it's amazing when you go back in time and see how things were and how complicated the minor events were at the time and how little impact they had on your lives in retrospect. I recently travelled back a couple of months and other than the fact that I was frustrated at not being able to change anything, I found that all the crisises were nonfactors in the larger scheme. And life goes on. But now we face more catastrophic events that await on the horizon. How do we identify them and how do we react. What steps should we take and are we reacting to the right factor or are we causing more damage? I'm not sure of anything, but I am going back further in time to where I recognize the events and know what damage will occur. I can't stop anything but I can enjoy the moments I should have enjoyed back when they were live. I'll see you soon again.

Welcome to the world, Sukaina

Another neice enters the world. The cheap camera-phone snapshot doesn't do her justice.
She is calm and wide-eyed and although she has only been here two days, she brings me peace, much the way her father did before he died. He died in June shortly after finding out he was going to have his third daughter. He and his wife named her Sukaina.

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings."

I've often stopped writing and thought "why am I writing?"
Why Blog? Is there a person on the other side anxiously waiting your words. Words that could be written by any of the 457,987 people that fit your general profile or share your minor observances. Why blog when there are countless people blogging more frequently, more powerfully, with a large captive audience reading their more refined writing. Then again why do any of us write.
Is this a type of escape or commitment to a vast non-functional community which holds itself captive while believing it is actually outreaching and performing.
Is this all a trick?
Is there a blogospheare brainwashing?
Are we just circling the scents of our own creation?
Spinning about in this great cyber expanse hoping to run into something life altering?
Do we believe we are activists when in reality we are drunk with our own pointless words?
I know not everyone writes to change but you write for someone or something or some cause. What if it is all non-existent or fake like the backdrop of a cheap theatrical play?
Will you still write? Even if it is to vent or recount your daily grind or talk to that imaginary friend about your day's favorite task?
What if this Blogospheare was put in place to keep us, the masses, in a stateless, powerless pattern of make believe? We think there is an effect when the effect is really our own paralysis.
This is to keep us all in an enormous cell of nothingness, no matter the weight or scope of the deed the effect on nothing is nothing.
What if this is actually keeping us from doing real work, or causing real change. It's like voting and saying "I didn't vote for that guy" yet that guy is in office.
Isn't everyone on Earth mad at something? Or wishes this or that would be different?
But then Sunday comes and we watch the game with our favorite drink and grilled meat in hand.

then I continue writing....

What is often forgotten about immigrants is that they are also emigrants, leaving behind a home, a family, a culture, a memory, a consciousness. Constantly struggling between the double consciousness, ever searching for a constant state of being, ever journeying from a distant awareness. Fragmented by the furious stream of lost thought, I am, in each world, viewed as an intruder.

Say NO to war and racism

Join the Fast in Solidarity with Muslim communities

Organized by:

NOWAR: The Arab American “No to War and Racism” Committee

http://www.solidarityfast.blogspot.com

"All the world's a stage...

"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players.They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts,His acts being seven ages."

With this world being only a set, what happens when we strike it?
What's behind this flat facade? Are we bound to play out our roles, helplessly?
If we do not write our own parts and act willingly and improvise then we become more puppet than human. The stage is set, no doubt. But the set can change and the players can change and the lines can change. Behind us are only the materials that we oursleves have structured together to hide the unpleasent.

Make me stronger

I don’t hate pain but the source causing pain. Pain is a life’s necessity. Pain makes you aware and alive. Without pain we would be lifeless blobs without feeling without flex or reflex. You experience pain so you fight the source of that pain, without that there is no fight, your body and mind are numb and let the source overrun you until death. I don’t need painkillers. I need to feel everything around me, inside me, affecting me. I need pain. I need it to survive, to eliminate the cause and regain health.

The Unbelievable weight of breathing

At times these years in repetitive succession, I find myself in absent sense of memory of breath. I stop breathing not remembering the basic instinctive function. My mind occupied, I fail to breath, my land occupied, I fail to breath. Every second waking in mourning spent from occupying events. And as I pass from this reality out into a state of being not my own, I breath once again from habit and need but not from conscience activity. And again remain occupied.

Tyr view from the cemetary

Munitions mangle and i sit silent by the soft gentle light of my screen silently sipping my muddled tea swirling the smoke puffs of my charred lungs inhaling and exhaling ash contaminants silently silently tearing twice once from the smoke once from the screaming scenes and i am silent still silent silent silent how long can i in silence suppress my solicitude solemnly surging let my agonizingly anemic words age against aggress while the winds coil me hopeless helpless in silence while munitions mangle and ordnances orphan