tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44970104230840257182024-03-14T03:18:30.833-07:00My Garden of Thoughtswww.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-65885448583431636802011-06-16T08:26:00.001-07:002011-06-16T08:41:21.499-07:00The Forbidden Fruit<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vZ78lqPG-nkXYPe0COf6U-eeGv7u7zSIccph8sfbsTRNNnnz6C81YtteGgafrqoInK3ZtLS5Y7wRkSaeKmTaNT7Kf7gw7VTdzYr_-RO3tNzOC_BuDva4MMmtiL4qVA9TyRRVAuqJ6j8P/s1600/forbidden+fruit.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 296px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618843120500748178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vZ78lqPG-nkXYPe0COf6U-eeGv7u7zSIccph8sfbsTRNNnnz6C81YtteGgafrqoInK3ZtLS5Y7wRkSaeKmTaNT7Kf7gw7VTdzYr_-RO3tNzOC_BuDva4MMmtiL4qVA9TyRRVAuqJ6j8P/s320/forbidden+fruit.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><em>Why is it that I am always tempted by what I can't have?!</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I saw it there, in all perfection, round and smooth, with sharp edges that sparkled.. I touched it, knowing that I probably shouldn't, but arguing that a mere touch won't be too bad.. The touch was beautiful, refreshing and even more thrilling because of the hidden knowledge of breaking boundaries.. Rebellion, in a touch..</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I smelt it, and I realized then how deprived of air I had been before then.. I closed my eyes, and thought how fulfilling it would be to have it for myself.. How perfect life would be then, how complete my existence would become.. I opened my eyes again, and thought: would it really be perfection, or am I just controlled by the urge to have it, and blinded from all realistic imperfections because of this urge?</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I shooed the sound of reason out of my head, and closed my eyes again.. I could feel the ease sweep across my body, starting from my head and all the way to my toes.. I felt free, strong, and driven.. I wanted it, oh so badly.. But deep down I knew, I could never call it my own..</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>How do I get the strength to walk away of it, and never look back and think of how transformed my life would have become had I taken it when I could have? And how do I hush the voices in my head, that tell me that happiness would have come through it, bliss would have followed, and an eternity of peace would have been summoned to my life?</em><br /><em></em><br /><em></em><br /><em>It isn't mine, that I know.. It is someone else's.. How unfair can life be sometimes! How easy it is to forget the one million things I already have, and think of that one thing that I can't make mine.. And how wise were the Gods when they declared that Thou Shall Not Steal.. Or maybe, how cruel?</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Will I ever make it mine? Will I ever see one, similar in shape and depth, owned by no one, and run to it, with all my might, at the right timing to make it my own? Forever mine, forever beautiful, forever complete..</em></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-55729878978386862912010-09-30T03:05:00.000-07:002011-11-14T07:29:25.156-08:00Can I just.. vent out?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdfIFoHXyoWYA-WZrdt-xpW_U9eMJEbxSrOziaqqRxUzNtKn8bezvQRzOefjGQK1HzItku__9KdjaKHGuxgeis9H0qeiIwxowxaaAVsxronvkeAgdGvW33sod7kPRIM4bb3Iyka8YMbJZ/s1600/Facing_Emotional_Pain_H-768142.jpg"><em><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522647776929348706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdfIFoHXyoWYA-WZrdt-xpW_U9eMJEbxSrOziaqqRxUzNtKn8bezvQRzOefjGQK1HzItku__9KdjaKHGuxgeis9H0qeiIwxowxaaAVsxronvkeAgdGvW33sod7kPRIM4bb3Iyka8YMbJZ/s320/Facing_Emotional_Pain_H-768142.jpg" /></em></a><em><br /></em><div><em>Sometimes, I need to vent...</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Sometimes, there are things that I know I have to do, that I have no choice about, and that would probably feel better some day, even if the didn't right now. </em></div><br /><div><em>But sometimes, all I need is a person with whom I can share how it really feels, having to do these things, RIGHT NOW.</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>And if only some people would understand that when you vent, it's not because you are expecting a magical solution, or for them to step up and carry your problem on their shoulder. Sometimes, all you need is someone who would actually say: Yes, that SUCKS. Just as simple as that, someone who wouldn't preach to you about how yuo should approach these issues, and definetely not somoene who says: So what, we all have to go through so and so.</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Yes, I know we all do. But do we actually have to pretend that we're happy about it?</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Is is selfish to want to vent out to someone? To just let out the anger, the fury, the feeling of: It's SO UNFAIR. You would still have to do what you have to do, but can you not just have someone to share how it feels with? How it really feels, and not how you should feel, in front of the world.</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>It does suck.</em></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-56219333260252299542010-08-04T11:52:00.000-07:002011-11-14T07:28:45.134-08:00Feelings<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUMRVHzwsdjRlsOuUtyi1-0LgphExqNTtoTtFJZ5WnJBPVOqPPJFf8Ep4FGqQQywroVnlDIOBN_t5z8g-U-Sg2-iSdIUnazqqdhdu7dvlgizR0ip3_6vajW7MQxEEVRtq-MupImDKGzgY/s1600/feelings.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501632039450453570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUMRVHzwsdjRlsOuUtyi1-0LgphExqNTtoTtFJZ5WnJBPVOqPPJFf8Ep4FGqQQywroVnlDIOBN_t5z8g-U-Sg2-iSdIUnazqqdhdu7dvlgizR0ip3_6vajW7MQxEEVRtq-MupImDKGzgY/s320/feelings.jpg" /></a><br /><div><em>Confused.. Hopeful.. Hasty.. Disappointed... Loving.. Sad.. Regretful.. Angry.. Aggravated.. Numb.. Scared.. Worried.. Restless.. Ashamed.. Joyful.. Excited.. Tired.. Guilty.. Afraid.. Surrendering.. Agonized.. Lonely.. Bored.. Involved.. Proud.. Clear.. Patient.. Thrilled.. Caring.. Symapthizing.. Attentive.. Hateful.. Malicious.. Kind.. Empowered.. Rich.. Confident.. Resentful.. Lost.. Contemplating.. Arrogant.. Powerful.. Pleased.. Satisfied.. Empty.. Embarrassed.. Pleasant.. Distant.. Loyal.. Cheap.. Drained.. Craving.. Helpless. Watchful.. Dreading.. Amazed.. Comfortable.. Miserable.. Rejected.. Pitiful.. Self-loathing.. Cheerful.. Abstract.. Annoyed.. Helpful.. Surprised.. Bewildered.. Fragile.. Shocked.. Overwhelmed.. Grateful.. Expectant.. Distrusting.. Enticed.. hurt.. Locked.. Relieved.. Disgusted.. Disoriented.. Free. Optimistic.. Dazzled.. Swept-off.. Spoilt.. Stubborn.. Lazy.. Careless.. Strong.. Conscious.. Light.. Ridiculed.. Needy.. Stupid.. Lame.. Shattered.. Concerned.. Betrayed.. Cornered.. <span style="font-size:180%;">STRONG</span></em></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-32982139423252795892010-06-14T03:37:00.000-07:002010-06-14T03:46:00.479-07:00Regrets<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5iO-VNdcKq-8S3OAKJBZ_6NqMlOdOH8Oibz28NNFfopAEB7-bNwtTFwV4JMTiSMm2_GvhppVz90N2dWMrOFMFabJScaXpd31iYN3Ij9Ep9PKDCez3NHeGthBhDJtxFdgHtkohPio6YFgM/s1600/regrets.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482578760177262722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5iO-VNdcKq-8S3OAKJBZ_6NqMlOdOH8Oibz28NNFfopAEB7-bNwtTFwV4JMTiSMm2_GvhppVz90N2dWMrOFMFabJScaXpd31iYN3Ij9Ep9PKDCez3NHeGthBhDJtxFdgHtkohPio6YFgM/s320/regrets.jpg" /></a><br /><div><em>I wish I can say I have no regrets but I do.. Mostly, things I regret involve hurting people I love.. Be it intentional or not, I have done a lot of things that have hurt them and made them unhappy.. And every time I think about it, I get an overwhelming feeling of sadness, mixed with shame. </em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Sometimes, it isn't easy to speak about it or apologize about it after so many years have passed.. By time, we build this fictional fence around the stories we want to forget, and we build it up to get higher and higer every day, until it is so high that we can't see what it was built around anymore.. </em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Sadly, it's just a fence.. It doesn't make these stories disappear, it merely hides them from our obvious sight.. However, every once in a while, this fence gets cracked, and through these cracks you see what you longed to hide. You remember what you longed to forget, and surprisingly, the pain is still fresh, still piercing..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>I don't want to stir the old stories from their graves.. I want to tell you, all of you I love and have hurt, that I am sincerely sorry, even if I had hurt you without intending to do so.. I have no excuses having done that.. And I have paid for it, in a way..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>After all, that is what REGRET is all about..</em></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-55321067794898466452010-04-14T02:08:00.000-07:002010-04-14T02:26:10.108-07:00The right timing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpI72eB18_ucH2SBDdCPmW8k1_FwEo4QkQsUDiWINKAaFFnkf2UMDO_v_vsMyCbHEhGPv0nPiQVZwhBcb79tvx-fpOnkt8dHsPDOS6FkKBUScZ5zPHoVOIMRE1brQH2qO_L6bKhLKG8Cnh/s1600/photo_verybig_113138.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 257px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459921992966237314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpI72eB18_ucH2SBDdCPmW8k1_FwEo4QkQsUDiWINKAaFFnkf2UMDO_v_vsMyCbHEhGPv0nPiQVZwhBcb79tvx-fpOnkt8dHsPDOS6FkKBUScZ5zPHoVOIMRE1brQH2qO_L6bKhLKG8Cnh/s320/photo_verybig_113138.jpg" /></a><br /><div><em>I've often heard people describe themselves as having the perfect reactions to certain incidents where a perfect reaction isn't actually possible.. One can't really smile to a person who's insulting them, or think straight when they're inside the picture.. Yet, there are a lot of people who are absolutely convinced that they can maintain their self control and ensure the correct reactions at all times..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>I have recently come across an incident where two people, very dear to my heart, came to a conflict point.. One of them has always prided himself at how self-composed he is. I myself am a very strong believer of his wisdom, and am always impressed about the way he thinks before he leaps.. However, for the past two weeks I have been very disappointed to see that although he always knows the right thing to do, he has absolutely no idea when to do it. And timing makes all the difference in such cases.</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>There is no sense in learning forgiveness, if you don't apply it in the right time. You can only forgive when you are hurt.. </em></div><br /><div><em>There is no sense in claiming you love someone, when you can't be there for them in their times of crisis, and merely settle for enjoying the good times you have with them.. </em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>If you can't forgive and love when someone needs you, then you should be strong enough to face yourself with the facts: You are not a forgiving or a loving person.. You might have a lot of other qualities, but you can't claim to be loving or forgiving, and chose to be so only when you're in a good place.. Life is full of surprises, and sadly, of uncomfortable times.. It is in these times that we should pull ourselves together and put what we believe in into practice..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Otherwise, just settle to being the person you are.</em></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-13385256581117954142010-03-01T22:55:00.000-08:002010-03-01T23:50:03.212-08:00Of Rain & Snow..<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCRi13snVj4rzbbMKZ_PwTpkEPYP6_LA2MEkKPNGzrcnCpHAEYC1uXvzBY5WPgUOM72sdp4thWgPAw5tKmeq-7iIa_GTns5BrQda6fUAsjtooqfcOnZryNCuj9SrBn8xscu6991IQrxZ7T/s1600-h/snow.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443939976261776962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCRi13snVj4rzbbMKZ_PwTpkEPYP6_LA2MEkKPNGzrcnCpHAEYC1uXvzBY5WPgUOM72sdp4thWgPAw5tKmeq-7iIa_GTns5BrQda6fUAsjtooqfcOnZryNCuj9SrBn8xscu6991IQrxZ7T/s320/snow.jpg" /></a><br /><div><em>It has been raining, non stop, since last night.. </em></div><br /><div><em>The streets are flooded, cars are piledup in traffic, and there's this generally light atmosphere in the office.. The one that always accompanies rain and manages, in a miraculous way, to make things that were so important yesterday seem slightly less important today. It's like the rain actually sprinkles a little bit of water over all the 'hot' topics of our lives, cooling them off slowly in the process..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>When I was a little girl, rain used to excite me tremendously! Rain meant that there probably won't be school that day, and that mama will cook super delicious and unique enough for the rare occasion. It would mean that we can go out and play in the street and watch the rain, even mama & baba! It meant that for just that one day, we can smile at strangers in the street, and we can splash ourselves and get dirty in ways that mama won't tolerate on any other 'normal' day.. </em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Rain was awesome, to say the least!</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>When I moved to my home country for my studies, one of the things that I was super excited about was that that meant I'd spend winter in a country where there's snow.. 'Can you believe it? Actual snow!' </em></div><br /><div><em>That's how I would tell my friends about it, that's how excited I was..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>And I'll never forget that day.. I was in university, it was around 1:00 pm when it started snowing. It was very slow at the beginning, and then it started picking up pace. Classes were cancelled, and it seemed like the entire campus was out on the street. </em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Snow fights began!!!</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Students started throwing snow balls at one another, and on passing cars. This was not the time to be offended or to take it personally, this was the time where you actually pick up snow yourself, roll it into a snow ball, and throw it at others yourself. Oh, and laugh out loud, so loud that it would be utterly inappropriate in other times- only not at that time.</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>On that day, I played and laughed and slipped and fell and had a great time, and then later on I discovered, to my dismay, that snow actually burns! My palms, which weren't covered in gloves, were literally burning! They were so red and raw, and they hurt like they were on fire.. </em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>But it was worth it.. It sure was..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Now, over the years, since that great day, snow still has that holiness in my heart.. I remember all the days in the years after, when I woke up some days in winter, looked out of the window, and found the entire city buried in a layer of white.. And I would just stand there, and look at the whiteness.. So pure, so beautiful.. So white!</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>When we were kids, and during our spring break (which actually took place in this country's winter!) my sister and I enjoyed sleeping in.. To wake us up, baba would come into the room and say: There's snow! (In Arabic, the word Thalj means both snow, and ice) and we'd be so excited that we'd lift up our heads and say: Really?! And he would say: Yes, I swear! And considering that baba would never lie, we would jump out of bed and run to the nearest window.. But of course, there would be no snow.. And we would look at baba, laughing and showing us ice cubes in the freezer.. I can't imagine how that trick worked each and every time.. We always had the doubt that maybe, just maybe, this time, there will be snow!</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>But here I am now, missing the snow and not enjoying the rain! How typical of me.. </em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Happy rain every one! It's the time for cleansing every day's pressure and running around.. It's the time to enjoy one of the greatest gifts God has given us.. </em></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-55613470788238412742010-02-28T02:44:00.000-08:002010-02-28T03:19:34.481-08:00Loving Me..<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAhM28_iRWbLsyjErV6UFafMx2b1f-XRaq16jynGkESnD2m4AuYU7Ad_mvC-024RS0Ul9aEzQr5qXo8M4amGzlRY1052Cu7S1EswfOVBR4eAkUG9z4CYV2Ai9a64AdbhyQl3bRTCmfFd84/s1600-h/happiness-web.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443252330127922626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAhM28_iRWbLsyjErV6UFafMx2b1f-XRaq16jynGkESnD2m4AuYU7Ad_mvC-024RS0Ul9aEzQr5qXo8M4amGzlRY1052Cu7S1EswfOVBR4eAkUG9z4CYV2Ai9a64AdbhyQl3bRTCmfFd84/s320/happiness-web.jpg" /></a><br /><div><em>I was on my weekly long drive between my two 'homes' yesterday, when at a certain moment, and for some reason that I can't put my finger on, I decided that I am tired of being depressed..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>It was like pulling myself together, giving ME a good shake, and telling myself to quit quitting!</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>A very good friend of mine always tells me: We are survivors.. On my courageous moments, I cheer in agreement, and in other weaker ones, I just smile when I really feel like screaming.. </em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>But we are.. We are survivors, of course we are..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>I think that I sometimes am too harsh on myself.. So I make mistakes, who doesn't? So I have silly little habits that I long to get rid of to achieve my version of perfection, but what is perfection, anyway? What's perfect for me might mean nothing to someone else..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>I have the right to make mistakes.. And the minute I stop making them, I will realize that I have stopped trying.. I have stopped living..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>I love me.. I want to take care of me.. And I want to accept, without the drama and the tears and the shock, that there is no body at all, who would do a better job at taking care of myself than I would.. </em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>It would help, I think, if I can stop briefly, and define my standards, my own set of beliefs.. What's right for me? What's not? What would make me happy? And once I come up with that, once I have my own Book of Rules to follow, I would think it would be easier to take it from there..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>But what's important today is that I am alive, and that I am proud of who I am.. And that I believe, and Oh how great that belief feels, that I love myself, and that I just might be able to take care of myself after all..</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em></em></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-42690283744175434072010-02-03T12:48:00.000-08:002010-02-03T13:12:49.745-08:00The two lights, and a lifetime in between..<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VWwTlv8NwycaUApZgyIvD__ovIQcXxPKu6X-m14I12vClcH-qKVI5IZqmpTkyIbwOYCIvoucA7f6ANqyPo8r4vxbIwdnXKJ447zDsMONjX1mnKxvLtd3yBXW3LlnExWbahh3XuoagZkU/s1600-h/butterfly.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 272px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434126729052059314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VWwTlv8NwycaUApZgyIvD__ovIQcXxPKu6X-m14I12vClcH-qKVI5IZqmpTkyIbwOYCIvoucA7f6ANqyPo8r4vxbIwdnXKJ447zDsMONjX1mnKxvLtd3yBXW3LlnExWbahh3XuoagZkU/s320/butterfly.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>I often heard about how butterflies approach any source of light, by instinct, only to burn and die.. People who harm themselves, unknowingly, are said to be similar to these butterflies.. They approach the light, they come too close, they surrender, and then they get burnt.. </em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>But what about those who approach the fire, knowingly? Is it mere stupidity that drives them towards that source of light, or is it sometimes a false hope that maybe that light would be different, that maybe it won't hurt them this time? Is it an arrogance that fills them with fake confidence and makes them believe that if light burnt all others, they would defy it and come out of it untouched?</em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>In the moments that separate sleep from wake, my thoughts become too heavy.. A simple passing thought through the day, becomes a major issue that needs to be set at peace, NOW, NOW, NOW.. In these cursed moments, I have made too many decisions that I have come to realize were not too smart.. </em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>And it is in these moments that I feel the weakest.. I feel drawn to my sources of light, even though I know they'll burn me, they'll bruise me, they'll hurt me.. Yet, I always have some kind of inner power pushing me towards that light.. It's as if I believe that these moments are not to be counted in my real life time, and that the consequences of any decisions that I may take would not really count..</em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>Oh but they do.. They do, and they have bigger influences than I would like to imagine, at times..</em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>Ironically, if I do manage to pull myself out of bed, and turn on the actual lights, I come back to my senses.. The light, draws me away from the light..</em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>Go away..</em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>I don't want you..</em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>You bring out the worst in me.. You make me weak.. And I don't want to be weak.. I don't want to be sucked towards the light.. Not again, never again...</em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>Turn on the lights.. You can do it.. All it takes is a step forward.. All it takes is getting over that split second between surrendering to sleep and being wide awake.. I want to be awake.. I don't want my life to pass by, sleeping.. </em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>I can do it, and I will. </em></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-82096101603250416782010-01-19T01:27:00.000-08:002010-01-19T01:47:39.313-08:00Beliefs..<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj277aN5HxuPKnLQOXH1mczodvR2j7lnAFWwPmWwoGPvKcy8BENwLGrrJLr0CyhWWgjLyPw4ftDNpS92WqsU8ToeUz9BxpBVWjXt6XqgH_Gp21DYocwUtKtmwH4FemrhHmFLmvvecR2pfP4/s1600-h/beliefs.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428383277967457618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj277aN5HxuPKnLQOXH1mczodvR2j7lnAFWwPmWwoGPvKcy8BENwLGrrJLr0CyhWWgjLyPw4ftDNpS92WqsU8ToeUz9BxpBVWjXt6XqgH_Gp21DYocwUtKtmwH4FemrhHmFLmvvecR2pfP4/s320/beliefs.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Sometimes, I think that everything that I was brought up to believe and rely upon, does not truly exist.. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I have great parents, who brought me up believing in certain standards. Out of love, they have raised me to believe that there are things that really matter: Love, Kindness, Fait, Confidence, and many many more. But maybe at the time they taught me all this, they were too optimistic, and hoped that the world would be a better place, by the time I was old enough to understand these concepts. Better than their own time, I suppose. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Yet, maybe it isn't much better, or much worse, for that matter. The world is just the way it is: Complex and challenging.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I was reading a book the other day, which suggested that if you have trouble accepting your beliefs on a concious level, then maybe you can try changing them. The book offers exercises, and affirmation methods to help those who want to change their beliefs do so. I tried, but maybe I didn't try hard enough. Or maybe these beliefs were just what they were: Beliefs.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This doesn't mean that beliefs never change either. There was a time that I truly believed my dolls were real, that they had lives of their own at night when I'm asleep. Oh, and there was the time when I used to talk to plates, spoons and mugs, giving them names and chatting to them, while carefully putting them back into place when my mom assigned me chores. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So, looking back at what I used to believe in so strongly, and at where I am now, I 'believe' that beliefs change sometimes. But it's not only through books, mantras or even visualization. I think it's what actually happens in our lives, who we meet, pleasant and unpleasant surprises of life, and as always, by observing the actions of those we idolize in our lives. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It's a bit exciting not to know what I would believe I'm capable of doing in a few years' time. Sometimes, it worries me. Sometimes, when I'm faced with situations that I was raised to believe will end up with certain results, and I end up with completely different results than I expected, it can be a bit frustrating. But sometimes, I want to believe that this different result is another experience. And that one day, these experiences will all pile up and voila! A new belief will be born!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-22520806085428934672009-10-05T05:24:00.000-07:002009-10-05T05:35:56.994-07:00Change<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3MlQVBMLV9hh-JqaIvVxFjcjaO_LgO5i7sPpYZ98UWJ6Ec1UvDHuV2lgUk2f6igMr_4KBdQazzrOvWKA5HJzdL0blS41UlWKifNGPcdagNgGQsvAqZxYNAaUQ6oV_ryObXPXRGLyJ2ow/s1600-h/college-depression.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 222px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389093657369425042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3MlQVBMLV9hh-JqaIvVxFjcjaO_LgO5i7sPpYZ98UWJ6Ec1UvDHuV2lgUk2f6igMr_4KBdQazzrOvWKA5HJzdL0blS41UlWKifNGPcdagNgGQsvAqZxYNAaUQ6oV_ryObXPXRGLyJ2ow/s320/college-depression.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Change can be very scary sometimes.<br /><br />I have often faced it by trying to be as optimistic as possible. Trying to be logical and think about what I am about to get myself into, but also assume that all will end well, and that this change would probably be for the best.<br /><br />However, in the latest ‘change’ in my life, the results have been disappointing on certain levels. I have been trying, very hard, to avoid thinking such thoughts for the past week. But I have discovered that what I don’t think of stays as a lump in my throat, or as a nightmare that makes me wake up sweaty and terrified.<br /><br />What do we do when the change is irreversible?<br /><br />Why is it so difficult to say good bye to some phases of our life?<br /><br />I, as most people I assume, had to go through many phases. And it was always horrible to say my good byes. I would cry, sulk for weeks, and even when I assume that this change is for the best, it doesn’t help in my letting go process.<br /><br />I wish I can.. I wish I never did.. I wish that soon things will be..<br /><br />So many sentences & wishes that are cut short, because I am too scared to finish them. I am a very strong believer in the saying: Be careful what you wish for. And I honestly feel too lost, even for wishing anything at the moment. Even for wishing that everything can go back to the way it was..<br /><br />I’ve been unable to reach out to my family for the past 10 days, I’ve been unable to connect with friends. I can’t even reach out to God these days. I feel lost and lonely and weak and very very small.<br /><br />I have to let it out somewhere. Maybe that would help me move on. I am where I am now, and even if I sulk about it, I can only look forward to what is yet to come, with all the good and bad in it.<br /><br />And I realize, so strongly, that if I don’t feel better about it deep inside, no one will help me feel better. Nothing that anyone might say or do can make me feel good. I need to believe that it will be ok. And before then, I don’t want to see anyone, or listen to anyone, or talk to anyone.<br /><br />I am mad at the world, at God, at the difficult choices that we have to make every day.<br /><br /><a name="_MailAutoSig"></a></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-22211072641727069612009-09-07T02:52:00.000-07:002009-09-07T02:54:25.027-07:00Believe your dreams..<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlI0i1GOkLamvTYu0NRMFlsUpNjU5JGeKYYyE1x4SA_j0s6xEiH_-VJqOpUrbXrLxODkpmLwqo0BGmxtdjwNi-F_zKqPPhQCyHDZNAyOP-YiKRuu78nXXZR_UpvonjNtYrfFeDNgyM8ftL/s1600-h/dreams_default.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378661643213802722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlI0i1GOkLamvTYu0NRMFlsUpNjU5JGeKYYyE1x4SA_j0s6xEiH_-VJqOpUrbXrLxODkpmLwqo0BGmxtdjwNi-F_zKqPPhQCyHDZNAyOP-YiKRuu78nXXZR_UpvonjNtYrfFeDNgyM8ftL/s320/dreams_default.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I have the right to dream, I have the right to BELIEVE.<br /><br />Let there be no boundaries to my dreams, no fears and no worries.<br /><br />No hidden feeling that I don’t deserve them. That it would be ‘too good to be true’.<br /><br />The world is mine.. At least the world of dreams is. </div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-48389112267834898522009-08-12T00:42:00.000-07:002009-08-12T01:19:04.588-07:00Tick-tock...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOtUPT1Xco9LL7-iqe9HfA3XX6iQ-XXdYgwNSTM9okfRalf6SHGC4XTUSYj4yt5nfGRLWGxFPO_riNaME5PiJNfD9oyCpZuWJxJ-0IUTCKtziA9GvHJ0akCdcjJItmVLeKDWQirtpxmE07/s1600-h/hourglass.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368979897753223938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOtUPT1Xco9LL7-iqe9HfA3XX6iQ-XXdYgwNSTM9okfRalf6SHGC4XTUSYj4yt5nfGRLWGxFPO_riNaME5PiJNfD9oyCpZuWJxJ-0IUTCKtziA9GvHJ0akCdcjJItmVLeKDWQirtpxmE07/s320/hourglass.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify">I turn 28 tomorrow..<br /><br />I think a major part of growing up is about determining what we want for our lives. Since I am at the mature age of 28 now, I can safely announce that I have no clue about what I want.<br /><br />I created a passion list, and I tried to summarize what is it exactly that I want to achieve in my life. Yet, there are some things that can appear to be achieved, but that sense of emptiness proves that it still isn’t. It isn’t fulfilling me yet.<br /><br />Maybe it’s not only about what I want. Maybe it is also about how these things I want will make me feel.<br /><br />Sometimes, I think I have created a comfort zone around me. A too comfortable comfort zone, that it is scary to let go of it. When things happen in my life, even good things, I have forgotten how to enjoy them, because I keep thinking about the agony of having to lose them one day, and how that will make me feel..<br /><br />This has made me unable to enjoy the moment. Last year, I read a remarkable book called ‘The Power of Now’ which aimed at reminding people to focus on the current moment they’re living in, and not to fret about past or future events. Excellent idea, only, it is not easy to do that every day.<br /><br />I am not depressed, there are no reasons of unhappiness in my life these days, and I thank God for that every day.<br />I am not a drama queen either, I want to live happily and enjoy and have fun and find peace.<br /><br />But I think I am just scared.<br /><br />What if I don’t like what I am getting myself into? What if I don’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would, and what if it hurt other people around me, if not myself, in the process?<br /><br />I have come to believe that change has huge powers. It can make me ecstatic and it can suck me into a depression hole. I don’t want to be in either place. I want to be a balanced person who thinks about things before diving into them.<br /><br />I just realized that I said ‘ I want’…<br /><br />Maybe that is what I want. And maybe I should take my time, to be able to take the right decisions. And maybe I need to de-cluster my life from everything and everyone that does not add value to it. And maybe I should sit more with myself, and get to know me more. And I have a lifetime to do that.. All the time in the world..<br /><br />Happy Birthday to me :)<br /><br /><a name="_MailAutoSig"></a></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-38672489828652365722009-06-22T23:33:00.000-07:002009-06-22T23:44:09.376-07:00...قطاع الطرق، سارقي الأحلام<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrw_a1u3LZTYTG8kie8XlaZRJFXRE_YALgBD19ceRDXt7sx-J3Rv_3sjBJcnzmYUTZ2v4Zih-y-qK0YPzEF8xcH9AqclKQ2TQAShr3DkfnOUrKo4CEQaLtAECaLCUjdeYPd2usdfvUONf/s1600-h/%D8%B3%D9%86%D8%AF%D8%A8%D8%A7%D8%AF.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350409437933089202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrw_a1u3LZTYTG8kie8XlaZRJFXRE_YALgBD19ceRDXt7sx-J3Rv_3sjBJcnzmYUTZ2v4Zih-y-qK0YPzEF8xcH9AqclKQ2TQAShr3DkfnOUrKo4CEQaLtAECaLCUjdeYPd2usdfvUONf/s320/%D8%B3%D9%86%D8%AF%D8%A8%D8%A7%D8%AF.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="right"><br />عندما كنت طفلة أشاهد أفلام الكرتون، وأقرأ بعض الكتب التي يهديني والدي إياها، كثيرا ما استوقفني مصطلح "قطاع الطرق". كان علي بابا و سندباد يصدفانهم أثناء تجوالهم ومغامراتهم. و كما هي الحال دائما في قصص الأطفال، كان الأخيار ينتصرون على الأشرار دائما، و كانت تغمرني السعادة وأنا أرى بطلي المفضل يقضي على كل ما يعترض طريقه.</p><br /><p align="right"></p><br /><p align="right"><br /><br />حين كبرت، اكتشفت أن مصطلح "قطاع الطرق" شبه معدوم. لم أتعرض أنا أو أي شخص من معارفي إلى قاطع طريق يهدد بالاستيلاء على ما معي من أموال أو يستل سيفه ليخيفني. ولكنني على مر الأيام، اكتشفت أن هناك أشكالا متعددة لقاطعي الطريق، وأنهم ينتشرون حولنا أكثر مما كنت أتخيل.<br /></p><br /><p align="right"></p><br /><p align="right"><br />فعندما أكون سعيدة، عندما أشعر بصفاء داخلي رائع يدفعني إلى الأمام، عندما أحلم بغد أفضل و مستقبل أتمناه قريبا، و عندما يصدفني أحدهم بعبارة محبطة، أو بتعليق يحطم ذلك الحلم، فهو قاطع طريق.<br /></p><br /><p align="right"><br />عندما أشعر بالحرية وأعبر عن رأي يمنحني بعض السلام النفسي، و عندما يصدفني ذلك الشخص الذي يستمد قوته من تحطيم ذلك السلام، ونقد ذلك الرأي بتجريح وإيذاء، فهو قاطع طريق.<br /></p><br /><p align="right"></p><br /><p align="right"><br />عندما أشعر بإيمان يملأ قلبي، و ينير دربي و يملأني بالسكينة، و عندما أعبر عن استسلامي لتلك القوة العليا التي لا يتحتم علي فهمها لتصديقها، و عندما يحاول أحدهم أن يقنعني بعدم وحود تلك القوة، و يسلبني ما تمنحني إياها من إيمان واطمئنان، فهذا أيضا قاطع طريق.<br /></p><br /><p align="right"></p><br /><p align="right"><br />الاختلاف في الرأي لا يفسد للود قضية. و لكن بعض الأشخاص يستمدون قوتهم من إحباط الاخرين. يستلون خفية و يسرقون سعادتهم و سلامهم و يتركونهم محطمين. مصدر قوة هؤلاء الأشخاص هو قوتي أنا التي يتغذون عليها، بعد امتصاصها من طاقتي أنا.<br /></p><br /><p align="right"></p><br /><p align="right"><br />هؤلاء هم قطاع الطرق في رأيي. هؤلاء من يحاولون سرقة أحلامي وامالي. و كما انتصر سندباد على قاطع طريقه، أحاول أنا أيضا الانتصار عليهم والمضي قدما.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="_MailAutoSig"></a></p>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-2989799500153557222009-06-21T05:42:00.000-07:002009-06-21T06:15:42.467-07:00Movie Quotes I like<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezJHgtx65ChcYIrxCTbFKbVhsmBf3k3p9-CptesZuiEa-uQNwmwwwQrIio1Pp6uGLxsziMjAtOU7MHGPuYmb1rEo7qULvfiiXU_ItK-dIz5SZs_z4G-6-1LYyEq0UAe_q-_tsDMc6iyxz/s1600-h/movies.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349768888893802738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 142px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezJHgtx65ChcYIrxCTbFKbVhsmBf3k3p9-CptesZuiEa-uQNwmwwwQrIio1Pp6uGLxsziMjAtOU7MHGPuYmb1rEo7qULvfiiXU_ItK-dIz5SZs_z4G-6-1LYyEq0UAe_q-_tsDMc6iyxz/s200/movies.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left">"<em>No one told me there are different kinds of love. The kind that starts deep and slowly wears away; that seems you will never use it up and then one day it is finished. Then there is the kind you do not notice at first but which adds a little bit to itself every day like an oyster makes a pearl, grain by grain, a jewel from the sand. That is the kind I have come to know</em>."</div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Brick Lane</span></div><br /><br /><em>"Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspicion... love actually is all around. "</em><br /><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Love Actually</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><em>"When I was young, I thought everything is possible in the world. As I grew older, I realized I don't need everything to be possible anymore; I just need some things to be certain"</em></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Brick Lane</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><em>"It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something."</em></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Crash</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><em>"I think it pisses God off when you walk by the color purple in a field and don't notice it. "</em></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">The Color Purple</span></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><em>"Dear Baby, I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for 20 minutes straight and that's all they do. They don't pull away. They don't look at your face. They don't try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight, without an ounce of selfishness in it. "</em></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Waitress</span></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><em>"I don't think you're an idiot at all. I mean, there are elements of the ridiculous about you. Your mother's pretty interesting. And you really are an appallingly bad public speaker. And, um, you tend to let whatever's in your head come out of your mouth without much consideration of the consequences... But the thing is, um, what I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that, um, in fact, perhaps despite appearances, I like you, very much. Just as you are. "</em></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Bridget Jones Diary</span></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><em>"There is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft... When you kill a man, you steal a life. You steal his wife's right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone's right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness."</em></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">The Kite Runner</span></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><em>"For you, a thousand times over."</em></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">The Kite Runner</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><em>"Children aren't coloring books. You don't get to fill them with your favorite colors." </em></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">The Kite Runner</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><em>"One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs,or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls." </em></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">A Thousand Splendid Suns</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><em>"Behind every trial and sorrow that He makes us shoulder, God has a reason." </em></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">A Thousand Splendind Suns</span></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-48612226142569196312009-06-16T22:21:00.000-07:002009-06-16T22:24:10.345-07:00A letter to a friend after A&P's kids MemorialHello W..<br /><br />Today was very emotional, for all of us. It was a mixture of feelings,and questions, and wonderings about a million things in this world we live in. I think the biggest tests of faith are those involving acceptance of what we don't understand. I think we're too full ofourselves sometimes that we think we know it all. And only then, onlywhen we least expect it, does something so tragic, so shocking, so cruel in a way, remind us that this whole game of life is so fake and easily destroyable.<br /><br /><br />Who could have thought something as simple as a take away meal for a fun weekend with the kids could turn into a lifetime of pain? I can almost hear God laughing at us all.. At how confident and smart we think we are.<br /><br /><br />Oh, I believe in God. I believe He loves me and I so do myself. Its only because I like to think that I have a personal relationship with Him that I allow myself to speak about Him this way. I'm sure He understands. He made me, didn't He?<br /><br /><br />Oh W.. I started this email because I wanted to say that in a way,in a very weird way, it was kind of nice seeing all of you today. It'sbeen 2 years since I last saw all these (F) people. And although (F) was not all about fun and good times, I like to remember thepeople I work and live with, on a personal and a human level. It is only sad that we had to meet under such tragic circumstances.<br /><br /><br />But this is how we are. We always think there will be time to catch up with old friends or see that old aunt of ours. There's always time, its only not now. And before we know it, we're all there, all of us,only because someone's life had been shattered. Wouldn't it have been nicer if we went out for a cup of coffee instead??<br /><br /><br />So, if this email hadn't bored you to death or depressed you for aweek ahead, do call me or txt me email me next time you're in Dubai,and let's meet up for a cup of coffee. Let's try to learn a lesson,even if it was learnt out of a tragedy.<br /><br /><br />Oh, and do send me pics of your boys now!<br /><br /><br />Be blessed, and take care.<br /><br /><br />Swww.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-44078195529500974532009-06-16T22:18:00.000-07:002009-06-18T00:00:14.592-07:00When Tragedy Strikes..<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEoOqgUM6zRogsogDXhI0WWytunBlosej5I9l5glmxhJNnwXGSdKJPdULI3UBs4GeIht4y5VKPaWzTjT5H5ak8sMEPjSMg0M0cRISiIgoc7zCJG6NsCZjifKApukQ4yJkHNVjwnPnq6csw/s1600-h/condolencetochild_300px.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348558678728308386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEoOqgUM6zRogsogDXhI0WWytunBlosej5I9l5glmxhJNnwXGSdKJPdULI3UBs4GeIht4y5VKPaWzTjT5H5ak8sMEPjSMg0M0cRISiIgoc7zCJG6NsCZjifKApukQ4yJkHNVjwnPnq6csw/s320/condolencetochild_300px.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Over the last weekend, an ex-colleague of mine, lost her only 2 children, aged 5 & 7, to a food poisoning incident.<br /><br />Although I have stopped working with that colleague since 2 years, and although we were never close, the accident shook me badly. I guess it would shake anyone, but it felt close somehow. As if I had just realized that these accidents could happen to anyone. It could happen to me..<br /><br />The days that followed made me think about a million things. How one’s life can easily end in an instant, without any preparations or expectations. It made me think that this world that we live in is actually so frail, and so fake. Nothing that we work for, run after or wish for can guarantee success or the thought that it would bring us happiness.<br /><br />Sitting at the memorial yesterday, I looked around at the 500 or so people gathered there. Different nationalities, different religions, so different backgrounds. All gathered under the horrific shock of tragedy. All gathered in union, and that’s it.<br /><br />It made me think about God.<br /><br />Often, when tragedy hits people, they face two options: they either choose to get closer to God, try and pour their burdens on Him and seek His consolation & comfort, or they give Him up completely.<br /><br />I wouldn’t know what I choose, unless I am faced with a similar situation. That’s why I wish I never have to choose.<br /><br />Yet, as an outsider, I would think that I would seek God. I would think that it is one way of God telling me not to think I know it all, and that I am not as smart as I think, after all. It is His way of letting me know He still is in control- not because He is a controlling harsh God, but because that’s why we are here after all. to be His, to seek Him. The way He chooses to teach us that lesson is His choice. And no matter how we sulk or make vows or scream about it, that will not change that fact. He is in control of everything.<br /><br />Don’t let go of the people you love.<br />Don’t think there will always be time to go see that old friend, or your old grandmother.<br />Don’t brush off other people’s troubles, as if you are secured against them.<br />Don’t waste your time here, running after material things.<br />Seek God, in all you do. He is the only One you can guarantee He will be around, forever after. Let THAT be your fairy tale.<br /><br />A & P, my heart, my prayers, my thoughts & my feelings are with you. The memorial was beautiful. May God give you the strength to move on.</div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-19620742876203593122009-06-14T22:54:00.001-07:002009-06-14T22:54:19.308-07:00My Passion TestA couple of months ago, I was reading an excellent book called ‘The Passion Test’.<br /><br />This book is supposed to help me find my passions, figure out what I really want in my life, and fulfill it, with the powers of positive thinking and attracting it into my life.<br /><br />When I started reading it, I thought that figuring out exactly what I want in life would be easy. I mean, don’t we all know that, at some level or the other? Having to write it down, expressing it, and the feeling that this is IT, this is the only chance that I might get to define what I want and wait for it to happen, was not as easy as I thought.<br /><br />When asked about what they want, people often give cliché answers. They say: I want to be happy. I want to be fulfilled.<br /><br />It is not as easy though, to try to define what is it that might bring them that longed-for happiness.<br /><br />Ladies & gentlemen, my list of the five most important things that I am passionate about, and believe would bring me happiness:<br /><br /><br /><br />1- Living in a fulfilled relationship, filled with love & understanding, stability & good times.<br />2- Being healthy, and enjoying it.<br />3- Living in a comfortable ‘home’, where I can place all my thoughts and feelings in.<br />4- Working in a challenging & a rewarding job, leading a successful team and enjoying the process.<br />5- Establishing a good & a healthy relationship with my family, at all times.www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-23215991657717657002009-06-14T22:41:00.001-07:002009-06-22T23:42:49.215-07:00Happiness is a thought..<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhOs2amydi1HMdCWSz1eFOLBO2W7EwDA14lyGmFPmczCnoeylxUnLY39-DW18zIku9SNyF5Wm_AwHbyyHvwOQ5ftLm_8DLH-t3ThvHX4EZYKGo4m9ZJRDnV3bUHgFLlG0njQgp5wGeUCU-/s1600-h/happy-elephant-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348559497757505506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 219px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhOs2amydi1HMdCWSz1eFOLBO2W7EwDA14lyGmFPmczCnoeylxUnLY39-DW18zIku9SNyF5Wm_AwHbyyHvwOQ5ftLm_8DLH-t3ThvHX4EZYKGo4m9ZJRDnV3bUHgFLlG0njQgp5wGeUCU-/s320/happy-elephant-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Some days I wake up with the feeling that the burdens of the entire world are on my shoulders.<br /><br />I get out of bed, brush my teeth, get dressed and drive myself to work, listening to the noise on the radio, one way or another. I get my work done, I try to blend in it, and just allow the day to pass.<br /><br />So many days are wasted in my life. They just follow one another, aimlessly and endlessly, it seems.<br /><br />On other days, I wake up hyper and enthusiastic. I feel that that day is going to be different, liberating in some way. Every routine task becomes a joy, and the day seems to be too short to absorb every thought in my head.<br /><br />What makes the difference? What makes me float over clouds some days and soak in misery on other days?<br /><br />A good friend of mine always says: we are driven by a survival instinct. We want to keep going. No matter how depressing some days seem to be, our souls want to soar, they want to taste other flavors, and go through a little bit more. Only a little bit more, before we give up. Always, a little bit more.<br /><br />I don’t want to only survive, I want to be happy.<br /><br />Happiness does come from within. The fact that a song, whether a silly or a meaningful one, can entirely change my day, helps me survive a lot of days. When I sing along, driving in my car in the endless traffic of this country, the world seems to suddenly turn into a better place.<br /><br />When my18-month old nephew runs into my arms and shows me his broken car, and tells me, in is own way, about his visit to the doctor, to the pool, the world becomes a lovely warm place that I never want to leave. When he sings with me and holds my hands, I am the happiest in the world.<br /><br />When my father tells me he’s proud of me, and when my mother hugs me without me expecting it, I am happy to have brought them happiness in their life, one way or another. I am happy that I am theirs.<br /><br />When the rain falls for the first time in a season, and the earth gives away that beautiful smell of God, when I see kids running about excitedly under the rain, I am happy.<br /><br />When I am on the plane flying home, and I start seeing Amman from above, the deserts, the green, the little circles surrounding the airport that I never understood what they are, I start thinking about my grandmother and how much I missed her, I am happy.<br /><br />When I learn a new craft, a new language, or a new sport, I am happy and proud of myself. I think about the million other things that are still waiting for me to learn, and that there is time to do them all, I am happy.<br /><br />When I write, when I express myself, and let it all out, I am happy.<br /><br />And that’s why I am in a much better place now. Thank God, all the time.<br /><br /><br /><a name="_MailAutoSig"></a></div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-66931305388584553412009-06-14T04:25:00.001-07:002009-06-14T04:26:34.486-07:00ولد و بنت<div align="right">بينما كنا نشرب فنجان القهوة الاسبوعي سألتني صديقتي اليوم: هل تمنيت يوما ان تكوني ولدا؟ وعلى الرغم من انها لم تكن المرة الأولى التي طرح فيها علي هذا السؤال، إلا انني و للمرة الأولى فكرت فيه جديا.. ماذا لو كنت قد خلقت ذكرا؟ و بم كان ذلك سيؤثر على حياتي؟<br /><br />تخلق البنت في مجتمعنا من غير ان تعرف ان لها دورا رسم مسبقا، و حياة وضعت أطرها العامة سلفا. تتعلم شيئا فشيئا انها لن تصل الى الحرية، وانها وإن وصلت إليها روحيا، فإنه من الصعب عليها ان تعبر عنها في كل مكان أو زمان.<br /><br />تتعلم منذ نعومة اظفارها ان تجلس وقدميها مضمومتين، وان البنت الشاطرة تساعد أمها في ترتيب البيت، وان الساعة السابعة مساء قد تعتبر نصاص الليالي، خاصة في ليالي الشتاء. تكبر وهي تحلم بفستان أبيض و بيت صغير و أطفال و رجل (يستر عليها) كما تدعي لي جدتي بعد كل صلاة...<br /><br />في زماننا الحالي، تتخبط البنت بين غريزتها الانثوية و كل ما تربت عليه لا شعوريا كفتاة شرقية، و بين حياتها كامراةعاملة مستقلة، قوية، و(قد حالها). تتكابر على نفسها أيام عديدة، عندما ترسم ذلك الوجه القوي الصامد المعتز؛ تماما كما ترسم خط الكحل على عينيها كل صباح، بينما تكون روحها مستكينة، ضعيفة و بحاجة الى لمسة حنان، من أي كائن كان. تلك الروح التي تجعل دموعها تترقرق في عينيها أحيانا عندما يرتفع صوت فيروز في صباح ما: و انا بأيام الصحو ما حدا نطرني ...<br /> فهل تمنيت ان أكون ولدا في يوم من الأيام؟<br /><br />ربما اشتكيت في بعض الايام من ضغوطات الحياة الانثوية.. ربما كان قد يكون من الممتع ألا أمرض شهريا أو ان أجرب شعور الاستحمام و الخروج فورا بدون أن أفكر كيف سيتفاعل شعري مع الطقس اليوم. حتما، كان هذا قد يكون ممتعا </div><div align="right"> </div><div align="right"><br />ولكنني لو خلقت ذكرا،ربما ما كنت ساتعلم كيف اقرأ وجوه من أحب، و أشعر بهم بدون كلمات. ربما ما كنت قد قدرت ثقة أهلي بي أو خوفهم علي . ربما ما كان وجه ابن اختي الصغير يثير في تلك الفرحة العامرة عندما يركض نحوي هاتفا باسمي. ربما ما كنت استمتع بأمسية هادئة وانا احيك كنزة صوف لشخص أحبه، أصبر على حياكتها شهورا و أنا اتخيل وجه من أهديه اياها. ربما ما كنت لأكون قريبة من والدي، و ربما ما كان فخورا بي .<br /><br />ربما كنت لأخسر الكثير مما يملأ حياتي الان، و ربما ما كان ليملأها شيء اخر في المقابل ..<br /><br />فهل أنا إذا سعيدة بكوني بنت؟<br /><br />ترسم الأدوار لنا، لأسباب أو لاخرى.. و لكن باعتقادي، فإن تمردنا على هذه الأدوار في بعض الأحيان فيه خلاصنا، و فيه اندماجنا بحياتنا بشكل أو باخر..<br /><br />خلاصة القول: أنا سعيدة بكوني أنا. فلو لم أكن أنا، ما كنت لاعرف من كنت قد أكون ..<br /> </div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4497010423084025718.post-13119914453788267752009-06-14T04:00:00.000-07:002009-06-14T05:00:16.112-07:00احكي للعالم<div align="justify"><strong><u><em>احكي للعالم<br />شعر: توفيق زياد</em></u></strong><br />أحكي للعالم أحكي له </div><div align="justify">عن بيت كسروا قنديله </div><div align="justify">عن فأس قتلت زنبقة وحريق أوْدى بجديلة</div><div align="justify">أحكي عن شاة لم تحلب</div><div align="justify">عن عجنة أم ما خبزت</div><div align="justify">عن سقف طينيّ أعشب أحكي للعالم أحكي له<br />يا بنت الجار المنسية<br />الدنية عندي محمية<br />الدنية عندي فتعالي<br />في باص الريح الشرقية<br />حنا ذا اذكر قسماتك<br />لكني اشقى كي اذكر<br />في قلبي خفقة خطواتك<br />عصفور يدرج او يذكر<br />أحكي للعالم أحكي له<br />عن بيت كسروا قنديله</div><div align="justify">عن فأس قتلت زنبقةوحريق أوْدى بجديلة</div><div align="justify">كنا ما اجمل ما كنا<br />يا بنت الجار و يا حنا<br />كنا فلماذا اعيننا<br />صارت بالغدرة مجبولة<br />ولماذا صارت ايدينا<br />بحبال اللعنة مجدولة<br />أحكي للعالم أحكي له<br />عن بيت كسروا قنديله</div><div align="justify">عن فأس قتلت زنبقةوحريق أوْدى بجديلة </div>www.diariesofasinglearabwoman.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14992724342455607367noreply@blogger.com1