And oh, she's only Seventeen.

What's it like turning eighteen? well.. I'm terrified. And I didnt get the chance to have my "first thirteen days of march" freak out before this birthday. I was "abit" occupied with Julie being in a deep coma. And I still am. I find it very hard to believe that the people that know me and her, actually have the energy to write a sentence that has the word "happy" in it. And most of the people who wrote on my facebook wall are people she knows. It doesn't seem right. But again, shady sadat keeps telling me to live as normally as possible because any other behaviour won't do her any good.

I'm listening to shallow songs about pretty seventeen year old girls, and it makes me hyper, but it doesnt make me happy. As much as I always wished my eighteenth birthday would be my good birthday.. (all my parties were horrible), I don't want to get any attention tomorrow. I just want to go to the hospital and sit there with her and hold her handand hope she wakes up before the day ends.

This year was the best and worst year of my life. Being seventeen, I learned to do what I want to do because it'll make me happy. I learned to love my family because they will care more than anyone else at times. I learned that doing what I want, means to learn to deal with my mistakes and their consequences. I learned to be happy. I learned that I can't expect myself to be happy every minute of everyday. I learned that I really have no Idea who I am. And I learned to love myself the way I am. Extra fat, spontaneous stuttering, the eyeliner at the corner of my eyes, my fat kid's appetite, my handwriting, my nose, my left elfish ear, my bad hair days, my limited shoes collection, the fact that I sometimes forget to think... All included.

This year I learned who is important and who isn't. I learned why people want me in their lives, and why others don't. I learned why I'm so afraid of loving people. I learned why sometimes keeping my mouth shut is the best thing to do (and i still don't keep it shut). I learned that I am the storngest person I know. I learned that I am the weakest person I know because I use my own strength against myself. I learned that other people don't try to break me, but I break myself in the process of protecting myself from them. I learned that nothing works the way I want it to. I learned that sometimes shutting everyone out and watching the simpsons while lifting weights actually could be good sometimes. I learned that I may be strong, but that doesn't stop me from always being afraid. I learned that promises really can be broken. And I learned that bad things really do happen. And I learned that better things(they maybe smaller, but they;re still better) happen when you least expect them. I learned that I need to be on my own sometimes. And I learned that some people, just some people are really who I think they are. I finally understand what unconditional love means, and I finally understand what it means to experience it. Good days will happen, and bad days will happen.

I don't need to think about everything. I don't need to understand, I just need to live through it. And when I'm out, then I can pause and think. There's no way I'm going to let myself think I'm control of anything other than my self after this year. I'm terrified, and I wish things were like how I want them to be.. but I guess that's one of those things about being young.. So I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

Wake up, Julie. I need to tell you something.

P.S: Julie, you made me sing again. And I love you for it.

Snow Day - A letter to God.

Dear God,

I'm sure you've been watching, And I know you know that thing's haven't exactly been good for me these days. I've chosen to write to you, not because I feel the need to publish what should actually go on between me and you, but because I'm sure you'd want me to be as comfortable as possible when I'm talking to you. And I couldnt think of a better way than to write to you.

I realise that you did this because it's about time for everyone to wake up. Whether it's wake up and realise how much they care for julie, or wake up and remember just how fast someone's life could end, there's definitely a wake up call involved. A few days ago, when I was thinking of what I want to say to you, all I could come up with is "Please god, just want her to wake up". For a moment there the thought hit me that you could actually not want her to wake up, and the "natural" scenario that I was expecting to happen might not actually happen. I didn't really want you to wake her up now, and I didn't really mind if it was soon or not. All I wanted was for you to want her to come back to us. Because if you did, then nothing would stand in your way.

I couldn't get myself to write to you about this any sooner, not because I didn't want to. But because the second I write about it, it's finally real. No matter how many time's I saw her laying there in that cold room in the ICU, half the size of her former self and with a machine breathing for her, it still wasn't real. This moment, I'm aknowleging it all in writing, and I'm hoping I can stay consious until I hit the Publish button. I guess I need your help with that, God.

So yea, it IS true. Julie did have a horrifying car accident. She did lose control over her car in the rain, and she probably screamed as the car slided and crashed into that pole. Yeah.. Julie. She screamed. She must've screamed. And the last thing she probably saw was glass and water. And julie -yes, julie- was rushed to the hospital, and JULIE was barely alive. And now she's in a coma. A severe coma to be exact.

Now this is the moment when I'd look up at the sky and pretend that my screaming at you would change anything. But I'm not mad at you, God. I never was and never will be. I have seen enough to teach me that things never just "happen". And this time, I can't help but admire the plan of it all. Everyone's thinking why julie? And all I keep thinking is, well.. it just had to be her. How else would you stop everyone dead in their tracks and make them run in the right direction? How else would you remind us that the things we so intensely pretend to care about are not even worth wasting brain waves on? How else would you finally change her life? It couldn't have been anyone of less importance than Julie Farouk.

I've spent the last year bragging about how I don't go to sleep without making sure everything is "fine" with everyone I know. And I was horrible enough to underestimate the pain behind the words "I need you". You watched me god. You watched me take those words, and react to them in a way that was too pathetic to be worth noticing. An extra phone call here and there. You watched me tuck those words away in the "too intense to handle" pile. You watched me forget the occurence of that conversation. And then two months later you watched me fall on my knees at the thought of something happening to her. And then out of nowhere, you send me this particular memory of her. And it's not a mystery why you'd send me this one. 

Everyday, I have to stop myself from thinking that this is all my fault, that this was MY wake up call. My punishment. And it's funny how a person like Shady Sadat would tell me to stop my subconsious from trying to prove to me that I care. I smile at that, God. Because I know you're testing my patience, again. My subconsious is not trying to prove anything to me, God. Only you fully understand how hard it is to let myself wake up in the morning. Only you can see me look away from the mirror every morning. Only you saw me sprinting out of that ICU. Only you knew that I ran out of there not just because I couldn't see her that weak but more importantly, because I felt like I do not deserve to see her and touch her.


Part of me wanted her to pull her hand away from me. It would've been the least I deserved. I can't help but to wonder why you're keeping me here, God. I'm sure I'm part of a plan too.

Thank you for keeping her alive, God. And thank you for making it snow that day.

Like sand through the (leaky) hourglass.

I'm turning eighteen on the fourteenth of march. It's not cool by the way. I'm trying to be okay with it. I need all the support I can get these days, but everytime I try to reach out, I remember how hard it is to be asked for help when you your self need help. And everyone I know currently has their own "thing". The ones that don't have their own little battle to fight, happen to be on my nerves. yea, not even getting on them, they're on them.

Almun is starting again on Friday inshaa'allah, and I seriously can't wait. I miss everyone there and I miss talking about things that matter for a change. Amgad is moving out on the third of march inshaa'allah, and from then on, it just me, mom, and dad.

speaking of mom and dad, I have to go.

P.S: Unicef could actually be home. not Almun's unicef, the real one. it could be. it really could be.

Those Evil Evil Clowns with their Wicked Red Noses.

The one time I came face to face with someone dressed as a clown, I tried to squeeze his nose expecting that hilarious squeaky sound I heard in cartoons. I squeezed too hard and I ended up pulling it off of his nose, and it didnt even make a sound. Actually, the nose was part of a mask, a rubber mask. So I ended up pulling off the whole clown face, and exposing the clown's face. His name was Damien, one of the housekeepers we had in zambia. You'd think that a girl turning 8, the same girl that had already started trying to figure out the meaning of life, would know that its not a real clown. But no, I actually thought it was a clown. One like I saw on television. I don't think I've ever laughed at anything a clown did ever since then.

My laugh has changed this year. It's louder and more glass shattering than ever before. It sounds like a mountain lion being run over by a train if you ask me. And I always think everyone's looking at me when I laugh in public, even though I'm sure people don;t have enough time on their hands to pause everything they're doing to stare at the girl with the scary laugh. but I guess I don't mind, and Its okay. My laugh always did change every year, and this year was alot like my laugh, so its perfect and I'm happy about it. so people at hardees and macdonalds and the streets of cairo, stare all you want.

I just noticed that I was worrying about peole staring at me when I laugh. I kind of forgot the little piece of information that I actually walk around making animal noises (barking, meowing, baaahing, and quacking.. etc.) and sometimes I even aim at people's ears. I can bark on cue, and it's funny how I'm actually proud of that.

I had my first long phone call in about a year. I talked to Mona bassel on the phone for about two hours today, and It was me doing most of the talking. I'm not worried about her these days, that's a first.. hehe. She really is the chocolate sprinkles on my life. I love her, all of her, the crazy over reacting, hyperventilating over nothing, posessive, sweet, hilarious, irritating parts of her.

I'm off to read more of Love, Rosie by cecelia ahern.
oh and for some reason, I'm downloading pink's discography. is that normal?

oh and can someone please let me know how I can spell check my posts now? because the layout changed and I can't find the spell checker anymore, And I need it, for your sake not mine =)

Al Raqessa Walteneen*

So this week wasn't any easier than the one before it. TA-DA! but I managed to squint my eyes and smile through this one. If you know me, you'd know that I have two smiles. My smile, the normal one, the one you'd see in pictures. And the smile I have on my face when Im greeting someone I don't know or dont like. I squint my eyes and I have a little too much tooth exposure and my chin points out like an arrow. so in case you're wondering (you're probably not wondering, I know), this week seemed more like a year, and everyday I had more ups and downs than usual. I laughed alot, but I did more of my squinty smile than I usually do in a month.

Why is it so hard to believe that when I'm writing, and someone calls, it really is worth rejecting the phone call? And it's funny how many high fives I ignored from my brother, and consequently he can't help himslef everytime he notices I'm writing. The second I start writing he decides to either tickle me or ask me to make him hot chocolate or sometimes just placing his head on my shoulder and pretending to read aloud what I'm writing. And most of the time what I'm writing isn't private, but seriously, I can't think of a distraction worse than the head on shoulder thing.

Ive been wondering for the last couple of days if I'm the only one who doesn't enjoy appreciating the same things that others enjoy appreciating. Like the smell of coffee in the morning, I think it's amazing, yet I hate to state that because it's stated in like most movies, and everyone says it all the time. I'd rather go on and on about why I think rats and mice are cute, than saying I think puppies are lovable. puppies are adorable, fine I get it. Move on. Why does this paragraph remind me of Omar Abhar??

Speaking of Omar Abhar, we had a little incident when we went to the book fair. The day was bumpy and everyone was all over the place and my temper was out of control. And though normally a day like that would "Yefselny" from Omar abhar and any other person that was within a 10 K.M radius from where I was standing. For some reason, I'm a bigger Omar Abhar fan now than I was before that day.

so now that I'm here, I just have to Comment on our beloved brothers, Arar sandod, Abo El leef, and Ahmed spider. If you're not familiar with them, you're missing out. Seriously. You're missing out on the concept of stripping yourself of any values, or self respect or simply a freaking brain. These people, as irritating and rediculous as they are, I respect them. Not because they're "talent" is respectable, oh god no. But because they had the courage to make complete fools out of themselves and they still choose to appear in public. Seriously, how is it possible to not admire Arar sandod's perseverence, this whole thing started last valentine's day, And I don't think a soul in egypt has been cussed at more than Arar Sandod. And he's actually back for more this valentine's day. It just triggers thoughts like.. If only that kind of spirit was placed into something more useful for himself and the people around him. Let's assume these people do this for the attention, is it his fault or ours that we'll pay more attention to an idiot that thinks he's talented and is actually barely even human than we'd pay to someone and came out and said "Hey, I want to make this world a better place". It's actually our fault. So when someone like Abo el leef comes out and sings the "inspiring" words:
"Bet7ebeny, laa ashokk.
Meen dol elli 3al "fesbok",
 law mashelteesh el 3yal di, 3alek hassokk.
wana, ana mesh 5orong, la laa laaa ana king kong,
dana wana rabet eedy bal3ab Ping Pong.
Mesh ebn hanem wala ebn lord, etfadaly haty el "bass bort",
 dana aragoz metrabby fi serk, mesh 3ayel kawerk."

We can't really blame him, can we? some argue that the attention we give to these people is negative, so it isn't our fault. Actually, All they want is attention, they don't care whether it's negative or positive. They just want to be seen. They want to feel like they exist. It's intoxicating and I don't think it's fair to blame them. People have been asking me I have Arar sandod and Ahmed spider on my facebook contact list. And well, if Abo El leef had a profile I would've added him too, but sadly he doesnt.
It could be hard for people to understand, but I had to see the "normal" side of them. And I should have you know that these people are human on some level. they have lives, they wake up in the morning, they spend time with their families and the go to sleep at night. just like the rest of us. Arar sandod, actually has fans. And he has friends who happen to support him like crazy. And when you talk to him, if you didn't know that this person is THE arar sandod, you'd actually think he's a normal egyptian guy. Incase you have no Idea who Arar sandod is, here are three links to three out of 7 of his videos, I wouldn't advise you to read the comments though, they contain some serious prfanities.
1) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vn4vtt5NnGA&feature=channel
2) (My personal favorite =D) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBpiTrhPWT8&feature=channel
3) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=03pMOn-LSRc

Enough from me today. And certainly enough about the people who have dragged art to hell. :)

The red apple, and the triangle.

 Why is It that I can never sleep when I'm sick? I know people that sleep 24/7 when they're sick. Well I'm sick and I didnt get any sleep in 2 days. Well actually I slept for one hour, half of it was on my sister's couch, the other half hour was in the car on the way back home. When I finally get to sleep when I'm sick, I always get one of those fevered dreams. You know, those dreams where it seems like the whole universe is saying everything they want to say at once, in your ears. Another thing, when I'm sick, my left eye always seems wider than my right eye. I don't think there's a medical explanation for that, maybe they;re always that way and when Im sick I have so much time on my hands that I actually notice pathetic little details.

For the past 2 weeks my life seemed to crash a thousand little crashes and curl the wrecks into little piles of nothings. I watched them roll and meet at the same spot at my feet. And now that I'm here, I can;t help but to laugh at how all I have left is myself. Everything I thought I had, everything I thought I'd achieved, everything is down there at my feet. And I really don't mind right now. Because things are meant to change, And every once in a while, the blocks you set up to build the wrong thing fall apart on their own, because the foundation was never right in the first place. so here I am, impatiently waiting for something that will point in the right direction.

I had a very fascinating conversation with Shehab E. Ali. which actually made me doubt everything I know. Not because I was convinced by anything he said, oh hell no. But actually because HE was so convinced by it all. I looked him straight in the eye and told him he was wrong about everything he ever stood for, and he didn't even have to think before he shot back "I'm right" at me. Though I'm pretty sure he had no Idea what he was talking about, that's a different story. But what startled me, and brought me to tears, was how sure he was of what he was saying. All of us truly think we're right, and it's very hard for us to believe otherwise. Whatever it is we're thinking, it makes sense to us. That's why it's there. If it doesn't make sense to others, we still think we're right. We know best. We've been through what taught us that we know best. And there's always someone that will disagree. And the scary part is, I could very easily be him. I could live with a thought in my head long enough to never give it a chance to shake itself out of my head.

A pink floyd pin found it's way to me a week ago. And I was surprised at how easily I let it into my life. Very few people have an idea what that pin could mean to me, And I'm keeping it that way. I smile at how easy it was to buy it, I can't say the same about owning it though, that's uncomfortable to say the least.

I've been reading twighlight for the past three weeks, just to figure out why this would be every teenager's favorite book. And I am seriously bored out of my mind. okay, I have to admit that Edward cullen's one charming vampire, but I'd chose fitzwilliam darcy (from pride and prejudice) any day. The eye-crossing part about this whole thing, is bella. I mean seriously, look at Elizabeth (again, a pride and prejudice reference) she's smart, witty, kind, SMART again. seriously, where's the creativity in writing a character like bella. What is so fascinating about a teenage girl that trips more than she talks. And seriously how does the author expect us to believe that they just fell inlove after talking twice. and by the way, VAMPIRES DO NOT SPARKLE. back to bella, I don't think a person like her deserves to be loved. It just doesnt make sense, she can't stand on her own two feet, both literally and metaphorically. I guess I'm being harsh on her. This is just my feminist self taking over the keyboard. I guess all of this would've been more tolerable if teenagers had kept their mouths shut about it. Just like the jonas brothers, I actually believe they aren't that bad. What makes them obnoxious is the hype. Enough about that..

And enough from me today, go be your productive selves.

Why I don't like chocolate...

I don't want to wake up one day and realise that I've lost my self. I don't want to get caught up in rapid changes and then one day, my one and only worry is which one of those little brats is going to do the dishes. I dont want to walk around waiting for someone to ask me how I am so I can finally trigger my tear glands and cry on cue. I don't want to be the person that would lose people because I don't have the energy to work on things with them. I don't want to smoke. I don't want to give away the family cat because someone told me I'm irresponsible for keeping a cat around when I have daughters. I don't want to care about things I know I don't care about now. I don't want to learn to watch movies after someone ruined them for me or told me anything about the story. I don't want to. I don't want to start liking chocolate because everyone says it's so amazing.

What is it with chocolate anyway? I mean I can appreciate a good cup of hot chocolate (oh and a tip: try adding a pinch of hot chilli to hot chocolate. You won't regret it), can't say anything about that. But seriously.. why chocolate? why not cheese? and why not sour lollipops. why not passion fruit? Why chocolate? why something that sweet? why not something less boring and more intense. why not something exciting? why something so.. so.. easy to understand? life is not like that. it's not that sweet and simple. It's lovable, but not that boring and not that good.

I can't get the image of her smiling out of my head. it's all I see everytime I let my mind drift to the thought of her. All I see is the image of her laughing, her incredibly loud laugh echoeing in the streets of egypt. Her eyes as beautiful as always, have tears in them. I don't know what to do when I see her. Everytime I try to imagine it, I find it hard to breathe and see right again. I don't think I was ever this scared of seeing someone I love before. It's been long, longer than I thought this silence would last. Everytime I go to sleep I meet her. And even then I always break down and cry. But I can't cry when I see her this time, I can't cry on her wedding day. I can't do that. I just realised that now that she's getting married, chances of me and her being friends like we used to be have become very slim. I never really understood why she stopped talking to me. She always seemed to care more about me than she showed. And the thought that I might have cared about her more than she cared about me is scary. For the first time in about 6 years, I feel like I'm worth absolutely nothing to someone I love. I hate the fact that I'm crying. And I hate being this person who would dwell on something I lost almost a year ago, but I've never talked about this before. I am so rediculously happy, she's finally found the person she wanted to find. The person that will give her more than he asks of her. The person that will understand her, and understand that she really isnt crazy. Someone that will know what I knew. Someone that will see that she should have songs and books and endless paintings all created about her. I sometimes wish I would just stop dreaming about her every single time I fall asleep, and other days I wish the dreams were longer.

If this is what life is really like, if people are really supposed to be like this, then I dont want it. I don't want it all. I don't want to ever find sense in the abandonment of a friend.

I guess I've said enough about the half empty glass. I will be up again screaming away about the half full one as soon as I have the energy to let any good thing sink into my system.