Timing

Timing.

Everything is about timing.

Tragedy. Comedy. 

Wining and even losing.

To make people laugh we need to have a good timing.

When people cry, it is because of bad timing - or is it a good one?

Do we have any clue how to time timing? no we do not.

This shall not be a surprise to us.

Sometimes I write, and I have no clue why. 

This is timing! A shitty timing for writing.

Between two worlds

I have always thought that I live on the exact border line of everything.

On the border line between west and east, on the border line between a girl and a boy, between being an extrovert and introvert, on the border line between a being a winner and being a loser, between being rebellious and oppressed, between being progressive and regressive, on the border line between being  a believer and an atheist, just there standing, sitting, running, eating, exercising, working and just living on the border line. Breathing it.

The west of the 1970s and the East of 2030s. These are my two worlds that I live in.

One has passed, the other has not yet arrived. In between my east and west, a bit in the past, a bit in the future. Too progressive for the one and too regressive for the other.

I try to match those two worlds into my present world, i find myself struggling, and losing my identity. Am I the eastern living in the west, or the western living in the east?

My life is more or less equal to the west of 1970, not progressive enough for today's west (the way I view it), while It is ahead of time for my east. Shall I choose one of these two worlds, or keep living in between. Is there where to go in-between? where does this road lead to? will these two worlds ever meet, or forever they will stay parallel worlds, each running in its path and pace.

When they will meet,  am I going to be still alive?  or will I watch it from above? (Or below!)
Will they ever meet? should they?

Even stars collide, and out of their crashing new worlds are born.

(By Charlie Chaplin - as I was enriched this morning, what seems like a million years ago.)

Confession

 Confession: iphone notes have changed my life.

I feel like Woody Allen with his hundreds of ideas written incoherently on yellow papers spread allover his drawer, as raw material for his next movie, or not.

To do list - February 2012

• Write a 10 minutes short film script.  (Productivity)
• Finish the Tower Bridge lego.  (Spirit)
• Breath.  (Life)
• Go to "Lost & Found", and look for me.  (Direction)
• Subscribe to the gym - and try to really visit it.  (Health)
• Tell valentine and his day to F*ck off - Pardon my French.  (Break the rules) 
• Focus.  (Work)

After doing all the above, run for the presidency of the United States of Angelica! 
Go Girl, Go!

For you are dust, and to dust you shall return

Drops of rain are pouring heavily from the wide opened skies. Or shall I say, heavenly? Peaceful atmosphere despite the heavy rain, dominated by the colors of the blue skies, green grass and reddish brown mud. Lots of mud. Everywhere.

People are coming from all over. Some were holding an umbrella above their heads and others without, trying to cover their heads with their jackets, or hands. They are trying to find their way and walk in between the big muddy spaces. Lots of mud, very few trees, lots of grass. Open space. Pastoral.

People are gathering under the tiny asbestos shed coverage, where drops of rain can still come through and fall on their heads softly and calmly, in an annoying way. Most of the people are waiting silently. Only few are weeping and distracting the silence and the rain drops sound on the shed. Everyone is now gathered and "ready". Waiting. Soon. Soon she will arrive.

Not long time after, she arrives. A 80+ years old woman, a daughter, a sister, a mother, an aunt, a grandmother. She is laying down on a stretcher in a private ambulance. She is covered with a black cloth, a very simple black cloth, symbolizing how little and humble human beings are in front of GOD - isn't it?

"For you are dust, and to dust you shall return".

The weeping increases, some do it more hysterically and others so silently that you could not hear it or see it, just feel its waves though the cold air touching your soul.

He is here too, a 90+ years old man. He sat there, in pain, not knowing what to do, how to behave. He just lost his beloved wife, after 60 years of marriage, of togetherness in good and bad times.
60 years. 60!

But she didn't want to stay any longer. She left. She couldn't bare life anymore, even though she was loved by her husband and all her family and friends. She gave up, and now she is gone. Or shall we say, her time has arrived? She left her beloved with pain, but maybe relief as well.

Prayers were prayed and eulogy speeches were spoken in a sincere and touching way that lets you respect and love the person laying there even if you didn't know her that well - she was a good person, a funny person, even though not a perfect person.

It is time to let go. Four men were requested to help carry the body. Some men felt inconvenient. Maybe they have back pain, maybe they don't like to get close to a dead body, or maybe they were not the closest to her and felt that others shall walk her to her last destination; they moved away. Eventually four courageous men came and started the walk towards the grave.

Walking through the mud, umbrellas are picked up again and people followed slowly. The men slide her into the muddy grave dug into the reddish brown soil, put a layer of wood plates on her, and started covering her with the soil until the surface level was reached. Her husband, daughters, grandchildren, brother, sister and all other relatives and friends were standing there, some seemed relieved, some are in deep pain, some are weeping, and some just keeping it all inside, somewhere that no one can ever see or feel. Her name, written correctly, was put on a wooden stick and pushed into the mud on top of the grave. Flowers, lots of flowers are covering the mud. Red flowers. yellow too, but mainly red.


I was standing there, trying to be supportive to my dearest and thinking about life and death, about beginnings and ends. I was thinking about myself, about my relationships, about my beloved, about whether there could be a chance that we are burring something that is still alive breathing even though silently and slowly, but something that can be saved. Is she alive? is it alive? who has confirmed that she was dead? did anyone see her soul getting out of her body? if so, then where did it go? can someone catch it and put it back into her? what if her soul is still there and it is only a matter of giving her some first aid? Do I doubt her death?

I was thinking about new beginnings, about overcoming the endings, about life after death and about death after life. I was thinking about grief, about how hard and sad it could be, about how difficult it is to leave a beloved person, about how hard it is to be left alone, and about how they managed to stay 60 years together until death took them apart.

60 years of togetherness, a number I believe I'd never reach, being a 35+ single woman. How I envy them. It reminds me of my grandparents too. Even though they had some rough times, and I bet they so much wanted to get rid of reach other sometimes, they stayed together.

I still envy them for the power and strength to stay together. Or is it actually the weakness of "no other choice"?

I might never know.

Gravedigger,

when you dig my grave

could you make it shallow

so that i can feel the rain...

Conflicts

21.3.2011 - I didn't publish this for some reason. (So, why now?)

Almost 4 days have alerady passed since I arrived to haifa for a vacation.
I chose this time of the year because I wanted to be there for my mom  - It is "mother's day".

So, here I am. Happy. Not happy. Enjoying, and being frustrated at the same time.
I cannot control my polarity. Everything in me is in a conflict.

'I like' in conflict, 'I eat' conflict,'I talk' conflicts, 'I breath' conflicts.
I am addicted to conflicts and I was made out of conflicts.


I wish, it was cornflakes.

Staccato

Beautiful soul. Hurt soul. Aching soul.

I hurt you, you and you. I regret...none.

Choose, you need to choose.

Decide, you need to decide. 

No decision is a decision. 

Why? No answer.

Time. 

More time. 

No extra time. 

How much time?

Unknown. Unknown.

Secret. No, it is not. 

Ashamed. No I am not.  

Lies. No it is not. 

What is better, lies or honesty? 

No difference. Exact same.

Can't handle anyway.

Choice and consequence. 

You choose, you pay. 

You don't choose, you pay. 

You play, you win...or lose. 

Enjoy. Live. Breath. Breath. Cry. 

Stop! Stop!

You. You. 

Imperfect. I do what I can do. 

This is me. This is you. 

You do what you can do. You too.

Imperfect. Perfect. Imperfect. 

Perfect in my imperfects. 

Fool. Cruel. Love, pure. Different. 

Love me different. 

Doesn't matter. 

Silence what matters. 

Perfectionist. Not. 

Suffer a bit. Ok. Why not? 

Suffer.

Happy. Sad. Happy. Moody. 

Perfectly happy. 

Damn angry. Sad. Sad. 

Moody. Down. Up. 

Up and down. 

Roller Coaster.

Adrenaline, fear. 

Punch in the face. 

Why? 

Broken. Broken.

Wine. The color, wine. 

Colors. Honey. Light. Dark. No.

Add colors. More colors. 

Smile. Perfect. That is perfect.

You. Be who you are. 

This is who you are. 

Disturbed. Me.

This is what you can. 

Laugh. Smile. Beautiful smile. 

Silence. S-I-L-E-N-C-E! 

Broken.

Write. I want you to write. 

I write. No regrets. 

I write. For you I write. 

Write. For me. For you. For us. Us? 

Yes. No. Perhaps?

Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

Side effects are temp. 

Sick? are you sick?

Side effects, need time. 

Time. 

Do you believe in time? 

Intentions. No. 

Does time stop? 

I want to play. Magic stick. Now and then, everywhere. 

Can we play with time?

Time heals. No. 

Time buries. No? 

Sorry. Beautiful soul. 

Hurt soul. Sorry. 

You. 

You aching soul, be strong. 

Or whatever...

Christmas supermarket

Today, after work, I went for a cup of coffee at the preferred neighborhood cafe. It was weird. I was all alone with the Barista man. Dark outside (even though 16:30 - yes today I left early), candles light inside, and a perfect coffee temperature. Sitting on the bar, next to the window, all exposed to the outside world,  all alone, with my bitter coffee and sweet thoughts.

I was awakened from my dark day dream,  in order to join in for a supermarket visit.

It has been a while since I last visited a supermarket. There is a reason why I don't visit the supermarket that often, trust me,  a very good reason, even though I love supermarkets.

I love walking around, looking at products, reading what's written on the packages, searching for new and exotic products. The colors, the drawings, the shapes, the graphics; It all attracts me so much, so I can spend hours in a supermarket (Only if I have a jacket and scarf with me, as it tends to be so cold in there).

Christmas is almost here (One month to go...yay!), and everything is already dressed with Christmas outfit, colors, gifts and happiness. Lots of of happiness in the air.  True happiness, fake happiness, it doesn't matter, it is there. In this period of time we concentrate on happiness, no matter how miserable we are, because Christmas is hope, and Christmas is life, and Christmas is what we wait for a full year!

C h r i s t m a s,  C h r i s t m a s   e v e r y w h e r e ! 

Christmas chocolate, Christmas beer, Christmas wine, Christmas decorations, Christmas tiny figures, Christmas toys, Christmas vegetables, Christmas fruits, Christmas toilets paper, Christmas ear cotton sticks, Christmas milk, Christmas...

The supermarket was full of Christmas stuff.  My eyes are filled with Christmas shopping, and my heart is filled with Christmas happiness, and I started gathering Christmas stuff. Chocolates for my nephews, alcohol for my parents, little Santas for the house and Christmas greeting cards for the friends.

A gift for G, a gift for S, a gift for P, for N,  for M, for E, for A, for B, for N, for D, for G, for T, for J, for S, for R, for L, for H, for R, for L, for H, for C, for C, for B, for Y, for T, for I, for L, for everyone. A gift for everyone in my life. Everyone. No matter what religion they are, no matter what and when they celebrate. Everyone.

Will anyone, think of me?!

Christmas is here, true happiness, fake happiness, it doesn't matter, it is here.

One thousand nights to go.

Every night, when the darkness is about to kiss the light, I abandon.
Every night, when the cockerel is about to crow in the break of dawn, I torture.
Every night, when the sun is about to wake up for a good morning ray, I kill.

Every night, I live to feed my ego.
Every night, I live to fulfill my passions.
Every night, I live to abandon, to torture and to kill.

Every night I am no one.
I am Shahryar! Shahryar!

Tonight you came, with your story to tell.
Tonight you came, for my imagination to conquer.
Tonight you came, and it was my turn to taste lust and despair.

You smile, you laugh, you lie, you touch...and I die.

Preternatural...storyteller...a fairy you are.
One thousand nights to go, and I didn't know.
That I am Shahryar, and Shahrazad you are.

A fighter...

So you tell me to write.
"Write for me", you say.

You challenge me. 

You tease me. 

You test me.

It is not right, I am not going to write. 

I insist, I am not going to write!

"You are a fighter, you should not surrender". You smile.

"I was born a leader" I shout. I fight. I resist!

Lost in the brightness of your pearl teeth and the rose of your soft lips...

I surrender...

You are right. I am no leader.
I am a fighter, I refuse no command.

So, I write. 

I write for you. 

I am a fighter, I refuse no command.

The day after 11.11.11

So, I have decided that this year of 2011 ends here on 11.11.11!

Today is the day after, meaning it is new year 12.11.11, therefore I must have my end of year resolution.

The year of 11.11.11 was a very good year for me, I think.

I turned 35, which is cool.
I have a "stable", good, "fun" job. 
I enjoy my life. Yay.
I love the people in my life. Very much.
I got to know some interesting new people. whom I like.
I have the best relationship with my mom ever, I think.
I love me. (Obviously not always did, but now I do and I do even more - Narcissism)
I love people. I Do, I do - with reservations still.
I love life with all its good and bad, happiness and sadness, and there is a lot of each.

I was actually thinking to myself, that every time I am happy, there must be something that makes me sad, and every time that I am sad, there must be something that makes me happy.
As if both, happiness and sadness are in a competition of who pleases me more.
In balance. The beauty of life. The Mystery of life, which I am in love with.

Back to the year of 11.11.11.

So I have learned to open up, a little bit more.
To accept people the way they are, a little bit more.
To enjoy people with all their differences, madness, noises, and calmness.
To look into their eyes, to surrender, to give myself to them and let them decide how much they'd like to get and when. Without too many expectations (though very hard and no matter how much I try I still build expectations) and without too many conditions.

You like me, voila, take as much as you want. You don't like me, then Au revoir.
If I like you, I want you to give me, If I don't like you then accept that I don't.

I am trying to keep writing since it is 4:45 AM and I need to keep awake until ~9:00AM, but I am not so sure how much I can. I think I can't, maybe I can. No I can't, I can!

OK, I cannot concentrate anymore. I must sleep for 2 hours. Not sure I like this post. But, cannot do anything now.

Samy 48

48.
48 days.
48 days since Samy left us.

Since then I visit him almost every day. Pathetic. I feel pathetic, but also helpless. Even embarrassed. I wanted to write this since 13.9.2011, but I had not the courage. Today after seeing the below Samy's photo I couldn't wait anymore. I felt a real connection, maybe because of the type of the photo, a theme I adopted since a long time ago.

I knew Samy since we were kids, from school and the city of Haifa, few parties, here and there. We were never friends, but he was there. Always. Heard his stories, heard about his activities, always saw him in the city. Invisible relationship, you may call it, a relationship that I cannot explain.

The death of Samy shocked me as it shocked many others. I check Samy's facebook wall almost everyday. I search, I look maybe he just replied to someone, or added a new post saying: "Hey all, Surprise!!! I am here, I have been here all the time, it was all a big joke - I just wanted to see how many people will miss me if I am gone for a while...surprise!" Damn it.

Instead, I see his friends and family moaning and posting stories about him, funny ones and happy ones, they are posting things that he loves, things that he dislikes. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I smile, sometimes I feel that I am going to cry, and my eyes tend to be wet. They are posting more and more wonderful pics of him , so handsome, I can't keep my eyes off him. The mole under his right eye, I always look at it and feel that it is a tear, that he wants to tell me something.

I ask myself why? What is happening to me? I have no answer, after all we weren't best friend, which is the most embarrassing part, we didn't have real daily contact. Come on, I am not even his friend on facebook. I really don't understand. I feel a little bit foolish, and I feel sometimes stupid. Why? What is connecting me to Samy? Why is this happening to me?

When I look at his photos, I many times see myself, as if I am looking at a mirror.

Sometimes, I like to think of myself as an angel. I fantasize about it, I believe that I came here for a reason, I have some duties to do, some people to meet and be in their lives, some changes I am responsible for, and then leave. Just leave, without even a goodbye, mission accomplished. First time I say this "out loud", but I live with the thought that I might not last long, human age wise. I live with this thought or feeling, even though I do not wish it to be real. So many things to do, so many things to accomplish, so many people to meet, to touch their hearts and let my heart be touched. I don't want to leave. I am an angel that likes it here. But angels have no saying in this...should I lose my wings and stay?

Looking at Samy I feel I am looking at myself, maybe because we angels see each other, know each other, even without any contact. This thought scares me to death.

Samy, you might remember me, and you might not, but I want to tell you that I feel you. I see you in my day dreams. When I look at your pics, I feel pain, but also a relief. Take care Samy. We all love you down here. Prepare the party and the good music, one day we will meet again for real.

So many things

I want this, and i want that. No, I want something else, I want that, no this. So many things that I want, and nothing is ever enough. Because contradictions is what I want. Contradictions are my specialty. I want them all, all the time. My thoughts are extreme, they jump from one side to the other without consulting me. My inside is boiling, my outside is freezing. Peaceful but rebelling,  calm but bursting. This is how my mind looks like. I love it and I hate it. I adore it and i want to get rid of it.

Schizophrenia it is, but it is not. So many things I want, and so many contradictions. For example I want to write this post, but I also want to stop. Here I stop.

...and this is how my mind processes things. Run, cut, sound over, music, cut, edit.

The national film school, is irrelevant here (you'll understand once you watch) - but they really do have lots of money.

 

p.s. The video was filmed at the London Film Academy - September 2010

Haifa mood - revealed!

Haifa. July 4th 2010. Not in a very good mood. a sudden change that i cannot explain yet. maybe it is the ongoing stress in this country, maybe it is the politics? the heat? or maybe it is the economic situation? I am not sure. I am just not in a good mood. Laying on the sofa at my friend's place N., I can see and listen to the mediteranien sea waves, hitting the shore and the rocks. I can hear the train from time to time, and some traffic on the Haifa-Tel Aviv main street. I am laying on the sofa and thinking of what went wrong. I cannot point on one thing. Too many things went wrong in some people's eyes. So many things are right in others'. I am in between, the right and wrong, hanging in between, walking on the borders, on a very thin rope, trying to keep my balance and other people's balance as well. I want to sleep. close my eyes, open my eyes, and be somewhere else, in different situations, in different time, in different realities. I want to close my eyes, and see blue and green and purple, I want to see the colors of life mixing into one beautiful painting in a perfect harmony. I want to close my eyes, and wake up where there is no sorrow or dispair. is it heavean? is it hell? is it life or is it death? no one knows, and no one can tell where the hell is heaven, and where for God's sake is hell! what is better freeze to death or hot to death? does it matter the path or the process, if the results were the same?

Strength and Sensitivity

Red clay, black net, a yellow ball, strength and sensitivity.

Open Frensh, Roland Garros 2010 - Paris.

Many things were told about the Roland Garos and about the classic Tennis game that attracts so many poeple in the world. Three weeks ago, I was one of those fortunate people who came to Paris, "The City of Lights", or as others calls it, not mistakenly, "The City of Romance", especially in order to attend and experience this great sports event where Strength and Sensitivity meet and where Intellegence and Power complete each other.

From one side of the court to the other side of the court, they run, they stretch, they sweat and they hit the ball back. The young generation, as well a the legends, they have all their senses focused on one thing, to Win.

Looking at the players, in an intensive body and brain actions for 2-3 hours and sometimes more, with very short breaks of 1-2 minutes between games and sets, one can easily realize how the body and the brain harmonize to perfection. You cannot win this game with only one element, you need them both and you need them in their best shape all the way to the championship.

Strength and Sensitivity, this is what it needs. A strong body to keep up with the physical exertion and a sensitive brain to read the opponents next moves and emotional state. Only then it is possible to surprise with a hit that cannot be returned. A game point. A set point. A match point. A championship.

Yet, it is not it. Strength and Sensitivity is also for a sensitive body that understands how to move with charm, that is aware of each movement of each muscle, and a strong brain that can handle the psychological stress and keep out of distress. Strong brain that doesn't collapse in critical moment.

Strength and Sensitivity, that was my first associaltion when watching the games.

Great players I had the chance to see in action:

Women singles

Francesca Schiavone

Serena Williams

Venus Williams

Jelena Janković

Samantha Stosur

Men Singles

Rafael Nadal

Nicolas Almagro

Women Legends

Martina Navrátilová

Jana Novotná

Mary Joe Fernandez

Conchita Martinez

Men Legends over 45

Mansour Bahrami
John McEnroe
Pat Cash
Andres Gomez

and more...

The Mall

This morning, I woke up at 9:00, I brushed my teeth, and immediately began to watch a movie. “Sex and the City”. The 2nd “Sex & The City” film is already in the cinema and I thought to myself that it might be a good time to watch the 1st one. Just in Time. Only 2 years of delay. What a lovely way to start my morning.

New York. New York. Sometimes, deep inside I want to live like a New Yorker, a “real genuine” New Yorker, like the ones in the movies. Then I realize that I am fooling myself. I don’t have it in me. I am too practical for a New Yorker life style.

At least, after the film ended, I had thought of going out to the city. If no sex, then at least a city, no? :-)

But those ladies in the “Sex and the City” didn’t agree that I just go to the city, they demanded me to take care of few abandoned issues, that I didn’t take care of the last couple of weeks. So, some basic cosmetics stuff were taken care of. Few grams were lost from my body, and it felt good and fresh. I took a nice shower, indulged myself with my favorite Almond body oil, looked for my abandoned contact lenses and tried to remember how to use them. I don’t like my glasses, I feel that it hides me, it distracts people from the real me, hides my beauty. I am allowed to think so, at least. Sometimes I feel less feminine when I put my glasses on. I have to admit, not always and I know it is bullshit, and I am talking so un-feminist, but I was never lead by rules of others. Don’t ask me why I am justifying me feelings, maybe the rules of others do affect me after all. But when I want to feel pretty, then putting on my glasses definitely do not help. My contact lenses are on, my Polarized Ray Ban classic sun glasses, that I last used in summer of 2009 when I was visiting home for few days, were taken out of the drawer (this time I remembered where I put them), a pair of torn TH Jeans, a colorful Uniqlo shirt, G-Star white light jacket, and my red-white addidas sneakers are all put perfectly on me. I am ready to go.

This is me, conservative in almost everything other than my little brain (Maybe). I am conservative in cloths, conservative in shoes and conservative in choosing sun glasses. I find it a waste to buy something that will last for 2 months and then should be replaced by something else more fashionable. Mostly I look for the classic look, where “my stuff” can last for as much as I like. It is something that I am trying to explain, and I think I know the root cause of it. I try to change sometimes, and I successfully manage, but very fast I will be back on the conservative track. I am not sure whether I want to change. I have no problem to pay for expensive things, but as long as it is classic and sustainable. I will try to explain some other time. Not now, not here. Since now and here, I never meant to touch this topic, I didn’t even mean to get personal. All I wanted is to write something, just something, as simple as that. I didn’t write anything since the 6th of April, 2010, on my way back from a home visit. I felt paralyzed. I wanted to write about so many things, and I couldn’t even log in. I was still exhausted. My mind has blocked every time I wanted to start writing anything. I took a break, I was sure I will return, and here I am.

Sitting on the window side of Barresso coffee shop, looking at the people walking the streets of Copenhagen with their shorts, flip flops and sun glasses. Sunny at last, it is 18 degrees. Summer is here.

My cappuccino is prepared to perfection; My Tomato & Mozzarella sandwich, is not more than OK, but at least I got a 20% discount, so I don’t feel that bad buying it.

When I left home today I took with me few items:

My old green tiny shuffle iPod that has a laser-engraved signature on it:

“iAngelique. Made in Heaven.”

I connect it to my new olive green Sony designed headphones that I bought in Tokyo.

The main songs are for Marcel Khalife, Souad Massi, Wadi3 el Safi, Nasri shams el deen, Kamilia Jubran, some other modern “already old” Arabic mix songs, and most importantly “Sahrieh”, a Ziad Rahbani play.

I am so afraid to lose these songs if I try to add new songs. I don’t know where I have the list loaded into the iPod, and I am afraid that any update, I will lose everything. And I don’t want that. I keep listening to the same songs and the same play, over and over and I am never fed up.

I also have my 10” Samsung laptop that I bought last year in London. I bought it especially for this purpose, to be able to have it with me everywhere, any time and write if I feel like it. I already proved it as a great buy, one of my best buys in the last couple of years, I must admit. I love it. The battery also lasts for ~6+ hours, so come on let’s admit it. It is perfect.

I have a Sony HD 120 GB video camera which is also my still camera. I bought it in Berlin. My plan was (and still) to record myself for all kind of purposes, like video blog, or comedy sketches that I write, or just to see how I manage in front of the camera. I love the camera. I love being in front of the camera. Unfortunately, I have not yet used the camera as I wish for. It requires more than just recording something; it requires more thinking and planning, and writing, and editing, etc. It is a long hard process. So far I did few things here and there, but I can say for sure that I haven’t used its potential yet. I used it so far as my still camera, as it has great qualities.

Today, I also took it with me, honestly, I am not sure why, but I thought I might take few shots here and there and practice a little bit of editing when I am back.

Copenhagen this weekend, is full of activities, it is a long weekend. Monday is a holiday. The weather great today, there is a Carnival, and some kind of traditional Medieval Market event until Monday. I might go see that. I like this stupid stuff, but will see if I manage to grab someone with me. I don’t like going places alone, although many times I enjoy it after all.

So, here I am still sitting in Barresso, finished my cappuccino and sandwich, long time ago, the sun is almost gone, but I like it that I am writing and that from each sentence that I write, I can start hundreds of other sentences. I wish it is always like that. Although now I feel so non-coherent with what I wrote, I feel like I need to re-write or write about each topic separately, so I can give each topic what it really deserves. I think it is enough for now, I will not reread or rewrite. I will call this Blog, “The Mall”, since I feel that my writing is like going into a mall. Lots of topics to consume in one place, less quality, but fun. Lots of fun.

Sadness - piece by piece

Sadness, this is what I feel at the moment. Sadness, at the ben gurion airport. Sadness, deep in my heart. Sadness, this is what they make me feel. Sadness, this is what they want me to feel. Sadness and it is eating my heart, piece by piece. How stupid it is to eat your heart because of sadness that others cause you. I am stupid, I am sad too, I also eat my heart piece by piece.

I breath heavily, and I write. I drink my cappuccino slowly, and I write. I wish, I was not writing these lines at the moment, I wish to enjoy my cappuccino only, to drink it slowly, to feel its bitterness and to love it. To go around the duty free, look for a perfume I like and to buy it.

Sadness, I cannot control it. How stupid to feel sadness in such case. How stupid that I feel sadness instead of anger. I want to be angry, and I am sad. I am stupid too.

Number 5, this is me. How beautiful. Number 5, this is where I belong. Not number 1, not number 2, not even number 6. I am not a Jewish, I am not a terrorist. I am an Arab. I am almost a terrorist. This is why I am number 5. This is what they want to think, this is what they want me to feel like, and this is what I am accused of without any legitimacy to do so.

A “sticker” they call me, someone suspicious that needs the extra effort, that justifies the extra resources and that justify their existence. How sad it is.

How sad it is to be accused of something you did not do. Something you have no connection to, something you do not agree to. But, I am not a Jew, I am an Arab, a citizen of the state of Israel, and I am accused of almost terrorism. No matter how much I try to integrate, no matter how good I represent the country I hold its passport, No matter what I want. I am accused. I am number 5, I am a “sticker” and I am almost a terrorist.

Sad, it makes me feel sad. Not angry, not anymore. Sad. It is so stupid to feel sad. I am stupid, and I eat my heart, piece by piece.

Sometimes I ask myself why? I try to understand. But why should I? I don’t understand. I can never understand how a “number traumatic” people, assign numbers to other people. Why should I understand? I have been a good citizen all my life. Why should I be? They want me to be an Israeli, but they put me in non Israeli line. They want me to sing the Israeli anthem with pride, an anthem that doesn’t represent me, and yet put me in a separate line. They want me to hold the Israeli flag, and yet put me in “non-Israeli” line and security checks. What do you want? Do you want a white flag? Take it! Please leave me alone. Do you feel good now? Do you feel the power? The control? Do you have your orgasm already?! You can also come on me, please do it, I will swallow and shut up!

Killing me softly, it is. Piece by piece, I eat my heart, in sadness, I eat my heart and it hurts. Piece by piece, I eat my heart. Peace by piss!

The "D" way...

A huge cake, very tasty, covered with Marzipan, my favorite, and lots of happy people. Today we celebrated a launch of a product that was not delivered, or in regular people's words - just did not happen. I bet someone said:" damn, we cannot deliver the product on time, so what shall we do? What shall we do?

"Eureka!! We can still deliver the cake!"

Happy people in the kingdom of D.

(I wonder whether we will celebrate a new cake once the product will be really, but really, launched.)

Just less than a month ago, a different product was launched successfully 'on time, on budget', and there was NO cake. The D management decision was that the project was launched successfully since the people worked on it, were doing the job they were requested to, so why the hell would anyone bring them a cake?! No one is volunteering to work here.. Hello?! They all get paid.

But hey, if you don't do your job, a product doesn't launch, the system doesn't work, the organization collapses and all are stressed, then what would be better than a cake to lift the sad faces and low morale up? Correct, A cake!

That my dear friends, is the D way!

Now let's say that your project is in a critical phase and it is not performing, what would you do if you were to use the D way?

1. Focus on the problematic area and act fast.

2. Find the weak link within the problematic area and look into out of the box solutions.
3. Be efficient, be creative.

or

1. Immediately say, "There are no resources".

2. Start playing with the organizational chart - after 3 weeks of play, come with the conclusion that:

    a. "There are no resources".

    b.  4 more managers are needed immediately.

    c. You need to delegate this task to someone else because of: #3.

3. Communicate that you feel stressed, and you don't know when you will feel better.

4. Communicate your vacation plans that, what a bad luck, falls exactly on the planned launch date of the project you are leading.

and... the winning answer, is?!  Come on, do you really think I am going to tell you?  Think! Think!

So, now we have a new project manager replacing the stressed project manager, without much of knowledge transfer, but who cares after all the conclusion was that the project needs to be staffed with 4 new managers filling the organization chart vertically and horizontally (literal translation from arabic saying: Bil tool ew Bil 3ard), layer in front and layer in back. The more inefficient you are, the more successful you are, the more money burnt on managers the bigger  your project is, the more cakes you get!

If all this doesn't work and the project didn't launch on time (no way it is going to launch on budget, you already know that - right?), then just bring another cake, continue complaining about the size and the scope of the project and how huge it is, while you have more managers than developers and/or testers, but still, add few more managers since you are so busy changing the organizational chart again, preparing a new presentation to describe it to managers again, and joining additional 10 more status meetings a week. Ohh, how could I forget the status reports and the Minutes of Meetings that you need to write.

So now you invested 4.75 hours in writing detailed report and then another 4-5 days preparing a presentation for the executive managers (Decision makers), so they can see the real status of the project, the progress, the open issues, the risks and of course the new updated budget!

You send it for your direct manager, a part of the executive managers board, for his review, and then it comes back to you looking all "red" (track changes, track changes) like after the Great Northern War between Denmark & Sweden in 1700-1721.

Some numbers should be changed, others should just disappear, move left to right, right to left, change some colors, remove few sentences, add few others, make it look "realistic", and yuppy hurray, we are done!

It is ready for presentation! Serious decisions need to be made, the presentation should be as accurate as possible for best decisions. Executive managers, look at the presentation, the numbers look right ("Not more than X millions, Great, not need for board approval"), ask few questions to show interest and here we go, Go/NoGo?

Go, NoGo, Go, NoGo, Go Go Go!! and let the Boss enjoy the Cha Cha Cha (Cover His Ass) dance!

Everything & nothing - noncoherent thoughts

I feel in Arabic.
I think  in Arabic and Hebrew.
I write in Arabic, Hebrew and English.
My current world, is Danish.
No wonder I have an identity crisis.

Palestine/Israel is so small for me, I need the big world. But where is the big world? What is the big world? What do I want to do when I grow up? Why do I ask these questions after 33.5 years? Isn’t it too late for that? Or is it my awakening moment?

Wake up wake up...I always found it hard to wake up in the mornings...I always wake up late. But once I wake up I am full of energy and ready to eat the world, to grab it with my both hands and chew it, until nothing is left.

Who  am I? What am I? Am I happy? Am I sad? Where am I going? What do I feel?

I feel that I lost partial control, which makes me no one and nowhere. Either I gain full control back, or I want to loosen everything, and lose it all. To start from the beginning. Look, watch, see and flow with whatever life brings to me. Enjoy the moment of being alive, our time is final here, and who knows what will happen tomorrow. Sad. Lately I feel sad too many times, and I cannot figure out why. Sometimes I worry too much for other people's problems and feelings. I take responsibility on other people's lives while I ignore mine or neglect it. I feel I should stop doing that. Sometimes I want to run away, sometimes I want to sleep, sometimes I want to be invisible, and most of the times I want to feel warm arms around me, live laugh and experience.

A memory:

When I was in the 2nd grade, we had a football match with the other 2nd grade, I also played with the boys (let's face it, I was better than most of them). We lost. And after the match a classmate came to me, and told me a sentence I never forget...”I admire you so much" she said, "all the boys' heads are in the floor with despair, only yours is looking up", how a girl in the 2nd grade could have such an observation and tell me this sentence that I remember until today, about 27 years later. Amazing. Today, I feel I’ve lost, not much to be proud of or to admire, I walk in the streets and I seldom feel my head looking on the ground, instead of to the skies. Once I notice this, I always remember this sentence and try to raise my head and look ahead of me, look forward.

If they ever ask me about a person that had a great influence on my life, I will definitely include this girl in the list. Maryam, her name was. Unfortunately I do not remember her last name.

Beers and an Old Chair

Today I had a different Shopping experience. It was sunny, 5 degrees, wow :)

On the way to "Baresso" for the saturday morning cappuccino, I passed by an antique shop. I always pass by this shop. I always look at one chair that I love, and would like to buy. The shop is always closed when I pass by. Seems that the shop opens only twice a week for couple of hours only. Today, it was my lucky day, the shop is open and my chair was waiting there for me.

All it needed is a short bargaining about the price, and it became mine. I can say that today, I lost in the bargaining game that I love so much. I badly wanted the chair, and I was afraid to lose it. So I lost., but I feel like a winner. I love antique furniture. No, I don't understand in antique furniture, but there are few things and pieces that I would love to purchase and have in my apartment, house, home, or under whatever ceiling I would ever have.

So, here is my new "old" chair, it is simple, but it managed to charm me. The guy at the antique shop said it is from 19th century, I don't know whether to believe him or not, but don't care.

Speaking of shops that are always closed, there is another shop, a Beer shop, that I have never seen open. Today, as I mentioned, it was my lucky day, it was open. So we went into the shop, and it has a huge variety of Beers from all over the world, you can spend there so many hours just looking at the different bottles and shapes and designs. We didn't have much time, we spent just 10 minutes, and what we got, other than tasting a special Easter Beer made by my neighborhood brewery "Amager Brewery", is Three bottles of beer. Two are german, the one (in green) is a Wheat beer and the other (in red) is dark smoked beer. While the third bottle of beer is a Belgium beer based on Blueberries. 

The truth is that I didn't taste them yet, so I cannot tell how good they are, but i am definitely looking forward to check.