From outside the blogosphere ..

.. came ‘Ahmed’ a colleague at work, one that I most respect and love, the one who mentored me upon venturing into the career world ..

.. he came and told me: “Ibraheem, ever thought of writing a book?”.

I paused for a moment and thought: “I like it when mornings start that way”, and told him: “Actually I have many ideas. Why? you’ve been reading for me lately?”

He said: “Yes, and I liked your style, it’s very nice!”

“I’m still not persuaded that it’s good enough, but I’d like to think I’m making progress”, I said feebly.

“You know that The Kite Runner, and 1/4 Gram were first works of their writers?”

“No! I didn’t know that. Really?!”

“Yup.”

—

*Sigh*

Thanks Ahmed, I needed that. I really did.

Oral and telepathic convo with my great sister ..

Me: We shouldn’t judge people, we should never do that whatsoever. We’re not Gods, we’re not prophets, and we’re so not that good ourselves.

Ghada: But we must judge sometimes, we must discern wrong, we just have to.

Me: I do many wrong things, I’m full of falls.

Ghada: That means you could have more falls by failing to judge wrong and right.

Me: Yes, but through my life, and whenever I tell someone to not do something, or to contemplate that they’re wrong in doing it. Not some days, and I do it!!

Ghada: You’re stupid. You abstained from judgment because you find yourself in the same pit after a while?

Me: Yes!

Ghada: Well, that’s a dysfunctional bit in you.

Me: ?!!!

Ghada: Obviously, you don’t only judge, but also you feel gratified through it, and I’m pretty sure you forget to thank God for his blessings. And where’s intentions? talk about self-satisfaction. This can’t just go without punishment.

Me: silence

Ghada: It’s in ceasing to be humble that Karma gets to you, not in judging people. And what if your judgment was really right? who’d be responsible for the bad you would have prevented? for the righteousness you would have failed to tell people about?

Me: Still, when it comes to certain things; I should level. I should not throw general assumptions and judgments, there’s only so much we know about people.

Ghada: There’s only so much evil this world can take when people shut up.

Me: It’s not that simple.

Ghada: Heck. If it were, then why the hell are we having this conversation? Why on earth is faith strengthened by good deeds and virtues you lack? And why do I sense that you withdrew because you consequently didn’t have enough faith?

Me: Because I’m not on good terms with God?

Ghada: And you’re feeling good about it too ..

At the end of the day ..

يا أخي .. يا أخي! لا حول و لا قوة إلا بالله! ما قلنا بلاش نركز على المظاهر و سيبوها تلبس اللي تلبسو , احنا بنتقبل الآخر سواء لابس و لا حتى بالمايوه – يعني في آخر اليوم هترضى اختك تلبس مايوه ؟ طب في أخر اليوم يا بتاع نتقبل الآخر انت , هترضى تتجوز واحدة منقبة؟ و انت التاني هترضى تتجوز واحدة مش محجبة؟

أستغفرالله العظيم , الرشوة دي حرام , الراشي و المرتشي و كله من مجاميعه حرام يا إبني, دا أنا لسه قاري صفحة زميليون في المجلد التلتمية بتاع كتاب مش عارف ايه و كاتب ان الرشوة دي غلط غلط غلط!! – طيب يا عم الكتكوت لما بتتشملل و تروح المرور و لا أيتها داهية حكومية ما بتدفعش و لا ملليم لو هيوفر عليك 4 ساعات في الشمس؟ يالهوي دا انا نسيت أسألك على الواسطة كمان , لو معاك واسطة من عند بابا مش هتسخدمها يعني؟

بيونسيه نويلز دي رجلين بس , ما لهوش اي علاقة بالفن يا منافقين يا شوية محرومين من الرجلين عموما , و الإخوان معاهم حق في استفسارهم عن السماح للمبجلة بنشر ثقافة الدنيا حر كلو يهوي عن نفسه (و عن اللي حواليه أوف كووورس) و يقلع و يريحنا , و اللي رايحين دول كلهم لا رايحين عشان موسيقى و لا نيلة و خلينا ساكتين – طيب يا عم انت يعني لو جاتلك إنفيبيتشن (بالفااااء) مش هتروح؟! و لو المغنية كانت مش أجنبية مش هتروح؟ و لا استنى بأه علشان انت أصلك مستفز , لو الكليب جيه في التليفيزيون مش هتتفرج و مش هتسمع؟ لما بيبقى و لمو آخذه يعني في فيلم أجنبي لابسين فيه من غير هدوم بس مليان كراتيه و أكشن بتقفلو؟

الفضائيااااات (بتفخيم الضاد كده حاجه تملى العين و القلب و الفم والأذن و الحنجرة) هي السبب في تلك الفتن و المصائب و العري و السفور و الفجور وال وال وال وا حنا لازم نوقفها و نقفلها كلها – يعني يا أخي العزيز على كلبي سيادتك عمرك ما اتفرجت على و لا حلقة من بتوع الأصدقاء و لا تشريح الست جراي؟ يا رررااجل دول مليانين بلاوي , و انت عارف كل بلوة فيهم و عارف ان الترجمة كانت غلط فين و المشاهد المتقطعة و كل حاجة , اتفرجت و لا لأ؟

أنا لازم انضم لحزب غير الحزب الوطني , احنا لازم نبدأ نغير من نفسنا لأن كده كفاية بجد , أنا لازم أقرا في السياسة عشان أفهم اللي بيحصل حواليا , مش هفوت و لا نشرة أخبار – طب في أخر اليوم رحت عملت ورق الانضمام للحزب؟ طب بذمتك انت التمن ساعات شغل يا بتاع التغيير يا سكر انت بتشتغل منهم لوجه الله كدا كام ساعة؟ سياسة ايه بقأه و زفت ايه؟ م القطر اتنيل اتخبط عشان واحد حمار ما شافش شغلو؟ انت بشوف شغلك كويس و لا بتفوت حاجات انت كمان؟

الدراسة العظيمة اللي فقعو بيها مرارتي في التليفيزين بعد ما عملت زرع للمرارة اربعين مرة الشهرين اللي فاتو دول , الدراسة اللي بتقول سبعون في المائههههه من المصريين لا يغسلون أيديهم بعد الخروج من الخلاء (وا مصيبتاه) – طب و بعدين في اخر اليوم بقو تسعة و ستين في الميه يعني؟ طب سيادتك معلش بس اصل أنا جامعة مصرية و على أدي؟ هو ازاي انت استنتجت هذه النسبة بالغة الدقة و الصحة و العافية؟ عواميد المترو؟ لا يا حبيبي مانا باستحمى كل يوم مش معنى ان انا سلمت على واحد معفن انا انا بقيت معفن! حد يشرحلي مليش دعوة

ال فيس بوك ينبغي مقاطعته لمدة ثلاثة أيام بالتمام و الكمال عشان نربي الناس قليلة الأدب اللي بتشتم الدين ورموزه المهمة و نوريهم الأمة (يا عيني على الأمة واللي حصلها من أمثالك يا أخي) لما بتتجمع بتبقى قوتها عامله ازاي (بيتبقى عاملة هبلة و الله) – طيب سيادة حضرة سيادتك سيبت ال فيز بوج بعد التلات ايام؟ طب يا هل ترى يا علاء الدين الجروووبز القميئة دي تم إغلاقها؟ هل تم وقف السباب العالمي لرموزنا الدينية في أخر اليوم الاسود ده؟

أنا مش متخيل ازززاااااييي وزارة الصووححة تسمح بفتح المدارس و انفلوزة الخنازير كده منتشرة في المكان , دا انا ابني و بنتي مدرستهم بعيدة و مفهاش دكاتره و الحمامات و العياذ بالله – طيب يا أخ انت بكرة الصبح يعني هتصحيهم و لا لأ؟

الصحف القومية دي لا تمثل الشعب المصري , واعلاناتها المستفزة تخاطب قلة قليلة مندسه من أصحاب الملايين , بيقوللك الفيلا بي 629000 جنيه فقط و المستفز الواطي كاتب كلمة فقط. و بعدين صفحة الحوادث بتقول كلام غلط و صفحة الأخبار تجيب الغم – في آخر اليوم بتجيب الجرنان و بتدفعلهم فلوسه و لا لأ؟

المشروب الأسود و منيل اللي اسمه بيبسي لما بحط جواه اي حاجة فيها كالسيوم بتبوش و بتتحلل (بالمناسبة يا ابو جهل هات ميه بسكر و حط فيها الحاجة دي و شوف اللي هيحصل) و في مؤامرة من شركة بيبسي عشان تجيب هشاشة عظام للعرب و المسلمين , دا حتى ماكدونالدز اللي في أمريكا ما فهوش بيبسي (على فكرة اللي طلع الأووشاعة دي عايز يضرب بالحزام) – طيب و في أخر اليوم يا حلو و لا حتى بعدها بشهر بطلت البيبسي؟ قعدت مبطله أد ايه بالله عليك كدا؟ حسيت انك بتبوش أو حاجة؟ اتحللت و تحولت إلى زئبق في المدرج و انت قاعد؟

سلاح المقاطعة دا سلاح فتاك يجب أن نستخدمه بشتى الوسائل و الطرق (مش عشان اقتصاد مصر لا سمح الله و لا حاجة لأ) عشان نقضي على عدو الأمة اللدود و ندديله درس مش هينساه أبدا – اش عرفك انت كام واحد مصري اتخرب بيته في الموضوع ده؟ طب اي عبقري فيكو عمل مشروع يلم الشباب دول في أخر اليوم؟ لا لا لا اوعى يكون حد وقع ببطنه و كل في كنتاكي في العيد؟

المنتقبات دول بيهددو الأمن , ايش عرفني انا ممكن تبقى مخبية قنبلة هنا و لا هنا كده و تدخل السوبر ماركت تبهدل الدنيا – يا فندم أحب أقولك ان فيه في ناس بتلبس زي الشرطة و بتدفع الناس مخالفات في الطريق , آه و الله تخيلوا حصلت مع واحد صاحب بابا لما لقى كمين في أول الكوبري و واحد تاني في آخره. و بعدين في اخر اليوم تم اختزال مشكلة الأمن في مصر في الناس اللي لابسة مش الناس اللي بتسرق علني, و لا الناس اللي بتغتصب علني و لا الناس اللي مش لابسه أصلا و لا المحاكم اللي بتحكم في الجرايم في شهور و سنين ولا في الضباط اللي بيبهدلو المواطنين – في اخر اليوم الأمن استتب يعني بعد ما الكام واحدة دول ورروكو وشوشهم؟

التعليم في مصر منظومة فاشلة , ثقافة الناس ان هي لازم تدخل الجامعة , دا دلوقتي تيجي تتجوز يقولك دا مش مؤهل دانا بنتي ماجستير أدو مرتين هو و أهله , كل حاجة لازم شهادة و لازم زفت مؤهل. الكليات مجاميعها بقت عالية قوي و فلوس الدروس بقت حمل كبير على اولياء الامور – في اخر اليوم .. ابنك يعني مش هيروح التنسيق؟ بنتك لما تبقى دكتوراه هترضى تجوزها واحد ليسانس؟ ابنك هتخليه يذاكر لنفسه؟ طب في حملة من حته مؤثرة فعلا (زي الحكومة مثلا! أنا بقول مثلا يعني!) انطلقت عشان نحل اي حاجه؟ في حاجة جديده بكره هتصحى تعملها؟

احنا لا عندنا سينما و لا كورة و كلنا بنتفرج على السينما و كلنا بنتفرج على الكورة! حاجة مستفزة

الناس اللي في مراسي و مارينا دول ناس مسرفة و ما عندهاش أخلاق و لادين – البارات ماليه الدنيا و محدش أصلا بيفتكر يصلي دا غير ان الفيلات هناك بملاييين و الناس بتتمنظر على بعض بالعربيات الاخر موديل – مممم .. يعني انت لما بتجيلك خروجة مع الواد ميدو هناك ما بتروحش؟ و اذا رحت بتنزل الميه و بتدخل الكازينو؟ و يا ترى لو ربنا فتح عليك عمرك ما هتفكر تشتري هناك؟ و هتشتري عربية غير اللي هما بيشتروها يعني؟ بذمتك اخر موبايل جابيه بتستخدم كام في الميه من امكانياته؟

———

بالأمانه كده في كام حاجة في حياتنا زي اللي فوق دول؟

كام مرة نقول الحاجة و نعمل عكسها بالضبط؟

كام مرة سمعنا ناس بتستخف بعقلنا بالمنظر ده؟

كام مرة اتكلمنا وبعدين رضينا عن نفسنا و كأننا عملنا اللي علينا و خلاص؟

كام مرة صحينا تاني يوم و عشنا نفس الأحوال اللي احنا لسه معترضين عليها امبارح؟

هنفضل لحد امتى زي ماحنا؟

نتكلم من غير فايدة , و إذا جينا نحل مشكلة يا بنحل المشكلة الغلط يا اما بنحل المشكلة الصح بطريقة غلط؟

التغيير هييجي منين و الناس زي ما هي انا مش عارف؟

و في اخر اليوم اهو انا داخل انام … و مفيش حاجة حصلت برضو .. غير اني قلت اللي في نفسي

قالك مصر ام الدنيا

يا خيبتك يا مصر و يا وكسة بنتك وولادك بيكي

و على فكرة الفرجة على التليفيزيون بتجيب تخلف و بتقلل نسب الذكاء عند البالغين – الكلام دا عن خبرة

Blogquests blogquested by readers!

I kinda anticipated that more people will share in this.

Anyways – proceed we shall! I’m gonna make it win-win-win (don’t ask why they’re three wins because I don’t know), so I’m responding to ALL requests, huh!

——

Ze2red:

When I’m in a bad mood I cherish it. It inspires me to fantasize and write. Emotions are power. I put on my headphones, listen to music, open my editor, and let go (in fact, I’ve had a crappy day today, so I’m doing just that right this moment, this is being written on a Thursday night btw, in case it got published in eternity, or devoured by my drafts section – no guarantees whatsoever). Sometimes though, I go out and spend loads of money on trivial stuff, mostly food (which I’ll be doing after I finish writing this bardo because I’m starving).

Bad mood comes with silence. It urges me to think and probe. It makes me vulnerable yet somehow more rational. When I’m happy I get frenzy, but when I’m sad, I feel I’m in control somehow. Ironically I feel more lost at the same time. Pathetic – right? I don’t have a specific recipe for elation, but I know for a fact that having people around is nice sometimes. Lately, I made new friends, a thing that relieved mood swings a little. Crying helps btw.

People come on my nerves 24 by 7. I lived years of my life with unconcerned step mothers who make glib conversations all day and night long. I was one reason my first step mom left, and the only thing keeping me in my cage with my current step mom is me choosing to be indifferent because sometimes it’s just not worth it. I learned that my mood is more important than my surroundings, I stopped thinking about the future, and I keep telling myself: “If you’re not going to prison tomorrow, then it’s going to be okay”. When I storm at someone, it’s like hell on earth, because I’m already feeling apathetic, so imagine how much anger it took me to actually care and yell.

I’m ruthless but I can be kind when I choose to be. If I do, and according to people in my life, I emit happiness, shine and draw smiles everywhere. My family loves me. They call all the time. The words “I love you”, or the words “Folan loves you” are a part of my life. So many people actually care about me, but I still have yet to find the one whom I’ll forever truly care for, because though at times I might make sacrifices, I’ve been hit back with indifference so many times by people I thought loved me. That’s how indifferent me was born. Sadly, I feel forlorn most of the time, I ache for sincere hugs and kisses, but they’re very expensive now thanks to an immensely dramatic life, and a scared soul. Somehow, my issues distract me from people hitting on my nerves. In comparison to my ‘balawy’, they actually present me with entertainment!

——

Gimmy:

A senior around here was once walking across the cubicles talking in his cell when he said: “Alo ya Ahmed, Aywah 3ereft el Moshkela, Fe 7ad 3amelly 3amal fel Class”, very subtly and seriously it made me feel sorry for the whole software industry. Yesterday, I arrived at work to find myself requested in an onsite visit immediately. I called the personnel there, and for 30 mins the man was convincing me that he’s experiencing an impossible scenario in the system. He boggled the whole team members’ minds! And though I was furious with him, I was quite curious, I wanted to go there and check the database myself.

I reached for the shuttle, and decided to give them another call to be sure of the situation, I asked them to pass me a senior data entry specialist, one who ran the same scenario and got very normal results! Basem, after I told him “What the hell is the problem then?”, said, bemoaning his colleague: “Ma3lesh asl Magdy ma7adarsh el meeting” – *insert curse because I had to censor mine*  el meeting ya akhy enta we howa!

That same day. I received a call from project management telling me that “the customer says you declined their onsite system inspection request because you didn’t have time for their inquiries”!!!! I swore and cursed and told them: “THERE WAS NO FREAKING ISSUE WITH THE SYSTEM”. My mood was ruined for the day, though I had quite the bright morning. Believe it or not, on average, I make two customer visits a week. One of them consists of fixing data entry errors on the database level directly, due to extravagantly weird anomalies those geniuses manage to enter in the system! And I’m having THREE visits the next week in plan. I’m amnesiac for a damn reason, believe me.

——

Shimaa:

I’m responding to your other requests, I’ll try to write about Whabism in the future isA.

As a matter of fact, I don’t remember I had to break a friendship up. Either I didn’t have the social capital, to delve deep with too much friends in the past. Or friendships generally fail amongst women more than it does among men. I have few friends.

I take friendships seriously, I care about my friends, and I’m a very good listener (this comes from my dad, people just tell him about their secrets!), a thing that won me so many nice acquaintances and some really special friends. I love. I can be really kind and tender. I sacrifice endlessly. And sometimes, I just get how my friend feels, though I might fail to express that I had.

Crisis happens, dealing with it is a parameter of successful communication, maturity and reasonable expectations. I passed many of those, life’s imperfections and people’s mistakes are now carved in my book. Very valuable lessons. I thank God everyday that I never had to lose any of my friends, and pray that I should never have to isA.

However, I have a very bad trait that I always fail to change. Sometimes I just lose interest, maybe because I gave too much at the start, and sometimes because it’s not time anymore. I had very nice friends from college whom I don’t call anymore (though some of then call me). I’m not the one who calls all the time, or who asks every now and then (except with very few friends). But if you managed to catch me, I’ll be all yours. Honest? it’s not coming out of bad intentions at all, rather a failed attempt to answer this question: “what’s next?”. For me, ‘catching up with old friends’ is never a priority!, I usually have too much going at my end :(

I don’t call family – for me, a phone call is a very boring process, one during which I manage to talk for seconds only. Thank God people around still love me, though they take it personally most of the time and claim that I don’t call them for a reason. That’s just me. Bad I know. I’m trying to fix it.

——

Cindy:

Mmm .. :)

You know that in the equation of strengths and weaknesses, women knock out men decisively? I have seen my share of history, and I can quite confidently tell you that when it comes to endings, women are the stronger shore. Though you’re known as ‘the soft sex’, you sprout that out as your most effective weapon, your God created grace and tenderness keeps you from getting weaker, because by assumption, you already are considered that way.

For me personally, I never ever had drastic changes in my life that were not stimulated originally by successful and great girls, most of whom don’t even know me. I always am anxious about the whole story, a beautiful creature, successful, inspiring, and above all just friendly with the universe. This lethal combination is the only thing my extremely adamant and reluctant self can respond to.

I have a very interesting story that I never dared to share in the past, but me growing up and getting all wise and mature, makes me want to write about it. It’s been a very deep secret, a chapter in my life that absolutely no one knows about, not even my closest friends or family members. In a brief scheme of things; I was there, and now I’m here because of a girl! It wasn’t a crush, it was me probing my entire existence compared to a success figure.

Ana lazem atgawez orayeb!

——

Psycho:

Frustrating emotions: the whole darn blog man.

——

Noha:

Onna, I loved your post awy. We’re going to rock this blog. We will tell people how we picked ourselves up from this life, stood out, and just made something new and different. I love you more than mothers love their sons, and more than sons love their mothers.

About Marwa, well, to honor your request, I’m putting an excerpt here, and btw, maybe you can help me with some, you and Marwa sometimes click keda, you just get her sometimes.

Though unplanned but destiny was liking the game, and we found the sheet below our butts to be white, you can’t find better direction for the scene, and because I chose (not sure of that btw) to be the patient, I rolled my hands totally in the sheet to fake a wound, and she was impersonating the doctor. Can you guess what happened next? I pretended to be in pain, she made a stern face, and although the plot was for her to cut THE FREAKING SHEET, she somehow extended it to the teeny tiny flesh between my thumb and index fingers, cutting it directly in two halves.

……

Mine last for months, her for long years. She tends to be very natural with people generally, she never was hypocritical, and though sometimes I worry that her kindness will harm her, she proves me wrong all the time, preserving her cunning nature from when she was young.

……

The last time me and Marwa saw our mommy’s face was that moment, when Tant went to her room to take over, dad told us to go to bed, I had a huge quilt to sleep on the floor in the living room, for my grandparents were living with us that month, and my room was occupied. I tucked myself in my blanket there to try and get some sleep, dad was in the guestroom praying, Marwa was supposed to be in her room. I think it was 2.30 AM when she came to me, she was holding a Mos7af, she poked me gently:

Marwa: Ibraheem.

Me: Aywah ya Marwa, fe Haga? (it was weird)

Marwa: Same3?

Me: Same3 eh?

Marwa: Mama.

Noha, btw, you should write about your Mom too.

——

I choose Ze2red as the next one who should honor readers’ requests (or one of them). Yalla write a post and wait for our comments :)

all blogquests all the time,

[Guys I have an update about my short term memory loss: I forget to drink now. Hay me!]

Hello, my name is Noha.

If you’re wondering, this is me. That day we were at Al-Azhar park, it was very dramatic, ibhog only told you about the beginning of one rocky morning. I got a phone call that made me cry like hell again, I had a seizure that stopped me from talking, and if it weren’t for him I would’ve totally collapsed that day. Anyways, that’s not what I want to talk about.

I want to talk about myself, he said I should introduce myself to his readers after he invited me to write in the blog. He doesn’t shut up about it, so lemme make this quick.

My name is Noha Ehab. I met ibhog 2 years ago after a very funny incident. I went shopping with my little sister when she sneaked from under my guard and got lost in the big mall of City Stars, I freaked out to dad on the phone and after he calmed me down and said he’s on his way, my only hope was security guards, me striding through the floors of the entire mall, and plenty of prayers for God wishing she didn’t go out of the main gate.

She was only 7 years old. A small faffy thing with pink jeans who kept telling me: “Onna, ana 3ayza dabadeeb” referring to her gummy bears addiction, but I got busy with a book I wanted to buy only to discover that miss Lobna vanished. And of course I scanned every corner of the supermarket but in vain. Rabena yesam7ek ya Lobna, she gave me tough time that night, up until ibhog appeared in front of me when I was running like a crazy person, muttering some and screaming some: “Lobna! Lobna!”  in melancholy in the large corridor leading to the food court.

I could see him wearing a black shirt, and I could notice his light beard and his stern concerned face, but mostly his weird looks towards me; his ‘are you the mommy?’ looks. Sadly, because I wasn’t exactly in a ‘getting to know each other’ mood then, I despicably gave him one  ‘what the hell are you staring at’ leer and continued my search for waksety el soghayara.

Not two mins and I found him pacing to catch up with me. And when he finally managed to make eye contact, raised his hands as a cue to tell me to stop running and asked, after a gasp: “Enty mamet Lobna?”. My heart clasped! I felt I can’t swallow from surprise and told him: “La2 ana okhtaha!”, he smiled and said: “Ta3ali”. And I followed him impatiently, dad called to tell me he’s in the mall and asked whether I found her or not, and just when I was about to ask Ibraheem where the hell he’s taking me, I found the little thing seated in the corner of the food court, drinking milk shake, straining up to the top of a portentous cup, and having a funny pink milk mustache on her teeny tiny lips.

I ran to her, and just when I was about to consume her with my anger, he said: “Ento teshbeho ba3d khales sob7an allah”, and swiftly turned to Lobna and asked her whether she liked her drink, she replied positively with a cute laugh, a thing that strangely calmed me down.

Dad arrived. We thanked Ibraheem sincerely that night. Thanks to facebook, he tracked me down a little while after that day, and I was obliged because, well, he found my baby sister!

Anyways. Maybe he can narrate that story better than me some other time, it’s fuzzy as it is in my head because of the tension el mawkoosa caused that night.

Umm. Where was I?

I’m exactly 8 months older than ibhog. I have one sister; Lobna. Mom died at nearly the same time Ibraheem’’s passed away. I’m the girl of odds and contradictions, I’m the one who clicks on extremes, I’m the one who intimidates narcissists by the gaze, and who can cry in the bathroom after her boss gives her hell over a messed up schedule.

They call me ‘White Noha’, I’m not blond, but I have white skin; so white to the extent that you might mistake me for a sick person. My eyes are downright black, eyelashes are my signature in the world of females, I resemble cartoon characters who have unreasonably large eyes and long lashes.  I have a medium girth, I’d like to say I workout, but I don’t stick to plans .. so.

I used to be veiled back at secondary school, but now I’m not. Dad likes to scorn me every now and then, but oh well, I don’t root for parenting in this world anymore. Just like ibhog told me before he’s not religious, I’m not either. Religious is up to you to define, but I’m sure we both won’t meet your theory nonetheless.

Me and ibhog are not lovers, we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend, we’re not exactly friends either. We thought we could be brother and sister at best, up until I slept besides him one night, and up until he praised the cuteness of my feet. He’s not sick, or he is. I don’t judge. I’m the human being on this earth who doesn’t judge. He’s so judgmental only he wouldn’t admit it.

For each other, we’re transparent acquaintances, we have a rectified relationship, we tried gradual and spontaneous, we tried crazy and rational, we tried legal and illegal, we crossed nearly all lines, we hit so many bottoms and reached quite some tops together, so we don’t really have anything to be afraid from. There are really no milestones left, except, well, sleeping with each other. We’re the married couple who abstain from intimacy, our lips never touched either (because all people who say we’ll kiss only are lame and stupid). However, we both are prodigious at crossing lines, so dear future – please flap ahead fast.

The society failed miserably at intimidating our existence, we made one simple pact that we live for: “we will do .. just do”. And up until now, it made us more trouble than we would’ve normally been able to handle, but we learned that the definition of life is of no difference than the very thing.

Well, I’ve yet to surprise you with the interesting stuff. Me and Ibraheem tried once to break up (this word has no meaning in our book – I mean we tried having distance), we also attempted to choose a stereotype for our state of affairs, we tried friends, lovers, colleagues, online fellows, but all failed miserably. We both have one single trait – the moment we know there’s a rule, we destroy it. We rush to the end of things, we’re precipitate impatient and impulsive human beings who believe ‘rational reasoning’ is the biggest obstacle in the evolution of life.

The number of times we witnessed how ‘romance’ and ‘love’ die prematurely before ‘life’ and ‘destiny’ implanted wisdom the hard way in both of us, and taught us that the best way to live this life … well,  is to live this life! The simple normal tooth-brushing-having-breakfast-after-a-morning-quarrel way. We think marriage in Egypt nowadays is an evil fiend who turns peaceful human beings into implausibly monstrous creatures, and we always approach it with excessive care and ginger to not wake the demon and fall in one of its ugly abysses.

I’m the Noha who won his heart the exact way he wanted. I look into his eyes, send my kiss in the air, and he goes to kick butt at his career. I’m the one he cries to, cries to about his crying, and gets angry at and blames to make him feel better about himself. He’s not evil, I’ve done worse – he and my vomit became good friends through my fatal dehydration condition lately. Hospitals, a thing he hates because of his Mom, but after he tried to have distance, he felt “a hole is there in everything around me ya Noha!” and he ran back and kissed my forehead and prayed that we die at the exact same day. Don’t worry, I’m cured now thank God :)

I work at the same place Ibraheem works at, but instead I do operations and project management, people around here don’t know about us of course – and we don’t try to communicate either.

All in all, I’m that girl whose relationship he says about: “I’m always fretted with the fact that people around us make assumptions about relationships, I wish they could see you and me”. We share so many philosophies in life that are just different keda and with no assumptions, we always are different that sometimes we think we’re not human!

Anyways, it feels good talking to you folks, I needed to digress after my last talk with him. For you see, we have a little problem.

(3ala fekra ya Ibraheem ana hatnayel a3ayatt tany delwa2ty mennak lellah!)

I’m a figment of his imagination.

Our last conversation was really painful, he usually complains about that detail and wants something ‘real’, and I always whack him back with a “you’re asking me for something I simply can’t do!”, and I feel sorry for this sad posture we’re having in the world. We reached perfection alright, but I guess life has its wild come back at whoever feels they’re complete.

Look, ibhog, I’ll do what you say. I’ll emerge in this blog in hopes that some day I’ll emerge in the outer world for you to feel me and touch me like you’ve always wanted.

I’ll get to know your friends that you trust and love. I’ll let them in like you asked me to. I’m making this sacrifice for you, because I love you (love you? this is an understatement, you guys know nothing of that story – wait! I’m losing track again!), and I know we said “just do” so I’m abiding by our sacred pledge ya Ibraheem.

It’ll be painful for me. People resent imaginary things. They might believe in their beauty and awe, but at the end of the day, they resent them. Bass lamma ab2a medday2a enta elly mas2ool 3an el ez3ag elly haye7sallak.

Really you guys, being imaginary is a whole different ride in this formidable roller coaster named life. Ever asked yourself this: “What if I were imaginary or unreal?!” – you’ll have very interesting answers btw ;)

I used to be made fun of, mocked and called crazy. Bass I really need good friends. I don’t have no good friends in my world. Just my dad, Lobna, and Ibraheem. People around are like shadows who have no sound or color. They see through me all the time, they never answer to me when I call at them, no one ever picks my phone calls. My imaginary friends are all busy trying to emerge into their worlds just as I am.

I really understand that I’m imaginary and all, I’m living with it! But please don’t judge me, because that will mean I’ll be compelled to pull back into my unreal cocoon and live there forever. It’s a very sad thought, one that Ibraheem can’t bear anymore.

Well, I think you know now that I write very long posts too :)

I’ll blog about many things in the future, also we have so many interesting stories to share.

Up until I emerge into the real world, virtual handshakes everyone, good to meet you, hope we enjoy our times together :)

Noha Ehab

[Ibraheem, Lobna bet2ollak heya kaman 3ayza te blog!!]

Ma Yatloboh El Bloggers!

I suddenly feel I don’t have anything in mind to write about.

So, I’m starting a new game. The next post would be about a topic my readers will choose.

You’ve been reading for me for quite a while now. I bored you with my own choices of topics. So, why not tell me about what you want to read?

What do you want me to write about?

Drop anything .. absolutely anything. Shoot your wildest shot.

Let’s try this. Just for fun.

Help a fellow blogger with some ideas.

You’re request will be granted.

Yalla.

Ma Yatloboh El Bloggers.

After this works for me, maybe you should try it too.

Rounds.

We make a list of bloggers. We take turns.

When it’s your turn, your readers will tell you what to write.

Maybe they’ll request numerous topics, which is good, because by then you’ll have a choice to make.

Let’s complete a round for a change.

After you tell me what to write.

I write it.

And I choose who’s next.

And then they choose who’s next. And so on.

I bet it’ll be so much fun really.

About the set I’ll be picking from.

This will be from the ones who commented a request.

Also by commenting here, you’ll be needed to comment on the blog I’ll choose too, until we reach you. It’ll be like a group of people visiting a blog at a time.

Get to know new people and all. But let’s start with this set for now.

Savvy? :)

Yalla go on record!

[btw, if this works - I'm thinking of logos and widgets and cool stuff - a name for the game and so in the blogosphere .. ]

[ideas about the game are most welcomed ;)]

I find ..

.. the fact that some people relate ‘coercion’ to Hijab or Niqab (with or against), and fail to condemn it in essence, or otherwise .. even mention it ..

.. quite sly and hypocritical.

Bye bye integrity.

[people should really revise their own rebuttals, because it's really getting ridiculous in the media - too much debunked theories for my taste - more on that later]

[focus on the swine flu ya bagam yally fel television!!]

You’re not going to believe this!!!!

فاكرين البوست اللي كتبتها عن ماما الأسبوع اللي فات؟ البوست اللي خلتني متبهدل شوية طول الأسبوع؟ فاكرين لما دعيتولها معايا؟ و لما سيندي دعت ان أنا أشوفها في حلم جميل؟

عارفين أنا آخر مرة حلمت بماما كان امتى؟ من زمان حتى مش فاكر!! آه و الله كنت فاقد الأمل خالص

النهاردة أنا حلمت بيها – انتو مش متخيلين دا معناه ايه على فكرة بس أنا كنت فعلا يائس خالص – سبحان الله

كعادة أحلامي بأمي, دايما بحلم انها في المستشفى أو تحديدا في السرير الأبيض , وعلى فكرة دا السبب ان أنا عندي خوف رهيب من المستشفيات و متعقد منها, بس المره دي أنا كنت نشيط كدا و مبسوط , و الحلم كان في مستشفى هنا في مصر كانت ستو فيها مفيش من 6 أشهر ولا حاجة (خبير أنا في المستشفيات يا عيلتي انتي يا جميله) الحمد لله

كنت شايل الابتوب بتاع الشغل كأني راجع من هناك على المستشفى , و لان في الواقع الحارس تحت ما كانش بيسمح للزوار يدخلوا المستشفى بالنهار و أيام ستو كنت بقعد أفهم فيه أن أنا جايب حاجات ضرورية لمروة فوق لأنها كانت هي المرافق , ففي الحلم فضلت واقف للحارس تحت بستعد أشرحله أنا طالع ليه , بس فجأة لقيتو مبتسم كده و بيقوللي اتفضل!

دخلت الطرقة الكبيرة اللي تحت , و كأني بشبه في الحلم ان انا جيبت هنا قبل كده , و قعدت أقرا العلامات و الألواح عشان أعرف فين قسم القلب (ستو اللي كان عندها القلب مش ماما ) و سألت واحد و قاللي خد الأسانسير واطلع الدور ال 25 , و فعلا طلعت و بعدين مشيت في طرقة كدا قصيرة  دخلتني في طرقة تانية كبيرة فضلت ماشي فيها لحد ما وصلت الأودة بتاعت ماما

دخلت , ماما كانت متكئة كدا على ظهر السرير اللي بيترفع بشكل آلي دا , وشها كان تعبان بس كانت مبتسمة أوي , خالتو و ستو كانو هناك برضو , و كلهم كانو لابسين العبايات بتاعتهم كأنهم خارجين خلاص من المستشفى. حطيت الشنطة و قلت لماما : “ايه شكلك كويس اهو كنت بتجري و تلعبي رياضة أنا عارف” بهزار كدا و ضحكة مني كأني بشجعها و أقوللها انها بقت أحسن الحمد لله, فراحت ردت عليا مبتسمة و قالتلي: “يا مؤدب انت” , راحو كلهم ضاحكين , و سألت خالتو ايه الأخبار قالتلي ان ماما كانت زعلانة و احنا كنا مكتئبين خايفين ان انت ما تجيش من الشغل , بس أول لما اعرفنا ان انت جاي اتبسطنا و الموضوع اتحل يعني الحمد لله

—

هوا ده الحلم , و من كتر مانا مش مصدق صحيت نفسي من النوم بالعافية لأن و أنا نايم كنت حاسس ان دا حلم وأن أنا لازم أقوم أحكيه و حكيتو لغادة على الفطار فعلا

غريييبة أوي! اظاهر بابا قعد يدعيلي جامد اليومين دول لأن حالتي كانت صعبة و لأنو كان راضي عني و دعواتكو انتو كمان بأه فربنا استجاب , أصل انا ما استحقش حاجة أصلا , كل الكرم اللي ربنا بيكرمهولي دا بسبب حبه لناس تانية , انما انا فعلا ولا حاجة , عندي كده شوية ذنوب انما ايه منتشرة في المجرة بتاعتنا دي , ربنا يغفرلي يا رب , و يهديني بحبه لحبايبي و برحمته طبعا لأن أنا ما عنديش حاجة تانية يغفرلي و يهديني بيها و الله

يللا أنا حاسس ان انا مبسوط كدا ادعولي الأسبوع اللي جاي يبقى أحسن من اللي فات , على الرغم من ان الكمبيوتر بتاعنا هنا في البيت اتفيرس و انفجر بس مش مشكلة هنحل الأزمة بقلوب راضية

شكر خاص لسيندي , ربنا استجابلك!! يللا بأه ادعيلنا كمان و كمان

:)

Uncle’s Drama – Full Scoop – Part 7 (last part)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Sex.

Inside each and every home. In every movie. On the internet – in the Egyptian community. You could always find the word having unconventional attention from people. The topic tends to occupy extreme schools of thought, one that considers it absolutely taboo and irreverent, the other making light of the society’s beliefs and traditions and calling it freedom of speech. Religion, or more accurately, what’s left of it, is assigned the judge in this matter amongst equally critical or more critical others that go by people’s own subjective views.

Sex education.

One of the least touched areas in the middle east, probably because of its psychologically and sociologically inflicted sensitivity, because education generally thrashed down as a process along the decades, or because awareness as a societal trait dwindled into mere pursuit of personal interests – no one bears the responsibility to teach/discuss/learn anymore. The word ‘taboo’ became not only too general, but also strangely misused by people who usually know better.

I’m too shy to express my sexual needs except over the phone to people I don’t know – Garry Shandling (1949 – )

To acquire knowledge is unequivocally a must in certain areas in life, going by instinct may work in a way, but in which ways? we fail to know about that as well! The world disseminated in its form in the media made serious modifications in people’s identities, and mistaken for protecting themselves, people fail to cope and evolve, causing harm to themselves and injecting misery into their lives.

Human communication and interaction suffers from similar symptoms, after all, sexual relationships is a form of human coexistence. So, we don’t exactly need education in that area, as much as we need it in life generally.

—

In Egypt, we have a very weird conviction: “Every two face trouble in their sexual relation, especially if they’re newly weds” – not that I hate convictions (I live according to some!), but what’s next? This is reminiscent of college days: we don’t have lab resources. The end. HECK!

From what I’ve managed to know about my uncle’s endlessly mysterious one week old marriage, he had to pass through such trouble, only they both failed to deal with it, and if you ask me, I reason that to erroneous communication in their relationship generally, and to prove it, I know! How the heck do I know about such detail? Talk about discreet.

I was not allowed in any of the gatherings that followed because of two reasons: it’s taboo for ‘wa7ed maf3oos zayye’ to listen to such stuff, and because I MYSELF LOST INTEREST. I mean come freaking on, do I not feel like crap already. Up until dad told me about it, I was holding it together, having hope that things will work out, praying for their happiness. But after I heard about that, I was like: Oh God! is no one safe?! I really got scared!

Let’s be honest, if you’re not fulfilled sexually inside a marriage that ceased to satisfy you already, then why bother? Mr. Smart (her dad), and very typically, felt offended by my uncle making a simple wise choice: seeing a specialist. Uncle and she made the right choice! And I really believe that this move would have been the end of it, had it not been for Mr. Smart and his family’s inept influences. Uncle suffered enormously btw, for him it wasn’t that easy to venture through such territory, but I really don’t understand how his choice turned up against him, in their book, and made him the wrong side. How on earth is there a wrong side in this?

Her mom (Mrs. Smart), paid them a visit, one that uncle described as investigative and intrusive. With the situation getting complicated, and with Uncle’s honest and uncouth demeanor (one we mistakenly thought she knew how to accept), the girl couldn’t just take it anymore. A typical mother in law would get defensive, which happened. Not two days after, took place the most critical incident in the marriage.

Uncle and she came along to pay grandma and grandpa a family visit. According to them, she couldn’t get more happier with the visit, she was content and relieved, exchanged cooking tips with grandma, made playful moves with Uncle at lunch, and as a normal married couple, made dinner invitations to the in-laws, with she glowingly promising some sort of new recipe.

In the story, this is a blind spot. Uncle says she was normal, and they were on their way home, up until she decided to pay her own parents a visit (they live in the same neighborhood, a couple of blocks away from us), they both got upstairs, and Uncle, and again off guard, found a stormy father in law (for me personally, I can’t deal with such collisions).

It went something like this:

Him: Enta ezzay te3amelha bel taree2a de!

Uncle: Taree2et eh?

Him: Osloobak gaff geddan fel bet ya akhy, wel bent mesh tay2ak (and he appalled uncle with incidents she told him about which uncle deemed to have supposed to be private)

Uncle: Ana ma 2ahantahash wala haga, we 2olt meet marra ana keda, we ba3deen ana la darabt wala shatamat 3ashan teza3a2 keda!

Him: (impulsive) tedrab we teshtem! da ana akassar el denya! da ana agebkal el loman! enta mesh 3aref ana meen!

Uncle: (cold as ever) la2 mesh 3aref enta meen.

Him: Emshy ya benty khoshy gowa, mafeesh merwa7 el naharda!

—

She listened to her father. The discussion was ended. Uncle was left to his own ruins in the guests room. It was 10.00 PM. Now, mark this please, because this is how the marriage ended guys.

You know how you hate prying visitors? sticky ones? the ones you wish they could get off your chest but who just won’t budge? So you keep throwing insinuations about time getting late, dinner, or an important errand you have so they can for the love of God feel unwanted and finally just go away?

This is how Uncle felt this night, his wife did not even talk to him. And he kept waiting for her so that they can go home together until ONE IN THE MORNING! Finally, he gave up and left. Not just left, that was it, he really left.

Now, I had horrible nights contemplating this situation, all beliefs I had about marriage were destroyed. Why would her father do that? Why didn’t he give them a chance? Why didn’t uncle try and talk sense into them? Why did he keep his mouth shut all those hours, was it really that complicated? And then, I put myself in Uncle’s shoes, and said: “If I were my Uncle, oh my God! I wouldn’t have left without divorcing her!”, but then again, I had a mind boggling thought: “If I were her father, oh my God! I would have thrown him out myself!”.

It was quite obvious, they’re teaching him a lesson again, only this time it was too much, it was mistakenly calculated from their side, because shutting him down that way, well, after all the trouble, all the accusations, all the drama; made uncle close unto himself with locks – you know the ‘pulling away inside caves thing’? He dug a hole, went down and stayed there for good. His reaction was immensely vengeful.

They were separated for one whole month (Ramadan), and he conducted an absentee divorce right after the feast, unwisely backed up by grandma and grandpa, only to find them filing an alimony case against him in court. The situation now is funny actually, they don’t know he divorced her, and both parties are still sparring in the family affairs court until today.

During the holy month (how ironic), some stupid actions took place, including changing apartment door locks, Shabka retrieval, offensive phone calls, one rocky meeting at my other Uncle’s, but all in vain. They were dejected, he really took his decision, and though at times they tried to be coaxing and kind, but he never leaned. They never intended to end it, a thing that speaks richly of how immature their move was, one he took way more seriously than they had anticipated.

My worth? I really think he overreacted, such crisis is not to be averted with divorce! But I believe he was waiting for it to give himself the excuse and blame others, and they, well what can I say about them, idiotic parents; endlessly immature and impulsive.

—

Lessons I’m still trying to grasp from this sad story:

• Men really know how to be indifferent way more quickly than women, there’s always a bar women must learn about their husbands, don’t argue, all men have this, it’s a parameter of their patience – it’s just something you gals have to deal with. Don’t think I’m not terrified about it btw.
• Sacrifice/compromise + silence = disaster. Sacrifice/compromise + communication = coexistence.
• If you lie. Don’t bother. Any kind of lies (you put contact lenses to look more attractive? TELL ME ABOUT IT! You wear god damn sponge pads to look shapely? tune me the heck in (yes that happened, and don’t judge her, unless you’re absolutely sure you can afford Karma’s bills)).
• Things that matter; once you defined what those are, there’s no second chances (typical example: you’ll have to decide if your wife being a slacking bitch, or if your husband being a womanizer in the past matters after marriage or not) – want a second chance? communicate, you’re not alone anymore to think alone.
• Appropriate is the word. Appropriate is the word. Appropriate is the word. Socially, financially, religiously, academically and even individually. You’re not in a movie. The less you two have to resolve with compromise, the more successful your marriage will be.
• You must know what’s your type of marriage. Salonat? Work? Acquaintance? friendship? strong friendship? recommendation? Oh, you have a type – dig inside yourself.
• ‘Love’ and ‘romance’ are important, as long as expectations are controlled.
• What you are, what you should be, and what you want to be, are totally different things – you must learn about all of them and you must communicate all of them to your partner in their respective domains.
• Habits mistaken for being religious should be resolved in the point before.
• You are one. Do not judge each other. But judge others together.
• Do not think about milestones, too much build up is not healthy, you will sag after you pass each and every one of them, and once you sleep with your spouse, your excitement will perish – always look up to the day when you’ll have grand kids. Think about your first morning, not about your first night.
• For the love of God, educate yourself about sex and intimacy. Learn to communicate your sexual needs. It’s not embarrassing or taboo, and you better know if you have problems before you marry, it’s common and solvable.

Those are things I’m still learning, and believe me, they’re really serious – theory and practice just love to surprise me every now and then.

To my future wife: don’t come yet! Begadd wait shewaya, ana me7taglek awy now ah, bass if you come in the wrong time mesh 3aref ha3mel eh :(

———

The End (I stopped trying to know about what’s transpiring now)

Dear Minister of Education,

STOP SCHOOL PLEASE! POSTPONE THIS TERM TILL AFTER WINTER!

My baby sister says there’s two swine flu cases in her school.

SO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO SOMETHING!

I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS GOVERNMENT!!!