Loss

It's not easy to lose something.. Or someone.. It's not easy to have something and suddenly not have it anymore. A loss is a loss with varying degrees of difficulty. The more attached you are to it the harder it is to come to terms with losing it. 

Sometimes you lose someone who was once close and that loss manifests itself into great lament. Why did I not pick up the phone when she called? Why wasn't I there when she needed me? Why didn't I call her the other day? Moments that you could have had but didn't because you've taken life for granted. A life so short you one day sit and wonder where it went.. And we keep doing it over and over again.. Taking life for granted.. Because we lost a friend once surely it won't happen again? Not twice.. Not to us.. Well it does happen. All the time. To everyone..

Sometimes you mourn the loss of something you don't even have.. It is something for which you had been hoping and praying but then you lose that hope.. That's probably the worst kind of loss. Because hope is something you always have and when what you're hoping for doesn't happen it's a loss that occurs over and over again. It's the same redundant sadness that just doesn't get any better.. It's a loss you keep losing..

No words of advice here.. I cannot preach what I do not know. All I can say is I'll try not to take it for granted.. Life I mean.. But also everyone around me.  It's not worth the guilt..

All the Light We Cannot See: A Review… Sort of

Half way through All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr I paused to reflect on human nature and how people are sometimes forced to conform with a socially constructed concept to which they may or may not subscribe yet find themselves consciously participating with a heavy heart and a niggling feeling in their throats..

The book is set during WWII German invasion of France and depicts how "Hitler Youth" are trained to become soldiers for the reich on one hand and the devastation caused by the invasion particularly to a young blind girl who has a vision bigger than any sighted person you’ll ever know.. Told from the perspective of those conformists who do not subscribe to the ideologies prescribed by the "Fuhrer" the story personifies the inner turmoil that one feels when doing something with which they don't particularly agree and the feelings are real and applicable to even less dire situations..

Even in the face of severe punishment for nonconformity people find a way to express their individuality and break away from social norms. The angry French women who supply food and wash clothes use their services as an underground resistance while on the surface they appear to comply hiding little messages in loaves of bread or adding minuscule amounts of toxic elements to the Nazis’ laundry or the kids in the orphanage who find solace in a forbidden radio frequency that tells them all about the world which they would otherwise never experience..

Lights and color are recurring motifs that run in parallel throughout this novel. Marie-Laure, the blind girl. identifies the world by the colors she perceives in everything she experiences. these colors are from her memory as a child but each person or place has a special color that does not necessarily correlate with reality. The lights vary in brightness, the happier the experience the brighter they are. The sea, her favorite place, is a shimmer in her world where all her troubles disappear.

The story runs in many parallels that revolve around the paranormal, depravity, desperation, conformity, camaraderie and loss. It even delves into the world of physics, electronics and marine biology. It was difficult to stay engaged and I got lost in the plot on several occasions but I was determined to finish it because I was too stubborn to let a book go to waste. I was drawn to it from the Kindle reviews and the best-selling status of its author, Anthony Doerr. It is akin to a book that would be assigned as high school reading and I envision it to become one of the classics of our time.

زمان احن اليه

احن لزمن امتاز ببساطته و صدق مشاعره..

لما كان الجار صاحب الجار والصديق اكثر من عضيد و الفريج أمان والوناسه نرسمها على الارض و ننقز عليها او خمس حصايات نتلقفها او قواطي بيبسي نطيحها بالكرة..

لما كانت البرادة معلم من معالم الفريج كل بيت محاذيها و كل عيدية تنصرف فيها و راعيها صديج الكبير والصغير من طيبته خلاك تشتري سلف و متى ما قدرت تدفع له..

لما كانت مشاكلنا وهمية من ام الخضر والليف لي الفارس الملثم و طبعا ما ننسى ام حمار..

لما كنا نقعد نجابل الشاشة الملونة ننطر الساعة اربع بفارغ الصبر ونكيف على سنان و سندباد و توم اند جيري.. واذا كلش شطحنا طالعنا المصارعة الحرة وقعدنا نقلدهم ما تفرق ولد كنت او بنت..

لما كانت عذاري فعلاً عين واكبر ألعابها البانوش، و الحديقة المائية في عزها كان يوم السعد لي ودونا لها واذا بغينا نتكشخ رحنا ديري كوين نختم فيه يومنا..

لما كنا نلعب صيده في دواعيس ام الحصم لا نحس بخطر ولا احد يحاتينا، كل بيت أهلنا و حتى الجيران اهل..

لما كنا ندرع بجلابياتنا ونقرقع في بيوت الناس في رمضان و نرجع نفوشر مين الي يمع اكثر من الثاني.. 

لما كنا نروح البيت العتيج في الحد ابو الحوش الكبير مربط خيل نلعب فيه ما نمل.. وأمي أمينة تلعب بالكلينكس وتصفط فيه تالي اخر شي تعطينا إياه نلقاها حاطه فيه دينار.. يا فرحتنا فيه و يا حبنا لها من حياها ما تكشف ويها حتى على اجرب جريب..

لما كان البيت العود في ام الحصم ملفانا وأمي لطيفة امنا كلنا، ربتنا من صغيرنا لكبيرنا، ننطر الإجازة بس عشان نبات عندها و ثوبها الأبيض يتطاير بمشيتها و ريحة العود ما تفارقها.. سدرتها الي زرعتها بيدها كبرت معانا صارت سند لنا كلنا ، ويوم فارقتها ... فارقتنا ... بس ما فرقتنا.. تركت اثرها فينا كلنا وعلى خطاها ينلم شملنا .. هي و امي موزة لما نشقح الشارع نوصلها و قبل لا نوصلها توصلنا، في بيتها قضينا احلى الأوقات و لازالت احلى أوقاتنا مع أولادها..

رحمة الله عليهم جميعا، علمونا البساطة والحب والتواصل. كلهم صج أمهاتنا مب بس لقب احترام للكبير. أحيوا تراثنا و حببونا فيه و عيشونا اجمل لحظاته.. وللحين مستمرين نحيي ذكراهم بتواصلنا و إحياء تراثنا حق عيالنا وهم دوم في القلب يذكّرونا وين كنا و وين صرنا و ما زالوا يعلمونا ان مافي احلى من البساطة والتواضع و حب الآخرين و صلة الرحم و الله يقدرنا انا نستمر على نهجهم مع الأجيال الياية...

On 2015...

A new year has begun.. People wonder what it will bring and hope and pray that it will be better than their last. People bank their whole lives on that last leaf unfolding, on that last digit flipping and the dawn of the new year showing its first light.

What is a year but a number? A mere date on our calendar, just another day...

And what is hope but the fantasies of a lazy species sitting lax watching life pass them by and riding its coat tails; more often than not missing the ride because it was faster than their actions...?

Days, weeks, months and years are all the same. What differentiates them is what we do to give them value- make them count. We can watch them and let chance live our lives for us, or we can create these chances and live our own.

Accomplishing all we wish for requires planning and execution. Setting specific deadlines and holding ourselves responsible for meeting them is a good start. Statistics have shown that people with written goals are more likely to be successful than those who have not written them down.

The whole point of this rant is: don't blame last year for not being good to you and don't ask 2015 to bring you health and prosperity. Tell yourself and then blame yourself for not listening...

The Untold

A screen. An empty screen. The awaiting blink on the line urging the formation of a word. 

A word. A juxtaposition of letters that make up one word. A word to bring to life an inner thought. 

A thought. A million thoughts. Dancing around a mind that knows not how to savor precious dearth time.

Time. How much does one need? To juxtapose the words to form that thought. That dancing thought that won't settle, that won't thrive, a stillborn child.

A thought that was... Before it had the chance to be...

About traveling...

So I refered to my airport experience with people wearing the most ridiculous attire and that is a rant that continues to fester to date.

Airline travel, is not a Milan runway , let us first just be clear on that. Comfort should be your ultimate goal when you are thousands of feet in the air and cramped in an economy class seat. Having said that, comfort does not have to be a bad wardrobe choice either...

What riles me up is when I see people wearing tank tops and shorts on airplanes and then request a dozen blankets from the flight attendant because they're freaking cold! What purpose has your tank top served you, fool?? Except you now have to cover it up with layers of blankets and later on walk around the airport with ugly looking skin cause by goosebumps!

Other disasters I've witnessed at airports are of the walking variety.. Stilettos, flip flops and skin sweltering straps! What are they thinking? They can barely walk from their doorstep to their cars and they want to navigate large international airports in these tools of torture?? I just don't understand it...

My torturous travel tales don't just end there; my last few trips have been riddled with horrible experiences seared into my brain.. I always choose comfort economy seats where available and ask the check-in desk attendant to avoid seating anyone next to me as much as he/she can. Not that I expect anything but it's just something that has to be said. I head to my gate, board the plane after most passengers have already boarded and find the seat next to me empty. I do a little dance- too subtle to be seen by the naked eye- and quietly and confidently take my seat. I look around and try not to be smug when I see all those other people cramped against their neighbors as I take out my kindle and stow away my bag. Just as the flight attendant makes the first announcement my eye catches a late passenger in the far distance of the plane's entrance. I try not to make eye contact hoping that is what the situation requires.. I cross my fingers and say all the ad3eya (prayers) I know and I even try a little telekinesis but somehow he still managed to come close. His eyes shift between his boarding pass stub and the seat numbers above and his gaze travels forward and rests on the digits above me. I continue my prayers and supernatural efforts to divert him away but he looks at me and smiles and goes, "hi! Looks like I'm next to you!" 

Of course he's huge; at least compared to my small stature.. Of course he smells like he doesn't own a shower.. And of course he falls asleep, inadvertently leans against me and breathes his fumes into my personal space. 

Ultimately, I spend the whole flight tearfully cursing my luck and regretting the decision to go on this trip and lamenting my whole existence...

Random Rantings

I used to consider myself a blogger until I realized I have commitment issues and a hell of a lot of resistance to redundancy. Since then I've been having random thoughts crowding my brain which is not satisfied with 140 characters anymore. Like when I travel and see people at airports wearing tank tops, shorts and/or flip flops or high heels and I just want to scream at them for the discomfort I'm experiencing by proxy; or the time I went to the Bossy Kitchen tasting and had to spam my time line to rant about how good it is...

So I guess I'm a blogger again, until I'm not. Maybe I'm a random rantist.. If I was ever into social constructiivism I'd try to coin that term and put myself in the philosophy books; but I digress...

So here I am, and here you are.. In essence, here we are. Let the ranting begin!

Regards,

Nouf