New, Again!

With the new year's arrival, millions of little memories, insignificant and bright ones, colored and dimmed ones, do fly round my head. Suddenly, it is like all the 27 years or what I really recall from them pass me by as quick flashes. Moments of great joy and others of prolonged dramatic nights. Recollections of long ago friends and classmates and recent acquaintences.

The importance of such an event. in my belief, is not the counting of the days nor the declaration of one's progress in age. It is like a sign to stop at and think, then rethink, to act and react, to weigh and value what has passed and be sure and conscious of what is to come. If we stopped with ourselves for a while, we would gain a lot for more days to come.

2008

One Gained .. All Lost

After we have left our residence for about one month because of certain complicated situation, we only returned to discover that the sheep and goats we possess have gained a new one. We were both surprised and glad at the same time. For a while we waited for a claimer, but none was shown. So, the deal was set and the number was plused.

But the happiness of the gain was easily demolished and was replaced by the sudden disappearance of all!! It was done with swiftness and under dark circumstances. No one was able to tell us how such a thing would happen in the middle of the day!!

I think .... Who ever gave .... Has taken ... !

Fair enough ... Right?

Dragons of Love

When I was born to life with a scream, I had no thought of any sort that it holds for me a bunch of laughter as much as a reasonable amount of tears!

No one can predict what his own life-path may lead, even though we would be the selectors, the arbiters, and the source of everything around us. We, as humans, are subject to alteration and fits of mood. Circumstances do shape our actions, influences necessarily affect our reason, and pressure plays the inevitable role to conduct the routes of change.

Our search for stability is not bounded by any limits, but the eyes see what the hand can not reach.

Through the different experiences that marked my childhood and adulthood, and which I can neither label as positive nor negative, I witnessed happiness in its widest forms and was relished with its merriest hues.

My mind recalls handful of photos that fixate the memory of gaiety. From my infancy to my manhood, the feeling of being lucky, cherished, protected, and eyed is totally fluent and vivid. But progressing with such a sentiment made me comprehend the importance of touching this awareness and appreciating it. The idea stroke me when I was in an immense state of cheerfulness for I am passing through something that has never crossed my life before. Something that I was not waiting nor expecting. And this abrupt state, this sudden situation, just gave spur to my energy and unleashed my Dragons of Love.

The question rises:

Is it unsafe to ultimately unlock the so-long preserved heart? Who knows?

One is not but a test. A test is not but a game. A game is not but sequences. Sequences are not but patterns. And patterns do create Life.

Jado is Backo

Hey everyone ..

I am back to my beloved city.

No matter what may happen here, whatever have happened here, it is the dearest city to my heart!!

So,

See you around

;-P

Cheerio!

Players In My Heart

They come and they go

They do not let me know

I am afraid to speak

But the words found a leak

A poem on a cloud

A voice with no sound

Something of a dream

Something good, I deem

But then it is my heart

That is played with as a cart

Taken and moved and driven

By one, two, three, and seven

Players, halt thy playing hand

Push me up, above the mystic land

Drop there, where I can fly

And smile as I go up high

Leave me wander for I crave

To be left alone in my own cave

To roam the world on my magical carpet

It's my dream. Got my target?!

Coincidence or Fate?

DON'T TURN AROUND

Ace Of Base / The Sign

If you wanna leave

I won't beg you to stay

And if you gotta go darling

Maybe it's better that way

I'm gonna be strong

I'm gonna do fine

Don't worry about this heart of mine

Just walk out that door

Yea see if I care

Go on and go now but

Don't turn around

'Cause you're gonna see my heart breaking

Don't turn around

I don't want you seeing me cry

Just walk away

It's tearing me apart

That you're leaving

I'm letting you go

But I won't let you know

I won't miss your arms around me

Holding me tight

If you ever think about me

Just know that I'll be alright

I'm gonna be strong

I'm gonna do fine

Don't worry about this heart of mine

I know I'll survive

Sure I'll make it through

And I'll even learn to live without you

Don't turn around

'Cause you're gonna see my heart breaking

Don't turn around

I don't want you seeing me cry

Just walk away

It's tearing me apart

That you're leaving

I'm letting you go

But I won't let you know

I wish I could scream out loud

That I love you

I wish I could say to you

Don't go

As he walks away he feels the pain getting strong

People in your life they don't know what's going on

Too proud to turn around he's gone

Don't turn around

'Cause you're gonna see my heart breaking

Don't turn around

I don't want you seeing me cry

Just walk away

It's tearing me apart

That you're leaving

I'm letting you go

But I won't let you know

----- ------ --------

I was just listening to this song in the morning ... sitting on the coach .. wondering how nice and sensitive and loving its lyrics are .. and it crossed me .. just like the flashing of thunder: What if I had to live such an experience?!

Later that same night .. Just before few hours .. I had !!

And it feels like fire all over me!!

You Failed Me

O September, what can words write to such horrible deeds?
I went through the merriest moments while you were here;
Diving to collect the seashells and finding twigs for reeds,
But you have altered your gifts, or were my eyes not clear?

With no guilt I gain this and to this I must stay at my word,
My destiny worked his play and he has fired his charm;
At such conspiracies how can one keep quiet his sword?
Yet, I did and held a paint brush and drew on my face: calm.

Far , Older , and Different

I saw a sparkle of light flickering in my sky. It could have been a passing light, it could have been a meteor, or something else I never wish to know. Yet, I believed in this light, and adopted it to become my Sight and my Insight.

Deep within me, there was this monster called Past. He rang the bells of danger without hesitation. "Remember Remember .. It's already September". But I never paid attention. What is he yelling about? Nonsense. I am much stronger than time, much stronger than space, much more stronger than Fate.

Yet ...

I was not prepared for the truth ..

I didn't notice the glaring truth ..

That I was not all these great and powerful things ..

I was only: FAR , OLDER , AND DIFFERENT.

Would You Like to Have a Piece of Love?

• I want some pens and pencils, please.
• Sure, sir. Any prefered colors?
• Yeah, actually I am into black papers and scarlet red pens.
• Right away, sir. Care for some ribbons?
• Ribbons?
• Yes sir, to wrap the presents. Aren't they presents?
• Oh! No, no. Just for me.
• Okay. One minute.
• Mmmm.
• Well, here you go, anything else, sir?
• No, thank you.
• So, only the pens and pencils?
• Yes. Mmm .. what are you suggesting?
• Would you like to have a piece of Love?
• :-

When Love Passes By

Nothing is learned without much strife.

Nothing is gained without a certain measurement of loss.

All good deeds - or all thought-to-be good deeds could simply evoke latent feelings.

We are the experiments, as we are the experimenting people.



Such a joke .. a practical one .. to avoid it all of the time .. to advise people from treading upon its path .. yet, to fall in it .. in its pit .. without caution and care!!



"Where witty men fail to use their intellectual powers, dumbness dwell."



I have been lost in thoughts these passing days. Not comfortable thoughts, I ought to confess. In nature, I would not claim to be an adventurer, yet, as time summons the trials, it seems that I am much of an adventurer (and a reckless one) more than I have ever thought of or even dreamt of!



It is all related to my definition of Life!

For, what is Life?!

This is the eternal question that keeps on asking for a satisfying answer!!

Is life a thread of danger or a net of caution?

Is it an arch of triumph or a broken bow?

Is it a bewitching moment or a breathless night?

A coward's song or a King's dream?

A madman's tale of an idiot's game?

A Life full of Love of a Love full of Life?!



To stop at a point, the last one catches my interest.

L O V E, the sweet illusioned state. What is so important around it that makes us breathlessly sigh and ache? What are its components? Where it begins and ends? How much of hearts can you keep alive in your own heart? And is it a means or just a transient state?!



When love passed me by, I felt special once again. Not that I underestimate my character as many would think. I never underestimate myself, it is too silly to do so. What I mean is that: man is of to entities. The first one begins with himself and stops at his borders. The latter starts from within but is directed to others and is never activated unless 'the other' accepted to do so. It is very to know yourself, but what about the other? What about the other's reactions or feelings or even background? It is too difficult to guess, and when you really Trust, and reach a no-return path for you at least, you only discover at this moment that there was no need for such a thing .. in the first place. And I keep telling myself that it is 'Your fault", yet I know profoundly that it is not anybody's fault.



Things happen because they ought to happen.

What is going to come is going to come.

Don't rush things.

Be at ease.



Everything will come to its place in time.



Wisdoms didn't adopt any mysteries. They just enigmatically charged words with experiences of the centuries. So, each came forged with a heavy burden, one that needs expression at one side, and performance at the other, just to fulfill the credo's will.

Leaving Things

I have always loved the term "things". I can not simply call it a word, because it connotes to several meanings of a flexible nature. The unidentified expression that holds within the definite and indefinite stands vividly on its feet relating itself to everything, yet without clarity.

People get attached to their 'things' with the flow of life. I was, myself, addicted to my own stuff. They were essential needless things. Of course the reasons are strictly wide. First of all, they intensify my feeling of possessiveness. They belong to me, and I belong to them. They identify my hobbies, my interests, and my own preferences, and in my turn, I give life to them. From another point of view, I relied/rely much upon my things to occupy my time. Leisure times are supposed to be assigned to something particular that is able to change the form of the 'wasted' to the 'beneficial'.

We always assume that we know our own things. We tend to love our things and fight for our things' rights. We stand by them, defending something, neglecting something else, beating someone, offending another. It is not at all necessary here to name the something and the someone. They could be anything and anyone. And this is the true beauty of the matter.

I remember a saying that kept ringing in my head for several years. I once read it in an old Reader's Digest's issue, it says:

"In the middle of nowhere, but always in the middle of something".

And it is quiet true.

So, when we leave our things. When we are forced to abandon them, we feel as if a part of our hearts has been taken .. much more than this: has been ripped off with brutality and cruelty .. and we ache .. we truly do .. and we feel the world has became shaken in all directions ..

I love my things.

I do not wish for them to get scattered anywhere.

I love things in nature.

I love everything that has a thing in it.

I even love the things that compose everything and anything.

Such a loaded life .. Filled with many many things!!

On/Off

They are often the same.
They come and go, pop in and out, stays and vanishes, without specific expressed explained reasons.
And we ought not to ask. For askance, sometimes, is considered a direct interference. For questioning is often deemed as a prohibited detested action that is usually performed by the FBI.

They come and go.
They expect us to remember.
They await our love, appreciation, and understanding.
But, truly speaking, or rather writing, they never do know what happens when they are Off Line!!

Me & Them

KSA ..
In its hottest weather ever ..
And me walking under the sun and the humidity ..

I looked around to discover that I am the only Arabian guy walking .. the rest are in their air-conditioned cars and jeeps. I took a surfing look, I found company with some Indians and Pakistanis men, cleaning the roads, building some new constructions, or just passing by. Me and the working people, the Asian workers and laborers were only on the streets. I felt an awkward sensation when I realized that. Because even this Asian fellow is definitely wondering about that young punk who thinks himself on Tahiti beaches, wearing his mini pants and tight t-shirt!!

It was a strange moment!

ID

Someone has been chatting with me lately
When I asked him about his name ... he gave my name
When I asked him about his work ... he defined my work
When I asked him about his preferences ... he spoke of mine
We only differed in age and place of residence

How are the chances of meeting such a lier on line?

What one has to do about that?

A Rhyme-less Poem

And I thought it is going to be easy

And I thought it would pass

The world collapsed in front of my eyes

And I was left counting the stars

.

.

And I thought he will cry

And I felt he would be sad

But no tears were seen on his face

Nothing was heard at his heart's gate

Relief was standing instead

.

.

And I thought time should take a break

Clocks would stop clicking

Yet, each passing day assures my error

Each plucked paper from the calender

Fourfolds intensifies my own distress

.

.

And I thought summer would cross quickly

While autumn will summon the leaves and the sun's rays

Although I am surely witnessing the daily rise of the dawn

Besides, two days ago I got a sun burn

It still feels like summer in everything

.

.

Hello

In 1994, Dr. Alban released a song called: "Away From Home", and nowadays it is always on the tip of my tongue ;-).

It is very positive to be away from one's home.

It is even healthy to change our spot of residence from time to time for a short while.

Time To Say Goodbye

Every passing minute assures the fact that we are going to get separated. Each natural element shares with me the course of departure. Parting is merely meant to be physical, yet no one knows what the future hides in its horizons for us: the children of expectancy.

I hate to sound melancholic. Pessimism doesn’t exist in my dictionary, but it is an appraisal of reality, an evaluation of facts and possibilities. One gaze at the scope of actuality strengthens the scene revealed in between the horizons: a procession of memories and events regressing towards a dark zone, a lighted torch fading away, a hand parting from another hand, a tie unfettering, a loss!

No matter how such a bond is important to me, I have to step upon the heart that is not crying but weeping, I have to restrain the soul that is not screaming but lamenting, and insert a pushing smile in my words, draw a spring in my steps, and lift the Hope to upper places.

No plaintive feelings have to be displayed when it is time to say goodbye. Farewell parties are meant to encourage the leaving/traveler not to thwart him/her. It is the right time to fixate an everlasting image of valor, audacity, and a reinforced challenging spirit. Cropping comes later, when distance plays its symphony and yearning coats our eyelids with layers of disturbed esthesises. And surely, it is the perfect moment to eschew the esurient impulse of saying: Stay; it is more lucrative to both to stress on being single-hearted while away.

So, on that day ..
My look is going to be the Spring in Summer ..
My step the stride of grasshoppers ..
My smile similar to Julia Robert’s ..
My voice the chants of the Benedictine Monks ..
My embrace as that of the ocean hugging the pedestal of mountains ..
And my only word: Indulge in the joie de vivre.

Translation

.

Not all the people have the capability of translating things/matters/situations in a correct way. Not all the people have the intention to translate others in a positive sense. Such a purpose needs skill and a worked-out mentality.

When one reads something: he forges what he is reading into his own personality. After playing the recessive part through complete absorption, he tends to commune to these perceived items/ideas and runs a quick browsing for his own items/ideas in a way to match what could be equivalent. Only then, he is able to emit his version of explanation. The clarification would be greatly affected by his own touch, which in turn is dipped with his personal complexes and biased ideologies.

To read others means to use your inherited/acquired knowledge in the process mentioned, while to translate others is to exploit your aptitude of analysis, your talent in running an examination with both scrutiny and precision, and your expertise in combining/relating/uniting to perform the last step of one’s individual approach.

The process though seems too prolonged, takes no time at all. It is just like the rising of the sun in the morning, you view the scene, you never contemplate the process, you sense the glory, you never count the time it needs to rise, you communicate with the moving drawing next to you, you never notice when morning became noon!!

But I tried to contemplate/count/notice my surrounding stars. Each told me a story. Each narrated a dream. Each echoed a wish and each pumped a perspective. My near-by Sun shines on me, neither through the sky’s clouds nor through my eyeballs, but emits its rays with tenderness deeply intensified via the sounds, the moves, the gestures, and the words. My ever-lit Moon plays another part. It turns my life into a hopeful world, filled with expectation, immensely portrayed by brushes of powerful will to acquire knowledge, strictly forwarding my strides into taking on every exquisite pleasure put in front, set behind, or lurked above. Such abundance in giving and sharing leaves a very narrow route for the rest of the stars to affect my path, so, in a way or another they stand there, they try to loom, they struggle to leave a trace, but not much is gained from their side.

It is the good translation that attracts me.
It is the best version that I am looking for.
I need no one to whisper in my ears that I am perfect when I am not.
Merely stating things as they are is good enough.

And it is only it … only such explanation … only such a star … that turns my head round … that makes me sway without melodies … dance to no tune … write with neither a pen nor a paper … and dream spontaneously!!

Philately

I have been in the entire world. I have traveled to each and every city, met all famous and ingenious people, interviewed historians, politicians, musicians, scientists, and poets. I have witnessed all epochs, and lived in all eras. I have watched monarchs filling their countries’ thrones, and watched kings getting detached from their kingdoms. I have went up to Eiffel Tower, dined in the hollow head of Liberty’s Statue, roamed in Louvre’s Museum, measured the inclination of Pisa’s Tower, heard the ticking of Big Ben’s clock, helped in the manufacture of Titanic, announced Georgina Rizk the Queen of the Universe in a Beauty contest, awarded Naguieb Mahfouz a Noble prize for his literary masterpiece: Awlad Haritna, shared in the Iranian Revolution against the monarchy, signed the tuition of Independence for Lebanon and announced it a republic. I have been there when Beethoven has completed his 5th symphony, when Schubert first composed the notes of Death and the Maiden for the first time, when Fairuz celebrated the Holy Friday in Downtown of Beirut, when Gibran Khalil Gibran died, and when Lebanese martyrs sacrificed their souls for their causes. I have studied kinds of plants with botanists, excavated for fossils and dinosaurs’ relics with paleontologists, classified animal species and types of butterflies and other insects with zoologists, and examined the strange habits of birds and the reasons behind their migration and the secrets behind their mating. I have governed Olympic Games, directed chess championships, and guided water sports, epees, and skiing tournaments. I have conducted festivals in Hollywood, Caan, Petra, Jarash, Baalbeck, Beiteldein, and the historical Tyre. And surely, I have written the epitaphs upon the tombs of the epoch-makers: the President Rafic AlHariri, Gibran Twaini, Samir Kasir, Basel Flayhan, and Pierre Jmayyel.

I have been to all via a very simple way: Stamps.
Stamps that are small in size are distinctive marks or impressions made upon an object, for instance those made on a piece of paper and used to indicate the prepayment of a fee or tax. Types of stamps include:
Postage stamps, used on mail
Revenue stamps, often used on documents; they are superficially similar to postage stamps, but may have very high denominations (also called: Stamp Act or Stamp Duty)
Rubber stamps, devices used to apply inked markings to objects.

(wikipedia)

Stamps that psychologists deem as a silly hobby: both waste of the time and money, and are considered as a non-beneficial luxury, are my my favorite friends in times of distress, happiness, loneliness, excitement, .... and on. They shared with me much .. and I have shared with them the same, as well. This great exchange of knowledge and time has profoundly profited me and enriched my scopes, widening my imagination and watering my dreams!

~ 45 ~

How can I thank you?

Let me count the ways ..
Shall I thank you by words,

Via mail and letters,

Or through sex ?

If the way is by words,

There's one that only matters,

You are in this world a REX!

..

How can I thank you?

Let me measure the scopes ..
Shall I describe you as the sea,

The open-up Ocean,

Or the high Alp's Mounts?

If I'm to denote what is 'u' to me,

I confess that you're as a potion,

Heals everything in front, and what surrounds!

..

How can I thank you?

Let me dice the luck ..
Shall I compare you to Two,

Heaven the Cherisher, Earth the mother,

Or to Eight, the not yet divulged sin?

If I ought to compare something to you,

I choose a dearer word: a moulder,

That shapes my world in a tiny tin!

...

How can I thank you?

Just choose a form ..

And I'll be happy to dedicate it ..

To You!!

Do They Sing Us?

"Just Another Day"

Morning alone

When you come home

I breath a little faster

Every time we're together

It'd never be the same

If you're not here

How can you stay away, away so long.

Why can't we stay together

Give me a reason

Give me a reason.

[Chorus]

I, I don't wanna say it

I don't wanna find another way

Make it through the day without you

It's just another day

Making the time

Find the right lines

What do I have to tell you

I'm just trying to hold on to something

(Trying to hold on to something good)

Give us a chance to make it.

Don't wanna hold on to never

I'm not that strong

I'm not that strong.

I, I don't wanna say it

I don't wanna find another way

Make it through the day without you

I, I can't resist

Trying to find exactly what I miss

It's just another day without you.

Why can't you stay forever

Just give me a reason

Give me a reason.

[Chorus repeats]

Do singers depict the experiences of others?

What does make a Song a successful one? Is it ability to cope with each listener's condition? Or its power to alleviate his resident state?

Was Secada singing me in his song?

Why I used to obsessively write the title of the song and the name of the singer on every paper or wall or table?

Suddenly, I noticed how this favorable song for the Cuban singer, Jon Secada, is singing an important and a prolonged part of my life. Truly, in most of my relations (I do not want to say all in order not to sound pessimistic), separation was one major element.
Is it because I do not ask for much?
Is it because I do not pressure the partner?
Is it because I do not plead for my natural rights?
I am facing everything alone, and I may not be able to carry on.
Receiving all the blows, saying all those good-byes, repeating the same encouraging words, saluting, welcoming, packing for others their tiny things, reminding them of what may have slipped from their memory, … and after all .. “making through the day without you’ and without others!!

“How can you stay away for so long?”
Just tell me how?
How can you when you are my breath I breathe every morning; when you are my pillow I sleep at night; when you are the ink I dip in the fountain pen to write; when you are the bread I luncheon on; when you are among my whispers, and in my murmurs; when you are everything that makes me someone!

A Creed

Emily Dickinson - a 19th century poetess - used to think that one should: “dwell in possibility”. The creed is not easy but not impossible, in the same time. It reflects an extraordinarily positive mannerism, whether it was regarding thinking or acting. For I believe any act is best performed if it is the foster-child of optimistic fore-reading and prospect.

The selection of the word ‘possibility’ has to be much appreciated. Its value lies in the enforcement laid with both ease and straightforwardness of the beneficial, productive, and energetic notion of possibility. If an idea is to entail something, this latter idea necessitates the adoption of what builds not destroys, what constructs not knocks down, press on not pull off.

The credo denotes and signifies several aspects. It is similar to a prophet’s philosophy: phrased with plainness, but asks charged will and steady decision.

not in simplicity nor in difficulty. The nature of such likelihood is not determined by the level of its aftermath. Whether the upshot was pampered with quietude or treated in hustle and bustle, the vital concern is to set in the mind a flexible thought of possible occurrences and happenings.

for the world opens up only to those who open to it; for nature spreads its ever-sprouting wisdom to those who embrace it with both trust and cheer. Naturally, the laws of life do not follow a certain temperament. They share what they should share with according to their own capabilities and limits. They share all that with someone possessing visual and virtual potentials to absorb most of what is being there, lingering for his appreciation and implementation.

in order not to fall in the pit of darkness displayed for deactivated visions. The insight has to be the imposing sovereign. It is capable and it is enough. Our admiration of the universe around us falls in two sections: internal, where it is translated in the form of thoughts and ideas, and sometimes it takes the shape of dreams, illusions and ambitions; external, where it is actively shown in our mentally spoken speeches, realistic accomplishments, and actual deeds. Each feeds each. And all in all give life and vividness to our personality. To shape such luxury, believing in the possible welfare of the nature of things, accepting the impression of the well being of people, and foreseeing goodness and justice in the bestowed gifts release the tension widely-spread among beings, and forecast a pure recessive pedestal that in turn will change through time and by experience to become a positive dispatching source.

because although Life has lined the notion of impossibility, Time does tell everyone that sooner or later Impossible is going to become Possible just through adopting the belief of Possibility!

Animation Masterpieces

The former post widely opened my juvenile memory. I started recollecting images of old cartoon series that I used to wait to watch. Cartoons have been both a generous and a resourceful rootage of dreams and illusions. They naturally dilated my imagination and were a great aid to overcome many dilemmas and plights.

Among the series that still invade my jejune recollections:

1. Belle Et Sebastien: the French cartoon series was translated to Arabic. The series have some episodes. It is about a boy who seeks his mother through the countries and villages of France. Of course, he happens to encounter many troubles and adventures. His companion, the dog, was a protector and a guardian. Together, they fought, ran, played, and experienced much to find the Mother, who turned to be in a cottage in a snowy area! The series is thrilling. It intensifies feelings of Love, Devotion, and Tolerance, along with determination. Besides, morals on the importance of friendship and generosity were also among the obvious themes.

2- Sunday Belle: a little funny girl who lives in a small village. She has many friends. Among them, there are two boys who used to fight to win her attention. A typical fun-to-follow series, which debates the questions of Innocence Love and Early Relations that begin as friendship until they develop into something more realistic. The series also denotes the challenges made in our youth .. the silly fights over a girlfriend .. the anticipation of her response .. and the cockamamie dreams we start developing in our childhood.

3- TinTin and Milou is one of my favorite cartoon series. I have recently bought some episodes on DVDs. The young adventurer fears nothing. He has a great enthusiasm and courage, but above all, his Curiosity is genuine. He is always challenged by two detectives. They are both stupid and clumsy. Surely, TinTin avec his dog solve the mystery before them. They are the symbol of The Forever Later Police Forces ;-D, which is a typical quality of the police worldwide. The series fixates clearly some important characteristics that are lovable and preferable to be found in young athletic energetic teens: determination, hope, scientific curiosity, analytical thinking, ... that would build a stout dependent and imposing personality. The episode includes many funny scenes and hilarious misfortunes.

4- Sasuki: the best Ninja ever drawn and portrayed. This character had an effect upon my childhood. I used to think that I am him, and call myself by his name, and surely I used to mimic his actions (poor sis, she had to go through all the tests ;-D). Sasuki with his fat friend, Jumbo, used to trace problems to solve. They were trained to defy Evil spirited people who use Black magic to harm others. The Ninja has their own codes that are derived from the Ninja School. Loyality, Faith in the Cause, Respect, Obedience, Fighting Evil, Protecting the Innocents, Spreading Wellfare, ... are some of the famous traits of this amazing school. Of course, I am referring to the Good School, and naturally everything has a diametrical version. So, it is the Old Motif of Good Vs Evil .. Virtue Vs Vice! Unfortunately, Sasuki implanted in me the dream of possessing Magical Powers .. and the dream still haunts my mind every now and then!

5- Captain Majed: the Japanese anime has entered the hearts of many, as I recall. During that period, it was something fantastic to watch a series about football game. Usually, cartoon series adopt family or personal subjects, or action-directed themes. So, when this one chose a game, it was something extraordinary. I do not like football myself, but I watched the complete series. Something in the fictious portrayal of the game appealed to me, especially the wonderful kicks of the Captain during several games. Majed was a nice cartoon to discuss with boyish friends who like to get in touch with their masculine future from their youth. ;-D it was fun to confuse them with my own personal preferences. Yet, the character has its own charming power.

6- Sanshiro: a playful and youthful guy who likes to program electrically-controled figurines. Jumaro is his creation (shown in the picture) and his sole companion. The series is a Japanese version of the American Wrestling Championship, and of course with the definite substitutions : Robots instead of humans, technology and computrization in place of savage hand-to-hand-moved-by-simple-minded-fighters. The theme is mostly about Winning .. with slight focus upon challenges and overcoming them .. and the never-ending road to Self-gratification in order to gain Recognition!

Find Me A Name

This is my favorite puppy!!

And the capture was a success .. even though I wasn't meaning to snap it pulling its tongue at me .. ;-D

I am searching for a name for it. My friends keep telling me that eventually I am going to name it: Zinger (referring to the dog of Tawfik, known as Takhtakh), or maybe Buster (in reference to the authentic British version of the same dog).

Milou seems very nice, but it's not white at all :-D. I just like Tintin's Milou. Although the English translation doesn't sound as much pretty: Snowy.

Mmmm .. I remember Belle .. from Belle Et Sebastien .. My favorite cartoon series during my childhood.

Yet, still .. It is not White!

Morning Sun

Although I consider myself a nocturnal creature, but still the awe-inspiring morning sun has its own charm.

My father arrived at dawn with my cousin from my mother's village. Their noise and loud voices pierced my dreams creating pandemonium and disorder. So, my eyelids were forced to commence the process of separation, my mouth had to dart several yawns, my eyes blurred the images I tried to conceive, until I decided to fully wake up.

It was 5:15.

My father and my cousin were eating an early breakfast (Foul + khoboz 3al 7atab: my favorite morning meal: typical Tyrian breakfast). I saluted them with a slight bow. They invited me, but I said: NO with arrogance, and sat on the table to open the laptop!!

I don't like to be disturbed ..

I don't like sudden wake-ups ..

I don't like my cousin ..

But, all of these negative elements failed to let me embrace the Morning Sun with a bright smile and sniff the scents of roses from our backyard!

SO,

Good Morning

Dears.

Smash Hits

Previously, I have mentioned that my childhood friend and companion was my guide to the Extrovert World. He took my hand [frankly I was on my way to write innocent, but it didn't fit ;-)] and introduced me to millions of details.

My family is very conservative. Not strict nor fanatic, but conservative.

I was a child.

And what a child does?

A child covets what he sees.

This is a common aspect that is well-accepted in psychology.
And because I was both rebellious and had my own way from the start, I had everything I saw and coveted.

"Smash Hits" was one the things that made my face turn into a big shining eye. The colors, the bright papers, the gifts, and the fact it is from London and written in English were things quiet new to me.

Since the minute I bought the first issue, I became addicted to reading it.

To define Smash Hits: it is a British magzine that deals with stars and their fans, and includes the latest news about art, music, films, and their worlds.

Its publishing company issues another magazine called: Big!, which I used to read and collect as well.

The magazines shaped many of my thoughts, added some, changed others. They definitely have stretched zillions of scopes in front of me, and not only flavored my nights with amusing tips or trivias. For I always read seeking something different than the words scribbled and stuffed in front of my eyes. I like to go in deep, to catch the meanings behind the words, the unwritten messages, although it is not necessary for many literary-related books, magazine, ..etc to have some latent messages. But, it is a trick I used to play to enjoy my time, and in a way to express a rebel against the norms of regular reading.

But, I have also to point out that I used to enjoy the gifts to the maximum limits .. Some were tattooes (untouched till now :S) .. Sometimes, they used to attach with the issue a collection of Stickers .. Other times, they dedicated the last pages to cut and fold in a certain way and become a Tape Star (covers for tapes) .. and regardless to mention the posters in different shapes, colors and subjects.

I believe that there is always a Benefit .. from everything .. no matter how trifle it seemed to others .. no matter if 'others' accept it or refuse it .. the importance comes from within .. and when it does .. the results are surely to be fruitful.

The memoir was risen up after reading an old news that the company has stopped issuing SmashHits. They have closed!!

So, I hope this page would be a tribute to the 'source' that I gained much much much from!!

Names & Faces

Some faces stick to our minds without exerting any efforts. Some sounds are prefered by our ears without our consent. And surely there are some names that could always be memorized no matter what damages our memories.

Kevin Costner is a name that has a special Place in my heart .. mind .. memory .. and Past. The first movie I watched him acting in was [ No Way Out]. It was displayed on Future TV when it was in the testing period. I felt charged when I saw him. He captured all my senses.

I felt that he is the man I would like to be if I was with the ability to choose a body.

And the obsession started ever since. I began collecting his pictures and photos from all the sources I could reach to. I used to gather information about him. And all were sorted in a file especially made for him.

Today, I regard him with admiration. I still like him more than the others, but nowadays my love for him has took another curve; maybe it became more profound but more logical, as well. I appreciate his work, have my own critics about some of his films, yet, my eyes always seek meeting his (through the screens of course, although I had my fantasies of living next to him!!).

Another actor that impresses me is Anthony Hopkins .. His presence negates all others .. His voice overwhelm everything .. His mere look is an epic never told yet!

I got acquainted with thic incredible genuine man in [The Silence Of The Lambs] as Hannibal Lector .. The character was both eccentric and imposing to the degree I went the next day to buy the movie (VCR, there were no DVDs at that time). I didn't like Foster in her part, she was dull and looked as a beginner, or let us be just and say: she acted well her roll as a complexed FBI agent. Still, I disliked her performance. But as for Hopkins, he mastered the role. I do not think that anyone could play it better!

And following his filmograph was actually a normal thing to do, and so I did.
It was his voice .. His voice that drives me insane ..
It thrills me beyond measure.
Something that lies between the scream of a hawk, the sirens of sharks, and the sound of the fallen leaves of an Autumn tree!!
Something that combines savagery and anger with serenity and transulence..
That unites the ununited .. !!
Yet, united !!

Another stop has to be taken to the amazing Matt Damon .. Not exactly amazing .. but precisely the Witty Matt.
I have never encountered a smart guy like this young man. His strides are full with enthusiasm. His eyes glitter with intelligence. His face portrays complete readiness to anything.
I initially met him in [Good Will Hunting] .. The movie is a complete success. It was created in a good way, and acted much more better.
The movie was very touchy. Actually, it hit on some of my fragile cords. I stayed 3 consecutive nights crying .. I just couldn't stop. But the bright side of the incident was that I never cried ever since.

Matt is good. He is more than good. But I do not know why he is not that appreciated. Most of his films are perfect. He chooses his roles in a very delicate way. I am waiting the release of the third part of The Bourne Identity to complete the threequels. They are far more interesting than Mission Impossible or even 007 James Bond.

Damon has no much effect on me .. but the 'coincidence' that he was the one who acted Good Will Hunting .. and had the breaking-of-ice scene with Robin Williams who said the killing-to-the-core words: It is not your fault .. It is not your fault .. It is not your fault ... etc.

Euthanasia

I was watching a movie, which I wasn't able to finish due the inconvenient electricity, about a little girl who was born to two employers in a company. They were living a regular life, without any extravagances, because they can not afford that, but without depriving themselves from the normal sources of pleasure.

Yet, having Laura changed their lifestyle. She had an early sickness that made their nights turned into days. Much care had to be offered to this ill child. She was their first. And in a moment of despair, they felt unlucky .. felt damned .. cursed!

Events continue with a rather alteration in the pitch of the drama, until a rise occurs when the child falls from her bed. The thud drew the parent's attention .. Clothes were quickly on .. ER was the destination.

The minutes became hours. The hours dressed the coat of days. The days displayed its monotonous changing process, flipping a week after a week.

Tiredness became a feature on the parent's visages.

Insomnia a trait of their character.

The peaceful serene life .. the quiet stereotyped life .. was a far-fetched dream ...

Boredom and lonliness in the old life appeared to living in heaven comparing that to then ..

And then a Spark of Hope glittered ..

A Spark that lightened their eyes ..

A Spark that seemed to be the last chance of every quandary ..

.....

Have I mentioned that Death could be a Hope?

Well, could it be?

I wonder how much this is a Merciful deed .. !!??

Bellicosity

"Unless u go with a bomb to the embassy."

The concept of Violence has been spread around with great swiftness and simplicity. Above, is a short comment - by a dear friend who was joking only with me - that explicitely denotes how the Aggressive Language has unconsciously entered our dictionary.

It still astonishes me everyday how hostility have ventured every house .. every single corner in our houses and became a regular practice .. done on regular basis.

Whenever one tunes on the TV, he will never find anything cheerful.

Not only on TV. Real Life gives daily vivid examples.

Traffic jams manifest anger.

Schools explore complexes.

Students express vulgarity.

Neighbours develop aggression.

Friends, sometimes, shows signs of condemnor.

It is worldwide spread .. like a contagious virus ... Sending and emitting negative charges all over ..

.
.

I have one hope ... that other things would Prevail, too ..

So .. let us pause for a minute ..
Close our eyes .
Contemplate our souls ..
Check the dim lighted spot inside ..
Try to approach it with care ..
Enlarge it ..
Enlarge it more ..
Till its pixels fit our oculi ..

Then, at this solemn moment, let us dream of a Society filled with Agape and Passion!

Hymn of Nostalgia

I yearn for my childhood friend.

I yearn the 'lad' that took me to another world, who ultimately opened new realms of the unkown and familiarized them for me.

I yearn the 'bro' that shared withme his laughter and mine, his joy and mine, his success and mine.

I yearn the 'friend' that was nearly always beside whether I was in need of his existence or not.

I yearn the 'adult' that cultivated many of my wild ideas, framed logically much of my silly nuisances.

I yearn the 'hand' that used to help and never deforming.

I yearn the 'lips' that uttered only truthfulness and sincereity.

I yearn for you .. my mysteries-buddy .. my friend!

Do

Time goes by my friend, and there is nothing left but the silence of the music, which haunts your memory … bits of a very disturbed memory. What can music do in front of these oppressing sirens of violence? How may any contribute to the extermination of such complication? And the never-dying question: Do we still have time?

Time, my friend, is being stolen from us … in front of our bodies … under our bare eyes … and against our own volition!

O heaven!
O Witness of our case!

We ask not a quick salvation, but some tranquil moment in time; an era of peace, to rest the wary eyelids, the aching hearts, fragile legs!!

What can I tell you my friend about the days of yore?
I will not portray my life at that period in colorful hues .. I never knew any colors, then. My perception of Life was: Happy-Sad equation, neither more nor less. And permit me to assure you that ‘grief’ had the widest share. Yet, my grief wasn’t – for the wonderment of many – a dramatic one. I used to think of it as a remedy; sometimes, it was as a consolation. Others, an alteration.

O friend, words are going to wither upon my boughs. They are like the little leaves. They need watering. They need pruning. They need helpful hands and warm-hearted harvesters. Unluckily, my own plantation is as abandoned as an untrodden desert.

It has been so.
And most probably, will stay as such!

The quandary doesn't lie with Others.
It exists with me.
Something in my enigmatic personality that deteriorates every relation .. mutates it .. and leaves only bitter hearts at the dark corners!!

Still, I defy this.
And will always do.
Will always do.
Always do.
Do.

Wheel Of Change

Interested in making a Change?

Not an ordinary one, but one that alters crucial matters in your life.

Think of this chart .. rethink of what you have planned to change .. and regulate your thoughts.

And have fun!

Homicide

I had a surf around me ...

I found Anger .. Rage .. Fury .. Wrath ..

I have contemplated in the Human Being .. and I am still .. The equation did not seem right. In most Religions along with most of the Ideologies, beings have a relative relation to their Creator. In some, they are in His image; in another, their souls comes from his; and from others, they were reflected from His omnipotentency. So, all has to show feelings of Happiness, Satisfaction, Fortunate, and Love .. a great portion of Love!!

Yet, there are only few reflectors of such sublime feelings.

Wondering why, I looked again .. trying to perforate into the people next to me .. trying to probe through their minds to read them. The first catchy sight was about a little boy, most probably he is in grade 6. He was seated next to me in the internet café. At first, he put the headphones (the necessary company of loud/noisy/heavy music), then he popped the msn chart and ventured in . His displayed sentence (nickanme) was poorly written, and most of the attendents at his list were so, as well. No one whispered him, so, he reluctantly switched on a pc game and started playing. The game stopped me much. The violence in it was unbearable: Hitting, Shooting, Killing, Fighting, ....etc. Blood oozed from all the screen's corners. It splashed on the walls in side the game. It even hit me in the face. And with every blow he did, with every successful KILLING, he used to give me a peripheral smirky smile that shows both his self-satisfaction and self-pride. He scored a body. He sabotaged a human!!

A minute later, killing became Regular and Common. He closed the game's window to open the msn's. A friend nudged him. They started cursing each others in a friendly way (calling names of animals). Then, the cursing was elevated: *icks, mothers, fathers, *ucking were all IN!! The boy noticed that I am looking at him. He smiled his yellow naïve smile, and looked away with coyness.

The question is highly raised with stiff highlights: From where does a kid possess such violent anf aggressive tendencies?!

And the examples never stop ... from astonishing me!

So, let us stretch out a hand towards Peace .. and Compassion, but we have to do it Together .. Hand in Hand.

A Novel.

If you are looking for a slow novel that includes many qualities from the 'Theatre of The Absurd', read Waugh .. in: A Handful Of Dust .. It is a nice and a serene novel that I have finished reading in two reading sessions.

An Invitation In 3 Quatrains

Forget the sweetness of life ,

Mine surpasses it ..

Needless to struggle or strife,

I just hope that I fit ..



Approach me, my hands do unfold,

And emit abundance of serenity ..

Come nearer, but weigh and behold,

You may not like my tranquility ..


I neither kiss, nor use my lips to bite,

I never show what one needs not to see ..

Yet, you just come, into my ample light,

I'm a foresaken orchid, you could be my tree!!

First Book: Whodunit?

Some memories never fade away ..............

I have been reading mysteries from a very long time. It all happened by chance. I think boredom has to be thanked, at that time.

In the end of Summer of '88, I was both alone and aloof. My elder brother had pity on me, and acted as a brother should: he offered me some short stories. They were small; they were old; but their covers were still as bright as the sun that shines everyday.

I still remember the feeling .. the sensation felt from touching the yellowed papers .. I still recall the chill received when I read the names of the adventurers .. They were five and a dog .. They were friends, and they were intelligent.

And since then, the spark never went off ..

They say that Books are the Best friends, and it is very true.

Yet, all the thanks .. goes to my brother ... whom I may have never thanked ... and to the first mystery book:

The Balloons' Seller:

Ponder

Sometimes .. a Picture .. a Saying .. especially if they were both Holy .. translate what tongues can not express and words fail to summon :

It a Blissful Bless to know the Righteous Road .. and the Peaceful Path that would lead us to the Total Truth!

Math = Poetry!

I was in class today, monitoring students who have a Mathematics examination.
They were two classes: BE7 and EB8 ..
The students were solving, writing, and busy with their drawing utensils ...

All of a sudden, the queer French Mathematics teacher ventured the room ... He murmured some kind of salutation that was accompanied with several nods (as Hi, good morning, how are you), in addition to several movements of the lips (similar to: I am fine, asking about your health ..) .. He is definitely not a sociable teacher .. on the very contrary, he stated from Day 1 that he has his own rules regarding Teaching and he doesn't follow the school's regulations!

I said, he ventured inside the room .. and started looking at his students' answering sheets (EB8). He stopped at one in particular and shook his head. I guessed that she was wrongly solving an exercise. The guess was , of course, right.

What stroke me was his reaction ...
Suddenly, he turned to his students .. put his hands behind his back .. explicitly showing his round and large belly .. raised his head up .. and without looking to the examination paper, he recited the mathematical Exercise word by word .. with special stresses upon certain points, numbers, and letters ..

It was not Math .. surely not Math ..
It was more like a recitation of a Poem to Coleridge or to Keats ..
The passion that was translated with every uttered word was highly far than a simple statement of a 'given' to be 'proved' as so and so.
The 'airy' voice, the stiff posture, the steady gaze ... make one believes that he is witnessing a grave moment of inspiration, leaped swiftly from the Edens of words to the tongue of a stout and experienced poet, and were recited by the spur of the moment !!

I have never sensed such a mingling feeling ..
Things were always acute and crystal clear ...
Yet, one can not always await for an apt response as long as he doesn't really know what is the nature of things.

Two Paths

In these hurried lifestyle, I fight to gain a free space for me everyday ..
The space is not for mundane issues, but rather for simple retrospection in my passing days ..
I tend not to judge, but to monitor .. and analyze ..

What stopped me recently, is the fact that there are many 'people' whom you think they are going to establish a relationship (whatever the notion holds), and regardless the 'sex' element, yet, they stun you with their deep indulgence in their industrious and diligent work or routine. It hurts to know that one estimates or maybe overestimates others without considereing whether they are up to such estimation ...

I tried to analyze this phenomenon . .
And reached a conclusion that is growing to become a belief ... that such People are not very much "walking on the same path" .. each is carrying his life (with its little occurences), holding his worries (and there is much to hold), and lifting his own dreams/fantansies/and many times his own expectations(!).

I wish for all the best.