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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

Saturday, October 27, 2007

I am the night. Paint me black.

Don't read this. It's just one of dem days…

I hate Octobers. It’s been like that ever since I developed a memory, the coldest month of the year. I always thought that being impassionate about people would help me get places, but the more I stop caring, the further I get away, the more I feel like a coward.
Maybe I’m just too judgmental…
Is it a crime to stand up for an opinion, to die for what’s right… to despise indifference?

One thing I know for sure is that I never could let go. Funny thing about life, once you get too attached to something or someone, they vanish. Once you decide to let down your defenses, you find yourself regretting the moment before that idea evolved into motion, and you find yourself locked inside the moment right after the motion itself.
It’s like when you die. They say that you spend the time between death and the Day of Judgment doing whatever you were doing at the time of your death. I pray I would die doing something noble, doing something that would please Allah SWT.

I pray to Allah I would just learn how to move on and let go.
My memory serves me far too well.

I wonder if it’s possible for a person to feel the presence of his soul.

I try to escape the darkness that’s chasing me down the narrow corridors. It’s going to eat me; I know it. I will not go gently into that good night. I will try… even though a chicken shit piece of me knows that in the end, I will fail.

Is it because it’s Halloween? Is that why I’m scared of the invisible trolls trying to trick or treat me blind?

I keep telling myself that I don’t dwell on things, but maybe I do. I don’t do it proudly, but that’s the way I was made. My mind keeps quoting words said by people whom I've discarded permanently. The only thing strong enough to chase us through eternity are cruel jokes created by our minds.

Karma’s gonna getcha whether you like it or not. I often find myself paying for choices I’ve made in the past. The payment ain’t interest-free. It never is, otherwise nobody would care to get paid. You gotta give out something extra in order to get the goods… even if the goods are rotten shit.

It gets cold sometimes at night. I like going out in the cold. It’s the only time my skin gets colder than my interns. It’s the only time my chest feels warmth.
No wonder I’m a winter person. No wonder I’m a night person.

If only I could breathe it out…
I know I’d probably just breathe it all back in again.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Follow the White Rabbit

I am a believer in Allah. I don’t get atheists. If you ask me, I’d say they’re only saving themselves the trouble of finding the right religion, exerting a bit of an effort to please God Almighty; plain lazy.

I believe that everything that happens has already been written.
So… are we mokhayyareen or mosayyareen? (The eternal question of people who think too much: Does freewill exist or are we just puppets with our parts to play?)
Oh we’re definitely mokhayareen, but since God is GOD, HE already knows which ekhteyar we are going to make. For stupid people who think that we’re only puppets, I’d ask them if they’ve ever made any decision. If not, then seek therapy. It won’t work. All psychiatrists are conmen who’re good at bullshit, but at least their suicides will be justified from their medical records.

Why am I writing this? Well, I figured that I should Write Out Loud. I spent the entire weekend thinking about one single notion, turning it around, trying to find the perfect position where all things make sense.

If my life could be sketched in a form of a map, where the Xs imply the points where I have or should have learned a certain lesson, where the Os signify the points of action I’ve taken… can a person foresee how he’d react the next time anything happens? Could a person foresee the things he’d stumble across on his way towards salvation?

If life is a pattern, no whys would be asked.
Only whens.

I usually don’t dwell on things, but as I’ve come across a certain issue three times with three different people, I couldn’t help but notice a certain pattern mapping out certain stages of development.

Stage 1: I made a choice regarding how that matter should be pursued; accordingly, getting rejected in the process.
Stage 2: Humiliation: The only stage persistent to exist in all forms of recovery, development, and management. Some people are unbelievable.
Stage 3: Rejection of something or someone, bearing previous experiences in mind.

Stage 4: ???

Wouldn’t a person be punished in his donya for kicking a cat around, lying, backbiting, yelling at his parents, etc?
Are they known patterns or could it be that everything is a test?
I’d always go for the test theory. I’ve failed many tests in the past and I pray I wouldn’t fail many more.
In the end, our deeds are not what grant us Heaven. Allah’s mercy does so.

Allahomma Er7amna.

Saturday, October 06, 2007

My 10-year residency

September 27, 1997. That was the day I moved to Egypt. 10 years have passed and I still don’t get this country.

It’s a common theme that people who’ve been raised abroad dwell on. No matter what you say or do, deep inside you know you’ll never fully adapt.

As individual Egyptians… we’re not really connected; except maybe by a shitty green passport, too big to carry around as identification if you don’t have an ID. I’d rather be anonymous than carry the damn thing in my pocket.

As individual Gypos, we’ve each signed our own policies, sworn allegiance to our own virtually assumed president. We live by our own rules and shove a special card to the face of a policeman who asks to see a driver license at a roadblock. We have signed our own peace treaties with the enemy. Nothing matters. My generation doesn’t care much.

As Egyptians, we don't care about the GATT (General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade) being implemented in 2008. We already buy cars we can’t afford. We don’t mind applying for a car loan and paying 40% of our income to pay it off including a total interest of 45%. We pay for every piaster increase in fuel price. Why make a change when the people don’t demand one? Why give a raise if your staff doesn't ask for one? Why is it that the only two feasibly profitable industries in Egypt are food and cafes? When have we run out of ideas? Why are most men in this country either ahlawy or zamalkawy when we fail to diffuse their undeniable retard-ness? When have we declared ourselves football experts and strategy professionals? Why does every Egyptian think that his/her political statement should be heard? Why is it that most of the young men of today don’t have enough information about the Palestinian-Israeli conflict? Why don’t most of the educated Muslim minds of this country know the answer to the question ‘Why Islam?’ Why are most of our drama genre films based on sex? Why do we have so many beggars on the street and when did we stop believing that they need any money at all. When has begging become a profitable profession? Why are there still people who believe that we’re doing just fine?

When has going as "couples" become a requirement for going to Taraweeh? How despicably sick have we become?
Why change ourselves if we believe that we’re superior to all races.

Are we all asleep? Is this all one big dream?

Why don't I find any of the above funny?

Why do I need to leave? I thought that I adapted, but the harder I try, the more I go back to the state of mind I was in during the first year of my living here. Why should I be any different than any of those who left? I used to tell myself that there is a purpose beyond my understanding of me living here. Have I been bullshitting myself all those years?

Why do I feel the need to run away now?

Is this deep feeling a sign from God that no good would come from staying or is it a sign of my absolute coward-ness?

Rhetorically speaking... Ill just shut up.


Trivia: 10 also marks the beginning of writing the number of years I’ve spent here numerically, rather than alphabetically.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

The reincarnation of Holden Caulfield

And then it shape shifted into a long tunnel; circular, curvy walls so you wouldn’t have a corner to crawl to when your feet need to rest. Clear cut sign that it’s now or never.

The voices slid across the walls of my dry throat, touching them, pinching them on the way out, just to make sure that I am aware of how those voices would sound like, to make sure that I’m aware of the things they’d say.

These voices… they always think that they exist for my own good. But they don't really see me. I felt like a baby in a Lamaze class. Breathe in, breathe out.

The many things they said hurt me.
They don't know me.
They don't know me at all.

They try to morph me into a cruel color, one that they’d like to wear.

I fear the finger they’d give me if only I was blind; while my lips are sealed into a hole that whistles a tune that deafens my ears so I wouldn’t hear them scream my name.

I don’t fucking care’, whispered my unquenchable being.

Now glisten, O dry soul. I’ll just ignore the voices as they speak and try to mimic the dark impressions of things that attract AA members and embrace remorse of all kinds. I have learned a lesson of grave value. I’ve always been a good student, except for my inability to concentrate. I disregard them all. Nothing really matters at all except for their lips touching the words right before they leave their mind. I bring my ears to my attention and pray for raw iron that I can keep and shape into my own magnet to wear as a mask that repels away all things that breathe.

Why start now? I still don’t care. I’ve always been a survivor no matter how many footsteps they mark on my existence.

I’ll kill all colors but black and white. I’ll be color blind so they won’t be able to wear me as their favorite color.

I’ll shut up now. Words won’t add value to your obnoxiousness for they’re merely a string of spikes teasing me to stab my voodoo doll even more. If I can’t kill you, then I’ll learn to ignore you, pretend you’re not even there as I step on your shadow as I walk the distance to a place where you can’t get to.

I am what I am you spineless shit… and you are just a contingency plan.

Now sod off and die, you fucking cunt.

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