New Years Crap

No offence to the tweet's writer, but come oooooooon! 

I am a positive person, I bore my own self with my positivity, but I simply don't have the guts to say this to people, right to their faces. 

Ps: Do we say "tweet's writer" or is there a word coined out there that I have never heard of? 

Of Mothers

It just brought tears to my eyes as I was reading it in the kitchen to my mother and her guests. Not only for the huge agony reflected in his words, but for loving his mother for her intelligence and intellect, and leaving her delicious food for the fourth line. 

Aida: The Infinite Possibilities

Ever since I started watching "Aida" I had a "meh" feeling. I got to Aida after watching 5 season of Aqui No Hay Quien Viva and all the available seasons of La Que Se Avecina.

It is not that "Aida" is not good, but I got some kind of "Aqui No Hay Quien Viva" addiction, that made all other shows seem boring and nowhere close to attractive.

But I was show-less while I was in Turkey, and I just got to the conclusion that I cant survive living on my own if I was not accompanied by characters of a TV show -sue me- so I had to start Aida and go through the first season without actual interest.

But today as I was watching the 11th episode in the second season, I felt that in this specific episode the writers had put some actual effort in making it like no other.

The episode went along with two story lines, one about Aida being in a relationship with Mauricio, or being in a relationship with Chema.

The two possibilities were shown to us consecutively, until we go back to the first scene when she tries to change the way she drinks her coffee, which supposedly lead her to falling for one of them.

At the end of the episode she takes her coffee as always, and she sits in the bar, and then there is wide shot of the entire place where she is sitting to the side and the lights blare in the bar and the episode ends.

The possibilities... they are there, and we are so miserably limited, why can't we see what might have been under our noses all the time? Why not?

The Best Friends Ever

Today, I was simply ridiculously happy.

Nawaf, Ali and I went to have breakfast at Doa'as place. The idea was there for relatively a long time, but as I was not in the country those last two months, the breakfast was postponed various times, and I had the old feeling of worry when two groups of my friends do merge.

I don't know... I am so talkative and I can always come up with "something to talk about" but still I always worry before such gatherings.

But I could not imagine how good it was, and let me put aside the great food, and the great Najeeb Mahfouz movie that we watched on Rotana Zaman, and just focus on the two gifts that Nawaf and Ali brought.

They got her a somehow purple frog and the zoo animal's plastic figurines!! She was thrilled about the gifts (well, thrilled is not exactly the word that goes with Doa'a but let say she was excited) and I just sat there and wondered: How on God's name, does people in their twenties get the idea of bringing such a gift?!

When I was younger I made some kind of a promise to myself that I will not become an "adult", that I'll never be boring, repetitive, predictable or mature in the negative sense of the word. And for a long time I thought that I kept the promise, but it was until I became good friends with Ali (above all Ali) when I realized that I grew some how old and lazy.

What does it take to come up with a silly yet innovative gift, and to actually go and get it and present it solemnly and have a good laugh about it?

The best friends ever are the ones who never let you feel old, act old or think old, and this is why I believe that I have the world's best friends. 

A workbook on mental illnesses: My Very First Bulky English Translation

Lately I have interpreted a workshop of 8 days on chronic mental illnesses, in which a curriculum was taught regarding how to make a patients life as good as possible given that those illnesses have no "cure''.

It was a very enlightening experience, and although the workshop took place on snowy days, in which arriving to the hotel was a daily adventure but it was worth every minute.

The participants came from all over Jordan. They were either psychologists or social workers, some of them worked in mental clinics (turned out that there is a mental clinic in every governorate in Jordan) and many came from Fuheis mental hospital. And there was this very interesting lady who worked in a jail, to psychoanalyze the inmates!! (Is not that a cooool job for a novelist?!)

The speaker Dr Carol simply a very intellectual, smart, well educated sweetheart. She is simply the one you would want to take care of your loved ones if they ever get an illness of this kind.

She emphasized a lot on the social stigma upon schizophrenic people, and she was presenting realistic and applicable examples all the time, which for me -as an interpreter- is something I rarely witness. I am always attending conferences and meetings where people talk about "strategies'', "policies", "approaches" and "methods", nothing was ever as real as this workshop.

When it ended, it still continued for me because I had to redo the translation of the work book presented in the workshop. The first translation was a total mess and I was offered the job I got the usual scare, you know, all of those technical psychological terms, but I was like: If I had interpreted the topic during 8 days, I must be the most capable person of translating the document.

And so I started working for an entire week. It was such a short time, but hey, I believe that a close dealine is the best inspiration.

I worked for days in the university's library, and I was lamenting -all the freaking time- the miserable Arabic resources for a topic as important as mental illnesses. After a long search I found a somehow encyclopedia online, which is the fruit of an individual's effort, it helped me a lot (I always feel guilty when I find shortage on the Arabic content on any topic,,, but this is unjustified guilt, I am not a psychologist!!)

The workbook is now done and sent back to the council that hired me, where it is gonna be used as a base for interviews with schizophrenic patients in order to evaluate their cases and to offer them the medical and social support they need.

Besides the great feeling that translation usually gives me, this time I felt like I served the community .. I just love being a Translator,,, the best job in the world.

Here, see the words I checked in the dictionary ...  

Wikipedias Featured Article For Today

Things You See on Twitter

Of Lovers and Spouses: Amen!

“

فالعاشقان هما زوجان دائما؛ سواء قبل المعبد أم لم يقبل، جمعهما بيت أم لم يجمعهما. 

بل سواء قررا هما ذلك أم لم يقررا.. فقيس زوج ليلى، وإن لم يتزوجا. 

وفي هذا المنطق؛ العشق يسخر كثيرا من الكاهن في الحلال والحرام.” 

― عبد الرزاق الجبران, مبغى المعبد

Feeling Like a Child: Turkish

I registered in a Turkish Language course last week, and classes will start this coming Sunday.
When  I paid the fees I was too disappointed when the secretary told me that I will not be handed the books until Sunday.

I have been hearing drum rolls inside my own head ever since I registered and I cant wait until Sunday comes ...  A new Language is a new person, and Turkish is not a only a "New Language" but it is a memory of 40 days of "linguistic vagueness" and a hard and long experience of not being understood.

I remember that evening in Istanbul when my friend Ufuk came from Ankara and we got to see each other in my very last night in the city. We sat there and talked about the language, the countries and ethnicities that formed the Ottoman empire, and the originally Arab words in old Ottoman and in current Turkish.

In that very night I felt my traditional "linguistic greed" kicking in, and ever since I knew that I am doing this! I am learning Turkish :))   

Home

It was a transition of my body from one country to the other. I felt pain in my shoulders as I dragged around my heavy bag, and I felt unease in my soul as I left my "loneliness" behind me and came back to be surrounded with dozens of friends and relatives.

It was a complicated kind of restlessness and anxiety, I felt like a nomad ever since  I left my house in Istanbul until got to my parent's house in Amman. But even after I got rid of the suitcase and the "stuff" I still felt lost and tired.

When I crossed the narrow sidewalk towards you, when I saw the slight quiver in your eyebrows when you recognized my face in the crowd, then, only then I felt that I was finally home.

فلتأذن لي بأن أراك

 وقد خرجت مني وخرجت منك،

 سالماً كالنثر المصفى 

على حجر يخضر أو يصفر في غيابك. 

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For a Moment I Caved In

I am in Turkey (Yes Blog!! Things happen and I dont post about it because I am unbelievably lazy and somehow busy). I have been here for a month now, and today as I as sitting in the forest of Yildiz Saray (Enshalla I will post about is sometime during this decade) and I suddenly felt so weak, so tired and desperately missing Granada.

The forest looked like Alhambra forest and I just missed it so bad, and I felt like I am too old to adapt to a new country, to learn a new language and to work in a different "journalistic style" (and dont get me started in journalistic style in Turkey ,,, I will never stop) and I started looking for journalistic jobs in Spain on my phone browser.

I found some cool jobs in Madrid and they were actually well paid, I just wanted to flee the country and go back to my "habitus".

I just forgot about all the battles that I dont have to fight here in Turkey (basically cultural battles, not being the only veiled woman in a room, and to easily and magically find a place to pray whenever it's time to pray) and I just wanted to go back to Spain, and go on with my Hispanista life-long experience.

When I came back home, I was home alone cooking, and ranting to Nawaf on Skype about everything (I just enjoy doing this, and he is a good listener) when someone rang the door bell.

As I dont speak any decent Turkish I usuaully tend to ignore the door bell when the girls are not home, I looked through the peephole and I saw an old lady.  I ignored the ringing and went back to cook, but she insisted ao I opened the door and I found our neighbor from across the hall holding two plates of sweets (the one in the picture).

She is celebrating Ashoura and she brought us our share!! My heart melted specially that the woman was extra nice to me when she found out that I am a foreigner and that I could not speak Turkish. She said some prayers in Turkish and closed the door for my as I was holding the plates.

She looked just like a nice old Jordanian lady, you know, she is not "The Other", she is just a nice old lady who shares a huge background with me although I cross her for the very first time in my life.

Her nice gesture touched me deeply, and she got me thinking.. I am still thinking and I dont know what to do with my life.

What I know for sure is that I dont want to go back home. That "Jordanian" ship has sailed. I dont want to live there anymore and I cant even handle it, but where do I go? what do I do?

What?

Peace.

And That's Exactly What Happened

Blogging Via Galaxy Note

I have always thought of blogging as a reflection moment, in which I get to think more about events,  moments, experiences and even songs and poems.

This is why I never believed in instant blogging, I always thought that it is not a mere act of "telling" but rather a pause to think, but after my masters year and the very few posts l managed to write throughout the year made me reconsider my blogging style.

As I am travelling soon my brother got me this very cool galaxy note ..I believe it is a turning point fr my reading behaviour, my level in Turkish and my blogging. 

Cross your fingers 

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Always new tracks, and always new destinations

My Voiceless Body

If I had heard this song a year ago I wouldn't have thought about it, not even for a moment. A while before now, I did not realize my body ...

Do you know how complicated that is? You think that you feel it and that you understand it, but then comes a moment when you realize that maybe your body has been voiceless ever since its formation started back in your mother's womb!

Maybe I had to be drastically in love to be able to appreciate such words, how simply she described her imperfect body, and how she listed in a neat human way what he can do with her body without sounding slutty at all.

She sounded in love, all proud and  arrogant but also willing to "entregar" herself to him.

Entregar has a couple of English translations but I did not like any of them, things like submitting and surrendering  and that was not what Rozalen talked about.

It is a vague carnal call that your body sends out for no specific reason, and with no sexual squeal in it... Just a signal, that I miss you know, and I would cross oceans just to pass my hand on your forehead, to leave my palm in yours or to press my shoulder on your shoulder and feel the heat.

Thanks to the one who gave my body a voice. And Thanks to Rozalen "Para los Dos"  

Us

Rasha brought us those cute bracelets from Turkey. I dont know how Rasha pays attention to the things that she pays attention to, but she thinks of me better than I think of myself.

Anyhow, we were sitting in the library and I showed them to him, and he was so excited, and he asked to put his on for him, and then he tied mine on. It is such a little thing you know, but it just meant too much for me... For some reason I thought that he would not want to put a read strap in his arm for any reason, but he just did it happily.

When I was young I never did those common things with my friends,,, Maybe I was never that close to anybody to do those cute-absurd things, but now, Life is different,,,, I cant say more ...

God I cant say more. 

Word!

بينما مصر متحيرة بين فريقين كلاهما على علاقة جيدة بالولايات المتحدة وكلاهما ينوي الإبقاء على اتفاقية السلام مع إسرائيل وكلاهما لا مانع لديه من اعتقال خصومه السياسيين الجدد ولو كانوا حلفاءه القدامى، وبينما الضفة وغزة تنتظران إلى أين تميل الرياح المصرية والسورية، وبينما تقصف إسرائيل سوريا مجددا فيرد الجيش السوري على مواطنيه، وترد المعارضة السورية على مواطنيها كذلك ولا يرد أحد على إسرائيل...يخرج اليوم فتيان وفتيات فلسطين المحتلة عام ١٩٤٨، أقدمنا احتلالاً، وأولنا دفعاً لثمن التشرذم العربي، وأملنا الباقي للضغط على إسرائيل، الفتيان والفتيان الذين يهددون وجود إسرائيل بمحض وجودهم، يهددونها كلما أحبت فتاة منهم فتى وولد لهما ولدان أو أكثر، أقول يخرج هؤلاء لرفض مصادرة إسرائيل لأراضي أهلنا العرب في النقب...ربما لا يكون لهم جلال العدد المصري ولا جلال السلاح اللبناني، ولكنهم، على الأقل هذه الأيام، الوحيدون الذين يوجهون غضبهم إلى الجهة الصحيحة... الوحيدون الذين يعرفون، عدوك الأول، عدوك الأَولى هو الاحتلال، لا اخوك ولا ابن عمك وأن طالت بينكما المرارات.

تميم البرغوثي 

Oh Thank You!: Academic Nonsense

Look what I found! I really Loved this text, it alleviated old miseries of trying to read academic papers and feeling like a total dork! Thank you to whoever wrote this!   


There is no reason to become impressed or annoyed by the apparent complexity of this text, it
is not as difficult as it seems. All one has to bear in mind is that academic writers sometimes
have a tendency to make the same point twice, which often confuses the inexperienced
reader, who thinks that two different statements have been made and tries to figure out the
difference between them. Another obstacle is the use of elaborate phrases in stead of simple
statements. This is done to make the statement more precise, but sometimes it grows into a
bad habit.

A Fuenral in Theater: Nidal Saijary

Nidal Saijary died after a long struggle with cancer. A struggle that was so hurtful as we saw him lose his larynx and participate in his very last show totally mute!

It fills me with agony. Throughout those last years of the Syrian Revolution (if I may call it so) (because it got really confusing lately) we saw many actors pass away, we did not even tell how did they die, whether they had a normal death or if we lost them in explosions or if they were targeted by snipers or aerial bombardment.

We just did not know anything, they kept falling and now watching a Syrian series is like walking down memory lane, remembering all of those who died.

When I was looking at Nidal's funeral I loved the music, it reminded me of Semana Santa in Granada, the same musical instruments, but when I looked back I thought I was going to see a mosque, a church or a warship house, simply because I dont know what Nidal's religion was.

But there was none of that. There was the national theater of Latakia.
If I saw this a couple of months ago, I would have criticized it. I would have said things about the ends being dedicated to God and God only, I would have said that death is too serious to be taken in trips to theaters and where else.

But in those last months I learned something about how precious life is. Why have I always thought - or led to think - that not celebrating life is a religious sign of asceticism? Why did I believe that it is holy to put your life passions away when you think about the end? How superficial is that! The life that you have lived and the interests that you had are the mold that shapes your perspective towards life and death.

I have to admit, that If I ever have the Cafe' that I always wanted to have I would not want my funeral to leave from there. I am not that person, maybe not yet, but I now believe that If you gave your life to one thing then maybe your end must have something to do with it. Just like Nidal's dedication to acting and art and his final farewell from the national theater of his city.

Rest in Peace, and may Syria resuscitate from its ashes. Amen

Us

Today NafNaf came back from Haifa. He sent me a message while still on the Israeli borders and said that the trip is going to take more time than he expected. And then, out of no where I left my head while working in the library and there he was!!

He bought me launch and we were talking -as we did since for ever- about a specific Syrian series " ضيعة ضايعة" and I was like: Why dont we watch it now? (Ever since I got the mini laptop I get impulses of this type!) So we bought coffee and went to our balcony and watched the first episode.

It was so funny yet weird! we turned our balcony into a living room , how cute is that! 

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Children of Cyber City's Refugee Camp Keep Paying the Tax of Being Palestinian.

Ps: This picture was taken while my colleague Doaa and I were making a multimedia package covering the situation of Palestinian Refugees who fled from Syria. I will dedicate a special blog entry about the visit and the journalistic outcome. 

I can now only say: It was a life time experience. 

Technological Scares: Google Hangout For Example!

I remember the first time I tried Skype. I guess if I search back in this blog I could find an entry about how excited I was about the mere idea of being able to talk to people who are far far away, see them as well and having all of this for free.

It was huge, exciting and overwhelming. And now as I am writing these lines I am in a "Google" training workshop, to use Google tools for journalists, and they introduced us to Google Hangout.

When I saw the page's layout with my friends faces on it I got a technological scare.
That sudden feeling of coldness and nudity. Really ,,, each time I go a step further in the world of communication I feel that I am naked in front of strangers. Add to that the fact that Skype taught me that talking is overrated!!

Don't get me wrong, I am one of God's most talkative creatures, but still Skype taught me that there is a point where I actually freaking run out of topics!!

It has happened many times so far that I terribly miss someone whom I can simply talk to on Skype (Afifi for example) but it is always a hug burden.

Maybe, it has something to do with my "Blabbing attitude" at home. When I am at home I dont talk, and I cant blame it on my family, who make it really hard to communicate with the outer world when we are together, but it is just me.

Just me, my anti-social beast that is buried under the piles of  "Talkativisim" that I practice. 

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في مثل هذا اليوم من عام 2005 أنهيت حفظ القرآن الكريم من الجلدة للجلدة. هسا بس حسيت اني كنت حافظة مش فاهمة. مشتاقة لربنا!!

#ردنا_إليك_غير_خزايا_ولا_محزونين
#يا_شمس_المساكين

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~عندما تقرأ كتاباً لكاتب مات، تقرأ ببطء. تخشى إن أنت أسرعت أن تعرف كل ما قاله فيموت بداخلك مرة أخرى~

جو النص: صباح مع مجموعة محمد طمليه القصصية.

The Bruno Mars Way: Today I dont Fell Like Doing Anything

As I was shooting all week, and I crossed the entire city various times carrying the JVC camera and the tripod all time, today I was dead.

It was not actual pain in a specific point, but I just felt that the last vertebrae in my column were compressed, AND I was tired, really tired and a bit (well, not a bit) sad. So I did not get up.

I dont have classes on Wednesdays, yet I have never spent a single Wednesday at home. I always have something to do or people to hang out with, and spending a day at home is against my beliefs.
but today I stayed.

I got up finally at 3,30 just to pray, and if it was not for the prayer I would not have got up at all. 

When my Mom saw me I felt like I fell in the trap. First she was mad that I skipped class and we started the ''since for ever'' conversation of ''all mothers sympathize when their children are sick except for mine,....


This is an old draft!! I dont remember what I wanted to say, but this is the part I have ,,, so here it is!

A Song Surfacing on my Subconscious

I did not have any sleep. Neither good nor bad sleep, I was rolling all night.  I had a lot of work for today (that I am postponing until I finish this blog entry) and I was sad when I went to bed. Nostalgic is the word. I miss someone (and I am not gonna post the name so it wont hurt later when I re-read this) and it is not that I cant see him, he is right there in front of me but my heart has anger!! (God! I never thought that I would ever feel this! Anger in MY heart?! how did that even happen).

It is really confusing. How someone could split your own heart for you, a part of you misses him and the other part just sits there being as hostile and aggressive as possible! (Well , who am I kidding, I am socially retarded).

So, as I slept I had a dream of a song of Om Kalthoom, I could not remember the whole thing when I woke up, I only recalled 4 words of it so I googled them , and it turns out that the song goes like this:

خاصمتك بيني وبين روحي وصالحتك وخاصمتك تاني
واقول ابعد يصعب على روحي تطاوعني لا يزيد حرماني
حافضل احبك من غير ما اقلك ايه الي حير افكاري
لحد قلبكما يوم يدلك على هواي المداري
ولما يرحمني قلبك ويبان لعيني هواك
وتنادي ع اللى انشغل بك وروحي تسمع نداك

ارضى اشكي لك من نار حبــــــــــــــي وابقى احكي لك ع الي ف قلبــــــــــــي
واقلك ع الي سهرنـــــــي واقلك ع الي بكاني
واقول يا قلبي ليه تخبي وليه يا نفسي منعاني


My sub-conscious has its own ways I must say.


Gahhhhh .... I am just gonna go work now, Bye

Doubt and Jealousy

 How can people live with the doubt? It is feeding on my soul. The other night I woke up at the middle of the night as the thought was puncturing the thin walls of my dreams that it woke me up.

I am sick ... physically and emotionally. I never experienced such a feeling. I never cared what is going between whoever, now I care and it hurts. The feeling of losing faith .... I waited so long until I could feel ''faith'' towards another human being, it was taken away from me so quickly that It makes me feel lonely and used.

For sure I know that I have not been cheated on, I am sure , and I am not even worried, but in spite of all the peace in my heart still the sight of this freaking woman makes me lose it ... I dont hate her, I feel sorry for her, I wish she could be happy somewhere else.

I wish that this world would end soon ,,, really , it gets complicated and there are no clear ends of the misery.

Ps: En la memoria de Señor Desveloso y la señora de las 4 niñas. Joder :)

Semana Santa de Granada: Those Topics that Might Erupt

Today I posted this on my Facebook:

في مثل هذا اليوم من سنة 2011 و خلال أسبوع الآلام في غرناطة، منع المطر موكب "عذراء الفجر" من الخروج إلى الشارع. و جرت العادة في أسبوع الآلام أن تخرج عذراء كل كنيسة في موكب إلى الشارع ترافقها فيه فرقة موسيقية مكونة من أبواق و طبول، و مباخر و باقات زهور يسبقها موكب من أطفال و
موكب من نساء يلبسن الأسود حداداً ، و يحمل التمثال شبّان ، و يزن التمثال الواحد ألف أو ألفين كيلو حسب حجمه و المادة التي صنع منها.

يتدرّب الشبان و الأطفال و النساء طوال السنة حتى يخرج موكب عذراء كنيستهم، وهطول المطر في موعد خروجها يعني ضياع مجهودهم طوال سنة كاملة.

عندما ألغي موكب عذراء الفجر دخلت لأصورها داخل كنيستها، كانت أقدامها ملفوفة بالنايلون و حولها موكب الأولاد ينوحون بشكل جماعي و يرافقهم رجال كبار في السن يبكون و يوعدون العذراء أنهم إن عاشوا عاماً آخر فسوف يخرجونها في موكب مهيب.

و بالرغم من أجواء الإيمان الاستعراضي التي تسيطر على أسبوع الآلام في إقليم الأندلس تحديداً، و بالرغم من التاريخ المشتبك و المعقد بين العرب و بين الاسبان، إلا ان رؤية اسبان القرن الحادي و العشرين يبكون لأسباب تتعلق بالآخرة، كان مشهداً نادراً، و يستحق الوقوف و التفكّر.

En la Semana Santa de 2011 , la lluvia impidió la salida de la Virgen de la Aurora. Aquel día entré a su iglesia para sacarle una foto a la virgen y allí dentro encontré los niños y los abuelos de la cofradía llorando como unas Magdalenas por no haber podido sacar a su Virgen a la calle.
Y a pesar de la historia tan compleja que compartimos los Árabes con los españoles, sobre todo en Andalucía pero esta escena de ver a españoles de este siglo llorando por motivos del mas allá fue una escena espectacular que es digna de un momento de meditación.

(El texto árabe es mas largo porque allí daba mas explicación de lo que se hace en una procesión)

Sooo

Today I paid attention that last week was the Holy Week. I really love this one and ever since I attended almost all the processions of the Holy Week of 2011 I feel a very personal bond with the event. In Spain it is huge and important, so, I wanted to mention it on my Facebook and I took a moment to think, I was worried that some of my friends will come up with a tiring religious or historical discussion.

You know, the discourse of ''we should never forget what they did to us" and that we should hate their religion that killed our people and so ,,, I wish that I would not have to give my ''artistic explanation'' but what can I do? this is how I see it, it is pure art, the music the sculptures and even the incenses. 

~Guhhhhh ~ I feel like I have a doze things to say in this aspect, why dont I sit down and write it? Maybe in the form of an essay or simply a letter to the old me, when I kept focusing in the historical conflict between the Arabs and the Spanish. A conflict that they themselves has forgotten SPECIALLY the religious part of it. 

I dont like it that their christian-ism is not that solid, but this is the way that it is and there is nowhere around it. 

Take Me Away: Fleeing Class

I was a good kid at school. Actually I was not that good but my school's walls were 5 meters high so I had to behave and hang on till the last moment of class.

In university I used to skip some classes but it was not a big deal as long as one is within the acceptable percentage of absences.

But in my Master programs skipping classes is a huge deal. Two absences and you fail the subject , Congratulations!

So eversince I became a masters student I became more responsible in this aspect (and many others of course , will mention them in different posts).

But today after finishing our first class (4 hours straight with an amazing scholar from Lebanon who came to give us two classes only) it turned out that the teacher of our second class has apologized and that we  are free to go.

It looked like some other teacher is preparing to come teach us something, and my mind was flashing the following words: I dont want to learn more stuff today, we are closed. 

So, I collected my stuff and Doaa and I went walking to the bakery, we bought a ridiculous amount of doughnuts and cookies and we decided to go sit in the pedestrians bridge!!

It is the weirdest bridge among all the ones I saw in Amman. It was my first time in it and I found it full of iron that it almost looked like the inside of a space shuttle. Yet it felt good as I managed to find a window with some air. 

We sat there talking a bit. We did not blab, Doaa was not in the mood and I was too busy looking at cars and people. Sitting on bridges turns me into an actual cat that can get distracted with a tiny ball of wool flying in the air. 

We sat reading, I was reading Tommalee's book , Doaa was reading a tiny book of poetry by Ibrahim Nasrallah and we used the last bit of battery in my mobile to listen to Bach's Tocatta. 

I also thought of Hemingway's short story The Old Man At The Bridge. I googled it and read a bit of it, I really love every line written by this guy and I love my 3G package that makes me feel so powerful that I can read whatever I want whenever I feel like it.

  http://rauschreading09.pbworks.com/f/The+Old+Man+at+the+Bridge+packet.pdf

Passers by where drawn to the scene of two girls reading on a bridge (come on, people on Amman are always drawn to the scene of two girls breathing) but we enjoyed ourselves (I can always enjoy myself as long as I have a cup of coffee).

The boys called us when they left class (yes! they took a class) and we stopped with Alaa and Omar trying to convince a taxi to take us but we failed. As I was not going with them (they were going to film a protest) I crossed the bridge to the other side and took a bus.

On its first stop the guy who went up was Sami. We took a seat at the back and we kept talking until we got to Amman. We tackled a thousand topics (we elaborate more than a couple of old retired men) he was making a list of our classmates who will have a good journalistic future and who are just gonna graduate and go do something else. So when it was my turn he said: you need to work in a place like Palestine, Iraq , Egypt, journalism in Jordan is gonna bore you, you need to become a journalist because you are really good with people.

This! Specially this, coming from Sami, the mayor of  ''Social Skills Landia'' is so huge, it actually made me day. And the bridge too :)))) 

Putting My Own Mind on Flight Mode: Singing in the Citadel

Today I was mad. I am never mad, you know: being mad requires effort and I would never waste effort on anything. But last week I was finally excited about a journalistic topic. Maybe it was the very first time in which I feel that I cant wait to get back to the place and start filming and editing to come out with the best reportage ever.

But my professor simply discarded the topic without even giving me an explanation. I have my own explanation and it is driving my crazy. And I guess crazy is somewhere beyond Mad!

So, as it is Tuesday and I have no classes I decided to give myself a break and stop thinking about everything. I can be terribly firm when it comes to putting my mind on ''Flight Mode''. I simply turn it off and worry about simpler things.

I left home a bit late, and I went to Jordan University Hospital's park. I sat there until Doaa came and we went together to Amman's Citadel.

We sat on the highest point we could find. We could see the entire site and the rest of the city. The weather was a bit cloudy so we could sit there with our eyes wide open , still we had to bare a cold breeze that blew every once in a while.

Later we had a walk till the dome. I dont know the least bit of information about the site, but for some reason I believe that the dome was constructed by the Omayyad. Anyhow , as we were inside we found a side hall. Inside there was a bench and a small window just a bit under the far ceiling.

I started singing a hymn and I felt as if I was floating on top of the echo of that hall. As I sang a bird came through the little window, it did not look real, it was as light as a thought. I saved the moment in this video: 

When I went home I went back the work track and I was Happy about it. Maybe this whole thing functions like a Restart Button of the Soul?

Peace 

Gabriel Garcia Marquez's 86th Birthday

Today is Marquez's 86th birthday, and I simply consider it a day of personal happiness. I love the fact that this world has a "Marquez" , I love the fact that "Hundred years of solitude" and "Love In The Times Of Cholera" had been written and that I  had the chance to read them at a young age. 

Writers contribute a lot to their readers, nations, the world , beauty and to literature. Yet what I am endlessly thankful for is that when they mention things they let you know that you are not the only one who goes through this feeling, or who sees things this way.

Gracias Por Existir  Gabriel , que cumplas muchos mas. Te quiero un mogullón 

Five Broken Cameras: The Yes and The No

Today in the institute we screened “Five Broken Cameras”. I did not have much ideas about the movie beforehand, I just knew that it was nominated for an Oscar and that it did not get.

I knew this little information because last week I was writing narration for a reuters report that covered the movie. They interviewed the director and he mentioned that his co-director was an Israeli who sympathized with people of Bil’in as they protested peacefully against the construction of the apartheid wall. 

 

Some film Festivals (for example: in Morocco) did not accept the screening of the documentary . It is boycotted because the producer was an Israeli.

 

So after we watched it , here is what I think:
It was boring at some points \ the narration was monotonous and sometimes a bit boring \  yet the same narration was splendid and it helped us feel and imagine the things that we were told.

 

The frames were not professional, but hay, this very guy was not the most comfortable camera man on earth, he lost five cameras already!

 

It actually stunned me how he could keep filming all the time, when the soldiers came over to him and yelled at him for filming them, or when the protestors were raided by gas bombs and even actual bullets. He did not stop filming even when his friend got shot neither when the Israelis came to his house at night to arrest him.

 

I hope that I will have this patience and courage to keep filming. I just know, that the best shots are taken when most cameramen are bored ,,,, yet the good ones are always ready.

 

The movie’s content was good and neatly arranged in a chronological manner that would look appealing to both, the Arabian and the foreign spectators.

 

Now the big No: I don’t believe in peaceful demonstration. I know this might sound ‘’terrorist’’ but come on, after sixty something years of combating with the Israeli occupation we have learned that ‘’peaceful demonstration’’ is  crap. Or maybe a luxury that we can’t afford.

 

Don’t get me wrong, who wants to get shot while protesting? But those things apply for people who are living a conflict way much simpler than the Palestinian\Israeli conflict. I think, the movie wanted to subtly deliver to the audience the fact that “5 years of peaceful protests did not stop the wall from slicing Bilin’’. It is in vain.

 

The Big Yes: Watch the embedded movie. It is about a screening in Israel where young Israelis were invited to watch the documentary. Listen to their comments, look at their faces and sighs!! I did not even think that it was possible, but they were genuinely moved by the movie!

 

No, I am not going to give a discourse of ‘’peace love and unity between bla bla bla’’ No, I won’t. But I just want to write down this feeling. But if we put aside the fact that I want them out of our land, I felt a human connection with them.

 

I will write a post soon about a book am reading. It is about Hebrew poetry. It just made me realize how we can’t see them as ‘’people’’, we can’t feel that Hebrew is anything but noisy gibberish. We are designed this way. Both sides.

 

I just don’t know how to wrap up a messed piece as this one, but there is some thinking, reading and wondering that I need to make.  

 

 

27 Dresses: Crush the Varnished Bitches. Thanks!

It has been ages since I last watched a movie but yesterday I had the house for myself so I treated myself to  nice dinner (rice and eggs) and I immediately checked MBC2 and I found 27 dresses on.

It looks like I watched some of it before but I did not remember the details so I really enjoyed it. It is not deep , mind stimulating movie , but it is nice and enjoyable.

It made me think of three things:

1- I did not use to understand people who feel lonely, people who feel the need to find their partner. I always thought of them as shallow and not friends of their own selves. Now I know that I was mistaken and it is a matter of the ticking biological clock. When it ticks, it just ticks you off.

2- Saying No is an art. We should know when and how to say it. We should know how to say it with the least amount of sacrifices, but if they are unavoidable then so be it!

3- I want a guy just like Kevin. The way he urged her to bring the best in her , and to liberate her inner ideas. To be herself simply. The way he made her laugh and the way he made everything simple and treatable. I want that. (among other things)

But what I loved most is the scene when she humiliates her sister infront of everybody. I know it is mean , and that sisters should not be that mean to each other but I just love it when the floor is wiped with those varnished bitches, who know nothing in the world besides seducing men and acting like total tramps. Ughhhhhhhhh I wish I could take one down someday for a change.

Peace (ironic?!)

Stranded at the Entrance of My Own House

Samer always makes fun of me being so attached to the streets, so yesterday he said: how about you try going home? who knows, you might even like it.

So, today I finished wandering a bit earlier and I actually went home. I knocked and knocked but found no one, so I sat in the entrance and connected my mobile phone to our wireless network. I watched the first few minutes of an old episode of Scrubs , and then I said to myself: well no!! this needs potato chips and falafel.

So I went down to Abu Ramzi and Hamada and I treated myself to a cute banquet of unhealthy food :p

I went back and I watched Scrubs and it made me laugh  all over again. (This never gets old!). I enjoyed myself too much that when I saw our cars´ lights in the driveway I was a bit disappointed.

Peace.

A Whole lot of Drafts

Why Do I keep doing this to myself! I have an absurd amount of drafts about things that I dont actually remember now!!

Today a new semester starts and I dont want to repeat what happened last semester. I dont want to waste the opportunity to write about all the amazing speakers who come to give us lectures in the institute and I want to write the details of every report I make, because I am evolving by the second and I want to keep track of that.

I first wrote about the institute here when I was still extremely gloomy and mad about it, and when I overcame that feeling I did not come back here to write what has drastically changed inside me. And although there is no written track of that transition but I will manage to remember it partially and I will try to write about it somehow here.

Now I am happy. Totally happy about becoming a ''Journalist".

Actually I remember a story of a guy who was learning to play the harp. So a friend told him: Dont say I am learning to play ,,, you are not learning , what you are doing is that you are actually "playing" it already. So ,,, I'd rather say that I ''am'' a journalist not ''becoming'' a journalist.

High Hopes :)))
Happy new Semester 

Why does this make me wanna cry?

Maybe it is the dark side of happiness, you know, when you are troubled with your own happy heart. When I was younger I used to think that it is just natural to be a little bit melancholic in weddings , because marriage is a life changing step, but no , this is not the reason why those things push me to the verge each time. It is something vague, yet so clear!!! Maybe it is the vanity of all human feelings ,,, Maybe it hurts to realize how simple , temporal and fading we are. Nice Palestinian wedding songs ,,,, Listen

Different Kinds of Celebration

Today we got together all of us. It puts my heart at ease when I notice that we are still the same although we are three years away from university , which is the place that brought us together and gave us a reason to hang out very often.

Today we celebrated Sara's engagement and Rasha's break up. And I insist on the word "celebrated''. God knows what's better for everyone and he puts us through experiences just to teach us something. Break ups are usually sad but we sat there to let her know that we are happy for her , that she is free and available for the right man when he comes.

Alhamdulillah.

The Best Way to Start a Year

This morning, the very first morning of the new year I found this video on Facebook. The photographer in question participated in a photography workshop in our institute and he happens to be Adel's brother!!!

Anyhow, those are some beautiful photos of last year and this is a very good work of montage they did there. Thumbs Up to Alghad newspaper.

Ps:  I have not posted anything in 45 days! I have a lot of drafts but those have been the most busy days in my entire life so far, Enshalla I will post those drafts sometime soon when it is my vacation.