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