Sofien’s Voyage to San Francisco

The dusty roads of Ben Arous were filled with young boys and girls playing ball. Humidity diffused the air as sweat trickled down their olive skinned foreheads.

"Sofien come inside the cous cous is getting cold, you can play football later”, beckoned his mother.

Sofien cantered as fast as he could, envisioning the melting morsels of semolina in his mouth. Alas, he arrived removing his shoes by the door and sitting crossed legged aside his younger siblings eating supper.

Sofien and his friend Muneer were in the university café drinking mint tea as they saw an ad posted on the front wall. Une fois de temps en temps la vie voyage, gagner deux billets pour l’Amerique…

“We have to find a way to raise money for that trip”, said Sofien.

Muneer lightheartedly laughed at Sofien and said, “Ya sadiqi Sofien you are majnoun! Yalla lets go to class.”

After class Sofien sauntered home slowly and contemplated the ad, determinedly he walked to the city to look for a job. Throughout the two months Sofien worked as a delivery boy in the afternoon and studied at night. With a week left until the trip Sofien and Muneer still didn’t have enough money. Sofien called his uncle in France to send him 500 francs, begged his brother for 800 dinars, and then received 1,600 Deutsche Marks from a friend in Germany.

Counting the money on the cold damp kitchen floor they were short of exactly one dinar, Sofien and Muneer began too look ubiquitously. The house muddled and cluttered, Sofien inexplicably found a dinar in his back pocket.

The week until December 23 was ceaseless perpetuity that felt to have no end. With Sufien’s bags packed, shirt neatly ironed and tucked in; his mother kissed him on his forehead as a tear seeped through her ebony colored eyes on to her cheek.

"May God be with you my dearest son”, cried Sofien’s mother: as she waved goodbye.

Rushing to find a taxi on time to get to the airport, they haggled with the taxi driver and were on their way to Tunis-Carthage International Airport. Sofien and Muneer were the last two people to board on flight 747. There weren’t any seats left in the economy class section, so they were given first class seats. The plane ride to New York was an envisagement of euphoric rapture. The first thing their eyes caught sight of was Times Square; the hotel was only about 6 or 7 blocks away.

As they arrived to the hotel, they set their luggage down in the far corner of the room and spotted 2 bottles of champagne on the bed. Sofien and Muneer both gave each other witty looks; they had an idea. They had heard partying a few doors down as they were on their way up to their hotel. So Sofien and Muneer knocked, and a man with a tie around his head and vomit on his shirt opened the door.

"Hello Mr. would you like to buy these bottles of champagne from us” cachinnated, Sofien.

"Ya… Ya … wait one minute… pal… let me get my uh… cash”, slurred the intoxicated man.

The amount of money that the man handed Sofien and Muneer was rather hefty. They both divided the money equally. Sofien bought a ticket to San Francisco while Muneer moved to the South End of Boston.

As Sufien began walking between the intersection of Haight and Ashbury, he came across a petite sized restaurant called Le Kerkennah. Sufien ordered a plate of cous cous and merguez, the food tasted distinctively familiar. As he closed his eyes, he remembered playing football outside with his friends on the dusty road of Ben Arous while his mother was calling him inside to eat lunch.

Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to ~ John Ed Pearce

I have demised to remember what I was looking for. Am I searching for something that I’m afraid to find? I thought that if I got lost, I would find myself. Nothing and everything feels like home. Where exactly do I belong? To which ism do I relate to?

Emotionless and numb. I’m tired, bent, and broken. What do I have to lose? Taking myself for granted in moments of frustration. Advantages of the innocent. Hiding from the world... Escaping in my own desperate insanity; wandering in my diminutive pandemia.

This forbidden adrenaline rush is iniquitous, but it feels so concupiscence. Guilty with pleasure. Superficial power. Getting high off an illusion.

Too numb to apprehend. How can I have a sense of right and wrong if I’m not alive anymore? How can I write about life when I’m not living a tale to tell?

Wake me up from this dream. Arouse me insightfully. Induce my unconscious emotions.

Echoing voice in the back of my head

I only wanted love
Longing aesthetics
The nature of sensation

Talks of food, الجنس ,and family: eat, love, and pray. I used to live off a prayer.

When will tonight come?

Why am I waiting?

This was an interview that I did a few months back.It was my first ever via telephone.My voice was trembling; I was quite nervous and in awe with admiration that I could barely speak.




Interview with Sharif Abdunnur

A very good friend of Al Nabad and a multi talented artist; Sharif Abdunnur is a genuine writer, director, teacher, actor, counselor, and lecturer. The soft spoken and very handsome Abdunnur told us a little about his current projects and gave us an inside scoop about his personal life.


Q: Did you have interest in fine arts as a child?

A: As a child I used to paint a lot and I won several awards for drawing. My interest in fine arts began when I was a little older.


Q: You were born in Lebanon and moved in the United States while you were younger, what made you move back to Lebanon?

A: I lived all around the world but the closest thing to home was Lebanon . Ideally I would like to go back to Palestine . But unfortunately I can only go as a tourist.


Q: What were some of the places that you traveled to while you were a child?

A: My family and I traveled all around the sates and we often went to Iraq because my father had work there.

Q: Your parents were members of the UN; did that inspire to write the play Unacceptable?

A: Not really. I think world relief organizations have failed to produce any real achievements and are not making any effective changes in the world, and their failure to make any significant changes in the world despite their billions of dollars that they have. Just like any other organization is audited I think the UN should be audited as well.


Q: On an average how often do you produce or write plays?

A: I am constantly writing and every couple weeks I write plays. But it takes a lot of time to produce plays, so not every thing I write is always made into a project that is produced.
Pain and conflict can sometimes be inspirations for writing.

Q: What do you think of theater in the Middle East?

A: It has a lot of space. Theater in the Middle East really needs to be supported by the local government. And with film it’s hard to complete with Hollywood . So the only way to preserve our true identity as Arabs is through theater.

Q: When you are acting do you ever get stage fright?

A: Yes, every single time. It’s actually a great way to loose weight.


Q: How has the war affected your work? And if it has, has it affected you positively or negatively?

A: I grew up on the front lines and have experienced war since I was a young child. War has made me realize what my main priorities are. It has been such a big factor and supplement in my life.


Q: What is it like working with Jawad al Assadi?

A: He is a good friend and a great man. He is one of the toughest directors out there because he is constantly creating and recreating. I’m currently the director of his new theater Babel . It has been very nice working with him even though he is a tough cookie.


Q: Who do you enjoy working the most with in theater?

A: I enjoy working the most with kids and teens, and especially with the children in the refugee camps. I consider my work more of a passion than just a career. It is truly a unique and wonderful feeling working with the kids.


Q: Who are some of your influences?

A: I like a lot of artists and painters but my number one inspiration and idle is my mother. I really look up to her a lot.


Q: You are a writer, director, teacher, actor, counselor, and lecturer, how are you able to manage your time?

A: The truth is my personal life is my work. Most of my work is not paid for, only the lecturing at the university. The people at my work are friends and not just colleagues.


Q: What does laughter mean to you?

A: Laughter is the ultimate escape. It can cure many things from frustration to anger and sadness. The beauty is when you laugh you can’t focus on anything else but just laughing. The whole world just fades away and you can’t feel anything but happiness.
Even if you are in the worst of situations once you start laughing you forget everything.
It’s a really magical feeling.

Q: Can you relate to any of the characters in some of the plays that you have written?

A: With anything that I write, the characters personally reflect me or are a part of my life. I couldn’t write anything that is not genuine.


Q: What achievements do you think you are most famously well known for?

A: Internationally I think it would be Laughter Under the Bombs; a book documenting the war in 2006 as well as looking at drama as a from of therapy. Also The Secret Life of a Woman and The Secret’s of Men; which addressed male and female sexuality in the Arab world and the issues and pressures that come with it.

Personally I enjoy working as a circus clown juggler. I like going to the refugee camps and performing for the children. It’s spontaneous and unplanned and brings a smile to the children’s face which brings so much joy into life.


Q: How has drama therapy helped young adults with coping with the war and dealing with stress in general?

I had the young adults work with the children. And I think it really helped them gain confidence and gave them a sense of purpose in life, because it’s a lot easier to worry about someone else than to worry about yourself. As a child I learned that you need to enjoy and live your life regardless of what is happening around you.


http://www.theatreversusoppression.com/biosharif.htm

http://weekly.ahram.org.eg/2006/808/cu2.htm

matrimonial ennui

Sitting here in my bed listening to Depeche Mode and eating toasted wheat bread, Kashkaval Cyprus cheese, and cranberries. Crumbs are all over the sheets; but its about time I put them in the wash anyways. As I was walking to my room with a plate in my hands I saw the mailman. I'm not quite sure and cant explain why; but we always seem to exchange glances.

Its already mid July and I feel that my summer has just passed me by. I've been spending alot of my time on matrimonial websites and social networks.And I'm just starting to get fed up with it all. It's too tiring and time consuming. I can't even write a decent personal :

Here is my second attempt at this website. I assume I was just wrong in my approach.There is nothing wrong with walking the path less traveled on. But I choose to suffer instead of giving in. How long can one endure? I refuse to change my values just to please the majority. But this solitary confinement I have trapped myself in; I am unable to distinguish between the norm and ersatz. I am basically looking for a companion who doesn’t necessarily have the same ideology but at least accepts mine. It’s not about finding the perfect person, its trying to see an imperfect person perfectly.

Strange love

Unusual girl

Pain heals

Peculiar feelings

Is it true that when you lose yourself in someone else you find yourself?

Free Omar Khadr

http://network.nationalpost.com/np/blogs/fullcomment/archive/2008/07/15/jonathan-kay-free-omar-khadr.aspx

let me be

What is people’s problem, literally? Why doesn’t anybody understand me? Whether I do what is right or what is wrong .It seems as if I cannot win either way. It appears as if it’s a lost cause every time. I could effortlessly take the easy way out and make a mistake, which I might possibly regret. But I’m trying to choose the lesser of the two evils. I want to try and attempt with my best effort to do what is right. But how can I be blamed for trying to do what is correct? I think it’s my right as a human being to be granted this decision of my choice. Why am I being deprived of my right; of the right to make a decision? Who are you to say who I am, or who I am not? If I do not understand myself how can you understand me? The false judgment.

And who are you to try to give me the speech of a lifetime about the birds and the bees all of a sudden? When I felt that I have been ignored almost half of my lifetime. Thinking that you can shut me up with your materialistic plugs… Well it's not about having what you want.Its about wanting what you have.Its better late than never. Well I disagree. There sometimes comes a point and time in life where it’s just a little too late and some things just don’t have the same taste. Things don’t stay the same. Almost everything is ever changing and goes through cycles of transformations and alterations. So I don’t think marriage could possibly have the same taste now, as it would later.

Let’s vent. Let’s just say what’s on our minds. Why not? Who really cares if what I’m saying makes sense or not. I’m just too fed up to care if anything is logically or politically correct. I think that I might be destined to be on my own in this world. I have to learn how to depend on myself because apparently I haven’t been given the support that I actually need, let alone want. The feeling of abandonment can become so tiring. Seriously.

I’m just so sick and tired of everything. Running away from my problem won’t solve a thing. But what happens if my problem is just irresolvable? Do I continue to dwell on something that has no solution? But there may be some sort of hidden and unconscious resolution to what is occurring. And I may not discover it till after the fact. What happens if this so called problem comes back to haunt me? Or, if it continues to expand? I have the solution.

I honestly think that I might have a fraction of the solution at least. Whether temporarily or for the long run, at least it’s a foot in the right direction. Shouldn’t I be given credit for trying to do what is right? Why do we tend to focus on the negative and pass up all that is positive? The world.

We need to focus more on our strengths than our weaknesses. I do not want to boast or brag. But I know I have potential to do so much more. I think I can make a difference in the world. Regardless of how big or small the change is. It’s something, its effort invested for the better. There are so many elements that I have not quite tapped into yet. I know I have been disregarding some very important aspects. But I necessitate for some sort of assistance that I’m not able to attain at this point of time.

They say that when you marry you complete half of your religion. Something so beautiful so grand. Why endlessly wait for such an opportunity? Why let it pass me by? I could wait. But the question is why? Everyone is different. And the world is a bunch of preferences.

Why don’t you just let me be world? Could running free somewhat help me out of this despair? Or could it just bring me in a deeper whole of misery than what I am already in? What defines right and wrong? And who are we as the creations to delineate. If God is the most merciful and compassionate why are we as humans so unmerciful and uncompassionate? If God can forgive than who are we not to forgive? We are born pure and wholesome but as we mature we seem to become more ruthless by the minute. Why does age do this to us? Some of us wise and some of us just never seem to develop. It’s true that good things come to those who wait. But how long can we endure to do nothing and expect something to happen? Is there something wrong with me? Honestly. What is my problem or predicament? Tell me ….

You know what. Just be quiet. Don’t say anything at all. Yes humankind. I’m asking for a moment of silence. Lets all take a moment of silence to just indulge in the moment. And give me my 15 minutes of fame to not make a fool of myself, but rather to just say what’s on my mind and express how I feel. It’s not a matter of who is correct and who is not, but its just stating my point and where I stand. Whether you agree with me or not, intuition can be in my posse of contemplations. And I can only take so much. But one day I might just do as I please whether it pleases others or not. I need to look out for my benefit. Selfishness and self indulgence is what you may think.

Let me be free for once in my lifetime. You can’t keep me in a throttle forever. What’s the worst that can happen? Making a mistake and then learning from it.





Let me be

recap

1. April 17, Political Prisoner's Day
2. April 20, Cannabis Day ... don't ask how I found out about that
3. April 22, Earth Day
4. April 24, Genocide Remembrance Day
5. May 8, Remembrance of Al Nakba - going to a protest on the 11th

I went to this confrence on the 25th, and might I say, I was rather impressed! Many of the things mentioned were not foreign to me, but it was nice that I could relate. I'll write some sort of article or little essay about it in depth later on.

Fed up with politics, man eats vote

NAPLES (Reuters) - Ballot stuffing took on a new meaning in Italy's parliamentary election on Sunday when a man ate his ballot paper in protest at the country's politicians.

Police in Naples said they had charged the 41-year-old businessman with destroying election materials. He said all Italian politicians and politics "are crap" and that he was protesting "against the system."

(Reporting by Laura Viggiano; Writing by Phil Stewart)

April 17th - Palestinian prisoners day

Wear black in Solidarity with Palestinian Political Prisoners- Everywhere.. - Window Into Palestine

Freud on the Arab-Israeli conflict

Vienna: 26 February 1930: Letter to the Keren Hajessod (Dr. Chaim Koffler)

Freud would not have been surprised at the continuing conflict in the Middle East. He predicted as much 70 years ago.

We can predict Freud’s response because of a letter he wrote to Dr. Chaim Koffler in 1930.

In February 1930 Freud was asked, as a distinguished Jew, to contribute to a petition condemning Arab riots of 1929, in which over a hundred Jewish settlers were killed. This was his reply:

Letter to the Keren Hajessod (Dr. Chaim Koffler)

Vienna: 26 February 1930

Dear Sir,

I cannot do as you wish. I am unable to overcome my aversion to burdening the public with my name, and even the present critical time does not seem to me to warrant it. Whoever wants to influence the masses must give them something rousing and inflammatory and my sober judgement of Zionism does not permit this. I certainly sympathise with its goals, am proud of our University in Jerusalem and am delighted with our settlement’s prosperity. But, on the other hand, I do not think that Palestine could ever become a Jewish state, nor that the Christian and Islamic worlds would ever be prepared to have their holy places under Jewish care. It would have seemed more sensible to me to establish a Jewish homeland on a less historically-burdened land. But I know that such a rational viewpoint would never have gained the enthusiasm of the masses and the financial support of the wealthy. I concede with sorrow that the baseless fanaticism of our people is in part to be blamed for the awakening of Arab distrust. I can raise no sympathy at all for the misdirected piety which transforms a piece of a Herodian wall into a national relic, thereby offending the feelings of the natives.

Now judge for yourself whether I, with such a critical point of view, am the right person to come forward as the solace of a people deluded by unjustified hope.

Your obediant servant,

Freud

source:
www.dandelionsalad.wordpress.com

a sneaky trip

A few years ago, when I was about 4 or 5,I wanted to go to the store with my father; but he said that I couldn't go.I wanted to go no matter what, even if I had to throw a fit! I wasn't going to stay at home...

While I was trying to convince my dad to let me go, the phone rang.It might have been a long distance call from one of his friends, because he was on the phone for quite a while.As he was on the phone, I began to contemplate my trip to the store.

I'm not sure how the idea came to my head, but I decided to sneak in to the car and hide.My dad's jacket was in the backseat, and I was small enough to hide under it unnoticed.As the car stopped and my dad took the keys out of the ignition,I jumped out from under the jacket.

I remember my dad being absolutely perplexed, but I was more than delighted that I got my trip to the store.

Ageh Ye Rooz by Faramarz Aslani

This is one of my favorite persian songs and I have finally found the translation of the lyrics!




If one day...

If one day you leave me
out of the blue
and go away on a trip
leaving me alone once again
I'll tell the night to stay with me
I'll tell the wind to sing until dawn
a song from my beloved's land
why are you leaving me alone?

If you forget me
and leave my embrace
I'll become a sea bird
released in the grip of the waves
I'll hush my heart to silence
I'll urge the wind to sing until dawn
a song from my beloved's land
where I won't be left alone
If one day your name
rings in my ear again
If one day your name captures me again
I'll urge my heart not to fret
so I can soothe the pain
but the pain takes over my body
so I can sing for you again

If you desire me once again
as your lover
like in the old days
when we sat until dawn
your heart ought to gain colour
and a tune again
ought to get the colour of a land
where I won't be left alone again

If you want to stay with me
come back while we're still young
and still have skin coverin my bones
Don't leave my heart alone
Let colour into my darkness
and give my night a tune
give me the colour of that land
where I won't be left alone again

Man or Animal?

Man is the reasoning animal. Such is the claim. – Mark Twain

Humans differ from other animals in terms of mental capacity and intellect. From a biological point of view, humans are classified as animals. It is a biological classification system designed to categorize organisms in groups according to their characteristics. Therefore, biologically we are members of the Anamalia Kingdom.

The definition of an animal is: any member of the kingdom Animalia, comprising multi cellular organisms that have a well-defined shape and usually limited growth, can move voluntarily, actively acquire food and digest it internally, and have sensory and nervous systems that allow them to respond rapidly to stimuli: some classification schemes also include protozoa and certain other single-celled eukaryotes that have motility and animal like nutrition modes.

In an entire niche, a variety of animals can live together pleasantly and harmoniously, but if people from different religions and nationalities were put together in one room the outcome would be chaos and possibly even death.

Humans are the only flag-wavers. Man separates himself from others by nationalism, and looks down on others from distinctive ethnic groups and races. I wonder if a monkey would laugh at a lion for being more harrier?

Humans are oblivious followers. They follow political figures, doctrines, and ideas without knowing the reason for following them. When animals follow each other in a herd or a flock, they follow each other to stay together in order to keep other members from getting lost. Humans affiliate and identify themselves with parties and assemblies to separate from one another.

Humans have so called “unalienable rights”; life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Dictators and tyrannical rulers seemingly think they have absolute power over everything and everyone, and greedily deceive citizens by making them believe that their interest’s lies in the well being of the country. Like in communism for example, where the government controls everything and the people receive very little if anything.

Humans set out on hunting excavations to shoot animals and leave them out to rot just for their amusement, while animals do their job to search for food with no intention on harming the animals, but merely to satisfy their hunger. Humans wantonly destroy what they have no use for.

Eating is a necessity for all living things, but when humans kill animals for the sake of fashion instead of provisions now that’s just a waste. Do we really need snake skin stilettos and fur coats? I mean you wouldn’t see a bear wearing leopard skin underwear or an ape wearing a dog fur purse?

Humans can never be satisfied no matter how much materials or resources they have, it’s never enough. Animals can only gather so much for their winter’s supply, but they don’t continuously accumulate until they start to plunge.

Human’s have the need to acquire more than they need just for the purpose of presentation and appearance.

If you feed and care for an animal, the animal will learn to trust you and show its affection. Yet if you feed a starving human, when he is full he will bite the hand that fed him and forget all the good that was given to him when prosperous.

Lewdness, profanity, and vulgarity, these are all attributes that humans have made. Animals are just animals, what better do they know? We are the highest and most elevated of all the creatures, yet we don’t always seem to act like so. We were granted with the gifts of reason and rationality, but sometimes are actions contradict that.

The concept of revenge is unknown to animals yet humans take revenge with the passion, and practice torture and oppression among others. Man is the one who is vindictive and malicious. He receives gratification from the pain that he causes others. If a cat plays with a mouse, the cat has the excuse that she may not know that the mouse is suffering. The cat might just scare the mouse or even eat it. The cat doesn’t torture the mouse by gouging it eyes out, tearing off its skin, or scratching it till death.

“Men are not gentle, friendly creatures wishing for love, who simply defend themselves if they are attacked, but that a powerful measure of desire for aggression has to be reckoned as part of their instinctual endowment.The result is that their neighbor is to them not only a possible helper or sexual object, but also a temptation to them to gratify their aggressiveness on him, to exploit his capacity for work without recompense, to use him sexually without his consent, to seize his possessions, to humiliate him, to cause him pain, to torture and to kill him."

-Sigmund Freud


In my opinion, human’s only superiorities are their intellect and sense of reason which is seldom used.

I'm not celebrating valentine's

The concept of valentine's day is quite idiotic, if you ask my opinion.So today is the day we love each other, and the rest of the 364 days out of the year we hate each other? Let's love each other everyday, not just on valentine's.Beware of contaminated e-cards.The love bug might be spreading around.


Prophet said: "You shall not enter Paradise so long as you do not affirm belief (in all those things which are the articles of faith), and you will not believe as long as you do not love one another. Should I not direct you to a thing which, if you do, will foster love amongst you: (i.e.) give currency to (the practice of paying salutation to one another by saying) As-Salaamu Alaykum."

early spring

As I was walking to class, I saw nature doing what it does best after the winter season. I’ve seen it before on the discovery channel or other educational programs, but I've never actually witnessed it with my own two eyes. I have to say it was pretty amazing. I would have stayed and observed for a longer time, if I wasn’t already late to class. I usually see squirrels around while I’m sitting on that bench near the library after school. But the other day they were getting rather promiscuous.

sticks of wonder

The believing we do something when we do nothing is the first illusion of tobacco. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

When smoking comes to my mind I think of the famous bourgeoisie actor Audrey Hepburn, and how classy she looks puffing her lengthy cigarette. In my mind I always contradicted my father when he said women especially, should not be smoking.

The box of Marlboro lights were sitting on the kitchen table with a bright crimson lighter beside it. Someone had apparently forgotten their carton of cigarettes on the table. I took no notice of the carton but on the second day my eyes were laid on the carton and wondered why anyone hadn’t taken them.

I opened the carton to find one single cigarette left inside. I pondered whether or not I should do it, because there was only one cigarette left. It was too obvious. If the carton was full then it wouldn’t be as noticeable. I walked back and fourth contemplating what would happen if I smoked the cigarette. It was too enticing… I was home alone, there was only one left, it looked so perfect so precise, and flavorful.

My temptation was greater than my conformity. I opened the box of Marlboro and went outside in the backyard and attempted to smoke my first cigarette. I couldn’t believe that I had actually done it. I didn’t have a clue how to light the cigarette and I definitely didn’t know how to hold it. I was struggling with the cigarette the whole time, but I somehow managed to smoke the entire thing. After I was finished I wasn’t sure whether I had actually accomplished something or whether I had just made a big mistake.

I went back into the house and opened the windows, sprayed air freshener everywhere, took a shower, brushed my teeth, and splashed some perfume on; hoping to hide the evidence.

My father came home from work that night, got the mail, and sat at the kitchen table.

“Where is the carton of cigarettes?”
“Oh uh I threw them away there was nothing inside.”
“What do you mean you threw them away? There was still one left. Did you smoke? “
“And why are the windows open you’re usually so cold.”

There was a moment of silence between us and then I replied with a remorseful yes.

It was too obvious and if I lied I would be making a fool out of myself. The carton of cigarettes where gone and the windows were wide open. I didn’t think anyone was going to notice the missing carton of cigarettes, because they were sitting on the table for such a long time. I was being overly cautious when I opened the windows since I smoked the cigarette outside.

I felt a cloud of guilt flouting over my head as I was chewing gum to rid of the atrocious after taste left in my mouth. I was deceived; it looked so good yet tasted so bad. My father didn’t scold or punish me, although I was kind of expecting him to. He just said that he hoped I would never do it again. It was my first cigarette and I’m anticipating for it to be the last.

We all know and have been told numerous times about the hazardous affects of smoking, but do we really know what are inside these sticks of wonder? There must be more than just tobacco in a cigarette for it to cause all of these fatal and deadly cancerous diseases.

There are about 599 other ingredients in cigarettes other than tobacco. Here are just a few of the many ingredients:

Acetone: Fingernail polish removal
Ammonia: Floor/toilet cleaner
Angelica root extract: Known to cause cancer in animals
Arsenic: Used in rat poisons
Butane: Gas: Used in lighter fluid
Carbon monoxide: Poisonous gas/car exhaust fumes
Cadmium: Used in batteries and paint
Chloroform: Anesthetic
Cyanide: Deadly poison
DDT: A banned insecticide
Ethyl Furoate: Causes liver damage in animals
Hydrogen Cyanide: Gas chamber poison
Hexamine: Barbeque lighter
Lead: Poisonous in high doses
Formaldehyde: Used to preserve dead specimens
Methanol: Rocket fuel
Methoprene: Insecticide
Methyl isocyanate: Its accidental release killed 2000 people in Bhopal, India in 1984
Naphthalene: Ingredient in mothballs
Nicotine: insecticide/ addictive drug
Nitrobenzene: Gasoline additive
Nitrous Oxide Phenols: Disinfectant
Polonium: Cancer-causing radioactive element
Stearic Acid: Candle wax
Tar: Substance used to pave roads and driveways.

a special day

Today out of all of the days.... is possibly a special day; or not. I could rant and rave and curse out my so called phone plan for sending me a bill for $120.But why? Very few people remembered this day and I assume that I could care less.Today is going to be the day that I reflect on all of the accomplishments and achievements that I have made in my peculiar yet interesting lifetime.I don't want to boast but Im glad that I have found a motif in my derlirious and bizzare adolescent years.

Here is to me and to Al Nabad

http://www.anmag.org/issues/16/04/160405.php

http://www.anmag.org/issues/17/04/170408.php

http://www.anmag.org/issues/18/04/180404.php

http://www.anmag.org/issues/19/04/190404.php

http://www.anmag.org/issues/20/04/200405.php

http://www.anmag.org/issues/22/04/220406.php

so it seems...

"For the great majority of mankind are satisfied with appearances, as though they were realities, and are often more influenced by the things that seem than by those that are." -Niccolo Machiavelli




laying in my bed

head spinning full of confusion

dazed by my mental and emotional state

not able to concentrate

I used to know of something called fate

it's never too late

taking everything for granted

I'm still bemused at being used

starting to lose my fuse

unable to choose

looking for a purpose

it was never too good to be true

so delusional

Confined... is this a prison ?

distorted

chained

free will

looking right through everything

taking second glances all around

have I lost myself?

I know my destination

my aspiration

withdraw

nothing left

it's all gone

secrets

what oracle has made me so bizarre?

yearning for

sentiment,tenderness,enchantment,devotion

thoughts lingering in my head

its all I've ever wanted

we collapse

intact once again

patiently anticipating

I might have changed

so it seems ....

trying to get out of bed

open my window once again

contemplations make me cringe

I didn't know

young...youth

deceived

memories of my childhood

what does the future behold?

a sense of belonging

look deep inside

I only wanted to find myself

so it seems....

the truth

path of righteousness

purity

light a candle

say a prayer

seeking refuge

asking forgivness

the cycle

so it seems....

Tribute to ex blogger

A tribute to an ex blogger named jij.This is one of my favorite writings of his.He is truly missed and we wish that he will soon return to the blogging scene once again.

I love coffee shops. Not the poisonous mushroom kind of coffee shop (that’s Starbucks, by the way), but the small, private-ownership, idiosyncratic coffee shop.

College towns are full of such coffee shops, each with its own atmosphere and its colorful patrons. Here, in Blacksburg, there are four such coffee shops I know of. The nearest to my house is the Easy Chair coffee shop. Every time I feel suffocated from working in my room (which is practically everyday in all honesty), I grab my laptop and my notes, take whatever book I happen to be reading, and go to Easy Chair.

This is basically how I spent last summer. I wake up, I eventually get bored, and so I take a book and go to Easy Chair. The place had some couches and easy chairs (hence the name) lying around. My favorite was a black lazy boy (you know what I mean, the comfy one that comes with something to rest your feet on). I spent hours on that chair. Delightful times. I must have read 20 books on that chair.

Now, two weeks ago, I go to Easy Chair, buy my usual medium black coffee (no sugar, no cream, no milk; they get in the way of the coffee) and go towards the couch area. The lazy boy is gone. All the couches are gone. What the hell happened, I ask the girl behind the counter? Oh, we had to get rid of them, because we needed more space for study tables, she said. What? You need more space? It’s called Easy Chair coffee shop, for god sake. Where are the easy chairs? How could you do this to me? The easy chair is gone, donated to some church.

I’m still aggravated by this incident. Easy Chair is not comfortable any more. I’m like an abandoned orphan. I hate those fucking wooden chairs. They break my back. And the table is too small for my legs. And the lighting system is all off. You either turn on that little light on your table, and it gets to 100 degrees in five minutes, and you start sweating like it’s the desert, or you try to read in utter obscurity, and ruin what remains of your eye-sight in the process. A lose-lose situation.

Maybe I’ll stop going to Easy Chair. Those profit-driven whores. Maybe I’ll start taking the bus to Bollos, or the gay people place, as my homophobic friend puts it. They don’t have couches either, but they never had couches, so I let it slide. The death-of-coffee place (i.e. Starbucks) has a branch just five minutes from where I live, but I refuse to go there. I’m not that desperate. Not yet.

Speaking of coffee shops, I was in Beirut in July, and I decided I wanted to go read a book in a coffee shop, just like I do in Blacksburg. Now, the problem with Beirut coffee shops is that there really aren’t any. There used to be one in Hamra Street, but it closed down a couple of years ago.

There’s the Wimpy, but it’s really a restaurant, not a coffee shop. I wasn’t going to sit there and smell the burgers, no way. I attempted to go to that new happening place, De Prague but it’s just too crowded all day long, even in the morning. There’s a Starbucks, but I there was no way I was going there. There are a few super-traditional, Abou-El- Abed type coffee shops lying around, but they’re not made for reading. In fact, I don’t think books are allowed in those places.

The only remaining possibility was to go to one of those sea-side large coffee shops (Rawda, Shatila, etc). I was afraid that the place would be packed with loud kids playing on their bikes, but I went anyway. It was about 4:00 PM. I chose the seediest, most abandoned-looking coffee shop of the lot. I don’t think it even has a name. It was practically empty. In one corner, there was some kind of middle age poet/writer/intellectual newspapers (the messy long hair gave it away) sitting behind a small hill of. In another corner, a guy and a girl, all smiles, engaging in what appears to be the early stages of courtship (the quiet stages).

In the background, an abandoned restroom. Further back, a guy with a huge moustache sleeping on what looked like a late-nineteenth-century couch. To the right, two waiters (white shirt, black pants) playing cards and cursing each other in the shade. To the left, the Mediterranean. Absolutely amazing stuff, I thought. I wish I brought my camera. I felt like a tourist in my own city.

So I sat down on the most isolated table in the place. I could see the beach from there (The Military Beach, on Manara). Some kids splashing in the pool, an obese fifty year old man not-so-discretely eying a twenty year old girl in a bikini, five teenage boys screaming and gesticulating around a teenage girl, competing for her attention… A few garbage bags floating in the sea, two or three ships further away, and then only blue sky. The monotonous sound of the waves, splashing on the rocks. Life can be so fucking violently beautiful sometimes. I didn’t open the book that afternoon. I had tea, not coffee.