Until you

I wished for you with every bone in my body and every breath in my lungs. I was patient and had faith that you would come.The days passed and the years slipped by along with my hope and my increasingly waivering faith. My eyes welled with tears at every impass of anything remotely related to you. My heart grew heavier with the burden of the reality that not all dreams come true. That though I wished for you with all of my being, I may very well not be one of the chosen ones at the receiving end of this blessing. Before you, my everyday was measured in giant lapses of time. Days, hours, weeks and months passed me by with no great significance. I slept forever, I studied for years and procrastinated like tomorrow had no significance. And then... there was you times two. Double the blessing and double the joy.With your existence my world takes on a new meaning... Time is measured in seconds and the days brimming with a million and one moments of pleasure, joy and heartache.  You are my now, my motivation for a better tomorrow, my triumph, my greatest fear and biggest accomplishment. You are my everything.

The Reed

I am a reed that sways in the wind, dancing back and forth between indecision and conviction. Elegantly embracing the winds but weak in the face of real hardship. I so wish I was a red brick sometimes. They are what build homes, schools and buildings. They are ugly in the process, with their harsh lines and definition to the horizon and stubborn in their confrontations to the weather but they are what get the job done. They know what they are and do not pose as anything less. In doing so, they command a respect that this harsh world we live in requires. There is no place in our concrete jungles for the romantics, the dreamers and often times the lovers.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness.
Some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain all.
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.... meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whomever comes because each has been sent as

a

guide

from

beyond.

~Rumi~

Whatever makes language eloquant... is happening here

Forget the riddle and the rhyme.
Take a side step off the curb of hindering negative experience.
Look both ways because you’ve been struck far too many times by the freight train of deception.
Pace yourself with even strides, let trust build and the garden of budding emotions grow.
Choose a straight path, and avoid the distracting scenery of meaningless encounters.
Wash your hands clean of grime and the dirt accumulated along the way.
Be who you once were in love, optimism and demeanour
The longing for the longing is now obsolete.

The Squirrel that inspired it all

I’m driving home from work a couple of nights ago on one of three lanes. On the other side of the island are three other lanes headed in the opposite direction. In the middle, on this island, is a frazzled squirrel. He’s scared and obviously out of his element. On either side of this six lane road are trees and grass. Not necessarily home, but definitely a more suitable environment for the likes of him. He’s tiny compared to the vehicles which, to his hypersensitive ears, must sound like roaring monsters. He leaps off into oncoming traffic but quickly realizes that this it is an unwise decision. Perhaps another time… he hesitates for a split second longer and leaps out into traffic again. A second and then a third close encounter with an SUV and then a pick up truck ensue. I clench my teeth and close my eyes in fear at each failed attempt to and from the island but know he’ll soon change his mind and consider crossing the road on my side of traffic. Surely enough a fraction of a second after that thought has crossed my mind, He dashes in front of my car. I’ve been watching him and dreading the moment when he decides to make his move. Panic has driven him into a suicide mission I think. If he could just sit still. I slow down and hold my breath hoping he’d managed get past my tires but at the same time half anticipating the thud and bump under my wheel. As I see him emerge on the other side I let out a huge sigh of relief only to inhale once again almost instantaneously as the realization that, with two more lanes to conquer, he’s far from danger. The lady on my right manages to slow down in time and once again I see him emerge on the other side of her vehicle. He’s good for two out of three. But unfortunately I know all too well that almost good enough won’t quite cut it. The third lane is occupied by a man in his 40’s who is not in a car but rather a boat. An almost extinct model of a 1980’s Chevrolet caprice to be exact. He seems preoccupied with the thoughts in his head or the traffic ahead and as he approaches the squirrel I can’t help but think, even if he does see him he won’t attempt to break. Both fortunately and unfortunately I am right. The squirrel is hit, but not enough to become road kill. He’s still frantic and is dragging his hind legs along behind him on the pavement. The cars have moved on, the squirrel is on the side walk and the man in this car is turning the corner completely undisturbed by what has just taken place.

Several days later, I am still distraught about these series of events for several reasons.

1) The sight of a supposedly wild animal in the middle of an urban area constructed primarily on this animal’s home is of little meaning to the average Joe. We feel as though it is our right to own the roads and occupy them with automobiles that endanger the likes of this creature on a daily basis. It is an extremely intrusive ideology that allows our needs as humans to be categorized with greater importance than those of animals that can not advocate for their own cause. Is this the role was play in the survival of the fittest game? Are these obvious instant rewards in fact attributable to humans being the fittest or will our short sights now be nature’s way of showing us who is fittest after all?

2) In my mind 2 out of 3 lanes constitutes a 66.66% success rate and for the most part, 66.6%. is good enough. The comfort with just enough to get by instead of the expectation of 100% is indicative of an individual who has succumbed to the status quo. The routine. The don’t rock the boat itis!

3) The option of stopping was not feasible if it meant endangering my life or those of the passengers in vehicles behind me. What right do I have to decide that human life is more valuable than that of a squirrel? Surely I need to recognize that in the grand scheme of things I am just as miniscule as the squirrel? How would I feel if my life (as in the case back in the homeland) just as dispensable as this squirrel’s life was to me?

4) I almost expected the squirrel to die even though I was hoping it wouldn’t. Knowing that I was not the one responsible for his death however, made it sit a little easier on my conscience. Which makes me ask, is this what people do when they think of the famines in Africa or the wars fought in far off lands?

5) Something deep down inside me, call it intuition or call it experience, allowed me to see that the man in the caprice would not stop. I was not distraught by this notion in the least. It is not a dark grim world when we as humans acknowledge accept and deal with our own inhumanity as though it were the way of the world?

6) Though unfortunate that the squirrel survived that experience with an injury, I can’t help but wonder what its like to feel those near death intense emotions. Had he not been injured, would he have lived his life any less recklessly? Would there be any sort of guarantee that two days, weeks, months or years down the line he wouldn’t end up in the same predicament?

7) I was reminded of the time I actually did hit a squirrel on the way home from the US. I was traveling at a ridiculous speed and swerving to avoid him/her meant I’d definitely end up dead in the ditch. It was a two way street and there was an 18 wheel truck on the other side of traffic. Regardless, Images of baby squirrels anticipating the return of their mother filled my mind and creeping thoughts labeling me as a killer quickly over whelmed me and eventually brought me to tears. It was coincidentally then that a friend of mine called me. After relaying the story back to him, he casually responded by saying “it was the squirrel’s time to go… if it wasn’t you it was going to be someone or something else. Don’t beat yourself about it.” And just like that… I let go of my reality and accepted his and with it a calmness about the situation. Upon further introspection today, I’m left thinking…my reality is different from the next person’s reality, and if my reality is so different from the next persons’ reality where and how do we draw common grounds between each of our own individual realities?

Ze Confession

"Je n'ai pas peur de dire que tu me fais peur.
Avec ton espoir et ton grand sens de l'honneur.
Tu me donnes envie de tout détruire et de t'arracher le beau sourire.
Et même ça... n'est pas pourquoi... je me sens coupable.
C'est ça le pire!
Je me sens coupable parce que j'ai l'habitude.
C'est la seule chose que je peux faire avec une certaine certitude.
C'est rassurant de penser que je suis sûre, Ce ne pas me tromper quand il s'agit de la question de ma grande culpabilité.
Je n'ai pas peur de dire que j'ai triché.
J'ai mis les plus pures de mes pensées sur le marché.
J'ai envie de laisser tomber toute cette idée de "vérité"
Je garderais pour me guider plaisir et culpabilité ."
~ Lahsa de Sela

Won't you come again?

what do i say
on this april day
when my thoughts have gone astray
but i'm thinking about you
and what do i do
when i'm black and i'm blue...
and i'm still loving you
but i know it was meant to end
i'm missing you
or maybe i'm just missing who i was when i was with you

oh love...won't you come again
take me in your arms
and hold me
make me feel new again

and how do i convey
all the words that i could never say
to you when you were around

i'm missing you
or maybe i'm just missing how i felt when i was with you

oh love... wont you come again
take me in your arms and dance with me
make me feel alive again.
oh love...won't you come again take me in your arms and hold me... make me want to laugh and sing
make me want to love again.

My unwritten letter

Before you I was wide eyed and a believer. Unjaded. A proud advocater of that ever illusive Utopian state of love. Much like the painters perfect hue, I too could see beauty. A third eye of sorts, looking at the world through glasses that allowed me to sense and recognize feel and indulge in that cliched but infinite emotion. I paraded around with my shining yet awkward armor of naivete that seemed to irk most. It was my sense of pride and only form of self actualization. love and be loved. My heaven on earth consisted of nothing more than you me and a requiem for us to engage. I gave you my heart at the expense of my sanity. Continually denied of stability and assurance i never once questioned your intentions or moral character. your Houdini acts of appearance and disappearance only added to the fury with which i craved you. I treated each encounter as though it were our last and hung on to your ability to inspire me despite the facts. Convinced that true love was unconditional I dismissed your ill actions.

I do not know why the heart loves the way it does nor why you of all people were able to move mountains within me.
My only solace I suppose, is that I am a lover of words and you are a most skillful poet, euphoric in their delivery.

I want to be angry at you for not telling me your truths but I know I did not pry enough for them.
I want to be angry at you for making me feel like prying would make you run but I know I did not have the courage to face your absence.
I want to be angry at you for not being more careful with the emotions that seemed to overwhelm me day in day out but know that they were only so severe because they were mine and entirely subjective.
I want to be angry at you because you stripped me of a soul mate but can not deny that you have taught me a life lesson.

I want you to know that these events shook my core, my essence my being in ways i never thought possible.
I want you to know that I was the one who allowed you to have such a strong hold on me and that i have decided to release myself of it all.
I want you to know that I am glad that this was the extent of your damage because i don't think i would have been able to stand if I were in her shoes. I want you to know that I will not allow you the privilege of making me regret loving you.
I pray a day will come when a man can do what you have undone and undo what you have done.

Barcelona never fails to inspire.

She had reluctantly accepted suffering as an inevitable component of deep passion, and was resigned to putting her feelings at risk. If you asked her what it was she was gambling her emotions on to win, she would not have been able to say. She knew what she didn't want, however, and that was exactly what Vicky valued above all else.

A city of lovers

A post card at a magazine stand captures a young couple kissing in a window that reads Buenos Aires café. A city of lovers. They are everywhere in this enchanting place. On street corners, outside movie theatres in bookstores in parks and in public squares. This one particular couple specifically captivates me with the innocent sensuality with which they touch each other. The hustle and bustle of the market around them and these two entirely in their own world as though to defy time and space and claim them both theirs and exclusively theirs. The girl no older than 20 and the subject of her affection a man or a boy approximately the same age. She is dressed in what seems to be typical argentine clothing. Comfortable simple plain but classy. And he wears a back pack and holds onto the straps attempting to retain a cool calm and collected aura. They sit on different levels of the steps of the market. Her legs create a sort of throne with arm rests for him. So he sits…. Snug as a bug shrouded by her body as she casually drapes her arms around his neck and teases his ear with her breath and mouth. She whispers sweet nothings into his ear and throws back her head with thrilled laughter every once in a while. He stretches his neck in a slow motion much like a cat stretches after a nap. The girl seizes the opportunity and kisses his neck whispering something then pauses in anticipation of his reaction to her words. She looks at him and her eyes speak to him “ reach me if you can! I dare you to catch me with your lips!” He grins with acknowledgment and acceptance of the challenge brought forth. As I am watching all this transpire I am reminded that this city is flooded with the influence of the tango. So I watched this couple dance with movements of attraction and repulsion slow and quick gestures of desire and tenderness with every touch caress and glance. Suddenly, a cell phone rings, the music stops with a screech of a record, the dance no longer set in motion to the melody of their charm and reality barges in very uninvited. She watches him speak into the phone with such love in her yes, unengaged in the words but rather how his lips and tongue move to create the correct air pressure for the consonants and vowels. She watches how his eyes fill expression as he attempts to process and respond to what he is hearing. He hangs up the phone but she is still lost in all that is him. She is still caught in the whirlwind of visual and mental notes that allow her to glorify him. He tells her what has happened but she doesn’t register any of it and seems to waive it off like it never happened returning to her captivated trance like state before he interrupted her. They standing and facing each other at this point. He is on a step above hers and she, on the one below. The arch of her right foot hugs his left foot and her calf and knee cradle his. Her left arm is raised in the air poised like a dancer and her right gently grazes his cheek and ear. It is bent at the elbow allowing her palm to hang gracefully at the nape of her neck. He puts his phone back in his pocket and returns his hands to the small of her back as though it were a nook carved uniquely for his hands. He draws her near and kisses her cheek as she looks at him with her head tilted to the side. She is attempting to read his thoughts. He lingers and after he’s done lingering he decides that a kiss on the cheek was not enough so he begins another with more passionate conviction this time. He leaves her be as though to throw her to the wind, knowing that being within such close proximity would likely make it impossible for him to leave. He walks away but keeps his eyes fixed on her and smiles radiantly. Ciao Ciao he yells as he waives good bye and blows her a kiss. She laughs at his dramatic cinematic exit and jumps in the air pretending to catch the kiss from far above her head and places it on her heart. She turns around, straightens her shirt and takes a quick second to soak it all in, sighs and off she goes.

Gram'me Good Byes

I could live here…
Just right here. In these arms…
The arms that taught me the difference.
The difference between the real McCoy and all the rest….

Wrapped so tightly I can feel her pulsing heart beats directly on my chest.
Her cheek pressed against my ear blocking out the rest of the world.
Silencing everything, except the rise and fall of her breath.

With each inhale my lungs fill with the smell of her incredibly soft, ancient, vanilla powdery skin.

She kisses me.
And kisses me
And kisses me some more.

She kisses me with such conviction.
A conviction that makes me doubt her intentions.

These aren’t the casual grandma kisses of vacation good byes.
These kisses are her legacy if need be.

Her gifts….
Her gifts of just in case.

Kisses that want me to remember, that want to be set apart from all the rest.
Kisses that want to take a piece of me with her and leave all of her behind.
Kisses that say nothing but speak volumes.
Kisses that bring tears to my eyes.
Kisses that I fear may be the last of all kisses.

?

Is polygamy an innate characteristic of the human race?
Is life an eternal struggle to suppress those urges and to stay true to the confines of our society?
Is consequence the only reason we choose to abide by these rules of monogamy?
Are we not rightly justified in claiming that we are insatiable?
Can we deny that we are constantly being weighed, constantly being measured and constantly found wanting?

Many sides of the same coin.

There are many different sides to everyone.
And in your interactions with certain people, for the most part they only get to see a limited number of sides to your personality.
Your teacher at school never really gets to see the party animal you become on the dance floor when your favorite song comes on.
You friends never get to see the work side of you.
And your co- workers, assuming you don’t dip your pen in the company pot, never get to see the romantic intimate side of you.

Just think isn’t it insane that I know Joe blow in only this light but that on a different day in a different circumstance. Joe blow becomes and is don Juan the foreign exchange student with the sexy accent?

You ever wonder about how many sides of you there are?

And how you are perhaps the sole person that sees all those sides leaving room for critique and self analysis. It’s the interaction between all these sides that is the key. You take that secret with you to the grave.

I may know Sarah as a class mate and a daughter because I’ve seen her interact with her family at study time but what am I to say about Sarah as a student beyond the scope of our class?

It’s especially interesting because it’s these little glimpses that people give us into their personalities that then form our entire perception of the person as a whole.

My mind almost wants to implode when I think about the number of assumptions people and I make about each other, the world and the circumstances in it every single day. So the key is be open minded. Allow for the possibility of an existence of ANY explanation.

The brain is however finite.. there is no such thing as infinite open mindedness. Does that then mean we’re destined to a life of false assumptions?
*********************************************************
**********************Sept 2nd***************************
The many sides of the same coin and then some.....

Further reflection and another first encounter.
I come home and reflect on the evening as I often do with everything in my world.
Sometimes I wonder if there is such a thing as way too much thinking for your own good.
Alas, I reach the conclusion that the exposition of self should be a delicate and intricate process. Something that we take for granted on a day to day basis.
Take for example the order in which you reveal the many sides of your personality.
Lets say in one encounter you first expose your insecurities and second a bit of humor followed by humility and then your confidence. What picture does the person you’ve just met create about you in their mind? It is human instinct to assume the person before them is on wobbly ground… uncertain of their goals in life… allowing the wind to take them where it may. A person with not a whole lot of caliber. A short sight on most of our parts. what is to be said of the courage of a person willing, on a first meeting, to expose a part of them very often mistaken for a weakness? What is to be said of the comfort level this person has with their insecurities? What is to be said about the nature of the interaction that is being had with the person in front of them? All questions we often forget to ask ourselves regarding our first impressions.

Now take another first encounter where you first expose your humor, confidence, humility and then your insecurities. This, in most circumstances is what keeps people coming back for more. Life is difficult on many levels, whether it be on a personal or professional level. And so to be around someone who is confident and exudes energy inevitably gives us that positive sense of well being as well and so we recreate the circumstance in which we find ourselves in their company. Now throw a little humility and insecurity into the mix and just like magic you become human the confidence and humor that previously might have had you up on a pedestal are now counteracted by these endearing human qualities. But again this too is often a short sight…what people often fail to see is that… there are definite walls being placed in this circumstance. There are things they have deemed too personal or private to share with a perfect stranger. There are issues with trust. Issues of self preservation from hurt.

But what is it about a specific person that unintentionally allows us to pick a specific order in which to unveil all that is ‘you’?
Why is it that meeting one person I can come off as the most arrogant person and to another the most humble? We must inevitably be affected or influenced by something.
What is that something? And wouldn’t understanding what that something was give us great negotiating and marketing power?

Helios

A theoretical silence is yearning to be realized and exercised in the real world as opposed to the letters, words and sentences it usually inhabits in books. The use of a Mantra to help keep the mind from doing what it does. Jumping from one thought to the next at a million miles per hour.
“Learn to become aware of your surroundings”
“Listen to the music that is the world that surrounds you”
Focused and with her eyes closed, she notices the inflow of air through her nose, down her neck into her chest. Paying special attention to that magnificent duality at the precise instance where an inhale becomes and IS an exhale.
Contradiction, not only the human condition but the world’s as well. “Sinners and a Saints. Bitches and lovers” She sinks heavier into her breath, continuing to occupy her mind with a mantra and allowing the body to further connect to the ground on which she sat.
The wind flirts with the leaves and they react with a shiver. The sound carries across the dark still water that faces her. A black glass mirror reflecting nothing. An abyss that is awakened by a wind that pretends to be a ballerina pitter pattering across it at full pointe. The small steps shatter the stillness and create reflections of an orange glow in the distance. A sunrise reversed. The sun replaced by the rising harvest moon. A warm orange hue resembling that of iron that is sculpted by a blacksmith stretches its arms across the lake and begins to grow from a distance. With every passing second the glow taking on a more definite unmistakably perfectly round shape. Helios must be confused. Leaving the sun behind and instead dragging the moon across the night sky.
There is a eerie tranquility here.
She comes back into consciousness and allows her mind to process the scene before her. There is slight surprise at the acknowledgement of momentary fear. A surge of thoughts brought on by a mind that is now unoccupied by the repetition of the mantra. “Is this what judgment day looks like? A darkness that is not light by a sun rising from the west? A defining silence that screams solitude, seclusion and exclusion?” The sound of an exhale snaps her mind back from the trenches of negativity and allows her to behold the beauty that is.
The moon.
The lake.
The night sky.
The mantra.
Sub7an allah… allahmduellah… walaho akbar.

Egyptians.. don't you know zem?

I'm lost in my thoughts and browsing through the mall because it's too sticky outside. I tend to zone out as I ponder all. I reflect on certain situations, how people react or their facial expressions, and think about my interaction with the world and finally draw conclusions. A process that generally detaches me from everything. Sound, surroundings and people. It could be a hustling bustling bazaar that I'm walking through and as long as I'm thinking I'm in my own world. So there I am on the escalator staring off into never never land immersed in thought. When, much like in Hollywood movies, all is silent except for the sound of my resonating thoughts . This is interrupted however, by an insistent sound that triggers the return to reality. I unconsciously resist. It was just like an alarm clock that interrupts your sleep and for a few minutes you're not really sure if you're hearing it buzz or if that's simply a part of the dream. You try to focus and regroup on what you were doing but this buzzing in the background won't let you do it in peace. You drift further and further away from the bubble that is your dream and slowly become aware of your surroundings. I hear a sound of a boy who is approximately 10 years old. His voice isn't very distinctive except for the fact that he has this whininess to him. I listen for a pause in the beeping that is his voice but there is none. I listen for what may be genuine anguish but there is none of that either. He's whining the way a baby does not because it's hungry, hurt nor needs a diaper change. He's whining the way he has learnt to get attention. Its an obnoxious "look at me otherwise I'm going to fill your air with noise pollution that's going to make you wish the world would cave in on you just to make me stop". He had often tested his limits and on this glorious occasion decided to push them right to the limit. Use and abuse the everyone's affection. All these observations and thought transgresses mind you, before I can even see the boy. It is only after I have noticed the intonation in his voice, the constant rhythm of repetition and the fact that he does not stop for air that the word he is repeating finally registers with me. He's calling his mother but is stressing on different letters in the word than most Canadian kids do. He doesn't pronounce the umm in the middle of the word mummy the way someone who was pondering something would while scratching his head. The u sounds more like an a. He pronounces it much like a southerner would pronounce the world Maa. Very slowly and drawn out specifically at the A followed by a quick me. Maaaame. And so he goes Mami mami mami mami mami mami. I held my breath as I ascended towards the voice and counted a total of 17 consecutive mamis. I think it was right at the 9th consecutive mami that I decided with conviction: This kid IS Egyptian!" The lamada, the persistence, the way he's been taught to say the word mummy in a supposedly "chic" way. And surely enough as I start to see what appear to be his feet clad with fancy nikes and a loose pair of fitting jeans topped with a bright typically red Benetton polo style t-shirt my suspicions are confirmed. He's got that bronzed skin tone, the wonderfully fuzzy Egyptian hair that's gone a little lighter from hanging out in the sun as he played soccer with the neighbors, and the sweat that is dripping profusely from his pudgy face. His mother is comfortably plopped on some lawn furniture that's on sale, conveniently placed between the outdoor gardening section and the toy section. She is oblivious to the fact that her son is developing bronchitis as he incessantly repeats the word mami to her without a breath. She sits the way I imagine she would if that piece of furniture was placed in her own living room at home. I kept waiting for the shaghala to walk in with the Turkish coffee and the tall glass of water on a tray. At which point she'd make some remark about not ever wanting her to bring coffee out if the bottom of the water glass was going to leave a ring on the tray. She'd look over at her friend and say something belittling of the poor woman then proceed to offer her friend the coffee like she'd slaved over it for hours. In the distance I hear another repetition only in a higher pitch. I think "OH NO! There can't possibly be two of them?!" I frantically scan the area with my eyes hoping I'm imagining it but to my bad luck… My eyes and ears come to agreement as I zero in on the noise and there it is… The other half of the family. Another boy, relatively the same age as the first. I'm thinking 3 months apart because the newly wed couple didn't really manage to get much baby making practice in sans the baby and couldn't possibly fathom the idea of another pregnancy so quick after the first. That or there was no time to dilly dally with contraception… we are a horny population afterall! Regardless, the second boy is dressed identically like the first with the exception of a blue bennton polo shirt. And of course the variation in his song. The word Paaapi. There was no doubt that these two were brothers.. they looked the same… they were dressed the same… they spoke the same… they refused to breath the same and both their parents had that glazed look and smile on their faces just the same. The kind where they smile on the outside but repeat "think happy thoughts… think happy thoughts… think happy thoughts" on the inside just to keep from killing themselves and ironically being a living testimony to the wonder that is genetic inheritance. They are after all their children! I see this scene and automatically without thinking take a left turn… exactly the way they'd taught us to march as cadets in middle school on Sundays. I get on the escalator going down in shock and disbelief. I exhale and repeat… also without a breath as I descent further and further away from the sound. "astaghfar allah al 3azeem ya rab, astaghfar allah il 3azeem ya rab, astaghfar allah il 3azeem ya rab, astaghfar allah il 3azeem ya rab, astaghfar allah il 3azeem ya rab and allahdmeullah, allahdmeullah allahdmeullah allahdmeullah allahdmeullah allahdmeullah allahdmeullah." I shudder with goose bumps at the idea of having children that create that much noise and want to expel the thought of possibly being punished on earth with such children for any sins I may have committed and immediately thank god for the fact that I don't have to take them home with me the way the poor parents do. That unlike them I could step onto an escalator going in the other direction and shake the thought of them off. I do suppose it is the parents fault after all for allowing that sort of behavior and would like to think that if I were to ever have children their up brining would vary greatly. But….I catch myself laughing when I realize I just finished doing the exact same thing the children had done except internally. I laugh even harder at the thought that I too was once upon a type a similar Egyptian kid!

The wishy washy

What is it with men?
They're the weight lifters, the career creators and developers, the insanely stuck jar openers, the remote control kings, The gods of WD40 and UHU but ask them to commit to an emotion and they turn to puree.
Actually don't even ask them to commit to an emotion the real world does that for you. All I ever did was engage. Engage in something that I know damn well was good for the both of us. A mental and spiritual connection like no other. So why the delusional attachment to this nonexistent idea of ever fleeting freedom? Why? I have no ball and chain… and even if I did why oh why would I want anyone to lug all that weight around? It defeats the purpose doesn't it? It kills the whimsy of the light feathery feeling that all this is supposed to create.

This is a plea… to all boys, guys and even men.
Please! Please, please, please!
For my sanity and the women around you.
Either man up and admit you don't want the lady in your life so she can move on and do her own thing or keep the bullshit to yourself!


I can understand. I don't want you.
I can understand I don't want this (the relationship)
I can understand I'm seeing someone else.
I can understand this has become more than I can handle right now
I can understand I'm not feeling it anymore there is no spark.
I can understand I don't see this going anywhere

but for god's sake steer clear of the wishy washy, I want you but won't commit fully but partially bullshit.

Look but dont touch

A week on a resort with only a couple of singles and a majority of old people will eventually land you in a circumstance where you share or hear stories you might not regularly hear from fresh brand spanking new friends.
And so it goes….
My girlfriends and I are hanging out at the pool feasting our eyes on the chocolate eye candy that is a member of the entertainment staff. His muscles glisten in the sun with his every movement as he leads a group of people in an aerobic workout. We just watch and simultantiously let out a sigh.

We turn around with gaga still in our eyes and our new found male friend decides to share this wonderful story:

Brand Spanking new friend: “you know I had a friend of mine that went gaga over a guy in a caribbean beach resort once”
Us: “oh yeah? And?”
Brand Spanking new friend: “well she got jiggy with him and came home with these purple spots all over her body”
Us: “She caught and STD ? ”
Brand Spanking new friend: “yeah you could say that… she went to the doctors to get checked and the doctor yelled at her.. telling her he needed to know who she slept with…. She couldn’t muster up an answer… I don’t remember she said… I was really drunk”
Us: listening intently
Brand Spanking new friend “the doctor threatened to call the police if she didn’t do better than that..frightened from his tone she explained that she’d gone on a carribean holiday.. gotten drunk and slept with one of the entertainment crew… horrified… the doctor explained that the purple spots on her body were due to a bacteria only found on dead people”
Us : UGHHHHHHH! DUDE! YOU LIE!
Brand Spanking new friend: “no lie… serious as serious can be… so do think twice before you decide on tapping that”
My friend casually looks over and goes “Ya sater ya rab.. masdoodon masdooodon masdoood? Ya3ni il wa7id maye3rafsh yetfarag 7ata?! Matfahimoo il 2akh dah inina abide by the look but don’t touch policy why the buzz kill?!”

Come what may

I want a glance and a smile, a smirk and a giggle, hysteric laughter and stomach pains.
Let me take shelter in your arms and cradle me to sleep.
Allow your heart to beat louder than the silence and overthrow my doubt.
Be a man in all the ways a man should be.
Celebrate your masculinity by exposing the mother, the whore and the child in you.
Wear the robes of commitment and pay no attention to the weight they claim on your shoulders.
Bath me in kisses and shroud me with emotion.
Evoke a spiritual enlightenment and let us rejoice through reflection, deliberation and contemplation combined.
Surrender to the choreography of our thoughts and allow us the opportunity to dance.
Let us leave the tangible behind and let us instead inhabit an ethereal world.
Keep your riches and offer me more.
Allow me the privilege of labeling you mine.

Humpty Dumpty

All the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again.
He did after all fall of the wall.
Shouldn't he have known better? i mean he's an egg and when eggs fall they break.
simple as that.
what was he doing hanging out on a wall?
sadism?
masochism?

I'm sure a good Samaritan must have seen him up there and warned him about his inevitable crash to a million pieces.
but isn't it always the case with Humpty, Harry, Joe, Alexandra and Jane?
we get distracted by the view? We know that we're walking a fine line... a wrong step in each direction invariably leads to a horrible demise.
But we do it any way, thinking we're the exception to the rule. Thinking gravity has taken a day off for some unknown reason. That this time we'll float instead of fall.
but at the end of the day... we're all alike... we're grounded and have our wings clipped. Just like poor Humpty, the egg, we're all on bound to fall.

A bit of Waking life!

'You can't fight city hall." "Death and taxes." "Don't talk about politics or religion." This is all the equivalent of enemy propaganda, rolling across the picket line. "Lay down, GI! Lay down, GI!". We saw it all through the 20th Century. And now on the 21st Century, it's time to stand up and realize, that we should NOT allow ourselves to be crammed into this rat maze. We should not SUBMIT to dehumanization. I don't know about you, but I'm concerned with what's happening in this world. I'm concerned with the structure. I'm concerned with the systems of control. Those that control my life, and those that seek to control it EVEN MORE! I want FREEDOM! That's what I want, and that's what YOU should want! It's up to each and every one of us to turn loose of just some of the greed, the hatred, the envy, and yes, the insecurities, because that is the central mode of control, make us feel pathetic, small, so we'll willingly give up our sovereignty, our liberty, our destiny. We have GOT to realize we're being conditioned on a mass scale. Start challenging this corporate slave state! The 21st Century's gonna be a new century! Not the century of slavery, not the century of lies and issues of no significance, of classism and statism, and all the rest of the modes of control... it's gonna be the age of humankind, standing up for something PURE and something RIGHT! What a bunch of garbage, liberal, Democratic, conservative, Republican, it's all there to control you, two sides of the same coin! Two management teams, bidding for control of the CEO job of Slavery Incorporated! The TRUTH is out there in front of you, but they lay out this buffet of LIES! I'm SICK of it, and I'M NOT GONNA TAKE A BITE OUT OF IT! DO YA GOT ME? Resistance is NOT futile, we're gonna win this thing, humankind is too good, WE'RE NOT A BUNCH OF UNDERACHIEVERS, WE'RE GONNA STAND UP, AND WE'RE GONNA BE HUMAN BEINGS! WE'RE GONNA GET FIRED UP ABOUT THE REAL THINGS, THE THINGS THAT MATTER - CREATIVITY, AND THE *DYNAMIC* *HUMAN* *SPIRIT* THAT REFUSES TO *SUBMIT*! WELL THAT'S IT, that's all I've got to say. It's in your court now. "