Monthly Archives: November 2010

On Honesty and Full Moons

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I don’t like full moons; they inflate your emotions the night itself and around it and make you do foolish things. When you figure out that something like being fucking honest has never done you any good and agree with yourself over and over again that it better be avoided, you’re not supposed to forget … full moon or not. I opened up in a chat on the 21st, got a grip of myself on the 22nd (the night itself), only to fall back in that silly trap on the 23rd and start beating myself up since for making the same old mistake. What’s bad is that I realize that I did it again from others’ reactions, when it’s too late to keep me from giving myself and my emotions away, even good innocent emotions, especially good innocent emotions simply because they get to be misunderstood. 

How do you cure friggin’ honesty? in the most emotional periods? I don’t care about the good which honesty does to the soul, I don’t want to hear about any of the fucking related clichés and preachings. I want a Sean McNamara and a Christian Troy who perform emotional surgery, don’t ask the ‘why’, only the ‘what you don’t like about yourself’ which I would firmly and seriously answer ‘HONESTY. EXTRACT THE BLOODY THING. FOR GOOD’. The End.

Wanderlust

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Though many know-it-all’s suspect I do it to withdraw from life’s uncertainties and escape irrational emotions, I beg to differ. I thought about it over and over again, because this is what I do –I think. So if I ever paused in the past, reflecting, yet mistakenly appearing like I accepted such an incorrect opinion, I take that ‘idle’ position back and make clear that:

I travel because I love it. Passionnément. I love the sense of confidence travel gives me, the emotional security, the taste of the mysterious and the unconventional, the fulfillment and inspiration which keep me going months afterwards, until my next trip.

I don’t use it to run away; quite the opposite, travel keeps me afloat in my agitated sea of dramas, where every now and then my relationships and plans -of all kinds- grow complicated, confusing, exasperating and dull, where at times I question everything I once wanted and fought for relentlessly. Each time I’m lost, travel helps me detach reasonably from people and things, break free and take on an almost miraculous perspective on life, embracing being lost instead of freaking out.

Pele Mele

Is it a shocker that I long for it when I have the time, opportunity and funds? Travel is the only constant in my life, the only thing which never failed me or my memories. Talking of which, I put together a collage of some photos from places I visited: Florence, Venice, Paris, Versailles, Montmartre, Damascus, Prague, Bahrain, Kuala Lumpur, Malacca and Istanbul (click once and then a second time to see details). Jordan, Bangkok and Pukhet did not make the collection unfortunately but are safely tucked on the shelf over here in pre-digital-era albums. I sadly realized tonight that I lost somewhere between my house/city moves the photos of Amsterdam, Rome, Capri, Naples and Doha … calling for another visit I guess?;)

City or Crisis?

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I’ve been contemplating closing the old and deserted blog and starting anew for quite some time, but never really did get on it. It’s no surprise at all that I get started during the Eid holidays. I could see the threatening-double-faced quiet time coming since last week, since I resigned to the fact that I am not flying out -more to the point, running away- on a break anywhere near or far. Sinking into good-old denial again, I convinced myself I’d find something interesting to do in this city. Between Time Out Dubai, Time Out Abu Dhabi and Abu Dhabi Weekly, there had to be some hope.

Here I am, at the end of the holidays, officially announcing NOTHING INTERESTS ME IN THIS CITY -OR THE NEIGHBOURING ONE- ENOUGH TO KEEP ME BUSY AND FULFILLED FOR 3 DAYS.

I always blamed the city for this empty feeling and was about to go on whining about it again. After 3 days and long stretches of silence between the lunches and the late evening drinks, I had to sit still at one point, stop the bitching and listen honestly to the voices coming from within, the dreams and the fears, the realities and the illusions.

Yes, I’m bored with the repetition of the same in my life, privately, professionally and seasonally (last especially true to this country); I’m missing the feel of the adrenaline; I’m craving excitement and all that is unconventional; I’m hardly impressed, barely touched, in doubt and in review of values I was handed over; I feel stifled one time too many, sick of having to accept status quo’s for fear of no longer having the time nor the patience to get something and someone better. Yes, I’m considering charity work, a career change -more like a career addition at this stage- and possibly moving to another country.

No, I’m not planning to buy a flashy new car, hit it on with a younger man, become a gym addict or a slave to plastic surgery.

Is it the city or is it my thrisis? Would this feeling be the same here and everywhere else? Reflection can get quite confusing, eh? … it sure is better than racing through life avoiding looking inward though; that last bit is one thing I’m sure of.