Saturday, July 26, 2008

Watching from a glasshouse

A deafening eerie silence surrounding me in my glasshouse, detaching me from everything
Looking outside from my glasshouse voices slowly fade away in the void that is my mind.
The reflection of the light from the outside hits my eyes and makes me look away.
Faces and places dance in front of me.
Looking at the glass, footages of unedited film run in front of me. It doesn’t make sense.
Nothing does.
Sometimes it amuses me but at other times the air runs out and suffocates me.
I clutch my chest and take deep even breaths.
1… my chest widens
2…. it retreats
3….. widens again
4….. retreats… on and on

But the air runs away. I freak out trying to grab the remaining oxygen with my fist.
I clutch my fist tightly but the air manages to seep out of the gaps between my fingers.
I near my hand to my nose and inhale the remaining air to fill my thirsty lungs, slowly…
But it doesn’t suffice.

I bang on the glass and scream; the swarming masses passing in front of the glass go on about their routine. I bang harder but they don’t turn to me.

The air is just centimeters away yet it can’t reach me because of the barrier between us… that invisible barrier.

I scream louder and bang harder, before I know it tears are gushing out of my eyes.
I cup my hands and let the tears fill them up and drink the salty tear water to end that quenching thirst.
It slides down my throat slowly burning my insides… instead of healing them.

I look outside, from that isolated wall. Without the noise everything around me looks peaceful. Why did I ever enter that house? , I wonder.

They look so happy out there. Looking around me at that empty space, the void around me was so empty. It lacked the warmth of a human company. It was chilly.
Maybe I’d be happier if there was someone to laugh and joke with.
Two lovers passed by the house, their fingers entwined.
Kids were tossing around a red Frisbee and running after it, shoving one another, their little curious eyes glowing.
A bunch of friends were laughing hysterically. I couldn’t laugh with them. I didn’t understand. It was probably an inside joke.
Happy faces passing by gave me a sense of loss, an emptiness, a craving for a special someone.
Right then I smashed the glass door sucking in the air that I was longing for, for so long.

I breathed in but it got stuck in my throat and I coughed. The air around me was polluted; I could see the molecules of dirt swarming around.
I looked at the children and there at the very end sat a little kid alone, yearning for a day to play. He was skinny and frail. His eyes met mine and gave me a knowing look.
The friends I’ve seen earlier were making fun of a person they knew….
I ran away to my shattered house, took a tiny piece of glass and sliced my flesh.
The little boy turned away and I stood there watching as my blood was dripping on my feet… longing for my self-made quarantine.

I thought I'd post this one as a last post because it's the reason I named the blog watching from a glasshouse and it summarized my state of mind during the time of owning this blog.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

The worst chore in human history

is packing bags.
I hate it I hate it I hate it.

Monday, July 7, 2008

I've spent almost the whole day with a friend of mine today. We used to be really close before the medication period and stuff, but with time passing we just drifted apart. Just as I have with most people I knew. I didn't talk much, I was just watching everyone the same way I always do. Like a spectator watching a screen. And she noticed. On our way back in her car she told me I've changed, I've became quiter. "You used to go on and on talking" she said.
I've heard it so many times now, how much I've changed, how quiet, withdrawn I've become. I feel that I've grown but inside I'm still me.... I'm still the exact same person. The way I look at things, feel things are still the same really.
I feel that as my outer world was diminishing, my inner world was expanding. I've created a whole world inside of there that it has become rather hard to get out of it. I've encountered fears, reconciled with my long forgotten childhood friend, got to know me, got to read, got to be interested in film, started learning japanese.
I have never expected to change so much.
During that time I was sitting at the bottom of the well (from the wind-up bird chronicles).
I really related to the well thing in the novel. Did I mention how much I'm starting to love Haruki Murakami or Murakami Haruki (japanese style :))?
I realized that I'm really drawn to surreal works in literature, art or film.
and realism, I love both realism and surrealism. I love films that make you feel that a camera was just shooting people going about their daily life. I love books that describe every single thing, that paint a clear picture of the scene infront of you. and I love it when I read something and start feeling the way the protagonist feels. I'm currently reading Madame Bovary and I'm loving it, I'm feeling Emma so much, when I read it, I feel like I'm actually her. It's weird.

Why can't I ever feel pretty unless I'm told I am?
Why do I always feel so worthless and useless, unless someone comes my way and tells me I'm not?
Why can't I ever feel capable of anything? Why do I feel so small?
There's only one thing in this whole world that I'm sure of though.
I'm confident with my ideas. I've always been an "idea" person.
There was this thing on campus magazine where they would pick one person with the best screenplay idea to participate in a certain workshop.
No, I didn't get picked.
But I got an email from the editor telling me that I have good ideas and asking me if I'd like to freelance for them.
I do believe in my ideas.
When I was a bit young I was thinking that it would be cool if there was a TV show where people would enter your room and try to guess who lives in that room male/female? age of the person, interests, life and so on..... a few years later there was room Room Raiders on MTV. Well, the objective of room raiders is to find somebody to date but the concept is the same right?
And then... at the age of 14 maybe I wrote something similar to that in my diary: "Wouldn't it be cool if there was something like a website where people can write diary entries anonymously?" I wrote that after reading a friend's diary (with her consent of course... I would never eveeeeeeer invade someone else's privacy). well and then came the whole blogging thing.
It was MY idea at first. I should seriously sue the blogging people :)
And last year I was telling a friend that I'll write a story about women going on sex strike and finally getting their rights. The semester right after I took a play in the theatre course 'Lysistrata', which was about women going on a sex strike to stop wars.
And when I took the film class we had to write a paper on how we would make a palestinian film if we were directing one. The professor wrote me that mine was the most innovative idea. She even put a smiley at the end :).
These might not be grand ideas, they could've occured to anyone but the thing is, I get ideas like that all the time and with a little bit of development those little ideas could amount to something.
When I sent my ideas to Campus, I wasn't sure that they'll choose one of my ideas but I had a feeling inside that even if they don't they'd send me an e-mail telling me that eventhough I wasn't chosen those are good ones.
I'm that confident when it comes to my ideas.
it's the only thing I'm confident about.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

At my cousin's engagment party today:
This woman said something that was so not funny so I mockingly imitated her and then commeted on what she said (I don't remember exactly whta I said), my sister glared at me.
"The camera was right at your face"
"really? heheheh. Next time I'll keep my sarcasm to myself" (in a somewhat loud voice)
she glared again
"can't you see? bey2ro el fat7a. Just shut up"
I watched the people as they were all reciting the fat7a with solemn expressions on their faces and I wanted to laugh out loud. There's just something so funny about people being so serious.
I should really take social conduct 101 or small talk 101 or etiquette 101 (yeah right).
On occasions like this I always feel like an outsider, I sat alone on a table munching on the almonds and cashonuts just watching everything and pretending I'm shooting a scene. It always happens to me lately. I'd be watching something and imagine I'm shooting a movie.
I'm not antisocial. I'm somehow still connected to the world. Just yesterday I was in Makan having fun, singing in the car and being... I don't know...that other me that only seems to pop out every once in a while. It's all in the company I guess. At least now I know who's company I enjoy and don't need to waste time trying to enjoy the company of people that will never entertain me, put me in a good mood or make me feel like I belong.
I left early, I had this headache so I went inside the house. The engagment thing was in a garden in a house in el Mansoreya. I went inside and rested a bit on the couch, the maid asked me if everything is alright. I told her that it's nothing, that I just have a headache and want to sit inside for a while. She got me tea :). Then I called the driver and left. They probably think that I still get tired and they'll excuse me and shit lol. I just wasn't in the mood that's all.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

I really want to post something here.
My mind wants to let out all the cluttered thoughts and words while my mood is resisting it.
I sucks that I was soo in the writing mood during the japanese lesson. I wrote a bit there but I couldn't let myself get totally in that mood. And now, that I'm finally home, I don't feel like it anymore.
I went to Makan today, there was this zar thing. It was AMAZING!