PYNK is a brash celebration of creation. self love. sexuality. and pussy power! PYNK is the color that unites us all, for pink is the color found in the deepest and darkest nooks and crannies of humans everywhere…
PYNK is where the future is born….
Day 2 Prompt: Think of three people in your life. Give your character the hair and laugh of person 1, the face and bedroom of person 2, and the wardrobe and mannerisms of person 3. This is your new protagonist. Feel free to give him or her any other characteristics you’d like. Give us an idea of who your character is by describing only the first 60 seconds of the character’s day. The sun has just…
Day 1 Prompt: Take us through a written walk down your street and to your favorite place through the eyes of somebody else. Walking down the street is a foreign concept around this area. The sidewalk is not even well-prepared for such an atrocious activity. If there’s a sidewalk in the first place, trees take up most of the space, with the rest of it unusable due to bad maintenance. This is why…
It’s true what they say; if you’re mother is not happy with you, nothing will go your way until you please her.
Myth or not, it’s happening. I’m not sure if this is the case, really. What I know though is that this has been a hell week, and it hasn’t ended yet.
Let me start with my freelance project from last week. Yousef came to me and practically threw a project my way. It’s unpaid, which is fine as I am credited as an editor and author. My issue with entire project was the extreme lack of organization. I understand that everything was last minute and I would have been able to accommodate that well into my unusually long (and highly anticipated) weekend. However, Yousef did not brief me well on the project. In fact, I received the working emails from Omar and I still had no idea what they wanted from me. I texted Omar saying that I have no clue what I’m supposed to be doing.
Omar was shocked and replied back telling me what I’m supposed to be doing. In a nutshell, Omar asked me to transcribe an hour-long audio that is spoken in 3arabeezi so that I can edit it into Classic Arabic and then translate it fully into English.
I’m not sure if at that point, Omar or Yousef were aware of how much time such thing requires, as well as how many pages that would take from their book.
I complied, even though I was really in a dire need for that long weekend after working on the previous freelance project. I started on the project at home on Monday, visited their office on Tuesday to continue working in their presence, and then continued on the first day of my long weekend at their office. I got there at 16:00 and started transcribing again. I finished transcribing late evening and showed it to Yousef. Yousef was like, “we cannot have 4500 words in the book. We just wanted an introduction, not the interview as is.”
That wasn’t told to me before I started working. Instead of transcribing 4500 words, I could have listened to the interview for one hour, while taking notes of the important things I’d like to discuss in the introduction. I wouldn’t have wasted 3 days to work on something rendered useless at the end of it.
That by itself made me go nuts. I was already in a terrible mood throughout all of it, but this was like the last straw. Why would they make me do 3-days worth of work for me not to use it?
That night, I wrote up a crappy draft of the introduction in English and called it a night… At 2.30 am.
Next day, I really didn’t want to see Yousef or Omar after what they’ve done to me and I decided to work from home. I did so, and I made plans that night to leave the house and take breather. I had to keep pushing the plans until it was 10:30. Hanna came and picked me up to watch a movie, but until then, I was going back and forth with Yousef about the text I’ve written and sent in English and Arabic. I decided to ignore my phone the entire hang out because I needed to take my mind off of things. As soon as Hanna dropped me back home, I find messages from Yousef asking me to join him at Starbucks.
At that point, it was already 1 am. I wanted to murder him. But I said yes anyway. I went to Starbucks and ended up staying there till 5 am. I got in bed at 6 in the morning. It was not fun. I was furious. I wanted to kill someone.
But at least the project was finished by then…
What wasn’t finished by then though is my fluccuating state of mind. Earlier that day, and due to the stress, I ended up yelling at my mom for asking me her usual intrusive questions. As I just said, it’s not uncommon for mom to put her nose in my business. But on Friday, she accused me of mistreating her friends, asked a million questions about my time at my friends’ office, to which she knew the answers by the way, and then started asking me questions based on stalking me on Instagram. After that final question, I exploded and told her to stop asking me such questions and she yelled back the usual “I’m your mother, lower down your voice and watch your tone!” kinda thing.
She hasn’t spoken to me since…
While it’s really good that I am not getting questions for every move I make, this silent treatment is fucked up.
On one hand, I’m not the kind of person who likes being on bad terms with his mother. I like there to be mutual respect. And even though I disrespected her ‘authority’, she did not have the right in the first place to question me like that. I usually play along, but I needed to be left alone on that day and that weekend.
On the other hand, I expected her to calm down like she always does when we fight. I even got her Knafeh the next day as a silent form of apology, because she loves them and I never buy them for her. She refused to eat any of it, like she refuses to talk to me still.
What’s stopping from going and talking to her are two things; first is that my mom needs to understand that what she does is super nosy. I hate lying to my mom, but I am a private person. I have issues being fully open to my friends, let alone my control-freak of a mother. I don’t want her to think that it’s okay to keep meddling and asking things that I don’t feel comfortable sharing with her.
Sometimes, I end up lying about things that are not worth lying about, such as who the friend I’m going out with is - simply because of the follow up questions. If I say something like, I’m going to Abdullah’s, she won’t ask anything afterwards for instance.
Am I happy with the current situation? Not one bit! It is weighing heavy on my heart and it’s keeping my mind at an all-time depressed mode. My sleep is not comfortable, my work is distracted, and my presence with friends is passive.
Which brings me to another topic; friends.
I’ve always had a deep problem with people who leave. October 4th, Karim, who’s engagement party is today, leaves. On October 5th, Osama, who lives and works in Qatar but is here for a short vacation, leaves. On October 6th, Saif, who came back to Amman over a year ago and been having game nights with weekly ever since, leaves. That is 3 people that I interact with heavily. That is 3 people from IAA. That is 3 people I already said goodbye to before and was glad to find our ways back.
I’m being selfish here, I realize that. Karim is in the middle of his pHD, and he needs to go back to UK to continue. Osama obviously cannot leave work, and in February embarks on his next adventure is a Master’s student in Australia. Saif has got a super exclusive opportunity as a researcher at Harvard and he’d be an idiot to let it go.
I’ve said goodbye to the same people once we finished school, but this is not the same situation. Back then, I felt I was being left behind in terms of education. Everyone was getting top international education by some of the finest universities in the world. This time around, I do not have jealousy in me. I have accomplished a lot this year, and I’m sure that what I really want to pursue is coming down the line sooner or later. This time, I simply feel left behind - as a person, and as a friend.
This takes me to the next topic - work. For the past two weeks, it’s been unstable at work. The atmosphere was too tense for my comfort and I ended up hitting up my boss’s office for an open conversation about what’s going on. While she told me I shouldn’t be worried - and at this point, I no longer am - all of this opened the door for my mind to wander. As much as I love Bayt, I don’t want to stay there forever. But there are big issues as to where I should head next.
For a while now, the idea of working in the video game industry has been dancing in my head. The only issue is that I don’t know what I can offer the industry. I am an architect, not a designer. One great thing about working at Bayt is that it’s giving me the chance to develop my design skills, but at this point my services will not be enough for anything any video game company would normally ask for. I would say writing is the way to go, but writing what exactly? This year I managed to have my name on 4 different publications, which should be a good support to help me land a position in a gaming company, but I cannot imagine what I’d be doing. Writing video game stories is something saved for experts and not newcomers.
I can’t say I have thought about it vigorously, but I am staying with Bayt for at least another year. As I said, I need to work on my design skills, and maybe now focus harder than before on that, so that when it’s time to apply, I have a solid background to push me to the next level. In the meantime, I will try to find new freelance projects related to the gaming field.
I already feel slightly at ease after writing all this down. I have an engagement party to go to in a couple of hours and I was in no position to go with my state of mind. At least now, I am capable of maintaining a fake smile and maybe… Just maybe… Actually enjoy myself for the night. I hope my mom comes back to her senses before I end up losing mine…
Update: My dad fell off a ladder today, and my sister who is now in Paris was diagonized with anxiety and mild depression. I have no energy to discuss those after this post. I will try that later.
I’ve been dealt a good hand, authority to light up our black gold. Prepare to paint the world blood. Allow me to take off your crown, your culture, and your grace. Today I’m a slave to your desire and to what they conspire. So I’m playing my trump cards; Trump – and I fall into the glamor of a gun. Trump – and I fall into sin of touching lesser skin. Trumped – as I grab a pussy by the hand. …
Indecisive? I can’t even decide on that. That’s probably how people look at me. I mean, I don’t really give solid answers, as I don’t have any. I have certain dreams and goals, but none of them is clear. None of them is set in stone. One thing that I noticed confident people do is that they always have a plan. But I also noticed they never stick to the plan. So why have a plan in the first place? To keep you on track? Track to what exactly?
I’m jealous of confident people. Not because they lie and change plans, but because always seem like they know what they’re doing. That’s where my jealousy ends, however. Because when it comes to it, most of them are on the cocky side. It’s one thing to be confident of a certain something you’re capable of, and it’s completely another to say you are good at it, but you actually aren’t.
That’s where I’m conflicted. I am human; one that is a jack of all trades, but master of none. I don’t see myself as an ultimate at something. I see myself as a person who can do more than one thing, without excelling at any. I used to think that it’s a good thing. It’s a defining characteristic of who I am to a certain extent. But lately, I cannot seem to see the upside of that. The way I see it now is that it’s just an excuse to drown myself in choices and never choosing a path.
Humans have a short life span. There is not enough time to explore multiple paths like you would in an interactive visual novel. There’s one end to the story, nothing more. This doesn’t really suit my persona. How am I supposed to choose a path?
In Germany, I had a lot of time to think of things. My aunt gave me a hard time and I didn’t have much human contact, so I spent a lot of time inside my head. I also took a look at the people around me. I saw Issa, my cousin, in Germany and we had a talk. Issa knows what he wants in life. He studied Energy Engineering, and now he’s doing his master’s in the field that he sees his future in.
Omar was supposed to be doing his PHD, but instead opted for a second master’s in a field he was aiming for from the very beginning. Even Sami and Zaid, who could not get into Med school, are still doing all they can so they get accepted into those programs. Faisal, on the other hand, altered his career path along the way to being a doctor, but his path doesn’t diverge much from his original intent.
Unlike all of the examples I mentioned, the end goals that I imagine myself reaching, none of it is related to the other. This is the main reason why I cannot make up my mind. I am indecisive because I’m shit scared. How do I know the path I’m taking is the one that is best for me? Will I regret not trying out the other fields? What if I don’t find my calling and end up stuck at a dead end career with none of my hopes and dreams taking form?
My mind has always been a place that hosted hope and despair… sometimes one overtakes the other, but they both coexist. It could be that their coexistence is what’s stopping me from moving forward. My hope imagines and dreams of things, whereas my despair feeds on what seems unachievable for a person like me.
Unlike all the examples I mentioned, I’m the idiot who decided to put aside his studies and aim for a whole new career path. I did not aim to be a marketeer. I wanted to be a copywriter. Life, and Roba, steered me towards a more design-focused direction. It is certainly one of the options I am always hesitant to choose from, but it wasn’t a choice I fully made myself. It was more of go-with-the-flow kind of situation that was backed up by the need to find a job.
When I was in Germany, I came across many offices for video game makers as well as record labels. Everytime I walked past one, my heart beat faster in craving to be part of those industries and offices. I guess one good thing I got out of the trip is that it reminded me that I still have options to explore if I really wanted to.
But at the same time, it reminded me of the fact that I cannot work in Germany. I feel like most options I want to explore need a deep understanding of the language itself, and that is something I am very far away from.
I really want to grow my career. As a person, I feel that a career is where I will succeed. I don’t think I’ll succeed with a love life or friendships. Heck, I don’t think I’ll even succeed as a son on the long run. No one can have it all in this life, but the thing I can have is a well-established, versatile, fun career than jumps from one thing to another.
I took a major risk when I started working for Bayt. People study marketing. I was just thrown in it. I can’t say I’m the best at what I’m doing, but I know for a fact that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been… and that’s only after taking a leap of faith.
Maybe I just need to take more leaps of faith? Bayt is my home for now, but I doubt it will be forever. I cannot decide what my next step should be, but whatever I end up choosing, I have a feeling it will require courage that I haven’t had summoned before for me to leave a happy place and take a step forward.
I know I’ve said a million times that I would explore my options on a smaller scale… but you know what? That will not happen if I keep forcing my mental state to find my next big thing. Baby steps. First of all, I need to take the pressure off of myself, and then a good song will come along.
Maybe I can be angry for once. Maybe I can be angry for once and somebody support my anger. Maybe someone can make me feel like I’m not always insane and that I make a good point for a change. Alas…
Now I’m just getting the same question over and over; how was your trip to Germany? Understandable question. It’s either you are genuinely interested in knowing how the trip went, or you’re making small talk. But I can’t do small talk. Not with how the trip went. I said this before. I am not a fan of lying, and sugarcoating is not my strongest suit.
My aunt did not enjoy the trip. Not the tiniest bit… or at least that’s what she keeps thinking out loud. Every since we stepped foot in Germany, and all I hear her say is how much she regrets the trip, how she doesn’t want to be in Europe, and how she wants to go back to Amman already because everything is just useless and boring.
How do you think that makes me feel? I am not the one who forced her into this trip. I am not the one who suggested the trip to begin with. And I certainly did not ask her to pay for my expenses. I cannot afford this trip, but she offered to pay full expenses if I organize and plan the entirety of the trip.
I might not have paid a single piaster besides personal shopping, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t pay in other forms. I spent long hours and days - canceling other plans and activities I would have preferred to take part in - just comparing prices, booking and canceling hotels, finding the cheapest train tickets, optimizing the trip so we have the most fun with the least amount of spending possible in an expensive country like Germany. I put so much effort and time into creating a plan that would please her. I made sure the plan is versatile and flexible so I can figure out which activities she prefers and replicate the success in the following days.
So when you say everyday - no, every hour - that you are not happy and you want to go back home, how do you think that makes me feel? I am stuck with you, you know. Your negativity I cannot let in one ear and out the other. It settles in. After all, the entire trip revolves around being your tour guide. If you’re unhappy with every single activity that I plan, then I haven’t done my job well. And since I am financially dependent on you, I cannot just ignore her existence and move on.
I planned every step of the way to no avail. A hike in a UNESCO Heritage and Natural site? A 2-hour boat ride in the river? Exploring the European cities on foot? Checking out outlandish architecture and renowned art pieces? Spending time relaxing in the incomparable parks of Germany? Trying out cuisines you have never tried before? Spending a day at a Safari with animals you’ve never even knew existed? Spending a day at a theme park and feeling like a child all over again? Riding the train and experiencing the new feeling of enjoying nature on the move? The only unsuccessful plan was the air balloon, and that was due to the unstable weather conditions.
I don’t know what to tell you to be honest. I’m just mad at you. You made me take a vacation and get all hyped to go to the place I have emotional connections to, and you ruin the entire trip just because you refuse to have fun? Why would you do that? Why would you spend all that money on you and on me and still refuse to have fun? You did not give the country any chance.
Worst of all is that I still do not know why. I asked you a million times and you never gave an answer. It’s kind of difficult to enjoy every step of the way when you’re standing next to me saying loudly how much you hate this.
Your negativity never ceased to surprise me. Most randomly, you blurt out some comment on how we should be dead… how we should have stayed in Berlin extra days so we can witness the floods and drown in them… how we should just jump in front of trains because we can. It’s not easy to enjoy a trip when you say that everything in this world is useless. If you seem like you have lost hope in something, not everyone else did… but you sure know how to bring despair.
Ironically, I was playing Danganronpa 2 whenever I had the chance to on long train rides. The visual novel is about finding a seed of hope in the midst of ultimate despair. Sure, the situation in real life did not reach the heights of despair in the novel, but it all felt relatable… so I guess in a way, it amplified my enjoyment of the game itself.
I cannot deny that I am appreciative of the trip. I mean, I never expected to return to Germany - not this soon anyway! I could never afford the trip at this point in life. I saw my friend Mina, whom I befriended in Germany. I saw GJU bae Lina as well, and for fuck’s sake I even hung out with my cousin who now lives there for the very first time since each went his separate way over 12 years ago due to conflict of interest! I did a lot of shopping for things I need (and some I don’t need, but really want). But all those highlights were mostly when I could sneak away from my aunt and just be on my own.
So again, it shatters me everytime your lack of appreciation rings in my ears. I could not please you. And I did not comprehend that it wasn’t really my fault. I did my best after all, and I am confident that my best was a million times better than any “organized trip” she would have went on by herself. I mean, I made sure she’d spend around the same as she would have spent as one traveller only. And I am fucking proud of that.
Throughout the whole trip, I kept blaming myself, thinking I did not do a good job at planning. It affected my mood a lot of times, and affected the amount I enjoyed the trip. And I kept quiet about it because I kept thinking there was a bit of hope in making you happy… even on the way back to Amman, I thought you’re going to look back at the trip when you’re in a better mood and take appreciation in the matter.
But right after we land in Amman and I pull out my phone to exchange the German SIM card with the Jordanian one, you ask me “Are you going to put the German SIM card in your pocket?” Yes, I will. Why do you ask? “3ala fekra inta kteer insan mostahter”. Why do you say that? Because I am putting a small SIM card in my pocket? “Yes” Just because of that, or is that due to something else I’ve done? “Everything really” What did I do?
And again, back to no answer…
During the trip, she kept joking about how she wants to jump in front of trains. At that specific moment, I wanted to be the one to push her. I lost my mind. I wanted to yell at her in the middle of the airport and point out every little thing she has said and done during the supposed vacation. But I didn’t. I wasn’t raised that way. I have manners. I showed her respect, even though I didn’t have any left for her. I even texted her the next day thanking her all over again for the trip and everything she’s done for me. Her reply was as cold as “ma 3melt shi”.
Blue is not the color I associate with, yet I got the blues. I don’t know who decided that blue is the color of feeling down, but I’m supposed to take it because it is common knowledge. I don’t have any color association with with certain feelings. Every set of hues is a more accurate demonstration of my associations. Neon colors are energizing and cheerful. Basic colors are lazy and cozy. Metallic colors are exciting and ever-surprising. What I feel right now is the desaturated set; like something is not quite right. Desaturated colors are associated with the old, the outdated, and the digital vintage - and to a certain extent, I feel as such.
For the past couple of days, the topic of marriage has opened multiple times. It started with Yazan, and then Mohammad, then Faisal, and once more back to Yazan. Marriage is not something that I had in mind anytime soon. After all, I’ve always been against the status quo of marriage processes in my society. Most examples I had in my life are of young men asking their mothers to find them a girl to marry, because “it’s time to get married”. For those who don’t understand the culture, it’s also “time to have sex without being frowned upon”. They do not get married to someone they want to spend their lives with. They want to get married because the idea of marriage to them is limited to starting a family, wanting a son to carry their name, or just to get their 3 seconds of pleasure. As a human being, I want all of the aforementioned. I want children (not particularly a son). I want to start a family. And I really want my regular dose of 3 seconds of pleasure - just in a much more refined manner!
The Western model of marriage is not my cup of tee either. Getting married to someone only because you love them for a set period of time is not practical either. This is why my idea of marriage is the best of both world. I want to get married to someone I love and respect, and will love and respect for the rest of eternity, alas with a diluted version of the intended Eastern practicality. What’s the point of having children if you stop getting along with your wife 5 years down the line? What’s the point of having sex with a person you don’t have any feelings for? What’s the point of starting a family if at any point in time, it will not function as a family?
With all that in mind, marriage has never crossed my mind as something happening anytime soon. I’m an almost 24-year old, who’s struggling with his sexual identity, and has never in his entire life dated a girl - let alone hold one’s hands. While I’m painting an image of a sad and desperate young man, I really am neither. I’ve been down that road of worry and self-pity in terms of my career, and it only stands in the way of moving forward. This is why I’ve come to learn a very important lesson; everyone moves at their own pace. Am I every getting married? I really really really really really really want that. I’ve come along way in my struggles, and without them, I wouldn’t the person that I am today! Does this mean I’m getting married in the next 3 years? Most probably not. Firstly, the most important ingredient of marriage is not in the picture. I need to find my potential life partner for me to even consider marriage. Secondly, I literally just started my life as a working adult 7 months ago. There is still no stability in my life whatsoever at the moment. Casting aside the instabilities in the region, personal instability includes working a field that I am not trained to work in, and providing for my family. Sometimes I feel I talk so damn much about these two topics, like I want someone to either hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay, or so that someone can give me a round of applause. I want neither. I just want to be understood and treated accordingly.
Given all that, I find it surprising that I’m bothered by the marriage talk I’ve been having these days. It’s not the idea of marriage itself particularly, but rather the things that come with it; namely the expenses. A wedding is no easy feat. I guess I never had to think of spending such big amounts of money in my life. I’ve always been surrounded by people born with silverspoons in their mouths. On the other side of the spectrum, I was too young to even consider something that can be as costly as a wedding, a car, or a house. If I want to argue about each individually, I can argue that owning a house so early in life is not that important. I don’t have an argument against a car because unfortunately there is no alternative here in Jordan. As for the wedding, that is something that has be agreed upon between the two persons involved - but personally speaking, I’m against the extravagant wedding culture. Everyday, I hear of a new wedding more ridiculous than the one before. It’s like everyone is trying to up the other with how much money they can spend on one night - or even lately a full week - of dispensable burden.
Yet, here I am today, looking at what I am actually able to save and how I’m spending. By giving almost half of my salary to my parents, I am able to save up between 50 and 100 JDs monthly - depending how tight my hand is that month. I work well with budgets. I optimize them to get the best out of them. With the amount of money I spend, it include the necessities as well as entertainment (nothing luxurious). However, that is not enough if I want to collect enough money for a big investment. Let’s not forget that a person cannot live in the same routine for endless years. Whatever money I collect, I would like to spend on something that improves me as a person. Whether it is getting exposed in travels, or investing in something like lessons (which I plan on after coming back from my trip) so that I become better at something new.
The other thing that has been bothering is my trip to Germany. I really hate to lie. So when someone asks me a question where the answers is related to my trip, I end up telling them about it, and in most cases I even end up telling them that I’m not the one paying for it. Most of them make the assumption that I’m loaded and I’m going just because I can easily afford to. It’s nothing like that, and it’s just an opportunity that came my way that I certainly cannot say no to. While a number of those people I know well and trust them enough not to be envious, I have had a long relationship with the negative impact of envy and I’m always afraid of it - whether to envy or be envied. I’m always too careful around people when it comes to envy because it’s such a horrendous human trait. Do I get jealous at time? Certainly. But envy takes it a step further and people start wishing bad things, which is something I utterly and completely disapprove of.
I just have a really bad feeling about the trip. My heart is not at ease. We’ll be doing loads of fun things in Germany! I have a vague idea of everything we’ll be doing, which is a mix of new and old for me, as I’ve lived there for a year. However, I didn’t experience everything, and I’m taking the chance to mix and match. But I’m very worried, and I can even say unexcited, about it all at this point in time.
I have no idea what my aunt is expecting. Since I’m the official organizer, I’m extremely scared to have wasted her money on something she won’t enjoy. I talked to her already to get an idea of what she’d like to do, but she gave me the ultimate freedom to plan everything. When I started reserving hotels, she wasn’t too satisfied with the prices, even though they were relatively cheap compared to what she asked me for initially, and I had to bitch slap her into the reality that if she wants something cheaper, she’d have to lower her expectation slightly. Based on that, I’m worried she won’t enjoy the trip, which will keep me worried the entire trip because it’s not my money that I’m spending. It’s hers.
The second thing that is worrying me, which to be completely frank I have never thought it would ever bother me in my entire life, is the fact that she’s wearing a full jilbab - not just a hijab. Germany is a very tolerant country. It’s miles ahead the US in that domain. But the stories that I’ve been hearing on the news for the past year about muslims getting beaten, shot, and killed simply because of islamophobia are messing with my head. I’m very worried that something will happen to her over there, or maybe even to the both of us - all because she chooses to wear a jilbab. Maybe I’m overthinking things, but I can’t get it out of my head. We’re going there to have fun, not to have a funeral.
This entry has been in the works for a month now. I haven’t written anything in a while, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been going through anything. I started this post a month ago and I stopped midway. I did not want to write this down. I wanted to share this with a real human. A week later, I couldn’t open my mouth and blurt out the words. So I started a rewrite to include new developments. But once again, I stopped. And once again, I felt a stronger need to talk to a real person. I ended up talking to a person I wasn’t expecting talking to. It wasn’t very helpful content-wise, but I felt like some weight has been lifted.
A month later, here I am once more for another rewrite…
2 years ago, I started watching a show called Mom. I can’t say I was aware of the premise. I wanted to watch it simply because Anna Faris is the lead actress. Yes, the same Anna Faris from some of the most ridiculous movies that have ever existed (Scary Movie series is enough proof). For some reason, I found her to be entertaining in the most ridiculous of ways. So when I found out that the plot follows a mother, and her daughter, and her granddaugter - all of which are victims of addiction, I was taken aback. I was not expecting such an intense show, and certainly I wasn’t expecting that Anna Faris was going to pull off her role.
More importantly, I was not expecting to ever relate to their story whatsoever. I have never tasted a drink, or tried any sort of drugs. But along the way, I’ve come to realize that I have my own form of addiction that I should worry about; the millennial hook up culture.
A couple of days ago, I’ve come across an article that talks about the hook up culture among millennials. The article discusses how our generation is scared of love or commitment, simultaneously not wanting to feel lonely. Hence, a no-strings-attached hook up is the answer. For the longest time, I thought I was the only one who was noticing how toxic this is. All other people I know who are part of that culture embrace it. I, on the other hand, despise every bit of it. I might have been curious about sex 6 years ago, but in this time and day, I’m more than happy to shut my cravings with my hand. If anything, the hook up culture makes me spiral down an endless hole.
It’s a cycle that for the longest time, I could not break. The dating apps, just like alcohol or marijuana to other people, are my escape. I know they harm me, but they give me a sense of comfort I cannot find elsewhere. The thrill of finding a match, talking to a stranger for the first time and getting to know them, finding out they love Jigglypuff as much as you do… it all plays into the escapism of it all.
This year, I wanted things to be different - just like many times before. The only difference is that this time it was a conscious decision. It was a decision made after understanding myself, rather than out of regret. I had to go through self-monitored rehab. There is no other way for me to improve the quality of my life and get myself out of the rot I’m in. This is when I deleted the applications and started going through my list of friends and followings on social media for a cleansing session.
And this was the first time it hit me… how much I can related to alcoholics who are trying to stay sober.
The show Mom presented the characters in different situations, highlighting how difficult it is to actually stay sober, and how some fail at that and end up taking their lives… and this is how I started to relate to the show more and more in recent times.
The week that Osama came back from Qatar and Yazan left to KSA, I kept myself quite busy. I made dinner plans with friends, and had a game night, and I met up with Osama for some coffee and to discuss his issues… Nothing happened that was particularly strenuous on my emotional and mental health. But the week leading up to that weekend, I was going through a lot of reminiscing Whenever I was driving late at night, I feel an urge to hit up a random person for instant fun. When the house was empty, I felt like I was supposed to have someone over and utilize the empty house. The streets that I left my mark on came back to haunt me, reminding me of times that I felt wanted - even if for all the wrong reasons.
All these negative emotions accumulated until I broke down. On Sunday, I got - not one, but - four different dating apps; one of which I haven’t ever used! I practically attacked the app store! It was savage. 2 of them I had old accounts on them, and signing in was not a big deal. The third only offers one way to sign up, which is through Facebook, and that kept it easy. The fourth required a long process, so I decided not to use, but it stayed there on my phone. I can’t say they stayed long on my phone. Within one hour, I ravaged those apps once more and deleted them - of course after swiping left on every single profile that I’ve come across.
Did I feel lonelier at that moment? Very much. Yet, I wasn’t desperate. I was aware. I realize downloading the apps once again was a stupid thing to do, but I am proud of how I dealt with the matter soon after.
This is why at AA, they teach alcoholics to take things one day at a time. Thinking way far into the future only makes things worse. Taking things one day at a time is the reason why I have managed to stay “sober” for the longest period ever. Thinking way into the past and future could have led me to do something I would regret later on.
Does that mean I’ve figured out my sexuality? Nope. Not even close… But more on that tomorrow with the next post that discusses what I’m witnessing around me.
Mothers smother… Maybe it’s just me, but the position of the “s” doesn’t make much of a difference.
This is the style of mothering that my mom adopted with me… she mothers till she smothers. 23 years later, I still feel smothered whenever we’re both in the same room even if there was not any communication between the two of us.
Mom is nosy. The new boundaries she breaks trying to know every single detail of my life is fascinating. Any third party that gets exposed to the stories of my mother find it so, even borderline hilarious. Pretty much like Mean Girls. Who of does not enjoy that movie? (Think carefully before you answer…) But as much as we find that highschool drama over the top, most teenagers have gone through a similar experience that makes Mean Girls a horror film in disguise.
And same case with my mother. The daily questioning, the repetitive queries, the forced bonding, the snarky comments… I am most cautious and weary when I’m around her; not out of fear. Rather it’s because I cannot handle her endless streaks of judgment. She doesn’t like anything… and she even contradicts herself at times so she wouldn’t like anything. If that did not make sense, welcome to my daily life.
If you read that closely, and then someone else comes to mind who snarky as fuck, judgmental, and full of hypocrisy, BINGO!
Somewhere along the path to distance myself from my mother, I became her. What is my sense of humor? Sarcastic. What do I do best with my friends? Be mean to them by judging them.
Make no mistake. I’m the second generation of a smothering mother; I should be improvement, no? Isn’t that how things work? The next edition always takes things a step further. One thing I do that my mother doesn’t is reflect. Anything I do stays in my mind for a while after it is done and I play the scenario over and over to spot anything that I feel I did wrong. She doesn’t do that. She’s always right. Why wouldn’t she be? She’s a mother after all, and mothers have the last word.
Or at least, that’s what she believes in. When she’s talking to me, to my siblings, to my dad, to my aunts and uncles, to my grandparents… my mom has to be the right one.
I don’t say this often, but I have developed a sense of discomfort whenever I’m home and I know she’s here. I realize the extremity of that statement, but I tend to stay on edge if I was in my room because I know she knows no privacy. I do not intend on walking naked in my room, nor spend my day jacking off, or do anything worth hiding. I just like my privacy in my own house.
If I open up to someone, I don’t have the slightest issue to break down all walls of privacy with that person. They can read my texts, use my computer however they like, sneak up on me and give me a heart attack… but my mom is not that person to me.
The very first blog I started was called Decrypted Arabology - a name I still love for some reason. On that blog, I had two posts before I was shut down by my favorite teacher. The post that made her text-yell at me was one of me complaining about my mother. I don’t quite recall what I was complaining about, but I remember Ms. Huda’s reaction. She chastised me for being insensitive towards my mom and that I should appreciate her more.
I cannot deny everything my mom does for me and my siblings. She gave up a life as a career woman to raise us - which at times I feel she regrets because none of us is actually the ideal child that she would like us to be. I’m an unconventional person who like to jump boundaries and still cannot figure out his sexuality. My sister is a seemingly perfect child with a secret boyfriend. My other sister is a non-believer who likes to explore the otherside of things. The last two are yet in formation, but I can clearly tell that they are nothing like my mother wants them to be.
My mother did/does a lot for us. She taught me the alphabets in both English and Arabic, along with the numbers, at much younger age than the average child. She pushed us to do well in school. She taught us to behave and to have manners. She still cooks and cleans, even though she doens’t have to, and we ask her not to - but she does it anyway and doesn’t let us hear the end of it. I am not going to delve deeper into all the good things that my mom does for us because I am truly appreciative of it.
My issue with my mom is her approach. She’s well-intended and we know why she does the things she does, but the way she does them only pushes me further away. She fights, she never argues. She blames, but never searches for a solution. She thinks the world is out to get her, she doesn’t realize that some rare times, people come with good intentions.
Like I understand that she is looking out for me when she comes to me and asks me Yousef is taking advantage of me, but she doesn’t know the smallest thing about Yousef besides his name. She thinks he’s using me because of a mistake done by competition people, even though Yousef has been nothing but supportive and certainly crediting me where credit is due. I understand that she wants the best for me when she asks me whom of my friends smokes, but that is none of her business. I understand when she asks whom of my friends prays and who doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop hanging out with some pretty great people just because they don’t share similar religious views. The reason I hate her nosiness is because it doesn’t stop at a question, it continues to judgment, “advice”, and on a bad day to yelling.
I’m not the only one who thinks mother smothers. Just ask my sisters. They try to avoid her as much as I do. And I’m not slightly surprised that my mom sees that. She can be annoying, but she’s not clueless. She keeps fighting with my dad about how her children are not showing her any appreciation or attention, which I will not deny is mostly true. I can’t say I’m doing my best to stay on mom’s good side. My explanation for that is that I’m oversaturated with mom. Of course, if I tell her that, she will not understand that.
But I am very much oversaturated. When I go to work, I get multiple phone calls from her. When I get back home, she bombards me with questions that I do not even have answers for, and she asks the questions again and again until she gets a solid answer that satisfies her. When I’m in my room trying to relax or be productive in my own way, she barges in to ask more questions and just be nosy and try to squeeze anything out of me that I wouldn’t want to share to begin with. Even when I was in Germany, she talked to me there more than she talked to her children in her household - and that is not an exaggeration.
Her fixation on cracking me like I was an egg about to get fried leads to her focusing on the less important matters in life. I do not spend long hours with my mom, but when I do spend time with her, I’d like for that time to be worth it. However, she always makes it to be the most useless time of my day. Last Saturday, I spent 30 minutes with her right after I woke up, and instead of talking about the important matters like my aunt’s situation, the nail that my brother stepped on and was hospitalized for, or anything remotely important that I should know about, she chose to ask me questions I don’t have answers for. And I found out about the aforementioned matters hours later when I saw my father.
Today I heard my tell my dad that she thinks everybody wants her gone. At that point, my heart was already broken and my eyes were wet. I have never wished my mother to go away, and neither did any of my sisters. It’s just she doesn’t give us any space to breathe, and she expects us to come crawling to her. We are family. Not every family is super close. What we really want is for mother to understand that it’s time for her to focus on herself for a change, and once we feel we have our space - to think and do - we certainly will go back crawling to her… After all, she should know that she raised us that way.
