كوني، يا سيدتي، سواد عينيّ
وكوني، يا سيدتي، نبضات قلبي
فلا عين لي ولا قلب دونكِ
ابتسمي
فأنا أرى الدنيا في وجنتيكِ
ابتسمي
وخذيني بيدي إلى قصركِ العالي
لنجلس تحت آمال النجوم
خذيني لنعيش حياتنا معاً
دون ازعاج الدنيا
دون ازعاج الناس
لنكون أنا وأنتِ لوحدنا
نرقص، ونغني، ونعيش
ابتسمي لأرى مستقبلي واضحاً
ابتسمي لأرى ضياع عمري معكِ
فلا حياة معكِ
ولا حياة دونكِ
Technology changed so many things around us and changed the way we do things. Friends used to tell us that they like what we are wearing and now they double click on our image. Mothers used to take forever to cook a meal and now a quick whiz in the microwave does wonders (I am against microwave cooking). Writing was done using a pen and paper and now kids get too bored when they write because they are just not used to it. Televisions, mobile phones, and of course, books have changed.
I recall having my mother drop me off to the Family Bookstore biweekly just to choose a book to read but nowadays, with the internet, I can browse through pages and pages of Amazon books without leaving the comfort of my home. I have realized that this is an addiction when I started classifying my wish lists into “wish list- to buy,” “wish list: work,” “wish list: children”, and finally “wish list- maybe”. For those who think they can cure me, I choose not to be cured and I am happy with the fact that I love to collect books.
Hello, my name is Bedoor and I’m a book hoarder.
Am I against change? Maybe.
Resistance to change is an issue many people undergo. Most people are more comfortable with their routine and rely on the way things were always done. So you see people who grew up with physical books are more inclined to prefer them over the electronic readers, whereas kids this age are more comfortable reading in their electronic devices.
I prefer my books. I prefer to engage all my senses in reading. I prefer to revel in touching the cover and feel the crisp pages between my fingers. I revel in the scent of the bookstore, the sound of nothingness, and the stacks and stacks of books. Book utopia.
E-readers are the new libraries without the space, shelves, and magic.
I am not saying E-readers are bad, reading is such a personal and dear matter to me I have my customs. Many tried to convince me that E-readers are better since they would “save space when traveling.” Now would they, REALLY, save space? Think of the maximum number of days you would be away on vacation. Two to three weeks? Now think of the number of books you will read. Pack them up, how heavy are they? Do you need a charger with them?
Our eyes are already staring at screens all day we need to give them a break. We need to enjoy the classic process of holding a book in our hand at the end of each day. Reading in bed with the lights within hand’s reach is such a beautiful experience the reader tends to go to sleep while still between worlds. I would rather turn the book over and contemplate the events between chapters than turn the e-reader off. Fumbling to find the bookmark between the sheets just to wake up the next morning to see that you’ve dropped the book on the floor (and the bookmark is across the room).
My books are a part of me. They are a part of my past and each book holds a special place in my heart. I recall most of the times I purchased the books and the feelings I had reading the back cover. I can spend hours just looking at the covers and reading the titles, remembering some interesting detail that I just never forgot. With E-readers, how can I do that? Will I remember how I felt buying the book on the E-store using my credit card? It’s not personal enough.
I tried both methods and I choose the contemporary book any day. I can’t deal with more electronics, they are too impersonal and aren’t reliable all the time. I would rather give my son a physical book to flip through, to use his fingers and touch the parts that are made out of cloth or fur just to have a feel of what the item is. He will eventually have the choice when he grows older but I believe the way we grew up wasn’t so bad.
What do you prefer?
She started questioning everything and everyone. Things she once thought were given truths are now unknown. Her life was hazy, she didn’t have anyone to turn to and it was one of the most difficult phases in her life.
She sighed.
She recalled her childhood: things at school were as dramatic as they would be for all students throughout the generations. Issues and fights over toys and clothes and best friends and so forth. Best friends. She went through all grades in her mind and one face kept popping up. A familiar face from her childhood. A face she once knew so well they pinkie swore they would never lose touch.
But they did. A really long time ago.
They never had a falling out, just a drifting apart. Things like this happen. Junior high is over and all of a sudden you’re not even talking to your best friend. You start hanging out in different circles and even though you live a block away, you just never meet up, never bump into each other, and never speak. As if the sleep-overs never were and the secret signals weren’t a part of your childhood.
She smiled.
I’m sure she remembers our code names.
It took her a few months to gather the courage to contact her childhood friend. She thought it would have been awkward to just give her a call. Plus, she doesn’t have her number. She remembered the kind of friendship they had and the great times they shared. It’s a good thing they’re friends on Facebook.
She sent a message, “Shortskin, this is Waldo, are you there?”
Time stopped and she was transferred back to the 80’s.
A few minutes passed. She panicked, I’m sure she’s busy with her life. What am I doing? What am I expecting from her? Beep.
“Shortskin here, what’s up Waldo?”
“Papa’s dead.”
“…I’m coming over”
It never occurred to her that her life would take so many different turns; that the dreams she once had as a young girl would remain dreams. Her reality is far from what she planned. She didn’t think that she would be staring at her day’s schedule with a tear in her eye. All she knew is that she had to take her life one day at a time and hope things would get better soon.
She walked into the hair dresser.
She thought of the choices she made. She got married and just had a child 11 months ago. Her lovely Evelyn.
“Good morning, how are you? How’s Evelyn doing?” her friend asked.
“As cute as ever,” she replied joyously.
Tug.
Her husband left as soon as he found out she was pregnant. He ran away and left her alone with his sick mother. He said he found a job that can support his family but they never got any money transferred. That was a year ago. She had to make choices. She had to be strong for her baby.
Seems like we’re in for an adventure! We’re fully booked today.
Yes. Lives go on. People get to raise their children while she’s busy working. They get to spend time with them while she spends her time dying and blow drying.
“Hello Ma’am. My name’s Jane. Please have a seat and I’ll come back with our catalog.
She couldn’t spend Christmas with her daughter because she was needed at work. She couldn’t wait to get off work today. She wanted to hear her giggle and see her smile. She smiled.
“I want to have a bit of highlights done and I want a trim. Only from the back because my son keeps pulling on my fringe.”
Evelyn never pulls on her fringe.
Tug.
“I know I should have come last month it’s just I have no-one to hold my kid. I barely get to go to work for a couple of hours and I have to be with him the rest of the day.”
Tug.
“Sometimes I tell my husband I need one night off every week to go out with my friends. I need to be around adults, to have adult conversations and stop listening to nursery rhymes all day.”
Tug.
The day’s finally over. She gets to go home and see her sweet Evelyn. Her excitement gets the best of her and she forgets to get dinner. It doesn’t matter, she’ll find something in the fridge. She unlocks the door and walks into her empty apartment. She turns on her PC and puts on her headset. Ringing. Her daughter’s image pops up on her screen “mama” she squeals. “Hi baby. I missed you today. Hi Mama, how are you? How’s Evelyn?” “Hi honey. We’re good. She’s tried to pull herself up and had a bit of a fall but she’s alright.”
Tug.
“Did you ask if you can take your leave next month?”
“Yeah my boss said she’d look into it but I explained it’ll be Evelyn’s birthday.”
“I’m sure she’ll agree. We miss you. It’s been almost a year”
“It really seems longer. Evelyn, let’s sing Itsy Bitsy Spider. The Itsy Bitsy Spider went up the water spout. Let granny show you how to do. No mama, not this way, thumb to forefinger. Yes exactly. The Itsy Bitsy Spider…….”
Tug…
Every once in a while, I get the urge to have a nice bowl of chicken and mushroom pasta. Nothing beats that. It’s not an everyday tendency and I usually watch my carb intake, it’s just something needed to help ‘soothe my soul;’ a warm, steamy, delicious, homemade chicken mushroom pasta.
Some might prefer ice cream, others might prefer cake, it all comes down to the process, the EVENT of having comfort food. The ritual.
A friend of mine usually calls me up once in a while and says, “I need to go to Maya’s chocolate” and I understand what she means. She doesn’t just want to go to pick up her fondue, she wants to leave her kids with her mom, throw all care out the window, and sit down with her bowl of chocolate fondue. And me. I’m usually no fun in this ritual since chocolate isn’t my drug but I still enjoy her company and I’m very grateful that I’m a part of it. It’s just don’t expect me to ask for a spoon to scoop out every last drop of warm chocolate; nah, I’d rather sip my tea.
Readers usually stick to one genre of books: romance, non-fiction, horror, comic, business, self help, poetry, you name it. But some readers, like me, like to try out different books. I’d read an Arabic romance then go to a Chicken Soup for the Soul, then try out a classical tragedy, and maybe a philosophical book, then back to a classic, and off to a business book, etc etc. This is what I usually do. I don’t necessarily like them all and I sometimes can’t get past the first few chapters, it’s just that I have realized that being open to different things may bring about an interesting revelation about myself. Who knew I enjoyed epic fantasy with Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time series? And who knew I would have read The Hunger Games before Jennifer Lawrence came on screen with her dress of flames (which was TOTALLY not how I imagined it to be).
You wouldn’t know if you dislike something before trying it out.
Just like food.
And just like food, I have my comfort books. My safe books: books that will always make me feel good and books that I can read and reread. Books that take me to a different place and time and give me comfort and hope. Fictional romances: my warm, steamy, delicious, taste of insomnia.
Historical protagonists come alive in my imagination and characters talk to one another in voices I can almost hear. The scents, the sights, the beauty of it all surrounds me and I am immediately transferred to another place. A place of comfort, where I know the ending will be good and there are no surprises.
My taste of insomnia.
We all fell in love with Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice because he was, in one word, a gentleman. He was a chivalrous, courteous, and honorable man. (Oxford Dictionary). Being wealthy isn’t such a bad addition to the mix.
As a teenager, I, like all other teenage girls, would be attracted to the Bad-Boy. Interestingly, teenagers of this generation are attracted to vampires but we’re not getting to that today. The guy on a motorbike, the guy who doesn’t care about rules, and the guy who would eventually break your heart.
Wake up girls, when you want to get into a serious relationship and start a family, find a Mr. Darcy. Find a gentleman who would respect you and your ideas but will be happy to open the door for you. Find someone who would help you with your chores, who would fill your car with gas and check the tires because it’s just thoughtful. Someone who would be there for you and who would be more than happy to spoil you.
I’m not saying women should stay at home and have someone do everything for them, all I’m saying is that these days women are too self-dependent. We depend on ourselves without thinking of the consequences it has on our stress levels We need help. It’s OK, we can ask for help.
Asking won’t kill us.
Most Victorian-era and honestly any-era romances shine light on the wooing part of the relationship Where the lady acts all coy and the gentleman tries his best to get her approval. This is very similar in the real world. When dating, guys would usually do everything they can to never forget your birthday and to act like gentlemen.
Now how can you distinguish between a fake and a genuine Mr. Darcy? I’m not sure. It’s just having one around would help balance the scales in your life so you can live happily.
We need more Mr. Darcys in our lives. Chivalrous, courteous, and honorable men.
For those who are interested, this article is called How to find a modern day Mr. Darcy http://www.wikihow.com/Find-a-Modern-Day-Mr.-Darcy
A shout out to all literature lovers out there.
Reading and writing have been my passion for a long time. I think it has to do with the intellectual people from my childhood. I remember sitting on the side of my aunt’s sofa while she was reading a novel asking her “when will I be able to read?” “Soon,” she said. Two years later, I started and I haven’t stopped since.
Actually, I have stopped for the past year. I was blessed with a gorgeous baby boy and, being very career oriented and having 10 years of a child-less marriage, put me in a not-too-pretty situation of being TOTALLY clueless.
Come March 2015, the year is over and my baby boy just turned one. Surprise, surprise I finally have the hang of things (I can imagine moms laughing now, well let me swim with the naive and be blessed with ignorance); I think I have the hang of things
Now I’m back to reading.
And writing.
So hello again literature lovers, hope to see you on the shelves with some published books
Bedoor Blue Moon
Bedoor Bluemoon 