I’m Done Talking.

Life Lesson #179: Nobody hangs around. It’s because it’d be really boring if they did. That’s what they do stuff to keep it exciting, like extortion. But then again life can get a little too exciting sometimes, you know? But theoretically speaking, you can’t pass out for smoking too fast, or can you? You can. Until you’re used to the nicotine intake apparently. Metaphorically speaking, can one get used to a certain life intake? Do they get addicted to it? Do they experience withdrawal when it’s not quite there anymore? Fakis.

Is it just me or is Dexter’s family look like they’re meth-hyped? And why does Dexter have an Italian accent?

No more.

Squiggles.

I’m dizzy. I’ve got a lot to do. I slept tho, which is good, for a change. I just passed out kinda. I can’t quite seem to be able to sleep for more than 5 hours in a row, it’s weird. You know when your dizzy and it seems like your head is responding to centrifugal force of gravity rather than the centripetal and it feels like your brain is getting sucked up towards the ceiling pulling on your eyeballs with your skull still hanging on to dear life? Yeh it’s like that. It kept squiggling too.

What’s squiggling? I think I just made that up.

That’s a squiggly    –>   ~

Yeh.

Burnout.

I found a sock in my sweater pocket today. I have no idea how the hell it got there, and I’m not gonna even try and find out. It was a clean sock tho. That’s a pro..I guess.

I smiled at a stranger today, he didn’t think I was flirting, so that’s nice. Two seconds later I found out he was a neighbour. Hm. I’ve been living here for the most part of my life and I didn’t know that.

I didn’t have coffee, I had tea, for some strange masochistic reason.

I slept standing up for a while. Leaning against a pillow on the wall. And no I dunno how the pillow got there or why, if I could actually get a pillow, I didn’t choose to sleep on the bed.

It took me a little less than an hour to figure out that my friend was talking about a magazine and a newspaper, it was after he’d done telling me the story. He chose to nap and not kill me, which is also a pro..in a way.

I set an ice cream date two weeks away. Yep. I’m actually that busy.

My MSN stopped working for  a while. And I realized that it doesn’t really matter that much..then I got Trillian.

I feel like writing in blue. But I won’t. Yes I will.

Euuh, next post.

Pros To Assholism.

The hardest part with ultimatums is following through with them when you don’t have anything else stopping you except your own conscious choice. There’s always the possibility that it could all be in your head; that you’re imagining stuff and projecting your shit onto other people. And then there’s the unvarying truth that however the hell that may work out, its existence gets under your skin, doesn’t it? Then it has to go. However that came to be.

But that’s not true is it?

You can never know if things are just in your head or are actually happening.

That’s why there are no ultimatums.

And that’s why people continue to feel like shit when they needn’t, and learn to handle it and live with it.

Then they learn to make other people feel like shit so that they’d feel better.

And the one person on whom the ultimatum should’ve been inflicted turns to tens and thousands.

When you could’ve just been mean to one person.

So, mathematically speaking, assholes are actually philanthropists.

That’s why we should be assholes, all of us, because that’s just the right way.

Right in its secular sense.

Of Complexes And Stupid Movies.

I hate when I keep staring at a blank post. There’s always so many things I wanna say but the publish button won’t let me. I’ve been staring into space more than often lately, ever since I’ve had a painful realization shoved up my psychological ass, and I’m discovering the therapeutic pros of TV. I watched ‘Good Will Hunting’ twice for some reason, and despite the fact that I thought the shrink was a self-indulged Irish prick and the ending to be absolutely pointless to everything that was put forward about the dude’s major complex, it was nice. I mean, if the dude’s problem is that he has a defence mechanism that makes him push people away whenever they get close to him so he wouldn’t get hurt because he’s been abandoned so many times in his life and shit, then how, just HOW, is leaving everybody who ever gave a fuck about him in the end to chase a random chick cross country considered progress? Just enlighten me people. He had 3 cronies who’d take a bat to the dean’s head on cue, a college professor who took out his insecurities on to him but ended up giving him an awesome job opportunity because he’s just stupid like that and a middle-aged dude who eventually turned into a father figure. And he leaves. And it’s a happy ending. And I’m a phoenix. Healing would have been to stay behind, man up and take the fucking job. Not wimp out and follow your loins cross-state.

My head. Somebody shoot me. Please. I’ll give you anything. Pleaaaaase. Fuck you.

Get Lost And Then Get Found.

There’s a certain oddness to how somebody would react to disappointment. What’s even more odd is how that disappointment does all the work for you. That little piece of news makes what you’ve been working at the entire year just..happen. It makes your efforts a joke, and you still thank it. Then you file a petition to make ‘eye suitcases’ a part of the Merriam-Webster dictionary.

I’ve got a busy week ahead, and I’ve developed a certain disinclination towards Msn Messenger. Msn is an evil place. IM’ing is plain evil. It makes all the little virtual entities in your head just a little more tangible and interactive enough to drive you to a full-blown psychosis. Fuck em. Fuck em. FUCK EM.

Helwan.

And I Said Maybe.

#177: There are many things that I’d like to say to you but I dunno how.

#178: Screw you.

Oh Man Is A Giddy Thing.

Time is weird. I had this comic as a kid, and in the Christmas issue there was this story about how Santa used to steal our time and give it to his worker elves so that they could use it to deliver the gifts to kids all over the world because it took such a long time to get it all down and then give it back to us during the rest of the year, which is why dentist appointments or business meetings always feel longer than they really are. I remember, even as a kid, thinking how cruel that must be. He could have easily gotten out of giving gifts by juggling bits and pieces of time to make happier phases last longer and painful ones seemingly shorter, and that’s when I hated Santa for being such a show off. If he cared about making people happy and being an actual philanthropist then he wouldn’t really care about his rep at our expense, no? And if that’s true, wouldn’t karma mind? After all, the happy memories tend to the wellbeing of one’s psyche and in turn make him work at a good karma more efficiently. Which leaves us with the dilemma that karma and Santa might not be on such good terms, and we’re the ones paying for it, twofold.

Fuck memories.

HA. haha. ha. ahahah. haha. ha.

Just because I’m hurting doesn’t mean I’m hurt, doesn’t mean I didn’t get what I deserved, no better or no worse.

Hah.

What pisses me off is that I never actually get it down. Stuff doesn’t go away, you just learn to live with it. Thing is, how many stuff am I gonna have to learn to live with before I’m old enough to forget everything I ever learned? What if that idea scares me enough to have me make sure I never grow that old? Even if it means..nevermind.

Queef

If dreams show the deepest wanting of your soul then I’m utterly fucked. I can’t believe I dreamt that. That’s bad. Aw shit.

Sick. Sick sick sick sick siiiiiiiick. SICK.

So aaaaaaaanywho.

I’ve had a good couple of days. Hung out with people, which was nice. It may be stupid but it’s the little outings on the weekend that make me go through the week partially sane.

I had Herring, white chocolate, eggs and cheese for breakfast, a root beer and 2 coffees. I don’t feel so good.

It took me 93 minutes to get out of bed.

Uh, later.

Oh You're Gonna Get It Right Some Time.

 

Are you missing something?
Looking for something?
Tired of everything
Searching and struggling
Are you worried about it?
Do you wanna talk about it?
Oh You're gonna get it right some time
Theres so much to be scared of
And not much to make sense of
Are you running in a circle?
You can't be too careful
And you can't relate it
'Cos it's complicated
Oh You're gonna get it right some time
You're gonna get it right some time
It's how you see the world
How many times can you see?
You can't believe what you learn
It's how you see the world
Don't you worry yourself
Your not gonna get hurt
Oooohhhhh...
Is there something missing?
There's nobody listening
Are you scared of what you don't know?
Don't wanna end up on your own?
You need conversation
And information
Ohhhhhhhhh...
Gonna get it right sometimes
You just wanna get it right sometimes
It's how you see the world
How many times have you heard?
You can't believe a word
It's how you see the world
Don't you worry yourself
'Cos nobody can learn
Oooooh
Oooooh
Ooooooooh
That's how you see the world
That's how you see the world

Don’t you just hate it when you make coffee, stuff it in the fridge so it’s cold and awesome by the time you wake up the next day only to find that somebody drank it?

It’s The Wrong Time.

I could easily conjure up a blog post about how, by this time next week, I could fail every major class I have because of my sleeping pattern and the fact that I’ve been in denial about two completely unrelated things. But I won’t.

I’ll blog about…Aw crap I’m going down aren’t I?

Well, that was a good try.

Not really.

Mori Volo.

Is That Alright With You, No?

Life Lesson #177: If I give my gun away when it’s loaded. Is that alright, yeah?

What Friends Would Do To Cheer You Up. <3

Life Lesson #176: Nobody gives a shit about

And that’s okay.

But Why Is The Rum Gone?

There’s a point of everybody’s life when it seems like if somebody had set out to irrevocably destroy you because you slaughtered their first born child with a blunt blade, they couldn’t have done it better than how you’re doing it to yourself at that particular time. Everything you’ve ever worked for has made a pact with divine providence and ended up suicide bombing you into a sky zit. It doesn’t necessarily have to make sense, and it may or may not be related to recent events. And before you know it, you realize that you’ve gone black swan on your own ass and it’s already too late to do anything about it but feel bad as it unfolds, slowly, one hour at a time. Then you wish and swear upon that uncertain entity in your head that has materialized through history and man’s tendency to prefer false hopes to having the engine running with nobody behind the steering wheel that if everything is alright again just this once, you’ll work your knuckles to the bone just to make sure it doesn’t happen again, because you deserve better. The whole corundum is that you don’t really know how you’re gonna feel now do you? You’re just bribing that vital force into going your way just this once so that you can contribute to its resource, but how would the vital force know for sure if you’re following through? After all it’s your ass on the line and it’s right there, unscathed, watching with a huge bowl of popcorn and a can of soda. Why would it go out of your way when you’re stumbling on your own little two feet? One knows better than to hire contractors that can’t walk the talk.

So Throw Me Out The Window With Confetti In My Hair.

Life Lesson #172: Coco pops make me happy.

Life Lesson #173: Whoever said that people hardly hit midgets with glasses lied. It doesn’t feel nice when you get punched, so don’t punch people. Not everything that’s blue is nice. Or green for that matter. Or yellow..or red..or purple. Definitely not purple. It doesn’t feel the nice even when it’s white.

Life Lesson #174: Never tell a dude he punches like a girl. He'll make you wish you weren't one.

Life Lesson #175: Never try to work your way around a dark room thinking you're cool. Unless you wanna get back at your toes.

She Always Had That Little Drop Of Poison.

Well..A rat always knows when he’s in with weasels. Here you lose a little everyday.

Well I remember when  a million was a million, they all have ways to make you pay.

Of Bitches And Brit Ladies.

I had a good day today. Nothing too special about it really, having a good day was never about the fireworks. I got up early for no reason, not that early tho. Just early considering the fact that it was 7 or 8 hours into actually having a good night’s sleep for the first time in approximately three days. I talked to a friend of mine about something that’s been bugging me for a couple of days and she recommended, or rather prescribed, that I buy “Why men love bitches”. Even tho it had nothing to do with men, I believe I need that book more than my calculus and chemistry books put together. I decided that I’m taking the day for myself, so I called Arabic class off. Yes I actually did that. I want time off then screw it all. I went on my usual morning walk, a habit that I grew into when the curfew started to test my sanity – I have to say that the bouts of sporadic dancing have added to my limited supply of funky moves. The weather was pretty bad tho, so there was the issue of getting past my hypochondriac of a mother, workaholic of a father and into the sandstorm. Thanks to the fact that I’m as stubborn as a mule with a need for attitude adjustment, I got my way. I went on a walk, didn’t get lost as much as I usually did, or harassed – at one point I wanted to blog about the lack of libido that seems to have hit in post-revolution era but then again you don’t wanna point it out if you want it to stay, eh?

I may come off snobby but I absolutely love where I live. There’s a place to jog, there’s a little coffee shop opening up close by and I have two bookstores within a kilometre’s radius. If you go out for a walk early enough you’ll be joined by people walking their dogs or people in suits jumping in and out of cars with their suitcases and sometimes coffees. Nobody gives a fuck what you’re doing as long as you’re out of their way, which is more than a person could ask for if you’re used to the eastern cast.

Anywho, I got there, found three books that I liked and two that I intended to Google. I wanted to get a friend of mine a book that he wanted for his birthday, but apparently it was banned by censorship and only available in French, and even that was out of stock. It’s outrageous that they’d ban a book for its plot rather than content. Fuck the regulations, the government is not my mom. Hell, even my mom doesn’t do that. I either have awesome parents or the government is fucked. Or both. It’s a Paulo Coelho book for god’s sake, not hardcore porn! There was the option of ordering or getting it online or abroad but the dudette had suggested that I try the dungeons and alleys of Shorouk bookstore – which I found impressive as she went out of her way as to recommend a rival bookstore. Sweet lady, she had me regress to my brit accent for funsies. Oh the guilty pleasure. She didn’t notice, haha. A couple of summers ago I was an ID card away from getting a summer job there. I’m totally going for it this summer, I’m also totally messing with people’s head. I could be Scottish with a customer and Indian with the next. Mwahahaha. I’m evil. I gotta work on the latter tho. I wonder if they have any policies about hitting on customers..hmm.

I later called the friend to tell him about the book dilemma. I’d already told him that I got it so he wouldn’t have a choice so the whole thing with me explaining the strategy and all was a tad embarrassing. He was sleeping so I doubt he’ll remember anything about the phone call. God I’m evil. Spent the evening teaching mom how to handle my phone and drinking really sucky tea because I wanted to see if the headache would go away if I didn’t drink coffee. It eventually did but I’m sleepy as hell. Right now I’ve got Maths to work on and a headache to ignore. Toodles cyber patch.

Of Blue, Purple And Green.

Life Lesson #171: You shouldn’t stay mad at people, because people die.

Just To Get High.

What have I done. What the hell have I done.

انا مصريه يا كلاب

There’s nothing like a paradigm shift. I’ve never been patriotic, I’ve always had to have a reason to like something, and I frankly never found anything worth liking about life over here, before 11th of Feb that is. That’s when it hit me that maybe, just maybe, that change they were talking about is actually doable, and they’re not a bunch of catharsis-deficient anarchists who nothing else to do with their lives. This is the first time of my life that I have hope fel baladi. The fact that this happened, however it turns out, is just a breath of fresh air. I’ve never been so damn proud. I take back everything I ever said about cold war and passive resistance.

I was wrong.

I’ve never been so fucking proud.