Is a look on the face
Someone has lost a race
It is usually what you don’t expect
Down goes respect
What did you expect ?
The unfulfilled request
The failing test
It is something we don’t hear
Yet, we all fear
Is a look on the face
Someone has lost a race
It is usually what you don’t expect
Down goes respect
What did you expect ?
The unfulfilled request
The failing test
It is something we don’t hear
Yet, we all fear
What ,where, when, how, why, and who ?
Are all questions, that drives you to do
You are the ship and the crew
Make your wind , and pave your way through
That’s what all ships are made to do
Why I write ?
We are all humans, we look the same on the outside, bones, body ,and flesh.But, on the inside, sure we may share the same set of emotions of anger, happiness, frustration, or guilt. However, what we don’t share is the thing that set those emotions to flow in the first place, the story and its conditions.
When I started to blog in 2014, I was really impressed by the power of word press and the idea where you can have a space to write and express myself, to help myself improve my language practice to turn my daily routines into worth reading stories that will help me improve my English language practice.
I remember when I first wrote something in English that got my English teacher’s intention. I was in mid-school and the task was to write a little description in order to trap tourists to visit your country.
The second time I really felt my Teacher’s interest in my writing was when I had 16 and I was in secondary school and it was a lesson we had in class about keeping a diary, I never kept a diary. Siting to write your everyday’s routine back then seemed like a seriously silly task when writing your true one diary was outside playing.
I wrote a small paragraph about friendship that really had my teacher and friends intention. I remember how I said that somehow we don’t chose our friends and partners in life, it’s more up to coincidence and predestined events. and friendship is more of an interconnection that is not conducted by any reasons.
Maybe what I wrote was truly silly or didn’t make sense, but what really got me at that time was the way words come to me flowing smoothly, many times I felt like I knew every word I used, every time I embrace a thought I just find the right exact word to describe it, and not only that, most of the time I remembered the exact page where I read those words and where to find them.
Actually that feeling has abandoned me since I turned into my Twenties,or so I would like to think, Or maybe some part of me have created this blog to chase back that old moment of perfect clearness and transparency that has encapsulated my thought back then.
When I was young I never thought why?
Or what to be ?
Things just happen in perfect glee
And everything to see
Was in complete harmony
The small legs jumped free
And hands stretched to curiosity
I was too young to realize
that it won’t last for eternity
getting old is a responsibility
you won’t fight free
incarcerated by reality
happiness is sometimes not meant to be.
Sometimes it’s measured by how much
You can offer and make
Sometimes it’s measured by how much
You can give and take
Sometimes it’s limitless and vast
Sometimes it’s vain and dust
Sometimes you are found to be lost
waiting for the rays of dusk
Other times it rhymes
full happy times
I know, that
Nothing would last
Present,future, or past
Everything runs fast
Even those moments of love and lust
Infinite questions to ask
And, a little meaning to grasp
it’s more mysterious than deep
And,more promising to keep.
Tunis is to stage a three day arts’ festival, pulling together artists from all over the country and the world. Starting tomorrow, the Chouftouhonna festival draws together a wide range of artistic disciplines ranging from photography, music and movie screenings to workshops on how attendees can create unique works of their own. The festival, …
I planted a tree
To see your glee
I Planted a tree
And chopped three
Some animals run
Others have to flee
but, this one mad bee
she attacked my face
and stroke me with no grace
I can’t see
…No, you won’t see
Because, some resources ain’t for free
they coast a larger fee
and not just one day tree
PS; “We do not inherent the earth from our parents, we borrow it from our children”
The sports celebrations has become an annual festivity and an important event that dominates our high schools at the end of each year. A celebration, in which , every high school strives for prominence through making the best (Dakhla) show. But, does waving a Nazi swastika make a good show, especially if your high school is in Djerba, Tunisia, where a large number of Jews are supposed to be your neighbors.
Actually, this is not the first time that such a thing occur. Last year too, the same action took place in another high school with Hitler’s portrait and the event took a large public controversy on social media. This irresponsible actions do not only questions the poor judgment and the poor knowledge of the 20th century history of our high school students ,whom after passing the baccalaureate exams are going to graduate and attend college next year, but also, raise the question of how much our Ministry of education, teachers, and school staff are supervising our kids in schools.
Personally , I hate the celebration not only because it can lead to such a reckless actions, but also, because the baccalaureate sports are essentially an exam and a test in the first place that is supposed to reflect the students commitment, physical fitness, and discipline. However, at the same time I do sympathize with our high school students and their striving for competition, because, I believe that they are unconsciously repressed. Actually, the use of swastika or Hitler’s portrait depicts not only what is going on in the heads of our teenagers and their approach to what is happening in their country of bloodshed, terror, and hostility. But also, it is associated with Daesh (Islamic State) and what is going on world-wide. Moreover, I think that Hitler’s portrait or the notion of swastika does indeed reflect the lack of supervision, monitoring , and the sense of an idol among our future college boys.
Honestly, I do blame the Ministry of education for not only allowing such an appropriate celebration during an exam. But also, for misplacing our students energy and distracting their focus. In addition, I wonder why there is no real sports or cultural events and activities that take place between the high schools where students can turn their energy into something better and more targeted.
When I was in high school such activities were very rare and sometimes never happens. Indeed, we didn’t even have clubs or any cultural activities. I remember that I had taken a drawing class as an option in my last year before graduation to learn a thing or two about art and painting techniques, and of course ,because, I wanted to avoid our 3rd language class.
To conclude, I believe such actions will occur again until we take a look into the social and psychological reasons that led to such a behavior that, though, took place last year and witnessed a massive critics on social media and television, they re-occur again with more gravity especially if you are attacking your neighbor.
In response to today’s one-word prompt “Disaster”
History can tell what is Disaster
And what Man can Master
Big guns kill faster ,
Many Wars to foster
And for, greater good we cluster
Dear father, Dear Master
Who is the one true impostor ?
If not humans run their own disaster.
How is the year shaping up for you so far? Have your predictions come true, or did you have to face a curve ball or two?
To be honest, I didn’t really set myself a list of resolutions for 2016. First, I am not really that kind of people who really set some goals and work hard to accomplish them. Second, I believe that the unexpected things that we never think about them are,in fact, the most expected things that happen to us, when we are being too busy managing what we have to expect in the first place. But, this is just me and I am sure that there are many people who prefer to set their goals for every year and try hard to work them up.
To predict what will happen to us in the future is something very important today for many people to make their visions, to set their goals , to find out their ambitions,and to know what they precisely want. Ultimately, to see things clearer and make the right plan for those visions, goals, and ambitions that they have always wanted. To foresee is many people’s new power to control what would happen next and to create your own future.
To future utility ,we foreshadow our new big jobs, our fancy new dresses, our new big homes, our new cars, our big arrangements of marriage, engagement, or divorce, our new reading list, our educational plans, our coming new-born babies, our money savings… too many our(s) to count and expect. Expectations so high, based on very calculated analysis, measures, some wishes and hopes that would create within every one of us some sort of delusional satisfaction that there would be a better future. A future that you are totally in control of.Is man really capable of controlling his own future? to create it ? to hold it? are we really aware of the magnitude that we possess, that we can make history?
I know that an answer to this questions will need very calculated analysis, but, I am not into the calculated analysis. I am more in the random uncalculating analysis, still not aware of what I am capable or incapable of,still dwelling, still unaware of history or circumstance.
Sometimes, I get mad at myself, feeling that I may be the only one with this things in mind. I decide to replace random with planned, incapable with capable,and unaware with aware. It just does not seem to last long, very soon that decision mitigate quite sharply living more space for randomness to fill the place.
I just want to assume that facing a random unexpected curving ball … or two may be more exciting than facing a calculated expected one…Just don’t panic, both ways can work.
As I have been going through some financial troubles lately, I was not able to think clearly and all I can actually think about was this saying by the famous English writer Oscar Wide ” when I was young I thought that money was the most important thing in life; now that I am old I know it is”. Well Wide had to get old in order to realize that money was important, however, I am only 23 and I have just knew that without money life can be a nightmare.
I wonder if it has always been this way. For may father’s generation and his father before him, money had its significance, but, only as a means not as an end. Today, it is more complicated, I think. Money is a means for some people, for others it is an end.However, for a third part it is a means and an end to make more money, to enslave people, to control minds, and to dominate governments as well as entire countries.
I must stop wondering, it has always been this way. Is money the reincarnation of evil ? Or is it just as the poorest who will always use those words to mitigate their despair and bad luck to have less. Nowadays, it appears that people anywhere whether they are from a developed or a developing country- most of the time from developing counties- you can tell their social ranks not only from their appearances, but also from their bank accounts. Tell me how much do you put into your bank account I tell you the place you can have in this society. It has always been this way, who am I trying to convince here ? It must be since the British Industrial Revolution and the invention of banks that things turned this way. It was a particular event where farmers turned into merchants, merchants into big entrepreneurs, and entrepreneurs into business tycoons.
Although, some of us tend to agree that money is the root of evil. I believe it is a very pivotal necessity of life. If money is the root of evil, it must be a necessary evil. Because, no matter how much you have, the answer will always be Thank you… more please.
I know that words won’t be enough
To pay your many nights of heed
Mothers born to shield
From soft breasts they feed
Our long sick nights they heal
When Troubles are to come they feel
All our worries seem to disappear
when they appear
Or that moment we hear “Look! your mother is here”
So, as it must appear
My mother has never been a fairy,
Mothers are real
Long days’ past are not to come back
If you choose to reconcile and empty your pack
And live to dream
That it would be another path …
When I saw her for the first time, I was not sure if I liked her or not. Of course, I was fascinated by the way; she talked and handled conversations, as if she used to do it many times before. She was not afraid to talk to boys or ask where they are from. She had a noticeable power over her listeners.
We were all sitting around the pair of giant palm trees. I was observing the way she talked vividly of the things she knew; of the way, she described herself, and the way she laughed. She did not take a long time to notice my quietness. I was not ready to chat with her, though; I knew she would ask me something finally.
I did not want to be asked, instead, I wanted to keep watching.
I read in a book that “sometimes we tend to like the qualities that we do not have”. Her mesmerizing charisma had enchanted me. I knew what I wanted, I wanted to be friends with her, I wanted to win her, and she was the perfect combination of self-confident young woman and a compelling orator.
To me she was that right model that we have inside our minds, that we never speak or describe to anyone . Watching her was like observing a shining rainbow after a light rain, colors so faint and delicate, the more you gaze into the more you wonder where they come from and where they go.
As she stood to change her place and sat just right next to me, I noticed that she was taller than I was, with a long black curling hair, dark eyebrows, round face, and sweet honey eyes. Her skin was like a faint brownie wheat that smelled fresh and refreshing.
I didn’t here what she said when she sat, that instant of time was a moment of transcendence … when I woke the school bell was ringing , my friends were laughing at my foolishness
And She already left…
Why study philosophy is the important question that I have been asked all over this week from my friends or the people who learn that I am taking a Master in philosophy, particularly, those people I have met in class and one teacher that happens to be the head of our Philosophy Department.
Since I have enrolled at the beginning of this month in this Master I have denied myself to answer the question. I was not going to get back to class this year, so why I bother to find an answer.
First, I don’t know why I have chosen to study philosophy, but as I knew that I won’t have a chance to continue my Master’s in English last June after graduation. I had two alternatives, either I choose philosophy or sociology. Honestly, my inclinations were in the favor of the latter, but as it was not easy to apply and that I may waste my time for applying to something I may not get I have decided to apply for a Master’s in philosophy.
In our university there are two kinds of specialties in philosophy, the first one was for those who already had their License Degree in philosophy and spend three years doing it. The second one was open for those who had been studying in different fields such as Arabic literature, English language, history… .
I have asked myself this question many times and all I can find out was that staying at University is better than staying home unemployed for example. I may not have an answer now, but, I may find out when I study philosophy or I maybe not.
I sometimes realize that I am not good in making my own decisions that’s why I keep it open, or maybe that’s why I choose philosophy because it is also an open area open to different people, to different interpretations, and to different topics and questions.
the Main reason I am writing this post is not only to try to explain to myself why I’ve chosen to study philosophy, but also because I have been called by some of my classmates a Stranger to philosophy an out-caste, because, I don’t come from philosophy as my main specialty as most of them do. It is like philosophy is an exclusive privilege for people who only study it.
The way I see it, philosophy is open to everyone, even if you don’t get it much. And, I don’t really get it much, but I ‘ll try my best, especially after I was called an out-cast. I will try to use this as a challenge and strive to do my best.
It has been a while since i wrote something on my blog. it is not that i can’t find a topic to talk about anymore,but because i am getting into a routine that i can’t get myself out of it.
I am currently unemployed, it has been 5 months, I hate all my laziness and boredom and doing nothing. well i am only unemployed for 5 months and I just hate myself. it’s only five months, what if i have 2 or 4 years of unemployment. how is it going to be like? super crazy. unfortunately, this is what you get here in Tunisia after you graduate, you go home,you stay , wait… wait a little more … come back tomorrow… next day?! and here it goes 5 months and nothing happens. the Government,you said ! well yeah still have more problems than unemployment…. revolution against indignity, unemployment, and corruption is twisted by knives and killed by association. an echo of a revolution that is mitigating day by day as the voices of the world are getting louder and louder.
Getting a job is a mirage or perhaps a privilege, fighting terrorism must have a clear public strategy. half measures will not stop the killing or those crazy Jihadists. an educational system won’t change much or be cured if you only change time tables or the schedule of the exams.
I did not write for a while not because i can’t find a topic as you may see, but, because there are too many I guess. Our country is having plenty of public discussions every week, everyday, and every hour. Discussions that , sometimes, seem too real to be true, too mixed up to understand.
When I started to blog, my intention was clear. Even if you look at the blog’s title. Thoughts and some happenings. I indented to write about my own thoughts, to speak my mind, and to express my opinion about the different daily subjects that I encounter. “Some happenings” also utter that I will write about the different events that I may bump into.
That was my apparent intention from creating this personal space. However, as a university student studying English I also wanted to help myself enhance my writings in place that does not require you to write in an academic way. In addition, it gives you the freedom to try different ways of writing and most certainly, it does not need to be formal and accurate.
I begin to undertake some of the daily prompts that I liked and made me unlock my mind. It is a great way to create a blogging habit, a healthy one. However, I think me more into creating bad habits than good ones. I only select the prompts that I like or the ones that fill me with some inspiration. That’s the reason why my blog is not prolific. After that, I wrote many other posts about school and daily routines.
Now after almost one year of blogging I believe that I need to take my blog to the next level and beyond daily prompts. If I want to enlarge my readers, I believe that I need to write more about literature or sports or philosophy or politics or anything that maybe of interest to me or my potential readers. I certainly write because I enjoy writing and it is a way to improve my writing, but also we write so that others read us, share our thoughts, agree or disagree with them or even enrich our posts with new perspectives.
Every blog is a place for self-expression and unlocking creativity, whether; you are keeping a diary, writing about food, your travel adventures or book reviews. It is good to know that there is someone; somewhere is reading what you write. And, if you are blogging consistently you will always attract more readers.
The last book I read was the Corpse Washer by Sinan Antoon, an Iraqi writer. The name of the book in the Arabic version is different from English. I read it in Arabic; I did not expect to read it at all. However, as my sister took my phone the other day. I had to look for it and this is when I cut the front cover of the book inside her handbag. I took it, and for the three next days, I took an enormous pleasure reading it.
The novel was written in standard Arabic language, but it was also traversed by the Iraqi dialect, which had added more life and intimacy to the dialogues in the text. As a contemporary novel, the themes tackled were of war, love, destiny, religion, death and life duality, and the pursuit of one’s dreams in all that partition and turmoil that swept across Iraq during the gulf war and then the American invasion of 2004.
The aforementioned themes are recurrent themes that were dealt with in the post-modernism and contemporary novels. However, what I had appreciated in the novel was the story of the main character Jawad, the protagonist who, though, hated his father’s job; he was predestined to take the family business against his will, against his ambitions, and against his beliefs. A young man, though, very passionate about art, colors, shapes, and painting, he had to face death in many ways. He was not only surrounded by death, but also was hunted in his dreams by dead bodies, which he had both to clean and to re-see them repeatedly in his nightmares.
“Corpse washing” is a Muslims ritual; they clean the dead body with pure water and other things before they bury them. The process takes no more than 15 minutes. Nevertheless, it is a complicated process and needs very careful attention, or so it is described in the novel.
The duo of life and death is an idea among many others elaborated throughout the novel. However, it appears in its best shape at the end, when Jawad sits to cherish the beauty and magnificence of death when it nourishes life. In his little working place Jawad’s father had a tree that he had always loved and took great care of. A pomegranate, that Jawad himself loved and took pleasure in describing its fruits. When Jawad used to wash the dead corpse with water and his father before him. That water was discharged and poured to irrigate the pomegranate placed in the garden. Jawad sits to wonder how is it possible for a tree to be in such prettiness, when all that it was fed, was water mixed with poisoned death coming from infinite dead bodies.
Jawad was always irritated by the idea that his father was providing for his family, though, from a decent job, death was all what they were feeding. As if his father’s money was blood money and deceased bodies is what make them survive or alive. This idea depicts when Jawed refused to work with his father when he wanted him to. Instead, he would prefer to take the job of painting houses that his fellow friend had offered.
At the end, I certainly recommend reading this novel because it can be both an enjoyment and a pensive reading. What I have mentioned about the novel is just a small piece of the pie. Because, there is more to discover of the life of Jawed who once dreamed of becoming a famous painter and tried his best to do so, but ended-up taking a job that, though, he refuses, it was his only way to provide for himself and his mother after the death of both his father and older brother.
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