أدير الصفحات مسرعاً
علّني بقرائتي اُخلّد الكتب
اُدخل كلماتها السوداء في قلبي
لتبحث عن زاوية ترتاح فيها بعد الحطام
أبحث يميناً وشمالاً عن كتاب أخضر
رأيتهُ جالساً على الرف ذات يوم
كنتُ أنظرُ إليه وأعُدّ الدراهم في جيبي
وأعود أدراجي ليمرّ الأسبوعَ بعد الأسبوع
تمرّ أصابعي على ورقٍ محروق
أكادُ أعيشُ في طيّاتهِ الألم
يتخلل من يدي ويهبُ في الهواء مسرعاً
ليشيح بوجههِ عن الكارثة
René Descartes said, “je pense, donc ju suis” translated to “I think, therefore I am”. In my mind I believe it should be, “I love, therefore I am.”
The importance of love in our world is immense. Love is not restricted between lovers, it considers all other types of love such as a mother’s love for her son/daughter, a son’s love to his father, a sister’s love to her brother, a father’s love to his daughter, a friend’s love to her friend, and so forth.
When people choose to display their love one day in the year it means that the display of their emotions is lacking in the other 364 days. Being able to genuinely tell the people in your life that you love them, and telling them using those words, is important.
I saw a comic strip drawn by a Korean lady (I think she was Korean, I will make sure and get back to you) showing that it is very hard to say “I love you” to her mom. I know my mother loves me but she just doesn’t say it. Is that what we want said about us?
Reassuring your loved ones that you love them is just icing on the cake. It doesn’t cost you anything to say those words and mean them. Give your loved ones a hug, a kiss, a thank you for being in my life card, and they will appreciate it.
You never know if you will get another chance. Always say you love them before you leave.
To my family and friends, I love you.
When Neville Longbottom’s remembrall turned red, he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was he was forgetting. After extensive research in this matter (thank you, google and Harry Potter fans), apparently he wasn’t wearing his robes. We all suffer with our memories and try to find ways to remember important matters in our lives. People write notes in their planners, save voice notes in their smart phones, or ask someone to remind them.
Back in the old days, when we weren’t glued to our phones and weren’t able to access the internet all the time, school teachers needed to make things interesting for us to remember things so they introduced us to mnemonics. One of the most memorable one for me is related to the order of planets: My very easy method just set up nine planets. How applicable.
Along with some ridiculous song lyrics I can’t forget, the planet mnemonic was placed comfortably in the middle of my memory. Whenever I hear about a planet, I remember my very easy method and feel so smart, thinking that I got my money’s worth of education.
Then someone decided Pluto isn’t a planet. WHAT??? What do you mean Pluto isn’t a planet? All of a sudden Pluto’s just not good enough to be part of the planets? What is it, then, a tree? I thought it was a joke, something I overheard and wasn’t certain of its source. Then I thought it must be someone scientists were still debating about, that they will come around and consider it a planet again. Lo and behold, they didn’t. Poor Pluto.
A rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet.
Well, I guess my very easy method just set up nine... nothings.
Don’t blink or you’ll miss it. It seems like it was yesterday that I gave birth to my first born and just delivered my second this morning. It seems like I was holding onto them in the hospital wondering how I can do this, how and when did I become a mom. Cradling them in my arms and holding on tight in fear that I miss a blink. Watching their face and lips and fingers and promising that I will always be there.
Then I blinked.
And here I am planning my first boy’s birthday party. You see, he wants a pirate themed party because at four years of age he can talk and decide. He comes to me with feelings and ideas and jokes and pranks. Wasn’t he just my newborn? Wasn’t I rocking him to sleep and trying to figure out how to put his diaper on? Wasn’t I scared to give him a bath all by myself and felt that great achievement when I finally summed up the courage? Where did that baby go?
Then I blinked.
And my second boy was walking and talking. He’s a funny fellow who imitates everything he sees and loves to dance. He too has things he likes and he too can decide whether he wants to go out or stay in (he always decides to go out of course.) Where did my baby go? Wasn’t I crying for fear of not being there for him, for fear of not giving him the care I gave his brother, the undivided attention and the hours spent alone? When did he grow up and what did he eat?
And now I am too afraid to blink.
Too afraid to miss a milestone, too afraid to miss out on a smile or a tear. I am too afraid to be unavailable, to not know what they feel or what they like. I am too afraid to miss out on the hours of the days that make them happy, too afraid to have someone else influence them. There’s so much to do and so little time.
How can I schedule music classes, self defense classes, homework, and fun time when they’re older? It’s all fun time and I barely seem to be holding on to my sanity. It’s all fun time and I miss them at the end of every single tiring day.
Oh yes, the days are long… sometimes much too long… much too tiresome but in the end they are limited. Create memories one day at a time and honestly, try not to blink.
Last year, I posted my Gratitude post wishing everyone a happy new year and remembering all things I am grateful for. This year, I would like to dedicate my post to the readers of my post who have been a big part of my life.
I write because I want to be heard. Sometimes it is hard to say something and other times it’s harder to find the right person to talk to. So when I am sitting behind a laptop I enter another world. A world of words, a world of sentences, poetry, prose, and stories.
Thank you for the likes, the comments, and the follows. Thank you for the prompts, other blogs, and for the reblogs. Thank you for your support.
And finally, 2032 views, 1368 visitors, 354 likes, 50 comments, and 60 posts later… thank you, 2017, for being kind.
Wishing you all a happy and prosperous new year 2018.
Confess yourself:
let my eyes see what they long to see
and my ears hear your innermost desires.
Open your soul to me
watch closely as I tread into the folds of your being
and pick memory after memory to read.
Confess yourself:
let my being merge with yours
and my hands touch your unfulfilled dreams.
Allow my entrance
into the make-believe life you created
and water the flowers on your bed.
Confess yourself:
let me understand your deepest thoughts
and my soul drink from the lips of your eternity.
Allow my intrusion
for I have lost everything I am
when I found you.
Torn in two I ask myself
what did I do?
Not knowing how or when or why
but just cry
enjoyed the conversation at first
but now it hurts
and hurts and hurts…
Feel like I turned into a traitor
I’m now a stranger
not knowing the reason behind it all
did my soul call?
I ask myself what did I gain?
A heart that pains
and pains and pains…
Slowly see myself fade away
self, please stay
answer these questions for me, then go
I want to know.
Wishing to know, and hope I try
but slowly I die
and die and die…
– Dreams of a Blue Moon
With the bombardment of young, skinny, and tall girl pictures on every conceivable media, we normal people start questioning ourselves. The idea that these images are photoshopped just helps us sleep at night as we try to ignore the gorgeous girls we meet face to face in reality. Well, guess what? It doesn’t matter how these women look, it matters how you perceive yourself.
Right? Isn’t this what we are told to teach our daughters? Aren’t we supposed to show them that inner beauty is all that matters even though snapchat filters are great for your pride? Images of 14 year old girls then vs. 14 year old now are hilarious and yet, so not hilarious because of what they represent. Maybe she’s born with it? Maybe it’s makeup or maybe it’s plastic surgery.
In my brainwashed mind, I’ve come to perceive tall and skinny as beautiful and elegant. When a tall and skinny lady wears a dress, it looks good. It basically falls on her with so much grace that the short and stubby will never have because when she wants to wear a long dress she needs to have it first altered to be her length and then she needs to buy grandiose heels to compensate for the lack of height. She also needs a corset or a ridiculous diet for a few years in advance.
Also, tall girls have longer legs. Do you understand that? They have more “leg”. They also have more “arm” and more “torso”. So their weight gets divided around and the 150 pound tall girl looks great but when it comes to the 150 pound short girl she “needs to lay off the carbs.”
Well, in my mind, I am tall and skinny. I will always love to eat my carbs and I will always have less “leg, arms, and torso” to distribute my weight. Because of my predisposition towards elegance being for the tall and skinny, I think I have altered my self perception to that of a model because I don’t hate myself. I actually like myself very much and don’t mind the extra pounds around.
Yes, in my mind I’m tall, skinny and elegant. #grateful
Walking on the street
under the pouring rain
nothing seems sane
all are insane.
Walking on the street
under the pouring rain
people with hearts
people with brains.
Walking on the street
under the pouring rain
people in hugs
people in chains.
Walking on the street
under the pouring rain
people who lose
people who gain.
Walking on the street
under the pouring rain
people in pain
people in pain.
Bedoor Bluemoon 