quitting your job is like breaking up. sort of.

It's my last week at a job I've had for the last two years. It's not the first time I resign, I've done it before, yet there's something about quitting that reminds me of breaking up.

Think about it: staying in a bad job is just like staying in a bad relationship. You've been there a few years, the routine has taken over. It's not exciting and as new as when you first started because, let's face it, you know all there is to know and nothing unexpected ever happens anymore. But you stay because it gives you a sense a comfort, of security. You know you're going to get that pay check at the end of the month just like you know you have someone to watch TV with on Sunday afternoon.

I remember the beginning: I felt like I could change the world. The possibilities were endless and I was avid to learn and give it my all. And then somewhere along the line, I got bored. I stopped making an effort because I wasn't motivated anymore, and slowly but surely, I realized I was unhappy. And once you admit that to yourself, there is no turning back.

And so you start thinking about other possibilities. What else is out there for me? Is there a chance I could find something I'm really going to be passionate about? There's the fear that you wont. That you will not find anything else, just like when you break-up there's that fear that you're making a mistake, that you might never find someone who wants to be with you again. But as the weeks pass, you somber more and more into your unhappiness and decide you must leave even if it's scary. And so you collect all your courage and finally do it. You quit. You break-up. And the relief feels wonderful. The other party might be stunned... many times, they don't see it coming --and many times, they do. In any case, they will try to convince you to stay. They will tell you that it's scary out there, that times are rough, that jobs aren't growing on trees and that there's one man for every seven woman. And you will hesitate, because its human nature.

But most of the time, you will be so proud and relieved that you finally had the courage to end it, that you will not hesitate long enough to change your mind.

You will look ahead and get excited about all the new possibilities.

I spend a lot of time wondering what I'm doing with my life. I ask myself a lot of questions, which you know if you've been reading my blog. And I know I'm not alone because I have these conversations with people around me all the time. It's become harder and harder to make a choice about the future. To commit to one job is like committing to one man. In order to know what you want, you have to explore, change, learn about what you like and what you don't like. And each time it takes you one step ahead in your journey.

Wish me luck in mine!

feeding the status quo

I've been writing on this blog for over a year and a half, and sometimes I get terrified by the fact that I have nothing to say anymore. The truth is, when I began, I wanted to find a way to push my writing and get me to write a novel, which is basically my dream.

And I thought, "Beirut Rhapsodies," well that should be fun. I had a bunch of single friends who always had some kind of story about that girl or about that guy, I thought Beirut was this endless source of fun stories that I would always be able to incorporate in my blogs. I was wrong though. After a while, stories run dry.

The problem with this city is that we live in a box. As a person of a certain social class, it is very unlikely that you ever find yourself with people from different social backgrounds. It's not like in other big cities where anyone and everyone find each other uncomfortably close on a subway ride.

In the Beirut I live in, there are clear boundaries and there are walls closing in on us. Everywhere you go, you see the same faces, week after week, month after month, year after year. Someone told me the other day they went to White and "it was the exact same people sitting at the exact same tables" as last year, and that is a scary thought. But it's true. You go to any bar or night-club or rooftop bar --because frankly, there is not much else to do-- and you know exactly who to expect. And then you have the same conversations over and over again. And when you overhear someone else's conversation, you realize that they are talking about the same thing too.

As a writer, you get inspired by other people, by places and encounters. You feed off other people's conversations, you meet someone who will tell you a story, you see something that gives you an idea. Sometimes you just need to take a walk and look at things happening around you to get creative. Other times you just want to sit under a tree in a park and read a book to get your mind flowing. But here we have no parks. And if you take a walk in the street you spend half your time ignoring the idiotic sexual purrs of every other guy passing you by and the other half trying not to get run over. And although some people try, very hard to bring some culture to this country, by opening an art center or by throwing a film festival, it is very unlikely that it will get as much attention as a new fashionista clothing store, another Lebanese designs jewelry shop, or the latest bar in town.

This is what we do here: We take the status quo and we feed it, so that it becomes more snob and more blase, more induced in that heartbreaking comfort zone and more lazy, until we do nothing but try to make enough money to keep a lifestyle we're not sure we enjoy. Our lives revolve around relationships and jobs, and for many girls, about appearance and body image. It is what makes for most of our conversations, except on Sunday when we have a family lunch and someone has the grand idea to talk about politics.

And then we say we have the greatest country in the world. We can infamously "swim and ski" in the same day and the sun is out 9 months a year. But what's the point? We're so beyond closed up there are still people who decide to cross the street when the light turns green. And it's our own fault really. We find excuses for everything: We had 25 years of war goddammit. We need people of action in government in stead of a bunch of grumpy old men who want to settle their own personal scores but we're the ones who can't let go of them and keep them in office. We don't want to learn how to recycle or wear our seat-belts before more important things in the country are taken care of, because what's the point? And it's never, never our own fault.

The bigger problem is, we act the same way with our own lives. We drown in our own comfort zone, we stay safe, we get lazy. We complain but don't do anything about it, hoping someone else will. And secretly also hoping they wont, because change scares us and we're not sure we can handle it.

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.

Beirut, I Love You, I Love You Not

There's a mini-series that's been running on LBC for the last three months, called Beirut I Love You, I Love You Not. It's a show revolving around the lives of five young Lebanese: the good, the bad, the funny, the tragic --you know, life.

I love it because every character has a story we can all relate to. The guy who has a dream but is stuck in his bureaucratic life. The girl whose torn between her new love, and her old love. The guy who made a life for himself from scratch. The mother who wants to live her dreams vicariously through her children. The one who can't let go of his ex. The mom who lives in the past. The hypercondriac who can't find a job and is socially awkward. The dreamer, the lover, the player. There's a little bit of each of them in each of us.

But what I love most about it, is behind the scenes. This isn't a post about a cool TV show you should all watch (though you should) --this isn't that kind of blog. I write about relationships, connections, experience.  And this is all of that. It's become personal.

I've talked about my love for acting before. I've mentioned countless times how my biggest dream was to be an actress, and how it got lost along the way. But these last few months, the dream is back, and it's changed my life. You see, I got lucky enough to get involved because the talented duet who created this series are friends of mine. And their energy and motivation was contagious. I had forgotten what it felt like to be passionate about something. To get up in the morning and be excited about my day. But they reminded me. It's not just the camera, or the acting, or the script, although all of that is great. I wake up at 7am on a Sunday morning because I want to. I rush to the set and I'm excited about everything: putting make-up on the actors, acting when I have a part, helping out with art-direction, and whatever it is I do, it all feels organic. A year ago, I had to drag myself out of bed on any given day, with no sense of purpose and zero excitement. Today I have ideas.

I didn't love Beirut when I came back from New York three years ago. I loved my boyfriend, I loved my family, I loved my friends, yes, always. But I felt like this city was going to rob me from my ambitions. And I let myself believe that for a while. Blamed Beirut for my lack of motivation. It was easier than to look in the mirror and realize that I could do something about it. And then one day, I was inspired. I saw a group of twenty-somethings who took what this city has to offer and turned it to their advantage. Made a dream where there was none. And I realized it wasn't Beirut that was the limit, it was myself.

breaking away

Sometimes it feels like we're stuck in a bad relationship, a bad routine, a bad job, and we don't know how to break away. We have dreams and ambitions that we keep putting off because something or someone always gets in the way. It's easy to loose track of the things that really excite us, that would really make us happy, and just settle for easy, predictable, safe.
As we grow older, we get more scared. I guess it's the price of "life experience" and "responsibilities" and "acting like an adult." I am always trying to get back to that time when my dreams were so big I would drown myself in them, and just the fact that I had a dream place to evade to was amazing.
I got this book called "Creating Your Best Life" and it's all about how to put your goals and dreams, long-term or short-term, crazy or realistic, on paper. A bucket-list. 100 things you want to do in your life time. It's actually really hard to come up with. And there's a bit of everything in there, from writing a novel, to winning a Nobel prize, to swimming with dolphins or going to meditate at an Ashram in India. And it seems like a long shot, but last year, I crossed out four items off my bucket-list, and it was unexplainably satisfying.
We get stuck doing things we don't enjoy because we're too scared to go outside the familiar. Couples stay in bad relationships because they're afraid of being alone, of loosing the other's support, of never finding anyone else. I know I've done that. I got stuck in a relationship where I wasn't happy, where I felt more lonely than if I were to be alone, where the everyday struggle of thinking my relationship through had become exhausting. So why did I do it? I was settling. I was scared of the alternative. But once you break away and feel the freedom of having your whole life in front of you, then yes, it is scary, but it is also exciting. There is a world of possibilities that I had stopped seeing.
People get stuck in a job they hate, because they're afraid of being unemployed, of having to live without a dime, of falling off their career track. And it is scary, and it is hard to dump it all and start from scratch. But there are things we can do to prevent the really scary part. You can look for something else while you're still working. You can decide to stop postponing for next year, and make a decision before next months. It takes guts, but I think it pays off.
I've been putting off writing a book. I give myself all kinds of excuses --too much work, the routine sucks the creativity out of me, I don't have a quiet place to write, etc., etc., etc... So I started the blog to motivate me, and it worked, I now at least write twice per week, which is a lot more than I used to. But the point was to start me off and get me excited about working on a novel. And there are always new excuses, reasons why it can't be done, and truth is, it's all a question of discipline, of how much you want it.
So now i decided to stop postponing. I left the routine behind, got away from the city (and trust me, I'm a city girl, and I don't do well outside the city for very long), got myself a quiet place to get inspired, and write. So far, I got one page down. But I'm trying.
Sometimes we need to just turn our minds of, stop thinking about doing, and just do it. Just break away.