Thursday, May 24, 2007

Fighting The Girl In Me

I’m out to fight the devil but never fought myself Read a thousand books but never read myself My soul is starving it needs to be fed, lord I need your help Hell with the devil my biggest enemy’s myself It makes me wonder, am I doing this for the right reasons? I mean the money, the fame, and game all sounds appealing Instead of entertaining I prefer to enlighten But then again, who am I to be in a position To represent a whole generation of kids and to make them believe When till this day I still struggle to uphold my deen I read a 100 God is great in less then a minute And though my tongue is fast like twister My hearts not in it. Dedicated to the girl living in my head

- Silly Ellie

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Lost In The Crowed

Went to work today feeling tired and not in the mood, I stayed there for a while and then I made the money I wanted to deposit in my bank account an excuse to leave the office. Toke a cab, reached the place, sat there enjoying the cold air condition and waited till 7 other clients deposited their money. When I'm done I felt like I want to lose my self and just walk. On my way I kept watching all the shops, I kept standing in front of every single shop, and watching the people around me. I closed my eyes for a second thinking that I'm on the beach not in the sunny, noisy and crowded Tahrir street, with my sunglasses on my bag on my shoulder and enjoying every single moment I live. I saw the promotion of some movies displayed on a Cinema, Spider man 3, no I'm too old for this, Pirates of the Caribbean, then I was hit by a desire to buy a ticket and set in front of the screen, watch the movie and indulge with the story till I'm part of it. I saw my self, the fair lady with long big dress and flying brownish hair, sailing on the ocean and captured by the pirates, fighting with Jack sparrow (Jonny depp) and then falling in love with him, having my little pirates who are courageous like their father and mother. I remembered then how I used to look 6 years ago when I was….mmm, (not practicing religion), baggy trousers black painted eyes, and nails, wearing a necklace of cute skulls :) I woke up from my dream on a beautiful sight of flowers' shop, I stepped in decided to buy my self flowers, its been long since any one bought me flowers, mmmm, it seems that they don’t sell my favorite daisies, it’s a very pure and happy rose, just looking at it erases my pain away. Changed my mind, no I don’t want to buy flowers today, I'll just enjoy the company of me and keep walking, feeling the blessing of being a lone, yea… sometimes loneliness is a blessing. All my life I'm in the street either running home or heading for a place where someone is waiting for me and I'm 30 minutes late. But this is was one of my fewest times that I enjoyed walking with no one but me, no reason for walking than just to enjoy the hell of it. And it worked. Two lovers walking hand in hand were almost going to trap me into the feeling of loneliness and depression again, but the scene of two married couple (or so it seemed) were fighting over something, I laughed to my self and thanked God that there is no one to ruin these precious moments, when I feel like discovering my self and discovering the world around me. Public buss was broken down and everyone is off to give a push, two school girls fighting, one semi-naked woman walking and every man around is looking as if she is an alien. My work is two blocks away, I stopped at the super market, felt my stomach is yelling at me (I'm Hungry, bring me something to eat), grabbed a family size Doritos and then remembered that I have plenty of food in my office. Went to the office, the cold air of the air condition playing at my face, I laughed to my self secretly that I was able to run away from all this world and enjoy being lost in me for a while.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

A Tale of a Yellow Papered Book

In front of me now there is a yellow papered book laying on the shelf , it was published in…wait a minute....in 1972, then it is 35 years old book. maybe it is not so old but it has a story of its own. Here the story goes, my eldest sister got this book from Sur Al-Azbakiah (a place in Cairo for selling old and used books) when I was 10 years old, it is about 1500 pages, containing three novels and the last one is unfinished.
Ok. then what is so special about it Silly Ellie?
I'll tell you, the author of this book was a physician who was very much interested in history, he wrote about 7 novels and 2 researches on Egyptology and history. After reading four of his novels you can't help but fall in love with every word he writes, my sister and I went to the publishing house where this book was published decades back, we met there a young handsome man, called Ahamad, we hesitated to ask him at the beginning thinking he would make fun of the two fools coming asking about a book published 35 years ago. My sister told me we came all this way and we can't turn back on our heels now, we approached him and asked if he is the owner of the place he said "yes ", "Is your father a live?" my sister asked, he looked at us suspiciously wondering what the hell we want from his father and said "yes he is live and kicking, what do you want from him". phew, my sister and I were relieved, then we told him all the story from the day we laid our eyes on this book. Ahmed laughed out loud and told us, "it is an easy job, I'll take you to my Dad and you can ask him yourselves, follow me". He walked into a dark warehouse inside the place, with big and dusty publishing machines, we followed Ahmad silently then we went through a dark tunnel with very strong smell and I heard noises of rats, I ran and clanged to my sister's hand, I was so afraid that I cursed this book and cursed my favorite writer ever. The tunnel lead to a very small and dusty room in which a very old man was sitting on a wheel chair, putting a blanket on his legs and looking at the ceiling. Ahmed called at him "Ya Hajj, ya Hajj", at the beginning I thought this man is deaf and then he looked right at us and listened to Ahmed while he was watching both of us closely, at one point I felt like my legs want to let go and run, fearing this man would turn into an evil creature or we would be surrounded by hundreds of ETs. The old man opened his mouth to speak and there were no teeth at all, we tried to figure out what he was saying, but with no avail, Ahmad played the interpreter role and told us the story of Ibrahim As`ad, the author of this book, "he was a very rich man, he was a very famous physician, ohhhhhh that man was very kind hearted he would hand me 5 piasters and tell me get something for your kids, what a man, May he rest in peace", "Is he dead?" my sister and I cried, "yes long time ago in a very mysterious accident, he used to write these books for the sake of it, he didn’t do it for money, as I told you he was a rich man, he told me once, I know the truth and I should reveal it before it kills me and I know it kills me, after this I heard he died in a car accident but his body was never found" the old man said. My sister and I left the place puzzled even more than before and we tried to ask everyone if they know the man, but with no avail, searched for his books every where but there is no trace of a single line he wrote other than this book in our hands. One day my sister was preparing for her wedding and went to her new apartment to arrange the books of hers and her husband in their new home and then she found another novel of Ibrahim As`d, she ran to the phone called her husband and asked him where did you get this book from? "From Sur Al-Azbakiah, why? Is there something wrong?" he said.

Friday, May 18, 2007

These Thoughts of Mine

Sometimes, I really just wish that I had someone I could just talk to and be totally brutally honest with, without having to worry about them judging me, not wanting to listen, not being able to trust them or opening up... Just about the little things in life that get me down, because everyone has them.
Sometimes, I feel like I can't open up, because it's a sign of weakness, or because I'm scared that I might expose some sort of vulnerability, or because my problems will just seem stupid and/or pathetic in the eyes of others. Or, in worst case scenario, they'll think that I'm after attention for them.
Which, in a way, makes this a sort of written thoughts to no one really, as no one (as I'm aware of) would be reading this any time soon.
And sometimes, I even regret writing these thoughts of mine:(

WHY WOMEN CRY

A little boy asked his mother, "Why are you crying?", "Because I need to" she said."I don't understand," he said.
His Mom just hugged him and said, "And you never will."
Later the little boy asked his father, "Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?"
"All women cry for no reason," his dad answered carelesslyThe little boy, still wondering why women cry.
Finally asked the old wise old man. "He surely knows the answer", he thought. "Oh old man! Why do women cry so easily?"He answered:
"When Allah made the woman she had to be made so special. He made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to give comfort.
He gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that comes from her children.
He gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue without complaining.
He gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child hurts her very badly.
He gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.
He gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him unfalteringly.And lastly, He gave her a tear.
This is hers and only hers exclusively to use whenever she needs it. She needs no reason, no explanation, it's hers."
"You see my son, the beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the beauty of her face, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart - the place where love resides."
The little boy got the answer and never asked the question again.