You Think?

Big fish little fish

Will someone please please please line up the Egyptian soccer team and slap them silly for what just happened?!
HOW oh HOW do we, by we I mean the collective whole of Eygpt, its spectators and wanna be players, beat Sudan… an up and coming soon to be great team andddddddddd
FREAKING CAMEROOON….
Yeah that’s right I said FREAKING CAMEROON but only manage a tie with Zambia?
Zambia people! Zambia!
I’m peeved beyond recognition… It was like watching a monkey try to get a square peg in a round hole! This is what we always do. We beat the hardcore teams… give it our all and then fuck up the little fish… I mean really Zambia is a freaking Sardine compared to Cameroon… or Sudan
Tell me What happens when we meet the big beluga called Ghana?! Or Cote d’Ivoire?
ARGHHHHHHHH…
Meh… sillyness aside I will give Zambian dude mad props for the full fledged gymnastics act he pulled after scoring the goal. How do people jump that high without being attached to a wire suspended from up above? He had some major crouching tiger hidden dragon action going on! It was like a spring exploded in his backside propelling the glistening chocolate brown jack in the boxe into the abyss. Cartwheel after back flip after back flip after back flip and then a grand finale of a ten foot summersault in the air!

Forget trampolines at the local circus.... bring the Zambians!

The Suburban Disease

There’s this deep routed disease you particularly find in quaint little suburban towns that city people can’t seem to comprehend. It’s a phenomenon that seeps into the veins of its inhabitants and one breath at a time transforms lives. It’s a subtle take over marked by nothing hostile, stark or intrusive but it eventually causes the suburbanite to turn against everything that makes her who she is. This disease is called mediocrity. Having just enough means to sit comfortably in a state of limbo but falling short of enough to achieve greatness. The routine goes as follows
work on weekdays.. for about 8 hours
Nap after work for about an hour
Dinner and clean up about another hour and a half which brings us to 7 or 8 pm…
do a little studying on the side but mostly day dream in front of the books and eventually realize there is no point and so focus on white noise.
A white noise the compromises, for the most part, of meaningless gatherings, movies and books that provoke ZERO thought.
The words I NEED a new blah blah are now common place. And that thought… catching yourself thinking that way… trying to trick yourself into needing something just to give yourself a sense of purpose… well its pathetic…. Not only because it’s a fake sense of security and a flimsy attempt at avoiding to see the scream out loud fact that you are a waste of space and more importantly a decent amount of non perishable food substances that could potentially save an orphan or two but also because when you buy these lame things you try and find joy in them when you despise shopping. What’s to be said about a person who tries to force herself into superficiality. What’s to be said about a person who tries to convince herself that these things make millions happy everyday and so the flaw must be in her way of thinking… that there must be joy in them if only she were to look hard enough. To see myself slipping into that mentality is a frightening symptom… A symptom of the “The this is my life its comfortable and happy” disease. The “I don’t want more disease…” The “I’m bigger than wanting …” “ there is not point to any of it” disease. And while I can agree that to most it is a blessing I should be thankful for In my case I’m thinking its starting to become a shift from satisfaction to statusfucktion. And when the light bulb goes off and you see this its like you’re left feeling like you are the reason for your unhappiness. An internal struggle. You potentially have it in you to do whatever it is you want to do. But the question is… what do you want to do? Where is the passion? Where are the things that will make you want to get up in the morning and how do you find them? But because you have an ok thing going… a decent job, a reasonable social life, a family that loves you and a routine.. you wait…You wait for Godot to come and guide you… but Godot doesn’t come and you don’t toss it all in the air and take a leap of faith… So you’re stuck in an infinite state of suspended limbo. Neither here nor there and let the disease take you over. You succumb to it. And soon enough you’re just a shell or a skeleton of who you once were. And chances are… IF and when Godot comes… you’ll make excuses… a million reasons why you have a good thing just right here.

The land mark forum

A friend of mine suggested I attend The land mark forum which seems to have completely transformed him into a happy bubbly less self analytical guy. I obliged and went to experience and explore with an open mind and heart and possibly become enlightened. I tried my best not to be skeptical until I started to feel like it was one big huge marketing plan… it almost sounded like they were saying “sign up and forget drugs sex and alcohol.. what you want is happiness… and we have it but question is… how much are you willing to pay for it?” And well as soon as I made that connection there was no hope. It was like the American Embargo against Cuba had positioned itself right between what was being presented and my brain. I couldn’t take what they were saying seriously but alas before fort Knox became secure I took, two things with me and arrived at another two pretty big revelations:

1) There are things you know and there are things you don’t know.
There are things you know that you don’t know but there are also things you don’t know you don’t know.

2) Think of all the things you want to accomplish. Lets say… Career fulfillment. And think of how that would make you feel if you got it. Lets say it would make you feel accomplished.. now think of what would happen if in your mind you threw out the necessity of having a good job in order to feel that way and went straight to the feeling accomplished… wouldn’t that in turn make finding a good job a more pleasant experience and also be a great source of motivation and energy?
[Enter sigh and day dreaming thoughts commence]
3) What if someone told you that you are the shackles on your mind. You are what allows your mind to see more experience more and feel more. What if you became conscious of the fact that you’re constantly trying to mould and fit your mentality into a predefined box and then made a consciencious effort to break free of that mentality. What would you be able to accomplish? The answer would be anything. Impossible is nothing and everything is possible.

4)Be open minded and open to all but be weary that too much open mindedness can have your brains fall out. i.e a search for truth means no boundaries but no boundaries mean you can reach any conclusion… what if you are unable to process that truth?

Modern mantra

Confidently go where your dreams take you. Live the life you’ve imagined.

Rest in reason and move in Passion

‘Your soul is oftentimes a battle field, upon which your reason and your
judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite. Would that I could be
the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of
your elements into oneness and melody. But how shall I unless you yourselves be
also the peacemaker nay the lovers of your elements?
Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.
If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.
For reason ruling alone is a force confining and
passion unattended is a flame that burns to its own destruction.

Therefore let
your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion that it may sing and let it
direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own
daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.

I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite even as you would two
loves guests in your house.
Surely you would not honor one guest above the
other; for he who is more mindful of one loses the love and the faith of
both.
Among the hills when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars
sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadow then let your heart
say in silence ‘god rests in reason”
And when the storm comes, and the mighty
wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lighting proclaim the majesty of the
sky. Then let your heart say in awe ‘god moves in passion’
And since you are a breath in god’s sphere and a leave in god’s forest you too should rest in reason and move in passion.’
~Gibran khalil gibran's The Prophet

Femme Fatale

She was everywhere… Buzzing like neon...
I couldn't escape her or brush her off. Denial was doing me no good either. Abandoning one venture and taking over the next to avoid a clash, a show down, a competition that was unannounced. A competition to which I had enrolled myself without entirely being sure why.

And it was as though all my paths led me to her. Indirectly but inevitably with her at the end.

I didn't know her.
I knew of her. I knew her through a subtle jealousy I hated myself for having.
I knew her through a conversation I did not hear but put together by watching her interact with the world from a distance… Perfectly poised smiling with nothing but pleasantry in her eyes. Arm movements that emphasized a conclusion based on a point she made more precise with her gestures.
Facial expressions….Facial expressions that spoke volumes. She laughed lots and contagiously so.
She spoke with a confidence that came with just enough self doubt to make her human.
Human…A person like all the rest…Filled with insecurities we try to over power, negativity we try to offset with whatever we can muster up and a love for life we try to fuel with all that surrounds us. But I can not see her in this light.
I WILL NOT see her in this light.
I will not empathize and put myself in her shoes. I will not be my own devil's advocate. Why? Because its safe being here... in the cozy of my unattached world… nestled in the warmth of my own thoughts.
It's a whole lot easier to create conspiracy theories when you have no proof otherwise. Delve into your theory with an attempt to provide yourself with concrete evidence for the your conclusion and chances are you'll see it crumble.

Especially when....
its based on nothing but emotion.

The one thing you deeply want to know will inevitably be the one thing you won't be able to prove. So...
you keep your distance… I KEEP my distance.
It is because of this distance that I am at ease...

but then the world and all those in it conspire against you.
The stars line up in just the right formation and before you know it you're sitting across the table from her in a quaint little coffee house sipping on a latte. Exchanging compliments...
Chatting….
Laughing….
Listening...
Empathizing...
Sympathizing....
Bonding
and
Confiding….
And some where between your internal battles and the initial awkwardness mingled among the chit chat something happens. Unmarked, unannounced and undefined but it happens.

she becomes human.
someone with all the characteristics that make people people...
like sincerity... a trait I find extremely endearing,
vulnerability.. a necessity for demoting her from the once glorified pedestal I’d placed her on.
and last but not least naiveté... a naiveté that touched my soul in ways I couldn’t fathom. It was this naiveté that made me feel ever soooo silly for having felt threatened by her ever at all.
And now its nothing but smiles... I welcome her with nothing but hugs and kisses..

On Good and Evil

The god of time, having created the universe, sees harmony all around him, but feels that there is still something very important missing—a companion with whom to share all this beauty.
For a thousand years, he prays for a son. Not entirely sure to whom he prays, given that he is omnipotent, the sole, supreme lord; nevertheless, he prays and, finally, he becomes pregnant.

When he realizes he has achieved his heart's desire, the god of time is filled with remorse, suddenly conscious of how fragile the balance of things may be shattered. But it is too late and the child is already on its way. All his lamentations cause the son he is carrying in his belly to divide into tow. And there u have it... just as good is born out of the god of time's prayers so too Evil is born out of his remorse—twin brothers.

{paraphrased from the devil and miss prym}

Esperanza

I Went to watch a movie over the weekend with a couple of friends. I must have been buzzing for some reason but for the first time in a while i laughed out loud. I'm not talking the little lol placed in msn conversations or emails to signify a smile at best.. I'm talking laugh out loud knee spanking laughter. The movies wasn't all that funny, in fact i've seen much much funnier but it must have been something in my freezy or in the air that just made me laugh like i haven't in ages. Shits and giggles aside. Th movie featured featured this breathtakingly beautiful resort.

ESPERANZA.

Situated in Cabo san Lucas mexico their website reads...

At the end of a continent lies a tranquil retreat.Where the body is healed, the soul is revived, the senses are awakened and the spirit soars to new heights.A place where sun, sea, sky and earth join as one to form a tropical oasis like no other.A place called Esperanza.

It's absolutely gorgeous!

With pools in individual suits and a spa and a view.... Any vacationers dream come true....

A dream spot.

Except that you've got to come with a veryyyyyyy deep pocket .

Itsy bitsy bits of I love yous.

People are always looking for these grand proclamations of love. Like the big buzzing neon signs are the only true testament. Why must everything come in commercials and music and catchy tag lines? It’s a tad extreme I think... In the past couple of day’s I’ve had many itsy bitsy bits of I love yous. That, though no one is really counting, add up to a whole lot of love. Family love, friendly love, love love and spiritual love.

Itsy bitsy bit 1: My laundry was folded for me despite an extreme rush on the way out to a hockey game.

Itsy bitsy bit 2: Remote control ownership was given up to me despite the airing of a favorite closely followed soap opera.

Itsy bitsy bit 3: The receipt of candid msgs me at work telling me of recent bowel movements.

Itsy bitsy bit 4: Though, tear drenched, slobbery and sniffily, I received a whole hearted hug despite the shirt being brand new and possibly not machine washable.

Itsy bitsy bit 5: An email containing a job posting exactly fitting my skill set.

Itsy bitsy bit 6: Perfectly cut pieces of food on the end of a fork extended right before my lips just so that my palette can experience a new taste.

Itsy bitsy bit 7: The arrival at a movie theatre despite an invite 20 mins before the start of the movie.

Itsy bitsy bit 8: An offer to drive instead of me.

Itsy bitsy bit 9: A wake up call when I have an important meeting in the morning.

Itsy bitsy bit 10: A whisper notifying me of a reference call relating to a job I’d applied to earlier in the month.

Itsy bitsy bit 11: Crossing a red light, a speeding car misses the front of mine by a hair.

Itsy bitsy bit 12: Never having baked eid ca37k before, I’m invited to not one but two eid baking family tradition parties.

Itsy bitsy bit 13: A friend is redecorating and remembers that I’ve taken the perfect pictures for her brand spanking new picture frames.

Mady's mad world

“Get me out of the house fast!” she’s stomping her feet as she struggles to take her breath. I hear a weezing I’m assuming is coming from the fact that she’s over exerting her self. Her hands are flailing in the air and she’s repeating her self over and over again. She’s lost it. The idea of a grip escapes her. I stumble for my keys and rush out the door. I’m in the car faster than my feet can take me and my mother chases us. “What’s wrong! Why are you doing this to yourself!?! Just breathe Mady! just breathe!”
She’s huffing and puffing and the weezing increases…
“just leave it mum… We’ll be back in a bit. I’ll take her for a walk by the lake and it should be fine”
We drive off and I’m a little scared to speak. The awkwardness fills the air and silence sets in. Mady isn’t my friend… she’s my mum’s. I’ve never really known her as an adult most of our interaction was way back when I couldn’t be at the pool without adult supervision. Way back when he alcoholic husband convinced her to conceive another child almost to spite the on lookers who said having another child would be a grave mistake.
She breaks down. Her sobbing is reserved at first and eventually replaces the awkward nothingness.
She gains her composure but only after she’s managed to wipe away all but 3 tears. She out the window.
“Look out jail cell here I come.”
I’m dumb founded... I was born and raised for the earlier portion of my childhood in that “prison”. But to me, it was an abundance of sunny pool sides and the perfect popsicle flavors. How could a Saudi woman with so much strength charisma and laughter be saying this to me?
I stop and think about what’s brought her here.
How broken she is.
How she won’t let herself fall apart. How I’ve seen her go through worse… a million times worse. she’s stronger than all this… Invincible almost. The hardships of having to raise a child with cerebral palsy in the Arab world. Consistently and continually being accused of being at fault for delivering a child with a disability. She did after all accept to marry her cousin in exchange for an education.

How is it possible that a woman with her own psychology practice who teaches women about emancipating themselves from the chains of antifeminism be this negative about her home, the place she lives and the people she was raised among?

She after all the one with an abundance of energy. The one people leach onto for that emotional boost that guidance and self understanding. She is her job.

I put my hand on her leg and say “ohh come on auntie madie lighten up… it is what give u your kick!”
“Heck I drive every day and no one kicks up a fuss! You get into beamer one morning after convincing a bunch of girlfriends to do the same and all of a sudden you’re a revolutionary”

She looks at me… her spirits lifted for a mili second only to follow with “yes but they arrested my husband for that… I am so “subhuman” I didn’t even manage to proper jail time!”

“Ahh so you want to have your cake and eat it too? That to me was sweet justice! Its about time you had the water bed all to your self.”

She smirks a little.

“Right then! seee! Saudi is what gives you your edge”
“its’s a lot worse this time sand-e… so much worse.. the disease is beyond the cancer my sister died from. Beyond her husband leaving her because she no longer hand breasts. Beyond having to study when everyone was asleep during the night because the house work was more important than my studying…Beyond having to carry all the responsibility an alcoholic husband couldn’t carry and still appear submissive. THIS is beyond all of that!”

I have nothing to say, I’m curious as to what it is that’s happened but frightened to have it fill the air that surrounds me.
I rub her leg and do the best I can to produce a smile that says I’m listening.
She takes a deep breath and looks out the window again. She speaks into the window and the glass gets foggy.
“He’s raping the children.”
My heart stops beating and I can’t hear her breath anymore. She hangs her head and covers her face.
And then…
Like the rolling thunder approaching with the storm… her breath gets faster and louder… faster and louder…she’s sobbing… and….
She explodes!

Stomping her feet and shaking her head convulsively, slapping the side of her head she screams “MY OWN FATHER! MY FATHER! HE’S FUCKING RAPING MY DEAD SISTER’S CHILDREN, MY DISABILED DAUGHTER!”

She pauses…
Sits still for a moment gaining composure.
She looks out the window again.
She raises her arms with what’s left in her.
She wipes the tears and exhales “my dead sisters children and my disabled daughter”

The silence is defining.
The seconds like hours.
The surroundings in slow motion.

What could I possibly do to make this better?
What could a naïve silly girl like me.. have to offer this unsung hero short of having a statue erected in her honor for all she’s had to endure?
Absolutely nothing. I, like her, have no power to turn back time.

I lean over, wrap my arms around her and hug her with all my might.

And what of this?

He speaks but remains silent still.
I want yet caution and harbour a safe distance.
I expose all yet have confidence in my invisible shields.
There is no stronghold but a tightening grip.

Neither here nor there, he is my inspiration and my writer’s block.
My enigma and my un-riddled truth.

I ache but will not permit agony’s flute to sing my song.
I want to be anger but can not muster fury.

I have no right.

I am sure yet a million miles away form certainty.
He is the concept falling short of actualization. My insides decree with no accord to my mind. Shaking the tree he sits under hoping for a eureka that will not come while gravity’s lateral effects have brought me to my senses and have left my senses to me.

I want but cannot have and have but can not want.

And so it goes...

?

Hey piggy piggy

So it’s just about Iftar time and I’m laying on a couch/bed in the kiddy’s room, they’re a lot more tolerable than the “Iraq has gone to shit ever since the Americans” banter I hear among the adults outside. Susu Cute (Sarah, age 10) and Med school (Ahmed, age 9) are watching some show dubbed cool by god knows who.
I can’t stand the lameness and tuning it out proves to be difficult considering the rumbly in my tumbly. I’m twitching to violently take over the remote control and find something more complex but my conscience gets the better of me.
Where or when did the fountain of my youth dry up?
Though the crackling and tickling in my throat induced by mass consumption of pop rocks could possibly render me a tad on the hayfa side, it upsets me to think I haven’t squealed in delight at the site of a fruit rollup in the longest while.
Regardless…
Refusing to submit to the urge to use my age and “visitor status” as a means to coheres the youngins into changing the channel, I rummage through their stack of books instead.
I haven’t read a story with pretty pictures in ages and this is my ingenious idea to help pass the time. Isn’t it odd how “time goes by so slowly” , insert melody hits commercial here, when you’re aware of it.
And So I stumble on ….

This story was a delight to read. I absolutely loved it! It’s quirky and cheeky as ever.
I was left sympathizing with the poor wolf who apparently wanted nothing more in the world than to make a cake for his grandmother. He whole heartedly manages to convince me that the media once again are to blame for all that is evil in the world.
His story makes me question the whole “big bad” persona we’ve attached to the poor fellow’s name without even thinking twice. It’s unfortunate that wolves are bigger than piggies and that bigger animals tend to eat smaller ones, which often more than not tend to be cute and further down the food chain. With all that said it’s hardly a reason to make him into the villain.
Consumed by his cold and out of sugar the poor wolf sets out to find some sugar to finish baking the cake he’d started for his granny. As he arrives at the first piggy’s house he gets the sudden urge to sneeze and when he does he’s surprised to find that the straw house has collapsed and in the middle of it all lay a dead pig. Now ask yourself this question. How many times have you eaten something just because it’s unfair to the starving children of the world to let it go to waste? Wouldn’t you eat a perfectly plump pig if you were a carnivorous wolf?
With the wolf’s lunch covered and one pig dead he’s still in the predicament he started in. No sugar for the cake. So the story continues till he arrives at the brick house.
Misinformed by the media and what he’d heard about his brothers, the last pig insults the wolf’s grandmother.
So he flips out…. And in the middle of his temper tantrum the police arrive. He ends up behind bars, The last pig lives to tell the story embellishing here and there with the "huffing and puffing”and the”not by the hair on my chiny chin chin”. All the while the TV broadcasters are eating it all up and the truth is lost in the shuffle.

Baz tells it like it is...

"Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth."

The tummies, birthday balloon and cupcake sum it up nice

It’s been a year in October now, they’ve all moved on and though I haven’t literally moved… my seemingly static life has changed in a gazillion ways. The tight knight comfort pillow they once provided for me is now gone and all that is left is nostalgia. I miss them dearly… and think of them probably a lot more often than I imagine they do of me. The thought that I’m doing this alone, creates a knot in my throat and fills my eyes with tears. I hold back as best as I can but decide to let go when my radio station conveniently yet ever so dramatically plays a song that brings back yet another memory. She sings “I tried to tell myself you’re gone.. but though you’re still with me I’ve been alone” and visuals of distant far off lands and how things slowly but surely went sour consume me. I can not call them up and tell them all of this, I’ll fall apart…cry it all out and sob about how much I miss them and my greatest fear is that it won’t resonate with them the way it does in my heart...
I miss you guys.
I miss the random photos of feet….
The hysterical laughing and talking for hours on end about nothing and everything all a once….
I miss the sunflower fields…..
I miss laughing at the three hour speech to sponsor a mosque all in Turkish…
I miss body jamming…
I miss commenting about pretty earrings complemented by beautiful colored peshminas.
I miss the word “doooode” randomly placed in sentences
I miss the sarcasm
I miss the great big cups of tea
I miss the pleading to take photos and the joking around about fear of tabloids.
I miss rainbow colored beads that remind me of Sudan when I’ve never been to Sudan….
I miss insisting that the van needs steering wheel fluid to make the noise stop.
I miss making bets to see if she’ll run or not…. I miss her looking back and knowing we’re laughing at the way she runs.
I miss learning the phrase “are u taking the piss?”
I miss loitering at random coffee houses.
I miss baby pictures and screeching expressions of “mimi”.
I miss knowing that should the need arise, I have a go to person for movie trivia.
I miss arguing about entourage dude not being the jack and Jill dude.
I miss “a ooo eeee uuuu” ing in Montréal.
I miss pretending to be on a tv show outside moxie’s and the elbandarado commercial…
I miss shebshib sized shawermas..
I miss poooouuuutines
I miss the book of horoscopes
I miss screaming not to open the sink cabinet in fear of infestation.
I miss singing drumming and dancing to a song whose lyrics leave nothing in my memory but the way the word “shobraaaaa” is pronounced
I miss $5 dollar garbage bags to protect us from the rain.
I miss Canada day in Ottawa.
I miss dawlat getting all hissy when we didn’t turn on her command.
I miss laughing by the sphinx after Bedouin soundclash…
I miss knowing that the order at jacks would involve some sort of spring rolls, fries, burgers and chicken fingers.
I miss being taunted about picking the wrong movie.
I miss sharing beauty secrets about silky smooth black hair
I miss the way we were in the black and white photo of our tummies, the birthday balloon and the cupcake.

In the pursuit of Happiness I strive....

Me: So this is what it means to be happy?

My response to me: I suppose…

Me: You suppose? Shouldn’t you know if you’re happy?

My response to me: I’ve never really stopped to think about it. Mind you I haven’t stopped to think I’m
unhappy either.

Me: so you’re suggesting that being happy is the lack of unhappy?

My response to me: That makes sense no? We all need a point of reference. Happiness is the lack of unhappiness.

Me: yeah but where does neutral fit into all that?

My response to me: hmm… you’re right… I suppose neutral would be what I just described.

Me: so you’re not happy then? You’re neutral?

My response to me: well no… not really I’d say I’m happy.

Me: how’s that? You don’t have a point of reference like you mentioned to draw a comparison against… well… unless you have a definition for happiness.

My response to me: It changes really. What I construe as happiness today isn’t really what it was yesterday.

Me: So with no static reference and a changing definition of happiness from one day to the next… essentially you could be happy today based on today’s definition but negate that statement about today tomorrow when you change your definition of happiness?

My response to me: yeah I suppose…

Me: Doesn’t that just mean you’re claiming to be happy when you’re not?

My response to me: well not really… why can’t I be happy on a day to day basis?

Me: I’ll accept you saying: based on today’s definition of happiness I am happy.
But when someone asks you if you’re happy don’t they mean in a generic overall sense?

My response to me: Yeah I suppose but being able to claim you’re generically happy would mean you’d have to keep something in the mix constant… seeing as how the circumstances of your life and mood change on a day to day basis, wouldn’t your definition of happiness by default have to assume a static role?

Me: Hmmm… not unless it’s a dynamic definition to which you add criteria as you grow.
something along the lines of :
You’re born: Happieness = Air available to breathe and cry
A few hours after being born Happiness = Air available to breathe and cry + warmth
A few hours later still Happiness = Air available to breath and cry + warmth + food available.
And it goes on and on and on… so as you grow your list of things that must be available for the condition of happiness to exist increase. The fulfillment of all the criteria then allows you to claim “I’m happy”

My response to me: Does this explain why it’s a lot harder to bring joy to an adult than it is a child?

Me: perhaps yeah… that’s a good point…

My response to me: Fair enough but then what happens if one of those criteria isn’t present?
Does that then make you unhappy? Is it an all or non situation? True or false with no middle ground?

Me: I don’t know… sounds like a flaw in the theory….it doesn’t sit well does it? cuz there are instances where you’ve been happy under one set of circumstances and not happy at a later date… hmmm

My response to me:
So we’re back to where we started then… no point of reference no static definition and the presence of a dynamic one is of no value without having a rule that says how many criteria have to be fulfilled in order for you to be happy…. So How does one claim they’re happy?

Me: NO clue… I think therefore I am!?

My response to me: Classic… that’s code for “Managed to fuck myself up and now I’m shit out of ideas”?

Me: haha…. Pretty much…

My wonderfully geeky world

Would it be incredibly geeky to admit I have a love hate relationship with the ones and zeros of the programming world?
I'm back in the swing of things with assignments, readings and my ever familiar state of procrastination. I began my first graduate course mere Mondays ago and now as the course is near its end I thought I’d take a minute to reflect on the fact that, I've never enjoyed school more. The idea of being able to do it whenever I want and without stringent deadlines or the guilt of missing tutorials or lectures reminds me of how I fell in and out of love with computer science over the years. I reminisce, grimace and smile a little at it all now in retrospect. I remember now why I took that oath to stick to it even though my bastard bitch of a counselor insisted that perhaps I "should stick to the arts instead" with a tone of belittling ridicule disguised as concern. I remember how I hugged the department secretary when she informed me I'd been accepted into the program as she looked at me with wide eyed shock and horror. I remember my mini hyperventilation and sweaty palm syndrome attacks at the thought of an assignment. I remember my many sleepless nights perhaps attributable to my SEVERE procrastination inevitably exponentially increasing my stress levels. I remember tossing and turning in bed not being able to sleep but forcing myself to do so just so I could escape having to face the music. I remember the staple oriental dude sitting in front of me with shiny reflective greasy hair sprinkled with dandruff the size of walnuts in all of my computability and algorithms classes. I remember the gazillion 8 o'clock lectures I missed because I just couldn't keep my eyes open after an all nighter in the computer lab. But set the strict deadlines aside and the need to take 4 other courses at the same time and ohhh ahhh its magic again. And just like that “the Matrix” is cool again. I'm loving it. And why? Why or how could someone supposedly semi creative and living not outside the box but at least with the same exposure as a jack in the box find awe and wonder in programming? Well this is the thing… programming is insanely complex but at the same time ridiculously basic and simple. There's a certain thrill involved in being able to make a machine do things the human brain takes for granted. It's almost spiritual. You realize that even the dumbest person out there is born with a gift incredibly difficult to mimic or duplicate. All the issues with AI are a testament to this. Knowing you have the nuts, bolts and ply wood in your hands and all you need is the imagination and creativity to build wonders is intoxicatingly pleasurable. I imagine this is what painters feel when they are presented with a shit load of acrylics, a red sable weasel bristle brush and a stretched canvas.

Stretching and tweaking my approach to a problem I’ve fully understood gives me this high that's difficult to find elsewhere. Though extremely frustrating, I love the resolution that is reached after I’ve over come the bleakness that arises from realizing I've exhausted all my options in the route I’ve chosen to take in order solve the problem. It’s when the light bulb goes of in my head and I see something I hadn't in the beginning that I’m thrilled. It ignites a fury of possibilities.

It is perhaps because my first recollection of an epiphany was associated with computer science that I have grown so attached to it. Sounds like a mile high of bullshit but it’s my truth.

It was absolutely perfect. I'd racked my brains trying to come to a solution and had what I thought was the perfect idea except for a single glitch, a glitch that could cost me having to redesign the entire program. I thought and thought and thought and in the midst of it all I fell asleep. I had a dream and though the logistics of the solution weren’t presented to me, I saw something that gave me an idea. I woke up and scratched down some pseudo code. I slept like a baby. I’d convinced myself that I’d solved the problem and could sleep. The next morning I see the note pad but dismiss it.

“How silly are you? What? You actually think the solution came to you in your sleep?”

After I’d spent endless more hours trying to get my solution to work I thought what the heck look at it. Read it. Try it out. Lo and behold it worked! It was as though the clouds in the heavens parted and the rays of golden sun filtered through the air upon me and the sound “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh” could be heard all round! Absolutely magnificent! A prophetic experience. So there u have it. My moment of epiphany and extreme clarity. My want to recreate and relive that split second where it all made sense despite the chaos in my head and on paper. And that I suppose on it’s own is justification enough to love my wonderfully geeky self and world with java in it!

The big wheels turn

You ever pick at yourself and wonder what or why a person you held dear decided to up and leave, plainly and simply gave you up? The reasons are inexplicable and the arguments non existent. You, naturally wanting to understand, retrace your steps, wonder what you possibly could have done or could have said to cause such a reaction. Unable to get at anything worthwhile you simply conclude that you were too YOU. Not necessarily imperfect faulty or intolerable but just you. And you twist and turn and agonize at not being able to have that person in your life and after you've had your share of mourning you do the only thing that is in your power to do, you let go and you move on. There is no sense in crying over spilt milk longer than is necessary. But ages upon ages later the Karma police kick in and then it's like sweet satisfaction. The kind of satisfaction that’s not of any use to anyone but your own. And no I don’t mean the kind that begets huge calamities on said fleeing party’s life but the kind that lets you know you did no wrong. They remember you for the good and its like the blind has been lifted and all of a sudden you can breath a little easier because you both realize that though they’re out of your life and at a distance they still value you and you them.