I am addicted to حمص (Hummus)

TITLE: I am addicted to حمص

DATE: 11/14/2006 20:00:28

I am addicted to  Hummus حمص

I cant stop eating Hummus
عن جد... مش قادرة اوقف أكل حمص   ... بحبه بحبه
بموت في ربه


والله

شكرا يا رب على الحمص

Thank you God for the Hummus











 with olive oil زاكي مع زيت الزيتون

 and salt and lebon وملح ولمون


 and hot pita وكماج سخن

 



  and summak and cummin
وسماق وكمون

  and a fresh tomato وحبة بندورة



 






 and some olives مع شوية زتون






 God bless the Hummus يسعد رب الحمص

يا محمد بويه محمد Mohammad, my precious Mohammad

ولك سال
They poured
ولك سال
and poured
لغيرك ما يسل دمعي ولك سال
for other than for you
my tears never pour
ولك سال
they poured
ولك سال

and poured
وعليك القلب ما تدري
Dont you know that
because of you

ولك سل
my heart withered
ولك سال
They poured
ولك سال
and poured

ولك سال
and poured
يا خايب
You're such a looser
يوم عن حالي
just for once
ask about how I'm doing
ولك اسأل
Ask
ولك سل
It withered
ولك سال
They poured
تركتني وما تدري شصار بي

you left me
and
you have no idea
what happened to me
يا محمد بويه محمد
Mohammad, my precious Mohammad
قتلي ليش تتعمد
Why do you intentionally kill me

يا محمد خاف من الله
Mohammad
Fear God
يا محمد مو فوق الله
يا محمد مو هذا الله
That's not the way to go, Mohammad
عيوني محمد
You are my eyes, Mohammad
قليبي محمد
You are my little heart, Mohammad

يا محمد شنهو ذنبي
Oh, Mohammad
What guilt have i committed
بين عداي وترميني
that made you throw me
among my enemies
لو تدري النار اللي بقلبي تكويني وتاذيني
If you only knew
about the fire that's in my heart
that is burning me
and hurting me
عيوني محمد
You're my eyes , Mohammad
قليبي محمد
You're my heart, Mohammad
يا محمد يا نور العين
Mohammad, you are the light of my eyes
ياللي سبيت الصوبين
you have driven everyone crazy
both sides
دجلة وفرات النهرين
the two rivers
Euphrates and Dijlah

بويا محمد
My precious Mohammad
عمي محمد
My Darling Mohammad
this part down here is part of the song but not in this version
يللي اغلى من روحي
You are the one who is more dear to me
than my own soul

ليش تزيدني تعذيب
why are you
torturing me
more and more
حبك مرهم لجروحي
your love is an ointment
for my wounds
وجروحي برضاك تطيب
and my wounds
heal
when you are ok with me

عيوني محمد
You are my eyes, Mohammad
قليبي محمد
You are my little heart , Mohammad
يا محمد بويه محمد
Mohammad, My baby Mohammad
. قتلي ليش تتعمد
Why do you deliberately kill me
يا محمد خاف من الله
Mohammad, fear God
يا محمد مو هذا الله
That's not the right way
عيوني محمد
You are my eyes, Mohammad

THE DEPARTURE – THE ARRIVAL

On that night my friend Iman and her three children came to say goodbye to me, my father played with the children and Iman and my mother talked about things. I don’t remember what.
Three-year-old Raghad was not playing, even though her older brother and sister were having a great time, being tickled by my father and climbing on his shoulders.
Raghad looked at me and said (angrily), “Auntie, don’t you love us?”
I said, “Sure sweetie, I love you very, very much.”
She said, “So how come you’re leaving us? What is in Canada?”
I said, “There is a better job and education for me sweetie.”
She said, “Why can’t you get that here?”
I said, “Because it’s different there.”
I told her some stuff about the future that she didn’t understand, and neither did I.
I noticed that my mother disappeared. When she came back, she had red eyes. She’d been doing that every fifteen minutes. I held myself together perfectly. That night I didn’t sleep at all, I’m sure my father and my mother didn’t either.

Next day we were at the airport. I can’t remember how, but I found myself at the airport with my father ,mother,my uncle, his wife and one of my cousins. All I remember was the very heavy coat that I was wearing; I called it “the sheep.” I was wearing my sheep and feeling that I was about to die from heat. I couldn’t fit my sheep in either of my huge suitcases, they were full. I filled them up with things I couldn’t leave behind..

It was a very long trip, to the unknown. I couldn’t sleep at all. All I remember was the longest sunset in my life — it was almost three hours long. This made me feel happy and optimistic. I remembered a conversation I once had with my mother; which was more beautiful, sunrise or sunset. My mother preferred sunrise because it represents a start. Well, sunset is a start too, a start of a new night and a preparation for another sunrise. I was thinking that both are beautiful, they just have a different taste of beauty and one can’t exist without the other.
I arrived at Toronto's airport. My plane to Ottawa was late, so I had to stay awake. I was exhausted; I'd been up for more than thirty hours. I found sixteen cents on one of the chairs; I thought this was a sign of good luck . The immigration people gave me some welcoming brochures at the airport, and a paper that many people in the Arab world would die or kill for — my permanent residency paper.

Mary, my relative’s friend, was supposed to wait for me in Ottawa. My plane arrived at 2 a.m.— several hours late. I’d never seen Mary, only spoken with her on the phone; all I knew was that she was supposed to wear a green coat. I had my sheep on, and was dragging two huge suitcases while holding my Oud in my hand. There was no one waiting for me. People who were there for other people took them and left. I didn’t see any green coats, or any green things at all. The only green things were my suitcases..
I stood there, not knowing what to do. Suddenly a guy came up to me and asked, “Are you Arab?”
I said — surprised, “Yes, how did you know?” (I was still naive, I didn’t realize it was written all over my face, in my color, features, eyes, everything.)
The guy said, “It’s obvious, you look like an Arab and you have a Oud.”
He asked me where I was from. I told him I was from the West Bank. He told me that he worked at the airport, and that he too was from the West Bank, from Bethlehem! I got excited and told him that I was also from Bethlehem. He asked me which high school I went to. We discovered that his wife was in my class.
“Isn’t there anyone waiting for you?” he asked. I told him about the woman with the green coat who hadn’t come.
He decided that we should call her and take directions. He was going to drive me.
On the phone I asked, “Did I wake you up?”
She said, “Yes.”
I said, “Sorry.”
She explained (not apologized) that the plane was late. It was past her bedtime, and she had to go to bed because she had work in the morning. I lied : “Oh, it’s okay, I understand.”
She asked me to take a cab, so I told her that there was someone ready to drive me.
I thought she’d say, careful or something like that, but she welcomed the idea. She gave him directions. He drove me to her place.
I never saw him again in my life.

لمتى؟

لمتى حبك بَالحشا ساكن
وانتَ تِّمنع؟
لمتى روحي فؤادي فرحمتَك
وانتَ تِّدلع؟
يا قمر يالساكن بالسِما عالي
جيت اشتكيلك همّي والكدر
جيتك اشتكيلك وانِتْ أدرى بحالي
لوعتي عذابي بحُبَّك قَدَر
يا شامخٍ حِلْمُ وهيهاتِ تنطالي
يا بعد الحشا والروح والنظر
من يومٍ عرفتك سكنت بخيالي
إنسلِّ عودي وحالي تبدَّل
يا نجمةٍ تَلمع بالسما وتلالي
منك شحوبي ووضعي تِحَوَّل
أعياني سهدي وَالشوق يا سالي
بعد وجفا وصدود و ماقدر اتِّحَمل
مستوطنٍ بالذهن يا غالي
وما هقيت ذكري على بالك خطر
كيف انساك كيف انسى اللِيالي؟
كِلْ لحظةٍ في حضورك عُمُر
قربَك حياةْ وبعدك هلاكي
يا أغلى من اغلى الناس والبِشَر
أعياني الرّجا وذلّي وابتهالي
عْلامك قليبك اقسى من حجر؟
تسخر من تِشوف حرقتي ولا تبالي
وارجا قلبي الملتاع يصطبر
أضحيت الهدف وكل الآمال

ما اصدّق العيشة بعدك تستمر

For you to be you and for me to be me

Allow me to feel my pain
Allow me to connect with it
dont dismiss me
give me room to breathe
I need to let it all out
it is poisoning my system
the years of oppression and neglect are getting to me
I need a safe place
give me your unconditional love so that I can give you mine
feel my pain so that I can feel yours
my pain is a big part of who i am
I dont want to feel embarrassed of my pain
I am allowed to feel it !
You say : move on, move on...
how can I?
I will I know - one day maybe, when I am safe
when i am heard
Marginalized - do you know how painful that is ?
feer hurts!
Exposed...
I want to be exposed to you
with all my pain and brilliance
my genuis and depression
I dont want to be embarrased becasuse of my oppression
"it is not an issue" , you say. My life is way better that many others -
But you know, it is MINE, my pain is mine- I am the one who feels it.
My pain needs love
be gentle with my pain
my darkness needs the light of understanding
solidarity

dont dismiss me
can you accept me the way i am? with my beauty and baggage?
do you see my beauty at all?
I tell the ocean about my pain - the trees hear me

God hears me
I crave the unity of the soul , a commuinity of the heart
communion with God through you and him and her
help me drop my defences
help me get rid of my identities - I want to be whole when with you
how can i if i am not whole within myself?

help me break free from the grinding wheel - acknowledge my courage - my stuggle
embrace my schezophrania
my madness is part of me
my maddness IS me

take me as a whole
Allow me to be me so that I can seize to be me
What I feel is real even if it doesnt make sense to you
Do you know how it feels to be jailed? stripped of your freedom?
do you know how it feels to be a woman? an arab? a palestinian? an artist?
do you want to know? do you care to know?
Does anyone care to know?

why would they, depressing lamentaion ...
minority colonialism feminism
oppression stuff ... boring depressing activist blabla
why would you care ? you were born up there
on the top of the hill

but if you want to be you
i need to be me
there is no you without me
and only when you stop being you
is when I become me
and only then
is when
I stop being me
only then
you can be you
and i can be me
do you see ?
what i'm trying to say ?
yes or nay?
hey?
hello
knock knock..
anyone there
or just an empty headskin

let's both seize to be you and me,
and only be
a one amazing we

Rejection and realizing you've been rejected

I remember the first time i was rejected. I couldnt believe it. (we are talking about romantic rejection by the way) . I couldnt get over it for the longest time. I was so full of myself and couldn't comprehend, how can anyone in their right mind reject me. I thought I was unrejectable. Now I know better. I dont take personally as much as i used to. I realize people have different tastes and interests so therefore not everyone is supposed to be attracted to me. and when i dig a bit deeper , people who are not attracted to me I am not really attracted to them to start with, when i really look hard and honest inside myself , i realize that their rejection makes them look more attractive, because my focus becomes to get accepted by them instead of feeling weather there is a connection there. Now if things were this black and white , not a big problem. The real problem is when you are not sure weather you are being rejected or not, weather the person you are being involved with is just afraid or if they are really not into you. this confusion eats up a big part of the self esteem. and instead of focusing on how you feel about the person , you get sucked into speculating and interpreting this other person's signals (or the lack of signals)
recently i realized i have been rejected. i feel much better now that i am outside the speculation and guessing game. i hate mystery and guessing. so , i got rejected, good, better now than later, that means i am getting closer to my goal. i am burning down my rejection quota, anyway , someone who rejects me cannot be suitable for me . dont you think?

Emotional state

I'm feeling emotional, I know that is stupid. no, really it is stupid. nothing changed since yesterday, i only grew up one more day, i slept and woke up, received some more spam, spent a little bit more time on the PC and the TV, ate and drank...

nothing significant.

i feel rejected though. maybe because i am listening to emotional songs that are taking me back to times when i felt loved and in love. maybe because these songs are transmitting sad feelings. i wonder if i will feel happy if i listen to happy songs. am i taking on the feelings in the songs or is the song playing because it is reflecting my own feelings.

recently something happened , i met someone , and i got rejected, it didnt feel good at all. it clouded my judgment about how i feel about that person. you know what Madonna says? "rejection is the greatest aphrodisiac" do you think she is right?

The truth is that i have so much love inside me, that i need to share, to give, to express, and i keep on running into people who are afraid of love, i learned recently or not so recently that i cant express my feelings openly and freely, i cant be transparent. i never believed or followed that directive. the result, rejection or feeling rejected. having to swallow back my pride and emotional expression and crawl back in bed with old memories and fantasies of glimpses of loving moments.

Why do humans need love?? what is so special about a kiss ? about lips meeting? what happens when lips meet? how can people be so close one day and next day they are strangers. they hurt each other and say bad things about each other..

why does a song affect me so much? is it because it resonates on the deepest level with feelings i once touched and tasted? sad or happy

I dont know. i wish i knew, or maybe i dont wish, because at least i have an excuse now to be stumbling, i dont know, if i knew then i cannot justify my stumbling.

love love, they say it makes the world goes around.i love myself , but that still isnt enough, nothing is like hearing and smelling the love.

i am rambling heavily , i know. that is why God invented blogs , so that people like me ramble freely, liberally.

it will pass, the 'i need personal romantic love' fever. i think i like being in that state otherwise i can turn off the fucking music and go take a shower or a walk.. but again, no , i cant run from myself. in the shower I'll have me with me, i cant hide or run.

i tell myself this is only my domestication, it is all learned behavior. even feelings are not real, they are how we learned to react to different things.

In Star Trek there is a race called the 'Vulcans'. Vulcans were once emotional barbaric but then they decided to control themselves, they meditated and controlled their minds and emotions so that they dont get into the kind of emotional turbulence similar I am in today. they succeeded in living according to logic. But the price was high, we see in one of the episodes how Tuvac , the Vulcan became crazy eventually. In another episode it shows how when Vulcans are in sexual heat they are totally out of control.

The question is , will I even find the kind of love that i imagine and wish for? will i feel this real and deep connection with another person where there we become pure energy, where we merge but stay separate , connect on the emotional, physical, mental and spiritual, where there is no inhibitions and right and wrong, only pure transparency and childlike innocence exists, where play is the game, exploration of the soul.

bla bla bla

Internal conflict

Have you ever found yourself arguing with people in your head?
I do that a lot actually, I just find that sometimes people that piss me off pop up in my mind and I start arguing with them, and they talk back and aggravate you more. So you'd be sitting alone in your bedroom but yet having heated discussions with people that might be thousands of miles away or ones you havent seen in many years.
According to the 'Stress and Conflict' workshop i took, these are not conflicts. A conflict requires that the 2 sides are aware of it, both perceive the other one's gain to be their loss.
The situation I mentioned here is considered internal conflict. It is in the confinement of our heads. For me though , it feels so real. It bugs me so much, it grinds in my head. I dont like real confrontation, so I solve that by doing it in my head. but since the other person(s) are not around to participate to a resolution or a closure, my internal conflict goes nowhere. So like a windmill goes on and on. مثل ثور الساقية.
I guess the 'right' thing to do is to bring it to the surface and resolve it or get some kind of closure. Sometimes the other side refuses to accept that there is a conflict. What would you do then??
I used to fantasize finding a magical button somewhere in my body that would stop the flow of thoughts and arguments in my head. imagine that, discovering that , say for example, pressing your belly button 3 times with your right index finger and then twice with your right pinky and then pushing with your thumb would stop thoughts. people wouldnt need drugs and alcohol then. But the question would be would they want to ever reactivate their thinking? they wouldnt have thinking to tell them to reactivate their thinking.
When I think to much like this I wish i can run away from me. but then , who is the thinker and who is the one who is trying to run away, and who is the one that is watching them and writing this story? God only knows...