Forgive me

I want to watch the sky with you
Scan the stars for lighting thoughts
Draw Pegasus in the clouds
Count the starts around the moon.

It will be warm with a little breeze
That draws us closer and closer.
The world will melt, and oceans freeze
so much life but time will cease.

We will know us
There would be no doubt.
Some ancient memory

We will wake us
Take us dreaming.
The curtain will rise

We will see us
In white light, then silently
Like leaves

We will hold us
Then will fall asleep
Honored and at ease.

Huh, wishful thinking.
While were sinking
In our misery
Thick dark cloud
Blocks out the sky
But I would crave
That edge of madness
That blissful fall.
Deaf, blind, and dumb
Hovering in mortality.

So like some bloody hunter
I stalk your footsteps
Right behind you unseen

Then suddenly
At a street corner
We will meet
Face to face
Heart to heart, And nose to nose
The doors will close
And we would be imprisoned by
Our suicidal love.

Forgive me for not reacting to
Those sweet, passionate eyes.
I could not afford the pain of your love.
For the sake of both our lives.

AAA 4/21/06

The concept of time?

everything has a begining and an end, then where is the begining and the end of a circle?
If the time concept has a starting point, and an end point, then why the start and the end point of a square are the same? are we to go back to the point of start? Then what?
What if you can sneak a look at the future, without time travel? Instein never said that you can't look into the future, but he did say that physically, you can never be in the future.

Some researchers look at the time concept as a wheel, and the fact that with the correct energy (theorotically), we can get out of this wheel (like quantom physics). But many researchers fail to relaize one thing.

Thats is :what is the concept of time? here is something to scratch the surface of this issue. Is time, the turning of this wheel (i.e. revolution of earth...) or it's something else?

Well, imagine that you stopeed this revolution, hence, the time is stuck now, say at 5 pm afternoon. Now, 20 years later, would you look the same as you do now? Keep in mind that we stopped the physical revolution of earth. Or you will look 20 years older? If the answer is the latter one, then time is being missunderstood. It's not the revolution of earth, but something that we don't understand, yet we feel, and live every day. It's something that you can not control.Think of it this way. To control time, it means that you will control all things that are assoicated with it, such as the day and nigh; and the aging process. Can u stop the aging process?

The blind heart.

The phone rings. Who could call at this time. Hello, I said. I could hear crying on the other side. Hello i said, again. She is still crying with a little hello she replied. "I hate bad news" I said to myself. Yes, who is there. She replied with her name. a name I could easily recognize. What happened now. Why the crying? Are you alright? I bombarded her with a question after another. Her reply was........."he is dead, 7ammoodeh is dead".

Suddenly, I felt conflicting emotions. Part of me was happy that he died, yet another part was sad. Before you judge me on such reaction, please walk with me in the past to see the roots of such emotions on my behalf.

This woman married some years ago. We know her, close friend of the family. Her first child was a beautifull boy, and she named him mohammad. He was adorable. Healthy. Always running around. Beautiful eyes, and a magical smile. At the age of about 18 months, he suffered a heat stroke, and his temperatures shot up high. He was taken to the emergency room, where he was treated. Sadly, it was too late as the stroke damaged his brain some how.

Since then, muhammad was acting differently. That child doesn't run anymore, and even, he can't sid down no more. Then his parents noticed the symptoms of damag of the brain. His mother was devistated with this. This was her prince, hopes, and pleasure. Now, all those dreams that she had for him, shattered like a cheap glass window.

She had a couple of more children afterwards. Both healthy, but muhammad kept her agony. She never lost hope, allthough we may all do.

11 years later, mohammad died. And I honestly felt happy. Time to move on. She suffered alot for her child. She never seem to loose hope. What hope? marriage? starting his own family? education? Yet, when many of us may loose hope, she never did.

Back to the present. I told her "sheddy 7eelek emm m7ammad, inshalla ra7meh, wkhalleeh yertaa7 weyrayye7" Thats when she got angry and I could tell that her crying got worse and worse. "but who told you that I was wishing for that, thats my son" she replied. I tried to explain to her that he is now in good hands, an angel in heavens, and that Allah has chosen that he departs. Still, she was crying as is she really had hopes. Oh no bo3bo3, who are you to judge her if she didn't have hopes. She lost her son, nomatter how brain damaged this child was, thats her son, her flesh and blood, 13 years of cinstant sacrifices on her behalf, where some of us may simply give up way too sooner.

Thats when I gave the phone to my wife hoping that she comforts her a little. Now I feel sad for emm m7ammad, for she is a mother who lost a child. period. a child, not a brain damaged child. Who am I to deprive her from the moment of sadness for the departure of her son, regardless of his mental health. Who am I?

Suddenly, I realized that I didn't fully understand the heart of a mother. When we see things, we tend to analyze matters based on materialistic things (in general). yet, the heart of a mother is blind. It only sees the flesh and the soul of the child that the mother held for 9 months inside her body. She cared for this baby. So who am I to deprive her from a normal reaction any mother would have. Thats when I realized I've done wrong for such emotions. This was muhammad, and whatever dreams and hopes she had for him, are as pure and legitemate as they can get.

The above was a true story that happened to me about 2 years ago, and the mother and the child are real. God bless your soul oh muhammad, and God bless the heart of this great mother. Nomatter how hard we try to describe it's greatness, we always come short to fully and fairly describing such heart.

The Blade of Trust

blood is falling down the wall
I've lost it all, yes again
my sanity has hit the floor
and my thoughts live agony and pain
I slip into the stain down the drain
to see the blade cut me loose
I am fallen , yet again


This is my underworld
overwhelmed with darkness
It's all I have
The shadows always come alive
and take the pain away
the sky splits, opens wide
and thunder is my only music
and i'm taken down my submission to the dead


Fall away , hide, fade
there’s nothing left of this mind
I’m getting closer and closer
to falling off the edge
my loneliness, is my only comfort
the voices, have started to stray
and I can feel fading away

can you help me out of this ?
can you wash away these years?
can you save me from this?
the pain, sarrow and all my fears........
can you see this dream i see?
can you shed blood tears, just like me
you wouldn't know this to be real
Can you save me……..
from the blade of trust

I have sinned

yep, I did. I stand in front of you all and seek forgiveness. I seek forgivenes from my wife and my son for I have sinned the big sin. But I also want to express my weakness, not to give myself an execuse or justification. Damn it, I have sinned.

I never thought I'll ever make such sin. I know that I am weak, and I know that I can cave in for pressure, but to commit the great sin, I never imagined myself doing so. So i stand before you, weak, naked from any mask or cover, and ashamed of what I did. Have I gone back in time, jut 2 days, i would have never sinned. But a weak bo3bo3 is typical in our days these days.

I have sinned, a sin that many of you would feel strong against. Yet, my macho manhood, or that "guy thing" song I keep singing failed me.

But before I tell you my sin, I ask all of you to not view me based on this sin, but to view me based on what you know me with. For a moment of weakness shouldn't be the basis of judgment.

I have sinned, forgive me all, specially my wife and my close ones. I declare that I have failed you, when you were looking at me to lead. I have failed you when you rely on me to stirr the ship. I have failed you when you have your total trust in me.

I have sinned, yes, I did. I am drinking a decafe coffee now after all those years of macho manhood of full thrust of cafien dose, so will you find it in ur hearts to forgive a weak soul, like this one?

What makes you more jordanian than me?

Recently, I read a post for hareega somewhere, about "who is a typical jordanian", that stirred up some emotions and feelings in me from prior experience.

You see, there are two facts here, one the fact that I'm orginally from palestine (granpa born in palestine, and dad in jordan). the second fact that I feel just as jordanian as any one else who can trace his/her ancestors to the land of jordan.

Now, why am I writing this? Well, some time ago, my jordanianism was questioned on the basis that my grandpa was born in palestine. That troubled me somehow, becuase many people missunderstand the name "jordanian".

So I turn the table around and ask "what makes you mkore jordanian more than me, him, or her?". Seriously

Does the fact that his grandpa was jordanian, makes him/her automatically jordanian?

Thats what lead me to this analysis that may back fire at me. We tend to take "jordanianism" for granted simply because my grandpa had sex with grandma in jordan, and taraaaaa, bo3bo3 is born a jordanian.

To me, one should question him/herself about this term "jordanian". It;s not a lable, but a responsibility. The respnsibility to love (for good and for bad) this land. To bare arms protecting it from the enemy. To participate in activities and actions that makes this land and it's people move forward. But to sit back, relaxed, and claim this honorable name, only on the basis of where grandpa was born?

I know that the majority of jordanian do realize this fact, but there seems to be a minority that assumes jordanianism onloy based on birth. We all know that nearly 50% of jordanians are of foreign origins, syrians, palestinians, and iraqi's. But do we know how many of them held arms defending this land, while their blood quinched the thirst of this land to honor, protect and serve?

Being a jordanian is not a gift or automatic assumption, but a label that comes with responsibility. And what more than blood would anyone gives to protect the land and it's people. So, what makes you jordanian more than me, him, or her? Everyone of us should ask this question, and attempt to answer it.

I tell ya one thing. I am a jordanian, and so is my dad, and for the very small minority that think otherwise, I challenge and ask "what makes you more jordanian than me?".

Unheard screams

why is white pure, and black is evil?
Light is good and darkness is wrong?

How do come to such conclusion? Isn't things are relative? oh well, thats not the point. The point here is all about darkness, blackness, and it's beauty.

For so many ages, darkness has been the target of criticism, and accusations. Evil is associated with darkness. Yet satan was created from fire.

aaaah, darkness..if only people could see how beautifull it is.

If we let our minds and imaginations seek it's beauty. Darkness ....unknown, hidden beneath the shadow of whatever is blocking the light. Each one of us has two creatures living within, the person that we see (flesh, and blood) and the shadow of him/her. I learned how to appreciate this shadow, and sometimes let it express itself, as long as it doesn't hurt the others. Wicked thoughts, we all carry. Deep personalities that are beneath the masks.

Do this excercise. Write down your thoughts, without screening them, seriously, without any limitations, and you'll be surprised of what you discover.

Darkness is beauty, but we chose not to see it.

A satanic worshipper, I'm not.
A darkened soul, yes I am
Seeking the beauty of the hidden treasures
of the soulm the mind, and the fantacy

A satanic worshipper, i shall never be
for my crime is only self expression
For beauty is not for the bright ones
but for the dark ones, it shall be

and the years may have tought me something, that many will refuse to even hear. and that is:

darkness arrives and then it fades,
running through this awfull maze,
am I lost will I soon be found
running barefoot on the ground
a twisted soul that cannot sleep
save me now for soon I’ll weep
can you hear me as I scream
save me from this awfull dream
as I wake I look around
and darkness still is all around



The candle light reflect upon the walls as I
Look up at my cieling at night.
I can feel the sorrows of my life
Creeping upon me once again.
Fillings of pain and agony from my old life
Depression and sufering taking over my new life.

Memories of the past wont leave my mind.
Pain and hate running again through my veins.
Scares and bruises remind me of the pain I once felt.
As I walk I can hear the chaines that hold me to this life of mine.

Its as if Im a prisoner,
Stuck here for all eternity.
Know what life brings
And I really want out.

All life gives is pain and suffering
For all to see. Revenge is what I seek.
My life has been getting harder The older I get.
The pain I feel is locked up inside.

The sadness in my life is easy to see When you look into my eyes.
All I ever hear is yelling and screaming.
I cant even tell right from wrong,
Do you see it in my eyes?

And so it begins

today is my first day in my new life/career. It didn't start nice. Sunday morning, I got up, gathered my things, suit case, books, and files, and loaded the car. Said goodbye to the woman I will never ever love anyone but her, and kissed junior a goodbye/see ya in 2 weeks kiss, and got in the car. The skies were sunny, but my skies were cloudy and gloomy. Today is the day.

Drove out quickly not looking back fearing a moment of weakness. I still managed to get a short look at my wife waiving her hands and I could see those small tears from a distance. Kept driving to my disteny. I normally smoke a half a pack a day, but the 5 hour drive made me consume a little over a pack.

The only bright side was when I got to indiana borderlines, and I saw that the speed limit is 70 mph. Pushed a little more on the gas to escape my thoughts.

Today is day one, and a new life shall be born. A new career. A new chapter in my greatest fear, lonlyness. Never liked being alone after I got married. The past 7 hours made me realize what value my wife has in my life.

I'm counting on sopranos to occupy my mind away from thinking of her. Her picture never departed my mind. A new chapter, and it shall bring out so many dark moments of my life, now that the greatest light is not around me at least for 2 weeks.

Life shall go on I guess.

Another dose of sopranos

First, let me apologize for not being able to post my review about the second episode of sopranos, simply because it was boring and was turning into a soap opera thingie. I mean come on. Tony is still in a comma, wife (carmella) is crying, kids crying, the whole mob is in a sad atmosphere. What is this? The bold and the beautifull? Come on already, and lets get to business. Geeeeeees.

Anyways, the third episode started and Tony is still in a comma. He is trying to wake up, but can’t. Two of the captains get a great deal. They chase this hespanic gang, and baaaam, they scavenge a million plus dollars. What a catch. They made a big mess of course, three gangsters dead.

They approach the acting boss, Tony’s right hand “Sel” and he orders them to split it half, and each has to give carmella 100K. They didn’t like it, but the boss had his saying. He himself was admitted to the hospital for breathing problems. Eyes are open, and the second guys in command are already talking about the life after Tony. What kind of pigs these guys are? Tony is still alive, can’t they see that?

More sadness, and more soap opera. Half way into this episode, and I’m already threatening to stop watching the sopranos. Lets get back to the good old days, more blood and more killing.

Anthony is demanding a screen writer to write a script about an idea of a movie in anthony’s mind. It’s about a mafia captain, who is killed, then he comes back from death and baaam, revenge time. Then a meeting of potential investors, who happen to be all mafia lords. The last thing mafia lords are good at, is being investors in the movie business.

Then came the good stuff. Pauly goes in and sees Tony. Tony’s daughter tells him to be positive, and the dude can not. He see’s tony and he goes crazy. Then he starts yacking and yacking. The machines in Tony’s room starts beebing, then nurses come running. Tony;s seem to get out of the comma. In his comma, he is dreaming that he is told that he is going home, but he has to let go of the suit case he is carrying. This seems to symbolizes that Tony is not able to let go of this comma situation.

Let go Tony, let it go. Time to go home. Tony is awake now, and the whole hospital is in joy (and so is bo3bo3). Although the two captains didn’t wanna give carmella the 200K, but now they have to, and they do. Tony is up, and he will be back next episode. Bottom line, Tony is back, and so is the great soprano’s show.

Did I mention to you guys and gals that I’m a chicken?

Ok, so hareega dared me to answer some questions, tough questions, and I gotta admit it, I am a chicken, not even a rooster, yep, just a plain old chicken. Dude, hareega, I have to chicken out, and this is not because I’m scared of the questions, but dude, I’m a married man, and married men in america do fear their wives. Right? Come on guys, say yes, don’t leave me hanging alone in the dark. Will someone please say "your right bo3bo3"? damn it, your no good guys.
Although I am a chicken in many occasions, but I love to flirt with the red lines, only with limitations. I think that there is an art for such actions, and correct me if I’m wrong.
For example, you can say things that are out of those lines, but you say them in the right manner. Manner like leaving the reader understand what your trying to say, but without leaving him/her with any proof that this is what you meant. Similar to the art of bala gafyeh. You always leave the reader convinced that you meant the "gafyeh part", yet, you didn’t give him/her a clear indication, or any criminating statement that may incriminate you.
I told you it’s an art, a wicked art it is.
So hareega dude, I confess, puck puck puckeeeeeeeek.

A lost chapter from the dark side

So there I was walking on a street called "colorado ave". I don’t know how I got here. I mean I have no recollection how I ended up on that street. "Where is my car" I started wondering. Couldn’t find it. So I kept walking and walking……and still walking. Then I saw this beautiful woman walking in the opposite direction. I starred at her, with blood boiling inside of my body. She smiled at me as she passed me. "That’s it" I said to my self. I stopped, turned around, and walked to her. "Hi there, my name is bo3bo3, do u mind if I walked with you?" I asked. She agreed.
We then walked together toward her place. Walked upstairs to her apartment. She opened the door, and we sat on the couch. I kept hearing those voices inside of my mind telling me to simply do it, just do it. Blood inside my veins is flowing very hard. I am sweating, for the lust inside of me is overwhelming my desires. She went to the kitchen to get a drink for herself, and I really wanted a drink. But my drink is different.
You can do it bo3bo3 I kept telling myself. She came back after she changed her cloths and got into a more comfortable cloths. Her skin was so beautiful, as if she just came back from the tanning booth. Her neck looked like a part of heaven that I never imagined. The eyes are so magical. Her lips were wet, and so red. I examined all of her body, and it was a touch of heavens. That silky nightgown and those legs….oh bo3bo3, how could you resist such temptations.
I couldn’t resist anymore. Suddenly, the desires to feed on her overwhelmed me. I just can never overlook such beauty. I am thirsty. My lips are so dry, and nothing would satisfy them except her skin. So I got close to her, rapped my right warm gently on the back of her neck. My left hand just reached to her waist. I asked her to dance with me, and she agreed. The music of black Sabbath is playing on the background. I changed it to "the jungle" for guns&roses. Raised the volume. I reached with my lips to her soft golden neck. She said stop, but it’s too late now. Stop she screamed, but I couldn’t hear her words as the voices inside of my mind were louder and louder. Welcome to the jungle, my jungle, darling.
She tried to run away but there was no where to run. "Let me take you to my world, and you’ll thank me later" I said. She cried, begging for mercy, but this bo3bo3 is not listening. I held her tight as she laid on her back on the floor. She seems to give up the fight, finally. I held her hands as she was laying,, then I looked up, opened my mouth, hauled, then looked down at this terrified woman, and quickly sank my teeth into her neck.
I felt the blood flowing, oooh that warm sweet blood running from her into my veins. I was too hungry, and demanded more. I kept draining her blood, she resisted, then slowly, she gave up. I never tasted such sweet blood like this one.
When I was done, I sat beside her. She was out, no movement whatsoever. Then I leaned to her right ear, and whispered "rise again oh sweet one". She opened her eyes, got up, looked straight at me asking "where am I?". I told her "welcome to my world oh darling for I promise you an everlasting happiness beside me, and an imortal life where you will never ache no more". She came to me, hugged me and said "thank you my lord, for what life I would even ask for that is better than this one".
Cursed I am. To live by the shadows of the nights, stalking victims to feed on.
Cursed I am, for love I still seek, compassionate I am deprived from.
Cursed I am for my life can only be, by the death of others.
Cursed I am, that as long as I live, I shall never see the light.
Cursed I am for death I can never ask for, but shall come on to me.
Cursed I am, to live forever, a vampire from the dark world.

Honesty is not always the right approach

On many occasions, I hear my friends tell me "bo3bo3 dude, you are way too much a politician". To be honest, I don’t see myself a politician when dealing with others. I mean the term "politician" bears so much corruption in it that it scares me to hear it. So what drived those people to look at me (or you) as a politician?
The claim is that you have to be honest when dealing with others. Honesty is not always the correct way when approaching some matters. I mean do you visualize what would my wife do to me if I said "honey, this pants is at least one size smaller than what would fit you"? I maybe a dead man walking right after such comment.
I believe that we sometimes have to "sweeten" the answer to first prevent a catastrophe (well, not to this extreme, I exaggerated here) and two to maybe put a smile on someone’s face. Is it worth it? To see a smile on a face is it worth "massaging" the truth?
When people tell me that I act like a politician, I sense that they are hinting that I escape telling the truth to satisfy an individual, or certain people. Believe me I’m not scared (except from mrs bo3bo3), but rather careful not to offend or hurt the feelings of those around me. 5 years of marriage taught me that honesty is not always the right approach. I learned to say things like "honey, I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman than you in my entire life" and maybe "it’s ok dude, we all make such mistakes" even though it may have been a severe mistake. Gotta give someone a hope, that I learned.
So, and as of today, I’m struggling to defend my approach and answer the criticism of being a politician. I simple can not be honest all the time, and there are certain incidents, we may have to massage or manipulate our answers for a good cause, and that is to put a smile on someone’s face. If you knew your dad is gonna die in 2 days as the doctors said, wold you concentrate on how to make him happy these two days, or slam him with the bitter truth of his death?

On her day

Let me tell you ladies and gentelmen about her story. The day she was born, her dad wasn’t as happy as he would’ve been if she was a boy instead. True that he accepted her into his home, but in his mind, he is thinking "inshalla we’ll do better next time, and have a boy". As she was growing up, she was always reminded that boys get away with more stuff than what she would. You can’t look from the window. You can’t wear shorts. You can’t swim. You can’t rais your voice. You can’t hit your brother back, even if he severely beat you up. Yada yada yada.
Then she became mature, and her body grew and the signs of a woman are beginning to show on her. Now she has to be careful what she says, and what she does. A boy flirted with her while she was walking back to school, and all she did was tell him "get lost" and move on her way. Yet, her brother heard of that and he beats her up just because she spoke to that boy. She overcomes so much discrimination, and now she is done with school.
It’s time to marry she is told. So her dad and mom chose for her the man that she has to continue life with. If she is lucky enough, the man won’t degrade her or beat her up. She works day and night, and she is constantly reminded that her happiness is tied up with his happiness. If he is happy, then that’s her happiness. She may not enjoy the bed with him a lot, and on many occasions, he doesn’t care if she enjoyed or not, just as long as he is satisfied.
Then she grows to be a mother, and go through the hardships of birth and staying up in many nights to care for her baby (s).
If we look at our mothers, and visualize what they had to endure on the course of their lives, then maybe we’ll understand why islam says that "heavens is truly underneath the feet of mothers". To this day, I am yet to find any person who is more giving than this woman. So on this mothers day, I pray to my Lord that my mother, my sister, my wife are happy women, and I salute them for being simply women, great women.

Soprano returns with a big bang

So as I was in the hype of anticipating the last season of sopranos. I was making sure that I have everything ready.

Coffee, check,

cookies, check,

surround system on, check,

warning the wife that I wanna be left alone for a whole 30 minutes, check, yes check check check.

I’m ready. The clock is ticking. 8:45 and my eyes glued to the TV. Wife tells me "don’t finish the coffee and the cookies before it even starts" and I yell "leave me alone woman"

9:00 comes, and I’m suddenly in my domain. Soprano’s first episode starts with a bang. The death of two rats. The advice of Tony to his son "I don’t care how close you are. In the end, your friends are going to let you down. Family, they’re the ones you can depend on". Strong words coming from the guy who’s his mom and uncle tried to assassinate him in the first season. So much loyalty this guy has.

Tony bought his wife a new porch (cayan) and she is excited showing it off to friends. Johnny sack is in jail while Tony is trying to ensure an ever-lasting peace between his family, and Johnny’s family. Things get worst.

Sadely, and after lecturing his son about the importance of family, and after listening to his shrink’s advice that it’s his family that tried to kill him, Tony goes to his uncle top take care of him. He refused to send him to an elderly home. He decided that it’s a disrespect to do that.
Tony walks in his ailing uncle’s house. The uncle has a big time psycho problems. Tony starts cooking for uncle, and then, the big bang. The uncle comes downstairs, shoots tony, and runs upstairs and hides in the clauset crying like a baby no knowing what he has done. Tony is screaming calling his uncle "call 911" but uncle is no where near. Tony struggles toward the phone, dials 911, then falls on his back. He looks like dying. Could that be? Wow.
Bo3Bo3 is screaming "get up man, get up u son of the $$$, get up Tony, dude, get up u $$$$$$$$###$%#$#$.

Now, one of two things may arise from this. If Tony dies, then there will be a big struggle in the soprano family. Too many captains, and they never liked each others. That would be something. The second option is that Tony survives this scare, and that will influence his life as a mobster and as a family man. It will affect the whole season, this year.

Whatever it is, the soprano’s returned with a big bang in the first episode, and it’s gonna be a hell of a season. See you guys next Monday after the second episode.

A new chapter in life

A new chapter in my life is about to begin. I have accepted a new job, in another city. The new job is like a dream job for me, exactly what I've been wishing for lately to get out of my routine. almost 20% increase in salary. Better benefits, and on top of all that, it's in research area, and thats where I really wanna be. I wasn't born to be a lab rat, nor a fire fighter always on call to fix customers problems and processes. So yes, I'm happy.

Yet, change brings fear with it. The fear of the unknown, the future, the relocation process. I'm gonna be deprived from my beloved wife and family for about 3 monthes, till they join me after I buy the new house and that sourt of things. Change breings fear, as it always carries (it refering to change) with it dilemma. A dilemma how to settle down, in the new job and the new community. How to make new friends all over again. The fear of being lonely for three monthes. Sleeping alone on a bed after being with someone for 5 years. Life, the lonely life. It's been along time since I was lonely, and it wasn't a good experience.

So the next few monthes, I may look different, sound different, or even behave different. True that they call me bo3bo3, but trust me, there is nothing in me that reflects any bo3bo3 behavior.

Staying in a hotel for 3 monthes, eating food that is no way near the good home cooking my beloved wife cooks for me, and on top of all, not having the luxury of feeling her warm hand touching my shoulders comforting me when I'm down. That, my good friends, is what I'll miss the most. But I am a believer, I strongly believe in the almight God, and I believe that he is looking over me. With that, I know I'll manage hrough harships of life, for his love is the ultimate love.

A new chapter of my life is about to begin, so buckle up fellow jordanian bloggers for there is no way knowing what this bo3bo3 may write when he is lonely. I think my latest post "erotic thoughts" will look like a children story compared with what's to come (bala gafyeh). God bless us all, and wish me luck in my new life.

Bo3Bo3

The final countdown, Soprano's are back

I am a sopranoaholic, yes I admit it. I love the show, with all what it represents or tries to reflect. I love the power struggle, and sticking up to the family. I love the fact that a man can be so evil, so powerfull, yet, wouldn't hesitate to cry after he shoots his cousin. Thats Toney alright, I just love the dude.

So it's friday night, exactly 46 hours till the start of the first episode of the sopranos on HBO. The sad part is the fact that this is gonna be the final season of such show. Does that mean Toney is gonna die? Or go to jail? I'd hate to see that.

The soprano's is not about mafia, no my good friends. there is more to it. There are so many things we can learn from such show. It's not about violence or blood thirsty heartless killers. It's about the power structure and the decisions that a boss has to make to protect the rest of the family, even if that meant turning his wife, the snitch so be murdered for talking to the feds.

I am a sopranoaholic, yes I admit it. Many of you may not have a clue of what show I'm talking about, but for the few who follow the show, hang in there, it's gonna be a rough ride, and I predict a not so happy ending, damn the director. Thanks for reading.

Blogging Dilemma

This is gonna sound weird a little. I'm fairly new to this blogging buisness, less than 4 months so far. I learned that blogging is like poetry, or writing a novel, sort of. Typically, a post is triggered by an event, or some sort of feelings toward a specific incident or feelings. How so?

You may read a specific news, and you react to it, and then decide to write about it. Political blog? hummm

You may read a story, or a novel, and you decide to put your thoughts about it and hence, you formulate a post.

You may have some sort of feeling, anger, love, or any feeling, and then you decide to write about those feelings. A poem, or a simple post to reflect how you feel. After all, your blog is your own word, your mirror of ideology, feelings, or your reading habbits.

But sometimes there is nothing to write about. Nothing to inspire your fingers to simply log on and let your mind roam your own domain, or mirror as we said earlier. You then try to make up somthing, anything, but with no luck. So you decide to wait for the right moment, and the right incident that will trigger your mind to reflect.

Thats where the dilemma starts. How can you creat the right atmosphere and the right mood to write about something, anything that is not related to an incident or feelings? It's like writing a novel. You sit down, gather a topic you wanna write about, and then gather your thoughts and ideas.

My dilemma is that I'm a reactive person. Something has to trigger me to write. 4 weeks so far and I'm yet to write a poem. I don't mean writing it in my blog, but simply writing it on my poem notes that I keep. This is new to me as I'm always quick to set the mood and enjoy my poetic side.

I hate to be a reactive person. Why do I need to wait for an honor crime to write about it? Why do I need for a mood to be in the mood of writing about anything? Well, wish I know.

Ok, which one of you guys and gals said "it's time to refill that prozac bottle of yours bo3bo3"

Erotic thoughts

Being born to a conservative jordanian parents, I grew up in an environment that has lots of red lines. Red lines on words, thoughts, and other aspects of our lives. As a result, one grws being catious always on what he/she says, or does.

Before my 18th birthday, I was sent to the states to pursue education. 17 years in the usa had it's affect on me. I'm sure others feel this way too about themselves.

I learned to flirt with those red lines. Come so close, take a peek, and then go back to my bases quickly. Sometimes, I would cross those lines for a short time, then quickly go back to my "normal" state, whatever that state means.

I learned to enjoy art. Suddenly, a picture of a naked beautiful woman is not an adult rated material, but now it is an art expression. Of course I don't mean photos like the ones posted in adult sites or magazines, but I mean an expression photos of beauty.

Same with thoughts. What I wouldn't even dare to think of, is now an ok thing.

So I decided to flirt with the red lines again, and hope no one gets offended by such actions of me.

Erotic thoughts.

It was late at night, close to 15 min passed midnight. I walked from the coffee shop (argeeleh style) to the resturant to have a late snack. In the restaurant, I saw her sitting on one of the tables, with her friend. She was beautiful, and so her friend. Lust started building in me and I felt something I haven't felt in some time. Here smile, her look, her face was telling me "join us". God what I would do for just 2 minutes with her.

After a big fight inside of me between my good side, and my evil wicked side, a winner was announced. Seems that my evil wicked side won again. So I got up, driven by the strong lust ana passion inside of my body, and went to the table. I sat next to her friend, but my eyes never moved away from her directions. Her friend was talking to me, and my mind was with her. Not just my mind, ...well. anyway, lets just say I was under a spell. A spell that won't leave me unless I satisfy my erotic lust toward her.

I tried to resist, and tried again. I can't win the battle. My body was like a flame wanting to explode. I just kept thinking of how sweet things would be between me and her.

I sat next to her friend, but my eyes were stuck on her, and so my thoughts. So much lust inside of me toward her. Her friend noticed, and said "you can have all three of us, if you wish". Wow, what an offer. Wait a minute bo3bo3, don't forget that u promissed urself that u never will do that. I declined the offer and smiled and said "Great offer, but I have to decline it, and ask ur permission to let me have her only". She smiled back at me and said "she is all your, enjoy". I was happy, and let my hand reach across the table toward her, thinking of when my lipos touch her body, soft silky smooth body. I held her, as if I was holding the secret to happiness, and used amatch to light her on fire, then smoked like there was no tomorrow. Indeed she was the most beautiful marlboro lights I ever had in my life. We both lived love like we never lived it before. I then walked back to my car thinking about my next victim, will it be another sweet lovely marlboro light again? I sure hope so.

The man creature

We tend to overlook this creature. Concentrate alot on the greatness of woman, that we forget to even pay attention to this creature. Pregnancey, opression, second hand class citizen, crimes, and all those negative things that happen to women, underestimate the needed discussions or attention to man. Man. Man? :sigh: yes man.

Man, is a great creature. Loves, just like she does, cries, just like she does, feels, again just like she does.

Giving, you asked? Yes, man is a very giving creature. Works so many years, never complains, to make sure his loved ones survive.

Loving, you asked? The greatest love poetry was written by men. They say that poets don't lie, and then tend to express true emotions.

Caring, you asked? ooooh yes, very caring, to mom, dad, and all his family.

Sacrificing? oh yes. need I elaborate?

Man, we tend to overlook his feelings, emotions, laughter, and tears.

Oh well, he would never even complain, except me.

2/6/1999

a dark and a sad day in history. allah yer7am roo7ak sayyedy wa7abeeby abo 3abdallah.