New York and the Rays of Sunshine

I know it's been months --almost a year actually, but I woke up this morning and all I could think of was I need to write a blog post. So here it goes.

I woke up this morning in New York --the city I first fell in love with when I was 17 years old and made my very first visit to the United States. Since then, I visited New York countless times, lived there for two years and left it with regret. Today I find myself back here, and the feeling of walking down lafayette street on a magical fall morning is just as good as it was the first time, 11 years ago.

I already forgot all about the horrible plane delays, the missed connection, the fact that my suitcase didn't make it and I have been wearing the same clothes for 36 hours... Who cares? I am in Manhattan and the weather is at my absolute favorite: sunny and the perfect amount of cold. 7am and the streets were already alive, people walking their kids to school or walking themselves to work (how amazing to see people walk after so long in Beirut traffic) and I found myself just enjoying gazing at the activity on the street. Morning coffee at the corner barista, with the line of the usual customers ordering their usual cup of coffee, to each their own. There is something about that morning ritual which puts smile on my face. Not just the smell of coffee and the familiar interaction between the customers and their baristas but just the simple fact that people do that here: no one in Beirut stops around the corner for their morning coffee... it comes on a tray to your bed without having to even ask for it.

I stopped by Whole Foods and just enjoyed walking through the aisles of organic spreads, realizing that in Beirut we barely have a few shelves of bio products. I held onto the crispy craft grocery bag walking back home and it's not even 9 in the morning yet I'm having a wonderful day.

Why am I sharing all this? I've had a rough couple of months --not that we don't all go through bad phases but for me it was an especially tough time I was having with myself and I decided I needed a break. Destination New York because it's the one place in the world where I feel totally free. And because I have an amazing friend who is letting me crash his perfect lower east side apartment. I asked for a leave of absence from work --haven't had a break longer than 2 weeks in 7 years and now I am free for a whole month. Just wanted to take some distance and time, regain perspective and regroup my thoughts and plans. Sometimes to find your way back to yourself you need to get out of everything comfortable you know, out of the routine, far from the comfort zone --and just be able to enjoy the little rays of sunshine like New York in the fall, the smell of morning coffee, the noisy streets, and a craft bag of groceries.

unexpectedly unexpected

Being back from holidays is a very harsh reality check, especially when you spent the last 8 days in Paradise and you land back in Beirut. No offense Beirut lovers, I love this city most days of the year, but not today. Not when I just came back from blue skies and turquoise seas, deserted islands and elephant rides and white sand as far as the eyes can see.

I haven't been able to write anything since I got back because the mere idea of getting back into my "life" was depressing to me. Ever since I came back last week, I've tried to pretend that I was still away, hiding away from my usual hangouts, getting lectured by dad because he "hasn't seen me one second since I got back" and being passively present at work --physically but not mentally.

Now it's Monday and there are no more excuses. Everyone is back to reality by now and even though it sucks for a few days, I know that by next week, Thailand will be just a memory and life will be in the present again. The streets full of traffic at any hour of the day; The overcrowded bars, even though you'd think everyone got wasted enough the last two weeks of December, turns out they are even more crowded now; in the office where stacks of papers have piled up and you had promised yourself to put everything back in order in 2012; The bedroom where the new housekeeper (God Bless her, she's the sweetest person on earth but she doesn't understand a word I say) has decided to mix all your clothes with your sisters', as if sharing a room and fighting over who borrows what isn't enough; The to-do-list that you have to stop adding to, and start actually getting done. Did I mention all I've done since I got back is post pictures of Thailand on Facebook and play with my new iphone?

But sometimes in the midst of a nauseating routine, you find a glimpse of the good stuff --and what I mean by the good stuff is Sex. Turns out letting your guard down and just doing what you want to do sometimes takes you to better places. Let me explain --my friend Curls meets this guy over Xmas break: she doesn't live here, he doesn't live here, they've got nothing to lose. They find themselves attracted to each other and in that moment she knows all she wants from him is physical. She lets her guard down, doesn't play games, goes for what she wants and what happens? It actually clicks. I mention this because she is the queen of meeting new guys and it not working out. She is almost always looking for something serious, something meaningful, and she's a romantic one --but usually in stead of letting things flow as they should, she is prepared to settle for less. She meets a guy, realizes he fits the checklist, and holds onto him for dear life. Why? Because after years of getting run over by men you develop this phobia (and this is purely my own theory) that you may very well never find what you've always dreamed of and you settle for less. And if there is one thing I hate most in life it has to be just that. I almost fell for this too, not so long ago: met a guy, found him good-looking and charming and sweet and A-Perfect on every item on the list but you know what, at the end of our "date" I was disappointed. There he was: great on paper but no butterflies. Amazingly well-rounded but with nothing "special." No edge. Nothing out of the box. It was a perfectly well wrapped box with a pretty bow on top, and I'm sorry but that's not for me. And it's not for Curls either. Now the second she thought "I've got nothing to lose" suddenly she was herself. She broke down the barriers we put up to be our most attractive self, and put her cards on the table. I know, men like to chase. They don't want all your cards upfront. But it's all in the attitude. I spent all year listening to all kinds of advice from all kinds of people and it got me nowhere, until I met this guy randomly and I decided to have a one night stand --because that is exactly what I wanted-- and it turns out it was a damn good stand to take. It felt liberating to finally act the way I want, with no calculating and no over-thinking, just simply following my own wants and needs. 

So I think I finally may have figured it out. It's not the games and the number of calls and the bitch 101. It's whether you do what you want, or whether you do what you think he wants you to do. Simple as that. And here's the thing about doing what you want: it is so much more fun.

to be free

Last night I was having a sleepover at my cousin's house --it felt like I was thirteen years old again and we were each under our covers in the dark talking until we fell asleep. And as I talked about my life and everything I love about it right now, I realized that what really feels amazing for me lately is being absolutely free. Free to come and go as I please without having to justify myself to anyone. Free to only do things I want to do and not have to take anyone into consideration. Free to leave a party early or to get wasted,  to kiss anyone I want or kick someone out of my bed. Free to put myself first.

I feel lucky, I've got an easy definition of freedom: I felt burdened by a sense of responsibility I didn't want and now that I'm free from it I have never been happier.


But it's not always that simple. To be free doesn't mean the same thing to everyone. For a fourteen year-old girl who wants to be out later than midnight, to be free means to have no curfew. A 27 year-old guy who has been in a relationship for three years and feels suffocated by commitment, just wants to feel free to have one-night-stands. My friend Gay wants to tell everyone he likes boys and be able to kiss his boyfriend without inhibition. My parents wanted the freedom to love each other even though they were from different religions. And for my friend Brave who is handicapped from head to toe and hasn't walked in over ten years, it means to be free of his body.

For the Tunisians, the Egyptians, the Libyans and the Syrians it means to be free of dictatorship.  For Casey Anthony to be free is to get rid of her two-year old kid. For Amy Winehouse it's to be free from addiction. For that psycho from Norway to be free is to kill 76 people to prove a point. For Zeid Hamdan to be free is to write a song without getting arrested for it. 

No it's not that simple. Because to be free from dictatorship, countless people have died and you've still got the same man playing God over the masses. Casey is free and Amy is dead. The psycho from Norway has people using their freedom of speech to blame his actions on Islamic Extremism. And as a friend said and I quote "Zeid's free. What about expression?"

Freedom feels so great it's obvious why we all fight for it --and why the fight is as old as the world.
Makes you understand why Adam ate that apple.

the paradox of freedom

"Better a mistress than a wife." Coco Chanel


Anyone who's ever watched an episode of Mad Men would probably agree. Being the wife was so boring --sitting at home tumbling her thumbs, smoking cigarette after cigarette until her husband came home from work. And every husband had a mistress, or five. For the mistress, the husband would cut work in the middle of the day; he would actually communicate, share his thoughts, connect. For the mistress, the husband would unleash the passion. But for the wife... well, she got the sleepy, tired husband, who made her feel like coming home was like walking into a cage. Well, that's what I got from Mad Men anyway.

Then I watched "Coco," the movie, a couple of nights ago, and the man Coco Chanel is in love with is set to marry someone else. He says marriage is like a business deal, has nothing to do with love. And she says "better a mistress than a wife." Made me think. The wife represents the commitment, the settled life, the family. Boring. And the mistress is forbidden excitement, a daily escape, the adventure. All those words that seem to define men's needs.

So at the beginning of the 20th century, marriage was a social contract and love was to be found in the form of an extra-curricular activity. By the 60s, marriage was halfway between love and financial statements, and passionate sex was to be found in a variety of mistresses. And now there's a new century in the works and it's a little harder to define the terms. Maybe it's because now, we want it all: we want it to be love at first sight, passionate and enticing, but we also want it to be a calculated connection, with a check-list of culture, education, social class, religion and nationality. We want the love to be so strong we could live on bread and water, but we also want to ensure that chalet in Faqra or those trips to Paris twice a year for fashion week. We want the picture-perfect family, with the dog and the back-yard, but we also want the constant adventure and excitement and freedom of taking off with no strings attached. In today's world, we've become demanding, unforgiving, and uncompromising. If we don't get what we want, we bail, because we only live once and we want it all.

I guess that's the paradox of freedom. People paid with their lives for the choices we get to make today, and although freedom is a beautiful thing, it is also exhausting. How do you make the right choice? Do you go with rational, or do you go with instinct? Do you play it safe or take a chance?

Can you be the wife and the mistress?