Category: Relatable music

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Thank you Jad for sharing

I’m so dazzled by this little 48 seconds of my friend playing oud and someone singing, it’s been on repeat since yesterday at 2am (my brain decided my morning starts at 2am today) and it’s making me so happy, so happy.

I’m having kind of hectic-before-the-holidays days, which I’m okay with because I feel so content, so no complaining here. I do want to write again and I need to share my thoughts and reflections on this year, maybe today? Or tomorrow.

We’ll speak soon. For now I got to turn off my computer, leave office and start running around. For now, I’m leaving you with this perfection.

انت نهاري، ليل انتظاري، حديثي كلو عنّك انت

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Today is kind of those days, the mystic ones

Hi there,

I just noticed that I haven’t posted anything here for four days, not sure why. Life, I guess?

Update on Thursday; it was a really good day. It’s always a good day when I’m out of the office and doing more fieldwork and seeing the people we are impacting; it’s the breather I truly needed.

Have I ever mentioned to you how much I love visiting the houses of people? Walking in their things, getting the chance to see life in their shoes, getting to hear their stories through their little bookshelves or that one chair they sit in.

Especially if it’s someone you love, it becomes more of “wow, I want to meet their mum, I want to see the littlest thing that indicates they were here, I want to hear and see and touch everything that has anything to do with them.”

Anyway.

I got to be part of the Christmas of four families over the weekend. How beautiful is that? I got to decorate their tree, wash their dishes, set up the table, the lights; I got to talk to them, I got to listen to their stories.

There is nothing more wonderful than people, than being there to people that need you. I don’t see it as selfless because it’s so rewarding; being there for people, it brings more peace than we might even deserve.

I’m in so much peace right now. The wind is cold and brushing my cheeks delicately, and I’m wearing my wool jacket and waiting for the sunset—song on repeat: Si Je Perds – ZAZ. I am in a whole different world; I am so mystic that you can’t reach me.

Two of my friends dreamt of me this week; one dreamt that I was some kind of a manager, and the other dreamt that he visited me in my “castle” using my helicopter because my castle can’t be reached except by a helicopter.

Lol. I love my friends, and I love the way they see me. They think so highly of me even though I am the worst in this friends life, I have a hard time committing to people, and I often am too much of everything that I can go on for weeks without talking to them. I can take them for granted a lot, and then when I lose them, I get upset because I loved their existence in my life, but I’m, I don’t know.

I was apologizing to my friend, who I love so much and who now lives in Canada, because I always promise her to call and I never do, and she said something that I’m still thinking of.

“You are a free spirit; you don’t like to be bounded or put in any frame; you like to stay free, flying outside the cage, and landing whenever you want. To be bounded by a friend and having to ask about them? Being put in that photo frame of happy friends? I can’t imagine how bounding that could make me feel.”

That kind of made sense, a lot. The only thing I’m not so sure of is being a free spirit, even though I get called that a lot. I am more structured than I like to be, and I can be so uptight in so many different ways, but yes, do not put me in any frame, and if I asked to be left alone or wanted my personal space, you better give me that.

There are still 4 minutes till sunset, but I’m not sure I’ll get to see it; there are a lot of clouds, and the only thing I could see for now is a tiny light behind the many many clouds. That’s okay; I could still feel the sunset, the “give me your pain, all your pain, let it set with me” feeling I get during sunsets.

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It’s one of those nights

It’s one of those nights, I guess, where I’m too tired, and I can’t seem to find any happiness in the world.

It’s okay; I was bound to have a relapse; I expected it. It’s not major anxiety, just small levels of that, so that’s great, and I’m so grateful, but it’s just major sadness over everything, really, over everything.

It’s one of those nights where Between The Bars is on repeat, and for those who don’t know, this is my major depression song. I first heard in Skins (remember Skins? When Effy Stonem was religion and Freddie dying was the saddest thing you experienced?) at 14. I can’t remember the scene where this song started playing, but I remember thinking of how facile and beautiful it is, and I remember that it made me sad, and it still does, and it’s on repeat tonight.

Let us live in the moment; I keep telling myself. Let us be here, now, just right here. Let me sit at the top of a hill and watch the sun sets over the city and then admire the skyline and attempt to take a photo of it. Let me be with you now and not think of how I’ll lose you tomorrow.

But I’m finding it hard to live my moments because here I am, the day after, and it’s all gone, and you’re going, and I’m back to listening to Between The Bars with a very sad heart and with me crying next to a Christmas tree.

Here I am, binge eating a big bag of chips, drinking my tea, heater turned on keeping my always freezing feet warm, with lights turned off, and warm lights coming from the Christmas tree lights, and Elliot Smith singing to my ears, telling me that there is no reason to feel happy.

There is an Unica chocolate bar sitting beside me, taunting me to eat it, as if the 8 Unicas I ate today were not enough, as if the disgusting big bag of chips in my hand is not enough to make me feel like the ugliest person on earth.

I couldn’t even take a shower. I was just about to get into a hot shower, hoping to wash away all the agony of the world, and as I was opening the faucets, no hot water came down. It turns out that the hot water faucet broke that moment, and I couldn’t shower.

Honestly, what’s the point of it all? Of feeling happy and then feeling miserable for a longer time? What’s the point of living if it’s a vicious cycle of infinite dilemma and anguish and many nights of big bags of chips and a repulsed stomach? What’s the point of living, if it’s only to feel pain?

I wish God listens to me when I tell him that I need to die, but he doesn’t, and I’m still stuck here trying to figure a way to survive all of this melancholy without having to sit beside a Christmas tree and listen to Elliot Smith.

Yesterday was really good; I had a smooth day at work, and I had friends come over for a movie night, which made my heart very happy. I don’t know what happened today; I don’t know why everything I ever felt the past 3 weeks is almost gone.

Tomorrow I’m on a field mission with work, and I should be very nervous about it, but I’m too sad to think about it, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

I’ll also be seeing my friends at night, from university, whom I love, so it should be okay too. It should be okay? I should be okay.

I’m just really tired, and I didn’t have any caffeine all day, except for the tea right now, and I think I have a runny nose. Is it symptoms of COVID-19? I keep getting these now and then and getting paranoid over the virus. I’m not even sure if it’s really symptoms or it’s all in my head. I guess I’ll have to wake up tomorrow and see.

Drink up baby, look at the stars
I’ll kiss you again, between the bars
Where I’m seeing you there with your hands in the air
Waiting to finally be caught
Drink up one more time, and I’ll make you mine
Keep you apart, deep in my heart
Separate from the rest, where I like you the best
And keep the things you forgot
People you’ve been before
That you don’t want around anymore
That push and shove and won’t bend to your will
I’ll keep them still

Between the Bars – Elliot Smith

I hope you’re having a happier Wednesday.

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Mr Sandman

I have a hard time juggling between not overworking myself and not procrastinating for 24 hours straight. How can people find common ground? When they’re productive and do something useful because they actually want to, like paint and compose music?

Today was one of the laziest days ever, I almost napped 6 times during noon, and I spent a lot of time on my phone, and I really hate consuming so much screen time, so I’m not so proud of myself.

Is it just me who feels disgusted when I spend more than 4 hours of screen time? I literally feel so ashamed of myself, the same feeling I get when I overeat just because I can not because I’m hungry—the same feeling of shame and disgrace.

I try to convince myself that I also spent a lot of time today reading on my phone, but we all know it’s not an excuse. You could have started your application to Europe, nour, instead of spending an hour searching for furnished apartments rental in Amman.

Nonetheless, it was a good day. I’ve been getting so many sweet comments on this little messy blog this week, including two people who have been inspired to create a blog on their own, and it makes my heart very, very happy, so thank you, my lovelies, my heart sends you hugs and kisses 🙂

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
Make her the cutest that I’ve ever seen
Give her two lips like roses and clover
And tell her that her lonely nights are over

Mr. Sandman – SYML

Also, did you know that this song exists? Because, wow. I am so absolutely in love with everything about the song, from the lyrics to his voice to the rhythm to the slow piano playing in the background. If you’re feeling a little more cheerful, you can listen to the original song by The Chordettes, but for me, I heart SYML cover.

Also, I don’t know if you noticed, but I just discovered that I can change colors. That’s cool.

What else?

Well, I also discovered that my big sister reads my blog too, and she was shocked when I told her that all the photos I use here (except the el far3i photo and the Audrey Hepburn ones, of course) are taken by me, so for clarification, if anyone else thought that I Google the photos, I do not.

Also, the lockdown has been lifted, starting tomorrow, which means that some of my mental instability will also return, which I find strange because I have noticed that during lockdowns, the voices in my head kind of take a break, and then they return once everything is back to normal.

I think it started tonight, and I don’t want that. I found myself overthinking an absurd text, the person behind it, and whether I’m anticipating something that does not exist, but I’m back to my usual “nour” habits; put more into something that is not even there, and believe it.

I think I will try this time to change my ways. My supervisor won’t work from the office tomorrow and is letting me decide whether I want to work from the office or home. I’m going to choose office tomorrow, because I have so many tasks I need to focus on behind a desk, and because this is not the choice I would have chosen had I not decide to change my ways.

One of the main reasons I am happy that the lockdown is over is because I can return to my coffeeshops, back to drinking coffee as I walk long roads only because it’s cold and I want to enjoy every bit of the frisky wind. For that, I have decided that I will give myself a reason to live every week, starting this week.

The reasons to live aren’t going to be major, like saving a cat or eliminating hunger; they will be minor and simple chores that personally keep me going throughout the week without feeling like drowning myself under the shower.

This week, after finishing work, I will be visiting one coffeeshop and getting my favorite coffee from theirs to go. The coffeeshops in mind:

  • Concierge
  • Backburner
  • Starbucks (because Christmas cups and I’m very mainstream)
  • B Hive
  • The Daily Roast, or a random espresso place
  • 3ammo Abou Mohammad’s coffee, if I had anything to do near FoodBlessed office.
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I’m only writing this because I’m listening to a new song

And I like writing when I’m listening to new nice songs.

Hi there,

I’ve missed writing here. The more I hear that people I know are reading my blog, the more I get happy-you can keep the feedback coming; I love those! And at the same, it gets harder for me to write because I think to myself, what if I’m not good enough for them? What if they knew who I might be writing about sometimes?

I wish I can be as apathetic and not care, but sadly I do. I do care about your opinion of me; even if I have developed a certain ego for writing, I still get happy if you tell me that you like my blog.

Anyway.

I love rain; I love the cold. It’s too beautiful, and it feeds my soul with so much peace and happiness I cannot describe it; I’m so relieved summer is over, my mental health absolutely could not fathom another day of humidity and sun.

I find thunder and lightning and darkness extremely soul-nourishing. I keep telling people that the only reason I might consider living in London is because of its weather, and people usually weirdly look at me. “If anything, people leave London for its awful weather,” my British friend keeps telling me.

But with all its messiness, I love everything about this weather, even the parts when I’m soaking wet under the rain, and my feet are freezing because my socks are all wet, and I have a red runny nose because of the sharp breeze, I still choose this over one droplet of sweat any day of the week.

So I’m sorry for all you summer-lovers, but I’ve had enough of my seasonal affective disorder (SAD); I almost died from the pain (I wish I did instead of living through the struggle); it’s okay if you felt a little fussy, let my heart heal.

Also, I realized this week that I had neglected a thing so dear to my heart; poetry. Poetry was an essential part of my life-reading and writing-and I cannot remember the reason why I haven’t been reading or writing for almost a year?

A dear friend reminded me of the beauty and the magic of good poetry, and I decided to return to my Sylvia Plath poetry book and discover the new poets and poems I was introduced to. (Thank you for reminding me; it’s reasons like this that I cherish you in my life)

Also (2), I was awakened today by these sweet messages, and it made me happy (like everything he usually does). I haven’t felt happy reading complimentary messages for years that I thought I don’t care anymore if somebody said anything, but lately, I’m retouched by so many neglected emotions. I am back to appreciating messages like these:

Thank you for the beautiful words, and even though you woke up hours after with an “I was quite intoxicated so more in tune with myself and my feelings” following message, I still value this.

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It’s been a weird week.

I don’t think I can write about it yet, as I’m still in it, but I probably will tomorrow, or the day after, if I could understand it at least. Right now, I’m looking at a very pink sky, with parallel clouds that look like rays of sunshine.

Diana is cooking mjadra, and I can smell the onions being cooked, and I can hear Tarek mumbling alongside a song he doesn’t know. Right now, I’m contemplating between the feeling of content and the feeling of being soaking wet and sitting next to a fireplace.

It felt very bizarre, but I happened to have found Wonderful Life by Black this week, and it’s been on repeat ever since. I think I know it from before, but it never struck me as I never felt it as much as I do right now, sitting here, rocking the balcony swing, healthy and safe.

I hope you’re okay.

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I’m changing

The past week, I think I was floating. I’m not sure I can describe exactly what happened or what I’m feeling, which is why I couldn’t write all week, but it seems so odd that I need to put it out here somewhere.

I’m not sure if it’s because I took a week off the week before for the first time in forever, and it let me breathe and recharge and give the chemicals in my brain a chance to rest, or if I’m finally taking that step forward and getting closer to healing.

Everything and everyone’s still in their place; they’re still the same; I’m just seeing them differently. I am noticing people more than before, I’m seeing a certain somebody in a different light, and even though I absolutely do not want this, it’s still a nice feeling.

I’m slowly returning to preferring being alone with people, which means the voices aren’t as loud anymore, and I can now go back again to spending time alone without being scared of suffocating. I’m going back to relying less on people for comfort and relying more on my safe alone time.

I’m trying so hard to stay calm and not get agitated as easily, and I’m failing badly so many times, but I’m also succeeding a lot, and it makes me happy. Little progress, one at a time. I’m reappreciating the smalls things. I’m feeling a nice little shade of white, clarity, purity.

I mean, it’s about time, right? I’ve been in therapy for six months, with the first three months in extensive therapy, and I had my first psychological counseling session last week at work; I’m writing this blog and sharing it, spending more time with family and friends, working out my issues, reorganizing my life. I am trying so hard. So. Hard.

I’ve even regained weight, and a lot are complimenting me for it, that now I look much prettier than before. But this might also have to do with the fact that it’s colder and that my summer seasonal depression is slowly fading; I’m always more glowing during winter.

*me to me* see? I don’t only post sadness. I can appreciate the nice times too. *smiles awkwardly to myself*

For now, pray with me that our week turns out to be wonderful. After today’s major anxieties, please, please please let it be a peaceful and happy week for all of us.

Also, I just discovered this little peaceful song. It’s a cover for a famous cultural Algerian song, so you can listen to both, if you want. 🙂

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Salima

I need to tell you about the last three days. You need to know.

You need to know that I was happy. I was very happy. You need to know that I was loved, and I was at peace, and I was safe.

Now that I’m back from the getaway, in my bed, in the same city that stabs me in the guts, living the same life that almost destroyed me, I can’t help but remember the last three days as just a dream. Was it real?

I literally forgot everything, like there was no anxiety and pain, ever. There was just this room with these people and this music. I didn’t have a yesterday to overthink, nor a tomorrow to dread; I only had right now, and right now was absolutely gorgeous.

And I’m not saying that I wasn’t upset by certain things or that I enjoyed every second, because even though the stay was mostly amazing, there were still a few moments that I didn’t like, but it was normal. It was a normal “sadness,” ones we feel and move on normally because we are normal people living a normal life, and normally we can get upset.

It was a different sadness than the one I usually have, the sadness that makes me feel like a beast. Even the sadness, I even enjoyed the sadness in our little getaway. And even though now it’s all gone, and I’m still very sleepy and drained, I’m still feeling at peace.

I’m having a post-travel depression, even though we were only 50 minutes away from home. Walking the first morning in the village’s raining and empty streets reminded me of a similar walk that I don’t think I can get over. It had the same idyll, the same coldness, the same curiosity, but different people.

I keep noticing people’s effect on me, on my mental health, and my wellbeing. I always thought that therapy lies in the setting, the moment itself, and not the people. I think I was wrong, or maybe I changed, but I’m finding therapy within my people right now rather than my moments.

I didn’t think I could live happy days like these anymore, I thought my recklessly happy days are past me, and the people I got to live these moments with are long gone, but the past 3 days proved me wrong.

I loved my moments, and I love my people more than I find words to describe. Their smiles, their sparkling eyes, the way they make me feel, they’re all so beautiful.

Just like the past three days in Salima.

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3:08am

ما خيّرتيني، صفنت أنا فيكِ، تغيّرتِ ليه؟

بشوارعك دفنتيني، ما دام صوتي صار صدى في مجاريها ما صرّحتِ ليه؟

تخبّي نامي في مكانك، بقولوا منك الليل غيران

ضلّي أنت العنوان، لإنه في بعدك ما إلناش جيران

إحنا الحكايا الجداد

احنا الهدايا الجداد

احنا الحكايا الي… مش كل شيء بيرضيكِ بيرضينا

إنت تغيّرتِ ليه؟ ضل شوقي أنا شلال، بيجري بحواريكي

طلّي برا شبّاكك، بربّك قوليلي إحنا كيف ننام؟ 

ما ضلّش إشي الي ينهان،  عودي و لاقينا لإنه الطريق توهان

إحنا الحكايا الجداد

احنا الهدايا الجداد

احنا الحكايا الي… مش كل شيء بيرضيكِ بيرضينا

إنت تغيّرتِ ليه؟ ضل شوقي أنا شلال، بيجري بحواريكِ

إحنا الحكايا الجداد

احنا الهدايا الجداد

احنا الحكايا الي …مش كل شيء بيرضيكِ بيرضينا

تغيّرتِ – الفرعي

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Honesty

Today, like the many other nights, I found myself wide awake at 4:00 am. I’ve been waking up an hour or two earlier than my alarm for years, but never for three consecutive weeks, like now.

Today, as I was awake at 4:00 am contemplating existence, I might have understood why I’ve been waking up this early every day.

It’s the only time that I’m awake where I am not obliged to be productive, where I do not feel like my presence is at fault if I was not working or being useful. It’s the only time that I get to wake up, look through the darkness, and do nothing.

How lucky am I that my God wakes me up to feel and see the idyll of dusk? My body is still asleep; I’m too tired to move from under my sheets, and I’m too warm to feel anything. I exist here, in this room, with nothing but my thoughts lingering in the air and the sound of the music I’m listening to.

I was listening to Honesty by Pink Sweats (slowed and reverb) and I thought-maybe also overthought-of everything about yesterday; all the smiles and insecurities, and all the things that might get better. It’s okay, it will pass.

It’s another Monday today, and the time is surprisingly moving fast. It’s already 2:17 pm, and I’ve already finished all my dues, and I even did a few external chores. I still have time to continue my InDesign tutorials and then read my favorite travel blog, and I’m not feeling all the heaviness I was feeling last week.

On another news, I now have a pretty good relationship with my supervisor, and my colleagues are different shades of something new and nice. I’m still the youngest, by a lot, which makes me feel less competent, but for today, it does not feel like a problem.

I’m not sure if I’ll carry this feeling with me for Tuesday, or Wednesday, or for the rest of this lighter week, but I’m glad that today I’m doing okay.

Plans for this evening:

My former roommate invited me over for dinner and cinnamon rolls, and since Cinnabon has lost hope in Lebanon-sad eyes, sad eyes- and closed all its branches, she is now my only provider of these bites of happiness.

I still have my therapy session to go to tonight and then maybe watch a Sofia Loren movie? I’ve been thinking a lot about how amazing It Started in Naples was and I would really like to watch it again. Today seems like a good day to reminisce on good memories.