Quickly Come Quickly Go

Recueille Toi

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

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

Of Apples And Oranges

Sphinx

The Barber Shop

What's YOUR Going Rate?

Peek-A-Boo

Taking the Chinese out to AUB

Of Existentialism And Eggs

The Start of Something New

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.

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.

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.

"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

La Confession...

--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...

--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.

--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

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

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