Tag Archives: Writing

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

 

 

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 ?

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.

 

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.

 

Finding Everyday inspiration: Day two

#Everyday inspiration/ Day two 

Write a list

I am not sure if I am good in making lists, but, since I have been doing nothing for the last several months and embracing the life of  unemployment, blogging seems more reasonable and fun then doing the same dull things I do every day. I am writing a list of the things I like, to remind myself of the things I cherish and love, of the things I am inclined to do, and of the passions that I need to re-visit.

Things I like/ the unedited list

  • I like to smoke, especially when I am writing a blog post in the middle of the night.
  • I like playing cards
  • I like my morning black coffee
  • I like blogging even if my blog is not that prolific or hasn’t so many followers, but, I like the idea that I will keep writing to achieve it.
  • I am not much of a reader, but, I like to read things that somehow moves or excites me.
  • I like playing football, when I was in high school I was a good football player, at least this is what used to think. Today, I lament that because I turned into a horrible smoker.
  • I like watching movies and series, it the last couple of months I watched so many movies that I could no longer remember their names.
  • I like the family gatherings around the table, the little talk and the usual disputes over the same things over and over again. I like my father’s stories and his ways of telling them- even if I have heard it before- I just keep listening, because they are always funny.
  • I like the first morning fresh and wet air, the beautiful and natural colors that loom in the sky just minutes before the sunrise.
  • I like the late night short walks into the city’s deserted streets.
  • I like to read and watch documentaries about the history of World War 2

 

Finding Everyday Inspiration: Day One

#Everydayinspiration

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.

 

Happiness is not meant to be

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.

life

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.

Earth day tree

 

Dear earth

I planted a tree

To see your glee

Dear earth

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

dear earth

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”

best-happy-earth-day-poems-in-english-1 Happy Earth Day

 

Tunisian students wave Swastika during their baccalaureate sports celebrations

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.

 

Man’s disaster

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

Towards triumph

And for, greater good we cluster

Dear father, Dear Master

Who is the one true impostor ?

If not humans run their own disaster.

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

 

 

Some people …sink !

 

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 ?

philwebbannerstudy

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.

 

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.