Nov 29, 2011

Sorority Drama... I quit!

While I sit to write about the girls sororities, I must admit I drafted over 10 versions of this blog. I shared and re-shared with many to take advice before publishing. After all, just like every girl, I take part of a close group of girlfriends that I do not aim to offend in any way. However, my blog remains about me, my thoughts and my way of thinking.

Drafts later. I publish.

This blog is dedicated to every girl out there because I know, every one of you, will identify herself (or someone she knows) in a story somewhere. 

Let's start by the beginning...

When I was 3, my best friend was my doll.
When I was 4, an imaginary girl (mom says I called her Pamela).
When I was 5, my best friend was my neighbor.
When I was 7, a classmate of mine.
When I was 12, we became a group of girls.
When I was 16, I believed that everyone was a friend.
When I was 18, I thought "the more the merrier".
At 22, I started to realize I was lonely. I started "recruiting "real friends.
At 28, I am blessed with girls who support me in good and bad times. 

The drama?
I left it at 18... All my friends did (hamdilla). But we all carry a little bit of our past with us, don't we? And as we grow old, we do let our infantile habits affect us in a way or another.

At 16, I had a friend of mine comment about the way I look (though I was pretty slim at that time), so I went on a diet and ended-up fainting in the kitchen. At that time, I did not realize a simple "I'm fine with my body" would be enough.
Around the same age, I started doubting my boyfriend because one of the girls (with the quantity of "best-friends" I had at that age, it was a different girl), told me he was too handsome to be faithful and too good to be true.

At 18, I noticed that by boyfriend refused to go out with my girlfriends. Devastated, I picked a fight with him trying to understand the reason behind such acts. Going out with our common friends was fun and nice. Going out with his friends was smooth. Spending time with my friends -who were boys- was more than pleasant to him. But the girls? Never! (I can't deny he tried to explain it all to me smoothly, but I refused to read the seriousness between his words... At 18, we can't really read between the lines!)

Few years later, after a break-up and years of silence, we got back in contact again (thanks to Facebook) and joked about our years of youth. By then, I had realized that the girlfriends I had around back then (who again were too many!) Used to act too childish (of course at 18 I didn't see childishness in their acts). From asking him about the wedding date, to bugging him about our argument the night before, without forgetting to debate why he would accept me doing this, does not accept me doing that. In resume, they used to act like any man hates his girlfriend's friends to act. And looking back at it today? I wouldn't even date me!

And today?

At 28 I still blog about drama, because a friend of mine asked me to. Because if I am blessed with my friends, she might be blessed to have me as a friend (humbly; niyyeil elli bibous 'id halo)... but still suffers from such drama from other girls in her entourage (who obviously are stuck somewhere in the past)m

The whole Sorority Drama?

That I quit...

Nov 25, 2011

Are we safe... yet?

Local news, a good movie and hop! I’m off to bed.  I pray, hug my pillow and close my eyes to sleep… Sleep?  Let’s say count the sheep!  I’m suffering from insomnia lately and sleeping is becoming a very old friend of mine.
Tonight I’m blessed. I’m safe in my bed. Tomorrow I’m catching up with the girls over dinner, will I reach the house safe and sound? Will I be counting the sheep at a time like this or will I be hit and raped to death by a stranger that will, as usual in my country, get away with his acts?

It all started when I watched the news few nights back. Devastated by the story of a girl, just my age, who was tortured and raped to death when she went to church for prayer, I sat in bed counting the sheep.  That night, I could not pray.  Whom would I address my prayers too?  God?  She was going to visit him, at his place.  How could he let all this happen to her?  Isn’t He supposed to protect her?  She was a believer, aren’t true believers the most protected?  Or maybe he wanted her with Him, between the angels, in Heaven?  But why did he have to take her so brutally?  Why make her suffer?  And her family?  Her friends? 

I counted the sheep wondering whom to blame that night… I still count the sheep till I sleep tonight, days after the tragic news.  But now, I pray.  I pray because I understand it is not God’s fault that humans are acting like without humanity nowadays.  It is not God’s fault that criminals and assassins are everywhere around us, that theft and rapes make the headlines of our news on weekly, if not daily, basis!  I count the sheep till I sleep tonight because I understand that I live in a country where stealing is not punished by more than few years of prison, at its best. Raping by 5, perhaps 10… and killing by what? 15?  Would a criminal even care about the 15 years he might spend behind the bars?  Really?  Do you think a person who’s sick enough to torture, rape and kill a soul, young or old, is stable enough to think about what might await him?  Would a person who is stable enough reach that criminal mind anyway?

One sheep, two sheep, 3 sheep… 120 sheep.  One white sheep, two white sheep, one green sheep, 10 red sheep… I now get it! I know who to blame… I blame my government! I blame my government for allowing my country to become one of the less safe countries in the world.  A killing and rape tragedy inside a church?  Who else to blame?  Criminals are out there, running, with no fear.  They know they can attack anywhere and everywhere, people of all ages.

What I remember from the news, in the past 15 days (and I rarely watch the news): an 80 year old lady raped in her house (seriously, why would anyone rape a woman who is my grandmother’s age?!), two boys kidnapped in a well renowned mall in the capital and a 2 years old kidnapped from his mother in the suburbs.  And not only I rarely watch the news, I have a fish memory too!

What a shame! What a shame being Lebanese and not being able to cheer for my country on independence week.  What a shame accusing, publicly, society and moreover my government for the lack of security we face today.

I point fingers, not because I don’t love my country, but because I love it to an extend it hurts. It hurts not to be safe.  It hurts not to have a valid SOS number (those who think we do can check this:  It hurts to go to bed tonight, not knowing if it’s safe to go out for an early dinner between girls the next day…

I close my eyes and I pray, again… In the end, maybe I won’t be here to pray tomorrow!