Of Amal or Hope

Yasmine is an inspiring young woman who is raising awareness about a very important cause in Lebanon. Domestic Violence.

Domestic violence is still taboo in Lebanon and even worse it is seen as permissible. The woman gets beaten up, she goes to her parents' house, they tell her to go back to her husband and the vicious cycle continues. Partly to spare the family from a "Fadiha" or scandal, partly because well what do you do? where do you go from here? How do you empower yourself?

You are somebody's daughter and now somebody's wife. But you never had the chance to be somebody yourself. Most often than not you do not have a steady source of income and even if you do, you probably have young kids to protect. And it goes on and on in a dizzying spiral.

I am not giving this subject enough justice. But solutions come with education, awareness, pressure to change and make new legislation, and social support and resources to women in need.

We all know it's there, we all know a Leila or Amal or Claude or Roula or Manal.

Help spread the word in an effort to stop domestic violence in Lebanon. Learn more about Kafa, a prominent non profit organization about women rights in Lebanon. And support Yasmine, a young and wonderful woman who I had the chance to meet in Boston and who is taking a chance to make this world a better place.
To fund "Amal" Yasmine's new project, please click here

Of Acorn and Perseverance

An ongoing tradition is to collect souvenirs from museum shops wherever I go.

The acorn which only appears on a fully mature oak represents the symbol of patience and perseverance in order to attain one's goals.

Growing Home

The Air Force Memorial

These things happened. They were glorious and they changed the world... and then we fucked up the end game.
- Charlie Wilson

Of Escapism...

I yearn to come back.
I yearn to escape.
I yearn to abandon my name.
I yearn to renounce that brand social media has invented.
I yearn to speak and not be judged.
I yearn to be anonymous again.

...نعترف امام الله الواحد نعترف
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

Lady Lazarus- By Sylvia Plath
23-29 October 1962

A toi

Beyrouth. Cette passion fixe.
Tes images me brulent la retine.
et je marche... je marche...
la gorge nouée.
le pas lourd.
Je marche...
Tu me retiens.
Laisse moi!
Le coeur gonflé.
Laisse moi. Quitte moi.
Tu tires encore.
Quelques pas a reculons et je tombe...
Je me retourne. Je dois fuir.
Mais comment fuir?
Je ferme les yeux et tes images euphoriques peuplent mon inconscient.
Tu es partout. Tu habites mon corps fatigué.
Tu me rappelles sans cesse que je n'appartiens nulle part.
Tu laisses des cicatrices partout.
Une passion fixe...
Moi je t'aime.
Et toi tu craches, tu cries.
Alors je marche...
La gorge nouée.
Le pas lourd.
Leve toi Beyrouth. Ravale tes sanglots et leve toi.
Je t'aime.

Se retourner. Ultime erreur. Je vois Beyrouth. Comme elle est belle. Alors je comprends tout. Ma seule maison, c'est ma tête.

in the pursuit of happiness.
Enough.
Enough looking for that happiness.
Enough!

The ER Diaries

The power of medicine
This moment when you are talking casually to a patient and he suddenly arrests in front of you. Yes he dies. You find yourself alone in a closed room. You and a dead patient.

Not the kind they wake you up at night for in order to do a flat ECG.
Not the kind you expected to pass away and you now lay at rest.

No this one is young enough to die on you without any warning.
This one is talking to you, telling you how he just dropped his daughter off at AUB and he decided to pass by the ER for mild discomfort.
And there he goes. Sudden arrhythmia throws him into the tunnel. And you start pumping. Because that is what you do best.
10 seconds later the rest of the team arrives with a defibrillator and the patient is saved.

10 seconds of medicine. Real medicine. Automatism and adrenaline.
And he survives.
Endorphins storm.

30 minutes later you glance into the room to find his daughter kissing him, crying. She doesn't know that he arrested.
She doesn't know that had she been 5 minutes late in the morning her father would most probably have died in his car.
She knows she's hugging him again.
And she loves him...

On Setting Sail...

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...

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...

New York for the 5 Senses

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

Of Tim Burton Wisdom

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

Love is a Carrot

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

Quand Leo Invite

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

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.

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

of funk

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