Yesterday, one of my best friends was back from Libya, it was one year and I did not see her, I was preparing the kubeh with my mom, since they are also, family friends, we were making, the usual, the feast to welcome them.
While I was making the kubeh,- butaiteh chab, I did not feel the will or the power to see her again, I felt, she is gone, why see her again, I was apathetic, I cared less to see her.
Me and mom, we prepared the food, cleaned, and tied up our place, I was still feeling lethargic at heart, I cussed and fussed about the Arabic/Iraqi culture of how we make a big deal when someone comes to our place, I also, pitied myself for being so insensitive and ugly in the inside.
When it was time, the bell rung, I saw my friend, she gave me a long, warm hug, I wanted to feel something, and I could not.
I was inhuman. I hated myself, I mean sometimes feelings are the only thing that we have in this world and in richness, but I had them in poor.
But once we started talking, I figured out, why I liked her, I love my friend, the warmth we feel with each other, the feeling of home we feel with each other, I felt she was so relieved being here, with me and with my sister and mother and everything.
And I am so proud of her; she is done with her first year in medicine. My friend I wish you all the best, and I love you, and I am saying this, not because she will be reading this, but I feel like saying it. Having to go through these bizarre feelings of emotional instability with my friend, my mom is leaving to North Carolina tomorrow, and I think I will break into tears (I never cry when people leave), I mean, she had two jobs before where she lived away from us, but now, I do not think I can take it any longer, damn, I love my mom and I want her home, the whole place had a new feel when she came, even though she was nagging as usual, but ……………….I will try to be stronger, one perquisite to survive in this world. But I must admit, I am getting too tired.
I wrote this today:
الناس رايحه و راجعه و الگلب مفطور.
ساكنة حب الهوى و الهوى مفقود.
روحت حبايبي و سفرهم، مثل نسمة الهوى بالعلالي..إتشيلني، و تعوفني بلاية هوى...ما موجود..
رجعة و روحه...بالطيارة لو بالريل.. فوك و جوه.... الگلب مهزوز...مهزوز..
There seems to be a new “modeh” to attach the nationality Iraqi with more detailed sectarianism, living abroad, this new “modeh” I have witnessed is mostly and if not always coming from non-Iraqis. There is the type that wants to appear all knowing, probably as news paper-intellectuals, and there is this type whom they think that they are the top-notch political analysts, visualizing Iraqi politics in a very discreet, absolutist either white or black type of analysis, leaving so many intricate, details in the trash bin. The supposed, ever so existent Sunni and Shi’a schism is not the only analytical tool of Iraqi politics, I do not hear much about the tainted secularism, or anything about class issues in Iraq, after all, we are one hell of a “6aba8i” society. Not so long go, women in Iraq used to wear mini skirts in their universities’ campuses, Iraq had the first female judge in the whole, wide Arab world and Middle East, and ages ago, Sunnis and Shi’as from the same social class had more in common with each other, than with their counterparts from the lower social strata.
Why is there a lot of ignorance about class struggles in Iraq, isn’t one of the reasons of why communism found quite of a receptive audience in Iraq?Iraqis started hearing stories of a female Engineer marrying a trucker, this did not happen before. Wasn’t there also, Shi’a political parties attracting Sunni’s political activists, so both and together to combat the wide spreading secularism in Iraq. The later, might not be so much of a use for political analysis today, but the history of this type of the Iraqi political scene makers were not absolute in complexion, even with the proposed variables I am offering for more detailed Iraqi political analysis, I am, also, being discreet.
Why can’t people admit, Iraq has always been a volatile, crazy place, it was never defined in absolutism, or else, you will have error inscription all over, and isn’t that what is happening! So, why do I hear in the media of this absolutist, blunt analysis of Iraqi politics and society, so deterministic into made-up blocks, Sunni’s and Shi’as.
For all those foreigners, you think you know me if you knew I was Sunni’s or Shi’a, and likewise, for all those stupid, Iraqi politicians, they think they know me and who I support because of my background, did not Iraq witness brothers and sisters, part of them atheists, part Sunni’s and part Shi’as, aren’t there tribes in Iraq, that are partly Shi’a and partly Sunnis, how about Baghdad, how stupid of them trying to divide a city that is so “mixed” in every orientation possible; funny I use “mix”, I am sorry, but I do not accept such a silly term, I just need it to get in your head, you fool. I never knew what my parents were, Sunni’s or Shi’as, only when I came to Canada, call me stupid, ignorant, whatever, I careless, but I sincerely did not know what kind of sect my parents belonged to, and I also, talked to couple of Iraq-Canadians, and they found the same thing, they did not know what kind of sect they belonged to. In Iraq, I do not remember people asking others if they were Sunni’s or Shi’as, it was “3aib” and nashaz, y3ani shameful and odd. And even when I try to remember my childhood friends, I have difficulty figuring out who is Shi’a or Sunni, we simply do not know, probably we were little kids, but this kind of culture and identity politics, even if it existed in realms I did not experience before, is exacerbating, I mean we have political parties according to one’s religious sects, call me a self-imposing secularist, but that does not make sense, at least to me. I mean Iraq need political parties that offer economic solutions, some sustainable development plans, something to progress social well-fare of the Iraqi people, something to combat SECTERIANISM and not to promote it, probably end those stupid militias, are those stupid politicians thing they can do something about the militias, in a country where its politics all run by identity politics, each group feel frightened, security is needed to all Iraqis. In the end, the very plebian masses of the Iraqi society are the ones who are paying the price, not the elitists, and the very weakness of these masses is that they listen to these elitists, Iraqis should be given books, or at least history books, so they can know they their grandparents long time ago, had a civilization to offer to the world and not disgusting ignorance. (I actually voice my concern to give books to the entire middle east/Arab world). If only people felt the love to their country, and I must admit, I am just writing in here, and I will be eating my mom’s home made ba8lawa. Damn, i live in luxury! I am thankful.
The heart is a flower, Wilting, Dying, It needs you. In the darkness, It feeds from its sadness, The beacon, is you, My hope, My Iraq, It is you, Wilting because of you, It needs you my Iraq, Water thee, from your Euphrates, Your Tigress. Let me regain what I have lost, Your love, my home. Oh, I do not dither, The heart, the mind, Uniting, choosing you, My love, you are my motherland, Oh by the names of Inana and Ishtar My heart is Trembling, Estranged, In a strange land, but, no longer feeling estranged of your vicious inside, Your violence and killer bombs, For that I know, it is not you. I am writing poetry, Of a strange link to my essence, My Mesopotamian essence, my true vernacular. Oh, I swear by the name of your palm trees, Not you who brought the scourge and the plague, Not you who brought the rapist, the murders, Not you who raised the devils. My love, Iraq, I want you back, My country.
Men, they are either like a rainy, moon season or not, they never come in time when they are wanted, or come in time when things are not so welcoming of them, they have cyclical mood swings, almost like a rush hour and then it dies. I do not care anyways, I am tired, busy, and workaholic for the time being.
One of the predicaments of changing places a lot is that knowledge whether that of movies, songs, jokes, food, etiquette, and whether tomatoes are fruits or vegetables, differs. Yes, I have been taught through out my agriculture (zira3eh) classes in Iraq that Tomatoes are vegetables and are not fruits, and before, I could not imagine a salad without tomatoes. Last week my coworker, an old lady was chitchatting about her garden, and how she had to deal with the excess amount of tomatoes she planted, luckily she made all the excess tomatoes - salsa, a pretty good option, and especially good for making real good margas. While she was telling me all this, I exclaimed with great admiration for her efforts “wow, it is really good that you plant your own vegetables” She glimpsed at me, for a second, she gave me a stupid look, and yes, thanx for my memory, I recalled that in here, in Canada, tomatoes are actual FRUITS. Oh wow, I just gave the impression that I was actually stupid, I could have rephrased my sentence and said “wow, it is really good that you plant your own tomatoes”, but oh well, that is the price I am paying for living in different countries, and I have always loved my agricultural class back home, the teacher name was Najla, we used to nick name her, Fijla, and no we did not grow any fijil in that class, and sorry, I do not know what is the name for fijil in English, oh I just miss the Iraqi fijil, it used to be hot, yam yam!
She seemed not caring to correct me, she wanted to talk about whatever to pass time, then our next conversation, after some customers of ours cleared out, was about schools somehow, and apparently I leaked some personal information, that I went to six high schools.
She was “oh, busy shopping for schools, I hate kids when they do that”
It hurts, really hurts, I mean, it hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts. Since, when I had the stupid choice, my life dictated me changing SCHOOLS, and it was an emotionally draining experience anways!
I replied laughingly, masking my sadness, “No, you know what, I will tell you how that happens” , I gave her a brief review of the countries I lived in, and the real reason why my family changed places a lot.
We bonded, she was a nice lady, but she did think I was a bit misinformed about the tomatoes being vegetables. :D
A lonely autumn leave, Falls, It does not kiss the pavement, Winds blow, Leave dances, Freely, Falls, Free fall, And does not hug the grasses. Winds whistle, Leave flies; flies higher, It does not reach the skies, Leave falls. Stepping, they step over it, With dirt, it ferments. Leave dies, but not the lost hugs, or the kisses, the memory flashes.
hope you guys like it, well, i hope it makes sense for you peeps.
Lately, especially after me regaining my freedom, I have been going to the underground poetry readings that I used to go, these poetry readings used to be good, they used to thriving with talent, one of the regular readers was an English professor at my university, he actually used to read some of his erotic poetry, and the audience were either his own students or other students whom he will eventually dash into one way or another at our uni’s campus, and I was one of them. He has no shame, and I like that, well, he served his role as an Art’s guru that of free expression. But now, oh wow, the recurrent use of the “F” word and other vulgarity, makes me doubt this cult’s ability in articulating their feelings in more refined stanzas and creatively, I am not against the “F” word per se, it is just too much use of the word, hinders one’s ability that of limited usage of words, or imaginative metaphors, a poet can use, instead of the “F+ing”. Now, there are no English profs, much less number of people, few talented people, many people have left, and the poetry standard has gone really bad, the other day, only three people read their poems, and it is just so full of “Fs” Probably my freedom ticked in the wrong direction, and I opened the wrong door, and entered in the wrong time, I want to live the memories, when I had to go back home before twelve, I used to sweat, even though it was icy cold in midst of the Canadian winter, my dad used to give me, one hell of a time, scaling me and calling me a “bitch”, even though I was pure and never thought of anything else, other than caring about my feelings, I wanted people to know the feelings in my poetry that I read for them, I wanted to be in touch with every human soul, not in my cage, isolated between four walls. I remember, during one poetry reading of mine, it was starting at eleven thirty, and I really, really wanted to read one poem of mine, but time was not generous, I told the girl in charge of who is after who, I told her, I need to go first or second, I don’t have time, I read it, and I went back home.
Sad life, my life was. Everything was a struggle. I had to earn my time and my freedom.
Me friends with my dad is something I have to be given as a credit to, being the person I am, was and still a struggle of my own.
Getting in touch with what makes me, took another round in poetry, I remember having my walk with my sister and one of my sister’s good friends, a guy from Algeria, he told me once, that in no way English poetry can be measured with Arabic poetry, he told me that Arabic poetry has way more depth into it. At first time, I did not quite believe him, but somehow, longing for my roots, made me flip pages, and pages of Arabic poetry, with all the protest, politically-edged, non-conformists, slam poetries, and Shakespeare I have read, or heard, nothing, nothing can come to this:
وطني لو شغلت بالخلد عنه
نازعتني إليه في الخلد نفسي!
أبي القاسم الشابي:
إذا الشعب يوما إراد الحياه فلا بد أن يستجيب القدر
و لا بد لليل أن ينجلي ولا بد للقيد أن ينكسر
I feel the depth, and it is giving me goose bumps. Or probably, I should read more English poetry. I dunno. I just dunno.
I went to a Shaworma joint today, I asked politely in Arabic “mumkin Shaworma la7am?” he exclaims “kil ishi?”, I replyed “yeah”, everything is pretty normal, but then oh my god, he put so much meat, yes I understand that I am Arabic as he is too, but not that much meat ya 3amu! But then I cared less, I was hungry, really hungry, I ate and ate, but then I could not finish the sandwich, I somehow felt sick to my stomach, and on the way back home, my stomach was juggling, I think I could not take the “fat” that much, what can I say, thank you 3amu for you are care! Bas khosh admi wala :D
Yes, and I am planning to read all of the Quran, sounds like a good aya, i somehow felt estranged from the Muslim reality, quite contrary to what it says in the Quran.
I have realized something, that the point of having religious texts are not at least to me, to control the masses but religions for me, are like intermittent historical eras of spiritual achievements on a bigger level, giving in mind we never heaard about those tiny individuals who made something, but they are just hidden from history because of the power struggle, one must look at organized religion in a political perspective to understand some, and religions do not reflect what is there, but they are spiritual breakthroughs at different levels. I think, if we stick to what a religion holds true, and follow it without question, tyranny it would produce, I think finding spiritual guideness on an individualistic level is the way to go.But I am keeping an open mind, I will be reading the Quran and see what I can make off it, I just feel that I have a big appetite to learn more about not just Islam but all religions in general. But i know fore sure, the goodness we seek to learn from, is that god that we want to adhere to.
When I was 22, I really wanted to be in a meaningful relationship, and when I reached 23 I really felt that I wanted to get married, but none of that happened. I was the champion of chastity until marriage, although I was living in fire due to sexual frustration, which at many times interrupted my studies, although I am quite proud of my B average, and yes, I would find it hard to squeeze if I want to do masters. Although, I made a promise to myself that if I reach 23 and still did not find anyone, then I might as well, lose my virginity. But a month from now, I will be turning 24, and I did not subdue to my word.
But during that last year, a lot of new feelings have changed inside me, yes I am still the sensitive, virgin I am, I do my calculations in brain rather than emotions and frustrations taking the lead. I am at the moment, a person who despises her virginity. I no longer need it. Enough is enough, I need a clearer mind, especially I want to have a career. I do not want to be occupied about sex and other related issues of me being sad at my withering, and quite emotionally empty youth. I always felt that all those virgin, sensitive, emotional, fiery and about everything of those feelings that I want to carry to that one, my friend, lover, partner and husband. I thought that traveling and leaving many places made me so careless of my sense of belonging, so I wanted that person to be my stable home, I wanted my holidays to be the sunset in his eyes, my fountain to be his lips, and my wild jungle is the hair of his manly chest.. Now, I realized that I do not want to be married, in the matter of fact, I feel that I want to delve through my sexuality, I want to discover my sexual side, and it is crazy that I have realized so many things about myself, one thing I realized, yes I did need emotional tie to that person to actually kiss him, but I was never that much of a monogamous person, I am not leading the argument that I should be promiscuous or anything, but the very feeling of me wanting to be free in discovering my feelings with that person, stopped me and made me feel rather ethical in my orientation, I dismissed guys just because I did not see myself with them in a long-term relationship. I did not want that, I just did not, but I wanted sex, and I thought that I was such an exploitative slut, but now, I am at the point of oking it. So what, I want sex then be it. Damn it, its just sex, and no, I do not believe in the myth of emotional attachment that some people pertain to convince females of, but I think that everyone is different, and everyone has different needs, and any culture, whether western or eastern, tries to subdue such feelings, and desires to line them as if they are a straight line, conforming to the status quo of such cultures.
If I ever think of marriage is because of sexual blackmail, I want it easy with no complications, but the idea of marriage right now, suffocates me, one thing I discovered through some very short-term dating experience is that I like my place, and my private world, I hate the phone ringing, they only that makes me tolerate all that is just pure love and longing for that one. But there is no such one.
My mom’s friend has introduced me to her nephew and he lives all the way in the Middle East, and we’ve talked online, sent pictures, he is nice and a good looking one, but I feel it is such a homework to go and talk to him, he types slowly, he does not know much English, but he is a smart, hardworking person, and mom have always lectured me that we should believe in one’s potential, ya3ni il ingleezi mu fad namooneh! But the thing is, I have chatted with people online whether male or female and I’ve learned who I liked and who I did not like to chat with, and this guy, even though nice, and has some 3amayil, is just I do not feel that Connected to. Not much of connection, not much of a conversation that is like a hot soup. No! I have also, got introduced to another guy, although this one I met, he is nice, very horney and polite, and that is cool, the thing is, he has really bad teeth and a big mouth, and I am not exactly a superficial person, he just needs to clean his teeth. And personality wise, he thinks I philosophize a lot, which I don’t, and I do not consider myself that much of an intellectual, I am analytical yes, but I don’t want to praise myself, because I have not reached to where I want to reach. And even if I do philosophize, he just chuckles and says something else, I want something from a guy, I want to learn from a guy, I want something social sciency in the mix. Now, my cousin upon the virtue of my dad’s help, have sent me an email, he wants me, wants to be engaged to me. He had asked me this a year ago; I mean how can he say that he loves me, if he never met me. Weird. I told him about my agnosticism at that time and he freaked out, but he thought of returning to the right path of Islam and bla bla bla. But I did not want to be with him, because I sense that there is a passport interest, even though I know he is a good person, I just do not want to be means to something. Apparetnly, this year he got engaged to an Iraqi girl, and she has a Dutch passport, the engagement did not work, dad was celebrating the opportunity, without telling me, he sent an email to my cousin telling him to email me and propose again. What the hell!!! I did not reply back and I will keep it as such. My dad thinks that I should think of my cousin, as he is a lug6a 3arees, and dad thinks that he should re-order my life, and that I should enjoy my life.
Now, apart from my world of tradition as a good Arabic girl , my Canadian side is growing and encroaching my senses. I went out with my friends yesterday and yes B, he made it quite obvious that he wants some sex, unattached, and that is something I want to do as well, he is good looking and very desirably kissable, he is what I want through my FREE conscious, he actually asked me to come with him home, I declined, I did not feel like it, and I need time, I think I will explain to him that I probably want him to be my sex guru, and oral sex might be just fine with me, I have not trespassed my fears of losing my virginity yet, very irrational and weak of me, but what can I say, I was brought up that way, even though in the inside I don’t believing in it, and even though I want an open minded guy and I would definitely decline a narrow minded one. But during that night, I met a guy, and there was a connection, an immigrant just like, he came to Canada when he was three from Poland, he is so sensitive, sweet, and such an idealist soul just like me, someone I can easily slip and fall in love with compared to B, B is a free soul, he does not have that much extreme goodness as that guy did, and I loved, how M (I will call him M for now) approached me, how he held my hand, as if he is greeting some hhmm I don’t like praising myself, a queen or something. I liked that, B does not have such thing, B is basically good for unattached, unemotional, physical sex only, he can teach me a lot. What I loved though, is that when we were all sitting, M and me, we were indulging, very excitingly in our own conversation, and when I was more passionate about it, all what I find is, B giving me a back message, even though I must admit, the message that he gave me back in the library was better, I guess the booze got him. But it was such a crazy feelings, I felt that I was back in the jungle, M was the competitor for B, B was giving me some “love” so I can give him attention and not the other guy, and he did something naughty, while he was messaging, he slipped his hand little bit underneath my jeans, I jerked off, and looked at him, he stopped, B wants sex and me wants sex. Cool stuff. But I declined. What is even more interesting, M is as virgin as I am, and we talked about family values, and how our families differ, we talked about the inability of us to lose our virginity just like that, because somehow we need emotional attachment, but we both agreed there is nothing wrong if both parties want sex, we would like to keep an open mind. He also, hangs a world map on his room’s wall, pretty much an international guy, and I share such perspective, but what is sad, very very sad, M is younger than me by three years, and I hate that, well he mistaken me for 21 yrs old, and I mistaken him for 24, he is quite matured and looking for something meaningful like I do. Meeting him and with some virgin people I’ve known, I believe there should be a t.v. series about “virgin in the city”, well, I still want to write my play about virginity, and what is so interesting, one of M’s ambitions is to write a novel. M is by far is something, but I do not know him yet, and I do not know what will happen with me and B, are we going to stay as just friends, or I will tell him of what I exactly want, and my dirty mind is getting dirtier. Not only dirtier, but there also, another guy for me, I met in the gym, an African guy from Spain, originally Nigerian, his line was “do I know you, I think I recognize you from somewhere, did you go to that class?”, obviously making stuff, but we ended up talking, that is something about all African guys, they are so confident in approaching girls, we exchanged numbers, and we going to go to the gym tomorrow, yes, another target, but I do not know, gym buddies, as it is.
I am getting to exposed to many guys at the moment, one major improvement is gaining my freedom, I wonder, why did the hell I gain it now, after I graduate, somehow I regret if I did not have such complete freedom, I did frequent to parties from time to time, but not as much as exposed, feeling free is awesome, but the interesting thing is, I might not have utilized such freedom if I was that free, I believed in chastity, now my options are open! Even if I regained my personality, away from tradition and what not, what if I cancel my two worlds, and be myself, would I ever be able to confront my parents, they want a Muslim dude, or am I able to make a guy convert for me just for a façade in front of my parents. I am torn. Torn between traditions and between what makes me. But I know for sure, that I will be having fun, well I hope.
الهام....فكرة....شعور....لا مفر من هذا الاهام الصادق ، أو هذه الفكرة المعبرة من خيره، أو الشعور بإنسانيتي و إنسانية غيري. . لماذا أفكر، أشعر، و ألهم. و لماذا بكيت بعدها على وسادتي، و في وقت أريد الخلود فيه، لإنام و أرتاح و أنسي جروح دنيايه ؟ لم أشأ أن أرى هذا النور ، و لم أشأ أن يكون لدي إحساس أو أي فكرة بما أشعر، أردت أن أكون هامشيه، بسيطة، لعبة، و سهلة في أن تغريني الحياة، لأكون صادقة، الحياه غرتني، و شعوري فاض، فاص في مسائل أخرى ...و هي أساسها في أن أفكر في إحساس سليم.......لماذا يخنقني غرور الناس و عزوتهم الكاذبة الا خير فيها، لما تبكيني، هل أدركت حقيقتا بأن الغرور في الحياة يصنع الأنانية و العلو الغير صادق في إحساسنا في الخير، نعم الخير..........لندرة من الناس، يصنفون كبارهم بالخير، أين الخير، لا يوجد، فقط مراكز، مظاهر، و كل شئ مصطنع.
أريد أن أشتم الخير، أحس بالخير، أريد مصداقية الناس في عطفهم على الغير.....
لكن لماذا ألمني شعوري، إذ الحياة أغرتني، لمن أنا راجعة، لأي رحمة إلاهية غير مفسرة؟
و إذا ها قد جائني الإلهام الا شعوري، الغير مفسر.........أسأل لماذا أنا...........لما الهداية إذا تأتي مدبرة، و معنية مقصد، لما غيري، لما لا بوش أو هتلر، أو بلير،
لماذا هبة الله هكذا.........و أسأل....مع تفكيري، هل إنعكس تفكيري في الا هداية؟
لماذا أنا هنا، و لما أنا أكتب ما أكتب.......و أشعر ما أشعر، ............لماذا...........الهداية و لا هداية؟
My cousin who just recently came from UAE went swimming yesterday, and he returned home a bit wired, and in a crazy, sarcastic mood. It seems the only naked male body he has seen is probably his, he was totally shocked that the men’s locker room was full of naked male bodies, he was overwhelmingly disgusted, and intrigued. I told him that he would make a very picky woman, but he continued that he will not eat sausages for some, good , looong time….!!
But hotdogs are good, too bad I decided to make timen bagila today, or else I would have made some good, yummy hotdogs just for a laugh, I should buy one of those long, big, bulky ones, once cooked, they would hang, and so all I have to do is to hold it from one point and let the rest of flab hang, and offer it to my dear cousin. I sound like a bad cousin, but it will be an interesting reaction. But no, I am gona be a good cousin, and I will wait for his trauma to end, but he would seriously make a very bad, picky woman, but doesn’t he have one like that too?!
Another explanation legitimizing bombing, the new war technique that is blind to recognize civilians. What? Did military strategist lose their genius, if there was any?
The shelter that was bombed in Lebanon, 57 civilian have lost their lives, 37 of them were children!
The Israel defence is that the “terrorists” have used civilians as a barricade to shoot from!
So, is the new war technique pertain in legitimizing the bombing/shooting of civilians? That reminds me of an argument I had long time ago of Iraqi civilian massacres especially that of western Iraq, the argument in defence of such American atrocities was that of the same nature of Israeli’s argument about defence, and how the terrorists were infiltrating or helped by through civilian homes, therefore, they are collaborates and basically and quite tragically, human barricades!
Is that really war on terror, or is the violence being too vicious, and in a constant cycle of creating more terror – avenging for the lost lives of friends, family, husband, uncle, and neighbours. There are parts of human nature that is not forgiving, classical example, American soldiers avenging for their mates killing against Haditha civilians, so no one exempt, no matter of how highly we think of “them” or how lowly we think of “them”. Such war strategy technique will only create more hatred, and peace will be far fetched.
There should be some progress in drifting laws when it comes to war, it is time for Geneva Convention of war crimes to include (both) parties, something should be done in the name of the civilians, in Lebanon’s case, Hizbolah and Israel should both be accountable! Both are not really nice and scary!
She is tall, witty, sassy, manipulative, free-spirited, smart, blue-eyed pretty gal , and with more double standards when it comes to female rights and duties, she despises house wife work, and believes in working, and hates laziness, yet she demands men to be rich enough to spend on her, she also, have boy toys from time to time, she offers sex and they, or hes buy her and to her other friends – at times drinks, it was totally helpful when her boy toy paid for all of our drinks, that was totally relieving for such poor person I am.
Having said that, I love her, and she is my friend, she is raised from a totally different culture than I am, she has imperfections, yet there is something that draws me to her, I mean, she herself said, that she is no good with men, but good with friends.
I remember the other time when we went out, B was the first person to show up, and then she came late, she had a sudden funeral to attend, anyways, she brought with her a philosopher professor at our university, like any philosopher student, graduate, or professor, he looked like a beggar from the street, it is not something to be ashamed from, but that is the way it is with philosophy people, they hardly dress nice. He was a nice guy, but no, he was not her boy toy, he is a philosophy prof so he gota be smarter from some woman’s intentions, and it was totally unexpected, I just don’t like it when people bring along people I do not know, especially if they are gray and old, I would not mind hot guy, I sound horrible, but yeah I wana live my age, but he is nice nevertheless, and a nice person to have a conversation with, but since she could not suck money from, she called the boy toy, a totally easy prey, he was a divorcee wanting some Companionship, he looked vulnerable, because he looked like that he wanted her badly, even though at times she belittled him, he took everything in, he wanted sex, it was apparent, and she wanted money, and yes, he paid everything – for all our drinks, and yes friends with boy toys are good, and I lost my conscious at that moment, I need some spiritual guideness I suppose. But then again, here comes Dad, and yes I mean it, her dad comes in the bar to join us, and inside me I was shocked, and I did not want any old grandpas around, I understand that my friend is her in early thirties, but common, I thought I would be with people I know and from my generation, but that is just beside the moment. She flirted with her boy toy in front of her dad’s eyes, he was fine with that, I mean he impregnated many women and left my friend when she was just a baby, just recently they are together, but when I looked at him, I could see from where my friend gets some of her quirks, especially, the inability to settle down and commitment. So she was flirting with that boy toy, she was sitting on one of those bar’s stool, and he was sitting on an adjacent, nearby table and she was doing some stuff with her leg, and he started touching the legs, holding her thighs, and then some mild kissing followed, all in front of the daddy ------ it was a cultural shock for me, after six years in Canada I thought no more shocks or surprised will be in my way, but this was. But I did not care, honesty between daughter and father is better than anything else, so it was me, B, the philosopher guru, and the daddy talking, somehow we started talking about religions, and B suggested that all religions have some kind of higher diety that go for, and it has many names, but it is all the same, and then the conversation carried on about the prophets, and then about prophet Mouhamed, and then about angels, her dad was telling us the prophet’s Mouhamed life story and how the prophet tried to commit suicide, and I was lost for words, I just wondered from where did he get this info from, weird, weird , STRANGE, so I told him what I know, but he kept on talking, you know an old man! And then the conversation carried on a different route, and about family, and how family is important, even though B shrugged off, it seems that my friend’s dad regretted of what have he done, leaving daughters and daughter behind, it seems that it is his repenting time, yeah no suicide and such, and he looked good for a person who is recovering from alcoholism! But then it was time to go, the bar was closing, the boy toy wanted the daughter to stay with him, and SURPRISINGLY the dad objected, in my mind I was thinking, why the hell he wants to object now, it seems that all men have this thing, or all daddies have this thing, but in their case, such objection is way more mild than others, but she ended up going with the boy toy. Before the daddy was leaving, I was not concentrating, but I cached him saying to us and was referring to me, that he has “ a real rush on Islam”, my friend laughed in a very embarrassed way, he exited the bar, and then he comes back, saying I think as far I remember, that he forgot to say good bye, and so he was saying bye to everyone, and then my turn was a kiss on my cheek, I did not utter any word, he is an old man anyways, but a horny old man, and B cried saying “here you go sister, it was for the kiss”, I ignored, acted as if nothing has happened, but what the hell!!!!!
So I did not think about anything, and life moves on. About more than a week ago, I left a voice msg to my friend to touch bases with her, she usually calls after, but then, she did not. I thought she might be busy and that she was not embarrassed about her dad behavior, but then I called B today, and apparently he talked with my friend a couple of days ago, weird that she did not reply my msg, can she face me! She always have been image conscious, in one of her drunken state, when we were together in the Irish pub, she told me that she was glad she came from an upper, high class Irish clan, she added, that is one of the good things that her dad gave her. There was also, at one point in our relationship where our cultural background made us misunderstand each other, she thought that I made a high-esteem of my culture and she did look envious when my dad paid one of my semesters, and I also, accused her that she can’t impose western explanations on Middle Easter culture, but we worked our misunderstanding, and we thought of writing papers of how our cultures interact with each others and how we are the same. But she still, does not like people to doubt any ability or status of hers, in the matter of fact, she stopped attending one class of ours, just because the prof asked her a question that she did not know.
Is she going to be the same warm person to me, why is she not calling me back, but her dad had always poured more physiological issues on her, in the matter of fact, I think she not wanting to be married is that she can’t trust men, and that because of her dad!
And I just think, people should not cloth their cultures with their pains, their pains is individualistic and not an absolute reflection of how refined their culture is, she knew well, how my parents were strict with me, I was not ashamed of telling her about my restriction and se should not be with her issues.
But isn’t that all contemplations, I hope so, and I hope I will hear from her soon.