Another day, another bomb.
This weekend it was all about the piles of trash that weren't picked up by Sukleen. Last week it was a tie between the EDL strike, the STL trial and a blog post by my colleague about how only Christians can save Lebanon. The week before it was also a bomb; or was it the week before that? And there was the Chattah assassination, and the Christmas and New Year traffic and reunions, and the amazing article by Fifi Abou Dib in L'Orient-LeJour describing exactly what it is that we keep losing, as Lebanese.
I'm leaving on Sunday, on a one-way ticket to New York; I don't have a job waiting for me, I'm not one of those lucky many to hold another nationality, I don't have a dad with unlimited money and I don't know what I'm really going to do there, but I know I can't stay here any longer.
And I know very well what I'm leaving behind. It's not the bombs --that are more present on my Facebook feed than in my reality. The bombs will come with me, because every time I hear there was in explosion in Beirut I will frantically try to call my family and friends to make sure they are all ok. It's not the lack of government, or the social segregation, or the power held by Hezbollah, or the sunni/chiite/orthodox/maronite/etc. bullshit that I could never wrap my head around, or the towers of cement growing like mushrooms in Beirut --none of this is what I'm going to miss. It'll all be here when I return, whenever that may be.
What I'm leaving behind is my sister, the person I love most in the world and who I wont be around for every day. I'm leaving my dad, my childhood home, and all the places where the memory of my mother is still alive. I'm leaving my friends, the friends I made when I was just a little girl, going to school in this very neighbourhood where I lived through all of my most important memories. What I'm leaving behind, what we are all leaving behind, is the potential for something great that will unfortunately never be. I have travelled a lot, met many different kinds of people. As a journalist, I've heard and told many stories. And I have yet to see families love each other as they do here; or groups of friends form ties that last longer than anywhere else; or a diversity that I really believe could've made us special in stead of hateful.
What we are all leaving behind are the brave. The young hopefuls who create LiveLoveBeirut to shout out the love; the heroes like Nidal and Kholoud who defy all odds and fight to marry civilly, and have the first secular baby in Lebanon; the activists who fight for children, for the poor, for the sick, for the environment, even though they get no help and no encouragement. And so we go; writers, filmmakers, designers, finance tycoons and doctors and whatever we may be. We go, and we come back for the people we've left behind. In the country we've lost.
Showing posts with label Yasmina Hatem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yasmina Hatem. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 21
Wednesday, January 15
I'm going now, it's all very real
About a month and a half ago, I came back from New York City after having spent 5 weeks there, on pause. No work, no obligations, the city that never sleeps and a good friend was just what I needed to get my shit back together. I realise that I often lose my own path and find myself wondering again and again what I want to do, really. That trip made me realise many important things: first that I need to leave Beirut, at least for a while. Second that when I'm far away (i.e. 5,600 miles) I feel free from the family-related responsibilities that take up so much of my energy when I'm around. That my dream is still to write a book, and that I should just sit down and write it already. And that my life isn't going to change if I don't change it myself [basically, if I sit back and wait for change, well, it's never going to happen.]
So armed with all this new and wise information I've processed about my current situation, I decided to try my luck and move to New York. Note that I'm doing that with no real plan in sight, except for the hope to pitch some good stories and make some money working freelance, no money (well, that's a lie, a bit of money that could last me a month I guess) and no work permit (don't even get me started on that). Am I scared? I'm terrified. And absolutely excited about it.
Before I left New York at the end of November, I promised myself I was coming back. Even left a few sweaters at my friend's apartment (because they just wouldn't fit in my suitcase) and told everyone (and I mean everyone) that I was planning on moving back to New York in January. I told everyone so it would make it harder for me to back out on this decision. Because, as it happens, the more time I spend in this country, the more anxious I become about making the move.
Truth is, it's not that big of a risk. Worse comes to worst, I'll just pack it all up in a few months and fly my ass back here, at ground zero, where I suspect things will still be the same.
So two days ago, I received a payment which I had promised myself I would use to buy my ticket to New York. I didn't let myself spend a penny of it, I just immediately went online and picked a flight, return date back at the end of May. There we go. Paid. Done. I'm going now, it's all very real.
I should maybe have a farewell party, but I know I'll be back soon enough, we always do. Maybe I'll start a new blog when I get there, New York Rhapsodies or Rhapsodies in New York, don't know yet. The topic: Late 20s Lebanese writer decides to change her life and buys a ticket to New York with no plan and just enough savings to survive a month. She will crash on her gay best-friend's couch (for a little while, I promise!) and they will have lots of fun adventures to share with the world (I hope).
Writing this and posting it, just like telling everyone I was planning to move before I bought my ticket, also makes it more real for me. I'm doing it, even though I'm scared. I'm usually a planner, you see --my friends make fun of me because I need to make a list about everything and anything; it comforts me to know what's coming. Yet I also like adventure, and this is one I'm jumping at with both feet. Whatever happens, I hope I get good stories out of it. That's all that matters in the end.
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So armed with all this new and wise information I've processed about my current situation, I decided to try my luck and move to New York. Note that I'm doing that with no real plan in sight, except for the hope to pitch some good stories and make some money working freelance, no money (well, that's a lie, a bit of money that could last me a month I guess) and no work permit (don't even get me started on that). Am I scared? I'm terrified. And absolutely excited about it.
Before I left New York at the end of November, I promised myself I was coming back. Even left a few sweaters at my friend's apartment (because they just wouldn't fit in my suitcase) and told everyone (and I mean everyone) that I was planning on moving back to New York in January. I told everyone so it would make it harder for me to back out on this decision. Because, as it happens, the more time I spend in this country, the more anxious I become about making the move.
Truth is, it's not that big of a risk. Worse comes to worst, I'll just pack it all up in a few months and fly my ass back here, at ground zero, where I suspect things will still be the same.
So two days ago, I received a payment which I had promised myself I would use to buy my ticket to New York. I didn't let myself spend a penny of it, I just immediately went online and picked a flight, return date back at the end of May. There we go. Paid. Done. I'm going now, it's all very real.
I should maybe have a farewell party, but I know I'll be back soon enough, we always do. Maybe I'll start a new blog when I get there, New York Rhapsodies or Rhapsodies in New York, don't know yet. The topic: Late 20s Lebanese writer decides to change her life and buys a ticket to New York with no plan and just enough savings to survive a month. She will crash on her gay best-friend's couch (for a little while, I promise!) and they will have lots of fun adventures to share with the world (I hope).
Writing this and posting it, just like telling everyone I was planning to move before I bought my ticket, also makes it more real for me. I'm doing it, even though I'm scared. I'm usually a planner, you see --my friends make fun of me because I need to make a list about everything and anything; it comforts me to know what's coming. Yet I also like adventure, and this is one I'm jumping at with both feet. Whatever happens, I hope I get good stories out of it. That's all that matters in the end.
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Wednesday, October 23
Are we aging or just appreciating?
I know what you're thinking --this girl hasn't written anything in ages and now she's invading my newsfeed with two posts in two days... I'm actually writing this for me more than for you, just because I'm so over-excited that I actually feel like writing and I'm not gonna miss out on it. It's magical that a simple night in is inspiring me to write.
So, last night... Let me give you some background information. I am staying with one of my best-friends, in his New York apartment. We met in journalism school 7 years ago right here in Manhattan and have been quite the inseparable pair ever since --like he said yesterday, I don't think I've ever spent so much time hanging out with anyone else. The year after we went to Columbia, we were both in our early twenties, living in New York, starting our careers... and doing all kinds of crazy shit at odd hours in the city that never sleeps.
And so yesterday afternoon, when he came home from work, I was there waiting to hear all about his day. Keep in mind this is my first night in New York City in about 18 months. He comes home after a long day (he's kind of a famous success story) and we wind down as he is telling me about his day. Then we decide to go out --for juice. Apparently New York has turned into this super health-freak zone in the last few years and everywhere you look there is something organic, detoxing, vegan-related and other things I don't understand yet. So we go to this juice bar, and I follow his lead, order this juice that is supposedly really good for you. Then we walk around the neighborhood for about 30 minutes looking for a liquor store, and I have a brief flashback of us 6 years ago... except this time, we're a going in to buy --wait for it-- ginger cognac. Not wine, not beers, not vodka or even whisky. Ginger cognac.
We get home, kick off our shoes, I start making grilled cheese sandwiches, and he takes out two pairs of those hotel slippers and gives me one. By 9pm, we were eating, drinking ginger cognac and watching The Voice ("because it makes his mind switch off"). An hour later we're both ready to shower and go to bed, and I hear him screaming from the bathroom door: "Yas... Are we aging?"
Truth be told, six years ago, on a random tuesday night, we'd sometimes end up renting a car at 11pm and would find ourselves driving to Atlantic City. So yeah, I guess we are aging. But the absolute joy that comes with spending time with a friend eating grilled cheese, drinking cognac, watching The Voice... it's priceless. Even in New York City.
So, last night... Let me give you some background information. I am staying with one of my best-friends, in his New York apartment. We met in journalism school 7 years ago right here in Manhattan and have been quite the inseparable pair ever since --like he said yesterday, I don't think I've ever spent so much time hanging out with anyone else. The year after we went to Columbia, we were both in our early twenties, living in New York, starting our careers... and doing all kinds of crazy shit at odd hours in the city that never sleeps.
And so yesterday afternoon, when he came home from work, I was there waiting to hear all about his day. Keep in mind this is my first night in New York City in about 18 months. He comes home after a long day (he's kind of a famous success story) and we wind down as he is telling me about his day. Then we decide to go out --for juice. Apparently New York has turned into this super health-freak zone in the last few years and everywhere you look there is something organic, detoxing, vegan-related and other things I don't understand yet. So we go to this juice bar, and I follow his lead, order this juice that is supposedly really good for you. Then we walk around the neighborhood for about 30 minutes looking for a liquor store, and I have a brief flashback of us 6 years ago... except this time, we're a going in to buy --wait for it-- ginger cognac. Not wine, not beers, not vodka or even whisky. Ginger cognac.
We get home, kick off our shoes, I start making grilled cheese sandwiches, and he takes out two pairs of those hotel slippers and gives me one. By 9pm, we were eating, drinking ginger cognac and watching The Voice ("because it makes his mind switch off"). An hour later we're both ready to shower and go to bed, and I hear him screaming from the bathroom door: "Yas... Are we aging?"
Truth be told, six years ago, on a random tuesday night, we'd sometimes end up renting a car at 11pm and would find ourselves driving to Atlantic City. So yeah, I guess we are aging. But the absolute joy that comes with spending time with a friend eating grilled cheese, drinking cognac, watching The Voice... it's priceless. Even in New York City.
Friday, December 21
time to say goodbye
All good things come to an end. And this is just one of those things.
There are a lot of good things I've watched come to an end that I never wanted to see, but it's taught me to recognize when it's time to cut the cord.
You see, when I started this blog, I was unhappy. I was in a relationship that wasn't working, I couldn't remember any of the things I liked to do, I had no direction in which to pursue my career, I hadn't written in years and I didn't know what to do. And things evolved the way they should: A breakup, which taught me everything I needed to know about myself, my strengths, my expectations of a good relationship. Months of celibacy which helped me have fun again. Peaking my interest in different directions, like charity work, acting, film-making, writing for the screen. Traveling to the four corners of the world, visiting wonderful places from San Francisco to Thailand. Finding out who I am, what I am and how I want to live.
Last year like today, I met the boy who I've come to refer to as my Parisian... and as unexpected as my falling for him was, I have to say I am a really lucky gal. I'm won't overstretch on this, otherwise he'll get a big head, but in fewer words: it's been a full year now, and I am happier than ever. Because not only am I happy in love, I can now confidently say that I know what I want from my life.
So here I am, finally setting off to be what I've always wanted to be: a writer. I have decided to take a year off, move to Paris --because what better place to write than in the city that inspired the greatest writers in the world?
And so it is time to start a new chapter of my life. I am writing the closing lines to what has been an amazing experience and I am so excited to see what is ahead. It is all thanks to the readers I've had following me through every post, hugging me on street (I swear, it's happened), telling me that what I write means so much to them, and giving me faith in my words. And now I'm ready to put those words on real pages.
So this isn't the last you'll hear from me, that's a promise.
There are a lot of good things I've watched come to an end that I never wanted to see, but it's taught me to recognize when it's time to cut the cord.
You see, when I started this blog, I was unhappy. I was in a relationship that wasn't working, I couldn't remember any of the things I liked to do, I had no direction in which to pursue my career, I hadn't written in years and I didn't know what to do. And things evolved the way they should: A breakup, which taught me everything I needed to know about myself, my strengths, my expectations of a good relationship. Months of celibacy which helped me have fun again. Peaking my interest in different directions, like charity work, acting, film-making, writing for the screen. Traveling to the four corners of the world, visiting wonderful places from San Francisco to Thailand. Finding out who I am, what I am and how I want to live.
Last year like today, I met the boy who I've come to refer to as my Parisian... and as unexpected as my falling for him was, I have to say I am a really lucky gal. I'm won't overstretch on this, otherwise he'll get a big head, but in fewer words: it's been a full year now, and I am happier than ever. Because not only am I happy in love, I can now confidently say that I know what I want from my life.
So here I am, finally setting off to be what I've always wanted to be: a writer. I have decided to take a year off, move to Paris --because what better place to write than in the city that inspired the greatest writers in the world?
And so it is time to start a new chapter of my life. I am writing the closing lines to what has been an amazing experience and I am so excited to see what is ahead. It is all thanks to the readers I've had following me through every post, hugging me on street (I swear, it's happened), telling me that what I write means so much to them, and giving me faith in my words. And now I'm ready to put those words on real pages.
So this isn't the last you'll hear from me, that's a promise.
Monday, October 15
Leap of faith
I was glued to my TV yesterday my heart beating and my eyes wide open, watching as Felix jumped from the edge of space, wondering why anyone would attempt to this. Jumping at 40km from earth in an astraunaut suit, risking your life, why exactly?
And then I watched him land. And I realized how incredibly amazing these five minutes must have been for him. For the rest of us, it was just another five minutes. Many of us spent it watching him on television, or on our laptops, tweeting and facebooking and flooding the blogosphere with his name. "What did you do today?" I asked my friend who was lying on his couch, feet up, laptop on his chest, TV in the background, and I knew that's what he must've been like all day. And what did Felix do?
He risked his life, yes, just to break a record and do something no human has ever done before. And these five minutes were probably more thrilling than a hundred years of someone's else's life. That's what I'm taking from this.
You see, lately I've been in a rut. It feels like I wake up everyday to the same damn routine and it's like I'm waiting for something to change but at the same time I'm not really doing anything to change it. And I've been having this conversation with so many of my friends lately that I know I'm not the only one who feels stuck that way. I realize it's hard. You have a job, you have a salary, you have a certain way of life and even if it doesn't make you happy, the idea of losing that salary scares the shit out of us. What if whatever we try doesn't work? What if we're not as "special" as we'd hope to be? Well, what is special about someone like Felix isn't that he is built differently than the rest of us humans that he can physically withstand a 1000km/hour speed. It's that he has the willpower and the courage to just do it. Even if the risk is death.
What I also came to realize is if I don't take a risk, if I don't jump 40km of my own edge and take a leap of faith, then I could very well live another 50 years stuck in a rut, waiting for something to happen to me. And that's not how I want to live.
And then I watched him land. And I realized how incredibly amazing these five minutes must have been for him. For the rest of us, it was just another five minutes. Many of us spent it watching him on television, or on our laptops, tweeting and facebooking and flooding the blogosphere with his name. "What did you do today?" I asked my friend who was lying on his couch, feet up, laptop on his chest, TV in the background, and I knew that's what he must've been like all day. And what did Felix do?
He risked his life, yes, just to break a record and do something no human has ever done before. And these five minutes were probably more thrilling than a hundred years of someone's else's life. That's what I'm taking from this.
You see, lately I've been in a rut. It feels like I wake up everyday to the same damn routine and it's like I'm waiting for something to change but at the same time I'm not really doing anything to change it. And I've been having this conversation with so many of my friends lately that I know I'm not the only one who feels stuck that way. I realize it's hard. You have a job, you have a salary, you have a certain way of life and even if it doesn't make you happy, the idea of losing that salary scares the shit out of us. What if whatever we try doesn't work? What if we're not as "special" as we'd hope to be? Well, what is special about someone like Felix isn't that he is built differently than the rest of us humans that he can physically withstand a 1000km/hour speed. It's that he has the willpower and the courage to just do it. Even if the risk is death.
What I also came to realize is if I don't take a risk, if I don't jump 40km of my own edge and take a leap of faith, then I could very well live another 50 years stuck in a rut, waiting for something to happen to me. And that's not how I want to live.
Friday, September 21
two years of Rhapsodies
It feels like it went by in a flash and I wasn't even sure that I had actually accomplished anything in the last 12 months until I started thinking about it for the blog. Turns out I did okay. I think.
Let's see... Went to Cyprus for a week of delectable vacation, doing nothing but lazying around the beach of Paphos with a bunch of girls. Turned off my phone, stopped checking email, didn't go on Facebook. Remembered what it was like to think about nothing. Shot season 2 of Beirut I Love You. Acting, Casting, Writing. Realized being on a film set is my favorite kind of "workplace". Had my first on-screen kiss. Helped organize a fundraiser that raised more than 400-thousand dollars for children. Wore a (borrowed) designer dress (for the first time) by Reem Acra. Felt like a famous actress walking on the red carpet. Lost my uncle to Cancer a week later. The same exact kind that killed my mother. Met a boy by asking him for a lighter. Had a one-night-stand that never remained as "one night". Went to Thailand with the boys and their girlfriends. Walked on the most beautiful beach I have ever seen. Spent New Year's in a bar with Thai prostitutes/dancers and had my first midnight hug with one of them. Came back to my new crush and started falling in love. Fell in love. Started learning Italian on my iphone. Went to New York for the first time in almost 4 years. Hung-out with one of my best friends in his Brooklyn apartment. Went to my 5-year Grad School Reunion. Did Bikram Yoga at my old Union Square studio. That's yoga in a 45-degree room for those of you unfamiliar with it. Visited Paris for the first time since I was 8 years old. Went to see the old apartment we used to live in. Saw a friend I've kept in touch with but haven't seen in 19 years. Went to the opera for the first time in my life. Did Romantic Paris with my Parisian. Watched Game of Thrones, Dexter, Breaking Bad and Six Feet Under. Won best foreign film at the Beverly Hills Film Festival for "Anoesis." Had two films showing at the Short Film Corner of the Cannes Festival. Quit my job. Got a new one. Celebrated my brother's high-school graduation. Watched my sister get her diploma for finishing her BA. Went to Italy for 2 weeks. Rome, Venise, Bologna, Portovenere, Cinque Terre, Florence. Drove on the Italian highway. Took a 2 hour hike in jungle-like terrain with sandals on. Did the cheesiest thing ever and wrote our names on the"via del' amore". Helped my best-friend/back-up plan pick out an engagement ring. Celebrated my younger cousin's engagement. Went to my prom date's wedding last weekend.
Today I'm at exactly 9 months with my Parisian. 38,875 views on the blog. 128 posts. And two years of Rhapsodies.
"Anoesis" Short Film
"Saudade" Short Film
Hanging out with one of my best-friends in NYC
Hiking from one Cinque Terre to Another
Lazying around the beach in Paphos
My sister's Graduation
My brother's graduation
Writing our names on "Via del Amore"
Let's see... Went to Cyprus for a week of delectable vacation, doing nothing but lazying around the beach of Paphos with a bunch of girls. Turned off my phone, stopped checking email, didn't go on Facebook. Remembered what it was like to think about nothing. Shot season 2 of Beirut I Love You. Acting, Casting, Writing. Realized being on a film set is my favorite kind of "workplace". Had my first on-screen kiss. Helped organize a fundraiser that raised more than 400-thousand dollars for children. Wore a (borrowed) designer dress (for the first time) by Reem Acra. Felt like a famous actress walking on the red carpet. Lost my uncle to Cancer a week later. The same exact kind that killed my mother. Met a boy by asking him for a lighter. Had a one-night-stand that never remained as "one night". Went to Thailand with the boys and their girlfriends. Walked on the most beautiful beach I have ever seen. Spent New Year's in a bar with Thai prostitutes/dancers and had my first midnight hug with one of them. Came back to my new crush and started falling in love. Fell in love. Started learning Italian on my iphone. Went to New York for the first time in almost 4 years. Hung-out with one of my best friends in his Brooklyn apartment. Went to my 5-year Grad School Reunion. Did Bikram Yoga at my old Union Square studio. That's yoga in a 45-degree room for those of you unfamiliar with it. Visited Paris for the first time since I was 8 years old. Went to see the old apartment we used to live in. Saw a friend I've kept in touch with but haven't seen in 19 years. Went to the opera for the first time in my life. Did Romantic Paris with my Parisian. Watched Game of Thrones, Dexter, Breaking Bad and Six Feet Under. Won best foreign film at the Beverly Hills Film Festival for "Anoesis." Had two films showing at the Short Film Corner of the Cannes Festival. Quit my job. Got a new one. Celebrated my brother's high-school graduation. Watched my sister get her diploma for finishing her BA. Went to Italy for 2 weeks. Rome, Venise, Bologna, Portovenere, Cinque Terre, Florence. Drove on the Italian highway. Took a 2 hour hike in jungle-like terrain with sandals on. Did the cheesiest thing ever and wrote our names on the"via del' amore". Helped my best-friend/back-up plan pick out an engagement ring. Celebrated my younger cousin's engagement. Went to my prom date's wedding last weekend.
Today I'm at exactly 9 months with my Parisian. 38,875 views on the blog. 128 posts. And two years of Rhapsodies.
"Anoesis" Short Film
"Saudade" Short Film
My brother's graduation
Friday, August 31
all cynicism aside
Last night, I officially lost my back-up plan.
And by that I mean that my best-friend, who, coincidentally, is also my first kiss, first "boyfriend," first love, first guy I ever received a gift from (a pepsi can when I was 8) and first boy I ever gave a Valentine's to (a red heart-shaped cardboard with heart-shaped pasta glued on it, when I was 10), has officially proposed to his girlfriend of 5+ years. In our late teens, we had said that if we were both single at 28 (which seemed like centuries away at the time), then we would be each other's back-up plans. But he beat me to it! A few months ago we had dinner and he told me "I'm giving you 3 months notice." That was code for: I'm going to propose.
And so last night, at around 11pm, I get a phone call saying he did it. And the best part? He was so excited! In a matter of minutes, I was gathered with my boys and the latest addition to our circle, his lovely fiancee. And for one night, as they told us the tale of the big proposal, and as we watched him tell us the details with his eyes beaming with joy, we were all so genuinely happy for him.
Same was that feeling on Sunday night, when we partied until the wee hours of the morning, celebrating my beautiful cousin's engagement. Her smile and excitement made me forget all about my fears of eternal commitment, my criticism of modern day marriage, my statistics about divorce rates and my theories about love in the 21st century. It was just a happy moment, and it was as genuine as they get.
All and all, it was a good week for love. And, all cynicism aside, whatever we each choose for our lives, I hope we all get that moment of happiness.
And by that I mean that my best-friend, who, coincidentally, is also my first kiss, first "boyfriend," first love, first guy I ever received a gift from (a pepsi can when I was 8) and first boy I ever gave a Valentine's to (a red heart-shaped cardboard with heart-shaped pasta glued on it, when I was 10), has officially proposed to his girlfriend of 5+ years. In our late teens, we had said that if we were both single at 28 (which seemed like centuries away at the time), then we would be each other's back-up plans. But he beat me to it! A few months ago we had dinner and he told me "I'm giving you 3 months notice." That was code for: I'm going to propose.
And so last night, at around 11pm, I get a phone call saying he did it. And the best part? He was so excited! In a matter of minutes, I was gathered with my boys and the latest addition to our circle, his lovely fiancee. And for one night, as they told us the tale of the big proposal, and as we watched him tell us the details with his eyes beaming with joy, we were all so genuinely happy for him.
Same was that feeling on Sunday night, when we partied until the wee hours of the morning, celebrating my beautiful cousin's engagement. Her smile and excitement made me forget all about my fears of eternal commitment, my criticism of modern day marriage, my statistics about divorce rates and my theories about love in the 21st century. It was just a happy moment, and it was as genuine as they get.
All and all, it was a good week for love. And, all cynicism aside, whatever we each choose for our lives, I hope we all get that moment of happiness.
Wednesday, August 29
speak your mind, woman
There's something I've been learning to do this year that's changed the way I am in a relationship, and that is: say what I mean.
It might seem odd for a man to read that. Say what you mean? You mean you lie in a relationship?
No. I don't lie. But us women, we have this tendency to not say what mean. We think we're saying it (with our tone, with our body language, with our eyes, etc.) but men tend to just hear the words coming out of our mouth.
Let's take this for example:
Thursday Night, 8pm.
Guy "You know what, I don't feel like going. Just go without me."
Girl "Oh. Ok. [Pause] Fine." Loud expiration through the nose.
Guy "Are you upset?"
Girl "No. [Yes] Why would I be upset? [Of course I'm upset you idiot. You just ditched me last minute and now I have to go alone and everyone is going to ask me where you are and I would really enjoy it a lot more if you come with me and why the hell can't you make an effort for me, I would go if it was the other way around.]
Guy "Great then. Have fun!"
They hang up the phone. Now here's what happens: Guy thinks Girl is perfectly fine* with him not going [more on that later], orders a burger, watches Lord of the Rings or a Football match, and doesn't think about it twice. Girl, on the other hand, gets dressed and goes out, all the while starting to simmer negative thoughts [I can't believe he just ditched me to stay home and watch Basketball, he never wants to spend time with me, I always have to beg him to come out, why is football more important than me...] She's out, trying to have a good time but ends up complaining about Guy who didn't come, checks her phone every ten minutes expecting an apology message, gets even more furious because she doesn't get one. By the end of the night, she's so angry she calls him throwing a million accusations his way and he doesn't know what hit him. They fight, go to bed angry, and no one really knows why.
Now, here's the truth*: Guy probably (I'm giving some the benefit of the doubt, depending on the situation) knows that Girl is upset for him not accompanying her. he could hear it in her tone, but chooses to ignore it because, hey, she said she was fine. If she was upset she should've just said so. Here's a hint Girls: Just say so. He wont have an excuse for not knowing you're upset if you say you're upset. Guys always say they "can't read out minds." Fine. Tell them what you're thinking then!
Here's how the conversation could have gone:
Guy "You know what, I don't feel like going. Just go without me."
Girl "Oh. Ok. [Pause] Fine." Loud expiration through the nose.
Guy "Are you upset?"
Girl "Yes. Why is staying at home more important than coming out with me?"
Guy "Sorry babe, I just really don't feel like going out tonight. I'm tired and all I want to do is sit back and watch TV. If you finish early, come over and join me on the couch."
Girl "Fine. Though I'm really not happy to be going alone."
Guy "I'll make it up to you. Promise."
Girl smiles even though she doesn't want to. Guy hears it. She goes, has fun, doesn't obsess about why Guy didn't come and maybe ends up joining him later for a little cuddling.
Basically overall a much better situation.
Sometimes we think we're avoiding a fight by not saying what we mean, but the truth is we're just putting it off until we explode and he doesn't get it. Even if you do get into a fight, it will be much easier to resolve on the spot and just move on.
Moral of this story: Women, speak your mind.
It might seem odd for a man to read that. Say what you mean? You mean you lie in a relationship?
No. I don't lie. But us women, we have this tendency to not say what mean. We think we're saying it (with our tone, with our body language, with our eyes, etc.) but men tend to just hear the words coming out of our mouth.
Let's take this for example:
Thursday Night, 8pm.
Guy "You know what, I don't feel like going. Just go without me."
Girl "Oh. Ok. [Pause] Fine." Loud expiration through the nose.
Guy "Are you upset?"
Girl "No. [Yes] Why would I be upset? [Of course I'm upset you idiot. You just ditched me last minute and now I have to go alone and everyone is going to ask me where you are and I would really enjoy it a lot more if you come with me and why the hell can't you make an effort for me, I would go if it was the other way around.]
Guy "Great then. Have fun!"
They hang up the phone. Now here's what happens: Guy thinks Girl is perfectly fine* with him not going [more on that later], orders a burger, watches Lord of the Rings or a Football match, and doesn't think about it twice. Girl, on the other hand, gets dressed and goes out, all the while starting to simmer negative thoughts [I can't believe he just ditched me to stay home and watch Basketball, he never wants to spend time with me, I always have to beg him to come out, why is football more important than me...] She's out, trying to have a good time but ends up complaining about Guy who didn't come, checks her phone every ten minutes expecting an apology message, gets even more furious because she doesn't get one. By the end of the night, she's so angry she calls him throwing a million accusations his way and he doesn't know what hit him. They fight, go to bed angry, and no one really knows why.
Now, here's the truth*: Guy probably (I'm giving some the benefit of the doubt, depending on the situation) knows that Girl is upset for him not accompanying her. he could hear it in her tone, but chooses to ignore it because, hey, she said she was fine. If she was upset she should've just said so. Here's a hint Girls: Just say so. He wont have an excuse for not knowing you're upset if you say you're upset. Guys always say they "can't read out minds." Fine. Tell them what you're thinking then!
Here's how the conversation could have gone:
Guy "You know what, I don't feel like going. Just go without me."
Girl "Oh. Ok. [Pause] Fine." Loud expiration through the nose.
Guy "Are you upset?"
Girl "Yes. Why is staying at home more important than coming out with me?"
Guy "Sorry babe, I just really don't feel like going out tonight. I'm tired and all I want to do is sit back and watch TV. If you finish early, come over and join me on the couch."
Girl "Fine. Though I'm really not happy to be going alone."
Guy "I'll make it up to you. Promise."
Girl smiles even though she doesn't want to. Guy hears it. She goes, has fun, doesn't obsess about why Guy didn't come and maybe ends up joining him later for a little cuddling.
Basically overall a much better situation.
Sometimes we think we're avoiding a fight by not saying what we mean, but the truth is we're just putting it off until we explode and he doesn't get it. Even if you do get into a fight, it will be much easier to resolve on the spot and just move on.
Moral of this story: Women, speak your mind.
Friday, August 17
no such thing as perfect
I realized something today. Well actually I realized it many times before but as I've been trying to come up with a smart blogpost everyday for the past week and still haven't come up with anything, I asked myself what exactly I was trying to write about anyway.
I mean, every day I browse dozens of articles on Huffington Post (they have sections on women, weddings, divorce...) I read blog posts from different people of different ages and different places, and I have at least 8 or 9 books at home also on the very same topic; in recent weeks, I've interviewed couples on the realities of marriage and I talk about this with anyone who cares to to hear different perspectives and different takes and try to boil it down to something concrete. Something useful. I'm talking about the recipe for a good relationship, of course.
And am I better girlfriend for it? I don't think so. You see what I noticed is that everyone has their own kind of relationship and you know what? There's just no labeling it. The other day I read a post on open relationships and although in some way it seems like a smart solution to the modern couple, it is also impossible for me to actually imagine having it. But then again, when a gay friend of mine explains to me that wanting and having sexual intercourse with men other than his boyfriend has absolutely nothing to do with his love for him and their relationship, I understand it. I even accept it. Although I would never accept it for me. And all these questions we try to find answers to: should we move in together? I mean statistically is that better or worse for your couple on the long run? Because I read an article that confused the hell out of me and all I got from it is that it works for some people and doesn't work for others... Big surprise. Well what about marriage? How soon is too soon? Can we have a baby without getting married? Look at Angelina and Brad --it took 6 kids from 4 different countries before she agreed to wear a ring. But then again if you do that in Lebanon than your child will be registered as a bastard and society as a whole will "frown upon" you.
I look around and see the people surrounding me and I honestly can't compare my relationship to any of theirs. Although the patterns are similar and the feelings are similar, it's never like 2+2. So what's the point, right? If none of us have the same story and if advice doesn't apply to everyone, then why read books and why write this blog? I think that by sharing, we learn more about ourselves. We take the things that do apply and adapt them the way we see fit. Trial and error and tears, and maybe you'll end up with your own recipe. Just note that you'll probably have to change it with the next person in your life.
I mean, every day I browse dozens of articles on Huffington Post (they have sections on women, weddings, divorce...) I read blog posts from different people of different ages and different places, and I have at least 8 or 9 books at home also on the very same topic; in recent weeks, I've interviewed couples on the realities of marriage and I talk about this with anyone who cares to to hear different perspectives and different takes and try to boil it down to something concrete. Something useful. I'm talking about the recipe for a good relationship, of course.
And am I better girlfriend for it? I don't think so. You see what I noticed is that everyone has their own kind of relationship and you know what? There's just no labeling it. The other day I read a post on open relationships and although in some way it seems like a smart solution to the modern couple, it is also impossible for me to actually imagine having it. But then again, when a gay friend of mine explains to me that wanting and having sexual intercourse with men other than his boyfriend has absolutely nothing to do with his love for him and their relationship, I understand it. I even accept it. Although I would never accept it for me. And all these questions we try to find answers to: should we move in together? I mean statistically is that better or worse for your couple on the long run? Because I read an article that confused the hell out of me and all I got from it is that it works for some people and doesn't work for others... Big surprise. Well what about marriage? How soon is too soon? Can we have a baby without getting married? Look at Angelina and Brad --it took 6 kids from 4 different countries before she agreed to wear a ring. But then again if you do that in Lebanon than your child will be registered as a bastard and society as a whole will "frown upon" you.
I look around and see the people surrounding me and I honestly can't compare my relationship to any of theirs. Although the patterns are similar and the feelings are similar, it's never like 2+2. So what's the point, right? If none of us have the same story and if advice doesn't apply to everyone, then why read books and why write this blog? I think that by sharing, we learn more about ourselves. We take the things that do apply and adapt them the way we see fit. Trial and error and tears, and maybe you'll end up with your own recipe. Just note that you'll probably have to change it with the next person in your life.
Thursday, August 2
got one!
I was browsing through Pinterest and saw this:
Funny.
But more seriously: oh so true. I mean the relief of every bride out there telling herself that "phewww, I got one" is palpable. Just like the stress of unmarried girls between the ages of 25 to 35 is one you can cut through with a knife. And the social pressure of it all makes it so that if you are 27, not at all "stressed" about ending up a "spinster" and without the hint of a white dress on your mind, everyone else around you makes it so that you will be stressed, one way or another. I went to Italy with my Parisian for two weeks and at least 4 people asked me if he had proposed. No, he didn't propose. We've only been together 7 months. He doesn't even believe in marriage, and frankly, neither do I, I would only get married to have kids.
But there it is: the stress factor. So did you get one yet? Or are you going to end up alone for the rest of your life? Well I don't mean to be the Grinch that stole weddings, but seriously, "getting one," even on paper, even on holy scriptures, it really doesn't mean that you wont end up alone anyway.
Take this for example: the other day I was sitting with three women: my aunt, my dad's girlfriend and my uncle's girlfriend, and they were telling me how: one of them was married at 19 and divorced by the time she was my age (27), the other was the last of her friends to be married (at 30) and the first to be divorced (at 32), and my dear aunt who got married at 31 lost her husband to Cancer 8 months ago, making her a widow at the ripe age of 53, and has to spend the rest of her life alone, even though she had a good one. But, my dad and his girlfriend have been together for 10 years now, and they might very well be together for the rest of their lives, and yet they don't feel the need to get married at all. It's like once you're passed a certain age, and you've already been divorced, then no one will pressure you about it.
Well, I say no pressure from the start. Seriously, I mean, if you want to get married and believe it's the right thing for you, then by all means, have your perfect day and hopefully a happily ever after marriage. But for all the others, I really believe we need to tone down the social pressure. It no longer makes any sense in this day an age and honestly, it breaks more couples (and morale) than it makes brides and grooms. Women start pressuring their significant others because they are pressured by their moms, dads, aunts, sisters, and because they see all their girlfriends getting married and they don't want to be the last one to go --it makes them feel like they failed the pre-set story board of life, that's been told to them ever since they were little girls. And men also feel the pressure from their girlfriends and their parents and they might end up proposing even if it's not really what they want or what they are ready for. And then what happens? Divorce rates in Lebanon have risen from 13% in 2000 to 20% in 2011, and that's only considering religious marriages. I have two divorced friends and they're not even 30 years old.
I think you only really "get one" if you've spent ten, fifteen, twenty years of your life as a couple and still want to be together. I think you deserve a huge party and a wedding and fireworks when you've made it that far, when you've been through thick and thin and stuck together, when life has tried and failed you, and you've both come out on top.
But more seriously: oh so true. I mean the relief of every bride out there telling herself that "phewww, I got one" is palpable. Just like the stress of unmarried girls between the ages of 25 to 35 is one you can cut through with a knife. And the social pressure of it all makes it so that if you are 27, not at all "stressed" about ending up a "spinster" and without the hint of a white dress on your mind, everyone else around you makes it so that you will be stressed, one way or another. I went to Italy with my Parisian for two weeks and at least 4 people asked me if he had proposed. No, he didn't propose. We've only been together 7 months. He doesn't even believe in marriage, and frankly, neither do I, I would only get married to have kids.
But there it is: the stress factor. So did you get one yet? Or are you going to end up alone for the rest of your life? Well I don't mean to be the Grinch that stole weddings, but seriously, "getting one," even on paper, even on holy scriptures, it really doesn't mean that you wont end up alone anyway.
Take this for example: the other day I was sitting with three women: my aunt, my dad's girlfriend and my uncle's girlfriend, and they were telling me how: one of them was married at 19 and divorced by the time she was my age (27), the other was the last of her friends to be married (at 30) and the first to be divorced (at 32), and my dear aunt who got married at 31 lost her husband to Cancer 8 months ago, making her a widow at the ripe age of 53, and has to spend the rest of her life alone, even though she had a good one. But, my dad and his girlfriend have been together for 10 years now, and they might very well be together for the rest of their lives, and yet they don't feel the need to get married at all. It's like once you're passed a certain age, and you've already been divorced, then no one will pressure you about it.
Well, I say no pressure from the start. Seriously, I mean, if you want to get married and believe it's the right thing for you, then by all means, have your perfect day and hopefully a happily ever after marriage. But for all the others, I really believe we need to tone down the social pressure. It no longer makes any sense in this day an age and honestly, it breaks more couples (and morale) than it makes brides and grooms. Women start pressuring their significant others because they are pressured by their moms, dads, aunts, sisters, and because they see all their girlfriends getting married and they don't want to be the last one to go --it makes them feel like they failed the pre-set story board of life, that's been told to them ever since they were little girls. And men also feel the pressure from their girlfriends and their parents and they might end up proposing even if it's not really what they want or what they are ready for. And then what happens? Divorce rates in Lebanon have risen from 13% in 2000 to 20% in 2011, and that's only considering religious marriages. I have two divorced friends and they're not even 30 years old.
I think you only really "get one" if you've spent ten, fifteen, twenty years of your life as a couple and still want to be together. I think you deserve a huge party and a wedding and fireworks when you've made it that far, when you've been through thick and thin and stuck together, when life has tried and failed you, and you've both come out on top.
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