For love...

Live, eat, pray and LOVE :D

Two blue pens

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.

For myself, there's always blood I was born with, ideas I am fostered with, willing to push away and liberate.

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.

I was supposed for my holiday to be walking through mountains of Beirut , 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.

" 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.

Those people keep speaking, whilst other students keep asking, other teachers and assistant professors come in, more and more I get into a mess.

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.

The latter aims escalate more vehemently , being buttressed by my point weakness, and tiredly trembling nerves, winning over finally.

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  partitioned curtains, yellowish green, spreading over my exam sheet, the chief of the observers calls out " pay attention, time is almost over!"

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,  and try by best gathering up my thoughts and start to write quickly.

As time is over, I don’t stop writing.

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!"

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.  

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.

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.

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.

Never is anybody aware of each one's anniversaries of deeds redolent of sacrifice. Neither I am.

Nevertheless, I am so aware of my crying not necessarily is for missing scores from the missed question, that huge and  -perhaps- deceiving care 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.

That crying was necessarily supposed to be for sake of that " go to hell" I obtained effortlessly.

" I'd better go to an empty a place, I want to be alone for a while" I think. I so calmly drag tails of my skirt , in its indigo and walk off.

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.

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.

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,  grow up with us, eat the same food and drink the same fluids, so we all together, become complete, not necessarily perfect.

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,

"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.

I blame myself thousands times for I had, at least, to ask him why he did say that.

I blame myself thousands time for wasting my time with no courage awake.

I bring call back some events of memory, trying not to be so pushed a way I could oppress them or oppress myself.

"He's not the only one I meet here saying or behaving that bad!" I tell myself.

" 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.

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.

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.

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.

Suddenly , my mobile phone rings " I'm at the gate, would you come please" says the driver.

I draw a smile from an ear to ear, end the call, towards the gate, I walk off.

Sandybelle

The existene

Heavenly wind blowing the trends of time . Send this feeling to the moon. Gracefully just like you.
A sturdy flower with colors so bright. But before the waves of speech can reach, they vanish from their delicate stem.
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.
Dreams are an instant. This heart will...... remain as a chrysalis.
To the end of the time. The misty moon tears out.

A mutual feeling

The end of December 2012..
I admit something not so new,
They hate me, and I hate them. It's a mutual feeling.

Once Upon a Monday

The conversation is so bright, the master, his patient, and us.

The master kidding, smiling, and sharing.

Things I love…

-Please, can you sit upright for us?

-Yes sure.

His skin looks light brown, except for the areas of palms and soles, which are frankly pale.

Things I notice…

-would you mind if we check you for a while?

-not at all.

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.

-let's check for his breathing from the back of his chest. He's a good patient, and so cooperative.

-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!-

-oh yes!!!

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.

The tears in my eyes, I so hard can protect.

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.

-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.

And he hugs it, so strong, he wants to obey, wants to help.

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;  it is the very thing protecting my tears.

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.

The master helps me firmly press my hand over the earthy colored back, and I percuss.  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.

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.

His words and the surroundings are so blurred, more tears I have to shed. I do shed.

Sandybelle

:S

speechless

صـــــــــــــــــمتي
ليس جهلا بما حولي
ولكـــــــــــــــــــــــــــــن
ماحولي لا يستحق
الكـــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــلام