Folks, did you notice, or it is just me? In the past 3 years, we have had more singers than we probably had in the 10 years previouse to that. Is this like a direct result to the way arabic music videos are going? So many new names, and so many new ways that one seems to have hard time keeping up with.
The other day, I was watching the new vido clip for majda alroumy (I forgot the song, but I think it's called al7obb wal3afaaf???). Then soon after that video, a new video clip for a singer called dana (??) and it's called "boss ely, 7ar2oslak 3alwa7dah wnoss...". In the beginning of that clip, a writings on the screen said in arabic "for the first time, a new singer without any plastic surgery". What the hell? Anyway, the singer dances like a stripper and shows way way way too much of her body and seductive moves.
I've seen many more videos along that line. The reason I watch them because my wife takes control of the remote control while I surf the net on my laptop.
So, why are the video clips going this route? Oh, you are asking me about this route. my bad. This is what I think the route is: 1) sexy female singers dancers moving their bodies in a seductive way 2) Male singers who jump up and down pretending to be michael jackson or that spanish dude (the live lavita loca thingie) 3) Words that don’t relate at all to the video clip (like that "chad" gay looking dude) 4) mexican/salsa/jamaica style dancing that has nothing to do with arabic at all
So, that was the route. What are the possible causes?
1) Demands from the new generation of arab youth, as we know in economics, supply and demand, if there is a demand, there will always be a market 2) The strive to change, even if it was a negative change 3) The phenomena of rich arab guys who are willing to finance a new dancer/singer to make her video clip after a private session in that rich's man hotel room 4) Super star???? 5) Everybody wants to be like nancy and haifa???? 6) satellites TV's???
"MULTAN, Pakistan - Nazir Ahmed appears calm and unrepentant as he recounts how he slit the throats of his three young daughters and their 25-year old stepsister to salvage his family's "honor" — a crime that shocked Pakistan. The 40-year old laborer, speaking to The Associated Press in police detention as he was being shifted to prison, confessed to just one regret — that he didn't murder the stepsister's alleged lover too. ..... .Bibi (the wife) recounted how she was woken by a shriek as Ahmed put his hand to the mouth of his stepdaughter Muqadas and cut her throat with a machete. Bibi looked helplessly on from the corner of the room as he then killed the three girls — Bano, 8, Sumaira, 7, and Humaira, 4 — pausing between the slayings to brandish the bloodstained knife at his wife, warning her not to intervene or raise alarm."I was shivering with fear. I did not know how to save my daughters,"
"I thought the younger girls would do what their eldest sister had done, so they should be eliminated," he said, his hands cuffed, his face unshaven. ....Despite Ahmed's contention that Muqadas had committed adultery — a claim made by her husband — the rights commission reported that according to local people, Muqadas had fled her husband because he had abused her and forced her to work in a brick-making factory....."
When is this going to stop? How long do we have to keep hearing of such horror stories. The daughter was bused by her husband, and her salvation was that her dad slit her throat along with her 3 sisters. Enough is enough. And we question the use of death panelty? I'd love to see him die slowely, what a pig.
I used to (and still) post some poems I write that are related to dark side, and gothic poetry, in a forum. I enjoy reading and writing such work. It may not be perfect or even good, but I like them pretty much, so I'll post a couple of them here. Hope that someone out there enjoy this like I do.
I fear you no more
I am now happy that you're no longer here You can't hurt me now so don't come near You were the beast that taught me my fear
You've crushed me up, you've made me insane You've given me agony and burning pain You've left me to drown in hammering rain
You've condemned everything I've ever done You crushed every chance of me to have fun Yet I stand in front of you, yes I have won
Oh wicked one, why did you try to control me? I'm not under your grasp, I’m always free And now that I’ve won, I’ll be what I want to be
You wonder why I so much hated you The answer was evident I thought you knew You frighten me no more, you know that's true
I now control you, and will let you lead In times I feel that we both must feed On misery, agony of others and dread
Maybe one day it will all change Maybe one day it won't be so strange Maybe one day I'll be in your range
I feel fatigued, tired and in so much despair My heart beats miserably, wrecked beyond repair I wish I could go to sleep, and never ever awake, But I've always known; life is never ours to take.
If it was all up to me, I'd want to die while a sleep, There's no one to stop me and the cut is already too deep I could slit my throat, and no-one would even care, But I know deep inside of me that I wouldn't dare
Sitting up all night, alone in my room Shaky and weeping, imagining doom Nothing here to distract my mind, my fears. There's no-one around, to even dry my tears.
So as I held the blade, feeling my veins A cry from within, screaming, please refrain I looked around and no one do I see Yet, somehow, my soul decided to once again, be.
Is it a double personality or normal. I find many things in my life (and little tiny brain) that displays a multiple personality. Maybe you guys could also see that in you, and maybe not. I am a sucker for love music, and would sing like a canary (even though my beloved wife begs me not to sing) upon hearing them. "That’s how much I feel" for ambrosia is one of my favorite songs. "Boulevard" brings back some memories, and many more songs. But in the same time, I enjoy "white snake", "Metallica and "guns & roses" heavy metal groups. Actually, I attended four concerts total in my life, "yanni", "Metallica", Pink Floyd", and "the Cleveland classic orchestra". So much contradiction there, but maybe this is normal. I would melt down "ya3ny basakhsekh" when I join a conversation about polymers and chemical reactions, yet I believe that I am no nerd. I know I am not a nerd, just a dude who happens to be smart in chemicals (and pretty bad in everything else), but "az3ar" in the same time. Whatever gives you the kick and the pleasure, do it. You could present in conferences in front of tens of people speaking English with an accent, and sing "ya3a6eyyah" while playing the rababa after wards. Wake up at night praying to the almighty God, and at noon, you visit your friends to talk about "those twins" who keep appearing in the "Coors light" commercial along with the Texas Dallas cheerleaders. Love, and hate. Feel joy, and sing the blues about your misery. Hang out with the guys in the sports bar and grill, and have a romantic evening with the wife in some fancy restaurant. I think that it is normal to live your life going from extreme to the other, provided that you know your limits, and be within the guidelines that you set for yourself. You don’t have to be always on one extreme. Just do it (sorry Nike, had to steal this one)
Not knowing what to expect or how it would feel like, I went through the gate (gate 56 in Detroit airport) to the royal Jordanian flight to Amman. As soon as I got to my seat, my heart was pounding. I kept calming myself down that I'm not in Amman yet, but somehow, I felt as if the plane was an extension of mother land, my beloved Jordan.
I sat down, and closed my eyes because I sensed a moment of sadness and was worried that someone may see a teardrop here or there coming of a bald headed middle aged man. I started imagining who's gonna be in the airport waiting for me. Heart started pounding faster, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to resist my tears. I then calmed myself down, especially after this man sat next to me in the flight. He was a Jordanian who is studying in the states, maybe 28 or 30 doing his Ph.D. in industrial engineering.
The plane moved and the captain (3reegat was his name) informed us about the take off procedure and conditions.The plane speeds up and suddenly, I was on the air on my way home. Home, sweet home, ya tora what does it look like these days? Will I see my family very soon? well, it looks like it anyway, so calm down bo3bo3, calm down, only 12 hours that separate you from where your heart and soul are eager to be in peace.I couldn't sleep in the plane, while the man next to me slept like a baby, lucky him, he visits jordan yearly, so he doesn't have that anticipation that I'm feeling.Two seats away, this woman who is trying to comfort her baby, who kept crying. I felt bad for her. There was a kid (maybe 2 or 3 years old) who kept playing around, and the "modeefeh" begged him to move and sit down. The mother didn't like it, thinking that she owns the plane. Boy on a normal situation, I would thought of breaking the window and throw him and his mom off the plane, but today was a special day in bo3bo3's life. So no evil thoughts or wicked feelings are to be thought about today.
Then I saw the shorelines of Palestine, and my heart pounded faster. I could see cities and villages. Then the Dead Sea appeared and with it, my body had goosebumps and my heart felt as it was beating so slowly that I panicked. The plane is descending and I see the airport. We landed. I quickly covered my face because I was feeling a joy I never felt before for a long time. People rushed to get out, and I waited. My legs were shaking.Then I got out.
For the first time in 5 years, I am walking on a Jordanian soil. I walked faster and faster. I starred at every face I saw, I was just happy. Then got to the money exchange booth and got my visa. I sat down underneath a sign that said "No smoking" and started smoking. Heck, three other guys (airport workers) were also smoking in the same area.I then went to get my luggage. An airport worker tried to steal my laptop, but I caught him. He looked at me as if there was nothing wrong, and moved on his way. I got the luggage, and went straight to customs."fee ma3ak eshi yetjamrak" a dude asked me and I replied "no". He then said "tfaddal akhooy".
Then I saw my dad. The old man waived both his hands to me and I smiled back. I worked so hard to overcome the tears in my eyes, last thing I want is him seeing me crying. I then saw my wife and my son. Suddenly, I felt in heaven. Dad, wife, and son all at once? If Mom were there, it would've been the real heaven.Hugged my dad, then wife, and held junior. He started speaking Arabic to me and I was even more joyful.
On the road, dad was giving me a tour of "share3 elma6ar". There is gasr elsnoober. There is that big house on top of the hill that dad says it was transformed to like a restaurant or something. I see people on the sides of the road selling figs, grapes, and watermelon. There on the left side a ra3i with his sheep. I had a big smile on my face, while my heart was crying so hard. I just didn't believe what I'm seeing. Is it really me in Amman? I mean wow, finally, I’m in Amman?
A dear friend of mine once told me that "wa6an is where your family is" I disagree with her 100%. You can take family anywhere in the world, but can you take what composes a wa6an? bayya3 elteen is part of that wa6an. bayya3 elba66eekh is too. Elkashrah is essential. the falafel, shawarma, ro3yan elghanam, zamameer elseyyarat, and many many more things that make up this wa6an.Take all those parts, and move them somewhere else, and then, only then, I'll agree that wa6an is movable.
Wa6an, what a sweet word, that we seem to fail to fully understand. It's not the flag or the piece of property you own. Wa6an is a house that is built on so many corners and stones. Take one brick out, and the base of this house will start deteriorating.
Being married is lots of fun. I’m not talking about the comfort of having a companion, a partner in life. But I’m talking about humor fun. One of the funniest parts of marriage life is that you get to finally know the secrets and the ins and outs of a woman. Yes woman, that beautiful creature that God created to torture man with, before and after marriage. You always used to wonder what is in that heavy purse that women carry. Now you know, or maybe I should say I know. You wanted to know all those ritual behavior women do in front of the mirror for many many minutes, and now you know. Many questions that always were on my mind before marriage. Now I know the minimum number of perfume bottles, a woman must have. Now I know how many hairbrushes she must have. Now I know what’s in the purse. Now I know why she needs two hair dryers. Now I know what are all these small make up sets are for. I used to wonder why a make up set has like 24 different colors, and all these strange names. Now I know. Another side of fun is to finally know what women talk about when they get together. If you are lucky like me, she will allow you to join the gathering, and sometimes, participate. Don’t be surprised when I tell you that they will discuss makeup, politics, perostrika, unionization of the work force, cooking, and how to master the art of putting a diapers on a baby, all in one meeting. I think that this is very exciting, because when I’m with men, it’s always about sports, cars, and food, and on occasions, we talk about sexy models. Marriage, is a cage, but the fact that man is willing to do so much to enter that cage, asserts that it’s a golden cage in heaven.
I feel as if I am an old man on his deathbed searching for a burial ground. The vision of home keeps haunting me. Sometimes, and while I am in the middle of something, a vision of a piece of desert land over looking 6abarboor, Amman, is displayed in front of. I try to hold on tight to that vision, but it slowly fades away. I don't want to fade away. I try to vision it once again, but it's just not there.
I am haunted by the vision of a home, which I was deprived of at an early age. I feel as if I am cursed to see the promised land from a distance, yet, there is a big wall preventing me from going there. There is no wall, but my cursed wicked soul put that wall in front of me. Sometimes, I feel that I wanna do exactly what the Germans did to the wall, and destroy it, but I am shackled by this big chain that is tying me to the ground. I try to break loose, but my mind prevents me from doing so.
I can see the promissed land, I clearly can see it. I see hills and I see sand. I see shepherds and I see sheep. I see tents, and I see houses. I see faces of agony, and faces of joy. I see a wedding and I see a funeral. I smell the pure desert aroma, and I hear the noise of the traffic on the streets of Amman. I smell the food aroma, the sweets, and I smell the diesel.
Sometimes I tell myself that if I can go back in time, just to when I was 17 years old, I would change one thing, one thing, and that is not to come to the states and instead, go home. But if I did so, I would be deprived from this sweet torture of missing home, or maybe deprived of such visions. Torture is good. We fast to feel hunger and the value of food. We stay up all night praying to the one God, to feel his love and the value of rest. Torture is good. Missing home is good.
But this chain is too strong to break. This wall is too wide and high to demolish. Is there a wall or chains? Or I'm just excusing my wicked soul to endure more torture? Or maybe I'm too afraid of the future and it's uncertainty. Maybe I'm just hallucinating and seeing things that are not there. It's so damn simple to break the wall. I know it's simple. Simple only if I let my heart decides my fate. But my wicked mind is too strong to overcome. It controls me beyond imagination. True that it allows my heart and my soul to sing the blues, get drunk on the memories, or maybe live in a fantasy world, but in the end, it has the power to shut it down. Damn I hate my brain. Damn I hate my mind. Damn I love my soul.
Damn I love my soul, because only it can make me happy with the memories and the visions of the sweet things I adore. Damn I love my soul, because only it can fly, riding the clouds, overcoming night and day, beating thousands and thousands of miles, to sneak a look at my burial ground....not too far from that sweet hill in 6abarboor. Sweet agony hurt me more and more. Oh destiny, torture me more and more, for your curse on me is just so damn sweet.
Leave me alone, I have paid my dues Guilty feelings and suffering are my dooms Living in the shadow fearing those who accuse My life has been a song of misery and blues
Leave me alone, what more from me do you seek? The crime has been done, on the strong and the weak Stop lynching me, blaming me, for I’m no longer a freak Your words are like the sword, killing me, constant critique
Leave me alone, I’m tired of this journey of the outcast Always accused, lectured, reminded of the days of the past For many years, I got punished by those toward me massed What would you hush you up? Electric chair, or being gassed?
Leave me alone, for you don’t really understand What I went through….. and still withstand Being labeled a loser, and a criminal of the land And from lecturing about morals, I am banned?
Leave me alone, and try to look into my eyes Or hear my heart, maybe you would hear the cries Of that past reminder, the looks, and the implies If only you can hear my prayers at night that reaches the skies
Leave me alone, your approval I seek no more I have found Allah that accepted me and more And found that someone that loved me like never before For I am no longer have to worry about the war That for many years agonized my soul, and my heart it tore
Leave me alone, or you know what, don’t Repentance to you, no, I don’t want To give me mercy, something you just can’t And your love, no, no, I think not.
Turmoil, disaster, a funeral, an unknown journey...or should i say a watermelon? You either get a good one or a bad one, no in between, you and your luck (or destiny). In the end, it's too late, you just bought this watermelon, and u simply can't take it back.
Do u choose this watermelon? NO. If your parents are Muslims, 99% you'll end up a Muslim. If they are Christians, again 99% you will be the same. If you are born with a defect, tough luck. If you are born to be misplaced so far away from them, again, tough luck.
No one had a great life so far, I mean it wasn't perfect, and I'm sure u went through many bumps on the road, and took many turns. But to overcome all those obstacle, that’s great human reaction. Yet, many were unfortunate and simply either couldn't overcome the obstacles, or simply can't.
AAAH destiny, again keeps creeping on me (and you) teasing you, letting you know that it will always remain the mysterious unknown part of your life. It fools around with you. Sometimes it suggests to you that the doors of heavens are wide open, and once you reach those gates, they shut in your face. Destiny will be watching and laughing.
The sad and funny part is that with all your hardships, and all those bumps, if you were asked to go back in time and change a thing, you will chicken out. Because u know that there will be a trick from destiny, and it will always win. So why bother go through the bumps again, u already did one time.
You walk down the street and you look people trying to read their life. You think you know how, but you’re full of it. There is a woman who is holding a baby while smiling to others. You think she is fine and dandy, but what do you know? Maybe she has bruises underneath her shirt.
Or that dude who has this nice job and family and seems to be the greatest life, but u don't know that they have a kid at home who is mentally challenged.
Or that sweet looking girl who is full of innocence as she walks home from her high school, but u don't know that she has this relationship with her boyfriend, and now it's too late, and she is just thinking of how to hide this from her parents and future husband.
Or that happily married woman who is sitting with her husband eating dinner while enjoying their time, but u fail to see the agony in her heart now that she discovered a love letter in her husband's pocket.
Or that 10 years old boy playing outside with his friend, so joyful, so innocent, but u fail to see the wound that is left in his soul after being raped by his uncle.
aaaah destiny, it is watching us all the times, thinking of how to ruin our lives tomorrow and the day after. Yet, we wouldn't dare to change a thing, even if we could.
Reach into the bottom of my wicked soul, tear out the darkness you will find there. I have no need for that monster howl Release the chanting in my heart I’m in despair Break it, smashed it, before it makes us fall, and sung to the whole world, like they’ll care.
Open me, I beg you to free my spirit, so I may dance and feel joy once again, A child I am like, and without you I can’t do it Chase away the monsters so I can live free of pain.
I don't want to ever loose you, leave this all behind and start new, this path in life we didn't choose, it chose us, now we can not loose.
Passed is the time to make do, I've been to hell and now I’m with you, I want to start over, to choose the undo, to move forward and be alone with you.
You took care of me cause you know I love you, our home, our life, I want it only with you, we can do it darling, I believe in you.
I live in a world where i have to secure all my doors Because we mortals hurt and start all these wars I survive by staying inside and protected by me Close all the windows, and issue my decree
I live in a world that isn't really pretty Cops in the cities don't have very much pity For women who f**k for a little bit of money Believe me this world ain't made of sugar and honey
I live in a world where blood is cheap we’re told Where love is bought and souls are easily sold Where wounds are deep ane are covered up quickly Cuz time is money, and no room for the sickly
We live on a stolen land, so we all could be free Rulers already forgot about agony and poverty Slaves built houses while chained to the ground Cheap labor, minimum wagers, call them how it sound ?
I live in a world that's dissolving away Where rapists are awarded and women are thrown away Where children grow alone in a house full of hate Taught, miserable, molested, …yeah, what a fate
So should I shut up because I’m not your level? Or cuz I’m a jerk or an advocate of the devil? Oh, should I show a little respect for intellectuals amongst us? Follow their rules? And watch them sell us?
So should I settle down, embrace and listen to you? What makes you God? I don’t see through your view And if I don’t sit down and shut the f**k up You’ll send your dogs to tear me up
You teach about history, and promote our moral dreams But in realty, you try to deceive us with lying schemes Stealing is against the law, on a stolen land How ironic man, can you help me understand?
So sit the f**k down And shut the f**k up Sit the f**k down Shut the f**k up.
What a dilemma that is. This incident of the execution of Stanley William has stirred some thoughts in me. I feel that I have split personalities that are analyzing the situation and none of them is able to convince the other.
Bo3Bo3-A thinks that finally justice has been served. He strongly believes that blood is for blood. You murder someone, u pay exactly the same price, and that is ur life. 10, 20, or even 25 years later, as in the case of Stanley execution, it has to be served, justice that is. It's time for the families of the victims to feel peace at end.
Yet, Bo3Bo3-B thinks that this man is not the same man 25 years ago when he committed his crime. he is a changed man, and his actions are the best witness. He was even nominated for the Nobel peace prize for his actions to prevent gang fights, and to elevate the communities of poor neighborhoods. He is truly a changed man. Wasn’t 25 years in prison enough? God accepts repentance from those who go astray, and he would eliminate all the sins once someone repents back to him, why can't we?
So you see, I have this war inside of my mind (and such war is not really good for a dude who works with chemicals day in and out) that keeps going on and on and on. Not one side is able to convince the other side with any stand.
What is right? Vengeance calls seems not to leave us alone. Rigid justice seems to be always the most comfortable choice we choose. Should we re-evaluate our stand on capitol punishment? Or we should leave it alone to serve justice for those most affected by crimes. Is it for us to determine if the victims and their families should simply forget about their lost ones? I don’t know.
"All due respect, you got no fucking idea what it's like to be number one. Every decision you make affects ever facet of every other fucking thing. It's too much to deal with almost. And in the end you're completely alone with it." That one famous quote by Tony as he lectured the family about the tough decisions and how to is to be the captain of the ship. Sometimes, you will end up making tough decisions, to assure that the ship stays afloat.
With all the volgarity language in the show , The Sopranos, and all the hard core violence, the show just grabs always to watch it and watch all the reruns of it. There is so much in that show for a Bo3Bo3 to simply not pay attention to. I mean it's like the perfect show. You have the family, leadership, violence, survival, story, and much much more great lessons of life. Ok, I know that violence is no the kind of thing you want to learn, but this violence is from our world that we live in and we simply can not deny it's existence.
My favorite seen is in episode 65 where Tony stands in front of the family and explain to them how leadership goes. He just has to make the tough decision and execute his cousin "Tony B". he is under pressure to give his cousin up to Phil Leotardo. Phil intends to torture Tony B before killing him since Tony B was responsible for murdering one of Phil's guys. What to do now? He is the captain and he knows that Tony B must die to prevent an all out war between the two families.
Tony made his decision clear, he will not give up his cousin to be tortured. So he lays out the decision. Silvio (The concigiliore) , however, doesn't agree. When he and Tony are alone, he tells him "It's about you don't want to eat shit from Johnny" , "There's seven deadly sins and yours is pride." Tony disagrees and executes his son before Phil gets to him.
Wish it were realty. Wish I was one. I could go back 25 years to when I was 11 years old (or 12, who's counting anyway) where we used to have soccer matches between neighborhoods. I remember building the goals with woods and collected some money to buy uniforms and net. When the other neighborhoods used to come to our field and we played them like champions. At the end of every Thursday, I would go home tired, dirty, and happy. The metallic object that was inserted into my leg some 22 years ago is my remaining item that reminds me of those good old days Wish I was one, that travels flying on white clouds toward Jordan. To the hills where shepherds and their sheep used to roam the desert land before these new buildings rose up in the skies. When life was so simple, and the smile would never depart from that old Jordanian Bedouin face. Wish I was a time traveler where I can roam the skies back and forth from any place to the other, trying to change destiny by alerting people with catastrophe that are few days ahead. Telling victims that they are about to get murdered, raped, or tortured. I wish I were one that can go to the future just to see what it holds to others and me. aaaah what I would do for just a glimpse into the future, just one quick look. A time traveler that travels the speed of light to visit civilizations, to meet great people like the prophet of Islam, or Jesus, or even Alexander the great. Wonder what life looked like then. Or even go further in the past to see how dinosaurs ruled the earth, and maybe witness the ice age from a distance. Back and forth, what a life it would be. Ok, wake up Bo3Bo3, nap time is over. Now go start an experiment or something.
Strange that bad events will bring out the best of us. Few days back, terror struck the heart of Jordan, in the great city of Amman. The city that gave refuge to so many people from the surrounding countries. A city that was the true mother of children she never had. Terror struck the heart of our lands.
Yet, out of destruction, new hope was born. New Amman was born. Suddenly, being a Jordanian is a very great feeling. Suddenly, the word "Jordanian" holds so much pride and love as well as persistence. Suddenly, it looked like an honor to be called a Jordanian.
This evil act left us with a scare and a deep wound. But it also cause the birth of true nationalism in Jordan. Jordanian embassies all over the world were overwhelmed with the support of foreigners as well as Jordanians abroad. As if we were eager for this to happen to scream and cry out loud "we love you mother land, we love you Jordan".
SMS messages were traveling in the speed of light between Jordanians all over the world. "Today, I'm more Jordanian that any other day" one read. Another one read "Jordan first, our home, love it or leave it".
This terror act may have cause physical damage on emotional on many of us, but it sure cause us to be closer together than ever. Now, being a Jordanian is a pride label. Non-Jordanians even screamed "we are too Jordanians today".
Are we born again Jordanians? Did this deep wound started a new life in us? I don't know, but I am sure enjoying saying "I'm Jordanian and I am god damn proud of it". A reminder always know that no Amman didn't and will never cry. She will still always be the mother that will receive more children who are not her, and she won't mind not for a second holding them.
AAAAAH yes, Salvador Dali's one of greatest work, the persistence of memory. So many times I enjoyed looking at this great art, and each time, it seems as if I’m seeing it for the first time.
Memories, bad ones, usually haunt us for so many years. We struggle so much to escape them, and in most times, we fail. Somehow, our mind finds a place somewhere there in the back of our brain, and would store such memories. On occasions, this mind of ours would tease us and pull those memories out so we can shed a drop of tear, or enjoy a little smile if it was a happy memory.
Sad memories are the ones that stick so much in the back of our minds overcoming the good memories. We tend to pull out the sad ones more than we would pull the good ones. Do we enjoy going through such sad memories?
Time is creeping on us. Or are we are the ones creeping on it? Back in my polymer science studies, there was a nice course about creep in polymers (plastics). And back then during the lecture, I mentioned the persistence of memory art piece, and to my surprise, the teacher had it in mind too, and he went upstairs and came back with the painting printed out. The clock that is on the table is creeping. Is it time?
No matter how hrd u tried to overcome time, it will come back and haunt you through those sad moments of your life. Anything could trigger such creeping on you. Could be song that reminded you of someone. Or an incident. Or it could be a food dish or a drink, or even a place. Somehow, our brains will manage to bring back those memories.
Now, ask yourself this question. If you have the chance to wipe out those sad memories, would you? Would you completely delete them from your memory? The first answer that come to mind is usually yes, but if you think about it for more than 20 seconds, you'd probably say NO. We hate those sad moments, but we need them in our lives. Joy is so beautiful when it comes right after sadness. Black would look so great, against a white background.
AAAAH, yes, the persistence of memory was indeed a great piece of art. Our brains are also great pieces of art, and even though time will creep on us, our brains manage to stay in control. They would even challenge time and would demand not to delete any of those memories. They are what shaped who we are after all.
The first time I met him was in a coffee shop somewhere in cleveland. It was all coincidence. One snowy night, I went to this coffee shop and as I was entering the coffee shop, I looked around searching for a table to sit. All were full. So, I have to chose who’s gonna be my "coffee-shop partner" in this very cold night. Then I saw him sitting very quiet in the farthest table inside. So I went to him. "may I join you please" I asked, and he agreed. However, I could sense in his acceptance that he was not happy at all for this companionship. I mean who would be happy sitting with strangers. I wouldn’t. But it was too late now, and I can not simply get up and walk to another table. He didn’t seem to want to talk too much. But come one, this is shisha time, and a shisha likes to be in a social atmosphere, so I decided to create one. I kept asking him questions, and he kept answering them with very short answers, a yes/no type. I can tell that he will make a good witness in a courtroom. Eventually, he gave in, and started to talk more openly with me. I know I am good in that. He told me about his past, life, family troubles, financial troubles, and the atmosphere was so open that we joked about many things that strangers wouldn’t. It was a good quality shisha time, where guys talk about guys stuff. The sad part is after this shisha time is over, no one knows if they will ever meet the same people again. You see, I don’t like to have shisha friends. But I love to have short term shisha friends. Confusing, yes I know. A shisha friend is a person you meet by accident, get to know that evening, and in the end, each side goes his/her way not knowing if they ever gonna meet again. The minute you take that person’s phone number, then he becomes your friend, not a shisha friend. You get to talk about so many things with a shisha friend, make up stories, hide your true identity, come up with whatever u wish, for one purpose only, and that is to enjoy the shisha that evening. If you meet the same person again, then you start where u stopped the last meeting. But there is that nice wall that separates you from that shisha friend. Call it a mask, and I know many of my friends hate me for using such word. I love it. I have met so many shisha friends that I don’t know which mask I used in every meeting. But who cares, they won’t even remember me. All I know is that I never seen him again, even after 11 years.
So finally I am a member of this blogging community. I think I'm going to have lots of fun cruising around here. I am yet to learn the in's and outs of this blogging technique, but it won't be a problem.