To begin...again

Dear

I began this page as if I was writing a letter, when in truth I’m just following an exercise from Julia Cameron’s The Right to Write. Now I have a seductive idea for using this as a blog entry, or at least parts of it ;) .

So, the book so far is a practice-what-you-preach no-preach affair, which is a manner of preaching itself. But I enjoy the contradictions, once I notice them, because they point to how human we are. Life would be quite boring without mistakes.

Mistakes. Makes me think about love affairs. Love affairs. Makes me think about Sushmita Sen. I’ve had a really long boring day – I did not connect with anyone – I did not go down from my 8th floor apartment, except once, to give dad a bag with his sandals that he wanted to get fixed. Dad dresses well these days.

Since I’ve started working with Dad at the factory, something quite unexpected has happened. We actually talk. We talk business and expansion and people and styles of work, and occasionally things more personal – like likes and dislikes. Dad actually confided in me that he originally wanted to become a doctor – a children’s doctor to be precise. But owing to the difficulties he had when growing up, he had to get into commerce, and that led eventually into business. He says he never takes loans because of one bad incident where someone refused him one. I think that is very immature – imagine if we generalized everything from our bad experiences. Not everyone we meet is an asshole.

I wanted to call so many people this weekend. Just to meet up. Instead I stayed home the whole while – and on the net a lot. At least I read a chapter of Julia Cameron. It is interesting that Dr. Borgdorff once mentioned her earlier guidebook to writing called The Artist’s Way. He wanted to become a writer too, and he said he planned on practicing daily. I wonder where he’s at now, physically and with writing.

I miss so many people spread out all over the world. Once again, to quote myself (ahem), I wish I could squeeze these continents into the puddle of Cairo, and have my private pool of friends, right back here.

I miss Myriam – she has not written in ages. I bet she’s not reading the blog, she’s very busy with film school and hasn’t answered any emails. It was a pity I returned late from India, a few days after her vacation here had ended. It was good seeing Wiam again though. I miss Stephanie, surprisingly. I think I should put pictures up on my blog of my friends and all. I miss Kwasi – he was witty and sarcastic. God knows I could use some of that humour in my life.

The other day I had a dream where I was somewhere with Zuby, a place like a bar or something and I was sitting across this man who insinuated something, and I retorted with, ‘You think I’m not capable’. Zuby got up to ‘protect and defend’ and I subtly hinted I could handle it. Even in the dream, I caught myself thinking, I wonder if this is the first time I’m meeting Zuby because it feels like we’ve met before. It would be nice seeing him in UK, if I really do get to go in May. Nikki and I don’t communicate much – Greek Nikki that is. Doesn’t bother. What does bother is that Maggie is so close, right here in Cairo and we barely meet. I’m back for the weekend only from Port Said and she does not have time. I suppose Wiam must’ve felt that way too sometimes when I didn’t want to go out or when I was too tired to meet up. And God knows I had moments when I wanted her to get out of bed and come meet me, or stay a little longer. Somehow you can never spend enough time with friends.

And somehow you always feel lonely.

What is the difference between lonely and alone? Alone sounds more factual, I guess. Like I’m not with people, I’m alone. And you can be with people and still feel lonely. I couldn’t have put the latter part more tritely. That’s okay, like Cameron advises, I won’t criticize my writing or ask it to be original. I’ll just let it be. She’s so Taoist that way, and I was pretty impressed, I must say, that she quoted Kabir, “Where you are, is where you begin”, and a nice quote too. Way to go Cameron.

Haha! And here I am thinking about Cameron as a female name. Cameron Diaz. When I was at UIUC, I overhead a bus conversation once between two girls. One of them was telling the other about how someone had named their daughter Cameron and how it sounded funny on a girl. But then they kept on back-and-forthing about how there’s all sorts of common unisex names, and how there’s Cameron Diaz. I never knew she was a Latina until last winter, Nov 2004, when she made a TV public service announcement encouraging Latinas and Latinos to vote.

While I’m obeying Cameron’s advice to ‘begin where you are’, dreams come to mind. I should read some Carl Jung on dreams – some really interesting work has been done there. I’m sure the library will have videos/books. I really ought to explore the videos in the library ;) still eyeing them.

I had two weird dreams in one night this year. One of them was about this French chap. Since he probably won’t read this, and even if he does, it was a dream… Well, this guy, R is obsessed with me, and I was on the top floor of some building more or less posh, and he was carrying me back into the apartment. We were on the stairs or a corridor. He was worried and almost begging me, ‘Don’t leave me’. And although I was feeling really suffocated by him, I really did care or was attracted to him, and the don’t-leave-me request just clinched me where it was aimed and I said of course, I won’t leave you, even though when I said that I was crying. Now, his roommate N who was one floor below us, saw him carrying me back and understood what I was going through, and somehow grew angry at his friend, and was getting ready to come upstairs. That’s all I remember of that dream.

That same night, I dreamt that there was a man below my window. It was dark and it was raining, and some coat had to be exchanged. I knew he was waiting perhaps with a briefcase, but I did not want to see him. I was scared, and took a peek from the window. He was looking upstairs, he looked like Morgan Freeman. I can completely understand him being cast as God in Bruce Almighty; he has such a peaceful face. Perhaps I should get a poster :) . Anyhow, this man in the dream; I knew he could see me, but I wanted to delay… That is all I can remember.

I remember before I fell sick in the U.S. I had a bad dream, and I had a very bad feeling about the dream. In it, my parents had come to take me back home, and I really did not want to leave and they wanted to take all my possessions, and they thought someone had done something, and all the furniture in my house was broken, and everyone including me was wondering, ‘why?’. I was too tired, and too delirious. Soon after, all that really happened. Could have been plain intuition (from reasoning) – known what was coming.

I’m not sure that I have used dreams as source materials for my writing, but I am sure all that creative stuff comes from the same place. My writing is like a dream – scenes that are like dreams. Dreamscapes :). Prof. Shoukri once told us that dreams were a means of release, so that the body/psyche could release its tensions. Writing then is another dream-escape. But I don’t want to wax poetic yet. (Or is it wan(e) poetic – how does one say that?)

Being stuck for words, now that is also another interesting phenomenon. Usually though, I can find words for most things I want to say. Right now, I have been doing much business correspondence, and it comes in more or less handy to create a professional image, or so I’d like to think. But otherwise, with general conversation, or writing, I feel so much lighter when I have said something, and said it correctly.

Cameron (roughly quoted): I feel good when I write well. But I feel good when I write, period.

It feels good to have a guide through books. Perhaps I do not need to go to a writing school… I don’t know why I want to squiggle out of this. I really WANT to go. But why do I also NOT want to go (and now its time for my contradictions)?
a) Its expensive – but then there are scholarships, and it can be afforded. I’m not being very expensive at the moment to the family; in fact, I’m helping Dad’s business.

b) Going far away from family might be a bit stressful. Fear of leaving comfort-zone. Very likely, but all the more reason to go, and I really do need some space and time.

c) I really want and even need the company of new people and writers especially. Hell, I even want to marry one – although I’m not sure how healthy that thought is, given my silly dispositions.

En conclusion, I should go. So I better get my rear end around to searching for schools and applying to them. God, what I would do for some good critical feedback on my writing at the moment. Dwayne Moser from CalArts said he’d have a look, but I’m really not sure I can afford CalArts at the moment.

Dad and I have talks about the future, and I do mention my plans every now and then. Mom is completely unresponsive about the idea; Dad seems more neutral, at least superficially. I hope when the time comes that I do get to go.