I feel like going to the beach - goodbye post.

Hello blog readers :)

This is the last post I'll be putting up on this blog. Methinks I'm not done with blogging yet, but I am done here and would like to put the reasons for my ending of this writing experience in my life.

When I started writing this blog, it was Indian summer. I had recovered some serious joy and sense of true self that had been lacking over the months prior, let's say. During that time, the internal question I kept asking was, "What does your inner child want to do?" My inner child wanted to get a blog going. It's something I've shyed away from trying in the past due to its privacy-encroaching nature. I wanted to communicate my happiness with others, and to try and pass on lessons my soul had learned. I view this blog as detailing a phase in my life that has ended.  

Over the past few months, I can't say I've been really happy. Things happen to drag you down, and I've been down. A lot of the stuff that's written on this blog, actually, most of the things I wrote when I visited Lebanon in the winter, and then came back to Prague - a lot of that, I now feel, doesn't faithfully represent who I am. A lot of the ideas contradict one another, which reflects the confused sense of self I've had in the past few months. I'm becoming free now, and remembering my inner child. But I'm hesitant now to put all my experiences out there for the virtual world to see. I started taking a creativity course, the well-known Artist's Way, and I'm enamored. There's an exercise I have to do every morning, when I get up, and it's the Morning Pages. Three pages of stream-of-consciousness-style writing. Which is what I do on this blog. Which was not, mind you, the original intention. It's just that I tend to rely on what I write here as an emotional release. I toy around with feelings and ideas here, so I don't have to do it in my writing. Because I am, after all, a writer. An author. It's something I've decided upon. And writing on this blog puts a lot of pressure on my spirit, because I'm always wondering why I'm not being true to myself.

Now that I have the Morning Pages, I'm not going to fill in this blog. I need to deal with myself, by myself. It wasn't the case before, but this is the need of the moments.

I won't take down the blog. Let it float there, in cyber space, until a new idea comes.

I'm really happy for the e-mails and fb messages I got from you guys about some of the content. Thanks, guys. It's appreciated. Live your lives.

So, I'll go now. Hasta la vista, First Blog. Did you right, I think, but I've grown distracted and uninspired. I'm not one for doing things half-way.

See you.

Your friendly Water Bearer OUT, to explore new seas, and pour forth experience from another brown jug.






 

Do your soul a favor and keep it in your corduroys.

Bonjour :D

It is two degrees Celsius outside, and it is snowy and clean. I feel like I'm a Russian writer in Siberian exile. Today when I woke up (duh, you tend to wake up in the morning too above all else, don't you?) a metallic wire I could see outside my window was saturated with blue-aura snow. It wasn't even this snowy in February. I would add "for Chrissake" or "Jesus" to that, but I don't want to use the Lord's name in vain :) Anyway, spring is supposed to be next week or something, right? PLEASE come in style.

Anyhoo, today I found out some interesting information about my newest housemate, a chick, ladies and gentlemen, whom I'll refer to as Aquarius. Until recently, I've been living with three guys. I've held back from saying that in Lebanon, since people tend to assume all the wrong things, and will believe what pleases them anyway. Not that the average Czech is so open-minded. It's pretty comfy living with guys - no one bothers you, the place is pretty quiet, and there are no weepy conversations about feelings and boys all the time. Those are fun sometimes, but if you can keep them away from your living-space that's a good deal of brain-drain you'd be saving. But it's really nice to have a girl around. A proper girl, not a slouchy one like yours truly who is messier than all three guys put together. "A lady, to take care of us at last." And she has no English whatsoever. Needless to say, weepy conversations are automatically ruled out. But there has been much observation of sadness, on my part - not so much of the weepy variety. More like something coming out of the core and poisoning this young human being. Anyway, Aquarius just moved in with Capricorn, who is a pretty cool mechanical engineering student, but a heavy drinker with a stellar temper, geared mostly at his equally raucous girlfriend. I keep my distance.

So today, as I was commuting to school, who else should I chance to run into at the bus stop than the other housemate, Taurus. The insurance salesman. Him being chatty, and me being chatty, especially where petty gossip is concerned (a guilty pleasure of mine. I don't actively engage in much of the stuff, but I listen delightedly to generous auditory doses), we got chatting. Shortly enough, we turned to talking about our housemates, just like two old maids. Might as well have bemoaned my creaky ankles to him, lol. And he tells me that Aquarius has a kid in Slovakia. I almost did a double take. My mind certainly did. I had always wondered what the hell kind of fucked-up thing had happened in her life, as that level of sorrow I've witnessed in her doesn't prance into a person's world of its own accord. Not that having a kid is a fucked-up thing. I'm disinclined to look upon it as a beautiful thing, as I'm not fond of babies and have never had too much of a maternal instinct, but okay, to be fair, it isn't fucked-up. But it does tend to fuck up more lives than I can count on my two hands (which is a lotta lives, when you think about it), especially when the kid is had when you're in high school. That was the case with Aquarius. She's twenty-something years old now. The kid hasn't been visited by its mother for over a year now, and he's (insurance man said he reckons it's a "he") living with Grandma and Grandpa. And what is she doing with herself? Well, she's "breathing air". As an Air girl myself, I understand. Sometimes you need to take a breather and float. But as Scorpio dominant, at the same time I don't understand. I'll try not to be too judgmental about this subject matter, as compassion for her has a slight edge over criticism, but my views are rather traditional when it comes to uncalled-for pregnancy and abortion.

Okay. I feel really angry, and personally affronted, upon seeing such a case. Because I know she's definitely not going to benefit the kid's life by being this irresponsible. "Her parents must be so proud", Taurus clinched the report with. If you ask me, what the parents think is of little to no consequence. It's the daughter's life, and she's free to play the game in whatsoever way she pleases. Every person is. If your aspirations are bourgeois, you should aim to achieve something of that caliber. If you want "greatness", in whatever way you define that word, go for it. But if you want to fuck up your soul in some way, you can dig your grave with your own hands. I'm just moved to rage by how there are people in this world, like this girl, who think it's okay to drag someone down with them because of their emotional crap, and to take away another person's freedom. She is taking away the kid's emotional freedom. Because that little boy is going to have to process that desertion when he gets older and, depending on the temperament of the child, one of two things is bound to happen:

a) Either the child will externalize his bitterness and anger through lashing out and self-detrimental behavior (ex: drugs and alcohol, promiscuity, violence), which benefits neither the child nor society at large

b) Or the child will internalize his bitterness and anger until they cut deep enough into his soul to close him off completely from healthy human interactions. Potentially good energy is walled in and converted into self-pity, unrealistic self-image (either exaggeratedly high or low), and trust issues.

Usually it's a variant of the two that human beings go through as an aftermath of events that were experienced as trauma by the person in question. I'm not a psychologist or anything, I'm just conjecturing, and speaking out of personal experience. Following my parents' divorce, I never got to see my father. I didn't consider that a traumatic experience for a long time, and I am the proud owner of quite a stable psyche, so when I find myself internalizing I always self-administer an impressive ego-kick. I can count on one hand the times I've wept over my "loss". But I know other people with divorce issues who aren't as lucky as me. My brother, for instance, took things in a much more emotional way. And I'm worried about this kid in Slovakia who I don't know. The world doesn't need more imbalanced energy because some people don't know how to get their shit together. This will sound very harsh, but if you're the kind of person who's a free-floater, carrying the emotional issues we all accumulate as human beings on the side, you've got no business having kids in the first place. You've also got no business being married. You've got no business toying with the emotions and commitments of people with a more sober outlook than yours. You've also got no business having sex. Tact gone.

It's the lack of open education about sex that causes all this frustration. Parents don't talk to their kids, especially daughters, about safe sex, dammit. The schools prefer to bottle sex up and ignore it like it isn't happening, in many parts of the world, at least (like where I grew up). Parents, your kids are going to have sex, whether you like it or not, whether you try to stop it or not. So you might as well communicate with them. Let 'em know early on about how a condom works, birth control, STDs, tracking a menstrual cycle. I think a lot of parents don't talk about this stuff with their kids because they have an unrealistic image of their kids as "the best kid in town". "Oh, my kid would never do that." But they do. And they get away with it, 'rents, because you're too blinded by false pride to really catch their behavioral cues. Also, I think many people of the older generation don't have an up-to-scratch sex education themselves. If people spoke more openly about sex, there would be less incentive to have the "secret" kind of sex which holds an appeal to many adolescents. And the probability of accidental teen pregnancies happening would decrease. And then less people would have to get abortions.

Now I hope I don't contradict myself. I've always been undecided about abortion. Emotionally, I lean towards NOOOOOOO. BUT if the parent in question is still mentally a kid and consequently will not relinquish the free-floater lifestyle to raise a child physiologically, mentally, and spiritually, then maybe it's better if the child is aborted while it's still a foetus. BUT the best thing would be not to have sex, protected or otherwise, in the first place. You'll have to hurt a lot of people in life. That's the way of the world. Don't put yourself in a situation where you have to kill off a part of yourself. Especially out of ignorance.

I have reservations against sex for the sake of it. Call me old-fashioned and "grandma-knows-best". Hey, maybe I am. But I know that when you engage in sexual intercourse with another person, you're exchanging energy. You might not have tender feelings towards the person. They may not give you butterflies. But nevertheless, from a physics standpoint, the two (or more) of you are performing work, and converting chemical potential energy into kinetic, heat, and sound energy (I hope there are no lights going off - that would be sound basis for UFO inquisition :p). THe energy of your partner rubs off on you, whether you want it to or not. That's why lovers instinctively know if one or the other is not okay emotionally, or is sick, or in discomfort, or whatnot. You take a part of the other person into your aura. You can be drinking in a good deal of joy, intelligence, passion. Whatever positive attribute you see in the person. At the same time, you're also inhaling all the personality exhaust fumes. So, the next time you want a "casual" fuck, as yourself, "Is this energy good for my life?" It's really sad how the media has tried to turn the way we create life (and death) into something that can be taken ""casually".

I had one particular teacher in high school, who is hands down my favorite teacher of all time. Deep, loving, and empassioned man, with a blunt, fiery way of putting things. All the things I respect in a person. On a personal level, I can't get along with him anymore - mutual stubbornness, resentment on my part, and the revengeful action I took against the wrongs done me, conflict with my ability to look favorably upon this person anymore. BUT he said something I've always remembered. And it's this: when you keep giving love to the wrong people, and you find the right one eventually, your union won't be everything it could have been, had you not placed your love into all those waterless channels. Because you would have reached a point of spiritual depletion. As a result, you do your beloved a disservice, because they only get from you the remnants of what could have been. You don't want to ever deplete your soul, especially for someone who doesn't appreciate you as a whole. You'll have to develop a false personality (thanks for that idea, Southern Belle) to cover up all the emptiness and pain you feel, the crushed idealism pushed even further by sarcasm (the refuge of the weak) and a dismissive manner towards love and sex. Don't do that to yourself. People come and go. But you will have to answer to your own ego as long as you've got breath in your body. Think about it. Feel it out. You could be preventing a crisis of consciousness.

Now, like a good Scales gal, I'm going to contradict myself and post the following video from a documentary about porn. I agree with what she says, and I like the music and visuals.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEK6ce_82D8

So, time for me to go. A good venting exercise for me. I hope I've communicated clearly. There's so much more I could say, and more eloquently, but enough for now. Hasta la vista.

Remember: you have a responsibility to keep the world energetically clean. Be a good humanitarian, and keep it in your corduroys.

Signed, your friendly Water Bearer.

The silent world, sex and God, and the love that oughtn't speak its name.

Good afternoon, and boy, is it a good afternoon. No exclamation mark, but that's supposed to be an exclamation.

I want to share a passage from a novella by Carson McCullers. I read her book "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" during summertime, when I was meditating, living on greens, and feeling sad and misanthropic. She really feels like a friend. I'm reading "Clock Without Hands" now, but the following is from "The Ballad of the Sad Cafe", which I haven't got round to yet. I found it yesterday night, and it was exactly what I needed to read.

Here it is:

First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons - but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which had lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his lover within himself as best he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world - a world intense and strange, complete in himself. Let it be added here that this lover about whom we speak need not necessarily be a young man saving for a wedding ring - this lover can be man, woman, child, or indeed any human creature on this earth.

Now, the beloved can also be of any description. The most outlandish people can be the stimulus for love. A man may be a doddering great-grandfather and still love only a strange girl he saw in the streets of Cheehaw one afternoon two decades past. The preacher may love a fallen woman. The beloved may be treacherous, greasy-headed, and given to evil habits. Yes, and the lover may see this as clearly as anyone else - but that does not affect the evolution of his love one whit. A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lilies of the swamp. A good man may be the stimulus for a love both violent and debased, or a jabbering madman may bring about in the soul of someone a tender and simple idyll. Therefore, the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.

It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fear and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is for ever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain.

I don't want to comment much on what's written above - I don't want to detract from its beauty (which stems from its truth), and I don't have much that I'd like to say now about it. I don't have much that I'd like to say on this blog anymore, during these present lapses of time. But one thing I really appreciated in that passage was that she took into account the fantasy element of love, and acknowledged a need for dreaming space within the heart of any person who has loved. Many people I've come across, and whose views on love I've been privy to in one way or another, have had a tendency either to belittle, or to bypass entirely, the necessity of the dreaming space, which, to me, is a fantasy world and a spiritual playground all the same. I am happy to have felt, in my eighteen years on this earth, moments of complete self-submission in favor of the freedom and harmonious continuity of another. I find this the ultimate prayer. But Carson is right. This is a private experience that has its tinge of bittersweetness. And no matter how hard the heart pounds against the rib cage, struggling to escape the human Being and unclench its reservations for the perusal of the beloved, this can never be achieved. And I don't believe it should be achieved. Such experiences, I'm learning, are always savored alone.

To me, love comes in moments. Take my feelings for my mother as an example. I could say that I love my mother all the time, but I would be simplifying things too much and reducing them into inaccuracy. I have felt intense and potent hatred towards her at times, the French face of the Lebanese coin of "love", to which I shall assign the Arabic half of that shiny silver whole. But if someone comes up to me and asks me, "So which is it? Do you love your mother or don't you?", I would answer in the affirmative, knowing that the natural assumption the asker would make is that I love her "forever after". Why? Because the moments of love I have felt within my lonely world outnumber the moments of indifference, or blind anger and hatred. And somehow I feel this is the only love that's real. The "fantasy world" is not such - these dream-like moments are the manifestations of the true and deep feelings of each and every heart, unclouded by the reason allocated to the mind by society's conditioning, or its limited, hypocritical stances on human morality. When a human being lets oneself experience such unconditional and unselfish strands of love, they are placed directly in communion with God.

Take sex, for instance. Sex is the saving grace of all sinners. Yes, I'm going ahead and saying that. The sheer naturalism of connection with another human being in a sexual sense fills the atmosphere between two people with so much potentiality for reaching God, whether one or both parties realize it or not. I have more than once felt the presence of God with me during sexual intimacy, and it's no surprise I feel like praying sometimes before I've loved in a sexual sense, other times after. Sex establishes a promise between two or more people, one that may or may not be kept. That promise encompasses a variety of journeys people embark upon throughout life - knowledge of the self, understanding of another human being, wholistic sensual fulfillment. The desire is different for each person. I've come to understand that for me, sex at all times has the capacity for moments of love, and closeness to the Creator. But it doesn't necessarily mean that because I am filled with love, my beloved is also undergoing an identical spiritual metamorphosis, in the moment of passion or otherwise. Love is a silent experience. She's right about that. If the promise is kept within the self, consider yourself lucky. If the promise is fulfilled between your spirit and that of another, consider yourself blessed. Oftentimes, the soul union occurs within, and for whatever reason cannot manifest itself without, into the consciousness of the beloved. Speaking for myself, I have found myself capable of deep love - but its expression eludes me. So I feel it in myself, and try to atone for my inadequacy by doing more good than harm to the beloved, and curbing my natural harshness and emotional volatility into gentleness, patience, and a listening ear. Anyway, if the expression of love will bring pain and unhappiness to the beloved, I would rather not express it at all. A few nights ago, a friend of mine said to me, "I admire your desire to be impartial to all, but this can't be possible if someone is more special to you than others. Love isn't fair." I think by nature love isn't fair - still, just because love isn't fair, doesn't mean you can't be. It's not fair to burden someone with the constant expression of what you feel towards them in your private world. If it gives them grief, experience your suffering within. But don't drag someone down with you, especially an innocent victim of your own intensity.

There is, however, one channel of love that is always open for two, and that is the one established through prayer and meditation with God. This love can't let you down, ever. Because God is the aggregation of all moments of love, in the tangible world and the hereafter. Stick to God. You won't be disappointed. In God I trust - of people I hold my suspicions.

One final thing, before I go. Sex isn't dirty. There's no clean sex and dirty sex. Sex isn't "cleansed" by love, nor is it sullied by the lack of it. Any kind of sex that doesn't meet society's terms and conditions is qualified as "dirty". Don't feel too bad about it if you try to feel love for a person when you're sleeping with them, but can't. The act itself is prayer enough, if gone into with an awareness and awe of its naturalism, and is a mutual exchange between the people involved. But the emotional experience is private, at all times, in some way. Don't ever give yourself to another person. Share, but retract eventually. Life has much of the bitter and hard, and you need to hold onto yourself and never prostrate yourself before anything other than God, least of all another person, a false idol. Feel your idolatry/prayer within, but don't let it take that part of you that's only for you. "If the self is lost, all is lost." I trust in God, and I trust in me. That's it. And yeah - I said I wouldn't talk a lot, but shit like that happens where I'm concerned :)

Eventide hails outside my window. I'm going.

Signed, your friendly Water Bearer.

Decluttering - makes sense, 'coz it's [almost] spring

Alrighty. Hi there :))

I came across two new words I didn't understand today - "febrile" and "ubiquitous". I want to know what they mean, and I meant to check in the dictionary and out their meanings, but I've procrastinated and feel too lazy to get up from my comfy cushion to go fetch that little blue book of words, a miniature key to the English language. I associated "febrile" with fever of some sort, judging by the context of the word in the novel I've started reading, and I should know what "ubiquitous" means - I've passed over that word many times in novels and in conversation with a friend recently. But I was too shy to ask what it means. I'll find out later today - or tomorrow - or next Thursday. We have a wonderful expression in Lebanese for when you know someone's not going to follow through with something, yourself included - al khamees. And it literally means "Thursday". "When are you going to peel that tomato?" "Thursday." "When are you getting your clit rubbed?" "Thursday." Fantastic. To me, anyway. I'm boring like that :) Shows what a Virgo sun will do to you. The joys of all the compulsive tics I've accumulated over the years - I should compile a catalogue of those. I'll have some nailbiting, with a side of blinking too much, and a smattering of hair-fiddling. Oh, and number patterns running through the head. Let's not forget that. It's fun being born under this sun sign. I've personally never set much stock by solar signs, as my astrologer follows a classification system that doesn't give much heed to all that. But it makes sense, actually. I read up on "Virgo", and I feel I act a lot more like that than an Aquarius - but others tell me I'm very Aquarius-ey. Still, the OCD-like behavior, the clean-freak syndrome, the perfectionism, and aversion to sex - it makes so much more sense now. Also the itchy skin feeling I get when someone doesn't put a comma where there should be one. I feel that character profile describes me perfectly, except the "lacks imagination" part, and "not passionate"- my imagination is over-fertilized, and I am so passionate it freaks others out. It's probably too much Pisces (remedies the unimaginativeness) and Scorpio (you know... passion, and all *blushes*).

No more astrology for now. I don't feel like writing about it now, it takes too much time, and I have to be really clear-headed to churn that stuff out. I am happy to inform you that the weather of today is even more fantastické than that of yesterday. The sun is setting now, and it's RED and perfect. I didn't even have to wear a hat today, and my blood circulation is improving, which it always does with the warmer weather. Please, God, no more snow. Rain, okay. But no more snow. Khalas. I've had enough, it's like adding layers of depression over my spirit, when it's already lonesome and sad and wounded to begin with. And I hate when it gets yucky, from all the people stepping over mounds of it. If it's crispy-white and pure, okay, then it's nice. But it never stays that way. That's what frustrates me the most about perfect things - they don't stay that way. This is why I don't clean my room. If I start on all the horrors that exist there, and make me unable even to wade through the gotterdammerung with my hoover and assess the damage, then I won't stop until the books are alphabetically organized and even the dust turns sparkly - submit to my feather-duster, one and all. But you know, I commented to my friend L about the weather yesterday - a very unoriginal thing to comment about, I know, boo hoo - and how it makes me happy. And he expressed an opposing view to that - when it's dark inside, and the world is bright, all your anger and disappointment are thrown into harsher focus than before, alienating you further from the other piggoes in the pen. I feel more unsmiling today. A little put down. A little low. But nothing that can't be remedied. Which is what this blog post is about. Me tidying up my life. Nothing too major. But I just feel some details need desperate tweakage, or else they'll really screw things up for me.

Okay. Time to brainstorm, and figure out some things that would make my life more pleasant to live, less emotionally searing 24/7. I don't want to establish huge goals yet, as I'm barely straggling on with looking up two new words in the dictionary. But when I ask myself, "What would make your life happier right now?", I come up with the following:

a) I would really like to clean my house. That would make me very, very, VERY relieved. It's necessary for my ego. I remember once I was sitting in my bedroom in Lebanon, crying about something, and I looked around my room and realized, "It's so cluttered on the outside because you're so cluttered within." So I just wanna start removing that clutter, first externally, and then internally, which I'm already kinda doing, though not on the level I would like to. More on that in another point.

b) I want to actually finish all the novels and stories I have to finish for school. Usually I just won't read certain books. Sparknotes has been my best friend throughout my literary education thus far. I get so nervous when I'm given a deadline for finishing a book, and what happens is I can hardly read through the first few pages because I'm anxious about absorbing everything there is to absorb. Then I feel it can't be done, and give up, because I can't bear the thought of an imperfect reading experience. But lately I've sorta given up on that, and have just reverted to getting the general idea and making sure I have enough information to manipulate into discussion material for class. But it feels like a waste of an education not to read those books - I want to fill my brain with books, not blurbs. In short, my friendship with Sparknotes has become rather disappointing. So I'll try to get through a bunch this week.

c) I want to actively learn Czech. Like actually open the book that's been sitting there collecting dust (along with an undefined alimentary substance on its front page), and read the examples, and do the exercises, and write out the grammar rules. At my high school, a friend of mine was critiqued by our Biology teacher for not studying, but only relying on whatever information he hears. I'm kinda like that. I just absorb words and ideas and feelings from the environment around me, recycle and renew them, and spew them out. I barely did any active studying in high school, and I don't do too much of that now that I'm in college :p Not about to start now, either. I coast by on what I know - it works, since I know a lot about the things I'm supposed to know about to get good grades. But it would be nice to really drink in this new language. It was given me rather accidentally, when I decided to stay here in Prague. And I feel like if it's in front of me, why not take it?

d) I want to do choir again. It's funny - why would a music student, and a voice major at that, not already be in the conservatory choir? To be honest, I'm not sure what to make of that choir. I've seen them live, and they're okay, but I can see why people have been telling me choir isn't taken too seriously at this school. Well, either way, I'm gonna check it out tomorrow. I hope it's not so bad. But I also wanna join a proper, traditional choir, like the one I was in before. If I have to sing almost-tenor lines again, though, I will scream. Not really. I love singing alto.

e) I want to meditate and pray more regularly. I'm not talking about re-living that August 2012 of vegetables, om namah shivaya, and no masturbation, but I just need to sit down more often with my thoughts and not try to move myself away from them so damn much. Also, I want to try and get back to the hellish Shree Guru Gita. The last time I tried to meditate to it, my body heated up all over, my left leg started to twitch, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. It's doing its job, alright. But it's so profound and real. There's no escape from the pain, and the love you feel in the moment, when you're going through that ritual. But I think first, some plain meditation. Then, I'm going Gita.

f) I want to continue going to the psychologist. I'm learning to see my desires and needs in a new light, not excluding the ways in which I deal with those. I was skeptical, but all in all it's proving to be good for me.

g) I want to get more music done in a day.

h) I want to continue writing.

i) I want to, later on, take many short trips. I just need to get the above sorted out a little, particularly the school stuff, and then I want to circulate and move around.

j) I don't know if I want to make a habit out of going to church. I'm not convinced that carrying out rituals just for the sake of maintaining a pattern is a good thing. It's hindered me spiritually before. For example, when I was a kid, I would pray every night before falling asleep. Eventually, I started to dread, and ultimately resent, prayer. I don't want that to happen. And the church is far from me. The practical time/distance considerations can't be ignored. But I'd like to go this week, to the mass. We'll see.

h) I want to become more emotionally self-sufficient. I don't want to feel like I need another person, especially a romantic partner, to make me feel emotionally secure and comforted. I want to be my own best friend and love before I suffocate other people with my emotional demands. I now see that my past relationships have fallen apart because I projected upon the other person my emotional neediness, and expected them to meet those unrealistic requirements. When I was a tween and teen, I was always disappointed with the lack of emotional bonding between myself and my mother. I remember constantly complaining that she never asked to know me, deeply. But then when she would try to do that, I would accuse her of prying into my life. Now that I'm a little (only a little, you understand) more "mature" (whatever that means, at my chronological age), and have taken some distance from that situation, I realize that she did, and does, love me. But we have different ways of expressing love. Her way is not my way, and I don't want to force her anymore to adopt my method. I want to keep her free. I want to let any resentment go. I forgive a lot of what went wrong between us two. Not everything, yet, but I'm trying. There's one thing I'm not sure I'll ever really forgive, but maybe in time.

Well. That's enough goal-making. If I put more stuff, I get the feeling I'd be adding more load to my life at the moment than I need. I wanted to say "work for charity", but now I'm hesitating about that. When I am going to have time for that? I'll see about it - how can I help others if my head isn't screwed on straight in the first place? So, I'm gonna go now, and sleep. I am so tired. As always, sleepy. I guess I'll update later on how things are going. And I'll write more self-helpy stuff - as soon as I get myself helped first.

Bye :)

Signed, your friendly Water Bearer.




.

A beautiful day, naturalism, and a girl I loved.

Hillo :))

A few things, before I really start - and I'm warning you, it's a long one.

a) I really love the smell of my hair today - it's herbal, and fresh. And the taste of my lips.

b) It was SUNNY today :D The first truly sunny day in Prague for a long time now. And it's looking like it can only get better from here, judging by the weather forecast on my computer.

c) Today, I had one of those magical days you wish every day could be like. I don't want it to end.

So, anyway, as you ought to have gathered from the three points above, today's blog post is a more personal one. I'll start by talking about how my day went, and will hopefully remember to incorporate all the ideas I want to talk about as I go along.

Today I woke up from a nostalgia-ridden, sad dream about a beloved, and I noticed it was sunny. The green walls of my room hadn't looked this bright and fresh since summertime, so I was quite transported by their appearance to that happier time, and I felt like a kid again. Today is happy because I feel like a kid. I feel natural, and beautiful. I feel a lot like me. I also feel somewhat sad, and longing for an ideal that is either lost or broken, I can't decide. But there's a reason why "gladness" rhymes with "sadness". That wasn't me who said that. That was Linda Goodman, and I believe in the truth and possibly unintended wisdom of those words. Whatever it is I'm feeling today, it's heightened, and deep, and true. This is so me.

I went back to sleep almost immediately after opening my eyes. I was tired, and anxious about starting the day on a depressing note. That moment reminds of that episode of Dexter's Lab in which Dexter wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, and keeps going back to sleep, hoping to wake up on the right side. Besides, I was genuinely tired. If you leave me to it, I could probably sleep for eighteen hours straight, I'm such a fan of prolonged shut-eye. Another reason I relish sleep is the dreams I have. They're so otherworldly, and full of mystical occurences. Didn't sleep long, though - a friend, whose initials, by the way, are AA, provided the final wake-up call with, yes, a phone call.

"Hi, habibti, can you come by today in the afternoon?"

A groggy affirmative response on my part.

Then I woke up. Everything was beautiful today. The sun took away all my problems and worries today. All I've had a mind to do since the morning is drink in as much beauty as possible without having my heart explode in sheer awe and passion. Do you want to know the song that's been stuck in my head all day? Palestrina's "Pueri Hebraeorum" has been playing along in my head since yesterday morning. It had first floated in there, along with an awareness of the loveliness and fleeting quality of my young life, while I had been staring at a lamp as the daylight had begun to appear. I'm glad it's stuck in there - the perfect soundtrack for the day.

I've been high-spirited all day. I'm so thankful I didn't have to wear as many layers as usual today when I got out of the house. And I'm wearing cropped trousers. And no more boots. I can't wait for summer. I would really like to go for a swim soon. I love the feeling of being cradled by the water. When I was younger, I had an irrational panic when it came to swimming in the Mediterranean. I'm always a little afraid of water, to be honest. It always brings out my emotionalism in full force, destructive and otherwise. I haven't swam in the sea for four years now, which is really sad, because it's so soothing to me. I used to literally live on the beach every summer until I turned fourteen. At that time, I got deeply blue, and I also felt fat, despite being skinny as a birch rod back then. I felt self-conscious about being seen in a bathing suit in public, with my cow thighs poking out. Looking back at that time, I'm glad I'm comfortable with my body and its curves now. I don't feel insecure about my hips and thighs and booty, which are full. I feel great naked. Health is sexy. I'm glad to have my health. I can't wait till it's warm enough to walk around the house naked, and sleep underneath a single sheet, with the moonlight on my hand and the crickets sawing away outside, awake in the fresh air. I also love the warmth of the sun on my head, and the red gleam of my hair as the sun-rays course through it.

 I want go to to Poland sometime in the spring or early summer, to visit Auschwitz. This is something I've wanted to do since I was thirteen years old, when I had first read up on the Holocaust, which isn't normally discussed in polite Lebanese society. I remember that night. I got off the computer in the living room, went into my bedroom, shut the door, and collapsed into impotent frustration, crying and pulling at my hair. It dampens my mood, and makes me anxious and despondent to know that people can do such things to one another. Actually, today, when I went for a walk along one of the trails in the hill-park near where I live, I could see clearly Anne Frank's sweet face in my mind's eye, illuminated against the auditory backdrop of the soprano voice in that Easter hymn stuck on all-day replay, and I felt like I do now. Happy, but longing, for something of another kind. Higher. Deeper. More. I really would like to take the trip alone. I would enjoy the solitary train ride. If I had someone with me, I would have to chatter, and miss the natural beauty I am bound to see along the way. I would want to savor the experience in silence, and chew it meticulously. Things are more delicious when processed slowly. But I'm scared of not being able to push myself out of the deep emotional rainstorm that will surely follow such a visit. Maybe I need someone there, to pull back my arms from the edge I shall tiptoe over, tempted by the urge to wander in and drown, with ever so much profundity. When I met my friend L, who had been watching a train at the cull-de-sack, in the street today, I mentioned the Poland thing to him. He's a good traveler. I know we'd enjoy a trip together. But his grandmother died recently, and his eyes still look liquid and uncomfortable. Unhappy, is what he explained to me he feels. He wanted to die along with her. But he's here. We're all here. Alive. Where we belong, for now. Until the next moment comes to move everything away. Nobody knows what happens tomorrow. That's what chokes me up a bit. But at least I know I'm lucky to be alive, and good, and young, with a happy heart for a time. I don't want life to break me. Not so fast. I look at myself, catch a reflection of my spirit in my mirror image, and realize I'm young, and liberated. I release. I let it go. All the frustration and sadness in the world won't change me, or make me bitter. There's too much love, to cancel all that stuff out, and buffer its potency. I want to know I've put up a fight against the blackness, against the feelings of suffocation and emptiness that threaten to get me out of myself and unhinge me, and push me toward excess. Today is a happy day. But it won't be the same all the time, and I need to figure out a way to make things work, even when the figurative winter is bitter and cold.

Anyway, I didn't go to AA today. I called to let him know I shall be with him tomorrow at 12:30 P.M. sharp, and went on my pretty walk. The wheat-like sheaves of whatever type of grass that is have begun to regrow after all the snow. I hope to God there will be no more snow until the next winter. My sneakers were so splotched with mud. At some point, I couldn't go on with the walk because the mud was too thick and sticky. Pity. I longed to sit by the train tracks, which I try not to walk towards in unhappy times. The thoughts induced are, understandably, rather dark. But I made it to the apple-laden stone bench. I didn't sit down, though. I also discovered a new track. And an old lady in a red jacket smiled at me, and we said dobry den to one another. And a puppy rammed its head against my right calf, I think. It was a nice day. I need to go biking again, and reach Čakovice, which I had intended for this time around.

I met two Syrian women today, and an IB student from the ECP. Pays to be talkative, sometimes. Though I have to make an effort to get out of myself and ask people about themselves, and interact. I've always been the type that, if you were to put me in a corner and ask me not to move or talk to another person, I would do just that, and gladly so. It's shyness, and being too stuck on a particular feeling or strand of thought, that usually prevents any undue loquacity.

Okay, I know it's a little sucky to cut things off so abruptly (especially before the girl part) but I really need to sleep. I'll continue tomorrow, or something. I'm a party pooper like that - beyond a certain time of night, I revert to zombie mode.

See you later.

To be continued...

One last thing - here's a link to the song. Auditory aid. And it's touching.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTgHiclHjt4