Sunday, February 14, 2016

Day ThirtyTooMuch

The difference between healthy and unhealthy relationships is that people in the healthy never question themselves or the environment they're in.

Of course this can happen in unhealthy relationships too when the parties have normalised all there is and are unable to exit something that doesn't serve them...
Most likely because they are unable to identify it as unhealthy.

And here I am; questioning whether floating in a sea of uncertain interactions with people who are uncertain of themselves is the best choice I can make for myself.

Sarah tells me to face my issues of trust and relationship and to ignore people who interfere with it and the things that bother me. But that in itself is a paradox. It is encouraging a standpoint that takes all the active effort I have left in me. It's like asking a woman to stand among misogynists and not be hated. Like asking an overweight to stand among bullies and not hear their nasty comments.

And although this is feasible, because impossible is nothing, imagine how much strength and willingness that takes. I'm not saying I haven't got it; I'm just saying I don't need to be in a position where I constantly have to use it.

Besides, what would my therapist say?

She's my only real long-term point of healthy reference.
Just because others will thing I'm stronger than I am while she knows I'm not; and because it's her job to make things clear and sound to an unhealthy mind.

And though therapy ended months ago, the real therapy is to face struggles when they appear- and
to eventually not get close to them at all,
and not to be doubtful about personal decisions that may be in conflict with other, 
perhaps equally troubled personalities as yours before you took the healthy choice.

With all due respect.

Saturday, February 13, 2016

Day ThirtyOne

Sarah is back and she talks about the rabbit that wakes up and paralyses her insights.
She gets it when confronted with deep truths about her fears and traumas surrounding the topic of romantic love.

And however many times she's experienced it, this is the time when she has become completely aware of it and the time she hopes to deal with it.

I look around and above, on the lovely Saturday morning, detached from empathetic patterns as a lightbulb explanation comes to my mind of the times I've found myself in the position of the paralysed rabbit.

Mine has been related to more than just romantic love. In fact, romantic love was an inexistent topic in whole. The rabbit didn't even dare to hop around in the field of love. - But I do remember the times I have been socially paralysed in groups or situations where my skill of, speaking English for instance, didn't live up to my expectation of it. And I would never try to correct it on the spot; because I was paralysed; so I would only just think #awkward in my head and move on with my day feeling like a loser.

Well, I'm glad I've advanced from that point but it still stunns me to see this happening to perfectly functional people. More so it makes me wonder if and when some people are having a rabbit paralysis moment.

You could be sitting around on the terrace and five out of ten people are paralysed but you wouldn't know cz other interesting, non-paralysed rabbits are hopping around with funny lines capturing your awareness and attention.


Kaboom guess who walked in the room.

Friday, February 12, 2016

Day Thirty

Nothing makes me feel more unnoticed than someone looking at me and not being able to see the person I am.

This will only make sense to people who see, so please

- - - -distance yourself from the screen if you are in denial- - - -

-

For the past few days there has been a lot of movement and positivity 
among guests and dynamics.

Yet there is that one person who will try and distract you when you're most drawn to a conversation - just to say something stupid like "do you want a beer from the fridge" when you're having tea.
That one person who will be loud while everyone's calm.
That one person who will slam doors and talk out loud to make his presence and activities noticed.
That one person who will ignore you for days and then ask for explanation to why you're being so cold and unreasonable.

That one person who can drag you out of your peace and drive you all the way to crazy.

And what are you supposed to do?

Go along to something that has no rhythm;
Close up completely and become that bitch;
Create allies and pretend it's all good;
Or exit the situation completely?

I tried an other way.

I tried to talk.

It didn't work.

It's almost like anything you say is bladabeeblah to the person's ear and whatever you've said comes back to you double. With blame.

I'm not about this life.

Cz I used to be it.

Gheez I must have been hectic to be around.



So please,

- - - -advise alternative while I chew my pride- - - -







Thursday, February 11, 2016

Day TwentyNine

A big part of being at a hostel is confronting yourself.

There's people around you all the time.
People you get along with, people you don't; people you find interesting, people you don't; people you see yourself in the future with, 
people you don't.

And while these types of people check in and out, or extend their stay because they met more people they like than not,
you start figuring out that you too are a part of the big group 
on the terrace, of the few on the dinner table and of the 
intimate one-to-one chats.

But Jon is an exception.
Jon is a legend.

Jay looks at Jon mumbling #chokeonit while I look at Jay.
'He's so truly himself.'

Jay's admiration for Jon existed since day one #thatswhateverybodysays and his legacy is one that everyone who was lucky enough #privilagedbitch to experience has been enriched with by hilarious wit #uhuhitswhipbitch and comfort.

Jon is, in understatement a diva.
He will let no pun untouched and no word unpunned. there is no such thing as literal meaning in Jon's vocabulary. Everything is on a different level; usually a very inapropriately sexual one #likeyourmumsvagina.

He's the man who could go through the whole day saying #chokeonit to our muslim tour guide Mohammed and feel unashamed. He's the person who would put babaganoush over any friendship any day cz if you don't get 'babaganoush' then you're probably not eligible to breathe in this world.

He's the socially advanced brain who will say exactly what he wants to say i.e. insult you to your face and your only reaction can be laughter.
He's the real shit.
He's bros before hoes man.
On every level.

Thank you for teaching us life, Jon.
We choke on it.

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Day TwentyEight

Sometimes it's hard to post a blog piece every day.

Reasons include not having enough time to collect yourself and thoughts, or, not being decisive on the blog's context since all days seem to be extremely rich, or, even, 
what I'm experiencing today;

that the self is so overwhelmed by feelings that it lacks mental capacity.



The hostel life is fast;
and I like to take my time,
so,
this lifestyle is making me adapt 
to a faster digestion
of events
or alternatively 
gives me indigestion.

-

Today I went to Shatila.

Shatila for me is like a fix.
Can't stay far for too long and it fixes me when I'm there.
Reasons being the extreme realness of a community that only has itself.
People who only have each other.
And whether I have been fully accepted as a presence there
or not
becomes irrelevant to the amounts of love I receive from 
everyone who I do come in contact.

Linguistic communication is scarce -
with the teachers at the organisation, with the children, 
and with the teenage girls.

It all happens with the eyes.

It's through Abdullah's eyes that I know he's fully in love with me and that he knows I'm fully in love with him. He tries to be naughty by leaving his desk or by bothering other kids but the moment I look at him he returns to writing down the numbers. The fact that I'm giving him this attention; the fact that there is care and not demand in my look is what motivates him to go all the way through the lesson.


Zahra's the 8-year old version of me.
Dark brown features and growing to potentially look like Eva Mendez.
The class finishes and all three classes meet in the hallway. We start dancing and singing to Arabic and English children's songs. Zahra's at the other side of the big circle and she looks at me each time we are at an angle facing each other from the distance.

Then we all move to the dance hall and she's one of the few kids who make it to the stage 
(via random selection cz all of them wanted to be on stage).
And I observe her being so charming and full of universal awareness. 
A bright child.
She dances with charm and humbleness.
She's not doing it to be seen. She's doing it cz she feels like it.

The song ends and she runs and lands next to me on the hall carpet.
She leans on my crossed legs and makes my space hers.
She starts singing the next Arabic song and occasionally looks at me.
I look back and keep my eyes on her
a bit longer.
My eyes water and I'm not wishing for anything.
I just try to remember what happened 
between
me being her then and me being me now.
And I try to merge the two together; not having realised that I have been giving myself a lot less credits than I ever deserved.

'Al beitttttt' [home time!]
the teacher shouts.

She gets up, gives me a hug and runs out with the rest of the screaming kids.

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Day TwentySeven

My dad always has this happy tone of voice on his birthday.

He answers the phone with delight; 
almost knowing what you're about to wish 
him but still anticipating with ignorant bliss.

A child on xmas eve-
                                            unsure if Santa's come around.

And I realised this year. That he's been consistent with receiving calls from us, his kids- from near and far. And this can only mean one thing; that we never woke up in the same house on his birthday and that my wishes have always been through the phone.

It makes me sad.

And funnily enough I clicked it's his birthday today
through a Facebook status I'd shared in 
2013 saying 
'A big happy birthday
to the man who has shown me
unconditional love and who
will basically never see this
cz he hasn't got a Facebook account.
Happy Birthday Daddyx'

Maybe I'll share it again
or the like
now that he has facebook 
but never checks it anyway.

Or maybe I'll go have a shower 
and visit The Cornish
with ma hostel buds.

Monday, February 8, 2016

Day TwentySix

The thing with receiving complements these days is not only that I can take them and feel great but also that I can understand how destroyed I was in the past. 
How defensively broken I was.


Alexander, who we are now comfortably on second name bases; i. e. Jay, complements me while I'm in and out of the kitchen preparing breakfast. He follows me with his eyes in a non-intrusive way. He finds the opportunity as I look up from the manaeish and shoots;
'You make really good breakfast!'

'Thank you!' We smile.


Turns out, he thought i MAKE the manaeish.

Nonetheless, seems like Jay will be guest of the week for yet another one!