3 10 2012

I haven’t written anything here for God knows how long coz I always found another way to express how I felt, talk to a friend or post a random tweet. But not this time. This time i’m here coz it’s the place where I have the least audience, maybe even non at all. This time I’m here to state that I’m disappointed in my self. And it’s no mystery that my friends and family feel the same way! Over the past couple of months I’ve managed to put my whole life on hold, stop doing every thing I loved, driven my best friends away, stopped thinking of who I am or what I wanted to do with my life. Ironically, everything else has managed to get ruined by itself. The place where I’ve worked for the past four years fell apart and is closing now, most of my friends I can’t face coz we’d have to go through the “what have you been doing with your life lately” and I’d have to see the pitty looks and sweet advices I hear from every one about needing to move on and getting a life. Reminding me of the hopes they had for me and how much they are disappointed. My family thinks the only thing I do now is sit on my ass all day, which is true, apparently it’s the only thing am good at so far! I can’t keep up a relationship with any thing or any body for a long enough time either. I have no idea what the hell am writing! Screw it…


Silence Kills

8 01 2011

Ten months of silence cause nothing but a busy mind, wonderment, inner pain, and discomfort. Eeeh, who am i kidding? It was not that bad! But still, taking insults, bad treatment, and bad mouthing can get to you sometimes, but being the decent gentleman that I am, I chose to ignore and remain calm.

Remaining calm and silent then can be misunderstood as weakness or negativity, so the insults increase, and more people are invited to participate, but then the silence continues. Until now…

On a random day you are cruising with a very dear friend of yours, make a stop by a shop where you get the new Fairouz album and you fall in love with it instantaneously! Especially when you the words get directly to you, you feel the words are describing a painful moment you had or an undesired memory.

I’ve heard this song months ago and I fell in love with it from the very first verse. It best describes the feelings I used to have. And although these feelings are gone and forgotten, but still unsaid words are … well … a bitch!

So, being the decent gentleman (yes! AGAIN 😛 I love myself, why not? I’m adorable :D) that I am, I’ll let Fairouz express it all 😉

That Silence Kills, But not me…!

قال قايل عن حبي
“حُبك مش حلو”
ذكرني بحياتك
هالحب قديه إلو؟
إذا كاين حلو
صَفى مش حلو
إلَك مني وعليي
عيدو من أولو

قال قايل إشيا بشعة عني
(معليش معليش)
أخبارك مش عم بتطمني
(معليش معليش)
إيامك قدامك
ألله يخليه إيامك
إنت ما بيطلع منك
إلا كل شي حلو

أخبارك يعني كلا منيحة
(معليش معليش)
الحمدلله ،يومية بفضيحة
(معليش معليش)
يعني ماشي حالك
ومش عم بخطر على بالك
ما تكشِّر فيي حتى
قولك بتسهلو

قال قايل عن حبي
“حبك مش حلو”
ذكرني بحياتك
هالحب قديه إلو؟
إذا كاين حلو
صفى مش حلو
إلك مني وعليي
عيدو من أولو

تأليف وتلحين: زياد رحباني

أمانة يا بحر…

16 02 2010

لملمت أوراقي سريعا فور أن وصلت السيارة اللتي أقلتني من القاهرة، مدينة الزحام و الضوضاء، الى شاطئ الأسكن100_1230دريه الأزرق الساحر الجمال. أخذت الأوراق من المقعد الخلفي و الكرسي من صندوق السيارة و سرت متلهفاً للقاء البحر كمهاجر عائد لأحضان محبوبته. أعبر الكورنيش بحذر، عين على الطريق و الأخرى على صفحات المياه الزرقاء.

بسرعة كنت جالساً على اللسان المفضل لدي في وسط البحر، و من خلفي أترك مبنى سان ستيفانو الجديد الفاره الطبع و التصميم. جميل المبنى ولكني دائماً ما أحسست انه يفقد مدينة الأسكندر رونقها و عراقتها و اصالتها. أترك من خلفي الكورنيش الواسع و السيارات الحديثة التي تدهسه بسرعتها الجنونية و سائقيها اللا مبالين لما هم فاقدين. أحس أحياناً أنّي أحقد على أهل هذه المدينة الجميلة، فهم يعيشون فيها طوال العام و يتمتعون بجمال شاطئها وقتما شاءوا فصارو لا يكترثون و لا يشعرون له بحنيني.

اجلس على كرسي الصغير لأشاهد أمواج البحر، ترطتم بأحجار اللسان مرة و تحتضنها مرات أخرى. يجلس على تلك الأحجار الصيادين من مختلف الأعمار و الطبقات. يرمون مع كل طعم يضعونه في سنانيرهم همومهم و متاعب الدنيا لتأكلها سمكة شاردة أو تذيبها مياه البحر المالحة فيخرج خطاف السنارة خاليا من خيبة أمل و بأخرى.

العنوان هو لأغنية لمحمد منير

In the name of beauty

12 02 2010

The original article: In the name of beauty.

Having studied in Canada for four years, coming back to Egypt was quite a shock in several different respects. One of the most striking however, was the prevalence of plastic surgery among people I know who are my age–in their early and mid-twenties. At first, I completely dismissed the idea and treated the phenomenon as ridiculous, but not long after, I found myself examining my body in front of the mirror trying to figure out what could possibly be changed or fixed. This is when I realized what "peer pressure" really is.

Speaking to Hisham el-Minawi, assistant professor of plastic surgery at Cairo University, confirmed my view on the phenomenon. He says that he receives women from all age groups that want to have plastic surgery, however, young women in their twenties form a large portion of this group. And surprisingly, the phenomenon is not restricted to a certain social class or to those in specific fields of employment.

The plastic surgery hype started in Egypt as early as 1998, mainly due to the influence of the internet and satellite television. Previously, women had to go abroad to get things done, however the introduction of non-surgical and less invasive procedures paved the way for more women to get their problem areas fixed without the side effects of surgery. These procedures led women to consider the possibilities of surgery as a beautification option. The use of local anesthetics rather than general anesthetics also made the procedures safer.

“Women in their twenties usually go for liposuction because of a new fashion in clothes, and a breast reduction so that they can wear bikinis comfortably,” says el-Minawi. Both liposuction and breast reduction help women look better in swimming suits.

The introduction of low-rise pants has led women to believe they have problems in the abdominal area, mainly love handles, which was not a problem for earlier generations. This phenomenon has led to an increase in the number of young women asking for liposuctions.

Many women today still want to look pretty without the risk of surgery. Thanks to non-surgical procedures, their wishes can come true.

Hussein Ghanem, a cosmetic and consultant dermatologist believes the prevalence of surgery has diminished over the past ten years, as some non-surgical treatments have replaced surgery. For example, deformities in the nose can now be cured using fillers instead of a nose job, and lipolysis can be used instead of liposuction in some cases–although it is only 70 percent effective. Lipolysis is most effective in localized areas, such as love handles, double chins, and small bellies.

According to Ghanem, the most widespread treatment is lip augmentation, because women want to look like the Lebanese stars they see on TV.

“Social pressure to look ideal physically is to blame for the increase in the use of these treatments by young women,” says Ghanem, adding that people who usually decide to have these types of treatments already have a healthy lifestyle and are looking to improve their physicality, not just get an easy fix.

Speaking to some of the young women who went through surgical treatments confirmed el-Minawi’s speculations.

“I got a nose job done when I was 19 years old, because I felt uncomfortable with the shape of my nose. I did not like how my nose looked after surgery but I got used to it later on,” explains Dalia, a pharmacist in a multinational company. She said she would consider other procedures if she felt they were necessary.

Nour, a 24 year old financial analyst, just had a liposuction. She says she felt very uncomfortable with her thighs and is very pleased with how the surgery turned out. She would definitely consider another surgery in the future if she feels it would make her feel more comfortable with a certain body part.

Both young women said they felt comfortable going under the knife partially because local anesthetic, not general anesthetic would be used.

Over a year ago, when Jad Choeri, the Lebanese singer, portrayed Arabs in his video clip “Funky Arabs” as plastic surgery-obsessed party animals, many Egyptians voiced their anger online. However, thinking about the phenomenon today, could we fit that image any more perfectly?

Lonely Day

10 02 2010

System of a down – Lonely Day Lyrics

Such a lonely day
And it’s mine
The most loneliest day in my life
Such a lonely day
Should be banned
It’s a day that I can’t stand
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
Such a lonely day
Shouldn’t exist
It’s a day that I’ll never miss
Such a lonely day
And it’s mine
The most loneliest day of my life
And if you go,
I wanna go with you
And if you die,
I wanna die with you
Take your hand and walk away
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
Such a lonely day
And it’s mine
It’s a day that I am glad I survived.

I am Exceptional

27 01 2010

Please watch the film first:


El moshkela akid mesh fel nas, el moshkela akid fik (the problem is not with the people, the problem has got to be with me). If you believe that then you better kill your self and get done with it!

I was watching an independent film at a culture center when those words were said. The film was called "Unclaimed" or (lam yostadal 3la 3enwan). It’s about a lonely middle aged man who had no friends and lived alone. He worked in a government office where had no friendly colleagues either and even people doing their affairs in the office he worked in didn’t go to his desk but headed to his colleagues. Nobody asked about him, cared how he was doing, called him, or even wrote to him. He felt depressed and started wondering for the reason.

He even started writing him self letters and mailing them to his address. The letters were returned to his work as Unclaimed. The more the letters the more the Unclaimed the more the depression. He decided to call himself and leave a message on the answering machine that always told him that he had no new messages but the number was out of service! He headed to his own street and building asking the people around for himself, but "nobody lives here with this name" or "never heard of him" came the answers.

That’s when he thought "the problem is not with the people, the problem had to be me" you might as well throw your self off the balcony! I always believed that there’s a critical point of return where a person shouldn’t let him self reach. Just before that point one should have a pause, a moment of silence then a blast for something crazy, something new, something cheerful that would make me feel there’s still hope. i should be myself, normal, my own normal, the normal that’s normal for me, away from stereotypes and standardizm. Hell no!

The problem is not with me. I cope with people the way they are and they should accept me the way i am and have the tolerance to live with me as i with them. But if you reach the point where you despise yourself and your life you will try to change, then you will try to change. The uncomfortable zone! You can’t live as other people just because the majority are like that. It’s not comfortable. You were not brought up like that, and you can’t change in days what was planted for years. You can’t go back either, because once you leave it in despise it despises you too. Rejects you when ever you come near it, and that’s where you feel lost in between.

The search for the soul.

Sit with yourself. Talk to her. Respect her, she deserves that, and she will respect you in return.

Know where you are. You can even write a list of demands. Give yourself time to find itself.

Now go out and start shopping. Shop for you list. Search for what you want and don’t let go till you find it. Go to new places where nobody "normal" would go that’s where you will find your match.


Hakawy el A’ahawy

13 01 2010

I was sitting at a coffee shop waiting for my girl to finish her tutorial lessons on a nice sunny day. I was sitting alone, unprepared, without a book to read or headphones to listen to my music, so I decided to listen to the sound of birds which was magically loud and clear that day. But the crowd was loud too, for I was sitting among other people who happen to not notice the beauty of the birds or the sun among other things they didn’t notice. I wasn’t eavesdropping! But through the tweaking birds and the loud guests I had to hear some things.

Unfortunately, everything that I heard bugged me! school_books

I was sitting with my back to a wall, facing a Cairo side street. To my right was a simple, or rather a poor man in his fourty’s wearing a worn out Jalabia and Shebsheb (slippers). I’m not going to talk much about him, for he was sitting alone and didn’t talk much except to order tea or ask for more lit coal for his Shisha.
To my front were sitting two middle aged men and on a third chair sat a pile of different books.

The pile of books drew my attention. They were of different types and colors. My week eyesight wasn’t of much help with the titles but I managed to pick up some author names. Anis Mansour and Naguib Mahfouz were among other unknown authors; at least they were unknown to me. From some words I managed to read off the titles, the books were a collection of novels, poetry, and political books. And to my left sat two other middle aged men who we’ll come to later.

At first I thought one of the two men sitting around the table with the books was a book seller but it turned out in the end that they were not.
From the accent of one of them I realized he wasn’t from the city, Upper Egypt was my best guess. The other was a middle class city man in a cheap suit and a white shirt with a dirty collar.

Their voice was fading up as the argument heated. From the conversation I deduced that the man with the accent was a books editor or worked in a publish house. The other one in the cheap suite was what seemed to be a "wannabe" writer or author (I have a reason to call him a "wannabe")

The editor guy was talking about his work and the processes that followed him, how he edits articles, books, and novels. How he’d take hand written work and type it on the computer then edit it and spell check it till it’s ready for print. Then the publish house’s work on the cover and cover material. That all didn’t bother me, for all that was work that someone had to do.

What bothered me was how invaluable he made it all sound! How he spread to the other guy his list of "price". I know this is his job and that it’s what he did for a living, but the way he argued his price with the wannabe and the way he held the pack of valuable books in his hand feeling the covers of the books like he was selling cloth fabric! The way he treated it like it had no value for him other than it got him more money! Really great people spent months or maybe years to write these books on paper for people to benefit from, for people to be enlightened. Did Naguib Mahfouz write his books and argue about how much it would cost to publish them?

Even if it was a venue of profit for the editor, what about that wannabe? He’s a wannabe who’s not even good at being a wannabe, whether he was looking for rich or fame, he didn’t want to pay enough for it. He didn’t value his on work! Even if for other people who would publish his work it didn’t mean anything but a commission for the middle man, he should take pride in it an honor it! Did Anis Mansour allow his books to be published in a cheap cover because a good cover would be taken out of his share? I could only think of Tawfik El-Hakim who would do that, but we all know he was cheap; it had nothing to do with not valuing his work!

That day when i went home, i was so disgusted, yes, disgusted! Some may say it’s a strong word, but that’s how i felt. It’s normal for someone like me who keeps his books in a drawer to keep them away from the dust, and reads them so carefully without totally wide opening the pages to keep the book unbroken from the side and as good as new. I ran into my room, opened my, book drawer and gently carried a bunch of then in my arms. Dug my nose close to smell the papers. Admired the looks of them and thought how crazy i am in love with good old books. Treating them as my children or even more as other people’s children who made an honest effort to put them in my hands and now i have to look after them…

As for the two men sitting on my left, I’m too disgusted to talk about them now, but believe me, you don’t want to hear about them either…