Missing you...

Missing you…


I feel a certain emptiness enveloping me, a creepy crawly from childhood days. A void left open like some gaping wound so blackened that maggots have already left. I feel an emptiness overwhelming me.

The breeze outside beckons to lovers from all around, welcoming a warm embrace, it touches my hair, lifting its swirls, reminding me of how it may feel and then drops the limp strands of hair to other limbs of green.

I look out into the twilight as things become clearer, tiredness takes its toll on me and from afar I hear the voice of lateness call upon me murmuring into my ears the drumming of time.

It is a demise that I have come to miss my vortex, m black hole of emotions, I miss it, for at the end it is still an emotion. I want to feel, perhaps I have forgotten how? How do I feel?

There is no coldness even, for even that is a feeling. How shall I cry for help? To whom?


"No man is an Iland, intire of itselfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Manor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee."

(MEDITATION XVII., Devotions upon Emergent Occasions by John Donne)

Sweet Nuthin's an' a Lil' Sumthin'

I Want a Little Sugar in my Bowl
sung by Nina Simone

I want a little sugar
in my bowl
I want a little sweetness
down in my soul
I could stand some lovin'Oh so bad
Feel so lonely and I feel so sad
I want a little steam
on my clothes
Maybe I could fix things up
so they'll go
Whatsa matter Daddy
Come on, save my soul
Drop a little sugar in my bowl
I ain't foolin'Drop a little sugar in my bowl
Well I want a little sugar
in my bowl
Well I want a little sweetness down in my soul
You been acting strangely
I've been told
Move me Daddy
I want some sugar in my bowl
I want a little steam on my clothes
Maybe I can fix things up so they'll go
Whatsa matter Daddy
Come on save my soul
Drop a little sugar in my bowl
I ain't foolin'Drop some sugar- yeah- in my bowl.


I miss the magic and the mystery, I miss the feel of a whisper and a breath, I miss the elusiveness of being a woman, I miss the fingers through my hair.

A Phantasmagoria

circa 18-08-04

As I drove to work this morning I had to think of what I want to write, how shall I write it and to whom shall I write. I wanted to write about what I thought and how I thought it and I realized that I felt like a myriad of sentiments and feelings, a multitude of thoughts taking form and as bubbles disappearing. I see the connection with many a thing, with many a peson.

What does it mean? Surreal? From the French ‘surréalisme’ Sur meaning above Realisme Meaning realism which goes back to latin from reality

From www.Dictionary.com :

Surreal
adj 1: characterized by fantastic imagery and incongruous juxtapositions; "a great concourse of phantasmagoric shadows"--J.C.Powys; "the incongruous imagery in surreal art and literature" [syn: phantasmagoric, phantasmagorical, surrealistic] 2: resembling a dream; "night invested the lake with a dreamlike quality"; "as irrational and surreal as a dream" [syn: dreamlike]


I like to think of it differently, I tend to feel it is not so far beyond reality more like a state of being just hovering above reality; it’s the reality that makes you think twice, you know when you look at something that seems regular yet deceives you because it is so much more than irregular.

Something closer to trompe l’oeil yet tips over its edge….

Yes, that’s what I want to write about and feel and see. Within this poetry of people called life.

Dubai International Film Festival

it got to a point where I became non-chalant by the amount of pictures being taken of me... So thats the life of a star, a picture is no more than a pause in the machinations of life, it no longer becomes that element of capturing a special moment.

Except for when it's with people who mean something to you. Like the directors & film makers I met; Walid Al Awadhi & Daoud Hussein from Q8, Bassam Al Thawadi, from Bahrain and John Holt from the states who apparently does 'films for the History channel' so he says, so I tease him.

We had a blast together, Walid has done a documentary of Iraq, that he will want to show at next ears film fest, I saw the trailers and they were tantalising!

"... to thine own self be true .."

What can I say, life goes on and we drift alongside it grasping on to withering pieces that will keep us afloat. Life goes on and at times you're in a river and at other times you're in murky waters. My mind, at this phase is passing through the latter, my confusion in a lot of things is intense. Everything is fragile around me, nothing seems solid & secure except that there is God and we will all eventually die.

Dark. Yes it's dark in my mind at this moment in time, darker than deep, deeper than nothingness. I am not depressed, lest this sound like that. I am also not deliriously happy. I am also not content with this feeling... It seems that I am simply NOT at the moment. As I struggle to be positive to all those around me, it is extremely difficult to be me to myself. This is soon to sound as a very egotisitical trip into the mind but I may need it.

"This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man." - William Shakespeare

Margaret Hassan

they have killed her, whom ever they may be. they, and I use small letters, do not deserve any acknowledgement in the most demeaning sense.

There is much written about her, and there will be more. Uncle Tahseen just wants her back, at least to get the burial that any human being deserves. Let alone a woman who spent most of her life serving humanity.

I just called Uncle Muthana, Uncle Tahseen's brother, in a ridiculous attempt to offer condolences to the family and to commiserate with them for their loss.

I should extend my condolences to all the Iraqi people and others that she's helped in her lifetime; they have lost their guardian angel.

She lived a life that most people only think of attempting, a life of giving. She died a good death, she died giving. That in itself is a nice slap & spit on the face of all those kidnappers that are just creating turmoil and devastating Iraq. She has died because she was doing good. That is DEFINITELY more than they could ever dream of attempting.

May God Almighty bless her in her final resting place many folds as much as she has helped others.

May the same merciful God, The Mighty Allah of the ninety nine names, and by his Greatest name, strike with all his infinite power & might, to the deepest of abysses of worldly and nether hell ALL those who have a hand in killing ANY innocents intentionally anywhere in the world, and those who intentionally want to harm Iraq, its development and path to peace.

AMEN.

Time

How long is too long? It’s been that long since I’ve last written.

Besides the ‘longing’ where did time go to?

‘As time goes by’ I think of my life, of what I’ve learnt or seemed to have wanted to learn and yet I have those scars that prove the experience; time heals all wounds, but it has no cosmetic surgery magic wand to remove all those scars deep inside of a soul.

It’s about time to let go and to embrace, to look at the glory of life as well as its misery and to mostly appreciate being alive to experience both.

Nocturne

(excerpt from the Buzz issue 38/12.10.2004)

The days go by, I await impatiently as any lover does, to the sleepless nights and drowsy days of Ramadan. Anticipation makes my heart throb from the tips of my fingers to the ends of my curls, round and round till it vibrates energy, carrying me higher to unknown levels mystique.

... I close my eyes and smile, I am back to that life that I’ve only read about in long told tales, of nights and days, perhaps a thousand, maybe more by one, the spirit of humanity lives on in that little street down the old souk of Casablanca...

... It is not a mere cleansing process, rather, a purification of the psyche, the id, the spirit, the essence, call it what you may, the nether part of ones being that wakes us up of our somnambulist reverie when we forget for a moment who we are.

I dream of Palm trees and their beckoning fronds swaying to the mystical words whispered by dwellers of the night, of the crescent moon bowing its head in reverence of the day ahead, of the waters edge curling its grasp on the banks that it embraces. I dream of Iraq.

Body and mind abstain.

... January 1998, Ramadan in Dubai, My father hurries me and I stall… I am mesmerized b the echoing of prayer calls, and a spell is cast, I fall and tumble hopelessly in love with the melodious resonance across the twilight air, a rosy glow covers the shadows and for once it has a myriad of colours unlike any other.

As we prepare to set the table for Iftar, it should have been only natural to hear a soft knock on the front door; I peek through the curtains and see a little boy carrying two plates. As I open the door and greet him, he bows his head with a shy smile, passes me the plate and rushes away before I have a chance to thank him and his mom for their kindness, asking God to bless him & his family.

I turn back inside and look at my parents with dewy eyes and awe transcribed poetically on my face. I had just been hit by the sweetest and oldest of customs; share your blessings and delights with your neighbours. I felt lucky to have experienced this tradition, that may only have existed in the countryside of anywhere in the world. It reached out its hand and held me in Dubai, it may have been sixteen years since Casablanca, but humanity still thrives over here.

With age comes maturity, and a forlorn longing to the simpler past that we hurried at so we may grow up faster. Ramadan seems to bring back many of those times. It is not only a time for fasting and feasting, but a time for some spring cleaning of the soul. After satiating our earthly appetites, a need comes calling deep into the last third of the night to satisfy a never ending hunger for blessings & forgiveness. The spirit convenes in a multitude of ways with its creator and in those deepest and darkest of hours one finds solace from the scorching noonday heat of thought; revelation. A shroud of patience descends to envelope us, help us understand our fellow man, ourselves, our misgivings, our short-sightedness at a life we think of as eternal, and one lets go of worldly delights, of all that binds us from absolution. We thank the Almighty for being able to observe this holy month, for being capable of doing the good deeds to fellow humans as we must, for blessing us with life to see it for another year, It is then that we wish that all our days were Ramadan…

Go, Go, Go Shorty... itshya birthday, we gonna party, like itshya birthday

hApPy bIrThDaY tOoOoO mEeEe

HaPpY BiRtHdAy ToOoOo MeEeE

hApPy bIrThDaY HaPpY BiRtHdAy

HaPpY BiRtHdAy ToOoOo MeEeE

'Epiphanie du Silence'

To: Cadavre Exquis

Your style is exquisite, though I may have understood just a bit of it, but exqisite it is...

Continue your beautiful words that form such ugly visions at times, continue shocking; yet delicately, continue pleasing, yet intensely, continue your letters of suicide; yet passionately, continue your dark thoughts with blinding light.

Continue dying by being vibrantly alive.

A dire need . . .

I’ve always felt the dire need

To be a body of water,

And beside it to lay & rest

My gravely heavy shoulders

 

I’ve always felt the dire need

To live beside the sea,

And of the sea a mist I breathe

Of all my dreams to be

 

I’ve always felt the dire need

To weep far into the ocean

To wash away my souls scars deep

Of betrayal from loves devotion

 

I’ve always felt the dire need

To whisper in your ears

Lay me at the waters edge

And wipe away my tears

 

Darkest nights create the dire needs

To rest a weary mind

To invite a lover into arms

Along a path entwined

 

And at these nights thresholds lie

Labyrinths of desires

Of love and hate and hunger pangs

And imaginations taking me higher

 

I’ve always felt the dire need

To live besides of thee

And of thine mist a breath I feel

That brings me to my knees

 

I’ve always felt the dire need

To live beside the sea,

And of the sea a mist I breathe

Of all my dreams to be

A delicious verbal meal

He spoke to me of memories gone, of a beauty he had seen, that I reminded him of...

He spoke of the Iraq that had been, of burying a sweet girl in a dress so green, what he's dreaming of...

He spoke and I sat there listening to the song that he composed, he stroked my feathers, my plumage of violet , red, blue and green.

And again, I envied the pain of my fellow compatriots, their agony, their day to day turmoils that had passed through them, and is now like a foggy window, being wiped with the back of a western hand.

In his mind, he wished and wished and wished. But you see, he can't wish backwards!

"You must have been born an artist", "You must paint and draw and have a show" and I said that I do, I paint the most glorious pictures of magnificent color with my fingers as plumes and my words as paint. Yes, I draw beautiful pictures with my words.

He felt, he thought, but he said differently...
I enjoyed all three.
The pleasure of the forbidden, beckons me!

And I enjoy. I will enjoy. Words are pleasure for my tongue to curl around and taste, for my eyes to rove and devour, for my ears to hear and recover and for my hands to twist around in knots the sentiments that we control to feel.

Ask not what your country can do for you, Ask what you can do for your country.

Why are people dying and being hurt for my country?

 

Why can't I go there, do something and die for it too?

 

Today two Italian & Iraqi Aid workers were abducted. Why? what vile minds want to destroy Iraq when all Iraq wants is to live, prosper and be left in peace. Ah yes that makes sense, so whoever is doing this doesn't want that.

 

Thank you then for this humungous compliment. Yes Iraq is magnificent and will forever pose as a threat to any weakling state. Yes Iraq is magnificent and will always make the insignificant insecure. Yes Iraq is Glorious, but all this only through the blessings of The Almighty.

 

I had a poem that I wrote in January '91 in Montreal Canada, I recall little to none of it. In arabic it says:

 

    "I will write the greatest poem written for Iraq, I will with my soul and blood the pain of it's distance and I'll scream with my pen and cry with my ink Iraq, Iraq."

The Move Forward

Dated 04-09-04

In view of the current trend towards liberalizing businesses in the UAE, there is a dire need to create the right environment for profitable business methodology in addition to the prosperous business opportunities that will present themselves at Dubai’s doorstep in the near future.

The Dubai Technology & Media Freezone’s role in this process is integral as well as imperative as there will be a vortex in its current operations should the move to open the market for foreign investment be sooner rather than later.

Therefore, the focus would be to look further a field at what other prospective opportunities and investments have as yet not been tapped into.

TECOM as such may act as a mechanism and tool for a move towards intensive implementation of Intellectual property Laws and all related dynamics. With the vast resources available and its huge capability of reaching nearly more than 4000 Knowledge workers, TECOM may facilitate the move towards Dubai’s 2010 vision of a knowledge economy.

As the UAE is moving at a fast pace towards expanding its international portfolio so the need to encourage foreign direct investment does arise. The issue of TIFA (Although TIFAs are non-binding, they can yield direct benefits by addressing specific trade problems and by helping trading partners develop the experience, institutions and rules that advance integration into the global economy, creating momentum for liberalization that in some cases can lead to a Free Trade Agreement (FTA))1 is at the forefront of the country’s path towards expanding its strength and increasing its trading power.

As the challenges increase in such a prospective environment, so will the need to have regulatory bodies and authorities. As such they do exist but will need the strong arm of other entities to streamline this huge wave of diversity that will engulf the nation. Of the entities that will need to be in place, the Intellectual Property Office is one of such.

The IP Office will be the bridge towards safeguarding all innovative and creative endeavors that will eventually flow into the UAE. Why? As the UAE is young and at its business prime, we may not have the R&D muscle that leading nations already do though we do have the capability of attracting many inventions and industrial processes to life.

Through its financial strength the UAE will be a great opportunity for any young creative mind to bring over their brainchild to see its birth.

By encouraging this creativity, we will eventually need a higher regulatory power that will oversee these creative brainchildren and ensure their credibility through a National Authority of Science & Technology.

1. WIPO

Child's Play

There's a someone...

No not "who'll watch over me" but rather someone who's been malicious. He's been stealing my email passwords.

So please someone, just leave me alone.

Melon call ye

Something's been happening, something that has inadvertantly caused me to 'unwrite'. To unwrite many a word and thought. I have so decided to fight it, or at least try, and go down fighting, till my last syllable.

good night

Writing you

I miss writing you, I miss the liberty of expressing us through you.

To not pour out the jumble of words that lays itself in immaculate design on a page is stifling, painful. Like a tree that is not able to bear fruit, like the clouds so full of rain, like a mother’s breast overflowing with milk without a child to feed. Its agony unfelt only to one who's carved the same path.

How could I have done that?

I have formed those words in my mind on my eyelids, on my tongue wetting my lips, yet I stumble when I face you, a blank tablet, a white screen.

I tremble, I quiver, and I die. As I face your open arms to embrace my thoughts and mind. Like a virgin bride. I await the moment when I put my finger to letter and pronounce the vowel that is so often voiced and screamed in the dark.

I ache.

Within me an ache lays,
deep in the vortex of my soul,
the abyss once again calls.

Z*

“He’s gone…”
She smells his bottle of after shave
As the toothbrush falls
He falls
And her life shatters on the porcelain floor

“So they finally did it…”
She whispers down the handset
A hoarse echo of youth gone
A life gone
And all the memories they had dissolves

“Have the press been alerted…?”
To them remains the responsibility
To tell the truth
Distort the truth
And for the truth, like ants, many are crushed or drowned

“Till when will our thoughts instigate violence…’
Till when will the truth be hidden?
From the people whose lives are facts?
From The One
And all will then be known by all and none.

* (A film by Costa-Gavras. Circa 1969)

Bzzzzzz....

Bzzzz...
Bzzz...
Buzz...
Bzzzzz...
Bzzz...


...a buzzing we will go, a buzzing we will go, la la la la, a buzzing we will go...

play it Rimskij!

Travels In My Mind

In my mind..
I have traveled far and wide,
from the breadth of the heavens
into the depths of hell.

In my mind,
I have gone through time, time & again,
have braved monsters of the dark,
and creatures of the light.

In my mind,
I have sat with devils,
been humbled by Gods,
and met the glory of creation in a womb.

All In my mind,
I have seen the unknown,
in the greatness
of a mind.

Water Fall

It pleases him,

He told me that my voice has an echo,
Music,
Like that of water falling,
Like drops of rain as they gently on a surface rest

It pleases him says,

‘Your voice is the music that I dream of composing’

'Good Morning'

He keeps saying ‘Good Morning’, in the Morning, Afternoon & Night so I finally asked him why he keeps on saying Good Morning all the time? He recited a stanza from an old Arabic Poem:

‘The Brightness of your face enticed me,

To believe that night was day…’


إشراق وجهك غرّني حتى ضننت المساء صباحا

Confuse me

He confuses me, and on occasion, sometimes more so himself. So he asks me to write about it…
  
Confuse me,
Let me know not  whether I’m happy or sad,
l want to feel the tightness in my belly stretch,
Beyond its extremity till it nearly snaps.

Confuse me,
Whisper sweetness in my ears
And then say ‘those words aren’t for you.’

String me fine tales that entangle me in your mind,
Tell me those stories of the books you’ve left behind.

Confuse me,
And I’ll wrap you up in a web of shadows undefined.

Confuse you?
Let me confuse you,
Let me rise into the darkness of your memory and shroud you
With words you long to hear yet dare not speak, nor ask, nor think…
Let me confuse you with what may happen,
With what you may wish for
With what you may hope
With what you may sing, in the darkness
A sweet song of agony for an ache you only want

I want to confuse you like you do to me.

We're all just a mass of confusion
Waiting to be sung
In the noonday sun.

Confuse me..

 

A Duet of Butterfly kisses

It seems so long ago yet it's not even part of my memory yet, in an instant I remember what I might forget,

Kisses, he asks for kisses, and gets none... He told me then, that all my words are kisses.

Do I choose to remain silent or stand atop a hill and sing to the wind that my words may shower raindrops and butterfly kisses?

أوعديني تجين

أوعديني تجين ... وحاولي ما تجين
خلي الشوق يتمناك ما ياصلك
امنعيني حنانك واحرميني من الحنين
واتركيلي المجال أحن وأشتاقلك

ابعدي عن عيوني حاولي تختفين
لا تخلين كثرة طيبتك تقتلك
ما يجي بالسهولة ما يسمى ثمين
ومن لبيتيه قبلي يجيك ما يقبلك

ماسهلك ليه زعلتي كيف ما تزعلين
شفتي شلون صرت أقول يا مسهلك

قلتلك لا تكوني مخلصة تندمين
هااا لا يجي يوم وتقولين ما قلتلك
وشكسبتي من القلب الحنون الأمين
وش جنيتي من اللي قالك مانبلك

حاولي تذرف عيونك ولو كذبتين
جربي تبذرين الكذب في مشتلك
احرقي هالقلوب وجربي تلعبين
في يدك قلعتين والجند لك

يا غبية ترآه  كله آنه قلته لك
انقلي ذي بدل ذي واصرخي كش ملك!

مساعد الشمراني

Thank You...

Thank you for your concern,
your kind words,
your patience,
your generous sentiments,
 
Thank you for reassuring me I'm not alone,
for calling from a place without a phone,
for caring to ask of how I'm doing,
for your gentle caress that all will be fine,
for being there when I needed you the most and didn't know it
 
Thank you for calling in the day and at night,
for standing there by my side,
thank you for your whispers of how great I am,
and bright and strong and brave I am
 
Thank you all for your beautiful support,
and for continuing the walk right by my side.
 
Yes I mean you!
 
Thank You in over 465 languages & dialects
 

Please excuse me,

The doctors say I have 'Angiomyolipoma' a benign lesion on my kidney. Because it's >4 c.m. (7.2cmx7.3cm) I will need a biopsy to check that it is benign and then surgery, possibly 'nephrectomy' .

I am surprised and surprised!

I am discovering me!

This is so much more true than I expected it to be....
 
I wasn't well last night, I was in immense pain, my waist, it was excruciating...
 
I went to the hospital to check it out, I discovered I have a  gallstone amongst other things...
 
Things they couldn't find out by the ultrasound, so the have to do a CT Scan.
 
Apparently they're not sure were the stone is exactly and there's a mass of 73mm by 72mm which they wanna know what it is...
 
I an optimistic Al HamdulilAh

Till this late/early hour I last...
 
I have just been through a slow stroll down the thorny, prickly path of memory lane …
 
How many lives have I gone through already? How many deaths have I died? I hope Phoenixes' far outnumber that of cats 'cause I seem to be going through them like tissues during a sob story...


and then,
 
1:42:36 + plus

I am asked on many occasions, why did I choose the name Al Mulhama? I had chosen it to be inspired, to have inspiration and to feel inspired... at times maybe be an inspiration such as Al Mulhema.

Just recently I discovered how close to a revelation this moniker is:

The Forms the Nafs Takes***

If the nafs is fulfilling its obligation, which is to evolve towards knowledge of its One Source, then it reflects God’s plan for all of us; it reflects our fitra. If, however, it has been distorted as a reflector, then it takes on the myriad forms that are classified below.

The Commanding Self - Nafs al-ammara

If the nafs is completely wayward and has lost touch with its fitra, it is classified as nafs al-ammara. This is the totally selfish, most egotistical of the selves, which, as the Qur’an says, ‘commands to evil’ (Qur’an 12:53). It is the nafs of the supremely self-centred three-year old child or the despot who wants something and wants it instantly. This nafs will not listen to reason nor rationality. It is purely whimsical.

The Blaming Self - Nafs al-lawwama

Slightly higher on the scale is the nafs whose conscience is pricked because of its bad behavior. As a result, it blames itself for being extreme and may be spurred into positive action in order to do something about its dismal condition. This is the nafs al-lawwama, the blaming self.

The Inspired Self - Nafs al-mulhama

If the nafs al-lawwama progresses farther along the path, improving itself, becoming more tolerant and inspired, perhaps even creative, it becomes what is known as nafs al-mulhama, the inspired self. It develops a ‘live and let live’ attitude. It says, ‘why not?’ or ‘It’s crazy - let’s do it!’ Everything goes, even the wildest ideas.

The Certain Self - Nafs al-mutma’inna

When the nafs al-lawwama is brought under control, it is on the road to contentment, to becoming nafs al-mutma’inna. This self is certain that it will come to faithfully reflect the fitra in time, with diligence, commitment, honesty, companionship and applying the right prescriptions. It will increase in its certainty that it has come from beyond time; that it is only here to learn, to experience and to be poised for that final, incredible journey out of the prison of its body.

Allah addresses the nafs al-mutma’inna in the Qur`an: ‘Oh contented soul, return to your Lord, pleased and pleasing. Enter upon your state of being in adoration of Me; enter My Garden’ (Qur`an 89:29). In other words, God is telling this nafs to enter into a zone of contentment that is within itself. The root of contentment lies inside each of us so that we may recognize it within creation and become instruments of contentment for others.

The nafs encompasses this entire spectrum of all these stages; it can be any of these classifications of the nafs or the original nafs or self, the natural design given to each of us by God. When we speak in general terms of the nafs we mean a state in which we find ourselves at that time.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________


The inward path which amounts to recognition of what the self is, its position in the cosmos and how it can be purified.


The Stages of the Self:


An-Nafs al-'Amara: the insinuating self

The insinuating self which is wholly evil and totally under the control of passions and bent only on self- gratification. It is totally blind to any higher reality. "The lower self of man commands to evil acts." ( 12:53)

An-Nafs al-Lawwama:the self-reproaching self

The reproachful self which is indecisive in choosing between good and evil and is constantly embroiled in an inner struggle. It is unable to overcome the impulses of the lower self while it nonetheless recognises the higher one. "No, I swear by the self-reproaching self." (75:2)

An-Nafs al-Mulhama: the inspired self

The self which recognises its faults and strives to correct them. "By the self and what proportioned it and inspired it with depravity or godliness!" (91:7-8)

An-Nafs al-Mutma'inna: the self at peace

Finally there is the self at peace which is illuminated and acts according to the good and is therefore liberated "O self at peace, return to your Lord, well-pleased, well-pleasing. Enter among My servants. Enter My Garden." (89:27)


'Ali al-Jamal, a Moroccan wali (sometimes translated as saint, but which really means a friend of Allah) said when he experienced this,


"A certain state came over me so that the attributes of Allah appeared in manifestation in myself and in all creation...I began to love myself and to love all creation. Whoever I saw, man or woman, old man or child, I loved...I also began to love animals, rivers, trees, birds, the sky and the stars, and the earth and its stones....whatever loved me and I loved whatever did not love me because I saw that my essence contained existence, high and low, and existence was part of me. It was like my limbs and extremities. My love of them appeared to me to be only love of my essence and attributes."

As for Iraq, well it is going through a Renaissance, i.e. rebirth. And with each birth, death & rebirth so must we feel the pain, and as mothers know, the more the pain of labour the dearer the child... Our country is dearest of All after God ALmighty and parents, and it grows dearer with each passing day. Because now I can nearly taste it, MY country.

... and that is why it is called a 'Goatee'!

Boy do I love them!

Most Photographed Goat
Posted by Hello

Thursday night went to Fujairah to dive on Friday... Unfortunately I was dizzy and too tired to go on Friday! I kind of regret it now... But, I did end up dancing all night and boogying to Sean Paul, 50 Cent & Craig David!

Friday came back half crispy yet nicely done from the sun, my cousin pointed out a single goat, so I scrambled from the car and took so many pictures I felt like the paparazzi chasing a movie star... (She may have well been so, since we are so used to being surrounded by civilization that we rarely see animals in nature and once we do they baffles us with their simplistic beauty...

Palms in a valley
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Palms in a ravine
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Each time I pass through these mountains and in the scorching heat of the summer look upon the greenery, I am blessedly awed by the divinity in God Almighty's creations...

We then stopped at a canteen in Masafi for some deliciously spicy Indian tea and a paratha with cheese, and as we were about to finish the Paratha we were attacked by a vicious monster in the car, luckily he didn't jump at me rather at the dashboard! (A cockroach decided to hitch a ride!) I think he was hidden in the paratha wrapper from the place that I usually stop at to get Karak tea just before the Friday market... I guess I'm not going there again even if their Karak tea was amazing. EEEeuw!!

Mountain Variations
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To see the variation in height and shade due to distance, one cannot help but stand in awe of these formations of stone called mountains, they hover majestically, and to me, protectively as we glide through.

But to truly experience their splendour and grandeur one has to see it magnified in the most stunning part of a day ... At nighttime. When they reach to the darkness in full splendour as if showing of their glamorous plumage to the angels and djin.... while occasionally a shy moon smiles approvingly..

Later after arrival in Dubai I went to the movies with my friend at Grand Cinema and saw 'Ladykillers', neither that great nor interesting! I was quite disappointed though it was expected since it was a remake. I did have hope as it was a production made by the Coen brothers (I did like 'Fargo') but this wasn't all there...

The Other Side...
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Saturday I went to Spinneys (a grocery store) in Mercato (a shopping mall in Jumeirah, Dubai) to shop for my dinner guests. All us girls usually make a dish or two each and gather. So yesterday I made Mango rice with Sardines, white rice (for my friends Moussaka) and canapés for the early arrivals (taramasalata & anchovies, turkey & pickles, Caviar & butter, crab & mayo and turkey cigars) then the stoooooopid A.C. decides to not perform at its best!

We had a nice night, after tea & desserts there was coffee and Clean Up!!!!

To wind down I watched an eighties movie ('Sex, Lies, and Videotape' Andie McDowell & James Spader), had a cigarette, checked my email and went to sleep!

And that, my fellow dwellers, was my weekend...

Cry Me A River...

Last night…

Last night I slept to “Tell me your secrets, tell me your fantasy, tell me what you’re afraid of…” ‘He’ said these were the lyrics to a Madonna song, probably ‘Erotica’. And as he went on to tell me fairytales that I recall none of, I drifted away in to a deep slumber.

This morning I awoke to a million and one calls… And when I answer with sleep in my voice, they apologize shyly for awakening me and having forgotten that I’d taken two weeks of work.

This morning, I awoke to a “He” who decided to tell me the lyrics of another song to express himself, which he found too difficult to do with his own words and told me: 'you know the song by Michael Bolton?" so I asked which song? and fell into that. “… Have I told you lately...” and before he could complete the sentence I asked him to stop... I couldn’t bear the weight of that on my conscience. After knowing each other for nearly six years, he wanted to say it now!?!.

Why now?

He accused me of pushing him away every time he wanted to get closer… unfortunately; this is beginning to sound all too familiar; it seems to be the trend…

You tell me, whom should I whisper my secrets to? To whose voice should I fall asleep and to whose smile I should wake up… tell me to whom should I murmur my honeysuckle sweet love and whose breath should I draw…

Many years ago, in Montreal, Kevin was frustrated with me, frustrated to the point of… aaahhh well … let sleeping dogs lie… He said: ‘you’re a fucking coward, you’re too fucking afraid of commitment that’s why you keep doing these things”. “These things” being, pushing him away, and telling him the million and one reason why I cannot be with him etc… He’d then goes gets drunk and attempts a multitude of follies.

So you again, tell me, tell me your fears, tell me your secrets, ‘cause I’ve got secrets too… Tell me how much you love me, ‘cause you know how much..

"Now you say you’re lonely
You cry the long night through
Well, you can cry me a river
Cry me a river
I cried a river over you

Now you say you’re sorry
For being so untrue
Well, you can cry me a river
Cry me a river
I cried a river over you

You drove me, nearly drove me, out of my head
While you never shed a tear
Remember, I remember, all that you said?
You told me love was too plebeian
Told me you were through with me and

Now you say you love me
Well, just to prove that you do
Come on and cry me a river
Cry me a river
I cried a river over you
I cried a river over you
I cried a river...over you..."

to listen, click on CASSANDRE 159a CRY.mp3

Words and music by Arthur Hamilton,1953.

Twilight Tuesday at Satwa Roundabout
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Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday to you, you who had been for a while a large part of my imagination, until we met...
Happy Birthday to you, you who forgot mine only two months after we'd known each other...
Happy Birthday Happy Birthday....
Happy Birthday to you, you who burst my happy bubble with life


A Smile
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A smile is worth so many words, occasionally we may even be too blind to see clearly yet really we must let our intuition kick in and take control, shame on someone so fine tuned in intuition with an acute sense of people to err as such, shame...

Yet what can one say to affairs of the heart, yes we do go occasionally colour blind, at times may be even fully blind, yet it is one of those relapses that affect us for a while and then we heal and come to and realise that, yes we do love, but at this day and age, it no longer is selflessly. Yes we do love, but no longer blindly.

Yes we love, from all our hearts and at times may even drown oh so deliciously, yet we come to, slowly, as the bubbles rise through our chest where it expands beyond our capabilities... and just as our lungs are about to explode, we rise....

Yet again I die, and as the Phoenix I rise...

So honey Happy Birthday to you

I will miss him

Each time I think of when I will leave him, my eyes well up and overflow, till tears roll down my face and on to my chest as though to seek comfort in their loneliness within my heart.

 

I weep.

 

I will miss him, he is not my son (for I have none), he is not my brother, he is not my father nor lover nor spouse though he could be any of them (more so my father, brother and son). He is my boss.

 

Ours is a very strange acquaintance. I read his mind at work, and he proves me right (on occasion terribly wrong, and he shows his displeasure!) That is it. No extra chit chat (only on minor occasions) no special privileges, no unwarranted criticism nor compliments. He is so sweet. Just a regular kind of guy, the kind we don’t find many of nowadays.

 

To be the kind of man who is written about, would be a glory that many seek, yet he would shy away from such a display of his graces. He is human, not an angel nor a saint but may be close in nature. To me that, is but human nonetheless.

 

I will miss his undeniable straightforwardness, his dry sense of humor, his absolute Humanness. He has been nothing less that a positively dynamic influence on my life. Yes I will miss him.

 

I am not moving far, for I am lucky to remain under his wing. No, I am moving to extend my wings at another dynamic department, a place where the mind may be stretched to unexpected extents.

 

And then, over there, I feel that I may well forge a strong and beautiful relationship with many others (teammates) (Insha’ Allah)

 

I will miss him, I will miss his family who have become like mine (though we may not be close in presence but we do understand each others mindset).

 

To him it will always be a pleasure to work for. He is an amazing boss who has the utmost respect for all around him and that is equally reciprocated.

 

Through him I will rise and to him I will look for wisdom and guidance. Now I will go to be alone with my feelings of happiness at the opportunity he has given me and sadness at leaving him.

 

I miss him already….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Phenomenal Woman, Thats me...

PHENOMENAL WOMAN
by Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Liquid Twilight
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What is it with me and date palms?
it's probably just the Iraqi in me...
They stand so tall rising with their glorious green fronds reaching for the heavens...


Dubai Internet City by night
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Although they are mighty in their stance, they remind me of their cousins in Iraq some at least three times as tall as the ones here in Dubai, those must be younger. I am sure they will one day reach for the stars for they are no less glorious than any I've seen elsewhere...

The magnificent ones that call me every time I see a date palm seem to recall a memory of childhood holidays and long weekends in Iraq, of moonlit nights on the corniche in Basra, the jasmine scented streets of Towaissah next to my uncles house, of bright midday’s passing through Samawa heading towards Baghdad, of the road next to my grandfathers house... 'The Four Roads' it's called in the Al Karrada district of Baghdad as if I never left the one thousand and one nights of my past life...

It was a dark and stormy night...

 

Last night was just that, equal to any old 'cliched' novel...

When I woke up it was a bright and sunny day, I had washed my soul during the night, cleansed my mind by dawn and hung my heart out to be kissed by the sun. Yes it is a bright and sunny day and 'Inshallah'; God Willing it will be a beautiful day throughout...

"Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping, Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain,
Still remains, within the sound of silence."
The Sound of Silence, by Simon & Garfunkel


... and I delve farther into this darkness, the abyss that beckons, yet.. yet I can't seem to fall!
Two weeks ago I sms'd my friend and said that I'd wanted to get pissed drunk, maybe then I could let go of my feelings. I didn't get drunk,I couldn't do any further than just think about it... he said to me that he thinks I'm great and I don't need alcohol to let go. He was right. Yet I'm still here. My eyes dry, my throat dry and my mind fucking overloaded.
My mind goes deeper and deeper, my heart drowns in it's silent screams in the darkness.
to dignify anything.. why should I? I haven't lost anything, (I SCREAM!!) 'cause I hadn't anything to lose in the first place! I repeat this mantra. Yet his cup has overflowed and he empties his goblet down a drain reflecting the yellow streetlamp, wandering through the kohl night of my soul.


I then play Blue Rodeo's 'Five days in July' listening to "Hasn't Hit Me Yet"
I forgot how Blue Rodeo seems to intensify certain sentiments... then I remebered how I use to listen to 'Bad Timing' a long, very long time ago down the streets of Montreal...

"Hey it's me what a big surprise
Calling you up from a restaurant
Around the bend
I just got in from way up North
I'm aching tired now
And I could use a friend
I might be a fool
To think that you do
Want to see me again"


JANIS!!! Where the Fuck are you when I need you??? I need your "Ball and Chain"

"Sittin' down by my window,
Honey, lookin' out at the rain.
Lord, Lord, Lord, sittin' down by my window,
Baby, lookin' out at the rain.
Somethin' came along, grabbed a hold of me,
And it felt just like a ball and chain.
Honey, that's exactly what it felt like,
Honey, just dragging me down."


23,39 23,50
I sat at my balcony and pulled at my Cartier, (yeah I know, it's too ooh la la of a cigarette to go with the rawness of this all, but hey, sue me!)
As I was saying, I sat at my balcony in the dark (my welcome friend) with the lamp outside faking the brightness of a sun, I sat and pulled at my cigarette that didn't seem to be... I listend to the storm inside my head and tried to focus on the voice in my ears, it's sound and intonations and the last time it had whispered to me...
I listened a bit and spoke a bit and realised that nothing's changed yet... I guess I have to wait a bit longer and see what God Almighty has in store for me...
I remembered at that instant that each time I pray, I kneel, lay my forehead to the ground, it's my parents and his name that I pray to God to bless and forgive...

Reflect my Soul
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Strength of a Woman

A piece is missing…

 

my mom travelled on Thursday and she’ll be away for a couple of months… I feel a hollowness. Though we barely see each other for long during the day, it’s reassuring to know that she’s there; My tower of strength, my role model.

 

What is noticeable, is that people who know our relationship, m mom and I, will be at least a teeny bit surprised. Most people (Mom included) think that I may not love her as much as I should. They cannot be more mistaken!

 

I have just applied one of her biggest lessons. Be strong. Of that I have to confess that I am tired.

 

She travels back to Canada once a year. It’s been a year already! Lat year this time I was preparing to go to my friends wedding in Beirut. That was a fun few days!

 

When I was much younger at school, it use to fascinate me and surprise me that some of the kids’ moms don’t work! As I grew older, I realized that my mom was the exception (especially in the Arab world!).  Being truly exceptional she was in field dominated internationally by the male populace. My mom is a civil engineer. When I say it, even today, my shoulders push back and I beam with joy.  So no wonder I grew up thinking that women are on equal par as men, and what a devastating surprise it is to learn that not all mommies are career women and not all men like my sweet daddy can actually accept, appreciate and thrive on having a partner so equal in the mental scale and on the career path (again I emphasize ESPECIALLY ARABS!).

 

So ideally this is great! Then I grew up and found out that a lot (I know not all) of men AND (unfortunately) women are very much against this semi equality in the work force. My mom is of the many other dynamic strong women in my family (both sides): Gynaecologist, Biochemist, Executive Assistant, Home Care, Dentist, Teacher, Statistician, Civil Engineer(s) and Network Engineer. One of the greatest towers of strength is my Grandma (my dad’s mom). To see her now, I stumble in front of the humility bestowed on us by God Almighty.

 

 

Ramblings...

Whoah ... intense feel ... love the colours, I told them Brown is Back ... but do you think anyone will listen. It's the way to go.... I feel it needs to feel the screen and overwhelm it ... take over and drown in chocolate ...I feel like writing some rhythm ... like singing the Browns .. Like dancing in a dream ...
Wow...


So it seems that the mental tirade of words on a computer screen can be qualified as writing. I mean when one speaks of this one cannot say: ‘Oh you’ve gotta read my typing!’ rather it’s my writing, whether on a computer or a typewriter or any form of tablet that may have thoughts reflected on it…
Yes I was thinking of that last night, I was thinking that since we had ceased putting any form of writing instrument to tablet/sheet we have stopped writing, but then does a stylus on a touch screen count as such? Still I think not, but that’s because we rarely use a stylus to write but rather to select an item.

I remembered many things last night, people, places, poems and all sorts of things that pop out at night. I remembered my Grandfather and when he passed away. I remembered those gentle friends that ease themselves into your life and never intrude, you know the ones that you always answer their calls ‘cause they don’t bother you… So I sms’d one ‘Hi, it’s me, R u up, it’s nothing important, I was just thinking about you’. He called from Casablanca! What exoticism. Even though, it was far from a pleasure trip, rather an intense business trip. It’s still Casablanca. He was on his way out from coming back from a meeting, and was heading towards an Italian restaurant ‘il Postino’ then I heard the cabbie mention it was closed, and I was there back in Casa, through the streets that hugged you at times and at times liberated you… So they headed out to another Italian restaurant and he mentioned that they’d been there for an event before and what a coincidence that it was the same one.
We spoke of diving and how I haven’t been doing any since I got my license and he’ll take me down the next time he’s out. I asked him if he’d been diving in Morocco but he said he was so busy he has no time. His brother has been teasing him and telling him that they are going out this weekend to a site of Ras Al Khaima, which should be beautiful!

‘...no man is an island, entire of itself;
every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less,
as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's
or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me,
for I am involved in mankind,
and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
it tolls for thee.’
John Donne (1572-1631)

The Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi
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It's been a rainy month, the butterflies have turned in to dragons and nothing's at rest.
It's been a rainy month, the weather's heavy, the dampness clawing at me.
It's been a rainy month... in my soul.

I now long to paint my poetry on canvases of real life. I now want to compose music that meets the eye. I now want to sing and cry.

I die every night, and as I lay, a part of me soars very high, yes like the Phoenix I rise...


moon over Dubai
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I am happy. It's good to know that simple pleasures are still delightful, like posting an image of mine (something I've been wanting to do for sooooo long) thank God for hello from picasa.

I guess I now haven't any excuse (except network failures-LAN et al!)

fine verbal tremors

So many words going round and round, so many…

I hear songs in my eyes ‘I can see clearly now the rain has gone’ but rather I see clearer now.

As the Phoenix I rise…

For I truly believe that, that which does not break us can only make us stronger.

And I rise so high like the caterpillar in ‘Alice in Wonderland’, I smoke my imaginary hookah … higher and higher…

Yet, deep in the quietness of my soul I tremble

Phi

I'm in love with a number, 1.618

'Five' - a poem of mine (Circa 2002)

خمسة

بهالكون خمسة ينظرون الوقت
واحد نسى نفسه ودوّر على غيره
واحد مشى خطوة ورجع ثلاث خطوات
واحد يكتب عالهوا أغلى المذكرات
وواحد يحسب ويقرا كل ما فات

وأنا من بين هالخمسة ضايع ... مادري
كيف ألقى نفسي والقى بين هالكون والخمسة
همسة ضاعت من زمان

نفسي خذته واشرقت بلهفته حتى
صرت أخاف أحيا أخاف أنسى
وأمسي أموت ويكتبون ... نكسة
لأني في يوم تجرأت أحلم

أحلم بليالي قصيرة وطفل وبنت صغيرة
كأن كل لحظة بغمظة بلمحة من عيونهم
بعبق العبير من أطفال حلم
حلم ما توقعته يصير
وأغمض الدمعة ... وأصحى وألقاهم
خمسة ينظرون الوقت ضايع
بيني وبينهم ... خلسة
لين أصبحنا الستة قصيدة لغيرنا تذبل

A few nights ago, as I was leaving behind a podium and applause of a recital, I met a few people who joined our table. They were of the media industry, she was a presenter; eloquent, he owns a channel (serene) and her husband I can't remember (agitated).

He came by the next day to work and called me to invite me to lunch with a common acquaintance. I'd had a big breakfast and so an hour later I joined them for coffee. He was more animated today and showed a keen interest in what I was saying. I was speaking about many a thing whether social, political or religious, all about Iraq. Then he hit me with it... "Why don't you do a weekly program at the station, your own 50 minute program?" Unexpected? No, I've had offers before. So I let it by. He called me twice that evening wanting to speak about two ideas for a show and which would I like.... He came to meet me again for the same... Now I am wondering. My dad thinks I should go for it and so does my friend...

I do want to yet I wonder if I want to be a T.V. face. Do I really want that exposure; I then catch myself thinking as a T.V. persona. I stop myself lest it get to my head…t a

What’s good is that I feel professionally wanted…

I think of my current role and the changes I am about to go through and my insides feel as if they were thrown into something akin to a tumble dryer…

As if I should need a more intense sensation of intestines entangled, I get another job offer…

I thank all who have this faith in me.

As was the custom, every Friday night we'd go to the movies. This Friday differed in that we watched an Arabic Movie called “Hob El Banaat”; ‘Girls’ Love’.
It was about three estranged sisters whose father’s will caused them to be flung into a household together after a long period of separation. They each develop a relationship (an affair of the heart) that at that point may or may not have been the right one. One of the protagonists seemed to fall for a movie star in the movie; he confesses his true love to her but senses that it may not be truly reciprocated.

Why am I saying this? Well at a point he tells her – that she is not truly in love with him, because a person in love does not harmfully criticize the one he’s/she’s in love with, on the contrary he does not see that the other has any faults. There for me the movie paused, in my mind, my soul and my aching heart. True? I felt it as true as someone punching the air out of you. My eyes stung and NOT because we had a sandstorm today…. Yes, they only stung without the release to cleanse my soul… It’s as though there wasn’t a clear cellular network and suddenly the reception was crystalline!

Canto Piano

He came again, and again I thought I knew him from a time gone by...

each time I see him his looks belie his years... He came and reminded me of how I felt in high school of when we were once so so so ... I don't know.... Most words would be a cliche... Carefree, innocent, young . Whatever may be .

I still find it difficult to look him in the eye. It seems that I may reveal what had been hidden for more than 15 years... After many many years I still remember how I felt and I remember my high school crush... The soft

Opus ii

He said he liked my manicure... and style
I don't want to listen to his nice words... so I close my eyes...

NEVER WRITE YOUR BLOGS STRAIGHT ON THE POST. YOU MAY DO SOMETING STUPID LIKE I DID AND PRESS THE WRONG 'POST' BUTTON AND LOSE SIX FULL PARAGRAPHS.

USE WORD.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH .. stoopid stoopid stoopid!

Opus I

Well, what have we gotten ourselves into. I just came across an article on MSN Women titled: 'Lying for Love' - "Is honesty always the best policy in relationships?" (not that this article has many points I can relate to-but subject was thought provoking)

hmmm...

He always use to say 'yeah I know you are being honest with me!'. Yet the tone would belie a disbelieving undertone.

I am hurt. I am cold. I feel barren.

Can the vital presence of a man in our lives be so integral to our feminine existence? Or is it the feeling of love?

I don't know. I can't feel. I don't know how to feel.

I miss his laughter and shine and his eyes. I miss his lips and front teeth when he smiles. I miss watching him savouring a meal-AAAAH that is a sight for sore eyes, the most sensual visual display of devouring food-and when I select the morsels for him. I miss HIM.

I Love Him.

Interlude iv


I am restless, sometimes I'm happy, at times I'm sad. Though I think what may be bothering me is this feeling of being 'un-anchored'. A boat, in the ocean, vast surroundings, empty horizon, no shore in sight, just hanging around without an anchor. ?No paddles, No fuel? I don't know. That's exactly it. I do not know.

And I look for you to direct me... it seems you're just as lost as I am. That's not the impression you gave me... I thought you knew what you wanted. I need in you a decisive mind. I need. I want you but I also want your strength before your weaknesses.

I am sorry. Forgive me for what I may be about to do. I will talk to you, I want to know where we're heading to. Just tell me. Give me a time frame or else tell me we are not to be but please do let me know.

I miss you in so many words and ways that I am tired of saying and feeling it. I miss you so much that I hate the ache that thumps within me. I bear it like a child not knowing when I'm due for labour. Like my love, an unborn child that I need to care for not knowing when it will come nor who its father is nor how will it be. My life with you seems like that to me.

No. It's My confusion with you. Yet you speak to me so clearly as if I don't understand. As if the language you speak is one that is new to me, I do, I do hear and understand what you say, you my love, are not in what you say.

... cont'd from Thu Apr 08, 04:24:25 PM


As a change (not that anything has been regular yet!) I suggested we go to the desert to watch avid four-wheel drivers dune bashing maybe even to do some myself although I'm not sure azzeeza (my car) was up to it today...

so we head out on a 40 minute ride towards Hatta but not actually going there, rather stopping at an area in the middle a.k.a. 'Al Bedayer'

Interlude iii


he seems a bit different ...

I told him last night over the phone, I told him I am trying to make a connection between the person that I'd met and the one I'm talking to and I'm slowly losing the link.

It seems that we are slowly going backwards rather than moving forwards... I asked him how long did he think we can remain apart and he said until he gets something, something meaning a job over here... But see I don't feel that, I feel that it's first let me get a job, then let me get established then letme settle in then let me see where my future takes me then it's i need to do something for my family ... etc... etc... etc...

I just wish he can come up and say that although he wants a commitment he's just to scared to a take a step. He seems to think that I am just waiting for him to say it ... see thats not it... I am waiting for him to form a decision so that consecutively ... and upon further deliberation I may form mine.

I needed to ask him another question but I haden't the opportunity to do so, he was busy at work... See I wanted to ask him how long can he wait 6 months? a year? two? three, more?

I will ... yes yes yes I know what you're thinking I will

... cont'd from: Mon Mar 22, 12:44:26 PM


We went for lunch at a local Iraqi restaurant called Raghdan, it's very casual yet full of the warmth of home cooking that would remind one of mom's & grandma's cooking before this health age that we're in!

I felt dizzy yet not. He was actually here... all I could think of is this... he is actually here in DUBAI!!! Eight months of waiting which seemed too long. She gets up to go wash her hands before lunch, he looks me in the eyes, turns his head sideways right, squints and asks: 'Do you love me?' ...

it seems aeons passed, how was I supposed to answer that how am I supposed to know the answer... I'd always told him that our emotions and sentiments were 2-Dimensional and when we meet they would become 4-Dimensional. We'd JUST met!

I mmmhhmmd an affirmation. so just before I could ask the same he shot back with '... more than before or less?' so I responded most eloquently surprisingly enough in view of my wrecked nerves... 'Well it cannot be less'

And I could finally sum up enough strength in my vocal chords to ask him 'What about you?' and he said 'Yes' so I asked him 'more or less?' and he said 'more ofcourse!' I felt shivers and chills in the warm afternoon reverberating across my body like a pond with 100 kids jumping around no they weren't ripples neither were they butterflies in my stomach rather they were dragons stopming around hungry in search of some delectable morsel to chew on... or maybe that was just my stomach from hunger.

All emotions and feelings got mixed up.

Interlude ii

'... Unsettled hearts promise things they can't deliver...'
Tracy Chapman

He's fine... I'm glad he's fine, NO I'm relieved he's alright. Wandering through the abyss of my mind had me lost in a maze of tangled thoughts...
Yes relieved, phew!

When we finally spoke last night, my wish came true... The reason was very plain, incomprehensible to my tangled mind, the circumstances unreal, like a cold French novel. Yet I was relieved. The pain that had been there was replaced with a bruise that hasn't caused much damage but will invariably leave a painful blue green purple-ish mark for a while.

'Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much'

'No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but it's enough, 'twill serve:'

Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet, act iii scene i line 66

Interlude i

I miss him, it's been two days since we spoke and I havent heard from him... since going back we spoke several times a day... he hasn't called and I haven't been able to reach him... I fear the worst and wish for the stupidest reasons... when thinking like that you can forgive anything... I am worried so worried my thoughts go to forbidden dark places... I can only pray to God to protect him from harm.

His ship came in to port on Friday the 12th of March 2004. I hadn't yet started the count down to his departure, I don't think I wanted to think of that at this stage.

I relive those moments and relish their effect on the tingling taste buds of my memory.

on an excitingly quiet Friday when all the house was asleep and I was jumping around trying to get ready before noon (that was when I wanted to be at the Port) the phone rings at 11:15 and his voice scratches at me "where is the Visa?" holy shit! He's here, he's finally here. After eight months of anticipation the agony of waiting is finally over... I stand and then walk not knowing whether to stay put or just wander around the waiting area, I'm restless, too restless and nervous and I look and see him from afar. She waves to me that there are seven people before him, I try to count seven and suddenly I don't know my numbers. I see him without counting. My heart and mind see him before my eyes ... My soul flies .. (to see what he's wearing?!)

He came out to the waiting area, arm over his sisters shoulder, looked me in the eyes and said 'Hiii!' like we'd met yesterday! (he did that intentionally we had spoken about this moment on numerous occasions but as much as we thought we may know it had still surprised us.

What was noticeable is the mutual intensity of emotions and attraction, as he shook my hand I felt that he held it for too long I tried to pull away ... yet not long enough, did I fear that they would reveal some secret of how I felt towards him? Was I worried that my heartbeats would reverberate through him and to his sister (whom I did not want to make uncomfortable-after all he is her brother)? Was it just plain and simple shyness at meeting someone that were we in high school it would count as an enormous crush? Yes I think that was it, a combination of all those and more. I did feel like I knew not how to speak nor act nor simply be, I was flushed and shy and confused.

Yes confused, because though I felt the reverberation of a certain frequency between us, I still did not know if he thought me adorable or abhorrent.

We drove to their hotel, I wanted to leave brother and sister alone so they might catch up but I couldn't. My eyes needed to observe him in full, I needed to absorb him, I did not know what to do. I wanted to cry, I wanted to shake and die. I was a complex riot of emotions erupting in the crowded downtown area of my insides and soul.

cont'd ...

tooooo toooo tooo toooo

Cool!