Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Thesis: Mad Sickness.

It is a sickness.
So our due is on the 24th of January, which is Next Monday, which is technically only 6 days away.

"Oh, Sweet Lord!"

When we start getting to a count down and include all the small numbers we become completely dysfunctional for a whole minute...and we just Panic.
Panic attack: is supposedly like when panic attacks you and you are suddenly struck down by fear, or is it when you attack it (not sure how this might work) or is it really when you panic and just start attacking. I dont know, anyway with thesis, you have got to experience all three of these situations, at separate times. Sometimes, and this is really scary, all three hit you at the same time, and man, quite an explosion right there.

So thesis. Your harsh man!!

Okay so we try. We plan our days according to you. Right, so today, im just going to be writing thesis. Yea so i always wake up 2 to 3 hours later than what i had already planned. Panic slightly but it's always okay, because you know the day just started and it's cool we got this.
Have my breakfast while pondering on the idea of thesis, and what i should start with first.
Then i get my laptop, sit down in a comfortable space, and this is where i am supposed to just go crazy on my thesis. This is where all the exciting things happen. This is where technically i am supposed to start writing. Ok, so i got this.
I open the document, and stare at it for a second or two. Suddenly i am checking facebook, just for a couple of minutes, and of course my email, and twitter...
Then okay, that's it, i am done with wasting time.
I go on skype, check if anyone is available and have a little chat with them.
Ok, done with the little conversations, now i will close everything and just work.
Yea, then i get all serious, and slightly frown, you know to set the mood, and start "reading". I write a sentence, sometimes two. Feel accomplished and think, i will open facebook for just a little bit. (and now see all this happens unconsciously!) So i do, and the page is practically still the same. I refresh it after a little while (and that is usually just one second) and nothing new happens, the page still looks practically the same, this is when i think okay, back to thesis. Then i think, im just gonna check on everyone else, and ask people how they are doing with thesis.

And i go back and forth between thesis, and facebook, and twitter, and ofcourse skype (because i never really closed it i just put the "do not disturb"-the red scary one,which is to say please don't disturb me, but i sure as hell will).

And then this is when i decide, you know what i need a break. And i get up and waste time doing absolutely nothing. Then we all start nagging about how stupid thesis is, and how it's so horrible, and how much we miss each other (because you know, we each need to be home alone to be able to focus).

And the next thing i know is, a 2 to 3 sentence paragraph written for my thesis, and an entire blog post.


Thesis. You a mad sickness.

Friday, January 14, 2011

"What if" !?

After a day of writing thesis, we had to go out, roam the streets and see what they had to offer us...
We started off with a dinner of a chicken on a plate in Roadster and then head to Rabbit Hole to maybe add a spice to our night.

We were four, and as the deal goes: 4 girls. 1 night. 1 night out. 1 city. Beirut.

A challenge. A healthy diet. Two of us sober. DooDoo shots. Tequila shots. (The numbers wont be mentioned just to spare them the humiliation.) Two of us drunk. Better yet tipsy. Well let's just settle for buzzed.
Love confessions and some skin out and about.

Biting. Dancing. Kissing, or almost kissing. Drinking. Laughing. Giggling. Peak of it all, walking around a straight line.

"Haram the waiter"
"Beirut is the Amsterdam of the Middle East"
"Every night is the night"
"I like to bite myself"
"I love you"
"The 'what if' game..."

Inspirational quotes kept finding their way into our conversations...

A night of a story about making love...


Early night. Smooth night. Sweet night.
Just another night...

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Just almost older...

It is strange this business of getting older.
Dania, Rawane, and I were sitting at the green oval when Dania reminds me that my 22nd birthday is in a month or so.

22. not too old. but not so young. not too scary. but almost there.
22. not too late. but not 21. not a baby. not a kid. and not a teen.
22. Just 22.

Suddenly the sound of it started to get heavier, and we got carried away in conversation about the future and what and where we will be. Except our conversation was filled with blanks more than sentences.

One of us can't imagine herself in the future, it is too blurry for her. When she thinks of it, in the distance, she can't see it.
Another doesn't know what she wants to do but a big part of her plan is doing nothing; however she doesn't know what to do with the nothingness of it all.
And I, I am scared of getting older. I am scared of time passing by too quickly. I am slightly scared of not having my own family, my own little babies, or my own love story.

We walked to class and talked about our future jobs and how we can't be sucked in this capitalist world. We can't be bankers and engineers (well, we really can't because, technically we just don't know how to...); point is, we hope doing what we love wont pass us by. We hope we can make it possible, we hope we can do it on time, before its too late, before we are too old.

Then we walked out of class, with an eerie silence and i could almost hear their thoughts and mine colliding with the imagination of our hearts.

So what about the future?

With time, we will be living it.
Hopefully at 30, we will be writers, directors, photographers, and all that our hearts desire.
Hopefully at 30, we wont be controlled by "reason"...
Hopefully at 30, we wont be struck down by the "real world"...
Hopefully at 30, we will still be foolish...
Hopefully at 30, we will still take off our clothes and jump in the river...
Hopefully at 30, we will still dance under the rain...
Hopefully at 30, we will still hit the bars and come back with a couple of stories to tell...
Hopefully at 30, we will still take a chance on things...
Hopefully at 30, we will still want to jump off a plane...
Hopefully at 30, we will still bounce around in circles...
Hopefully at 30, we wont be too old to go to a rave...
Hopefully at 30, we will still find life exciting...
Hopefully at 30, our lives will be exciting...
Hopefully at 30, we will look back at today, at the 21 year old in us, delight in a self high-five, sit back on a beach chair, enjoy the touch of sand on our feet, and just feel our hearts accelerate with the intensity of our lives.

Monday, January 10, 2011

It will always be safer Underground...

Photography by Dania Bdeir.

Time: Sunday January 9,2011
Location: The Basement.

We all head out at around 11:30 pm to the Basement.
To the last night.
To the last dance, at the Basement.

The second we walked in, our bodies started moving to the music.
We just danced, like we always do... we gathered around each other , either dancing with one another, or each alone, or with people around.. but always around each other ...

We danced to the music. With the music. For the music.
We just did not stop.

Alcohol. Disco ball. Red and blue disco light. More alcohol. Dancing. Laughing. Screaming. Hugging. Dancing and dancing,
The night was the place, the music, and the people.
And our bodies were just reacting. They moved. And we danced.

And then, the song started to rise: "Amsterdam,Dance Valley, last song, all the crazy people around, lights, lazers, rain...Just close your eyes, dance, and remember".

Time was lost in the music and we danced with it; we tossed it over with our hips, our hands,our feet. We danced around in circles and just got lost in time.
There was no separation anymore. In the basement, the night is beautiful and endless...

So we danced and danced, and people started to leave because as much as time can be forgotten it will come back and remind us that it will always be there...
Slowly, the place was empty, and we just danced. The staff was practically taking it off, and we just danced.

On the tables. On the chairs. On the bar. On the platform. On the ground. On the stairs.
We just danced.

Only a few were left. And it was only the three of us, still dancing, still jumping, still floating, still dreaming.

But life outside is different and time was ticking and trying to penetrate the basement and regain control.
Sadly it did.

At 8 in the morning. The music stopped. Our bodies stopped. And time stepped right in.
The last dance at the basement wore off. And the lights came out.
The Basement will be closing after this night, or this morning, or whatever time wants to decide.


It is safer underground.
At least, the underground knows no time.

The Basement. Our own little Berlin, in the city of Beirut.
We will wait...