Two weeks in heaven, Day Five

Day 5, Thursday

My youngest sister reserved today for her. Tomorrow is for my older sister. Both live in marj el7amam. So it should play very well. In addition, my brother in laws wanted to invite me to their humble home in na3oor. I like that family. So I figured two nights in marj el7amam should do this. As the traditions dictate, I stopped at “Arafat” pastry shop to pick up a couple of cans of sweets. We left our home in tabarboor at about 12 noon on Thursday. My mom prepared some kebbeh to take with her. Earlier that week, my sister asked if I preferred to go out to eat as her husband wanted to take the whole family to some of those big restaurants outside of amman and on jarash’s way. I prefer to eat in the house.
In Arafat, my single sister, the one that lives with my parents, and I went inside the store. As you all can see, my appetite is overwhelming. I bought two cans of baglawah. It looked good as gifts. But my eyes were set on hareeseh on the far right corner of the store. The guy working there saw me and offered a small sample. But he doesn’t know that I want much more. So I bought ½ kilo to snack on the road to marj el7amam.
My father doesn’t like to drive during the nights, so the deal was that he will drive us there, and my sister will drive back. My brother was supposed to follow us at 3 pm when he gets off work, along with his wife and beautiful two daughters and little son. So my father wanted to drive my sister’s car, a small hundai, like ala’s car. Maybe a newer one. My sister got greedy and pressed on my father to drive the Mercedes that he just bought, thanks to the recent Jordanian law cancelling the tariffs on cars for retired officers in the Jordanian army. My father won of course, and we got in the hundai. But I gotta give it for my sister for she tried hard enough.
We got to my youngest sister at about 1:30 pm. The three little angels greeted us with joy. My sister promised a surprise. It turned out to be “67alat”. I don’t eat that anywhere. That’s the damn filter for the liver. It’s yuckie. But she promised that it will be different. When my wife came and visited last year, she spoke highly of the 67alat that my sister makes. My father never changed. He does the same things he did in our house here in the states when he visited last year. There he is in the kitchen frying the kebbeh. My mom is preparing it for him. My sister is working on the stuffed 67alat, and the liver.
It’s food time (what a surprise). The 67alat look so damn good. There are so many of them. So I tried them, and my God, they tasted so damn good. I couldn’t stop. I tried some of that baked liver, and went back to the 67alat again. One after another, I couldn’t stop. No kebbeh and no more liver. Just 67alat. I may have eaten 4 or 5 whole ones that day. Again, as usual, I laid back on the couch complaining about my stomach.
My brother in law wanted to show me something. We went outside. He actually wanted to take me away from my father so I can smoke a Marlboro or two. He has a beautiful setting outside. We sat down, and then he pointed west towards some hills. He said “that’s Palestine..and you can actually see Jericho from here. I looked closely and yes I could see the promised land. What a beautiful site. The teat then came and wow, what a scenery.
At about 5 or 6 pm, my father wanted to go home. So my brother took my parents with him and they left home. My sister and I stayed behind. Soon after, my brother in law went out to drive in marj el7amam. We got to alqadi pastry shop and had small portion of knafeh. There is no place in my stomach at all. We then got to this coffee shop and sat there. He is 31 years old, but very active. He now owns a small plastic factory that he started from scratch. I admire his persistence to achieve. He only has a high school diploma, but had to quit college to support his mom and brothers. I remember when he proposed to my sister, he didn’t even have the money to buy the gold. But my father had a good vision in men, and he helped him stand up on his feet. Now, he is standing up and providing for many people.
While we were at the coffee shop, his brother showed up. His brother sounded like a loser that lives in the states. No consistent job and always in trouble. I felt that he was like a typical arab American. Oh well, who cares. I was enjoying the chat with my brother in law. He even got to my mind an idea to go back to Jordan and start a small plastic factory. This is how he started, and he offered to provide as much assistant as he could, especially in regulations and connections in Jordan. To tell you the truth, I was convinced for a moment, but who am I kidding…I suck when it comes to business.
We stopped at a small store on the way back to his house, and we picked juicy hot roasted penuts. What is it with people in Jordan and food? I mean easy. I bet I am now 3 kg heavier in the past 4 days. Oh well, we got back and we sat down chatting and munching. The three little girls started arguments as who loves uncle bo3bo3 more. So I played a little with them..hide and seek, and watch out for the bo3bo3..,monster. Actually, this is how I got my nickname, is when I was chasing zaid when he was little and mom would tell him “watch the bo3bo3, he is after you”. Sounds like corrupted family that terrorizes children…but we are not.
There was a movie….about a prisoner who is dumped in an island, and on the island, there were two factions of prisoners..the good and the evil. An old movie if you ask me. So I mentioned that I saw this movie years ago. They watched and were excited. At about 1 am, they all were tired, so all three asked me to tell them the ending so they can go to bed. So…I did. My brother in law and I slept in the guests room, and we locked the door fearing that the kids, who slept at 9 pm, would be up early and bug us.
Tomorrow, I am visiting my older sister. The last time I was in Jordan, she was in dubai during the shopping event. I love her so much….and I hate her husband so much. Thank god he is in abu dhabi for work so I don’t get to see his face. See ya’al tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I don’t eat this much again. Maybe I will.

Two weeks in heaven, Day four

Day 4, Wednesday
I seem to like the habit of sleeping till late morning. I again got up around noon. The night life in amman is so amazing, even if you spend it chatting with family members or playing cards. Today I’m supposed to visit my wife’s family. This is the first time I visit them after my father in law died, may he rest in peace. It is also the first time after my young brother in law was killed at an early age. Till today, my wife’s family refuses to accept the deyyeh. I think it’s a matter of time before his killer is killed.
We got there about 2 pm as we were invited for lunch. After greeting them, and comforting them, I sat in the guests room. My dad and my mom were with me. My uncle showed up a little later, with his wife. My brother in law, who is teaching chemical engineering in Jordan, also arrived a little later. We sat down and started chatting about the usual. How is mrs bo3bo3 and how is America. Is it true that America is deliberately changing the name “pigs flue” to H1N1 to hide the fact that pork is bad? This proves that Islam was always right. I know how people think over there. I don’t blame them. I tried to dodge such questions as much as possible fearing that I speak my true mind and anger some people there.
Lunch is ready. AAAAh..music to my ear. They made lots of food. Kabsah, stuffed chickens, kuftah, and the usual grape leaves. I ate very good. I couldn’t help it, but the food was truly good. I am now thinking how am I gonna handle that my brother invited me for late luch, and that tonight, at 8 pm, I’m meeting good friends from Mahjoob for dinner. I know today is gonna be a bad day for my stomach. Oh well, I wanted to enjoy the moment.
We then sat back in the guests room and started talking. There is money for my wife from her inheritance that I was given. I then took my brother in law, the one who has a chemical engineering degree, and started talking about Jordan. Projects like withdrawing water from the red sea to the dead sea was one of the topics. He is doing great handling projects that the EU is supporting. Of course, government again was blamed for so much bad things in Jordan. Typical discussion in the homes of amman.
It was time for me to go home…tabarboor that is. So at 5 pm, we got back to the house. I quickly went upstairs to my brother’s apartment for late lunch. Hos wife made kabsah and mlookheyyeh. Agaon, and against the pleas of my stomach to stop, ate pretty good. His wife makes great pastries as well. I wish I could call the guys and cancel tonights appointment, but I couldn’t. I really wanted to meet these guys and finally put a face on a nick name.
At about 7:45 PM, I walked towards the French bakery in tabarboor. That was the meeting place with Ala. I bought a pack of Marlboro ultra light from the store next door. I was standing on the street, puffing on my Marlboro. I called Ala and told him where I was. Few minutes later, this guy shows up in his car looking at me smiling. He called my name and I answered. So he made a U-turn to pick me up. I got in his car and we drove to the town. I asked where we were meeting, and he mentioned “qasr almandi”. Only if he knows that I had two kabsah already today. I was ok for a third one.
On the way, he called the remaining gang members to let them that we are on the way. So we got there, and we stood outside. The first victim showed up, Enigma. I looked at his plates to see if they were mokhabarat plates. They were not. A sign of relief that is. After greeting, the Jordanian way, we waited for the fourth member of our meeting, Hector. He showed up less than 5 minutes later. A very quiet shay man. Enigma was of course the tallest one. It took me some efforts to greet him. I needed a ladder to get up there.
We went inside and got a table on the second floor. After making sure that their lamb is balady, we ordered mandi. The four of us were eating. Ala was surpassing all of us. He wasn’t talking a lot of course. We tried to talk about general things, still, we got dragged to talk about mahjoob. The fifth member then showed up. “wa7ad mo7aseb” was his nick name. Another quiet man.
The bill came, and as usual, a fight erupted on the table as who will pay. Since Enigma is mokhabarat, and he was the tallest one, he won the battle. We then headed out to habiba. We had some knafeh. Most of us ordered one style; i.e. either kheshneh or na3meh. But of course, Enigma had to be different, so he ordered half and half. He wasn’t happy with his choice, but good, he deserves it. 2 hours later, the waiter came and kicked us out. It was about midnight now.
Our next stop was bel monde coffee shop on mecca street. We got there, parked the car, and got inside. I rushed to the bathroom of course. The waiter came and asked us what we would like to order. Ala was going to order banana split, but after everyone looked at him, he changed his mind. We started talking about the encounters with police. Each had good stories to tell. We laugher hard that night. At about 1 am, the waiters there again kicked us out, but kindly. You know, they placed the chairs on the tables as a sign that they are finished for the night. The other sign was that we were the only table there. So we got up and left.
Ala and I were given rides back to his car. His car was not responding. Mtann7ah like it’s owner. We charged the battery and of we went. Enigma stayed behind us to make sure we got to tabarboor’s traffic light safely. Ala’s car is now without head lights. If he stops, we are done. Luckiely, he kept going in the dark. We got to my house safely. Later, I found that he also got home safely.
The sad thing is that the night is over. How can it be over? I wish I can rewind the clock back few hours to enjoy one of the best nights I spent in Jordan again. My stomach was sure happy that the night was over. I laid back thinking about tomorrow. Come to think of, I don’t even know if this was Wednesday or Thursday. I am not even sure. Regardless, it was a night never to forget. I met some good people that I never seen before, yet, I felt that I known them for long time. See you tomorrow..which is probably Thursday…or Friday…who knows..I may have forgotten a day here or there.

two weeks in Heaven, Day three

Day 3, Tuesday
I was a little tired from last night. Maybe the fact that I was awake for over 36 hours during my flight and to the time I slept played a hand in this exhaustion. I managed to wake up at 11 am on the sound of my little nephew who was slapping my face as I was asleep. Of course, my brother got to hear about that. Looking at this boy’s face brings so much joy. He is only 10 months old but is very active. I was angry at myself because I missed the joy of buying hommus and falafel in the morning. Oh well, today I shouldn’t eat much since my brother is preparing barbeque. He only makes 600 JD a month, and I hated to cause him any money. But we all know how Jordanians insist on what they call “wajeb”.
We went to “yajooz” area to slaughter a lamb. Aaah…the joy of seeing live sheep running around. That one on the far side looks good. I can see his leyyeh hanging, and my brother loves barbeques leyyeh. If you ask me, that’s not my thing. So we slaughtered the lamb and had the guy cut it for us. A little for the koftah and a little for the kabab. Even the bones didn’t go to waste. They would look good under grape leaves and zucchini. So we went home. The women started to prepare the meat. My sister and her husband arrived at 4 PM. There comes the three little angels. My other brother arrived at 5 pm and we loaded the cars. They were debating as where to go. Some suggested some park in Yajooz’s road. Some suggested the house since my father prepared a barbeque stand next to a nice looking water fountain. They asked me, and I wasn’t sure what to answer. I really wanted to be in a place that over looks amman. I missed my moments of isolations on the hills of tabarboor. So we head out to this park on Yajooz’s road. I can’t remember the name. It was on a steep climb.
We started hashing and nashing. My sister had prepared the music. Dabkah music. We started singing and dancing. I got tired quickly and wanted that few moments alone. I wanna speak to the desert. Sure I’m crazy, but it’s joyfull craziness. So I went to the highest point in that park and looked south west. Amman is beautiful. Especially around sunset. Mountains full of houses. Houses full of people. I wish I was one of those people. Then I heard the song “ma7la eldaar” for al3abdallat from my sister’s radio. I laid back, leaned my head against a tree and started enjoying this moment. I felt that the land was singing joyfull of my coming home. I told you I’m crazy…but happy. Then I heard people talking. I looked to my right and found two young girls talking. Maybe sisters. Ok bo3bo3, easy now. Mrs bo3bo3 won’t be happy.
Oh…Mrs bo3bo3. I almost forgot about her. I called her to let her know how happy I was. For a moment, she started talking about how tough it’s without me there. My mind wasn’t with her..nor with the two women. The desert and the mountains are taking me from her. So I comforted her over the phone. Come on honey, it’s only been 3 days. The call from my father to come and fiest struck my ears, so I told her I’ll call her back. I ran quickly to the food. I haven’t had breakfast and I was hungry. The food tasted so beautiful.
Ala called me to confirm our meeting. I then called a Hector and he didn’t recognize me. I also thought it was a wring number. The meeting was set for Wednesday, tomorrow. Good. It was then time for us to go home. I wished I could stay, not because of those two cute girls, but because I was enjoying something I was always fanaticizing about…loneliness on the hills of amman. I had to go with the family in the end. So we drove home.
We got home, and I decided to go with my brother to get pastries. He suggested Arafat, habiba, zalateemo, and alsahl al2akhdar. I didn’t care. I was in the mood for hareeseh. So we went to alsahl el2akhdar for some hareeseh. I ended up getting hareeseh, knafeh, and something called “been nareen”. I think I gained 5 lb already in the first three days.
My uncle finally showed up at about 10 pm. He wanted to play cards..so I teamed up with my mom, against him and my father. We won the first round, but lost the two next ones. Oh my…it’s almost 3 am now. I think I should get some sleep. See you tomorrow.

Two Weeks in Heaven

As many of u, and the mokhabarat, know that I have just came from my jordanian vacation. I have enjoyed every hour and every minute, to the point that I would love to share my humble experience with you. For that, and as a punishment to you all, I am gonna post a post per every day I spent there. Sue me :)
Day 1, Sunday 4/26/09
As my delta flight approached Palestine, and as I heared the captain demanding passengers to sit down because it was a "closed air space" as he indicated, I started watching from my window the middeterrenian sea. Suddenly, I could see palestine. It was about 4 pm that afternoon. I could see cities..and there was part of the dead sea. Even though I never seen palestine, and nore did my father (except during the war), I still have lots of feelings towards a land that is dear to my heart....and my religion. It's the land of my grandfather after all.
I could now see queen's alia airport from a distance. My heart started pounding faster. The plane continued flying pass the airport, probably preparing to approach the airport from the east. I always get a window seat. During my flights in the states, all I see is patches of green..rivers..and lots of communities. But now I only see yellow...beige...nothig but desert. I told myself, in a loud voice, "sa7ra sa7ra, w rabb elka3beh ajmal men jannat al2ard".
The plane landed..and now we were taxing towards the gate. I got my carry-on, and stood eagerly to exit the plane. The door opened and I felt a born again bo3bo3. As I walked through the brisge into the airport, I could see cigarret butts on the floor. For a moment, I felt " damn, they will never change" but quickly awakened to the fact that I don't want them to change.
I approached the Visa counter to obtain a visa on my US passport, i saw the jordanian natinal counter empty. I went there, and asked if I could enter using my 2 year expired jordanian passport. The guy at the counter smiled and told me "of course you can". So I did. I went straigh to the duty free market for the normal procedure. 4 cartoons of cigarrettes for my brothers. I then got my two luggage and went straight to the gates. One guard stopped me asking if I had more than 2 cartoon of cigarettes, and I answered yes I have four. He laughed and instructed me to continue on.
As I passed through the arrival hall, I saw my father. I greeted him as usual and we went straight to his car. We loaded the luggage into his car and drove out. He is getting older and older now, yet, I could see the youngness in him as he was driving like a race car driver in his new car. I was happy seeing him happy as well. Of course, he called home to let them know that we are on our way.
On the drive home, I was starring at the land. I couldn't believe that I am in Jordan. It felt as I was on one of regular business flights, but this is different. I still see people on the side of the street selling coffee. There were some selling "7amleh malaneh" and bananna's. Amman changed. It's still beautifull. There is the big flag that I could see from dad's home in 6abarboor. We go through streets that i don;t recognize.
Then we apprach 6abarboor traffic light. It is still the same. Now I know my way home. Same places that I left 4 years ago. We now apprach our 25 years old home. Back in the days, there were only two houses on that hill, one of them was ours. There wasn't even a raod leading to it back then. As I exited the car, I could see my two brothers and my two sisters. I greeted them and was suddenly surrounded by so many kids I don;t even know who is who.
Not to my suprise, the smell of jameed was filling the neighberhood. I sat inside the living room talking to the family and mom was planning the "mansafiesta". I ate..and ate..and ate more. It's now about 9 pm, and I wanted habiba knafeh. So I got my sister and we drove to habiba. Got me 5 kilo's and went home. Everyone was yelling at me that 3 kilo would've been enough for the small familia. So I told them fine, you get your 3 kilo, and I'll do the rest. I don't know how I managed, but I did finish the rest..sort of.
One of my sisters is married, so she had to go home wiuth her husband. The other one is not. We sat home and we made coffee, and drank. I didn;t wanna go to bed, but everyone else wanted to. I didn;t care it was 2 am. I just wanted to utalize every minute of my stay in jordan. So we all slept. I was up at 5:30 am on the sound of prayer. i admit that I was so happy hearing such sound. This is something we never hear in america. So i got up, prayed, and prepared coffee. My sister woke up on the smell of coffee.

Day 2
I woke up early hearing the fajr prayer. Nothing beats drinking coffee in our front yard seeing the sun barely coming out. I tried to be quiet as much as possible, but the sound of cars was overwhelming. Tabarboor sure changed a lot. At about 7 am, my brother came down from his apartment. He was going to work. Few chats, and he was on his way. There was something itching me, and I used to do it in the past. I want to go and buy breakfast…like the good old days. So I kept bugging my sister to get ready for breakfast.
She insisted to take me to abu jbarah. I didn’t care. So we headed straight to abu jbarah. We got a can of hommus, a can of foul, and 40 pieces of falafel (at which, my sister was gonna get a heart attack). On the way back to tabarboor, I watched the school kids wait for their rides. The traffic was pretty bad, but we were heading home, and that is against the traffic flow on a work day.
We stopped at a bakery in tabarboor that specializes in 6aboon. We bought 4 pieces (oh..the smell…it sure is heaven on earth). We were home by 9 am. My parents were up of course. We gathered in the kitchen to prepare the breakfast. All four of sat down around the kitchen table and I started enjoying the falafel. They didn’t eat much, but that’s ok. They don’t know that most of us in ghorbah would pay dearly just for a half an hour around kitchen table, with the family, and feeling the beautiful morning breeze of tabarboor. It’s not the falafel…but the whole atmosphere.
Ata little before 10 am, I could hear my father calling me so we can go and renew the passport. We left the house to the government building. May have been the 4th circle???I can’t remember where it was. Have I mentioned that my father drives like a young stallion? Ever since he got his Mercedes, he was acting funny. It awakened a young driver in him. At any way, I was holding the side bar in the car throughout the drive. He scares me. But maybe this is how all Jordanian drive.
At the counter, we filled a quick 2 page application and attached pictures and took a number. I loved the concept of taking a number and wait your turn. This wasn’t the case few years back. My number was called, and I went to the window. A beautiful Jordanian woman was working behind the counter. I wish she smiles. Why can’t she smile. Please smile. For heavens sake smile…I won’t take it the wring way. Oh well…never mind. I gave her the application, paid my 20 JD at the cashier and was told to come back in 30 minutes. So my dad and I walked….toward a company called “baytona” not too far from the passport place.
We got inside and my dad was trying to get dividends on his stocks in that company. They owe him for two years. It wasn’t a lot, but he thought to stop by since he was in the area anyways. The guy working there apologized that he doesn’t have money in the cashier to pay him. My dad was yelling at the poor guy and questioning how a company this size doesn’t have 590 JD in the office. I was laughing at the way he was yelling.
It was 30 minutes and we got my passport back. We drove back to the house and we were home before 12 noon. I was a little tired, but if I sleep now, I’ll be up all night. So I didn’t. I walked towards “down town tabarboor”. The sun was hot, but that tabarboorian breeze is making it easy on me. I picked up my cell phone that my sister got me for the 2 weeks, and called Mr ala aldeen to let him know that I have arrived. I asked him to give me a couple of days until I finish seeing my family and then we shall get together.
I then went home and sat..awaiting my brother’s arrival. He came home at 3 pm. We then went out for a drive. My mom was preparing lunch for the family. My second favorite meal…grape leaves and zucchini. I bought few books and PC programs for Zaid as mrs bo3bo3 instructed (and threatened) me. Teaching Arabic for English speaking children. At 5 pm, we were home. We ate. My sister and her husband showed up. Finally..I missed those three little girls of hers. The 2 years old one is cute. They r all cute, but this one was sweet and was trying to get closer to me.
After lots of tea and coffee, it was time for shawarma. So my two brothers, and my two sisters went out to mecca street in a hunt for reem’s shawarma. We bought 20 meat and 20 chicken shawarma’s….in “shrak” bread. I couldn’t wait to get home to eat..so I ate two meat shawarma’s on the way. We stopped by habiba on the way and grabbed a couple of kg of knafah.
We had lots of fun that night. Again, my sister and her daughters had to leave home. I do appreciate my brother in law for bringing my sister. They live in marj el7amam, which is a far distance from tabarboor, yet he didn’t mind driving her back and forth. My father started his argeeleh, and I snuck outside for a cigarette. I am almost 40 yrs old, yet, my father never saw me smoking…ever. Maybe I’m still scared since the time his frind saw me smoking and my father chased me with his gun in the street s of alain, UAE when I was 15 yrs old. Oh well….I am so tired now. I think I wanna sleep for 20 hours. Tomorrow, I’m going to visit the family of my wife.

mama I'm coming home

Naaa..this is not about a song by Guns 'n Roses, although I love the group, but rather about me..kind of.

So....I booked the tickets to go to amman..a 2 week vacation. It will be a month before I go, but the excitement..the anticipation is overwhelming me. I am already planning day by day schedule there. I know that two weeks are not enough, but my schedule already looks so big.
It's been 3 years since I went there. I'm sure lots have changed. Maybe more fancy restaurants..or crowded buildings. I just hope that there are few spots left for those of us that are not interested in seeing a modern amman. People laught at me when I start listing my fantacy activities in amman..from buying a falafel sandwich on the street, to seeing a shopphard walking with his sheep, or maybe going to the restaurant next door, with an empty plate, and buying hommus.

I sure miss tabarboor. I miss the constant sound of car horns..the morning breez from the west..the deserty looking hills (if they are still there)...the smell of shawarma from a syrian restaurant on main street in tabarboor (forgot the name, but next to a big super market down the street from arab bank branch). I miss the smell of sheep running around in the streets...the sounds of guns during a wedding....the music of the same wedding. I miss walking in the vegetable stands by that small mosque again not too far from arab bank. I miss the smell of bread...the smell of olive trees as I used to walk from my parents home towards tabarboor main street...and down to the small round about, again if it still exist there.

To protect myself from an emotional melt down (yeah..it could happen to a bo3bo3 as well), I am preparing myself that none of old tabarboor is remaining..and instead, a busy modern small town that is no different than amman itself. That would be a shame..a sad ending to a small town once was the city of soldiers where you would see more army jeeps than regular cars..where when you go to the mosque, you would think that you live in an army camp by the overwhelming number of uniforme wearing worshippers.

In all cases, those will be the best 2 weeks of my last three years, regardless of what kind of tabarboor will I encounter in 5 weeks from now.

A tale of tapes

Last night, my wife and I decided to watch our wedding ..so I got the VHS, and started converting to DVD. The process took about 2 hours as I bought the cheap convertor that takes too long. We then started watching the wedding tape. Back then (thats seven years for those who are keeping score), the tape starts with a big picture of my wife with some songs and yada yada. Our son, zaid, was also watching. He said "mom, is that you?" and she answered yes. he said "you looked like a clown, too much paint". So I laughed my liver out of my nose and she was mad telling abu elzooz that it's normal. It seems that the wife had too much makeup then. At any rate, thats not the intention of this post, but felt like throwing a cheap shot at my wife.
There she is, so beautifull walking toward the chair (or whatever ya'al call it) and there is me..heeey..I wasn't bald back then..and still as ugly as I could be. I am holding her hand, and we both sat together. I can't remember what we were giggling about, but both seemed very happy. She was (and still is) shy, and I was as bad as I could. Here comes her sisters talking to her...ok...enough?..please leave the little stage...ooh I wished I could push them off as they hang out there for too long.
Oh there come three beautifull girls..dancing with joy..coming to help their brother and stand next to him. I can see them pulling me off to dance with them. I do look like I'm performing de77eyyeh in the middle of the three. My cousins join and so did my brothers. I could see two of my uncles going outside the hall..and I know what they are doing. I could see them taking their guns out.
As we are watching the tape, i kinda felt some tears..but instead of flowing out, they were floing inside of me as I watched my sisters. I really need a dose of going home for few days. I need that shot of morphin to relief the pressure that is growing inside of me. I know the cycle will happen again, but my pressure gauge is running out of room.
Oh well...there are things that the more painfull they become, the sweeter they also become.

A bathroom thought

Last night, we had a problem in the house...plumbing problem. I was up all night. Finally, I caved in for my wife's opinion and called a 24 hrs/day plumbing service. After paying $220 for 25 minutes work, I finally went to the bathroom.
As usual, a thought came across to me. I remembered how in the old days we used to throw some rice for the pigens to come and feed. I also remember seeing lots of bird feeders at work and many places. We have one too in our backyard.
I then started asking myself...oh wicked self...are humans good by nature or bad? Are we good inside of us and express it by doing something that we gain nothing out of, except bringing some happiness for other creatures (as in bird feeding). Are we naturally good, but sometimes we exhibit bad behavior (abnormal to our nature) as in not feeling responsible to help other human beings?
Or we are bad and evil by nature, yet we go out of our ways sometimes and feed some birds here and there.
This is like looking at the glass half full or half empty. What are we? good or bad, by nature. And of we are good, then why do we exhibit so many bad behaviors for our fellow humans.
If we had no religion..and no laws whatsoever...would we revert to the evil nature or simply the good one? If murder had no punishment..or adultary had no consequences...or beating up humans had no consequences...would we still do it? We all know that adultary is not allowed in islam, yet, in heavens, the rewrd for some is 72 vergins. We know that drinking is not allowed, yet in heavens, there will be rivers of wine. We are asked to pray 5 times a day, yet, no prayer is asked from humans in the heavens. Is this a sign that humans are bad by nature, and that we have to go out of our ways (and be good) to get the promissed rewards?
I hate bathroom times...it has a toll on me.

Honey...lets talk

My typical work day usually ends with me going home after a hard worked 8 hours plus. All I want is to eat my dinner, sit down, watch few minutes of CNN, Fox news, and a little of MSNBC, before I flip the channel to my favorite two channels, military history and travel channel. This is pretty much how my week days end up with.
The other day, I sat down for my daily after work ritual, and I noticed my wife a little sad. There is a part of me wanting to ask her "whats wrong honey...r u ok?" and the other part is saying " shut up and pretend that you didn't notive her sadness". The struggle continued for a while, but sadly, the good side of me won. So I did it. "Honey, are you ak?". She started complaining that we don;t talk alot these days. She is right. She usually goes upstairs to help zaid study...gives him a bath..and then reads him something to help him go to bed. I sure hope I am sounding like jelouse of how she is given attention to our son more than me. I really am not. A man sometimes need to sit down and relax in isolation.
So I agreed with her that we are not talking too much these days. I actually feel bad for her because of my constant travel. I mean last week I was in Tenessee, and this week I'm spending half in Chicago, and that already started. So I agreed with her and asked her to talk to me about anything she wishes...heck..why not..she is my wife after all, and the one that withstand my thoglet dam.
At any rate, she started talking about her firiends...how this one is not happy with her husband...and how that one is misstreating her husband...and how another one is wanting to have kids while the husband doesn't want. That took more than an hour. She then started talking about food and different ways to cook different meals. She then reverted to talking about her sisters in Jordan. I kept quiet all this time.
At the end of the night..I told her "honey...now you know why we don;t talk? it's because I am interested in your friends stories..and your sister well being...and cooking...it's just doesn't interest me". I was being honest. I mean I don;t care about any of her friends...well..except the one that makes good layali lebnan. And I'm sure she wouldn't be interested in my work stories and what i do at work.
What the heck can we talk about? I like politics, she likes egyptian movies. I like science, and she likes faked arab history. I like lamb, and she likes veggies.
So...next time your wife asks you to spend some time to talk to her...run to the nearest coffee shop.
I still love her and wish that she is not bored. Now watch how the women nazi group jump on my back and start attaking my old mentality...se sayyed..but I am not se sayyed.

Cell phone abuse

I'l try and keep calm during my attempt to express my frustration with sell phones. ...errrr...naa, it won't work.

Yesterday, I caught a flight from cincinnatti airport to memphis, TN. Everything was fine. The flight was delayed about 30 minutes, but thats normal. There were about 40 passengers in this small 50 passenger communter jet. As wel all know, cell phone usage is not allowed during take off, and during the flight. However, this usage is allowed after landing. It takes about 10 minutes to taxi and get to the gate. Now, as soon as the anouncment of allowing passengers to use cell phones, some people got their cell phones out and started to check messages. Again, thats normal and I do that as well. Yet, there were some people that started dialing and talking to people on cell phones. Now, why couldn't these people just wait 10 minutes...just damn 10 minutes. The dude next to me called his wife (supposedly) and started a stupid unneeded conversation with here. "Hi honey, I just landed. How are the kids. Ok I love you. I'll talk to you when I get to the hotel". errrrr.....I would bet money that the same dude called his wife again from the car rental shuttle to do the same. Many people started tasteless conversations during that 10 minutes. Some retard few seats back was talking so loud using his silly looking bluetooth as if he was in his office. He was a dude going through divorce and was discussing some stuff with his attorny. As if we needed to hear such conversation. I hope his wife end up taking all his money, and not just half.

People...my fellow human beings..if you can hear me. Stop this cell phone abuse. I remember 10 years back, cell phone usage was at minimal because of the cost. Now, those damn companies come up with the 2000 minutes plans that is so annoying. And what you end up with is a person trying to use his/her 2000 minutes before the end of the month. "well, I paid for those minutes". errrrr.

I have encountered so many ignorants using cell phones while in the bathroom. Damn this blue tooth hand's free technology. I don't want to hear your private conversations. Unless you are discussing some information on stock investing, and unless you are furbishing information that could make me rich..shut up please.

oooooh..don't even get me started on text messeging in the airports. This is why I try and minimize my travel during spring breaks. Although that teenagers speaking over the phone is so annoying that it makes me puke, yet, text messeging is even worse. I hate my life.

signed:
a very annoyed and frustrated traveler.

A year ago

Wow...It has been one year since I last posted. It has been a very busy year, but I'm back. I will start posting again regularly. I hope everyone is still doing great. Will be back very soon.

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.

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.

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".

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 good...it represents pureness and happiness. As in white christmass or white wedding in reference to the white wedding dress. Black is bad...it'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.

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.

Show-offs
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.

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.

9/16/1970

A dark day in the history of both sides of the Jordanian river. Many of us were too young, or not even yet born to live such era. However, this era left few black dots on our lives. We hope that we have overcome the typical instigating questions of why it happened and who was the aggressor. We are beyond that. We should be beyond that. We ought to be beyond that. Darn it, you need to be beyond that.

Nevertheless, one can not forget how such bad days affected his/her life. We shouldn’t forget. Yes we should forgive, but please don’t ask us to forget. True that the battles lasted for 10 days, but those days were enough to leave such marks.

I sometimes try to drag my father to tell me more about what happened in those 10 days. He always leans back and tells me that he took them off his memory. I don’t buy that at all. I know. I then try the same with my mom. She tells me few details here and there. But not enough to draw a detailed picture of what happened.

The one story that they both tell always, is the attempt on his life on Feb of 1971. Well, they can’t lie about it, as the evidence are still clear in our old house on the edges of tabarboor. Bullet holes on the walls are witness of what happened that day.

As he was driving home one day, two PLO fighters were waiting by our house. As the car approached the home, bullets started flying. The driver was killed instantly. Dad ran to the house, with the two fighters chasing him. They finally got to him, and took away his gun. One of them was waiting by the door guarding the door. The other one demanded that my father kneel down on his knees in the front yard. He put the AK47 to his head. Mom screaming begging for them to let him live. I was one and a half years old in her hands. The fighter was yelling at my mom to shut up. Then suddenly, a bullet hits the fighter guarding the door. A Jordanian army sniper on one of the roof tops got to him. In the panic, the other fighter started shooting in all directions hoping to get the sniper. My father quickly ran inside to his other gun. Bullets allover the place. In the end, two bullets hit my father, one in the leg and one in the stomach. The second fighter was killed.

Sadly, the above incident left a bad reaction on my father. I remember when I left and came to America, dad portrayed Palestinians to be evils. He himself is Palestinian by origin, even though he was born in Jordan. But after maturing, I questioned his feelings toward his own people. He was always angry at the note of me mentioning that not all fingers are alike.

35 years later, he himself matured in this issue. Now, finally, acknowledged that not all fingers are alike.

So, whatever those days left on you, maybe it’s time to reach out to the other side for some reconciliation. War is over. Peace roots are strong in our land….hopefully.

I hope that you folks don’t misunderstand this post to be instigation of an old wound..no ladies and gentlemen. It’s an attempt to acknowledge the past, build on it, and look for a brighter future.

My self made prison

Before I write what I wanna write, I know that ya'aal will ask and tell me "whats preventing you from doing it?" This is not about such question..I feel that I can't answer, but rather about venting. Venting that many of you may be dying to let out of your chest. Regardess....I'll speak my mind.
Sometimes, when I'm alone, and with no one around me, someone takes over my mind. It is as a nightmare that haunts me always, sleep or awake, it won;t matter.
I start day dreaming, or as some will call it, hallucinating, about Jordan. This is probably a good time to stop reading if your not in love with such beatiful land..i won;t blame you at all.
I sometimes vision myself sitting on my favorit childhood hill, of course in 6abarboor, playing with a stick writing some scribbles on a beautiful sandy hill. As I lift my head up, and watch those shiphards with their sheep roaming the beautiful desert, I live a wonderful love story of a young boy with this land. A yong boy who was forced to leave at an early age, his beloved land.
Visions like walking in the streets of amman, hearing the horns of the cars, and the yellng of the crowd. Smelling the aroma of food and gasoline that fills such streets. Walking from a place to another, a restaurant to a coffee shop, and passing by the small stores. Watching the faces of the people who are busy trying to figure out what to buy for their loved ones waiting eagerly at home.
Daydreaming has never been my thing...but it's haunting me now. I start to ask myself, why me? Why did I leave? How can I go back. Please don't ask me to answer such difficult questions...for I can't answer. Just stuck in a world I seemed to choose for myself, yet I blame others for my misery. On ocasions, satan seems to be winning some grounds in his battle against me, and I start asking and blaming God. Lasting for moments of course, before I snap out of it and go back into my blues.
I'm becoming more sensative..pathetically sensative you may say. I could be sitting down sipping my tea after a long day's work, and suddenly, my wife starts singing with a low voice songs from the folklor of jordan. I then feel tears from my eyes, yet, not flowing outside, but inside towards my heart torturing every cell in it. I wish she stops..but I seem to enjoy such torture. To add more on such miserty, I sometimes yell at her "stop". Only to se her going into her own misery speaking of how her aunt used to sing such sings to her as she helped her to sleep at night.
I came to realize that Jordan is a curse...a beautiful curse. It's probably painful to live jordan now, but I damnguarantee that it is more painful living away from her. Her hills, streets, alleys, aroma, harship, and the sweet nights we spent on the roofs laying on our backs counting the starts on a beautiful july night in 6abarboor. I guess some of us were distened to be tortured by her presence, as well her absence, from our lives.
What saddens me that many jordanian americans tried to go back and settle in jordan. Only to come back dragging the signs of failures for not coping. Execuses that may make sense to you, but never did to me.
True I found the career and respect that i worked so hard to earn..but I just can't win the tranquility of being "home". I kid you not, but I pray that I am forced to leave home..yeah..forced as in kicked out of the states. I just can't seem to make the "right" decision. Torn apart between protecting my career and family, and between a life that my soul is so eager to live...home. Between selfesness and between responsibility toward my loved ones.
So..why don't you simply pack your bags and leave?.....I told you not to ask..so why are you doing this to me? You'll laugh at what instigated such post..but so what? laugh anyway. I was listening to some sings...and suddenly..omar elabdallat song "ma7la eldaar weldeereh...." played on my computer as I was sitting down in my hotel room thinking about tomorrow. Suddenly..tomorrow seemed to be so far away as I was stcuk in my self made prison of torture. I guess I deserve it. Oh well.....life is a female dog after all, ain't it.

My wife is finally a US citizen

Today, and at 9 am, was the court ceremony for the citizenship for my wife. Got up early in the morning, gathered the papers and got in the car as we drove to downtown Indianapolis. The appointment was 9:00 am. We were there at 8:50 by the court room door. Got in, sat down and waited for the ceremony. 9:00 am sharp, one Chinese American immigration worker started by telling the 52 naturalized citizens of what to expect in the ceremony.

The started calling names, and each person, went to the bench, took the certificate, and sat down on a designated seat. They called my wife’s name, and she got up, and took her certificate, and sat down. She looked back at me very panicked. I gave a look to comfort her and went to her and reminded her that this is nothing serious, just a celibration..sort of.

At 10 am, 49 new citizen were sitting down. Finally, the last three, who’s names were called earlier but were not there yet, came through. Two Egyptian young girls (sisters) and a Saudi young man. Now, we have a full house.

The judge then asked each one to stand up, and state the country of origin. This was something new to me, I never seen this before. I heard countries like south Africa (almost 10 from there that looked like nazi in hiding), Pakistan, libya, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, selvadore, Dominican, mexico, Serbia, Albania, and many countries. In the end, he told them why he asked the origin. He iterated the fact that every American came from somewhere sometime ago. He wanted all to know and see this as they r becoming citizens. He had a long speech, which I was really impressed, to a point that I was begging a korean woman to calm her son’s down a little as I wanted to listen. It was a very impressive speech about freedom of expression, democracy, and how citizens will loose their right, if they don’t exercise they right to vote and elect.

Then, a line of “politician opportunists” read congratulation letters from congressmen and house members of Indiana. All in all, 9 speakers gave speeches to the new citizens. I was only impressed by the judge. During the other speeches, I was busy searching the room for good looking chicks to smile, say howdy, and use zaid as a bait to get them come and say “ooooh..what a cute boy”. I couldn’t find any good looking ones.

I, however, was angered by the 25 or more kids who were thinking they were in a park. God I hate this. I mean if u know ur kid is a noisy kid, please get a baby sitter. One particular kid got on my nerves big time. As I was going back in the court room, I saw a seat open. I went there, but one of the kids there (he was Pakistani) said “there is someone sitting here” Ok..my normal reaction would be “so?” and would sit down. But I always try to be nice as much as possible. I smiled at him, walked to the side, and stood leaning in the wall. Suddenly, a 4 or 5 years old kid sit in that seat. I starred at that kid, and he was looking scared at me. I kept starring at him. He never looked at me again.

In the end of the ceremony, I sat in the back seat. Those kids were playing and making noised. Then, that same kid came and wanted to play with them. That’s when I yelled at him saying “why can’t u kids be quite? Go outside and play, or be quite. This is not the park”. His mama came running toward him, as I sat leaning back. I managed to see his mom’s face, who was not very happy, but I didn’t care anyway. Couple of the people managed to give me a “good job buddy” look as they too were bothered by them kids.

So, walked back to the car, drove back to the house. So, today, my wife is a US citizen, and I gotta be honest, this was a very impressive day. I heard great speech by a judge that moved me and made me proud of such rights to vote, and express freely.

I miss her so much

I need her..want her..want to feel her on my lips, and feel it's warmness burning my desires. I want to kiss her so bad..but I can't. If I give in..I'll lose the respect of my wife. She won't be happy if I ever go back to her.

It's my cigarette....Tuesday, June/12/2007 at 6:20 pm, and as I was driving to hooters in cincinatti, I smoked my last cigarette. I decided to quit that specific day, cold turkey.

4 days later, I feel like shit, tired, and body so weak and numb. I never experienced the pain of addiction..but now I do. I never imagined being a slave to something so little, and now I do. I have never imagined how weak I am, but now I do.

Stop bo3bo3, think, take a deep breath (now that u can without pain in lungs)..and stand by ur word. It's today or never again. You lose the fight today, and u ain't standing up again.

Stop bo3bo3, think, and take a look at ur loved ones and what it will mean to them, if u kick the habit. I'll make it easy on u buddy...
Family? or a cheap pack of cigarette?
see, it's not so tough after all.

Stop, and don;t look back. Many people are living smoke-free...and so u could.