الأحد، أكتوبر 29، 2006

كسر جدار الصمت...عن التحرش الجنسى

بعد مناقشة معقطر الندى و بعد ما شفت من خلال تعليقات عندها و فى مدونات تانية, ميل كتير من الناس لانكار و تكذيب الللى ان البنات و الستات فى مصر بيتعرضوا لتحرشات جنسية بالبشاعة دى. قررت انه لازم نكسر جدار الصمت اللى حطيناه, و نحكى عن اللى بيحصلنا فعلا, عن ازاى بنشيل هم كل يوم نمشيه فى الشارع, أو نركب مواصلة عامة.
جايز لما الناس يشوفوا بعينينا قبح اللى بيحصلنا, يبقى ما فيش قدامهم حل غير انهم يصدقوا.

صعب الواحدة تحكى الحاجات دى, على الاقل بالنسبة لى صعب اوى, لأنه من كترالاهانة و الضعف اللى باحسه فى المواقف ديه, بابقى عايزة انا نفسى انكر حدوثهم, احطهم كلهم فى صندوق جوة دماغى اسميه "ماحصلش"

بس هاحكى
و انا عندى 9 سنين, واحد وقفنى فى الشارع يسألنى على الطريق لمكتبة, بهبلى المعتاد وقفت اوصفله, فجأة شالنى و حاول يبوسنى, و انا عمالة احاول افلفص. كان قدامى قهوة, و نادى فيديو. ماحدش اتحرك. اللى خلاه يرمينى و يجرى, انه كان معايا قريبتى اصغر منى, قعدت تشلت فيه و تصوت.

بعديها بفترة مش كبيرة, وقفنى راجل قد ابويا على سلم العمارة, و مسكنى و قعد يحسس على جسمى كله, كنت مرعوبة و مش اعرف اعمل اى حاجة, و اللى خلانى متسمرة مكانى ان كان معايا اتنين قرايبى اصغر منى و كنت خايفة حاجة تحصلهم, و كنت عمالة اقولهم اجروا اطلعوا فوق, بس هما كانوا واقفين متنحين.

باشترى الخضار من عربية فى الشارع, و الراجل بيفضى الخضار فى الكيس اللى انا ماسكاه, يلمس صدرى كأنه مش قاصد.
لما اركب اتوبيس و شاب يفتح سوستة الجيبة اللى ورا و يمد ايده
لما كنت ماشية فى الشارع, بابص على محلات, و فجأة الاقى ولد بيمد ايده و يمسك صدرى و يشده, و معاه يقطع زراير القميص اللى كنت لابساه, و الناحية التانية من الشارع اصحابه واقفين يضحكوا.

دلوقتى و انا باكتب افتكرت انا ليه بطلت سنين اركب ميكروباصات, من كتر ما زهقت من انا اتزحزح بعيد عن الولاد اللى بيزنقوا نحيتى, و اهبد ايد اللى قاعد ورايا و مزحلقها من ورا الكرسى. لسنين كنت باتنقل بس فى عربية السيدات فى المترو (اختراع عظيم) , و المشى مع مراعاة تفادى كل الناس و تجاهل اى كلام, و لول ضاقت الدنيا , تاكسى و امرى لله فى الفلوس

اما معاكسات الكلام, مالهاش نهاية. من اول " ايه البزاز دي" , ل " ممكن امصهم" , ل " هانيكك لحد ما تصوتى" ... الكلام ده لازم الواحدة تتمرن على تجاهله, كأن مافيش حاجة اتقالت. ماهو لو انا انهارت على كل كلمة حد هيقولهالى فى الشارع, يبقى ماخرجش من بيتنا خالص.

كل النلس اللى بتحمل البنت السبب, تفتكروا و انا عندى 8 سنين كان عندى احساس كافى بجسمى انا انزل الشارع و اغرى الرجالة؟
المعاكسات مش بتفرق بين طفلة, و بنت, و ست, ولا بتفرق بين محجبة و غيرها, الناس بتعاكس و خلاص.
انا فاكرة كويس اوى, و انا صغيرة , من كتر القذارة اللى شفتها فى الشارع, فى الفترة اللى جسم البنت بيبتدى يتغير و تبقى لسة بتحاول تتعامل مع التغيير, انا كنت كارهة جسمى, كنت بامشى مأتبة, بابعد عن اى حد فى الشارع, عندى تخيل ان كل حد هيحاول يلمسنى... حتى مدرسين مدرستى كنت باخاف اقرب منهم.

دلوقتى انا بامشى بسبراى دفاع عن النفس, بس انا مش عارفة المرة الجاية لمل حد يحاول يعملى حاجة, هاتصرف بسرعة و اطلع الاسبراى و ارشه؟ و لا هاتسمر مكانى؟ ولا هانهار و اقعد اعيط؟
انا عارفة ان الاختيار الاسهل عند ناس كتير انهم ينكروا اللى بيحصل, و يقنعوا نفسه انه مش حقيقى, بدل اما يحاولوا يتعاملوا مع حاجة موجودة فى كل حتة فى البلد, بين كل الاعمار, و بتزيد فى قبحها كل سنة.
بس ماهواش الاختيار الاسهل لينا احنا البنات, اللى لازم نمر بكل ده, و كمان نستحمل اننا لوحدينا فيه


مدونات اخرى تخطت حاجز الصمت

جامعتى...جامعة القاهرة

فتحت عينى, لقيت نور الصبح متسرب من فتحات الشيش, و عامل خطوط منورة على السرير,برجليا زقيت الكوفرتة على جنب, و فردت جسمى, و بخطوات بطيئة, قمت اتمشيت فى الشقة, استمتع بالنور و هو داخل من كل ناحية, و مالى كل الاوض.
قد ايه باحب نور الصبحية!
رحت على المطبخ, عملت كوباية النسكافيه بتاعة الصبح, شغلت موسيقى شهرزاد لكورساكوف, و اتكورت فى ركن الكنبة, اشرب النسكافيه بهدوء و استمتاع, و اسيب نفسى للموسيقى
بعد كدة نزلت اتمشى حبة, الجو فيه لسعة برد خفيفة جدا, ما تضايقنيش, بس كافية انها تفوقنى... اوصل جامعة القاهرة, اسلم على الحراس على البوابة, و ادخل... جامعة القاهرة, عالمى الخاص
من صغرى باحلم بجامعة القاهرة, بالقبة و الساعة, و المساحات الواسعة اللى فيها, و مدرجاتها الكبيرة. و دلوقتى انا طالبة فيها
اكتشفت قد ايه باحب الجامعة, و مرتبطة بيها, بس مش علشان الناس اللى فيها, علشان مبانيها, و علشان حلمى بيها من و انا صغيرة
باحب كل مبانيها القديمة, مبانى كلية اقتصاد و علوم سياسية, كلية العلوم, اداب, و حقوق. كل الجزأ ده منها باحبه.
باتجاهل تماما الجزأ اللى ناحية باب المترو, لأنه جديد و قبيح, و كل مبانيه عاملة زى المبانى الحكومية اللى مليانة مكاتب كتير, بشبابيك ملزقة جنب بعضها. المبانى الجديدة كلها تحسها مالهاش ملامح مميزة, كلهم شبه بعض, بعكس المبانى القديمة اللى تحسسك ان وراها قصص مستخبية
باحب شكل الجامعة باليل, و هى منورة...مرة دخلتها متأخر علشان ابص على نتيجة مادة لسة متعلقة , قد ايه كنت مبسوطة و انا عمالة اجرى فى طرقاتها المضلمة, اولع نور كل دور, و أدور على اسمى فى الكشوفات.
يوميها, عملت حاجة كان نفسى اعملها من زمان: رقصت و غنيت بصوت عالى فى وسط الجامعة
و يااه, لما اخلص حاجات فى الكلية متأخر, و يبقى شتا و الدنيا ابتدت تضلم برة. اطلع اتمشى انا و اصحابى, متكلفتين فى هدومنا من البرد, و تلاقى ولاد و بنات بيلعبوا مع بعض , بنت و ولد قاعدين مع بعض على جنب. و ننضم انا و اصحابى للطابور اللى مستنى ياخد لقمة قاضى سخنة من عند العمدة

برغم انه على وقت الامتحانات, و من كتر الضغط, بالعن فى الكلية و الجامعة, و بابقى مستنية اللحظة اللى هاسيبها فيها, بس انا عارفة انى اما اسيبها, هتوحشتى حاجات كتير
المدرجات, كافيتريا سندس و ساندويتشات الكبدة المقلية. سندوتشات البطاطس اللى اصحابى كانوا بيدوهالى فى مقابل شرحى ليهم المواد. عم رمضان اللى بينادى عليا كل اما اعدى, و يحكى للطلبة الاصغر منى عنى. .. حتى الاغانى الهابطة اللى بنغنيها فى الرحلات
كل حاجة هتوحشنى



الجمعة، أكتوبر 27، 2006

اعتراف

للحظات
اعجز عن ترجمة ما اشعر به فى كلمات محددة
كعادتى الجأ للموسيقى
لاجد فيروز تبوح بما لا اجرؤ ان اعترف به

"في ناس كتير, لكن بيصير ما فى غيره"

الثلاثاء، أكتوبر 24، 2006

حاجة تقرف

بلغنى اتنين من اصدقائى من وسط البلد ان الولاد اجننت فى الشارع, و ان اى بنت معدية بيتزنق عليها و بتتقفش و ممكن تتقلع هدومها, و الناس فيها اللى بيتفرج و فيها اللى بيصور و فيها اللى مش عارف يعمل ايه.
و قال ايه الامن واقف محتاس و اما تسأل الظابط يقولك "دول عددهم كتير اوى مش عارف اتصرف" , يعنى لمل يبقى فيه كام واحد بيجعجعوا فى الشارع و بيتظاهروا فى امان الله , ننزل لهم الاف من الامن, لكن بناتك يا بلد تتقفش فى الشارع ما يتعملش حاجة.
الناس اللى شغالة فى المحلات نازلين بعصيان و بيحاولوا يحوشوا عن البنات, ولما بنت بتفلت و تركب تاكسى , الولاد يسدوا عليه الطريق و ينزلوها بالعافية.... ده اللى الناس اللى هناك شايفينوه و حكهولى.
عمرى ما فهمت فكرة ان فى رمضان نمشى نغض البصر, واخر ما نتمعظم نقول للبنت " انتى مش صايمة زينا برضه؟" او" اللهم انى صايم" , لكن اول ما رمضان يخلص, كأن كلاب هيجانة اتطلقت, و كأن كل شئ مباح
حاجة تقرف, و هى ديه نوعية الحاجات اللى بتطلع من جواية كم مرعب من الكراهية للبلد و ناسها و ابقى للحظات مش عايزة ابقى منها

اضافة: واضح انى اديت انطباع ان انا كنت هناك فحبيت اصححه, انا اتحذرت و بالتالى ما روحتش, الوصف اللى كتباه بناء على كلام اصدقاء كانوا هناك
سرد مفصل للا حداث عندمالك

الرجال فى طريقهم الى الفناء


من المعروف ان الرجال هم فى الاصل نساء معدلين جينيا, اى ان الجنين الذكر فى خلال تطوره يسلك نفس طريق تطور الانثى باشراف كروموسوم x , ولا يأتى التغيير فى اتجاه التطور الا باستيقاظ كروموسومy و ارساله اشارة بدأ صنع رجل :)
فى مرحلة الاخصاب و اندماج البويضة و الحيوان المنوى, ينقل الى الجنين مادة وراثية مخلطة من الابوين, باستثناء مجموعتين من المادة الوراثية يستمدهما الجنين من مصدر واحد.
الميتوكوندريا, و التى تنتقل من الام فقط الى جميع الابناء
كروموسوم Yالذى ينتقل من الاب فقط الى الابناء الذكور
برغم ضعف كفاءة الميتوكوندريا وراثيا لحد ما, الا ان كروموسومY فى حالة يرثى لها من انعدام الكفاءة, و العرضة للتشوه.
يحتوى كروموسومY على الاشارة الجينية SRY, و التى تعطى الامر بتغيير مسار الجنين من الانثى الى الذكر, بجانب الجينات اللازمة الانتاج حيوانات منوية قادرة على الاخصاب
و لكن لماذا اصبح كروموسوم Y اكثر عرضة للتشوه عن باقى الكروموسومات؟؟
فى الاصل كان Y كباقى الكروموسومات يحتوى على جينات مسئولة عن عديد من العمليات البيولوجية, مثله مثل كروموسوم Xحاليا. ثم تغير كل ذلك, يعتقد, بحدوث طفرة صدفة, فى احد اسلاف الثدييات منذ مئات ملايين السنين, ادت الى جعل كروموسوم Yالمسئول عن تحديد جنس الجنين... و من هنا بدأت رحلة تدهوره
وجود هذا الكروموسوم فى حالة منفردة, يحد جدا من قدرته على تصحيح اى خطأ يحدث به, لأنه بذلك يفقد تواصله مع الكروموسومات الاخرى و بالتالى يفقد المشاركة فى الميكانيكيات التى تحدث اثناء انقسام الخلية, و اثناء تضاعف المادة الوراثية DNA و التى تتيح فرص لتخطى اى تغير او تشوه حدث فى الكروموسوم
تدريجيا و بمرور الزمن, شوهت ملامح هذا الكروموسوم, و فقد فاعلية آلاف الجينات التى كان يحتويها, الى ان تبقى اقل من مائة جين, معرضين لنفس الخطر الذى اهلك الاخرين
كروموسومY هو الوحيد من جميع كروموسوماتنا الذى يظل منفرد داخل الحيوان المنوى الى ان تتم عملية الاخصاب, و بالتالى هو عرضة لكثير من الاخطاء, نتيجة الكم الهائل من عمليات تضاعف المادة الوراثية المطلوبة لانتاج يوميا ما يقرب من 150 مليون حيوان منوى. و كأى عملية تتطلب تصنيع منتج ما باعداد مهولة فى وقت قصير, فان نسب الخطأ تكون كبيرة جدا.
يتضح اثر ذلك جدا عندما نجد ان 7% من الرجال غير قادرين على الانجاب , و ان ما يقرب من ربع هذه الحالات سببها نابع من طفرات جينية جديدة حدثت فى كروموسومY , سببت تعطيل لاحد جيناته القليلة الباقية
ليس هناك ما يدعونا ان نظن ان الوضع سيتحسن, فهذا الكروموسوم مازال خاضع لنفس العوامل التى ادت الى فناء الجزء الاكبر من جيناته

و اذا ظل على هذا الحال, سيفقد تدريجيا الجينات القليلة الباقية, الى ان يفقد SRY و بذلك ينتهى هذا الكروموسوم تمام, و معه ننتهى نحن البشر

نحن لسنا الجنس الوحيد الذى سيرغم على مواجهة هذه المشكلة, و محاولة التغلب عليها, فهناك الكثير من الحيوانات الاخرى التى ستواجه نفس المعوقات التى قد تودى بها الى الانقراض, بل انه ليس من المستبعد ان يكن هذا احدى اسباب انقراض بعض الاجناس من قبل. ما يميزنا عن تلك الاجناس الاخرى, اننا نعى ما ينتظرنا, و بالتالى نستطيع ان نبحث عن طرق للتغلب عليه.


موت اخر... و أحبك



و الان أشهد أن حضورك موت
و أن غيابك موتان
و الان أمشى على خنجر و أغنى
فقد عرف الموت أنى
أحبك, أنى
أجدد يوما مضى
لأحبك يوما
...و أمضى

محمود درويش 1974

الجمعة، أكتوبر 20، 2006

The G spot


" As you go in, on the first floor, the back window"
That's how a character in the book " 11 minutes" by Paulo Coelho , described the location of theGspot, and with that sentence i started the process of finding out more.


We don't have any means of sexual education in Egypt. It really is up to the family, friends, and the person itself. Sexuality and sex are regarded taboo subjects, although i have notticed alot that the very traditional families coming from manate2 masreya sha3beya, actually talk about Sex & sexulaity, very openly, something that is at first quite embarassing and shocking, but then u realise how acceptable and insightful it is.

We never had any educational talks about our bodies, and how they change, and how to be comfortable with such changes that take us from one phase to another. Even the rare occasions where teachers had to explain something related to sex, you could see how embarrased and flustered they are, and that in turn makes you even more embarassed and confused.

I remeber once, 8 years ago, when i attended the only thing that could be called a lecture on Sex and Health issues . It was part of Always promotion camapaign, They visited several schools , and gathered the girls to talk with them about " girls' stuff" as we tend to call it. It really surprised me the uncertainty and confusion most of the girls showed once they had a chance to open up and talk to someone.

Back to that first sentence...i find it quite stonishing to describe the G spot in such way, i don't know if Paulo came up with it, or heard it from someone, whoever described it in such manner, has my eternal respect :)

It turns out that " G spot existance" and the fluids released from it on orgasmic stimulation, raised alot of debates,
As early as the 4th century B.C., writings have been found that speak of the distinction between a woman's "red and white fluid". Even American Indian folklore mentions the "mixing of male and female fluids" from a female during sex.

In the 20th century, however, there was the general belief that women were incapable of such intense orgasm, except by clitoral manipulation. This was reinforced by Masters & Johnson whose research claimed that a woman's clitoris was the only source of female pleasure, even though many women have found that to be far from the truth.

This misguided notion of a woman's sexual potential persisted until 1950 when an article by a Berlin gynecologist Ernst Grafenberg discussed the female G-spot area. In his original work he reported that some women had a spot on the inside of the front wall of the vagina which, when firmly stimulated produced intense orgasms and in some women ejaculation of something thicker and slicker than urine during the strongest contractions of their orgasms.
Now this gyneocologist Grafenberg, is why we call it G spot, since it is named after him. I personally think that he is one hell of a lucky guy, and i could bet that not a day passes without some woman feeling in awe of his discovery.

I decided to ask the girls i know about the G spot and the Clitoris. The majority knew about the clitoris, probably because of the 7'etan issue, but none of the girls at university with me knew about the Gspot. And my friends, some of them know it, and others know about it, but they don't have a clear idea of what or where is it? they have a notion that it's a sexy thing ,( maybe like G-strings are sexy, so it is to be assumed that anything starting with a G is sexy...Lucky Gihan and Gehad ;) )

Someone once was trying to explain to me the importance of a sport skill once you get the sense of it..it was very vague, then i found him saying:
" It's like the Gspot, you can't really explain or define it, but once you get to feel it, you see the world very differently"

الأربعاء، أكتوبر 18، 2006

... زمان قريت




و أنا صغيرة, كان الحدث السنوى اللى باستناه دايما هو معرض القاهرة الدولى للكتاب. اقعد احوش مصروفى , و فلوس العيدية , و معاهم حبة نصب على العيلة, و اروح المعرض كل يوم من ساعة ما يبدأ لحد ما يخلص
اكتر مكان كنت باحبه بعد سور الازبكية, هو دار الفتى العربى, اللى مابقتش موجودة خلاص على حد علمى

دار الفتى العربى كان عندها سلسلة قصص شعبية, فى كل كتاب قصص شعبية لبلد معينة. و كان عندها مجموعة مذهلة لرسومات حلمى التونى, فنانى المفضل منذ الصغر, و اللى انا اشترتها كلها و كعادة الاطفال المدربكين, ضاعت كلها .

كان كمان عندهم مجموعة قصص مترجمة من الادب العالمى, و ديه اللى جالى هوس بيها من كام يوم. فجأة, بدون اى سبب واضح افتكرت قصة من اكتر القصص اللى اثرت فيا و انا صغيرة, تخبلى انه كان اسمها "الامير الحزين" , و عندى فى بالى مقتطفات منها, بس مش فاكراها بشكل واضح.
قعدت اسبوع باحاول افتكر, واسال عليها, و احكى لاهلى اللى انا فاكراه علشان يفتكروها, ما فيش فايدة.

النهاردة بالصدفة لقيتها, و طلع اسم الكتاب اصلا "الامير السعيد و قصص اخرى" , و هو مجموعة قصص مترجمة ل

اوسكار ويلد


"The Nightingale and the rose"
انا كنت ملخبطة احداث قصتين مع بعض,والقصة اللى حبتها


مش
عارفة لسة الاقى ترجمة حلوة و بسيطة ليها زى اللى قريتها زمان, بس لسة باحاول


.



SHE said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose."

From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.

"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."

"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow."

"The Prince gives a ball tomorrow night," murmured the young Student, "and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break."

"Here indeed is the true lover," said the Nightingale. "What I sing of, he suffers ­­ what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the marketplace. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold."

"The musicians will sit in their gallery," said the young Student, "and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her"; and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.

"Why is he weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.

"Why, indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.

"Why, indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.

"He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale.

"For a red rose?" they cried; "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.

But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.

Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.

In the centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.

"Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."

But the Tree shook its head.

"My roses are white," it answered; "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want."

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.

"Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."

But the Tree shook its head.

"My roses are yellow," it answered; "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want."

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window.

"Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."

But the Tree shook its head.

"My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year."

"One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?"

"There is away," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you."

"Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."

"If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine."

"Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?"

So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.

The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.

"Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense."

The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.

But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.

"Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall feel very lonely when you are gone."

So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.

When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.

"She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove ­­ "that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good." And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.

And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.

She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river ­­ pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.

But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.

And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose's heart remained white, for only a Nightingale's heart's-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.

And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.

And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.

But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.

Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.

"Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now"; but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.

And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.

"Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!" he cried; "here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name"; and he leaned down and plucked it.

Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with the rose in his hand.

The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.

"You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," cried the Student. "Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it tonight next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you."

But the girl frowned.

"I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and, besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers."

"Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful," said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it.

"Ungrateful!" said the girl. "I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain's nephew has"; and she got up from her chair and went into the house.

"What I a silly thing Love is," said the Student as he walked away. "It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics."

So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.




.

الثلاثاء، أكتوبر 17، 2006

3eyal say3a!!

Translation:
Alright, we've taken off off our clothes,
i've mounted you,
how long does it take for us to start enjoying it?
I don't know, but i already
have a headache

الاثنين، أكتوبر 16، 2006

فلتسكن ذاكرتى




لماذا مرت تلك السنين دون وجودك معى؟
هل استطيع ان اختلسك داخل ذاكرتى, و ادمجك بكل لحظاتها لتشاركنى اياها؟
هل يمكن احضارك الى لحظة انجابى فى الحياة, لافتح عينى و الحظك انت قبل كل شئ, قبل حتى ان تصبح رؤيتى متزنة, فتصبح انت اولى صور ذاكرتى؟

عندما يتداخل جسدك بجسدى,اجدنى استمتع اكثر بابسط الامور
ضوء الشمس على جسدك
صوت نفسك و هو يسرع للحظات, ثم يستعيد ايقاعه مرة اخرى
انت ,عندما تضحك فجأة على شئ ساذج فعلته انا دون ان الحظ
حركة الهواء على جسدى المغطى بقطرات العرق, و تلك البرودة اللحظية التى يحضرها معه
أود ان احتضنك بداخلى, و لا اسمح لك بالهروب
اود ان
ارقص لك
اغنى لك
ابكى لك
اضحك لك
ان احبك... بلا قيود

Farewell




A year has passed...
Is it only a year? feels like ages since i was that girl. Too many things happened since then, feels like i am trying to compensate for the lost years, in just a few months.

I can still see myself back then, so surrounded by pain, trying hard everyday to dig out the strength that keeps me going till the next day, fighting away reality, and hanging onto the illusions he presented to me. It was so much easier going on with something familiar, even if painful, than taking on a decision that would swallow me in the unknow, for how can i be sure that the unknown would be any less painful??

I was getting more exhausted with each passing day, and bit by bit, i lost every feature of my life, i had no one back then, even my friends turned their backs on me, and i was all alone, with him. Maybe that is why i didn't let go earlier, he was the only one who needed me.

How did i endure it? it amazes me at times when i realise i was willing to give up on every dream i had, everything precious, to keep my energy for him, just to make us exist, just that, so we can be.

It's quite ironic how i can sit in my place and list a few things that i would never accept in my life, but in reality, i can always find reasons to compromise that list. i could find an execuse for anything within me... but i always had the deep belief, that when u forgive , one day when u need it, u'll be granted that same forgiveness. It was never that way.

When i am down, i can only remember his dark side, it takes alot of conscious effort to retrieve the good moments, but there must have been, otherwise how did i hang on?

Nothing prepared me for my life with him, nothing prepared me for his anger, his aggressiveness, mood swings, or his extreme tenderness after lashing out at me. I was never prepared to deal with his shouts, lies, tears, or being locked up. Only my stubborness, fantasies, and his moments of kindness, which were rare with time, pulled me through it.

He was sick, and it was beyond me, i couldn't understand his sickness, and i could not handle it, and everytime my bitterness overcome my fairytale beliefs, and i had so much anger and pain helping me to turn my back on him, fate mocked me, and presented me with a new event that made it impossible for me to walk away, an accident, death of a close friend of his, just anything...

How can it still hurt me till now?
Losing him doesn't hurt atall, i didn't lose him, i gave him up, and i should have done it 2 years earlier. It's allowing myself to get lost that still hurts, it's remebering the lost chances that can never be recaptured.

I hurt my self, by giving up on the dreams of that child inside me, to try and fulfill the image i had of what a woman should be.

Back then, i was never that woman, i was not a woman atall, i didn't allow myself to gradually grow into one, i just pushed myself into behaving as one, while all the time i had the experiences of a child.

I am no longer that girl, nor i am the woman i thought i should be, I am someone new to me, someone i enjoy discovering more with each new experience. Admittedly i am effected by what happenned to that girl i left behind, but she is my past.
From time to time i hurt for her, but most of the time i feel just thankful that i bade her farewell...

الأربعاء، أكتوبر 11، 2006

Make peace with the environment

How many times have you found yourself throwing a piece of paper in the street thinking " this little thing won't make a difference", or leaving the water tap dropping thinking " this is nothing"??
The problem isn't just that in other places millions are just doing that same thing, thinking in that same manner, and when you add them all up you'll find it really makes a difference. But also by doing this, we are allowing a certain careless attitude towards the environment to settle in inside of us, and be part of our approach towards life.
It's the easiest thing to do, to label anything "unimportant" rather than invest a tiny amount effort in opening our eyes wider, and thoroughly look at it.
Do we ever wonder how many species were banned to extinction, not naturally, but as a result of our interference? or do we just dismiss anything that doesn't appear to be forming an obvious part of our daily life?
Let's not look at life as if through a key-hole, only seeing what's right there infront of us. Let's look at the whole image, and see for ourselves that the world doesn't revolve around the human race, that we are just a tiny part of a huge and complex system, either we blend in, in harmony with it, or else, this system would eventually spit us out of it.

We can all sit in our places and think " we can't do anything about it, it's way beyond our abilities to stand up against corrupted goverments, economy of countries, business investements, human behaviour, ..."
But we can also start by atleast doing small things that are within our power, and as small as they might seem, their accumulation with time, would eventually make them big enough to make a difference.

الاثنين، أكتوبر 09، 2006

...هل

هل تستيقظ كل صباح متمنيا وجودى بجانبك؟
هل تغمض عينيك, تسترجع ملامح وجهى و انا اضحك, و تشعر بدفئ يملأك؟
هل تسترجع كلماتى, و تنتظر استعادة نفس المشاعر التى اوجدتها تلك الكلمات من قبل؟
هل تستطيع رسم منحنيات و خطوط جسدى بيديك فى الهواء, و انت مغمض العينين؟
هل تحاول تجنب التفكير فى فقدانى؟
هل تنتظر بشغف لحظة تجمعنا؟

هل تفتقدنى كما افتقدك؟؟

Words that are long overdue




It's been years since we've first met , Do u remeber it? i can't. Seems like i've known u since i was in my mom's belly.

We never liked one another as kids. You used to be that long-haired quite girl, who put on pretty clothes and braided her hair. I was the typical tomboy, short umanagable hair, scratches all over my legs, and maddness so striking against your cuteness.Yet time brought us together, and we became friends.

Everytime i took a new path in life, somehow i'd find you there along it. No one knows me better than you, no one could see me and instantly recognize any insignificant change in me as u do.I couldn't lose weight, gain weight, fancy someone, get heartbroken, cut my hair, or even do my eyebrows with out you notticing.

At times i could have screamed from feeling that exposed, other times it was a relief not having to explain what i am feeling, for you know it all alone.

There were times when i even felt jealous of your beauty, maybe even threatened by it, but how can i keep such feellings towards someone as kind, genuine, and so worthy of such beauty, as YOU.

I must have hurt you at times, for this forgive me.

Have i even really told you how much you mean to me? or did i just take it for granted that you'd know it just like everything else? have i even given you the words? for you and i know very well how secure words could make us, or how they could break us.

We've changed alot, yet, you've always been my real bestfriend.Let's look up our old diaries, letters, emails and photoes. We'll find 2 girls with similar thoughts and feelings.

What was your favourite movie back then? wasn't it the same as mine?, and 2 years ago, who was your favourite author? just like me... We'd take different paths, but reach the same conclusion, and get surprised to find eachother there. But it has always been like this.

You once told me i was one of the few certainties in your life, i am glad, cause that's what you are to me, you are the one person i took blindly for granted, and i wouldn't want to imagine my life with out YOU.

Dancer in the dark



A movie that is very depressive, yet so beautiful...
I've seen it all, by Bjork

I've seen it all, I have seen the trees,

I've seen the willow leaves dancing in the breeze

I've seen a friend killed by a friend,

And lives that were over before they were spent.

I've seen what I was - I know what I'll be

I've seen it all - there is no more to see!

-You haven't seen elephants, kings or Peru!

*I'm happy to say I had better to do

-What about China? Have you seen Great Wall?

*All walls are great, if the roof doesn't fall!

-And the man you will marry?The home you will share?

*To be honest, I really don't care...

-You've never been to Niagara Falls?

*I have seen water, its water, that's all...

-The Eiffel Tower, the Empire State?

*My pulse was as high on my very first date!

-Your grandson's hand as he plays with your hair?

*To be honest, I really don't care...

I've seen it all, I've seen the dark,

I've seen the brightness in one little spark.

I've seen what I chose and I've seen what I need,

And that is enough, to want more would be greed.

I've seen what I was and I know what I'll be

I've seen it all - there is no more to see!

-You've seen it all and all you have seen

You can always review on your own little screen

The light and the dark, the big and the small

Just keep in mind - you need no more at all

You've seen what you were and know what you'll be

You've seen it all - there is no more to see!

الأحد، أكتوبر 08، 2006

Animals & affection

3 years ago I studied Schistosoma spp. ,commonly known as blood-flukes and bilharzia. One thing in particular amazed me; The fact that the male had what’s known as “gynaecophoric canal”, in which he embraces the female and moves around with her.
Never mind the disappointment I had on seeing it actually under Light microscope, since it looked like nothing but 2 pieces of thread. But the idea itself had a very romantic notion to it.

Since then I looked for gestures of affection in the Animal world, not only parental ones since they are very common, but ones between individuals of different sexes.
While searching up this, I came upon a lot of very interesting facts about mating and courtship of some animals. It was simply fascinating!

Here are a few examples from the very minute, microscopic animals, to the very large ones that can’t be missed:




Male Schistosoma embracing female.







In the world of the seahorse, it is the male that becomes pregnant. However, it is still the female that produces the eggs and the male that produces the sperm. The female deposits her eggs into a brood pouch on the male's tail. During the male's 3 weeks of pregnancy, the male and his female mate will greet each other every morning. They sidle up to each other, change colour to a brighter shade and begin a slow twirl dance around a few sea grass shoots.






The male, alone, nurtures the embryos (fertilized eggs) until they are released in a ''string'' of miniature seahorses.
Males still, however, compete for the females as is the case with other animal species. When competing for a female, two males use a special form of combat. Each aims his snout at the other and delivers a head butt with an upward snap. The recipient keels over backwards but swings upright again and counterattacks.
Tail wrestling can also be observed between two males. The two thrash about until one surrenders' by turning a dark colour and flattening himself on the seabed
.









Nudibranchs , commonly known as sea slugs, have extraordinary color patterns.
As can be seen in the picture, 2 individuals of sea slugs mating.











Dolphins are among the most sexual of animals. When aroused, a dolphin male may mate several times an hour, often with the same female but not always. But even though the male may play and then swim away, female dolphins can usually depend on their pods to help protect the baby dolphin .
Dolphins are among the only animals that have assisted birthing; when a dolphin is giving birth, she’s often assisted by another female dolphin who acts as midwife.




Male satin bowerbird
The most notable characteristic of bowerbirds is the extraordinarily complex behaviour of males, which is to build a bower to attract mates. Depending on the species, the bower ranges from a circle of cleared earth with a small pile of twigs in the center to a complex and highly decorated structure of sticks and leaves - usually shaped like a walkway, a small hut or a maytree -, into and around which the male places a variety of objects he has collected. These objects - always strikingly colored - may include hundreds of shells, leaves, flowers, feathers, stones, berries, and even discarded plastic items, pieces of glass or similar things.
The bird will spend hours carefully sorting and arranging his collection, with each thing in a specific place. If an object is moved while the bowerbird is away he will put it back in its place.
No two bowers are the same, and the collection of objects reflects the personal taste of each bird and its capability to procure unusual and rare items (going as far as stealing them from neighboring bowers).
At mating time, the female will go from bower to bower, watching as the male owner conducts an often elaborate mating ritual, and inspecting the quality of the bower. Inevitably, many females will end up selecting the same male, and many underperforming males will be left without mates. ( for more on that bird see wikipedia).

Examples are endless, and the more you investigate the animal world, the more impressed u become. One could see the similarities between Our behaviour, and that of other animals, which is fascinating, but not really surprising since we do belong to that wide group.



الجمعة، أكتوبر 06، 2006

الحاجات الصغيرة

انشد يا قلبى غنوتك للجمال
و أرقص فى صدرى من اليمين للشمال
ماهوش بعيد تفضل لبكرة سعيد
ده كل يوم فيه الف الف احتمال
! عجبى
من رباعيات صلاح جاهين

كل يوم اصحى الصبح, حاجات كتير ممكن تعكنن عليا: خنقة الشوارع, زحمة الناس و معاكاساتهم, الحر و التلوث و الدوشة, سخافات الكلية, دكاترة الكلية اللى فاكرين انهم بيدرسوا كمبيوترات, تكتب و تسمع و تستوعب أكبر قدر من المعلومات فى وقت محدود… حاجات تانية كتير بتضايق لو الواحد بيدور على النكد

انا باخد قرار: انا هانبسط النهاردة
أول اما بأقرر كدة, بالاقى نفسى باخد بالى من حاجات صغيرة تبسطنى. حاجات ممكن تعدى على ناس غيرى على انها عادية ما تستاهلش, بس هى ديه الحاجات اللى تفرقلى.

لما اساعد ست عجوزة, فتدعيلى بجد من قلبها
لما بنوتة صغيرة لابسة لبس المدرسة تيجى تقوللى "ممكن اسمع معاكى الأغنية اللى بتسمعيها فى الووكمان" , و نقف انا و هى فى الشارع نسمعها مع بعض
لما مجموعة بنات اعدى من جنبهم, اسمعهم بيقولوا :عسولة اوى
لما أركب المترو و الاقى ولد صغير, الاعبه من بعيد فيضحكلى, و نفضل انا و هو متجاهلين الناس اللى حوالينا, نعمل حركات هبلة لبعض, و نضحك احنا الاتنين, عيال مع بعض.

حاجات كتير صغيرة, بس هى اللى مخلية حياتى حلوة.
هى ديه الحاجات اللى عايزة لما اكبر, افتكرها, و اقع فى حب الدنيا من اول و جديد

ana git

Today i enter a new world, one i've been longing to be part of, but always found execuses not to.
Now, here i am...