As cluttered as my room…as empty as my fridge

A cluttered room

It is a reflection of the chaos I feel inside.  It would only take a humble bend and a few seconds to fold up that piece of clothing and store in the closet.  But I choose not to.  Day after day the clutter gets worse.  A week’s worth of clothes cluttered everywhere.  Only when I start resolving my inner conflicts do I start putting my room back together.  My room was cleaned up this morning.

An empty fridge

It is a reflection of the emptiness I feel inside.  It would only take a short trip to the supermarket to fill up my fridge with various delights.  But I choose not to.  It gives me comfort to open an empty fridge, makes me feel like I’m not the only empty soul.  Only when I start coming to peace with the emptiness do I start filling my fridge.  My fridge is now filled up with fresh food.

This isn’t the life I ordered

It’s like going into a McDonald’s.

I order a chicken fillet (cuz I prefer chicken over beef) spicy (what’s life without a little bit of fusion to it) with cheese (I adore cheese), extra mayo (nothing better than chicken with mayo!), hold the tomato (don’t like the soggy feeling of tomatoes!), one large fries (love those darn golden fries), a diet Coke (don’t need those extra calories in a regular sugar loaded Coke), and a strawberry sundae (for a little dreamy experience to end my perfect meal).

I stand on the side waiting for my order, and when my number is called my taste buds start tingling in the anticipation of my long awaited meal.

I look at the tray and the disappointment overwhelms me when this is what I find: a bland burger, no cheese, extra tomatoes and an unknown sauce that comes nothing close to my sacred mayo, a teeny tiny order of fries, and a measly glass of tap water.  And where the heck is my sundae?

“Excuse me, this isn’t what I ordered.”

If only I can say the same to life.  But I’m stuck with whatever life decides to give me.  Can I change it?  No.  Can I give it back and ask for a refund? Not in this lifetime.

But I will reluctantly accept whatever was laid upon my tray to tame my growling hunger, in high hopes of my next order being somewhat close to what I really desire!

Men can do magic too

It’s called vanishing.

One minute he’s here, and the next *POOF* he’s gone.  No goodbyes, no explanations.  It’s the oldest dirty trick in the book.

It’s like he’s afraid if he confronts and tries explaining why he’s leaving, you’ll hang on to him like hanging on to dear life.

Whether he’s found another chiquita or he just oh so suddenly changed his mind, he has no problem pulling a Houdini and leaving a dumb-stricken you.

Mind you, it’s probably one of the worst things a “man” can do, yet he still calls himself so when he’s nothing close to it.

It sucks.  It hurts.  It leaves a bitter you.  And it’s no where close to being morally acceptable.  But hey, it happens and will continue to do so for generations to come.

Your best bet is to rewind to the point right before you met that so called “man” and pick up your life where you left off.

I know, easier said than done.

I dreamt of you

I dreamt of you last night.

I guess my heart was aching too much for you that my mind empathized and reluctantly conjured up an image of you to temporarily tame my longing for you.

The image you showed up in is exactly how I remember you.  In my dream, I joyfully experienced your warmth and love, along with your brutality and cruelty.  You were nothing short of the truth.

I woke up startled as I never expected to see you in that cocoon I hold dear where all my enigmas are brought to life.

I reached for the phone but only to experience a cold shudder that reminded me of the barriers that you set up that cannot be broken by a simple phone call.

I lay in bed listening to the silence of the night and couldn’t help but pull the comforter over my head forcing myself back to sleep, in high hopes of seeing you again.

I don’t miss you

I don’t miss you.

I don’t miss the many calls you never returned.
I don’t miss the countless dates you never showed up.
I don’t miss your cold hellos and insincere apologies.

But no…I do miss you.

I miss your happy morning calls that brought sunshine into my cloudy days.
I miss your goodnight calls that spread warmth into my cold nights.
I miss our night long talks that welcomed the first signs of a new day.

No…I don’t miss you.

I don’t miss the tears you never wiped away.
I don’t miss the darkness you intentionally left me in.
I don’t miss the dreams you shattered in a moment’s time.

But oh how I miss you.

I miss your smile as it penetrated my soul to guide me to safety.
I miss your voice as it soothed the frightened child in me.
I miss your touch as it numbed away the pain of the past.

I don’t miss you…no I don’t.

I don’t miss your endless disappointments.
I don’t miss your hollow lies.
I don’t miss your empty promises.

I miss that I don’t miss you.

The Waiting Game

I hate waiting.  I absolutely hate it.  Hate it hate it hate it!!  Patience is no virtue, it’s just pure torture!

Waiting for something to happen is like an ugly sluggish ameboa deep inside eating away at the tolerance within me.  Bad ameboa, bad!

No, waiting doesn’t make me a better person, it just makes me one hell of an irritated crazy woman.

I don’t understand why so many things in life come after waiting for soooooooo long.  Is it life’s way of making us appreciate things more? I think life needs to trust us more!  Life, you’ve got major trust issues.

Here’s an idea for you, Life.  Give me what I want, quickly, and I promise to appreciate it.  Maybe along the way I’ll resent you less!

AAAAAAAARRRRGHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Feels like home

On my way home from work, one of my favorite songs started playing.  It’s called “Feels like home”  sung by Chantal Kreviazuk.  I started singing along (with my froggy sounding voice!) and lived the moment.  But at that point I silently asked myself a question, “Where’s your home?”

Sadly I realized that although I have 3 different houses in 3 different countries, but none of them are really home.  Yes, they’re all very welcoming and comforting, and I have special memories in each, but not even my own apartment, the one I’ve designed and decorated myself, is my home.

Then something unusual struck me, like a bulb lighting in my mind.

Home to me is not a place.  Home is a person.  Someone who holds me close and keeps me warm.  Someone whose arms can engulf me and make me feel safe.  Someone who I can easily let go of all my burdens with and never be judged.  Someone who replaces all the sadness inside me with happiness and joy.  Someone who would never allow tears to flow from my eyes, and if they do he’ll quickly and softly wipe them away.

Home is a warm embrace.

Home is a caring touch.

Home is a heart where I safely belong in.

Feels like home – Chantal Kreviazuk

There’s something in your eyes
Makes me wanna lose my self,
Makes me wanna lose myself in your arms
There’s something in your voice
That makes my heart beat fast
Hope this feeling lasts
For the rest of my life

If you knew how lonely
My life has been
And how long I’ve been so alone
And if you knew how I wanted someone to come along
And change my life the way you’ve done

It feels like home to me
It feels like home to me
It feels like I’m all the way back where I come from
It feels like home to me
It feels like home to me
It feels like I’m all the way back where I belong

A window breaks down on some dark street
And a siren rings in the night
But I’m alright cuz I have you here with me,
And I can almost see through the dark there is light

Well if you knew how much this moment means to me
And how long I’ve waited for your touch
And if you knew how happy you are making me
I never thought that I’d love anyone so much

It feels like home to me
It feels like home to me
It feels like I’m all the way back where I come from
It feels like home to me
It feels like home to me
It feels like I’m all the way back where I belong

It feels like I’m all the way back where I belong

الله معــــــــــــاه

الله معــــــــــــاه – عباس ابراهيم

الله معاه لا تمنعه ولا تعاتبه ولا تودعه
بكرة الندم بيرجعه وبكرة الحنين
الله معاه لاتحاكيه ولا تسمعه
ضاع العمر والله معه
وقلبك حزين

احسبها ما كانت بالهوى احسبها منام
طار الحلم من غفوتك انسى الملام
قلبه اللي قاسي عمره ما داق الغرام
لا لا لا تندم عالهوى وتحلف يمين

الله معاه لا تمنعه ولا تعاتبه ولا تودعه
بكرة الندم بيرجعه وبكرة الحنين
الله معاه لاتحاكيه ولا تسمعه
ضاع العمر والله معه
وقلبك حزين

احسبها ما كانت وين ما حل ماضي اللي كان
لا ظحكته ولا دمعته انساهم كمان
راح الدفى من لمسته وظاع الأمان
راح الحلا من ظحكته وبافي الأنين

الله معاه … لا تعاتبه ولا تودعه
بكرة الندم بيرجعه وبكرة الحنين
الله معاه لاتحاكيه ولا تسمعه
ضاع العمر والله معه
وقلبك حزين

To all the special people in my life

Meow!

I realized that the most forgiving person in my life is my cat, Smokie (aka Columbo, Columbo3, Monsiour Columbo).  Ok he’s not exactly a person to some, but to me he’s my companion!

Why is he the most forgiving?

• I leave him all day and he still waits for me by the door when I come home, never questioning why it took me so long to get home.
• I scream at him for meowing in the middle of the night but he still comes by my side to cuddle.
• I leave him for days at a time all alone in the house to go on a vacation, but when I come back he greets me warmly.
• When he sees me crying he comes and sits next to me, as his way of telling me “it will all be alright”.
• I torture him with his daily grooming and weekly nail clipping, but he never holds a grudge.
• When I sleep in late on weekends and miss his feeding time, he quietly comes into the room and softly whimpers in case I’m not fully awake.
• He never judges me for what I say, how I look, or how I dress.
• When I’m feeling sad and not wanting to talk to anyone, he understands, and keeps his distance until I’m ready to “socialize” again.

Call me an old crazy cat lady, but I really love this cat!