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.