Tag Archives: the Daily post

Pretend

We all pretend

At the beginnings

Sometimes in the middle

And, towards the end

This is not  a new trend

This is not, even, a new brand

It  is, merely, the way humans tend

 

I can tell you something about;

the Masks you’ve encountered and found,

the brothers with whom you grow and bound,

the lovers with whom you used to hang,

the friends with whom you used to gang,

I know how harsh it may sound

And, to prove murder, you need intent

At the end, all of them would say

“We  didn’t intend

But, hey ! guess what ?

We all pretend

“Don’t worry you will make another friend”

And, you keep on moving

And moving

As if things  would amend

 

 

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Finding Everyday Inspiration: Day three

#Everydayinspiration/ Day 3 

One-Word Inspiration: Silence

 

When I was in high school, I was more of a silent guy. I remember how I used to keep it rather quiet in our everyday’s gatherings around the school. I was not much of a talker, probably, because, I used to take things rather seriously back then. I know that, because, my friends used to always point it out whenever I was reluctant to engage in a conversation of theirs. And, maybe that’s the reason why I used not to have many friends in high school, but, lucky enough to have my best friend Mohamed , with whom I used to share a lot and who was, sometimes, able to understand what I wanted to say.

I think  Shakespeare said that “The silence often of pure innocence Persuades when speaking fails” (The Winter’s Tale). I guess we both shared something from this quotation. My friend Mohamed was able to understand my lack of words and quiet attitude, probably because he possessed a pure talent of drawing. His innocent sensitivity to capture scenes, landscapes, and portraits from his own angle and perspective have made him acquainted to understand my silence. There were many times where he was able to infer and interpret what was going on in my head or what I was going to say, merely by just checking my face and reactions. He was good in reading people.

As I grow older and went to university, I grow more acquainted with the power of words myself and that’s the reason why I started this blog.  I have seen this quotation for Adolf Hitler in the movie Imperium the other day that says “Words build bridges into unexplored regions” First, I didn’t believe that the quotation was for him, but then, I realized that Hitler’s propaganda had made him a fine orator and furious public speaker. Unfortunately, he  used words to explore awful and twisted places.

Apart from finding this quote surprisingly inspirational, I believe that the best way to expand your mind and branch out with others as well as yourself is with words. Words have taken me to places I’ve never been, made me learn about the kind of person I am, and made me get in touch with my special ideas, feelings as well as to reach out to other people many times better than my Silence.

 

Ode to mothers

Cupid’s Arrow

Write an ode to someone or something you love. Bonus points for poetry!

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

 

 

Recalled; Daily prompt

Personal space

To what extent is your blog a place for your own self-expression and creativity vs. a site designed to attract readers?

How do you balance that? If sticking to certain topics and types of posts meant your readership would triple, would you do it?

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.

Bookworm

The Corpse Washer001Bookworm

Tell us about the last book you read (Why did you choose it? Would you recommend it?). To go further, write a post based on its subject matter.

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.

I am not good in writing books review, but, it is a wonderful book and one of the few that I have enjoyed reading them.

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another Party

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “It’s My Party.”

I have just graduated, I have been waiting for this to happen impatiently all this year-long, at least not for myself, but for my parents who have paid a lot of money for my education so far and have supported me all this time.

As far as this prompt is concerned, I think that I have thrown two small parties for my graduation, two alcohol parties with some close friends. I have also made another party for my large family; it was more of big dinner than a party, a warm gathering with cousins, aunts, and grandparents. The reason for doing two things I mean one party for the friends and one dinner for the family is not because I am rich, but, because youth and grownups have a completely two different universes of discourse.

Now as far as the party that I want to have is concerned, I would like to have one on the beach at night, when the moon is full, a lot of candles for the light, music, and alcohol. I know that the scene may seem somehow romantic, but believe me with the friends that I have it will be very load, very crazy, and very exciting. Also, the place where I live is near the sea and when it is summer and full moon it is beautiful and splendid.

How I die… hypothetically of course !

If you are reading this letter I have to tell you that you are the new species who have invaded the planet earth. whether you are some angel sent by god to retake the place of humans or the new reincarnated repented soul who have just made her way to salvation and reborn again, here is a funny story about how I have died.

I was 23 years old and it happened when I read this prompt on daily post.wordPress.com oh… if you don’t know what is Word Press or the daily post I have to tell you that is something on the Internet invented by humans  probably your species didn’t get to that level of progress yet, unless of course you are an alien and in which case I am not surprised that you can read this language. So, I was reading this prompt on the Internet asking me what could be the possible scenario in which I want to die… (exactly) (you read my mind) as if the man who takes lives is going to tell me when or where?Or maybe he will send  a letter , a text message or guess what an e-mail? I am really hoping that who ever read this he is not an alien, because they are smart green creatures  and probably have invited something more sophisticated than a text message, an e-mail, or the Internet.

Back to how I died I need to tell you that it was pretty much awkward, because I died naked and when my soul went up up through the seven skies I was wondering how much embracing it would be when I will met with the tough guy up there but it turned to be funny because I ran into many other naked souls that were I guess not much lucky who had to travel all the way like they were first-born. NOW, if you are wondering how I ended up dying naked, it is simple. It was summer, very hot, I was in my late seventies and I had to take a shower, you know the rest. I know it is not what I have always planned as a perfect death but this is because I hate to think about it or maybe because I don’t want to die lonely or old that’s why I have started smoking so that I can die before sixty, but you know what dear alien it didn’t happen. I died lonely and old and wrinkled and every female naked soul had to make fun of me. Well i guess not everything you wish in life always happen.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/eat-drink-and-be-merry/

My new language

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Take That, Rosetta!.”

I speak almost three languages Arabic which is my native language, English which I spent the last three years studying it in college, and French which I don’t really speak very well, but I can say that my French is fair.

Now,if I could wake up tomorrow and be fluent in any language I would rather choose  German or Spanish. In fact, when I was in secondary school I had the chance to either choose between this two languages and drawing as an optional subject to study, but I had missed that because there was a girl that I used to like. So, I studied painting instead though I had no talent for painting.

I will leave the details about the girl to another post, but now I would like to say that I have always had an inclination for the German language more than Spanish. I have tried to learn some German words and sentences from the internet and YouTube. The only sentence that always come to mind is that “ich bin ein Mann ich bin nicht eine Frau” “I am a man I am not a woman “.

I like the German language because I like the history and the events of both world war 1&2 and also because in a few months ago ,I have participated in an exchange that is not finished yet, with some friends from Austria .  And this experience had made me more interested in learning their language.

School… as a kid !

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “August Blues.”

When I was a kid, I was keen about going back to school. Especially, after the long summer holiday during which I had been the silly, stubborn of the family who always refused to have his nap and who spent all the midday rest doing deeds for his family members.

I like the first day of going back to school after enjoying my summer, after having enough swimming and running, after playing with cousins that I only meet in summer, and after making deeds and getting beating by my parents.

I just like my first  day of going back to school because I used to like school when I was a kid and because I used to enjoy my time in the summer. But, what I really like most is the new clothes, the new school bag, and the new uniform that my mother buys me. It’s a little bit silly now. But, back then when I know that tomorrow is the first day of school, I just get excited and I put all my new bag, clothes, and uniform beside my bed before I get to sleep. I don’t remember why I used to do that,but, I was always happy doing it.

I also like to meet my friends in my first day of school . I have always missed my friends and classmates during the summer. However, I used not to miss my teachers.

Talking High !

Alphabet Soup

Write down the letters of the ABC. For each one, choose a word that begins with that letter. Now, write a post about anything — using all the words you’ve selected.

a art

b bold

c curse

d deal

e elegant

f flair

g gold

h hurt

i illegal

j junkies

k ( I can’t find any word that starts with “k” ah key, what key ? all right then key )

l laugh

m make

n nest

o oracle

p purse

q quit

r reincarnate

s sweat

t technology

U utilitarian

v vague

W white

X … xoxoxoxoxo at the end of this poem

y yell

Z zip

Try to do this prompt when you’re high !

International Travel

Tunnel Vision

You’ve been given the ability to build a magical tunnel that will quickly and secretly connect your home with the location of your choice — anywhere on Earth. Where’s the other end of your tunnel?

Back there in history people used to move from one place to another easily, no passport or visa, no boarders or limitations. All you have to do is to take on the waves and sail with the blowing wind, no passport, no visa, no boarders or limitations. Traders and merchants were among the privileged to travel the world and live the adventure.

Today as we grow more civilized and more well-mannered  we have to put more regulations, restrictions, and procedures. To ensure more control over the boarders, over the people, over trades, and over what ever or who ever travel in or out of a country.  As there are poor people, There are also poor countries. As there are rich people, there are rich countries. Developed and developing countries, there is green passports that can take you anywhere and everywhere and there is red passports that have to follow the procedures. There is wealthy countries, which citizens are privileged to travel where they want. And poor countries which citizens are predestined to travel only to some places or not to travel at all.

Honestly, I am in no position to talk rightly about international travel. However, I am in position to talk about some of the people who dare to jeopardize their lives to travel secretly and illegally. I am sure that such a matter does have many facets. Some are political and others are social or economic. To put in brief, Social and economic aspects are always attached to the poor countries, or more obviously the developing countries. I mean have you ever seen people who are travelling illegally from Europe to Africa, for example, by the Mediterranean sea ? Political aspects are meant to be what the developed countries do best. I mean does poor little countries have a big say in its own politics or the international scene ? When your are poor you have either to work hard or you live on charity. Sometimes the man in the suit will give you a charity and other times he won’t, because, it is a charity!

Back to what is worth, the freedom of speech, the freedom of press, and the freedom to move and travel are all freedoms that we tend to enjoy with no tyranny or constraints. And, as there is poor and rich or maybe because we are more civilized and well-mannered we tend to compose and weave those freedoms as we see may fit, or maybe as the man in the suit may see fit. In this regard, the freedom of speech turns to be fake and fictionalization of the truth, the freedom of press turns to praise the crown and the state, and the freedom to move and travel turns to be a magical tunnel  that secretly and  quickly connect me to a location of my choice. Imagination is something really cool, however, actual experience is also something cooler, don’t you think ?

 

Self-Perfection

In response to the daily prompt The Great Pretender

 Are you full of confidence or have you ever suffered from Imposter Syndrome? Tell us all about it.

the fact that we are humans is something that we forget sometimes. The way I see things is that we all have our pros and cons. We all strive to do things exactly the way we imagine them in our minds. We all tend for exactitude or perfection. Sometimes we feel so confident, because, our work or thing is done the way we wanted and other times we feel disappointed, because, our work is not done the way we have seen or imagine it.

Striving for excellence and being the best is something basically human. And what is more human is the reward we intend to get from our sweat and tears. Aristotle says that ” deficiency and excess are both fatal” and because we are humans we usually forget what’s in between the two extremes.

I have a friend that whenever she has the chance, she tells me how much skillful, smart, or intellectual I am. And, I always say that she is not right! Or maybe I am smart, but, I am not that smart. Maybe I know few things,but, I am not that intellect. From what I can tell is that I may be suffering from Imposter Syndrome and if sometimes I have succeeded in achieving something. I feel confident, but, also this feeling soon mitigates when I know that I can do better.

A Moment in Time

A Moment in Time

What was the last picture you took? Tell us the story behind it. (No story behind the photo? Make one up, or choose the last picture you took that had one.)

Last Sunday ,we went to Kesra ,which is a city in west-central Tunisia situated on the northern edge of Tunisia. I know that the prompt asks only for one picture, but, here they are…

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A set of a magnificent interrelated mountainous that pleases the eye.

3753_nkesra 78566483_n

We went there to deliver some help to the very needy people of this town as part of our duty. Honestly I was shocked by the rawness of the place. I am in no position to say with any confidence why the people of kesra or many other inner Tunisia towns won’t take any interest in politics, culture, or education. But, I can see good reasons to do so.

All Grown Up

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “All Grown Up.”

I don’t really remember when was the first time I felt like a grown up.But, I can only assume that when I moved to live and study in the capital I came to realize that it was time to be responsible for myself.

When I succeeded in the Baccalaureate back than in the 2010, I moved to Tunis the capital of Tunisia where I lived a whole year in the dorm. I believe that when you found yourself alone, you started actually to think like a grown up and started to take responsibility for yourself. I had to say that the first three months were rough and very confusing; coming from a small town to a larger city with all the people, new living style, and managing yourself with new utilities and public transportation was something challenging.

It is these situations and circumstances that has to be fall upon us that make us stronger, more responsible, and mature.Today, I can say with more confidence that I am lucky to meet people and be in situations that have made my mind grow on a large-scale, experiences that has made me more mature,and challenges that I won’t stop to face.

One Hell of a Flair

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I Got Skills.”

If I get to chose a skill as the prompt suggests, it will be acting. Though, sometimes I feel that I am already possessed by such a flair, acting is the master I wish to acquire. If I am an actor I would like to perform in a play and on theater. I like theater more than movies or series.

Acting on a stage and playing your role in front of a lively audience is much stronger. Upon the stage the actor is performing his act here and now, which means that there won’t be repeated shoots or editing at the end like in movies. The actor has to be honest, accurate,sincere and most of all has a strong stage presence, so that his performance enters into the audience hearts and shape their thoughts.

To end up, I like to act on a stage and in front of a real audience even if I will get less money in return, usually this is what happen right ? Although, I am possessed by one hell of a flair, I won’t seek money or richness.I will seek my muse.

Fountain pen

In response to the prompt Be the Change 

 What change, big or small, would you like your blog to make in the world?

I think when I first started to blog I had no intentions of changing anything but myself. I was convinced that I am not at all a writing figure. However, by and by and thanks to those daily prompts of course  I started to establish myself, started to write and also started to discover how words could affect my life, mind, and soul.

This prompt had reminded me of a topic that we had on secondary school on one of my french exams, I don’t remember the exact right question of the exam, but its main idea was about whether  you prefer an art for art or an engaged art that focuses on a particular issue aiming to make a change and creating a difference. Back then, my choice was the latter, I was 17 and I was and still  possessed by the Palestinian great poet Mahmoud Darwich and his noble cause that he was committed to. So, I wrote my topic and decided that art should be engaged to man’s social,political,colonial,and economic issues. Thus, the one and only purpose of the poet, the writer, and the artist is to remain faithful to the sufferings of his own nation.

To be honest my writings here on this humble blog are mere writings of thoughts and experiences_thoughts on life, manhood, love,and some despair_Experiences also on life ,but are more particular and individualistic. Today, I write for self-improvement, self-realization, and excitement of the self. I write because I want to write and blog. Writing has shown me how it can be a vivid way of getting in touch with your own thoughts,feelings, and senses.I write to enjoy some kind of escape,but, also I learn through what I write about the kind of person I am, the kind of person I want to be. Before I deviate more from the prompt I would like to say that if I am part of this “world” then I am in no position to say with any confidence that my blog has already made some change.

Power of Words

A Room with a View

The daily prompt: A Room with a View (or Just a View)

flamenco

Five continents for one man

but, the man is a lifer inside the sphere

and yet my little room is with a view

In the view I see a woman in red,

And dancing with high dark shoes

The setting is not rare if you’re familiar with this land

The avenue is full of  spontaneous gathering,

And one man playing the guitar…

the woman  is now  possessed by a divine inspiration

Starts to move her shoes, and knocking the ground with an uplifting tune

the sound is natural and loud

Gains his entry to the gathering’s soul

oh’ country of joy, country of muse

country of good wine and lot of arts too.

 

Mystery Box

In response to the daily prompt Mystery box

You wake up one morning to find a beautifully wrapped package next to your bed. Attached to it is a note: “Open me, if you dare.” What’s inside the mystery box? Do you open it?

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I was in my bed when the very rambling voice penetrated my ears. I was up, and I had no idea how I got to sleep in the first place. The rays of the day were penetrating through the little breaks of the window. My mouth was dry, and I felt dizzy. Whether I had been drinking last night or not, I couldn’t remember…

I got up. Leaving the room, the voice squawked again “I don’t care “I said to myself, probably the voice was coming from outside.  My focus had soon shifted to the chair where a small box with a note “open me, if you dare “had tickled my manhood and twisted my mood.

With the box on my hand I leaned back on the bed.

I gazed and gazed, but a single thought

What wealth to me this box had brought?

I hated surprises and sudden events

”But I am a man and I dare”

I resolved to open the ribbons

The voice went again so vigorous and strong

My head was in pain

And  I couldn’t resist to hold my tears