Wednesday, January 30, 2008

9 days

9 days...thats the number of days that I have been stuck in tenessee trying to finish some work. No good sign in the horizon yet, but I am going home, regardless. I'll come back later to finish such work, but for now, I feel like a car that is running low on gas, and must refill. A battery that is weakening and I gotta re-charge. I travel alot, but never more than 5 days. This is 9 days straight, including weekend spent in the factory. I wanna go home.

The worst thing about my travel is the night. Once the clock hits 6 or 7 o'clock, I start get into this sad feeling. I gotta eat, and thats my dilema. Not that I eat too much, but the fact that I am eating alone most of those nights. Every night is a sad night for me. being away from my family, spending the nights alone, is what gets me.

Well, tonight was a little different. I went to this hibachi japanese place in Jackson, TN. I was, as most time, alone. I sat on a table, and there was a family. There was once child, probably 7 years old. He looked like my son zaid, so much. I was starring at the kid, and loking back to the chef. Didn't want to give the wronge impression that I was a child predator. But I couldn't help it. The kid was trying hard to use the chop sticks, which I myself don't know how to. So i asked for a "cheaters chop sticks" Those were sticks with a rubber band at the top of it to help control them. I started teasing the kid that i am able to use mine, and he wasn't. Smiles back and forth, and his parents joined in the fun.

Before you know it, I started chatting with the family. You know....about everything, heck, including the middle east policy, which I try to avoid. The kid looked at me and said "heeeeey, your cheating" All were smiling and he managed tp use his sticks.

Nights like that makes me ease some of the pressure of traveling. It ain't fun, ya'al. loool I am starting to sound like a southern tenessee dude.

The light at the end of the tunnel. I called my boss, whos in spain for some meetings, and told him that I am going home. he agreed and wished me well. I booked the nearest open flight, friday at 9 am from memphis airport. I am going home. I need to be home.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Coping with the past

Hummm...ok...let me try and gather my thoughts here. It's all about the past. No matter how hard we try to escape it, it keeps "haunting" us constantly. I am a person who is having a hard time escaping the past. I understand that the past is essential to have a future of course. But I sometimes I wish I could turn the switch off on it somehow.

Every day passed, is saved somehow in your memory. You can't just delete it. Wish I could. But how can someone at least block it from the constant haunting? How can you pick and choose what to remember, when to remember, and how long should you remember any incident?

I am a firm believer that the past, with it's goodnes and evil, with it's light and darkness, with it's sad and happy, with anything and it's "anti thing" is like a house. You can't simply take parts of it, and say, lock it not to be ever seen again.

I am a weak man, and I'm sure many are, if not all men are. Sometimes, a thought haunts me from the past and I start hearing voices. Don;t panic, not the kind of voices that makes a mother drwon her 4 kids. But voices of people that I may have hurt intentially. Voices of matters that I have given up on like drinking. Voices of the child in me ....was me I should say. Voices of a land that I have left 20 years ago and wanting me back. Voices of a smile that I once had frequently, but hardly now. Voices and voices everywhere I look.

I try not to be isolated. I try to be around people to keep those voices from haunting me. Some of those voices are asking me "why did you do this" and some voices are telling me "come back to me, you need me".

This is silly. I mean I am an educated man (don't mind the village language that I speak). I have a decent job that is very exciting and challenging. How can I talk about such silly voices. But I kid you not, them damn voices are around me even as I am writing those words. Sometimes I wish that I was never been. Or maybe that I am about to expire. Them voices gets to you after a while. This is not a typical bathroo thought, but rather like a realty show. I wish I can pull the plug on those voices. I never meant to hurt. I never meant to leave my land. I never meant to be who I am today, or whom I was yesterday. It just happened. I guess hallucination can hit anyone, regardless if they are educated or not...even if they were bald headed jordanian dude. So execuse me for a moment as I have to fight off some more voices. Yep.....Bo3Bo3 has gone insane...or maybe he was already insane.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

My wife is jelous

Finally, my dream came true. Yeppp....she is jelous. During christmass, we decided to travel to cleveland, ohio to see some friends. Cleveland is the last place I wanna go to, especially during winter. Nevertheless, my wife made lots of friends when we were there. I guess we both fit each others nicely. I'm very social in my nature, and she is twice as much. We got to the hotel late that night, and after a quick dinner downstairs, we decided to call the night off.

The next day, we visited a friend of ours. A jordanian couple, christians, but I won;t hold that against them :). Kidding of course, koll ennas khair wbarakeh. At any rate, my friend's wife is a nice cook, except when it comes to mansaf, no one beats my wife in that catagory. So we had a dinner, some stuffed chicken, and now it's desert time. Now, I gotta be honest and say that my friends wife makes the best "laialy lebnan" ever. And she makes it when I'm there always. I made the "error" one time and complimented her so much on this beautiful dish. Ever sence, she makes it every time we visit them. My wife doesn't like that of course...a woman's thing if you ask me.

As usual, I was living in another world while i was eating layaly lebnan. Before I finished my plate, she brough the second plate to me. I never say no to food, especially if I'm enjoying it. So I started eating the second plate while humming and mumming and living the best fantacy of my life, yes, food fantacy. I complimeted her again, and her husband said "I wish u visit us every wek, because thats the only time she makes it that good". My wife was staring at me with her eagle's eyes as if she was telling me "guess who's sleeping on the couch tonight". But I can't help it. before we left, I asked my friend's wife if she can give the recipe to my wife. She did of course, and she wrote it in details as well. On the drive back to the hotel, I asked my wife if she could make it for me when we go home. She took the notes out and shreded the papers and throw them in my face. Right there, I knew I screwed up so much. I've got burned before on the veal parmasian dish when i told my wife that I had the best veal parmasian in a restaurant. She never made me veal parmasian again, and she makes a great veal parmasian, from the scratsh.

The next day, we visted another couple, from gaza. Great couple I should add. They made the same dish we ate the last time, a baked leg of lamb stuffed with garlic and origano. I once again screwed up. I never learn any lesson at all. I told my wife again if she could at leat try and make the same dish, and her reaction was as the night before. I wish I can keep my mouth shut when it matters. I don't enjoy her veal parmasian no more. she never makes me layaly lebnan nore the leg of lamb. I mean I should know better, for I do sincerly appreciate a good food. I need good food in my life, and I'm paying a heafty price for my lack of "quitness".

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

A half full cup

As I was dinning alone in this restaurant, I started to stare at the half full (or half empty) glass in front of me. This is not good since my table was the only table with less than two people sitting around it. A bathroom moment came to me. Before you started thinking to much about such moment, it's a moment where I start thinking about things that can only torture my mind.

Is this glass really half full or half empty? Phillosophers spent many years analyzing such statement..or question. I asked myself a question "of wicked self, is this glass half full or half empty"? To be honest, i didn;t know the answer, and was tempted to take a ruler from my case and measure the damn thing. Funny how people tied up this glass concept to life. I mean some will tell you that it's half full to keep hopes and aspiration always alive. Others would say a half empty representing time gone and never to come back. yes, like our own age. Middle age is either sad moment reflecting on all those years (don;t u love the song "holding back the years" by simply red?). Or it maybe a hope for a better second half that you are yet to go through. This is when the great bo3bo3 discovered a theory to fend off all those sad moments that results from starring at a half glass. To me, a half empty glass is good knowing that the other half is sitting somewhere in my stomach (or bladder depending on the speed of the digesting cycle). Yes exactly like the half steak that is sitting infront of me at this moment. I know where the other half is.

Then a thought came across of me regarding this half thing business. White is represents pureness and happiness. As in white christmass or white wedding in reference to the white wedding dress. Black is's evil. But if you think for a moment, you would come to the realization that black is good while white is bad. Black absorbes light and shows it's real identity. White reflects lights and shows whatever it's reflecting. Wicked ain;t it? Didn't i say it's a bathroom moment? darkness is good, according to this wicked theory.

But wait a minute. How did we ended up going from a glass on the table to discussing darkness? Again, this is the beauty of a bathroom moment. I have overlooked the most important thing in all this incident. You see, there was a piece of meat sitting i the bottom of the glass, and this what I should've been focusing on. As to where this piece came from, I'll leave that to your imagination as a moment of bathroom has came right now...this moment, and this is literaly speaking not figuratively.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Whats wrong with being an arab american?

The other day, I was talking to a friend of mine who was visiting the states for few days. A bathroom moment hit me, and I started to ask. “Dude, how do you folks perceive us?”. After trying to escape the question, he caved in finally. Here are some of the interesting misconceptions…or maybe true conceptions about arab Americans.

This is an interesting thing to hear from a Jordanian dude who belongs to a society that is purly build on show off. A society that names specific clothes items after singers and dancers (as in tannooret ruby…etc) It seems that arab-americans have the tendency to talk so much about the fact that they could own two cars, a home, and enjoy vacations. Talk about the availability of department store, fancy restaurants and much much more. This happens especially when arab Americans travel back to the middle east with their fancy stuff.

This democracy talk
Yeah dude…all you talk about is how you have democracy and you could curse your president in the middle of down town. You brag about it knowing arabs can’t dare to do the same in public. So now you think you know it all? You know all about globalization and it’s effect on developing nations. You know all about primaries and caucuses. Or that fancy term of electoral college. Please…don’t lecture us about such things.

Not in touch with arab realty
You forgot all about your origins and chased a handful of dollars. You consider yourself American while other Americans still look at you as a foreigner. Wake up dude…and smell the hummus.

English language
Oh yessssss…this is the number one thing that gets on our nerves. Do you want to really convince us that you forgot your Arabic language? Stop inserting words like “man” “sure” “ok” in any Arabic sentence. We know that you can speak Arabic, so why this show off?

The funny thing is that I started to buy his views. I see many arab Americans use the above examples for purely show off. I mean some dude have been only few months in the USA, and they display the behavior of “dude…I forgot my Arabic” and other type of behaviors.

Is it true that arab Americans could not get rid of the show off mentality that they brought with them from home? I’ve been an arab American for almost 20 years. I take pride in trying to preserve the morals and values that I was born with. I also take pride in the values that I picked up from the states. I believe in this land’s democracy and wish that we could apply it in our world. A pride that got me into so many arguments with other arabs who focus on the war in iraq and criminalize every American value because of such war.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

I am still alive

It's been ages since I posted anything here. Work has been taking so much of my time and the fact that my parents came to visit us two monthes ago (and still here :( ) is adding on top of that. I have lots of stories to tell, especially on this year's election in the states. Hope everyone is doing great.