Google Translate Unblocked in Bahrain

I don't know if it was a coincidence, but I sent the below email as my first step to unblock google translate in Bahrain. And then I come back on the 28th of December to find it unblocked.. I thought it would be harder than this.. I was planning petitions and advertising campaign.. But then again it could be only a coincidence.. What's important is that it's unblocked :)

to webmaster@info.gov.bh
date Dec 12, 2009 1:45 AM
subject Inquiry!!
mailed-by gmail.com

Dear Sirs,

I would like to inquire about the rules and regulations of the Kingdom of Bahrain that require the blocking of the site Google.Translate. I would like to understand the legal violations that this valuable tool present for it to be blocked by your respected Ministry.

I would really appreciate your clarification and your cooperation.

Best Regards,

Rawaa Kalassina
Resident in Bahrain


The other side of the mirror and google translate..

Yeah Yeah I said good night one hour ago.. but I'm still here.. This new medicine is making my head spin at the moment, but I have just missed writing so much.. Plus, I have a lot of things to say.

A loyal reader of my blog, one who believes i'm very sad because of how I write, have recently advised to talk about the city I live in. The things I see, things that are not as dark as what I describe, not as lost as they are. I appreciated the advice, and yes, I have thought about it.. I even took some pictures of things I wanted to comment about.. But, and it's a big BUT actually, it's just not me. I'm not a sad person either, for those who think that i'm someone in a constant depression I really am not. Of course I live ups and downs, but in general I was always content with my life, and most recently I became really happy with the way things are going, despite my constant nagging about my stay in Bahrain.

Well, if you were in bahrain with the type of salary I have, and the lifestyle I have, and the "entourage", you would complain too. However, tonight, I decided to do something good for Bahrain, before leaving it, sooner or later. I decided to petition for the unblocking of google translate! or at least a redirection to another online translator that the Ministry of Information would judge compliant with the laws and rules of the Kingdom of Bahrain. Not that I ever understood what's the problem with google translate! And I decided to complain also about the request form for unblocking sites that doesn't work. You click on a site, you get the message "this site is blocked as it does not comply with the rules and regulations of the Kingdom of Bahrain", then a small button saying "If you feel that this site should be unblocked please click here". You click, you get a form, you write your heart out justifying why this site is completely ethical, you click submit, then you get a message "sorry this service is not available at the moment, please try again later". After 7 months of trying, I came to a logical conclusion that it just doesn't work. So maybe someone should care and fix it.

Since the idea just started an hour ago, the plan is not really clear. Yet! But, I will petition the unblocking of Google Translate!

As for the flow of this blog.. cannot say it will remain dark, nor it will become cheerful. It was always a mix of ups and downs, but the downs better expressed.. It's just the way it is, and it's not about me, nor about you, it's just about a world, where some things are more highlighted than others. Where some things like to come to light, and others prefer to stay hidden.

"Build it and they will come".. And so this is what this is, a world where some people can feel completely normal to be lost and confused, to be sad for no reason, and to rejoice when they mourn.. Where they can see that someone has been there, someone is there, and someone is not.. The other side of the mirror, with their true selves, and my petition to get Google Translate back!



There are days when you're just not in the mood to be happy, not in the mood to act alive.. Even when you have every reason in the world to rejoice..
Your common sense tells you you're abnormal, but you couldn't care less.. All you have in mind is this grey shade you're longing to indulge yourself in..
All you have in mind is this absolute pause, this life put on hold, and all these feelings tucked in a neutral zone. A zone of.. Nothingness..
Just like an autumn leaf detaching from a tree, and twirling in the void..
Slowly dancing in celebration for falling into nothing but an absolute nothingness..


Manama Nights! - 3

I used to have this habit with my sister, with whom I used to share my bedroom too, to talk in the middle of the night. When you have five years of difference you grow up to have less things in common. Sometimes we used to pass several days without exchanging any words of importance other than "wake up we have to go to school" and maybe some comments about the meal for the lunch. Each of us had her own little world in which she was consumed. Then in the night, we go to the same room, adjacent beds, big beds I may add now that I experience a way smaller one. And as we turn off the lights and settle down under the covers, few minutes of silence break up into long conversations. As if we're out of the silence and we need to use as many words as possible before the day breaks taking us back to our own little lives.

I guess, this is one of those times where I just need to talk.. It's not easy to live by yourself, no matter how independent it may seem, how liberating it could be.. It's not as easy as I thought at least.. When the urge to talk at three o'clock in the morning ravages you, and you look around to find nothing close to being alive except the air conditioner that keeps humming, and the fridge that lights up every time you open it, only then, you feel alone.. Only then, you realize that you're not as close to success as you thought, and that your years of achievement are still far beyond being recognized, because anyway, there's no one around to recognize them for you..

I'm not down at this moment, I'm not sad, and I'm not lonely.. I'm just awake, needing to babble at three o'clock of the morning..


The New Age of Communication

I was watching this TV show about a serial killer, and one guy confesses murders that he didn't do just to get his few minutes of fame and be on the news.. He says that with blogs, podcasts, and all this social media invasion, it's hard now to make a breakthrough.. with people setting up their own TV channels on Youtube, others opening up their own magazines/newspapers.. Everyone is simply broadcasting.. I could just take a second to close my eyes and see the lights of all these connected devices, each one transmitting what we want to show the world.. The new age of communication.. Something that used to be more direct: Sender _ Message _ Receiver! When people used to know who they are addressing, and others knew who they are perceiving.. When connection was clearer, even if slower.. Compared o a time when we are all connected, but not really sure how.. Each setting his own world, his own rules, with some people passing by.. The real glory is when you get comments, the more you have ones the more you feel.. FAMOUS!! Is this what it's really all about? This new age of people beating their way up just to have others' attention? Is it why I'm here?
I used to write way before I knew what email is.. But it was for me in the beginning, then I started sharing among friends.. Then now with the world ( no matter how small or big is the percentage of the world really drops by).. But just the idea of being exposed to the unknown has a certain carnal pleasure that keeps me coming back for more..
Pleasure, fame, glory, all leading to a certain orgasm you only get when you're connected, when you have a mutual flow of.. Bytes, in this case?!! When you feel that you're opening up to be admired by some, criticized by others, and ignored by more, but mostly when you know that you got someone's attention..
This new age of communication, social media, and technology, all evolving around one idea: attention.. That's what everyone is looking for, that's what everyone is really fighting for.. Even those who pretend to like staying in the shadows, are just secretly hoping that by the difference they set from the crazy crowds around them, they'll caught some kind of attention.. maybe it's just a basic need, just like eating, then shitting, then eating again, then gaining some attention before shitting one more time..


بطل من هذا الزمان

لحظة تردد واحدة كانت كلّ ما تحتاجه لتقرّر أنّني لست شريكة حياتك.. أن كلّ ما جمعنا ليس حتى كافٍ ليرقى لمستوى الصداقة
لحظة تردد واحدة جعلتك تدرك أن ما بيننا لم يكن سوى لقاء عابري سبيل جمعتهما الوحدة و الحنين.. و أنّه لا جدوى من اقناع أنفسنا بأننا نتشارك أي شيء أبعد من ذلك
لحظة واحدة جعلتك تتعجّب كيف بقيت كل هذا الوقت دون أن تلاحظ أن ما بيننا هو عبارة فقط عن رغبة مشتركة لإرضاء مجتمع لا يؤمن بالفردية و لا حتى بالثنائية
فقرّرت، أيها البطل، ألّا تظلمني معك
واه! عجبي من النساء اللواتي يشتكين من انعدام الشهامة في عصرنا هذا

قرّرتَ أنه لا داعي لأن يتحطّم فؤادي، و أنه عوضاً عن ذلك من المستحب أن أنحني شاكرةً عطف قلبك و بعد الرؤيا التي تتمتّع بها وحدك. و قررت أيضاً أنه لا داعي لدموعٍ سأدرك بعدها أن فراقنا نعمة قرّرت أن تغدق بها عليّ
لحظة واحدة! جعلتك بطلاً، ناصراً للمظلومين، محرّر قلوب العذارى، أرقى أنواع الرجال! و تشتكي سائر النساء من حقارة جنسكم! يا للصفاقة
لحظة واحدة أكّدت لك أن قدري أن أتابع من دونك و أن أشغل نفسي موقتاً بصنع نصب تذكاري و أيقونات لتخليدك، منقذي من حياةٍ.. معك
لا تظنّني أشتكي، و لا أنني أبكي على أطلالك.. فرحيلك كان فعلاً نعمة! ليس لأن ما بيننا كان وهماً، بل لأن رجلاً تحركه لحظات تردد ليس سوى نصف رجل، في أحسن حالاته
في عالمٍ تحكمه أنصاف الرجال، و نصب تذكارية تخلد ذكرى كل من يرفض أن يدور الكون إلا حوله
لست هنا لأشتكي، أنا فقط هنا لأنصب لك تمثالك التذكاري


Zunzurt ( or however it's written)

Nostalgia has been haunting me today since the moment I woke up. Not that I don't miss home, but I'm more nostalgic today for the person I used to be, for life not put on hold. I miss the confidence I used to have, and the pride. I'm feeling nostalgic for all the dreams I used to have, and I'm disappointed by the simplicity of the ones I have now. The ambitions of climbing the highest mountains, replaced now by the ambition to walk straight without falling down. I'm nostalgic for the eagerness to experience a free fall, replaced now by an aspiration to have stable steps. I'm nostalgic for the times when I wasn't afraid of bruises, when I was calling for scars, when i aspired for glory. Aspirations now replaced with a pitiful need to be safe, to have enough to eat, and a reasonable space to shit.

I'm nostalgic for the person I was, the person I will become one day, and I'm repelled by the person I am now. But mostly I'm worried about the rehab time I would need to be normal back again, to wake up from this stagnation.



The problem with inspiration is that you cannot look for it, a bit like love, it will just strike you. You pass by this garbage can everyday, and it stinks just like everyday, but one day, you simply decide to make something out of it. Not as an expression of your boredom, and not as an expression of your disgust, but because for the first time today, this smelly garbage can inspires you!!

But don't worry, today is not about a garbage can. It's about what I think I lost, but not sure if I should hold on to it or not. What I gained seems logically way more important but there was this little satisfaction I only get with what I seem to have lost. And I think I should mention that I'm the type who appreciates the value of what they have long before they're gone, so it's not that it's something new for me, it's just something that I miss. Enormously..

I guess life is the place where you're not supposed to get everything you want at once, or maybe some things just don't get along. The choice is already done, but still, I can't help but being reminiscent for what I seem to have lost..


A Tribute to September!

The first sentence is always what matters the most. But I don't have one for this one. I only have mixed feelings, scattered here and there, and I'm not even trying to pick them up. It's this month of the year, my favorite month of the year, where leaves start falling down, and nature starts undressing, with leftovers scattered everywhere just like myself, preparing to sleep. And on the other side of life, us, trying to put our clothes on and collect what's left of us after a long summer sun, and we try to start working again. Back to action after a long summer sun, after vacation for some, or after lazy season of work for others. And for the lucky ones, even if they don't know, it's just a matter of changing clothes, with no work worries, no studies, nothing but a different season of nonchalance.

This month of contradiction when nature falls down to pieces and humans seem to picking themselves up. This is my favorite month of the year. Everyday brings change, you see an entire transformation in front of you if you just take few minutes to pause and look around. Then September rain comes, bringing along the most wonderful smell there could be.

September in this country might come a bit late, and might never come, I guess I have to stay a while to see about it. But I just know that I miss it. Real life, real seasons, real colors, real flavors. It just feels that senses here are something you read about in books, and even though everywhere in the world it seems to be useful, in here it will never come in use. I used to pity those who do not know how to savor beauty, now I pity those who will never even come across it.


Manama Nights! - 2

It has become a habit for one of my neighbors to come ringing my door bell at a very late hour, or checking if the door is well closed or not. Of course, I never managed to know who is this concerned neighbor as I don't find anyone by the time I reach the door. After panicking for the first three nights, it became a habit for me to wait for this childish maybe more like a Hollywood thriller scene. Nothing has yet happened tonight, but I preferred not to sleep now better than being awaken in an hour.

I'm not looking to know who it is anyway, I'll be moving by the end of this month. Days in Bahrain seem to pass so slowly most of the time, a dead country aspiring to have its mark among the Gulf. There are lots of things to do in Bahrain: Beach, mall, and eating. I have to admit that they do have several good dining places, but it's a bit out of budget to have a daily meal in a good restaurant here. The real heaven for me in the hot summer of Bahrain, also known as the lost paradise (yeah, I think they did loose paradise somewhere along the way), is the day I spend on the beach when I offer myself a real massage by an Asian lady. Her feet sometimes seem to bother me as a lay down my head to the floor, but then I close my eyes and just enjoy one hour of tension release. I then take a shower, enjoy looking at my tan in the mirror, and then I leave the resort, to go back to the streets of Manama, for another month of tension acquiring. My life in Manama is as simple as respiration: I inhale tension, I exhale it.

Of course I have my bad moments of AC/NO AC. I never really liked the AC, I always get a problem in my ear, or a problem in my back, or my sinus, and so on. It never ends the list of times I went to a doctor recommending me to avoid AC for several reasons. Regardless of the fact that outside home I have no control over AC where I work, neither where I shop, nor where I eat, I never could imagine how life can be in Bahrain with no AC.

When I reach home after a long walk or a short walk, the first thing I need is the AC. Which reminds me of my walking issue in Manama. If you're not a poor Indian worker trying to save money by not using transportation, you are considered as a freak when you walk for more than a kilometer in Bahrain. I have to admit that sometimes I like to brag about my expeditions among my colleagues who would be like: "Whaou, are you serious? You walked all that way? You're crazy!!" Now that's a statement worth considering! Maybe I was crazy for coming here. But ever since I set my plans and I fixed the date of my departure, even if for now it seems a bit far, I started to really enjoy Manama. I think it's like when a patient in a mental institution knows that he'll be cleared in a week, he'd then start enjoying the insanity of his entourage. I'd call that real entertainment.

So my loyal neighbor just knocked with his hand, it's more personalized than ringing my door bell. I think he's taking our relationship to the next level: intimacy!! I just hope he won't be sniffing up the laundry I left on the rooftop.

Time for me to get some sleep..


Manama Nights!

It's not that I lost the will to write.. I just lost the time.. Today, like so many days before, I suddenly (like so many times before) realized that time is passing by. That everything moves forward, even your own-self, what remains behind are the things you wanted to do, the things you've done wrong, and the things you wish to do again. This is what the past is, a reflection of what you want to do and what you need to do, and what you don't need to do again. And you're lucky when you get stroke, repetitively, with this bits of a second when you see your past flying in front of your eyes. It's just like seeing your future, or at least what you should do about it.
So as I had this slight moment of enlightenment I realized that I should come back here, right to where I belong, where I breathe. The place where nonsense makes sense. Maybe the world is also a better place for that. But here, my nonsense is meaningful, to me at least. And you don't need anything else than a cup of coffee, a good blanket (or maybe that remote to turn off the fucking AC - and yeah yeah yeah, pardon my french) and your pen (as it's more poetic than a keyboard). The world at the tip of your words, and the universe all open for you.
I might as well make a use of this time I have to spend in this city I don't like very much. It might be the right place and the right time to learn a bit more about freedom. You see, the best place to see light is when you're in the dark!

ما قبل الأخير

ما زلت تملك دموعي
تأمرها بالسقوط كما تشاء
مرة باللامبالاة و مرة بالعشوائية
و دائماً بدون حتى أن تلاحظ

لم تكن الأول و لن تكون الأخير
لكنّك دائماً هنا
دائما حيث لا يجب أن أتركك
و دائما تتركني حيث لا أريد

ما زلت محور كتاباتي
ما زلت محور أفكاري
و ما زلت تبكيني
لكنّك لن تكون الأخير


و للبكاء بقية

قال لي أنه يعرف أن حزنه يزعجني
ألّا أقلق، فهو على ما يبدو يحب كآبته
لكنني عرفته يومين و نصف كان فيهما سعيداً
كان العالم فيهما لعبةً بين يديه
يشقلب الساعات، و يدور يدور يدور

عرفته يومين و نصف حين لم تكن تزعجه ضحكاته
علّمني فيهما أن الأحلام لا قيمة لها إن لم تكن كبيرة
علّمني أن السعادة أقرب إلينا ممّا نظن
علّمني أن الساعات تمر و الثواني تمر
و أن اللامبالاة ليست سيّئة كما يقال

قالت أن العمر غفلة و لم نكن نعرفها
لا يوم و لا يومين و لا سنتين
كانت امرأة عشوائية جعلنا من كلمتها حكمة
ثم مرّ اليومين و النصف، و نسينا الحكمة و نسينا الضحكة

ما عاد يشقلب الساعات كما كان
و لا بقي العمر على ما كان
و لا زالت الساعات تمر، و الثواني تمر
و العمر يمر.. غفلة


Four years ago, there was a man..

صدى الانتفاضة ووعد التغيير - بقلم سمير قصير

في الذكرى السنوية الرابعة لاستشهاد سمير قصير، تعيد "النهار" نشر مقال له صدر في 20/5/2005، قبل 12 يوما من اغتياله، وذلك في الركن الذي كان ركنه.

يحار المرء ما هو الاسوأ: ان يختلف اطراف المعارضة حول تشكيل لوائح المرشحين، ام ان يتوافقوا في ما بينهم فيلغوا مبدأ الانتخاب؟ ولا ما هو الاقل ضررا للمستقبل: ان يُترك مكان على هذه اللوائح المعارضة للقوى المعترضة على التقاسم الجاري بين زعماء الطوائف، ام ان يُحكم عليها بالعمل خارج الاطار البرلماني؟
الحيرة هي على صورة الوضع الذي رسا عليه لبنان موقتا مع انتهاء عصر الوصاية السورية من دون ان يكتمل تفكيك التركيبة السياسية التي انتجتها الوصاية، كما يستدل من الدور المحوري الذي لا يزال يؤديه السيد نبيه بري الى الآن، وقد يستمر في تأديته بعد هذه الانتخابات الغريبة العجيبة التي تطل علينا. ولعل ابلغ المفارقات في مرحلة ما بعد الوصاية، ان تكون هذه الانتخابات التي طال انتظارها، والتي يجب ان تحصل في موعدها، من النوع الذي يفضل نسيانه في اسرع وقت، وان يكن المجال لا يزال مفتوحا لبعض المعارك الكبيرة الرمزية، في الجنوب والشوف والشمال.
ولا ريب ان هذه الحيرة التي يزكيها تكاثر الانتخابات بالتزكية، هي ما يغذي الشعور العام بالاحباط الذي يلف الرأي العام، ويصل احيانا الى حد القرف. الا ان الموضوعية تفترض الاقرار بان الاحباط ليس مبررا بالكامل. ليس فقط لان العديد من المحبطين يريدون الشيء وعكسه، مثلا "صحة التمثيل المسيحي" و"الخلاص من الطائفية"، بل لان الاحباط في معظمه ينتج من تحوير بالمفعول الرجعي لمعاني الحركة الاستقلالية.
فاذا كان من الخطأ اعتبار انتفاضة الاستقلال استكمالاً لفصول الحرب، كما تفعل بعض اطراف المعارضة، وخصوصا في الجانب المسيحي منها، فان من الخطأ ايضا اعتبارها حركة سياسية ذات برنامج واحد، كما يطيب الاعتقاد لعدد من الشباب المنخرطين فيها. صحيح ان هذه الانتفاضة اخذت حجم ثورة سلمية ضخمة، وان الزخم الذي تميزت به، وخصوصا يوم 14 آذار، يدفع الى استهجان التصرف الفوقي لقيادات المعارضة (ولا افضلية لأحد على الآخر في هذا المجال). الا انه في المقابل لا يمكن تحميل الحدث ما لم يحمله. فالناس لم تنزل الى الشارع في شهري شباط وآذار من اجل التغيير، بل من اجل التخلص من هيمنة الحكم السوري على لبنان والنظام الامني الذي ارتكزت عليه هذه الهيمنة.
الا ان هذا لم يمنع كثيرين ممن شاركوا في الانتفاضة، من ان يحلموا باكثر من ذلك، ولا سيما بعدما لمسوا زخم التعبئة الشعبية من جهة، وطابع المصالحة الوطنية الذي انطوت عليه من جهة اخرى. ولكن هل كان ثمة حلم واحد يجمعهم؟
وحتى اذا افترضنا ان الكل اجمعوا على التغيير والاصلاح، فمن الواضح انهم لم يجمعوا على محتوى التغيير والاصلاح. ينطبق ذلك على قانون الانتخاب تحديدا، على ما بدا من سجال في هذا الموضوع ومن استعداد اجزاء من الرأي العام الخوض فيه، وإن من دون إلمام به. هكذا، تمت احاطة العودة الى قانون 1960 بهالة من القدسية قد تكون مبررة بالسمعة السيئة للقوانين التي عُمل بها بعد الطائف، بما فيها قانون الالفين، لكنها بالتأكيد غير مستحقة. ففي مقابل استيفاء قانون 1960 شرط التمثيلية، مقارنة بقانون الالفين، يبقى بعيدا كل البعد عن الاصلاح السياسي المطلوب، مثلما دلت تجربة لبنان قبل الحرب. كذلك ينطبق هذا الانفصام بين الدعوة المجردة الى الاصلاح والموقف السياسي الآني، على مقاربة التحالفات الانتخابية. فاذا اخذنا ما حصل في نهاية الاسبوع الماضي، سنجد من يرى في ضم السيدة صولانج الجميل الى لائحة الحريري والسيد جورج عدوان الى لائحة وليد جنبلاط تجليا لروح المصالحة المتمثل بـ14 آذار، مثلما سنجد من يرى في ذلك خيانة للوعد بلبنان جديد الذي حمله 14 آذار اياه، وخصوصا ان نتيجة هذه التحالفات تصب في خانة تعليب الانتخابات.
قطعا، يحق للناخبين التوق الى شيء افضل من هذه الانتخابات المعلبة بتوافق اقطاب المعارضة، والمرشحة الى مزيد من التعليب اذا انتهى التوافق الى شمل العماد عون ومرشحيه. لكن هذا التوق لن يترجم واقعا، الا اذا لازمه التزام مزدوج يعبر عنه في عملية الاقتراع، ثم بعد انتهاء الانتخابات. وهذا يعني اولا التزام جانب الرفض لمبدأ التعليب، اذا لم تمنعه التزكيات، من خلال اختيار المرشحين الذين يجمعون في شخصهم صدى انتفاضة المستقبل ووعد التغيير، سواء كانوا على اللائحة الرسمية للمعارضة او على لائحة اخرى، او فضلوا الترشح منفردين، بما يستتبع ذلك من رفض للصفقات مع رموز عهد الوصاية. ويعني ثانيا التزاما بالانخراط في معارك التغيير التي سوف تلي الانتخابات، وفي مقدمها المعركة التي يجب ان تفتح في 20 حزيران، غداة الانتهاء من الجولة الاخيرة في الشمال، من اجل قانون انتخاب عصري وعادل يمنع المحادل، الى اي طرف انتمت.
وهنا يكمن الوفاء الحقيقي لحدث 14 آذار: في اعتباره نقطة البداية لعمل سياسي قد يتطلب وقتا مديدا كي يثمر، مثلما تطلب انهاء عهد الوصاية نضالات طويلة وتضحيات كبيرة لم تختصر بالنزول الى ساحة الشهداء ذات يوم من ايام شباط وآذار. وفي الاتعاظ منه بان السياسة ليست حكرا على السياسيين، مهما حاولوا احتكارها، وان الاصلاح لن يبنيه الا من لهم مصلحة فيه. اما التبرم والاحباط والقنوط، فتلك هي تحديدا العادات التي لم يعد لها مكان منذ 14 آذار.

سمير قصير
20/ 5/ 2009


Convenient Truth

But this.. Just because you say it.. Just because you believe.. Doesn't mean that it's true..
Just because you saw it.. It doesn't mean that it's true..
None of this is true.. None of what you believe.. and none of what you say..
Just this state of a never ending confusion.. Where you try to reassure yourself with imagination..
Nothing more than imagination.. Where the truth is nothing more than just a rug cliche that nobody cares about.. Does anyone really care about the truth? Or only for convenient answers? Answers that makes us more comfortable than the truth.. Answers that match denial.. This state of nonchalance that we can't figure out how to get out from.. That we're too afraid to leave..
And just because we're comfortable there, it doesn't mean that it's true.. It doesn't necessarily need to be any close from the truth..
Just because you believe in it.. just because you're sure of it.. it doesn't mean that it's true..


And Baby, this one is for you!

Sometimes sit take a good book, sometimes a simple ad slogan, sometimes just a silly song, and other times just a sad look.. Sometimes it takes a good laugh, or a sad tear.. And other times, it takes absolutely nothing, just a state of boredom..

Sometimes it's just a way to express myself, and sometimes it's just a way to keep quite, and other times a straight way to make a scene, but many times to be discrete.. But Baby, this one is for you..

Sometimes it never ends, and other times it never begins.. A sentence stuck between two lines, or a story going on and on with no end.. Sometimes with lots of meanings, and other times you fail to notice the point.. Sometimes just to create an echo, and sometimes just to shut the crowd.. Sometimes for everyone, and sometimes for just one.. But Baby, this one is just for you..



نرقص التانغو على إيفاع مللنا
مللنا من أنفسنا، و مللنا من بعضنا
ضجرنا من هذه الحالة اللامتناهية من اليأس و النشوة
يتضاجعان على سرير من الأوهام الضائعة و الآمال الخائبة
و لا ينتصر اليأس
و لا تنتصر النشوة
فقط هذه الحالة المستمرة من العقم
فقط هذه الحالة من عدم المبالاة
من انعدام المشاعر

محجوزان في وعاء زجاجي
يراقبان العالم يمشي
و الأيام تمشي
و عمرهما يمضي
و هما يقفان هناك يراقبان
دون حتى الاهتمام بالمشاركة
مجردين من أي حاجة للحراك
مستقرين في هذه الحالة من الشلل
من عدم المبالاة
من انعدام المشاعر

نعيش الفراغ الذي يهرب منا
ينزلق من خلال أصابعنا
و يعود ليحيط بنا من جميع النواحي
كدوّامةٍ، لا أمان سوى في قاعها
لا أمان سوى في الحضيض
سحقاً للطموح و الأحلام التافهة
سحقاً للإنجازات الزائفة
سحقاً لكل ما يعلو عن الحضيض
لكل من يهدد هذا الأمان
لكل من لا يفهم هذه الحالة من الدونية
هذا الوهم بأنك لمجرد تلذذك بها فأنت أرقى و أسمى من سائر البشر
هذا الإكتفاء باللاشيء
بالعدم.. بالفراغ


خربشات اعتباطية

سئمت من الجزم و النفي، من الضم و الكسر.. سئمت منك و من وجودك الاعتراضي و من كيانك الذي لا موقع له من الإعراب.. سئمت من هذه الهوية الخافضة للشرط.. التي لا مكان لها في الحاضر، إما فعلٌ ماضٍ، و إما أمال للمستقبل.. هوية لا تتحقق أبداً، لا قبل الجزم و لا بعد النصب. و لا حتى اليوم.. مجرد قواعد لغوية، و بلاغة زائفة!

Diaries of LaLa PrototypeX - VIII

I noticed today that my prototype body does not eat, I no longer even dream about food, and I don't think I've smelled any during my life here in LaLa. Maybe our bodies just function on solar power, consider I'm not sure if we have a sun or not, maybe we're automated. We still sleep, or maybe not. I'm no longer sure if I sleep. I rest. At night. When the light bulbs shine. And then all of a sudden it's the next day. I think I sleep, even if for few seconds.

But going back to not eating, it's not that I miss food, because I don't feel like I need it, but now that I thought about it, I'm trying to remember what food looked like on earth and how it tasted.
I turn to Coucou and say:
- "Where you there when we had food? I wonder how it tasted like!
- SHIT!"

So here you go, I got my answer. I think Coucou has a lot of wisdom, but sometimes he's just too aggressive, especially when I try to be nostalgic. As if Earth has a big scar in his memory, or maybe as if he's trying to protect me from remembering my own scars.

All I remember of my life on earth are the very simple things that makes no life, just facts; as if I've never lived there, as if I only read about it somewhere.. long time ago.

Should I remember? Or should I move on? Ironically both hold the same meaning for me, both represented the unknown.. An unknown I'm not even sure I want to get to know.


Same but quite different!

It's another Sunday, yet, a different one.
It's another war on TV, another rerun of another movie, another political show, another tense family conversation, and another Sunday meal..

It's really just another normal day, like any other Sunday, yet, it just feels different.
I used to be more rational before, if there are no evidence of how different this day is, then it's not different.. But the more I grow, the more I start to believe in the power of the "feeling". And it just feels different. Maybe it's just the different haircut.. Maybe it's just that with all the similarities, each day is somehow different, you're older one day than the day before, and one week from the Sunday before. Even if it's the same movie you watch for the 10th time, you somehow manage to notice something different, something meaningless most of the times, but it's just different..

Every day, no matter how boring it may seem, brings a new kind of boredom with it.. A new kind of repetition of the days before..


To war victims of all times..

Several ethical questions arise at times like the ones we're witnessing now with the war on Gaza Strip. Regardless of whether it's justified or not, because I personally don't see what would justify the killing of 900 human beings, to date. The good news today is that Israel might stop operations next week, so I guess we should expect about a minimum of 400 more dead? And more injured? So I guess we should be thankful that the end is just 7 days away, just 400 human away..

But the ethical question is not really about war, nor the killing of infants, nor if as long as it's a "war on terrorism" then it's ok to accept it as an excuse, or if a divided population deserves what they're getting anyway.. My question is: how ethical is it to use images of cadavers in news? How crucial is it really for the integrity of the news itself that you attach the picture of a decapitated child?

You may argue saying that people around the world need to see the ugliness of such a war. But do people really need to see blood to condemn? Did we lose all kind of common sense to incriminate any war in any part of the world, that we need to be addressed through our primary senses to raise reactions? That humans all over the planet can no longer be touched without seeing body parts in front of their eyes?

I agree that such violent images do create a mass reaction protesting against it (regardless of a counter-reaction), but what happens when the emotional reaction fades away? When the war is over? We cheer up and go back to our normal state of carefree?

I also agree that an image can be very expressive, and I agree that every human has the right to be informed.

I'm not against the use of war images, I'm just against the use of human corpse' images, for many reasons. One of those reasons is the fact that it just feels too commercial. As if it's a race to show the best picture with the corpse that would attract the most, to gain more readers, more viewers.

But mainly I'm against it out of respect for the body itself. The one of the eight dead kids of the Sammouni family, laying in the garbage one week after, or if the newspaper was paid a lot of respect, it would be used to clean windows. With the blood of those eight children, many ladies around my country would be cleaning their windows, or their coffee tables, in one week, or at most in two months.. For those who don't use newspapers as a cleaning tool, garbage would be the best place, in very few houses it would go to recyclable garbage bin..

I'm against the broadcasting of the agony of men laying under tons of cast, and then dying right there in front of viewers' eyes, so that we could zap later on to watch another episode of the dubbed Turkish series, or maybe another new hit to clear our mind off..

But I guess, I could protest as much as I want, at the end of the day, there are millions of people waiting for the next shocking picture from Gaza to riot about it, and on the other side there are networks always concerned about doing their job, and giving the audience what they want..

Just a thought: if my house was ever bombarded by a "barbaric enemy", and if I was killed, I would really appreciate it if you do me the honor of locking me away, of sparing me of human affection touched by my mutilated body..
Do me the honor of talking to people's minds instead of their hearts..

YOU and I

In every YOU, there's a little bit of me there..

In every thought about anyone else, outside of me, is somehow always related to me..
I'm not egocentric, or self-centered.. Or maybe I just am, maybe we all are.. After all, there are more than 6 billions of us now, so how come we choose a certain "YOU"s to look at rather than others?.. How come I choose you to write about, and you to think of, and you to ignore?

In every you, there's a little bit of me.. And in all of us together, there's a little bit of someone else.. Maybe this seems just gibberish, to a lot of you, but I'm sure, many others of you will know what I'm talking about..

And there's also a little bit of you..


Reality Check

I don't remember when was the first time I knew for sure that Santa Claus didn't exist. I guess I always had doubts, I always had questions like: What does he do the rest of the year? Where is his house on the map? How can he cross the whole world with one night? How come he's still alive? and so on.. So, it didn't come to me as a surprise when the time came and I've been informed that Santa is not real.

Then it was the time when I realized there was no tooth fairy. I wasn't surprised either, actually i was more glad. Everything related to dentists and teeth doesn't appeal to me.

Then the Easter Bunny. I never really understood what does the Easter Bunny do anyway, and i learned of his existence and non-existence in the same month.

But then it was time to realize that Superman is not real. I think this was one of the hardest things for me to believe. But then, like any grown up, I decided to accept the facts that deny his existence. And once again, i accepted that it's not real.

So I start 2009 by standing up for what I think is REAL. You can go away with all your facts, all your metrics, and all your statistics. For this year, I give up on being the realistic grown up, I give up on logic too. You can say I'm almost crazy, or maybe completely out of my mind, but you're no longer taking away from me what I feel is real.