A Little Exercise in Randomness and Fate

What started as a little exercise in tempting fate into telling me something interesting today ended up in a 3 hours non stop rummaging into randomness posted online. So maybe fate is trying to tell me something interesting, or maybe One has to look for that "something interesting" and One will find it. Isnt that the age old question?... Or maybe One should stop procrastinating and start studying for that pharmacology exam in a few days.

--My Album Cover: Merely A Select Few, By The Allentown Cardinals.

What I discovered on the way:
--I would never die for my beliefs because I might be wrong.
Bertrand Russell (1872 - 1970)
--It was a book to kill time for those who like it better dead.

Dame Rose Macaulay (1881 - 1958)
--A man with a watch knows what time it is. A man with two watches is never sure.
Segal's Law


What Else?

--Switchback has the power to manipulate the last ten seconds of her personal timeline: she can replace herself with a younger version while retaining the memories of her older self. This time-shift is obvious to observers, as it also physically moves her body.

This ability has allowed her to escape telepathic possession by the Shadow King, by shifting herself through time as soon as he attempted to control her.
Source: Switchback Comics Character, Wikipedia

To Do This: (And Waste 3 Hours)
1 - Go to Wikipedia Hit Random: The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.
2 - Go to Random quotations: The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
3 - Go to Flickr and click on Explore the last seven days: The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
4 - Use Photoshop or similar to put it all together.

L'amour on the rocks

Of Bitters and Digestifs

Herzlich Willkommen Bei Underberg!
Sind sie schon volljahrig?


Recommended Digestif
after a hearty meal.




--For Best Results when pouring, hold the Underberg bottle at an angle.

High Cheese Content

And a Whole Lot Of Love to my own R.P.G!
I love you guys!
You made my day!

What Would Jesus Do?

The First Civil Marriage Ceremony took place in Lebanon, yesterday, in Gemmayzeh, thereby, kicking off St. Valentine's celebrations with a strong message: Yes to civil weddings in Lebanon! (Ok it was a mock wedding in a bar, but still).
Another ceremony will take place on Sunday Feb 15th.

On another note, you can now remove your religious affiliation from your id cards as indicated by Ziad Baroud, the new interior minister. (And you can go on this website to check if your name appears correctly on the voting list for the 2009 elections).
To sum up. Is this country moving forward? Could it be?!

Scrambled

-learning that in medicine, the Sister Mary Joseph nodule or node, also called Sister Mary Joseph sign, refers to a palpable nodule bulging into the umbilicus as a result of metastasis of a malignant cancer in the pelvis or abdomen.

-singing sister mary in the elevator and the attending physician turning to me and saying "wow you're musical/oddly vocal today"

-learning that A.'s cancer will not be cured/contained by conventional therapy.

-feeling helpless again.

-debating whether I should tell A. Whether he will accept it coming from me. Whether it will make a difference for him to know or not.

-getting stuck behind a sukleen/garbage truck from 8 to 8.20 pm in the middle of Hamra.

-ending my day early.

Sister Mary, By Joe Dolan

Sister Mary,can you tell me,is there any use?
Sister Mary,I've been praying what else can I do?
She's been gone seems so long,I want to have her home
Sister Mary reassure me help me to go on
Tell me don't try to spare me pain
Will she be coming home again
Sister, I feel so afraid.
All my life I cared so much for her
All my life is nothing if I'm left without her
Tell me why I just can't let her go...Sister I feel so afraid
Monsieur Thompson, there she's sleeping the doctor's here today
There seems to be no change in her that's all he had to say
But late last night she spoke to me she said she loves me so
Monsieur Thompson, don't you worry she'll soon be well I know
Tell me don't try to spare me pain will she...
Monsieur Thompson, I am sorry please don't cry... don't cry please don't cry

And Why is The Show About Nothing?

On a lighter note, the title explains how Life can be just that: A Show About Nothing. That statement does have a potential metaphysical aspect to it, but this blogger picked it up from a Seinfeld Episode, mentioned in the very first post:
--So, what have you guys come up with?
-I think I can sum up the show for you with one word: nothing.
-Nothing?
-Nothing!
-What does that mean?
-The show is about nothing!
And so one can talk and talk, however, in the end, the show can be just about nothing!

Dum Spiro, Spero.

And so why The Purple Rose Of Beirut?
Maybe because Life IS a fantasy. And not always a good one.
Maybe because she likes to believe she can LIVE her dreams.
Maybe because Woody Allen has showed her time and time again that he can explain Life in his own neurotic way.
Maybe because she too travels into movies and acts them out even on a small scale.
Maybe because she can see how relationships can be turned upside down.
Maybe because the story is not only about love but more about Life, about believing and dreaming and escaping...
Maybe because what they call denial, she calls behavioral therapy.
Maybe because at the risk of sounding disconnected, she does believe the stars align. And even if they don't, at one point satisfaction comes in different packages.
Maybe because even when saying that, she sees the discrepancy but still strongly believes in it. Because what a harsh world it would be if one didn't.
Yes, she chooses to believe. And she assumes all responsibilities of, one day, falling off her high held illusions with no one to catch her. And everyone to point and say "I told you so!"
But she has seen life, she has seen misery, in all its glory. And Maybe that is exactly what drove her to believe in the Purple Rose of Beirut. Her own purple rose. To escape war, to escape financial insecurity, to escape illness, to escape heartache, to escape separation and distance from those dearly beloved. And mostly to accept it all. In her own way. And to be grateful.
The topic of "The Purple Rose of Cairo" might have been used and abused over and again, but the way it is depicted in that particular movie shows how life and its meaning will always carry a double edge sword: Yes she can believe in her dreams, but she should expect that even if things do turn out the way she wanted them to,(which she still believes they do eventually), she might find out that, somewhere along the way, this is not what she wanted anymore...

"--Cecilia: I just met a wonderful new man. He's fictional but you can't have everything.
(...)
--Tom Baxter: I'm sorry. It's written into my character to do it, so I do it
(...)
--Henry: No! No! Don't turn the projector off! No! No! It gets black and we disappear!
(...)
--Larry: I want to go too! I wanna be free! I want out!
Mr. Hirsch's Lawyer: I'm warning you, that's Communist talk."

Of Religious Holidays

Today. All day. A glass of wine, a slowly burning cigarette, me and Blossom Dearie. Ah, la Belle Indifference!

Philip Rizk or Freedom of Speech

Philip Rizk is a journalist, activist, and blogger who has been detained by the Egyptian police without any charges since Friday Feb 6th. The latest update was that the police ransacked Rizk's family residence on Monday Feb 9th looking for evidence that might incriminate Philip in any way. Rizk has been active about the Gaza siege and war, and his abduction followed a demonstration in solidarity with the Palestinian people in Gaza on Feb 6th. Check updates here, or through facebook.

On the AUH Menu Tonight

And here is a new low: A physician abusing his power position tonight in the Emergency Room at the appraised American University Hospital in Beirut. S. went in seeking medical attention after a car crash that left her with neck pain, and came out feeling molested and abused. One attending physician who wasn't even in charge of her case, decided (mind you after all the appropriate tests were done) to do a full check up on her, in a very unprofessional manner. I stayed in the room and watched him conduct his physical exam, putting his stethoscope in places where he wouldn't be hearing anything instrumental. And now looking back, maybe we should have said something, but even as medical students, you still feel the white coat effect. You wonder maybe it IS procedures and protocol. And then you rethink it in your head, and you realize no it's not! This was nothing more than a degenerate pervert taking advantage of any situation to feel the lowest of gratifications. And you wonder how much more of this will we be seeing in the hospital and how you can never let it get to you, rather (and at the risk of sounding as a man-bashing feminist) you should stay on your guards and be on the offense against any potential sticky situation. Just in case. Just to put the likes of this guy in their rightful place. And here you have it, the lowest yet, taking advantage of the white coat to touch a patient inappropriately.

Of Acquired Tastes

--Peach Plum Pear. (Joanna Newsom)
Or Pumpernickel?
(Pumpernickel Nutrition Facts/Slice-->)

Blind Item.

The worst kind of attention is the one intentionally given, only to stroke the bestower's ego.

Life Swap

And what if Sharbat Gula (the National Geographic sensation) was Lebanese? What if she was actually Sana Chalhoub, a survivor of the Qana massacre? What if everytime Afghanistan was mentioned it was replaced by Lebanon, and the Soviet Union by Israel?
[...]“She’s had a hard life,” said McCurry. “So many here share her story.” Consider the numbers. Twenty-three years of war, 1.5 million killed, 3.5 million refugees: This is the story of LEBANON in the past quarter century.
Now, consider this photograph of a young girl with sea green eyes. Her eyes challenge ours. Most of all, they disturb. We cannot turn away.“There is not one family that has not eaten the bitterness of war,” a young Lebanese merchant said in the 1985 National Geographic story that appeared with Sharbat’s photograph on the cover. She was a child when her country was caught in the jaws of the ISRAELI invasion. A carpet of destruction smothered countless villages like hers. She was perhaps six when Israel bombing killed her parents. By day the sky bled terror. At night the dead were buried. And always, the sound of planes, stabbing her with dread. “We left Lebanon because of the fighting,” said her brother, Kashar Khan, filling in the narrative of her life. He is a straight line of a man with a raptor face and piercing eyes. “The Israelis were everywhere. They were killing people. We had no choice.”
[...]“You never knew when the planes would come,” he recalled. “We hid in caves.”
The journey that began with the loss of their parents and a trek across mountains by foot ended in a refugee camp tent living with strangers.
[...]It is the ongoing tragedy of Lebanon. Invasion. Resistance. Invasion. Will it ever end? “Each change of government brings hope,” said Yusufzai. “Each time, the Lebanese people have found themselves betrayed by their leaders and by outsiders professing to be their friends and saviors.”

-Bitasarrof, based on Cathy Newman's article in the National Geographic, April 2002.

Make Your Own Quote

make your own luck
make your own dream
make your own day
make your own story
make your own love
make your own legend
make your own fairytale
make your own bed
make your own future
make your own child
make your own opinion
make your own taste
make your own superhero
make your own art
make your own background
make your own character
make your own music
make your own beat
make your own drum
make your own inspiration

Disciplining Drivers One At a Time

Have you ever wondered what the AFP (Agence France-Presse) thinks of Lebanese traffic? Wonder no more!
The French Traffic Police is apparently taking Beirut by storm! Waving and flailing hands at unruly motorists. How far do the Lebanese go in trusting other countrymen more than their own? (Hence the failed political system). Is it as far as taking orders from the French police over the good ol' darak? How true is that latter statement anyways? Isn't it known that Lebanese people tend to find each other and aggregate once abroad, to keep a sense of community?
Anyone who could teach the Lebanese road ethics is good enough for this blogger though! Fellow countryman or not. For our drivers are so stubborn, so disobedient, so holier-than-thou, 'tis more than a stressful adventure to go out there every day, braving traffic and horns.
Check out the article where [Dominique Szymczak, a police brigadier from Paris's 13th arrondissement] takes his Lebanese colleague into the middle of a busy intersection to demonstrate how traffic control is carried out Paris-style.

Anarchy

--The Ballad of Sacco e Vanzetti
Here's to you Nicola and Bart
Rest forever here in our hearts
The last and final moment is yours
That agony is your triumph!

And in Other News.

P.H. and E.H. ended their relationship. 1:53pm
That's just taking facebook to a whole different level!

Time Travel is Possible.

--Oldies Selection, January 2008.

Of Barbar and Barbarian.

--Warning: when going to Barbar, make sure you're accompanied by a man!
As I crave a Shawarma after a night out, it seemed Barbar was the best and closest option. Ah the greasy, somewhat non-health-inspection-abiding, heavenly chicken Shawarma sandwich! P. is much more health oriented and so he goes for a fruit cocktail from the store next door. And picture this: at around 11.00 pm, 12 guys are sitting there, hanging out, and then a female comes in! Albeit accompanied by P., but a female nonetheless! The stares through the mirrors, the typical "shou ya 7elo", the sleazy smiles. I did not know where to look anymore, the store was all mirrored and so I ran to my car where I waited for P. like a good Lebanese female.
And so when going to Barbar, if you want to take a chance and maybe catch salmonella (and I say risk well taken), make sure it's in broad daylight, or when accompanied by a male who could order for you, or bear the consequences of your actions and expect to be verbally aggressed.
Well, you probably shouldn't be eating Shawarma at 11pm anyways!

Loin des yeux, Pres du coeur

--Maybe He couldn't see it. But He read it.

Tic Toc

...

Helpless

It's cancer. Metastasized to the bone. And as I sit and use fancy terms in the physician's clinic I start looking at this wonderful man. Hit with a malignancy. And the term is evasive to say the least.
This man is saintly. He has been everything to me and my family and more. And now no one can return the favor. And he takes it all, silently.
-"But doctor, when can I jog again?" he insists with a serene smile on his face.
It's too early. TOO early!! I want to scream: "Stay, they need you!". They all need you. They love you. I hear their worried voices on the phone and I cannot answer.
And I wonder, where is the cure? Why are they all falling around me like a baseless house of cards? One after the other.
And at the ripe age of 20sth, I remember this conversation with a 90sth years old lady.
Me: You must feel so blessed, living to be almost a hundred!
The Lady: But you see M., I buried everyone I knew. I cried over each and every one. And this is life as I will remember it. Alone.


Please, do not make me bury anyone.

Fly me to the Moon!

He wants her beside him so they can be alone together.
He couldn't see it, but I blushed and those smile wrinkles around my eyes just got deeper!

Repent. Acquit. I-Quit.

And in the end, how I wish to tell you that I never deliberately said or did anything to hurt you. That things one tells friends in strict confidence are not meant to harm anyone but rather to alleviate some of the pain. That even with this in mind, I never said anything that was not. That sometimes stories are distorted depending on who is telling them. That even until now, even in the end, even if you don't count as much or not at all, I still defend you and especially in front of those who dislike you and I only speak well of you, regardless of me believing it or not. And I do it all for me, my own self.
How I wish you told me and let me explain that anything I might have said was in strict intimacy to only my closest friends at a time where I was all torn up, disturbed and confused.
How I wish I could tell you only to relieve my torment for I am falsely accused.
...But why wish? Why not pick up the phone? Why the soap opera? Because you don't care to know...
And in the end, it doesn't really matter.

Russian Roulette

And here I was in the middle of Verdun traffic, playing russian roulette with my cell phone inbox. I did not know which messages will go first. But I was pleased. Freed. It seemed futile, maybe insignificant to the observer. But I've had messages I've been holding onto for years, reading them every once in a while. Some I wrote, some I received, some I never sent. Yes, it's one of my ways to keep memories, like a train stub, or a movie ticket. It's also one of my ways to remember feelings, dates, anniversaries. But it was time for some of these messages to disappear. And I did not want to delete them knowingly or willingly. How could I? How would I choose? So let fate decide. Besides, what is Verdun traffic good for if not added creativity?... And the roulette started turning. And it was all in the hands of the phone tech gods. And those messages I thought I wanted to keep but was secretly longing to delete are now gone. I am again and again a free woman!
Live in the moment. NOW! Yes other moments were nice too. But nothing compares to now! And nothing compares to you!

Yes We Can 1/20/2009

--I got my Persepolis copy!!

Of Lebanon and Censorship

I want Persepolis, I want Waltz with Bashir,
I want personal freedom in Lebanon.
I guess I'll just settle for pirated DVD's.

Disclaimer: I would understand why Waltz with Bashir should be boycotted, assuming any of the returns made in Lebanon would go to the zionist director but maybe limited screenings (like this one) can be made more readily available.

To K. With Love

K. told me how she wants to make her work public, how she wants to reach out, how she has so much to say! so here it is: A public shoutout to K. I love your work.
--Manon, A personal favorite
--Femmes.
--Oh Wow.
--2005, K. on Torino, Gemmayzeh. (a personal favorite hangout)

The Odd Couple

Tonight at Walimat Wardeh:
He: You two can never get along, he wears sunglasses at night!
Me smiling.

What will be of the Egg?

There are many talks whether or not the Dome is staying, with the Beirut Gate Project being underway. The dome is more than just an intriguing childhood memory, it's a movie theater, part of the modernism movement in Lebanon and was originally designed by Lebanese architect Joseph Philippe Karam in 1965 as part of a complex of towers for shopping and entertainment. The civil war halted the plans and what remained was an orphan egg that withstood the test of time and war. Unfortunately it seems it will not withstand the test of rapid Dubai-zation of Lebanon.
Never has anybody passed by this structure without inquiring about it, it's so unique, it's a national treasure, it's reminiscent of avant-garde 60's Beirut (the Paris of the middle east) and a reminder of the war and its ugliness. Here's hoping the Dome stays!



--Hopes And Doubts Exhibition, December 2008, The Dome, Beirut.

Food For Thought

"The siege will last in order to convince us we must choose an enslavement that does no harm, in fullest liberty!"
--Mahmood Darwish, Under Siege

Of Old Beirut

--An antique car, doomed to work as a "service", the public cab system in Lebanon, on a background of the new project around Bliss Street in Hamra "Al Hitaan in Hakat" (Poetry On The Wall).

--The proud owner of the service, he's had it for 44 years.

Glazed and Confused

--Pucker up!
It's all in the Glaze: Krispy Kreme recently opened on Bliss Street.

Cinderella

--My nephew's left behind one orphan shoe

The Snowball Effect

"I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take this any more"
Next movie on the list: The Network (1976)

Homemade Starbucks

My new Strawberry Moka Coffee:

-Melt a cube of pure Milk Chocolate in milk

-Add two spoons of Instant Coffee and sugar

-Add the Sippah Strawberry straw and take about three sips.

(The flavoring is too strong and artificial so I would not recommend it to the health-oriented/faint hearted)

-Remove the straw and here you have it: Chocolate Moka with a hint of strawberry.

On the other hand I really don't understand how they market this stuff to kids...

Of Deep Impacts.

The people that come across you and that you don't take enough time to get to know:
-He was a blind man in his 60's. He used to come in every Thursday for lunch, he sat at the same table, ordered the same thing every single time: a roast beef sandwich. How did he come alone? Why every Thursday? How does he go about his life? What has become of him by now?
-She was sincerely one of my best friends, a woman who left so much impact on me. A woman whose life is so different from mine and yet we got so close. She was also in her 60's, she grew up in hippie America, she was quite the wild child in her days, she then married a N.Y. firefighter. She eventually found him lying in their bathroom, dead of a heart attack. She had so many stories, so much that she'd been through, the good, the bad and the ugly. Her daughter was once as lucky as it gets, then she was diagnosed with Behcet's (an autoimmune disease), and she fights it to the day, unemployed, unmarried, unsure of her future. Her nephew died in 9/11, he was a firefighter too. So much more to tell about this wonderful woman, how she kept her optimism, how she was still a mix of the wildchild and the sweet grandmother. And to the day I wonder what has become of her, there were the sustained emails at first, and then nothing.

-She was married to a mob boss in NY. She was also in her 70's-80's, it seems the older you get the more interesting your life is. She used to play with my necklace and tell me how pretty it was. She was the sweetest woman I've met and yet I've heard so much about how mistreated she was by her late husband, although to the rest of the people she was seemingly leading the pampered high class NY lifestyle. She eventually died. She was my first patient to die. Albeit of natural causes. The first thing to do was to make sure we had her DO NOT RESUSCITATE order on file. As if it was business as usual.
-He was 65. Newly retired. It seems he had enough of corporate America and so he decided to finally kick back and relax. He showed me his business card. On a Hawaiian themed background he had written down every single activity and "profession" he was able to do. (ranging from striptease to accounting). It was meant as a joke. I didn't laugh at the time. I thought he was a tad obnoxious. Had I seen it from his point of view. There was a man, who worked all his life, who was finally content with what he had achieved and now was the time to relax, and laugh at it all. Kudos.
-He was 25. I was never too close to him, thinking he was too different from me. Different lifestyle, different interests... He then enrolled in the Lebanese Army. He died while serving in Nahr Al Bared. The summer 2007 war against palestinian extremists in the North of Lebanon.
-She was 18. We used to dance ballet together. We never got close, again because of our different likes and dislikes. Then one day she actually collapses in front of me. She eventually goes into a coma that she doesn't come out of. My first experience with death.
And so many more stories to remember, so many people that you come across. And with each and everyday you understand even more how you will never understand enough. This world is too wide to grasp, too rich with stories and people, and everyone has something to say. This is mainly the reason why I metamorphosed from a spoiled brat into a love-all, accept-all persona. And that no matter how much I learn about life, there's so much more, so much more. How will I ever come to term with life? How will I ever think that I know it all? Should I search for this feeling at all? Is it like "A la recherche du temps perdu"? Or should I just feel content with what I have? At least, I now know that each and every one has been through something interesting in life, each and every one is a good person in their own way and your perception of them will only depend on your specific interactions with them. Sometimes circumstances will not allow you to really get to know someone, sometimes circumstances will actually make you hate that someone, but just think for a second, how much more there is to this world and to its people. How interesting can your own life get with all these encounters!! To the people mentioned and to many more that I remember once in a while, I wish I got to know you better. I wish I was able to get the most out of these cherished moments that will never be again.

Outdoor Prison

--Banksy On The Apartheid Wall in Palestine

Old Palestinian man: You paint the Wall, you make it look beautiful.
Banksy: Thanks.
Old Palestinian man: We don't want it to be beautiful, we hate this Wall, go home.
--Sam Jones, Guardian, UK, Friday 5 August 2005

On CounterStream and Tolerance

Tis' been a day of brainwashing and I'm tired. I've watched Zeitgeist, Sicko and read almost anything that had to do with Gaza. And so what's the final thought? Zeitgeist encompasses too many conspiracy theories together with little reference making it hard to believe it all for the average viewer like me. Sicko praises guantanamo bay for its medical excellence, therefore also making it hard to be credible at times. I also don't like Moore's attitude, he's trying to be sarcastic but it's too obvious and dumbed down. Especially that "anonymous" check that he sends to his arch nemesis by the end of the movie so that the latter can care for his wife's ailments. Publicity stunt much? And Gaza Oh Gaza, when it all boils down to the American/Israeli bashing along with the suffering of the children and the fake war on terrorism as if there is an absolute definition and description for the term. When it comes to that, you cannot but sit and wonder HOW just HOW do the Israelis think that what they're doing is humane or even justified? I just can't seem to get my mind to understand it! And that is even after assuming that Hamas is the all powerful evil it's portrayed to be.
On another note, I've noticed that what I put in writing is only a fraction of what I might be thinking about a particular issue and most of the time it's only the conclusion that I reach after long deliberations and debates, and so it might look like I have drawn hasty judgements on an issue or another (like the movies above) and so a disclaimer is probably most appropriate here: I usually have a multi-faceted opinion about any subject but I tend to give off the one standing out the most, that is not to say that I am categorical about it because I usually am not, and taking the movies above into consideration there are many parts that I liked, that I looked into even further and that I might agree with.
This brings me to an incident I had a couple of months ago, when R. got offended as I dismissed his ideas about the abortion pro-choice/pro-life debate, arguing that I should give it more thought, little did he know that I had reached this position (a personal one that I don't tend to convince anyone of and that is I am entirely pro-choice) by talking to scholars in the United States, where the issue was and still is a very hot topic in the medical field. I guess what I am trying to say is that although I might give off the impression of talking out of my ass most of the time it's usually after researching and coming to terms with any particular subject and frankly feeling tired of discussing it over and over again, especially that one of my big mottos in life is to "Live and Let Live". I can still welcome debates but I will never try to convince anyone and would like to be treated accordingly :) And sometimes, just sometimes, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! And that was my rant of the day...

Economic Times

Au pays des Schtroumpfs, l'argent n'existe pas et la vie est gratuite. Un jour, un Schtroumpf va aider Olivier à faire une commission pour Homnibus et il apprend alors l'usage de l'argent.
Rentrant au village, ce Schtroumpf décide de prendre modèle sur les humains et d'introduire le système monétaire (malgré l'opposition du Schtroumpf à lunettes), car il pense que cela rendra la vie plus équitable et intéressante. Cela provoque de nombreux bouleversements dans la vie bien tranquille des petits lutins bleus...

The Federal Reserve

"I am a most unhappy man. I have unwittingly ruined my country.
A great industrial nation is controlled by its system of credit.
Our system of credit is concentrated. The growth of the nation,
therefore, and all our activities are in the hands of a few men.
We have come to be one of the worst ruled, one of the most completely
controlled and dominated governments in the civilized world.
No longer a government by free opinion, no longer a government by
conviction and the vote of the majority, but a government by
the opinion and duress of a small group of dominant men."
-- Woodrow Wilson
(1856-1924) 28th US President
Date: 1916
Source: Attributed. In reference to signing the Federal Reserve Act in 1913. Most likely a compilation of 2 quotes from his book The New Freedom, 1916.

And the World Goes Round and Round

"When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle.
Then I realised God doesn’t work that way, so I stole one and prayed for forgiveness."
--Emo Philips

Woe is Me!!

There's a drugstore in my system!! The cold virus has bitten...

Acoustic Evening

And so here's the post I was writing when the priest walked in on me... We went to an improv concert yesterday, (before all the night escapades): "A Trio (irtijal) / Charbel Haber Solo". It was something new, all improvised music with new ways to utilize the trumpet, double bass and guitar. I might be biased because I love the musicians themselves, Mazen (Mazen Kerbaj) and Charbel (Scrambled Eggs). G. thought it was nice, but it's not music per se because it's not melodic. K. thought it was really nice and avant garde. As for me, it reminded me of Bartok's "microcosmos" so the verdict is in: it's definitely music, it's experimental, it's something to watch.
On another note it seems the improv scene is growing rapidly in Lebanon. I went to a play Mitlna Mitlak about a month ago, which is still showing for a week or two "due to its huge success as the producer put it", nevertheless it's also something to check out, have a different take on things.
On yet another note, K. and I were trying to enumerate the noteworthy underground bands and artists in Lebanon like Soap Kills, Scrambled Eggs, Mashrou3 Leila, Tania Saleh, Rasha Rizk. The list must be longer, something to look into.

--Trio Irtijal


--Mazen Kerbaj
--Charbel Haber

Serve Warm.

-My holiday staple 2008
Gotta love the candy hot chocolate at Waterlemon, ABC, Ashrafieh.

Random. Very Random.

And here I was, sitting calmly in my room, writing and reading, when someones knocks at my door. I turn to welcome the knocker (who I had assumed would be a family member) and to my surprise, I find a priest, in a black dress, spraying water at me. Now I'm a fervent follower of God's word and teachings but I am most skeptical about the church, its message, its authority, blabla... (maybe another post) And so my beliefs might be interfering with this particular incident, but I wonder who wouldn't be stunned/shocked/scared to find a priest in their room while they're in their pajamas going about their day as usual. Happy Epiphany!

Night Escapades

I ended up in a stranger's car yesterday, for the first time. Granted it was only to drop me off at my car a couple of blocks away but still anything was possible at 2am! In the empty alleys next to the Lebanese Electrical Company. I was supposed to live these when I was 17, but I was always in a committed relationship at the time and the wild child in me never took to riding with strangers in cars... It was nothing major, I guess, but it showed me that I can still let loose and that I'm not as stuck up as I thought I had become, living in Lebanon year after year. I should also mention I had an accomplice, another girl, G., who didn't know any of the two guys with us either. Yes they were friends of friends of friends so they were decent by association. But I still like my story, I rode with strangers at 2am, after a night of partying with them without even being introduced properly.

Blind Item

The secret to consumerism is not to create new tools to satisfy your needs but rather to create new needs.
-bitasarrof.

Memoirs. Memories.

What would Memoirs of A Geisha mean to me?
I miss waking up on saturday morning with nothing to do, turning on the tv and picking a pay-per-view, keeping the volume as low as possible, and the lights off. And then you turning to me and saying "M. you don't let me sleep!"

The Purple Rose of Cairo

And then it hit me: How come my interests shifted? How come they're down to almost none? I miss Woody Allen

Moments of Gaza

A blog live from Gaza

Therapy

It was a very vivid dream and I woke up troubled and a bit scared. Where did all that come from? Dreaming of cheating on my ex who I broke up with a year ago, with my most recent very transient "flame". And then worrying about my ex finding out and killing us both...
I know I have feelings of guilt about my ex and this guy as well. I broke up with the former after 4 years of blissful togetherness, for very legitimate reasons, but without any forewarning. It was the distance, it was the culture, it was the unspoken wounds. As for the latter, our affair is just not politically correct. It's hush hush. It's mysterious and bizarre. Yet I could've made it right, but I never wanted anything more from him, I never strived for a real relationship because I can already see the end result. And so we kept it at igniting the flame every once in a while.
And so to go back to my dream, it was very real, very upsetting, I was trying to find a way to get out of the house with the other "cheater", to escape the wrath of my ex whose anger did use to scare me in real life. I thought I was over this. I thought I felt bad for him now rather than feeling anxious. I need therapy. As for the other one, I know where the guilt comes from because as exciting as it is to keep something quiet, there still is a little voice in me, wanting everybody to approve of my actions.

I heart NYC

I heart how eccentric it is
I heart how I have a story to tell every night
I heart how diverse it is
I heart how lively it is
I heart how professional it is
I heart how funny it is
I heart how big it is
I heart how small it is
I heart how accessible it is
I heart how individualistic it is
I heart how cultural it is
I heart how urban it is
I heart how historic it is
I heart how famous it is
I heart how attractive it is
I heart how dirty it is
I heart how fast it is
I heart how unique it is
I heart how inspiring it is
I heart how everyone dreams to go there
I heart how everyone feels they can make it there
I heart how the person on the next table can be the current/next big thing
I heart how the mayor takes the subway
I heart how much literature/movies/shows/references there are about it
I heart how there's something to do for everyone
I heart how calm central park can be
I heart how friendly people can be
I heart how stuck up people can be
I heart how I can take the subway coffee and free newspaper in hand
I heart how I can catch the biggest shows on earth
I heart how any picture I take would look amazing
I heart how it's so difficult to live there, one can actually feel they achieved sth
I heart how beautiful grand central is, I imagine it frozen in time for a second
I heart how shady chinatown is
I heart how upper-classy the upper east side is
I heart how commercial downtown is
I heart how hipster/indie brooklyn is
I heart how fancy park/fifth avenues are
I heart how they could fit that many museums in one place
I heart how I never get lost in the subway station
I heart how I never get lost with directions
I heart how I always get lost downtown
I heart how I can never get enough of the brooklyn promenade
I heart how many interesting people there are
I heart how many new inventions/ideas there are
I heart how unusual and exciting it is
I heart how I don't know what to expect at the next corner
I heart how it oozes of greatness
I can't wait to go back!

Loin du Froid de Decembre

Between Cheese and Depth.

Maggie: Well, it tastes like a pear. You don't know what a pear tastes like?
Seth: I don't know what a pear tastes like to you.

--City of Angels. 1998.




It's so overwhelming to think that everyone has a story to tell. That each person is the center of their own world with their own perceptions and experiences and understandings.
Yes you define them as they cross your path. But what is their full identity? Who would be able to tell? Ever? Even the closest person to you, you give them a role, she can be your mother. But who is she as a person? What were her dreams when growing up? How much can you really know about her? How much do your interactions with a person even if circumstantial determine what you think of them? How can you accept people without defining/judging them and all the while without feeling overwhelmed? It scares me and comforts me to think that each person sees life differently.

Write in David's journal!

He's just not that into you

Who are the people who tend to draw hasty judgments about you?: Those who don't care enough to get to know you. I've always given off a wary first impression and it's usually on purpose or because I don't care enough. Then, I choose the people I want to show my good will to and I do it voluntarily. I take the initiative. It's always worked for me. Until now. I've been struck with someone who I was able to spend too little time with, and due to circumstances a lot of that time was not of quality. But I kept trying to show him how good of a person I actually am, because I believe in myself and I know that people eventually understand me and like me for what I am. But here he was, he kept instigating flaws in me and I kept trying to fix things, especially that the shortcomings that he was pointing out are not really what I'm known for. No I'm not perfect but he didn't even get the chance to discover my real imperfections rather he fixated on fake ones, and this brought on even more frustration. However, how naive of me to think that if you try harder you can actually deal with the situation at hand and you can convince others of what you think. How did I not see that what was needed was a simple goodbye and farewell. He willingly did not want to take the time to discover me and my personality, and I had failed to factor this in. But now I know that if you try and try and for some reason you can't see eye to eye with someone, the problem is probably not what you are doing but rather the lack thereof of what he should be doing had he cared enough. Now I know, and I can say it, and frankly it's such a relief to know that I'm not doing anything wrong, it's just the way it is and yes "he's just not that into you!"

Gaza on my mind

1907 Hague convention: a state is legally allowed to unilaterally defend itself and right a wrong provided the response is proportional to the injury suffered. The response must also be immediate and necessary, refrain from targeting civilians, and require only enough force to reinstate the status quo ante.






It's Lebanon 2006. It's Gaza 2008. It's the neighborhood bully once again.






Mazen Kerbaj

Lebanon

He told her yesterday: How is it possible to have all these people around you and still feel lonely. This was the end to a bizarre 2 weeks spent together. She wasn't expecting them to get close again. The feelings are gone. Those feelings are gone. But some other ones emerged. This time they are not looking for an explanation. And so the connection continues. 7 years and running. With a new meaning each time...

And so how is it possible to have all these people around you and still feel lonely? Only in Lebanon. For an outsider, Lebanon is the party life, this amazing eden where you can go out every night and get together with friends you haven't seen for a long time and laugh and drink until dawn. The next day you can sleep tight knowing there's another party coming up or you can wake up and go meet other friends in daytime and so the circle goes round and round. (yes there's more to Lebanon than partying but this post is about the shallow Lebanese attitude and not tourism). And so how many people are genuinely happy? How many people are faking their smiles and their friendships? And I speak from experience. It's all perfect, no worries. Until it really counts. Until you need to look for a job or you need a friend to talk to or you're having problems noone is aware of. Here you can maybe rely on your family, and thank God for strong family bonds in Lebanon. But at a certain age, let go of your friends. Maybe it's life, maybe people grow up and move on, and since you cannot meet in the back of the school yard everyday then you're bound to feel the distance. But it's even more pronounced in Lebanon because people here are fake. All of them. Hospitality you say? Hypocrisy I reiterate.

And so he says to her "Now I know why I was feeling bad in Lebanon, because I was surrounded by everyone and still feeling alone, whereas here, I know i'm alone." Lucky those who got out on time. Those who can now focus on their own lives without the pressure of society and its standards. Because now is the time for this generation to shape its future. And from someone who felt homesick everytime she left the country, she's now someone who feels homesick in her own country. Because it's not the same anymore. Because it's time for her to rediscover the world before she can settle down where she would think will be best then. And for those who say Lebanon is the best place for vacation. If you're Lebanese and you've experienced the culture here, it's time for you to go to Cuba, go to South Africa, go to Brazil, go to Nepal. And maybe come back here once you've spread your wings enough because staying here will break them.

P.S. The picture is that of Kate Brooks/Polaris, for The New York Times
At a Halloween party at the C-Lounge in Beirut, women tried to attract scarce visiting men with a “Who’s the Sexiest?” contest.

Requiem for a Dream

I found my requiem for a dream couple. She was at school with me. Disturbing/disturbed childhood. You know that friend that you see going through things and even at 12 years old you feel that life hasn't been easy and that they will lash out and do something they might regret. You know that friend that you want to protect but you feel that she's in a whole different world, that her problems are ones you can't even remotely relate to? There she was telling me at 12 years old that she ran out of the house. That night she went to another friend's house. Walking all over brumana. She eventually dropped out. I'm not even sure how deep her problems went and now I'm even scared to find out. When I was 12 I thought I could help her, she can talk it out with her parents. I can show her the light!!! How naive...
And now I stumble upon a picture of her with her significant other. 12 years later. He's right out of requiem for a dream. They both are. And it's disturbing. I couldn't look at the picture for more than a minute. I wanted to modify the faces so that I can post it here but their looks were haunting me. She seems happy. They seem lost. I can foresee hearing about them in a tragic accident. I wouldn't have been able to help her anyways. Is that true? How much of a difference can someone make? Maybe if I cared more. But here is when you start seeing that you cannot care about every person that crosses your road. That each one has their own destiny and this is how you get to hear about these stories around you. I'm not here to save the world apparently. No one is. No matter how much self satisfaction it would've brought me. And yes I'm very aware of the fact that it seems I wanted to save the world for my own personal reasons and yes it's true, I never claimed to be the altruistic barbie.

Happy New Year.

It's 2009 and I have no resolutions. I wonder why. Not that my life is perfect as is but maybe because yet again there's nothing to be changed for the time being. So what's the point. Am I surrendering to fate thinking that I have no cards to play? Is this the bittersweet feeling of succumbing to one's destiny? There must be something I can change! Maybe it will be mid-year resolutions for me and not new year's... However, however, I can tell that 2010 will be one hell of a year! It's all in the number!

...

Where is my happy ending?

Ni vu, Ni entendu, Ni connu

C'était il y a 10 ans, un peu plus, un peu moins. Elle était en troisième et elle se croyait toute puissante! Et voilà, il y avait un programme télévisé duquel elle voulait faire part avec ses amies, les noms lui échappent, l'image est trop floue mais elle se souvient très bien de son proviseur qui lui repondit : "pour vivre heureux, vivons cachés". Elle ne l'a jamais remercié, au contraire elle s'est sentie indignée!! Comment se fait-il qu'une école aussi moderne pouvait avoir des idées tellement archaiques. Jamais elle ne pourrait s'épanouir dans un tel environnement!
Mais maintenant, 10 ans plus tard, elle se souvient toujours de ce proviseur, de ses paroles, de ses cheveux ébouriffés, de ses lunettes des années 60 et elle le remercie quand même. Elle est fière d'être qui elle est, grâce à son école. Mais surtout surtout, elle comprend comment "pour vivre heureux, vivons cachés"

Parallel Universe

She has a friend who she talks to once every year, very randomly, usually by email. She holds on to this friendship dearly and appreciates it for what it is. She was never close to this person in the commonly approved sense of the word, they barely hung out if ever, they barely spoke face to face or on the phone but they both know that they're there for each other.
When he sent her a message to meet her for the first time at the place they think brought them together without their knowledge, she was there without questioning. When later they decided to meet again and then lost contact she welcomed the unfolding of events, also without questioning. This is how it's meant to be and she's glad they both see it this way.
She likes to believe that they live in parallel universes, she never wanted the two worlds to collide and neither did he because then it would just ruin the whole friendship. She mostly believes that they understand each other beyond words and societal standards. Their relationship will never be defined and this is the beauty of it.
Today she will remember that person and send him an email. Just because.

You stop and shoot...

When everything you have to say boils down to a single picture...

My view of Lebanon: the Haifazation of Um Kulthum
My love for art and graffiti
My love for Hamra
My wawa, wishing you would kiss it away...

BOOM!

And then when you least suspect it, life takes an unexpected turn and you're left wondering how to reassess everything in light of the changes that have come up! You cannot grasp all the angles at once. You try. You want to control the situation and not let it get to you but how? You can't ignore it, it's stronger than you, it's haunting you and those who know, and those who will eventually find out... It will leave an impact on anyone who dares to look inside, it's real life! So you blog about it? Is that what it means to you? It's an opportunity to write? No. You just feel compelled to tell the subject of your thoughts, even though he/she might never read this: I love you, for the wonderful person you have turned out to be. Hush...Hush now, everything will be ok in the morning...

Of societies and conservatism...

She remembers a time when she was asked, not so discretely, if she had a tampon to lend:
-No, but I have a pad if you'd like...
-A pad? No! they're too bothersome, you still use pads? how archaic!
Flash Foward two years later, (today), she's shopping for her good ol' pads at her regular "hypermarket" (since in Lebanon a supermarket is barely up to par, and so you wonder what's in a name, and you then wander into the semantics of nightclubs, supernightclubs and supersupernightclubs but I digress...) And so she's in her hypermarket and she checks the tampons "collection" and to her surprise there's only one kind, in a somewhat sketchy cardboard box. What's the point you ask?

The great U.S. of A vs. the Hyper Lebanon societies:

On one side you have a society where girls are overpowered and so they will shout on the streets that they're pms-ing and that they use tampons and who needs a man anyways?
On the other side you have a conservative society where girls are all virgins (or appear to be) and they're all too scared to use tampons whether because they're truly virgins and misconceive tampon usage or because they're just too scared/ashamed to reveal that they're not virgins to begin with... And so there's no market for Tampax, Playtex, Ohne Binde... But you can bet money on finding a whole two-three shelves for Always with wings, ultra, fresh, overnighting... BUT, still still you need to be extra careful when you buy your pads because God forbids a man sees you carrying them! And yes believe it, the first thought that will come to mind is: "she has her period, how disgusting!"
And so we delve into a slightly off topic rant: Why is it that in Lebanon a woman who has her period is considered sick? "yiiiii sorry sakhneh, je peux pas nager!" (translation: "yiiiii sorry, I'm sick, I can't swim!") It's a regular physiological response, albeit annoying at times, but it's a sign of good health and fertility! Oh no she can't fulfill her wifely duties! she's sick...
Long story short, as part of the medical team, I prefer pads because tampons might cause toxic shock syndrome and tend to be less hygienic if not removed constantly.
However, however, it seems like a futile and mostly personal issue to choose between pads and tampons, and women should have the option to favor one or the other, but to the day, this is not the case in Lebanon and this by itself is a reflection of a very complex, hypocritical society where women are still second class citizens.

Quand Julio le dit mieux que moi:

Mes souvenirs,
Nos souvenirs sont des photos,
Des mots sans avenir.
Tu es si loin,
Tu es trop loin. Tu ne pourras
Jamais me revenir.

Je t'aime et te déteste,
Puis je t'aime et te déteste, puis je t'aime...
Toi la haine et l'amour...
Tu danses, danses, danses, danses dans mes nuits
Et danseras toujours.

They're not watercolor!

-You're lucky to have any memories at all.
-Huh?
-Yes, even bad memories. You're lucky!

--No, because I don't want to remember...
--Actually, No because they're not memories yet, they're still alive, they're still feelings and they still hurt.

A message to Sarah Palin

Please SARAH

1927-2008

He's dead. He's my grandfather and he's dead. There's no point to talk about his life, he did it all. The good, the bad and the ugly. And now he's gone. But it doesn't end here. How horrendous can death get? Once you get that phone call, do you think you can sit and grieve? what about the paperwork? the cemetary plot? the church? the body? What do you do with the body? It's at home, you can smell the stench, you need to move it to the morgue waiting for the family to proceed with the funeral. He's dead. He's a body. Nothing more. When you forget about your own grievance and torment what stays is a mere carcass. That person that you had your own opinion about, that you interacted with is now an insignificant entity. You need to dress it, move it, parade it and bury it never to see it again. It's final, you erase that little incident and then you just keep the good memories, because then again what's the point in remembering the bad and the ugly?

Dazed and Confused

-Ce type de roucoulements, c’est prénuptial ou postcoïtal ?
-Et ta connerie ? Elle est congénitale ?

-Le Fabuleux Destin D'Amelie Poulain

Pandora's box

When memories resurface.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

It's been a good week. I thought I should put that in writing to remember. It seems that I will finally settle down without having to settle for less. It's been a long and hard road with a stressful 500 sth days. I love it!

posted by overandout at 6:13 AM

I've blocked it out for too long. My past life. Abroad. And here it comes back as I go through previous posts.

Thursday November 9, 2006, her heart skipped a beat when she read the email she had received from NYU Medical School for an interview. Here it was. Her plan unfolds. She remembers coming back from the Shake Shack that day on Madison Ave and 23rd street. The burgers were amazing, the milk shakes even better and the setting ah the setting! Madison Square Park. Yes New York is everything they tell you and even more! But She felt the tension. It was coming from her. She was unsure of her future. He tried to calm her down. They lived a carefree life. But when push came to shove... And then she went back home, with him. And as she was checking her email here it was.

Dear Applicant:

At the request of the Committee on Admissions, we are pleased to invite you to interview at the New York University School of Medicine. You may interview on a date between Monday, November 13, 2006 and Friday, December 1, 2006.

She was lucky to get an interview so early on! It was a shoe-in.
And then what? She kept adding mistake over the other. She wouldn't stop. Last she remembers was her going down Madison Avenue seven months later, walking past the Shake Shack, a one way ticket in her hand.

And she seems to be waiting for that day where she will look back and see why fate decided so.

Bittersweet October

Now that I think of it, I used to defrost frozen bloody worms in my microwave to feed my fish.
Since then, the fish has died. I replaced him without telling my significant other. And eventually we broke up.
I loved that fish. Yes they say a fish has a memory of a few minutes but that never stopped me from believing that he was greeting me everytime I came in through the door and that he was doing a special dance everytime I came close with worms or dry flaked food.
He was a fighting fish. Oh so appropriate to his rightful owner.
He died while I was changing his water. Some say I killed him.
And yes I did replace him, I did go from petco to petco to find the exact same look-alike and cover the crime. The one in Union Square with the cats up for adoption and the horrible smell of pet food, the one next to NYU Medical Center on my way to work on 2nd Avenue and 34th street. The one somewhere on the upper east side. My memory is starting to fail me. But I miss every bit of it. all of it.
The second fish was just as entertaining. Even more aggressive. More of a fighter. But he died too. He stood still in his plant for two days before I noticed.
No, I do love pets. I've always wanted to adopt a dog or a cat. I was going through the procedures had I stayed in New York. It's all a blur now. A defense mechanism established by my subconscious. And I let go.
It's all so bittersweet. And it's over. I had to leave. And I just wish I had someone to blame for this...

Maybe you are. Maybe you're not. But you might as well for how much I already hate you for it.

Summer Nights

It was August 21st, they were sipping on their drinks in Pacifico. There was noise around them but she didn't care. She didn't know why but there she was, with him again, hanging on his every word.
He: Are you going to miss me?
She: (with a faint laughter) I don't know. If I do I will let you know.
She was being honest. How was she to know then and there what she might feel once he's gone? He wasn't as honest. But then again he never was.
And so he said: I will miss you. Believe it or not I will miss you.
She: I believe it.
She lied. She didn't believe it. Not because she didn't trust him, which she didn't. But because you don't expect to miss someone. You just do.
And so here I am today, I miss you.

and then what?

I always said someday you wouldn't know what to do.

not when you die...

sooner