Thoughts and whatnot.

I came back from dinner with Mark, and I really feel happy. Is it the Mongolian Beef I had at PF Chang's or is it the coconut froyo from Pinkberry? Or maybe it's just the fact that I'm having a good day although I broke my iPhone's screen and stayed at uni till 7:30 PM?

Well, it doesn't really matter. What matters now is that I'm happy. I feel peaceful and strong. I also feel kind of old, but in a good way. Hmmm.. not really old actually but more like mature. Well... maybe "mature" is a big word, I mean I still have sooo much to learn and I'm curious, I'm thirsty for experiences, whether professional or human... I don't really know how to call this feeling; it's a mix of excitement and peacefulness, with a little bit of apprehension. That's probably the best way to describe it.

But again, I don't really need to put words on feelings. I'm a strong believer in living the present moment. Because that's the only real thing. The past is a sunk cost and the future is an illusion. Don't get me wrong though, I do believe that the past matters for its the only way for us to become better versions of ourselves. And the future is important too, it gives us a reason to build something in the present. What I'm trying to say is that the past and the future are only here to help us have a better present.

Here's another thing about the past and the future: you can use them not only to become better but also to feel better.

Images from when I was in kindergarden are still stuck in my head. I remember mom making me smoked salmon sandwiches every wednesday when I used to come back from school at noon. I remember swimming in the pool everyday of the summer that my white skin became tanned and my hair blond because of the bleach. I remember Rana dressing me up and taking photos of me, she used to say I'm her Barbie. I remember the french castles we used to spend our summers at, while dad drinks wine and mom and Hasan go biking. Line used to sit on the window and read. I remember Line studying in her room and me entering, she even let me listen to Brassens with her sometimes. I remember wanting to become and actress, and then becoming one. Well I nagged enough, mom had contacts, I met the director/screenwriter, talked to him in his office, next thing I know I'm on TV... 15 episodes. I remember the friends and the teenage stories. And of course the scoliosis surgery and the 2 months in Paris at the hospital. A bit later in time I remember the DVD nights with Mo and Abdoudi, introducing me to real movies and rock music. I remember the excitement of becoming an AUB student, choosing a major, getting used to the campus, finding the accessible roads, with Ziad. Wow, it feels like yesterday.

I'm turning 21 in less than 48 hours. I'm graduating in less than 3 months. I'll need to start working and getting my own income. Responsibilities and stuff. It took me a while to realize that. And even now I don't fully know what it means, but I accepted it and I feel ready to start a new "adventure". See, this is what I meant earlier when I was talking about maturity; the feeling of being able to let go of a certain lifestyle and move to another. This fear I had towards the business world is transforming into excitement (not overly confident though).

Let's end this à la Oscar speech style, shall we?

Life is about the people you surround yourself with, or at least that's where I get my strength from. I would like to thank my family (including the cousins, aunts and uncles, and grand parents), my friends (Leen, my AUB peeps, the awesome OC-ers, the few worthy tweeps who will recognize themselves), and nature (since the trend is now everything green-organic-healthy-yoga-namaste).

Peace and whatnot. 

PRINTees

I woke up yesterday morning to a tweet from my bro saying that I'm 70% water and 30% Internet. I couldn't agree more! It's crazy how much time I can spend on my MacBook's and iPhone's screens. It's like I can actually travel the world in a second... 

I have this habit of saving useless photos on my laptop and every once in a while, I sort the ones I want to keep into files and I delete the rest. The photos I'm sharing with you in this post are from a file called "things to print on Tees", a self-explanatory title :]

Because drummers are so underrated!

My motto in life

I use this sentence 4 to 5 times per second

Only Arctic Monkeys' fans will get it

Epic.. just EPIC!

Well at lest you're wishing them a nice day!

My fav! 

There's a million other thing to print on a Tee! What would you choose?

Gluttony

While scrolling down my news feed on Facebook, I stumble upon this article my friend shared called "Food That Should Not Exists". So I click on the link, go through the list and wonder which foods I really hate. First thing that comes to my mind is broccoli... I would NEVER eat broccoli! Even if this means starving to death on a broccoli island. Then I start wondering which foods would I want to have if I had to choose only 13 to take with me to an island (let's call it Paradise island). Why 13? I don't know, but 10 is too little and 20 is too much... 

So yeah, 13 foods and drinks to take with me to "Paradise island":

1. Orange Juice:

Freshly squeezed, filtered and with ice of course! When I was a kid, we never had sodas home. It was orange juice everyday and I think I'm just in love with its taste :]

2. Guacamole:

Well you know, the queen of Guacamoland gotta have her guacamole ;]

3. Hummus:

I have valid reasons to believe that hummus is the oriental version of guacamole and if you're interested we can discuss that around a cup of orange juice.

4. Missing Item

5. Mimolette:

Best.Cheese.Ever.

6. Nature Valley Oat Bars:

Any flavor except peanut butter... I don't get how people actually like peanut butter :/

7. Salmon Sashimi:

Raw, fresh, and thickly sliced salmon filets. Whit soya sauce and wasabi of course. When I was 14, I once ate 18 pieces of salmon sashimi and it was very close to heaven.

8. Poulain Dark Chocolate:

That's my midnight snack.

9. Bonne Maman Strawberry Jam:

Strawberry jam WITHOUT butter nor bread. A spoon is enough :]

10. Evian Water:

Let it be cold, very cold.

11. Honey Mustard:

Can be eaten with a spoon too!

12. Almond-filled Croissant:

French awesomeness, at its best.

13. Vegetable Tempura:

Asian people found the best tasting way of cooking veggies. This food is sent from another galaxy.

Now it's your turn to share with me some of your favorite foods by posting a comment :]

Post-Summer Blog Post.

Summer, oh summer... Not my favorite season yet it's the season of vacation so I cannot but like it. I mean as long as I'm a student, this period is the only time I can relax a bit and not worry about exams & co. This summer is in particular one of the greatest; it started by my two-month internship and ended with my trip to Paris.

What's great about internships is that they are way to introduce you to the business world so that you don't feel clueless at your first job when you graduate.  To graduate from AUB with a BS in Agribusiness, students need to complete a two-month internship in a company/organization related to the major. I knew what I wanted: marketing in the food industry. I had on my mind some companies and ended up selected by one of the top FMCG distributor in the region. However, interning in marketing and sales in that company was not possible as I would need to go on the field and that not very feasible with my wheelchair. Instead, I was working with the HR and Communication department. Honestly, those two months passed very quickly. I learned a lot about the industry, but I learned even more about myself.

August was also pretty special. Traveled to Paris as usual but this time my best-friend Leen was with me and we attended a music festival for the first time: Rock En Seine! Apart from hosting my favorite band, this three-day festival was perfect for us as the line up combined artists that suit us both. Indeed, I was able to watch bands such as Franz Ferdinand, Skip The Use, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, and Nine Inch Nails (YES, YES!! TRENT REZNOR'S LEGENDARY BAND), and Leen was  able to enjoy Daughter, Kendrick Lamar, and Mac Miller. As a first festival experience, I admit that we did pretty good. There was a lot more to see, but we didn't want to stress ourselves whatsoever. The festival was very well organized, the venue was perfect, and the people were there for the right reason: their passion for music.

Vacations are almost over now, I have to go back to uni-life but I'm trying to be positive. In less than a year, I will hopefully be graduating! This means that it's time to update my CV (which I'm already working on) and hunt for a job. I am happy to be done with studying (for now) but I cannot hide that I am intimidated by the idea of having a payed job. One of my major weaknesses is the fear of not being up to the tasks I'm given, but thankfully till now I have successfully used this weakness as a motivation to do the best I can.

I am glad that fall is approaching because this means that the weather is going to get a bit less hellish. I hope we won't have to wait till December to see the first drop of rain... Till then, my room is a fridge cooled by the noisy AC which is muted by the loud music.

Chasing Pavement: My Daily Life.

I open Twitter and see a mini-buzz going on about a member of the parliament who parked on a handicapped-reserved spot in a mall's parking. And to be honest, I was surprised. No, not because it's illegal. I mean we all know how corrupted our country is. What surprised me is people's reaction, I wouldn't imagine such an incident would cause this mini-buzz. Maybe because this is my daily life, and I'm used to encounter such scenes. So I decided to share one of my many stories here, with you.

A year ago I was in Hamra and I had a little incident that kind of marked me. I was "walking" in Hamra street with a friend and it was very crowded, so I decided adventurously to "walk" on the sidewalk. Now first, we all know how wheelchair-friendly our sidewalks are... But even when there's a slope/ramp on the sidewalk, there's always someone blocking with their car. On that day, it was a cab and the driver was standing next to his car yelling "taxi" at every single person passing next to him. I found it very normal to ask him to move but also to explain to him that he's not supposed to be parked there. He answered: "7adirr" in an arrogant way and then moved it. So I passed and continued "walking". But what this cab didn't know was that I was going to pick up something and come back the same way I went. So on my way back, I saw him again at the same spot. I stopped in front of him and smiled in a sarcastic way. Then I noticed there was a policeman standing there, so I told him that this was unacceptable and that his job was to do something about it. So he's like: "halla2 bi zi7lik". So I explained to him what happened before and that he's supposed to make him not park here. The answer I got totally convinced me...NOT! He simply said: "3am bi fattesh 3a reze2to el zalame". Ever since, I totally ignore people parking on places where they're not allowed to, as long as I can get where I want, I don't give a shit. Am I a a selfish coward who decided not to fight the government and its daily dose of corruption? Probably, but that's the only way to make the most out of my life :]

Clouds

Something I wrote yesterday.


"Regarde maman, regarde y'a les nuages qui bougent. Dis maman, ils vont ou les nuages maman? Tu crois qu'ils se cachent les nuages maman? Tu crois qu'ils savent? Maman tu crois qu'ils sont au courant? Peut être que quelqu'un les a prévenus maman. Peut-être que c'est pour ça qu'ils s'en vont. Maman, les nuages aussi ont peur. Ils ont le droit d'avoir peur les nuages? C'est permis? En même temps y'a pas de prison pour les nuages donc il n'y a forcément rien d'interdit chez eux. Dis maman, on peut devenir des nuages nous aussi? Tu penses qu'on peut s'échapper loin comme les nuages maman? S'échapper sans être coupable? Sans que personne ne nous le reproche? Mamans tu sais, il y'a pas de lundi matin chez les nuages. Soyons des nuages maman!"

The parentheses [Part III]

Was my surgery on the 29th or the 30th of November? I don't remember anymore, I'm starting to think it was on the 30th... Yeah, that's it, it was on the 30th but I entered the hospital on the 29th! I got to Paris on the 27th night. I don't remember what I did on the 28th but one thing is sure, I had sushi for dinner. On the 29th I had lunch with my parents at "Les Deux Magots" then we directly went to the hospital. The surgery was going to be done in the famous Saint-Vincent De Paul hospital and then I was going to be transferred to Garche. It was the first time I go to that hospital and the image is still very clear in my head. In the entrance of the hospital, the walls were covered with very colorful childish drawings of animals. We took the elevator and went to the assigned floor. I discovered the room I was going to spend my pre-surgery night in. My first reaction was: "There's 2 beds! I hope I won't have a roommate". I chose the bed that was closer to the window. Sleeping at a hospital was a new experience for me and I couldn't but fear it. Thankfully, I wasn't going to spend the night alone. I had the choice between my mom and my aunt Dima who lives in Paris. Dima got married and left Lebanon before I was born and since she didn't have kids until I was 9, she used to spoil me and my siblings and get us a lot of gifts every time she came to Lebanon. She has always been some sort of second mother to us. So choosing between her and mom to spend that night with me wasn't based on who I felt more comfortable around. My choice was driven by another factor which is: which of them can handle more? And the answer was Dima because I knew my mom was going to suffer if I had asked her to stay that night. Before joining us at the hospital, Dima called to ask if I wanted her to get me anything. I asked her for a bag of strawberry Harribo candies but of course, she got huge quantities of all the possible brands or variations of strawberry candies! After Dima came, a nurse passed by my room to tell me that I had to get ready for the Betadine shower. If you've never heard about Betadine then your lucky. But let me explain it to you. Betadine is some sort of brownish liquid that is used for disinfecting the skin. Its major component is iodine and it has the worst smell ever. I had to take a shower with a Betadine shampoo! I'll let you imagine how annoying that was. Oh and, it totally fucks your hair. I remember asking if I was allowed to use hair conditioner afterwards so that I could brush my hair but of course the answer was negative. Why did I care anyway? At night, dad got me and Dima smoked salmon sandwiches since I didn't want to eat hospital food. I've always felt that hospital food makes the person sicker than he/she actually is. You might think that I'm a spoiled girl and I wouldn't deny that. But what's wrong with being spoiled if you know the value of the things you get and you appreciate them? My parents raised me and my sibling on the principle that money won't go with us to the grave; thus we shall spend it on us and on helping the people in need. After dinner, a nurse passed by my room to give me an "Atarax" pill which is supposed to help me relax. I told her I was fine and asked if it was necessary. She surprisingly told me that I was aloud not to take it. In my head, this was a victory. When you're 14, you're sick of people who consider you a kid and the slightest rebellion can make you feel proud. Another rebellion was that I refused to sleep that night. But this wasn't a random rebellion. The thing is, I knew Dima wasn't going to sleep and I didn't want her to worry alone all night. So I spent the night playing The Sims 2 on my laptop and explaining to her how it works. At around 11:00PM, a 4-year-old girl and her dad joined the room. The girl had just finished an appendicitis surgery and there were no other rooms available in the hospital. I wasn't really bothered by them since the girl was sleeping and her dad was watching a DVD on his laptop. Starting midnight, I wasn't allowed to eat nor drink anything. This was actually easier than I had imagined. I was afraid of getting thirsty but it didn't happen. At around 6:00AM, I had to take another Betadine shower and wear a hospital blouse. This was even worse than the first time. A nurse gave me "Atarax" and this time, I didn't refuse it. The rebellion was done so it was meaningless to refuse again. Also, I knew that this time it wasn't an option. I still wasn't nervous at all though. So I took the pill but I didn't feel any change. At around 8:00AM my parents came and I had to be taken to the operating bloc. I was kind of nervous but I didn't show it because I didn't want my mom to worry more than she already was. The situation was hard for me but it was much harder for her. It's like all the dangerous things in life, it's easier to accept them on yourself than to see them happening to someone you love. And the last image of my mom was with tears in her eyes and a forced smile. In the room where the surgery was going to happen, I first met the anesthesia doctor. He talked to me and asked me if I was alright. I said I was fine and didn't show any sign of anxiety. I'm not sure if I saw the surgeon or not. Then came the time when I had to breath chloroform and fall asleep. I was really excited about that part because I wanted to know how long I was able to stay awake while breathing chloroform (anesthetic gas). Of course I don't know how many inhales it took me to fall asleep but I'm pretty sure than it was more than 5. I can't really tell because it wasn't a gradual process, I fell asleep suddenly. Next thing I remember is that I woke up in the ambulance that was taking me to Garche and Dima was there smiling. The image is kind of blurry but I remember that I couldn't feel my back, as if it was made of steel. I think I fell asleep again because I don't remember going out of the ambulance. I only remember waking up in Garche's rehabilitation room. Mom was there, I tried to talk but noticed that I had respiratory tubes. It was so frustrating because communication was impossible. Mom explained to me that the surgery was successful but that it took the surgeon 9 hours. Back then, I didn't realize how hard that must have been to her and all the family. I knew everyone would call from Beirut every 30 minutes. If I was her, I don't know how I would've handled that. Anyway, the nurses came after a while and removed my respiratory tubes. It was such a relief. I don't remember the end of that day but the next one was one of the worst. The nurses woke me up quite early to check what I wanted to have for breakfast. I asked what were the options and they replied: "do you want bread, butter and jam with cocoa milk?". It was fine with me until I understood that at hospitals, even breakfast has no taste! The jam was actually a commercial tasteless jelly that was too jelly to be spread on the bread. The bread was too hard and the cocoa milk was light pink because it barely had cocoa in it. I know that I should be thankful and that some people are dying from hunger but when you're at the hospital, and you don't even feel like eating but you do because you have to, the minimum thing is to have food that has taste. I barely ate. Oh and with breakfast came half a dozen of pills I had to take. Usually, I would've been curious to know ask about their utility but that day I didn't have the energy to do so. After breakfast, the nurses came and told me that they were going to do my "toilette". I first brushed my teeth and washed my face. They rubbed my body with shampoo then wiped it with water. This sounds simple but when you're laying in bed, it becomes hellish and you feel sticky afterwards because wiping the shampoo with a wet towel isn't the best thing. Also, should I mention the lack of privacy you feel when strangers dress you up? It made me feel very uncomfortable but it's not like I had a choice anyway. Then they changed the bedsheets and I thought I was done but of course it wasn't the case. A nurse told me he has to take some of my blood to do tests on it. He showed me a small device that had a needle at its end. Basically, he puts it on the tip of my finger and presses it so that it pierces my skin and blood comes out. I can't tell you that it wasn't painful but surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as I was expecting it to. It is later that I understood this quasi absence of pain: morphine. I wasn't aloud to sit straighter than a 35° angle. I was bored and started wondering why my parents weren't there. I asked one of the nurses about them and she replied that visits weren't allowed before 12:00PM. That was cruel! I needed a human presence next to me. I needed someone that doesn't treat me as a kid or should I say as number? I wasn't dumb, I knew the nurses were there just because it's their job. I asked them if I could call my parents but they told me they didn't have their number. I was alone and lonely. Then I hear the phone ringing. A nurse picks up. I hear her saying something like "She's fine, she's resting now. No, you'll talk to her later". I asked the nurse if it was my aunt but she denied. I had a feeling it was her but I wasn't sure at all. And arguing with the nurse would have made me seem crazy specially if it wasn't my aunt who called. I felt like a freak who is hallucinating! One second the nurse was a sadistic person who wanted me to suffer, the next I was thinking how absurd and silly were my thoughts. You can't imagine how frustrating that was! And for some reason I started crying. I cried my lungs out. I cried because I was tired of being treated as a naive and emotionless being. I needed conversation. And all that the nurses did was to tell me that it was fine to cry.