You Guessed It, I Am Bored Again

You know you are so bored when you start playing minesweeper again. Take it from someone who knows, who has been there and has done that, playing minesweeper that is.

You know you are so bored when you advertise your boredom on your Facebook page and then you snap at anyone who tries to either joke about it or make it easier on you.

You know you are so bored when you wish your friends would come back to Lebanon for the sole purpose of entertaining you.

You know you are so bored when you are one step away of tossing your laptop and trampling on it.

You know you are so bored when you are unconsciously eavesdropping on people around you in the coffee shop and suddenly you feel exasperated but without knowing why. It takes you at least 10 to 15 minutes before realizing it is their banal exchange that is getting on your nerves.

But then again, any exchange at the moment, no matter how banal you might esteem it to be, could be a cure to this suffocating boredom.

Boredom and loneliness if I may add.

Or are both words synonyms? Are they the two facets of the same coin?

Getting back to the subject, you know you are bored when you start creating or even recycling nonsense philosophical matters.

You know you are so lonely when the void in your stomach isn't a sign of hunger. And that is not philosophy, that is simply a fact.

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you start doing things you wouldn't usually do, things you wouldn't usually approve of others doing, let alone you.

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you try to push it forward although you are not convinced. You know you are wrong, you know it is wrong, you know this is leading nowhere, well nowhere good at least, and yet, you do it.

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you don't really care. You say you care. You know you should care. But you simply don't. 

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you take hours to shower, pick some clothes, get dressed and do the make up and hair parade.

You know you are so lonely and so bored when after you are done with the parade, you head to the coffee shop with hopes that you will have enough energy to go somewhere else after a while. But you never go.

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you get stubborn. 

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you write a blog for the sake of writing it. You have nothing to say, nothing new to add, nothing meaningful to share, and still, you do it just to do something, something that is not necessarily new, not necessarily different, just another variety of your favorite activities; you love to read, you love to write, and you love to use your dying laptop, therefore you write another blog.

On Boredom and Routine

I don't know how many nights I have spent at this forsaken spot in Sassine Square during the past ten years or so, but a good estimate would be "most of them".

The coffee shop changed. The people who used to come in here changed. The cigarettes shop changed. The taxi drivers who used to drop me off home after long sleepless nights changed. And yet, I am still here. 

My friends joke about it sometimes, they say I am a construction column in this square. They say they could give directions based on my position in here. The second building to the left after Mireille they would say. 

Even when I do have plans for the evening, I end up here afterwards. I can't seem to be able to detach myself from this place. 

This piece of land holds many memories, many souvenirs, good and bad, and the way I see it, I can't move on and leave those moments behind. What if I never get to experience similar moments again? What if in case I move away the memories would fade and I would have no other way to recapture them?

Unemployment only feeds my addiction. Insomnia creeps in on me like a lost shadow, a desired one. I have no reason to wake up tomorrow. I don't have to be anywhere at any given time. So I am here. In the forsaken coffee shop. 

I read a bit. I play some virtual poker. I meet some friends. I have coffee. Then I have Diet Pepsi. A cookie too perhaps.

I am immersed in the music buzzing in my ears. I am enjoying quirky melodies. I am not sure what my taste really is anymore.

I secretly wish something would change. Here or elsewhere. Mostly here though. All of me is screaming for innovation, for surprise, for a thrill of some kind, of any kind.

What is it that I would really like to have most now, I ask myself. Is it money? Is it love? Is it success? Is it merely a job? Is it health?

I ask myself and I don't find the answer. I am not sure what I am craving. I am not sure what exactly is it that I want most, most badly.

Would any of the above do? Would one alone be enough? Is any even possible for such a bored soul?

If a soul is still in there indeed.

I just need change.

The other day, I decided to shower without scrubbing myself. It is a random embarrassing fact I know. But at the spur of the moment, it felt so needed, it felt so secretive, so innovative, so fresh, so liberating. Would anyone notice? Would I smell or something? What would not using a loofah for a day bring to the day? It brought nothing of course, but in the heat of boredom, it felt like it would. It didn't though.

The next day, I decided to take it a notch further. I didn't wash my hair! It is the extent you would go to if you were me. For years, I haven't left the house without washing my hair. I felt itchy the whole day, but that was about it. Nothing else happened following the unthinkable act of not washing my hair.

Tonight, I am flirting with the idea of cutting my hair short. But I won't do it. I don't have enough guts for it. I am such a wimp.

Today I heard dad's war stories for the nth time. I hate to admit it, but to the resonance of those stories, I wish a civil war would take place. It does seem very exciting, thrilling even, all the risks and such.

Page 144. Just a note in order not to forget to mark the passage in the book. I can't seem to find my marker in the mess of my huge purse.

Oh how many sentences and paragraphs have I highlighted so far. To what end? The question hangs in the air.

My mother wanted to take advantage of my time off. She asked me to place my collection of postcards in 2 big bags so she could get them out of her way, and away from me. Not that I ever look at them anymore, but still, now they are far and I can't look at them if I felt like it.

I am just nagging. About nothing and everything. Nagging is in my genes.

I wonder when my phone is going to ring next. Probably tomorrow. But who will it be? What will it regard? A job perhaps? A date? Yeah, as if. 

I dreamed that I was driving my father's car the other day, and I was colliding with other cars to the point of almost causing accidents several times. I looked it up, I couldn't find a definite interpretation but for all it is worth, driving in your dream represents your path in life.

I am also dreaming a lot about cats lately. Before that it was mice. Go figure. A chase maybe.

I should get that tooth fixed, but the appointment keeps getting cancelled. Either the doctor's parents are in the hospital, one at a time or simultaneously, either he has a union meeting, either he is having kidney stones removed all of a sudden. 

Good night. Well maybe not immediately, but eventually.

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!

She

I remember the first time we met. I had just gotten back from my first unsuccessful trip to Doha, I was looking for work, and fate led me to a small production house in a street I had long since forgotten existed in Sin El Fil.

She was sitting on the floor in the owner's office, hysterically typing on her laptop. It was summer, it was hot, but those weren't admissible excuses in my view for her to wear such a short top. She struck me as bold and powerful. She was exactly my type. I instantly disliked her.

I had no choice. I took the dreadful job. It bored me senseless. She didn't. We hit it off in no time. It didn't take us long before we found ourselves having a drink or a coffee somewhere, and it took much less even before I became her guardian angel - literally. Or was it her who was mine all this time?

Lebanese have found countless ways to spend their money on petty things and to commercialize every other occasion that comes their way. The famous Christmas's guardian angel is just another form of those endless ways. It is especially common within the circle of employees in small firms. And of all people in that office, I picked out hers at random. I gave her chocolate, food and the like, but that wasn't all, I intruded on her privacy in her mother's presence among us. She was contagious: I had become bold too. I gave her the most radical and inappropriate gift ever. I had her head spinning and wildly guessing. She accused everyone. She had never suspected her biggest admirer. 

Eventually she found out I was the guilty part during that fateful Christmas dinner. Fateful because it was the night I dreamed of the infamous Robert. It was her who sought him out, who called his name in pubs at the top of her lungs. Her argument was: He might be here, he might answer, you might be happy.

And happy I was to have found such a faithful and loyal friend or even partner if I dare say. 

What? Did you really think I was a lesbian and so was she?? I am so very sorry to disappoint you, but we aren't, although she has always calmly stated that "she wanted my body". She still does. Ask her. 

Friendship evolved. By Valentine's day we were almost ready to board the plane that will take us to our dream destination, the breathtaking Czech capital. 

Three ladies had the time of their lives in Prague. We bonded. We moved in together with a forth even. We lived under the same roof, sharing everything from water to secrets.

It was on her shoulder that I cried my eyes out. It was in her car that we drove to nowhere in particular. She was the tough nail on which I hanged like the saggy old painting that I am. 

And then came the day when we parted. We didn't argue. We didn't shout. We didn't even plan it, but we had drifted apart. For a while it seemed that the only thing that had held us together as far as we had was the same roof, and when we came out of its protective shadow, it was too hazy for us to spot each other anymore. 

But like magnets - or soul mates if those really do exist - we had found  the way each to the other again. We picked up where we had left off. Water came back to its stream...

And we lived happily ever....

Or we almost did.

Distance will always be a barrier trying to keep us apart.

But we are stronger than distance, and soon my dear friend, very soon, I will become wider than the continent that separates us, and I will give you a high five...from your beloved Beirut... to the Paris I long for...

Virtual Gambling

This is how it is: Texas Holdem Poker on Facebook is going to make me sick with worry and anxiety! I know it is stupid, I am aware that this isn't a real money issue - thank God for that or I would have been in jail by now! - but still, it is an extremely bad habit that is consuming me and my time!

According to Facebook, I have been a member of this application since 2008, but since I had no idea how to play before, and since as you may have experienced as well, I used to receive tons of exchanging chips requests, I had blocked it sometime between 2008 and 2011.

What had changed in 2011 you may ask? And even if you don't ask, I will tell you, hell this is my blog after all!

Ok, I understand the rudeness of that previous sentence but I wanted to be the boss at something because everything seems out of control somehow...

Anyway...

I have been spending New Year's Eve with the family for the last couple of years, and it has always been the tradition to play "Sab3a w Nos", which means Seven and a Half between Christmas and the new year. Sab3a w Nos is a small time poker game but it is fun and easy. Since we don't have actual chips at grandma's house, we use whatever kind of grains about to expire we have at our disposal. Therefore, our winning usually consists of a ball of lentils or a bunch of chickpeas. Every grain goes for 500L.L.which equals one quarter of a US Dollar. And yes of course we exchange them with money afterwards, just in case you were wondering, which you probably weren't... bah! whatever, I am rambling!

So where was I again? I got distracted with yet another round of virtual poker...

Alright, so for the last 2 years, my uncles have been teaching us new poker games because they are more "exciting" than Sab3a w Nos. Last year, it was Black Jack, and beginners' luck being on my side, I had won the whole pot.

Now this year, it was about time we had learned Texas Holdem, according to the experts of course. It was such a blast; not only have I really enjoyed it, I have also won it all once again with my now being cursed by the whole family "beginners' luck"!

This year though, small money rounds in the house weren't exactly enough. New Year's Eve is after all a "Try Your Luck" night, who hasn't stumbled upon the myth of having a great new year if you win on this fateful night? Well in case you haven't, I would like to welcome you to our incredibly superstitious society and its wild beliefs when it comes to luck, health, wealth, and you name it. 

This year we had to REALLY try our luck, and the only suitable place for such a noble endeavor was none other than the prestigious Casino du Liban. 

I had been to the Casino before, but it had always been for the innocent pleasure of enjoying a play or a concert. So far at least. This year, my after midnight visit didn't hold in its folding any artistic ends or contents for that matter, because when you go to the play rooms, you discover a whole new world of crooks, creditors and genuine assholes, either talking very very loudly, either, although not a lot of difference entails, screaming their guts out. You see night wanderers and night owls. You see addicts and fun seekers. You see insomniacs and geeks. You see the poor and the wealthy. You see people in their finest and people touching rock bottom. People ruined and people sitting on a cloud of fake glory and none-lasting fortune.Taxi drivers and estate emperors. People in silk and cashmere and others wearing practically rags.

I lost the equivalent of 33 USD in less than 10 seconds that night in the Casino. I was frustrated, flabbergasted, but I mostly felt ashamed for being so stupid to fall into this false, this destructive temptation. I had lost my beginners' luck, I had attempted to move on to the next step. Failure is the best cure as it seems. Losing the money I had won at home had a very sobering effect, I even replaced the double black whiskey with water for the rest of the night. 

Back to the subject. Five days after New Year's, I went to Qatar, and you have all read about that story I suppose. Anyway, with no money and barely any acquaintances there, confined to the solitude of my hotel room, I was bored, and the book I was reading at the time wasn't very interesting, plus basic cable doesn't do it for me. Like a lamp flashing over the head of a cartoon character, I remembered the Texas Holdem application on Facebook. I unblocked it and have barely closed it ever since. 

I am back from Qatar now, and I don't dispose of all the time in the world since I am currently working on a project, but somehow I manage to find hours on end to spend (in both meanings of the term) gambling my virtual chips in that game.

It is funny what boredom can make you do, to what lengths one can go to overcome it. I am having anxiety attacks and I am on the verge of nervous breakdown because of a stupid virtual game! I am mad at myself for letting myself get addicted to such petty things! Thank God I am against drugs, because it is possibly the only thing I am not addicted to! Anything else that comes to your mind, I am already addicted to it one way or the other. Trust me, and you get to name it. From cigarettes to mini cigars, from pipe to alcohol, from shopping to food, from diet Pepsi to sugar free Halls, I am on it! Well when I say alcohol, I don't mean I should be looking for AA meetings, but I rarely remember myself saying no to a drink. Are there anonymous meetings for shopaholics in Lebanon? I wonder, I really do, because I could seriously use them, especially since I am an almost broke one!