October 7, 2009 • 12:34 am 0
The seventh is back, Germany too, and I still don’t know what to say.
Time froze that day, when you broke your promise to me.
In memory of Victor Nichola Abdo
Nov. 25th 1947 – Oct. 7th 2006
May you rest in peace.
Filed under: Life, Personal Experiences, Thoughts
June 24, 2009 • 1:01 pm 0
Having no real job is sometimes great. I have been thinking a lot lately about so many things that should lead to radical changes in my life. At some point, I labeled by mood as a ‘strangely excited state of mind with a hint of optimism.’ And I have been planning to write about many of the thoughts and realizations that I have recently come across. Today I do feel, however, that I should digress a little in order to let some poison out of my system before it eats me alive.
You see, as old and abused as this subject has come to be, I feel like I should once again contemplate my relationship with the people around me. Just like with their needs and plans, people classify other people and give them different priorities according to what they feel is right. I suppose my mistake has been my belief that having a close circle of friends makes one invincible in a sense, even though I never really was a ‘people person’ nor felt that anyone would ever truly understand me. But living the way I have has always led to internal conflicts and disappointments; hence the need to keep bringing up the topic. I suppose, however, there is no harm in taking another look at a lesson that goes back to as far as I can remember with the hope that the next 25 years of my life would be lived differently and, of course, better.
I have given a lot of thought to the words and to the tone that I should use to voice my thoughts. But I still think that I will never be satisfied with what comes out, as this is not something I am used to doing naturally or which I enjoy terribly. And I do want to emphasize that this is not solely based on any single event, but is rather the culmination of a few years of similar disappointments and conflicts that are begging for some form of action.
Well I guess the bottom line is that those you consider as ‘priority 1’ people never cease to surprise you by treating you as a ‘priority 2’ person. There! That’s the best and most simplistic way of putting it! Now I don’t claim to have ever earned or deserved a particular ‘rank’ amongst people, but some things seemed natural to assume on some level after having spent years and lived through a lot together. And I, as sure as hell (yes, it’s just an expression; I don’t believe in hell), have always been a great friend. Well, most of the time at least. But the closest of you to my heart often disturb me with hypocrisy, indifference, and false smiles, and maybe the fact that I always think of you first when it comes to almost anything is what disturbs me most and disgusts me even. And you’ve all proven on more than one occasion who the people you always consider first are, among which I too often was not. I don’t mean that in the fifth grade kind of sense; I am not referring to party invitations or gatherings, although they do serve as a prime example. No, I refer to what is even more evident yet harder to express: your intentions and what I see in your eyes, not to mention the more obvious signs delivered over the years like “It’s just the way it is,” or “Don’t expect,” or sitting alone on bus rides.
And you see, it all makes sense. People often can’t explain the choices they’ve made, and they really, really shouldn’t have to. When I think of the circles of people I chose to introduce into my life, I follow a similar labeling system and instinctively place you first. It always gives me endless pleasure to imagine telling you something or sharing a piece of work with you or even providing you with something I’ve spent quite some time preparing. And I never ever do the same when it comes to some other people, who I also consider as good friends. And I see the same in your eyes when you act similarly towards each other. It’s beautiful actually, and its beauty stems from the fact that it is a choice one makes without having to justify or explain. How on earth can I blame you for not thinking of someone as an important part of your day and a necessity for you to be able to enjoy your time? Who am I to question your needs or what your heart desires? Your choices seem hypocritical and disgusting to me only because it is I who have set those standards and therefore often find myself disturbed and disgusted. So it is my fault, you see.
And this brings me to the core of my point: it is me who I’m mad at now, not you. And it is very important for you to understand that I am trying to zoom out and draw a bigger picture of the whole situation. I know you think I am exaggerating or being too dramatic, but for me it’s really liberating to understand the way things work and to build a stronger me out of our interactions together. And the way I see it, giving close friendship a try has finally paid off precisely because it seems to have failed. I now am convinced of that and am happy to start rectifying my behavior and perspective. I have already wasted too much energy thinking highly of many of you and hoping that with time, things will resolve themselves. But things are only resolved when you choose to resolve them. And by that, I mean that I will no longer depend on your happiness as an ingredient of mine, and I will no longer expect or wait.
Almost every behavior can be changed and schemes of thinking (quite literally) rewired, and this gives me hope. I just have one thing to say to you, my dear, out of all the others, and I’m quite sure you know who you are. You once told me that if I choose to, and really put my all into it, I can be the best out of you all. At the time it really meant nothing to me because you said it and left as usual without paying attention to what I really wanted from you, driving me more into rage. Now I want you to know that, although I spoke of hypocrisy, I never meant you. Others who mean a lot to me really disgust me by indulging everyone and giving away fake smiles and claiming to be strong and independent when all they do is revolve their lives around you and others. But not you. You too hurt me quite a lot and often placed me second and took me for granted with indifference, but there has always been something very genuine and true about you. You are just being yourself, and it is something I can never be mad at for any long period of time. The difference between you and me is (was) that I would never be able to enjoy my time or feel right if you were not there or were being shunned. But that doesn’t matter now. Indeed, the hardest thing I can ever do is to be angry at you. You are the most amazing person I know and you mean a lot to me; I don’t suppose that can ever change. And for the rest of you, I also don’t think that I will ever stop respecting or thinking highly of you. I do not intend to isolate myself or stop considering you as good friends. The only thing I hope will change soon is me, and how much I value what I value.
There is much to be done, and I am looking forward to a lot of work and learning. Almost two years ago, I wrote about inspiration and how much the people around me affected and helped me. Ironically enough, someone I don’t know has recently found that post and quoted it online as a source of inspiration. In it I mentioned that I am very grateful to you and considered some of you even better than I am. Today, I ask: Am I still grateful to you? Yes of course. Are you better than I am? No sir!
I would like to end by mentioning some lines I came across while reading in a magazine dedicated to Albert Einstein and to his work and life. Now I do not claim to be as intelligent or wise as he was (not yet at least), but the following paragraph from his essay “The World As I See It” really made me stop and draw a small smile on my face.
“My passionate sense of social justice and social responsibility has always contrasted oddly with my pronounced lack of need for direct contact with other human beings and human communities. I am truly a “lone traveler” and have never belonged to my country, my home, my friends, or even my immediate family with my whole heart; in the face of all these ties, I have never lost a sense of distance and a need for solitude – feelings which increase with the years. One becomes sharply aware, but without regret, of the limits of mutual understanding and consonance with other people. No doubt such a person loses some of his innocence and unconcern; on the other hand, he is largely independent of the opinions, habits, and judgments of his fellows and avoids the temptation to build his inner equilibrium upon such insecure foundations.”
Now, where was I? Ah yes…
Filed under: Life, Personal Experiences, Thoughts
March 31, 2009 • 1:16 pm 2
The last few months were particularly harsh on him. Time stood still, leaving him fighting for breath in a horrifying state of mind, shaped by basic elements of fear and despair to an extent he never imagined was possible. He lost the will to go on, and was even deprived of the desire and strength to write or talk about it; it seemed like he had already visited and exhausted those occurrences and feelings a thousand times before, but he had not been blessed with acceptance yet. There is no point in attempting to find a place for them as part of a logical or coherent whole, and he is left with nothing but bits and pieces of images, both lived and dreamt of, with a raging river of rain and alcohol washing the difference away.
*****
His sentence was proclaimed; he is to take his last breath at midnight. He was not ready yet, and that truth pushed down heavily on his chest. His last day of living was something unexpected, and it seemed like such an unjust decision that was thrown coldly in his face when no one watched or listened. Why on earth couldn’t he protest? Why was no one else bothered by this horrifying fate?
He started wandering through the city, scared and insane. He talked to people on the streets, shouted cries of despair, and announced to the world that this was his last day in it. So many things he wanted to do. So many images of unfulfilled dreams and untouched territories fought for a place in his consciousness as the clock ticked away and the sun descended faster than ever. He grew speechless, and had nothing but the company of a mysterious companion who failed to calm him down.
In one day, all dreams shattered, all hope disappeared, and he truly felt the cold selfishness and indifference of the world in his bones. The end approached, and he struggled for a last chance to leave a print on this world and to actually matter. But knowing how impossible that was now, everything became a blur of images and voices that surrounded him like vast waters threatening to swallow a tiny island. He brought his hands close to his face and carefully inspected them as if for the first time. He wanted to burst into tears and to wreak havoc around him, for the idea of not doing all that he wanted to do was too much to bear. Above all, he wished he could find her and look into her eyes like he always wanted to, and to bury his face in her lap and cry and sleep until his end came, knowing he would need nothing but the warmth and security she offered him. But when he couldn’t find her, and the darkness of the night slowly took over, hope was nowhere to be found. As people watched and time was up, breathing proved challenging and he started to choke and tremble with fear. Just when he couldn’t take it anymore, he woke up with all his might to a poorly-lit room and a racing heart that broke the silence. He lay on his bed breathing deeply and trying to recover, and slowly realized that a new day has begun. This thought, however, failed to soothe his distressed mind.
*****
She stood there with her hands on his shoulders and smiled, while he playfully hid his head under her shirt and gently kissed her bellybutton. He slowly made his way upwards, printing kisses on her skin and holding her close, until his lips met her breast and he felt her tremble in his hands. He stood up and kissed her one more time, then held her close to him and closed his eyes. In the peacefulness of the room, they simply stood there united in each other’s arms, and listened to each other breathing. He knew that, when this dream was over, the memory of it would accompany him forever; he just prayed it would help him face what was to come.
*****
There they were again. They seated themselves like they always do and prepared themselves for another wasted day of talking and watching the shadows move on the walls of old houses. It was yet another chapter in a book that never seems to find its last. More drinks, plates, and green olives were summoned to the table. People came and left, and, yet again, time stood still. Important dreams were of course discussed, and past failures were analyzed. The whispers went on as well, as did the serious looks and the private smiles. Everyone took turns in avoiding “what’s wrong?” questions and in asking them, and the same music was played over and over. Eventually, they became one with the leather couch beneath them, where life had previously manifested itself a thousand times with all the heaviness and slowness in the world. And when the time came and it had to end, they left with exhausted minds and bodies and many secret oaths of change and a different tomorrow. At least he did.
*****
It was a time of historical facts; a time when he got to know the different paths and events leading to the characters he always watched but seldom understood. He was living in a chaos of love, hatred, lust, and pain, but on that day he felt like a small lost stream of water finally joining the ocean and eagerly listening to the stories of other streams who made it before. Who knew life had some surprises to offer? He was fascinated by some events, shocked and disappointed by others. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was the end of time.
He felt himself leaving his body and watching things like an impartial ghost. After that, every day and every night was like watching a movie. He had the power to slow down time or even pause it, and to simply savor the moment. At some point, sitting alone on an unfamiliar table finishing someone else’s beer and losing himself to the music from his iPod, he became completely paralyzed and could only follow his surroundings with his eyes. He just watched as people laughed, talked, ate, and held hands. He smiled at the familiar feeling visiting him, and embraced the nothingness again; the nothingness that lays down things in a simple manner before his eyes and makes him laugh at how stupid he had been. He loves that feeling, even though, when it passes, it leaves him more lost and troubled than before. And even though time now promises nothing but more randomness and disappointments, he accepted nothingness as his master, and became its prophet. He promised people a bright tomorrow and a day when all things would be better; he spread hope around. What power or guarantees did he have? Nothing – absolutely nothing. But he couldn’t help it.
*****
Dear Sir,
I am truly happy to inform you that we are offering you admission to M.I.T. The Berkeley campus has a strict enrollment ceiling and thus each department is limited in the number of new students it may admit each year. Our department has the difficult task of selecting students with the strongest overall records from a large pool of well-qualified applicants, and you are one of them. Fortunately, this means that we are able to admit you to the Ph.D. in Robotics program at Carnegie Mellon. This decision was reached by the admissions committee after carefully reviewing your application. As you no doubt know, we at Caltech are able to act favorably upon only a small percentage of the thousands of applications we receive each year. In many cases we are unable to offer admission to highly qualified candidates because of limited space and facilities, or because their interests do not coincide sufficiently well with the needs and interests of our faculty. You, however, clearly meet all requirements. Your formal admission letter from Georgia Tech, in addition to other useful information, is available for direct download on our website. We look forward to receiving you at Virginia Tech this Fall, and thank you very much for your application.
Best wishes,
Graduate Affairs Office
P.S. Please do not reply to this e-mail.
*****
The last few months were particularly harsh on him. Time stood still, leaving him fighting for breath in a horrifying state of mind, shaped by basic elements of fear and despair to an extent he never imagined was possible. He lost the will to go on, and was even deprived of the desire and strength to write or talk about it. He let himself go and watched the silver clouds cross the dark sky while the cold wind blasted against his face trying helplessly to wake him up. A week before, he sat outdoors while the gentle muddy raindrops continued to strike his head and land inside the glass of whiskey he was sipping from.
Yes, time did stand still, and he could no longer tell the difference between his days and his nightmares. Washed away by rain, olives, and banality, all backgrounds and colors disappeared, leaving behind a dead man walking, with a thick trace of ashes behind him. A dead man has to find the strength to escape his verdict before he runs into his rope. Maybe this fear is the best thing that ever happened to him.
Filed under: Life, Personal Experiences, Philosophy, Thoughts , Life, Thoughts
January 15, 2009 • 4:04 pm 3
Filed under: Life, Personal Experiences, Philosophy , Life, Philosphy, Quotes
December 29, 2008 • 4:43 pm 1
He was driving after midnight on the cold streets of Amman, when Mood 92 FM played Seal’s Kiss from a Rose. The combination of the familiar calming tune, the quiet empty streets, the taste of hot chocolate in his mouth, the conversation he had just had, and the remnants of the visit to the cemetery the day before made him suddenly realize how much of his father was in him, the wake of whose life he seemed to be naturally following sometimes. That realization disturbed him, yet strangely and warmly cleared things up for him. For at least, and above all, he knew he didn’t want to follow through and eventually die disappointed with the people he cares for; he has to do something about it.
Filed under: Life, Personal Experiences, Thoughts , Death, Life, Thoughts
October 7, 2008 • 12:21 am 1
Has it really been two years? I still don’t know what to say.
The seventh is back. Munich too. And I still don’t know what to say.
Time froze that day, when you broke your promise to me.
In memory of Victor Nichola Abdo
Nov. 25th 1947 – Oct. 7th 2006
May you rest in peace
Filed under: Life, Personal Experiences, Thoughts , Anniversary, Death, Time
August 21, 2008 • 11:24 pm 1
Never have I found words this evasive and beyond my grasp as I do these days. I have been struggling lately to write down my thoughts, to communicate them, and to simply vent some of the pressure that I’ve been feeling, only to find myself vacuous when I intend to do so. I’ve been doing a lot of sitting, reading, observing, and contemplating. I didn’t feel like leaving my place much. I watched four or five new movies, and replayed a couple of old ones… I made several checklists each day. I’ve crossed out most of them – things that I could do from this chair right here… I’ve listened to music, and I’ve watched the sun set on the old houses on the hill across my house every day; sometimes, from where I sit, the view from my window seems more like an odd portrait I’ve seen in some book or some movie. It’s as if I had hung this big picture on my wall; a picture whose shades and colors change as the day progresses into night. It’s funny how the reflection of the sunlight off those houses affects my mood. But then again, perhaps it is my mood that affects the way I view the picture, much like Dorian’s inner soul manifests itself on his portrait… I tried to plan the exciting times I have ahead of me. I haphazardly jumped from one thought to the other, wondering and worrying about how each of them would affect me or fit into the large scheme of events that I deem ideal for me and my ‘future’. I scribbled away on my board. Occasionally, I would throw a ball against the wall in front of my desk, catch it, and throw it back over and over, until I am unaware that I am doing it… I’ve admitted things to myself and to others, and I’ve sent out some of the most foolish e-mails in the history of e-mailing… I dreamt, and I planned, and I felt like something is coming soon to change the way things are. It could be good, and it could be bad, but the status quo is soon to be disturbed, that’s for sure.
Thoughts. Endless thoughts. What are they now? Which ones troubled me? Which ones filled me with joy and enthusiasm? I can’t remember. It feels like I exerted more effort this week, at home, on this chair, than I have in the last two years at work. Time off? No such thing. I will always be consumed, it seems, by my thoughts and worries, by my joys and aspirations, by my plans and work, and by trying to figure out what the hell it is that I am supposed to be doing and why.
This takes me back, yet again and again, to the fact that life is the funniest and most mysterious thing of all. It has no meaning and no purpose. I was born, and I shall die, at some time in the future, whether I struggle or take it easy. My entire existence is a blink of an eye, a result of chance and the continuation of processes that have persisted for millions of years. Yet here I am, trying with all my might to change it; to create meaning. A few German language courses have led me to a month in Germany – a reason to be smiling for quite some time, some say. Maybe some chances there? Perhaps just a great vacation with some more learning? Two years in a tedious and ridiculous job have worn me down to the extent that I now want nothing but to be accepted at a top university to continue my ‘studies’ and catch up with my ‘Plan A’ of always excelling and being part of the elite; to contribute and produce and satisfy my intellectual needs. Is my despair here now reason enough to pursue that? Perhaps not. And the effort needed to get back on that track is certainly discouraging. But it seems like the only move I have at my disposal at the moment; to open new doors, and to carve new paths for the flow of ‘life’ to follow. Am I really changing my life? Will I ever be happy with any of those things? I don’t know. All I know is that it doesn’t really matter.
I don’t feel like writing anymore.
Filed under: Life, Miscellaneous, Personal Experiences, Philosophy, Thoughts , Life, Meaning, Philosophy, Thoughts, Work
June 23, 2008 • 11:42 am 2
“Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it.”
Confucius
I’ve been asked to ponder the idea of hidden beauty. Here’s some of what crossed my mind.
Her hidden rebellion, shining from within. Her love for life and music in the true senses of the word. Her awkwardness, intelligence, true kindness, and passion. This carefully-hidden beauty lies in her words and thoughts, and I am filled with the true joy of a happy kid whenever it shines in my face…
A silent compartment set above our heads. Some inscriptions contrast the light color of the marble; a name, a couple of dates, a picture, and a verse that was selected from half a dozen available ones, and that we thought represented him best. A burnt candle and a dead flower have been waiting since the last visit, and an old lady at the end of the dusty path that contains tens of similar resting places seems to have been watering her son’s plants and waiting for something to happen since forever. I drag the small steps we found there so my mother can reach up and touch the stone. I move my eyes between his picture and the tens of used matchsticks around us, and I wonder what I should do. I don’t want to promise ‘him’ the same things I always do when I find myself speechless there. It feels more stupid each time, yet it makes me feel a bit better. I look around me and see plants and flowers and silent people staring at their own lost ones. Even butterflies and happy singing birds come here. It truly is a resting place, but for the living. The hidden beauty of the silence, the comfort of promises made to dead ears, the recollection of memories and the telling of old and new stories. Dead flowers are replaced, candles lit, and incense burnt, and I start to see that these things are done for the sake of the living, not the dead. The randomness and stupidity of life is only surpassed by the meaninglessness of death, and this is the only place that so calmly and beautifully presents both to you. The dead are long gone, and the stupid living ones hang on to their remains for a fake sense of meaning, secretly wishing that soon they will be the ones sleeping, and someone else with burdens and memories will be lighting candles for them…
Whether you reach a desired result or not, whether you succeed or horribly fail, work is the most beautiful deed there is. Yes, work. No matter how old and how clichéd that sounds, work holds the most beautiful of pictures in its harsh and tiresome pages. It is work that makes me what I am, and it is work that I choose to do, and through which I change myself and things around me. The centuries of hard work hold with them the secrets of our current knowledge and strength, and the hidden beauty of the journey eventually surfaces and masks the tears and sweat…
Another friend, another character, and, most importantly, another artist in the making has entered my life. Lots of shades colour her character, but perhaps the most beautiful are the ones she tries to hide. Her eyes scream with who she is and what she turned out to be, no matter how much she tries to hide it. The hidden beauty is that of her tired anger and sadness that she never lets out or shares, while making sure the people around her see how beautiful their lives are. How ironic that an artistic person like her, one who tries wherever she goes to capture beauty in the things no one notices, would find it hard to discuss such a topic. I guess all she had to do to be inspired was to see and feel what we see and feel when we catch her staring into the distance, so occupied with something, and with the saddest, most serious, and most beautiful look that anyone can manage to draw on his or her face, with no effort whatsoever…
Filed under: Arts, Life, Miscellaneous, Personal Experiences, Philosophy, Thoughts , Beauty, Thoughts
June 11, 2008 • 11:25 am 3
Simple Pleasure:
There I am, lying on my bed, fighting sleep, and thinking of the many things I have to do. Then suddenly I get an idea. Things click. I know how I’m going to be spending my night. I jump excitedly to my desk, clear the clutter, sit in front of the computer, arrange the papers and/or books I want to go through, and start planning and working. The pleasure: when I set Barber’s Adagio for Strings to play and loop, look at the time (usually after midnight), and go to the kitchen to make coffee. On the way out, I erase the white board so that it would be ready when I come back.
Observation:
If someone does something that tremendously bothers you, and you tell them, and they still do it, then they will never stop doing it no matter how annoyed you get. They simply don’t think it’s wrong. So you either stop getting annoyed by it, or you just stress yourself out each time it happens. Of course you can always stop dealing with them altogether.
Simple Pleasure:
Learning a new language, and understanding the spirit of it, and then comparing it to another language you know to observe the differences and similarities.
Resolution:
I have to stop complaining and talking about my exams before taking them, no matter how worried I am or how much I can’t help it. It is annoying, and I ace most exams.
Simple Pleasure:
Wine in the evening with music, and whiskey at night with friends.
Observation:
The person who points out to you how ridiculous it is to be annoyed by something is usually the person who gets just as annoyed, if not more, by the same thing.
Simple Pleasure:
Finishing a book.
Resolution:
I will keep my problems to myself.
Simple Pleasure:
Music when thinking, music when working, and music when driving. Different genres for each.
Newly-discovered Simple Pleasure:
To watch satellites and spaceships passing by when they happen to be visible to the naked eye at night.
Resolution:
To have the ability to play the violin well enough to play Adagio for Strings and some other pieces sometime before I die.
Filed under: Life, Miscellaneous, Personal Experiences, Thoughts , Boredom, Life, Thoughts
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