2010

I feel obliged to write a closing note, one where I would reflect on 2010, its ups and downs. After all, the main aim of this blog is to understand myself better and to document my development and my memories.

I remember I was very enthused at the beginning of 2010. I felt I was ready for great things to come which was probably propelled by some horoscope prophecy! A few weeks into 2010 I was met with a very difficult situation; getting laid off from my workplace. I was under the impression that I was hired and I would continue there for a long(er) time. The excuses were very lame and I was very confused. “Was this a sign to leave the development field” was a main question. However, I hanged on and I moved onto my current workplace. It’s funny to think about it, all this series of events that led to me being where I am. Funnily enough, it started with Marwan! I can’t really know if it’s the best situation for me. But I think it’s good, it’s definitely a move forward in career life.

On the friendship front, I remember getting very much closer to Sh and A, my suicidal friends! I think we got so very close to each other; however, there were always difficulties and time of severe hardship. 2010 witnessed a final breakup with Ch and surprisingly getting much closer to Y, which I don’t know if it’s a genuine thing or a temporary one, especially with the current distance due to return of his Diaspora friends!

There was similarly too much strain with M and at more than one time thought of actually sealing the deal. These times of strain go on till now, even as I am writing these words.

New friendships were formed. This year got me another kind of friends. “The baby homos”, within whom Dino with the most prominent, it was an interesting experience indeed and walked into it with an attitude of learning and character study, but provoked thoughts and feelings I did not imagine. I also met the angry young Virgo, which seemed as potential true friends at times.

Other friends left and moved on. V left for Lebanon and he doesn’t seem very happy there. I miss him truly though at many times I wonder if he truly understood me. Libras never do! It’s also important to remember that A left me this year, and although it was brief, it had a lot of impact on me and on our friendship. I feel much less permeable now!

As for D, though we’re not “regular” friends but we go on as esteemed friends despite the differences and his continuous bitching!

Love life (should I really try to write about it?) was as usually not very eventful. A reunion with F in February resulted in the decision of never contacting him again ever. We were never meant to be and I guess his ex R was right after all. He continues to have a part of my affection and I cannot deny that after all. Apart from that, nothing much happened. I cannot really recall a date that mattered much.

The highlight of 2010 is the professional development, on personal levels however I feel more jaded, more tired, and more skeptical.

I intend to write about 2011 aspirations and resolutions but I’ll leave that to another post.

Saudade

So I just discovered the Saudade concept! It just hits you, doesn’t it? How could a concept be so complex yet so relevant? I start thinking about my saudades. And again I feel very old. I wanted to write a cheerful post for a change. This won’t be it for sure. This one is about Saudade.

I feel the loss and the pain. I feel like I missed so many chances. Being surrounded by those younger talented boys makes me feel jealous. They’re so youthful and beautiful. I strive to live independently, to make myself more resourceful and knowledgeable. I didn’t exactly fail, but I am not there too. I feel like the early twenties is the age when you should fall head over heels, be swept away by love. Even if love was not real. I want to be fooled by it. Maybe it is not that great to have a life that is shaped by your lovers. But who said I want ordinary lovers? I want my kind of lovers! The one that seemed possible with F, or the one I never met. The one I feel the Saudade for.

Did I start too late? Even in career life. I feel like I could have been where I am now a few years before. Now I missed those years and I am about to turn 26. I lost the good part of my twenties.

I have a saudade for my family. I can’t be there for them. I can reach out to them. But I won’t be a real part of my sisters’ formation. I would always miss so many memories and moments.

My hesitancy in communicating with others made me lost many chances. It is easy to dismiss everything, maybe nothing would have changed at all, but maybe everything might have changed as well. I will never know.

How Did I Get Here?

It is quite interesting how a small, seemingly irrelevant event could trigger an intense, prolonged train of thoughts!

The triggering event(s) here is trying to get a man to sleep with me on a late November night. This included the use of manipulative actions to get my flatmate relative to leave the place for me for the night, and making several calls to finally get the man in question to meet me! It was unsuccessful, twice to be accurate, as my failure with the first man made me try to attempt to make up for it with another.

Then my ever lasting question made its presence quite clear, “so what happens next?”

The answers were not very favorable. They all led to gloomy and unwholesome thoughts. How would I make it alone? Can I really do without intimacy as I claim? Do I deserve this? Is there something I can or I can change about myself? The list goes on.

My awareness of how limiting and nerve-racking it was to be living with this relative of mine is higher than ever before. My growing feeling/realization that I am a person whom people hardly find charming on first encounters was immense. My want of sex was not insignificant. The episodes of rejection-upon-meeting scenarios were on the rise. My observation of my changing figure and receding hairline was painful. Such was the context of my triggering event. The result, therefore, was intolerable.

I honestly cannot see it getting better anytime soon. I am losing faith. I kept thinking “have little expectations, or better have none at all!” This doesn’t seem to take me anywhere. I feel/felt immersed in self-pity.

Another question is also of great interest and consequence. “How did I get here?”

Thinking of my development, when I was a naïve, shy boy. A very sensitive one who hardly raises his voice, to a boy in crisis because of the guilt and shame instilled by his sexuality, then curiously and expectantly venturing into the world of queers, then faced by initial pains and shocks, all the skepticism and distrust were confirmed in my personality. Then becoming savvier, but all the while seeing all the absurdities of the world growing more visible and clear. Having close friends who suffer from clinical depression is not of great help also.

I come to believe the world a cruel, absurd place. Am I on the verge of depression? Do my prolonged hours of sleep indicate anything?!

A friend’s remark was that I think too much, expect too much; that I should live my life without thinking of consequences. Whether I can achieve this, is a completely different question.

Nocturnal awakening!

I had to write. It’s almost 5 am and I should be sleeping. I am having one of those nocturnal awakenings, so filled with thoughts and emotions. Gotta take them out somewhere.

I just finished reading some posts from Manal and Alaa blog. Truly inspiring. Lovers struggling for their country? What more could inspire someone like me? I was truly surprised by the self effacement they did on their blog, it could be thought of as pretentious, but I can’t help find it endearing. My dear friend Sheraz told me about this blog before and that she found it amazing on one of our discussions about activism, love and Capricorns.

Cannot get mind off thinking about historical context and time boundaries. What does it mean to have such a blog in 2005? How does it feel to memorize oneself 10 years ago? I am writing here in an attempt to document my life and self. Is it for me or for others? Is it my way to leave a mark? To be remembered? What do humans have this need for recognition?

I am changing. My warm Christian friend Joe notices it. We met a couple of days ago and he noticed my changing attitude towards civil society work. He could sense I am more satisfied there and that I am not juggling between it and my presumed career. Who was I 10 years ago though? A God-fearing teenager struggling with the discovery of his attraction to men? Freefall to shame as someone dubbed it. I loved to read and watch American shows on our local TV.

15 is the age I proclaim for my puberty. 2^nd secondary school student. We hardly ever used the internet then. I think I had chances to watch some satellite (when it was analog) with my friend Mena. We explored western music then. All the pop stuff!

Internet? I am sure it wasn’t before 2001 when I had my own pc. Internet was very slow then. Our first attempts were at that link.net office. I had an intense crush on a guy called Mahmoud. He was beautiful. I saw him on a recent visit to my hometown. Does he remember my stares?!

Private lessons, lots of them! Staring at guys and feeling desperate to connect with other guys, guys who looked cool and “in”.

I really want to meet my 15 year old me. I want to hug him and make him feel safe and accepted

Ahmed is back. How could I see it coming? He made his mind up to leave to pursue studies in the UK a few months ago. He left a month and a half ago. His departure must have affected me deeply, I think. We argued and got on each other’s nerves a lot, but we knew each other so well. It’s so strange how relationships/friendships dynamics work. It’s hard when your closest people leave and you feel disoriented and confused. It made me more fearful of intimacy and more aggressive to other friends, or skeptical of the whole affair.

I have two jobs. Downtown and Heliopolis, my favorite spots in Cairo. It’s my first to be alone at an office. I invited Mark over today.

Homophobic crimes and gay activism? Maybe I’m braver than before. What happened to Y was scary and sad. Is it a good cause for me? Would I do it for a bunch of self-hating queens?!

I passed by Beanos today. It’s been 2 years since I first met F and we sat there. He became the reference point for the possibilities for passion. Beanos was closed. I couldn’t see the couch where was sat. When will I run into him ba2a?!

Again, it’s so interesting to track what one was concerned of and interested in over the years. What is my thing now? More existential and nihilistic tendencies? More career confidence than ever and lack of faith in everything?

More writing/exorcism sessions needed.

Intimacy?

I am in a complicated relationship with intimacy! As a young boy growing up to discover the cruel reality of being gay in a community that crushes whoever thinks/feels/etc. differently, I remember that I always put feelings first. Feeling of love, understanding and appreciation came first. My first crush was very platonic and sentimental. The discovery of sex came much later, but that’s another story.

I always had this idealistic, utopian outlook on love and relationships. I always believed that human communication comes as a firm priority for happiness and wellbeing. What made become so skeptic about it now? I still value it highly, but I just don’t believe it in a way. Like a standard that you never achieve, like a god that never hears, like a promise never fulfilled.

Was it past experiences? I always question that impact they had on me. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the illusion of love and the first experiences of pain and heartbreak leave their scars forever. I am over those guys who hurt me, the friends who no longer care, but I guess deep inside they left a stigmata of insecurities.

I look at myself, what I do, and how I am dealing with others, and I become sure that intimacy and closeness freak me out; particularly when it comes to romantic attachment (as opposed to friendship). I am reluctant to make a real move towards Monti. I ignore Mahmoud and never call him back. I refuse to see Maro who just says he misses me and wants to see me.

I am literally giving myself no chance of good things to happen to me. And I’m scared. I am frightened. By intimacy? By the possibility of loss? By heartbreak?

I have to break the cycle. I have to rid myself of the fear. It is keeping me from fulfilling my true capacity and potential.

El Sakka Mat!

I just finished reading Youssef ElSebai’s novel El Sakka Mat (The water man is dead). It’s another train journey to my hometown that I do to diminish my sense of guilt towards my family, and because I terribly miss my little sisters and feel that I should spend more time with them.

The novel’s central theme is death, friendship and coming of age. Although it is quite a classic I never had the chance to read it before. Probably because I know of books more than I know books firsthand. And although I read it over a long time span of 2 or 3 weeks, it was a real emotional journey. The characters are so simple and real. The little boy’s jokes and thoughts crack me up laughing. The father sadness and resilience shakes me and the events of the novel bring me to tears.

I can’t help but wonder, can one really overcome the trauma of death? We basically live in a state of denial about it. Truly believing in death, but hardly ever contemplating our own mortality. It is such a frightening thought. Even more confusing, is if you are very aware of your own mortality, what do you do about it? Indulge in physical pleasures? Treat everyone nicely and give them your best? Or fuck them without remorse as we all end up dead?

Do you pursue your dreams as hard as you can or you simple teach yourself to let them go? After all, nothing remains of you but a decaying corpse.

A strange feeling/thought has been overtaking me lately. Questioning the efforts I make, questioning my priorities. What should one dedicate his life to? Being a person of high ideals, I chose to work in area of work that serves that cause. It’s great to help others, try to motivate them, try to empower them. But my sense of limitation and being finite overwhelms me at time. It’s not crippling, but it makes me unable to know what’s right or wrong; what should be and what shouldn’t, what to advise people; what to seek and wish for.

It would be easier if I just believed in a guarding God, looking out for us, rewarding the good and the modest. I just believe him not to exist. I don’t think there’s a plan or a scheme of any sort. It’s all random and chaotic.

We just have to take our chances and do our best!

“What is that ‘best’?” remains the question.

Misfits

Constantly trying, always doing my best, making an effort to conform, to fit in. fucked up values, standards and norms. What the fuck is normal, functional or sane?

Groups of cool kids, circles of fashion-crazed queens, successful professionals. What a cruel mill one has to survive. Victims of fashion and body fascism. Guys and girls who look fabulous and are totally “in”. How about being fat, ugly, shy, meek, disturbed, paranoid, out of fashion, depressed or poor? Why are we cursed to be always trying to function? To fit in to a society that always contradicts itself? How about a bit of non conformity? How about some confusion and uncertainty? Don’t fucking call me insane. I don’t want your sanity or your fucked up bourgeois values.

Do I have to lose weight for you to love me? Do I have to be fawning so you can hire me? Do I need to wear Louis Vitton so you can appreciate me? Is it necessary to have perfect skin so you would go out with me?

Suicide seems like a sweet wish sometimes. Now is one of them.

It wasn't July.

Life is a series of disappointments. The greatest disappointment is getting used to these.

What happens when people, who only have their sexual orientation in common, get together?

To start off, they may only have that in common, but they’re different when it comes to everything else other than that. They could come from different backgrounds, classes, areas, religions, preferences, beliefs, attitudes, sensibilities, and whatever more. You name it.

Sexual orientation aside, other factors come into play. Power balances/imbalances ensue. There are the ones who accept their sexuality. There are the ones who deal with others considerately. There are the ones who carry a baggage of insecurity. There are the ones who don’t conform to society expectations. Every one of them comes with a baggage.
The power relations take forms. You could have power because you’re a top, wealthy, bitchy, socially apt, handsome, masculine, etc. but that’s not all. There are the ones who do not have those entitlements. However, they are savvy enough to put the situation to their best interest. And who know how to get to their aims.

It’s a jungle. It’s life. Survival of the fittest.

Then we arrive at casual encounters. Two people who are going to perform the intimate act, which happen to know nothing about each other. They might end up not liking the actual version of each other, physically that it. They end up getting frustrated as the hope for an offload diminishes. They might have pity sex. They might actually have great sex. But what comes next? They have missed the process of getting to know each other; of building up the tension to the point they want to share this level of intimacy. Can it work? Apparently it has worked for some. I don’t think it works for me. I don’t know what works for me for that matter. But having it all at the first encounter? Seems like putting too much of myself out there. I wouldn’t like to take it further. How do you sit to a table with someone to have a conversation after you already fucked?

I have no idea why I’m writing these thoughts. Or maybe I do. I know for a fact that I dedicate a lot of my thinking analyzing my interaction with others. For the most part, I am not satisfied. My idealistic view on relationship still clouds my judgment. However, I do believe that I settle for what I have. I have always had friends that I didn’t completely love. I had them because I had to have friends. I learn in a very slow painstaking process. I never had someone to educate me. I have to do that myself. Life is doing it for me.

I grow uncertain. Uncertain of what I would be; of what I would have; of where I would end up.

All I can do is try.

The more I grow the less I know.

Body

How much more can this body take?

Maybe it’s time to face my demons. Have I really been ignoring them so long? I thought I was tackling them all along, wasn’t I? Was I overwhelmed? Was I in denial? Or I was just taking them down little by little?

How could I let my knee problem get so bad? I had the injury in January of 2008. It’s only got worse now. It’s even harder when I hang out with those little perfect boys. I look at them and see the energy and the carelessness. The boyish arrogance. I never had any of this. I was dealing with other demons back then. The shyness and awkwardness; my sexual inhibitions and social inaptitude. I still carry on the heritage of those days till now.
And I wonder if I could take it back? Would I do it again? Who would I have been?

The body grows more and more imperfect. It should never be perfect, I know. I know it better than anyone else. The blemished skin of a teenager and the balding of a 30-something man; I have them combined. And I missed those years of playful childishness. No more to return.

How can I feel so old?

These demons seem light compared to other serious shit. What is my purpose of being in the goddamn community of gays? If I claim to be jaded and apathetic about finding an intimate partner, then is there any hope for me? Is it always going to be random fucks? It seems to me that this would be nothing short of time-wasting.

I chose to work in an area that manages to get the interest of discerning people. What they don’t know though, is how poorly paid I am. I even failed my expectations, not to mention my family’s. What if my poor mother knows I have left them behind to get these few pounds? Would she understand that I’m hanging on there to get to a better place? Would I actually get to the position I fancy? When? Isn’t about time to have more tolerable living conditions?

Do I need a change of body or a change of heart?!

Domination

And again I sit to write some of my random thoughts. I stood at my window, secretly smoking a cigarette listening to the sound of barking dog, the pre-dawn chants, and a mysterious musical beat coming from a place I cannot recognize! Today has been quite a busy day. I had a lot of those lately. I wanted to write more about what goes on but failed to rise to my writing expectations…

I went out with my young Sagittarius friend and his new friend, a Virgo who is even younger than him. I think I’m better at gauging my ageism around him now. The interesting part was when I saw him being condescending and ageist towards the younger boy. It was both sweet and hilarious! Those young kids! They make me think of a lot of stuff. I partly felt sorry for myself. I marveled at their sexual liberation. When I was their age, I was just this sad, confused and repressed teenage, who was very much struggling with sexuality. One of them is already an atheist now! Both of them share this innate sexual hunger and they express it fully without complexities or confusions about it. Is this the way teenagers should be like?

Maybe I was just the ever too complex guy, combined with my shyness and overwhelmed by sex and sexual liberties. I know for a fact that my sexual emancipation and becoming guilt-free around sex came much later than theirs. I owe much of it to that erotic text that Raouf Mos’ad wrote. Ithaki. Thanks Mr. Mos’ad.

Today, I also experienced the sweet joy of sexual education. An activity very dear to my heart! I like to think that I make a difference in any person’s life and make their sex life better!

I also had my first chance on true kinky sex! Most of my experiences were quite vanilla. Being the desperate, frustrated mood I am in, I went for the first available guy I had. He explicitly voiced his interest in domination! I was wary and anxious, but hello I’m always anxious about sex even until now! S&M practices aside, the whole conduct of casual sex never fail to confuse me. Meeting someone and a few minutes later, you’re exchanging fluids and exposing your intimate Self! I fail to truly connect even when others can and want to do it. I can’t say I hated it. But I know I didn’t like the whole feel of the experience. It wasn’t the out of myself experience I was hoping for. I miss that kind of sex that makes me feel beautiful and serene. I only had that very rarely.

I was also struck by the gap between the two characters the guy exhibited. One was domineering and distant, the other was kind of sweet and kind! How could you have both in one person? How does he switch from one to another so easily? How did he grow to like domination anyway?

At the end, you smile, you nod and you affirm that you enjoyed his sex. A few words about meeting again that will never be fulfilled. Oh the dysfunction of casual encounters!

There will be other encounters of the sort as long as there are no alternatives.

Re-discovering morality?

“You’re in the mirage” said Khaled in a sarcastic, mean tone. It was another workshop, another hotel, another lousy lunch break. This break has taken a different turn obviously. I couldn’t help but trying to overhear what our fellows were discussing on the next table. I was quite sure it was religion, god, or something of the sort. The word “scepticism” could be heard more than once. A few minutes later, I was sitting at their table trying to make out what exactly they were talking about. The conversation went from questioning faith to a confession session. This only happened when MA joined us. After being harassed by Khaled and teased by the aforementioned phrase, MA started speaking of his psycho-religious development!

I had a strange feeling while MA was telling his story. It was nostalgia, mixed with sadness and yearning. As he was retelling how he lost his faith, I was recalling my very own story. I also felt sorry for the turmoil he had to suffer to get there. After all, I felt that my journey was much easier. And then I wondered, what role did my sexuality play in losing my religion? (I have to mention that although the word ‘lose’ is quite poetic; I like to think that I have no regrets over that loss). Did my being gay make it that much easier to renounce god?

What I am wondering about right now is a completely different thing. It’s the mirage concept. Although I loathed Khaled’s superficial judgement, now I feel that this truly needs examining. Being an atheist, I always maintained that one should not totally dispose of morality, and that it is necessary, or at least it is ingrained in our genetic makeup. I feel that I have reconciled with, normalized, or even main-streamized controversial moral issues. From suicide to masochism; and from drug use to commercial sex, and the list goes on. I can’t say I feel guilty about normalizing these. I have explored them, became sensitized to them, and was able to shift my understanding of such moral dilemmas. Lately, I have been pushing the limits of my sexuality. I have also been putting all the rights and wrongs to question.

It wasn’t until a couple of days ago that I started to question this stance. Where did my mind take me? I feel like I stand very far from my own surrounding community. What about “normal feelings”? What about ordinary human interaction? Can I still experience the ordinary, rewarding encounters? Did I become devoid of sound moral judgements? Am I in the mirage?

I don’t think I can ever go back to a simple dichotomous right-and-wrong mentality. However, I need to know if there are things in me that were lost in the process. I need to know if I have become jaded. What can surprise me or capture my emotions?

Questions that needs further investigation! I don’t know what to do about it, except for lighting another cigarette maybe!

Death

Death is the topic here. I told a friend I’m writing a piece on Death and he balked at the darkness of the topic. Typical. I’ve been contemplating the hold that death has over us. So powerful!

I’ve seen the photos of the Egyptian lynched in Lebanon. The link to the photos had a strict warning of explicitness and goriness. I didn’t feel particularly shocked by the photos. Have I become so jaded or is it my peculiar penchant for darkness? However, the responses were overwhelming. People seem to be particularly indignated by the things that the Lebanese crowd committed after the Egyptian’s death! I wonder which is crueler. Cutting a person while alive or while dead? Both are acts of ruthlessness. Torturing a living person seems far crueler to me though. I maintain to view these incidents in light of human capabilities; that is to say animal capabilities. Humans are somewhat evolved animals!

Death has been a theme for the last few days. My mother has expressed her feelings of impending mortality. A seminar on organ trafficking in Egypt touched upon the sacred, forceful hold of death over Egyptians; the things that impedes the notion of postmortem organ donation. What would it matter if someone cuts you up after your death? It’s just a corpse anyway.

Another incident showed how death alters people good sense. A young man died. He was allegedly brainy and courteous. Most importantly he was good looking. Very good looking. This is an important piece of information because the setting where the incident took place was on the virtual sphere; the internet. The handsome boy who died in a car accident was grieved online, by means of a facebook page. The response was too irrational for my bearing. The info bit of the page said it was dedicated to the best, sweetest, smartest and most beautiful man Egypt has ever known. Seriously?

I don’t know if it was the shock of death news or whatever else, but that was so disproportionate. Was it the death factor?

To be continued…

to my friend

Where do I begin my friend? You even refuse to view this blog; you probably don’t care enough. I wonder if I did give you the link though! I think I didn’t. I wouldn’t really change a thing anyway.

I met you my friend for the first time about five years ago on that trip to your city. It wouldn’t be accurate to say it was a twist of fate to meet you, it was more of a series of twists! Typical of Libras, you were charming and sweet. I was amazed by our flow of conversation and your revolutionary thoughts although you didn’t read many books. We seemed to share a lot of things. I was really happy to meet you. It was a thrilling encounter. The kind of encounters that makes you think that wild things are still possible, and that you can still meet people you fall in love with. I even thought I might love you!

I was sure of what you mean to me. I held you close to my heart. I was always uncomfortable with labeling someone as a best friend, but secretly you held that status. You were the one I could trust most, feel free with most… It wasn’t easy our friendship. Distance is a bitch. And time revealed how different we are. Or maybe we change. Of course we change. If I look at where we were, and where we are, it becomes clear. Even my views are changing, my views on religion, society, relationships, sexuality, family bonds, friendships. They all keep changing. I wonder where my views would take me next.

We had our struggles. Maybe our first one was about how to spend our time together. Ever the Capricorn, I wanted to some organised fun. An arranged meeting. A time to for proper catching up, etc. You refuse such rules I figured. You value fun, and fun doesn’t have to be organised, does it?!

You criticised religion, but then you refuse to fully abandon it in some sort of Pascal's Wager which I abhor. You put your dates first, while I would never miss seeing a friend for unless I see him/her quite often enough. I always thought that we should talk about our issues, because that’s what would make us grow as friend and become closer. That wasn’t really “your way”!

Don’t get me wrong my friend. I know I tend to think I’m always right. But I really questioned myself a lot around you. I questioned my thought and actions. I thought of myself as a controlling freak; a stubborn bitch, unable to compromise or accept others for what they are; or an idealistic dreamer with too ambitious expectations that will always fail to materialise.

I felt like what you mean to me is so much different from what I meant to you. That realisation wasn’t an easy one to make or to arrive at. But then again, I did feel many times that you do love me, you just perceive it and react to it in a different way.

Quite recently, there has been this rift I can’t get over. Seeing you with your other friends hanging round without me knowing about it hit me really deep.

What do I mean to you? Have I become some sort of a 'party pooper' for you? I can’t deny the pain. I struggled with my pride and the need to set things right with you. And I decided (was it really a decision? Or things just happen because you can’t decide otherwise?) I am to ignore you deal for me, and I was scared of presenting that to you, and you belittle it or avoid it as you always do. Silence seemed like a better choice.

But it is that silence that seems to change the whole deal, the whole friendship. What does it mean now if I can’t tell you what I feel anymore? What does it mean when we have that growing distance between us? What does it mean that I am not making an effort for “us” as I used to do? Let’s admit it, you won’t make it! (at least the way I imagine things to be)

And this doesn’t feel sad as much as it feel peculiar and curious! Or am I actually sad while I refuse to delve into it, or even admit it? It’s funny that I am not even sure how I feel about this. I guess I should be torn to pieces, in pain. This isn’t really how it feels, and maybe that’s the REAL sad thing.

You miss me, I think. I miss you. I miss us.

Painful Realisations

"No one could get to me like this. I never felt like this with anyone. But I forgive you!"

Is it an unfair world or it’s just chaos?!

So, I am a person deemed rather cold by a considerable number of people. I pondered this every now and then. I was confused: Am I good at internalizing my feelings or I just don’t have a lot of feelings?

I thought to myself I don’t think I really fell in love. Aside from two major crushes for two straight guys, there was nothing else really. And the semi-relationship I had a couple of years ago didn’t feel like love to me! It was quiet, rational and too careful! We never even discussed exclusivity through the few months we were together.

And then you walked into my life with those mysterious ways. Another twist of fate. I instantly felt something for you. You seem to be different. You seemed to be my kind of guy.

In those warm October nights, we came to know each other. We talked. We went to places. Places we both love. We shared stories. We kissed. We did things that were first times for both of us. Those memories haunt me. I still cherish them. I still remember you when I pass by our places. I still remember your kisses, your charm, you regal air, and your sweet flirtation.

But I knew I was walking into trouble. I knew you were leaving. I didn’t resist though. I let myself in. I let you in. I was aware of the transience, and the impending pain. I carried through. I held onto the dream that I mean to you what you mean to me. Despite your hard ways and my intuition that kept telling me that you’re heartbreaker. And so you leave to those northern cold lands.

You came back for your yearly visit, but never saw me. Circumstances weren’t on our side, yes. Did you really miss me?!

You started to fade, I was trying to let go. It wasn’t meant to be and I never really knew you anyway!

Then you appear again. With the same charm and promising words. My heart was jumping. I didn’t want to believe. Believing means heartbreak, I learned.

I call you and you’re in the airport. It was valentine’s night. But who cares about valentines anyway!

I let go of my pride and go to meet you. It was still there. My passion for you hasn’t changed. We sit in that old downtown café, where we once sat before. We talk, we drink beer, and I do realize. Oh you’re seeing someone. Yes, she’s Swiss based. She’s here in Egypt with you, how sweet! Yes, you do like me and want me still in you life. No, no, it wasn’t a vacation fling.
Yes, it different for you. You travel and meet people all the time. I stay in waiting for you on the other hand.

Can I be mad at you though? For not feeling for me what I feel for you? I guess I can’t, my dear. I forgive you! But I can’t help but ask myself.

Is it unfair or it’s just chaos?

On Fun

A natural born pessimist? Or a mere realist? I ask myself why I have become (did I really become anything or it’s just the way I was made all along?) this way. A person who doesn’t really seem to seek pleasure in its simplistic meanings. Was there something that went wrong during my development? Is it written on the stars? Or is my fate determined by my unhappy horoscope; Capricorn?


A certain couple of incidents come to mind. I try to look into it, analyse and reconsider, in pursuit of unattainable perfection.


First Scene
Location: Training room at a rather fancy youth hostel, in Cairo.
Time: Most probably March 13th.


The team was sitting in the usual circular fashion, the one that enables everyone to see each other’s face. We were supposed to think and brainstorm what we expect of the six-month exchange program experience that we were about to plunge in. Different responses ensued. To make friends. To travel. To gain new skills. To learn about cultures. To meet new people. And then was the striking answer. To have FUN!


This came to me as if a word from outer space. Have fun? Why did I never think of that? It didn’t even cross my mind. I was going to spend the next six months in a completely different setting, with different people I know little about, in cities that I never been to before. Yet, the last thing I though of was fun! I was thinking of usefulness, effectiveness, results and consequences. But fun? Never! I try to remember my feeling then. I am not quite sure. Most probably it was a mix of astonishment, bewilderment, and a flavour of regret. I must have promised myself that I will try to think of fun more often and try to ‘incorporate’ it to my lifestyle.



Second Scene

Location: My dirty room where I spend a copious amount of hours sitting to my pc.

Time: About a month ago.


I was surfing the internet, an activity that devours a big bite of my life currently, doing my usual routine of checking the news, which I think comes with a lot of drawbacks for one’s mental health. I came upon this article covering the recent attempts by different production companies to make a film on the life of Mohamed, the ideation, the motivation, and whether he is embodied or not. I thought it interesting. The writer’s angle was refreshingly neutral. I was delighted, until the point where I got to the readers’ comments. They were pretty much the same, despite their abundance. They were a mix of ranting, shouting, cursing, and dismissing. I thought to myself ‘we are doomed’. Aren’t there people with the intellectual ability to rationally criticise such an article? It was a disgrace. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. I should know better!


A day or two later, I talk to Mena about it, and he describes the article as a good one. I concur, but I voice my dismay at the readers’ comments. He affirms it was the best part of the whole article. I wonder how. He explains he found readers’ comments hilarious. I demand a further explanation. He suggests that if he took a different attitude and takes them seriously, he would have lost his mind years ago!
And then I have another realisation.



So he laughs at matters I find infuriating. This was utterly unforeseen. He dismisses them as stupid ignorants and laughs it off. What a brilliant attitude! Instead of all the stressful moment I live upon reading such comments, which I am sure very bad for my skin. He gets rid of his stress and gives a little bit of exercise to his heart muscle.


I go back to the question. In both these situation I discover something perfectly fresh. Not just about the people who inadvertently shine with their wisdom, but about myself. I am a person who (mostly without knowing it) lives in distress and anger, and does little to change it.



How effective would the ‘incorporation of fun factor’ process be?!