PING….someone let me in

I woke up a few nights ago to find the below message on one of my groups on my black Berry Messenger. I found it so enlightening how a persons mind works when in a situation with nothing to do but sit and wait. All the different ideas that come to mind, and especially the ones that have to do with their current situation. I needed to share it and so I re-wrote it all in same chronological order I received them in.

Characters on the BBM:

M is the main character of this story

Tara is M’s wife

Friday 2:34 am

M: I’m locked outside of the house with no keys.

Friday 2:34 am

M:I forgot them and everyone is at home, sound asleep its 2:30am

Friday 2:35 am

M: I have rung the door bell a hundred times, I have been outside for an hour

Friday 2:35 am

M: Still 4 hours to go before anyone awakes up

Friday 2:36 am

M: Tara’s phone is on silent, PING’s on the bbm don’t help L

Friday 2:50 am

M: L

Friday 2:56 am

M: Almost 3

Friday 3:00 am

M: Yayyy….. it’s 3am

Friday 3:00 am

M: Two down…. 3 more hours to go…!

Friday 3:03 am

M: I think the neighbors woke up. I can hear movement, someone stirring a drink

Friday 3:12 am

M: Almost 3:15

Friday 3:12 am

M: Gonna try sitting on door mat instead of the stairs

Friday 3:13 am

M: Ahhhh….much better…warmer

Friday 3:20 am

M: It’s very cold…can rest my back on wall too

Friday 3:57 am

M: Nearly 4am

Friday 4:00 am

M: Its 4am……2hrs to go

Friday 4:26 am

M: almost 4:30

Friday 4:30 am

M: morning prayers is in 40 min

Friday 4:31 am

M: It’s windy outside

Friday 4:31 am

M: My kids are usually up by 6am so I got 1.5hrs to go…I power napped on the door mat from 3:30 to 4…..

Friday 4:35 am

M: man, bbm pings are useless…I PINGED Tara a hundred times

The awareness begins all internal thoughts of life start to form:

Friday 4:36 am

M: Poor homeless people. It must be so tough to sleep out in the streets

Friday 4:37 am

M: That is why God gave some people more money than others. To spend on the needy; the poor. To keep them warm, give them shelter and feed them

Friday 4:38 am

M: Not to sit on a throne of $10 Million but to help at least a hundred thousand needy people.

Friday 4:38 am

M: or 10,000 or 1,000

Friday 4:39 am

M:Imagine taking care of 1,00 poor people Or even 100 poor people

Friday 4:40 am

M: To feed 100 people 1 warm meal a day costs 500 LE ($135) approximately 5 LE per person. That means 15,000 LE per month or 180,000 LE per year

Friday 4:40 am

M:If someone has 1 million Dollars, he makes 450,000 LE per year by 9% increase from the bank. Spending 180,000 LE leaves him with a bulk to spend from

Friday 4:43 am

M: WOW that is feeding 100 people every day for a year, with only having a million USD in the banks

Friday 4:46 am

M: I wonder how much a winter package of clothes would cost (a jacket + pj + Blanket + hood)

Friday 4:46 am

M: so there is food and warmth and clothes

Friday 4:48 am

M: There is someone here buying blankets for poor people, anyone want to pitch in? 30 LE per blanket???

Friday 4:50 am

M: Yay it’s 4:50am….maybe someone will wake up early

Friday 4:52 am

M: Might be a good idea to furnish the outside of our apartment with a cushion or something

Friday 4:52 am

M: For the long cold nights that someone can get stuck outside

Friday 4:54 am

M: I was out at the burial of a friend’s father in the middle of the desert till 9pm tonight. Was very cold

Friday 4:56 am

M: My father’s friend’s first night alone, I pray that God makes in his grave full of light, warmth and comfort

Friday 4:58 am

M: He was a great man, he was a man who helped the needy people. He wasn’t arrogant and he cared for people genuinely. His money and power never got to his head.

Friday 4:58 am

M: He always cared for his children no matter what they did and always gave to the poor and helped the needy when they needed his help.

Friday 4:59 am

M: They all cared for him too, it was obvious in the burial. Everyone was there the powerful and the needy, the rich and the poverty stricken. His children cried with all their hearts for their loss. He was a man of kindness and love towards them. I wish my fa

Friday 5:00 am

M: …..never mind won’t go there

Friday 5:00 am

M: May God bless him in the afterlife and in the grave.

Friday 5:02 am

M: Fleece is definitely assume

Friday 5:02 am

M: note to self: buy more fleece jackets!

Friday 5:02 am

M: Wishing there was a fleece jacket for my nose, it’s frozen!

Friday 5:02 am

M: I wonder how it would attach itself though. Perhaps a small clip on the nostril?

Friday 5:03 am

M: The night is always darkest before dawn

Friday 5:03 am

M: True….but it is also coldest

Friday 5:04 am

M: The earth is expected to hit a mini ice age by 2014. Solar flares are expected to wipe out electricity on earth in 2013

Friday 5:04 am

M: Wars are expected to start in 2012.

Friday 5:04 am

M: Wonder what 2011 is about??!!!

Friday 5:05 am

M: There’s someone awake in the building, loud TV. It’s 5:05 am

Friday 5:06 am

M: Wooohooooo….maybe just maybe someone will wake up at 5:30

Friday 5:12 am

M: Morning prayer is in 2 minutes I hope Tara wakes up to pray

Friday 5:13 am

M: Gonna start a private “knives throwing class” in Martial arts. It’s a Chinese art

Friday 5:13 am

M: Throwing knives, daggers and blades…for self defense….looking forward to it

Friday 5:13 am

M: There goes the prayer, I can hear it coming from the mosques

Friday 5:13 am

M: I am too cold and tired to go to the mosque to pray there. It’s not heated and water is cold for the ablution

Friday 5:15 am

M:Hoping someone opens the door

Friday 5:20 am

M: Getting sleepy again

Friday 5:25 am

M: No one awake yet. What if they don’t wake up before 7am??????

Friday 5:26 am

M: It’s almost 5:30am…almost

Friday 5:30 am

M: 5:30!!!!!

Friday 5:30 am

M:Half an hour left, 30 minutes to go. Hopefully someone will wake up. Either my wife, my kids or my mother. Someone has to wake up

Friday 5:40 am

M: 5:40

Friday 5:45 am

M: 5:45

Friday 5:50 am

M: 5:50

Friday 6:00 am

M: Well it’s 6am!!!!!

Friday 6:00 am

M: Been sitting here from 1:30am till 6:00am and no one has opened the door

Friday 6:01 am

M:One heckova comatose family!!!

Friday 6: 01 am

M: 6:10

Friday 6: 15 am

M: 6:15

Friday 6: 17 am

M: 4 hours and 45 minutes waiting

Friday 6: 28 am

M: I AM INNNNNNN……at 6:28am the door was opened for me

Friday 6: 30 am

Tara: I just woke up!!!!!!!!! LOL LOL LOL….poor M….don’t know whether to laugh of cry.

Friday 7:00am

Tara: It turns out that my mother in law woke up at 5am went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and went back to sleep. All the time thinking that there is no way her son is still outside the apartment waiting to be let in. She was the missed calls and the messages but they ended at 4am, so she assumed he was sound asleep inside his room next to his wife. LOL LOL LOL


It helps to be in a situation in life that is similar to the one that others are in. A simple feeling of being cold and the inability to sleep makes a person wonder about all the others in the world that are suffering the same ailment. For everyone’s info M and Tara are figuring out ways to give a warmer winter to all those that live on the streets of Cairo.

The acknowledgment of a loving father and a caring powerful man could make a world a better place to live in. Money and Love go hand in hand, and if someone has the money then they should easily and simply provided it to those who desperately need it. Parents need to take care of their kids and not wait for their death to be able to have the inheritance make them live a better life. And the poor need a warm blanket at night to sleep in if the government is simply not providing it to it’s people. There are lots of Millionaires out there, and there are lots of poor people out there. A helping hand will not make the millionaire poor and will not make the poor rich.

Last but not least…minutes pass like hours when there is a basic need that is not acquired for survival.


Bizzar advice

In 1997 upon my arrival to start living in cairo,I was deprived of any sort of possibilities of any type of classes I was used to having when I lived in Montreal. So when I heard of a yoga instructor that had just started giving classes in Cairo I was the first one of five people attending the class. He was a British guy that had just left his home town with his wife and one year old child to start a life in Cairo. His Yoga space was a room in his apartment and surprisingly three other people; outside of me and one of my best friends, decided to attend. It was lovely, I felt alive and rejuvenated, and the excitement made me vow to myself that I will never miss a yoga class with Charlie.

As I drove home that day, blasting the music in the car, feeling on top of the world I decided to tell my brother about Charlie, knowing how my brother is like, I was sure he would also love to attend these classes.

That night, as I sat in the tv room bummed out on the couch, my brother walked in, stood at the door and started to watch tv with me silently. I jump of the couch as I rememberd the yoga class, i mute the tv and start telling him about the amazing fact of finding a yoga class in Cairo. I told him about Charlie and his family, and I explained how wonderful this whole thing was for me. Not surprisingly my brother decided to join me the next time I go. I was thrilled and I felt that things were starting to pick up in Cairo, maybe life could be normal to a certain degree.

Two days later me, my friend and my brother walk into Charlie’s apartment all dressed up and ready to yogi. I introduce my brother to Charlie, they shake hands, talk for a bit, laugh and then we all head off into his yogi room. To my surprise there are five more people there making the room extremely tight and unbearably stifled, yet I am still 100% determined never to miss a class.

As any normal yoga instructor, Charlie goes around the room and makes sure that everyone has the right posture and stance. He makes sure to position you right as you breath correctly while he rests his hands on your stomach to feel if you’re in rhythm with his instructions. Other times he would pass by the whole class putting his hand on their behinds to make sure that they are crunching their butts correctly as they move up and down in the table position. After an hour of excessive sweat and horrible stench we all stretch out on our mats and start doing a breathing exercise to end the session.

We all get off the mats, smile at one another and everyone starts heading for the door. I look for my brother to hurry him up and I find him standing with Charlie talking; so naturaly I move towards them. To my utmost horror, as I get closer to the conversation talking place between him and my brother, I hear my brother telling Charlie “Look Charlie, some advice you need to know. You’re not in England any more, you’re in Cairo and here you are not allowed to touch women” as I get closer and my smile starts to slowly part away from my face I hear him say “…so if you want to help my sister with her posture I suggest you use a stick and not your hands” he says this with a bright smile and full force of need to help Charlie out in an Arabic country. Little did my brother know that we lived in an open culture and no one was going to arrest Charlie for indecent touching. Little did Charlie know that my brother didn’t know any better making Charlie sweat in panic.

I stood there dumbstruck, I looked at Charlie and then I looked at my brother….i gave a faint smile of apology and extended my hand to shake his; in hopes that he does not think we are a demented culture. He just glared at me then at my extended hand as he slowly gave me a respectful smile and then moved his face to eye my brother in hopes that he passed some secret test.

Needless to say, I had never gone again to that yoga class in fear that he will hit me with a stick instead of using his hands to fix my posture.

Struggle with the door

Click…..i try to open the door to my apartment as I manage to carry my phone, paper bag filled with candles and my shoes in one hand. The shoes are basically in my hands and not my feet to allow my feet the freedom to become familiar with the cold marble floor beneath it, releasing it from the blistering pain it’s been suffering throughout the day. The other hand is managing to multitask itself as it carries a plastic bag of newly purchased books, a small flower pot placed in a paper bag, another bag containing a few picture frames and the keys to my front door. On my right shoulder I have my very large handbag heavily hung off of me as my left shoulder is curving upwards trying to balance the slow recline of the strap carrying my laptop case. Placed on the floor are three large bags of clothes and shoes that I was able to push out of the elevator with my feet, sliding them across the floor towards my front door.

My hate of shopping entails me to do it all in one mall outing. I have this inability to go on a daily basis to the mall in hopes of finding one or two items that I need. Therefore I hold back until I am overwhelmed with an abundance of things that I have no other way but to go and purchase them all in one go.

I lift the hand with the key towards the key hole, as my arms start to shiver from the weight on them. I don’t want to place the bags in my hand on the floor, I have gone this far, I only have one more step to make; open the door. At last my key reaches the key hole, but it simply won’t fit in, my body is twisted, my legs are bent, my arm is shaking and my fingers are turning cold. “shit” I yell at myself, it’s the wrong key. I fumble again, trying to slide the old key out of my fingers as i meticulously bring in the other key into my fingers grapes. I sweat, this is tough, I really should put the bags down and do this the right way, but I can’t, I am being stubborn with myself for no good reason at all. I lift my very shaky arms back up towards the key hole as the key slides in. Now its time to try to twist the key towards the left so that it unlocks, another struggle and another splurge of sweat across my face.

I am in and everything slides off my shoulders, out of my hands and onto the floor. I walk out to pick up the three large bags and place them next to all the items on the floor. I move towards the couch, take a look at it, sight as i throw myself on it; nothing left but my ringing phone still in the grasp of my hand.

A moment in memory lane

A wonderful artist i came across on the internet his name is R young. Beautiful, breath taking paintings

It’s a silent night in a silent house, everyone has gone to sleep and I am left alone to do as I wish. There is a closed off room in the house that holds an abundance of all my old belongings. With nothing to do but sit and listen to the useless chatter taking place in my thoughts I walk towards the closed door and pry it open. I am dumbfounded by the amount of boxes and suitcases cluttering up what used to be the guest bedroom. I switch on the lights and walk into the room not knowing where to start and what box to look into first. I look to my right and see three large boxes piled up on top of one another and decide to open the most accessible one to me. There is a transparent scotch tape holding only one side of the box closed, which takes me an extra three seconds to wedge off. I tear open the box and to my amazement I find a whole bunch of my oldest collection of cassette tapes. My hands are inside the box pulling out one tape at a time, trying to remember what each one contained. I get restless from standing over the box on my tiptoes and at a whim start carrying the box as my legs and arms shiver from its weight. I place it down on the floor, dust my hands off and cross my legs as I slowly place myself neatly on the floor.

As i sit there rummaging through all my old things, i come across an abundance of old tapes i used to be obsessed with. There are tapes with stickers on them expressing their importance to me, others have a mini list of song titles to tell me what songs are on that specific tape. I have travelled back in time, I am actually walking down my own personal memory lane and I am loving every minute of it.  I pick up one tape and try really hard to read the washed off remains of the words on it; to no avail. I get off the floor, tape in hand, and rush off towards the adjacent room; my eyes scan the space as my legs walk towards the cassette player that is still sitting patiently on the console. Excitedly I stick the tape in hoping it will still work although it has accumulated an abundance of dust throughout the years.

“Song instead of a kiss” engulfs the entire space and filters itself into my longing ears. My face broadens with a smile as I start to waltz around the room in a sweeping manner, holding the tip of my dress in between my thumb and forefinger. I am on my tip toes gliding across the room, singing to the words I had long forgotten, or thought I had forgotten, when all of a sudden the tape screeches, a click and one of my oldest best friends voices is blaring out of the tape recorder “I cant believe it…..they just stopped it…unbelievable…UNBELIVABLE… THEY ARE SO irrrriiiitttaaaattttiiiinnnnnggggggggg” she yells at the top of her lungs. My dress drops out of my fingers as I tilt my head upwards to release an explosion of laughter at the obviously very angered voice seeping its way out of the speakers.

Click…shshshshshshs…click….song instead of a kiss, baby this is a song instead of a kiss…for all of you who ach so much….here is a song instead of a kiss….click. The tape stops, end of side A.

I start laughing even more, this time falling down on my knees with my head droppping forward between my legs as my hands grasp the carpeted floor to help hold up my upper body. The change of moods was shockingly distorting and the flood of memories that came with the screeching break in the middle of an amazingly wonderful song reminded me of the days back in high school.

I remembered it so well, and if it weren’t for the rude interference with the song I would have never remembered that specific incident. Me and my best friend loved to dance, we walked around with our cassette tapes everywhere we went, sometimes we even bought our stereo to school. On one of our many after school events we decided to watch the boys in our group play basketball in the front courtyard. Naturally we carried out our stereo with our collection of tapes and walked towards them. We placed our beloved items on the wide rim of a planter that was located right next to the basket ball court. The tape we chose to play was a mixed song tape, meaning that it had a variety of slow and fast songs all jumbled up. When the song “Song instead of a kiss” came up, the boys grunted and rolled their eyes, it was too much of a girly song for them at the time, they wanted something to keep them pumped up as they played their game. Me and my friend decided to ignore their grunts and started to sway to the song paying no attention to their elevating voices as they tried to mimic the song with soprano like sounds. To our surprise one of the boys had the guts to leave the game, rush over towards our stereo and stop the song. What we all didn’t know back then was that he pressed the record button instead of the stop button, allowing the wonderful memory of my friend screaming at the top of her lungs at the boys in utter disgust as she hovered towards the player to continue playing the song, to last a lifetime with me. A memory of innocence and simplicity that I cherish with all my heart till this very day.

Here is the song and the lyrics, maybe you also have a wonderful memory to this song.

Enjoy 🙂

Click it if you want it: Song Instead Of A Kiss

Instead of a kiss
Baby this is a

Instead of a kiss

For all of you who ache, who long
For nights like this

Instead of a touch
Darlin’ this is a

Instead of a touch

To all of you who wait so long It is for those who like to cling
It is to those, to those I
And need so much

Here is a song instead of a clutch
Instead of a moon
Instead of a soothing touch
In the afternoon

It is for those who like to cling
It is to those, to those I sing
Here is a song instead of a clutch
Instead of a moon
Instead of a soothing touch
In the afternoon

Mini Wish

I loved snow white as a young child and the most thing I loved about her was her ability to understand the animals. I used to watch how the birds used to fly over and place themselves on her fingers as she sang and whistled to them happily. From the very first time I watched snow white I had wished so hard that i possessed the same charisma that snow white possessed with the animals; wanting them to rush to me the same way they rushed to her. I wanted more than anything to have a random bird willingly to fly towards me and stand on my finger. There were lots of fairytale things that I wanted in my life after watching Disney cartoons. As I grew older these cartoons still remained a huge part of what I found beautiful in this world. On my illusionary world on “planet X” (read post: Personal stories-The beauty within my planet x), there were lots of Disney like fantasies that would come into fruition once I gave my heart and mind the time to sit alone and contemplate matters of my life.

I sat silently around a round glass table with my elbows placed on the cold glass surface as my head rested in the slight curve of my uplifted hands. I was listening attentively to one of my best friends who came into town a few days ago after deciding to spend her spring break vacation with me in Montreal. I had just turned 21 and life had an unexpected way of passing by without any worries or concerns of any magnitude. The leaves were blossoming on the trees and up above the sky was crisp blue that possessed one long white line across it, giving it the depth that it needed to show it’s brightness in full view. People from all walks of life flaunted their summer outfits on the pebble paved sidewalks, enjoying the fresh beginnings of summer to come. A merge of English, French, Arabic, Indian and Spanish words flocked themselves towards the surrounding air, filtering their spoken words into a jumble of mumbles making them unidentifiable by anyone who tried to make out their contents.

We spoke about the meaning of life with all the innocence we posessed back in those days. With complete disregard to the fact that we had experienced nothing of life yet, only assuming that we had already experienced it to its fullest, we spoke of the burdens of our lives. We laughed at one another’s horror stories, and listened carefully to one another’s childlike philosophies on miracles and the existance of God. Mandy, that was the name of my friend, was trying to figure out what to do after she graduated. As we jumped from one topic to the next we found ourselves elaborating in depth about the miracle of “letting go” and just letting life lead its way. We were talking about the beauty of wishes and how once a wish is made, it is sent out to the universe to finds it’s way into our reality in whichever time the wish was meant to happen.

As we carried out that conversation, getting a feeling of ease and serenity about our lives, I remove my head from between my hands and start to express vividly the grandness of God with all His might and abilities. As I stretch my hands up above my head to indicate the magnitude of all the wonders of life, a small little brown bird flaps it’s body towards me and places it’s tiny feet on my raised finger. I leisurely look up at my elevated hand as I bring it down ever so slowly to stare at what just landed on my finger. A smile over takes my face as the shocking truth over powers my shaking hands; my hearts deepest wish at the mere age of a six became my reality at the age of twenty one.

Mini coincidences

Peacefully asleep I wake up to a nibbling sound infiltrated with a low murmur of a purr. It’s so warm under the covers and I am in no way ready to wake up and face the world. I notice the alarm has not gone off  giving me the internal joy that I have ample time to fall asleep again. I keep my eyes shut as I fall back into the wonderful dream that possessed my nightly hours. Again a nibble, a soft constant purring and a whisper of a snap sound pull me out of my comfortably warm and delightful sleep. I pry open one eye as I lay on my side to find my cat sitting on the duvet that is surrounding my curled up body about to start playing around with the beads that have rolled themselves around my bed. I ripe open my other eye and jolt up in bed, my voice still unable to yelp with the appropriate surprised tone it desperately needed to voice. My bracelet that was given to me for my upcoming birthday was haphazardly dispensed all over my bed, and the beautiful pendant with the word “Allah” written in beautiful Arabic letters was faced down on the narrow space between the duvet and my pillow.

The alarm clock rang and regretfully I got out of bed, no more time to sit and dwell over my beautifully, handmade bracelet. As I got up to go to the bathroom a quick picture of an old pendant, carrying the same “Allah” writing, flashed across my memory. It was also a gift I had gotten, something that I held so dear to my heart for years. It was a necklace that was given to me by one of my oldest of friends wanting us to have the same pendant to remind us both of our special bond and our special bond with God. I wore that necklace for no less than three years, until I lost it seven years ago, never able to find it again. As the memory of it came to me, I realized how much I missed it and missed it’s meaning. By the time I went out to make my cup of coffee the entire memory of it disappeared.

Three days later I find out that my father is coming into town for a few hours. I make plans to meet him at my sister’s home for a few hours before he leaves. The evening was pleasant and we laughed and joked around about life and it’s downfalls. We spoke about work, his grand kids, our travel plans and everything that was related to personal family matters. When it came time for my dad to start heading to the airport he discovered that he forgot where he placed his ticket. He went up to his travel hand bag to check for it. As I sat on the adjacent sofa overlooking my niece and nephew play together and hearing dad scrambling through his bag, I hear him say “Who is this for?” in a musical tone very unlike a man who is in desperate search of his plane ticket. I look up to see him dangling from his hand my long lost necklace that i thought i lost  seven years ago.

“Walk Out” it whispered

“Walk out” my own internal voice whispers to me in a rushed manner. “Walk out” it says again this time with a tone of panic growing inside of me. “Walk out … Walk out …. Walk out …” it would simply not give up. The interesting part about the internal voice is its amazing ability in maintaining the same level of its opening whisper like tone. My inability to do as it was asking me to do was causing a whole battle to take place within my mind, and the strain showed on my face. I wanted to get out I wanted to just leave but my respectful attitude kept me sitting there listening to the humorous words that were coming out of the mouth of my boss.

I have had numerous encounters with his deceitful ways, and I was sick of clearing up the mess he creates around me. As I sit there watching his lips move in praise of my work and who I am, all I can see are all the different ways he had tried his best to shove me under a carpet and stomp me out of the way. All his failed attempts at pushing me under the bus while he smiles in my face were rushing in the speed of light right before my eyes. I smiled, unable to be angry anymore, listening to all his promises of promoting me and giving me a raise. All the constant praises and lies that I had gotten so numb to in the last year, ever since he joined the company I worked for my, life has been a battle in keeingp my ground.

He looks at me, oblivious to the disappointment I am going through inside, and decides to change topics, it is time for him to gossip about everyone in the company and I am sitting there unable to WALK OUT. I keep a smile on my face as I pray that one of my colleagues will walk in with a work problem that they might need to solve so I can slide out of my office. As he starts his usual condemning way of laying down the dirty truth about others and disfiguring their image in front of me, I wonder how much of the same horrible things he had said about me in the past? I have learnt really well not to trust people who speak badly about someone behind their backs yet smile sweetly to their face in their presence. I had learnt it the hard way (story of “Shocking Truth”) yet today I thank God for that experience for I would have never seen all the sly ways of my boss and been able to clear them up if it weren’t for my first encounter with this type of personality.

Again the voice starts to push its way into the forefront of my thoughts “Walk out” then it repeats its self adding one extra word “JUST Walk Out”. The feeling was over powering, my mind was on full drive, my posture was takking the state of someone about to get off the chair, yet I still did not leave for guilt of embarrassing him by being rude.

I realized that he was oblivious to my well being as I was very attentive to his feelings. There was a time when I had confronted him with all his sneaky ways, I had exploded to all the concerned parties and clarified all the truths with not a single fear of the consequences. In doing so it all stopped for a month, only to return in the same mannerism with a lot more discretion from his end. I fought the little traps that were set up for me, I accepted his apologies and went back to believing it would stop and the work environment can be a peaceful place to work in. I tried my best to keep up the notion of group work, and a happy attitude to bring lightness to the taunting smiles that came my way. I was losing my will to fight; I was losing the ability to keep all my radars up 24 hours a day. I was tired, I was exhausted and all I could hear is the one true voice yelling in my head, still in a whispering tone “JUST Walk Out”.

I took a deep look at myself that day, I wondered why I was being so polite to his presence, not wanting to be rude and walk out in the middle of his conversation? Especially knowing that this was another one of his many attempts in making me believe that he is watching out for me; when the truth of the matter was actually clarified to me an hour prior to him walking into my office.

As i was about to get up and take that drastic stance my phone rang. I picked it up with urgency, complete delight that i could still maintain my polite exit without having to contribute to another confrontation that i had no energy for any more. He stared at me for a few seconds, trying to assess how long my phone call might last, then he gave up and walked out of my office towards the domain of his own office space, giving me the freedom to contemplate my upcoming move in self defence.

Trip on Coach in a Garden

I stared at my computer, contemplating the possibilities of travelling to where all my faithful friends have gone for their summer vacation. My sister had made her phone calls a direct threat to any of my “not going” contemplation thoughts. For long periods of time i just kept going back and forth and looking at the new empty seats on the plan, begging me to book it, asking me to go.

To my surprise, and lack of interest in my job, i booked a 48 hour trip to Egypt, Sahel, Hacienda……YIPPIIIII…..i actually took the decision, got on a plane and was heading out of my life in Dubai to beach, friends and unconditional love.

My sis took out her amazingly comfortable L shaped couch and placed it in the garden. We went no where after that. It was our butts and the couch, people came and went, kids splattered water in the pool, fought and made up, yet still, to no avail, our butts NEVER left that couch.

The sun came up, the sun went down, the mood came out, the stars shone down, and we just sat, and sat and sat. The couches would empty out and fill up again, people coming and going yet me and my sister were constant residence of the COUCH.

We ventured into the lives of each passer-by, we got some to stick on the couch with us. We spoke about marriage, kids, religion, life, NLP, divorces, depressions, life as it is and is not, books and movies. We listened to our Ipods that blessed us with supporting music to all our different and diverse conversations.

One specific book was rotating amongst all Couch residents, i found it in the airport and could not believe what the content was about. I picked it up and bought it. we spent the first day staring at the pictures and pondering the facts of how a person can ever revert from one life and succumb to another willingly.

The book is called Married to a Bedouin

The songs we listened to were:
Te Amo (2-Trak)


On the Radio
For Your Entertainment

Love Supply

Dead And Gone (Featuring Justin Timberlake)[12 inch vinyl single]

She Said being my ultimate obsession for 4 weeks now 🙂

I came back revived and yet sadder then ever before, all is well there and all is not well here, contemplation of life, what is there to offer if the ones you love exist somewhere else? The purpose of such a thing is hard to handle, and that is when the mind and the heart must start a battle. The Intuitive Mind becomes more confused. The heart/mind objective is scattered with questions and uncertainty.

I walked out into the dark night, with the ones i love, waving at the front door while reassuring me of their undying love. Tears welled up in my eyes, and disaster filled my heart. There was no choice, work had to get done, my life outside of that world had to be pursued. Sadly i turned my face, took a deep breath walking into the car that would take me back to Dubai, back to my work, back to my cats and blog.

Had to add the above paintings/pictures showing the Couch in which people would come and go from, some of the residence on the couch in the picture actually became part of the couch. Picture on the right is the view that we had.