Category: Relatable music

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Cheers to coffee shops & winter songs

I’m currently sitting in a coffee shop, drinking my two hours-old coffee, just finished binge-eating a chocolate coffee piece of cake, and getting ready to leave in 30 minutes to see my friends.

It’s raining outside, and I’m listening to Coffee Breath by Sofia Mills and looking at the people around me. My problem is that I do not see without my glasses, so I probably looked too much at a few people, which made them feel uncomfortable, but that’s fine. I have the flu and sneezing like crazy with a runny nose, so I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable myself.

I’m also laughing because I promised myself to write achievements and resolutions, and I’m not going to today, so lol, there’s a chance I will not commit to that either. It’ll just haunt my guts forever or until I write them down. Cava.

Crazy by Pasty Cline just came on shuffle. It’s the perfect song for a rainy and cold night, especially without you. It makes me feel like we’re dancing somewhere in a wooden cottage, like the ones we see in dark movies, in some forest, in some foreign country, totally isolated from all sorts of human-y things, just you and me, dancing with only the light of a chimney. Maybe a white carpet under our feet, feeling a bit hazy, my head on your shoulder, and hearing trees rustling with the heavy wind and rain. But we’re dancing, so it’s okay. We do not care about the chaos outside. We’re dancing the chaos away.

“Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you”

Crazy – Patsy Cline

I am currently stuck somewhere in the 60s, in the fuzziness of it all, somewhere between Beatlemania and Woodstock, protesting war and hunger and injustice and children abuse and gender inequality. I was free, so unapologetically free.

See, I always felt like I never belonged to this crazy generation. I always felt like I was somehow born in the 50s, living my teen years somewhere in London, and then living the civil war in Lebanon until the 80s, reporting as a war journalist. I somehow died during the war, either by reporting melancholy news or by fighting for justice. I have it all scripted, written out in my mind, of how I actually was and what I used to do. I truly believe in this, physically, mentally, and everything.

I really lived through that, and not through whatever inaneness I live now. I can feel it in my bones, or maybe I have wanted it so much for so many years that I now believe in it. Whichever is, I belong then, humming the Patsy song, taking a break from the revolution in a wooden cottage in a forest somewhere, with you.

I need to leave in eight minutes. Leaving you with the thought.

Hope you have a noncrazy evening.

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TV

I’ve been slow at trendy things, but have you heard TV by Billie Eilish? I just got to listen to it, and I am usually not the biggest Billie Eilish fan, not because there is anything wrong with her, but because she is just not my type of music, but this song is. Wtf?

I am so haunted by this song to the point where the lyrics hurt. Do you ever get this feeling? Where a certain lyric in a certain song depicts exactly an emotion, a feeling, a sense you have previously felt, and it gnaws your heart?

Every word she says, every guitar chord, it is chilling. It reminds me of why I am so scared of losing people, heartbreaks, and loving someone so much, only to see them leave after a little while.

The song seems like it is about a person leaving someone. She is in denial, preferring to watch TV, or drown in a pool, and not face the fact that he left. She is trying to distract herself by watching other people suffer, and is in remorse that she left all her friends because she was too in love to give them the attention her friends deserved.

And most of us do this, right?

When we love someone, we prioritize spending time with them instead of spending time with other people, and we begin to lose friends day by day because it is unfair and because they cannot really wait for us forever. And then after we break up, we get out of the bubble of sinful bliss we were in, and we notice that the world has turned cold and cruel, and that we lost the support system we had because we simply took it for granted.

In the second verse, she wonders if he saw her on TV, because we all adore when our partner sees us successful, so much so, we achieve just to show them our triumphs.

She mentions starving herself just because he’s mad at her. I feel like this is a statement that may upset feminists, but honestly, how many of us can relate? How many of us were too scared that we might have upset our lover, that we contemplated hurting ourselves to make it up? How many of us blamed ourselves for the mistakes made in our relationship and wished that we could’ve avoided them because it hurts so much when it [the relationship] is gone?

And then Billie wonders if the problem is her, because she doesn’t get along with anyone. She wonders if she’s the problem, over and over and over again. And then she realized, she is the problem.

I relate to every lyric, and every chorus, and even though I am not going through any of that right now, I know that I will eventually. And I know from now, this will be the ballad that helps me sleep at night.

Fyi, another song I find incredible is everything i wanted by Billie. It speaks about suicide and depression. It speaks volumes and has rocked me to sleep while lying on the floor of my old office, at my old job, trying to ease up a panic attack. But let’s keep this for another post.

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Hello Hello :)

Hello Hello and bonjour. How are you? How are you feeling on this fine last Monday in November? I hope you are doing well, and learning how to heal from all that you went through the past few days, months, it can be a lot, and it is okay to give yourself a moment or two to reflect.

I am doing okay, just very hormonal and cramping, but other than that, it’s fine. I just found this wholesome song called Heartbroken by Hooverphonic. Hooverphonic is a Belgian band formed back in 1995. The song speaks about someone who is getting out of a controlling relationship and who, even though is expected to be heartbroken, she is not. She remembers all the fights and bad memories, and she insists that she is doing okay, and that she is not heartbroken.

I think this is probably the first song I have listened to that does not depict heartbreak but portrays what it’s like to be strong and empowered. There is nothing wrong with feeling weak, with letting yourself sulk in the pain of loss. But it doesn’t always have to be this way.

Idk; this song got to me.

It’s world cup season, and I, as assuming most people, absolutely love world cup season. I love the ambiance, the obsessiveness of people with the matches, spending time with my family watching the games, and spending time with friends.

I remember eight years ago, two world cups ago, I was walking back home from my friend’s house and I remember I could hear the echos of the commentators and the live game on the streets. Everyone was watching the game, nonchalantly, and excited. I remember it was that moment that I fell in love with the world cup season.

It’s cold again, and I’m wearing my new favorite boots. A lot of changes are coming, changes that I am not sure I am brave enough to face. Nonetheless, I need to pass them to be able to grow and reach the place I want.

It’s scary, but I think I am in a place where I am aware that with every rainbow, there needs to be a storm.

And a heavy storm is coming.

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Newyorker but not in Newyork

Newyorker is a café, with bookish interior and torn couches, nestled one minute away from a very busy street full of anarchist-bohemian bars.  It’s a chill café, and it was my go-to place three years ago, where I spent all my free time in. It was nice, quiet, close to home, and had godly awful coffee. 

I used to go there almost every day, accompanied with a friend studying med at university. Whenever I finished work I would just meet him at Newyorker and we just work/study our night away. We had daily work/study dates for almost six months, until the pandemic hit, and I kind of pulled a nour on him and ruined our friendship for personal reasons I will not tell you. 

It was nice, still is. Today, I met up with him again at Newyorker, and we just rekindled the  sparkles we had, and I  absolutely enjoyed every second. He’s a medical person, and I am obviously not, and that is literally the core of all of our conversations, him calling the heart some shit like myocardium and me telling him that ice cream is probably injected with  a deadly bacteria that will make us grow a third leg. 

And we just laugh. He makes fun of me crying for absolutely no reason, and I make fun of him for his failed love life, and it gets as dark as you can imagine.

He tells me the most random stories he faces at the hospital, and I just ramble about God knows what, and I just ask him to tell me about suicidal cases because, lol, they fascinate me.

His car’s name is Lokman, and it’s a transgender car with he/him as pronouns. The car is red, slow, and makes the weirdest noises – but we associated the noise with how vocal and empowered Lokman is in the vehicle trans society. I didn’t have a car then, so Lokman was in charge of roadtrips, from driving to eat delicious shawarma in Aley, to stargazing in a dead end road in Mansourieh.

My friend knew all stars constellations and could tell each’s star’s age, function, and which zodiac sign it falls under. He’s smart like that, he would stay stuff like: “so this place we are in is usually a well known place for horny and high couples. So if you hear any noise different that Lokman’s, please do dismiss and keep focusing on the Gemini star to your upper right.”

It was simple, and I like it. After our little meetup tonight, I drove back home with a smile on my face, blasting Mr. Brightside and feeling refreshed. It was nice to go back to a time where I wasn’t so grownup and did not really understand the world as it is. 

Also, interlude, but have I ever told you about my undying love for betrayal songs? Like Jolene? Back to Black? Bust Your Windows? Angel in Disguise? Jelous? Heaven-sent anthems. If you have a song about betrayal, or a person loving 

I am feeling young again. I know I am only 24, but the past two years made me feel like I am growing 10 years in a month, like I need to act like I know what I am doing and what I am saying, when I really have trouble walking straight and not dropl over strawberry tartes served at a high level reception. 

Enough about me. How about you? Any good/bad things happening with you? Would love to hear them over coffee, or a 50cm long pizza and a dozen eclairs – I’m just PMSing, so please be nice with me.

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Siri, play Summertime Sadness

Summertime sadness by Lana Del Rey is playing on my headphones as I write this.

I have been thinking,

And for all of you who would probably say

“Do you usually not think?”

No, I do. Think.

But lately, I have been thinking

About safety in cold nights

Safety in the sadness

In the taste of a bad coffee

In the grumpiness of an early morning

In the hotness of a summer day

In the rudeness of an arrogant man

I am thinking of the little moments we live

In the most awful memories

That keeps us alive

The touch of a loved one

The slow dance in a closed room

The sunset on a sea view terrace

The hammock nap on a hike

A midnight swim

The city skyline

Driving on empty streets

Loud music in the car

First drop of rain

Harry Potter movies

My mother’s famous rice

My father’s nonchalant jokes

My sisters

A good night sleep

A good book

A funny Netflix series

A walk in a forestry lane

A good song on repeat

The face of a lover

A laugh

A goodbye

A hug

A kiss

The small moments

That do not fade

Even in the darkest day

It blooms, thrives, thirsts off the melancholy

We choose to oversee it

As usually, the pain is too loud

But once we actually notice

Focus on the simplicity

It makes everything bearable

Hell, it becomes addicting

Craving for safety in the abyss

Lusting for the hope found in dirty niches

I live for these

Moments

For the serendipity in a heinous setting

I live to feel

I live for safety

I live to feel the safety

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Freak by Surf Curse, give it a listen

I’m listening to Freak by Surf Curse, and maybe because I see myself as a freak, or maybe because I love this 80s guitar beat,  but I’m feeling this moment, and this song, and I want to share it with you.

I’m feeling like drinking coffee, because my mind associates peace and writing with black coffee, but it’s 11:02pm on a Sunday, and I just had shawarma, and I don’t think coffee right now would be the wisest choice.

But then again, when did I ever choose to be wise?

I’m still not making coffee. 

And not because I’m being wise, but because I’m too lazy to get out of bed. See, I would never disappoint you in thinking I am something I’m not. I’ll always be this way, unwise and sweet, obsessive and annoying, uncertain and insecure. Yet, you’re here, reading the insanity of my brain, thinking: “why the hell am I here?” Or maybe just trying to understand me, but you won’t, and not because I’m so mysterious, but because I don’t understand me either, so all the questions in your head, are also in my head, and I don’t really know how to answer them.

Last time I was writing, I logged into my blog to post what I wrote, and I heard my mum gasp loudly to the news of my grandma dying. I haven’t posted what I wrote yet, maybe I will after posting this. And I will eventually write about my grandma, because I need her alive here, at least, because she deserves to stay alive in every memory. But not now. Not tonight.

I wanted to write about something different. I wanted to talk about the serenity I lived today, around 2:54am.

The way my skin felt soft on my bedsheets, the 1913 song I had on repeat for an hour, the ancient sound in the buzz of the moments, the way I felt, like I could die that minute and it would be the most serene death anyone could wish for. I was ready for anything, my mind for once not anxious, my sadness toned down, my heart throbbing in normal paces, my obsessiveness set loose, my eyes open and close weightlessly, my lips smiling on their own, feeling so warm and cold at the same time, appreciating beauty, allure, as it really is. 

I was ready. And this serenity possessed my Sunday. I chose to stay in bed all day; I slept then ate, then slept some more. Then I said hi to a friend for 5 minutes in his car, then went up to my bed again, and slept some more, then woke up and ordered coffee, and sulked in my bed. And throughout, I did not feel any responsibility, nothing of the brunt I carry, I felt weightless. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever felt it? Feeling weightless, like a balloon, like if you close yours eyes for just a few seconds you might as well fly? 

I smiled at myself, for no reason at all, a couple of times. I listened to music and I let it consume me. I did not stress, panic, despair. I was okay. 

I’ll try to sleep now, even though I doubt I will, due to the uncountable naps of today, but I need to sleep so I have a less cranky Monday mornings than usual, and you all know my Mondays. I will continue watching this episode of Brooklyn 99-season 8 is on Netflix now!-and then attempt to sleep. 

Bonne nuit les petits. Talk soon x

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A Thursday morning for a change

Happy Thursday, almost Friday! Hope you’ve had a wonderful week so far and not pulling your hair out because life is too melancholy to grasp. I hope you had a calm week, where all you had to stress over was waking early for school/university/work.

I know that this is a far stretch of hope, especially since it is final exams season and the full moon is on May 16, and I confidently can say that the May Full Moon takes a DRAMATIC toll on me. Known as the Flower Moon for coming in the frivolous season of the blossoming Spring, I prefer calling it the moon of shit.

Honestly, looking back at the past few years, the events preceding the May Moon have been the most dramatic, awful, life-changing, and horrific. And it’s not ENTIRELY my fault; really, it’s a mixed combination of me emotionally amplifying the silliest interactions and the universe hitting me with explosive Meteoroids. As a sane grownup, I should probably know how to deal with the universe’s surprises, but as me, I cannot deal with anything to save my life. I can only cry; is that valid?

I’m only really writing this because I am listening to good music, Laykoon by El Fer3i, and I’m kind of liking the daily post, making me feel less guilty for my 2022 heist. Knowing me, this enthusiasm ain’t going to last.

Also, embrace your congratulations, as I am almost finished with the longest transcript I ever had to write. I did the interview in January with this fantastic woman mediator who led the Women’s March between Chiah and Ain El Rimmeneh, two streets parallel to each other, divided by one common street and many sectarian conflicts. Speaking of the women’s march, she started crying, so of course, I started crying too because she is so inspiring. And when I was listening to the interview yesterday, I cried again. It is so iconic. I can either share the link to the transcript or the full story once published.

However, the interview was two hours long, and it almost gave me a heart attack to finish. I finally finished transcribing to Arabic yesterday, and today I am translating to English with a deadline for tomorrow. Fun.

What else? Well, I may have registered for a Master’s degree in a university called Academic University for Non-Violence & Human Rights, located in Beirut. The degree is Non-violent Communication and Media Skills, and I am really excited about it. The only problem is that, well, I am broke. I’m just hoping that the university is so peaceful that it is free. Lol.

Right now, we’re going down to a nearby cafe to celebrate my colleague’s birthday. He doesn’t like cakes or songs, so we just got him shoes and wrote him a cute note. Fun fact: he’s born on May 13, and it happens to be a Friday this year, AND three days before the full moon. Bless his heart.

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Memories of you – to you

My first Memories of You* post will be dedicated to you because you are so beautiful, I must admit it. I listen to this song you have given me, and I am enchanted by her voice and the idea that you listen to it too, you, the safest to my soul and closest to my heart. You, the one who stayed through all the trauma and tears and sicknesses.

You saw me for who I am, at my worst, at my lowest, my most selfish, my greediest, my most insecure, and you stayed.

If I had to talk about one moment, I would write about that one night in October 2020. We were in a car driving back from Beqaa. We were in a car with around six other people, and we were talking, and at some point amidst our discussion, I started crying because my unsafety was triggered. I felt embarrassed. I was with what I thought was an amazing group of friends, like-minded, funny, and wise, and here I was crying because of stupidity and unresolved childish issues.

You were so warm, looking at me with those angelic eyes and trying to make me feel better with your comforting words. You talked me back to reality, smiled at me, and dedicated the whole ride to ensuring I felt better. That is when we became close; I think, in a way, you developed a feeling of protectiveness over me. And I liked it.

A month after, you gifted me a jar of small letters you had written for me to read, one every day for the coming month or two. Some notes were songs, words of motivation, memories, jokes, outing invitations, and compliments. The last letter I opened was:

“18/10/2020, 8:14pm, you were close to me.”

When I opened the letter, I did not understand it at first. I went back to my photos to see what happened on October 18, 2020, and I found that it was the day I cried in the car. You remembered everything, the time, the date, and then you felt close to me.

We were already very close then, but the letter touched my heart to a point it ached. For someone to remember details, you yourself were too embarrassed to remember, and write it on paper, so it burns in our memories forever, that as one memory that you were at your most beautiful.

I always introduce you as an angel. I say: “all people are on the one hand, and you, an angel, are on the other hand.” You’ve been sunshine throughout the darkness, with your songs and laughs, philosophical rambles, and undying sassiness, and I am so grateful for you.

I love you a lot, more than you could ever imagine, more than I can understand. I pray never to lose you; I pray that you remain the still rock you have been for the past two years amid of field of dandelions. I pray that you stay close, despite my horridness, despite all that I put you through. I pray that you stay close.

I have countless memories of you that I would like to remember you by. I will probably write many other Memory of You excerpts about you. In due time.

*Memories of You is a series of excerpts archiving moments with different people who have touched my heart at a certain point in my life.
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Good morning to you all

Good morning beautiful people. Another week, another Monday:)

It’s 12:56 pm and I’m bored to my core. I have two large tasks to finish but I cannot seem to get either done. I’m at the new office and all I really want is to look outside the windows because, to be honest, the view is appealing. It’s not exactly a sea or mountain view, but our office is on the 13th floor and the view is the architecturally unsynchronized buildings of Beirut, then the mountains. To our right, there’s the Beirut river, which is funny to say because it is not exactly a river – more of a lengthy hole with almost dried and polluted water.

It’s a nice office, I like it. there isn’t exactly much privacy as it’s the modern open space, but I frankly do not mind, it means more social and I like that. It’s also pretty close to my house – only an 8 minutes drive, though it took me 40 minutes this morning to reach because I skipped the exit and drove all the way down to the Port. I also walked back home last Thursday because the weather was beautifully cold for May and it took me around an hour or so. I’m just hoping it actually is an 8 minutes drive for future endeavors.

I just ate a meat skewer sandwich and I feel more energized so I might as well go back to work and seize some concentration cells.

Eating my kaak el eid, I just booked myself a massage session for Thursday, and I am so excited. I just cannot wait until someone loosens my unbearable body knots. I need to loosen up, among other things.

What else? Well, my week is pretty jammed. From movie nights, to coffee talks, to organ recitals, to a massage, it’s a usual nour-busy week. I do intend on having my after-work schedule more me-time, meaning I DO want to read and go back to the gym, but maybe not the very next week after the Ramadan madness.

I’m currently listening to this chill remix of Shkoon, and I think I am kind of binge eating the kaak. I’ll just make myself a cup of coffee and get back to work, then therapy, then more work with friends after.

Mental health check: well, I could be more stable. My insecurities and attachment tantrums are at their peak lately, and my mixed feelings and exploitative behaviors will for sure come back at me, biting me in the butt. But let’s deal with that at a later time.

How about you? What have you been up to lately? Any exciting things coming your way? Any joys? Fears? I’m here, always, ready to talk, just one cup of coffee away.

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Song written by Bedroom

It’s 9:36pm, and I am in bed, with a coffee mug the size of a jug. It’s a Wednesday night, it’s May, no AC is on, quite chilly outside, I’m wearing black PJs, and I am listening to In My Head by Bedroom, and it has completely consumed me.

It’s one of those songs that takes me to a different era, a different time. It’s one of those songs that takes me back to when I was 16 years old, sitting on this same bed and thinking of God knows what – never actually believing that I would ever be as old as 24.

The guitar riffs, the depressing lyrics, the untold hope, I feel like I am 16 again, with short black hair and black nails, in a car, someone quietly driving, my head out of the window like a dog, feeling the mightiness of the world, air stroking my chapped lips and cheap red lipstick, blasting this song out loud.

It screams loss of control, and it grounds me. I’ve read the Youtube comments, and though I found many comments heartbreaking, I absolutely love this one:

“I’m lying in my room, alone, listening to this, and I can’t help but feel lonely, so lonely, but the good kind of lonely.” 

This loneliness right now, the one that’s screaming with the song I am listening to, is not a bad kind of lonely. It’s the peaceful one, the one that lets me close my eyes and sit back and do nothing, the one that is letting me write instead of read or watch Seinfeld. I love this kind of lonely, and I absolutely adore this song.

I think I am still stuck at a memory that I have not lived. The 16 years old me in a car, driving through the night. I’ve had car cruises, just never felt the aching freedom, the recklessness, the quietness I lust for.

Maybe once I overcome this memory, the 16 years old me with idyll, maybe then I can live my age, maybe then I can stop craving a memory I do not have. 

But now, I am gleeful, I am hopeful, I am grateful. I have work tomorrow that I feel anxious of, I am waking up early to pay my fines, and I am thinking of a healthy meal for my lunch break tomorrow. I am dealing with grown up shit, responsibilities I will never be old enough to deal with, and my mind is with a 16 years old girl driving through an ebony night. And I am so grateful.

I played this song all day today in my car, at 5:15am as I drove back home from the airport, dropping off my best friend, I blasted it through the empty streets, with closed windows so I do not annoy the oldies and a careful speed in hopes lose my reckless reputation. If that is not grownup, I do not know what is.

Today was fun with lots of social. I went out with friends, then more friends, then my sisters. I drove through my Beirut, and cursed a couple of drivers. And ending today with some strangeness (for me, at least), I stalked Kendall Jenner on Instagram.

I kind of liked a caption she wrote about anxiety and social anxiety, mentioning that one of her grounding routines is writing down “all the things i’m looking forward to today this month.”

That’s an idea I like. I’m having one of those grateful moments where I am looking forward to what is coming. I am looking forward to summer adventures; to hikes, camping by the beach and by the river, laser tag, escape rooms, sightseeing, movie nights, cold dusks and dawns in the middle of the hot summer.

I am looking forward to seeing him soon, and my friends who will be visiting over the months. I am looking forward to good music, to cold coffee, to deep talks, to silly laughs. I am looking forward to moments that make my knees weak and my heart throb faster than usual, to mistakes I know will cost me a lot yet make me feel so alive in the moment. I am looking forward to driving, to not hitting my car, to better luck.

I am looking forward to wearing my new dresses, my new oversized pants, my new lipsticks, my anklets, my sandals. I am looking forward to singing and dancing, knowing that I am bad at both. I am looking forward to the beach and my new tattoo and new sinful experiences. 

I am looking forward to the blessings I so do not deserve, yet I receive, because my God is so generous and loving. I am looking forward to the beauty hidden within the days that are coming.

And I am grateful.

Isn’t it sacredly astounding, to feel all this after listening to one divine song?