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    Яαgιи Яαvєи
    Cairo, Egypt
    Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
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Tapping at my chamber door

In 2008, I'll Get Me A Shotgun

I will also:
2. Get closer to
Job hunt some more.
4. Get closer to my
5. Learn a new language.
Finish at least one screenplay.
Lose the extra weight.
8. Get a
driver's license. I will not buy a car.
9. I will
rule my world.
10. I will have my

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

I don't get it!!

I really don't. No matter how hard I try to get Egypt, I just find it hard to understand. When I was younger, I always thought that the Pythagoras theorem was the most difficult thing to get, but Egypt goes beyond that. A question mark wouldn't increase the odds of getting answers. An exclamation point wouldn't outcry the issue's impossibility. All the punctuations would stand in awe, I reckon.

Egypt is basically prodigally and rhetorically confusing.

I don't get the fact that they made a media outrage when Ibrahim Eissa, editor-in-chief of Al Dostour tabloid, was arrested for defaming the president. I don't get the fact that he threw accusations right and left without any evidence to support his theories. I don't get the fact that he's managed to get away with it that far.

I don't get the fact that he was sentenced to a one-year jail term and I don't get the fact that the sentence was reduced to a cheap $3,950 fine only.

That's less than the minimum annual income in the United States.

I don't get the fact that taxi drivers seem to know more about religion than Sheikhs and more about soccer than foreign coaches who get paid more than Supreme Court judges.

I don't get the fact that all the candidates for the government elections sucked big time and were all either too old to talk for themselves or too corrupt to lie about it.

I don't get the fact that the Muslim Brotherhood party in Egypt have 64 seats in the People Assembly and get to state that they don't support the idea of forming parties based on religion. I don't get that they never clearly do anything that would support the religion that they so boldly bear on their business cards.

I don't get the fact that peaceful demonstrations (Al mozaharat al selmeyya) is against the law in Egypt, that's where people sit down like hippies from the sixties and light candles in silence. I don't get the fact that the gathering of eight or more people is also against the law and could get them arrested for conspiring against the government.

I don't get the fact that we still depend on dead Pharaohs as a major source of income. I don't get the fact that we get a grant of over $50 million just to take care of our ancient ruins and still they look like they're falling apart.

I don't get the fact that in every dictionary I check, the last noticeable item they mentioned about Egypt is related to King Farouk's overthrowing in 1952.

I don't get the fact that we still think we're the center of the world.

I don't get the fact that McDonalds's apple-pie almost has no apple in it and Cook Door's apple-pie contains too much apple.

I… just don't get any of it.

I refuse to.

I'll just keep quietly observing in hope that I won't go crazy, until I taste a decent apple-pie.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

The Etiquette of Vomiting

Word of the day: Vomiting (also throwing up or emesis) is the forceful expulsion of the contents of one's stomach through the mouth and sometimes the nose.

They sentenced him for four years; three for disdaining religion and one for insulting the Egyptian president.

As a blogger, I wouldn't say that I'm an active one. I don't give a rat's ass about most stereotypically popular blog pages out there. I don't usually post what I think on current affairs and events. Frankly, I keep my opinions to myself most of the time. Commenting on a blog isn't going to change the world, but sadly not a lot of people know that. It's good that they don't though. Let them keep their pathetic hope if it makes them happy.

My curiosity drove me into checking a few "popular" blog pages to see the origin of that dude's mess. I typed in URLS of blogs that I'd vowed never to check into again and voila. I got all the info I needed; things that I think I already knew.

I often find myself disagreeing with what they say. I don't think it's a matter of education or how a person's raised that makes people differ in opinions. I don't think it has to do with freedom of thought and speech either. I think it's a question of alliance… and I don't think I care enough to elaborate on that issue. I'll just exercise my freedom to blog in way that should be enough to satisfy my own head.

So back to the main issue… I checked their pages and… well, why am I not surprised?

They're all on his side, supporting him, encouraging him to go forth, to exercise his "rights".

What a load of crap!!

The right hemisphere of my brain, the one that gathers the data, seriously judges that dude. It tells me that he's an idiot, a hypocrite, a nobody who wants to feel important, a false ally to those who don't give a damn. The right side of my brain wants him dead, out of the picture; fears that he could set the wrong example in a world that needs no more examples. We've got too much shit to deal with and we need no more bullshitters. My left hemisphere, however, the one that analyzes shit, feels sorry for him. I hated the fact that I was sure that nobody really ever sat down with the dude and talked to him; like really talked to him. Asked him what's up and why?

The way I see it, I think that a lot of us need to be asked that… but that just says a lot about our educational system, I guess... and the downhill keeps getting steeper.

The way I see it, the dude's gonna get out of jail hating religion even more, with plots of revenge against his homeland. Best case scenario… he'll just up and leave. Overall, it won't get any better.

That's one thing I never get about punishment. I don't get how it can make you a better man. I don't get how prison time can make you healthier in the mind. Rehabilitation my ass!!

An exorcist would have done a better job… at least he'd have good intentions.

Yeah well…

He had 280 comments on his last blog post. Most of which were either serious insults or words of love and encouragement. "Encouragement" went beyond just commenting and into publishing the issue on Pajamas Media. The issue, of course, was beautifully written by one of the "popular" bloggers who managed to gain 12 comments.

In fear that freedom's on the hunt, one blogger claimed that he's considering leaving the country , but doesn't want to go to the gulf because they don't have alcohol and YouTube. Another blogger defended human rights by defending Mahfouz and his batteekh novel Awlad Haretna (Children of our alley) and AbdulWahab's Men Gheer Leeh lyrics. I have to admit that a couple "educated" bloggers out there managed to grab a lot of details on the issue, but I'd advise them to focus on stating facts and not try to state their opinions before thinking twice about the things that matter.

I have the right to vomit anywhere it pleases me, they said. The toilet isn't comfy anymore.

They might as well take a piss in our ears, I'd say.

Now here's a scary thought; if people decide the righteousness of a blog post based on the number of comments it gets, then I must be very wrong, huh.

I'd say gather up all the "educated, popular, and objectivist" bloggers out there and get them their own damn blogosphere; one that would get them their own set of human rights.

Religion, country… whatever…

I'd say love it or leave it… just shut the fuck up!!

Feel free to quote me on that one.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

The tree that spoke their language

And so there's a tree, they said. In Cairo it stands tall with words of God created for men to see, to resurrect their faith. They said on TV that some smart dude took a picture of the tree and set himself a nice booth at one corner of the street, where he sits and sells copies, ORIGINAL COPIES, of the "holy tree".

Apparently he's making good money out of it. People want to be used.

Do we really need miracles in order to believe? I couldn't but remember stories in the holy Quran about Prophets being asked by their people for signs, for miracles. Do us something extraordinary, they said. We're not stupid.

Scientifically speaking, the words embossed on the tree could only have happened if a dude 5-10 years ago carved them into the tree. Another hoax done by a simple man… to very stupid people… but then again, that's only science speaking.

Men are divided into two groups, I always thought. There are men of science and men of faith. But where men of science always follow logic and truth and clues, men of faith just believe and follow their hearts. In the end, they both should follow the same track, but they're just too stupid to realize it.

So the world's round, they said. Did our faith in that have to wait until we could see it from outer space?

I doubt that.

What if NASA was lying?

What if the world's an illusion? What if life is just one long dream?

I've had crueler dreams. Why couldn't life be a lengthy one?

Why can't all the people we know be figments of our imagination, created by our sick minds in order to feel normal and free? What if the truth is that we're only souls, each locked inside a dark room waiting for emancipation?

Proof is an impossibility. Proof is extracting a bloodstain and scanning it for DNA in a murder scene.

But then again… that could still be just a bad dream.


Do we need a sign from God in order to know that he's still out there, still listening?

Even if those marks on that tree were real, why glorify it? Why not just say Sobhan Allah and walk away. Back in Al Madina Al Monawwara there were men whose sole objective was to touch the doors of Al Masjid Al Nabawy, seeking its blessings, even though the Prophet's been long gone for hundreds of years. At Ka'aba they do the same, even though God is seven skies above. Why touch bricks or a black sheet when you can stand there, look up, and pray? Omar Al Farouk, who was known to be firm, chopped down Shajarat Al Redwan because he feared that it would cause fitna to people. He left the sphinx and the ancient ruins because they wouldn't cause that, they would only teach people about their ancestors whose civilization only brought arrogance to them. Amthal… that's what God named it in His book.

I just hope they don't start praying to the tree.

If I could, I would chop it down.

أعوذ بالله من فتن الدنيا

Friday, February 16, 2007

Like a dog... he barked

He wiggles his tail like a dog, delighted to see his leash holder. He waits for food, shelter, and a ball to fetch every once in a while. He never eats at their table. He even pees outside, far away from home as possible. They don't want him to stink up their lives. They give him a rabies shot. They watch him close around their children. One wrong move and he's out. To gas someone seems easier than ordering a Big Mac these days; especially someone like him.

He tells himself that this is life at its best, his purpose and destiny fulfilled. He tells himself that it can't get any better; not even in his wildest dreams. He deludes himself into thinking that they're actually watching out for him. He believes that they'd let him go if only he'd ask. He doesn't want to. He thinks he's setting an example. He's a living proof that they're his liberators, he thinks, encouraging others to pursue the same destiny.

To them, he's just something they can pet around just in order to neutralize their lives. He's the balance of it all. They believe that the more they pet him, the kinder they must be. They delude themselves into believing that they can do whatever they want just as long as they'll find people like him to pet, waiting at their front porch, bowing in respect, barking in harmony in a language that they don't even try to understand.
They don't even care what he says.

This is the kind of freedom they bring.

Liberators my ass.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Igneous Blah

Tonight is definitely one of those nights; nights when it feels like I just want to blah.

I haven't gotten used yet to 2007. Many of the boring aspects of my job have to do with dates. I'm still stuck on 06; and every time I write the number 6 on any form, I have to throw it in the trash can. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I can simply scratch the date out and fix it… and throw in a small signature on the side. It depends on the type of form I'm working on… and my mindset at the time.

I hate my signature. I hate the number 6.

It's like I still have unfinished business with the year.

What are years really anyway? Aren't they just a bunch of numbers that tell us that we're aging, that it's too late to do this and that we're too old to do that?

2006 is by far my least favorite year.

Maybe I'm stuck on it because I wasn't around to see the clock striking midnight. But then again I wasn't around last year either. I was asleep. Frankly, I don't think I care that much.

A friend of mine told me that he went to a party in some country house to "celebrate" New Year's Eve. Everybody was either drunk or… touching somebody who is. At around 3 am, he says, everybody was either wasted or hitting somebody else.

What a waste of human potential.

It's always been like that with me. Every time I felt like everything is ending, changes happen. الحمد لله

Here's a change to talk about. I don't crave for "computer quality time" anymore. A couple months ago, we were inseparable, the computer and I. It's probably the reason why I never sought marriage. It already felt like having a wife. Ask anyone you know and they'll tell you the same thing. Cars and computers; they both cut a decent figure out of your monthly paycheck. It's unstoppable. Ask married people about their cars and they'll tell you that it's like having a second wife.

To me, computer QT meant chatting, downloading music, movies, checking out news about wars, treaties, floods, earthquakes, etc, and… well… blogging obviously.

I stopped doing the first two.

Chatting is pointless and it leads you off, I reckon. Online… opposite sex chat is a must where I come from. And the hunt begins. People want their marriages to be based on love and "understanding" prior to marriage. Possible happy Valentine's and all that cheesy crap is a plus. Too much risk in arranged marriages; that's what I used to say.

2007 came with the belief that if one is honest with God about the kind of partner he/she desires, God would never let them down.

النية … that's all it takes.

Around the birth of 2007 I was getting a full refund; a refund for something that I never paid for in the first place.

Our generation! We think we've paid too much, seen too much. What the hell did we go through in order to claim peace and freedom of the mind? What war did we fight, what home did we die protecting?

Where is home?

Is it the place where you were born? Is it the place where you live now? Is it the religion, the faith in reincarnation into something better, a tree maybe or a fucking goat?

Yeah well…

2007 has so far marked me as a rebel against everything that I used to do and stand for. Sadly, the more I rebel against what I think is wrong, the more I stand my newly claimed ground with my shiny clean slate, the lonelier it gets. Like I've been unplugged out of the system. Disconnected from everything that used to mean life.

Regardless, I'm happy.

True happiness doesn't come from a cigarette or a happy Valentine's card. It's comes from up there. Al Hamdu Lellah.

The clocks did turn. They turned to mark something new, something better…

much, much better than just a lousy digit.


Thursday, February 01, 2007

Dear Diary : Day 1

They should change our uniforms. Orange jumpsuits would seem more appropriate, I'd say. These suits, the ties, the clean white shirts, the businessman handshakes... they don't really fool anybody anymore. They know us for what we are. They know that once it goes down, we'll be the first to run.

I keep preaching about how regret is pointless, about how one should look ahead and move on. It only pulls you back, I'll say. I'm such a bad liar. The first thing I do every morning as I get out of bed is regret. I regret not going to bed earlier. I regret not preparing all those past years for another job, the kind of job you do at home, the kind of job you can stay up all night doing without feeling iffy, the kind of job that doesn't require an 8 to 5 shift; my kind of job. At the age of 16, I designed my own website. It was an e-zine sort of thing. I debated issues and threw in theories and other spices of mine. I was an idiot then and still am an idiot now. I still think that I can make a difference and change the world. As if...

I was an HTML wiz by the time I was 20, then I was off to Visual Basic. I aced the class. My computer skills section on my resume shined like a new Ferrari. By the time I was 22, I forgot it all. I was lucky I could still manage MS Word. I should have gone into computer programming.

Maybe I joined my current line of work to learn and have proof, at least for my own benefit, that not having a mug shot doesn't mean that you're clean.

If you're a hitman who works for the mafia and they ask you to kill someone and you refuse to do it…

would that make you a failure?

Only time will tell…

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