A Life in Pieces

A life in pieces

Birth. Screaming. Washed. Suckling for the first time.

Tiny outfits. Small bathtub. Small bed. Small everything.

Colours. Sounds. Faces. Mum and Dad.

Tongue. Tastes. Hands grabbing. Legs kicking. All fours, crawling.

Standing up. Cheering. Falling down. Laughter. Hugs. Happiness. Safety.

Noises. Repeated. Repeated. Repeated.

Same noises. Copied, imitated. Mum happy. Dad proud.

Little plastic humans. Little plastic animals. Little plastic everything. A miniature life.

Stuffed cartoon people. Stuffed cartoon animals. Stuffed cartoon everything. A soft life.

“Stop!”, “Don’t!”, “Watch out!”. A safe life.

Uniforms. Desks. Boards.

Books. Pencils. Tests.

Education.

Parents. Teachers. Coaches.

Authority.

“Don’t!”, “Stop!”, “Watch out!”. A proper life.

Shouting. Crying. Sulking. Shouting. Banging. Screaming. Sulking. Talking, talking, talking.

Confusion.

Heart quickening. Stomach twisting. Life brightening.

Heart breaking. Stomach retching. Life over.

Love.

Choose. Decide. Produce.

Make money. Make a family. Make up your mind.

Responsibility.

Confusion.

Married. Single. Tied. Free. Job. No job. Career. No career.

Confusion. Envy. Not happy.

Birth. Screaming. Tired. Holding your baby the first time.

Happiness, hope, the future.

Family. Responsibility.

Safety. Security.

Anxiety.

Blood pressure. Cholesterol. No salt.

Adulthood.

Counting. Waiting. Looking back.

Tired. Weak. Exhausted.

Tongue, not tasting. Hands, twisted. Legs not moving.

People gathering. Blanket pulled up. Crying

Gently. Being respectful.

Silence. Blackness. Space.

Seeing? Hearing? Sensing?

Here, or not? Gone, or not?

What is this?

Game of Thrones: part 2

     
     

     So, it's been five months since I read A Game of Thrones, the first book in The Song f Ice and Fire series by George R. R. Martin, and I finally got to reading the second book of the series, A Clash of Kings.

     AS mentioned in the first post, I decided to chronicle my journey reading these hefty tomes and to share with you some glimpses of my experience in case someone wants to do the same or just join me on this.

     A Clash of Kings clocked in at 728 pages and it took me two weeks to finish it. Two weeks of A LOT more reading than I'm normally used to mind you. But I must say, I enjoyed it much more than the first book. I have already seen all four seasons of the HBO series and according the the internet, the TV show takes us up till the end of book three, which will be my next step in this journey. The first season turned out hat it stuck pretty much to the books but It seems that for book two the TV show creators began deviating a little; not much, but enough to keep the books still interesting and a little surprising. Another reason I may have enjoyed A Clash of Kings more is that I have watched season one of the TV show more than once but I only watched seasons two through four only once and I was binge watching so my memory of them is vague at best.

     I must also say that from the TV show my best character is Tyrion Lannister, portrayed by the genius Peter Dinklage, and reading the books just made my admiration for him increase ten fold. The character and all his lines are perfect and he is just a delight to read and follow whether on the page or on screen. Tyrion's character got a lot of air time in A Clash of Kings, which in and of itself is a reason to love this installment in the series.


But knowing that the TV show is deviating from the books I hope I don't get surprised by his death in the books any time soon. And please if you are reading this and already know the answer to that, please no spoilers. Even if he does live till the end of the most recently published book five, I still don't want to know. The anticipation is as sweet as the wines of Arbor.

     Long story short, for book two of the series things are getting interesting and engaging. I read a lot over these past couple of weeks but it didn't feel like a chore, which reading should never feel like anyway. And stretching my reading speed is always good exercise.

     The interesting thing right now is that season five of the show has just began airing and GoT noise in the media and on the internet has been relentless. I've been dodging spoilers left and right. I plan not to watch the show until I finish the books; the ones that have been published anyway. All reports say that the story lines are beginning to deviate greatly and will deviate even more as the show moves into season six and probably even seven. And of course right now the whole trouble revolves around whether GRRM will be able to finish the books ahead of the HBO series or are we going to see the ending on TV first. As an avid fan of reading I always prefer to get the first taste of a story printed on the pages of a book so I'm rooting for George and I hope he's already finished the books and just playing the fool for some marketing stunt or something.

     I'll break away from the world of Westeros for a while with some other books off my TBR list and I'll be back again with A Storm of Swords.

     Until then, Valar Morghulis.

Can you really shut down your brain?

     

     I really must admit at the get go that I do not claim to be 
able to actually answer any of these questions, nor am I going to cite any studies or official sources of information on this subject or any other subject I bring up for that matter. I can only claim, and promise this, that I will try to speak of these topics from a personal point of view, out of personal experience, hoping that maybe you, or someone else out there, will come across it and think "someone out there is feeling the same as me and I am not alone".

     You will probably say that in this day and age and with the all encompassing existence of the internet no one still feels they are alone, no matter how rare, or weird for that matter, whatever it is they are experiencing may be. Well, true and not true. True because, Duh! I can't deny a fact like that, but not true because I believe in two things: one, that with everything on the internet brining everyone closer and connecting those who used to think they were lonely islands in the world, there was someone who started writing about it or posting about it or whatever about it at some point. Not only that, but people with a certain interest in a certain topic continue to post stuff about it. No one has ever reached a point regarding any topic on earth and said, "Oh, I guess there's enough of that out there. Let's declare this topic closed or on hold till further notice."
Just look at all the porn out there. Not that I know of it myself, but people talk.

     The second thing I believe in with regards to this point is that maybe my post, my meagre little two cents on the subject turn out to be the post that you read from among all the heaps out there. Maybe my words strike the chord and you can make that connection you were longing for and that brought you here in the first place. And yes, I do believe my words can have that effect. Well, not really, but I kind of hope so.

     So, to sum up, there are loads of stuff out there already on almost any and all topics. Someone started it and people have never stopped since despite the enormous information already out there. So I will also continue to add to the pile. And despite the pile being humungous, my words could be the needle and you could be the lucky one to find it in the haystack.

     Now that being said, you may wonder when I will begin dazzling you with my unprecedented insights and heart-felt words, and gut-wrenching prose that will bestow upon you the epiphany of your life?

     Well, I already have. You see, the topic is, Can You Really shut down your brain? And the five previous paragraphs you've been wading to until now are the answer to that question, No, you can't really shut down your brain. No matter what you do, your brain will continue to think and come up with ideas words and images that can be world-changing or in other cases, like what I have just been writing and you have just read.

     So, before you curse me or throw something at your screen and before you start sending hate messages to me on Facebook or Twitter (I won't mind it by the way, I am desperate for attention), hear me out. If I, since I cannot get to shut down my brain, have taken these past few minutes from your life and have had the audacity to type out these words and post them to waste the time of unassuming poor souls such as yourself, then you might as well do the same. I know you can't shut down your brain either (the title did grab your

attention after all), and now you are either so angry at me, or so amused by my wit, or so impressed by my abilities, in all cases, now is the best time for your to pull out a fresh page and take it out on the world!
You are, after all, unable to shut down your brain, might as well

lay it down on the world, because when you do, I'm quite sure you will send into the world something better than what you've just read, and maybe, just maybe, you can actually get to make a difference.


M.Refaat
2nd March, 2015
On an airplane to Dubai.

أنا والصرصار

أنا والصرصار

هو يتحدانى. أنا واثق من هذا. رغم أنه لم يواجهنى ويكتفى بالوقوف ساكناً مولياً ظهره إياى, لكنى واثق أنه يتحدانى. وإلا فلم اختار أن يقطع طريقى أنا, فى هذا المكان وفى هذا الوقت وبهذه الصفاقة؟؟ هل تتبعنى, أم كان قابعاً هنا كل هذا الوقت ينتظر الفرصة المناسبة؟ هو يعلم بالتأكيد أن أفضل فرصة له هى الآن وأنا صاعد إلى شقتى على السلم بدلاً من المصعد الكهربائى كعادتى, لكن كيف عرف, من بلّغه؟ خصوصاً أن الكهرباء ليست مقطوعة, أنا فقط آثرت السلامة بدلاً من أن أحبس ساعة فى الظلام معلقاً بين السماء والأرض. قد يكون هناك من خاننى وبلغه. البوّاب؟ أو فريق مراقبة وتتبع؟ لا, هو يعمل منفرداً, غطرسته وثقته توحى بهذا, وبغض النظر عن آليته فى الاستطلاع فالأكيد أنى فى مواجهة داهية لا يستهان به, فكيف تفسر أنه اختار هذا الدور بالتحديد ليعد المواجهة؟ أنا أسكن فى الطابق الثامن وهو اختار الطابق السادس لإعداد النزال, على السلم بحيث لا أستطيع التراجع إلى الخامس عندما يبدأ هجمته وهو مسيطر على مدخل السادس. ليس هذا فقط, فالطابق السادس هو قمة الشعور بالتعب واليأس؛ النفس مقطوع, الأرجل متعبة والدور الثامن ما زال يبدو بعيداً. هو حقاً داهية, التسرع لن يكون فى صالحى.

الثوانى تمر والمؤامرة تزداد تعقيداً وكثافة كلما تضح أمامى عناصرها. أولاً كما ذكرت, الكهرباء ليست مقطوعة ورغم هذا نور السلم لا يعمل فى أى من الأدوار وأنا فى طريق الصعود. هى حرب نفسية اذاً, وأصابع الإتهام تشير إلى تواطؤ البوّاب. ليس هذا فقط, لكن...مهلاً, ما هذا؟ هذا الذى أمامى ليس من النوع المعتاد ولا حتى النوع الأمريكى المستخدم فى مثل هذه العمليات, لا أرى له قرون استشعار. هل يرتدى خوذة للحماية أم أنه يعتمد على وسائل تكنولوجية معقدة لم يتم الكشف عنها من قبل؟؟ ولونه, أسود قاتم غير البنى المنتشر فى بنى جنسه الذين يعيثون فى خراباتنا وبلاعتنا فساداً. هل هى ألوان الحرب, أم أن هذا نوع خاص لا يظهر إلا فى مثل هذه العمليات الإنتحارية, بلونه الأسود والخوذة وأحدث ما أنتجته تكنولوجيا المعارك؟ سوبر صرصار...كوماندوز.

على أى حال, عقارب الساعة تستمر فى الزحف وخصمى لا تبدو عليه أى علامة للتعب أو التململ. سوف يكون عندى وقت كافى فيما بعد للكشف عن تفاصيل المؤامرة وسأنزل انتقامى على كل من عمل ضدى , لكن الآن وقت العمل, التردد أو الانتظار سوف يكسبه ثقة فوق ثقته وأنا فى غنى عن هذا. حان وقت التحرك.

هو يقف فى منتصف السلم, إلى اليمين قليلاً, ظهره تجاهى ورأسه الخالية من قرون الاستشعار تنظر فى الاتجاه الآخر. لكنه يقف بزاوية لليسار قليلاً تعطيه ميزة تغطية النصف الآخر من السلم إذا ما قرر الإنقضاض. هذا بالإضافة للسُمك الغير طبيعى لأرجله الخلفية, فهو غالباً ينوى أن ينتظر حتى أمر بجانبه ثم ينقض هو على من الخلف. لكن لا, لن ينال منى, أنا لن أمشى من جانبهز سوف أقفز من فوقه, أبناء جنسه لا يستطيعون القفز لأعلى مباشرةً. لكن مهلاً, هل يمكنه الطيران؟! مثل هذا الكوماندو يجب تغطية كل الاحتمالات معه.

قوات المساندة تأتى, هناك نور أبيض يتحرك خلفى صاعداً السلم, أدور فى حركة سريعة حتى لا تتم مباغتتى,

"سلامو عليكو يا أستاذ محمد", قالها جارى فى الدور الثامن, الأستاذ مُسعَد, وهو يلاحق أنفاسه المتقطعة.

"وعليكم السلام يا أستاذ مُسعَد", قُلت حذراً.

"النور قطع تانى, خامس مرة النهاردة, وربنا ستر انه قطع وأنا إيدى على باب الأسانسير, آه والله يا أستاذ محمد"

وقبل أن أحذره من عدو البشر المتربص فى الظلام, كان الأستاذ مُسعَد قد مر منى ولم أعد أستطيع رؤية الصرصار. ثم دوّى الصوت حولنا مقاطعاً صوت أنفاس الأستاذ مُسعَد الثقيلة, لكن الأستاذ مُسعَد لم يُعِره انتباهاً, فقط استمر فى الصعود مخلفاً وراءه بقعة سوداء لزجة وبقايا نِد يستحق التقدير. أحنيت رأسى وأنا أمر بجانب بقايا المعركة وأنا أفكر كيف ومتى ستكون العملية الانقامية, ثم رفعت عيناى وحمدت الله على أنى أسكن فى الثامن مع الأستاذ مُسعَد.

بقلم:

محمد رفعت

Let the Game, of Thrones, begin

I know, it's cheeky. Just had to be done.

Now, I haven't updated this blog for a while now. Between the job, relocating to a different country and working on a new novel in Arabic, there was just no time for the blog. But twenty pages into A Game of Thrones and I was moved once again to speak up, or write down. Sorry again for that!

I've always read about how in order to garner more readers for your blog you should write about topics that interest your target demographic and stuff like that. I'm sure the advice is true, but I still find more pleasure in putting down what comes to mind when I am moved to write and hoping that a like-minded soul will find it, enjoy it, and that it might make the few minutes of their day it will take him or her to read it just a little bit better. And yes, I don't intend to keep you reading for more than a few minutes.

So, A Game of Thrones. I've watched all four seasons of the TV show and I have read about the books a lot. One of the reviews said, quoting loosely, that "it grips you from the first page and never lets go". Or something like that. But when I began to read it, keeping that quote and many others like it, in mind, and expecting to enjoy the ride, I did not expect it to be THIS good. Reviews usually exaggerate. But not these ones. A few pages in and I was like WHAAAAAAAT! I must tell it to the whole world. And here I am telling it to you. Could you please share it with the whole of your world? I need more views on this thing. Just kidding. Not really. (cue awkward laugh)

Those who read the books will relate

Back to A Song of Ice and Fire. After watching a few episodes of the show, being the book addict that I am (you can check how addicted I am by reading my other posts here and here), I decided I must read the books. I was trapped in the age-old dilemma of book lovers "Book first or TV show/movie first? And will one ruin the other?". It's not really age-old, just as old as the age when they started making books into TV shows and movies.

But nonetheless, I had started watching and I was hooked and from what I understood the books were so much grander in scale, I was bound to have fresh surprises anyway. I went ahead and did my research (again, book addict, some would say, nerd, but that is neither here nor there) and decided I wanted the hardcover Bantam copies and in the part of the world where I live they were not available. So I ordered them online from a bookstore in Dubai. Kinokuniya, if you must know. Visit if you are ever in this part of the world and you won't regret it. I picked them up myself after giving them strict instructions to store them well and keep the books in mint condition. I handled the books as a careful cargo should be and they travelled with me on three flights till they landed safely on my bookshelves, all set next to each other taking up almost half the space on that shelf. They look beautiful. And the sheer size of them is a clear indication that there is A LOT to enjoy in these tomes even if one has watched the show. It didn't take much to realize that. As I said, twenty pages.

The great thing I liked is that watching the show first is actually helping keep all the characters, Houses and geography a little clearer than it would have been if I were reading the books first. And although all the scenes in the few pages I have just read are all included in the opening fifteen minutes of the show, the prose itself is enjoyable; savory; melts in your mouth and goes down smoothly. Again, addict, what do you expect!

The other thing is realizing that if the writing and the story is this good on the first few pages, how great will it be when we get to the parts where people start to get their heads, and hands, chopped off. Reading a story when you know nothing about it is a journey of discovery and is so much better when the story is actually good. But I think it's safe to say that with the scale of this epic fantasy, George R.R. Martin, created a work that is so grand that no matter how good the show is, you can still be excited about the book. And knowing what is yet to come within the next pages and be anticipating it is another great feeling I only felt once before when I read The Godfather.

I promised to only keep you for a few minutes and thanks for sticking around. Go see the show if you haven't. But more importantly, go read the books, even if you have. I have started a series of blogs called Project: Ulysses about my plan to prepare myself for, then actually, reading Joyce's classic novel. Yes, as you expected, there is only one post in that so-called series, but I will update it, after I finish A Game of Thrones. And in the meantime, I am thinking of beginning a Project: Game of Thrones series. Go to your local independent bookstore, buy a copy of A Game of Thrones, then come back and tell me what you think. Maybe we can do this project together.

Silence the noise

   

     The world can be so loud at times. The thoughts inside one's head can be even louder.

     I'm twenty nine years old; I will be next month, and I always struggle with figuring out which age group I really belong to. Most of the time I think of myself as the same person who graduated from college; after all, it's only been seven years. But at other times I realize so much has happened in those seven years, I'm not that kid anymore. This feeling is accentuated by certain looks I get from younger friends or colleagues, and then I realize they are actually looking up to me.

     At other times, when I feel like an old soul, full of wisdom and life's lessons, I realize, again, that I am only twenty nine. What have I seen or experienced of the world?? I'm just a kid compared to most people.

     Whether seven years out of college is a long time or not, whether what I feel is true for everyone or just due to my inexperience, one thing I know for sure is that every once in a while when I stop for a second, I notice how loud the world in my head is.

     I have a highly demanding job, a wife and a 4-year-old girl, whom I love both dearly, and I don't live in my own country. My life is easier than most people on this planet and I am blessed with much more than I deserve. Yet, like many others, the more we get used to our lives, the more our thresholds are lowered and our vision is narrowed and we are too busy with our own issues. We start getting overwhelmed by work, requests, phone calls, e-mails, little problems and big problems, performance appraisals, bonuses, promotions, wanting to be liked by your colleagues, fearing that we hurt someone's feelings, or fearing that we made the wrong impression. Then there's the family, looking after them, wondering how on earth are you going to raise this kid properly and not screw her up; should you have another baby? or not? are you ready for that? are you a good father? are you a good husband? did you take out the trash? and oh God, I have work tomorrow and I forgot to buy a new razor!

     You don't always realize this clash and clatter of thoughts in your mind until you are sitting alone, with the TV muted at two o'clock in the morning, reading a book about a mentally ill patient and you see the world through their eyes and it dawns on you that there is so much you are not hearing because of the noise you carry around with you. And at that point it was clear to me how therapeutic reading can be.

    

I took a few moments to fill my mind with a different crowd, not that of thoughts and worries, but of characters that I have gotten to know through the wonder of pages and the magic of words. And to my surprise, they were very quiet. Although this crowd included a recovering alcoholic with supernatural powers, a paranoid typewriter from the 20s and a man who survived a terrorist attack in New York City (and these were only the ones from the last few books I read) and although they made many sounds, it was like remembering the music from a carnival you went to as a child; it wasn't noise, it was soothing nostalgia.

     I guess what I'm trying to say is that even though I didn't like all those books when I was reading them, I'm still grateful that I did, because they came back to help me when I needed an escape; they were like friends that only show up when no one else is there for you. They say nothing of value and usually they say nothing at all, but traveling back to the worlds you shared with them is an escape and a relief.

     Books are wonderful friends that come to the rescue long after you turned the last page and maybe even long after the pages have withered away in an old box is someone else's garage. I know the stories I've read will always live with me and from time to time would drown out the noise of  everyday.

     Reading over my words, I can see that to many of you I might sound crazy. I won't admit to insanity, but I won't deny what I feel either. Just close your eyes, and tell me, wouldn't you like to silence the noise?

Unplugged

     "My cell phone is dead. What a relief!"

    
     I know much has been said about technology; some things for and some things against. I've also read before how we should unplug every once in a while and take a break from the world. But my job in sales has never really given me that chance and I know that this is the case with most people out there; we know we need to take a break, sometimes we might even force ourselves to take it, but the damn phone never stops ringing and it seems that the evil forces of the universe always conspire so that all the undesired phone calls, e-mails and messages converge on you when you are most in need of a break.

     Many of us just can't afford to turn off our phones. And that's not all, what I also noticed about myself is that even on weekends when it appears safe to go to the dark side of the moon, it just feels wrong, against my instincts. This might be a by-product of my work, or maybe I just lack the will-power to do it, either way, when my cell phone died on me today for the first time in months (I keep a charger everywhere) I realized two things:

One, I have been exposing myself to this things radio waves non-stop for more than I care to admit (I sleep with it on the night stand and I can't turn it off because, too early in the morning, I might get that all-important message from someone in an office in a different time zone).

And two, it felt like a huge weight just lifted off my shoulders and that I prayed secretly not to find a charger near by. The world suddenly became just a tiny bit quieter. Not that my phone was ringing off the hook, but because finally I could relax knowing that no matter what happens I could be blissfully ignorant about the world for a while. You might ask why I don't just turn off my phone at will? To that I say, maybe I will start doing that now more often. I don't like to lie when my boss asks why my phone was off, so when it dies on me by chance, I don't feel guilty about it.

     The reason I am telling you all this is that if you are wise to the enslaving effect technology has on us, then good for you, but if you are like me, then break away now, run for your life, or at least forget to keep a charger in your car. I know that's what I'm going to do!
   
        

Being an Introvert Hurts

     Being an introvert in today's world hurts. It's exhausting. It's psychologically demanding. And in some cases it takes its toll on you physically. That being said, I still believe that being an introvert...is awesome.

     A few months ago, being a textbook introvert myself, I picked up Susan Cain's book QUIET: The Power of Introverts In a World That Can't Stop Talking. In her book, Susan mentions a scientific experiment (I don't really remember the name of the scientist, but it's in the book, I swear), that demonstrated whether being an introvert is nature or nurture. Are you born an introvert or do you grow up to be one?

     Like so many other studies about human nature, this study concluded that both nature and nurture play a role, and who you are today is a mix between the hand you've been dealt at birth and how you decided to play it along the way.

     What's all this got to do with hurt and pain? Well, in this study it was found that babies, who grew up to be introverts, cried a lot and were annoyed and agitated by the different stimuli they were exposed to like noise and such. Why? Because it turns out that introverts are very sensitive to external stimuli. They pick up on most things going on around them and they have a reaction to it. And as babies, just as the adult ones, the noise was too much for them.

     I only realized the nature of being an introvert a couple of years ago. Before that I had no explanation for all the sad stories from my childhood about the countless times I cried, in class and at home, for reasons that, to others, seemed ridiculous. I could never get them to understand that changing my music teacher was just too much to take.

     I remember crying my eyes out on the first day of school, after we had moved to a different country, because I was so embarrassed for not understanding what to do during the assembly. The teachers were talking in code. And all the kids were responding in unison. It was like a scene out of an Orwellian novel. 

 Turns out the teacher was just calling out different morning stretching exercises. I was let in on the secret later that day when someone felt sorry for me after a full day of intermittent crying bouts. I was also scarred for life on that same day when I saw the law of "Survival Of The Fittest" displayed full fledged by the kids as they FOUGHT to choose their seats in the classroom.

     As an adult, I still get that gut wrenching feeling I had that first day at school. I get it when a colleague says something hurtful and I don't want to respond; when I do a job and someone else gets the credit; when I realize that today I have to give a presentation in front of a room full of strangers out to get me even though I've gotten pretty good at it.

     Some would call me a wimp for having these feelings, but I like Susan Cain's explanation. I am an introvert.

     At last, what moved me to write this post is that I'm getting these feelings again now because my daughter starts school this month. And as she runs around excited by her new bag and chanting "going to school, going to school", I cannot shake off this knot in my stomach when I realize she will be going out into the world and, if she's an introvert, it's probably going to be exhausting for her too. It's probably going to hurt a lot and it's probably going to take its toll on her physically. But it's still going to be awesome!