Rayan, I love you

Dear Baby Rayan,

On Saturday July 6th, 2013 at 2:07pm you arrived to this world as a perfect ray of love and a package of joy from the heavens, and delivered to your loving parents Tala & Ghaith.

Welcome to the world Rayan Arnaout! Your name is the name of the gate of Heaven through which only the worshippers and observers of Ramadan enter, and as we prepare to enter the holy month of Ramadan, you really have reminded me what a blessing is, and filled me with emotions that no words can describe – feelings of smiles and tears and hugs and bliss. Feelings of Love.

I loved you before I even met you Rayan because I love your parents. Your mother is my angel – she has a heart big enough for the entire world, and now you, Baby Rayan, are her world. She will love you and guide you and nurture you with everything she has – and will always be your guiding light of love and reason as she has always been mine. Your father is a hero with the biggest and strongest arms in the world, and with those arms he will protect you from the world, and when you’re ready support you in it.

Between them Baby Rayan you are blanketed in affection and adoration.

May God protect you and bring you joy and happiness in your life like you have brought it in to my life and the lives of so many more.

جعله الله من مواليد الخير والسعادة، والعاقبة  لديكم بالخير واليمن والمسرات

Love,

Auntie D

Poker Face

It has been a while since I played any games, but I do remember a time when playing cards was not just a way to pass the time, but an actual addiction. What is it about those 52 cards that keeps people entertained, amused, eager, frustrated and sometimes completely neurotic for hours on end?

A little history lesson first (courtesy of Wikipedia); playing cards as a concept originated in Ancient India, and were found in China as early as the 9th Century. The earliest record of playing cards in Europe in their current 52 card discernible form dates back to the late 14th century. The evolution thereafter has brought us to our current Anglo-American version of four suites: Hearts, Diamonds, Spades and Clubs, each running numerically from 1 (or Ace) to 10, with three picture cards, Jack, Queen and King.

A last side note on the formation of the cards; Symbolism. Popular legend holds that the composition of a deck of cards has religious, metaphysical or astronomical significance, with each suit of 13 cards representing the 13 months of the lunar year, and the whole deck of 52 cards representing the 52 weeks of the year.

So what does that mean to us? From gambling to idle fun, it is funny how those 52 cards can control us in such an intricate manner. Arguably none more so than the two red queens:

Queen of Diamonds - Queen of Hearts

Early on, we live in the fallacy that the Queen of Diamonds is indeed the Queen of Hearts, or rather controls and directs the Queen of Hearts, dictates who we love, and more appropriately, what we love. Aside from the overly enlightened, at one point or another, we are all slaves to her whims and wants - and what a whiny bitch she is! But the truth is, the Queen of Diamonds will always deliver, without fail - and what she delivers is tangible, measurable and if she makes enough deliveries, you certainly can jump into it and go for a little Uncle Scrooge McDuck style Money Swim.

If you're never fantasized about this, you're lying.

What has the Queen of Hearts really given you? I can't see it, I can't smell it, I can't hear it and even if I could, I don't think I'd want to taste it. Because I know if I did, it would taste something like bittersweet disillusion, unrequited hopefulness and heartbreak, with a side serving of wasted, salty tears. Yes, the Queen of Hearts does have a strange habit of dishing out quite a bit of disappointment, yet although I can't guarantee it and I don't quite know why I would even say something like this, I do still have hope in her. Don't get me wrong, I still love the Queen of Diamonds - but one day I could have too much money. Studies have actually shown that day to day happiness kind of stablises after you're making $75,000 a year. I don't think anyone can say they have too much love, too much kindness, too much affection and attention.

And so elusive Heart Queen - or should it be Hurt Queen? - I will continue to pull the cards of your deck, until maybe one day you will grace me with a good hand. And when you do, everyone will know, because that's one thing even a Poker Face can't hide.

EyeSpy

When we were young and setting our criteria for suitors and those that are suited, the question that always begged to be asked, "What is the first thing you notice about a member of the opposite sex?" had limited and often (but not always) predictable answers:

• Hands
• Breasts
• Wallet
• Shoes
• Hair
• Neck
• Car
• Star sign
  
• Wedding ring etc. etc.

But the one answer I hated the most above all else was the stereotypical 'EYES!' To me that always symbolized the epitome of pretentiousness and arrogance.

Then again, what did I know? I was a kid who believed I would find true love at the other end of a bo-.... I digress; civilizations and years and years of sayings and wisdom have all hailed the eyes as a 'glimpse into a person's soul', 'the window into their being' and 'the true representative of self'.

Who am I to overturn generations of conventional wisdom? Now I'm not the kind who usually buys into it either, but can I help it that certain eyes give me the creeps? Can I help it that certain eyes make me uncomfortable? A pair of eyes I've only just met put my heart at ease? Some looks make me cry? Make me want to reach out? I've met people who had a smile worth a 1000 watts, but eyes who've been through a million hells, do I disregard what is literally right in front of my eyes?

The truth is though, it's not always right in front of your eyes because as a generation, or a society, or something, we've been trained to respect/avoid others' personal space, maintaining a superficial barrier, and although we on a daily basis invite people to violate our superficial being mainly through technology, letting everyone know where we are, where we're going, who we're going with, what we're wearing, if we're happy /sad/excited/missing somebody 'and they know who they are' (so do the rest of us, but we don't really care), we have become accustomed to concealing our true being through an intricate game of charades, and expect others to do the same.

Looking into someones eyes to know if they're telling the truth is considered a naive fallacy, reading a loved one's thoughts through their pupils is no longer common. And not because it's inaccurate, but in order to be accurate, it requires for a person to be honest with their self, be prepared to reveal their own soul and accept it.

The seduction of blue eyes, the shrewdness of green, the warmth of hazel, the honesty of brown.

What would I see in your Eyes?

Of Death and Airports

Have you ever noticed that when disaster strikes, when the unexpected occurs, no one is ever in the right place? Never where they need to be?

I remember hotel check-outs and Expedia log-ins...
I remember call center hold tones and airline change fees...
Online bookings and airport lines.
A disarray of packing and only later remembering to hope nothing was left behind.

Because who cares if anything was left behind.
Everything is transient. Never more so apparent than now.

Memories are the only true measure of time - and when it comes to memories, there's no choosing what to leave and what to take. And I want to take it all; the good and the bad - but what is bad about a memory? What is bad about remembering a beautiful person, and the way they touched your life? I will not refute your memory because it didn't fit in to my mold - I will embrace it because you set the standard.

Can a person be loved more once they are gone? I hope not, because it will mean we did not give you your just deserve while you were with us. Instead I will continue to love you forever, gasping for those memories like oxygen, dwelling in their possibility and never ever forgetting that you gave me so much more than just my name.

And I will never get on a plane again without feeling the presence of your soul and the sadness of your loss.



Rest in Peace Marouf Hasan Suleiman. You will be greatly missed.
My Grandfather left behind a loving wife of 57 years, 4 sons and a daughter, and 16 grandchildren that will forever honour his memory.

Facelifts and Rainbows

This is for all 2 and a half of you that frequent this blog.

Firstly, Thank You. It's fun to feel like people want to know what you have to say by choice, and not just because I am standing in front of you and you're too polite to tell me to shut it. So Thank You, even if your intentions are purely to analyze my thought process as a means to your evil and diabolical plans - and Good Luck.

Secondly, as you must have noticed, I've taken advantage of Blogger's new design templates and got to work making this page vibrant and colorful. The tool has a lot of really neat designs and defaults. Unfortunately I haven't figured out how to add my own picture to the background yet, and don't know if I even can, so I had to settle for one of the defaults, and immediately jumped to the Travel section - if you know me then this is no surprise, if you don't know me, then start following me, and you will be astounded by depth of my amazingness - or not.

Instinctively I went for the picture of the Eiffel Tower; Paris, a city which enthralls and beckons to me, is owed a long overdue visit - and blog post. And then I started playing with the other designs, from something coastal as an homage to my Bride of the Red Sea, Jeddah, to the long skinny palm trees of California, depicting my yearning to past senses and tenses. I even contemplated that big 'Welcome to Las Vegas' theme, a discreet message to all those who read it. Then I thought I had settled for the green hued photograph of the Manhattan skyline from the Brooklyn Bridge. Although I ashamedly admit that New York is a city I have yet to visit, I felt that the bustling traffic depicted somehow fits in with the inspiration, if not always the direction, of this blog, i.e. Keeping Track of Time.

And then I clicked on the colorful technicolor carpets, and I smiled. I actually physically smiled. The colors literally brightened my day. True this is my blog, and yes it is a reflection of my thoughts and ideas, but why must I always be so concentric? Just as I am able to contribute to the Universe, the Universe constantly influences me. Even if I have sadness in my heart, I prefer to allow happiness into my soul from the outside in.

So I chose to keep it. Yes, it may not be a reflection of what I'm thinking right now, nor have anything to do with what I'm writing about, but let's consider it one other way that I choose to Thank You my loyal readership. I hope that even if you don't like what I'm writing, I can in someway still brighten your day.

And if there really is nobody out there, then I guess Dina, this is for you.

Slow Motion

There is nothing deep or emotional or soulful about what I am about to say. This has nothing to do with the little voices in my head, because frankly at the moment the little voices know better than to be talking and are trying very very hard to be very very quiet.

This post is superficial and shallow. An ode to the pain in my ears, the stinging of my eyes, the dryness of my tongue, the stiffness of my shoulders, the cramps in my calves and the disappearance of my feet.

Do I look ridiculous? I don't care, I'm not taking these sunglasses off.
The moisturizer is running dry, the Red Bull sits patiently and waits, this coffee tastes like crap.

The memories make me laugh, the laughing causes pain, the pain makes me wail.
The memories make me wail.

Sunlight makes me cringe but the warmth is oddly comforting. I think I'll ask the tea-boy for some more iced water please. Mmmm..Agua.....Ahhhhh. Another gulp, another deep breath, another glass of water please.

I glance out my window and see a police siren. The red and blue don't bother me much, but imagining that sound is a hot rod through the nape of my neck. I instantly deafen my ears to the sounds of my imagination, the cruel tricks of my mind.

Everything moves in slow motion.

Instead I'll occupy myself with some work. The scribbles don't make sense. I need food. An odd craving for chicken kickers and a bucket of Tabasco - Tabasco and olives and lemon juice...wait now I'm receding back to yesterday. Let's look at another menu. A tuna sandwich makes me smile - reminds me of simpler times. I think I'll order a tuna sandwich from Casper's. I place the order and instantly regret it - I want ice-cream.

Why?

The question persists. So I pick up my phone to call him and ask.
It's dialing....
I want to ask him why he does this to me.
It's ringing....
I want to ask him why he visits so often.
Another tone....
I want to tell him why he should visit more.
Another tone....
I need to explain why I visit him so much.
Another tone....
I hang up.

There will be no answers today - education is for the misinformed, discovery is for the misguided.

I'm With Stupid

The latest Diesel advertising campaign is just amazing.

This is the Diesel Stupid Philosophy

Like balloons, we are filled with hopes and dreams. But. Over time a single sentence creeps into our lives. Don’t be stupid. It’s the crusher of possibility. It’s the worlds greatest deflator. The world is full of smart people. Doing all kind of smart things… That's smart.
Well, we’re with stupid. Stupid is the relentless pursuit of a regret free life. Smart may have the brains…
but stupid has the balls. The smart might recognize things for how they are. The stupid see things for how they could be. Smart critiques. Stupid creates. The fact is if we didn't have stupid thoughts wed have no interesting thoughts at all. Smart may have the plans… but stupid has the stories.
Smart may have the authority but stupid has one hell of a hangover. Its not smart to take risks… Its stupid.
To be stupid is to be brave. The stupid isn't afraid to fail. The stupid know there are worse things than failure… like not even trying.
Smart had one good idea, and that idea was stupid. You can’t outsmart stupid. So don’t even try. Remember only stupid can be truly brilliant. ( Source from Diesel )

So I know it's just an ad campaign to sell clothes, but the philosophy and concept is pure temptation. The idea of carpe diem - seize the day - is not so much forgotten as it is frowned upon. One luxury that my generation has is the ability to plan. We don't have to 'seize the day' because we know what to expect tommorow - we know we will wake up in a comfortable bed and have food on the table, a teacher in the classroom and a check at the end of the month. We know that we will graduate from college, buy a car, start a family and be relatively and modestly, if not ostentatiously, comfortable. And if it ain't broke, why fix it - right?

Foraging into any idea unplanned and under-prepared means being irresponsible; equates to throwing your future away; shows risky rebellious behaviour.

Basically, don't be Stupid.
But if Stupid is creative, then what is the youth of life when drained of the sense of creation and creativity?
Embracing life with a sense of joy and passion, in the pursuit of laughter appears Utopian and Universal enough. Conversely, acting on impulse is not always correlated with embracing Stupid - punching someone in a bar just because you feel like it is not Stupid, it's just plain stupid. Consequences still exist in the real world, as much as we may wish they didn't, but the excitement of Stupid means knowing that the consequences of your actions hurt no one but yourself. You are responsible for the consequences of your actions towards yourself, but similarly you are also responsible of how those actions affect anybody else - anybody at all.

Stealing from the rich to give to the poor is not Stupid - it's theft.Getting behind the wheel drunk to go tell the girl of your dreams you love her is not Love - it's dangerous.

Dancing with your friends on a Monday night is Stupid.

Sometimes to be Stupid, you actually need to be smart - and I'm sure many of us have had moments where what seemed to be the smartest and most logical decision you can make, in hindsight was actually very stupid, while the Stupid decision you made changed your life, your perspective, or just gave you an amazing story.


Because Stupid doesn't mean neglecting consequences, it means embracing that there might be consequences but rather having the courage to deal with them. As a society we have forgotten what it means to expect the unexpected. The unexpected disappoints and jeopardizes and ruins the perfection we strive for on a daily basis. As a generation, we need to relearn to look forward to the quirks and pot-holes of life, and celebrate them as part of our plan, our story, or as my friend Celine has called it, our Unfinished Autobiography

Why does it feel so good to be Stupid? Biologically, I don't know. Something to do with endorphins, adrenaline, dopamine maybe? But emotionally, it is a release, usually an accomplishment. Your being craves the sense of surprise and anticipation. The suspense that something might go wrong at any moment, yet the ecstasy that it didn't. The pride of coming out on the other side with just that much more of a life experience.


So my message to you is to be Stupid (even if it means you're going to be late).

Splurge a little, love a little, and laugh a lot.

Because although Stupid might fail, smart doesn't even try - Diesel