The Hiker Dude

I want to make this a modern fairytale, but I can’t. Because it’s not. Because it won’t be. But because I believe in the magic of words, I will retain them in here and hope the readers who have been asking for a drop of something positive will enjoy.

Just for the spirit of enchantment, I will begin this with a once upon a time…

Once upon a time, I met a guy. We will call him the Hiker. Or the Hiker Dude. Yeah, the Hiker Dude sounds much better. When I first looked at him, I was lying down. But in the blink of an eye, I felt elated. It wasn’t his dreamy blue eyes, but his dreamy words that transported me to some sort of cloud. Anyone who knows me, or has ever read me, knows I have a special relationship with words (alas not tonight though, I am here typing because I can’t concentrate on a book I’ve been wanting to read for 10 years and finally found, so don’t expect any poetic sentences from the tips of these fingers tonight, but do keep yourself ready for some of the Hiker Dude’s magic nonetheless). His words opened the door to some much needed daydreaming, at night. He didn’t even have to make an effort, his words just flowed out of him, and he struck me as oblivious to his own powers. He probably isn’t, but he was humble about it in any case. All he did was tell me a bit about him. The more I asked, the more answers he provided, and I felt I could keep on asking forever. I felt as if my thirst could not be quenched, but I had to stop at some point and get back down to my terrestrial couch, sadly enough. 

A sentence here and a detail there. A fact here and a joke there. And a mighty, graceful stitch between all those elements was all it took to bewitch me. He didn’t say much, but at the end he didn’t have to. He didn’t try hard, and he didn’t have to either. There was subtlety, agility and elegance to all his descriptions. And that helped engrave his words in my memory somehow. The following may not be a completely accurate account of his portrayals, chronologically speaking or vocabulary wise, but it’s the best my brain can come up with on memory. I am going to be as loyal as humanly possible to his discourse, and I hope you will enjoy it…The Hiker’s words: 

“Let's see here, I currently live on the Hawaiian island of Kauai but am moving much closer to you, to where we are right now, soon… I am looking for awesomeness… I travel often, hike, camp, backpack, and go on all kinds of adventures... I am the oldest of 5 and I am very tight with my siblings… I work hard. I play hard. Sometimes I don't play hard if I find a great show to marathon on Netflix… I hold great value in the connections with my close friends… I like to play scrabble and am largely undefeated… I build things; it's very gratifying. I can fix anything. If I cannot fix it then I will destroy any evidence that I ever tried to… I will hold the door open… I love dogs. I love cats if they behave like dogs. I wish I were half the man my dogs think I am...Mountains and water are a primal requirement to live near. That last sentence did not begin with "I"… I just made a couch that has been nicknamed the "comacouch"...I'm addicted to frequent flier miles. I like to make up stories about people I watch at the airport. I tinker... French press coffee is my favorite... My favorite color is green and it has nothing to do with pot or money… I am protective over my favorite spoon. I used to be a vegan who loved meat... I maintain eye contact. I listen. I plan on being spontaneous and sometimes spontaneously plan... I do my own taxes and wonder why… I am on a first name basis with REI… My favorite wine comes from New Zealand... I am the opposite of clumsy. I stay up late and get up early… I know a lot of really bad and offensive jokes… CAKE wrote a song about my dream woman... Yard sales and treasure hunting are oodles of fun... I use a check register... I have a face. I love life and all the challenges it presents to let me experience the full spectrum of it... I look forward to meeting someone who is down to Earth but can go to outer space as well. I am wanting to find the woman to spend every day with and have some little ones and dogs.”

Is it just me or do those bits and pieces sewn together make him perfect? And for those of you who are wondering, I concur, he does have a face indeed. Not that I am incapable of imagining such a dreamy character on my own, but aside from the words, I’d probably mess it up, and he most definitely won’t be a hiker. He’s real though, too real if you ask me. 

And just when I thought he couldn’t be any more perfect, he took a piercing, immaculate look at me, and then proceeded to satisfy his own curiosity with a bunch of silly little questions. No more than 5 minutes later, he took out his notebook, and he wrote an impressive introduction about me, one that my oldest friends probably, no definitely, couldn’t come up with if they tried. The following is a very accurate copy of what the Hiker scribbled down that night about me, someone he had barely just met. It looks like a newspaper ad or maybe an out of this world CV intro. I love it. I will cherish that entry forever.

“My name is Mimi and it is a nickname for… Why you would just have to find that out won't you!... I love to read and am quite the bookworm… As an Aquarius I have a thirst for knowledge as well as a thirst to know why I have a thirst for knowledge...  I also possess some very powerful eyes. If I meet you in person I will be able to see your soul on the edges of them.  If you are not worthy then you will turn to stone but if you are, then you will melt into a puddle of joy… I work in a cutthroat industry but I like to leave my work at work and be more of myself when I'm at home. Sometimes that is difficult to do so I write a blog which helps ease the tension between my two worlds... I like big sunglasses, big earrings, and red.  I like red because it is the color of passion and I am in fact a passionate person…  I have a need for dynamic conversation and witty stimuli. If anyone has ever called you a dialtone, then please keep moving along...I work very hard and I like what I do… I also like to play hard to offset my career challenges. I have a primal need to be compelled….so compel me!”

Do not ask me where all this is coming from. Do not ask me who the Hiker Dude is. Do not ask me anything in fact. Just read those entries, appreciate them; appreciate one man’s talent and one woman’s inspiration. Leave it all behind you. Get over it. Get over it just like I am. Hold on to the fleeting optimism in those sentences. Preserve the memory of those blue eyes you have never seen but you’ve so often imagined while reading their creations. Don’t take any of it to the next level, for the next level simply does not exist. Be grateful you’ve reached the cloud, stop aiming for the outer space, at least for tonight, in respect of those of us who are disillusioned and don’t dare expect anymore. Sadly so, but rightfully so. Good night.

A Lebanese Anecdote

Time for a random, genuinely Lebanese anecdote. This may seem a bit silly, but this woman brightened my day with a laugh this morning. If you are not Lebanese, there is a rare probability that you have ever experienced a chronic power cut, and this little tale will seem baffling to you, but if you are, this is exactly the common everyday story you may usually encounter.

A little background for the foreigners first: To avoid numbing details, I will just tell you that due to repeated strikes and raids over power supply stations, and due to constant shortage in fuel, we don’t get electricity in Lebanon 24/7; instead, the small amount of power supplied is divided between the various areas with the power being cut anywhere between 3 and 24 hours per day depending on the region on a daily basis.

The above hopefully explains why the revered power company in Lebanon receives countless phone calls every day from complaining citizens hoping for an explanation as to why the power was cut longer than usual today, or why the broken transmitter hasn’t been fixed yet, etc…

Now, we live near the power company’s main branch in the capital, and thus, we share with it the same area code, as well as the same first four digits and, as luck would have it, the sixth or last digit in the phone number too. This means that our home number differs in a mere digit to the company’s, and as luck would have it once again, it seems that many, many years ago, the company had what feels like millions of billing forms printed out with the wrong fifth digit assigned in the number listed as its hotline on the bottom of the form. The fifth digit printed coincides with ours.

Maybe the company has since printed new forms, or maybe it is still using its stash of old ones with our digits, but at any rate, it seems that there is a huge amount of people still referring to those forms and dialing our home number every time they encounter additional power trouble or simply feel like ranting over their broken washing machines, their melting ice cream or their wasted leftovers.

I would say 50% of the calls we get at home are meant for the company, and every single day we are subjected to hundreds of ever so funny yet saddening insults before we get the chance to tell people on the other end of the line that they dialed the wrong number. And even then, most people don’t believe us and suggest that we are indeed the company and that we are just making pranks on them and that this is simply outrageous of us. Imagine! J

My brother recorded his voice on the answering machine a while back, and since then, many callers who get the voice mail in which my brother sings Na na na nan a, we are not home, leave us a messaaageee – in Arabic of course and with irreparable cords – leave us really, and I mean really angry messages, which are hilarious to hear, since even with that silly voice recording, they still believe that the power company is mocking them J

So if you have ever wondered – which you probably haven’t – what an upside down prank call might be like, this is it.

But let me get to the story before I forget it.

This morning, the phone rang and I picked it up. The 50 something lady on the other end of the line didn’t even bother with a hello before unleashing her wrath over the power company, its employees, the government, the minister, the citizens, etc…You name it and you can bet she insulted it. And when she finally had the courtesy of taking a breath between rants, I took the opportunity to calmly try and explain the situation, which she laughingly interrupted saying: I know my dear, I know it is the wrong number, I have called here before and you have explained it to me already, and she went on heartily laughing. Baffled and completely dubious, I inquired as to why she would call us again if she indeed knew all about it, to which she replied: Well at least with you someone picks up!

No comment J The end.

The Power of Time

While making my regular FB tour tonight, I was struck by a famous Buddha quote which read: “The trouble is, you think you have time.” I sat there contemplating the sentence for what seemed forever, and then I realized I better stop staring and move on to something else before time with its mighty wings dares steal even more precious moments while I keep going unaware of its effects and its boldness.  

The concept of time has been consuming me for 3 days now, and I feel the need to virtually arrange my thoughts on paper in hope of settling an already busy mind. It all started when I discovered a white hair in my eyebrow while fixing my makeup in the car. I froze for an eternity before I started the engine and went straight to my beautician to pluck it out.

I had never been aware of how scary it would be for me to start the aging process. Sure I have always joked about it, but not once - I am now aware - have I truly gave it a sincere thought. Somehow I had never believed that I would ever grow old, or older. I had always had the sense that one way or another, my life would be over by the time I was thirty. And with thirty so close now, a lot downed on me in a single moment.

The sense of being underachieved could be tragically thrown out of proportion when you spot your first white hair. The feeling that you have done way too little in contrast with your potential sets in, and a whole lot of drama starts buzzing in your head, robbing you a bit more of what little sanity you were still trying to maintain.  

I sit here thinking of whys and what ifs. I sit with remorse, with regrets. I feel threatened by missed opportunities and lack of effort. And as one thought gets chained to the other, I start seeing lack of ambition, lack of spirit and serious lack of motivation in my past, and sadly, in my present as well. Melancholic dilemmas start clouding me and a morose state takes over my being. Have I ever really tried achieving a goal or fulfilling a dream? Have I ever given anything my all? Have I ever compromised enough or have I ever, to the contrary, refused to compromise? Have I been passionate, in the true sense of the word, about something in my life so far? The answer saddens me even more, it empties me of any sympathy I still had for myself. Had I ever been sincerely passionate and truly determined, I wouldn’t be lamenting myself now.

Tonight I pray for the ability to use the fleeting gift of time more wisely. I pray for greater determination and second chances. I pray for patience and opportunity. I pray for knowledge and feasibility. I pray for inspiration and enthusiasm. For hope and faith. For strength and drive. For passion, most of all, because love is nothing without it, and what a shame it would be to waste love.

Tonight I strive to read more and procrastinate less. I strive to do more and talk less. To produce more while nagging less. To appreciate what I already have. To cherish what I have already achieved. To be thankful for the people already surrounding me. For without gratefulness to what I am lucky to have now, I don’t deserve what I may accomplish in the future and will never know how to enjoy it.