I used to wish the sound of music could be louder
So loud that it would block the voices in my head
It would block my thoughts and give me relief from my constant worrying
But if that was true, music would have lost its charm
It would be a drug rather than an inspiration
Thank you music for being what you are
Life would have been so harsh if it wasn’t for you
With curly hair, untrimmed eyebrows, and a suit, she opened the door to the classroom and entered with a wide 
genuine smile on her face, one that showed her crocked teeth. She walked confidently into the classroom, placed a book, of which she was the author, on the table and greeted her class. In front of her students, she stood; she talked and walked and gestured with her hands, but wait, they found no ring, no ring on a finger that is made for it. They whispered and murmured and talked behind her back, “Oh, she’s not married”, “Not even engaged” they said.
She wrote on the white board, she explained. But all they saw was the lonely finger. They imagined and made up stories about her, must be, miserable life; stories they were not shy to share. It must be this frizzy hair, these empty lips and breasts, they thought. She overheard them, once and again, so she raised her voice to make them listen, to help them see her for only their professor, but a new rumor had emerged, her efforts were in vain, she was now dubbed the lesbian.
What is love? Even the question became a cliche.
But seriously, what is it? Is it sacrifice and pain, or is it a sweet feeling that makes life bearable?
When do we know if we’re in love and when do we doubt it? Where does the line between selfish and selfless stand?
All the lines seem to be getting blurry in front of my eyes.
If love is a beautiful feeling, why do so many marriages or any type of relationships fail?
How do you feel when you’re reading a book and it seems to be telling the story of your life? Do we feel exposed, or does it give us a chance to predict the future?
‘You were born an original. Don’t die a copy.’ – John Mason
It’s a waste of life to try to fit yourself into someone else’s shoes.
As soon as the page to my blog loads, my eyes go to check “My Stats.” My blog isn’t yet popular and, I
think, I don’t have regular readers. Of course I do find this upsetting.
This makes me wonder about the power of a comment. I believe most bloggers would relate to that. This feeling one gets when finding that someone has checked their blogs, their intimate personal spaces, and left a comment.
My eyes have been looking for new incoming comments and new followers, focusing all their energy on finding tips for how to get more traffic to the blog. But I forgot to check what I have to offer to my readers.
“The way to be interesting is to be interested”
I read this quote once and just today I figured the connection between its meaning and blogging. I payed more attention to trying to be interesting, but I didn’t invest as much effort in being interested.
Therefore, I declare that, InshAllah, from now on, I’ll be more interested.
This blog post really inspired me. I very much recommend you check it out:
http://russelldavies.typepad.com/planning/2006/11/how_to_be_inter.html
So no sooner had I reveled in the warmth of spring than the winds changed and brought chilly air. It’s one degree above freezing right now. And it’s all my fault. This is why I don’t go to Cardinals games. They always lose when I go. I went to a Cards-Brewers game last year and it was one of their worst losses of the entire season.
She dances..
Like no one is there, but him..
And she wishes he’d see her.. She wishes..
She dances..
With every bit of her body.. Every bit of her heart.. Like she doesn’t care..
She dances.. Like no one is there..
No one but him..
And she wishes he’d see her..
He’d see how fine she is doing.. How she’s better off without him..
She shakes her head.. To let go of all her depressing thoughts..
She rocks her head..
And she wishes he’d see how much she doesn’t care..
But she knows..
He’s not there.
What if we were birds.. What if we were a type of birds that is tied to nothing. No family, no duties, no social norms that have to be followed unquestionably.
What if..
Would it set us free or imprison us even more.
Flying, swimming in the everlasting skies, I gaze at the horizon, and whisper, “I’m coming.” I’m coming to see all what is yet to be seen. I’m coming to enrich every moment of my life. I’m coming, to live my life.
But I never reach the horizon. The unchanging distance keeps separating us. I fly, with all my power. I fly, as fast as I can, but I never make it.
I’m tired.
Landing heavily, with my disappointment and shame fiercely pushing me to the ground, I land on a tree branch.
“Go Away”, I shut my eyes, refusing to look around, because wherever I look, I see you, horizon. I see my failure, my weakness, my limited abilities. I see you looking down to me.
Surrendering to my need to open my eyes eventually, I do. I gaze at you, silently. I see you swallowing my sun, and I’m left alone in the dark, gazing at you.
“What did I do wrong?”, I wonder. I look around me for answers, but it’s too dark for me to see. I turn my face to rest my troubled mind, and I see the tree I’m standing on. “I know you”, I think to myself. Searching my memory to locate my tree, I find it.
I’m standing on the tree that used to seem so far away. I’m standing on the tree that I’ve wondered long about. I’m standing on the tree that used to be my horizon.
And I figure it out. I’ve reached the horizon once and again, I’ve been where I wanted to be time after time, but my persistent obsession with my horizon blinded me from recognizing it. I’ve been overwhelmingly focused on the end, that I forgot to enjoy the journey, when in fact it’s all about the journey. I’ve been waiting to reach the horizon in order to start living my life, but I ended up wasting my life chasing what I already have.
P.S. I promise I won’t ask you in this post to go to Tahrir. I won’t ask you to take any action that puts your life or welfare in danger either. I promise you this.
——————————————————————————————————
I belong to 7ezb El Kanaba, and I’m NOT proud of it.
I’ve been retweeting and liking pages and stories of what true Egyptian Heroes did, in order for this country to have a better future, in order for us and our children to have dignity on our own lands. I’ve been watching so many souls being given away in order for the rest of us to live.
Today, we’re on the verge of a major shift in the Egyptian history, a time when all our voices matter.
Therefore, I have a simple message to my fellow 7esb El Kanaba members:
1. Correct information is a click away.
It is becoming really easy to get true information, almost as easy as getting false one. Before you accuse, condemn, or believe someone or something without a proof, seek knowledge. It won’t take you more than a couple of minutes to know exactly what is going on, so please try to know before you judge.
Here is a link to an article that explains WHY people and the different coalitions decided to demonstrate on the 18th of November:
http://www.aljazeera.com/news/middleeast/2011/11/2011111881959573228.html?utm_content=automateplus&utm_campaign=Trial6&utm_source=SocialFlow&utm_term=tweets&utm_medium=MasterAccount
2. Ask yourself, Why.
Until now, there are 700+ injured and 3 dead in the clashes between national security personnel and the protesters. Ask yourself, why are these people willing to give away their lives? They must have a noble purpose that gives them the strength to wake up, decide to go to Tahrir while knowing they may not come back.
In Egypt, we have this common trait, when someone asks another for directions, the asked person hates saying “I don’t know”, so they end up giving away false information, just for the sake of seeming as if they know. Now, if we keep up this habit, it won’t just cost us time or gas money, it will cost us LIVES. Any false information, any unsupported claims being said or believed, can cost someone his/her life.
Please be aware of the value of your opinion. More importantly, be aware of your value as a human being who has been blessed by God with a Brain. Use your brain before someone else uses it against you.
I know my target audience for this post. This is the time for us to apply and utilize our education, and the least we can do is be keen to get Correct Information.
I slept with him while you were away.
Across the room, at a party, I saw him look at me. It wasn’t innocent, he obviously was interested. Seducing me with the way he walked, he approached, with each girl he passed next to staring at him, and I liked it. Of all the girls who desired him, I’ll be the one whom he takes home.
He didn’t take his eyes off of me, neither did I, until he stood right in front of me, leaned over, and whispered something to my ear. With the same cold look I had on my face and seductively tilted lips, I faked a hesitating mien, looked him up and down, then said “why not.”
Slowly, I got off my chair, giving the other girls a teasing careless sneer. With his hand on my back, I led the way to the exit, and we left. On the way to his home, I didn’t want to think, I didn’t want my conscience to start lecturing me, so I kept talking; talking about anything. It didn’t matter how boring the topics we discussed were, because we both knew this chat won’t last long.
When we arrived at his apartment, he offered me a drink, and I drank, a lot. I drank to put the remains of my conscious to sleep, so I can go on, and do it. And we did it. We slept together.
It was.. an affair, with all an affair’s good and bad. He smelled my skin, my hair, my breath. He kissed my nose, my ears, my neck, and my lips. I let him do everything I let you do, and I called him names I call you.
The next morning when I woke up, he wasn’t there. I thanked God for that, got my things, and left.
It has been a month, and your flight is arriving in 3 hours. I’ve imagined every possible way of hiding it from you, and I thought I could, but I can’t. I don’t know how this happened and I don’t know why. I missed you while you were away, maybe I wanted to do something that I only do with you to alliviate the hollowness your absence left in my soul.
I’m sorry, for everything. For doing this, for justifying it, and for telling you too much. I’m just desperate. I know you won’t take me back, but I can’t bear the thought of not being with you. I’m begging for your forgiveness. This letter is my last hope. I’m not leaving home before you arrive because I’m afraid of what you might do, because I deserve it and I won’t stop you. I’m afraid that you might do nothing and just leave, and I won’t be able to endure neither your silence nor the blame I see in your eyes.
For the sake of everything we shared together, for the sake of all our promises, find forgiveness in your heart..
Basma H. Eletreby
04 – 01 – 10
And I have been estranged..
Does love really end?
Can it die?
For we’ve gone astray..
Unexpectedly..
We no longer make a we..
We’re you and me..
Separately..
We pass each other by..
We look away..
Faking a loud laugh, or an inattentive mien..
Pathetic scene..
Love didn’t die.. It didn’t end..
But you and I.. We have been estranged..
Lost for so long.. And No one is around..
Walked the way searching for truth.. But yet Nothing is found..
Always afraid.. I don’t know why..
Standing in the corner.. Unnoticed by apathetic passer bys..
When has everything changed.. I don’t remember…
Or has this been the case all along, and I just used to surrender..!
Am I blind now.. or was I so before..
Have I been standing on my feet or lying on the floor?
Why everything seems to be dark..!
Is it because I Muted all the sounds..
Or because I’m just staring at the ground..
Am I staring at the ground out of politeness..
Or Is It just a state of numb consciousness…
Do I cover Myself up not to be blamed..
Or don’t I have a choice for I will always be Ashamed..
Ashamed of that shallow person I have become..
Who has done nothing to be escaping from..
Yet is too coward to face fatality..
That these childish images will never turn to Reality..
After All You have Been through.. Isn’t it time to wake up.. !
Or do You still have some unfinished dreams that you Don’t seem to ever Rub.. !
Questions are raised and there Is No Answer..
Either for they should not have been raised In the first place..
Or for If you found the answers.. You’ll have nothing left to chase.. !
I won’t tell you not to give up .. Because I know what you’ve been through..
Just do not stop.. Or else the world will Be Stepping Over You…
19-6-08
Basma H. Eletreby
In front of her mirror, she stood silently, looking in the eyes of her reflection. A look that was full of passion, determination, and the persistence of a believer. “I am going to change the world”, she said, with a powerful smile that reveals deep faith, faith in her purpose, faith in her will, faith in herself.
She got older, and so did her dream. The more she experiences of this world, the more she holds on to her ultimate aim. Until she found out, she wasn’t the only one. She found that other people share the same dream as hers. Other people are getting ready to rule the world their way, and after thinking she is ahead of everyone, she found herself fading to the background.
Flashbacks came to her, and she wondered, was it her will in the first place that inspired her of this apparently common dream? Or is it the world that somehow leads its inhabitants to this very same conclusion of not accepting it for what it is?
Is this dream really noble? Or is it a desperate cry for telling the world “Here I am”.
In front of her mirror, she stood silently, looking in the eyes of her reflection, searching for something different, something that would make her dream come true, something that she didn’t see in the eyes of others. But she had in her eyes the same sparkle others have when they talk about their dream and the same enthusiasm, and then right there, she found it.
She saw that her eyes are not telling everything, just like others’. Her enthusiasm is not as strong as her purpose, which is the bottom line.
Changing the world could be a common dream, it could even be in our genes, yet this still does not mean that each of us will actually do it. Only those who truly believe will not give up until they leave a print that the world would never forget.
Basma Eletreby
Fall 10
Basma Eletreby
9 – 05 – 11
اقبل يا ملاك الموت.. ها انا انتظر
لا حزنا و لا استسلاما.. لكنى أعلم أنى أحتضر
اعلم انك قادم.. اخبرتنى الرياح و البرد و المطر
و كلانا يعلم أنها النهاية .. فهو قدر
أقبل يا ملاك الموت
أخبرنى كم روحا قبضت
.. هل راحة هو الموت أم ألم
هل هو نهاية الخوف أم بداية الندم
ندم تمنيناه في الدنيا و لم ندركه
فقد تملكنا الغرور و السأم
أقبل يا ملاك الموت
أقبل و قل لى.. هل أنت نجاتى
أم أنك ذعر محياى و برد مماتى
ألست آخذنى لدارى.. ألست عائدة الى حيث أتيت
لم كل الخوف إذاً.. مادمت آخذنى لمن فيه وثقت
أقبل و ابتسم.. أنا ذاهبة معك
فسلامى هناك.. لا حزن و لا قلق
و فى الطريق أخبرنى عما ينتظرنى هناك
فأنا تاركة كل شىء خلفى.. و قد شق على هذا الفراق
فكان هنا لى ذكرى.. و كان هنا لى صديق
و لكن ولت الايام.. و ول معها الرفيق
تغدر الدنيا بأقرب صاحب لها
و تجرى لاهثة وراء من لا يريدها
لا أريد أن أبقى هنا.. فها أنا ذاهبة
و لا تخافى يا روحى.. هذا ما كنت فيه راغبة
..أقبل يا ملاك الموت.. ها أنا أنتظر
23 – 10 – 08
Basma H. Eletreby
You.. were there..
I .. was Not..
You.. Tried to get closer..
I .. did resist..
You.. were the one I’m dreaming of..
I .. didn’t see that , and I was tough..
You.. never gave up..
Althought I asked you many times to Stop..
But it was loud and clear to you that I should be yours..
So you kept knocking my locked doors..
Blind as I was.. I pushed you away..
You.. tried everything to make me open my eyes..
But they have been closed since forever..
I though this way It’s gonna be better..
For me not to see how people became so emotionless..
I believed my ignorance was a bliss
Apparently, I was mistaken
I opened my eyes too late.. You were taken…
Yeah.. It is fair…
You were too pure to live in such world..
Where angels like you are not recognized..
I still cannot believe it’s true.. It seems like my eyes will never get used to reality..
But I’ll do it anyway.. I’ve learnt my lesson.. By a hard penalty..
Everything is moving so fast..
Just yesterday I was the chased one.. and I was so annoyed..
Now I believe I would never be able to replace what I lost..
Standing beside your grave with flowers in my hand..
Hoping you could hear me from the beyond..
Saying sorry and meaning it so much..
I heard your voice whispering to me, ” on yourself, don’t be harsh “
Just then I remembered that angelic smile you used to have on your face..
Unintentionally I smiled too.. ” May you rest in peace and have God’s grace “..
I’m sorry dear for everytime I hurt you..
I’m sorry for everything I was not supposed to do..
I know we will meet again, but till then..
I’ll Miss You…
Basma Eletreby
28 – 03 – 08
ورأيته يمشى .. يمشى بعيداً
ولم أعرف .. هل أركض خلفه لأوقفه
أم أتركه يرحل .. لعله ذاهباً لمكانٍ أفضل
لم أشعر بنفسى إلا و أنا أناديه
” هل أنت راحل ؟ “
لم يجب
أبتسمت إبتسامتى الكاذبة و لحقت به .. ” هل ستذكرنى و أنت هناك ؟ “
وقف .. و نظر إلى نظرة لم أفهمها.. لكنها كانت كافية لإخماد إبتسامتى
وقفت .. ” أنا آسفة .. ” قلتها و أنا لا أعرف لماذا أعتذر.. ربما فقط أردت أن أستعطفه
أردت أن أحظى منه بنظرة أكثر دفئا
و لكن حتى إعتذارى لم يجدى
رجعت خطوة إلى الوراء
فقد فهمت
مددت يدى لإصافحه .. لا .. بل لأودعه
مد يده .. و لأول مره ألاحظ كم هى باردة .. قاسية .. موجعة
قالوا برودة اليد حب .. و قسوتها إشتياق
لكنى اليوم عرفت أن ذلك كذب
ما برودة اليد إلابرودة قلب .. قلب لم يدق بإسمى أبداً
و ما قسوتها إلا جمود إحساس
فلم يرى دموعاً فى عيناى.. أو تجاهلها
فى كلتا الحالتين .. لست أنت من ظننتك
لست من تمنيت أن أرتمى بين ذراعيه
لأختبىء من كل شىء
سحب يده من يدى و مشى .. دون أن تتلاقى أعينينا
بقيت أنظر إليه و هو يبتعد .. و كل دوى خطوة يأخذها يوقظ صدى ذكرى فى رأسى
قطرة ماءِ على وجهى .. مطرٌ هى أم دموع .. لا أدرى
و نظرة تحمل كل ما شعرت به فى تلك اللحظة
أردت أن أخبره أنى أحبه .. لكن قسوته أيقظت بداخلى كُرهً كاذبً له أسكتنى
توقف عن المشى و أستدار
و بصوت منكسر قال
“لن تفهمى .. أبداً لن تفهمى .. “
27 – 12 – 08
Basma H. Eletreby
I’ve seen you somewhere before
And I knew your name
But I can’t recall
You had the same smile
Same hair cut
Same dressing style
Same Cola drink you used to have when you are hot
And here is money in your back pocket about to fall
A fifty
Which means all the other pockets are empty
I do remember
You were younger, slimmer
Your skin was brighter
And your teeth were smaller
You had a navy dress
With pink roses on the edges
Every morning you rode your bicycle
The reason why you were covered with scratches
I used to watch you and smile
A smile that was divided into happiness and grudge
They all thought I loved you, and who is to judge?
You were the perfect manifestation of the person I wanted to be
But I’m too coward, to laugh so loudly
Too complicated, to run in the rain
Too weak, to start all over again
One day, I was able to disagree, to joke, to look people straight in the eye
For some reason, I had to hug that old me goodbye
For even she could not stand being with such a pathetic person
And now when I look in the mirror, I see nothing
For I’ve broken it. But I still see
A distorted image. Or is that really me ?
You know what, I don’t care
And I’m not upset, this is fair
And by the way, I did not forget
I just have no tears left to shed…
Basma H. Eletreby
15 – 11 – 08
It has been a year, probably more, since I forgot who I am. I started living in other people’s shoes. At first I was doing this intentionally; I wanted to be more understanding, more aware, and more forgiving, and it worked. I became more understanding, kind of more aware, and also quite more forgiving. But then I reached a point where I couldn’t stop myself. I’m no longer doing this because I want to, I’m doing it because this is who I am, or actually, maybe, who I think I am, and it doesn’t feel good
I’m a person with many contrasts. On some level, I am the kind of person who, when gives it some thought, finds strange relief and satisfaction about myself; what I do, how I look, my achievements, everything God gave me, etc. On some other level, I’m not satisfied with myself, and I always think I should have done something more, I should have done things better. It’s not enough that I do or get a certain thing, I want to do and get more. This is kind of a good thing, it works like a constant motivation, supposedly. But the other side of the coin is that I don’t feel the sweetness of the events of my life; it’s usually the bitterness that remains and prevails. I tend to attach this to me not being myself anymore
I’m passionate about many things, but for some reason I just stop at some point even though I’m a very fast learner. Like, I love sports, yet currently I don’t play any. I love music and I love my guitar, but I stopped taking guitar classes, I didn’t try hard enough to play better on my own and I never play anymore. I LOVE learning new languages, but I don’t. I don’t take classes or anything. I love writing, but I rarely do it. However, I have my reasons, kind of. I don’t like sitting down and just deciding to write. My writings, they come to me; they are more like inspiration; repressed memories or emotions that find the perfect moment to float. I love going out with my friends, this past year, going out with them rarely happened, as in Rarely happened. I love drawing, and I am talented, yet I rarely ever draw anything. And the list goes on a bit further, I love psychology, I love being a Muslim, I love the concept of religions in general, I love finding out the truth and revealing it to people, I love my family, and I don’t do much about those things I love, I don’t know why
This could also be due to the fact that I just like things to be close to perfect. If I draw something and I think it’s not good enough, I won’t even care to show it to anyone (sometimes I do). Considering the fact that I don’t draw often, any drawing should get some attention from me, I should at least seek advice to know what could be improved next time. Something else that really bothers me, If I want to call one of my friends to say hi, and then I feel I’m not ‘psyched’ enough, which might mean the phone call would be less than ‘perfect’, I won’t call, and this is annoying, what the hell is a perfect phone call? I’m sure my friend will appreciate that I called her anyway; it’s much better than just not calling. I’m kind of working on this
Despite all of that, I’ve always believed in something. No matter what happens, no matter how much you think you’re far away from the person you wanted to be, never let this affect your relationship with yourself, because in the end, this person you see in the mirror is the only one you know for sure will stay by your side for your lifetime, so this is the most person you want to be honest with, this is the most person you need to forgive, the most person you want to believe in. Maintain a bond that would get you closer, and through which this “You” won’t do things that you’d regret one day
I also believe that one’s satisfaction is directly correlated to where the person believes salvation lies. If someone’s salvation is in money, then it’s money that would make the person feel satisfied, even if it’s a temporary satisfaction. If someone’s salvation is in God’s hand, then pleasing God will be this person’s way to ultimate gratification
Living someone else’s life isn’t something that I’m enjoying, but it made me realize how much I used to like who I really am, which is the bright side, because when I, not go back or return to being myself, but when I manage to combine what I learned from this unpleasant experience with who I really am, I know inshAllah that the outcome will be a better person
” Be The Change You Want to See in The World “
Basma H. Eletreby
5-6-10
