Archive for August, 2013

On Judgements (10/365)

Posted: August 30, 2013 in Uncategorized

Countless are the number of times I’ve heard people talk about how much they hate being judged from people who don’t even know them, only to discover that those same complainers never stop judging back everyone they know or don’t know. We all know judging’s bad, yet our human nature doesn’t really allow us to not do it most of the time. Why then do we keep thinking it’s bad?

It’s hard, to stay neutral about every single person you come across in life. It really is. There would usually be some ideas you have in mind, based on your beliefs and previous experiences, that aren’t always that easy to let go of, so you start building on them according to what you see and hear of other people, and then your judgments are formed. The thing is though, there’s really nothing wrong about that. There’s nothing wrong about drawing your own pictures of people, the problem actually lies when your actions towards them are solely based on those judgements; that is what’s “bad”.
You judge people, you start adding them to different categories inside your head, and you associate each category with its own set of rules of which you’d deal with them through. That is what’s wrong. You can’t continue dealing with people according to what you think they are, you’re supposed to deal with them according to who and what you are, regardless of what they do. It’s actually sometimes healthy to continue judging them, for you’d start getting glimpses of who you want to be and who you don’t, comparing the different personalities and getting the best out of each. That’s nice, to a certain extent. But judging them only to learn how to deal with them according to how you think certain categories should be treated, is where the problem arises.
I’m not really sure my point is coming across correctly, but that’s one thing I’ve been thinking about today. The other thing that baffles me is how we tend to base our judgements on the actions that arise during certain situations we see people through, without considering anything else about their lives. I mean, sometimes certain circumstances can force someone to act in a way that doesn’t necessarily reflect their true self, yet we don’t give them any more opportunities and only judge this one situation, letting it stand out for their entire existence. It has already been proven that how we react to certain situations has very little to do with our personalities and beliefs, and more to do with the situation itself, yet we never acknowledge the power of situations, and continue relating people’s behavior to the personalities and not the situations. We tend to forget that people are God’s creation, and God would never create something bad, or something that carries nothing but the bad. Every person has some good within, no matter how cliche it might sound, it’s true. Maybe the good that’s inside doesn’t get that many chances to show itself, and there’s nothing wrong about that. But it’s there, we need to believe that it’s really there, before we consider judging and categorizing.
I think we’d start feeling much better about so many things if we started perceiving judgements in the way it should be perceived. Not because people ruin the true meaning of judgements through the actions that follow, then that means it’s something we should stop doing. No. All what we really need to think about more is where those judgements take us to.

Belonging-nessless (9/365)

Posted: August 30, 2013 in Uncategorized
Throughout my whole life, I always felt I never really belonged to a certain group or a certain category of people, on so many aspects. At school, for instance, I didn’t really know whether I was from the “دحاحين” group of students, or whether I was just a loser who sometimes got lucky with her grades. I always have religious views that aren’t very similar to many people; I think about my religion in a different way, yet I never really know how to express it to anyone. And lately, I don’t even feel I belong to a certain political group, or a political ideology. I just know I have different views on various topics, but they can never be categorized, not even described for that matter.
Anyway, none of this currently makes me feel bad. It used to, but not anymore. What I discovered lately and has had the hugest impact on my life is when I discovered I don’t really belong to a certain age group. I’m 19, but it’s only a number. I don’t belong to any 19 year olds yet I don’t belong to any younger or older age, and it’s really confusing.
I believe I’m a child at heart; the sight of children anywhere makes me feel younger and I just always get this urge to act childishly whenever they’re around. I admire the one characteristic that makes them so special which is how they act very spontaneously on everything they do without ever thinking how they’d be thought of or viewed. I turn into this person when they’re around; I turn into them when I’m with them, and it makes me forget all about my 19 years and feel much younger. Yet, to them, I’ll always be a grown up. They wouldn’t consider me one of them because I’m physically taller, and much bigger. They wouldn’t consider me one of them because they know I’m much older. I just can’t ever say I belong to this age group. I wouldn’t always understand them anyway.
I try interacting more with people my age, but I don’t really feel that comfortable being around them. Their interests are not the same as mine, their way of thinking, their styles of living, their actions, everything. I’m rarely myself when I interact with them for I always have it in mind that I should be like those people since they are my age, yet there’s an internal struggle between how I think and what I feel, and the gap between both is always the widest that could be.
I thought that maybe because I’m more in touch with people who are older than I am, then that’s the explanation for why I don’t belong to my age, but no. I have always felt this way about people my age, it’s not something recent, and I obviously wasn’t always in contact with older people. Plus, now that most of my very close friends are people who are much older than me, you’d think I finally knew where I belong, but again, another no.
Befriending older people is actually a bliss to me. They always take my mind to new places I never knew of, they teach me lots, they make a mature person out of me without any of us noticing how it happens, yet I know I won’t belong. There are always certain things we go through that are associated with our ages, that I wouldn’t really understand about them. They pass through experiences much earlier than I do and to them I’m still younger, no matter how much we think alike. They know more, because they’ve been through more. I look up to most of them, but I still can’t say I belong to them.
There’s no doubt that befriending older people is one of my favorite things in life, but I know I’ll always be looked on as a 19 year old, no matter what I go through or do.
I, complicatedly enough, belong somewhere between my age and everyone who’s older, yet I’m still a child inside. I don’t know if it makes sense, but I know I lie somewhere in between everything and I’m not sure how long would I be able to hold on in there until I discover where I truly stand. This feeling of belongingnessless is truly like no other.

The beauty of beautiful (8/365)

Posted: August 28, 2013 in Uncategorized

Have you ever stopped to notice the beauty of the word “beautiful”? I do, all the time.

I always have those phases in when I obsess over certain words and overuse them through my every conversation and everything I write, but I usually get over them, and shortly move on to other words. Except for the word “beautiful”; I’ve been obsessing over it for a long time now, because, well, it is beautiful. The word beautiful is beautiful and it carries so much beauty within each of its letters.

I love the combination of its letters; how the “beau” is pronounced like “beo” yet written this way. I’m actually very fond of any combination of letters that are solely pronounced in a certain way, yet when put together, they give a new sound to the word. I love the accent of certain people as they reach the letter t. I love how beautifully the word beautiful makes anything sound so beautiful.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get past this phase, but I do love it when someone tells me something like “you have a beautiful mind”. I mean, “awesome” for instance had been one of my favorite words at some point, but I never feel that special when someone says it about me. Beautiful, however, does all the magic. I love telling the people I love how beautiful I think they are because it’s my favorite word and what more can describe how much I love them more than telling them that?

I love hearing Jim Carrey going like “B-E-A-utiful”. I love hearing people saying it, and I love reading it anywhere. I think it’s getting unhealthy; how much I love this word, but I just really do.

May I never reach this point where I overuse the word to the extent that I’d stop noticing how much beauty it holds because I’ve heard a lot of it that it starts losing its spark. And may every person out there, who thinks less of themselves, get to hear this word about them from their favorite people, because it definitely would have such a beautiful effect.

Why do we have to learn all the lessons we’re supposed to learn through screwing up first and doing all the possible mistakes before we’re fully aware of what we should or shouldn’t do? Why do we always hear “next time will be better” after our every mistake and why doesn’t this next time ever visit? Why should the mistakes of others affect us that much when we’re already content with our own mistakes?

Why do people insist that they’re so much believing in you until you do that one mistake that makes them start doubting you all over again? Why do people rarely give second chances when they’re the ones who put you through the firsts in the first place?

Why would someone turn from a person who always expects the good before the bad into someone who doesn’t even see anything other than the bad? 

I always knew certain things in life would be hard, I just never knew anything could be THIS hard.

The book of vagueness (6/365)

Posted: August 27, 2013 in Uncategorized

I wake up each morning looking forward to something new. I keep thinking of all what might happen, in a way that makes me capable of writing entire scripts for my days, based on my pure imagination, although I know that nothing of it will even come true. Yet, that never stops my mind from painting more pictures, and drawing more and more letters, forming my book’s beautiful lines in a heartwarming way.

I go to bed each night, wondering how I never anticipated any of the events that has taken place during the day. I never stop wanting to rewind back all the way to my morning, either to feel the happiness I’ve experienced all over again, or to undo a certain mistake that has completely ruined my morning images and paints.

Today is one of those days. I want to rewind every mistake I’ve done through this day. I want to learn from my mistakes then get to undo them as if nothing happened, yet with their lessons completely saved. I want to start over and paint the picture from scratch. It’s too bad the page has already been turned the other way.

I wonder what’s waiting for tomorrow’s blank page. I wonder if at the end of the day I’d find a beautiful picture filling all the available space, or is another ugly handwriting waiting for me to write the lines of my disasters.

I wonder when will I ever finish this book, I’m already too tired and it’s only page 3. I wonder if it’ll have a happy ending, or if I’d need to collect all the tissues through my way to dry up all the tears I’d find there waiting for me.

I’m tired.

I’ve been writing really long messages to different people for the last couple of days, and now that I’m staring at my own blank page, waiting for something to pop up so I could write about it, I go blank.

So, instead, I decided to go through the events of my day, and write about what I loved most.

I was supposed to wake up early today but fell asleep last night before getting the chance to set my alarm on. In most cases, I simply oversleep and keep feeling guilty about it for the rest of the day. But today, I woke up on my own, with no alarm at all. I love this. I love waking up without any form of artificial interference. I love waking up just on time because my mind just decided I’ve slept enough, coincidentally waking me up at the time I initially wanted to wake up at. I like it when I’m my own alarm. Actually, I love it when I wake up on my own a few minutes before the alarm strikes, letting it know that it doesn’t control me. I wish I could wake up on my own at the time I need more often. I wish that maybe the Divine powers could interfere more often.

I walked to the bus stop today and reached it just on time. I love it when I reach my bus on time, that it starts moving right as I’m getting on it. It makes me feel special one way or the other. Like it was only waiting for me to arrive for everyone to take off. It’s not that way, I know, I just always happen to reach it at the last minute, but why not think about it that way if I can? So, yes, I love knowing that my bus couldn’t take off without me.
I met someone who told me happy birthday and asked me how old I am now. I smiled and said 19. I love it when someone asks my age, I don’t know why, but I love it. I used to hate it, I used to believe I’ll be 18 and 12 months because I wouldn’t bare uttering the number 19. But it has become really special. Everyday of my 19th year is turning out to be special on its own way, up till this very moment. I love it when I tell people I’m 19, I feel young at the heart. I’m 19, and I’m happy.
I met another someone who made me feel completely uncomfortable every time I tried to maintain eye contact with. I love people who make it very easy for me to look in their eyes and daydream about all what they could be holding. I love people who do not necessarily have pretty eyes yet they could still make me unable to take my eyes off theirs because of all the beauty they hold within. I love being so involved in a conversation with someone that I don’t notice how long it’s been since I’ve last looked away from them.
I hung out with someone who confronted me with some of my defects. I love it when I accept criticism from the people I keep thinking they’d always see the good in me.
I called two people I had never talked with over the phone before. I was afraid they wouldn’t know who I am and it’d be awkward trying to remind them of myself. The first person went completely silent as I said my name, but shortly recognized me when I said my second one. I love people who call and recognize me by my first and second name. I used to smile every time Augustus Waters called her Hazel Grace. I like people who do that. And I like calling people with their full names too, though I don’t always do it. The second person recognized me with my first hello, without even saying my name. I guess my number was already saved. And I love having my number saved on phones that I know nothing about. Just like how I love calling those people and knowing they have it saved.
I was asked to come up with some words to write for something we were working on. I was silent because I thought I would come up with the words on the spot, and kept trying to squeeze my mind, because words were the only thing I thought I could do, and if I couldn’t do that, how I can I even try doing what I know I’d never be able to do? Before losing myself in these thoughts, my hands just forced me to grab a keyboard that was right in front of me, my fingers touched the keys, and I don’t know how it happened, but they magically moved into this beautiful alignment with my mind, coming up with words I didn’t even know I was capable of writing. I totally, absolutely, completely, love and am thankful for this. I love how my written words never allow me to speak them unless I start writing them first. It’s like they want to have some privacy with me before anyone could get to hear them, and I’ve never felt something this beautiful before. I love the magic written words can do.
I slept on the bus on my way back home. I love people who have no problem doing that, especially when they’re very sure they’re going to end up sleeping in a very weird posture with their mouths wide open and their heads going in circles all the way, just like what always happens with me. I don’t like it when people deprive themselves from sleep because of how weird they might look like as they’re doing it. I love watching the vulnerability of people as they fall asleep so naturally, suddenly feeling conscious as their heads land on the shoulders of the person sitting next to them, and not understanding how it happened. I love how most of them go back to sleep and keep doing it over and over again. Oh my God, I’m such a weirdo.
I walked back home, and my favorite part of this is when I decide to cross the street and find out that it’s completely empty and I can then cross as slowly as turtles do. I love walking through really large roads when they’re empty, imagining they were only constructed for me.
I arrived home, reached out for my keys and found them right where my hands landed. I love this. I love finding the exact objects I need at my very first trial of looking for them. I like to imagine they’re making their way to me at the same time that I am reaching out for them; it’s really cute.
I continued on with typing all the long messages I wanted to send. I love the sight of the words as they fill and overlap the typing area, and how they spread freely whenever I press the send button, making it seem like they were suffocating down there. I love typing out the words, thinking it’ll turn out to be really short, then getting surprised by the amount of words my mind and hand could process together, while I wasn’t very aware. I love watching sentences, separated by commas, and ending in full-stops. I absolutely enjoy using emoticons, yet the sight of any paragraph that I can write in a message solely using punctuation marks, makes me proud. I love watching words. And I love it when I reply to really long messages with even longer ones. I used to hate getting short replies, but I don’t think I mind receiving them that much now, since it only means I can happily get to type a longer one.
I love it when I get the timing of when my messages are read. I sometimes wait for it, and as soon as the seen sign makes its way to my message, I start reading my words all over again, but this time through the eyes of the person I’m sending it to. I try to time it because I so much love the possibility of knowing that two people can both be reading the same letter at the same exact time on two different sides of the world.
I sent myself a message, and watched the seen sign appear on the spot. I love sending myself messages because I’m the fastest person I know when it comes to reading them.
And now, this very moment, is my absolute favorite. Noticing how the words have filled this page that was about to suffocate from all the blankness it held. I love how the words can sometimes flow. I love how the words can light up certain areas in my head that starts producing even more words. I’m thankful for the words production that happens inside, I know I have nothing to do with it. I know I’m not the one who does this, and I’m more than thankful for all what exists inside me that makes me capable of doing it all.


I’m blessed. I know I’m blessed, and it’s not even a normal blessing. It’s all what I could ever ask for, combined.

It’s the place that has literally changed my life, and still keeps changing me more with each passing day. It’s the place that has taught me lots of what I never thought I could learn about, and never stops getting me into experiences that I would have never imagined I’d pass through before. It’s the place that has blessed me with the awesomest company any living creature would wish to have, and more. It’s the place that I can’t begin to imagine my life without, for I don’t even remember how it had been before I decided to join.

It’s the one thing that gives me a reason to get out of bed each morning. The one thing that makes me feel that my existence matters, inspiring me to make it matter even more. And the one thing that completely invades my mind whenever it’s left to wander, taking me to places I’ve never even visited on my own before.

The time has come for me to try and give this place back some of what I’ve learned, and I have never felt both scared and excited about an experience this way before.

يا مُسَهِل 🙂