Never say never

I’m calling this post “never say never” because someday I started writing and thought no one will ever read, and I was indescribably excited about my first 5 views. 

How amazing that feeling was when I received 3 nominations from three amazing persons for a blogging award at the same time, although It’s been only a month and a half since I wrote my first thought .. I’m relatively new here , new to writing, new to sharing my thoughts and feelings with others.. and now I think it’s a great experience feeling we are really connected in a magical way. People who are sometimes half a world away still can see inside more than people who look at you eye to eye every day .. so I must say I’m getting to know more about me and about the world through this small “window” .

The nomination was actually for two awards (the versatile award) and (the very inspiring blogger award)  but I’m going to link them in the same post since they have the same rules.

So here are the rules:

  1. Thank and link back to the blogger who nominated you
  2. Post the award logo to your blog
  3. Tell seven things about yourself
  4. Nominate 15 other very inspiring bloggers and notify them









I wantto thank the sweet Shon and Jenia for nominating me to the (very inspiring blogger) award. I knew them first when I read in their blog Vantage Points a post about Syria. Shon And Jenia; you are really amazing and able to spread happiness around, Thank you.

And regarding Versatile award..

I want to thank Tono Sanchez Almustarib The person who’s able to create a long timeline in his brain joining past and present to give a better understanding to anything , spiritually and politically , Tono; Music makes sense 

And also the Nice Sreejit Poole of Mind or matter, the guy from India, that inspiring spiritual country I always wanted to visit.. and of course a country can’t be inspiring unless there are people like Sreejit there.  

Tell seven things about myself:

  1.   I’m Syrian and I live in Syria, which is the same place you always hear about in news.
  2. I’m a 25 years Girl, 25 which must be my Golden time but unfortunately not in my situation.
  3. I graduated from architecture school during this conflict. well I like it very much but I think it was a wrong time and place to study it, maybe in a different life would be better 😛
  4. I love art, I paint , I can cry staring at a painting
  5. I’m a music addict, and I sing (not perfectly) but well I love to
  6.  I don’t have any dreams right now…. Yes I DON’T .. that may be crazy but .. who’s not in a way or another.
  7. I’ve received some bad news and I’m feeling down, that’s why I won’t continue writing this post, but I will publish it the way it is. 

I’m Syrian, I got used to it.


How much more will the conflict last? A question that is not being asked anymore here in Syria.

I don’t know if that’s good or bad. In the past two years, I was always surprised by this great machine.  which machine? Well it’s the human. What a great creature, despite all humans obstacles, I’m not speaking about them .. I’m speaking about the way it works, the way it analyses and the most important.. the way it “adapts” .

Syria is considered now the worst country to live in. the first “insecure” place in the world, a place where you can find all kind of terrorists and outlaws .. where university students can’t attend their classes and people are losing their jobs.. where going out for ordinary daily staff is a heroic and epic adventure. So can you imagine –just for example- what were the majority of young Syrian guys doing yesterday? …. I’m sure you can’t.. they were celebrating a FOOTBALL game.. Yes, Barcelona Vs. Bayern.

People here don’t want to die, also don’t want to live like dead, guys still have the right to enjoy a football game and celebrate a victory that is not even theirs nor their national team’s .. well Barcelona lost yesterday 😛

Now that was the bright side of the “Adaption” process..

Before the “revolution” started in Syria, there were a video on youtube showing a girl being hit on public. That was because she ran away with a guy of a different religion , they wanted to get married . this video spread widely and made a huge wave of anger , we weren’t used to see such violent and keep silent..

Now, after the “freedom” era , I’ve seen so much violence around..

A man being hit on public and led naked through the streets of Tripoli

An ambassador being tortured and killed also on public.

A girl hit in Tahrir square also publicly ..

I can mention thousands of stories from Syria, all documented but I won’t.

Now no one stops at these pictures more than a minute , though anyone may be in the victim’s shoes tomorrow but no one wants to see .. this is also an adaption .. you want to get used to the blood view , to people being slayed , and be able to watch a football game or a talents show after you watch the news .

Who can blame people for trying to get used to this chaotic situation ?

People outside –especially Syrians who left- blame Syrians who are inside for trying to be alive and adapting with everything around.. why ? why do they have the right to leave while the others don’t have the right to adapt ?

Why do they have the right to be a virtual “revolutionaries”  and at the same time be in a party in Dubai, While the inside Syria people must not get used to the blood color just to be able to sleep at night?

That reminded me of a sentence I read once, a child talking to his father:

Do you know what we learned today?

They explained us something about adaption, when there is a bad smell , our nervous system receives alerts.. we feel bad for a while and then this bad feeling starts to fade away gradually. Do you know what that means ? it means that there are sensitive bristles in our nose which actually died .. Dad, We don’t get used to bad things unless something inside dies..

This something that dies makes us stronger, less sensitive, more human , like a piece of iron, it’s beaten, cooled, heated to red, beaten again and again, and turns into a flexible shiny blade, for a human it’s absolutely not the same, but if we survived this process I hope our shiny blades will be able to cut that robe of ignorance and radicalism that is trying to keep tight around our necks.

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you are not a writer in your own story

I know I may not be a good writer , but i kind of sing well .. So i’ll call this a song… 
ImageIn your own story 
You sometimes lose the words
You choose to live the glory .. in your own story
Then you face the world
You don’t want to fight
you don’t want to shine and light
you don’t want to hold a sword 
don’t you know you fool
that you’re not a writer in your own story 
you’re only a fighter
a soldier on the chess board 
Once, I thought I can write 
I invented my characters and made them bright 
I wrote about love, magic and night 
I made the hero live the way I like 
Let him jump down a height 
Made him brave, handsome and smart
Once I thought I can write 
Until the writer of my own story decided 
I’d do better in war 
And I won’t write anymore
He never tried to count to three or four
The writer of my story never used pencil 
once he writes he closes the door 
don’t you know you fool that you’re not a writer
in your own story 
you’re a fighter
a stone on the chess board

30 December 2012 

Happens, sometimes that you want to…

It happens sometimes that you have a heart that doesn’t fit right in its place .. it needs a bigger room .. your chest isn’t big enough maybe .. so it beats fast all the time, and wants to stop every now and then ..


Happens sometimes that you want to change your lungs , because they are too small.. you try to inhale all the air in the atmosphere to get enough Oxygen and feel  breathing makes sense like before .. like the air is reaching your brain and your vessels ..

Happens sometime that you want bigger eyes .. to see beyond  material .. to see all those who left , all those you miss .. bigger eyes that can see the truth, where no truth matters but the color of your blood, and the origin of your riffle.  

You may want to change your voice , your throat , your generous lacrimal gland, and your small busy brain …

Also, it happens that you want to change your memory .. get a short term memory .. a memory of a fish maybe , the five seconds memory .. then you won’t even know about your heart or eyes or lungs …

And the worst that happens, is sometimes you want to change the fact .. then you recognize how hollow you are..  recognize that changing your heart is more rational than changing the damn fact.. war is crazy ..

If stopping the war is not in the hands of those who fight.. Nor in the hands of those who die.. then let me change my eyes  or lungs, makes more sense ..


I’m such a drama queen!

Just today, I’ve been counting.. It’s been exactly twenty days since the last time I went out of the suburb I live in.. I live in a suburb that is near the front line of the confrontation. So today I thought I need to be in Damascus.. I am actually in Damascus but I meant Damascus that small old spot.. the old city ..


a Bus accident caused by the highway sniper

The suburb has 2 ways to the city and they  both now give you the chance of being under the snipers  fire.. one of the roads is completely closed by now since the rebels won’t let anyone pass and leave with his complete body organs,  yet the army isn’t doing anything about it for now.. so I had to be going down through the highway that was once an international highways .. I took the bus, sat next to an old man who was reading Qur’an in the bus to spend his time because who knows how much we will have to wait on the checkpoint. Right after you cross the checkpoint you become in the danger zone, I felt strange at that moment and I thought to myself, this may be the last thoughts that cross my head , if I ever got back home I want to write… this is what I thought of.. then I said Oh I’m such a drama queen.

In the bus there was a young guy who was going to meet his girlfriend, you can see that in his eyes , in his smile when he was talking to her on the mobile phone..  yes some people can still be in love!

The driver was telling a man next to him how lucky he was although he lost his 20,000$ car but he was happy he still can walk on two legs after he was kidnapped by angry rebels, rebels took his car as a payback for fighting the government , or else he should have fought with them to serve the revolution. He was a bit sad for losing his “life earn” but smiling he said : I’m thankful I’m still alive.. I don’t want to fight

An old woman wanted to get into the bus but there were no place a man stood up and gave her his place, yea these people still exist .. and guess where! here in Syria ! where some people kill and slaughter … those people in the bus all have these deep brown eyes.. they are simple people who really tell you a story in their eyes.. weak , weary , and yet they still want to keep their good manners alive. Everyday many people died by the sniper’s fire on the highway .. no one could know where he’s hiding.. and yet , men and women  are still going to their daily works. I think no one can stop life here, they may change its shape, darken its color, but never will stop it.

Staring through my window at the destruction around, and thinking of that bus driver .. well yea there are replaceable losses and irreplaceable losses .. this man can’t be sad for his “life earn” as long as it’s replaceable , as I can’t be sad for this governmental building as long as it’s replaceable .. but 230 coffins I saw on 27-9-2012 in a hospital passage are irreplaceable .. 230 coffins I walked along looking for the coffin I wanted to be next to and cry over..

Ah the bus stopped, at last I’m there ..I didn’t die of snipers..

Oh I’m such a drama queen.


a destroyed governmental building on the northern entrance of Damascus

You and me..


I look at the pictures of the slains, I wonder .. who can kill this way ?

Everybody can..

Except you and me.. because we are deficient..

We need to wait for other human beings who can stop this.

Other people who are deficient like you and me

Who are mentally deficient.. who suffer lack of power .. lack of heroism ..

People who are sluggish and coward ..

Just like you and me..

■ ■ ■ ■

You and me , my resemble… are deficient .. and we are truly a minority even if we are majority, in fact we are no more than a whiff in front of the real men .

I had my hope once.. and I dreamed of a big flood to wipe out all this ugliness, but Noah will again bring back a new human race, more despicable, less human..

The consolation is that I don’t know anything about the future, so I still can build my hopes on the cloud.. I still can hope I can wake up in another land .. open my eyes and see other people.. people who only have kindness in their eyes.



feelings by “Onsi Al haj”  .. parts chosen and rewritten by me