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Bedoor Bluemoon

Everyday writing to expose the soul

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A Trip to Zoomba

A Trip to Zoomba

 

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Manners are important to have in Zoomba. Join the narrator on his trip to Zoomba land where he has to learn his manners all over again alongside the Woo, Ted, and all Zoombians who are, strangely, quiet girls and quiet guys.  A great book for children ages 5-8 years of age.

 

Hello my friends,

how do you do?

I have come from far

just to talk to you.

 

I have no name

but you can call me “Sam”

or “Joe” or “John”

“Janette” or “Pam.”

 

I have no name

because all names are good

my mom couldn’t choose one

And now, I should.

 

Get your copy today on Amazon for $9.95 or send me an email on bedoor.khalaf@gmail.com

 

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New Year Resolutions should be SMART

Reblogging 2015 new year resolution post, I am still thinking of how to best plan my 2018 goals and will share some resources with you (don’t expect them to be amazing, I’m not a graphic designer).

Bedoor Bluemoon

smart-goals

Everyone has a boost in motivation when writing their New Year resolutions and, honestly, why not?  It’s a great time to start something since everyone else is doing it.  It’s usually the time when people are very optimistic about the 365 days coming up they feel that they can do anything, everything, the thing they never got around to, and thing they vowed will be done, and the thing they will probably stop doing in a few months.

Now why is that?

Well, beginnings are always hopeful.  The start of a new job, the start of a new relationship, the start of a new goal, and so on.  The problem is the start is usually where we make mistakes.

When setting goals, you should make sure that they should be SMART goals.  I’m sure many of you know the concept of SMART goals in work but, as a reminder, goals should be Specific, M

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Eyes

via Writing Prompt #381

eyes

Crumpled paper covers every flat surface of his room, he can’t get the eyes right.  He is usually very good at sketching portraits but the eyes were haunting him.  It all started one day in his dream.  He dreamed he was sitting next to the lake hand in hand with a lady dressed in a light blue dress.  She had her head covered by an over-sized hat and her delicate fingers wrapped in pink lace gloves.  Her brown hair did not move.  It was propped and primped into soft waves that cascaded around her face and framed her small features.  She was looking down at her hands and her long thick lashes set themselves ever so gently on her cheekbones.

He wondered who the lady may be but didn’t know how ask.  He was afraid to speak lest the calmness be disturbed by his voice.  He wanted to whisper her name, but what was her name?  He studied her face and the bridge of her nose while her eyelashes fluttered with the breeze.  She was exquisitely beautiful, perfect in every way imaginable to man and he wondered what she was doing with him.

He coughed gently, trying to get her attention and to feast his eyes upon her face.  He saw her cheeks rise in a smile and the glisten of her teeth between her rosy lips as she raised her face to look at his.  That’s when he saw her eyes.

He tried to sketch them again and again but nothing comes close to the captivating spell of her lashes.  Nothing comes close to the arch of her eyebrow, nothing comes close to the glimmer reflecting in her iris, and no shade of blue comes close to the depth of her inner sea.  He was mesmerized at that moment, captured in her jail and transferred to eternal salvation.  Or is it damnation?  He knew that it was then that he lost all sanity and no longer became a free man.  He knew that it was she who held the key to his heart forever.

Crumpled papers turned to canvases and walls filled with pencil sketches, oil paints, water colors, chalks, and markers.  Nothing of the ordinary seemed valuable to him anymore as he continued his search for the perfect eye.  He looked forward to sleep every night just to see her again but sleep became scarce and hope disintegrated into madness.  Madness that consumed his soul and he was left with nothing but crumpled papers and a dream.

Do Not Accept Anything Substandard

Substandard

perfectionism

Everyone is perfect.  I mean it.  Everyone out there has perfection in him and is not required to change himself to measure up against another person’s scale.  You are your own measurement tool and you have it in you to be who you are in this imperfect world.

I am not going to talk to you about what you need to do and how you need to do it to be considered successful, only you know what is needed to reach greatness based on your own scale.  You do not need a life coach, you are capable of being your own life coach and reflect on your own hopes and dreams.

But first, you need to be honest with yourself.  The many things people called you previously and the traits some so rudely pointed out as your weak points need to be considered.  Sit with yourself and talk openly.  What kind of person are you?  What kind of person do you want to be?  What does perfection look like and why should you accept being substandard based on your own standards?  There are hidden truths that you may not see but they will eventually come into perspective.

Draw a picture of what perfection looks and strive for it.  Add your values, hopes, dreams, and start walking.  There is no turning back if you are clear with yourself.

What makes you happy?  What makes you successful.  Go for it.  Act the way you accept to act, be the superman you see yourself to be and continue in the journey that is life.  Do not strive to make people happy except those who matter and whose happiness makes you happy.

Be genuine in your giving.  Do not feel bad for giving a part of yourself to others if this is what makes you happy.  Be kind, be gentle, be loving.

Be strong, be persistent, be honest.

Be what makes you a better person today, who knows if we’ll be here tomorrow.

Live your life to the fullest, love your family, love your friends, and love yourself the most.

 

Retail Therapy: The Basics

retail-therapy

Disclaimer: It is safe to say that this post is based on no scientific research whatsoever.  You are encouraged to try out the different therapy methods listed in cases of a bad mood ranging from “mild” to “medium”.  In cases of a really bad mood, your therapy may take a bit longer.

When a woman is in a bad mood, she tends to feel like everything is falling into pieces.  Everything they love look awful, everyone they know don’t pick up the phone, and they feel like they never achieved any of the goals they decided on years ago.  We’ve all been through this.  We all know how it feels.  So what can be done?

1- Breathe.  It’s alright to feel bad, you are not a robot and have all the excuse in the world to have bad days.  Do not feel guilty and do not let anyone tell you that you’re always “in a bad mood.”  Try to come to accept that you feel bad.

2- Remove yourself from the current situation you are in.  If you are feeling bad because of a conversation you are having on the phone, then close the phone.  If you are feeling bad because of a colleague at work, then go somewhere else.

3- Find someone who will listen.  This person is usually the same person you go to every time you are having a bad day.  A friend, a parent, a spouse, a sibling, whoever is there to listen. I am not telling you that you should talk, just give yourself the option to talk so whenever you feel like talking you’re with the right person.

4- Find something fun to do.  This is usually shopping.  Yes, simply shopping.  It starts with a cup of coffee, a walk around the mall to see what’s on sale, and an indulgence of impulse buying.  Try your best not to buy over an assigned budget.  (The person you choose in #3 should help in reeling you in when you’re starting to go overboard)

5- Eat something good.  A good dish filled with many many many calories.  This dish and/or meal must contain the 3 C’s:  carbs, cheese, and caffeine.

6- Shop again.  The physical labor done by walking around actually helps with your negative feelings; you’re basically working out!  Also, you are constantly speaking to your “person” so you’re maintaining good speed in which you are not out of breath.

7- Make sure you are carrying all the shopping bags.  Do not  let anyone help you and do not put the small bags into the bigger bags.  You need to see the number of bags you are carrying.  This will make  you happy.  Have you ever seen a woman with many shopping bags look sad or frustrated?  No.

bags

8- If you are going through a really tough time, go for shoes and makeup.  They don’t require you getting into the fitting room (which may be dangerous in some cases).  Regardless of the amount of weight you may have increased, your shoe size would not differ.  Makeup is symbolic of hiding your sad feelings so the more makeup you buy the more sadness you will hide.

9- When you get home, place all your bags on the floor and leave them there.  Do not open anything.  Live the moment.  Get yourself something good to drink and eat.  This snack may contain sugar but no caffeine.  You are trying to wind down.

10- Get into the shower.  Take a shower or a bath, whatever you choose.  Give yourself time to feel the water wash away the pain.  Sing in the shower, you sound good.

11- Pamper yourself.  Brush your hair, paint your nails (you could get a professional manicure in severe cases).  Focus on yourself.

12- Do something you like.  Watch a movie, a funny TV show, read a book, chat online, catch up on gossip.

13- Sleep earlier than usual.  You need to heal.

In conclusion, happiness is a choice.  Choose to be happy, choose to smile, and choose shopping therapy 101.

كربلاء الدهر

For more info about the battle of Karbala: 

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Karbala

تمر الايام وتأتي كربلاء

عاشوراء الحسين التي لا تموت

قلوبنا تغلي وتنكسر

وأصواتنا تعلو وتلبي 

وأفراحنا تندثر

والحسين يبقى مخلدا 

وكربلاء مستمرة

 فما بال قلب الحسين عليه السلام عندما رأى فلذة كبده يقطعه الأعداء إربا إربا؟ 

ما بال قلب الحسين وهو يرى ابن أخيه مهشّم الرأس؟ 

ما بال قلب الحسين يرى أخيه بلا كفين وعلى استحياء من العودة الى المخيم حيث لم يستطع احضار الماء للنساء والأطفال؟ 

ما بال قلب الحسين وهو يرى اخته زينب قبل رحيله الأخير وهو على علم بما سيجري لها بعد استشهاده؟

آه على تفطّر قلبك يا سيدي

آه على تفطّر فؤادك يا حبيبي

آه على كربلاء التي لا تنتهي أبدا

آه على قلبك يا سيدي يا صاحب الزمان وانت تذكر جدك في كل عام وتصرخ مع المعزين يا حسين، يا مظلوم… قتل جدي الحسين عطشانا

آه على تفطّر قلبك يا مهدي الأمه وانت تسمع نداء الحسين (الا من ناصر ينصرني؟) نفديك بارواحنا سيدي

آه على قلبك وانت ترى السبايا في انكسار

آه على قلبك وانت تعود برضيعك المستشهد على صدرك 

آه على قلبك وانت تتوسط جسد علي الأكبر وجسد القاسم وينفطر قلبك في كل ثانية مائة مرة

يا ليتني كنت معكم لأعي كلمة التفطّر

لأعي حجم التضحية 

لأعي حجم حبك لله عز وجل

لأعي قوة السيدة زينب وهي ترفع جثتك مستسلمة لامر الله وهي تقول “تقبل منا هذا القربان”

آه على القربان الطاهر والنجم الزاهر

آه على شيبك الخضيب

وردائك السليب

آه على الشفاه الذابلات

آه على المرمّل بالدماء

آه على غريب الغرباء وشهيد الشهداء

آه عليك يا كربلاء

سلامي إليك يا سيدي مدى الدهر

كل عام تعود كربلاء ويتجدد الالم

ويتجدد العهد

ويتفطّر قلبك
وتبقى مخلدا

السلام عليك يا سيدي يا حسين

Don’t Tell

domestic-violence1

It was an ordinary day when Eve woke up to face yet another message from her husband.  She hoped that he hadn’t come home last night for she wasn’t up to cleaning up his mess this early.  It was the first day of school for her children and the last thing she wanted to do was clean up. She just couldn’t fathom mopping another spill nor is she up to picking up another pair of socks.  She just couldn’t.

Everyone knows Eve.

Eve is a typical girl next door.  She loves music, is part of the school’s drama team, paints her nails red on Valentine’s Day, and gets along with everyone.  Eve had dreams of becoming a great lawyer and working in one of the nation’s biggest law firm but her plans got side tracked when she got pregnant with her first child.  It wasn’t the way she wanted to walk down the aisle but her best friend continuously assured her that her little baby bump was hardly noticeable.  On that day, she believed life had so much more to give and her life with Adam was just starting.

Adam and Eve couldn’t go away on their honeymoon because they had to save up for the baby.  Giving birth was an overwhelming experience and Eve was ecstatic.  Her life seemed perfect; her life with Adam seemed perfect.

Seemed.

It started one night over a silly dispute. Adam started arguing and accidentally told Eve he was tricked into marrying her.  Scheming bitch, he called her.  Manipulating whore. My life’s biggest regret. It was different and yet the same every time.  He came up with harsher abuses every time… Then he apologized every time.

Scheming, manipulative, mistake, regret, ugly, fat, stupid… The list goes on.

She fought back once when he started painting their life pitch black because she felt like he needed to understand that she was not who he says she was.  She tried to fight back, to answer, to explain her point of view and to clear her name just to get a hard slap across her face.  She looked at him stunned.  Is this really happening to me, she wondered in bewilderment.  She looked into his eyes to see whether or not her high school sweetheart felt any shame and she saw none.  He started shouting.

Scheming manipulative bitch!

And she cried.

He hunted her insecurities.  Made her question her life and every decision she ever makes.  Removed all things that made her human, started controlling who her friends were and made sure she cuts all ties with everyone who ever mattered to her.  Made sure to turn her into his own toy, his own property.

She said nothing. He slapped her and she said nothing.  I can’t get a divorce, I don’t have a job, how can I support my kids?  He will surely win custody over them and I’ll never see them again.

He kicked her, and she said nothing.  He punched her, and she said nothing.  Say what, and to who?  There was no one around and the small chores he assigned her were mostly in the house; she had to take permission to go out and had to give a full report when she came back…so she usually stayed at home. It was never worth the hassle to conceal her bruises.

Scheming manipulative bitch.

She stopped caring.  She stopped caring how she looked.  She stopped caring to cover her bruises even from her children since they already disrespect her and see the arrangement at home as ‘normal’.
She stopped wondering if there is a different life for her out there. Her reality was obstructed by what she heard and saw everyday.  Abuse. Verbal and physical abuse.

She stopped thinking for herself and took everything told to her as given truths.

She stopped questioning if she was worthy of living let alone loving.

Loving?  Oh he told her he loved her constantly. Before a beating, after a beating, and sometimes during a beating.  Why did you make me do this to you? He would say holding her tight after smacking her.  Why are you doing this to us? Why do you cause us such misery?

Scheming manipulative bitch.

Eve, the girl next door who wanted to work in one of the country’s biggest law firms took up acting instead.  On stage, she paints her nails red for Valentine’s Day, but every day red blood is a part of her attire.  On stage, her name was darling wife but backstage she remains the cause of all of the world’s problems.

Scheming manipulative bitch.

#Break the silence, stop the violence. 

Don’t Wait


Don’t wait for my obituary to tell me how you feel. Talk to me today. Love is always accepted.  #CarpeDiem #love

You never know when I will be gone. You never know when you will be gone. Speak up, what’s the worse that can happen?

Don’t write on my Facebook page what an amazing person I have been. Don’t bother speaking if I can’t hear you nor answer.

Do you understand. I will not answer.  Don’t comment when I cannot answer.

Speak up.

Tell me you love me.

As I love you.

Where Did We All Part Ways?


When parents choose schools for their children, they have in mind a specific social circle, a specific life style, and a specific group of people to be associated with. This is also kept in mind when purchasing a house or joining a country club. Being a part of a group matters, and being a part of a chosen group matters more.

Today, I came across a very very old VHS tape of an old school concert. Yes, you read it right, it was a tape and not a CD or DVD. Gladly, it was converted to a CD so we, in the 21st century, can have access to its hidden gems. A few minutes after laughing my head off, I started feeling nostalgic. All those people on the recording were a part of my life one day. You see, our school was a fairly young school back then so we knew all the students. A smile spread across my face as I saw myself dancing and trying to make sure I don’t miss a step. I saw people who I still have contact with on Facebook and people who I really wanted to know what became of them. Many different faces with many different stories: the boy who wrote me my first love letter and my cousin dancing along her once-best-friend.

Where did we all part ways?

When did this bunch of primary school students grow into teachers and engineers and racist lunatics and fanatics? How were we able to deviate so much from the group of sweet looking children dancing and smiling at our families in the crowd? How can one person grow up to be a politician whereas another be a yoga instructor? Did our parents really think this through when they enrolled us in the nursery?

When did our peaceful competition turn to hateful differences and racial discrimination? We never cared where any of us came from, when did we part ways? Where was the crossroad in our lives? I thought that graduation is the time where we would definitely part ways but I realized that we parted ways earlier. We parted ways when we started seeing the differences. We parted ways when we realized the difference in our backgrounds and starting comparing (and contrasting) ourselves. When we were all on that stage, everything was perfect, our individual differences made sense. Our makeup was done by our music teacher who loved us all individually, our hair was styled as we saw best (by we I mean our mothers), and our dresses were, honestly, gorgeous.

We were so pure and innocent, where did we give ourselves the right to judge? When did we think we were better and when did we lose sense of the dance of life? When did we all part ways?

Where did we all part ways?

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