Natural Conspiracy

Multinationals/Ogilvy exploiting people

2012-01-16T08:48:00.001+02:00

Last September, a friend of mine asked me whether I was interested in working as a freelance copywriter for Ogilvy Egypt. I have always been intrigued by the job, and since I am trying to pay my masters' tuition money, I can hardly refuse a job.

The friend issued me a warning about them not paying freelance employees, and for that I am thankful.

I started working for them despite the warning, and figured that they can't be that bad, and so expected that maybe they will delay my money, but eventually will pay me.

Anyway, the projects I have been working on were completed by mid December, and so after everything has been done, I asked to be paid before the year's end.

I have yet to receive my money.

I have hated multinationals ever since I worked in one 4 years ago. They lie, cheat and do nothing but gossip and exploit third world countries. Advertising companies are just their enablers, and they share the blame even more, because they lie for multinationals so that their products may sell.

I believe that the treatment is the same everywhere, and that people shouldn't be silent anymore.

So, if you have a similar story or any story of exploitative nature about any capitalist company or a multinational, send it to me, and I will post it on my blog.

Update****************** I sent this email early today at 8:35 AM to all the regional managers to complain:

To whom it may concern,

I have been hired by your esteemed company (namely Mohsen Farid and Noha Rashid) as a freelance copywriter in September 2011, and have been working on IBM and SmartVillage projects until December 2011.

After the work has been done, I asked to be paid as agreed upon (-- Egyptian pounds per hour) and only after everything has been handed in promptly and as demanded.

I have been asking for my payment for over a month now, with only promises made and no real answer or effort to actually get paid. I sent two emails during the last couple of days, and I have received no answer.

I really expected more from a corporation as big as Ogilvy, but I guess the multinational exploitative culture is the same everywhere. You thrive on abusing the 99% and being a slave to the 1%.

All this dodging for a measly --- Egyptian Pounds. I think you should be very proud of our employees.

Do not expect me to remain silent about this injustice.

Regards,

Update **************** I received this email 10:16 AM today

Firstly I do apologize for raising this complaint against our office . Upon checking internally this subject, apparently that there has been a miscommunication as to the terms of payment. Usually we do pay all our suppliers and partners one month from the completion of the project, which in this case ,was around 3rd week of Dec, so still within norms, so probably you were misinformed about that policy
I have informed our accounting dpt to settle the payment today

George W. Aoun
Managing Director
Memac Ogilvy & Mather

And at 11 AM got a call from the ppl I have been working with and I told them all that I wanted to say, and informed them that I won't be working for them again. They told me I could pick up my payment at 3 PM.

I guess this is proof that one should not be silent about their grievances.

Samira Ibrahim's case against Virginity tests by the army

2011-12-28T08:11:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, the State Council in Dokki deliberated the case of Samira Ibrahim, a young girl among other women who were subjected to a humiliating ordeal of virginity testing on the hands of the army. After being arrested in March, from Tahrir, women were subjected to lengthy and degrading tests on the hand of military doctors. For what were they checking? A hymen!

Women who were subjected to this fateful ordeal remained silent, except one girl from Upper Egypt, Samira Ibrahim. She filed a civil suit against the Military Police and those who conducted the tests.

Yesterday, the court accepted the law suit, and overturned the appeals against it, deeming Virginity Tests illegal for detained females.

The army responded that they did not conduct virginity tests, a ludicrous answer since the court verdict proves that they did.

Hundreds of protesters protested before the State Council, where the court session was held, in support of Samira Ibrahim. They chanted against SCAF, and demanded its fall as ruling entity. Some even distributed stickers calling for a civil presidential council, to which the power is to be handed.

The verdict was received with cheers from the protesters even though it is only a first step, and those who conducted these tests are yet to be tried.

The chants of the protesters rocked the State Council, much to the surprise of those who worked there. One significant chant was "People demand the execution of El Mosheer (AKA Tantawi)".

The small, but powerful protest turned into a march to Tahrir Square, led by Samira Ibrahim herself, and presidential hopeful Bothaina Kamel.

Samira Ibrahim's case verdict against Virginity Testing from Sina_86 on Vimeo.

Court erupts in cheers after verdict is announced

Read more on the case here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/dec/27/virginity-tests-egypt-protesters-illegal

Half an hour with my son Khaled- Alaa Abd El Fatah

2011-12-19T12:52:00.000+02:00

Standing in the coptic hospital and my insistence on an accurate autopsy of the bodies of the Maspero martyrs was the reason behind my name coming up in the Military Police investigation.

With the falling of more martyrs in Tahrir Square, we snatched a victory in the Maspero case, but it is a victory with the taste of Ganzoury... that is why I didn't rejoice when my morale was completely devastated, but with the arrival of the first news reassuring me about Khaled...

The prison, and its walls dissipated and I slept with some peace of mind.

I understand why I was imprisoned by the state prosecution, because it is working in the same way after the revolution as before the revolution...Tantawi and SCAF are my enemies... but why did a normal judge imprison me?

Fate intervened to connect my imprisonment with the normal judiciary system: I was arrested in 2006 with 50 of my friends from "Kefaya" movement, and hundreds of the Muslim Brotherhood, because of participating in the uprising against Mubarak (and his regime)'s judges.We staged a sit-in for the independence of the judiciary system, and the judiciary supervision over the elections, and so the State Security prosecution imprisoned us for a month and a half.

And now, in the time of the revolution, the Military Prosecution imprisoned me; a punishment for my insistence for my case to be shown before a normal judge, and maybe also a punishment for my role in the Maspero Massacre, which was connected to the normal judiciary system as well. Standing in the Coptic hospital was to ensure a serious investigation from the General Prosecution, and our insistence on an accurate autopsy by the coroner, this was the reason behind my name appearing in the Military Police and Intelligence investigation.

With the falling of more martyrs in Tahrir Square, we snatched a victory in the Maspero case, but it is a victory with the taste of Ganzoury, for the case was transferred to a civil court, but instead of appearing before a judge for independent investigation, I found myself before the Supreme State Security prosecution.

During the time of the ousted (Mubarak), we refused to appear before the State Security Prosecution because it is an exceptional court, but in the time of Ganzoury, we sufficed with it because a civil exception is better than Military one. Yet, because it was a Ganzoury (tarnished) victory, I didn't rejoice. Instead, I came back from the prosecution in a devastated mental state, and one of the hardest weeks in prison passed by. Before, it was a struggle against Military trying, and the struggle inspires patience and eases holding up, but what was the meaning of my imprisonment after transferring the case? what was the point of holding up?

The lawyers reassured me that the appeal of the decision of the temporary imprisonment will be before a normal judge; at last I will appear before a normal judge, for whom we bore the dragging and arrests to uphld his high status, and to preserve his dignity, power and independence.

I was only concerned, at the time, with coming out to be present at the birth of my first son, Khaled. The doctor advised us with an early Cesarean delivery to preserve Manal's health, and with every continuation of imprisonment, we risked postponing the delivery in the hope that we are victorious and I would be present for it.

Khaled showed his solidarity with us; he protested coming out (to the world) even though the normal nine months passed. We waited for our last hope: the appeal before a normal judge. We had high hopes, for there was no reason behind my imprisonment; I am innocent until proven guilty, and returning from my travels to appear before the prosecution proves that I wasn't escaping. In addition, the charges against me was clearly fabricated, the investigation was not serious, the false witnesses has conflicting testimonies, and we submitted the evidence and asked for hearing the witnesses' accounts to prove that I wasn't at the scene of the events of the Maspero Massacre to begin with. After all, truth is explicit (unequivocal).

Khaled played his part and waited for the judge. The lawyers pleased the case and ended their pleas with Manal appearing before the judge, asking for my release to attend the birth, but the judge looked at her with a peculiar glance. When I saw that glance, I knew he would not do me justice.

My morale collapsed completely, and I sunk into a state of panic and worry over Khaled and his mother. For the first time, I felt sorry for myself and my imprisonment seemed useless; my heart and mind couldn't bear this uselessness. I understand why the State Security Prosecution imprisoned me.

But why did the judge imprison me? What is the this animosity between us? What is to become of me now? Will I be one of the thousands of miserable creatures in Tora prison-prosecution? We wait for months-sometimes years- for a verdict that never comes, by the hands of judges who are told by the law that we are innocent until proven guilty, and who are told by our constitution that our freedom and rights can't be confined except through a judicial verdict. Yet, they don't listen. So, we continue being imprisoned and our cases never end, and the world forgets us behind bars. Everyone in prison is miserable and pale, even the cats are pale; their movement is slow, and their eyes are broken and extinguished.

I slept convinced that was my fate; I have at least 6 months before the case would be transferred to trial, and months of postponement before acquittal. How will I hold up?

Then came Khaled! in the afternoon of the following day. I received a message reassuring me of his safety and Manal's health, and a picture. It was love at first site, love at first picture. The prison dissipated with its walls and cats, everything dissipated except my love for Khaled, and my happiness for his arrival. I slept with some peace of mind.

In this third day, Khaled came to visit me. It was a surprise. I expected that the doctor would not permit visitation before a week had passed at least. Khaled visited me for half an hour. I held him in my hands for ten minutes.

Oh God, how could he be that beautiful? Love from first touch! In half an hour, he gave me enough happiness to fill the prison for a whole week. In half an hour, I gave him love I wished it would surround him for an entire week. In half an hour, the universe changed from around me. I understand why my imprisonment continues: they wanted to deprive me from this joy. I understand why I will withstand it now: my imprisonment will not prevent my love, my happiness persists, to hold Khaled for minutes is my struggle.

I never resisted on my own: I am always joined by others. That is why I didn't rejoice Khaled along, I was overwhelmed with the happiness of others. I got used to receiving tweets in the form of telegraphs during my imprisonment: felicitations for the Barium feast and my birthday. I received congratulations for the return of the revolutionaries to the square, but Khaled's was something completely different! A great amount of telegraphs, mostly from people I don't know or maybe haven't been honored to meet them. They wrote to express their happiness for the arrival of Khaled and their love for him. They wrote telling me about themselves; their names, their family names, their addressed, their occupations, their cities and they wrote that Khaled has aunts and uncles in hundreds of homes all over Egypt.

Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to keep the telegraphs. I read them once,and then they disappear. I will not be able to recite the names of every aunt and uncle for Khaled, but their love arrived. Half an our inspired happiness I live off it for a week. The mere news of his arrival inspires happiness in people who don't know us, so that they are urged to send telegraphs to the imprisoned father.

Half an hour in which I did nothing but look at him. What about half an hour of changing him, or half an hour of feeding him, or half an hour of playing with him? What about half an hour of him telling me about his school? or half an hour of discussing his dreams? half an hour of arguing about him going to protest? Half an hour of him giving a passionate speech about the revolution and how it will free us all?about living, freedom, dignity and justice? Half an hour of pride of my son being a brave responsible man who cares for a country before being old enough to care for himself?

What is the amount of happiness in this half an hour?The same as the last half an hour a father spent with his martyred son?

- Prison deprives me from Khaled except for half an hour. I withstand it because we will spend the rest of our destined halves of hours together. How does the father of the martyr withstand it?

The martyr Khaled (khaled means eternal) (Saeed) is eternal within our mind, eternal within our minds, eternal within history, and eternal in heaven. But does his immortality bring happiness to his father? His heart will explode with love for what is left of life's halves of hours. Will the emptiness within his heart be filled by embracing history? I wait for the acquittal and I withstand. What does the father of martyr wait for? To follow the immortal into heaven?

We thought the judge would do me justice. We chanted in 2006, "Judges, Judges, deliver us from tyrants".So, the normal judge imprisoned me to deprive me of Khaled. The father of a martyr thought the soldier would do him justice, and in February we chanted "people and army one hand". So, the army drove over us to deprive us of the immortal.

Looking for the reasons behind my imprisonment is useless. My imprisonment won't bring back their state. Similarly, the falling of the martyrs is useless; they might have killed martyrs at first to stop the revolution, but why did they continue to kill after it was proven time and time again that the revolution will continue? Yet, the killing increases whenever they are close to defeat. I remember well the appearance of snipers at the time of the "Camel battle". They showed up late after it was clear that the square was holding up. It was killing for killing's sake, with no strategic goal: killing to deprive us of the immortal. Useless. Killing us will not bring their state back.

We have to be careful: they don't kill us to bring back their state; they kill us because killing and imprisonment is the natural behavior in their state. Yes, natural behavior, we are the ones who kid ourselves. We weren't only let down by their state's police, but weren't they joined by the deans of their colleges in running over our children? Weren't we let down by their warehouses and its ovens and gas tanks?Weren't we let down by their ferries and ports? Weren't we let down by its wheel of production, which doesn't skimp on the manager and councillor with millions--even when it is broken, and deprives the worker and the clerk of its crumbs as it spins?

Weren't we let down by its economy which shuts down its fabric factories even though peasants' are stuffed with cotton, and instead the manure factories work even though the water is overflowing with poisons? Weren't we let down by its soccer clubs which leaves its audience to be the prey of security if they cheer loudly, and interferes to save its players from accountability even if they hold unarmed people at gun point? We were let down and are let down by all of its organizations, and all its authorities and leading administrator in it, and tomorrow we will be let down by its parliament and president.

I couldn't imagine that my heart had the type of love that erupted with Khaled's birth. How can it withhold the sadness within the father of the immortal's heart? Oh God, how could it be that harsh? to bury your son and not the other way round, could their be any more injustice? Could their be any more imbalance? We kid ourselves and assume that it was exceptional even and this state could be rectified, but all the indicators point that it was a normal event and there is no hope but through the fall of this state.

Yes, down with their state. We fear facing the truth, we fear for the country the fall of the state, if the square causes the fall of the state, what remains for us? Egypt is not the square.

Indeed, Egypt is not the square, but we didn't understand the square. What do we do in the square? We meet, eat, sleep, discuss, pray, chant, sing, exert effort and imagination to fulfill our needs, we cheer and rejoice in weddings, mourn and cry in funerals, we express out thought, dreams and identities, we sometimes argue, be confused and flustered seeking the future, and we spend each day not knowing what the future holds.

Isn't that what we do outside the square? Nothing exceptional in the square except our togetherness. Outside the square we imaging that we will rejoice in weddings because we know the bride and groom, in the square we rejoice weddings of strangers and celebrate it. Outside the square, we mourn in a funeral because we know the deceased, in the square we mourn strangers and pray for them.

Nothing new in the square except we surround ourselves with the love of strangers, but loving strangers is not a monopoly of the square: hundreds sent me telegraphs for loving Khaled outside the square, some wrote about themselves that they were of the "couch" party. Millions mourned the martyr in every house in Egypt.

We celebrate a wedding because it's a marriage. We mourn a funeral because it's a death. We love a newborn because he's human, and he's Egyptian. Our hearts break for the martyr because he's human and he's Egyptian. We go to the square because we love life outside of it, and to explore our love for the life of a resistance. We run towards bullets because we love life, and we enter prison because we love freedom.

The country is what we love and what we live, what we rejoice and what we mourn. If the state falls, not only will the square survive, but the love of a stranger and everything that pushed us to the square and everything we learned in it, will also remain.

Love is eternal, sadness is eternal, the square is eternal, the martyr is eternal, and the country is eternal, as for their state, it only lasts for an hour, just an hour.

Signed: Abou khaled (Khaled's father)
Friday Morning 9/12/2011
Cell 1/6
Ward 4
Tora Prison-Investigation

Original article in Arabic: http://www.shorouknews.com/columns/view.aspx?cdate=19122011&id=c76f74ce-2e88-458c-8787-ce454b193f69

Army violence Today and Yesterday

2011-12-17T13:08:00.001+02:00

Army hitting protesters on the ground Today December 17th after attacking them and running after them from Kasr El Eini to Tahrir. Footage from CBC 2, which I saw with my own eyes while it was being aired. I t is uploded by saedsalem .

And part 2 of army brutality- note the person on the ground in the red sweater who seems to be unconscious

This is a video of an old lady called Khadiga who was treated brutally by the army when she was getting food for the protesters, and you can see below pictures of her after the attack, crying and inconsolable. Uploaded by AmaniMassoud

via SirLoda

via @sharifkouddous

Army Violations- Dec 16

2011-12-16T19:30:00.001+02:00

Video of Tortured youth, Aboudy Ibrahim, 22 years old from Ultras Ahly, beaten by the army inside PM Cabinet Building

Then according to reports, the army started to throw rocks and other things such as dishes, a file cabinet and even a Quranic verse on protesters

via AhmdAlish

via @AmirMoeSoliman

via @AbdeltwabH

via @M_3ali

via @iWeLLy

Then random beatings and arrests took place, many were detained including Mona and Sanaa Seif (detained activist Alaa Seif Abd El Fatah's sisters) and other protesters including many women and children. A lot of violence was used against protesters and women were not spared, including a face-veiled woman whose picture soon became famous on twitter, with tweeps asking for a response from Islamist political parties.

via http://youm7.com/

via @Gsquare86

Picture of female protesters being dragged by her hair, some are saying that she initially had a head scarf on and they took it off, but this remains unconfirmed. Tweeps are also taking this photo as evidence of usage of guns, as the red circle shows.

via @ibnmisr

Picture of photographer/activist @mosaaberizing after a glass char penetrated his eye

via @mosaaberizing

Picture of activist @NoorNoor1 being arrested with an unidentified girl

via @Ali_Hisham

Picture of activist @NoorNoor1 's back after being arrested and beaten by army officers

via @evanchill

Army officers also insulted protesters, some giving them the finger and another one tried to expose himself. Some protesters are saying that he was peeing on them, but the reports are conflicting.

via msheshtawy-

A lot were injured, ministry of health reported 9 gunshot wounds, and over 99 injured according to Al Jazeera. Some tweeps reported that French Kasr El Eini has military police who were arresting the injured (via @3arabawy), reportedly a picture of Military police in red beret in said hospital

Source

A lot of head injuries were reported due to rocks being thrown on protesters from high buildings

via msheshtawy-

via AhmedNasr247

and Tahrir Doctors reported that there were people posing as field doctors (or real doctors) who were handing in injured to military police (statement in arabic here)

Local Media reports are blaming protesters, and denied any army on top of buildings throwing anything at protesters, and it also accused protesters of trying to break in PM Cabinet building.

Ziad Eleimy, elected MP for the #ESDP, submits criminal complaint against head of #SCAF, Field Marshal Tantawi and other top state figures via HaniShukrallah

Other figures also issued police reports against military police including Elected MP Amr Hamzawy.

Three resigned from SCAF's advisory council: Moetaz Abd El Fatab, Ahmed Khairy and Ziad Ali (@ziadaly) .

The army cordoned Kasr el Eini street, and two other streets forming a blockade around the building.

A set of pics containing army violations can be seen here http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.284130508299411.65685.263543473691448&type=3 via @doctoraazma

Molotov and rocks are still being thrown at protesters as appears on JSC Mubasher Misr's Live Feed http://mubasher-misr.aljazeera.net/

Bday cake

2011-12-05T21:11:00.000+02:00

We celebrated a family birthday today, and when there's a birthday, then baking a bday cake is a given :D

People liked it :D

Favorite paintings

2011-12-03T23:14:00.000+02:00

When it comes to art, I am as mundane as they come. My taste is very boring, but I like it. These are the ones I can think of right now. My utmost favorite painter would be John William Waterhouse.

John William Waterhouse- The Crystal Ball

Johannes Vermeer- Girl with pearl earring
(I liked it before the movie, I swear!)

Leonardo Da Vinci- Lady with ermine
(The ermine is what I like about the painting)

Van Gogh- Starry Night

Edgar Degas- Blue Dancers

Boticelli's Venus (the Birth of Venus)

Sonnet 147

2011-12-03T22:45:00.000+02:00

I am writing a paper on it, I thought'd share since I am having the worst writing block. My muse, as usual, left me. I don't know where she goes!

My love is as a fever, longing still

For that which longer nurseth the disease,

Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,

The uncertain sickly appetite to please.

My reason, the physician to my love,

Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,

Hath left me, and I desperate now approve

Desire is death, which physic did except.

Past cure I am, now reason is past care,

And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;

My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,

At random from the truth vainly express'd;

For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,

Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

I miss my portable hard disk!

2011-12-03T22:31:00.000+02:00

During the revolution, my portable hard disk, which contained all my life for the two years preceding January 2011, blew up. I tried many computer places, and no one could fix it. It had a ton of songs, pictures, movies and memories (in addition to some work stuff as well). I hate it when I remember stuff it had that I want.

*sigh*

(Yes, I just wrote a post about my portable hard disk. You can't take the geek out of the girl.)

Redisover

2011-12-03T22:16:00.000+02:00

Rediscovering songs always cheers me up. I think rediscovering anything is always a lot of fun.

Go rediscover something, old things can be cool too.

Coffee

2011-12-03T22:14:00.000+02:00

I designed this a while ago, but I don't know if I like it. I think the problem is with the font.

The pot and the cup were actually photographed while I was on vacation during the summer, and then I played with Photoshop filters.

Photo: Muffin

2011-11-18T20:19:00.000+02:00

I baked this today: Whole Wheat Zucchini Muffin. People liked it :) and it looks pretty. I was supposed to be writing a paper on The Odyssey (It didn't happen).

Occupy my mind

2011-11-14T14:39:00.000+02:00

I know you. I see you there in the distance, lurking behind the dozens of thoughts within my head. They are all waving signs, hoping and praying for my attention. You keep jumping over the crowd, trying to get a foot through, trying to infiltrate the ranks.
I pretend not to see you. I ignore all your attempts to divert my attention. You protest and get angry. In turn, my thoughts are angered and push you away in return, violently. You resist, sometimes gaining ground, but you're soon pushed out again as my soldiers regroup. You do not like being the 1%. I won't remind you that at one time you were the 99%, but you blew it away. So, resist, fight, shove and hold signs for eternity, you will never occupy my mind. Never again.

However, I am open to negotiations.

Image Source Here

PS: I support the political movements of "Occupy" that are happening all over the world. Power to the people, the 99% !

"You're so vain". No wait, I am so vain!

2011-11-01T22:21:00.000+02:00

I have always been one to claim depth, to announce that I am one of those people who are nonchalant about appearances, and who despises those who are "slaves" to their own vanity.

I have lived up to my reputation, at least according to other people's perspectives.

However, I have been a victim of my own hypocrisy. Today, as I stood in a big hall, filled to the maximum with people, who were all listening to an academic speaker talking about orientalism, imperialism and the American standards. As I stood there, with my flat feet killing me, and after running around the hall making sure people are seated, and everything is in order, I had a breakthrough. In the silence of my own mind, and the rush of the situation, I realized how vain I have become.

I realized that I did care about appearances to the extent that it has clouded my life with stress, anger and depression for the last couple of years, if not for all my life.

Let me first put you in perspective. I.. am... fat (my fingers hesitated on the keyboard). It is not something new. I have always been fat since adolescence. I am the kind of fat that has a somewhat shape, but at the end of the day, even if I look cute, I am fat. It is something I have been dealing with my whole life, and I dare say has been an issue of discomfort and stress. My realization of being fat for the first time in my life was pointed out by relatives and family- at the time I was a child. It was then that I realized that I am "different", and it was also then that I started to pursue diets and sports to shed the "evil fat" that many relatives told me I would be just "perfect" without. You know those aunts who pinch your cheeks and tell you, "if only you were a bit lighter, you would be beautiful." So, it began. My idea of beauty became something associated with being thin. As long as you are fat, then you are ugly (I still think that most days, it's a habit I am trying to break). The obsession began. I started going to doctors, gyms, hunting down fad diets, and then going off the wagon, and all sorts of hellish rituals in order to pursue the more "normal" shape, which will make me "beautiful". Once, I had some kind of poisoning due to a slimming tea I was drinking. Another time, I almost had an ulcer from all the stress.

However, today midst thoughts about American Imperialism, and modern colonialism, I realized why am I torturing myself?

My fat has never hindered me from doing anything I wanted. My fat did not stop me from hiking mount Catherine in 2008. It did not stop me from cycling around London in 2009 or hiking alone in Scotland that same year. My fat did not stop me from going into the academic life in 2010, nor did it hinder me from publishing two books in 2011. My fat did not stop me from participating in any sort of activity I wanted. My fat did not stop me from being smart, or creating friendships, or being an eloquent speaker. In fact, my fat has been my friend for my whole life. It has willingly gone over, and beyond itself to make me do whatever I want.

So, why all the hate?

I realized that at the end of the day. I am not all fat. No, I have a brain, I have a somewhat career, and I have many blessings that God -thank you , kisses and hugs :) - has bestowed upon me. My fat is a teeny tiny issue in my vast life, which hadn't been anything but compliant. I was the one making myself crazy because I wanted to "fit in", and be "normal". My vanity,which was tainted by the western -now global- idea of stick-thin people wanted me to be "beautiful". My judgmental brain could not wrap itself around the idea of me not being able to solve this "tiny" problem. After all, I am one of those people -despite being fat- who thinks if you stop eating, you will lose weight. The fact is, it is not that easy. My brain has also been tainted by western -and also recently eastern- celebrities who seem to have it all; looks, careers and family. So, I thought, "why can *shallow* (note the judgement), *stupid*, *trivial* people who don't have a single thought in their heads do it and I can't?"

My vanity has stopped me from enjoying life, and instead I have become a hater of everything that involved people. Why? because I thought I was the elephant (the actual one, not the metaphorical one) in the room. I also thought that I could never be accepted for being fat, and that I would always be an outcast because of it. I even refused to acknowledge this on my blog so I wouldn't taint it with the curse of the "evil fat".

Yet, today I realized: I don't want to fit in, it has never been my thing even as a child. I am born to stand out, and whether it is because of any accomplishments I have done, or because my size, it doesn't matter. I like who I am, and I offer no apologies. So, if according to your standards I am a barbarian, then a barbarian I am. I accept any labels or categorization you put me in, because I don't care.

Enough,no more! I will now start to live up to my expectations, and stop being vain. I will try to be healthier, but not because of fitting in, because it's a good thing to pursue. From now, the mental prison I have created for myself will be demolished, and I shall bask in the freedom of knowing that I have always been true to my beliefs.

So, there. Have a lovely evening.

Worse version of yourself

2011-10-25T18:59:00.000+02:00

Joe Fox: [talking via email to "Shopgirl"] Do you ever feel you've become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora's box of all the secret, hateful parts - your arrogance, your spite, your condescension - has sprung open? Someone upsets you and instead of smiling and moving on, you zing them? "Hello, it's Mr Nasty." I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about.
Kathleen Kelly: [talking via email to "NY152"] No, I know what you mean, and I'm completely jealous. What happens to me when I'm provoked is that I get tongue-tied and my mind goes blank. Then, then I spend all night tossing and turning trying to figure out what I should have said. What should I have said, for example, to a bottom dweller who recently belittled my existence?
[stops and thinks]
Kathleen Kelly: Nothing. Even now, days later, I can't figure it out.
Joe Fox: Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could pass all my zingers to you? And then I would never behave badly and you could behave badly all the time, and we'd both be happy. But then, on the other hand, I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, remorse inevitably follows.
[pause]

Copy and pasted from IMDB.

I can relate to both situations. None of them makes you feel good.

Dissipating fear

2011-10-21T16:01:00.000+02:00

I feel the fear growing inside, filling me, pushing me towards the darkness.
I take a breath, and as I exhale -the realization of life fills me- it dissipates.

Image Source

One tear

2011-10-16T22:01:00.000+02:00

He wanted to crawl inside himself, and then vanish from existence. The sirens outside his windows told him that life continued despite everything. He reminded himself, "move forward". He had to move forward, forget the past, ignore the future and focus on the past. It was an elephantine task!
He neither wanted time to stop, nor did he want it to move forward, and he didn't even want it to move backwards. He just wanted time to vanish, and to take him along with it, to wherever land or dimension in which life did not exist. Ceasing to exist was his precious wish.
He always fantasized about it.

Standing on a ledge, high on top of the busy lives of those who cared, of those who had goals, of those who did not have an aching feeling eat them from the inside. His bare feet would always fidget at the edge as wind tickled his toes, and blew his hair away from his face. At such a high altitude, sounds would all mush into unknown frequencies, and huge, fleeting "whooshes", as those who cared, those who had goals moved forward, leaving him behind to fade away. He would slowly move his toes forward, almost toppling over, but not. His heart wouldn't be beating. He knew this moment would come eventually. He would take a confident step towards nothingness, the wind framing his smiling face, his jacket flying around his arms.
And then gravity would take over, but just before it had taken him, it would take the one tear he had shed it, of which no trace would be found.

One tear, one life, we all disappear.

Steam

2011-10-07T23:10:00.000+02:00

It all started with a pot of Jam. The ingredients seemed simple: sugar, water, lemon and some fruit. According to the recipe writer it was better to use some fruit of the season. There were dates lying around everywhere. Date jam, then. No peeling even though the recipe writer said to peel; life is too short for peeling, or was it feeling? Submerge fruit under water; no room to escape. High heat, bring to boil. A bit of date would float to the surface every now and then, trying to breathe. Not possible. The lid came on and the dates were covered with instant darkness. Whatever floating done was completely fruitless (how ironic!). Wait till they soften; wait till they become only shells of their former existence, then just as they gotten used to their state, change it. Jam seems like a dictatorship. Fish them out; from deep heat to the barren coolness of glass. Steam, a lot of steam. Every date was getting a steaming hot facial, but this facial was to disfigure not to beautify. Sugar in water makes syrup; sticky, hot and hostile, but the steam remains. A squeeze of lemon...drip, drip, drip. Another one bites... the steam? Reduce, deform, mangle and ignore. Add the cool dates to the hot syrup. It almost seems like torture. Then boil until mush. It will take a while, but be patient.

Muted TV voices, doors slamming, distant shouting, cars passing, lights flickering, and more steam, always more steam. Pain up and down, dizziness, headache, and more steam. Not enough heat, more heat. Not mush, not yet, but still more steam.

The steam never ends... always there. It will never go away.

Be Calm

2011-10-06T13:05:00.000+02:00

Since childhood, we are bombarded with all sorts of commandments and advice on how to act, behave and what is expected from us. We are taught gender-based behavior, and prohibited from displaying any irregular characteristics. Some advice might be sound, while other might just be societal nonsense, and as we grow up -forming our own perspective of life-, we decide on what advice to follow, and what to discard.

I am grateful for all advice I receive, even when some just do not make sense to me. Still, being advised is a blessing on its own.

Yet, I think people forget one very good piece of advice, and that is "Be Calm", and I don't mean silent. I mean being taught to take things in stride, not to worry, and avoid stress. In our childhood and adolescence, we are not told to be calm. On the contrary, it is in this critical phase of our life that we are taught how to worry, and how to stress. We become very weary of not getting to where we're supposed to get or do what is expected of us. It is at this time that we become worry rats. It becomes our way of life, and we do not realize that it is a wrong lifestyle until it is very late, and the damage has been done.

So, remember when you get stressed or worried, that life goes on and stress will only hurt you. Be Calm, and throw caution to the wind. Everything will solve itself out.

"Happiness"

2011-10-04T21:09:00.000+02:00

Once upon a time in a far away land, in a blue planet covered with great expanses of water, where land was scarce, and life was abundant. The planet was called "Earth" despite its scarcity. It contained villages and towns of various sizes and shapes, which were inhabited by life forms known as "Humans". The humans shared the earth with other creatures, but deemed themselves superior. They were in constant instability, and ran after something called "Happiness". None of them knew what happiness was like or where it could be found. No one has ever discovered where it dwelt. Yet, they searched for it tirelessly, dreamed about it constantly, and each created an imaginary world in which "Happiness" resided.

None of the humans were sure that "Happiness" existed.

Yet, they still searched for it.

Their useless search resulted in something called "Sadness", in which they dwelt. They told themselves that the "Sadness" would go away as soon as they found happiness, and so they remained. Their condition never experienced real change, and "Happiness" remained an elusive concept for most of them, while "Sadness" became a reality. Their constant state of "Sadness" resulted in other states. One of those states was "Jealousy" and another was "Greed". When those two states met, the humans became different, and they sought out things that were not theirs. This resulted in something called "War", where they fought each other for something called "Power", and control of the scarce "Earth". This only resulted in more "Sadness" as humans perished.

Their "Earth" became a barren habitat, and their "Greed" polluted every life form that existed, that none remained except them, and the things they created. Little by little they disappeared, until none of them remained.

Yet, in one of the artifacts we discovered, which we believe to be one of the last things they left behind, it was written "Happiness is a state of mind".

Paradise

2011-10-04T20:38:00.000+02:00

I know I tweeted it, told everyone I've met in the last 48 hours about it, and have it blasting out on constant repeat, but I do not think that it is enough.

I am in love with this song. My soul is in love with this song. Something inside me clicks whenever I hear this song. The fact of the matter is Coldplay has managed to get every single emotion and idea inside my head and turn it into a song, and I always believed that it was a major coincidence, and that somehow at one time, they are going to break this great fluke.

However, they have proved me wrong one more time.

I love the melody. I love the energy, and most of all, I love the lyrics. This is what I do when the world lets me down. I am guessing a lot of people do that as well, but I will choose to ignore that, and just say that this song is for me, and me alone.

Please read the lyrics, and listen to the song. It is THAT good (my whole family agrees for the first time on one song, so you be the judge).

When she was just a girl
She expected the world
But it flew away from her reach so
She ran away in her sleep
And dreamed of
Para-para-paradise, Para-para-paradise, Para-para-paradise
Every time she closed her eyes

When she was just a girl
She expected the world
But it flew away from her reach
And the bullets catch in her teeth
Life goes on, it gets so heavy
The wheel breaks the butterfly
Every tear a waterfall
In the night the stormy night she'll close her eyes
In the night the stormy night away she'd fly
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/c/coldplay/paradise_20980626.html ]
And dreams of
Para-para-paradise
Para-para-paradise
Para-para-paradise
Oh oh oh oh oh oh-oh-oh
She'd dream of
Para-para-paradise
Para-para-paradise
Para-para-paradise
Oh oh oh oh oh oh-oh-oh-oh

La-la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
And so lying underneath those stormy skies
She'd say, "oh, ohohohoh I know the sun must set to rise"

This could be
Para-para-paradise
Para-para-paradise
This could be
Para-para-paradise
Oh oh oh oh oh oh-oh-oh
This could be
Para-para-paradise
Para-para-paradise
This could be
Para-para-paradise
Oh oh oh oh oh oh-oh-oh-oh

A reader

2011-10-03T11:03:00.000+02:00

He looked at her, his wife, with an air of faint resentment. She was sitting in her regular comfortable chair, in her regular spot in front of the fireplace. Their -or rather her, he never really liked it- black cat curled on her lap, a book opened at its stark in her hand, and a blank expression on her face.

She has always been a reader.

He couldn't remember at their old age, but there might have been a book in her hand when they met, long ago when they were still in the prime of their youth.

He was an avid reader himself, but not like her. He would get his face out of the books every once in a while. She wouldn't. She would never. Their library spilled over with the hundreds of books she compiled over the years of their marriage. They even had to allocate another room only for her books, which she refused to give away or let go. She considered them her property and her materialistic worth; the only thing she deemed worthy of possession.

He remembered how he was fascinated with her passion for reading when they first met, and the way she talked about her books with such affection. He thought it was endearing.

If only he knew!

When she read, she fell into some kind of a trance, of which no one can wake her. She would only get out of that trance when she had finished the amount of intended reading. He remembered the day of their son's birth. She was reading Milton's "Paradise Lost" at the time, and she was so intent on finishing it that she managed to ignore the contractions, and was not aware that her water broke except after she had read the last page of the book.

He imagined her reading through a fire. Everyone would be rushing to get out of the flaming building, and she would be in her chair, abandoned by her cat and her people, yet still consuming the words as if her life depended on it. He wondered if she would feel the fire eating at her own flesh.

Probably not!

Suddenly, something slammed. She finished her book, and enthusiastically jumped up, disregarding her aching hip, and screechy joints. The cat, who was lovingly sleeping on her belly, was as startled as her husband at the abrupt awakening. Yet, it remained next to her on the ground, circling her legs impatiently, rubbing its ears slowly against them, happy that its owner has come back to life. The cat knew that she would get some attention; it both expected it and looked forward to it. So, it followed its owner longingly into the kitchen, where sure enough, it received a treat and a few minutes of petting. It noted its owner's departure from the kitchen, back into the living room, but it was too engrossed in its tasty treat to care.

He noted her entrance, she was smiling; always happy to finish a book. She called it "her tiny accomplishment of the day". She looked at him, and her smile widened even more. His resentment was being nudged slowly away by a feeling of comfort that overwhelmed his aching heart. However, he wouldn't respond to it; he was too annoyed, too neglected, too proud to let go so easily. He pretended to read his paper, while trying to peak at her from the corner of his eyes.

She placed a cup of hot tea and biscuits in front of him, right before the opened newspaper. She planted a light kiss on his cheek, and then sat on the chair next to his, sipping her own tea.

He slowly put down the paper, while peaking at her. She held the cup in her hands, trying to warm up, still smiling and looking at him intently. He tried to avoid her gaze; she wouldn't get a response so easily, he promised himself that much. Yet, he reached for the tea and biscuits; homemade biscuits made with ginger and cinnamon- his favorite. He closed his eyes to appreciate the taste. She knew his weaknesses too well. He both hated and loved that fact.

She was still looking at him, still smiling.

She didn't understand that his world froze while she was in her daily reading trance; time didn't move, and everything came to a definite halt. The winter outside seeped into his world, and iced every aspect of it. He always felt the coldest during that time of the day. The cold seeped inside of his brain and heart, making it hard to feel warm towards anything or anyone. During that time, even her cat seemed annoying. She was the one responsible, the one to blame for his temporary misery, and she always seemed not to care. He hated that, but try as he might, even during such an icy time, he couldn't get himself to hate her. The best he could do was faint resentment.

During that time, she was the snow queen, and he knew he was supposed to hate her. However, the frozen splinter within his heart, which she had planted, prevented him from feeling that way towards her. The splinter remained lodged within his aching heart, and at times, it was the only thing keeping him alive.

She was a reader, a snow queen, but she was also his Persephone, the one who brought warmth back into his heart, and because of that, he would never banish her from it.

The first poem

2011-09-28T22:02:00.002+02:00

I remember Annabel Lee as the first poem, with which I fell in love. I think I was 11 or 12 at the time; I was going through a dark time then, and I used to write very dark poems myself. Not great, but dark for someone who barely lived.

It is very melancholy, this poem, and yet very inspiring. By the time you finish it, you feel a sparkle within you, but the same time you feel a great pang of sadness washing over you.

Or maybe it's just me.

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Policing

2011-09-27T13:39:00.000+02:00

I do not need policing,
Nor do I care for your pleasing,
You barge in with authority,
As if you have clarity,
You scare me with your sticks and stones,
I abhor you, you uniform-dressed drones,
In your presence, chaos and anarchy ensue,
Yet, you don't have a clue.

I will not enrich you with my care,
But, your ignorance, I will not bear,
You will suffer when I prevail,
And to you, they will find no trail,
Mark my words, your days are few,
And to this promise, I shall be true.

Abandoned

2011-09-27T08:26:00.000+02:00

My muse has left me once more, I can't write. I don't even have the will to write.

The Muses by E. Le Sueur