review Series, an indication that I started studying for my steps (the Board Exam in Med School), TODAY! I read three paragraphs and decided to move on. But an indication nevertheless, something more of an incentive and so the book shall remain in my field of vision.

Just about now, a friend interrupts my line of thought, I interrupt back, there's a roll and I'm on it!

So what is this about? Other than Carpe Diem over and over again? Other than the fact that I believe that just because the wind is high it blows my mind. Other than I LOVE the Moment, this MOMENT! Taking time to observe the most futile things in life make my thoughts rush in, one after the other, and then in complete and utter chaos, I start questioning the meaning of every action, its impact on subsequent ones, its display in front of an audience if there ever was one larger than life itself, than yourself. Think of it, at the hairdresser's, during the morning rounds, when stuck in traffic, what if someone is watching the scene unfold, what if this someone is you detaching yourself and enjoying the show.

Noting people's trivial moves as if in a play, as if aiming to recount them later makes you focus more on details. She was on the phone complaining about how her maid is being demanding. How dare she ask to talk to her family back in Africa? How dare she take advantage of her extreme kindness? And so she's advised to giver her away, to return her as if exchangeable merchandise, but no she wouldn't, she has worked hard to train her like the slave she wanted her to become for 9 months, 9 months! She will not falter or break in front of mere whims and capricious behavior, goddammit she will MAKE her stay! But how dare she take advantage of her extreme kindness? How dare she put a damper on her day and her time for self indulging at the hairdresser's. Anyways...

So I amuse myself, I observe, I think, I exist :)
Why this rant? I've pulled myself together, that's why. Yes, this is me actually pulled together. I decided there are just about enough hours in the day to life live full throttle. From Medicine, to Ballet, to Friends, to everything in between, Hello World, I'm not ready to hibernate just yet!

Speaking of new things, new people, new personalities, multiple personalities, here's an event that took place tonight at the Beirut Art Center. It follows the Ligna Art Works (Focusing on the reception side of radio, LIGNA looks for ways to turn the situation of reception into a performative intervention in a place. Listening to the radio thus becomes a collective production, which bears uncontrollable results.)

So, basically each individual had a walk-man with pre-recorded instructions and short existentialist truths and questions about society, utopia and oneself. Much like an improv' everywhere scenario but a bit more philosophical as to what Utopia is, to suit the artsy antsy.

You listen to the voice in your head telling you to move across the room, to punch someone in the face, to run with fear, to lay on your back and look at the ceiling, just admiring IT. Yes, the ceiling, why the hell not? It's an exercise in conforming and non conforming, an exercise in trusting those around you and sharing new experiences with complete strangers, an exercise in letting go and finding yourself, an exercise in listening and watching.

It's a delight to go through the motions, a delight to watch the others, the ensemble, the individual. Your adrenaline is pumping by the end of the interactive play, especially that most of the participants came in without any preconception as to what awaits them. And then you end the exercise with a dance, with the lights off, under a disco ball and you party like it's 1973! So what if it's an art gallery? What if it's Monday Afternoon? What if you don't know who you're dancing with? Have you ever wondered as to why it is socially acceptable to dance in a Club? Have you ever wondered as to what the owner of said Club must be thinking? For him he created a space, he knows the space when empty, with the lights on, and then he turns them off, he puts on some music and he watches these hordes of people just dancing, moving, laughing, and then all of a sudden, flash forward and the lights are on again, no one is left but the janitor cleaning up the mess, the show is over for the night. What was that? Really, what was that?...

Synopsis of The New Man. Four Exercises in Utopian Movements:

The poet Bertolt Brecht develops the Lehrstueck for a state without classes, where gestures, social positions and by that society as a whole come into play.
The dancer Rudolf von Laban proposes Bewegungschoere, choirs of movement, in which collective vibrations disperse power itself.
The director Wsewolod Meyerhold experiments in the young Soviet Union with biomechanical exercises for his actors to renew their bodies and by that shape a new kind of subjectivity.
And the comedian Charlie Chaplin stumbles across all of these utopian visions and their promises.

Obladi Oblada.

2009-09-29T20:37:00.003+03:00

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.

2009-09-29T00:19:00.004+03:00

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.

2009-09-21T17:35:00.001+03:00

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...

2009-09-20T23:21:00.002+03:00

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

Of Jediism and Religion.

2009-09-19T12:45:00.004+03:00

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...

101 ways to be a Prisoner. مشتاقين، مستائين، مش طايئين

2009-09-15T21:30:00.005+03:00

--I'm no Nabih Awada, but I miss you too...

*Image taken at an exhibition by Akram Zaatari of letters written and decorated by a certain Nabih Awada (a.k.a Neruda, an ex-communist party resistance fighter who spent ten years in Israel’s Askalan Prison)

Single Life.

2009-09-13T00:38:00.000+03:00

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

Of Concepts And Conceptions.

2009-09-09T21:37:00.003+03:00

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.

2009-09-07T05:15:00.001+03:00

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.

خليك بعد شوي

2009-08-18T20:14:00.003+03:00

مش مطلوب منّي صدّق كل شي بتقول
ولا مطلوب منّك تفهم كل شي عم قول

PostCall.

2009-08-15T10:59:00.004+03:00

Having feelings for an ex-flame seems to be much more self-serving and egotistical than people might think... or else how would you explain this nostalgia that comes back only when you have been let down by present events or you've just found some empty time alone. Why is it only then that you think of a love that is no more? What about the times when they needed you and you held back for lack of interest, lack of compassion? But all what you said then and there was that it just didn't feel right. Why now?

Chronicles From Between The Sheets.

2009-08-10T19:51:00.002+03:00

It's almost 8 and I am sleepy already. Score! Ka-ching! And Wow For Now!
I got a Feeling that Tonight's gonna be a good Night!
As I look more into my REM cycle episodes I start to understand that my problem relates more to anxiety and less to insomnia per se.
And so I decide to look less.

Of Fragrance And Ventilation.

2009-08-09T23:19:00.005+03:00

As I turn on the A.C. in my car, I breathe in your scent from the night before. And you put a smile on my face...

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Ooh, but I still smell her.
[inhales deeply through nose]
--Scent Of A Woman.

How To Count Sheep Or My Blogging Comeback.

2009-08-09T22:29:00.006+03:00

I can't sleep.
I even dread not being able to sleep.
It seems it could be a sign of latent anxiety that I just can't decipher. Everything seems to be going just fine, and yet I can't sleep... Yes there are things that I decided to ignore for a while, but I don't really seem bothered by them, and yet I can't sleep...
It starts around 8pm, on days where I am not overworked or particularly busy. I start thinking to myself as to how I am going to fall asleep at the appropriate time that society and my parents have put in place (around 11 pm) when everyone else in the house goes to bed.
And so on days like today, I end up taking one dose of anti-histamines for prophylaxis. To skip the anxiety episode and go straight to unconscious. And yet, it seems it's not helping anymore. I will not increase the dosage. Instead maybe I'll whine more about it here. Just enough to feel sleepy again.
Welcome World, Welcome Back.

--What's YOUR idea of a comeback?...

W benNesbeh La Boukra Shou?

2009-08-02T10:45:00.013+03:00

A round up of Cultural Events Sur Mesure:

These are some events during the month of August, not taking into consideration the known Festivals (aka Byblos, Baalbeck...) rather some underground concerts, some oddball exhibitions and some true Lebanese productions Baladi 2aseel.

I. Badguèr I Un événement autour de l'image/An image event:

Open Air Exhibition in Araman Factory, Bourj Hammoud (July 26 - August 12), by now you've missed the Open Air Screenings but you can still catch the Exhibition itself, and a concert on August 12 Closing Night. Don't forget to catch a bite at Mano's for authentic Soujouk. (They even have Soujouk Shawarma!)

II. Leka@Eka3:
Initiative created by a team of artists: from musicians, photographers, visual artists to film directors... throughout Amman, Beirut and Cairo.
The Beirut Schedule:
-1-
When: Sunday 2nd of August, 9:30pm
Who: Mashrou3 Leila (My personal choice, my Manly Burly Ballerinas)
Where: Jounieh Festival, Facing Jounieh Municipality
Free of Charge
-2-
When: Thursday 6th of August, 10:00pm
Who: Ressala, Aziz Maraka (Alternative Artist, Founder of Razz, Jordan), Mashrou3 Leila with Joelle Khoury (Composer-Pianist)
Where: Snatch, Gemmayze
Ticket Price: 20 000LL Cover Charge
-3-
When: Friday 7th of August, 9:30pm
Who: Ressala (One of the oldest and most established Egyptian indie bands)
Where: Jounieh Festival, Facing Jounieh Municipality
Free of Charge
-4-
When: Sunday 9th of August, 8:30 pm
Who: Mashrou3 Leila, Aziz Maraka, Ressala, feat. Ivoice
Where: Pierre Abou Khater Theatre, USJ – Damascus Road
Ticket Price: 15 000 LL
-5-
When: Monday 10th of August, 8:30 pm
Who: Ressala
Where: Shams Theatre, Tayouneh Roundabout
Ticket Price: 15 000 LL

III. Horror is Universal (The End)

A Video and Music Performance by Raed Yassin
Beirut Art Center, August 5th at 8pm. Entrance 15000 LL

This is Yassin's latest multimedia saga involving the deconstruction of Arab popular culture. The performance the 5th of August will be followed by the release party of the label Annihaya Records' very first album "The New Album".

Interestingly enough, the performance is on the background of an Exhibition by Akram Zaatari and Bernard Khoury (July 23-October 3).

Earth of Endless Secrets
Writing for a Posterior Time
A solo exhibition by Akram Zaatari
(This is about correspondence between a former Lebanese prisoner in Israel and his family)
&
Prisoner of War
A solo exhibition by Bernard Khoury
(This is a collection of some memorable war pictures and the proposal of a design for a contraption that can be used in war time)

This exhibition will also feature screenings by Akram Zaatari on August 12 and 26, at 8pm. Entrance 3000 LL

Wednesday August 12, 8pm:
Red Chewing Gum
Baalbeck: The Drift
How I Love You
Bathroom Naughtiness
Crazy Of You
(All screenings in Arabic)

Wednesday August 26, 8pm:
Video in Five Movements
Reflection
With Rachad El Jisr
Her + Him Van Leo

IV. Sphere in an acoustic live performance for 3 nights:

August 5,6,7 at 9pm, at the Zico House. Entrance 10000 LL
Sphere is a Classic Rock Band
Line up:
- Daya Kay : Lead Vocals.
- Amadeus Awad : Lead Guitars.
- Patrick Stephan : Drums & Percussions.
- Marcelino Said : Bass Guitars.
- Charles Sawma : Keyboards

V. A L'Ombre Des Sources:

Theatrical Performance in Arabic by Mounir Abou Debs, Freikeh Festival. August 5, at 8.30 pm. Entrance 15000 LL
The setting is in a Silk Factory 10 min from Antelias.

VI. Beirut Rocks on the Moon:
Deir Al Qamar Festival, Saturday August 8 at 7pm. Entrance 10000 LL

Musical trajectory of performances in the city with Scrambled Eggs joined by Mazen Kerbaj - Sharif Sehnaoui - Abdallah Ko - Raed Yassin, Youmna Saba ft. Fadi Tabbal, The Incompetents and Mashrou3 Leila! NOT TO MISS!

VII. Saif 840:
Theatrical Perfomance paying homage to Mansour Rahbani at Byblos. August 8 to 12, 8.30pm.
Line Up: Antoine Kerbaj, Hiba Tawaji, Ghassan Saliba.

VIII. Poetry Night:
Open Poetry Night. Snatch, Gemmayzeh. August 10, 7pm.

IX. Tribute to Mahmoud Darwish:

Marcel Khalifé & The Palestinian Youth Orchestra, August 12, Beiteddine Festival.
Pullman leaves from Starco at 7pm.

X. Momentary Flights:
Theatrical Performance, Art Lounge, August 20, 21, 22 at 8.30 pm. Entrance 15000 LL
Featuring Tamara Zeenny & Carla Dib.
It's a story that has no beginning nor end
It's a story that is suspended in time
It's you, me, and everyone in between
It's Momentary Flights
Synopsis: "It is an audio visual theatrical performance about the power of imagination"

XI. Lebanese Film Festival:
8th Edition, Empire Sofil, August 20 - August 24.
Program to Follow.
Check here.

Some Random Favorites:
-Zeina Tatbukh Prix Fixe (20000 LL) Menu, with a different eclectic cuisine, every Thursday Night at Zico House. 9pm.
-Torino Express, Gemmayzeh at around 7pm.
-Barometre, Hamra. Dinner.
-Cafe Younes, Hamra. Coffee and Betty Crocker Cakes.

Doctor Butcher. Doctor Play Nice.

2009-08-01T11:09:00.005+03:00

I've been busy.

The General Surgery rotation is now over, and I decided to venture into a Cardio-Thoracic Surgery Elective, not because I'm Wonder Woman and I want to save the lives of those who probably need it the most but because it's about time I take my mini summer vacation, and being the planktons that we are as Med III students, the Attendings would rather excuse us from watching all the operations than having extras bothering them with their useless presence in delicate procedures. Understandable and most Welcome I say!

Looking back at the rotation I spent 6 Weeks on, I must say it's been almost perfect. True I have nothing to compare it to, but being the overzealous medical student who just started her Clinical Years and who wants to learn everything and anything I really enjoyed shadowing our Interns and Residents, learning the ins and outs of the hospital, getting special attention from the Physicians who found our group of students "cute" and worthy of bestowing information upon... Note that we are deemed "cute" because we are about 10 Girls and 2 Guys, a rarity in the medical field and especially in the Surgery Department at AUH where only one Resident is Female (although questionable) and none of the Attendings. So as one other Resident put it: you girls are gonna miss the Surgery Rotation. And if you wonder why, if you wonder how, well because we're probably going to seek that extra attention, never to find it again...

So the Surgery Department was our mini oyster, and we indulged. Does it really matter if on the last day we were dismissed in a hurry? Without the farewells and the waterworks? Does it really matter that it dawned on us that we weren't the first "cute" group to roam the 10th floor at AUH, all smiles and heels? It was good while it lasted. It was about time to move on. Yes it was...

And now you wonder, what kind of a Physician am I growing into? Is the Hospital merely a playground for this unethical, unmotivated Blogger? No. The medical and clinical practices have never felt as gratifying for me as these past few weeks. I was the student who got to the Hospital 15 minutes early to look at the chart and find out what happened overnight, I was the student who took extra shifts to admit new and interesting cases, I was the student who prepared extra talks to learn more about the Child-Pugh scale or IV bags... And I wasn't the only one. Which brings me to the eagerness of Medical Students to become Doctors, we want to learn, we want to be proactive, we want to make a difference... And so enough self gratification, there is something more important on this blogger's mind...

When do you lose this eagerness towards making a difference and replace it with a feeling of extreme and ultimate superiority, even superior to human kind? When do you start overworking yourself not for the greater good but to show off your new techniques (whether followed by complications or not) and to break your own records in the amount and speed of the operations you perform? I see it everyday: Certain Physicians using their unequivocal power to operate on patients, merely for the extra Admission to the Hospital, or the Case Report if the Operation is too risky, or the fact that another Surgeon refused to Operate and they want to prove a Point. This is what Surgery has come down to in certain clinics (and I stress not all), an Abuse of Power and Human Lives without an ounce of Regret or Conscientiousness.

Should I mention the patient whose Ejection Fraction was under 20 percent, meaning he was near a Heart Failure, who Dr. (and I'm even pondering whether I should be mentioning his name here, because he is that powerful, which makes me reflect as to how ideal of a Physician I am being here, getting sucked into the hierarchy to watch my own back...) so who Dr. X (no I will not mention his name for the time being), Dr. X admitted the patient for a symptomatic gallbladder, risking having him never come out of the operating room just because another physician refused to admit him and if the patient were to make it through, it will be recognized that Dr. X has done it again and not that it's merely the poor patient's good fortune. Not that it's become purely a game of luck and statistics with said Dr. X whose many failures are not even properly documented, and a few out of thousands of risky operations are bound to yield a favorable outcome...

So you think the barbarity would end here, that it's already unethical enough. Well you're mistaken. Because Dr. X's Obsessions do not only relate to how many Operations he can do, or how many terminal cases he can get into the Operating Room, but also and maybe even more importantly: How Fast he can finish said Operation. Yes, Dr. X is obsessed. He will never fail to mention that he can operate on a patient in Seven Minutes, and you listen in awe thinking to yourself, Wow this guy must be good, but then you go into the Operating Room, you see the amount of stress under which he puts everybody around him, and you see him at work. He does have skills I admit, but he is brutal to say the least. And taking that same operation as an example, that critical case that must have been handled with care, I can't help but re-picture him trying to get the Gallbladder out of the incision he had made, and the gallbladder, having stones in it was found to be a bit tricky to pull out, so he kept pulling and pulling and screaming, he managed to move the table and the patient towards him, having the patient at an almost 45 Degrees with the table just by pulling the gallbladder from inside his body... Can you picture the savageness? The trauma? What makes the difference between a surgeon and a cattleman?

And yet it doesn't end here, said Physician managed to have intra-op bleeding because he was in such a hurry to finish the operation, an operation that should have no complications whatsoever, and so to achieve hemostasis he decided (as it has been the norm with him) to carbonize the bleeding part and then some, ending up with a burnt liver. Because as he says anything carbonized doesn't bleed, and yes the liver can regenerate to an extent, but what about the prolonged and sub-optimal healing process post extensive burning? He just does not care because his mission ends on the Operating Table, that is where the Medical Records end too.

I'm done, this was one Case Report from a Medical Student's point of view, from a more humane point of view. I will not mention the extra operations that he convinces patients of, although they don't seem to need it necessarily, like removing the gallbladder to get heartburn relief... This might not be as risky, but it's just as immoral. And so, sometimes I wonder, being the silent observer that I am, maybe, since I am not there when patients discuss their medical issues with the physician before being admitted to the hospital, maybe they tell him things he can pick up on and then they fail to mention them to me on admission, or I am just not as experienced to notice and interpret them. Maybe he is taking the right decision after all... Maybe I am just turning a blind eye like everybody else around me, before me and coming after me. Who knows?

And If Tomorrow Never Comes.

2009-07-20T01:43:00.003+03:00

There's something about the 20th or 20 something that just screams lucky number to my ears. Let's share this although my blogging is scarce. Today was eventful to say the least, from (and let's try to put it nicely) unprofessional teasing in front of the sickly, (I'm sorry, I shall behave), to Goodbyes, to Surprises, to Welcome Backs!

And just when I thought the highlight of my day would be saying bittersweet goodbyes, with the hug and cued in Casablanca Soundtrack in the background, I get a phone call only thirty minutes later, and I drop the cigarette. Yes, yes that cigarette I wasn't supposed to be smoking since I quit more than 2 months ago. But then and there, I said to myself what the hell, I shall indulge. So let's get back to the series of events, I drop the cigarette and I scream... Welcome Back.

Stop, Reset, Rewind, Forward.
And yet another Goodbye in 10 days.
Is it true that Lebanon is now nothing more than a pit stop?

--Casablanca, Here's looking at you Kid.

Pinch Me. I'm Human.

2009-06-29T20:42:00.003+03:00

L. was asking me about one of my previous relationships as she was trying to draw similarities between her current one and mine, in an attempt to elucidate what might become of her and her boyfriend. You see he's not Lebanese, he lives abroad where they met before she moved back to Lebanon for good, and he will be coming to see her in Beirut, in a few days. Just like you and me. Just like us, a year ago. But that's not the point. The point is, as a matter of fact, a general feeling of disbelief and jadedness as to how I could have forgotten all that happened so easily. I'm not sure why and how, I'm really not...

And as I sit and wonder, was it because it was time? Was it the distance? Was it the natural course of things that only a step back was able to achieve? Was it the fact that I got distracted by peripheral events? Was it?...

I just wonder how affectionate and sentimental of a person I can actually be if I was able to throw away four years of my life just like that, with no regrets. I'm not sure what to think of this, that exact feeling of nothingness that I felt when my grandfather passed away, that complete disregard. It scares me...

It even makes me wonder about the times when I really felt passionate and emotional enough to notice. Was it only because I wanted to attain my goal? Was it pure ambition or were there any sentiments involved whatsoever? Is that why I lost interest in some instances where I was actually capable of reaching my target? And will I ever have genuine vulnerable feelings?...

Bliss on Corniche.

2009-06-28T20:35:00.004+03:00

The Peace and Quiet of a day at the beach. This little gem, more so a diamond in the rough, is the AUB Beach. And, while in the area, this blogger had the opportunity of stealing a couple of precious hours to lay in the sun, turning from side to side, listening to music, going in for a dip, nothing out of the ordinary, just pure decadent laziness.
What's nice about the AUB beach is how accessible it is, AUB students and staff can go in anytime and they can bring guests, so keep your swimsuit in the trunk and whenever in the area go down for an hour or two.
--Beach Goers Frolicking in the Sun.
Expect to be greeted by fishermen, some foreigners (exchange students) and a few kids learning how to swim. But mostly, expect to savor the un-pretentiousness and simplicity of this place that has been able to withstand the rapid and disproportionate glamorization of Beirut. Here you come to tan, swim, fish, read. Champagne bottles not allowed.
--AUB Beach on a Background of Ain El Mreisseh.
One of the fishermen actually spent four hours on the same chair in the exact same position waiting for providence. Ah the good life. The tranquility. The Bliss.
--The AUB Fisherman.
I secretly wondered what was going through his mind.

Teaching Rounds 101.

2009-06-23T20:01:00.006+03:00

So what have I learned about the First week of rotating in the hospital as a Third Year Medical Student?

I've learned that Interns and Residents will want to do anything to keep the hierarchy and thus will occasionally act as your superior to remind you that even though you're just as old, and maybe even slightly more informed about a particular disease or another, they can still get you in trouble if they feel like it.
On the other hand, they can just as well be extra nice and invite you over to their On Call Room when on duty, an offer you should politely decline if you don't want to end up standing awkwardly in the farthest spot you can find, giving a talk about your critically ill patient while the resident is laying on the bed, and you poor helpless medical student, you keep imagining him playing with his toes while trying desperately to withhold hysterical and uncomfortable bouts of laughter.

I've learned that you never know who your Patient will turn out to be. And even though you should treat all of them equally and professionally, you will eventually find out that you should not be using a systematic approach, and not only because of that oath of empathy and sympathy that you pledged (and earned a pin for doing so), but because they might turn out to be enriching to your social and communal network of interesting people you stumbled upon.

I've learned that Nurses seem to be doing all the work and having the most exposure with the patient, so you'd better stay on their good side. That is of course besides the fact that they know the ins and outs of the hospital, along with when and where free food is served. They will also keep your belongings safe, especially in a hospital where not even a private locker is provided to you, regardless of the hefty tuition you're coughing up.

I've learned that the Attendings are, up until today June 23 2009 at 8.17 pm, the friendliest in the food chain and the most accessible. I document this impression thoroughly and with the utmost precision, because I have a feeling this finding might change in days to come. Nevertheless, attending physicians seem to be seeking medical students to bestow upon them all the knowledge they have acquired and some extra rewards like freshly picked berries, (thank you Dr. WGF).

I've learned that in the Operating Room, anything goes. I have yet to witness the urban legends about physicians throwing scalpels at students and residents, but I have already heard them shouting for no particular reason and making sure everyone in the room understands that they are the Kings of the castle, the Lords of the domain, the Alpha and the Omega, although they will be all smiles and winks once out of their scrub suit. So if you have a beef with your resident and you're desperately seeking revenge, follow them to the Operating Room, you can be sure they will get yelled at, at least once, even if their performance is fairly appropriate, it never seems to fail.

I've learned that the constantly lauded and stressed upon Ethical Behavior seldom leaves the classroom. And the lower your rank the more conscientous you are. I will not generalize, but Yes, physicians disclose full medical and social histories in crowded elevators, with names and family members mentioned. Yes, they mistreat OutPatient Department patients (as opposed to private ones). Yes, they will keep the patient for an extra day or two in the hospital if insurance covers their stay. Yes, they will fail to adequately scrub in risking nosocomial infections during an operation. Yes, the most famous ones are the ones who might be a pure source of revenue for the hospital rather than diligent physicians. Yes, some deaths can and should be avoided especially with infection control.

I've learned that I love medicine. I love clinical practice. Heck, I even love surgical procedures although I was very skeptical about the latter to start with, seeing how I hated the Anatomy course, and my surgery summer elective in Barcelona. (Which might be explained by the lack of proper communication, since for some weird reason, Catalans have taken it upon themselves to refuse to master proper English).

I've learned that your most potent tool is People Skills, People Skills, People Skills. Whether you are communicating with the resident, the intern, the attending or the patient.

I've learned that the best communication should be among your group members to keep a unified front and a consensus regarding sharing tasks and responsibilities.

I've learned that I have yet to Learn, that this is only the Beginning, so Here's to Medical School and to a successful Medical Career. Chin Chin and Salute.

A New Episode. A New Chapter.

2009-06-17T20:59:00.006+03:00

A New Episode:
Tomorrow night (Thursday June 18, 2009) at 7.30 pm. Catch the Flying Kebab team and their loyal (even though somewhat recent) fans at Kababji on Bliss Street in Hamra, for a screening of the Third Episode in the Kebab Saga, and a Brazilian male duo singing Fairuz? (not sure if they will deliver on that, and frankly not even sure I want them to). If you can't make it, watch the Third Episode Online.

A New Chapter:
So much to rant about! This humble blogger has moved up in the world of Medicine and is now a certified paperwork filler and filer in the American University of Beirut Medical Center (or AUH), otherwise known as a Med III Student. Ok, so let's bask in the glory, I have patients! And yes, I am part of the Medical Team that roams the corridors of a 10 stories high hospital, occasionally with high heels. I will be tackling this subject a bit more seriously in the next few days.

--Actual Depiction. True Story.

Of Listening and Lessons Learned.

2009-06-14T00:39:00.002+03:00

When you decide to listen closer and deeper, just listen, you can't help but realize how much people actually talk about themselves and complain about everything else. And then when they ask you, two hours into the conversation, how you're doing, you can only reply with "Everything is fine"...

I am truly grateful for my blessings. And the biggest one of all: Satisfaction, Fulfillment, Contentment...

Point and Cry.

2009-06-10T15:48:00.000+03:00

What difference does it make now to say I told you so and to gloat in poetic justice? You proved worthy of your misery!

Civic Civilization. Time to Be The Change.

2009-06-09T00:37:00.009+03:00

Yes, I'm a member of the Free Patriotic Movement, casually known as Tayyar in Lebanon. The platform for Tayyar in the Lebanese Elections of 2009 was Change and Reform. And it was about grand time! Unfortunately Tayyar will not be able to implement its reform in the way it intended, seeing that the opposition was not able to secure a majority in parliament but hopefully the elected ministers and Michel Aoun, the party's leader, in particular, will be carrying on with their functions and their responsibilities towards the Lebanese people, as part of a National Unity government.

Now the bigger question is why did the results turn out as such? I will not be discussing the International and Local pressures on voters and the change in the geopolitical situation, nor the use of fear tactics against other Lebanese factions such as Hizbullah, nor the unexplained huge increase of Hariri voters in Zahle between 2005 and 2009, nor the fact that maybe Aoun aimed too high. No, I will be discussing the civic aspect of things, the Lebanese population itself. And are we really ready for change?

As a young blogger who has lived abroad, I must say I have seen the difference between civilized and unrefined. And as hard as it is to admit to a Lebanese who prides herself in her country and her heritage, we constitute the latter. This revelation was late to come to me, because I mostly did not want to admit that the flaws in this glorious country of ours, in this piece of land I have had the most destructive and passionate relationship with, in this nation over which I have cried so many times and still do, the flaws are based in the population itself. I'd rather blame the politicians and I have done so for years now, but it's about time to admit that although people are not getting their full rights, far from it, they are partially to blame.

No, not all generations, the younger ones especially those 35 years old and less, are more open to reform. (Thus the FPM following is mostly youth.) But the majority of voters is still composed of these generations that have lived through wars and chaos, these generations that take it for granted that they need to bribe someone or carry a wasta here and there, these generations that think getting in line is for sissies, these same generations that are sick and tired of this country and want change but expect change will start from the politicians that they keep re-electing rather than from stopping at a red light without throwing a fit.

Civic duty in Lebanon is almost completely absent and negligible. And here lies your problem. Yes our politicians are corrupt, yes we can do better, but do we deserve better? What if better comes along and hits you in the face and you still do not vote for that new leader with progressive ideas and efficient representatives. What if you actually force him to remodel some of his ideas to your archaic liking?

I do not like FPM for the love of Aoun, unfortunately although he lived abroad and he has tried to apply revolutionary principles in a country in desperate need of change, he too has been remolded to become a Christian leader who prides himself with za3ameh over a specific faction, he gets angry and shouts, he criticizes the opposite side instead of trying to work out their differences. He is your typical older generation. Regardless, the man is a visionary and this unfortunately quite standard Lebanese behavior at times does not exclude the fact that his ideas and followers do represent reform and righteousness.

But who are you trying to convince of change? Is it the 300 or so ladies crammed in a school hallway with barely any oxygen left on a Sunday morning to cast their votes while they shout at each other and try to cut in line and create new nonexistent lines ignoring the officer's plea for a quiet democratic process. These ladies are us, they are our mothers and aunts, they are a generation that will be hard to break, that will be hard to change. Is it the officer himself whose duty is to answer to your complaints but he'd rather walk away, without acknowledging that a citizen is desperately trying to talk to him and asking him to do his job? Is it the representatives of the political parties who start shouting at voters because how dare they suggest to them to file complaints with the respective departments, what are they traffic officers, God Forbid?!

The older generation seems hopeless, those who are handing over a country that they reduced to shambles are still to blame for the slowing of reform in Lebanon, so take your corruption and decay and step aside for a new order to come. Let's not ruin our chances to have more civilized generations, let's start by reforming the education system and let's inform people of their civic duties and the necessity to follow the rules. My vote is in, yes fix the Country but mostly fix its People.

What's Cooking?

2009-06-08T01:43:00.000+03:00

The results of the Lebanese Elections favored the current leading majority: the March 14 camp. What does that mean? Are Lebanese actually satisfied with the status quo?

Moreover, what is really cooking behind the scenes? Are new alliances being prepared? When being asked about the loss that March 8 seems to have endured, Walid Khoury mentions how the phase of March 14 and March 8 is now over and that it might not be a loss after all, with the new alliances that are to be formed and the new political scene that needs to be established.

I must say I personally hoped for a change, a change I have awaited for years. And I saw it coming this time. And it seemed like my last chance at happiness in this country, it seemed like I put everything in that ballot, all my hopes and dreams because I truly believed in change. I did. But then again, maybe now I will have nothing to lose when I leave the country once more in a few years. Or maybe not? Wa Ma Adiaka L3ayshou Lawla Fous7ati lAmali...

I will be on the look out these few days for new developments and maybe a clearer picture.

Roller Coaster Lebanese Elections.

2009-06-07T23:03:00.002+03:00

Maybe I should be talking about the Elections. I can easily say I haven't discussed anything else today, in the 18 hours I have been awake and on the ground. But sitting here, now, at the end of this extremely eventful day, I almost have nothing else to say...

But I felt it all : The excitement at dawn as if it were Christmas morning. The frustration in getting to the ballots on time. The big grin on my face when I saw the turnout at 8am. The exasperation with having to wait in an uncivilized manner for more than two hours right in front of the voting station. The anger and resentment towards members of the Internal Security Forces. The praise of Ziad Baroud, Minister of Interior, and of members of the Lebanese Army.

--Lebanese Army, Sassine, Ashrafieh.

Hunger. Food. Going back to the ballots and helping people in the voting process. Making rounds in Ashrafieh (Beirut 1), Mansourieh (Metn), Beit Mery (Metn), and the central office for FPM. Getting Information. Giving Information. Good news. Call, Spread, Rejoice. Bad news follow almost immediately. Feel crushed, uncertain and mostly sorry for this country. It's 7pm, choose a place to meet up and discuss the minute to minute results. Start with Metn. Ibrahim Kanaan's office or what is called "The White House" in Jdeideh. Lovely atmosphere, people cheering and drinking champagne. FPM shall win 8 out of 8 seats.

--The White House, Jdeideh.
--Lovely Ladies and Champagne Bottles.

Rumors start flying that people are celebrating in Ashrafieh too! Let's go check. 20 minutes later: Ashrafieh. Issam Abu Jamra's office. FPM seems to be leading the polls.

--Early Results, Ashrafieh.

I turn my head, for a few seconds and look at the screen again and O rage! O desespoir! the opposite list is now leading all 5 seats in Ashrafieh. We leave. Almost get crushed by a Kuwaiti 4x4. I drop some friends home. Who needs the uncertainty and edginess of Ashrafieh? Let's go back to Metn where the win is certain! Driving back to Metn, I get one of the last phone calls of the day, (and these amount to more than ninety back and forth, you're welcome Alfa), the voice on the other end of the line says to me "Don't bother coming to Jdeideh, the situation doesn't look good". Hang up. Wonder what or who to believe. Go back home. Try one last time to get some good news, call Beit Mery, they are still counting votes, nothing is certain. Park the car. The night looks just as tiring as that endless day. Make some more phone calls to try to understand why the results on Tayyar.org keep fluctuating. Not much to say here. Writing this while people cheer outside. Fireworks and all. Probably coming from the Aaley region. They seem pretty confident. At least they wonder no more. Finishing up this Elections blurb, getting another phone call claiming that FPM lost Ashrafieh and that the other camp is already celebrating. Nothing is certain yet. Nothing. Decide to sleep on it.

--Election Memorabilia on My Thumb.

All in all, I'm glad I voted, I'm glad I was able to exercise my right in a peaceful manner, even if the process and the small infractions got frustrating at times. Here's to a day that started with an optimistic outlook and an eagerness to represent only to end with uncertainty and semi-satisfaction. I voted. I hope you did too!

Flying Kebab. Shooting Stars.

2009-06-03T12:13:00.000+03:00

The Flying Kebab group is picking up on Facebook. Join to get the latest news and behind the scenes photos and updates. If you haven't watched Episodes 1 and 2 yet, what are you waiting for? Go to Flying Kebab.
For some weird reason, my instinct tells me these guys are gonna have quite the fan base in Lebanon (and Brazil?), I'm loving the idea!
Yay for more documentaries about Lebanese culture as seen in the eyes of foreigners. (Because foreigners can pick up details that Lebanese might take for granted). And yay for the collaboration with Lebanese artists who can add a true local spirit to the series.

Je T'aime...Moi Non Plus.

2009-06-01T10:00:00.002+03:00

What's in a blog? Yes I've had my share of rants here, but when it really matters, when it's intense enough to hurt or bewilder in delight, when it enslaves me and shakes me to the core, I can't seem to be able to reproduce it in words for everyone to read, I can't seem to be able to be that transparent, and maybe I shouldn't be. But then what's the point? Is it merely the writing itch, expression fever, the communication bug?

Something happened yesterday, but I can't get myself to name the protagonists, to recreate the entrancing scene, to draw the intricate details that made it so... I can't because then I will become vulnerable, I will have to admit to what happened and what lead to it. I will have to admit to the world but even more so to myself what it really felt like, how I perceived it, risking misinterpretation and disillusionment. No. So I resort to expressing myself in these cryptic declarations. Maybe hoping for the message to go through, maybe hoping for the feelings to get transcribed, to transcend this page...

I loved every minute of it. Getting out of bed at 2 am, turning my computer on, finding you. How I love that we're not together.

Listening to:

--Je t'aime... moi non plus-- Serge Gainsbourg