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.

one year of rhapsodies

Last year like today I wrote my first blog post, venting out my frustrations over 21st century relationships and how hard they were becoming. This is how started my year of rhapsodies. Three weeks after the first post, my boyfriend told me he realized that he would probably be happier without me. How ironic for me who was trying to "solve" the enigma of serious relationships, not realizing that if my relationship was going sour it was probably time to breakup. I'm glad he noticed though. Because otherwise I wouldn't have had the wonderful amazing life changing year that I did have from that moment on. Yes I started by crying every tear in my body, analyzed and over-analyzed every second of the previous six months to understand what I did wrong, how I could've saved it, blaming myself for letting him take me for granted, for not loosing weight, for getting too comfortable, until I finally realized that it wasn't just me who didn't make him happy anymore, that I too had been miserable for months. And that realization saved me. So I stopped with the blame game and finally moved on to the next level which was to focus on myself and what I wanted, for me. Yes I had a pile a self-help books before that and the pile tripled over the course of the next few months, because that's what I do, I read books and they make me feel like I'm going to change my life. The good news is, it worked.

I started the blog, friends began to read and share it, debate it around drinks, Rats inspired me to wiesel them in, I was motivated to write again --something I hadn't done in years. Then there was the Breakup, the depression phase, the best-friend moving to Canada, the constant hammering of the Rats for their help on how to get over it, the hours on the phone with Classy who was going through the same thing, the going through about seven dozen used and confused boxes of tissues. Went to Yoga class, took Italian lessons, traveled to Istanbul with friends. Fell in love with a city full of life and history and beauty and rhythm, realized the world was a lot bigger than me and that the possibilities were endless, started smiling again, had the best massage on the face of the earth and it felt better than sex. Reconnected with my childhood friend Rebellious, whom I hadn't seen a lot in the last few years, enjoyed going out again, enjoyed drinking, enjoyed my friends' company more. Wrote a blog-post about my parents which got 900 views. Liked a guy, flirted, kissed him, felt good to be in the "beginning" phase again. Liked other guys, enjoyed being hit on, piled up stories that the Rats laughed about and fed my blog. Went skiing for the first time in four years. Organized a cooking competition that lasted all winter, came in last place but had lots of fun getting there. Made a new friend, a girl, which is very unlikely of me. Asked a friend if I could act in her new TV series [Beirut, I love you] just for the fun of it, spent a day on set, fell in love with everyone, wanted to come back, started helping with anything and everything, spent every weekend on set and many evenings brainstorming scripts, did the makeup, helped with anything I could, made some amazing new friends, felt like I was 19 again, drank beers on the street sitting on the hood of a car, kissed a guy who fell, got obsessed with the shoots, was passionate again. Realized my oldest dream had come true. Marked the ten-year anniversary of my mother's death. Saw my ex for the first time since we broke-up, realized that I wasn't angry anymore and that I didn't miss him even though it was awkward and weird but how could it not be. Turned 26 in Los Angeles, walked into the Kodak Theater where the Oscars take place, went to Vegas and then San Francisco with my best friend, ate the best brunch in the world --felt like I cheated on New York. Took part in the 48hr film project in Beirut and won Best Film, felt like we had just won Cannes, smiled from ear to ear jumped up and down was overly excited. Saw my ex kiss his new girlfriend felt like throwing up in my mouth a litte but then finally felt free. Had the most overwhelming kiss of my life. Read 17 books, took an acting class, jumped from a rock 3 meters high into the sea, went camping, saw the Cedars, got a tattoo, acted a main part in a short film, discovered "The Healing Code" (everyone should read it by the way), cried of laughter until my abs were killing me and I almost couldn't breathe and got the best compliment of my life from a gay friend of mine who said to me: "Women like you make me wish I was straight."

Nothing about this year was as expected. Three-hundred and sixty-five days ago, I lived in a safe routine that I didn't realize was killing every ounce of creativity and passion I had. When writing scripts, we always look for a "catalyst," something that pushes the protagonist forward. This blog was my catalyst. I thought it would help me write a book --and I still hope it will. But now I know that I needed this time to really discover myself, and this is what got the ball rolling. This year I felt alive.

So thanks. To everyone who played a part in this snowball effect of amazingly random events. And to all of you who have been reading Beirut Rhapsodies, inspiring and motivating me.

11

I couldn't sleep last night. I spent the last three days telling everyone and their mother that I was going to post 11 resolutions for the new year, that I would have to follow no matter what. The point was to post them all on the blog so I would have witnesses and would feel the pressure to go through with them. I guess I felt so pressured I couldn't sleep all night.
First of all, I couldn't come up with 11 resolutions. I asked my friends to help, and obviously all they could come up with were sexual challenges that included sleeping with a girl, getting spanked, trying the effects of naughty lingerie and some other stuff I prefer not to mention. I guess this post would be a lot more fun for everyone if I agreed to 11 sexual resolutions, but I have to admit I passed on all of them. Not the kind I was looking for.
I was actually hoping for something a little more life challenging, resolutions that would help me put my life on the right track. But who else but me is going to care if I quit smoking, buy a bike or vow to go on a Habitat for Humanity mission?
So there will be no sharing resolutions today. In stead I thought I'd share some of my great wisdom... and I racked my brain for an hour and couldn't come up with anything. So I did what I always do when I lack of inspiration and it's Monday afternoon --I went to the bookstore. I spent a few minutes browsing in the self-help section, of which I already own 90% of all books with titles like "the power of now" and "create a better life," because the simple act of buying the book makes me feel like I've already changed something. Anyway... I spotted a book called The Game, otherwise known as the "single guy's bible." I had already seen that book before, because my ex-boyfriend who never read a book in his life had a copy. He said he started it a couple of days before he met me and that it worked like a charm. Apparently it's a full proof seduction plan to get any woman... Well, I thought, if this book has 11 chapters or more, I'll blog about it. And what do you know? 11 steps, exactly. And the first one is called: "select a target." Wow. I can feel like we are going to have a field day out of this one. So here's the new plan: I'll keep my 11 new year's resolutions to myself, and in stead, I will share with you the 11 steps of this apparently magical book in the upcoming posts. Boys, you might learn something useful. Girls, we're going to learn that boys think of us as targets (step 1), how they plan to extract to a seduction location (step 7) and how they manage expectations (step 11). And maybe, just for fun, I'll play the boys game for a little while --just to see what happens.

This is how Neil Strauss (the author of The Game) starts his book: "I could not become anything: neither bad nor good, neither a scoundrel nor an honest man, neither a hero nor an insect. And now I am eking out my days in my corner, taunting myself with the bitter and entirely useless consolation that an intelligent man cannot seriously become anything; that only a fool can become something." (Fyodor Dostoevsky)

letting go

"There are things that we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go" (Author Unknown)

It's the last week of the year and it's a good time for change. This weekend, a lot of my friends had a down moment, inevitably linked to the emotions of the holidays, and there was a bit of loneliness to deal with. One waited for a Merry Xmas message that never came --even though she had no idea she was expecting it until she was actually expecting it. The other ran back to her ex after eight months of separation even though she truly knows she never wants to be with him again --Xmas made her doubt. A third found out her ex got engaged and even though it's been years since she's even seen him, she couldn't help but cry her eyes out all day. And I'll admit I cried more than a couple of times for a lot less reason than her over the last two days, including once for crashing my car (slightly) and at least three times because of my friend the Masochist.
And now it's over. It's Monday morning, and the resolutions are falling into place as we put the year, and the decade, in perspective. And before comes 2011, I think we better let go.
I don't know about the boys, but us girls, when it comes to stirring up the past and dragging it on forever, we're absolute professionals. We look back and reminisce and keep reliving moments that are gone, feeding a memory that has no more place in our lives and has nothing to do with the present. And we forget to live in the moment.
But we should have more confidence than that. Just because we lost something or someone, doesn't mean we are doomed to a life of loneliness. And just because we don't have a man in our lives, doesn't mean our lives are incomplete. Sometimes I feel like we live in a society where everything we talk about and all we live for is men, women, relationships, flings, one night stands, breakups, divorces, engagements, and the whole nine yards. I'm not one to talk, I write a blog about it, and I'm always surprised at how many topics I still haven't tackled. But it's too much. Everything all day long is about this one and only obsession. Ninety percent of conversations at all times have something to do with men and women dynamics. A friend told me a couple of weeks ago "women aren't my priority." And I thought, my God, how refreshing. I had never heard that before.
I guess loneliness is what we make it out to be. We can choose to feel like we are lonely --or look around and realize that we are lucky to be so fully surrounded. And most importantly, we should learn how to be one hundred percent good with ourselves first and foremost. That's my number one resolution.