Tag Archives: Thoughts

Dead days are turning into restless nights

coffee#Weekendcoffeeshare

If we were having coffee this morning, I would tell you how I have been doing nothing for the several previous months. How I am really frustrated by this fact and furious at myself. It’s a long monotonous setback that is getting profound every morning and violent everyday; you open your eyes in bed in the morning and you realize nothing is going to happen today, you are going to get up, wash your face, and talk to yourself in the mirror about the things you wish and never get, about the things you like and never do, about the thing you’ve become, and the things you would never be.

If we were having coffee this morning, I would tell you how my nights are turning into days, and days are becoming nights, as if I am living in a realm beyond the realm of humans, hunting movies and series on my computer screen at night and sleeping more than cats in daylight. Yes, Things have been upside down for a while now, dead days are bleeding into restless nights, trying to find an ultimate escape into the virtual world of the Internet, video games, movies, and fiction; shutting down my thoughts and inner conscience from surfacing, and filling my brain cells with unlimited supply of pixels to maintain a state of numbness and unawareness.

If we were having coffee this morning, I would tell you that I am running out of steam, even the slightest simple pleasures of eating, drinking or having a cigarette are growing tedious. Unable to concentrate or focus on a simple task. I know that there is nothing that stops you from finding yourself, except yourself and that’s what is irritating me even more, because, somehow I am aware that I am sucked into self-destruction. But, at the same time I feel trapped, as if someone is trying to get out from moving sand. The more you lament, or go tough on yourself to take a stand, and find your way out, the deeper you sink into a larger vacuum. A dimension that is twice away from finding yourself, and thrice away from getting back your self-esteem and motivation.

If we were having coffee, I would say thank your  for your time and listening . I know we have just meet and I am already bothering with this much talk. So, tell me how was your week? And how  are you doing ?

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Spreading the Scent

tunisian-coffee

#WeekendCoffeeshare

If we were having coffee, here and now, we would be having a two-black homemade coffee, with little drops of distilled blossom water in it. Because, you wouldn’t resist the scent or resent the taste, it’s my kind of coffee for an after noon little chat. The place would be somewhere in the old city, somewhere nice and intimate, somewhere that would be our perpetual spot.

If we were having coffee, here and now, we would sink into each other’s eyes, and laugh after our long prolonged stare. We wouldn’t stop until one of us declares ” OK,  let’s stopped right there”. Then, we would start to talk about work and how your boss still treats you like a dork. I would laugh and you would threaten to walk. “I know how much you love your work” So, I grab your hand and beg you not to walk, and  promise to listen without my teasing talk.

 

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

 

 

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 Morning post

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The cold mystic air of the early morning has made its way through the broken window and into my room. It is another summer day, when you stay up all night long waiting to witness the start of the next day. Another early breaking dusk, and you are the only  ear-witness for the first skulking little birds that sing the beginning of another day and the end of a short summer night, the first morning fresh and wet breath that chills your body and frosts your lungs.

Soon, the singing is tuned louder and louder, the dusk into faint rays of light and the sleeping town starts to awake. The echoed engines noise crossing the main road of the town is getting louder, the streets are no longer deserted, I start to hear some fading smiles and greetings, and I hear people opening their little shops and small businesses.

Faint rays are turning into strong twilight that have made some lonely clouds look clearer and the blue open sky more transparent. Suddenly, I lose my interest, I sit to write what I thought to be a good introduction for another morning post.But, the importance of the activity has to mitigate when I felt tired. Tired from my long night of insomnia and lack of sleep.

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.

Educate For Jobs

Yesterday when our teacher was giving back our grades and the exam sheets She said ” if you are learning something, you should learn it for the rest of your life. And not learn to just sit for an exam”. Honestly, I understand why she said so, because, she asked a question that was included in the exam. However, the whole class remained silent and no one could answer her ,no one seemed to even remember the questions that were in the exam.

After a few jokes from the teacher about how we are having a fish memory that only lasts for few seconds. And how we are becoming more and more mind-absent this days. We answered her question and corrected the exam. The thing here is that we are becoming more interested in exams and grades, than learning or any other thing . This is a fact that neither my classmates or I can deny. Here, I am in no position to say with any confidence why we are unlikely to take any interest in learning, but, I see good reasons why we do so. Before I start stating the obvious reasons. I would like first to define learning the way I see it.

what I mean by learning is this very long process that we have to endure from the moment where we turn to be six years old and start school. At that time we have no clue about life or what we are going to be in the future. However, by and by when we get to college and we are likely to meet with the market and employment. It’s true that we have to be competent, skillful, and original. Whereas, we need also to have a degree that will guarantee a job in the first place.

When I was in primary and high school I used to learn for the sake of learning. I used to learn because I liked what I am learning, I used to learn because I had no reservations about the future. I used to have no reasons to think about employment or jobs. Maybe I had a dream job that was my main motive for education, for learning,  and for knowledge.

Today this old motivation has to mitigate by the reality that we come to face. when I know that there is about one million unemployed person that half of them have their high degrees, but, they have been unemployed for 3 years or more. When I know that there is about a four hundred thousand undergraduates and post-graduates where 80 thousand of them are most likely to face unemployment the next year of graduation, such a motivation have to fade away sooner or latter. When I know that I have been tricked to choose a branch that does not employ, but only in the public sector. I have to admit that I am no more interested in learning, more than I am interested in getting a job when I graduate.

When families have to pay for their children’s education and then keep paying and paying without getting something in return, without knowing that their son or daughter are likely to get a job at the end of the tunnel and to have a better future than their families had. I totally see my teacher’s view, however, I am convinced now than before that grades are what will get me to have a degree and a job, even if I know that I won’t be very knowledgeable or less cultivated.

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.

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

Against thy words

Against the will of sophisticated fear

I gaze a little, but an irrational dream

The thought of all thoughts

And the power of my supreme

I have to admit my blasphemy

not against the holy spirit

I possess, but the mere peer with whom

Our reciprocal action have made it clear

That my merit is to disappear

by neglect,pain, and injustice

Today I am a rebel

Against their will against their thought

With my mission that I perceive

With a plan to conceive

That a new dusk is to be achieved

With a new thought deep and wise

That my mind is exhorted to conceive

 

Continuing my Habit

Today’s prompt ;Trio No. 3

Today you can write about anything, in whatever genre or form, but your post must mention a dark night, your fridge, and tears (of joy or sadness; your call). Feel free to switch one ingredient if you have to (or revisit one from previous trio prompts).

Creating a writing habit was one of my  goals, however, when I went back to university I found it hard to maintain such a habit. It’s thanks to Writing 101 that  I have started to write and to blog. It is like a dark night when you start to blame the circumstances for your actions. I am disposed to maintain my goal of writing on a daily basis, because when I started to write  on September I have seen some progress in my writing and not only on my writing but also on the way I was outlining thoughts on my head too. I am very convinced that tears of regret does not change circumstances, or the fact that I have to organize my time, so that I can find time for writing.

I did not write on my blog for over a fortnight now. And my head is very much empty just like my home fridge, always empty, and stinks. This year I have a subject in my curricula called Advanced Reading and Writing, with a very nice teacher. I believe that writing is a hard task to anyone even authors and writers themselves,however, I am just trying to be able to do good on my subject.

Power of Words

 

 

 

For Life is One-way street

The daily prompt: One-Way Street

Congrats! You’re the owner of a new time machine. The catch? It comes in two models, each traveling one way only: the past OR the future. Which do you choose, and why?

Life is one-way street, right? Therefore, I choose to take my journey to the future. Although, we sometimes repeat our past, like doing the same routine over and over again. Here, I do mean to say that everyday we have the opportunity to change the past, however, because we are totally consumed by this daily routine we  can’t change it or maybe we choose not to. Of course this is only my narrow-minded view to the past.

I believe in the future and what it holds for me, though I frankly still have this reluctant sense between whether we are predestined for a particular future or that we make our own future? I believe in the future because I am young and I am only 22. I have seen some trouble and despair and this is the past.

We born, we live, we follow a certain path, we face some good days and other bad days, we adjust and cope, we may fail and fall. And we stop for a short or long period, then we go back, and stand to take our One-Way street again, re-embrace this life that only moves forward.

Rudyard Kipling says in his uplifting poem IF those very interesting words;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;   
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

stories from our memories

Ready, Set, Done

Our weekly free-write is back: take ten minutes — no pauses! — to write about anything, unfiltered and unedited. You can then publish the post as-is, or edit a bit first — your call.

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How much are we attached to our memories? the strong memories that stay attached to the small pieces of our minds, the memories that we remember with no remorse,no regret or any felling of guilt. it’s the uplifting joy , the recollection of the good times.

To let someone take a glimpse of the  memory that you once had is sometimes hard ,  and the hardest part is that we fear to ruin the rawness of that memory. At least this what I think about the intimate raw recollections that we keep to ourselves. I hope that I will find among your dear readers who share such a thought ? And, a friend the other time has given me the opportunity to take a journey into his mind, into his serendipity  that had occurred once, and that he wishes that may occur again, for life is Elusive and full of surprise. I am not disposed to tell you what my friend’s story or memory was about. However, I will say that sometimes we meet someone by chance or  coincidence and then he disappear also by chance or coincidence.

It is this idea which plants itself inside this stories from our memories that tell us ! you may live another day to see this person.

 

Fact Or Fiction !

Today’s prompt: The Great Divide

When reading for fun, do you usually choose fiction or non-fiction? Do you have an idea why you prefer one over the other?

fictionIf I would like to be honest to myself as well as to the prompt, I have first to admit that I am not a good reading figure. A couple of years before now, I can tell that reading fiction or non-fiction books was not taken seriously or rather habitually. It is only when I went to college and choose to have a degree in English civilization and literature that I started to take reading earnestly.

Today and as part of our academic curricula, I am dealing(well, most of the time struggling !) with different literary genres such as fiction, drama, and poetry. And that’s why  I dare not to read any fiction on my fun time. I would prefer to shift a little bit further into a more realistic world, where usually I chose to read about biographies, philosophy, history, and many other things that are not related, what so ever to what I see in class.

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn is not here yet

Autumn Leaves

Changing colors, dropping temperatures, pumpkin spice lattes: do these mainstays of Fall fill your heart with warmth — or with dread?

 

the sun is behind the clouds, penetrating its rays, full of moisture. And, the temperature is above what we have seen in the summer days. Our grandparents and their parents before them used to call this days “the midday’s of pomegranate and quince” those two kinds of fruits that needs a high temperature in order to reap. Although, this days of September may not be like the mainstays of Fall in most other countries. I still remember this little tree at the entry of our country-home that I have cherished so much in Autumn.

” Ooh’ my endearing lovely tree, how magnanimous in Summer to cast your shadow over me.

More majestic  and delightful in Autumn to manifest all your encapsulated beauty for me “

The Autumn is like any other season that has its delightful and dear warmth. however, if I can relate this prompt to the other one “Absolute Beauty”  I can see that the beauty of Autumn is inter-subjective shared by many conscious minds and that’s why this capturing season will always run  into our wearied hearts.

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A Midnight Page

I am not going to get  through any over-thinking, I am just going to punch the buttons, hopping that what is deep down this narrow-minded heart come to the surface. I wish  I can get some of that drug that they give to the enemy in order to push him confess all the secrets and plans.

this narrow-minded silence, this me that I want to get rid of , this awful and irritating and self-distracting emotions, this repressing and repressed inclinations.

Man are disposed to accept other Man and live under one sky and follow the law and live to accept each other differences and learn to respect those differences,so, that we can live equal, so that we don’t repress each other’s beliefs or liberty or freedom or thoughts or lives or inclinations or ………and we put the system and we break it and we repent and we forget and then we repeat … for we are absurd and we are in love with this absurdity

and yet I can only find my self in this poet’s shoes and saying

”  Je suis comme le roi d’un pays pluvieux,
Riche, mais impuissant, jeune et pourtant très vieux,”

by Charles Baudelaire 

“I’m like the king of a rainy country,
Rich but helpless, young, and yet very old, “

I am afraid to tell you  that I do think about what I am writing and saying , for I am not at all an experienced writing figure. Yet, I am struggling myself to put what is on the heart and mind in this honest computerized handwriting. I want to share all this words and what is beneath for particular reasons

  1. Because I fell, I am keeping too much for myself.
  2. When I would like to be open and share I fell that what I am  saying is ridiculous or “more real than true”
  3.  Because I don’t want to blame myself every time
  4. so that I  free myself
  5. Because what I am keeping is preventing me from enjoying my time, activities, and hobbies

 

I am intended to write about myself and what comes before about Men accepting Men come from the nowhere or maybe it is just there!

I am not a sharing, or a writing or a loving or a responsible or a note worthy figure. I have to admit that

I am thinking sometimes to go to a shrink or someone specialized in the process of talking and sharing, hopping to get rid of this inclinations and thoughts with a more practical ways

I have just started to make my first two steps on the path of this life, and yet I am just horrified by this enormous fear from this walk of two steps

 

I am not a talking person

I am too shy sometimes

I am too sensitive in other times

I don’t get a long very easy with the people who  I’ve just meet

I think too much before I speak and when I speak I always embarrass myself because I don’t put words that express exactly what I mean

I am a straightforward person or a too straightforward person that I reject and feel bad by what all people start to accept as normal or usual

 

I don’t know if I should publish this post or not, but what I do want is that this post should be read as a Morning Pages ,but, written somewhere between midnight and maybe 3:00 am.

 

Well after putting all this words together to formulate this modest post I hope you like it or enjoy reading it, for  it has given me some help.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A conversation with a book on the desk

Today’s prompt; Ready, Set, Done

Today, write about anything — but you must write for exactly ten minutes, no more, no less.

 

I said hi to the book on my desk,

and the picture of the lady on the front cover looks pale

I said I have to read your book, travel along your story

and get to know each other; merely I will know you more

I said you probably lived in an other time or place

and you have no idea about my time or my place

I said I hope your biography doesn’t comprises a loving affair

for I can tell from what you wear that your time dealt so much with this particular affair

And no, Jane Eyre  had no loving affair, but a mysterious despair that she had to declare.images (1)

 

 

Following the daily post

Today’s daily prompt is Absolute beauty and says;
“We’ve all heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Do you agree? is all beauty contingent on a subjective point of view?”

Well to start, I have to say that I am a starter with word press and this is my first time in which I participate in such a noteworthy task. Now, as far as the question is concerned, I have to say that I am to hold on my answer to the end. I would like first to tell you the different thoughts that starts to get on in my mind when I read the question. And I read it more than eight or ten times!

My first thought was this little conversation between two men. The first asks ” what is beauty?” And the second  answers ” a very beautiful woman, a …. that “. The first man stops the second man and says ” I asked what is beauty ? I didn’t ask about the thing that represents beauty or where you can find it ?”

My second thought was that a sunrise, a sunset, a rainbow that appears from beyond are among the forms of beauty that attract a large number of people to admire . Natural landscapes as beautiful as they are not conditioned on a subjective point of view ,but, rather they are inter-subjective, shared and cherished by many people.

History is full of philosophical explanations, visions,and definitions that we can go through all day long. And, to me we should have some knowledge of that history.

At the end , I think that it is true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And that this answer derives from the definition of beauty in itself;”For beauty is the quality that gives pleasure to the mind or senses and is associated with such properties as harmony of form or color,excellence of artistry, truthfulness, and originality”. Man is characterized by diversity and within his diversity man catches the beauty of forms and colors that pleases him.   

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