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.

Inspiration!

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!