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. 

when you've got the face on

There is a song from Arctic Monkeys, "Mardy Bum," that I find absolutely perfect in the sense that it describes the exact way we react when we're are pissed off at our boyfriends. And that exact feeling is the one reason I'm happy I'm not in a relationship right now.

Basically we all start off happy. We start off playful and full of humor and everything he does makes us smile. We find the way he chews so cute, and when he's late to pick us up we're just that much happier to see him because we missed him so much more when we were waiting for him that extra half hour, and when he goes off on a guy's night we're A-ok with it and we cheerfully go on a girl's night too. And then comes the point in the relationship when all these things that never got to us start getting to us. And we start putting "the face on." He takes one look at us and he knows he's in trouble again because we're in our corner pulling that silent disappointment face.

It's the face we get when he forgets to do something we asked, when we think he talked to that girl more than he talked to us the other night, when he says something out of place in front of other people, or when he's late to our date-night because he forgot about it even though we reminded him twenty times in the last week. And so we can't help but pull the silent treatment, waiting for him to realize he's done something wrong and apologize. He says he's sorry he was late, the traffic was a state and he can't be arsed to carry on in this debate that reoccurs and we get mad because he doesn't care and then he gets mad because we said that. And then instead of taking advantage of the time we have together, we spend an hour silent, another hour arguing, and finally, in the third hour, we make-up and make-out.

But then, slowly, you realize that we put on that face more than any other. It becomes who we are in this relationship and we don't like who we've become and they don't like who we've become and everything starts to change. The times when we'd laugh and joke around and cuddled in the kitchen are what we are striving to get back to, and we have a hard time accepting that we've entered this "comfort zone" and maybe he's taking us for granted and maybe we're taking him for granted and the more we fight it the harder it becomes to get back to that special place.

I did that a lot in my last relationship. I spent so much energy being upset I forgot to enjoy the present moment and soon enough it was hard to remember why we were still trying. It's a mistake, I think, to get caught up in those little things and let them ruin the "us" that was so happy to begin with. Maybe if we spend more energy smiling instead of frowning, then we'd be happier as a whole. Something I'd like to try my next time around.

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.

Birthday rhapsodies

I'm 26 today. Happy birthday to me!
It's funny how some years, your birthday comes and goes and nothing really changed. And then There are other years when you look back and think: wow almost nothing is the same!
Last year i celebrated my 25th Cape Town. Today i woke up in Los Angeles and tonight I am feasting in Vegas. Last year i had a boyfriend, a job as a TV anchor, worked on weekends and celebrated at a luxury spa and the seventh best restaurant in the world. And it was truly an amazing day. But now that i think of it, I felt oldish. Kind of Boring.
Today i went back a few years. I celebrated my birthday three times last week, you know like when you're turning 16 and you're really excited? I did a girls' night out where we played "never have i ever" and it was ridiculously fun. I did a night with a younger bunch whom i adore because they make me feel 21 again, drinking beers from the deken on dany's street in hamra, getting told ff by some dude because we were sitting on his car, and best of all, getting recognized by a fan of "beirut i love you" as the bunch of actors in the series. And then i celebrated at coop d'etat with my favorite people in the world, who all drank to my sex life. Boring? Anything but. Old? Never felt younger.
And now i'm about to hop on a plane to vegas. Yesterday i made one of my childhood dreams come true by seeing hollywood for the first time, placing my hands on the imprints of meryl streep at the chinese mann theater and walki into the kodak theater where maybe one day, i'll win an oscar... And the best is yet to come.

Ps: stay tuned for Vegas Rhapsodies

last night

Last night, I went to a blues concert. I didn't really know what I was going to watch but ended up happily surprised I was really enjoying it. It was an homage to Dinah Washington, but I admit I had no clue who that was... and the songs were from the 40s and 50s. All very bluesy, very jazzy, very sexy. And most of the stories behind the songs where, of course, about love. The woman who waits for the phone to ring. The one who wonders if the guy is going to decide if they are together, or not. The other who wants her man to decide between her and getting drunk with the boys. The woman who loves a man she really isn't supposed to love. Sounds familiar?

How many times have I called my best friend to say oh my god, I have to tell you what happened last night. I met this guy and we hit off and he took my number and I'm sure he's gonna call don't you think he's going to call? Or she calls me to tell me that last night, she saw her ex, and she knows she shouldn't have but they ended up going back to his place and now she doesn't know where they're at. Oh the drama. So much fun.

Last night I met a boy and it was love at first sight. Last night he said I love you. Last night we had a fight. Last night he broke up with me. Last night I saw my ex for the first time.

Last night I was very tipsy. And I openly talked (and at one point, shouted) about my sex life with the Rats --and it's not entirely impossible that the other twelve people who were in the bar all got a very detailed report about it too.

Last night, I kissed a boy and he fell.  Literally, fell, in the middle of the street, as we were kissing, with about three dozen people watching in astonishment. I have that effect on boys sometimes.

Last night, I was with four couples. And it only felt weird for a second, when I realized I was the odd one out. But then I also realized that I didn't care at all. I felt genuinely happy for them and genuinely happy for myself. They have each other. I have my stories. For now.

happiness

I have these flashes of memories that make me smile when I close my eyes.

When I was little, my dad used to travel for months at a time. It was during the war, and sometimes he had to come back by boat. My mom and I would go pick him up from the seaport in Jounieh. I was three or four at the time, but I have this vivid image of me spotting him from afar, coming towards us with his luggage in both hands. And I couldn't wait one more second for him; so I'd crawl beneath the wires, and I would run. I still see it now, and it looks like something out of a corny movie, a slow motion moment with some insanely cheesy soundtrack, of a three year old girl running and running towards her father, arms wide open, in tears, screaming "papa!"

There is a story my mother used to tell me all the time. When she and my dad were still dating, and she lived in "gharbieh" and he lived in "char'ieh" and sometimes, crossing from one part of town to another was the most dangerous thing you could do. The bridge we take hundreds of times now, the one that takes us from both sides of Beirut in a matter of seconds, used to bear the worst of the fighting. But all it took was a crescent moon to help you cross over it. You know when the moon is so thin you can barely see it? It was my mother's favorite thing in the world. And every time the moon was that thin, she kissed the people she loved, for good luck. And so one night, she saw the moon, and she wanted to kiss my dad. So she got in her car, and took the long way. Up the mountains and down again, so she could cross over to his side. It took hours, but she didn't care. When she finally arrived, she rang on the intercom (how they survived without mobile phones and internet is beyond me) and she told him to meet her downstairs, so they could look at the moon together. And kiss.

This might be the cheesiest story you've ever heard. I think it's the cheesiest one I've ever told. But it made her happy. Anytime, anywhere, if she closed her eyes and remembered that moment, it made her smile.

So many times we forget. We get wrapped up in the cloudiness of everyday nagging, tears and problems that seem beyond our capacity to deal with. But the truth is, if you close your eyes, it's full of happy moments to pick and choose from. That day at the beach with your friends, when you got tipsy and laughed your heart out. That time you got a phone call telling you you got that scholarship; you got that job; you got into that school. That second the stick turned blue and you wanted it to be blue. The first time he said "I love you;" the first time you stepped onto a stage; the first time you went out past curfew. That compliment that made you feel like a million bucks. I close my eyes and see Sunday Brunch with my best friend making piles of food for a bunch of hungover fools. I see my brother and my sister around the Christmas tree, with sappy Christmas songs in the background as we are putting up the lights and the ornaments. I close my eyes and there are so many pictures to choose from, I feel unbelievably lucky.


Today, I'm happy. I'm writing, I'm acting, I'm doing the things I love again. I wake up early and I can't wait for the day to start. And the best part is, it has nothing to do with anyone but myself. And I can smile without closing my eyes.

love-struck-silly

While it's true that we have to go through many disappointments (ref. "lonesome cowboy") to get that one good spark, when you actually get there, it makes it seem all worth it. There aren't many moments in your life that can quite match up to the feeling of a wonderful new beginning. You know, that time when you can't seem to stop smiling, even though your jaw starts to hurt? You wake up with a smile, you fall asleep with a smile, you catch yourself giggling because you just remembered something he said, and you feel love-struck-silly and it's the best.

It's those knots in your stomach --but the good kind. It's that can't-eat, can't-sleep, can't-help-but-being-cheesy, want-to-jump-up-and-down kind of stuff. And boys and girls alike, we all love it.

My friend Rebelious had that look a couple of days ago when I saw her. To be honest, she gets that look a lot, but who can blame her? I wish it was all beginnings, all the time --without the ending part. "Not all guys are assholes," she reminded me, with that gushy smile plastered across her face. I had forgotten.

Actually, there is no such thing as an asshole or a "good guy." The same guy has been one and the other, it just depends on the girl, situation, timing, and that whole complicated cosmic effect that makes two people either feel the spark --or not. Actually, when the guy feels the spark, he can be so much cheesier than a girl! Even one of the Rats, who will not be named even by nickname because he will kill me, had that beginning-blush not so long ago every time he mentioned this girl with who nothing even happened... she's the kind that could make him drop everything and runoff to some desert island and get married. He didn't use exactly these words, but it was something along those lines. He was love-struck-silly.

In the beginning, everything seems possible. The last time I felt that, my boyfriend and I were almost ready to get hitched within a month with not a care in the world. It's like when you're tipsy: you feel so happy you can't think of anything going wrong. And then eventually, you sober up. Reason starts to come back to you. You realize that you can't runoff to a desert island and it's not true that "all you need is love." All the annoying realities of life come into perspective, work, money, family, parents, religion, social class, culture... oh, and that temper of yours that had vanished eventually crawls back, and it's all a lot more complicated.

Beginnings are just amazing... and it's too bad they only last for so long. Once you transition into the this-is-a-real-relationship mode, all you ever do is try to get back to that tipsy feeling. Actually, the reason why you continue to make an effort when it's not all pink clouds and roses, when the other person seems to have lost their way, or you don't feel quite as special anymore, it is because you remember how good it felt when it first started. And you hope that maybe, tomorrow, you'll wake up with that smile plastered across your face, with that can't-eat bunch of knots in the pit of your stomach and want-to-jump-up-and-down kind of stuff.