Pessimism

I have been thinking about pessimism for a while now. I have been also thinking what others make of it. They say I am not entitled to it. I say I am.

They say I am not unfortunate enough for it. They say a person in my stature (and here I wonder what the hell are they talking about) is not allowed to claim it. As if pessimism is a privilege for the underprivileged and the underprivileged alone.

They say I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. They also say all kind of other bullshit like me being a Phoenician should give me the strength to rise from the ashes like the Phoenix.

They say I should be thankful. 

They say I should be grateful.

They say I should be satisfied and fulfilled.

They say I am blessed.

They say I enjoy privileges others can only dream of. 

They say my necessities are other people's luxuries. 

I warned you they said all kind of bullshit. And why do I claim such a thing? Because all the above means nothing to me. Other people's situation is not my concern. I do feel sorry for the poor, the sick, etc... but I don't think that this feeling should in any way stand in my way. 

The fact that some people are less fortunate, the fact that others are poorer, less educated, sicker than I am, or facing any other kind of obstacle in their life is in no way a motive for me to look more positively at my current or future situation. 

Although I fairly dislike religious metaphors, I find some truth to this one: God has given each of us a cross fitted to their size to carry through life. 

My cross might be smaller than others', but it is all I can carry and God knows it. And I shouldn't be judged for the mere fact that I am pessimistic when my back hurts, don't you think?

Sometimes It Kills Me To Be Nice!

The guy's brother committed suicide a couple of years ago. He doesn't seem to be doing too well himself either. They never seemed all that normal to begin with, and with one of them dead now, the other has reached a new high. 

Here he comes, years later, he spots me in the coffee shop, he says hello, I say hello.

I say hello and I plug my earphones to my ears as a signal that hello is all I am going to say for the night. His new high doesn't allow him to pick signals. He sits down. He talks and talks and talks and then he babbles and then he talks some more. All the while, I am playing poker in his face. Yeah that is right, poker in his face, and he keeps on babbling and talking and talking and babbling.

I should be nice. It wouldn't kill me to pretend to be paying some attention to whatever he is trying to "teach" me. The guy has been through a lot already. I know for a fact he had very few friends when I last saw him and I am sure that he has barely any left with his new high.

Would it have killed me to have lent an ear to what he was saying, to pretend I was a bit interested? It sure wouldn't have, but at the time it did seem that it would. Poker seemed a much more important activity. Poker actually IS a more important activity considering the stuff he was babbling about. But. But I could have given him a few minutes of my oh so consuming addictions. It would have meant the world to him. But I simply didn't.

He came at a very wrong time. My not wanting to listen to him is a constant, but the timing just worsened it. He came in right after the poker guy left.

Now the poker guy. That is a whole other story.

Here I was, sipping my third cup of coffee, lighting my nth cigarette while playing poker, and he comes in and introduces himself. 

The story goes as follows:

I was playing poker, and a guy playing on the table says hello. I say hello. 

How r u?

Fine thanks,u?

Good thanks. 

So where are u from?

Lebanon,u?

Ahla! ( Lebanese for Welcome )

OMG! I sensed u were Lebanese too!

Me too!! So where in Lebanon do u live?

Achrafiyeh, u?

OMG!!!! Me too!!!

No way !!!

Yes way!!! So where in Achrafiyeh do u live?

Rmeil, u?

Syoufi, but right now I am at Sassine.

No way!!!! Me too!!!! Where at Sassine r u?

Fedex.

Hhahahahaahaaaaa u gotta be kidding me!!!

Lol, no, why??

Coz I am at Colombiano!!!!

No way !!!!!

Yes Way!!!!

Ok then I should come over and say hello!

Definitely!!! This is such an unusual coincidence!!

Now, let me break out the above conversation:

How r u?

Fine thanks,u?

Good thanks. I am such a liar, I just lost my job for God's sake! I am not well at all!!!

So where are u from?

Lebanon,u?

Ahla! ( Lebanese for Welcome )

OMG! I sensed u were Lebanese too! Half true.

Me too!! So where in Lebanon do u live?

Achrafiyeh, u? Since when was giving personal info to strangers on the internet a good idea?? huh??

OMG!!!! Me too!!!

No way !!! This guy must be lying, no?

Yes way!!! So where in Achrafiyeh do u live?

Rmeil, u? Mireille, would you stop giving out such info please??

Syoufi, but right now I am at Sassine.

No way!!!! Me too!!!! Where at Sassine r u? Oh you idiot!!! He is not even handsome, he looks old, why the hell are you showing interest at all??

Fedex.

Hhahahahaahaaaaa u gotta be kidding me!!! Very true.

Lol, no, why??

Coz I am at Colombiano!!!! Yeah blow your cover M, you queen of imbeciles! ( It is useful here to point out that Colombiano and Fedex are adjacent)

No way !!!!!

Yes Way!!!! Correction, empress of imbeciles.

Ok then I should come over and say hello!

Definitely!!! This is such an unusual coincidence!! What the fuck?????

And sure enough, he comes in a couple of minutes later. He is supposed to say hello. Chat for a couple of minutes, we would both marvel again at the coincidence, and then he is supposed to be out on his way. 

The above describes the best case scenario I had written in my obviously tiny little head when I realized what I had just agreed to when I told him to "yeah, sure, come over!". Now the below is the worst case scenario of what actually happened, the parts in red are the parts that went differently that planned:

And sure enough, he comes in a couple of minutes later. He is supposed to say hello. Chat for a couple of hours, we would both marvel again at the coincidence, he would find a higher, cosmic meaning to the coincidence, he would compliment my beauty every 5 minutes, we would discuss politics, religion, Lebanon, relatives, villages, his work, my work, work in general, people out of work, people looking for work, people who don't want to work, his car, my not having a car, Achrafiyeh, parking spaces, rent, food, coffee, cigarettes, smoking, not smoking, drinking, sleeping, insomnia, radio, TV, wireless, internet, wireless internet, passwords, poker, chips, friends, enemies, Africa, Europe, funerals, dancing, dancing in funerals, heritage, death, heaven, Easter, fasting, sinning, and then he is supposed to be out on his way. 

All the while, I am not nice. I keep looking at my laptop. I want to play poker. He asks if I would like him to leave, I say no, But Of Course Not!! So yes I was nice. Well maybe not nice but at least I tried to be civilized. 

Another recent not so nice anecdote. So my friend Zeina has sprayed her Jeep's rims in black. She asks me if they look nice, I blurt it out: NO. I am so mean!!! Would it have killed me to say yes they are, knowing that it would have meant a lot to her while not costing me more than a little white harmless lie?

Now since this is dedicated to you Zeina, before I give you what you are waiting for, I should explain what I am replying to first.

So the other day I came to Colombiano, and since Zeina and I had talked about meeting up earlier that day, I sent her an sms asking her where she is. And her reply came as follows: I am spraying my rims.

Now that was weird, don't you agree? I was understandably baffled by her reply to the point of not having a single thought to respond to such a bizarre statement.

Zeina wants me to reply in a blog, so here it goes Zeina, I have thought a lot about this, it has consumed a considerable amount of my precious time, and I couldn't possibly find a better reply than what I am about to say to you. Embrace yourself, and scroll down a bit:

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N2el3eh Zeina!!!! Bala Sorry !!!!! HhAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

I love what I do!

Do you know that feeling when you are dead tired in the evening, and yet you are full of an unidentified kind of energy somehow?

It is when you love what you do.

You love it in spite of what it puts you through, in spite of the long hours that seem to stretch forever. 

You love it because you were molded to do it. Because you were born with an instinct for it. 

You sometimes hate yourself for enjoying it, you hate yourself for being so glad for being so tired.

You are finally home after a long day of work. You are drenched. Still, you are restless. Your mind is buzzing with endless details, endless questions, endless doubts. 

You doubt yourself. You doubt others. You overestimate yourself. You overestimate others. You underestimate yourself. You underestimate others.

You feel depressed. You feel drained.

You are on the top of the world. You are the lowest of the low.

You are hypertensive. You are energetic. You are sick. 

You have a voice. No one seems to hear you. You scream. You shut up.

You compete. They compete.

You strike. You lose. 

You make it. You don't.

You like it. Oh no you don't!

They are nice. And they suck.

You are special. They are angels. You are a demon. They are too.

You can. They can. They can even better.

You compete. They compete.

You run. They simply hide.

You blame them. They blame you.

You will make it. They already did. 

You are beat. You are sad. You are happy. You are mad.

(a meager attempt to poetize an otherwise undercreative piece with two words I just came up with while explaining it)

You are singing. They are dancing... on the table.

You join them. Or you will, eventually.

You are a table dancer, I tell you. 

Oh man do I love it!

It makes every cell in my brain work at double speed. Working gives me such a rush!

I look forward to my bogus poker and reading evenings because when I have them I get to look forward to work!

Is there anything you can't do? Bullshit! There is nothing you can't do you wuss!

Did I just call my readers wusses? I am such a shitty writer!