As soon as I get on my bike I become invisible. No one seems to notice a young man on a bike. It’s as if I’ve managed to travel to a parallel universe. As soon as I get off the bike, even when dragging it, I become noticed again. I get the interesting and interested looks, but once I’m on it and pedaling, I’m invisible.
I’m invisible to the traffic police who won’t stop me or even look at me if I cause a traffic problem or go against the flow, I’m invisible to the people that walk who don’t notice me at all. I’m invisible to the cars and I know that because I only started noticing bicycle riders of late. I’m invisible even to girls who are in the street who don’t seem to feel threatened at all by my passing by, and don’t even notice a flirty smile if I give one. I’m ignored by young women in cars and I don’t even try to smile. I’m even invisible to my friends, many of whom I’ve passed right next to and wasn’t noticed. They don’t even look at someone on a bike, they just go about doing their business.
There are exceptions however to this invisibility rule. I’m not invisible to those that are in a position to run me over. When I’m within a reasonable proximity to people, (basically head on collision) they tend to notice me. I’m not invisible to others on bicycles and motorbikes either. There seems to be some sort of vision between us. There’s also room for friendlier chats than if I were on foot or by car. Perhaps it’s the common circumstance of a minority that tries to make its way through the streets.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Default Treatment (I)
An incident displaying default treatment:
The cogs of my bike broke, so I go to a bike repair man. He tells me how unfortunate this event is, and tells me that they cost 38 L.E. First rule when dealing with repairmen here in Egypt (sanay3eya) is to act cheap and so I did. I acted shocked and very disappointed and then I ask him where one buys them. He responds, “You don’t buy it, I’m the one who buys it but you’ve got to tell me now.” When a sanay3ee tells you this, it’s a sign of malicious intent, any kind of veiling of facts or barriers put up are not a good sign. I suspected that I was being ripped off and so I put it to the test. I acted very cheap as if I couldn’t afford this much to see if he would waive part of his profit, so he tells me there are others for 15 and 20, and then goes on to explain how prices vary. This technique almost always works. If he wasn’t going to let me buy the part, I wasn’t interested, not that I would know much about it, but the whole idea of banning me from buying was not something I could accept.. I walked off after realizing there was a bit of dishonesty.
So my bike remained broken and I had to go to another bicycle repairman. He was an old man who had no problems at all being grumpy. I’ll call him Grouchy Bikeman. When I went to Grouchy the first time, it was almost evening and he literally shooed me away telling me that he only works very early in the morning. Fair enough, I politely gave him the benefit of the doubt and made up my mind to go visit him the next day. The mistake here is in the manner in which I retired, which was ‘politely’, in hindsight it would have been far better to be pushy and slightly rude.
In any case I went early the next morning, dragging my bike, new cogs in hand. The man was literally idle but told me to leave the bike and the spare part and come back in an hour. I told him I would wait but he decidedly refused to work on my bike in my presence. It was absurd and irrational and so I discussed it politely but to no avail. He wanted to work on the bike ONLY in my absence. When I insisted that I had nowhere to go for an hour so that his highness can work on my bike, he told me that he won’t fix it and that I should look for another place.
I gave my father a call to come pick me up because I had no intention of dragging the bike back. I could feel the fury in my father’s voice as he told me that he was on his way. He has a problem when a service provider veils his services and your property from your sight.
So he came in front of the shop, screeching breaks, got out and calmly shouted at Grouchy Bikerman, “Meza3al el baih el so3’ayar laih?”
Now my father is a big man and his very appearance reeks of importance. The man was stunned, he tried smiling but was met with a stern unmoving expression from my father. Grouchy Bikerman replied something very unmemorable as he stuttered.
My father said, “Mesh kefaya sahraneen fel qism tool el lail, mesa7eena badry we mza3al el baih el so3’ayar laih?”
Grouchy Bikerman was pale with fear, he tried to put on a nervous smile and said, “He just thinks I will take parts out of his bike and I was telling him not to worry.” My father turns to me and says, “Etfadal enta ya Will baik, mat3atalsh nafsak, I will handle this.”
I’m used to my father’s tactics and I play along, Grouchy Bikerman treats his customers with a little bit more respect. He apologizes and fixes the bike in the presence of its owner.
The cogs of my bike broke, so I go to a bike repair man. He tells me how unfortunate this event is, and tells me that they cost 38 L.E. First rule when dealing with repairmen here in Egypt (sanay3eya) is to act cheap and so I did. I acted shocked and very disappointed and then I ask him where one buys them. He responds, “You don’t buy it, I’m the one who buys it but you’ve got to tell me now.” When a sanay3ee tells you this, it’s a sign of malicious intent, any kind of veiling of facts or barriers put up are not a good sign. I suspected that I was being ripped off and so I put it to the test. I acted very cheap as if I couldn’t afford this much to see if he would waive part of his profit, so he tells me there are others for 15 and 20, and then goes on to explain how prices vary. This technique almost always works. If he wasn’t going to let me buy the part, I wasn’t interested, not that I would know much about it, but the whole idea of banning me from buying was not something I could accept.. I walked off after realizing there was a bit of dishonesty.
So my bike remained broken and I had to go to another bicycle repairman. He was an old man who had no problems at all being grumpy. I’ll call him Grouchy Bikeman. When I went to Grouchy the first time, it was almost evening and he literally shooed me away telling me that he only works very early in the morning. Fair enough, I politely gave him the benefit of the doubt and made up my mind to go visit him the next day. The mistake here is in the manner in which I retired, which was ‘politely’, in hindsight it would have been far better to be pushy and slightly rude.
In any case I went early the next morning, dragging my bike, new cogs in hand. The man was literally idle but told me to leave the bike and the spare part and come back in an hour. I told him I would wait but he decidedly refused to work on my bike in my presence. It was absurd and irrational and so I discussed it politely but to no avail. He wanted to work on the bike ONLY in my absence. When I insisted that I had nowhere to go for an hour so that his highness can work on my bike, he told me that he won’t fix it and that I should look for another place.
I gave my father a call to come pick me up because I had no intention of dragging the bike back. I could feel the fury in my father’s voice as he told me that he was on his way. He has a problem when a service provider veils his services and your property from your sight.
So he came in front of the shop, screeching breaks, got out and calmly shouted at Grouchy Bikerman, “Meza3al el baih el so3’ayar laih?”
Now my father is a big man and his very appearance reeks of importance. The man was stunned, he tried smiling but was met with a stern unmoving expression from my father. Grouchy Bikerman replied something very unmemorable as he stuttered.
My father said, “Mesh kefaya sahraneen fel qism tool el lail, mesa7eena badry we mza3al el baih el so3’ayar laih?”
Grouchy Bikerman was pale with fear, he tried to put on a nervous smile and said, “He just thinks I will take parts out of his bike and I was telling him not to worry.” My father turns to me and says, “Etfadal enta ya Will baik, mat3atalsh nafsak, I will handle this.”
I’m used to my father’s tactics and I play along, Grouchy Bikerman treats his customers with a little bit more respect. He apologizes and fixes the bike in the presence of its owner.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Default Treatment (II)
Why is it that the default treatment of people towards one another here, and possibly elsewhere, is dirt?
Let me illustrate.
I’m waiting in front of my building in an old Fiat 128 that we own waiting for my father to bring my car round. My car is a relatively better Toyota. Since the street in front of my building is a no parking street, no car really has the right to wait around but as is usual a very small temporary wait in the streets of Cairo is nowhere close to abnormal. So my father pulls I behind me, car slightly slanted. I see an ‘Ameen Shorta’ (low ranking traffic policeman) waiving his hand in a friendly manner, smiling and telling my father itfadal ya basha and what have you.
I move forward slightly to make it easier for him to pull nearer to the curb. He motions to me that I shouldn’t move further and that it was fine, but the Ameen doesn’t see it. So what he does is that he smiles to my father then changes his expression to reflect a more intolerant look. As I’m getting out of the car, he starts yelling at me to move further in front (3agala 2odam) in a very aggressive and hostile manner. He obviously wants to do the pacha, my father, a favor by helping him align his car with the curb.
The bossy tone was meant to emphasize my insignificance, so I wickedly apologized for not moving my car, but point out that I’ll be out of his hair as soon as I get in my car just behind me. Baffled, of course, he adopts a more apologetic tone and showers me with all those pacha and baik remarks.
Let me illustrate.
I’m waiting in front of my building in an old Fiat 128 that we own waiting for my father to bring my car round. My car is a relatively better Toyota. Since the street in front of my building is a no parking street, no car really has the right to wait around but as is usual a very small temporary wait in the streets of Cairo is nowhere close to abnormal. So my father pulls I behind me, car slightly slanted. I see an ‘Ameen Shorta’ (low ranking traffic policeman) waiving his hand in a friendly manner, smiling and telling my father itfadal ya basha and what have you.
I move forward slightly to make it easier for him to pull nearer to the curb. He motions to me that I shouldn’t move further and that it was fine, but the Ameen doesn’t see it. So what he does is that he smiles to my father then changes his expression to reflect a more intolerant look. As I’m getting out of the car, he starts yelling at me to move further in front (3agala 2odam) in a very aggressive and hostile manner. He obviously wants to do the pacha, my father, a favor by helping him align his car with the curb.
The bossy tone was meant to emphasize my insignificance, so I wickedly apologized for not moving my car, but point out that I’ll be out of his hair as soon as I get in my car just behind me. Baffled, of course, he adopts a more apologetic tone and showers me with all those pacha and baik remarks.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Curbs
Why in Egypt are curbs so high? They're so badly designed and very annoying. I understand that a curb can be high enough not to allow cars to mount, but I don't see why it needs to be too high for a car door to open. It is very annoying that the act of getting on the sidewalk is too exhausting. I mean who are they thinking of when they use those stones to define a sidewalk? I'm certain it's not the people.
In the first place there's never enough space for people to walk on a sidewalk, and the obstacle course they make with trees and various objects is only further enforced by a very high curb that people struggle to climb, not to mention old people. Surely curbs were not designed for cars in any way, since they can trap people inside their cars and generally damage the car in very original ways. They also make the process of parking more annoying than it normally is due to the lack of space and the presence of vicious and relentless car keepers.
At first I suspected it was due to an important investor, high up there with the political powers who had bought himself a shipment of these badly designed stones, or worse yet produces them. That would seem to make a bit of sense, since the government is bound to buy them and utilize them no matter how inadequate they are. The price of their production would certainly be higher considering how unnecessarily big they are and all of the cost of course will come out of tax payers' money into over flooding pockets.
But then I realized there may be a greater conspiracy, it may be because the people providing the cement and materials to fill the sidewalks are influential. With a bigger curb you get more space of sidewalk to be filled which means more cement and other material. I'm not a civil engineer or anything, but I would assume that the difference in height requires much more material and once again, more tax payers' money into more over flooding pockets.
Of course these theories are all pet theories that have everything to do with speculation alone, but considering other stories I've heard of a similar nature, it seems a very viable explanation as to why those idiotic curbs exist. It seems that those guys designing things for the common people are thinking of new ways to make more money but to be fair they're also thinking of more and more stupid designs to annoy the people.
A very eighties thumbs up to those working to make our country a better place.
In the first place there's never enough space for people to walk on a sidewalk, and the obstacle course they make with trees and various objects is only further enforced by a very high curb that people struggle to climb, not to mention old people. Surely curbs were not designed for cars in any way, since they can trap people inside their cars and generally damage the car in very original ways. They also make the process of parking more annoying than it normally is due to the lack of space and the presence of vicious and relentless car keepers.
At first I suspected it was due to an important investor, high up there with the political powers who had bought himself a shipment of these badly designed stones, or worse yet produces them. That would seem to make a bit of sense, since the government is bound to buy them and utilize them no matter how inadequate they are. The price of their production would certainly be higher considering how unnecessarily big they are and all of the cost of course will come out of tax payers' money into over flooding pockets.
But then I realized there may be a greater conspiracy, it may be because the people providing the cement and materials to fill the sidewalks are influential. With a bigger curb you get more space of sidewalk to be filled which means more cement and other material. I'm not a civil engineer or anything, but I would assume that the difference in height requires much more material and once again, more tax payers' money into more over flooding pockets.
Of course these theories are all pet theories that have everything to do with speculation alone, but considering other stories I've heard of a similar nature, it seems a very viable explanation as to why those idiotic curbs exist. It seems that those guys designing things for the common people are thinking of new ways to make more money but to be fair they're also thinking of more and more stupid designs to annoy the people.
A very eighties thumbs up to those working to make our country a better place.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
The Alarm Clock
It was very early in the morning when the alarm went off. He listened to it for a while hoping that the sound would fade and that he would not have to use his body’s sleep muscles to turn it off. But as is usual with all alarm clocks, the sound continued, the constant sound seemed even louder now as it forced his body to slide away slowly from sleepiness via the sound it delivered to his ears. He decided to turn it off but turning it off awakened him even more since it involved the movement of his arms, something he had hoped to avoid.
He woke up and stared at the alarm clock while still in bed. His eyes were half open, one cheek glued to the bed as he lay on his stomach, and his thoughts were distorted. Part of him wanted his eyes to close so that he could get back to the comfort of sleep, another much smaller part of him wanted them open. There was no reason for him to get up really, nothing but that inner voice that kept telling him to move on when everything else around him had gone. Everything was telling him to go back to sleep and that the new day wasn’t worth living, but that very small yet powerful voice was telling him to get up and go on living. He looked at his alarm clock and while deciding whether or not to get up, he realized what he was, a man who had lost everything.
He was a man who had lost everything but was left with that monotonous residue called living. He was left with the means by which to live, the place in which to live and a job to make a living. He was left with lots of health to squander, lots of years to waste, lots of things to see. In short he was left with all the means of living yet deprived of a life.
On days when he would look into a mirror, he felt so much like the reflection he saw rather than the object that caused it. He felt very similar to a two dimensional reflection that appeared to have substance but was only a thin reflection of light. He was an illusion appearing to have all that which constituted a life with none of its reality.
He felt he was a reflection because as a reflection would disappear in the darkness, all of the real life in him had disappeared in the darkness of his sorrow.
He looked at the alarm clock and he saw it looking back at him. They spoke with their eyes. The alarm clock had two voices that were much like his own. The clock said look at the time. That same sentence had two tones. One was, look at the time, all of it is gone, and the other was, look at the time, you need to seize the day. The clock said look how time flies and it also said don’t let time pass you by. The clock said my seconds are an eternity and it also said my seconds pass too quickly.
He asked himself a question, why would a man who lost everything wake up now and go on living. He found no answer. He found no answer or reason as to why he should, but something illogical inside him provided him with an answer he did not fathom, an answer he could not interpret, an answer that wasn’t even clear. It was more of an urge than an answer, an innate knowledge that trampled over logic, it was an urge and a belief that he must go on.
Against his sleepy body, his aching head, and his reason, this feeling triumphed. He got up and scratched his hair and tried to forget about that little conversation he had with his clock. He looked at his bed and his clock and thought, I’m not setting that alarm ever again, but he knew in his depths that when it was time to sleep he’d have another similar battle to face.
He woke up and stared at the alarm clock while still in bed. His eyes were half open, one cheek glued to the bed as he lay on his stomach, and his thoughts were distorted. Part of him wanted his eyes to close so that he could get back to the comfort of sleep, another much smaller part of him wanted them open. There was no reason for him to get up really, nothing but that inner voice that kept telling him to move on when everything else around him had gone. Everything was telling him to go back to sleep and that the new day wasn’t worth living, but that very small yet powerful voice was telling him to get up and go on living. He looked at his alarm clock and while deciding whether or not to get up, he realized what he was, a man who had lost everything.
He was a man who had lost everything but was left with that monotonous residue called living. He was left with the means by which to live, the place in which to live and a job to make a living. He was left with lots of health to squander, lots of years to waste, lots of things to see. In short he was left with all the means of living yet deprived of a life.
On days when he would look into a mirror, he felt so much like the reflection he saw rather than the object that caused it. He felt very similar to a two dimensional reflection that appeared to have substance but was only a thin reflection of light. He was an illusion appearing to have all that which constituted a life with none of its reality.
He felt he was a reflection because as a reflection would disappear in the darkness, all of the real life in him had disappeared in the darkness of his sorrow.
He looked at the alarm clock and he saw it looking back at him. They spoke with their eyes. The alarm clock had two voices that were much like his own. The clock said look at the time. That same sentence had two tones. One was, look at the time, all of it is gone, and the other was, look at the time, you need to seize the day. The clock said look how time flies and it also said don’t let time pass you by. The clock said my seconds are an eternity and it also said my seconds pass too quickly.
He asked himself a question, why would a man who lost everything wake up now and go on living. He found no answer. He found no answer or reason as to why he should, but something illogical inside him provided him with an answer he did not fathom, an answer he could not interpret, an answer that wasn’t even clear. It was more of an urge than an answer, an innate knowledge that trampled over logic, it was an urge and a belief that he must go on.
Against his sleepy body, his aching head, and his reason, this feeling triumphed. He got up and scratched his hair and tried to forget about that little conversation he had with his clock. He looked at his bed and his clock and thought, I’m not setting that alarm ever again, but he knew in his depths that when it was time to sleep he’d have another similar battle to face.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
On Atheism
A friend of mine asked me why I joined a certain group comprised of atheists, agnostics and non religious people. There was a quote on that group about how atheists should not be defined as anything, that there should be no word to reflect their belief. So my friend asked me for an answer, and I said that I disagreed because atheists have a positive belief rather than a passive or neutral one. Agnostics can claim this, but not atheists.
From Wikipedia:
Atheism is the disbelief in the existence of any deities.It is contrasted with theism, the belief in a God or gods. Atheism is commonly defined as the positive belief that deities do not exist, or as the deliberate rejection of theism. However, others—including most atheistic philosophers and groups—define atheism as the simple absence of belief in deities (cf. nontheism), thereby designating many agnostics, and people who have never heard of gods, such as newborn children, as atheists as well.
I'm using the common definition as positive belief that deities do not exist, deliberate rejection. This is not like saying I don't know, or I don't have a point of view regarding the matter, it says I know for sure that deities do not exist. The modern view which encompasses more numbers is to say those who are not against us are with us, this refers to agnostics who do not know and others who claim they’ll never know. And so, newborn children are atheists by that rationale, while in fact they're agnostic.
Since my contention is that newborns are agnostic, that also extends to treating those children who are born with religious backgrounds as agnostic as well, it is only when they decide to answer the question of whether God exists or not that they may be one or the other.
As for the quote:
"Atheism is not a philosophy; it is not even a view of the world; it is simply an admission of the obvious. In fact, "atheist" is a term that should not ever exist. No one ever needs to identify himself as a "non astrologer" or a "non-alchemist". We do not have words for people who doubt that Elvis is still alive or that aliens traversed the galaxy only to molest ranchers and their cattle. Atheism is nothing more than the noises reasonable people make in the presence of unjustified religious beliefs."
Let me tell you my opinion about the statement, there's one factual flaw that makes this statement fail, the word 'unjustified'. The truth is it's very justified, if not from an evidential point of view such as miracles and a variety of other experiences that point to the presence of God, then alone by the social necessity of the presence of a god. According to most philosophers who don't believe in God, man needs God and man needs to create God (if he doesn't exist), so that in itself justifies it. So in light of a generally accepted claim, there is a need to say your stance or whether you have none. It’s like saying I don’t believe in galaxies and expecting this to be the norm.
Also, there are people who say Elvis is dead and people who say Elvis is alive, and people who just don’t know. Now here's the problem. Imagine I say a Michael exists. Now I know this Michael, and I've seen his emails, but others haven't. If they say that they don't know if Michael exists then they have no opinion on the matter, which is fine, but if they say for certain that he doesn't, then there’s a problem cause I've experienced him. Why preach to the world that Michael doesn't exist and that it's absurd that someone with the name Michael should exist? I mean I understand if he doesn't exist to them because they haven't experienced him or sought him out, but why should that be the normal if I can see traces of his existence?
The quote goes on to say:
"An atheist is simply a person who believes that the 260 million Americans (87 percent of the population) claiming to "never doubt the existence of God" should be obliged to present evidence for his existence-and, indeed, for his BENEVOLENCE, given the relentless destruction of innocent human beings we witness in the world each day."
So basically, what he's trying to say is that HE demands evidence, rather than people asking him for evidence.. now the trouble with that statement is that he will never accept evidence that's personal to someone else, so his demand that others provide it is totally bonkers for lack of a better word. People don't demand that atheists prove that God doesn't exist, they only present them with evidence that is usually refuted.
In the end, doubt is a part of faith, not the opposite, because it takes overcoming doubt to have faith really.
I hope that explains my view of atheists, who are at the other end of the spectrum that contains religious believers, and the real neutral ground is agnostic, once you incorporate agnostics into atheists, it becomes mixed up and ambiguous.
From Wikipedia:
Atheism is the disbelief in the existence of any deities.It is contrasted with theism, the belief in a God or gods. Atheism is commonly defined as the positive belief that deities do not exist, or as the deliberate rejection of theism. However, others—including most atheistic philosophers and groups—define atheism as the simple absence of belief in deities (cf. nontheism), thereby designating many agnostics, and people who have never heard of gods, such as newborn children, as atheists as well.
I'm using the common definition as positive belief that deities do not exist, deliberate rejection. This is not like saying I don't know, or I don't have a point of view regarding the matter, it says I know for sure that deities do not exist. The modern view which encompasses more numbers is to say those who are not against us are with us, this refers to agnostics who do not know and others who claim they’ll never know. And so, newborn children are atheists by that rationale, while in fact they're agnostic.
Since my contention is that newborns are agnostic, that also extends to treating those children who are born with religious backgrounds as agnostic as well, it is only when they decide to answer the question of whether God exists or not that they may be one or the other.
As for the quote:
"Atheism is not a philosophy; it is not even a view of the world; it is simply an admission of the obvious. In fact, "atheist" is a term that should not ever exist. No one ever needs to identify himself as a "non astrologer" or a "non-alchemist". We do not have words for people who doubt that Elvis is still alive or that aliens traversed the galaxy only to molest ranchers and their cattle. Atheism is nothing more than the noises reasonable people make in the presence of unjustified religious beliefs."
Let me tell you my opinion about the statement, there's one factual flaw that makes this statement fail, the word 'unjustified'. The truth is it's very justified, if not from an evidential point of view such as miracles and a variety of other experiences that point to the presence of God, then alone by the social necessity of the presence of a god. According to most philosophers who don't believe in God, man needs God and man needs to create God (if he doesn't exist), so that in itself justifies it. So in light of a generally accepted claim, there is a need to say your stance or whether you have none. It’s like saying I don’t believe in galaxies and expecting this to be the norm.
Also, there are people who say Elvis is dead and people who say Elvis is alive, and people who just don’t know. Now here's the problem. Imagine I say a Michael exists. Now I know this Michael, and I've seen his emails, but others haven't. If they say that they don't know if Michael exists then they have no opinion on the matter, which is fine, but if they say for certain that he doesn't, then there’s a problem cause I've experienced him. Why preach to the world that Michael doesn't exist and that it's absurd that someone with the name Michael should exist? I mean I understand if he doesn't exist to them because they haven't experienced him or sought him out, but why should that be the normal if I can see traces of his existence?
The quote goes on to say:
"An atheist is simply a person who believes that the 260 million Americans (87 percent of the population) claiming to "never doubt the existence of God" should be obliged to present evidence for his existence-and, indeed, for his BENEVOLENCE, given the relentless destruction of innocent human beings we witness in the world each day."
So basically, what he's trying to say is that HE demands evidence, rather than people asking him for evidence.. now the trouble with that statement is that he will never accept evidence that's personal to someone else, so his demand that others provide it is totally bonkers for lack of a better word. People don't demand that atheists prove that God doesn't exist, they only present them with evidence that is usually refuted.
In the end, doubt is a part of faith, not the opposite, because it takes overcoming doubt to have faith really.
I hope that explains my view of atheists, who are at the other end of the spectrum that contains religious believers, and the real neutral ground is agnostic, once you incorporate agnostics into atheists, it becomes mixed up and ambiguous.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
The Myth of Loyalty
Quick question:
Where should my loyalty belong?
Should my loyalty belong to what I am, or should it belong to what I choose?
If my loyalty should belong to what I am, then what if what I am does not deserve loyalty? What if what I am tells me to be loyal to something that conflicts with my choices and beliefs, what good is such loyalty? If those that I belong to are in some way sinister in thought or action, what good is my loyalty to them?
But if I should be loyal to what I choose, how do I know how long this choice will last, for it is inevitable to discover that some choices are bad and that wisdom as well as duty obliges me to betray my pointless loyalty towards them. So how can I be loyal to something so changing as confused choices that are likely to change. If I am to be loyal to them for as long as I have chosen them, then I would have to say that a loyalty that’s short lived is as good as no loyalty at all.
So loyalty through coincidence or choice is overrated. The only loyalty that can exist irrespective of anything else is loyalty to myself. That is the one loyalty that makes sense practically.
There’s also another loyalty that makes sense; being indebted to a good deed. If you were saved by someone in any way then a loyalty to him may exist. If for no selfish reason, someone gives a helping hand in time of need without expecting something in return, the loyalty is justified.
My loyalties to certain milestones in my life seem justified, but other loyalties that people preach about just seem too sloganized and just overrated.
Where should my loyalty belong?
Should my loyalty belong to what I am, or should it belong to what I choose?
If my loyalty should belong to what I am, then what if what I am does not deserve loyalty? What if what I am tells me to be loyal to something that conflicts with my choices and beliefs, what good is such loyalty? If those that I belong to are in some way sinister in thought or action, what good is my loyalty to them?
But if I should be loyal to what I choose, how do I know how long this choice will last, for it is inevitable to discover that some choices are bad and that wisdom as well as duty obliges me to betray my pointless loyalty towards them. So how can I be loyal to something so changing as confused choices that are likely to change. If I am to be loyal to them for as long as I have chosen them, then I would have to say that a loyalty that’s short lived is as good as no loyalty at all.
So loyalty through coincidence or choice is overrated. The only loyalty that can exist irrespective of anything else is loyalty to myself. That is the one loyalty that makes sense practically.
There’s also another loyalty that makes sense; being indebted to a good deed. If you were saved by someone in any way then a loyalty to him may exist. If for no selfish reason, someone gives a helping hand in time of need without expecting something in return, the loyalty is justified.
My loyalties to certain milestones in my life seem justified, but other loyalties that people preach about just seem too sloganized and just overrated.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Religophobia
Here’s the simple truth of the matter, people are afraid of their own religion. People have been terrorized by their own religion and have long forgotten that they have power over their religion. Instead of people having power over what religion they choose, religion has power over people. People do not believe in religion based on what they believe is true, they tailor their truths to match what their religion believes is true. Religion becomes no longer a faith but a given. It is no longer a choice to a way of life, but a way of life in itself. It is no longer a reflection of a chosen faith; it is a snapshot of a dogma that might have once taken the form of faith.
So what good does it benefit someone born in a religion not to have faith? My question is too absurd. Religion instills too much fear in people to even claim that they do not have faith. Certainly to the minds living in denial those things do not exist but to the hearts seeking the truth they do.
Religion teaches man never to be a slave to anything or anyone or any sin and yet man is slave to religion. He is guided by religion into a prison of thought. Questioning is subdued and without questions there can be no answers and without answers there can be no choice. So the same element that preaches free will and choice has been manipulated to confiscate freedom from its followers.
But how can that be? How can religion cause all this? Religion alone cannot but with religion’s help, man can.
At first manipulation was simple, to use any belief no matter what it was to benefit a selfish cause, but now man does not need to enslave and recruit people, people are already born recruited and enslaved. A bit of fine tuning and the machine is ready to go.
Question, why are people sensitive about their religion although it’s their choice?
Answer, it never really was.
People are locked on to religion and are taught to be sensitive about it. After all, how can people be controlled if they have nothing in common? A thousand dogs with a thousand leashes are like a thousand dogs without any leashes. Religion is the leash that makes people belong together but in effect becomes the one thread to controls them.
The truth is an entirely different subject because once reached, the dog becomes a man. Seeking a religion is one thing and being enslaved to one is another.
Religion is like an old road that people took to lead them to Rome, but as time passed the road became obscured and hidden and new renderings of that road appeared. People still followed the road ever so diligently, ever so loyally even though that road never went to Rome anymore. People got fixated on taking that road that they totally forgot that its intention was to lead them to Rome. The road met new roads that spoofed the people into thinking it was the old road. The roads merged and Rome disappeared, even from the hearts of travelers.
Is it the feeling of being lost that gets people to want to destroy others who have taken a different road?
Religion is the opium of the people, well I’m sorry Marx, I have to append something to that. Religion is the coffee of the people because even though it keeps some of their thoughts sedated, it keeps them up, alert and motivated, without it they will just be asleep thinking of the troubles they have with their identity.
So what good does it benefit someone born in a religion not to have faith? My question is too absurd. Religion instills too much fear in people to even claim that they do not have faith. Certainly to the minds living in denial those things do not exist but to the hearts seeking the truth they do.
Religion teaches man never to be a slave to anything or anyone or any sin and yet man is slave to religion. He is guided by religion into a prison of thought. Questioning is subdued and without questions there can be no answers and without answers there can be no choice. So the same element that preaches free will and choice has been manipulated to confiscate freedom from its followers.
But how can that be? How can religion cause all this? Religion alone cannot but with religion’s help, man can.
At first manipulation was simple, to use any belief no matter what it was to benefit a selfish cause, but now man does not need to enslave and recruit people, people are already born recruited and enslaved. A bit of fine tuning and the machine is ready to go.
Question, why are people sensitive about their religion although it’s their choice?
Answer, it never really was.
People are locked on to religion and are taught to be sensitive about it. After all, how can people be controlled if they have nothing in common? A thousand dogs with a thousand leashes are like a thousand dogs without any leashes. Religion is the leash that makes people belong together but in effect becomes the one thread to controls them.
The truth is an entirely different subject because once reached, the dog becomes a man. Seeking a religion is one thing and being enslaved to one is another.
Religion is like an old road that people took to lead them to Rome, but as time passed the road became obscured and hidden and new renderings of that road appeared. People still followed the road ever so diligently, ever so loyally even though that road never went to Rome anymore. People got fixated on taking that road that they totally forgot that its intention was to lead them to Rome. The road met new roads that spoofed the people into thinking it was the old road. The roads merged and Rome disappeared, even from the hearts of travelers.
Is it the feeling of being lost that gets people to want to destroy others who have taken a different road?
Religion is the opium of the people, well I’m sorry Marx, I have to append something to that. Religion is the coffee of the people because even though it keeps some of their thoughts sedated, it keeps them up, alert and motivated, without it they will just be asleep thinking of the troubles they have with their identity.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Conspiracy Theory
I've been following the news on the arrest of Abdel Karim, a blogger who seemed to have expressed his thoughts all too well, on a show called Al3ashera Masaa2an (10 in the evening). Of course the whole thing is just appalling, but if you're on this blog and reading then you must agree that being jailed for writing some inanities or opinions does seem extreme and far too unworthy of being imprisoned for a duration of four years. It must also feel that there are hands that want to go past your skull and through your brain to control all your thoughts by approving and codemning every thought. But that's not what I want to talk about.
What I want to talk about is a man on the show called Mostafa Bakry. This man was very annoying, not because of what he was saying, but because of he manner that he was saying it. I hate it when people on a show don't give the chance for any other guest to say anything by continuously interrupting them and by talking louder to overshadow what the other guest has to say.
Perhaps amidst all this charade, what really got to me most was his use of the 'Conspiracy Theory' argument by that man. He argued that AbdelKarim's thoughts could not have been his own and that they were fed to him and so on as part of a whole conspiracy to destroy the great nation Egypt.
Now my question is, what's there to destroy? Really, what kind of target can Egypt be? It doesn't pose any military threat, it doesn't pose any technological threat, it doesn't pose any economic threat and in short, there is nothing left to destroy because most of what could have been targetted to be destroyed already has.
The Americans don't hate us yet, we have a strong alleigance with them, and we have a peace treaty with Israel, God knows they don't want another enemy on their hands. So who and what is trying to destroy us? Why is it that we have this conspiracy theory all the time while the enemy is actually within. It is certainly much easier to point the finger than to take the blame, and I think that in places without freedom, there can be no real responsibility or accountability. The only emotion left is denial. We're left with lies that are forced down our throats. The false feeling of pride, acheivment, and importance, for how would Egyptians feel, if they woke up to realize that all the suffering they have gone through is self inflicted. How would people feel when they find themselves as Don Quixote fighting windmills, it's so much easier to have an enemy rather than a traitor. The thought control, the limitations of our creativity, that's the real conspiracy and it's happening from within our own country.
Don't get me wrong, this country does have its perks, but that's not what I'm talking about. It's just that Egypt is so distanced from any active map. It's a political catalyst at best and economically struggling. The corruption has eaten away at it from the insides and if it someone's enemy, it's an enemy that self destructs.
The conspiracy theory really kills me. What fake pride do people possess to think that we are emerging from the abyss to cause threat to others. It can't be that every person's thought is a conspiracy, every action taken by someone is a conspiracy. There's always a reference to those invisible hands, and while they might be present in some situations, they're always blamed for everything else.
Why do we have to look for faults elsewhere and act as though with a wounded pride when our faults are exposed? Any unorthodox politic is a conspiracy it seems and anything that skews slightly from the main doctrine approved by the government is heretic. It seem we're not allowed to think and we're not expected to think, so much so, that when someone seems to develop a thinking pattern it automatically falls under the category 'conspiracy theory'.
Speaking of thought, I was annoyed today as well by something on Elbait Baitak. When someone on the phone said that we should not put our children's thought in moulds and enhance their creativity and analysis, the response was that grade 5 wasn't the time to do that, they're much too young. Well, I think that even education is too determined to mould our children into lifeless thoughless beings so that if any creativity in thought happens incidentally, it would be easy to identify it as coming from an external source.
The real conspiracy is killing all kinds of thought in this country. Mostafa Bakry demanded the life of AbdelKarim. Now tell me, does it not seem like a conspiracy to frighten anyone who attempts to sway from what is approved?
What I want to talk about is a man on the show called Mostafa Bakry. This man was very annoying, not because of what he was saying, but because of he manner that he was saying it. I hate it when people on a show don't give the chance for any other guest to say anything by continuously interrupting them and by talking louder to overshadow what the other guest has to say.
Perhaps amidst all this charade, what really got to me most was his use of the 'Conspiracy Theory' argument by that man. He argued that AbdelKarim's thoughts could not have been his own and that they were fed to him and so on as part of a whole conspiracy to destroy the great nation Egypt.
Now my question is, what's there to destroy? Really, what kind of target can Egypt be? It doesn't pose any military threat, it doesn't pose any technological threat, it doesn't pose any economic threat and in short, there is nothing left to destroy because most of what could have been targetted to be destroyed already has.
The Americans don't hate us yet, we have a strong alleigance with them, and we have a peace treaty with Israel, God knows they don't want another enemy on their hands. So who and what is trying to destroy us? Why is it that we have this conspiracy theory all the time while the enemy is actually within. It is certainly much easier to point the finger than to take the blame, and I think that in places without freedom, there can be no real responsibility or accountability. The only emotion left is denial. We're left with lies that are forced down our throats. The false feeling of pride, acheivment, and importance, for how would Egyptians feel, if they woke up to realize that all the suffering they have gone through is self inflicted. How would people feel when they find themselves as Don Quixote fighting windmills, it's so much easier to have an enemy rather than a traitor. The thought control, the limitations of our creativity, that's the real conspiracy and it's happening from within our own country.
Don't get me wrong, this country does have its perks, but that's not what I'm talking about. It's just that Egypt is so distanced from any active map. It's a political catalyst at best and economically struggling. The corruption has eaten away at it from the insides and if it someone's enemy, it's an enemy that self destructs.
The conspiracy theory really kills me. What fake pride do people possess to think that we are emerging from the abyss to cause threat to others. It can't be that every person's thought is a conspiracy, every action taken by someone is a conspiracy. There's always a reference to those invisible hands, and while they might be present in some situations, they're always blamed for everything else.
Why do we have to look for faults elsewhere and act as though with a wounded pride when our faults are exposed? Any unorthodox politic is a conspiracy it seems and anything that skews slightly from the main doctrine approved by the government is heretic. It seem we're not allowed to think and we're not expected to think, so much so, that when someone seems to develop a thinking pattern it automatically falls under the category 'conspiracy theory'.
Speaking of thought, I was annoyed today as well by something on Elbait Baitak. When someone on the phone said that we should not put our children's thought in moulds and enhance their creativity and analysis, the response was that grade 5 wasn't the time to do that, they're much too young. Well, I think that even education is too determined to mould our children into lifeless thoughless beings so that if any creativity in thought happens incidentally, it would be easy to identify it as coming from an external source.
The real conspiracy is killing all kinds of thought in this country. Mostafa Bakry demanded the life of AbdelKarim. Now tell me, does it not seem like a conspiracy to frighten anyone who attempts to sway from what is approved?
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Diary Entry #976
To a friend.
This is a diary entry as I would imagine someone to have written:
I arrived home to a lonely, empty flat. Not just void of other people, but also void of any furniture that gives warmth to a place. It was a cold spacious and empty apartment that reflected how I felt inside. The coldness of the walls and the uncarpeted floor made their way directly to my bones. To make matters worse, I found myself facing a mirror and staring at an almost entirely separate person from the one looking through. So I asked this person, “ Are you all that I am?” and I couldn’t stand that the answer was “yes.”
I felt like I couldn’t bear my own skin, there was a beast inside itching to claw its way out of my skin. “How can anybody stand me if I can’t stand myself?” I thought. I was trapped inside myself and I wasn’t happy.
Coming home I’m faced with the usual simple chores like taking out the trash, changing my clothes, preparing something to eat and brushing my teeth. On any other night, these simple things would not have been burdensome or even significant in the least, but tonight I was with the worst kind of company; myself.
Being unable to bear myself, each simple chore, every simple move felt lonelier than ever and burdensome as ever every second they were prolonged. I felt as if I was imploding and the beast inside me was tearing my insides.
How can I bear myself and how can others bear me; I am nothing, a big nothing and I’m trapped. There’s a cage I’m in called me and there’s nothing I can do to change me and nothing I can think of to change me.
I’m filled with irritation with myself, anger, disgust and low self esteem. Those mixed feelings that even words can’t describe run through my whole body from top to toe as if they were running through my veins along with my very own blood. I can’t bear this, I feel like I will implode or explode from the pressure of these poisons flowing through my system.
The feeling never stops, and it grows and it takes a hold of me and I’m dying to get out. The cage is closing in on me and fills me with so much negative energy that begs of me to stop existing altogether. Only trouble is that the cage itself is me. I scream out loud with all my lungs can afford but to no avail. I pull out my hair and give myself a few slaps, something shakes, but the rage inside doesn’t go.
The pressure inside my head keeps building and my veins seem like they are about to explode, the irritation is unbearable and I must do something to take it all out and end it all. I grab a knife and slash my arm with it, dark blood flows and I feel some of that rage shaken, I slash it again and I experience more pain and more red blood gushing out relieving some pressure… Through these cuts some of that horrible negative feeling has been vented out and I’m too exhausted to feel the rage with the same vehemence.
I don’t feel less alone or more loved. I feel the same abandonment and I feel the same low self worth. The only thing is that I’m now too tired and I can bear myself another night. Who knows what tomorrow may bring, but I don’t suspect it will bring me anything better; I’m condemned to being me and to a life of misfortune.
This is a diary entry as I would imagine someone to have written:
I arrived home to a lonely, empty flat. Not just void of other people, but also void of any furniture that gives warmth to a place. It was a cold spacious and empty apartment that reflected how I felt inside. The coldness of the walls and the uncarpeted floor made their way directly to my bones. To make matters worse, I found myself facing a mirror and staring at an almost entirely separate person from the one looking through. So I asked this person, “ Are you all that I am?” and I couldn’t stand that the answer was “yes.”
I felt like I couldn’t bear my own skin, there was a beast inside itching to claw its way out of my skin. “How can anybody stand me if I can’t stand myself?” I thought. I was trapped inside myself and I wasn’t happy.
Coming home I’m faced with the usual simple chores like taking out the trash, changing my clothes, preparing something to eat and brushing my teeth. On any other night, these simple things would not have been burdensome or even significant in the least, but tonight I was with the worst kind of company; myself.
Being unable to bear myself, each simple chore, every simple move felt lonelier than ever and burdensome as ever every second they were prolonged. I felt as if I was imploding and the beast inside me was tearing my insides.
How can I bear myself and how can others bear me; I am nothing, a big nothing and I’m trapped. There’s a cage I’m in called me and there’s nothing I can do to change me and nothing I can think of to change me.
I’m filled with irritation with myself, anger, disgust and low self esteem. Those mixed feelings that even words can’t describe run through my whole body from top to toe as if they were running through my veins along with my very own blood. I can’t bear this, I feel like I will implode or explode from the pressure of these poisons flowing through my system.
The feeling never stops, and it grows and it takes a hold of me and I’m dying to get out. The cage is closing in on me and fills me with so much negative energy that begs of me to stop existing altogether. Only trouble is that the cage itself is me. I scream out loud with all my lungs can afford but to no avail. I pull out my hair and give myself a few slaps, something shakes, but the rage inside doesn’t go.
The pressure inside my head keeps building and my veins seem like they are about to explode, the irritation is unbearable and I must do something to take it all out and end it all. I grab a knife and slash my arm with it, dark blood flows and I feel some of that rage shaken, I slash it again and I experience more pain and more red blood gushing out relieving some pressure… Through these cuts some of that horrible negative feeling has been vented out and I’m too exhausted to feel the rage with the same vehemence.
I don’t feel less alone or more loved. I feel the same abandonment and I feel the same low self worth. The only thing is that I’m now too tired and I can bear myself another night. Who knows what tomorrow may bring, but I don’t suspect it will bring me anything better; I’m condemned to being me and to a life of misfortune.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
On Pregnancy and Hymens
Very late at night, I overheard a show talking about marriages and pregnancies and sex education. The doctor on the show had a few things to say which were interesting.
To paraphrase:
We all know that the hymen has different textures, and there has been rumours that some hymens need surgical intervention if it doesn't .. give way.. but anyway, that doctor said that there's no such thing as surgical intervention in hymens, they all can be disposed of in the natural way no matter what type they claim to be.
And :
The only female species that can have sexual relations while pregnant is the human female, no other female has that capability. However, that being said, during the first three months of pregnancy the pregnant woman can't bear the thought of sex, can't bear the man's scent, his aftershave, and just the reminder of his existence can make her vomit.
Supposedly this man is a doctor and knows what he's talking about, so I suppose that maybe what he's trying to say is that any hymen that doesn't give way is fake..and by the sounds of it the concept of women enduring some sort of labour during childbirth is balanced out with what a man has to endure.
(Plus of course the extra trouble he takes to buy her tickets to the Bahamas and diamond earrings)
To paraphrase:
We all know that the hymen has different textures, and there has been rumours that some hymens need surgical intervention if it doesn't .. give way.. but anyway, that doctor said that there's no such thing as surgical intervention in hymens, they all can be disposed of in the natural way no matter what type they claim to be.
And :
The only female species that can have sexual relations while pregnant is the human female, no other female has that capability. However, that being said, during the first three months of pregnancy the pregnant woman can't bear the thought of sex, can't bear the man's scent, his aftershave, and just the reminder of his existence can make her vomit.
Supposedly this man is a doctor and knows what he's talking about, so I suppose that maybe what he's trying to say is that any hymen that doesn't give way is fake..and by the sounds of it the concept of women enduring some sort of labour during childbirth is balanced out with what a man has to endure.
(Plus of course the extra trouble he takes to buy her tickets to the Bahamas and diamond earrings)
Friday, February 16, 2007
Invitation To Ride
So I cycle to work every day. It’s not a long distance really, something like 10-15 minutes by bike or the equivalent of 20-30 minutes by car. Cairo is not at all designed for bicycles but then again neither is it designed for cars or pedestrians or even humans. I used to cycle from place to place when I had my freestyle bike as a child, but all that changed since it broke down and I sort of outgrew the freestyle stuff. Anyway it did take a bit of courage to decide to cycle in Cairo to and from work, especially that I was showered with warnings from everyone who came to know of my plan.
The warnings were concerning many aspects, firstly the pollution in Cairo, instead of actually doing a sport that would benefit my body, I would be augmenting the inhale of pollution to bring about more quickly the ruin of an already deteriorating pair of lungs. Another problem was traffic; driving in Cairo is chaotic enough as it is without the disadvantage of having to deal with it from a vulnerable exposed bike. Being a driver myself I can see how anymore space used up by a bike can cause drivers to go crazy with rage. The pedestrians have left the non existent sidewalk and moved on to the road, but what makes bikers more infuriating is that they move quicker than both cars and pedestrians. They use up little enough road so as to glide through traffic and yet enough to hinder some cars.
One more issue that was raised but that is totally absurd is harassment. Yes even guys can get harassed if walking in shorts, or strange clothes or on a bike. Of course I don’t have a poor looking bike like those carrying bread or running errands, so one can expect the same kind of remarks as those I get while going to play football wearing shorts during the winter. Even more, some have warned that I may get some kind of mockery from the not so accustomed workmates.
But of course that last issue is the least of my worries, relative to the normal population, I’m considered eccentric anyway, and I’ve never cared much for what people say, I’ve been down that road so many times and I discovered that if you’re confident enough people get tired of the strange things you do and eventually start accepting you and sometimes even respecting you.
Despite all these warnings, I still decided to cycle to work, and it does have its perks apart from dodging pedestrians walking like zombies unaware of their own existence and yours, the bigger task was to avoid cars that continuously ignore you, almost run you over and then simply smile and apologize. The perks of cycling though other than it being a sport I enjoy a lot is that I get home faster in the deadlocked traffic of Cairo. I can run errands on my way home and I can decide to leave during rush hour rather than rot away in the office. I can enjoy the cold air in the evening and rid myself of that usual feeling of lethargy at the end of a working day. I can actually go back home and decide to go out, not dreading driving to places since I haven’t been locked in a traffic jam for over fifteen minutes. I can even park right next to the office and not go around 10 extra minutes looking for a parking space, with the car, the process of parking is horrendous.
With all these perks comes one that was very unexpected. Owning a bike is like being lost. Not in a bad sense I assure you, it’s just that when people are lost, people are very anxious to help them and get them on the right way and talk to them. That’s what it’s like when some people see me with a bike. I’m talking about the doorman and the security guards and the garage keeper. They’re very excited that I have joined their ranks and run my errands on a bike. One of the security guards was so interested that he asked me if my bike was normal or with “3’eyarat” (gears). The ability to make small talk about the bike is excellent.
I’m not sure why people don’t go to their work on bikes here in Egypt, I mean it may be a bit demeaning, but if more people did it then the traffic won’t be as bad (except on the 6th of October bridge) and the whole biking thing will be generally more accepted. If anything it can attempt to bring closer those rich enough to own cars but choose bikes, and those rich enough to merely own a bike.
The warnings were concerning many aspects, firstly the pollution in Cairo, instead of actually doing a sport that would benefit my body, I would be augmenting the inhale of pollution to bring about more quickly the ruin of an already deteriorating pair of lungs. Another problem was traffic; driving in Cairo is chaotic enough as it is without the disadvantage of having to deal with it from a vulnerable exposed bike. Being a driver myself I can see how anymore space used up by a bike can cause drivers to go crazy with rage. The pedestrians have left the non existent sidewalk and moved on to the road, but what makes bikers more infuriating is that they move quicker than both cars and pedestrians. They use up little enough road so as to glide through traffic and yet enough to hinder some cars.
One more issue that was raised but that is totally absurd is harassment. Yes even guys can get harassed if walking in shorts, or strange clothes or on a bike. Of course I don’t have a poor looking bike like those carrying bread or running errands, so one can expect the same kind of remarks as those I get while going to play football wearing shorts during the winter. Even more, some have warned that I may get some kind of mockery from the not so accustomed workmates.
But of course that last issue is the least of my worries, relative to the normal population, I’m considered eccentric anyway, and I’ve never cared much for what people say, I’ve been down that road so many times and I discovered that if you’re confident enough people get tired of the strange things you do and eventually start accepting you and sometimes even respecting you.
Despite all these warnings, I still decided to cycle to work, and it does have its perks apart from dodging pedestrians walking like zombies unaware of their own existence and yours, the bigger task was to avoid cars that continuously ignore you, almost run you over and then simply smile and apologize. The perks of cycling though other than it being a sport I enjoy a lot is that I get home faster in the deadlocked traffic of Cairo. I can run errands on my way home and I can decide to leave during rush hour rather than rot away in the office. I can enjoy the cold air in the evening and rid myself of that usual feeling of lethargy at the end of a working day. I can actually go back home and decide to go out, not dreading driving to places since I haven’t been locked in a traffic jam for over fifteen minutes. I can even park right next to the office and not go around 10 extra minutes looking for a parking space, with the car, the process of parking is horrendous.
With all these perks comes one that was very unexpected. Owning a bike is like being lost. Not in a bad sense I assure you, it’s just that when people are lost, people are very anxious to help them and get them on the right way and talk to them. That’s what it’s like when some people see me with a bike. I’m talking about the doorman and the security guards and the garage keeper. They’re very excited that I have joined their ranks and run my errands on a bike. One of the security guards was so interested that he asked me if my bike was normal or with “3’eyarat” (gears). The ability to make small talk about the bike is excellent.
I’m not sure why people don’t go to their work on bikes here in Egypt, I mean it may be a bit demeaning, but if more people did it then the traffic won’t be as bad (except on the 6th of October bridge) and the whole biking thing will be generally more accepted. If anything it can attempt to bring closer those rich enough to own cars but choose bikes, and those rich enough to merely own a bike.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Tag Heur
So I've been tagged by alluring who was tagged by raghd-triple-o-da who was tagged by Mak who apparently wasn't tagged by anyone, and might have just made this whole tag thing up out of boredom or to get to know things about raghdoooda or to see how far a tag can travel.
Anyway, he got more than he bargained for and now I'm about to relay some truths about myself, which people (except maybe alluring,bless her, who tagged me) are not interested in reading about. In any case that shouldn't be such a difficult task because this blog doesn't give away any personal information, so to compensate what the blog has failed to do, I'll be tagged.
Things you didn't know about me, and now that you do, don't care that you do:
Insomniac who I was about to mention tagged herself out of her own accord.
N who I wanted to tag seems to have been tagged already.
And just for the record, one more thing you didn't know about me, is that whenever I visit blogs whose posts include a tag post such as this one, it really annoys me.. Something about answering a specific question and bulleted points.. I don't know..
Anyway, he got more than he bargained for and now I'm about to relay some truths about myself, which people (except maybe alluring,bless her, who tagged me) are not interested in reading about. In any case that shouldn't be such a difficult task because this blog doesn't give away any personal information, so to compensate what the blog has failed to do, I'll be tagged.
Things you didn't know about me, and now that you do, don't care that you do:
- I finished high school before I turned 14.
- Since that sounds geeky enough, it was natural for me to be a woman repeller up to the age of 20.
- I taught myself how to do a shoulder spring.
- I cycle to work every day.
- I'm obsessed with Dostoevsky.
- Leonardo Di Caprio sucked in Titanic and I despised him but I've changed my opinion about him as an actor and I've started give him some respect since Catch Me If You Can.
- Pretty much every other thing I can include in this list will be something you didn't know about me and won't care to.
Insomniac who I was about to mention tagged herself out of her own accord.
N who I wanted to tag seems to have been tagged already.
And just for the record, one more thing you didn't know about me, is that whenever I visit blogs whose posts include a tag post such as this one, it really annoys me.. Something about answering a specific question and bulleted points.. I don't know..
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
42 ½
My shoe size is 42 and a half. That’s exactly what it feels like in most shoes I try on. 42 is slightly tight, 43 is slightly loose. At first I thought I was imagining it, that I was either thinking that my shoes were too tight when they were a good fit, or thinking they were too loose when they were just comfortable. But try as I might, there was just no way around it, my shoe size was 42 and a half.
I once tried buying a size 42, hoping that by time the material would expand and I would be able to rid myself of the absurd notion that my feet did not conform to normal standards. But when I wore those shoes for a while, they caused me so much pain that I could never walk in them again. I vowed never to walk in those sorts of shoes ever again.
On another occasion I bought a size 43 shoe to play football with, but that also turned into a complete mess. There was no accuracy in my shots and I had trouble sprinting and all in all I felt my feet surrounded by too much empty space.
So after all these experiments, I’m neither a 42 nor a 43, I’m somewhere in between. I must have missed out on some really good shoes because of that. I’ve often wondered why I couldn’t have just been one size or the other, fitting well with the designs that should be available to everyone. Why must it be so difficult and why must I stand out? I’ve never had a real answer to this, and I’ve come to accept that this is just the way it is.
I’ve come to appreciate the shoes that do fit though I hang on to them very dearly. Even though they’re a mishap, they fit a mishap like myself pretty well. I don’t need to fit in all possible shoes; I just need to seek out those that fit. Those that do fit tend to endure. Perhaps they might make some other normal people slightly uncomfortable, but they suit me best.
I’m always lost about where to shop for them though…
I once tried buying a size 42, hoping that by time the material would expand and I would be able to rid myself of the absurd notion that my feet did not conform to normal standards. But when I wore those shoes for a while, they caused me so much pain that I could never walk in them again. I vowed never to walk in those sorts of shoes ever again.
On another occasion I bought a size 43 shoe to play football with, but that also turned into a complete mess. There was no accuracy in my shots and I had trouble sprinting and all in all I felt my feet surrounded by too much empty space.
So after all these experiments, I’m neither a 42 nor a 43, I’m somewhere in between. I must have missed out on some really good shoes because of that. I’ve often wondered why I couldn’t have just been one size or the other, fitting well with the designs that should be available to everyone. Why must it be so difficult and why must I stand out? I’ve never had a real answer to this, and I’ve come to accept that this is just the way it is.
I’ve come to appreciate the shoes that do fit though I hang on to them very dearly. Even though they’re a mishap, they fit a mishap like myself pretty well. I don’t need to fit in all possible shoes; I just need to seek out those that fit. Those that do fit tend to endure. Perhaps they might make some other normal people slightly uncomfortable, but they suit me best.
I’m always lost about where to shop for them though…
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