far away from humanity

I drown in eternal beauty
(from Beirut Kornich)

I love what I do

I love my job. and today i know why.

i went back to the lab this week for "the final experiment". i haven't been there for a few months now, between my operation, writing my thesis, and a couple vacations it's been a few months.

As soon as i made myself comfortable and started labeling my tubes, i knew it. i belonged.

i've always wondered why. i mean that road is full of frustrations, and only on special occasions is it rewarding . plus we're incredibly underpaid.we are "expected" to work evenings and weekends.and i usually dont, hell no, i hate that (ok i might be this weekend, but it's the final experiment and all).i cherish my evenings and there's no way on earth i'm week-ending any where near that round building.

we're labelled nerds and have the very limited opportunities for interacting with new people/situations.

exactly.people annoy me.i feel uncomfortable with most of the people that i meet. most of the times i leave with the same conclusion: there's nothing in common.

for me what you do for a living defines so much who you are.i can't have a job just for the sake of having one no matter how much money i make. my job partly defines me. and a lot of people i meet have no connection whatsoever with their 9 to 5 jobs. i cant connect with those people.

i cant connect with materialistic people.i cant connect with people who are unaware of all the madness going on outside their radius of home/ job/party/shopping area.

i cant connect with people who dont question. who dont wonder. who dont challenge.

and mostly i cant connect with people who dont own their principles or their actions.

there. what i do is simply liberating, it gives me my space- my peace.

all day.

my yummy Lebanese potatoes

..or the King of Fries. On Hamra.
ok people, next time you visit Lebanon, and please do so soon, a word of advice, do not, and i repeat, DO NOT, miss out on Malek El Batata, the bestest ever potato sandwich maker in the world. I'm not kidding.
and yes, they do deliver until wee hours of the morning, the best time for "sandwichet batata" before going to bed. with their specialty coleslaw sauce, oh god, it's a sin. and it's heaven. all at the same time. you get the picture.

(pic taken by Hakki from the car)
jij, this one's for u :)

memories..

misty water-colored memories

of the way we were

(AUB "indecent behavior" bench)

ode to a cigarette

what a shitty shitty shitty day
you took it all away
it started well
i couldnt tell
that crap will pour and stay

photoshop ipod cold and rain
all froze on me full speed
and suddenly this sharp dull pain
was more than i shall need

to shout and curse
COULD YOU GET WORSE
i totally lost my mind
when pms has hit the town
it's war on all mankind

and FINALLY i hold you near
and drink you deep and slow
if it was not for you my dear
well, i soooo dont want to know

THIS HAS TO END

AS THE WHOLE WORLD WATCHES IN SILENCE
MADNESS
SHAME
DISGUST
PITY
HORROR
SORROW
HOPELESSNESS
....
....
you tell me things will get better
where?
when?
how?
no. we are disgusting. we are low blind beings feeding on hatred and greed.
no. i don't see the light.
I DONT SEE THE LIGHT.

(picture @ reuters.com)

wait

hey
turn around
look at me
look at me and tell me it was nothing
just a dream
why dont you stop
where are you going
didnt you see me standing there
dont fade
not yet
too early
(AUB west hall)

Alli (there)..

I don't believe in reincarnation.
but if i'm wrong, then i strongly believe that i was a chica latina in one of my previous lives.
a feeling of recognition.

the language.

the salsa.

the people.

the food.

the love for life.

my favorites..Celia Cruz, Ibrahim Ferrer, Neruda, Garcia-Marquez, Jose Marti.

this is one of my favorite poems by Neruda

Fabula de la sirena y los borrachos

Todos estos señores estaban dentro
cuando ella entró completamente desnuda
ellos habían bebido y comenzaron a escupirla
ella no entendía nada recién salía del río
era una sirena que se había extraviado
los insultos corrían sobre su carne lisa
la inmundicia cubrió sus pechos de oro
ella no sabía llorar por eso no lloraba
no sabía vestirse por eso no se vestía
la tatuaron con cigarrillos y con corchos quemados
y reían hasta caer al suelo de la taberna
ella no hablaba porque no sabía hablar
sus ojos eran color de amor distante
sus brazos construidos de topacios gemelos
sus labios se cortaron en la luz del coral
y de pronto salió por esa puerta
apenas entró al río quedó limpia
relució como una piedra blanca en la lluvia
y sin mirar atrás nadó de nuevo
nadó hacia nunca mas morir.

(Fable of the mermaid and the drunks

All these gentlemen were there inside
when she entered, utterly naked
they had been drinking, and began to spit at her
recently come from the river, she understood nothing
she was a mermaid who had lost her way
the taunts flowed over her glistening flesh
obscenities drenched her golden breasts
a stranger to tears, she did not weep
a stranger to clothes, she did not dress
they poked her with cigarette ends and with burnt corks
rolled on the tavern floor with laughter
she did not speak, since speech was unknown to her
her eyes were the color of faraway love
her arms were matching topazes
her lips moved soundlessly in coral light
and ultimately, she left by that door)
scarcely had she entered the river that she was cleansed
gleaming once more like a white stone in the rain
and without a backward look, she swam once more
swam toward nothingness, swam to her dying)

(picture: Trinidad, Cuba, 2004)

always felt I was outside..

looking in on you.

welcome to Canada?

I was born in Canada, been living there for 5 years now. i use the canadian passport when i travel.but i just got back from beirut. i had to pay.

the customs officer makes me carry my two 30 kg bags up on the table and opens every single item one by one. my underwear is on her table now, my books are being scanned, and my heart slowly fills with rage. humiliation.

as i look away for something better to look at than her fucked up bitter face (i think that she needs to get laid), i realize that there's another lebanese girl and an arabic man on the other 2 counters. that's it.in the 1 and a half hour i was stuck there, 80% of the people there were arabs (i love coincidences!).

she finds nothing to screw me up with in my bags, so she decides to take my watch. a gift from my dad. my watch! i've had it for 5 years! (oh but how can i prove it? she asks)

"should i come naked into the country? dont i have a right to wear my watch??",

"i have the right to confiscate it until i prove that it's really five years old. if you brought it in at any time after you entered canada for the first time you need to pay its taxes".

" but you can see that it's a old watch, and i told you i got it as a gift for my graduation before i moved here",
"I'll leave it for the experts to figure that out". fucking bitch "you'll get notice about the decision in 3 weeks".
"and what if i dont want to give it to you?"

"i'm gonna have to arrest you". (grin). whore. my mistake. I should have let her arrest me. next time.

she would go and come back and leave me waiting for 15 minute intervals, just to suck any life out of me.the way she talked to me and looked at me, for the first time i felt the discrimination that people talk about and that i havent yet encountered. she used a 5 yr old watch to rape me.i was standing there and cursing this country. for a few moments she created so much hate in me, that i wanted to break everything nice i encountered just to get back at her. i wanted to kill her, and destroy everything beautiful in her "free fucking country".

ohhh. still wondering how you help create hateful terrorists? keep it up.

back to...normal

you're right, I will miss you

- you're here, "my oriental flower"
- ....(smile)
- ....
- (goosebumps)..is this how you welcome all your friends?
- only special ones, besides, you're not my friend
- oh really, what am I then?
- I don't know..something else
- well you're right, i'm just a stranger, our paths converged for a while and will separate today (I wish there was more time)
- no no no..since the day i met you i felt that i already knew you, i saw it in your eyes, a strange mix of sadness and delight, and in your smile, have I told you I like your smile?
- yes, many times..you should try a new line every now and then (I love it when you say that)
- it's not a line
- really.. what is it then (I know)
- i can't explain it, not because of my english, i also couldn't in my own language..i speak what's in my heart
- hahaha, your heart? please (really?)
- feel my heartbeat, here give me your hand
- i don't feel anything (hmmm..)
- come on..
- nothing..(you smell good)
- oufff, you're such a cynic
- whatever (I love your eyes)

quizas quizas quizas..

i had a dream about you last night.
we were dancing the tango,two bodies swaying to one beat.
You were behind me, holding me, leading my steps with your arms, your breath on my neck.
and my body was warm, I was sweating.
I close my eyes and I relive the the sensuality, the harmony of flesh and music.
strange, I barely knew you yesterday.
was it a prophecy? or was it "fate", as you would like to explain it?
you asked me in the dream: "why are we dancing?" and I answered "we're practicing for our performance"..
"but there is no audience..", "we are the audience my dear.."
I still don't know what this conversation was supposed to mean, all I know is that we did dance today, the tango, and there was no audience.

our table, she's gone!!

i couldn't didn't wouldn't believe it..
my eyes kept searching until i finally spotted her..

i can't believe those idiots move her there!
don't they understand that she's not a mere accessory?
that she welcomed us and shared our joys and sorrows, our moments of despair and our morning coffees? our deepest darkest secrets and hours of useless existence?!

and oh if this table could talk..

gus, our smoking "stairs" miss you, look at them they're so lonely.."where has everyone gone?"

zourouni koulli sana marra 7aram tinsouni bilmarra..

funny..

..how we act like strangers when we meet
very proper, very friendly..

..how you pass the phone to your girlfriend
to give me directions to another man's life..

..how someone else has now taken my place
in your car, in your bed, in your eyes..

..how someone else's hands have taken yours'
over my skin, through my hair, on my lips..

..how i've mastered to live without you
after i breathed only for you..

..how i fucking hate myself
because i still write for you

..how the 20 year old in me is wondering
"what the fuck is so funny??"

eternity..

(Jabal Moussa, Lebanon)

tayybeen tante!

this one's for annie..
tante: tayybeen tante..taste one!
l: merci, i'm so full..
tante: walaw tante?!!! kirmeli!
l: thanks 3an jadd, plus i don't really like akadeneh
(immediate killer look from both tante and mom across the table, now scary-mommy eyes move from me to the akadeneh back to me back to akadeneh)
tante (already shoving some in my plate): tayyeb taste them (frowning a bit), how can you say you don't like them when you haven't even-
l: but i've had them befor-
tante: ...tasted them?! yalla sa7tein..nifra7 minnik ya rabb..yalla now you have no excuse, you're done with your studies, zakiyyeh smalla, it's time for you ta tirja3eelna, time for marriage and kids, maheik ya tante? (blank look from l)... eh shou laken, a7la shabb byitmanna 3laiki..yalla, taste the akadeneh..(moving to the next victim)...who didn't have some yet?

l (munching an akadenyeyeh):...merci tante...

blogbashing

there's a good amount of blogbashing and immature name calling (SO uncalled for really) going around these days, people complaining about the content of other people's blogs. a few have a problem with blogs that deal with poetry and politics.they say people only do it seeking "love and attention" and other people's comments. oh, and that those people are actually hypocrites and attention seeking "idiots" (!), and not as smart as the blogbashers who "see right through them" (are you kidding me? why do you keep on visiting then?). so people can blogbash as much as they like, everyone is entitled to blog about whatever he or she likes, no matter how idiotic i think it is, it's still their right.
so here's what i think: i find it completely rediculous! with all due respect, every blogger is seeking attention in one form or another, or else they would be writing an offline diary.also, there are different forms of gaining attention, some are healthy (sharing information, political and non-political debates and opinions, art and literature..i think it's really cultivating), and some are not (blogbashing, negativity, religious and social disrespect..). that's my opinion at least.so to everyone who does not know how comments function: people's comments on posts are a form of communication and sharing of ideas and stories and opinions..it's totally cool. and it's really so so sad that you guys don't see it this way, sad for you i mean, you're missing out on so much! come on give it a try, you can leave your prejudgements behind for a few minutes!

so people can create beautiful things all they want, and bashers can bash them all they want (why oh why i wonder) and i can ramble on all i want (probably wont, the sun is finally out)! it's a free world here at blogland..well except for china.

good night..

and good luck
with some luck and blessings from Ra almighty (i luuuuuv you!!), tomorrow might turn out to be a beautiful sunny day..
still raining :-(

geddo

my geddo. my nostalgia.
I remember it well: my brother and I, on the school bus early in the morning.
there he'd be, standing on the roadside, his hands full.
he stops the bus, stretches his arms through the open window, and hands us our little treats.
green almonds, janerek, apricots, blackberries. a smile.
for grandpa has a valley, right in the middle of our village. and every morning, for as long as i can remember, he heads there along with the sunrise. one by one, he plants, waters, mends, and picks.
my grandpa cherishes his land, his earth, and his family. with no money and no education, he slowly built a house, educated his children, and tought them to stand up for their principles and for their country.
and today, through his eyes, I realize that what Lebanon needs right now is leaders who are a bit more like him. leaders who love their land to death, and leaders who will take care of their valleys, every morning of every day, no matter how hard it is.
This is my geddo. This is my Lebanon.

made it to the olive trees

prost!

hi ya zghar
greetings from Germany..people here are soo beautiful, sehr schoen!!!!
am totally drunk