Villages of Time

Survival

2007-09-30T07:16:00.001-07:00

Staying alive.

2007-08-13T08:43:00.000-07:00

Let me clarify that "I am back" meant that i am back on Villages of Time. I missed writing but I didn't have time for it. Now I feel more organized and in control. Things are moving at a very comfortable pace and I feel a connection. A bird's view would have been more preferable, but beggars can't be choosers, right?

2007-08-10T03:49:00.000-07:00

And so....I'm back! From outer space!

"Crying Shame"

2007-06-23T01:59:00.000-07:00

By Jack Johnson, but it says outloud what my inexperienced pen can't write.

It's such a tired game
Will it ever stop
How will this all play out
Out of sight, out of mind

By now we should know
How to communicate instead of coming to blows
We're on a roll
And there ain't no stopping us now
We're burning under control
Isn't it strange how
We're all burning under the same sun
By now we say it's a war for peace
It's the same old game
But do we really want to play?
We could close our eyes it's still there
We could say it's us against them
We can try but nobody wins
Gravity has got a hold on us all
We try to put it out
But it's a growing flame
Using fear as fuel
Burning down our name
And it wont take too long
Cause words are burning same
And who we gunna blame now?

"each gate will open another"

2007-06-10T04:25:00.000-07:00

it is sunday, a very sunny sunday. it has become a form of torture to walk the streets of beirut on sunday. it is almost impossible to get to where you're going without having elevated blood pressure, the ulcers and the cringe...why can't people stay away, or keep their mouths shut or just mind their own business? i hate to say this, but any other city in the world sounds like a haven to me now. i want to get on a bird's back and go away, get a top view of the world and remain there silent and speechless.

"l'amour ne dure pas toujours"
what do you think?

distance

2007-05-25T10:42:00.000-07:00

eh alors?

hold me close to your heart

2007-05-25T10:37:00.001-07:00

moving in

2007-05-25T10:26:00.000-07:00

i think it's a conspiracy, even the weather's gloomy, it's grey and ready to explode. i thought that chopping off people's heads was something that we read in shakespearean novels and old engilsh william wallace books...what do you call such a person? someone who can hold a head of another human by the hair and cut off his head? is he a person to start with? i played all sorts of music to get out of this yellowish mood, i tried yoga and working on some leftover work from school...nothing...i looked at old photos, tried to relaugh at any old thought or memory...nothing...stealing someone's daily life is not a daily thing...you don't find it in simply any city around the world...going to the supermarket is a risk-taking "meshwar" in beirut...

ya ahla w sahla bi bayrout

color me badd

2007-05-09T09:14:00.000-07:00

last saturday was an adventure. a useless one. i spent the whole day on the streets in a car with a friend of mine. we laughed about everything and nothing, almost had a monster work with colors on our hands and feet, had thai food and then at the end of the night, we had to wait for my cousin who was catching a "van" from the south. what a day!

my friend can make you laugh at any time of the day. you laugh at her laughing more than at what she's trying to say. she's a big bubble. she is looking for mr. right and only runs into misters wrong!

"you stare at me with an empty gaze
you turn your back on me and you search for more"

"how many roads..."

2007-04-21T01:37:00.000-07:00

utensils of a wicked mind

2007-04-15T10:10:00.000-07:00

what a hectic day. i just found a little bit of time for myself. i feel like a messy kitchen. so many things to wash and put away! i have a lot of ideas in my head, mainly provoked by music. most of the music that i am listening to these days are of european origin. most of them i understand, the rest they're simply healing instruments. instruments that say something without even trying, instruments that advise us without expecting anything in return. instruments that calculate for you your moods and your mood swings. instruments that paint your life with shadows, unreal but vibrant. a whole bunch of utensils to use.

the kitchen really needs some healing too.

hairy recollections

2007-04-14T00:28:00.000-07:00

i had a very funny dream last night. i dreamt that i was at the hairdresser's with my sister, she wanted to dye her hair. it was around 8 p.m., time for the hairdresser to close. so since we were his last clients, his wife made us all coffee and invited us to stay at the salon for a short while. we all sat on the couches that he had lying around the fairly sized room, and we chatted. at some point i got up to go look through an old shoe box that had caught my attention when we first came in. i rummaged through it and found a ring that i had a lost a while ago, and i also found letters from my best friend that i had also lost a while ago, and a few random papers from my last years at SCHOOL! we're talking papers that date back to 1997!!
i don't know how to explain my dream, or maybe i do. last night i talked about my best friend with another best friend of mine and i was eying my own ring trying to decide if i like it or not. but is our unconscious this silly? what is "it" trying to tell me?

my dreams are more real than my reality.

doppio

2007-04-14T00:21:00.001-07:00

(pic not taken by me)

i feel that i have my own body but you are my soul

i just can't get back

2007-04-13T15:02:00.000-07:00

a simple phone conversation, a simple "i love you", a gentle voice at the end of the day, a sweet
meal, a blank look, a blank book, a new promise, a new dawn...i look around me and everything is too narrow, there isn't any room for me to exist and expand, my friends are shrinking too, no more space to mingle, and my legitimate circle is closing in. is it the effect of war? my social life? me? my messy schedule? i want to be able to stretch my arms and see the sky, feel the space and enjoy the noise again.

just dance. just sway. just move. just be.

Taurus

2007-03-09T01:57:00.000-08:00

Where do they get their voices from? I wish I had a nice voice to sing and take you away on a trip. I want to spread my arms and watch them grow into wings, I want to reach out to you and find you there, I want to speak out and surprise myself, I want to wiggle my fingers and produce piano sounds...a million sounds in your mind, a million voices in my head.

Try out:
Katie Melua

healthy pyramids

2007-03-01T07:50:00.000-08:00

When I teach the present simple tense to grade 6 students, I ask them to give me examples of their every day life. They give me the classical examples: I wake up at 7 am, I have breakfast at home, I go to the movies in the weekend....stuff like that. When it's my turn to give them examples of my own daily life, I disappoint myself. My examples are even more mundane. Then, I force myself to think of the more special moments in my days, and this is what I finally realized. I realized that in every bus ride, or taxi ride, every time I'm having breakfast, every time I am enjoying my cup of caffe latte, every time I have the time to write down my to-do-list, every time I enter a classroom and every time I am not talking, an event takes place. On my way to school I look at everything that my eyes go past, I look at old buildings and wonder if they belong to my country more than I do, at kids waiting for their school buses, I try to observe how morning drivers drive, I stick my head outside the window to smell the aroma of croissants being cooked, I try to keep track of the faces of people that I see every day and I also enjoy the only moments of peace that I have before my long and noisy day begins.

Early morning hours are the richest and most fulfilling hours of the day.

My 'pen' has gone dry. I try to write what is going on in my head, I try to find the right words for the right emotions, but I fail. There is so much going on inside my head, inside my heart and just behind my eyes. Most of the times though I feel numb. I don't feel emotionless, but I feel blank. I remember things, but they invoke no feelings in me. I remember faces, but they somehow don't stand out, but the only thing that is always vivid is my memory of scents. Clean, personal scents come with a feeling of warmth.

(Is it wrong to get attached to food?)

photos on display

2006-12-16T07:45:00.000-08:00

If we can laugh, our heart-aches disappear!
Our minds become freed off tensions and stress;
If we make others laugh, they lose their fear,
And become dear, starting to us caress.
Dr John Celes

a dream come true

2006-12-15T04:12:00.000-08:00

my cousin, with whom i am very close friends, has recently had a baby boy. she has always dreamed of being a mother, and feared not being able to conceive. 2 years into her happy marriage, she finally had her dream completed.

mabrouk ya a7la mama!

i miss you so and can't wait till i see the little angel.

"banana pancakes"

2006-12-15T02:45:00.000-08:00

now that i have hurt my knee and i have to keep it propped up in order to easy away the pain, i have time to write whatever on my blog.

i finally decided to join a gym. i am known to hate gyms, i can't stand the idea of spending time on a machine that doesn't move or take you anyplace. but i was motivated by my 'untoned' figure and the fact that the gym is very close to my house (i just have to cross the street the walk a little bit to get to it). i became a member on a friday, and the next thursday, at around 6.30 p.m, i was taken to the hospital. i hurt my knee while doing some moves in an aerobics class. athough i hate going to a gym, but i love sports. i walk a lot, LOVE to cycle on a real moving bicycle. i also in-line skate and swim when i have the chance. i would love to have the opportunity to be able to take up a sport professionally. anyway, not to digress too much, at the hospital, the doctor decided that what my knee went through was a sprain and i had to rest my leg and take the medication prescribed: anti-inflammatory pills. now more than a week into the injury, i'm still stuck at home, knee propped up and free time on my hands. i haven't gone to work for a week. somehow, somewhere in my brain, i feel guilty for skipping so many classes at school and i feel terribly sorry for the teachers who have to replace me.

how am i spending my time?
i have gone back to a novel i started reading a year ago and stopped having time for. it is called IN THE EYE OF THE SUN by AHDAF SOUEIF, an egyptian writer. i like the novel because of the rich background that it has, and because of the character of the main character, asia. asia ( pronounced: as-ya) is an egyptian girl who is not so egyptian, yet not so english. it is difficut to summarize what i have read in the book, as the book is 790 pages.

i am also using the internet more often. i have sent emails to people that i have recently unwillingly ignored, and i am actually reading the forwards that i usually delete before reading.

oh and on the day that i injured my knee, my cousin gave birth to a baby boy. so i am using my free time now to talk with her about her new baby and to look at his photos.

one drawback, though, for being stuck at home is the december sun outside that i'm missing and the fact that i have to buy gifts! i can't even ask my sisters to do it for me, because the gifts are for them!

now that you've read my most recent post, click on the link to the novel above and read it. it's quite interesting.

p.s: banana pancakes can only be part of the kind of breakfast that is brought to one's bed.

ya hala bi hala

2006-10-30T03:30:00.000-08:00

hi hala,
i'm not sure if you're still visiting my blog, but i just came across a message from you. i think i know who you are. i've heard that you're a sweet person, and your name has been mentioned in my presence. we haven't seen each other. we don't live in the same country, right?

next time you visit here, i would like to meet you.
take care :)

mere tears?

2006-10-30T03:23:00.000-08:00

a few nights ago, i was feeling very down. all sorts of negative feelings took over me and i ended up crying all night. i woke up the next day with puffy eyes and a lopsided headache. i don't mind unloading through crying. i only stop when i've dried up inside. the next morning, my sisters and i woke up to the sounds of gushing boiling water. our rooms were flooded with water. our feet got burnt and our vision was clouded with steam. we tried fixing everything up before it was time for my mom to come back. it was very strange as there was no way to drain the water and no way out for the water.
i have flooded my house with my own tears without me knowing. i never knew i cried gushing waters.

2006-10-13T04:30:00.000-07:00

sitting here leaning on the door
i feel closer to its wood than to any person around me
they all come and go
they walk past me like sliding doors
meaningless
mechanical
inside i'm happy, outside too
but what is that looming cloud?
it's a battle, a reddish blue war
the cold marble floor beneath me
is nothing but a platform that
keeps me balanced and still
i feel my head going round in circles
with feelings of different origins
pulling me into different directions
swinging me from tree to tree
loving, hurting, wanting, hiding
can you feel it?
does it vibrate?
or is it just me shaking?

i cling to you, i hold you to feel
what you are
you're all sorts of colors to me
you're red and blue
you're yellow and green
you're black and white
you're fiery and serene
you're bored and fresh
you're sad and happy

you're my rainbow
always the bright side of it
reminding me that there's me, there's you and there's us

wet tissues, black mascara
i have become one with my tears
they glide down my face so slowly
hating to part with it
i hold them back
i press
they win
but i'm happy
i like the way they caress my cheeks
the way they find their own way away from my lips
the way they dry up my lids
and leave me with blurred vision
i don't want to see what is out there
i don't want to see the fear
to know where it is
and watch it eat my senses
can you feel it?
does it vibrate?
or is it just me shaking?

i call it different names and it still haunts me
tossing and turning, hugging the chilled air
it escapes me, only to find me
at the door of my dreams
waiting there like a straight guard
happy to guard
sad to part
it seeps into me undisguised
i hate its confidence
i hate its potence
the bright light wakes me up
pulls me back
tugs at my eyelids
and showers me with pain
it's there, in front of my eyes, i see it
maybe i haunt it too
i can feel it
it vibrates
we shake together.

thank you

2006-09-27T01:59:00.000-07:00

thank you ghada for indirectly motivating me to write. ghada always asks me why i don't often write in my blog. i blamed it on time and inspiration. last evening, i didn't want to disappoint ghada, so i opened a new post and allowed my 'pen' to flow. it turned out that you never forget 'how' to write. just like riding a bike :)

the bearer of the mute

2006-09-26T09:52:00.000-07:00

one yellow afternoon, milan and his girlfriend, sala, were walking in the meadows when a huge sunflower appeared in front of them. impulsively, sala rushed over and bent down to pick it up. she tried pulling it, but it wouldn't come out. she tried again and again, but the obstinate flower didn't move an inch. milan was afraid to touch it. he grabbed sala by her arm and he headed back home.
that night, milan woke up at around midnight to the sound of heavy breathing. his heart beat fast inside his chest. since he sleeps alone in the room, he was scared to look outside his window or behind his bedroom door. curiosity won over. he rolled up the curtains and what he saw in front of his eyes drained the color from his face. the obstinate flower was right outside his window looking him in the eye. flowers don't have eyes, milan thought to himself, but he could swear on his mother's life that he saw eyes on the sunflower's head. and they weren't just any eyes. they were the eyes of pralin.
pralin is the 60-year-old concierge who helps milan's grandfather in his garden that hosts more than ten kinds of flowers. around 3 years ago, milan and his family used to live at his grandfather's house. pralin would keep any candy he was offered and save them just for milan. milan grew attached to prailn and regarded him sometimes as his 'really old brother.' but what used to bother milan a lot was the fact that sala was afraid of pralin. his eyes used to frighten her. she used to say that they spoke of ghosts and silent people. and for that reason she never had any of the candy that he gave milan. when milan's family first moved to where they live now, milan wasn't able to sleep well because he missed pralin and his grandfather. he missed walking around his grandfather's garden and caressing the wild and sweet flowers. he missed passing his hand over their heads and feel them sway with his touch.
milan didn't know what to make of the strange sunflower 'standing' at his window. he covered his eyes with his pillow, but the heavy breathing wouldn't stop. he wanted to cry but he knew that only a girl cries at the age of 17. when sala cries, milan hugs her, but he doesn't cry with her. it makes him sad to see her cry. but if he cries now, who will hug him? sala hugs him when they miss each other. but what he was feeling now was more intense than missing sala. he was feeling a mixture of nostalgia, fear and awe. he wanted the sunflower to fall dead, but he was also comforted by its presence. he was comforted by the fact that it was looking at him, yet not harrassing him. he slowly closed the curtains and tried unsuccessfully to go back to sleep.
every night after that night, the sunflower visited milan. he knew it was there from the human sound that it made. some nights milan wouldn't wake up and look at it. but he'd stay awake until it went away. he got used to its regular appearance and so did it.
milan didn't tell sala of his encounter with the sunflower, and they never 'met' it again.
several months later, milan heard of the death of pralin. he was very sad and started having trouble sleeping. the sunflower stopped visiting him and milan grew worried. he told sala of what had been taking place for the past few months, but she didn't believe him. he couldn't tell his parents because they would also think that he was dreaming, sleepwalking or hallucinating.
by the time that milan became 20 years old, he had forgotten about the sunflower, and sala and her family had moved away to another town. milan was now going to college and made new friends. he didn't dare tell any of his friends about his sunflower, but for a reason, he knew that one day it will come visit him again.
milan had quite a quiet life. he got married at the age of 30 and raised a gentle family. milan had studied agriculture and so worked long hours in the fields. he ploughed, measured, planted and studied nature. one day in summer time, when he was in his early fifties, he was working ordinarily in the field. in the middle of the day, he got very tired and wasn't able to stand upright. he struggled to get on his feet, but tumbled down before he could reach his home.
his funeral was small and familiar. only his direct family members were present. but a very special friend appeared on his tombstone after a long long absence. it came as tall as milan had known it, but with a silence that muted the children of the town. not one child was able to make a sound after that day. they all fell silent. they weren't able to shout for help, yelp with joy or cry when in pain. babies were born without a cry. childen played without a sound and many of them went missing as they weren't able to even gasp with fear. the whole town associated their children's oral paralysis with milan's death. milan was to be remembered as the "bearer of the mute."

it's always good to know

2006-09-11T14:27:00.000-07:00

i know that no one visits my blog. i know that no one knows it exists, except for the very few close friends. i know that i told them about it. if someone, other than those who know me personally, happens to come across this blog, post me a nice comment :) won't hurt no one

quietude

2006-09-11T14:12:00.000-07:00

if you're studying or reading a book and want some soothing and jolly background music, try the following artists:

badly drawn boy
bright eyes
belle and sebastian
king of convenience
jack johnson

lonely planet

2006-09-11T14:03:00.000-07:00

let's move in together

2006-09-03T06:22:00.000-07:00

last week a mouse lived with my friend's family for 5 days. a rat lived in their neighbor's house for a few days. several cockroaches stayed in my grandfather's closet for 10 days.

how do you treat unwelcome visitors/guests?

1) pretend they're not there
2) acknowledge that they're there but pretend you're ok with it
3) if you can't beat them, join them

silence is gold

2006-08-21T07:14:00.000-07:00

Nathalie, a student of mine, once asked me if i loved my parents. i answered her with a question of mine, whether she loved hers. she answered me in turn with a question too. she asked: "can you believe that there are parents who tell their daughter that they didn't want her and tried to get rid fo her?" she believes that life had no meaning, and that she was waiting to die. she has turned to religion to help her, to listen to her and give her some kind of 'hope'. she takes care of her ill grandmother, who doesn't have it in her to be grateful to 13-year-old Nathalie. she also adores her baby cousin and visits her every day. i think she likes 'to be' her mother. Nathalie is a very bright and intelligent student. she ranks second in her class. she is hardworking, helpful and mature. her piercing blue eyes that speak of nothing but depth and curiosity. she likes to tell jokes and has an outstanding memory.

if a parent happens to be reading this specific entry, please take it easy on your Nathalies.

no bambino

2006-08-17T03:25:00.000-07:00

my cousin and her husband, who only wed last september, had it planned to start 'working on a baby' this month. but of course things changed. she said "no bambino until further notice." it saddened me so much, not to know that they have postponed becoming a family, but the fact that living in this country isn't secure enough to start any kind of life. some people are questioning whether they should still go along with their plans to get married.

why marry?

is life this grim?

2006-08-13T13:09:00.000-07:00

the following tombstone inscription was seen in Ashland, New Hampshire:
"I TOLD YOU I WAS SICK!"

"Mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness, the other to extinction. Let us pray we choose correctly." - Woody Allen

""That's the remarkable thing about life. No matter how bad it gets it can always get worse." -Calvin

"The more things change, the more they suck." - Butthead

a lebanese joke

2006-08-13T13:02:00.000-07:00

3asabi fata7 mat3am, katab yafta: yelli bi 7ebb yetfaddal yetsammam, wyelli
ma beddo nshalla 3emro ma yeikol, wyelli 3amel regime la tizi ma yeikol, w
yelli bye2raf men akelna yen2eber yeikol b beyto, w yel3an abouyi iza ma
kassart el mat3am ya kleib

know thyself

2006-08-11T05:44:00.000-07:00

have you ever been diagnosed, whether seriously or jokefully, with "survivor guilt?"

The New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, Third Edition (2002) defines it as: A deep sense of guilt, combined often with feelings of numbness and loss of interest in life, felt by those who have survived some catastrophe.

learn more

"Judge others by their questions rather than by their answers."

2006-08-10T14:01:00.000-07:00

a- Voltaire
b- Albert Camus
c- Oscar Wilde

interested in quotes?

incognito

2006-08-10T14:00:00.000-07:00

i hate running into friends of ex-boyfriends/"boyfriends." i have nothing to say to them.

what is your newest obsession? anagrams, per chance?!

nuit bleue

2006-08-10T13:57:00.000-07:00

last night, as i was struggling to fall asleep, i had a million ideas in my head for a new post on my blog. now i can't remember one of them. why is it that we get the brightest ideas and make the strangest (and sometimes most beautiful) decisions when we are in bed at night with no pen and paper within reach, or anyone of our friends awake for us to talk it over with?
i know someone who decided to camp alone on the beach and spend the night there. the next day he drove his motorcycle to work and spent 9 hours researching and writing. changing where we sleep every now and then increases our productivity level and eases our worried minds. it also gives our guests more privacy at our own houses.
cheers, beach-camper :)

natural habitat

2006-08-10T13:53:00.000-07:00

I decided to start a blog after my boyfriend pictured it to me as the easiest thing to do. Lately, he has been indirectly encouraging me to write, believing that, somehow, I have what it takes to start off. I have always believed that my talent (if everyone's got to have one) would be writing and understanding people. But I think that I have lost my muse along the years. I am the kind of person who can easily get demotivated. But now, since I have loads of free time (my country's in a state of war), I have chosen to go down that "road" again. However, as you have realised, I have not chosen a subject or theme for my blog, but I am very sure that it will NOT be about the war or politics.