The Convenient Box

As he was rushing, climbing the last steps of the building to the rooftop to watch the sunset, it finally dawned on Johnny that, just like the stairs were over, his one year old love experience was over too. Johnny looked all the way down to the bottom of the stairway on that very last day of the year, as if he were evaluating the whole year and the progress of his relationship going up one level at a time, taking it slowly over 12 months instead of taking the elevator. And when the time came for a milestone celebration, it was the end instead. He couldn't help but let couple of precious tears fall down, glittering like gold as the dying rays of the sunset penetrated them quickly like an arrow aimed at a dove flying in a cloudy sky that he thought he would see blue at one point.

Johnny lifted his head up and let himself breath the freedom he was granted but never demanded. He looked far away as he was approaching the edge of the building roof, with eyes that had exchanged life with death and a face that had swapped expressions with wrinkles for his tears to run comfortably through. His face muscles failed him in keeping the fake smile he drew on to get through the celebrating crowds in the lobby. Instead, his lips started nervously trembling  as he watched the dying sun getting buried in a purple sky.

Death was the only thought on Johnny's mind. Everything represented the end; the end of a day, the end of a year, sunset, the rooftop, and the end of a relationship. A relationship he thought that it was his last chance to live and continue his journey of a life that already lacked options. He felt imprisoned where he thought he was supposed to feel that he owned the world

As his silent tears exhausted the energy out of his body, Johnny collapsed down on his knees and buried his head in his big hands. The image of a candle in a convenient box was the only image he saw himself turning into the past year of his life. As he reflected upon the year, he saw the box getting opened, sometimes slightly, sometimes all the way and sometimes in between, depending on how much of a candle light was needed. Johnny also saw the phases when the box remained closed and wondered why he was not able to see the writings on the walls of the box. It was warm inside, but too dark. A candle needs air to stay lit, that was not the case for him.

Suddenly he heard the angry rhythm of the waves. It was louder than the voice he was infatuated with its never-ending and never fulfilled promises of tomorrow. Every wave splashed hard against reality, undressing it one layer at a time from all the dreams that were added on, in a fantasy he always knew on a certain level, would end. But suddenly ......... the angry waves calmed down and the voices of children's laughter shifted his attention from far away to a much closer place, a place where he was able to observe kids making fun of themselves as the waves were causing the castles they built on the sand to fall apart.

The waves turned into little splashes that started soothing Johnny's restless soul. And the minute his eyes, that were reflecting the glimpses of the dusk, caught the moon peacefully initiating a long silver stroke across the ocean's bed, he realized that the complete darkness he expected next, was merely the fear of the unknown. But Johnny knew one thing; the convenient box is no longer a convenient box. It's a precious box he had betrayed by allowing others to close. It's a precious box that he will carry in his heart and keep open all the time. Johnny finally went down through the lobby into the shore to walk. He didn't mind the celebrations around, he himself was celebrating at that point, by himself. He was celebrating a new beginning, a new light, and new possibilities. It was not the moon or the stars that helped him see his way, it was the candle in his precious box that lit the darkness around and showed him the way out of the building of despair into the shore of Life.

I have done nothing for myself

He sat down across the room from me with his wife next to him, and the minute he heard the very first part of my answer to his question, he interrupted me in front of all my folks who had come to visit, saying "Come back Tony, you have done nothing for yourself over there, you're 37 and still not married, you don't own your residence and you have no career".

It didn't come as a total shock, I was expecting it, just not from him. It was not his place to judge me the way he did. But he judged me according to his definition of success, not mine. I just said that I was happy and it's all that mattered to me. When I added that I had pretty much built a life for myself in the US, his wife stopped me from continuing my sentence saying "Stop building already, just come back, it's better for you here". But how is it better for me here? How does she know that? Does she know that I feel that I belong in my current town more than where I grew up? And what difference does it make when I am a minority in both places yet in one of those two places, no one ridicules me the way she and her husband did.

The next morning he saw my sister and asked her to convince me to come back. My sister, who never loses her cool, asked him for the reason I should come back and he said "Your brother did nothing in 11 years" and she went off on him. She mentioned to him some things I didn't even bother to think of, and she was right.

My philosophy considers being happy and enjoying the present as the prime reason to live, and the standards to being successful. And though I'm happy, his words got me bad. Why? I look back at those 11 years and reflect, I think of the 8 visits I made across the ocean all the way to my home town in Syria, I think of the 4 trips I took to Europe, Canada and Mexico. I think of the 10 visits I made to different US states and of the 13 trips I made across California itself. I loved every moment of those trips, I learned from different cultures and I met wonderful people.

In 11 years I have been in 2 major relationships, one of which, is current, but yes, I'm still not married and I'm 37. In 11 years I met four of the closest friends that I call best friends and a lot of people who care for me and would not use words that make me feel the way he and his wife made me feel. In 11 years I moved from one of the most dangerous cities in LA to one of the coolest places that costs me an arm and a leg a month in rent, and I don't own that place because I can't afford buying it.

In 11 years I climbed the ladder professionally from an entry level to the top, Managing entry levels, and I excelled at it. In May of 2009, I gave all that up, by choice, to start my own business, when I found out that it added no value to my life. And I admit that financially I took a steep decline.

In 11 years I made several attempts to break into the music industry, I finally managed to get two CDs out. Did they come back with an income? No. But that didn't stop me from doing what I enjoy. I will always write and sing.

All that came with a cost. I won't put down how much I could have saved had I not moved out of Inglewood, had I not had the chance to visit with my father before he passed, had I not brought him over to see where I live and how I live, had I not given up my career that was causing me so much stress to be able to save a grand or two every month, had I not enjoyed my hobbies as an outlet to expressing who I am, had I not visited with friends, dined out exploring the city and went out on different dates. Yes, I would have saved a lot of money if I didn't choose to live. And I would have turned into a bitter, stressed out, resentful man, who would have successfully owned his house and made something for himself.

I question myself. I question the funds I have in my bank account today more than I did 11 years ago when I had only $ 3000.00 hidden in my jeans. I question the safety of where I live today more than I did when I lived at a place where crime rate hit all time high. I question the relationship I'm in today more than the casual dates I went on when I didn't know much about myself. But most of all, I question the reason why his words got into me the way they did.

There's no stability in my life today, so I live hand to mouth, but I'm lucky doing what I love to do and I hope that one day, I will be able to do what I enjoy doing the most and have that as a full time job. I am done fooling myself into the American dream. My dream is to live the present which is all I have. I live at a place that I have the privilege of calling home and feeling at home under its roof, I don't own it, but what difference does it make? I ain't taking it with me when I die anyway. And how do you explain any of that to him or his wife? And why should I?

I smiled to him and politely said "I'm happy where I am. My happiness has no price tag attached to it, and for me, it's all that matters. My happiness is the standards of my success, and that is what I have done for myself".

This is not a Love Blog

This is not a love blog, bye bye baby

"I keep on waiting, anticipating, but I can't wait forever
You say you love me, you're thinking of me, but we're never together"

A lot of times we relate to so much in songs because of the way they were written, the images they reflect and the feelings they express. Songwriters are people like you and I, going through experiences like ours. Some of them have the ability to express their feelings artistically, with so much eloquence and sensitivity. And others, express their feelings with simple yet sensational words. And that plays a string or two or even six in our hearts, depending on the experience itself.

And baby, I'm a songwriter myself and I love expressing myself, this time though, I'm not going to write a love song, or a song at all. I'm going to tell you in a blog how much I love you.

I have expressed my love for you over the past year in so many ways. The amount of love I have for you hurts, it might take an ordinary man, but with extraordinary commitment to deal with that kind of experience. And even though the "Wanting you" that turned into "Needing you" that became "Yearning for you" hurts so much, it's a privilege to live and enjoy that kind of pain. And I want to thank you for the experience because now, if I die, I have at least known the taste of true love with you, if you only knew what you are to me. Oh But you do.

It’s true; love doesn't know time and place. I fell in love with you right before I turned 36 and right after I gave up on the idea of being in love. Your love took me back to being 16. The thought of you, seeing you, hearing your voice and spending time together were the happiest moments of my life. Your love erased all the hurt and heartaches of previous relationships. I stand naked in front of you, and no matter how many layers of clothes I wear, your love sees right through me. I refuse to compromise the integrity of our relationship or be less than a 100% with you. I loved myself through your eyes. I felt that I was born to love you, and that gave me a better purpose in life. Nothing else really mattered.

I know that I'm romantic, but when you came into my life, I turned from being just romantic, into being a poet, an enchanter, a philosopher, a dreamer and a passionate lover. I wrote you songs and I sang them declaring my love for you on every page and every stage. I wrote down my philosophy and I loved the depth and dimensions you added to it. I dreamt of you day and night and I lived the dream and cherished it in my heart. I fell in love and I didn't want to resist any moment of it because it felt natural, it felt right and real.

And baby, you ….. you are the sexiest, most intelligent, passionate, bravest, purest and most beautiful soul ever existed on this earth. You make a difference, you touch lives, and you melt hearts and lighten darkness. I want to thank you but I don't think the words "Thank you" or "I love you"  are ever expressive enough to what and how I feel for you.

Please believe me when I say this, having to go separate ways is the most difficult, painful, brutal heartbreak I will probably ever experience, yet in my heart I know that it's the right thing to do. The only way left to keep that beautiful dream alive is to end what we have. I don't think my life would ever be the same again. And with all the tears and hesitation, it is what should happen now.

You taught me to love myself with your generous love. And that love for me is what's ending our relationship. I kneel down and pray for your well being, for your soul to find a mate, for the world to taste drops of your love and I, I will always love you.

Next time you fall in love, and I know and trust that you will, I just hope that you would let your man into your world the way I let you into mine, because the distance you kept me at, was just .....

 ........  pathetic

This is not a love blog, bye bye baby ...

Jesus

Jesus, a Hispanic hunched back old man with one eye, rides his bike to and from work every day and smiles to everyone he passes by.

One day I sat down with him at the bank where I work, after observing him making deposits for his boss on daily basis for months. I was excited to finally have the opportunity to get to know him and ask him about his story and the secret of his happiness. He told me, in broken English and thick Spanish accent, a heartbreaking story that started with his dream of going back to school to improve his English language then to learn the real estate business. He wanted to help the hispanic community find and purchase houses to make them home. Jesus, a name that sounds like Hesoos, had a lot of difficulties in his youth and on top of dropping out of school at a very young age to work to support his family, he got involved in some tragic incidents that cost him losing his eye, which in turn, cost him the ability to drive a car and limited his work opportunities to either walking distances or biking and riding buses. And since the day has only 24 hours and there was only so much Jesus could do, his dreams were crashed.


Jesus not only smiles to you whenever your eyes meet, If you happen to be behind him entering any place, he would hold the door for you without waiting for your "thank you". If you happen to arrive at the same time, he would not walk in before you do. He says hello to everyone, people he knows and people he doesn't. But the cool thing about him, he doesn't wait for you to greet him back. He will say hello whether you will meet his salute with kindness or with rudeness. Your reaction to his actions does not take away from the wonderful man he is.

I guess what's amazing about Jesus is his ability to accept his new reality and not taking his story and his past as an excuse to turn himself into a bitter man. Even though he looks like an old, tired, weak and broken man, he's not. His spirit is free, and that's what makes him soar above all the stress and meaningless battles that we think we're surviving.

After I gave Jesus a copy of his account information, I asked him about the future. He smiled and said to me that we worry too much. I said aren't you afraid of being alone. He said that being alone is not the worst thing that can happen. He participates in a lot of volunteer work for his community and he might be alone, but he doesn't feel lonely.

Jesus had to leave, and though my questions scratched only the surface of what I wanted to ask, his answers played on so many strings in my heart with music that was so deep and touching. I wanted to offer Jesus help, but instead, he helped me with the light he shed into my life in those 10 minutes I chatted with him. He wants nothing from anyone, certainly no pity. I felt inferior to Jesus, not because of anything he said or the way he talked, he was kind and humble, but because when I approached him, I thought I was being kind and nice to him and maybe I subconsciously felt superior to him in my health and my stable comfortable desk job, but his philosophy showed me his real strength and his ability to be over what I am slave to, that made me realize how weak I am.

Jesus, a Hispanic hunched back old man with one eye, rides his bike to and from work every day and smiles to everyone he passes by. It's true he sees everything in two dimensions, but his vision of life goes beyond all dimensions and penetrates all the fake layers that already blinded most of us. Jesus, God bless you, you are a true inspiration.

My December

Every year comes and goes with a little or no difference from the year before. And every year there are some great celebrations and some unfortunate experiences but ultimately, it's a repetition of a cycle that starts in January and concludes in December. And even though Spring is a promise of Hope, Summer is a birth of Energy and Autumn is a dream of Romance, nothing seems to come close to the way December stands out and makes every year so special, again.

December is the month that reaps the harvest of all 11 preceding months. But December is not an ending, it is a birth; a birth of realization and a start of new resolutions.

December is cold, yet it personally gives warmth to my heart. The thought of December puts a smile on my face and a look beyond the horizon in my eyes. In and right before the month starts, my family celebrates the birthdays of 5 out of 6 members of it.

December is Christmas, and Christmas is preparation and celebration. In December the world celebrates birth, the birth of a God to some, the birth of something special and personal to others and the birth of a promise that will be fulfilled the year to come for the rest. And regardless of the meanings we attach to the month, there's an undeniable joy in the air. Regardless of your faith and belief, December somehow feels holy.

And it could be the childish faith that became an inevitable tradition, or it could be the peace of mind that comes with prayers. It could also be a nostalgia for the childhood innocence through the street lights and through the music that's playing in every corner. But what ultimately makes a difference in that month is you yourself and what you do and how you contribute. A difference not just in your life, but in someone's life. And in today's world, reaching out and extending helping hands have become so much easier than it used to be, and the world around us can afford a lot of that. We don't need to look far away, there's someone within a stone's throw who needs our help, our smile, our kindness and our light in their darkness.

Whatever you do in December, make time to be with family and friends, and if that's not possible, visit the past and select those happy memories that would warm up your heart.
And whatever you do in December, don't forget to smile and send out positive energy with gratitude about the year that has just passed, hope for the year to come and faith in the moment, for the moment is what makes the past meaningful and the future full of hope.

December, my birth, not just 37 years ago, but this year and every coming year. I pray that your December gives you warmth, peace of mind and most of all .... Love

Walking the walk

Once upon a time in the summer of 1984 I discovered a straight path from Baghdad Station all the way to where Villat and Suleymaneih streets meet in a delta kind of way in Aleppo city. I started my very first job at the age of 10. I remember going to that car repair shop every morning with my tiny little steps that seemed to take forever. It was a hot summer and the Villat building entrances were my refuge from the blazing sun for 10 seconds with the shade and humidity they provided. The walk to and from work didn't take a full summer. I think I might have gotten fired because I was petting the cat they had a little more than paying attention to how a car was being repaired. Well, I didn't have to worry about it because I didn't have a social security number back then and it certainly didn't go on my record. (Did I mention that they didn't pay me unemployment too?) And that's how and when my story with walking started.

The following summer my walk took a different direction. I walked to Mnshiyeh through Azizieh to learn how to make outdoors business signs. I walked to the shop twice every day since all shops in Aleppo close for a lunch break for 2 to 3 hours. The walk was not too bad, I took shelter from the sun in the shades of the crowded tall buildings. However, instead of employing the early signs of sketching talent I showed within the sign business, I learned how to make coffee and mop the floors. When I finally gave up on the fairy to appear and change my fate like Cinderella, I stood up for myself and told dad that I didn't want to step a foot in that workshop again. Well, school had started by then, so dad didn't have much of a choice left.

Then the summer after, we extended the walk a bit longer. Dad insisted on making a man of me, so he had a plan; no lazy summers for Tony, no swimming pools, no hanging out or waking up at noon. I complained at the beginning of every summer. Never learned my lesson; complaints are heard only by God. So the next walk was to Baron street. Well I thought I'd be working at the Baron hotel and get to understand what Agatha Christie wrote about in there, but to my disappointment, it was at a car spare parts shop, that was a 25 minute walk from our apartment.

Enough about car and car businesses, this is about walking. And the fact that we never owned a car since dad moved us from Venezuela to Syria in 1974, made me wonder why he wanted me to work and learn about cars. The summer after, cars were off topic, I got employed at a make-up store that belonged to the girlfriend of my cousin (look at that random pattern). The walk was 25 minutes and yet again it was 4 times a day. I spent close to 2 hours on the road walking to Jabriyeh six days a week wondering as a 13 year old boy, where the world ended. I knew that the earth was a globe, but my imagination pictured high thick stone walls at one point. And as much as curiosity kills the cat, my walks left me with no more curiosity. Aleppo introduced itself to me every summer, with a farther, longer and stranger walk

After two more summers of working here and there, dad found me a career path for my high school summers (buy one get three, whether you like it or not). That career path was called "Hanin" which means "Nostalgia". I wasn't sure what the relationship was between the underwear produced under that brand name and the name itself. I could only imagine what kind of nostalgia certain people would feel when they wear their underwear (or someone Else's in that case). Anyway, Hanin took the country by storm. Within a few years it became # 1 selling underwear in Syria, thanks to my contribution of course. The first two summers, I had to walk 35 to 40 minutes to get to an area that seemed foreign to me at the time, it was called Souk Alhal. But I didn't mind since I worked one shift from 8:30 to 4:30. However when I finished my baccalaureate year, Dad and the owner who happened to be our neighbor, broke the news to me; I had the privilege to work in a basement in Suleimaneyeh and learn from the smartest, shrewdest, most talented engineer/business man/corporate president in the world (well, that was my dad's opinion of him, not mine). That time though, from 8AM to 8PM. I had 45 minute lunch breaks which I spent 30 minutes of, walking back and forth to my place to eat lunch with my family in 15 minutes. After 4 months I manned up and made my voice heard. I didn't want to work there anymore.

NOOOOOO Problem, the plastic factory was waiting for me. The factory was in Alaarkoob; an industrial area on the way to the airport that I had never heard of before I turned 17. Oh boy that was something I had nightmares about long after I quit. The walk again was 40 minutes, but one shift; 6 AM to 3 PM. I hated waking up before daylight and walking to work on those freezing depressing winter mornings. But what I hated more was, seeing how the workers were getting hit by the owner; fully grown men quitting one after the other till I became the exclusive worker, employee, slave, you name it, at that factory. I thought to myself that it was a matter of time before I get slapped on the face or pushed against a wall. Funny enough, I was referred to work there by a priest.

After six months, and out of fear and desperation, I planned my next plot. A plot that turned out to be one of the best moves I have ever made in my life. I secretly got an interview for a job at an industrial consulting company (AKA INCOCO) in the seven lakes area; a downtown where most of the government offices operate from. I got the job and I had the burden of breaking the news to the plastic factory surgeon, I mean owner. I remember standing at a distance from him trying to give him the keys and trying to avoid his anger and violence. He snatched the keys and said those words that I don't think I'll ever forget "Go wherever the hell you want to go, you think work would not go on without you?" I looked around and thought to myself "Ummm, no, I am your last employee dude, unless those machines know how to operate themselves, you got no work". But I remember how the length of that 40 minute walk turned into a 10 minute run. I was flying with so much joy. I, for the very first time, had chosen the walk myself. And it was a great choice that lasted 7 years. Had I not immigrated to the US, I could very much still be walking and working there today.

Tarek Oubari, my boss, changed my life. He believed in me more than I believed in myself. He trusted me with more than I thought I could handle. I walked happily every morning for 20 minutes to go to work at a company that got so much potential. Within couple of years I was in charge of a tiny little spare part department at age 20. Then I was sent as a translator for training courses that were held in English in Germany and Italy. Mr. Ouabri was so generous with me and allowed me to take time off every year till I finished my BA degree in Literature. I walked to INCOCO knowing that it was the right walk for me, my feet were not walking me to work, it was my heart. I learned so much and I made friends that, 18 years later, are still my good friends despite of the distance between us. Mr. Oubari helped me shape my life through what he saw in me. I don't think I would have the confidence to walk ahead to the unknown without his contribution in my life.

I came to Los Angeles in 2000. And no I didn't walk to LA, but I still walk in LA; a city that is not exactly meant for walking (well, that's a blog by itself)

One thing I know is that my achievements are pretty ordinary and that I'm not the first man who sought the destination of his walks far away from home, and I'm certainly not the last. Still, I'm bewildered by every step I took, every mile I walked, every new area I wandered through, every kind of work I had to work and every personality I worked for. I'm also amazed by the people I met, the places I visited, the knowledge I acquired, the music I heard, the food I ate and the cultures I got accustomed to. Sometimes I look back and feel that I spent half of my life walking, then I look at the future and smile, because as I breathe in, I feel that I want to spend the rest of my life walking, discovering what's beyond the tall walls by the end of the earth. I stumbled and fell so many times, but I got up and walked on, I'm not tired, they were all stepping stones. Today I'm walking with bigger steps than the 10 year old boy who was hiding from the scorching sun, yet with the same curiosity and passion for life and knowledge in his heart. I pray that I'll be able to enjoy all kinds of walks of life for the rest of my life. And I'm still walking ...

Facebook, how did we survive before it?

Around the last week of every year I write my annual email that I send to my friends and family. I used to look forward to writing my Annual email, put a lot of thought in it, attach pictures, maybe a song or a poem and talk about the blessings that year brought into my life.

That annual gave birth to my weekly blog. After sending many of them year after year, I was encouraged to start writing by some of those recipients and I wanted to give it a shot.

Then Facebook happened. And with Facebook my life became constantly on public display, by choice if I may add. I upload pictures, songs, poems, comments and share with … the world. I wish everyone happy thanksgiving and happy new year. I receive bunch of love on my birthday. A lot of uplifting comments when I'm sick or if I had a surgery, and warm thoughts to get me through some tough times. And as much as I think it's impersonal, it actually works and I have a love-hate relationship with it.



Facebook made it a lot easier to stay in touch with people; reminders of birthdays, events, fan-clubs, compliments, jokes, funny clips and you name it. But the one thing that it took away is the exciting intimate feeling of sharing something special with special friends only.

I started Facebook a few years back. I loved it at the beginning, I had 30 to 40 friends that I really cared about having on my friends list. I liked reading their updates and sharing mine with them. Then the friends requests got out of control. At the beginning I was kind of selective but then I might have fallen for the same meaningless popularity contest every teenager is going through; the "I have more friends than you do" disease. The number of friends I have suddenly increased to 75 then 100 then 300 and it keeps on growing. Some of the friends on my list are people who added me without saying a word, not even "Hello". The funny thing is that they're the same people who don't say "Hello" to me when they see me in public. After accepting some of them, I decided to clean up my friends list and keep it for "friends" so I deleted some of them. A few months later I received friends requests from them, again. I guess because of the number of friends they have, they forgot who they sent requests to.

Personally I hardly send friend's requests. The ones I had at the beginning were no brainer, they're my best friends. But after establishing whom I wanted on there, I mostly respond to friends' requests. Some of which, I happily accept, and others, I say "oh what the hell, I might as well" and I finally learned to say NO to some.

Discovering "Hide this post" and "Hide all posts by this person" Tabs was a gem. I found a way to stop seeing those certain posts like the never ending posts of those games Facebook has where people discover a lonely pink cow or expand their imaginary gardens or …… etc

And now comes the "Block this person"  tab that I never thought I would use. Alas I had to finally utilize that tool and block two or three people from seeing me after using their Facebook profile to promote religion and certain political agendas. And let me add here that every one is entitled to their own opinion and that's totally okay, but the ones I blocked were the ones who have the mentality of "It's my way or the highway" insulting anyone and everyone who disagrees with their posts.

Then comes the "Limited List", another great tool to keep certain things from certain ones and keep certain ones from accessing certain things. Go figure ....

So Facebook me and I'll Facebook you too, but neither of us can really blame the website, it's what you do with it and how you use it. It has all the tools to take you back to those special 30 or 40 friends you want to see. And it has the tools to keep it very special and private or make a whore of yourself. Use it the way you want or don't use it all. The fact remains, it made the world much smaller and a lot easier to communicate and share with.

Ye the fact remains and it's simple. Though it can get you closer to distant people whom you might have never even thought you would reconnect with, even reunite with, it distanced you from those you were close to, and it will distance you more, whether you like it or not, because after all, there's only 24 hours in any given day. Manage the time you spend on this addictive social network!