Musings of a Wanderer

I haven't posted anything meaningful for a while on Facebook or on my blog... not because I'm a mindless airhead, but because I don't believe that sharing news about genocide and war and famine on my wall would be of any help to anyone. Actually, it could quite possibly ruin someone's day, so I've opted against it. And like every Egyptian, I've grown cynical about politics since the epic failure that is the Egyptian "Revolution" of 2011, so I've stopped caring altogether... but I don't want it said that it's because I don't have anything of substance to say, but rather that I am past Facebook activism... So, to dispel these unfounded rumors that I only have sappy romantic thoughts and sarcasm flowing through my veins, I've decided to discuss something different on this post.

I'm sure you've all read the quote "Not all those who wander are lost"...

Bull.

Shit.

Whether you took this quote to mean wandering between career choices, or literally wandering the Earth, I call bullshit. This quote really pisses me off because it hints that the "wanderers" in question are wandering by choice, on a quest for wisdom or some higher purpose like in that Julia Roberts movie "Eat, Pray, Love"(which I despise with a passion, by the way), but this is never the case. It implies that we're very organized, focused and we know what we want in life. Now, unless you're a 43 year-old middle manager with a wife and 3 kids that you drive every week to football practice, this might be true for you... But for the vast majority of 20 (or 30)-something year olds, who I suspect are the target audience for this quote, this couldn't be further from the truth.

I am a wanderer, and I am lost. There is no shame in admitting it, and there is nothing to be gained from pretending to be a wise, all-knowing, enlightened entity of pure light who embarks on journeys to discover meaning and help others while lesser beings eat and sleep and shit like normal human beings. I won't pretend that where I am now is 100% my choice, or that I'm doing it for anything other than my career. And when I travel, I don't do it to gain wisdom and learn about other cultures and all that claptrap; I do it because it's fun, and I'll bet 98% of people who travel on their free time do it for that reason too. Yes, the benefits of traveling number in the hundreds, but they're an added bonus you get, not the target you're aiming for when you pack your bags and head to the airport. Unless you're that entity of pure light I mentioned above, in which case I'm surprised that you need an airplane to transport you and that you don't just will yourself into existence wherever you're needed most... good luck on your quest, you uppetty, pretentious, Ghandi-wannabe douche.

I'm not going to discuss the first potential meaning of the quote -which is wandering between goals and career choices- beyond saying that I firmly believe that it's OK or even vital to be lost at this point in your life if you want to improve yourself and test your limits... but I'll tackle the other, more literal meaning, as in "traveling", because I've been noticing some people using this quote to justify going to Gouna for a weekend... I've also been noticing people sharing another quote, "if traveling were free you'd never see me again". I'm really curious who'd rather stay at their desk and work in their shitty backwater country while bombs blow up all around them. Might as well say "If I get hungry, I always eat" or "Sometimes I go to the bathroom when I want to take a shower". Maybe I'll take this quote apart in another blogpost but for now, it's the who and the wandering and the lost that concern me.

Being lost is not the end of the world. Not knowing what we want in life is what makes our 20s such a fun phase, when we truly get to know ourselves and get closer to knowing what we want in life, and this is where I'll admit traveling can help you. And I don't mean the "traveling for a week to Amsterdam with your friends to get baked" kind of traveling; I mean traveling alone, living alone abroad for a significant period of time, and facing the world on your own for the first time. Want clean underwear? Do your laundry. Want to look sharp at work? Iron your shirts. Snagged your shirt on a doorknob? Sew it back together. Hungry? Feed yourself. No food in the fridge because you forgot to buy some groceries? Too bad, you'll go to bed hungry. And guess what, that plate you ate from 3 days ago? It's not going to wash itself , lying in your sink like that. And you'd better pay that bill on your kitchen counter too, if you want to have electricity next month. What's that smell? Oh, you must have forgotten to take out the trash this week. Working late? No one will get worried and call you to ask where you are or show any kind of concern... and when you finally come home, there's no family to welcome you back with a hug and a smile or friends to try to talk to you into going out at 11 PM.

Before long, when you realize there's no one to go home to, you'll stop trying to go back to your empty home at all, preferring to spend your nights at the office and just going home to sleep. And God be with you when you're sick, because no one else will be... and there won't be anyone to take care of you like your friends would,  or fuss over you and give you medicine like your mom would.  You have to be your own sidekick; your own rock; your own shoulder to cry on. It's very freeing, but it's also very eerie... especially if you're used to having servants and being pampered at home. I know, first-world problems. Anyway,  these are all minor issues but there are bigger issues still.

The nature of my job makes me uproot myself from the country I'm in every 6 months, and not just that but also my role -that is to say, my job- changes as well... which is why I consider myself a wanderer, and it's  something very few people can truly relate to... In a nutshell (no pun intended), I don't feel like I belong anywhere anymore. Nowhere I go is home. I am always very aware of the fact that I'm not going to stay here... even when I'm back in Cairo, I always know I'll be leaving very soon anyways. It might sound like something amazing, and it is in some ways, but there are a lot of drawbacks too... I'm not the only expat in the world, but others usually settle in one place and call it home. They start learning the language, integrating themselves into society and playing basketball every Friday with the other expats they met in one of their language classes. They form a community. Now, when you move somewhere knowing full-well that you're not going to stay there for the long-haul, it makes little sense to do any of these things. Why would you? If you learn the language, right around the time when you would be starting to get the hang of it, you'd be asked to move. Getting a gym membership for 6 months is suddenly a very big commitment that you can't quite get yourself to make. You can try to make friends, but there will always be that elephant in the room that you're only there for a few months and then you'll likely never see them again, and that will prevent you from forming real connections... and when you have that "living out of your suitcase" mentality, you'll never really try because why bother?

Also, remember when you were a teenager and you used to fantasize about all the things you'd do when you had financial independence and lived alone? Yeah, you probably won't be doing those things anyway, even though you're living in a country where no one knows you and you can literally do anything you want... because guess what? If you don't go to work and slave away for 8-14 hours a day, you'll get fired and no one is going to pay your bill for you and you won't be able to feed yourself. At first you'll try to go out every day after work... BECAUSE YOU CAN! But then you'll realize that you can't, because you have to do your laundry if you want to have a shirt to wear to work tomorrow, and your internet is down & you have to get it fixed so you can Skype with your family who have undoubtedly started forgetting what you look like.

It's not just words, you really will learn a lot about yourself. Would you tidy up your room if there was no one nagging you constantly about it? Would you do the dishes? Would you prefer to stay at your house and be an introvert, or would you like to go out and experience the culture and visit places you haven't been before? Would you allow yourself to wallow in self-pity and depression, or would you constantly distract yourself with activities? Bear in mind that wallowing is suddenly very dangerous, because no one will snatch you out of it. Would you try to go out every day, or make yourself a nice little comfort zone? What would your finances be like; are you going to be one of those people who live their lives and don't mind spending their entire salary as long as they're having fun and shopping every weekend, or would you be stingy and have a tight budget you never exceed because your savings aren't going to save themselves?

Most of all though, you will learn that no one in your life is irreplaceable. It is a sad fact no one wants to face, but no less true. You want to believe that some people are constants in your life and that you won't be able to live without them, but you know what? You can, and you will. This is a lesson I've learned that I really didn't want to, but it is very true. I miss my family and my friends more than I can say, but I've realized that my life will go on with or without them.  Your family? You'll try to keep in touch and speak on Skype and send Whatsapp updates, but it won't ever be the same as living with them and hearing about their day and having lunch together again. And when you meet, you'll feel like an intruding guest and everyone will be super-nice to you to an unnerving degree, to the point where you want to yell at them to treat you the same way, because it's breaking your heart that they can't nag and annoy you like they used to. And you'll be expected to be nice to them and smile all the time because you're not going to ruin the few days you're spending with them, are you?

Your girlfriend? Maybe you'll try to keep the long-distance thing going as long as you can, but in the end the relationship will fail.. and the sooner you come to terms with it the better. You'll be busy at work and you'll lose touch with her for days at a time, and while she's missing you back home maybe she'll start talking to that friendly guy who sits next to her in Sociology. She'll start telling him that you're the love of her life and that she'd wait for you for years. She'll tell him about her day, and he'll know everything about her. She'll tell him about you, and then maybe she'll complain to him one time about your unavailability. Then she'll complain twice. Then three times. Before you know it, he's her go-to guy who knows her hopes and dreams and daily updates, while you're that guy she Skypes with on weekends to have fights with, and then suddenly it's over and you're dealing with heartbreak on top of everything else. You'll think that you'll die from the pain... she was your soulmate! But then you know what happens? One day you'll be sitting at work or talking to your new friends, and you'll realize that you haven't thought about her in a week. And you'll be fine.

Speaking of... your friends? You'll make new ones. It might not be the same, and you'll still keep in touch with your old friends and reminisce about the good old days... and maybe you'll still be best friends... But at the end of the day, they're not there anymore, and no number of Skype calls or Whatsapp messages will ever be enough, and it will never be the same whether you like it or not, so you do what you can to survive. You'll meet amazing new people and you'll grow very close, and that will make you feel slightly guilty because of all the people you left back home... but you know what? They've made other friends, and they're probably feeling guilty too. And here's the kicker: a few months later you'll leave your new friends too, and they'll join the ranks of "best friends" who you know will always be there for you, but who must be replaced one more time nevertheless. The key takeaway here is that life goes on.

I really didn't want to use this phrase, but I guess there is no better way to describe my current state of existence... living like this turns you into a "lone wolf", as much as I'd like to deny it. You get too used to your own company, and you forget what it's like to live with other people... You grow too independent. In that, living alone abroad is like death. It teaches you to deal with loss. It teaches you that there is no person that you can't live without, because if humans were that emotionally frail we wouldn't have been the fittest and we wouldn't have survived to be at the top of the food chain. But this is very sad, because once you come to that realization, you can never have that connection with anyone ever again. You'll never feel like you can't live without a certain person. No matter how close you are to someone, you'll always have this feeling that "you know what? If you disappear tomorrow I'll still be alright"... and there's no going back from that.

And that is what travel will teach you. Traveling for a few days with friends or family is an amazing experience, but this is not the kind of travel that will change who you are or teach you any life skills. That's not to say that I don't enjoy it, but if you really want that "quest" of self-enlightenment a la Julia Roberts, you should consider living alone for a while in a foreign country... NOT traveling to Barcelona for 4 days and then sharing annoying posts about wanderers or the benefits of travel. I don't mean to sound like an arrogant douche, but I've learned about this lifestyle the hard way... so it pisses me off when someone expects a fun weekend to give them the hard-earned experience I've gathered so far on a silver plate. Not that I'm a grizzled veteran of twenty wars or anything, but life lessons like this must be taught the hard way.

So to sum up, if you really want to be independent in every sense of the word -financially, emotionally and mentally- and you have a chance to live abroad alone, you should do it... but don't expect it to be all sunshine and rainbows and unicorns. At turns it will be fun, difficult and lonely... but it's a great experience nonetheless, and it will develop you much more as a person and allow you to grow more than you can imagine. I really believe that this is something everyone should do before getting married; firstly because it teaches you to be responsible, and secondly because it teaches you to love yourself (not in the literal sense), and I don't think anyone can ever truly love someone until they learn to love themselves first (again, not literally). I'm failing miserably on that count, but it's a process, and I want to believe I'm slightly warming up to the possibility that I might not be a total waste of oxygen who is still somehow better than everyone else because logic can go love itself (literally).

Let me end this with a quote of my own:

Not all those who wander will be lost forever.

There, I've even made it Italic. Go ahead and quote me next time, maybe I won't be so pissed, then.
But seriously, I'll unfollow the next person who shares that quote on my newsfeed. Face the facts, bro: when it comes to your career and your future, you're not a wise visionary.. you're as lost as all the rest of us puny mortals. And if you mean traveling and you're referring to that one time you went to Paris, I really don't have anything more to say to you that doesn't involve colorful swearwords and hate-mail.

The ABCs of Men for Dummies

Allow me to put this in the most nerdy way possible.

If men were represented by an equation, it would be:

X = 2Y + 7. 

See? Very simple. You put a value for Y and voila, you can find X. No complications, no subtext, no need for anything other than simple logic. What you see is what you get.

Women, on the other hand, would look something like this:

ex=Y/((√71∮∞0log6((X)Y)X))

We simply don't have the technology or the emotional capacity to understand women. Granted, some of us are more "sensitive" and seem to have a better understanding of women than others, but they are few and far between and I have yet to meet a man who completely "gets" women. Scratch that, I haven't met a girl yet who claims to understand her own kind.

Thus, since I've already provided mathematical proof that men are much simpler to understand; in the interest of facilitating inter-gender communications between our ironically incompatible cranial wirings, instead of trying to understand women I will now attempt to explain men's logic and behavior, in the vain hope of this message reaching some female scholars who will be able to decipher it and hopefully educate their kind on the ways of the dude.

1- Doing nothing is a perfectly acceptable pass-time.

2- If you want to be heard, avoid talking to us while we're gaming/reading/watching sports.

3- If we ask you what's wrong and you say "nothing", we will believe you. We're naive that way.

4- Bro time is sacred. If we are giving it up to be with you, we are making the ultimate sacrifice.

5- From time to time, we will need to bro out with some dudes. It has nothing to do with you and it doesn't mean we don't want to be with you anymore. It just means we need to make some crude jokes, game, watch some sports, eat too much, drink (for men who drink, anyway), work out and maybe brawl a bit.

6- Shopping is the worst punishment we can think of. It's not about you, we usually even avoid shopping for ourselves.

7- We have that one T-shirt that we probably love more than you. If we could, we would wear it 24/7 and get buried in it. Deal with it.

8- We really appreciate being taken care of. Even if we don't ask for it, making us food or helping us with laundry can make us love you on previously undiscovered planes of existence.

9- If we really love you, we will get jealous when you're hanging out or flirting with other dudes. Don't take advantage of it and torture us because we will start to resent you eventually.

10- We like it when you show some jealousy. Nothing over the top, but enough to know that you care.

11- If you notice that we've been working out, say it. Nothing can motivate us more at the gym.

12- We get very angry if we compliment you and you keep dismissing it and saying that you're ugly. We get that you're doing the whole modesty thing, but seriously ACCEPT THE DAMN COMPLIMENT.

13- You can't expect us to chase you all the time. If you're not meeting us halfway, our pride will take a blow, we'll start questioning your feelings for us and eventually stop trying altogether.

14- We are all nerds at heart. Whether it's cars, football, video games, Lord of the Rings, whatever... we all have at least one favorite topic we obsess about and if you take the time to learn more about it, we will appreciate it more than you know.

15- Sleep is sacred. Waking up to answer your call or reply to your text is not something to be taken lightly.

16- When we ask you to text us when you get home, we mean it. It's not an empty gesture.

17- Talking to us about your ex is NOT allowed, even to tell us what a jerk he was. All that does is tell us that you still think about him.

18- Guys have a different sense of humor than girls. If we find a girl that can genuinely make us laugh, we'll probably marry her within 2 years.

19- Every man wants to feel needed. If you overdo the whole "strong, confident woman" thing and refuse to let us help with anything, we will feel useless and eventually gravitate to that one dumb bimbo who needs help unwrapping her Big Mac.

20- Speaking of, a little helplessness can be cute, but being a hopeless klutz who can't tie her own shoes is NOT.

21- Drama is like sodomy or castration... we really really don't like it and we'd rather avoid it.

22- We don't talk much about ourselves, but it goes a long way if you ask us how we are and genuinely mean it.

23- It's OK to have some time apart every now and then, we don't have to be in contact for every waking moment. Sometimes we'll need our space.

24- If we said something that could be interpreted in two ways; one is hurtful to you and the other one is not, then we ALWAYS meant the one that is not. Believe me.

25- We don't DO subtext or double-meanings. If we're feeling something we'll say it, or heavily imply it if we're passive aggressive and our name is Bondok.

26- When you ask us what's wrong and we say "nothing", what we meant to say is "nothing". Seriously. If something was wrong we would have said "something". Stop nagging about it.

27- Sometimes we won't want to talk about something. Don't be offended, we'll talk about it when we're ready.

28- Sometimes we will seem preoccupied and won't want to talk at all. Just let us think whatever it is over in our heads and we'll be back before you know it.

29- Break-ups devastate us. We don't show it, but they do. 

30- Eating out with the bros almost always develops into a testosterone-fueled eating contest.

31- The most fun car rides we ever have are the ones where there's 12 of us crammed in the back seat, 3 riding shotgun and 5 in the trunk.

32- If we speak to you when we're at work, it usually means we're stressed and need to talk to you for the sake of our sanity... so try to reply as soon as you can.

33- We definitely love pizza more than you. We're sure you understand.

34- Don't be offended if we still prefer to hang out with our own bros even after meeting your friends. They might be very cool people, but it would take years before they understand the inside jokes and the private language we've already developed with our long-time bros.

35- Here's a chart of the different girl tiers of friendship and their dude equivalents to help you understand what we mean by "bro":

Girl with me in yoga class  = Some dude

My friend who I met 20 minutes ago for the first time in my life =  Some dude

Partner in mischief  = Some drunk dude

Bestie  = Cool Dude

BACKBONE SUPPORT SYSTEMMMM <3 =   N/A

LOVE YOU TO THE MOON AND BACK BFF FOREVER  = Dude I only hang out with in groups

BLOOD-SISTA FROM ANOTHA MISTA   =  Friend

SOULMATE OMG I CAN'T EVEN  =  Good Friend

            N/A         =   Close Friend

            N/A         =    Best Friend            

            N/A         =    Bro                

So as you can see, "bro" status is the single highest honor a dude can bestow upon another dude. Very rarely, a girl can be made a bro if she has shown herself worthy, but usually it is a dude we have been great friends with for 5+ years AND/OR the length of 2 relationships AND/OR we share more than 4 interests with. The rules are very strict and non-negotiable.

36- No denying it, we are visual creatures. Yes, we care about looks, but they're not the only factor. You can never have our love if you just look pretty. We'll come for your looks, but it's your personality that'll make us stay.

37- When we learn that a girl we like is already with another dude, we respect that, even if we don't know the guy. Only the lowest of the low tries to steal the girl. Take notes, girls... if he tries to get you to break up with your boyfriend (unless he's a total douchebag who doesn't treat you well), then he's not the kind of guy you'd want to be with. The only exception to this rule is if the guy she's with is a complete scumbag who's taking advantage of her and doesn't deserve her; only in such cases is the girl fair game.

38- We're poor idiots who believe what they see. If you wear make-up we will think this is how you actually look like, and if you're a decent human being you won't take advantage of that because it's mean.

39- Aimlessly driving around with our bros and talking about life in parked cars is our idea of a therapy session.

40- Just for the sake of completeness... boobs.

I hope this was an insightful read, and I'll keep adding more points as I remember them. For now, please let me deliver one final message to girls everywhere who might be reading this; cut us some slack. You're as simple as advanced astrophysics to us, and if you try to make our lives simpler every now and then we promise we won't be ungrateful.

May your days be filled with shopping bags and stuff that doesn't smell like socks, unlike most things at our houses.

Out of Words

I call myself a writer, but I'm out of words
How can a mortal man express the indescribable?
The paradise that you are and the heavens from whence you came,
Beautiful to glance at yet terrifying to behold?

As flawlessly beautiful as a starry automn night
Yet as vicious as a lightning storm and half as forgiving
As reassuringly warm as a mid-summer afternoon,
Then as bone-chilling as a late December blizzard
One might get fooled by your long warm summers
Or the playful, lazy springs that bloom in your eyes,
But not me, for I have seen the winters too
Hard and windy and ice-cold... Yet somehow stunning

I call myself a writer, but I'm out of words
How can a proud man reveal his addiction without seeming weak,
If a deaf man were to hear music for the first time,
Could he ever go back to being deaf again?
Would he ever be able to forget someone
As soothing, calm and relaxing as jazz
As energetic, powerful and raw as rock
As classy, methodical and harmonic as an orchestra
An orchestra of possibilities and endless longing?

I call myself a writer, but I'm out of words
How can any words I write ever give you justice?
How can any writer describe color to the blind?
For I have seen what no mortal man was meant to see
I have seen what it means to drown in eyes as deep as oceans,
As vast and incomprehensible as the corners of space,
As promising yet dangerous as a lush forest
With the colors to match all three

I have seen what it means to be as hard as steel with your beliefs
As proud and majestic as a lioness, roaring her defiance
With a determination so fiery it burns like a thousand suns,
Yet more modest and humble than anyone else would be

I call myself a writer, but I really am out of words,
If I sit down here to write about you, I will never be done
But always remember that no matter what happens,
As long as I breathe, I won't be deaf again.

Family

Family.

One simple word; a whole world of meaning behind it. I'd never learned just how important family was until I started living alone... Back in the day, I used to think that family only meant responsibility, and that made me skeptical about the point of it all. Being an entitled millenial teenager who'd been raised to believe that he was special and that he deserved only the best, I insinctively used to avoid any duties or tasks I was asked to do because I was too good for that. Let the workers and peasants worry about these things, for I was too important to care about anyone else. All that mattered was me. My only job was to use all the resources at my disposal to pamper myself and cater to my own needs and desires... Everyone else was just white noise.

The millenial teenager grew up to be a millenial adult, and even though I became considerably more mature, I still shirked responsibility whenever I felt I could get away with it. Sure, I'd help around the house every once in a while or run some errands, but if I didn't so what? Someone else would pick up the slack. There was no real reason for me to contribute because I didn't believe it made a big difference. Besides, I was still a super-important, entitled prick, and if my passiveness made anyone else's life any harder... Well, it was expected of them. Their lives came second.

Now, I'm sure I've done a great job of making you hate me so far, so you can understand how I felt about myself. Through being completely selfish and only caring about me, I came to have a very low opinion of myself. I used to see my dad finish work at 8, run a million errands, fix a leaky tap and do all the handiwork our parents' generation had to learn to do to survive, and I didn't understand how or why he did any of it. But these moments of contemplation were few and far between, because after all, that was his job. He was supposed to overwork himself to the point of exhaustion so that I could fulfill my destiny of being an entitled douche... And even though I was given complete freedom to do everything I wanted to do, I can't say I ever enjoyed it. I always felt like a waste of space, and I always hated myself for it.

Then, all of a sudden, that life was over. Practically overnight, I was plunged into a whirlpool I'd had no idea how to handle. I went from being spoiled and entitled to being completely responsible for my own well-being. Things I'd always taken for granted like laundry, home-cooked meals, having a clean home... If I didn't take care of these things, no one was there to do it for me anymore. Moreover, being sick or depressed suddenly became several orders of magnitude worse, now that there was no one to take care of me. I was completely alone, and it forced me to grow like nothing else could have.

The irony was that I started feeling guilty. The whole time I lived alone, I felt responsible for my family. I began to feel terrible for abandoning them to fend for themselves so I could pursue my career and live abroad. For 6 months, all I wanted to do was go back home and take care of them the way a real man is supposed to, to make up for all the years I leached off their efforts.

But you want to know what's funny? When I returned, everything came rushing back... My dad's relentless drive to be productive, even in his free time; my mom spoiling me again to the point where I'd have trouble living alone when I had to move away again a month later; and my amazing sister who not only reminded me how much I'd missed hanging out with my real best friend, but also how much I'm proud of the remarkable young woman she's shaping up to be, and how I feel like she's one of my biggest achievments in  life so far... And with a pang of bitter guilt, I realized that even though I came back with every intention of being there for them this time... They were the ones who were there for me yet again... Just by being there.

The biggest reason that makes me want to return to this dump of a country.

My family.

It's going to be a long 6 months.

A Note From Beyond

Dear everyone,

I hesitated a lot before writing this; but over the past few years, I've seen countless young, healthy people taken from us too soon... and in all of these cases, there was one thing that stood out to me; the single most tragic common factor in all of these premature deaths was the lack of closure. Here you have a young adult who's just starting their life, when suddenly they suffer an accident or an undiagnosed disease that plucks them too soon from this Earth, before they've had a chance to experience some of life's fundamental experiences or even say their goodbyes.

As narcissistic as this may sound; every time I heard of such tragedies, my own mortality came to mind... and every case made me vow that I wouldn't let my loved ones suffer on my account without at least trying to soothe their pain, and that my life wouldn't end with such an unceremonious fizzle. I am a writer after all, and in my mind, a writer deserves a poetic end.

With that in mind, I decided to sit down and write this "letter from beyond the grave", if you would pardon the cliche title... in the hope that one day after I'm gone, someone would stumble upon these words and show them to my loved ones to give them some small measure of comfort.

But how could I make sure that these words would be published in a medium where there is a decent chance of someone seeing them? If I posted them as a new blog post, several of my blog's followers would read them too soon, and it might be mistaken for a plea for help or attention... or worse, it could be mistaken for a suicide note, which I assure you it is not.

After due consideration, I decided to go back to one of my earlier blog posts, published in 2015. You see, if I edited the blog post and re-published it, none of my followers would get notified; and none but the most avid -or bored- of my stalkers would ever go so far back on my blog that they would stumble upon a blog post this old by accident. If you count yourself among that lucky number -and I am still alive- please stop reading. This is not a post I'd care to show anyone until the time is right, and I wouldn't be posting it at all if I could think of a better way to do this.

I guess that sufficiently explains my motives... and now for the hard part (and if you were ever close to me, you'd know how difficult it is for me to not make a "that's what she said" joke right now).

I must start with my family; my father, my mother and my little sister.

You are the reason I am who I am. You are the reason I always kept going. You are the reason I kept fighting, no matter how hard it got. You are the reason I never took the easy way out, no matter how much I wanted to. You spared no expense; gave me all you had and more. You were always there for me, even -nay, especially- in the most miserable times of my life. There is not one single good thing in my life that you were not the cause of, whether directly or indirectly. I love you all, more than words can say, and I am proud to have been able to call you my family... in fact, "proud" is an understatement in so many ways that I can't even say it without rolling my eyes, but suffice to say that I wouldn't have had it any other way. If I could go back in time and choose my family, I would choose you every time. You were the best family I could ever have asked for, and my gratitude and love for you knows no bounds... my only regret is that I know I wasn't always a great person to be around, and I'm sorry to have put you through all these hard times. I took you for granted a few times too many, and my short temper, dismissive attitude and lack of communication might have made you think that I didn't value or love you... but I assure you that I did and always will, no matter where I go. I'm just sorry I couldn't show it to you... and I know posting the words online is not the best way to do this, but it's the best I can do now. Please forgive me, and know that your presence in my life was so often the only thing that kept me sane and grounded.

I love you and I'm proud of every one of you. Thank you for giving my life meaning.

(Please read "Purgatory", "Family" and "Home- وطني " to see how highly I regarded you).

To the love of my life, there are no words to describe how much I loved, still love and always will love you. I don't know where we're at in life right now, or if we're even still in each others' lives, but I know one thing: you are the best thing that's ever happened to me. Even in my darkest, most desperate hour, you were always there to support me and help me through the tough spots, and your genuine care for my happiness and well-being is something I've hardly ever seen in anyone other than my immediate family. There's so much to praise about you, but I've done that in several other blogposts and you've read them all already... so I won't redo it here. All you need to know is that I never stopped loving you, and that if I could change one thing in my past, it would be not being with you years -or even decades- earlier than I was. I truly wish that we're still together... and if we're not, I sincerely wish we've managed to somehow stay in each others' lives, because going into that void without having you as my last thought is simply too much to bear.

No matter where I am, I will always love you. Thank you for giving my life purpose.

To my close friends... you know who you are; I won't cheapen this by listing names. All I can say is thank you. You were there for me through thick and thin, every single one of you. Whenever I went through a hard time, you would always take the time to talk to me and try to get me through it. You were able to tolerate my unpredictable, terrible mood swings and dark thoughts, and words cannot describe how grateful I am to have had you in my life. You know better than anyone how dark it can get inside my head... and I want you to know that more often than you think, you were the only candle in the charcoal abyss that is my mind. To me, you held the same status as my own family... and these next words go to you, to them and to my one true love as well; I want you all to know that you mattered; you made a difference. If you should ever feel nostalgic, lonely, depressed or sad, I want you to remember these words; you had a significant impact on my life, and no matter where I am, I love you for it and appreciate everything you've ever done for me... and I hope this thought gives you some relief. I'd been friends with most of you for a decade or more at the time I wrote this post, and we'd been through so many ups and downs together... but I can't stress enough how grateful I am to have had you there during the downs. I hope I made a positive impact on your lives as well, and if I didn't, I sincerely hope you'll forgive me and remember me fondly... I never meant to harm or hurt you, and would have never done it willingly in a million years, if I could help it.

Thank you for staying by my side, especially when I made it so difficult to. Thank you for giving my life a sense of direction and perspective.

To my other friends, please know that I'm grateful for everything. I'm finding it very difficult to not repeat myself in this blog post; I have used the word "grateful" too many times, but gratitude really is the one feeling that came to me as I wrote this. You might think I forgot that one act of kindness; that one late night talk in a parked car; that one spontaneous trip or that one Facebook chat heart-to-heart; but I want you to know that I always remembered every single one of them and I enjoyed every minute of it and would do it all again if I could.

Thank you for giving my life flavor.

To my casual acquaintances and everyone else, it was an honor and a privilege to have had you in my life. There is not one thing I regret, and I enjoyed all the experiences we've been through together... the good, the bad and the ugly. For better or worse, you shaped me as a person, and I want you to know that I never forgot anything we'd been through, no matter how trivial it might seem to you... and if we're not on good terms or you think I hate you, know that all is forgiven. My blessing -and my curse- has always been my empathy, and that I almost definitely know why you did what you did, and so there's no need to feel guilty. I understand... no hard feelings, at all.

On that note, I feel I must mention that I always strive to make a positive impact on the lives of those I meet, especially people I care about... and I want to take a moment to sincerely apologize to you if you feel I've hurt you in some way, whether we were close or not. Please find it in your heart to forgive me, and try to remember the good times; a person's legacy is all they have after they pass on... and while we're on the topic, I hope I at least made some of you smile over the years, or that my writing has helped you in some small way. If it has, I encourage you to share it far and wide so that it may help others as well. I don't want this blog to turn into a shrine for me; please don't feel like sharing any of my content will disturb my rest... if anything, it will make me smile, wherever I am.

If you're still feeling sad, please know this; you're the ones who made my time here bearable... and that is saying a lot. My unhappiness was sometimes all too clear for everyone to see, but even when it wasn't; there was often more of it hidden behind my smile. Even though I tried to be sarcastic about it; I tried to bury my feelings; I tried to express them creatively and I tried to make others laugh on
social media and in person, I could never fully get over the inherent, inexplicable sadness that is -for some reason- such a core part of my being. Some people may have thought I had everything in life, but the one thing I rarely had was peace of mind. I battled with clinical depression, anxiety and self-hate for most of my life, and you'd only need to go through some of my blog posts to know how dark things could get inside my head. I say this not to gain your sympathy; but rather to assure you that wherever I'm going is bound to be a better place than the dark, smothering confines of my mind.

And that is not to say that it was always that dark... in fact, quite a lot of you have given me countless moments of pure, uncut joy- and that in itself is both a miracle and something that I will always cherish and love you for, wherever I may be. Thank you for all the happy moments... they were so often what that got me through the hard times that usually followed.

I think that just about covers it.

Again, thank you all for having been in my life. In fact, thank you all for having been my whole life.

Please keep me in your thoughts, and don't be sad... for I will now -finally- rest in peace.

I hope.

With all my love; now and forever,
Mahmoud Bondok

Bondok is clinically Insane

Below is a conversation I had with myself on Twitter 2 months ago... just in case you were wondering whether I was actually insane or just acting like it. Yes, I tweeted all of this.

****************************************************************

- Seriously, I suddenly understand why teenage girls cut themselves and this isn't turning out to be a great statement in my favor, is it?

+ Yeah here we go again, make fun of yourself before people do it for you, we all know that always works out nicely

-  Well I do it because one of us had to watch our backs in high school when it was either that or being that weird kid everyone bullies…

+ It’s not high school anymore, there aren't any more bullies, you fucktard… Only people who won't respect you if you keep bringing yourself down for their enjoyment… kinda like we're doing now

- Don't turn this around on me, you fucker... where were you 6 years ago when we were still shaping our personality?

+ I was too busy being your rational anchor to the real world where you had to study and take things seriously to get into med school

-  WELL HA HA HA, MED SCHOOL WORKED OUT GREAT FOR US DIDN'T IT?

+  DON'T CAPSLOCK ME, YOU KNOW WE WOULDN'T BE HERE TODAY IF I HADN'T PUSHED YOU TO YOUR LIMITS

-  AND WHERE ARE WE NOW, PRAY TELL? DO WE FUCKING LIKE WHERE WE ARE NOW? ARE WE HAPPILY SHARING THIS SCHIZOPHRENIC MEMENTO OF OUR INSANITY?

+ DON'T BLAME ME FOR THAT, YOU HAD JUST AS BIG A SAY IN IT AS I DID

- BUT YOU'RE THE "RATIONAL SERIOUS" SIDE, WHY DON'T YOU SERIOUS OUR WAY OUT OF THIS PIT OF MISERY AND SELF-LOATHING?

+ Self-loathing, huh? So you actually do hate me...

- OF COURSE I FUCKING HATE YOU, AND YOU HATE ME TOO! WHAT'S THERE TO LIKE? I BET YOU CAN'T COUNT TWO THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT US

+ OK FINE, I HATE YOUR GUTS BUT WE HAVE TO LIVE TOGETHER IN THIS BODY FOR ABOUT 10 MORE YEARS UNTIL WE DECIDE TO END IT, SO SUCK IT UP

- Why 10 more years? There's a balcony not 10 feet away, and we're on the 17th floor…

+ OH NO, YOU DON'T... YOU WANNA DO IT BE MY GUEST, BUT I'M NOT GOING DOWN WITH YOU

- HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IT ALONE?

+ THEN DON'T FUCKING DO IT, WE'RE IN ENOUGH SHIT WITHOUT ADDING ETERNAL DAMNATION AND A GRIEVING FAMILY INTO THE MIX

- But if it wasn't for that, we'd do it right?

+ In a heartbeat. But jumping out of a balcony is stupid. We'd probably be better off with sleeping pills or something

- You fucking pussy, that shit's for girls

+ Well excuse me if I don't wanna look like a tomato someone ran over with their car

- You always did care about looks... maybe your high standards are the reason why we aren't having this lovely debate inside our own head, where we can't scare away people and probably get thrown in a mental asylum

+ High standards are the only reason why we have any self-respect...

- HAHAHAHAHA that's rich. Is that what they're calling it these days? Self-respect? Have we been self-respecting for the past half hour? Or is self-respect a synonym for "lonely as fuck"?

+ I can't talk to you like this. You keep dancing around the issue whenever get too close to the mark

- Fine, you want the truth? We're gonna die alone because of your high standards. Suck on that for a while...

+ Well I'd rather die alone than compromise my values and my pride.

- Good for you. Me, however, I'm perfectly happy with compromising stupid rules YOU made up to make us miserable

+ Look, I'm getting tired of arguing... we do this every day and we don't get anywhere. It's like having your mom inside your own head

- Fine, let's call it a day for now... but this isn't over

+ Yeah yeah, whatever. Gosh, do you think maybe we can try and go do something fun instead of driving ourselves literally insane? Seriously, this is past the point of being funny. I'm kinda getting worried now.

- Let's just go to bed so we don't regret it in the morning like we always do, thanks to SOMEONE who insists to stay up and think...

+ You know what? I'm not falling for the bait. Let's just go to bed.

- Fine. And if I catch you thinking for ONE SECOND, I will beat you to a fucking pulp because it’s the last thing we need right now. Got it?

+ Whatever

Oasis

I've always hated the sun.

It's ironic that of all places, I was born in Egypt where the sun is an unwanted constant companion. It's that annoying acquaintance you have who keeps insisting that you're best friends and tries to say "us" a lot in any context to put himself in the same league as you for his own weird personal agenda, or that persistent but not-so-bright girl who just won't get it and keeps trying to get with you even though the only way you could make it more clear that you're not interested is if you engraved the words "I DON'T LIKE YOU" on a bullet and shot her in the face with it.

I've always loved the London weather; gloomy, cold, dark and rainy... as moody and unpredictable as me. You know how people always say "be yourself"? Well you can bet London weather is being itself; it doesn't give the tiniest fuck about you or your plans or the arsenal of heavy swear words you will use when it starts raining randomly on a very sunny day in the middle of June... it just stays true to itself. I respect that. It shows strength of character, unlike the weak performance we see here in Egypt. It's like the weather lost its "Spring" and "Autumn (or Fall for y'all Americans)" DVDs and just keeps playing Summer and Winter all year and goes for a nap instead of doing it's job like a decent human being... but that's Egypt for you, even the weather doesn't do its job properly.

Even so, as these words passed through my exhausted, delirious brain, I would have given anything for a bit of Egyptian winter.

"One more step" I thought to myself, for what must have been the hundred thousandth time, but even as I thought it, I knew I was lying to myself. I lifted my head and scanned the horizons, and they were as dry and desolate as they'd been minutes ago, and as dry and desolate as they still would be when I eventually gave up, fell to my knees and surrendered to thirst and exhaustion. I hung my head again and focused on my own feet, slowly shuffling forward... it was better to not see how completely alone I was and how close I was to death.

I'd read somewhere that when you're lost in the desert -in the absence of any landmarks you can use to mark your progress- you unconsciously walk around in wide circles, because the muscles in your right leg (or left leg, if you're left-handed) are better developed and hence you will favor your right leg and walk to the left (or right) without even knowing it... in other words, I was even more screwed that I'd already been. Even if I were somehow capable of walking in a straight line, there was very little hope I would ever find my way out of that scorched hell... so imagine the progress I was making when I wasn't even moving forward at all.

The wind picked up. "Perfect, just what I needed" I thought to myself bitterly... a random shuffle of the sand dunes I'd been trying to memorize to mark my way forward... and sure enough, before I knew it a nice little sandstorm was brewing up to further obscure my vision and give me even less hope of ever finding my way out of that God-forsaken desert. Oh well... it's not like I could get any more fucked, right? I would have even welcomed the sound of any wild animals. An eagle, a fox, even a lion... anything that would indicate the presence of water anywhere in the vicinity... But alas, the only forms of life I'd run into so far were cacti, ants, beetles and the occasional snake.

I kept moving ahead, with no end in sight. The sun was directly overhead, beating down on my head mercilessly. I prayed for a heatstroke or a sunstroke... or any kind of stroke, really. Anything that would take me away from this terrible reality. The irony was that the sandstorm was partially blocking the sun, which was giving me a partial respite from its cruel gaze... but I think I would have rather taken my chances with the sun than the sandstorm... At least when it came to it, I'd be able to see the place where I died. At least I'd be able to choose the place where I'd finally give up and collapse. It was the tiniest bit of control possible, but still better than dying and being buried immediately by a vicious sandstorm and never being discovered for years.

The sandstorm raged on, getting more and more intense by the... by the what? Minute? Hour? I couldn't tell time anymore. The only thing I could say with a certainty is that it was still morning... but how long until dusk or how long I'd been stuck in that sandstorm, I had no clue. And it's not like dusk brought about any form of relief; I often laughed off the idea of finding shelter... there were no trees, no cliffs, no walls... nothing to shelter me from the wind, and whatever hell-spawn in this wasteland that cared enough to attack me here was welcome to do it. Frankly I felt sorry for whatever creature called this sandpit its home, and they were welcome to whatever fresh meat they could find, even my own. Besides, I didn't really care at that point. When I got too tired to move, I'd lie down wherever I stood and shiver myself to sleep in the freezing desert night until the sun woke me up again the next morning. If I were to not wake up, would that really have been so terrible?

The sky had shifted from yellow to brown now. I couldn't see my hand when I held it out in front of my face. My world smelled like dust and tasted like sand. Pain was my only reality, and thirst was a vulture, circling hungrily overhead as I grew steadily weaker and my steps began to falter. I stumbled and fell to one knee. Shakily, I got up again, only to get knocked on my back by a ferocious gust of wind. For a second I considered staying down, but my temper returned to me and I mentally reproached myself viciously. I wasn't going to die lying on my back. Furious, I got up and resumed my lonely trek. If only thirst were a tangible foe to confront... if only it were something I could fight,  lose to with dignity and die nobly.

I fell again. This time I couldn't find it in me to get up, but I could still crawl. Only one thought was in my head: "I'm not going to die lying on my back". It fueled me, and I moved forward. "One more step" I thought to myself, knowing in my heart that I was a liar. I was dying, and sooner rather than later. I crawled, and I crawled. At some point I tried to get up again, and successfully walked a few paces before collapsing and giving up on upright movement altogether. Before I knew it I was moving forward at the prone position, like a soldier avoiding enemy fire. But the enemy fire was all around me, and there was nothing more I could do. I could feel the first stages of delirium setting in. It was almost as if I could literally see light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, now that I thought about it, the light at the end of the tunnel looked suspiciously like the glint of sunlight on water. Could it be?

The sight gave me a last desperate surge of power. I got back on my feet, and I stumbled forward again. I walked in the vague direction of my vision, and sure enough I could see it again. I began to run... but running in the sand is a bad idea and I felt the last dregs of energy draining away... so I slowed my pace down to a walk again. I could see it now. If it was a mirage, it was a crueler mirage than anything I'd ever seen. As I neared what looked like a pond, I finally became certain...  I'd made it to an oasis. It was the most beautiful sight I could have ever seen... palm trees swaying in the sandstorm, green grass, even some desert hares that were taking shelter from the wind against the face of a small hill... But of course, I saw none of that. I saw my salvation. I jumped into the pond, opened my mouth wide and drank the sweet nectar of life. As the water flowed past my cracked lips and parched tongue, hot from the sun but more pleasant than anything I'd ever tasted in my life, watering my insides and filling me with the warm glow of hope... I smiled. At that moment, lying there in a stagnant pool of water in the middle of a desert, I felt hole, safe and sane again. At that moment, I knew life couldn't get more perfect.

I was saved. I wasn't going to die.


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Thank you for being my oasis.

Boulevard of Broken Dreams (see what I did there?)

Closed his suitcase, put on his coat;
It's always windy at the start of the road
His hair a mess, his heart a load
Of barely suppressed melancholy.

A last hungry look at his room before
Leaving forever... he felt sick and sore.
He shuffled slowly towards the door
Out of his house, his home, his life.

And how ironic did it feel to him then
How long was the walk to the door, but again...
He used to cross it in two strides when
He wasn't weighed down with his thoughts.

The wind blew air, crisp and bold
Countless clouds cast gloom untold
The rain beat at him, both wet and cold...
Just the way he liked it.

A fitting tribute; a farewell too grim
A sunless sky, its light so dim.
The foreshadowing wasn't lost on him...
The heavens themselves were weeping.

As if on cue, his sadness grew
Here's an interesting dilemma for you:
Should you feel loved, or lonely and blue
If your faithful friends were ice and gloom?

He beseeched the skies in mute appeal,
He begged to stay, but he could feel
The ice-cold rain on his face, like steel
And knew his silent plea was rejected.

"This is not your place", he could hear them say
You've never belonged and you cannot stay.
If you so wish, you can visit one day...
but then you shall return to your lonely road.

He lifted his head; gave a wordless cry,
Of pain and fury, his voice so high.
His fate was cruel, he knew not why...
This path was chosen for him.

He calmed himself and took a deep breath
And searched for his pride in his icy depths
He knew this lonely road was his death...
But he'd go there with his head held high.

And so he set out, on his lonely road
At a brisk pace, which never slowed.
This wasn't the happy ending he was owed...
But he wasn't going down without a fight.

The Empty Room

He entered the room hesitantly, anxious of who he would find inside. He had grown to expect it to be empty, so he wasn't sure what he was hoping for... but as his eyes swept the empty room from left to right and back again, he realized that he had been holding his breath and that his body had involuntarily tensed into a wary primal crouch; a fighting stance he couldn't quite justify. Furious with himself, he straightened up and took a deep breath. He shouldn't have been so apprehensive after so many years... He should have stopped caring by now.

No one was there. But more to the point, she wasn't there either.

Just to be sure, he crossed the room and checked the lock on the door that led into the second, smaller room which hadn't been open for years... And even though he was relieved that the lock still seemed intact and the door securely closed, a small part of him hoped the door would swing open and she would burst through. He banished these thoughts as mercilessly as one would kick a puppy... There was no place for them.

He thought back on all the times he'd done the same thing over the years, every day like clockwork. At first he never seemed to notice the second door; the room was always occupied by at least one visitor, not all of whom stayed for very long. Some would stay for a few months, others would stay for a few years. There were a few who stayed for days, or even hours in some cases. In more than once case there were two visitors at the same time, but they never stayed too long and they always left in the end. Everyone eventually left, abandoning him to this cold, lonely room which was starting to feel more and more like a doctor's waiting room by the day.

Except her, of course. She was in the second room, and didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave.

As the years went by, his visitors steadily diminished and grew less frequent, but scarcely a month went by without him hosting someone for at least a few days... And worryingly in such cases, when she ended up leaving like they always did, lately he'd caught himself wondering if someone else would come in... If maybe that was it; and that he would never again walk into this room to see someone waiting for him, smiling and happy to see him.

Sometimes he tried to re-decorate the room in a futile effort to add a more personal touch and make it a less miserable place to be, but there was very little he could do; the room was painted a sterile white; there were no windows; and even when he replaced the leather desk chairs with some cheerfully colorful couches to make the place more friendly, they seemed bizarrely out of place in this black and white nightmare. The room seemed specifically designed as a waiting room; a staging area where no one was allowed to settle in and call it home. Some of the visitors occasionally added some personal touches here and there in an admirable attempt to settle in, but the room remained cold and uninviting, despite their best intentions... And when they left, the little mementos that remained of their efforts somehow made the room even sadder, so he always removed them.

Until they stopped visiting altogether.

More and more days would pass between visits until one day, when it had been a month since he had seen someone in the room, it dawned on him. He realized what was happening. The room had finally pushed away even the most enthusiastic and optimistic of its temporary occupants, dooming him to stay alone in that depressing room, like an angry parent sentencing their child to a time-out to think about what they'd done... Except he had no idea what he'd done or why he deserved to be punished in such a brutal manner. He could never bear to stay in the room for more than a few days himself, but that was because it left him so much time to overthink and obsess, so he made it a point to leave the room and only pass by once a day to check if someone had come calling. As the days went by, he became less and less disappointed when he saw the empty room; he'd grown to expect it.

Until one day he inexplicably, unforgivably started toying with the idea of opening the locked door. He knew that if he opened the floodgates, the metaphorical flood would drown him, but he couldn't see how even that would be worse than being alone in that room any longer.

And when he started having these thoughts, it was like the spell was broken. Memories, images and feelings he'd had no idea he still had came rushing back, filling him with melancholy and a deep, aching longing more intense than anything he'd ever felt from the countless visitors who'd passed by this room. Even though he was shivering on the outside, he suddenly felt warm and fulfilled... the same feeling one would get when drinking a steaming mug of hot chocolate as a snow storm raged outside their window.

But there was pain as well. A wound he'd thought had healed a long time ago was still stubbornly open, and the years had made it fester until somehow he knew it would never heal properly. But as painful as it was, it was invigorating as well; he felt more alive in those few seconds than he'd felt in all the years he'd lived since he'd locked the door.

Finally, something clicked in his mind. Come hell or high water, he owed it to himself to open that door. As long as a part of him still clung to her, he would never be free. The room would forever remain cold, because he made it cold. He didn't allow anyone in because he was afraid he might have to lock them up in that second room.

A fury he had never known in his life took him at that moment. He would be damned if he lost the battle just because he didn't try... with a trembling hand, he reached out and unlocked the door. Wordlessly, he mouthed a last prayer, and then turned the handle and pulled the door open.

And then he drowned, as he always knew he would... But at least the room had an occupant now.

And at least he tried.

Still a Better Love Story Than Twilight

He pulled up at a traffic light. Well, you wouldn't call it a traffic light... more like a traffic free-for-all...

He lived in Egypt, you see. Egypt spits on your puny mortal "traffic lights". And whenever there happen to be traffic lights, they're more of a guideline than actual traffic control, followed only by foreigners who haven't been Egyptianized yet; fussy moms and old people.. but I digress. The point is, he was on his way to work as usual, but had neglected to sacrifice to the ancient Egyptian God of traffic "Amon-Shorta" (only Egyptians will get this joke), and lo and behold he was already two hours late. 

It was one of these days where everything goes wrong; alarm doesn't go off, nothing to eat in the fridge, spending half an hour ironing a stubbornly crinkled shirt that looks like it was dragged through the Vietnam war.. which is ironic, because he ended up burning a hole right through the sleeve and having to iron another shirt instead. "Ain't bachelor life grand?" he thought, as he frantically looked for the keys that were in his pocket and the glasses he was already wearing while simultaneously hopping on one foot trying to wear a sock on his other foot, stumbling over his shoes, and falling face-first into a box of left-over pizza from three days ago he kept forgetting to throw out.

Rushing out of the house with small crumbs of pizza crust stuck in his beard, he realized he forgot to wear his shoes and rushed back in again furiously cursing in his most colorful profanities at no one in particular. When he was finally out of the house, already half an hour late and looking about as sharp as a spoon or a particularly dull butter knife, he was greeted by the sight of the bawab (or janitor/security guard/morality police/delivery guy/garage caretaker combo, for all non-Egyptians) who had just covered his car in soap. Ironically, the bawab assumed that because the protagonist (let's call him Mahmoud) was so late, he'd decided to skip work altogether so it was a good time to wash his car. 

Mahmoud, being as polite as the British, more hot-tempered than an Italian mobster from Sicily who's just watched his sister get whistled at by a mobster from another family (also smarter than a German nuclear physicist and hotter than Brad Pitt and awesome at making huge drawn-out similes and currently single, ladies ;) ) had to fight the urge to throttle the bawab for having such a brilliant deductive mind that led him to the conclusion that because he was late it made sense to make him even more late, because of reasons. Instead, he wore a forced smile and thanked the bawab while inwardly wishing him and his family a painful death by anal sodomy, asked him to rinse off his car, and drove out of the garage all fast-and-furious-like at 70 kph (requiring considerable skill at maneuvering, if I might add) with heavy rock playing on his radio, only to get stuck in a traffic jam immediately outside.

Days went by; seasons changed; Kanye West and Kim Kardashian had a baby they named "North" in an act of complete dickery bordering on child-abuse; a nuclear Armageddon wiped out 99% of the human race; and still he found himself slumped in his car in heavy traffic, having shout-outs with people who cut him off and thinking longingly of death while his iPod shuffle tortured him with extremely ironic songs like "Happy" and "Highway to Hell". It was a mark of how terrible his mood was that when he saw one of the 3 pile-ups on the Ring Road that day, he caught himself inwardly wishing he'd been in one of them.

"Aaaaand of course", he thought; that today of all days would be the day he would receive 12 emails when it wasn't even 10 30 yet; all requiring his urgent attention.. and what worst-case-scenario-nightmare would it be, without his boss calling him 5 times to ask him where he was, his voice gradually rising from phone call to phone call -ranging in pitch from his carefully-cultivated, shareholder-reassuring, calm baritone to a high-pitched squeak you'd expect from a rat whose tail you stepped on- as he hoarsely yelled about corporate policy and how employees should always make sure to be at work before noon and how he didn't care about traffic jams or Armageddons or the environment or murdered kittens.

I'm not sure if you can tell, but he wasn't having a nice day.

It was while he was seriously beginning to consider getting out of his car and just running to work that he noticed her in his side-view mirror... 

She was eating a sandwich and chain-smoking while yelling at the guy riding shotgun, spittle flying out of her mouth and coating his poor sweat (and now spittle)-drenched face as he cowered for cover from his 50-year old obese mother's pastrami rain of death- wait no, this isn't her, you pervs.. the other car, beside it.

Yes, that one.

In stark contrast to the typical Egyptian ma7shi-fuelled machine of hatred and despair mentioned above, she was simply beautiful (yes, now it's time for the sappy part, I'm a hopeless romantic, deal with it).

She was wearing the most elegant bored face of all-time. Taken out of context, you couldn't tell she was even bored at all... He looked at his face in the rear-view mirror, and saw the face of a middle-aged man who had curiously grown some more white hairs than earlier that morning, and suddenly noticed the pizza crumbs in his beard. He casually brushed them off while pretending to stroke his beard thoughtfully, hoping to convey an era of wisdom rather than misery and self-loathing. Tired of looking at his milk-curdling frown, he looked at her again and immediately felt better. The world was still a beautiful place if such an angelic face was still possible to exist.. in that miserable setting, most of all.

Her wavy blonde curls were elegantly sparkling in the early morning sun. You could tell that she didn't have time to do whatever it is girls do to their hair when they wake up in the morning -maybe she'd rushed out of the house as late as he was- but somehow he doubted that she could have done anything more to make it look any better. That girl could wake up in the morning and go straight to a fancy fund-raiser without even running a comb through her hair, and it gave her a low-maintenance vibe that somehow made her even more attractive than any carefully-polished trophy wife could ever be. 

He must have been drooling too much because suddenly she noticed him staring at her.

It's a well-documented fact that Mahmoud doesn't like hazel-eyes, but hers were different... they weren't hazel; they were sunlight incarnated in human eyes... It almost hurt to look directly into them. They were perfectly-shaped, sharp and intelligent while still being playful and humorous.. The type of eyes you usually see at the optician's in advertisements for contact lenses.

And then she smiled.

Before that day, Mahmoud could be quoted as saying that the happiest moment of his life was that one time when he had three slices of cheesecake at Cheesecake Factory and almost fainted from the sugar rush... Now he could say that her smile beat even that, and gave him the same sugar-rush.

Not only did her smile reveal teeth as hideous as a camel's- just kidding, it's a check to see who's still with me. 

Not only did her perfect, strawberry-red lips part to reveal porcelain-white teeth that glinted in the sunlight -reminding him on the only level of his existence that wasn't captivated by her smile that he should see his dentist one of these days- but also when her smile touched her eyes, they transformed into -green goblins made of cheese (still with me?)- beautiful pools of molten gold, full of life, energy and optimism. He could tell that this is not just a beautiful girl; this is a beautiful girl to have intelligent conversations-with; be yourself-around; laugh yourself into an early grave with and generally have enough fun to be illegal in Egypt. This is a girl to marry, not to stare at for.. 5 minutes? 30 minutes? An hour? He couldn't tell how long it had been... But time had stopped for him, and his surroundings didn't seem to matter one bit.

Inexplicably, he could already picture spending the rest of his life with her and growing old together.

They stared and smiled at each other in the middle of the traffic for what seemed like ages, and in the middle of the whirlpool of anger and Mediterranean temper and swear words and remorseless sunlight, they found happiness.. they found love. 

Even if only for a few brief moments before they received the cosmic middle finger in the form of traffic magically clearing, just when he was about to get out of his car to go talk to her.

In some ways, parting with a fleeting imaginary romance in traffic was much harder than some break-ups he'd had.. knowing that there was a lot of potential, wasted because fate hadn't made their lives intersect in a more sociable setting was a very hard realization...

But seriously, fuck traffic in Egypt.