I had two rules for people who wanted me to “let them in”. Don’t lie to me, and don’t take me for granted. Shorter, simpler and better than the ten commandments. However, I’ve recently decided to add one.

If you drink, drank or ever plan to drink coffee from McDonald’s, Burger King, Pizza Hut or some other such place, fuck off. Stay away. Seriously. I have neither time nor patience for someone willing to do that. Why would you drink colored water treated with sewage? And why would you expect me to want to be near you again?

Also, If you say something like this: “Damn it. I want to suck your tongue in public. If they don’t like it, let them go back to their own countries. Seriously.” You’ve won me over already. Period.

Me, I rant, and I philosophise, and I complicate stuff. I think too much. Kreuz…. well, Kreuz just CarpeDiems his way through it all.

First the news: I have been accepted as a researcher at a top university here… one of the best in europe, actually. It’s perfect, I will now be working on my Ph.D., researching a very interesting field, earning good money and will have the stability I have wanted for so long. I’m so excited… things are just fantastic!

In other news, I have sadly learned that i’m a snorer. A terrible snorer. Worse than trains, trams and rowdy football fans. Seriously! This came as a shock to me.

I had known that I snored (a bit) when I didn’t sleep in my own bed, but I’d never known it was like this. A friend had been visiting with me, and I was under the impression that she was sleeping like a baby. Then, a couple of nights ago, my girlfriend stayed over as well… that morning, they both were exchanging glances, and when pressed, admitted that I had waken them up at night. My guest then proceeded to tell me that she would be basically awake between 3 and 7 am because of my snoring, my girl said that it was so bad that she got scared at night, and that she always considered going home because she assumed that 4 hours of actual sleep were better than 8 with the snore monster. My roommate, who’d slept in my room a few nights when we first moved in, came out and said that yes, when I did snore, it was terrible. He apparently could hear me snoring through two shut doors and a thick wall. My cousin suddenly remembered that he used to throw things at me to stop me when I used to sleep over… And blissfully unaware moi had no idea. NONE! Who would imagine that the 3-4 hours of sleep that I get cause so much trouble? Then again, I’d be sleeping, and as one ancient chinese philosopher used to say: “If one snores in one’s sleep, does one hear oneself? That is the question asked to a tree falling noiselessly in the woods while trying to catch a fly with a chopstick.” In other words… who the hell cares?

Finally, I’m pleased and proud to introduce Kreuz!

Kreuz is an over-sexed, under-achieving monster who has no inhibitions. He will be joining us regularly… unless he gets bored and goes away. Please say hi.

I had this weird dream the other night. I killed someone. Killed them in cold blood. I’d allowed people to be killed before, but had never done it in person. I felt really bad the entire next day… this coming from someone who rarely ever dreams (ok…ok… smartasses… someone who rarely ever remembers his dreams).

In different news, I witnessed the first accident in three years in Germany. A car turned the corner right next to my building. The driver didn’t notice the tram coming and ran into it, was dragged for 50 meters or so, and had her car wedged between the tram and a parked car. This took place right below my window. I was on the phone, and the person I was talking to asked “did someone just break a plate?” And I was like… no… a tram just broke a car.

Anyway, the street was blocked, firemen rescued the stuck girl from her car, and cleared up the mess, I took a couple of photos, and an hour or so later, traffic resumed, and five or six trams passed one after the other.

pretty mundane story for someone living (and driving) in Lebanon, but still… a crash? broken glass? bent metal? That’s exciting news any day of the week over here!!!

My roommate: “Did you see the girl? She’s cute, isn’t she?” That’s why i love this guy.

I’ve been expecting this for a while. It’s happened often enough before that I’ve learned to live with it, to feed off of it, even, somehow, to enjoy it.

It’s been a struggle staying happy and cheerfull. It shouldn’t be that way. I’ve tried forcing myself, I’ve tried convincing myself, hell, I’ve even tried force-feeding it to others…. but enough. It was always hollow… it’s not right when you have to make an active effort to feel joy, satistfaction, relaxation, or passion. It’s just wrong.

Four issues have been weighing me down. Emotional, Carreer-related, Academic and Familial. Between yesterday and today, all four came to confrontations. I did a stupid work-thing out of sheer frustration. I was able to resolve that this morning…. that, at least, will be OK.

I’ve been waiting for my results, which I should have gotten a couple of weeks ago, to no avail. I called today, and it seems that the only thing missing is the grade from the secondary examiner. Don’t know him, don’t know how important his grade is, don’t know anything…. but at least I’m relieved… there was no snag with the first examiner.

Again, I’ve decided to risk it and just talk over my familial issues…. what’s the worst that could happen?

Here’s the thing, I believe in communication. Which brings me to the fourth issue that required some sort of resolution. Strangely, it’s the one issue that really holds me down, and keeps me unhappy. In ways, it’s the least important, but to me, it has occupied center-stage, if only because It’s the one area that can make me feel like I felt yesterday. It’s the only one that can squeeze my heart and not let go until I almost faint. Still, clarifying things up, by itself, is beneficial, regardless of the outcome.

Apparently, she had no idea I was attracted to her. This is where I started laughing. Wholeheartedly… for the first time in a while. I have the unfortunate gift of being able to see through people… and right there and then, I was shocked that I’d even liked her in the first place.

Apparently, the other night didn’t happen… I was laughing even harder…. Suddenly i’m seeing things? Suddenly, everyone around me is seeing things?

I’m secure enough to tell someone I like them, I’m secure enough to put myself out there…. I hate people trying to out-smart or confuse me. I’m good at that game, and that’s why I don’t play it. I can run loops around her as well as anyone else…

I won’t deny it. It hurt. That was to be expected. You like someone for a while, and then you realise it’s not going to happen… it’s not the greatest of feelings. I am able to get over that. But for that person, who you admired, to play dumb and try to put one past you…

Anyway, I told her not to flatter herself, indirectly, and that it was my issue to deal with… she was just a face. Lie. Whatever.

And then, I couldn’t smile anymore. It was another stab in that self-same spot. It aggravated old injuries, and left me weak and faint. I sometimes doubt that I can take these wounds… they’ll never heal, I think… and that’s what keeps me from being truly happy or at ease.

In ways, I’m still a fucking teenager.

I got wasted last night. I’ve rarely ever get drunk. I can keep my alcohol down. I never get drunk just from alcohol.

Here’s yesterday’s recipe:

Stab. Stab. Stab.

Realise that happiness is a far-off idea, that you’re in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

One carnation-instant-bitch.

9 large shots of MGFJ (My Good Friend Jack) downed within 30 minutes or so.

I vomited. I vomited in the bathroom. I vomited in the subway. I vomited on the street. I still am vomiting, on the inside. The vomit covers my wound, again, in something resembling a healing… but I know that wound is just waiting to be ripped open again. I know that I will probably let number four do the exact same thing. And that it will hurt just as much. And that I will blog it. I know all of that. And I vomit inside, at the knowledge.

I’m still vomiting. But that’s ok. I’ve learned to rise from this pain… it motivates me… I have my doubts, and my fears, and they grow every day… I’m not happy, I’m not at ease, I’m not enjoying my life. That’s also ok. I can take it, and more. I’ve dealt with this crap, and I can deal with it again… Each time, I’ll come out from the fight looking fresh and victorious. Each fight drives another nail into my coffin.

I told a friend last night “I’m not drunk… I’m disgusted”. I was drunk, but the only reason I got drunk was the disgust. Sadly, that’s how it’s always been.

M… you’re the best, thanks for being there yesterday.

I almost got run over by a bicycle today… around noon… up early, heading to rehearsals, feeling cheerful (somewhat) and meditating an important decision… listening to the doors…

I step into the bike lane, and at the last second, notice a girl riding a book straight towards me… I step back, dancing, and sing “keep your eyes on the road…” she rings her bell… and I hear her sing as she passes “your hands upon the wheel…”

I get on the subway… I’m so immersed in the music, I seriously missed my stop several times… the first time, I got out, drove back, and went an extra station by mistake… luckily, a friend ran into me, and kept me from getting out at the wrong station for a third time…

I overshot by two stations on the way back home… again, blame Jim… (actually, you can also blame Mr. Jack).

That wasn’t the high (low) point of my day… I did something that took a weight off my chest, but was probably not a very smart thing to do… we’ll see… you’ll hear about it later tonight.

If I shaved off my pubes, and tattooed “Realm of R” there… would you say I’m superficial or too self-involved, would you say I’m crazy, or would you tell me whatever I want to hear just so that I wouldn’t show you?

PS: Amo just turned 21 a couple of days ago. She can legally drink now. Can’t wait for vodka-induced inspirations… I’ve thought she was crazy for ages. Now she’s legally insane.

Happy BIRTHDAY AMO!!!

4 am.

hearkening back to the days of Hamburg. The misery that kept me up every night, and lulled me to sleep at daybreak is gone, to a certain extent. There’s no fulfillment in replacement. True, there are good days. Hell, there are great days. But the bad ones are all the worse for that.

I’m withering away. It’s always been an effort to make through any given day here. True, it was an effort back in the old days as well, but the grass is always greener. If I let myself go, I know that there are a few I can rely on to catch me. That’s not what I want. I want to stop thinking about letting myself go.

In the subway, on the way to meet a friend, I was hit with a mild case of the blues. Thanks to Mr. Morrison, it passed as quickly as it came. I have better friends than I deserve. I have better opportunities than I deserve. I do better academically than I deserve. I’m better thought of than I should be. I’ve loved, and lost, but loved nonetheless. And it was beautiful, and more than I deserved. Wallowing in self-despair isn’t as bad as some make it out to be. Those thoughts left me smiling, and happy.

I’m not posting to nag. We just thought that it was high time for me to share some observations that I’ve made recently. I would have filed them somewhere and done this later, but I’m not alone here. Jack is a persuasive gentleman.

-The “Atheist Alliance, intl”. Why do atheists need an international alliance? Why do they need to identify with something larger and more universal than their own being? Isn’t that what God’s for? I just don’t get it.

-I recently went to prolong my residence visa in this great nation. I was given a 2-month extension, but not a real prolongation. You see, the government had sent out a request for a “Terror report” on me. They hadn’t received an answer, and hence, couldn’t prolong my visa.
The thoughts that crossed my mind, in order:
“Racists”
“Is it cause I’s black” (Ali G, what can I do?)
What I said:
“About friggin’ time”. They let the scum of the world come here, and then they start to complain. Look no further than Paris.

-Bathroom attendants. What’s the deal? What the hell kind of a job is that? Who needs someone to hand them a towel? Lack of creativity? Remnant from the age of kings and knights? What the hell?

-My son’s first word: ’sup

-The little things that I appreciate about this city: I only need to strike one match to light a cigarette. In H, it was a glorious struggle between man and nature.

-If a girl says ouch during sex, and you know you’re not doing anything wrong, should you be worried, or take it as a complement.

-I hate having to feign sympathy… People regaling me with their petty problems and I can only say oh no, and oh I’m sorry… In reality, I couldn’t give a flying fuck. If they knew the shit that I go through, not to mention the crap the goes on all over this planet… Pathetic.

-I’m postponing the inevitable. Going back to my plans to go for a PhD. I’m not ready to get a job and join the rat race, so, there you have it.

-Normalcy; interviewing a girl for a vacant room in my flat, she felt the need to say that she’s a lesbian. That’s not NORMAL. Normal means I don’t need to make an issue out of it… I have no qualms with homosexuality, it’s a person’s personal life choice. Their ‘in your face’ attitude bugs the hell out of me. If you’re normal, that’s it. I don’t go around telling people that I have to cut my hair, otherwise it would just keep growing.

Now, I bid you adieu. A half-full (half-empty?) bottle of Jack is sitting at arm’s reach, wooing me. Tempting me with that golden, devilish concoction. ““Uisce Beatha””. Nectar. The drink of gods. The water of life. A sultry mistress, to say the least.

Beat that.

DSCF1373
Originally uploaded by LeTempest.

Housewarming party last night.

Final Tally:
16 people.
55 beers consumed (27.5 litres).
6 bottles of wine.
1 bottle of champagne.
1 HUUGGEE flask of beer (4-5 litres).
1/2 of a Gentleman Jack.
Numerous steaks.
0 sausages! (victory!).
1 guest thinks I hate her.
1 guest thinks I love her.
1 guest wants to get married (hi janjoon!).
2 (only!) hours of clean up today.

I am the proud owner of an empty room. I just finished helping a friend transport all of my furniture. My new life, in Berlin, starts Friday! (sort of).

Another feel good story. I walked into my regular coffee shop today, and one of the waiters, whom I’ve recently befriended was wondering why I had no customer card (one of those things they stamp for every coffee you buy, and after a certain number, you get a free drink). I told him that I was told it only worked for particular coffees. He said “yes, for the average Joe. Our favorite customers are treated differently.” Then he gave me a card, stamped it five times, and told me today’s order was on the house. It feels good to be a ‘regular’ again
An old girlfriend of mine once told me that shoes told her a lot about the person. I waved that off as typical airheaded-ness. I’m reconsidering. Lately, I’ve been noticing more and more that I judge people’s style (and even people themselves, to a certain extent) by the shoes they wear. Living in Germany played a big part in this change.

When I’m online, I tend to be on #flickr. These days, I’m almost always online. Anyway, #flickr is an IRC channel for very nice, slightly oversexed, and generally talented Flickr members. Last night, I heard a series of booms. No lights in the sky to tell me they were fireworks, and the sound of sirens were cause for angst. I reflexively mentioned it in the chatroom, and a couple of minutes later, Yogee presents an answer. Exploding Toads. Seriously. Toads are so fucking distraught from living in Hamburg that they’re exploding. I’m so happy I’m leaving this place.

That’s it. I’m in a good mood. Things seem to generally be working out for me at the moment. It’s funny how when you’re happy, you don’t give a flying fuck about everyone else’s troubles.

Or is it a small country?

As my regulars would know, I hail from Byblos, Lebanon. I was recently there for a short vacation. I was at the barbershop, getting a haircut. This story recounts the events of that fateful day.

My barber is also a good friend of mine. We were catching up, and I was telling him about some of the things I do online, I mentioned flickr and my weblog. The discussion turned to nicknames, for some reason. What they mean, how people chose them, etc… I was just ticking off some nicknames which I knew the story behind, or the reason why their owners chose them… Which brings us to the fun part…

I should note that short while after I unmasked my online self, a fellow lebanese blogger, rampurple, also introduced herself to everyone. She mentioned the meaning behind her nickname.

Back to the story.

Me: “So, it’s a screen-name from gaming, some real-life nickname they have, bla bla, yada yada, for example, this one lebanese blogger calls herself RAMPurple, which stands for…”

Barber: “R. A. M. (her initials) and her favorite color is purple.”

Me: “What the fuck? How did you know that?”

Now, barbers naturally know lots of people, this guy even more so. He knows everybody. But a Lebanese blogger living in kuwait?! WTF?

So, he whips out his cellphone, and sends her a mysterious SMS, telling her ‘Tempest’ says hello. An amuzed, and confused reply is quickly sent. She asked me a couple of times after that to explain how this whole thing happened…

Small moments like that really brighten up my day. They make a huge, anonymous, indifferent world a little warmer.

I’m seeing someone new. It’s innocent, but fun. A couple of nights ago, we went out, got hammered, and walked around town taking photographs… I SO enjoyed myself.

Drunken photography is unlike anything else you might have experienced, your senses are dimmed and hightened simultaneously when you’re drunk… you see things that you wouldn’t see otherwise, but you can’t stand steady long enough to take any decent photos… nevermind the fact that I had my camera on manual for most of the time, and I was shooting everything with a long exposure time… most of my photos were just streaks of color… I managed to get a few interesting shot, eventually… results can be seen here…

The comments were written while I was sobering up, and at the behest of a friend… must do this again sometime!