The post war awakening of a traumatized girl
I thought I would pop and drop a quick hello to each and everyone of
you. It has been a long time since we had a chat and honestly, I
missed you. Well, I missed pouring my mental chaos in a bundle of
meaningless sentences and send them to you so you can have a hint of
fun in your mornings.
Well, I did survive this war and apparently so did you. It is not so
bad after all, but why do I have the feeling that I am wasting my
Yesterday, my mother was saying that the situation is really really
really bad and I looked at her with a numb expression over my face
because the only reason I have been following the news after the war
ended is to see whether it will be sunny on sundays so I can go
trekking. So, as updated as I was during the war, I happen to be a
total ignorant of the current political situation in the country. Well
I know a few things, for example that the "awniyyeh" are so happy
making little orange gadgets such as orange umbrellas and scarves and
water bottles with orange caps and orange shirts and drinking Crush
and Miranda so that they can have orange pee at the end of the day.
Well, I beat them all. I AM orange. Not that I am affiliated to any
political party, but all the carotene from the massive war-time carrot
eating has not left my body yet. I guess my body alone can buy me a
pass to be the party's president but who would want that?
Anyways, I feel that people around here are becoming less and less
sane. Driving alone is an overwhelming experience as cars jump left
and right and so do people, so I have been spending the last week
avoiding crushing people who, strangely enough, seem very suicidal to
me. As for walking on the street, same madness. I am about to be run
over by a car every second, except when the driver checks me out from
top to bottom and realizes that letting me pass could be an enjoyable
3-seconds visual experience for him.
As for work, I am currently there and I am trying really hard to find
a reason why I am sitting in the office and seriously thinking about
starting to work. I enjoy the warmth of the office as, in half an
hour, my design manager will arrive and find it incredibly hot in
here, and she will open all the possible doors and windows until I
freeze, get the flu and have a "day off" inhaling honey-lemon-ginger
infusions (I am a fan of natural cures, what can I say?) and becoming
best-friends with my Kleenex box.
This is pretty much it, I hope I didn't bore you too much. It just
feels too weird in here. Lebanon looks like wonderland, or la-la land
(as the Aishti ad says). We are having plenty of exhibits displaying,
with a mixture of pride, originality and weirdness, the "war-time"
artistic works, trying to prove to the world that we are creative
survivors... maybe not. Are we? Or are we simply nuts? I guess we
simply are whatever we are:
Slow walkers, especially when a car halts to let us cross the road.
Looking for wives or husbands.
Looking to get rid of our wives or husbands.
Depressed and proud of it.
Ecstatic with no reason.
Waiting for lunch break.
Craving for chocolate.
Endlessly waiting for that special someone to come back from abroad.
Making sure we don't gain weight.
Always checking if our best friend gained weight.
Surfing the internet during our working hours.
Wanting to leave.
Wanting to stay.
Looking for something we never manage to find, or do we?
Little habits left and right. Is this what life is all about?
Personally, I am fed up with it.
Until we meet again, I wish you the most un-boring life one can have.
A Lebanese Citizen