Nostalgia

My life has two chapters, 26 years in Syria and 10 years in the US. And it feels like that I left a 26 year-old man in Syria hanging. There's a place in my heart that had stopped aging at 26, it's a big place and it got lots of good memories, even bad ones. But that place feels so real to a point where the kind of memories don't matter, it's the warmth, the strength, the pride, the authenticity and most of all the love it brings, that matters. I love that feeling and I visit that place everyday. So if you tell me "Move on", I tell you "I don't want to, because my past is my playground, I go there when I'm tired, I go there when I'm happy and when I'm sad. I will always visit it because if feels good, it feels right, it feels home".


When you hear an 80s song, or see a picture that has a funny outfit or hairstyle of yourself, before you try to hide it, think of how you felt when you were listening to that song, when you were wearing that outfit and that BIG hair, connect for a second. Enjoy the memory.

Today is the Good Friday, today is a day I spend physically in the US but mentally and emotionally in Aleppo, and if I don't do that, then today is like any other day, so to make it special, I visit my playground.

I left a 26 years old man in Aleppo when I left my home town for good, I protect him and I let him remind me of those 26 years every day. Every old picture, every old song takes me there, and I let it do that because it keeps me going.

That's whom I left behind, and I miss him.

Pick your Battles

Two phrases I heard over and over in different occasions, but never really listened to the words in them. When those were addressed to me at the right time, in the right context, they suddenly had a brand new meaning, and they made a change in the way I dealt with things onward.




She was a waitress, he was the owner's 1/2 brother, I was the bus-boy. I was proud that I hooked up the waitress who was a friend of mine to the job, I was proud of my seniority being there for 2 months, when she was there for a week, while it was only the 3rd day for the owner's 1/2 brother.

As a bus-boy I was in charge of setting the tables, placing the candles, the plates, the ashtrays before we opened. I always followed the instructions to the T. Nobody interfered in my extremely complicated and high-technical kind of job, busing tables that is, till that afternoon.

He arrived and shifted all the tables and the settings around, right after I was done arranging all and before I got the chance to look at my accomplishment with pride, as if I was an event planner who was ready for his celebrity client to walk in with 100s of guests. No, that was not the case, the owner's 1/2 brother felt superior to all and found his way around everything, his lack of taste attached enough damage I thought. I bit my tongue that day and re-arranged it the way I was instructed next day. Again he arrived and shifted everything around. I asked him why he was doing that, he said because he didn't like it the way I set it. I went to my friend/waitress and complained to her, she shrugged her shoulder and said "eh, why the headache, let him do what he wants" and she walked away. Such a simple sentence right! but it kept me wondering, why was I so anal about getting it the way his brother, the owner, wanted? it's not like it was going to save the lives of our soldiers at war or protect a certain species from being distinct. I let IT go "WHY THE HEADACHE!" and I let a lot go too.



I was a manager at A bank, she was a manager at B bank, and she recruited me to join the bank she was working for. At that point she was non-re-hirable at A bank where she worked before and where I first met her, I had no idea.

When I was managing my new branch, I was overwhelmed with how different it was compared to what I knew before. She came to highlight for me the differences she had to adapt to when she had the transition. While we were working and I was complaining, she looked at me and said with a stern tone "pick your battles".

I wasn’t sure what it meant but I started to prioritize my new challenges and learned to ignore and ignore and ignore. God bless the ignore technique, if it’s used right, it can be so healthy.

Five months later, after trying to clean up so much of the unethical behaviors I found around me, under me and over me at that bank, I picked my battle, I picked what’s left of my dignity and I picked my personal belongings and left. I left the company and went back to my previous bank, that was the battle worth fighting for.


Those two lines I heard above, I carry so dearly with me going through the different walks of life, not as much those who said them. Sometimes it's the ones you have the most casual relationship with, who say the most profound things that you might have heard before, but only at that moment, put into prospective.



So now I pick my battles, and if I have to go down, I go down fighting. But I learned that there’s so much going on that deserves the right amount of ignorance. Why the headache when we can avoid it.

My Mother

Here's my childhood story with my mother:

My mother, a lovely elegant friendly and smart lady, was a fairly strict young woman in her twenties and thirties, she had no choice but to while raising four kids back to back on foreign soil, starting at age 21 and getting her work done by age 27. She took a stand after her youngest and said to my father that her job of delivering babies and giving birth to those tiny creatures was over, so if he wanted more kids, he could go elsewhere. Well, that didn't work well for dad since he was Catholic, our very neighbors were able to marry four women and he couldn't do that, how unfair life can be sometimes! Well, after we grew up a little, I'm sure he changed his mind about having more of us, I mean think about it for a second, kids are adorable when they're laughing and while they're sleeping, sure before they walk, but once they walk (and mind you four of them), your place loses that adjective known as "home", yet you wouldn't have it any other way, would you!

While dad was busy at work, Mom had to deal with raising all four of us. She was smart enough to raise us in a way that allowed her to have time for herself and dad. She was dedicated to her family, still is, and had it under control. She made sure that she asked all four of us (here starts the sarcasm) what kind of Sandwiches we preferred to take to school for snacks, or if we preferred a pocket money to buy whatever we felt like, what kind of lunch we would like to have when we come back home, how would we feel about playing in the train station yard till sunset, explained the mentality behind not playing in the streets every evening, why we should wash our feet up to our knees after coming back up to our apartment before entering our bedrooms or sitting on the furniture. She discussed with us the benefit of education and asked us to select the subject that we were most passionate about to spare some of her own time to develop that in us and see where it goes. She then explained to us the middle eastern mentality behind the Macho man, the head of the family who goes to work first thing in the morning and comes back at night when we're almost in bed, why displaying emotions was considered a weakness. And of course, she insisted on taking our approval for the way we were going to spend the summer vacation, the places we were going to visit, the kind of restaurants and food we were going to explore. The best part is that if we were not in agreement, or if we had mixed feelings about a certain thing, she would say "let's sit down and talk about it" or if we're not ready to talk she would say "You know what to do when you're ready to discuss this, for now I understand you need some space". It was all perfect until I woke up hearing her, screaming her heart out about my shoes being on the floor while she was mopping, with her hair up and tight she looked like a principle at school or a nun at a catholic church, she was a cleaning freak, and really really disciplined (something she sure knew how to pass on to us). I woke up and picked up my shoes off of the floor immediately. I hated Mondays and Thursdays, the days she had the deep cleaning of our five bedroom apartment, all by herself, then later on with the help of my sisters. Her smile became estranged on those two days, oh boy, dare you say something like “I don’t like artichoke for lunch” you were going to eat it and say something like ” woooohoooo Artichoke and Rice! Ymmmmmmmmmmy”

So yeah, I make fun of the past and I cherish the past so much, mom had it her way or the highway, we had no choice but to obey her rules, and those were many, like “this is lunch, deal with it or stay with no food, we are going there and you’re coming with us, that’s final, God help you if I learn from your siblings that you threw away your sandwich in the trash (the convenience of going to school with your siblings) it is what it is, you do it your way when you live on your own, oh really! that’s too bad, go to your room, or, what kind of kids are you, have mercy on me!!!! huh?”. She also said things like “how many times do I have to tell you that you need to make your bed before you take off", "aren’t ashamed of the way your drawers look like", "of course you can’t find it, look how messy your closet is” and part of that, extended to our friends who had a kick out of it “I said no phone calls from 2 to 4 pm, we take naps at that time", "let your friends experiment at their own apartments before they give you their wise advices”. Relatives never suffered from our visits, dad was too embarrassed to drag four children with him into his social activities so he simply never did, and mom had us sit next to her on the couch (when we fitted), and with one look from her in case we got loud, we froze on that couch and caused no damage to any one we visited. Still, mom had her sarcastic sense of humor; she would make fun of us and crack us up at the same time. Looking back, I have nothing but respect and admiration for what she's done and how she did it at such a young age on.

When dad was unemployed for years, mom never compromised a thing, she worked even harder and never complained, she learned, out of the blue, how to sew, how to knit, how to embroider, she mastered them and made sure that no Christmas or Easter goes by without her children wearing new clothes. She managed to find affordable markets and shopped far away from home sometimes to make sure that the most delicious food is served on our tables (Even with Artichoke, she would always say something like “try it again, now that you’re older, your taste and preferences change”, never got tired of that line)

The truth is, all four of us adore mom, she was our queen and still is, yes she had no opportunity to get high education at school (it wasn’t much of a fashion in her days) and yes all four of us were blessed to go to schools and universities, however till today we go to her with questions knowing how authentic her life experience is and how loving and giving she is. Maybe she wouldn’t get the answer to 9 x 9 immediately but she would tell us what to do when one of our kids is sick, how to clean something without damaging it, how to budget our monthly expenses, how important drinking green tea and working out is….etc

In two days we celebrate Mother’s day in the middle east, March 21st is officially the first day of the spring and what a better way to celebrate that starting with a day of appreciation to all mothers. My mother, all the respect to her, found a system that worked, a strict system when we were kids, a friendlier approach when we got older, and being best friend with us now. Happy mother’s day to all mothers, thank you for declaring the beginning of Spring, and to my mother, we love you so much, always have, always will, God bless you

A Prayer

"When I kneel down to pray, I thank God for my health, for being able to see, hear and talk, for being able to move, walk, touch and feel, for being able to accomplish simple daily tasks on my own. And I thank him for surrounding me with good people, people whom I can count on in tough times and enjoy their company anytime. I thank God for having a roof over my head and food on my table. I got all the basics covered, I'm a rich man. 

I neither care nor question what religion my God is, what political party he supports, I just ask him to remind me to treat people with respect, to have more tolerance and be less judgmental. I ask him to love people through me and love me through people. I don't pursue being popular, I just want to be able to draw a smile on every face that comes my way.

For all the talents and skills I was not blessed with, I ask God to make me enjoy what I don't have, in people, yet share what I have with them just like they share their gifts with the world

When I pray, I not only thank God, but I ask him to remind me never to take any of the blessings for granted, I ask him to keep me appreciative of what I have every time, not just after running into someone who is suffering, for it shouldn't take a dying man to make me appreciate my life, it shouldn't take a sick man to make me appreciate my health, it shouldn't take a hungry man to make me appreciate the food on my table, it shouldn't take a homeless man to make me appreciate the roof over my head, and it certainly shouldn't take a miserable man to make me appreciate the happiness I have and try to create around me every day. I'm able to smile, to breathe, to have a normal life, and I trust that I am where I'm supposed to be today, tomorrow brings its own blessings"

 

I thank God when I pray, that is my prayer

Not Your Style!

When I wrote you asking what was it you were trying to achieve by calling me, you said that you just felt like calling, and so you did, as for achieving something, that was not your style, you said that it was mine.

You're right, achieving is not your style because to achieve something is to take an action, but in your case, it's all about the talk, never the walk. Your words say it all loudly. They have so much power and you don't take advantage of that power to "achieve" something good. You use it for the sole purpose of expressing how you feel, without thinking of the impact of the hurtful words coming out of your heart. And why should you think! you're an artist. And an artist has the right to be spontaneous and free from all restrictions including expressing themselves and feelings, burning bridges and crossing lines, and they're proud of their attitude which they call "Being honest and straight forward".

Do you remember when you were on a roll criticizing me which I thought at the beginning was constructive till it became destructive. and I asked you to stop on seven different occasions? Because if you don't remember, I would like to remind you of the way you shrugged your shoulders and said you can't help it, you criticize yourself too so what's the big deal in criticizing me. 

Yes, actions speak louder than words, and yes, I gave your words all the power because I loved you but….  Think before you speak my darling

When I wrote you asking what is it you're trying to achieve by calling me, you said that you just felt like calling, and so you did, but forgive me, because I didn't feel like picking up, and so I didn't… Thank you for following your feelings and teaching me how to follow mine too. I admit, you're inspirational, yet I wish you were less irrational, and that's me being "honest and straight forward".

The Shrink and the Missing Link

You said I broke your heart, you finally spoke
I said no baby; it was my heart I broke
You said you felt numb; you had to see a shrink
To help you feel again and find the missing link

He said that in that brutal coming apart
You had no voice, which was what broke your heart
We said we were gonna make a decision together
Again 9 days went by with no communication ever

You said you don’t like to fire back, that you hate it
But recovery for you was so easy, it’s overrated
You couldn’t believe it’s been only a month not a year
You’re not bitter or angry or playing a martyr, yet dear

You talked about how you had to improvise
And walked the cold nights with tears in your eyes
But did you tell your shrink how you always said you’d call
And successfully managed to always drop the ball

Did you tell him how you turned me into a convenient box
That you only opened while driving those endless blocks
How you moved to a different city for your career
And planned on moving me there in a little bit over a year

Oh wait, did you tell him when and how we first met
The time we spent together, does he know any of that yet
The songs I wrote and sent you, were returned unheard
The blogs I wrote were also unread and that hurt

But it was me who had to baby you when you felt bad
You broke your own heart; the book you gave me suggested that
My conscience is clear baby, that guilt trip you lurked
Casually into your communication this time did not work

And tell me something love, didn’t your shrink
Tell you that actions usually reflect what people think
Is he telling you now what to eat, when to stop when you drink
How to love yourself and be in harmony and in sync

Now if I may, let me tell you about that missing link
Without any disrespect to your "so called, imaginary" shrink
When you keep on lying and manipulating and don't even blink
You excel at it, but eventually its smell does stink

Now that's what I call a free session .....

Age and Aging, are they the same?

One of the most common concerns in anybody's life is "Age and Aging", and though age is one thing and aging is another, their direction is very similar.

Age is not just a number, it's a representation of your life experience and what you've done with the years you have on you. When I was 20, I certainly loved being that young, but I look back and I tell myself "My God, did I really do that! did I really say this!". My energy was different, but so was my experience and my knowledge. And the world, the world looked fantastic, promising, full of hopes and also full of directions. The potential to a happy successful future was beyond imagination, yes, the sky was the limit.

Turning 30 was not exactly easy, saying goodbye to my 20s? oh boy, that was hard, but I look back and I wonder why was I shocked, why did I tell everyone that I went to bed at age 24 and woke up suddenly at 30? I certainly didn't waste those 6 years, or did I? I'd like to believe that I have learned so much and that my behavior became more rational and more balanced. Then comes 35 and 36 and like most of us, I don't think a day goes by without acknowledging how old I am. I still remember when I was managing a bank, one of my employees asked for some help with his "middle aged customer" as he put it, to my surprise when I met the customer, she was 35 years old, I was 32 back then. I couldn't help but think that night of what is "middle aged"? is there such a thing or is it a term we use to say that in 32 or 35 more years I will die so now I'm middle aged….?

I certainly don't like those labels. If only live 40 years, does that mean at age 20 I was a middle aged man? One of my friends told me something I really liked, she said to me when I was sharing with her how my 20s went by so quickly that I should be celebrating my 30s because I'm in my prime, I liked that. I started celebrating my prime, and I don't think I want to quit that celebration at any age. Each age has its prime, but one thing that's worth the prime celebration at any age is again the knowledge we get with every year, month, day, minute and second we live, with every breath we breathe. It's not optional, we learn and we observe, and the more we learn about ourselves the better off we are. That is age for me. Realistically there are things you can't do after a certain age, for example, I will not be pursuing becoming a gymnastic at age 50 or 60, but I already planned on living a healthy long life by the choices I make. Yes a car can crash me in seconds but that's not what I think of when I make my choices today to have a healthy future tomorrow.

Talking about health, here comes "Aging" and the mask we wear behind the word "healthier". I have seen so many men and women doing plastic surgeries, but plastic surgeries can be categorized differently. Some of them can be severe and some of them can be as simple as fixing your teeth or having a nose job (the oldest plastic surgery). So what makes the simple ones okay and have the world frown on the rest, like injecting botox and having face lifts and so on? I don't know how to answer this question, I can point out the difference between having braces or a nose job which is a in most cases a one time procedure, and having facelifts which people start and don't know when and where or how to stop. Could the motivation be the key factor whether it is to look better or to look younger? and is looking better same as looking younger?

Age is a concern that is overrated, but it is what we made it today. Living in LA for 10 years had certainly taught me how important young age is and how important slow aging is. After all LA has Hollywood and Hollywood is obsessed with youth and beauty. But I turned my back on that because it's a losing game. We are all growing older, and with every year we age, we drag everyone we know with us. Aging is different, we're not all blessed with the same good genes that some of us have. So the reaction is more surgeries to look temporarily better. For me, losing my dad to cancer had taught me that regardless of the look, it's the heath that matters the most, so I plan on living a long healthy life and I do what I can and what I know to make that possible. I throw that out in the world and wish for the best. I feel young and I feel good and I want to feel the same in 10, 20, 30 and 40 years from now.