tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50085277103157057712024-02-21T07:14:35.973+03:00The First Lesson In DictationI'm the claimant hanged below, demanding for affiliation to the stone age, waiting for Godo and his palm fronds.Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-55185630926557236642013-04-04T11:04:00.003+03:002013-04-04T11:04:36.832+03:00As well AsLife in college is getting more difficult day after day, and i feel so frustrated.<br />
i would never expect myself to feel this loneliness, to wander among its paths with great fear inside me, fear and cold.<br />
At the end of the day, while everyone sets to have a conversation, to laugh, and tell things, or to go to the cafeteria and make fun with one another, all i do is to run run run and run with my mind, so wanting to jump and jump and get out...!<br />
I get fixed to the college main gate waiting for my driver.<br />
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I'm so sick of the lies they tell me every minute, and of the plots they do. when they see me sad, they start making jokes and whisper into one another ear, thinking they are beating me.<br />
And when they see me happy, they start talking about frustrating entities just because they want to ruin my happiness.<br />
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In my college, there are people who hate to see me scoring high marks, and when i do in a subject, they start to cajole me asking for some advice or "secret ways" - as they call it- in study!!!<br />
And when i get a low mark in a subject or another, the glitter in their eyes tells me whats going on into their minds.<br />
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I hate to walk alone in the college, there's an employer who keeps sitting on the paths edges watching girls and talking to them pretending to be innocent. trust me. i don't know why i hate him so much, i hated him from the start, and when i told some girls they started blaming me saying i hated him because he was crippled..!<br />
I hate him and he keeps watching girls for all the wickedness he hides.<br />
i cant walk the path he's present. he talks to me hundreds time and i dont reply, then, he would say bad things because i dont reply!!!<br />
i dont know what to do, i feel so helpless.<br />
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There's a TV series im watching these days, the Korean " The palace jewel", my mom says that the "jogoma" heroine is almost completely like me, and my style, so i am really looking forward to know what will happen in the end, since i may be inspired for sake of the continuity and the love...Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-66814814870812494372013-03-29T19:50:00.000+03:002013-03-29T19:50:42.455+03:00I don't know...Should the gap between the mother and her daughter increase with age?!!<br />What happens exactly???<br />
What should happen??<br />Why I feel this distance between me and my mom???!!!!!Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-10208176490031192542013-02-15T22:46:00.001+03:002013-02-15T22:46:26.733+03:00For love...Live, eat, pray and LOVE :DSandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-22412607032427624542013-02-07T22:19:00.001+03:002013-02-15T22:27:34.710+03:00Two blue pens<div class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="direction: ltr; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">There's no big a difference between breathing in an air of indignant a resolution and cognition and tasting the bitterness of being so impressed with the effect of principles or lies prevailing throughout the remote antiquity. From all the remote antiquity there's been blood people get born with, panting after the existence of future, achievements of goals, and drawing dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">For myself, there's always blood I was born with, ideas I am fostered with, willing to push away and liberate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">There's so big a difference between listening to these interrupted tones of the violin, murmuring sounds and praying expelled intentions, which are about to tear out my eardrum and listening to their shouts in the examination theatre which were about to get my brain ventricles destroyed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">I was supposed for my holiday to be walking through mountains of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Beirut</st1:city></st1:place> , practicing the true meaning of being frozen, challenging this season and relaxing at the sight of snow all around. But I guess my circulation is better adapted for summer than for winter, and in my best conditions right now, I take a seat by the oil heater and have a cup of coffee, the best thing I can do, staring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">" I don’t know what rule on earth does allow them answering phone calls while playing the role of observing for an exam?!!" say I, damaged thoroughly, withdrawing into the hunched appearance of my garments generally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">Those people keep speaking, whilst other students keep asking, other teachers and assistant professors come in, more and more I get into a mess.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">Wandering amongst aims to interrupt all that nonsense for sake of enjoying an environment healthy enough to do an exam and amongst supports to stay calm and try to ignore them totally – the thing I can never do- I become, and try to choose the fittest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">The latter aims escalate more vehemently , being buttressed by my point weakness, and tiredly trembling nerves, winning over finally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">As I am drowning into dropping down many dangerous thoughts, inhaling in trends of sun-heated air, that leak through the window, between edges of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>partitioned curtains, yellowish green, spreading over my exam sheet, the chief of the observers calls out " pay attention, time is almost over!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">In a shock, I realize I almost have fallen into a nap, cursing the only three hours sleep I got last night, I get to check the full number of multiple choice questions in case I might have missed one, and unfortunately find out I've already missed an essay question, pray I didn't discover it, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and try by best gathering up my thoughts and start to write quickly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">As time is over, I don’t stop writing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">Somebody I can't recognize well stands next to my chair, I can feel his eyes jumping over the lines, perhaps fourteen seconds till he so violently picks up the sheet saying " go to hell!!! Give it to me!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">I just look at him from back as he continues walking along the line of chairs, and I really am so far unaware of which is closer to happen, heart over-beating, tears shedding or my eyes' angles closure. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">I put my stuff , two blue pens, one pencil with a rubber at one end and a pink ruler, into my pocket, and pretend to be busy with my glasses and get out in a hurry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">I walk quickly, I so want to run back home, but running in this community is forbidden for girls in twenties and on, and unfortunately, I am twenty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">I pick up the phone, I so want to call my dad and burst into the repressible crying, but crying, for a silly thing like an exam, is forbidden here in my community, and unfortunately, its said I belong to this community.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">Never is anybody aware of each one's anniversaries of deeds redolent of sacrifice. Neither I am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">Nevertheless, I am so aware of my crying not necessarily is for missing scores from the missed question, that huge and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-perhaps- deceiving care</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"> I have banished so long ago, or let me explain further, I have banished since I first very understood that life is so great a meaning that should never work only for marks, despite marks are the thing –and perhaps the only thing- I can best work for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">That crying was necessarily supposed to be for sake of that " go to hell" I obtained effortlessly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">" I'd better go to an empty a place, I want to be alone for a while" I think. I so calmly drag </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">tails of my skirt , in its indigo</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"> and walk off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">Before attempts to think of a peacefully blessed spring break, a war to remember is waged. It’s a single battle a war, a single enemy a war.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">No sooner are decisions to accept them despite the big difference between me and them, the huge gap in between us and the no real friendship I find amongst them, are established, than the stark imaginary sociologically based ideas turns into stark persistent reality, that difference is difference, loneliness is loneliness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">Long ago, I had an idea that good manners are indistinguishable a way, or , its born with the same blood and from all the same remote antiquity; but now, I so know, I was partly right, the complete truth is, its important to let good things, including manners,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>grow up with us, eat the same food and drink the same fluids, so we all together, become complete, not necessarily perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">I could never, any once, imagine that someone would tell me "go to hell" one day, and not anyone, he's someone works in a college, teaching students, learning and even researching for scientific subjects. Whilst being a doctor , he's practicing health retrieval,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">"How could he!!! How could he do all of this while he, in a simple moment, got me too ill, and practiced the play of hurting me, despite emotionally, while me, doing an exam!" interrupt the engaged pictures I.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">I blame myself thousands times for I had, at least, to ask him why he did say that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">I blame myself thousands time for wasting my time with no courage awake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">I bring call back some events of memory, trying not to be so pushed a way I could oppress </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">them or oppress</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"> myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">"He's not the only one I meet here saying or behaving that bad!" I tell myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">" since first year I came here, to this college, I didn’t like the way everybody behaved, spoken or even thought" thoughts I recognized trough their conversations, writings or even memorizing knowledge. Nothing has changed is absolutely right, but probably its me the one who's changed; I became more patient against their configurations. <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">I have always thought of expectations, intentions and deeds. I have thought that only choosing the way to do a good deed or having an idea about is enough to make someone brave, whilst the complete truth is to choose the right is an honor, and to start doing right especially by throwing mistakes as away as one can , or by silence, further behind deeds themselves, is the true bravery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">It’s the chain of a consequence of events that leads from the start of life in one end, till the day one's supposed to leave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">It's more a true investigation and analysis that I have the total right to be the one I want to be, I can be, or am ready to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">Suddenly , my mobile phone rings " I'm at the gate, would you come please" says the driver.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;">I draw a smile from an ear to ear, end the call, towards the gate, I walk off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><o:p>Sandybelle</o:p></span></div>
Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-43913959876410743862013-01-08T10:32:00.001+03:002013-01-08T10:32:26.692+03:00The existene<span class="userContent">Heavenly wind blowing the trends of time . Send this feeling to the moon. Gracefully just like you.<br /> A sturdy flower with colors so bright. But before the waves of speech can reach, they vanish from their delicate stem.<br /> If i can't become a butterfly to fly your sky, i don't care if i become the demon that receives that pain, that sorrow.<br /> Dreams are an instant. This heart will...... remain as a chrysalis.</span><br />
<span class="userContent">To the end of the time. The misty moon tears out.</span>Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-80473536002107066092012-12-28T18:31:00.001+03:002013-02-15T22:28:05.021+03:00A mutual feelingThe end of December 2012..<br />
I admit something not so new,<br />
They hate me, and I hate them. It's a mutual feeling.Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-64087077846688730962012-12-10T22:02:00.003+03:002012-12-10T22:02:51.679+03:00Once Upon a Monday<div class="MsoNormal" dir="ltr" style="direction: ltr; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The conversation is so bright, the master, his patient, and us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The master kidding, smiling, and sharing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Things I love… <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Please, can you sit upright for us?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Yes sure.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">His skin looks light brown, except for the areas of palms and soles, which are frankly pale.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Things I notice…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-would you mind if we check you for a while?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-not at all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A student starts to examine him, his hands, his face, earthy face, his sights, pretending to be comfortable , he doesn’t seem to frighten us, he is so ready to help us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-let's check for his breathing from the back of his chest. He's a good patient, and so cooperative.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Nowadays, within the full bank of patients we have, almost rarely to find a patient willing talk to us or let us examine him/her. Everybody is wailing for their destiny, everybody just wants to leave, and only leave, with no more question!-<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-oh yes!!!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The latter two lines are both engaged between the new young master and me. His English language is so close to my heart, and my words seem so close to his. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The tears in my eyes, I so hard can protect.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The master starts telling us how to examine the chest, from inspection to auscultation , passing over palpation and percussion. The master asks everyone to do it and I get to feel so confused.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Please, I want you to hug this pillow as if you never hugged a pillow before! – so that his chest gets fully extended from the back- The master asks him with a kind of humor.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And he hugs it, so strong, he wants to obey, wants to help.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I so calmly approach him, the earthy-colored skin man, I so want to ask him, if I may hurt him or not , but something prevents me; <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it is the very thing protecting my tears.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I put my hand over his back, I try to do percussion, my hands all tremble, from the little to the middle finger, my thumbs feel so stony stiffed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The master helps me firmly press my hand over the earthy colored back, and I percuss. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also asks me, like the others, to listen to the bruit within a lump over his left arm. I put the stethoscope with big worries inside me over it, and the earthy man drag it closer, so that the diaphragm is fixed on the right position, and I don’t know how to thank him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My master also talks about my voice, "a very very high pitched voice you've got!! And I thing next time I should ask someone if you ever have a key specific for raising your voice a little!! Just a little!!" he laughs further.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">His words and the surroundings are so blurred, more tears I have to shed. I do shed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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SandybelleSandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-40104594179649452322012-11-21T19:42:00.001+03:002012-11-21T19:42:42.576+03:00:Sspeechless<br />
<br />
صـــــــــــــــــمتي<br />
ليس جهلا بما حولي<br />
ولكـــــــــــــــــــــــــــــن<br />
ماحولي لا يستحق<br />
الكـــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــلامSandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-86357711917311874002012-10-26T21:27:00.002+03:002012-10-26T21:27:33.394+03:00What ifwhat I think is great, but it's not as great as something else.Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-2601069207686166642012-10-10T20:12:00.001+03:002012-10-10T20:12:37.441+03:00The OblivionIt's a joke I can never laugh at...Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-46382904519359305202012-09-11T00:39:00.011+03:002012-09-13T21:31:09.922+03:00The Hard Mission<p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It was a hard mission till the time I could understand that the process of growing up was not easy at all. I have always professed I would be that so big one who was not but so ready to accept admirations from everyone else and was not but so busy to make friendships with everyone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>More precisely, I would so want to keep myself high and lovely in the other's eyes, I had learnt nothing more merit to work for, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>I was never good at other aspects, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>although I tried several , or maybe fewer, times to be so evil, but I failed, and I failed proudly.</span></span> </p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">That time, I was told that" he who makes no mistakes makes nothing", and I believed in it, and every time I failed I would pretend to pick up my success the next day. For a while, I was so busy with this, till my parents taught me about evil, and that everyone could be evil as how everyone could be good, they explained it to me many times, each time with a different way, till I completely understood what was going on with evil, and how "evil" evil was!</span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>I have always pretended I would be that so lovely princess whose <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>people would really enjoy being within her kingdom, who would do everything by herself,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>would cook,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>would study, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>would play with her dolls, and surely would rule the entire country with justice and peace. She would also share her army fighting against any invaders. </span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Right now, I very well can understand why fighting and army ideas have occupied a large area within the space of my brain that's already specialized for thoughts and creation, albeit I was still little, little not only before thinking about wars,but also little before even being able to care about myself independently <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>– <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>I know by now, I would learn a lot about wars and guns, would hear and witness events pivotal around death<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>and all kinds of misery – </span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>I was <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>that child who always waited for the time 2:30 pm every day to keep her eyes stuck at the TV screen thinking about the upcoming events of Sandybelle, Grendeizer or any one of those few – at that time- cartoon episodes I was in love with. As I would be so far deep within that lovely kind of imagining pegging out painting the pictures of peace and conciliation between goodness and evil, and how goodness would win at the end, I would found myself interrupted by the everyday very badly recorded video of </span></span><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;font-family:'Arial', 'sans-serif';" dir="rtl" lang="AR-IQ" >كي لا ننسى</span><span dir="ltr"></span><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span dir="ltr"></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;">"for we don't forget" series that the TV would always display before cartoon. It would carry plenty of scenes that belonged to the Iraqi-Iranian war in 80s. now I remember very well how frustrated I would be , and how a lot I hated war, and how a lot I didn't like Iran (War had always been a choice, that so bad and evil choice, and I was brought up to hate<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>evil choices, but Iran was country and people, more precisely, for me, it was "a living thing" and my parents would really get mad if I used the word "hate" when I spoke about or dealed with living things, I would always like to forgive Iran and even America, for myself, we all could be friends and live on this planet, peacefully. </span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I have always pondered the new points of view I concluded every time I spoke to someone.</span></span><br /><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I have always liked to predict the future's upcoming, I have always disliked to be surprised.</span></span><br /><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I have always wanted to be panegyrized, I really loved how it has felt.</span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ">I, besides, couldn't explain any violently so creative idea regards the way I had to have my breakfast or the car driving me school (I've always wondered why we didn't have dinner first, then school, then lunch, then sleep then breakfast and many other types of arrangement that were absolutely so far beyond being palatable)everything has done nothing but spread all over me inwardly, giving me that so calm, so easily</span><span dir="rtl"></span></span><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ;font-family:'Arial', 'sans-serif';" dir="rtl" ><span dir="rtl"></span> </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">infuriated, so easily made laugh girl outwardly.</span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I never knew that day would help me much getting older, the thing I was eager , and so eager for, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>"if I was older, I would be able to travel everywhere I wanted, would buy everything I liked, and would work anything I dreamed of" I always told myself.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It was that night when the conversation between me and my mom has been somewhat desultory, desultory enough to be worth of saving in my mind. The weather, the somberness of the sky with randomly scattered clumps of the stars, the sloppy breaths hanging out over us, and the moonlight.</span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I would bend my head into my mom's lap, and drown into my thoughts, and that time, like every time the moon was complete, I would ask my mom how it really looked for her, or whose face was really drawn over, I really believed that the moon was someone's face.</span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">My grandmother was sitting in the kitchen, and somehow she was overhearing me, till she got <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>felt kind enough towards my strictly asked question, whose face that was.</span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">She would answer " this is Ali's face".</span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I would run to her and kiss her, I would finally not have to wait any longer for the right answer, since my grandmother was right in everything she told me, and that was really one of the biggest things she did, for me, at that time.</span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I would wait for night of 14-15<sup>th</sup> day, the other month, when the moon was supposed to be complete again, but it would be cloudy, and I wouldn’t be able to see it, and I really was the most miserable girl ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Later on, I could pass over <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>that shock, moreover, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>I learnt new things about weather and clouds,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I would bravely and so far patiently keep waiting, night after night and month after month, and when I would find myself staring directly at it, the moon face,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>with no boundaries between us, I would ask again " whose face are you?? Are you really Ali's?", right now, for me, it seems I didn’t trust my grandma's answer 100%, I really believed I trusted it, but right now, I think I didn’t , however, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>it could be Ali's face, it could be another one's face, could be no face at all, and that's what I've learnt from geography later on, the total issue was about topographic reliefs, like hills or so.</span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Perhaps if someone else, someone who had to be in my age, told me the same idea my grandma had expressed, I would 100% trust it confidently, since that time, I was so far away from the art of criticism that I may – and only may- like talking about people in my age or those who are a little older, their behaviors, deeds and ideas,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>sometimes.</span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I know, I was not supposed to work hard and contemplate these simple troubles deeply, I just had to hunt them down in their natural habitat, and exactly that was what happened.</span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Still it is, a hard mission to precisely decode those chicks' squeaks. Throughout all my visits to the hatcheries, where my dad used to take me for fun, I kept listening to the chicks' , squeaks, as if they were a special kind of music coming out from the unknown. I would keep wondering , every time I entered a hatchery , after I had pressed on a sterilized piece of sponge located next to the door, to sterilize my feet,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>were these squeaks laughs, joyful or saddening songs? Or even intermittent whines??</span></span><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Although I heard the same trend of sounds in all directions, but a close examination of the vibrations of these squeaks would show huge differences among each other.</span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I would run amongst them, help the workers feeding them, and I would tell them in secret to eat a lot, so they would grow faster, and then , be able to do everything they wanted to do.</span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">In sorrowful complaints, I would also ask my dad why they were crying, and he would be busy checking out the entire environment they lived in, and giving instructions to everyone was out there. I find it so highly appreciable, I didn’t feel any jealous for that big care he offered them. </span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I found myself to realize later, that those chicks' destinations were the same, they all would grow and grow till they would weigh enough for slaughter , then we would eat them. I cried many and many nights for that horrible destiny, and I "didn’t like my dad" any more, till I grew up a little more, to accept the idea, they were made for this reason, God had already permitted their slaughter, for our benefits, but surely God had not allowed slavery, humiliation and low demeaning life.</span></span> </p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Right now, I really wonder, were or are chicks aware of their entrée into this mortal world? Into death penalty and life imprisonment until the execution? Were or are they careless or clueless just like newborn?!</span></span> </p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It seems like I, like everybody else, ever since came to this mortal world, I dreamed of being older, probably because those who were within my sight horizon were my parents,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>whom I trusted, whom I depended on totally<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>and most importantly, whom I loved till I never knew any borders for that love, and still I do, if there were any boundaries for love, I have not reached them yet, I'm just drowning and drowning, nothing more, nothing less.</span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It happens , its natural perhaps, for man, since childhood, to imitate others and continues to do as a principle component of his daily life. To mention all the things that man chooses to copy would constitute a book of many volumes, and although I may find a spare time enough to think about that imitation , I just cannot be included within a kind of chaos life again , or let's say, I don’t want to be messed up anymore.</span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Since 2003, when everybody expected the true changes, things have started to be ruined<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>all over again, one after the other, we were deceived by their outwardly patriotic intentions, and their masters' blond hair and blue eyes,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was deceived too. </span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I also was deceived by the idea of being a doctor, life is not as white as I have imagined, people are not as nice as I have polished my thoughts for.</span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">And I wonder again, are chicks of today the same as chicks of the last date of my visits?</span></span> </p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I appreciate their being so far different. Why not to be, since all personalities to abe figured out must primarily depend on the surrounding environment ,in addition to the conscience. And for this matter, all the factors seem to be different, or somehwat not that alike.</span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">The former are those who belong to era of living amongst sounds of explosions, tanks and bombs, and they are dying without knowing who's killing who, who is destroying who, who is using explosives? For whom? Why? Till when? Where to?</span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Their sounds must be a trend of crying, crying for themselves, for their brothers, and for they live in the presence of injustice , darkness, ignorance and blackout.</span></span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">The latter, are really those who lived in a relatively outwardly noiseless area, with tiring wars already had occurred,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>that happened and they must have suffered from hunger and confusion. They must also have cried for their being imprisoned in very tight cages, which didn’t allow minimal movement. They only saw darkness, and didn’t know, if it was the shinning sunlight or the warm moon light as they were barely able to see their food and water.</span></span><br /><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">By time, I understand and to a higher degree, what Iran really is, I also understand what Israel is, and what are the spices of KSA, Qatar and Turkey, and what Arabs are really about. After I lived amongst, I also understand the meanings of being different, in the way you speak, the way you walk, and the sect, religion and nationality we originate from and I reach a conclusion, "difference is the rubric of the universe". </span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">But this cannot and does never satisfy me, it is the same reason why the earth doesn’t calm down, and why man doesn’t understand it, this word itself could be a matter of confusion, especially for those who keep repeating and imitating, for the matter of living and imitating itself, only.</span></span> </p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">*if pessimism hits us, God will take away the ghost of hopelessness… God is always listening and responding in many and many ways.*</span></span><br /><br /><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-IQ"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Amongst the dreams, the real awake lives, amongst study materials and bombs outside, amongst wishes and hopes inside, and in between the first time I came to this mortal world, and the last moment i will be in, when i will finally examine the true taste of departure, and after I have learnt and learnt and learnt, I decide I should have no longer looked for any meanings for breakfast or dinner, school time or squeaks, moon face or evil, and I am that very person who is really sorry because of wishing to grow up , I am really so sorry to grow up.</span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Sandybelle</span><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:85%;"><em>Note : my school will start on Sept. the 23rd, i may not be able to write often, although i already was thinking of leaving blogging or even to make it rest for a long while.</em></span><br /></p><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:85%;"><em>2ndly, I bought a new notebook and i am thinking of how to start filling it up :D</em></span></p><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:85%;"><em>3rdly, I feel i want to add this :D I miss Baghdad a lot, and I miss Chicago a lot .</em></span></p><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:85%;"><em>4thly , I didn't enjoy this Summer vacation, but thank God anyways</em></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:85%;"><em>.</em></span></p><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:85%;"><em>5thly, I am so worried about school and the next years, i am scared of the upcoming days, scared from study and mot importantly, exams :D</em></span></p><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:85%;"><em>6thly, and most important to happen I will miss you my lovely readers. Don't worry, I'll be checking my e-mail and respond to all messages whenever i have an admirable spare time :D</em></span><br /></p><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt; unicode-bidi: embed; DIRECTION: ltr" dir="ltr" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:85%;"><em>BE BLESSED....</em></span></p>Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-33801771507926215812012-08-29T01:31:00.012+03:002012-09-02T23:03:48.821+03:00Already Alive<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEVfHqQebdVXcguZHK1lYBxOLHlO9jlbGwpfAGGDyZ27f4Om2y3AbfwPsOVZmI2pF4dpZq0U8qwsZK-r5irlKIhq2U32pwNefef0rTShXnaN_iQcNVF9mTHTuumBAmtl9fve6t53SNh8/s1600/20120821_181341.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5781855792625190034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEVfHqQebdVXcguZHK1lYBxOLHlO9jlbGwpfAGGDyZ27f4Om2y3AbfwPsOVZmI2pF4dpZq0U8qwsZK-r5irlKIhq2U32pwNefef0rTShXnaN_iQcNVF9mTHTuumBAmtl9fve6t53SNh8/s320/20120821_181341.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />One is tanned, and one is white.<br />She's holding her hand, and the hands swing in air, partly fixed to the seat and partly fumbling spots of softness in fingers. They stare at passing by opposite places. Every next minute " Hey look at…" they both exclaim interrupting each other, till the only thing they find themselves doing is looking into is each others' eyes.<br />Places pass by, or they pass by the places, the difference is no big, since the result is the same, everything and everyone is passing by.<br />She hardly can hide her poorly figured laughter, she's doing her best chastening the outwardly expressed manners. Everybody can realize then, its harder than she's really capable of, so, it liberates from the depth, smiling, giggling then bursting into unstoppable deluge of laughing.<br />"Don't you listen?! I'm singing!! I own a very nice voice, don’t I ?" the driver speaks to Rar who's sitting next to him, uncontrollably shaking his leg, so worried, so wanting to get out the car.<br />"Oh yes.. yes.. that's awesome.. yes" , the so called "yes" fills his mouth, slipping over his tongue, and apparently, he reflexively begins to undergo a very wronged headache.<br />The little jalopy offers nothing related to comfort features, and the two girls start discussing the project to send it to the closest museum to their mind!<br />Both white and tanned are captivated by the very well designed houses, very green streets and very burning sunrays. Closely approach each other, and quickly they are out the jalopy, seeing off the carping driver, all is going on coyly.<br />The correlated group has reached earlier, and all people are ready for the ill-arranged journey.<br />They walk, walk ,walk and walk.<br />White is holding her sister's hand, whispering in the glimpses of their so brown following shadows, giggling and saying how much happy they are.<br />"Two rivers"<br />White notices, " two rivers.. the two rivers" , translating the address and title the same way they really are, paying no effort for further necessary explanation.<br />This is the notice White will never forget. White thanks God warmly, wishing purely , stammering proudly.<br />She keeps her eyes fixed at the very closely arranged letters, considering it to be a miracle, no matter how important letters should be related that way, by curved lines, blue or white, both are beautiful, it's a miracle and nobody has to protest.<br />Walk is back, all are walking.<br />"Ashak!! How awesome you are brother Ashak!"<br />The usual cagey will to urge the noise turns into a very curative caprice to run and jump, jump up till reach the sky.<br />White is excellent in casuistry, and the credenda she started already to obey lead her to be older than behaving like children, knowing very well that jumping and running are the very rights she wants to get back from the time she was younger than teenage.<br />They keep walking, Ashak keeps making White laugh, laugh till she's no longer strong to support herself standing up. She's begging him stop speaking at all. Even the way he expresses his agreement makes her laugh. Laugh and laugh, as if she never laughed before.<br />"Ashak, God bless you" White and Tanned tell each other in God's observing.<br />"w hi el-shams teh'mes hamesهاي الشمس تحمس حمس" Ashak keeps saying (= this sun is so burning, it’s a very fashioned phrase by the Baghdadi very Iraqi youth).<br />They move into a cafeteria, choose a table below a fan that's ready to spread away all types of smell, even cigarette smoke. Ashak can smoke peacefully . All enjoy the ice-cream offered out there.. No one believes then how time passes quickly, till its so over, they are so sorry to leave.<br />The caespitose happiness, the six-membered group, and the guidance of daylight , all together go ahead, and White quickly begins to cram the members' minds it will never be the end, as long as they are alive, there's always a destiny and work to achieve it and be "together" all over again and again.<br />They cruise the streets, with the same way laughing. The countless observations awake a scare about being green-eyed, as old women, their childish thoughts care about that so called "green-eye" a lot, it’s the very thing they want to lose nothing, and the slowly dancing waves hint to the daily renewed corroboration, the cytostatic animation, the cataleptic injection, it's the cadent of their laughter ,the silver reflection of their tears and the charisma of their being are already told amongst the ancestors, already blessed, already alive. Forever, alive.<br /><br />Sandybelle<br />Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-16116182417683951512012-08-12T12:07:00.007+03:002012-08-12T13:07:50.499+03:00Importunity12 p.m :) <br /><br />It's all about "Mythical blindness"<br /><br />............ and everyone lived happily ever after. The end!Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-38881459018364730012012-08-02T20:43:00.002+03:002012-08-02T21:04:55.083+03:00The letters game"The Sun Can't Be Seen Except in The Clear Sky<br />Beyond the sun, there is something needs to be found. When I can say, write, do and help, what lies beyond the sun will be closer to me than my shadow..From the land where the sun shone for the first time..Mesopotamia"<br /><br />Letters deprecate<br /><br />"The First Lesson In Dictation <br />I'm the claimant hanged below, demanding for affiliation to the stone age, waiting for Godo and his palm fronds.".Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-18852200184248645712012-07-31T00:12:00.002+03:002012-07-31T00:20:45.301+03:00The 20th<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> I am the happiest to be 20.......<br />"safety, success, love, hope, truth, purity, beauty and glory, all together<br />while being in God's hand"<br /></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></div>Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-19662153506824687062012-07-29T00:11:00.003+03:002012-07-29T15:52:19.500+03:00TahtoohI get myself into this beautiful car and I keep holding my breaths so tightly.<br />I look through the window, and I find it difficult to concentrate at different things at the same time, however, I do my best and I succeed in minutes and fail in others.<br />It's like Baghdad with all of its walls and doors, all streets and shops, all trees and earth bulks are of my own and nothing could stop me from showing my exaggerated eagerness for the divine providence to defend me against that big flow of thoughts.<br />"Good idea to spend the night with your beloved uncle, Sandybelle, right?" my uncle murmurs loudly, breaking the silence. I grin back and say nothing.<br />I find a way into his house, which I like a lot from the beginning, despite the small size. Its modern with cute decoration.<br />He tells me where to sleep and goes to bring me orange juice, which I ask for after a while of considerable coquetry.<br />We talk a lot, my uncle, his wife and myself, about different things, and she starts talking about marriage and boys, I inspirationally find a good excuse to go to bed.<br />I just want to keep thinking before sleeping, as usual, but it happens and I sleep quickly, no wonders since I arrived today at 1 pm after 7 hours- long way, and it's 2 am.<br />Only two hours are my part of sleep. At 4 am, my uncle awakes me, and I have a bath and we go to my grandparents' house, where everybody is ready for the trip, except those who are in my age or younger who prefer to stay in bed , enjoying the excellent air conditioning. I shouldn't stay, I should accompany my mom.<br />I kiss the couple of lovebirds (which my other uncle has brought yesterday)by air.<br />" I'm going to bring A and his family" as I hear it, I jump up quickly, and cry " I am coming!"<br />They stare at me weirdly and I smile back.<br />As we reach A's house, I get out of the car and stand at the gate and feel my legs tremble, and as I spend a few minutes wondering why, A opens the door and " Oh Sandybelle!! It would be better if you came with us to sleep with Zayyoni , we couldn’t sleep from his crying, he wanted you a lot, he just slept from the tiring weaning!". I stare a while, and say nothing, I greet my uncle's wife (A's wife) and immediately carry Zayyoni, he opens his eyes, and as seeing me , he says "Sandona inti wakeeha, leish me jeti yammi elbarha?"<br />(= Sanybelle, you are rioter, why didn’t you come to me yesterday? ) and sleeps back soon.<br />I cant help my eyes from tearing a little and I hug him.<br />Then, we all get into a taxi to "al-nahdha garage" where people can rent cars to take them to different cities in the southern Iraq.<br />"Omara" was our goal.*<br />Tahtooooooooooooooooh! Come on! get up!" I speak to Zayyoni, and I am about to continue when his mom interrupts " what tahtooh?" and I am like" oh, well.. yes. I meant to.. ok ,this could be a nice nickname for Zain –despite Zayyoni is what I used to say and what it's the most suitable- **<br />" but doesn’t fit, does it? " his mom responds. "no it doesn't" I answer. And as I am trying to find a good admirable thought to change the subject, Zayyoni saves me here and jumps up to hug my neck. Repeating my name, making me feel the happiest person in the world. " ok ok, she's your fiancée son!" his mom says, and he just winks at me, and says " laaaaaa laaaaa hahahaha" (la=no).<br />I giggle a little thinking such a big devil he could be!! Lol<br />"Sandona, let’s read together" Zayyoni, bringing me a magazine, and I start to read it for him, trying to tell him a little about the alphabet, he interrupts me and says " Sandona, that's enough for reading, now, tell me a story", and I tell him several stories, what I remember the most is that of the battle between the sun and the wind and how the sun won it by making the man take off his jacket. He likes it a lot, shouting" Sandona tfoooooooooooooz" (= Sandybelle wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiins).<br />Then, Zayyoni picks up some finger chips and asks me to help him eat. This finally makes his mother fidget his many requests telling him he is annoying me. Frankly he is not, but I agree with his mom just for he should always understand that everything mummy says is true and right.<br />It is midday, and we are still on the way, we passed through Hella, then Kut, and I don’t remember what else, and I am always fond of Hella. as we were close to Hella, I whispered to Zain "tahtooh , I miss you" and Zain kept repeating, TAHTOOOOH.<br />It's very hot, and the sun is burning, on this way, I really realize how bad is the situation these cities live, and how horrible is the condition for most of the citizens, and I keep wondering, what's been happening during these 8 years? There's a very very big difference between the south and the north, despite the truth of presence of most Iraq's riches in the south.<br />65% of houses are made of mud, or mud with bricks which you can very clearly recognize, against the architectural art bases.<br />We reach Omara, and my uncles start telling us, mom and I , how things have changed, mom is about to cry, and I stupidly ask "mom what's wrong?"<br />"its my hometown Sandybelle, and it passion, you know what? I can remember everything happened here" and she keeps telling me stories about lives here, stories she never told me before, what caught me most are stories of nineties , when people of those cities had a war with the ruling regime that time, and how bodies and blood were in streets, how guns were sold in streets and how all shops were closed and every family had a consolation of one member or more.<br />We reach a court, where the main business has to occur, and as I get out of a car, I start to feel , or people's looks make me feel, very bad, guilty, as if I have done a crime.<br />I pinch my uncle wife's arm, asking her what's wrong, " don’t worry, they may think you've come from a different planet" and keeps laughing. I get crazier, and I can say I wish I was a mouse, so I can hide, or the fastest panther , so I can run away with no one notices!<br />Then, I realize, I had to wear an Abaya over my usual daily clothes ( a shirt and trousers).<br />I feel so sorry . and while I am blaming myself, Zayyoni cries " I want to go to a bathroom, right now, I need, now now now" and we were shocked, it was not a suitable time for this, at all, NOT FIT AT ALL!!<br />His mother and I start to look for a W.C , no one knows where, then, finally, a policeman tells us where, and we thank God, and reach it when the handsome Zain refuses to enter, explaining " it's awful , its dirty!! The smell!! The smell!! I cant!'<br />Oh no!! another problem, no Zain , not this time!!!<br />I keep begging him to enter, his mother too, but the obstinate officer keeps the "no".<br />He starts to cry, and I hug him tightly, " please tahtooh, this time, for me, only this time" and my legs tremble back, and I am in a big mess, wanting to be two halves, half to beg Zain and half to think of my legs trembling this dawn when I was thinking about Zain and Tahtooh. " Sandybelle, your leg!" Zain's mother says.<br />" no its ok, no problem" I answer.<br />I cry too, and look at Zain's mother who is about to show terrible madness says" Sandybelle, what's wrong??"<br />Then Zain "Sandona, you cry?? Leish tibchen la tibcheeeeeeeeeeeeen!!" (=why you cry? Don't cry!!)<br />"you stop crying first" I reply.<br />And there's a pause, and I catch Zayyoni from his hand and help him go into the toilet.<br />Everything then turns peaceful, and we ,the three, sit together, Zayyoni sitting in my lap, and I bend my head to his mother's shoulder.<br />Then, I decide to stand outside the room, which is very crowded, and I carry a bottle of water with me. An old woman comes across me, stares at me, and I stare at her too, I am not brash, I just enjoy it, she turns back completely, and returns to me . I am so scared, but I cant cry, I am scared from the wrinkles of her face, then I pretend to be careless, but she breaks down the legal silence, and asks for some water, surely I don’t hesitate and I give her the bottle immediately.<br />All she says is " this water seems to be from heaven, and you are a bird from the heaven!" (= hatha mei men el-janna, 'w inti ter men el-janna), I say nothing, and she leaves peacefully.<br />Business is over, and we go to a bank, after that, we have a journey all around, by car, there's a new bridge being built, only one beautiful street, where we park the car and enter a restaurant for W.C<br />Time is around 6 pm , the sky is very clear and marvelous. I freely can draw the picture of both Zayyoni and tahtooh (Yahya) on , my name is up there, and the sky totally is a someone's single name. .Also freely, I enjoy remembering my legs trembling, and realize it being of no danger and no fear, it could be just a call for Tahtooh.<br />Really, I'm so eager to meet my beloved little princes, Zayyoni , and Tahtooh.<br />Sandybelle<br />*I am doing my promise about writing something about my visit to Omara :) , and I did my best to remember every tiny event with the exact sequence, and thankfully i could remember most of the speeches and places. and i thank you a lot for making me remember that awesome day.<br />** in Iraq, we are used to use nicknames while calling people we love, and these nicknames are derived from the original names, as Mohammad – Hammodi<br />Sandybelle- Sandona ;) ;)Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-2815480327466441992012-07-19T13:05:00.005+03:002012-08-02T13:12:02.531+03:00Ramadan Kareem<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br />Ramadan Kareem to all of my friends..<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>It was supposed that I visit Basrah this Saturday, by plane, but I'll go on Sunday, by car, and i am hesitated, since the way is very long, and here, Summer is burning, and i dont trust car air conditioning system that much..anyways, let's see what's happening..<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>The other night i wrote this,<br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >"Petals falling</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >droplets running down my cheek</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >I'm now alone, in the scenery that we once saw together..</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >I was afraid to remember, so, i closed my eyes,my heart and the door of my room!</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >and I tried so many times to erase it, that big fear..</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >My love, the drops overflowed.. I wish i could protect you.. but right now, i feel i can do, and i am only waiting for days to pass over my path, the time i need to be fully independent, fully able to make you proud of me, despite the truth of my thinking, and only thinking with no mere belief, that it means nothing to you..</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >Even if i get hurt, i will keep trying, keep keeping trying..</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >I've been watching over you closely more than anyone else..</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >And here is the very everything ,my name, which you include, my life, my work, my hobbies, my family, my buddies, my future, my role, my prayers, my shadow, the shadow that you are closer to me than, and MY LOVE, all Over there, flying over the sky of places I am interested in , where I live, Mosul, I am in love with, Baghdad, and *Chicago*...</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Sandybelle</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /></span></span>Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-86325623913428047842012-07-03T15:23:00.000+03:002012-07-04T08:01:00.752+03:00Tanned flowers<link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5Csa%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5Csa%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5Csa%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link><style>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
"you
know? I expected you to stand by me to a farther extent than you really did.
Though, it's ok, since there's no difference anymore."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
And
I bite my lip till it bleeds, not that renewed tragedy ; every single day,
every single night, is a very new tragedy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
I'm
not a player, and it is not a play. But I doubt it could be just a very bad
dream. I keep biting my lip till blood is enough to be directed inward and
cover my lower teeth, I am not scared of blood any more, blood has become a
matter I've got used to deal with in my job. But this time, I feel scared till
my lip starts trembling, and a stupid idea of I may have lost the motor nerve
supply of it comes to my mind. Then, I run to the closest tape, and I rinse my mouth.<span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
I keep staring at the glistening screen, and
keep re-reading the status, and every time I do, I think it's the first,
perhaps it's due to the sleepy inspiration which already weakens my muscles,
mind and soul; It's no long time since I banished the last nervous attack I
faced, in my college, amongst the lies,
stressors, study, and sings of attempts to make you fail, fail and fall and
fall just to lower than your shoes limit, or as deep as into a hole<span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span> you yourself might
mistakenly have dug<span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span> looking for a well <span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span> of <span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">sorcery and deceit</span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span> a <span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">well </span>of oil in this rich land – as they say, and it's rich in both- or
someone else has done, willingly or not<span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span>, someone as possible as
you might have considered to be really nothing. In both chances, you're
considerably, the only loser.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
My hands tremble, and I start to cry again. I
put my head on the pillow, and drown into sleep, thankfully, no dream about
this issue captures me, perhaps finally God doesn’t want me suffer any more, I
mean, God already doesn’t want me suffer, but this time, he decided to make me
realise this, realize it by my simple narrow-horizon mundane <span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span> thoughts, caring very
much about my faith, the faith that can never ever escape from me, my mind, my
brain, from my brain's sulci and gyri, from my cellular compartments and my
blood, the blood that part of which has oozed scaring me, pushing me towards
the tape.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
My friend, my friend till February. When we
both decided-with no frank agreement- to put an end to that friendship, and I
trusted it, but the friend was likely to be only pretending, I don’t know what was
the his/her aim, I don’t know what was the all going on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
No one asked about the other except for the
helpless words from a time to another, that I really believed they were only
for our friendship's agony.<span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
And it was all going as it wanted to go, but the
friend has never left my heart nor my mind, I really found S a true sincere
friend I could trust, although every time we talked, S would mention things I
hated a lot, they all were only about failure, sadness, misery,,,etc.. and I, I
really would get crazier every day, and this was reflected in my deeds and
thoughts, and I almost would change to a person like S, for S kept saying
he/she was like me in the past – so, I could be like her/him in the future, or
even in the present- then, I told myself , I must never be, I was born not only
for myself, and it's not me who chooses, its God, besides, and this is the most
important thing, I should stay me, if I changed, who would help S?!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
I kept saying this, believing till my bone
marrow, it was the agony<span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span> and that if I was in S's
place, I perhaps would be the same, S told me I was good and innocent and lovely,
and asked me never change, and always warned me not be the same she/he was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
I kept trying comforting S, but nothing worked,
even, S never told me she/he would feel ok when I talked to him, I was feeling
guilty, and so weak, that I could make no change.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
And I started to think, what's the benefit of
being a friend while you are doing nothing. I even thought I would be just
another more load. I decided to be away, despite the big feelings I owed S.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
It was Sunday, the last day of my exams, S
talked to me saying her/his father was at the end.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
I was asleep by then, when I woke up in the
morning, I read the message, and I responded that God really knows what he does,
I had really nothing to respond with, I was in a very big mess, no sleep for
two subsequent nights, my mom was not at home, besides, S has used to respond
to me that way, so I underwent no big <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">trouble</span> to find suitable words, to talk with my usual way or event to
ask why, or what was going on ; then " he died this morning".<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
I was SHOCKED, even though S her/himself has
expected this, since his/her father's stage of cancer was advanced and kept
telling me this, but I didn’t believe, because I couldn’t, because I really
believed in miracles..<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
Silence for hours, no talk, no sense.. nothing
I knew to do. Finally, I remembered something called "crying" I used
to do frequently, but I cried so hard, I felt I needed something bigger than
crying to do, it’s a feeling repeats for the third time, I really didn’t know what did I have to do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
I wanted to call S, but" what must I
say?" I said to myself. Besides, I was sure that all his/her relatives
will come, and there will surely be no time for chatting. "and S' sisters?
I added" and I kept crying with myself, drowning my face into the pillow
and my tears into my whole face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
Once my mom told me, "Shams, if you ever
see a person lost her/his parent recently, be sure to leave her/him alone till
she/he wants to talk, no matter how strong is your will to speak to
her/him" and what urged me more to trust the silence I was in, was that I
remembered when my mother had lost her parents, and how dad had left her by
herself till she had said she had been better, " after all, it's God's role
" mom had said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
And I did this, with all my love from the depth
of my heart, with all my sadness, passing over my usual hotheaded nature<span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span>, I did the same.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
Besides, I was half to believe, half not to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
Right now, I have no excuses, and I am not
planning for any, it happened like this. S, in her/his city away from mine, thinks
I am rude or something like this, or let's say I don’t care about what she/he
thinks as much as I care for the thing I did, I did it from my heart,
never meaning to let him/her alone, and I believe, no word, at least for the
moment, can make any change. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
Oh God, you really know how I feel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
My dear friend, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
No word I found in all the dictionaries I own
can help me.. But allow me to say, I keep praying for your father, as much as
you confidently kept talking about him and how great he was, I loved him, , I
pray for him who is in Paradise right now, keep praying for you, and your
family.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
My friend, what aches me more is that we live
in two separated cities, but I believe in God being closer to us that our
souls, not only our shadows.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
My friend, just believe I am that same person
who still and will always consider our friendship to be a flower, a flower I raised
up with our praying, our beliefs and trust. And this flower is Iraqi, it's tanned.
It's the same flower I will plant next to your father's <span dir="RTL" lang="AR-IQ" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">tomb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
And my aim, is that you know, I still love you
… My friend.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
By the first moment we had, by the first name we said, and by the first goal we
decided to work for, I swear, you will always be my friend, no matter how bad I
misunderstood you, how blurred your speeches and intentions were, and no matter
how hard to say I may lose you forever right now..<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
No matter, how "no difference" is
there anymore.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
I will always love you... my friend..</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
Sandybelle </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">
<br /></div>Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-35930094215101343182012-06-26T18:47:00.002+03:002012-06-26T18:47:41.526+03:00Pseudomonas aeruginosaLast night, I couldn’t sleep well, I slept a little, for only 30 minutes or a little less.<br />
<br />
<br />
Little things have carried me far away, beyond man's limits. It was not the sky, nor somewhere higher, or even lower, it was a place I didn’t know, and I am a little confused to describe.<br />
<br />
Out there, I just could realize that every single light coming out a window was not a mere collection of photons, it was a blazing star, and the flame of each had a story, they were stories about growth, death, poverty, glut, blusterer, blaming God, roguery , praying for rain, praying for forgiveness, drawing maps of the universe and last kind criticize all the latter.<br />
<br />
I trust myself, I was staying in my own bailiwick all time long, and not my real soul nor my real mind are those who've got big winds to fly, even if I suppose they have; those big winds obtain neither invitation nor agreement to enter. I just had a heart , a rocket escaping over the happiness, and over the missery.<br />
It was somewhere no magic things were present.. and no fear. they were partly real, and partly fabled.<br />
<br />
And now, I can't help my *voluntary* muscles from raising up, permitting a larger place for more oxygen to leak in, and I say leak in because the pressure outside has really become stronger than inside. – this , however, gives no clue about the fabled part of the story, the place of the stories.<br />
<br />
Khalid , -a teacher in microbiology laboratory- came in , and he greets us, and I , despite the yawning, pay an admirable attention, and grin itching my cheek. – micro lab was the most enjoyable lab ever this year, I liked every single subject, beginning with bacteria, passing over fungi and viruses and ending with antigens and antibodies.<br />
<br />
The LCD projector is turned on, and the opposite side starts to glow up and my eyes, longing to sleep, tear.. <br />
<br />
Suddenly, all the seperated parts are brought up together, and all this big life is hidden somewhere behind these shiny tiny parts. And this time, these photons again , give no clue, nor any evidence.<br />
<br />
Perhaps I deserve this kind of LCD projectors, life away from noise, higher to which, all aims and desires burn up in colors of gratification.<br />
Alaa asks me for a pen, as Mr. Khalid showing us the agars, and test tubes.<br />
<br />
<em>Pseudomonas aeruginosa</em> , that can live at temperature of up to 42 C, and at a pH of 9, had got a very sweet smell and I liked it a lot.. And it gave rise to many colors, the one I liked the most was the green, the pyoverdin.<br />
<br />
I , then, approach the agar more, and the sleeve of my lab coat sticks between the edge of the LCD projector and the pinch edge, I take it out, and keep I watching, trying to really see those very tiny organisms, and trying to talk to that aeruginosa, hoping they can share me the events about the photons and the stories..<br />
<br />
By now, I learn another one more little thing, languages are different, and it's , yes, impossible, that I can talk to a bacterium.<br />
<br />
I turn my head, and go back , close to the same point where the sleeve have stuck.. and I touch it, it's got a green light, that was shinier that aeruginosa's . <br />
<br />
The green colors, and photons and the LCD, were the only common bond between this real and that partly real worlds..amongst these separated words.. Both and all, belong to the same universe..<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sandybelle<br />
<br />
P.S. Since last year, I have not written down anything, and frankly, I had no reason other than being so busy with study. <br />
<br />
I finally finished my exams, the day before yesterday, and I am on my way to the fourth year level.<br />
<br />
From now on, we'll be dealing more and more with patients and hospital. I am doing well with study, and no big news regards college, except the study itself.<br />
<br />
Up to the moment, I have got no friend I can share my life with ( I mean here in my college) and I really pray and hope I can find. <br />
<br />
No big plans for the vacation, no big plans for the soon future.. I already stopped planning, and I just will let it be just the same it always wants to be............................. (it's all in God's hands :D)<br />
<br />
Ah, something else, I am learning to arrange my time, between my study and my hobbies, especially blogging, the thing I miss SO SO SO MUCH.<br />
<br />Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-57551688878802312352011-12-26T21:33:00.003+03:002011-12-26T21:40:34.662+03:00Merry Christmas and Welcome 2012Merry Merry Merry Christmas to all my Christian friends, Iraqis and non Iraqis..<br /><br />My lovely dairy,<br />I miss you so so terribly much.. And i am sure you share me the same feelings.. I..am..really..in..need..of..moments..away..from..the..professional..pretending..personalities..<br />AWAY FROM STUDY AND COLLEGE..Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-44794511004667730492011-07-17T23:42:00.004+03:002011-07-18T00:12:02.680+03:00Pepsi is forbidden.. 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font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">And I sit down wondering, what has happened to my voice, I just could hear myself, I just could hear my voice coming from the depth of the horizon, coming from the very far land, coming out of myself, out of its source, out of itself..</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">And its echo approaches, penetrating all the bodies, overcoming all the doubts, passing through all the burning sun rays without dissipating, amongst the clouds of all the smoke without being changed, and over all the true senses.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">The echo is coming out of a doll, it's an echo of the sound of the doll, it’s a bending indirect echo, its coming out of itself..</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">And the voice and its echo together meet at angle 49</span><span dir="RTL" style=";font-family:";" lang="AR-IQ">ْ</span><span style="">. The same angle at which I am taking a picture of themselves proudly, asking them to smile, and behave naturally.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">The same angle at which I have always asked the photographer to photograph me from, I would always find myself the prettiest child I wanted to appear, angle 49..</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">And I don’t think of anything, I sense the folds of the quilts and folds of the silence one after the other. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">I put my head between his arms, and pretend to cry, so, he, the little baby, feels worried, and starts wiping away my tears.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">I find my head, that is thinking of nothing, drowning into his lap and his bared arm and hand keep touching my face spots, my eyelashes and my hair.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">Oh you little kind man!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">He always announces " I am not a tiny kid, I am a man.. I am a maaaaaaan" and all the surrounding environment is burst into laughing..</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">I keep listening to my heart, the heart that has often missed the perfect place, and this heart starts speaking quickly, and nothing is what I understand. However, I keep listening, keep hearing, and it keeps talking..</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">All the moving parts of me in this minute of highness, are my thumbs. All the world of silence is myself and him..</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">I can't either hear my nerves.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">Oh my nerves! They always enjoy making me a joke beneath their shadows, enjoy making me as a violin exerting the echo of the sound of the doll. And I , my turn, keep playing, and my looks, their turn, gradually start out the fire.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">I try to avoid the walls of his head, and the walls of my head, both are stiff, and the aspects of this stiffness are completely different.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">" pepsi is forbidden.. no.. no.. pepsi is cool". It's the favorite sentence for this<span style=""> </span>little 2 years old baby. And the favorite answer of my almost 19 years aged voice is "pepsi is only forbidden, pepsi is not cool", and he then shows a funny expression, by his lips, his eyebrows and his clapping hands.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">The mist of their speeches tattles about the arrival of the joy , despite their hard work to hide the cheerfulness.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">And the children try to discover whether the promise of visiting the amusement city is going to be done or not.. </span><span style=""></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">Suddenly, the very loud shouting surprises me, " they will take us" everyone yells! </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">Sara is like " Sandybelle! What's the problem with your sisters!", I grin and reply " it's a part of the story, story of my sisters and I , haha" and I hug him, the "pepsi is cool" little man, little man named Zain.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">The moment out here,the sound of the little bubbles over the surface of the boiling tea catches up my attention, and again, I start thinking, "is it the voice of myself? should the voice of myself be understood or heard as bubbles? And what bubbles? Bubbles of this poor boiling tea!!!" I speak to myself.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">The 42 minutes we spend along the way to the amusement city are wonderful , and the hero is the same, is Zain.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">"my shoes are big, my shoes are big" Zain acclaims. And we are all like " hahaha, big, big, shoes ,shoes, haaaa".</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">Then, we, reaching near the garage, get out of the car, and enter, we are allowed to inspection and then, we are directed into the fun, the golden lights surround us, balloons, young people, children, and Zain starts dancing under the loud popular music, and people are enjoying this show, everything seems amazing.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">We wander, from a game to another, we buy a rosy balloon and I am supposed to carry it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">The big machines are working, and the seats are booked, we are happy, actually everybody is happy.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">Then, it's one minute, one minute I feel I am totally blessed, I bend to Sara's shoulder, and keep checking my mobile. Zain with his father watching him closely is playing, and I am recording a video. <span style=""> </span>It's minute, no. 9820620 of my life. Will never be forgot.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">In the chamber of the big windmill , within my eyes, the sky seems purple, or, gray to black, it's exactly as anyone can imagine even if it is quite different. It's OK, as if we imagine the golden points of lights as luminous larvae dancing over the pretending raucous silence, or as the same golden small glass balls we used to collect and count and recount when we were in Zain's age, or maybe little older.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">Both pictures are great. The most important thing, is that I still can feel the moment, the moment itself, can feel stings of the hot embarrassed dusty wind, and I am with the same faces, the same persons, and I am not changed even though they are, and they have the right to do so, they, like each of the "everything" in this world, are growing according to life theories and rules.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">"this year was.. was a copy of the same nothing of each year. I had thoughts, <span style=""> </span>some were like a yellow stone over the sand, and some were like a ball of grass over the anvil, many thoughts, like what happens at the beginning of each year, and I had wishes, also like what goes on each January, some came true, some still have not. In the beginning of each year is a wish, and at the end of each year is a rose, both are with the same faith" I respond to Sara's question about life. This response was made by my same voice coming out if its source, out of itself, and this response, is followed by a wonderful conversation between the two ladies, Sara and I. at each point, Sara comments " haven't you become a depressed girl Sandybelle?" and all I do is smiling.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">"Sandybelle, this guy seems to be following you" Sara says.<span style=""> </span>" who? Me?" I ask.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">He is a tall man, with a perfect tanned Iraqi complexion, a while later, he sits next to my mom. And I keep laughing inside, it's like the same poem that I keep repeating, repeat and wonder about, it belongs to someone who has counted the ages and cultures, and this culture is the most beautiful ever.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">Zain falls down, and I bend helping him get up, I am afraid he may cry, but he is the brave one who doesn’t do. And I hold his hand, following his father into a game specified for children, I ask them to let me in, i want to share Zain playing, they refuse, I loathe smilingly, and I am back to where my mother is sitting and to where the same young man is stuck. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">And my head, that has already been thinking of nothing, starts thinking of the " I love you Shammosa, you! shammosa!" sentence Zain tells me. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">In the middle of the ever- lasting thinking, we are going home, and Zain sits in my lap, and we keep talking.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">At the door gate, we get out, and go in, out there, an old man with his children are standing, and I hug him, he whispers loudly into my ear " you are great, Shammosa you are great" , and they repeat, "you are great", and I keep contemplating, therefore, I am asked, "are you annoyed by this "you are great"? , I say " never", then,I am asked " so what's wrong, or what's right hehe", "It's nothing, it's just the same shammosa and you are great I have got before" I reply. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">By another person, I am asked again the same way of investigation, " by whom???????", I laugh and answer calmly " colleagues in my college".</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">"Are those colleagues girls or boys mademoiselle ? "</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">"Hehe, who cares about the gender??!!!!!", and we all keep drinking pepsi , which is of the same advertising, "pepsi is forbidden.. pepsi is cool" .</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color:black;">*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><u><span style="color:black;">Note</span></u><span style="color:black;">,</span><span style=""> recently, I have finished this second grade successfully, and I am officially a third grader. Nothing important has been happening except the daily routine, and tiring days of exams, lectures and boring college and colleagues.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">Right now, all the things I want to be in touch with are my vacation simple, and very simple, projects and relaxation..</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">Also,I have had a wonderful time spent with one side of my relatives. I, for the first time, visited the city of Omara in the south of Iraq. and it needs another post to tell you about, and I will write as soon as possible.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="text-align: justify; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="">Ramadan itself is knocking at the doors, and I am very shocked of realizing, how rapid the events are going on, and how rapid our days are expended! hope mercy, justice and charity </span><span style="">will be our only dealings. And wish you all the best. Till next time I write , you all take care of yourselves, I appreciate every big and simple email was sent to me, and bow for every bit of worrying, caring and encouragement. you all blessed..<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> <br /></span></span></p>Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-58735671781216369972011-03-01T20:44:00.005+03:002011-03-04T20:28:18.684+03:00Something worth living forI am not that kind of person who deceives herself or deceives others , but I, from the bottom of whole depth of mine, belong to that flock of people, that great sad flock of people..<br />And I , from the bottom of whole depth of mine, believe that this chaos will not last for too long.<br />I just keep holding the bottom of the whole depth of mine..<br />The problem of a piece of land over there irks me.. It carks me.<br />It's smooth, soft and gentle that its hard to walk over, and it is not so high, not so far.<br />It has got a good type of mud, can be chilled, can be competed with both water and sand.<br />Embedded into the mud are small ragged remnants of roots.<br />It was said that people had stayed over there, had built over there, and had learnt over there, till it was time for pupils to explode and till time for emotions to lose the feeling of dawns' colours, just prior to when they turned to sleep , just to sleep forever..<br />Everything can steal its truth from your heart, and everything can be written down to your beliefs, like two banks of a so large imaginary river, like two edges of a limited narrow imaginary sky..<br />And you keep thinking of your beliefs, what are they? What are they for? Are they expressed into your speeches? Into your work?<br />Then, booh! Everything disappears, and the truths return to your heart, as deep as the bottom of your whole depth, and you keep carrying the bottom of your whole depth, and you find out that the total chaos was only to irk you, exactly like how the problem of that piece of land is only to irk me..<br /><br />Around the piece of land , contents of dry air messages hover, past, footsteps, escaping dreams, palms' sighing and names without owners, events without witnesses..<br />And… And true words, as rare as true deeds..<br />As my bed keeps swaying within my nights, and as I keep making sure of the blanket covering all of my outside body, there is a start to recognize a smell.<br />Weird and repeated, warm and so warm, as it gets into my lungs, it begins to burn all of my alveoli.. and the realization comes as , such a deceiving smell, such a fire!! And I keep shouting next, and my voice doesn’t reach any. Finally, want to cough, keeps coughing. want to breathe further.. keeps breathing..<br />Then I keep waking up, to discover the reality of absence of this smell, keep praying, thanking the Lord for it was just another one of my bad dreams, and keep wondering consequently, do I have to keep drowning into these dreams as if I am living them? Am I living them?!<br />Maybe people are living my dreams!<br />I can feel it, can touch it by my eyes, the same smell invading their homes, and it is really preceded by smell of burying alive.<br />Smell of fire.. smell of freedom.<br />And perhaps freedom padded by cupidity's raid.<br />Smell of burying alive.. smell of tyranny.<br />And perhaps ever-lasting tyranny.<br />I wonder, did people of that piece of land try to reach the sources of these two smells to destroy them? Or they only preferred to keep arguing, choosing the wrong leaders, doing manners of lying and selfishness? like what I see nowadays!<br />And I am not that kind of person who keeps deceiving them, and I am that kind of person who belongs to them, desiring at this point to be just like them, just want to criticize them..<br />The closer probability is the latter and absolutely, it takes a time so long to achieve the former.<br />We were born like the glass that was made for water, to be free, to be happy, and we should keep filling the glass, keep drinking water.<br /><br />Between my inner cells and my leaving breaths and the light reflected from above my retina are media .. very wonderful media, media involved in creating huge amounts of moment factors, all together work for letting my thoughts swim, letting my payers flow and letting my bad dreams become banished and my feelings be well mixed, well clarified.<br />Between people of my piece of land, and others of farther land, are also media, media involved in creating huge amounts of moment factors, all together work for letting those peoples be separated, their thoughts be poisoned, their prayers be weak and their bad dreams come true and letting feelings understand nothing but hatred.<br />And unfortunately , they keep following them, keep watching their tiny movements, keep believing them to be well pretending of being believing them, with absolute knowledge of the hidden truth, so, they participate in hiding the truth deeper, dropping it low, and this time, not as deep as the bottom of the whole depth of their owns, it's for somewhere lower, and somewhere so far lower.<br />Then, they become sorry, and find no ways for making things right. And this time, myself, as I belong to them, I fortunately don’t share them the sin, I just share them the faultfinding.<br />Then, they can realize how good parrots they have turned, good parrots for repeating what's said, without any attempt to distinguish right from wrong, and right and wrong basic ethics both are sculptured all over the inner surfaces of our inside bodies, they know that they have known that before, but maybe after time is over.<br /><br />Suddenly, a spine stands up in the middle of the chaos, that we are all with our different appearances ,victims for the same carnivore.<br /><br />People of my piece of land keep cursing many times, cursing others, instead of cursing destinies that led them here, at the edge of abyss, and instead of cursing the surrender that made them close to the death that they are scared of.<br /><br />People of my piece of land, keep surprising me, they pass into the jungles every time they are allowed to, they keep walking along the embers, and keep crying for the mistakes, repeating the oath every year officially, and every month, every week and every day emotionally.<br /><br />There'll be a man, as usual, looking for the losses in the depths of the victorious skies. Away from the planes' paths, in order not to create fear, in order to facilitate jobs of those planes in teaching children, teaching them to obey the true human goals, the true human manners,and the true human deeds, and these aspects can remain the only obvious, no matter how dark the underlying sky may seem, no matter how fearful echoes of shooting and injustice may sound..<br />And as I love to keep following the man and love to do and speak like him, I find that I must explain things about how I am not that kind of person who deceives herself or others, but that same person who belongs to that same sad great flock of people..<br /><br />Sandybelle<br />P.S. I have spent good times in my first semester, i mean good and bad times :D, and i did my exams finally, and i did well :)<br />And I may write a post about that later on.<br />Thanks for everybody kept in touch, and thanks for everybody kept praying :)Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-1377784249402210042010-12-31T20:39:00.004+03:002010-12-31T21:02:40.234+03:00Maybe 2011 drops..<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCC7hcYJMy3O1Z9bH449G_VW5wMnmd7ESej4HKf__bL7pnFL7kUjCvC16cNTcTJ5Wcd4dfZ3U121LWpyJtGHrlS3tGn880uA66FRfdrkVpylPCLg502eqAKTpKGxpVKjkctHVeFT2eMk/s1600/tree+of+christmas.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 191px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 268px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556903091443567794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCC7hcYJMy3O1Z9bH449G_VW5wMnmd7ESej4HKf__bL7pnFL7kUjCvC16cNTcTJ5Wcd4dfZ3U121LWpyJtGHrlS3tGn880uA66FRfdrkVpylPCLg502eqAKTpKGxpVKjkctHVeFT2eMk/s320/tree+of+christmas.gif" /></a>
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<br />This morning, I mean morning of the 31st of December, nothing dared to seperate myself from the outside falling raindrops .... Except the glass.
<br />I seemed hopefully trying to count the drops, and I assume I have missed so many of them. They were everywhere I turned my face to, but the most beautiful spot was that one placed at the top of a green leaf, and the latter was placed at the top of the tree, the green tree.
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<br />I was surprised how a piece of glass could keep me away from my goal of catching the raindrops, and I kept contemplating the situation.
<br />Later, I found out something, my will really could destroy the glass, and could get a huge number of drops. Besides, the glass was clear, clean and gentle.
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<br />The glass resembles the difficulties I have faced within the past 365 days and earlier to a great extent.I believe I have got parts of my goal,and I've missed others.
<br />I also believe that the missed drops will be formed again,like my missed goal parts, only from their own vapor and sunrays..
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<br />And there will be a rainbow..
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<br />YOU ALL MY DEARS, BE SAFE, BE HAPPY, AND BE HOPEFUL ,BECAUSE YOU ALREADY HAVE THE POWER SO FAR ENOUGH TO ACHIEVE SO MUCH MORE..
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<br />AND YOU ALL, ENJOY YOUR NEW YEAR.. HAPPY NEW YEAR..
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<br />Sandybelle
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<br />Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-29085292395142144232010-11-18T21:25:00.002+03:002010-11-18T21:28:15.769+03:00You are my Eid<em><strong>The first morning, they called me, and kept asking for singing..<br />We kept singing, you are myEid.. You are my Eid.. Keep shining my days.. Keep it up..<br /><br />We laughed, we wished so much and remembered.. We made a promise that we will never give up..<br /><br />We love Iraq.. We love our jobs.. We are for each other.. For our deeds and manners..<br /><br /><br />And I'm here to say, "YOU ARE MY EID".. You are my hapiness..<br /><br />Sandybelle<br />P.S. I have so much to say.. I'll write as soon as possible.. And I love you..</strong></em>Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5008527710315705771.post-67443941011769688092010-09-25T00:35:00.014+03:002010-09-27T18:42:25.114+03:00The NexusI read it, couldn’t trust it to believe it, and I seemed to be staring at it.<br />I was staring in the faces of others of my same age and others who were older and they all were busy talking and laughing.<br /><br />That happened in a garden. One morning of one day of my past.<br /><br />The garden's grass was telling the water drops how to dance gently, and the surrounding trees invited the sparrows to gather together happily.<br /><br />Then, I stared at it again, it was spelling out the same paragraph I had memorized from another book, by the help of my parents, overcoming my stubborness " i can read it by myself", trying to make me understand the difficulty that any person might face in the beginning of learning reading. I would just open that book yearningly because I trusted it and believed it, and was sure it always kept the paragraph in a perfect way.<br />That book had the same name, was located at the top of a very beautiful table in my parents' room and appeared so much different from the one in my hand.<br />The book at home was big, with a very thick cover and so clear and big words written in a wonderful way. And the book in my hand was thin and its writing was normal and I could understand the words after tries of collecting the spelling of the letters.<br />My father was always teaching me the pleasure of writing, and he would always draw the letters as nets of points that I had to join together. So, I drew, wrote, spoke and enjoyed.<br /><br />I couldn’t find out the difference reason between those two books, besides, they had told me that the celestial books could never change!<br /><br />I ran to the teacher, who was sitting at a point out of a semicircle made up by girls and bags.<br />I asked her what that book was and she answered me that it was the Qur'an, I asked her back how, and this time, she gave no answer, she just kept gazing at me rising up her eyebrows, and trying to understand the continuation of my talking, which was mixed with discomfort, worries, queries and big desires to know.<br /><br />I ran back to my place, then , I changed my mind and headed for the fence, which was engraved by shapes of squares and triangles which helped me to climb it up easily, I wanted to go into the outside world to find the answers I was willing to get.<br />I kept running, and I started coughing soon. The sun was facing my forehead directly, as if it was leading me the way. When I passed the corner of the road I found myself in a place higher than the houses before me, and the sweat dropped down my whole face. It was so beautiful to see my home fixed down there, amongst many others, I picked the information of the opening door but after a short while, a nightmare woke up.<br /><br />I turned back afraid, and I stopped wanting to run. I began walking cattily, that no creature had to hear me coming.<br />Suddenly, I caught noticing its shadow before its body, and its barking before its fur. It was the same street dog again, and of course it was willing to attack me as usual.<br />I quickly decided to return to the masjid, but I found myself breaking through the air down to our house.<br /><br />The dog almost caught me, but I cried and cried more and more, and it ran away!<br /><br />I entered terribly. When I saw my mom, I burst into tears, and hugged her so tight. She was shocked, and kept asking me what was wrong, I was out of speech, and she did her best to conciliate me. She succeeded.<br /><br />Later, I told her what had occurred, and she chirked me with a voice lighter than the breeze for I broke down my fear against that dog. She also, represented something about that book, and she said the Qur'an consisted of 30 chapters. And It was easier to divide it into booklets for each chapter to facilitate reading it for children like me.<br />I understood after listening so well, and after making her repeat it so many times.<br />In the afternoon, the teacher visited us to make sure all was fine, and I pinched my mom while she was talking to her, since I didn’t want the teacher to know anything.<br /><br />I always smile widely when I remember that day, and I thank God sincerely for he gave me that great mother.<br /><br />In the ends of that same Summer, I went to school, and it was my first year in a location like this. I found it so amazing, and I was always doing my homework with no loitering.<br />I came to know many new friends who carelessly shared in building my personality.<br />I so well still remember Mina.<br /><br />Mina was a tall girl, with a brown wavy hair, and dark blue eyes. We liked each other, and we became close friends although she was older than me with perhaps 3 years.<br />We always shared food, juice, notebooks, puzzles, stickers and toys.<br />We were like one soul seperated into two bodies.<br /><br />She said she was Christian, and that made no sense for me, since my mom's best friend had been Christian too and that had made no sense for my mom.<br /><br />We were chalking a big map on the ground once ,when she told me she always went to the church on Sunday, "to say prayers and renew the emotions" I so far well remember her sentence. And inside me, I loved the idea, and planned to accompany her, I would take that little Qur'an ( I had named the one of my parents as the big Qur'an and my own one as the little Qur'an) and go to say prayers too.<br /><br />Something happened that Thursday and made me forget telling my mom about my plan, but I surely told Mina, I asked her to teach me the church name so I would ask my mom to bring me there if she would have the spare time, and so, I would be with Mina renewing my emotions.<br />I showed Mina the little Qur'an, and I took the floor, until I noticed she was looking at me with a big surprise all time long.<br />There was a pause during which I was thinking of what to do.<br />Mina interrupted that pause, and said with a contement " you can't accompany me to the church. You are Muslim, you have to go to the masjid and say your prayers, you are not a coreligionist of mine dear" and she kept backslapping me. That baffled me, and gave me no chance to state I couldn’t understand her point.<br /><br />The air surrounded us both warmly, but it made me feel its coolish masses too. That caused a banked load as I was trying to contradict those annoying lying doubts.<br /><br />When it was time to return home, and after the bell rang, I ran to the school yard, and couldn’t see Mina amongst the crowded people.<br /><br />Sadness tails were hard to pull, as though my limbs were crawling so hard culling me to be cumbered violently but able to walk over the holes to get into the car unawarely.<br /><br />As soon as I got home, I found no hand to condone those tails or those holes.<br />My mom, the best conversable, with the same voice tone of early Summer, kept calming me down, and I can assume she became so tired trying knowing the main depth of the problem.<br /><br />And that day, she told me something I had not known before " Sandybelle, people are many, and they are different too. Although they seem to be alike many many times. They love, dislike, want, and dream. Their feelings differ according to the situation. And sure, they need to refresh their emotions from a time to another. There are many ways to do so, and one of them, is saying prayers. The main purpose, is to talk to God in a formal way, explain their deeds, sins and goodies.<br />The prayers differ according to the religion. And there are many like Islam and Christianity. Each religion has got its own teachings, but they all originally are here to serve man and felicitate life and love." that was so much for my realisation ability, but I can say I guessed what she meant. " you shouldn’t be sad ever. As much as you love God and love Mina. Don’t worry about it, just trust the thing you do" she added.<br />I shrugged me shoulders and remained speechless.<br /><br />Two weeks later, my mom took me to a convent. And it was the first time I entered a place like that.<br /><br />I loved the masjid and the convent both. And never asked about that subject again. Perhaps because life brought much more and it was too enough and more important than talking about the difference, or perhaps I avoided talking about it because I was afraid I might not understand well again.<br />Mom also told me " the prophet Mohammad is for Islam. And the prophet Jesus Christ is for Christianity. Moses too was for Judaism"<br /><br />By time, I learnt about sects too. And whenever I learnt a new thing, parts of my ignorance corroded and died out, and I felt more confident.<br />And I thought the question about the difference shouldn't be answered though, since as the answer tried to be complain, man's conceit turned caliginous and the beautiful truth's face soon hid behind the wisdom body.<br /><br />"And the equality will just appear in the endless world, where we do never have to choke or fear.." the old man said " nothing to worry about, as much as we think deeply of the real necessary duties we've got to do today, or will do any other day. There's the big humanity, when the religions prostrate humily for man, and the greatness of Allah appears purely " he added as he held up his grandchild , and looked straight into a far distance,maybe he was thinking the same thing, of how much man loved life but chose being away from it.<br />The distance stretched along the sky, and maybe longer, and helplessly ended to an endless horizon,where the image of the little and big Qur'ans appeared, and the two books were held in Mina's hand...<br /><br />Sandybelle<br /><br />P.S. my college will start this Sunday. And I may not be able to write often, so, for any expected :) absence, give me the excuse. and remeber that I love you..Sandybellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17202258133778398666noreply@blogger.com22