tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30597026330771503442024-03-12T23:26:12.865-04:00أنا سوريThoghts of a Syrian immigrant
خواطر مغترب سوريأنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-87000159617862333782011-10-06T13:31:00.002-04:002011-10-06T16:34:45.837-04:00Think Different<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">He was born on February 24th, 1955 to a Syrian immigrant "Abdulfattah Jandali" from the Homs area who later became a political science professor, and a German American "Joanne Schieble" who, according to his father, gave him up for adoption because her parents didn't accept the idea that their daughter had a child with a Syrian. I will spare you the details about Steve Job's life as you can hear it from him in the video below of his 2005 Stanford University commencement address.<br />
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If you're reading this post, you have certainly used some of his many visions to do so. Among his many life-changing visions were the personal computer, the mouse, computer fonts, the iphone, ipod, and ipad.<br />
I don't think I've been more excited about any purchase as I was when I bought these products. Except for the ipad, I have them all. As in his early Apple commercial in the video below, he thought different, changed things, and pushed the human race forward.<br />
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Steve Jobs died yesterday of complications of cancer. Thank you, and Rest in Peace.</div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-41295324751099143362011-10-02T15:36:00.002-04:002011-11-28T17:21:16.260-05:00Blowing in the Wind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How many roads must a man walk down,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">before you call him a man?</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How many seas must a white dove fly,</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">before she sleeps in the sand?</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And how many times must a cannon ball fly,</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">before they're forever banned?</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The answer my friend is blowing in the wind,</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the answer is blowing in the wind.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How many years can a mountain exist,</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">before it is washed to the sea?</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong></strong><strong>How many years can some people exist,</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong></strong><strong>before they're allowed to be free?</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong></strong><strong>And how many times can a man turn his head,</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong></strong><strong>and pretend that he just doesn't see?</strong></span><br />
<strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The answer my friend is blowing in the wind,</span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong></strong><strong>the answer is blowing in the wind.</strong></span><br />
<strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How many times must a man look up,</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong></strong><strong>before he sees the sky?</strong></span><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And how many ears must one man have,</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">before he can hear people cry ?</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And how many deaths will it take till we know,</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">that too many people have died?</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The answer my friend is blowing in the wind,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the answer is blowing in the wind.</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/_zY_cM0_6vA/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_zY_cM0_6vA&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_zY_cM0_6vA&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bob Dylan said in an interview that his songs will mean even more as time goes by. How true!!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></div></div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-30862590120611148442011-09-22T21:30:00.003-04:002011-09-24T12:24:28.885-04:00خواطر مبعثرة<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> كنت في الثانوي في الصف الحادي عشر جالس في الصف عم بتأمّل بأسئلة مذاكرة الفيزياء أنتظر حل من السماء. كانت الساعة١١ صباحآ. تطلعت ليميني أبحث عن مخرج من هالمأزق وشفت رفقاتي محتارين أكتر منّي. الوحيد اللي كان مشغول بالكتابة كان أعز أصدقائي، خلّينا نسميه غياث. أنا و غياث كنّا شبين في السابعة عشرة، هو كان الأوّلي في المدرسة بكل شيء ماعدا اللغة الإنكليزية اللي كانت إختصاص العبد الفقير كاتب هذا المقال. كنا شباب ماعلى بالنا هم، كان همّي الوحيد االإستيقاظ الصبح باكرآ والركض للمدرسة لشوف بنات الثانوي وهن رايحين على مدارسهن. كانت هديك الأيام عصيبة على بلدنا والعالم ميتة من الخوف. النسخة الأولى من حزب البعث حاكمة و قصص حماة و سجن تدمر والإعتقالات شغالة في كل أنحاء البلد. كان الخوف يغلغل في عروق العالم وكلمة إخوان تعني حكم إعدام مؤكّد لأي مواطن مهما على شأنه و منصبه</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"> غياث كان شب ذكي جدآ وحتى االأساتذة كانوا يتعجبون من تفوقه الغير طبيعي. كنا نلعب رياضة سوا، ونتمشّى في الباحة أثناء الفرصة و نحكي عن السياسة و الأحداث الراهنة والمدرسة والمنهج و أي شيء يخطر على بالنا. كانت بشرة غياث بيضاء وشعره أشقر وطوله أعلى من معدّل الشباب في المدرسة، ولكنه كان متواضع جدآ</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">أثناء حيرتنا و بحثنا لحل لورطة الفيزياء، سمعنا صوت طرق على باب الصف. راح الآستاذ ليفتح الباب فنظرت لشوف مين عسى أن يكون جاي حل من السماء للمشاكل الفيزيائية اللي قدامي. ظهر من وراء الباب رجلين طوال بشوارب تخينة و لابسين ملابس عسكرية فوقها جاكيتين كاكي من اللي كان يلبسها أفراد الجيش و الأمن. سمعنا الرجلين عم يسألوا الأستاذ عن غياث. تطلعت ليميني لقيت صديقي رفع رأسه لأوّل مرّة عن ورقة المذاكرة. أشّر الإستاذ لغياث أن يخرج معهن. نظرت إليه مرة أخيرة وهو متجه نحو الباب، فرأيت الدم سحب من وجهه و سيماه الموت ظاهرة و كأنه يقاد إلى حبل المشنقة</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">مرت المذاكرة واليوم و الأسبوع والسنة ثمّ السنين و حتّى اليوم لا أدري ماحصل لصديقي. سمعت أنو بعض زملائنا من الشبيبة خبّروا عنه بعد أن دعي إلى إجتماع ترأسه أحد من المشبوهين في المدرسة، ولكن الله أعلم. بعد كم أسبوع ذهبت إلى بيته، ووقفت أمام الباب حوالي عشر دقائق بدون أن أجد الجرأة لدق الباب والسؤال عنه. خفت تطلعلي إمّه وتنهار عندما تراني</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">كان هاذا جو الرعب والخوف في تلك الأيام. ومتل قصة غياث في ألاف القصص. المشتبه فيه حتى لو كان بريء مفقود، والخارج جنّي مولود. وقتها صممت على ترك البلد رغم إنو ماكانلي أي علاقات سياسية</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">بدأ القرن الواحد والعشرين، وتحولنا إلى نظام جديد يؤمن بالإنفتاح والإنترنت والأمور اللي لم نسمع بها بحياتنا إلا سرآ أو في الأخبار. بدأت الحياة في بلدي تنتعش على الرغم من إستمرار الفساد وسوء الأحوال الإقتصادية لعامة الشعب</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"> طبعآ من الصعب جدآ إنهاءعقود من القمع و الرشوة و السرقة في أيام أو أشهر معدودة. </span><span style="font-size: large;">الصحف ووسائل الإعلام الغربية سمت الرئيس الجديد </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;">" الدكتور الهادئ Mild-mannered Doctor" </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"> وتحدّثت عن محاولات الإصلاح و تنحية جنود النظام القديم و تعيين وجوه جديدة لقيادة البلد نحو المستقبل. محطة</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">" <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diane_Sawyer" target="_blank">"Diane Sawyer" </a>في أمريكا و مذيعتها المعروفة " <a href="http://abc.go.com/" target="_blank">"ABC" </a></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;">عرضت برنامج على</span><span style="font-size: large;"> مدى ثلاثة أيام تحدثت فيه بإعجاب غير مصطنع بسوريا و رئيسها الشاب. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">كنت فخور جدأ لأقول لرفاقي الأمريكان أن هذه البلد التي تتحدث عنها مذيعتهم هي بلدي و مسقط رأسي</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">المذيعة نفسها التي أعدت البرنامج المذكور أعلاه أجرت تحقيقا آخر من فترة قصيرة قالت فيه "عندما قابلت الرئيس الأسد في ٢٠٠٧ كان الوقت مبكرآ للقول إذا كان الرئيس و أفكاره الجديدة ستتغلّب على جند النظام القديم و أساليبهم التقليدية، ولكن اليوم أغلب الناس يعتقدون أن الحرس القديم قد إنتصر</span>" <span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uQbg7i46W-M" target="_blank">شاهدها هنا</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">كنت أراها عندما تقرأ الأخبار عن سورية و تعرض صور القتلى و الدمار يطغى على وجها الحزن و العجب "أهذه هي البلد التي أعجبت بها؟ لماذا يسمح هاذا الإنسان المتواضع الدمث بما يحصل لشعبه؟" </span><span style="font-size: large;"> هاذا نفس السؤال الذي يسأله أغلبنا كل يوم ياسيدتي</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">هل هي ثورة كما يحب البعض أن يسميها؟ طبعآ لا. إذآ ماهي؟ إنّها ضجر و قرف و كبت يغلي في أعماقنا منذ أكثر من أربعين عامآ، شوق لممارسة أبسط الحقوق التي يمارسها غيرنا كل يوم. هل هناك بديل جاهز قادر؟ قطعآ لا. هل هناك معارضة مقتدرة محترمة؟ السخيفين لم يقدروا أن يعقدوا إجتماعآ واحدآ يتفقو فيه على كم موضوع، والجواب طبعآ لا. هل من مبرّر لإطلاق النار على أطفال و متظاهرين عزّل؟ هل هناك سبب منطقي لحجز الآلاف و موت بعضهم تحت العذاب؟ بعد حرب تشرين إنقلب حماة ديارنا على الشعب و قتلوا الآلاف ولم تطلق رصاصة واحدة على جندي إسرائيلي</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">أخيرآ أسأل نفس السؤال الذي سأله نزار قباني منذ سنين عديدة</span><br />
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ليس جديدا خوفنا</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">فالخوف كان دائما صديقنا</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">من يوم كنا نطفة</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">فى داخل الأرحام</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">***</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">هل النظام فى الأساس قاتل؟</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">أم نحن مسؤولون</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">عن صناعة النظام ؟</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">إعذوروني، أفكاري مبعثرة و قلبي على بلدي و أهل بلدي. بتمنّا تكون قيادتنا ماعندها علم بالقتل اليومي و التخريب لأن جريمة القتل لا يصفح عنها بمضي الأيام و السنين </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">لكن و أنتم أعلم بعض الأمنيات لا تتحقق آبدآ</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">ودمتُم</span></div></div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-55600505364325833202011-08-31T10:12:00.000-04:002011-08-31T10:12:34.056-04:00Newton's Third Law<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div align="center" closure_uid_tfdpqi="139"><div closure_uid_slr0o2="132"><div closure_uid_h0rjaa="123"><span closure_uid_slr0o2="134" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large;"><strong closure_uid_h0rjaa="128">For every action</strong></span><br />
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</div></div><div class="separator" closure_uid_slr0o2="202" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsCo7qX0TDf94tceBXWyDOCjXDqE-F_Wi2uRzNV2Bs9zQHYAAMExolGt0WZreDBzFl-XZnQwWmPgbXYRoaJ6UBMXv5dY-tdrcw1cxmGIyi1mFBSoTYy2HVATiS_EtdDURger7yCreGUyrs/s1600/ALI4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsCo7qX0TDf94tceBXWyDOCjXDqE-F_Wi2uRzNV2Bs9zQHYAAMExolGt0WZreDBzFl-XZnQwWmPgbXYRoaJ6UBMXv5dY-tdrcw1cxmGIyi1mFBSoTYy2HVATiS_EtdDURger7yCreGUyrs/s400/ALI4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div closure_uid_slr0o2="132"><br />
</div></div><div class="separator" closure_uid_tfdpqi="178" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYAX9_V-IYvcDGivSHz_QYbnepmPEV3nwJWy9TwlJIEFtk8yM6M_MLDAJjFuubljZ3q7-pwj_Ie7L5apWl6Ix8cHrRKBBeZvHZ3XLJpiqP2uSXuOEKaoX-aiYEtwly9kHoiB1YN0yTiM3j/s1600/ali1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYAX9_V-IYvcDGivSHz_QYbnepmPEV3nwJWy9TwlJIEFtk8yM6M_MLDAJjFuubljZ3q7-pwj_Ie7L5apWl6Ix8cHrRKBBeZvHZ3XLJpiqP2uSXuOEKaoX-aiYEtwly9kHoiB1YN0yTiM3j/s320/ali1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nvt77rQt3A7U1tWJws58gM0-7R8SK633FAX_7a7gCtWAdlj3fxn8yLPxMMBPOpmVEDyScrROwZyVUmti_D6hHSHqidFRyYikWhq2XF-gsYB7nKphWkH67ZGzwqSeCTE3vFv1OvyspwpT/s1600/ali2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nvt77rQt3A7U1tWJws58gM0-7R8SK633FAX_7a7gCtWAdlj3fxn8yLPxMMBPOpmVEDyScrROwZyVUmti_D6hHSHqidFRyYikWhq2XF-gsYB7nKphWkH67ZGzwqSeCTE3vFv1OvyspwpT/s400/ali2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large;">there is an equal and opposite reaction</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" closure_uid_tfdpqi="139"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpSollodH8SpbHqYdECwzrt0C9wjZdYw8ldExG_p3gap8MgQ9qW6BXngiQKrrRdJwiZLnTtOORs0xpjJ4uJ9IX8-_-FI7NLAMdQtwA-2DWuYoNgLSvaa22tLuxd21R94aa858GLGNkIZAo/s1600/ali3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpSollodH8SpbHqYdECwzrt0C9wjZdYw8ldExG_p3gap8MgQ9qW6BXngiQKrrRdJwiZLnTtOORs0xpjJ4uJ9IX8-_-FI7NLAMdQtwA-2DWuYoNgLSvaa22tLuxd21R94aa858GLGNkIZAo/s400/ali3.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div closure_uid_tfdpqi="139" style="text-align: right;"></div><div closure_uid_tfdpqi="139" style="text-align: right;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">مع الإعتذار لعلي فرزات والأسف الكثير للأصدقاء اللي سألوا عنّي. كل عام وأنتم و سوريّا و كل السوريّين بألف خير، والله يمضّي أزماتنا على خير</span></strong></div></div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-84388719245722138122011-08-16T16:20:00.006-04:002011-09-02T15:54:39.100-04:00إعترافات إرهابي<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div align="right"><div closure_uid_xtguz1="143"><div closure_uid_f08m5p="192"><strong closure_uid_f08m5p="194"><span style="font-size: large;">ياسيّدي<br />
<br />
لست أدري ما ملأني جنونآ<br />
<br />
وحقدآ وغضبا</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmLgq5TT4tVLl8pPTk-Nd9BHYXkEywQ9f-xixsaq5dUc4yYApM-D49_ZYZHitMa0IGYunzQgg3pSs1_MUbTClV2wKxMZBLsiIpsSys8H_AO6BDVvQ99dHCjf89K3MZDQh7ASylW3lId7s/s1600/revolution.jpg"><span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640944116087324786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmLgq5TT4tVLl8pPTk-Nd9BHYXkEywQ9f-xixsaq5dUc4yYApM-D49_ZYZHitMa0IGYunzQgg3pSs1_MUbTClV2wKxMZBLsiIpsSys8H_AO6BDVvQ99dHCjf89K3MZDQh7ASylW3lId7s/s200/revolution.jpg" style="float: left; height: 280px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 180px;" width="147" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
أخبروني أنّ الحريّة جنّةٌ<br />
<br />
وأنَّ الديمقراطيّة جنَّةٌ<br />
<br />
وأقرأوني كتبا<br />
<br />
قالوا أنَّ ماحدث في تونس حقيقة<br />
<br />
وفي مصر حقيقة<br />
<br />
أقنعوني بربيع عربيٍّ<br />
<br />
وأبكوني على حمص و حماة<br />
<br />
سبوّا حماة الديار<br />
<br />
وشبّيحة الّدمار<br />
<br />
و نظام العار<br />
<br />
و الإبن و الأبا<br />
<br />
<br />
عشرون عامآ ياسيدي وأنا<br />
<br />
أفعل ماتأمرون<br />
<br />
أقرأ ماتكتبون<br />
<br />
أرى ماتعرضون<br />
<br />
أسمع ماتذيعون<br />
<br />
أستنشق الهواء الذي تصنعون<br />
<br />
و ألعن كلّ من هب و دبّا</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-WaJnHPDbkvJS-dABFygUunLtufdZR2uN4PaIyZdzfmVe2DxZLKrSEGh2o7czzHiwkPDAD5Yv56_RXfMBOYneht-zthU7kGMqJPLa5g66DO1sQrqO3X10D3UppmOvrWEBcSNaU9XliMg/s1600/kids.jpg"><span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="115" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641281739513526322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-WaJnHPDbkvJS-dABFygUunLtufdZR2uN4PaIyZdzfmVe2DxZLKrSEGh2o7czzHiwkPDAD5Yv56_RXfMBOYneht-zthU7kGMqJPLa5g66DO1sQrqO3X10D3UppmOvrWEBcSNaU9XliMg/s200/kids.jpg" style="float: left; height: 218px; margin: 0px; width: 320px;" width="100" /></span></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">لعنت الرأسمالية<br />
<br />
و الملكية<br />
<br />
و الإقطاعية<br />
<br />
و العنصرية<br />
<br />
و الشرق والغربا<br />
<br />
<br />
ياسيّدي<br />
<br />
ذهبت إلى الصلاة<br />
<br />
كعادتي كل جمعة<br />
<br />
أدعوا الربّا<br />
<br />
طلبت الغفران لأمّي<br />
<br />
و أبي و عمّي<br />
<br />
و كل أمْتي<br />
<br />
و رجوت الرحمن أن ينصر العربا<br />
<br />
خرجت فجرّوني للأمام<br />
<br />
يريدون إسقاط االنظام<br />
<br />
وإباحة الكلام<br />
<br />
و الإنتقام<br />
<br />
لمن قتلوا في حمص<br />
<br />
و حماة<br />
<br />
والشام و درعا<br />
<br />
وسقبا<br />
<br />
لن أكذب ياسيّدي<br />
<br />
صِحت مَعَهم<br />
<br />
صفّقت مَعَهم<br />
<br />
طالبتُ مَعَهم<br />
<br />
شَعَرتُ مَعَهم<br />
<br />
لحظاتٌ أنستني القهر<br />
<br />
الذي دام حقَبا</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh70pastq7grJOdK2n_DtwzaRW5ALd_W5FywZ41FXvA_LQV-FQhoy_dUMJqBOhRM8ifnYqhqVUsouXzE7TVGl1y8OaMbRf7FTlZiVT3aX8YL64nx-6z9I7mvRzOQ0oq8Lhf2qtcer4KbQv/s1600/syr.jpg"><span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="إرهابي" border="0" height="134" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641161031538712642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh70pastq7grJOdK2n_DtwzaRW5ALd_W5FywZ41FXvA_LQV-FQhoy_dUMJqBOhRM8ifnYqhqVUsouXzE7TVGl1y8OaMbRf7FTlZiVT3aX8YL64nx-6z9I7mvRzOQ0oq8Lhf2qtcer4KbQv/s200/syr.jpg" style="float: left; height: 215px; margin: 0px; width: 280px;" width="170" /></span></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
يا سيدي<br />
<br />
إني لا أطلب العطفَ<br />
<br />
اليوم دفنت الخوفَ<br />
<br />
أنا إرهابيٌّ<br />
<br />
أنا إرهابيٌّ<br />
<br />
وغدآ أفضل قادم<br />
<br />
شاءَ نظامك أم أبا</span></strong></div></div></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-87770169933070590432010-05-09T17:08:00.007-04:002010-07-06T23:36:41.442-04:00يا حنونتي<div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">رجعت من البلد من فترة بعد زيارة قصيرة</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">تقبّلت التعازي بإمّي وزرت قبرها</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">كل يوم بالليل إقعد لوحدي وإبكي</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">كانت تصحا كل ماتسمع صوتي وتسألني إذا بدّي شي</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">حتّى وهيّ بعز المرض</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ليوم اللي سافرت كانت ماتنام الليل إذا كنت مرضان</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ماعد إسمع كلمة الله يرضى عليك</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ولا حدا بيفيق الصبح ويصلّي ويقرالي سورة الواقعة مشان الرزقة </span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ياترى عم بارثيكي ولّلا عم برثي حالي ياحنونتي</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ياترى المائكة اللي عيّنتهون لحمايتي لسّا شغّالين وللا أضربوا؟</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">كل يوم باتصل بالبيت، مافي جواب، لا حياة لمن تنادي</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">عم باستنّى معجزة ... بركي بترد عالتليفون وتصرخ من الفرح كلما كانت تسمع صوتي</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">حبّك وحنانك إمتد من الشام علي مدى الأرض والبحار لأمريكا</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">لمّا ودّعتك ودّعت حبي للحياة اللي بعرفها<br /></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ودّعت عيلتي وبلدي وأهلي و كل أحبابي</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">اللي كانو عايشين معي بحياتك واختفو لمّا رحلتي وتركتيني</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">بكرة بيجي سخيف بيقللي حاجتك... إنسا وعيش حياتك</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">بتأسّف إنو ماعرف متل حنانك وحبّك</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">بيتنا تسكّر وهجرته الحياة، حتّى الزرع الي زرعتيه مات</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">بس الغريب إنّي بسمعك عمتحاكيني كل يوم</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">كلمة الأرض والسما ترضى عليك بسمعها كل يوم </span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">إشتقتلّك ياإمي، قد ماكنت مشتاقتيلي بحياتك</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">بيبقى كلمة واحدة بدي قللك ياها</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">أنا آسف ياحنونتي</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">آسف على كل شي طلبتيه مني ومالبيتو</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">آسف على كسر خاطرك بتغرّبي</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ياحنونتي</span> </p>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-14595791921687675352010-04-14T08:33:00.006-04:002011-08-16T16:19:42.263-04:00MomShe was my guiding light... my knight in shining armor... my greatest inspiration...the greatest love I'll ever have. She brought me and my brother and sister up all alone after my dad passed away when we were still in our awkward years. She did it all with the minimal retirement salary of my dad, barely enough for one person and never asked anyone for anything. She taught me how to be strong and how to keep going when all the odds are stacked against you. She loved us endlessly without expecting anything in return. She always cried when I called her and told me how much she missed me. I called her two nights ago, and she could barely speak, I could barely hear her voice over the noise of her oxygen tank. She didn't want to hang up, but instead, she struggled to talk and hear my voice.<br />
Last night, she passed away.<br />
I'll be home soon to visit your grave. Please forgive me for not making it home sooner.<br />
I love you mom. Rest in Peace.<br />
<br />
<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwqq-m3VN_zT3SykFA5F6-2-pOXAylqE5UQisCOBqJDl20wrx8dz-AJNuZQAJeWWhyphenhyphen3seQXdxWHsDpftreOJSoutKltYKPdzaoDMXab8fYz5o3vStQrzPrfOLGSY0afdDvbTOJlN2DWd-/s1600/w.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459975007498267234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwqq-m3VN_zT3SykFA5F6-2-pOXAylqE5UQisCOBqJDl20wrx8dz-AJNuZQAJeWWhyphenhyphen3seQXdxWHsDpftreOJSoutKltYKPdzaoDMXab8fYz5o3vStQrzPrfOLGSY0afdDvbTOJlN2DWd-/s320/w.jpg" /></a></p>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-14877138503546509892010-03-27T15:10:00.002-04:002010-03-27T15:20:52.659-04:00The Longer I RunInspiration has escaped me with all my travel the last few weeks, but I wanted to share this beautiful song and its lyrics with everyone. I hope you enjoy.<br /><br />When my blood runs warm with the warm red wine,<br />I missed the life that I left behind.<br />And when I hear the sound of the black bird's cry,<br />I know I left in the nick of time.<br /><br />Well this road I'm on is gonna turn to sand,<br />and leave me lost in a far off land.<br />So let me ride the wind till I don't look back,<br />and forget the life that I almost had.<br /><br />If I wander till I die may I know whose hand I'm in.<br />If my home I'll never find<br />And let me live again.<br />The longer I run then the less that I find,<br />selling my soul for a nickel and dime,<br />breakin my heart to keep singing these rhymes,<br />losing again.<br /><br />Tell my brother please not to look for me,<br />I ain't the man that I used to be.<br />Cause if my savior comes could you let him know?<br />I've gone away forward to save my soul.<br /><br /><object width="400" height="265"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WLTbFaoZuVQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="false"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WLTbFaoZuVQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="265"></embed></object>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-26307632316523803472010-03-22T18:24:00.003-04:002010-03-22T18:37:46.133-04:00NomadI'm sorry if I've been away for too long. I'm back to my nomad life of travelling and living in a different hotel every week. I wish everyone the best till I'm back. Peace.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 287px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 302px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451590815098798290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizxFCIjidqVs5WGaLCYpDgZdtdYhyn1VvAXpdbZVueiGco2C3XLUQ8etILc2gQo02I1cWLhejAmLkab4WAmQ53svjKItlUfKfaT52QoDilTUywDwxv7HSKLVsJSil6sVaoSOeoge1oN0Vb/s320/case" />أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-30001528046477758642010-02-09T19:55:00.012-05:002010-02-10T09:38:55.851-05:00Too Much<div><div><div><p align="left">So we got hit with 3 feet of snow. Do you know what 3 feet mean? If a man's average height is less than 6 feet, then most of us will be submerged to our belly buttons or higher in that snow. Last few days, my feet are always cold, heart is barely ticking, and my car is slipping and sliding all over the road. I haven't seen the sidewalk in 4 days. Noone here dares to walk outside. Schools, government, Congress, airports, and some shops are still closed. I ventured out Saturday, the first day of the storm. Other than two other vehicles whose drivers were as crazy as I was, and a few snow plows, the streets were all clear. Layers upon layers of that thick white powder covered everything, streets, sidewalks, cars, houses, trees. All colors blened into black or white. It was like the earth was hit with a snow nuclear bomb, and only a few of us survived. Three or more lane highways and roads turned into a one lane alley narrower than the alleys of old Damascus. As if this all wasn't enough, it started snowing again tonight. We're expecting another foot of snow. </p><p align="left">Last month I wrote a piece about snow and how wonderful and fun it can be. Here I am again getting tired of it. My theory always was that cold weather is easier to go through than hot simmering weather. You can always bundle up and dress warm for the cold weather. The heat can be unbearable when you have to venture out no matter how light you're dressed. This definitely is a different kind of cold. Blustery cold winds, freezing moisture, and confinement are ingredients of a lowsy atmosphere. Simply put, too much of a good thing, way too much. </p><p align="left">I took some pictures while driving today. Enjoy.</p><p align="left"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IEydNTbDI/AAAAAAAAAp4/dUvNRyROiLM/s1600-h/4"><img style="WIDTH: 207px; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436412965070007346" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IEydNTbDI/AAAAAAAAAp4/dUvNRyROiLM/s200/4" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IFvk8Rn-I/AAAAAAAAAqY/dxcgty3bgCk/s1600-h/6"><img style="WIDTH: 210px; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436414015118090210" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IFvk8Rn-I/AAAAAAAAAqY/dxcgty3bgCk/s200/6" /></a></p><p align="right"></p><p align="right"></p><br /><p align="left"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IFIJ4S3fI/AAAAAAAAAqI/p5sR0RHZO34/s1600-h/7"><img style="WIDTH: 206px; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436413337838738930" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IFIJ4S3fI/AAAAAAAAAqI/p5sR0RHZO34/s200/7" /></a> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IFHzC3lrI/AAAAAAAAAqA/ZjNQk5nx3rY/s1600-h/5"><img style="WIDTH: 210px; HEIGHT: 236px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436413331709073074" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IFHzC3lrI/AAAAAAAAAqA/ZjNQk5nx3rY/s200/5" /></a></p><br /><p align="left"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IEyAjtY6I/AAAAAAAAApw/sUxZMddfwsw/s1600-h/3"><img style="WIDTH: 209px; HEIGHT: 243px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436412957379355554" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IEyAjtY6I/AAAAAAAAApw/sUxZMddfwsw/s200/3" /></a> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IExkvU-1I/AAAAAAAAApg/-IqWwIOXqhc/s1600-h/1"><img style="WIDTH: 209px; HEIGHT: 243px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436412949911894866" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3IExkvU-1I/AAAAAAAAApg/-IqWwIOXqhc/s200/1" /></a></p><p align="left">I went out again this morning after the second storm hit us and took the pictures below.</p><p align="left"> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3LCvFCereI/AAAAAAAAAqg/ERVSdyNHWjQ/s1600-h/8"><img style="WIDTH: 209px; HEIGHT: 248px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436621814251826658" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3LCvFCereI/AAAAAAAAAqg/ERVSdyNHWjQ/s200/8" /></a> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3LCvvoS4SI/AAAAAAAAAqo/voj8bg0vuTs/s1600-h/9"><img style="WIDTH: 206px; HEIGHT: 247px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436621825684726050" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3LCvvoS4SI/AAAAAAAAAqo/voj8bg0vuTs/s200/9" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3LCwaUWS2I/AAAAAAAAAqw/7XvfULdvWPo/s1600-h/10"><img style="WIDTH: 210px; HEIGHT: 245px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436621837143788386" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3LCwaUWS2I/AAAAAAAAAqw/7XvfULdvWPo/s200/10" /></a> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3LCw46r1II/AAAAAAAAAq4/ONyqYYd1DC0/s1600-h/11"><img style="WIDTH: 204px; HEIGHT: 244px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436621845357646978" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/S3LCw46r1II/AAAAAAAAAq4/ONyqYYd1DC0/s200/11" /></a></p></div></div></div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-37466017559732401232010-02-03T17:43:00.012-05:002010-02-07T19:53:20.913-05:00Fear<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6cAs1ctI9HXjpiyj9SJeOQbXo4wt2V1FmpPutPaPKP4zXRt6rjgzAmc1DBMbpfTCgi8DoGtaJ1b1iQwMe0-VZvBe8CMwp5AuOoR4XlY0Xsicdzsu4KNsqie4W3auShRzEG4zf6Lvbn0p3/s1600-h/fear.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 238px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 245px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435366224421968402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6cAs1ctI9HXjpiyj9SJeOQbXo4wt2V1FmpPutPaPKP4zXRt6rjgzAmc1DBMbpfTCgi8DoGtaJ1b1iQwMe0-VZvBe8CMwp5AuOoR4XlY0Xsicdzsu4KNsqie4W3auShRzEG4zf6Lvbn0p3/s320/fear.jpg" /></a><br /><p align="justify">I came home two nights ago to an empty fridge. Haven't gone grocery shopping in a while, I decided to head to the supermarket to get my meat, cheese, milk, fruits, and favorite <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ciabatta" target="_new">Ciabatta bread</a>. It took me a while to find a place to park as the place was packed with customers. It seemed odd as it's usually not that busy after 7 at night. I finally walked in to find the shelves almost empty. It looked like this nation was going to war the next day, and everyone is stocking up on food for weeks to come. I picked up some stuff and headed to the check out counter. While waiting in line I overheard customers talking about the upcoming snow storm we were supposed to get. Three feet of snow ( About 1 meter) are supposed to hit us Friday and Saturday. Ahhh, that explains it all. I haven't had a chance to watch any news last week, so I was glad I decided to stock up. Here I am, stuck in the house for 24 hours without being able to even move my car out of the garage. Looking outside my window, it seems that I'm stuck for at least two more days here. I decided to start writing and bore you with some thoughts.</p><p align="justify">Ask any macho man out there what he fears, and the answer would most likely be "nothing". If that person was religious, God will be his only exception. Most of us feel like they fear nothing and we cruise through life with that belief. Alas, fear controls our lives in more ways than we could ever imagine. Fear controls our world and our mindsets as humans. It is built into our brains. We live our lives fighting our fears. I, like many others, feared not making it in my homeland, so I decided to migrate to the U.S. The fear of running out of food drove out the masses to the supermarket before the storm. Wars, natural distasters, bad economies, and uncertainties drive prices up and cause all kinds of choas in our markets.</p><p align="justify">Any economist out there will tell you that fear is the biggest factor in world economy. Fear of war in the Arabic gulf or Iran would drive the price of oil way up, even though it may never happen. The price of gold has recently gone up because people and investors are uncertain about the stock markets, currencies, and realestate. Gold seemed the most guaranteed commodity to keep its value. Fear of this, fear of that, fear of unemployment, fear of death, fear of clowns.... and so forth. Life still goes on.</p><p align="justify">Franklin Roosevelt once said <em>"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself"</em> How true? Fear can be healthy and can lead us to making the right decisions often, but controlling our fears is the key to living a happy life. <em>" The key to change, is to let go of fear"</em> Can we? We sure can let go of some fear, the bad and unreasonable kind, we sure can't let go of it all. Fear is here to stay, and our job is to control it and use it to our advantage. </p>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-38842908298263712962010-01-13T15:16:00.005-05:002010-01-16T00:12:48.909-05:00Change<em>"Change is Good"</em> or is it now?<br />Most people never think of how different they've become over the years. We grow, and change, and our needs and wants change too. Our dreams and wishes take completely different paths from their starting routes. Looking back at my earlier days and what I wanted in life, I'm amazed at how different I've become, and how my dreams have turned around to the oppsoite direction. I have achieved most of my earlier dreams and wishes, and now I'm running back to where I started. Whoever said <em>"Be careful what you wish for, it might come true"</em> must've been through the same stage I'm going through in my life now.<br /><br />Back in my teens and twenties, I used to think I was the skinniest person alive. I used to eat like a horse and never gain a pound. I used to pray to gain a few pounds, but to no avail. Now, I want to lose ten pounds and get back that flat stomach I used to have for a long time. It took me a few weeks to lose 5 of those pounds, and I'm still working on the rest.<br /><br />Before I started my twenties, my greatest dream was coming to America. The idea used to consume my day and night dreams alike. My dream came to life when I got my visa. When I left the embassy that morning, I felt like I was seeing the world with a new set of eyes. I was on a plane for the first time a month later. Two decades have passed since that day, and my dream has turned around to coming back to where I started. We humans are funny creatures. We keep going around in circles. Our lives can only be understood going backwords, but we can only live it going forward.<br /><br />I watch movies every now and then. I love a good movie with a touching story. The other day I watched <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0421715/" target="_new">The Curious Case of Benjamin Button</a>. After travelling and being away for a while, Benjamin comes back home. He says: <em>"It's a funny thing about coming home... Looks the same, smells the same, feels the same.....You'll realize what's changed is you"</em> . That could be mostly true. Things that seemed normal when I lived at home now seem odd. Simple behaviours such as driving, crossing a street, or smoking inside a public building never bothered me when I lived there. Now, they are constant reminders of how lagging behind we still are as a nation. Oddly, in the last couple of years, I feel our society and morality have taken many steps backwards. I'm an avid reader of Syrian news websites. Lately, I've been reading about crimes that were unheard of before. A brother killing his sister with the encouragement of the mother, a group of 4 young men taking turns raping a 10 year old child, bastards selling meat and food that's not fit for animal consumption to the public, so many murders and theft stories that compete with the level of ugliness known to crimes in the western world. Are we just aware of those crimes now because of the explosion of the internet use? I doubt it.<br /><br /><br />Change is good if it mostly means going forward. Positive change is what everyone looks for. I long for the day that I see us picking up good habits and using them to further ourseleves and society. It always seems we are evolving backwards in changing for the worst without gaining any grounds in technology, science, morals....etc. I hope we wake up and tackle imporant issues that plagued us like pollution, lack of good planning, and securing a better future for our children. At the rate we're going now, they are standing to inherit a hell of a mess that will keep us from going forward for decades.<br /><br /><br />I hope.<br /><em></em><br /><em>" The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams"</em> Franklin D Rooseveltأنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-33550573314868193122010-01-10T17:20:00.011-05:002010-01-10T18:13:39.923-05:00A Picture is worth a thousand words<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcfcp1bEysVOursYROTqQzQgAr3r1JY_brRrbwDQuonphiwx-sfGKAPQqOSIYgyB9E3udul55YzxCkoGAc40t2DrfpN9PFnPJABxxi5E9cvT8TgROm4g-dhQprWPe9OBBYDf7JrQDWqFE/s1600-h/light%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 176px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425243685523632018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcfcp1bEysVOursYROTqQzQgAr3r1JY_brRrbwDQuonphiwx-sfGKAPQqOSIYgyB9E3udul55YzxCkoGAc40t2DrfpN9PFnPJABxxi5E9cvT8TgROm4g-dhQprWPe9OBBYDf7JrQDWqFE/s320/light%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></p><br /><p align="center">Tight space</p><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1knouwrSaLGsW9gxMXcV-Du2w_Cz0FT6pdAtMjZZ4SLuo32YXFKZ-cCpbY9o5Re9iS2XpOofqCnBX2Z01spa8adg2WrpMppthntow6s2MtgJzKcVzwK1DyiFTbTBjKNmDI6AzCoXbBvux/s1600-h/MacDoinSyria.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 194px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425244595421243714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1knouwrSaLGsW9gxMXcV-Du2w_Cz0FT6pdAtMjZZ4SLuo32YXFKZ-cCpbY9o5Re9iS2XpOofqCnBX2Z01spa8adg2WrpMppthntow6s2MtgJzKcVzwK1DyiFTbTBjKNmDI6AzCoXbBvux/s320/MacDoinSyria.jpg" /></a></p><br /><div align="center">MaDonal? Must be a new company. I've seen those golden arches somewhere before though</div><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4YATqunQfGaNFdBEagOCv4EHwIvIsCta2wiNddzgrj7LP8Fsgkn-rES5XOUGoIKB4LD8okaDML9RIYz0bWfOCIwqLMmExFmG8bKVUUxyBrz6OShHjObxpsHsAZ2rxPoOsvO4Cs6uRG6XK/s1600-h/SYRIA2.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425245034735080290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4YATqunQfGaNFdBEagOCv4EHwIvIsCta2wiNddzgrj7LP8Fsgkn-rES5XOUGoIKB4LD8okaDML9RIYz0bWfOCIwqLMmExFmG8bKVUUxyBrz6OShHjObxpsHsAZ2rxPoOsvO4Cs6uRG6XK/s320/SYRIA2.jpg" /></a></p><br /><div align="center">No comment</div><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8lgSmTjAgtfp3WqIW4yVKsjPzs1xyj8oaDGS78mzJNS0A62YN58d1ksuqYYPfT915Dma9NN5TKkfHXTYsAEwkuMAgrEL0pPq53lIVc6p8iUwUKJuz6V9TX8pYp91YOErn3XdJPWzZJ6LL/s1600-h/SYRIA4.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425245837478390802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8lgSmTjAgtfp3WqIW4yVKsjPzs1xyj8oaDGS78mzJNS0A62YN58d1ksuqYYPfT915Dma9NN5TKkfHXTYsAEwkuMAgrEL0pPq53lIVc6p8iUwUKJuz6V9TX8pYp91YOErn3XdJPWzZJ6LL/s320/SYRIA4.jpg" /></a></p><br /><p align="center">Taking showers in his case is redundant </p><br /><p align="center">I wonder how many non-arabic speaking patients he has</p><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz71HShSkqfCXhkINOSJwcDpIDmq_1gs_HaxRRb-qRFEj38Ce6SRvcNrjmH00ChEZTE_alwWIIsY5o5gHaf4LS76H9EIfWnHsGuktfwlrEKjHsBImfoR2yl1_ayA__BnUIMICrsZmMPu2f/s1600-h/SyrianCheckPoint.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425246547092949906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz71HShSkqfCXhkINOSJwcDpIDmq_1gs_HaxRRb-qRFEj38Ce6SRvcNrjmH00ChEZTE_alwWIIsY5o5gHaf4LS76H9EIfWnHsGuktfwlrEKjHsBImfoR2yl1_ayA__BnUIMICrsZmMPu2f/s320/SyrianCheckPoint.jpg" /></a></p><br /><p align="center">Chicks stop here? No wonder they're smiling</p><br /><p align="center"></p><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIrw7-Y298J_fUEH8kzqTLs9iqjkXiiTsuS2u0gpaKq9UE_P8haOZHSIr6uVsh6hqzr_-KUkVkpXGqplEXDx5pLZwBHQs5wbQsCVCny9S2owk7AuJ3MKx1tMoWcxUPW2xtuLazZDXX3Xg/s1600-h/syrianhomis.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425247051891139266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIrw7-Y298J_fUEH8kzqTLs9iqjkXiiTsuS2u0gpaKq9UE_P8haOZHSIr6uVsh6hqzr_-KUkVkpXGqplEXDx5pLZwBHQs5wbQsCVCny9S2owk7AuJ3MKx1tMoWcxUPW2xtuLazZDXX3Xg/s320/syrianhomis.jpg" /></a></p><br /><div align="center">Hmmmm, just wondering what language that was<br /></div><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDb3br5xStCToiYoAJXvgcRWPINKQEbOC7fUOdPiaCNx2-vBqjeZ2xeI9gloAx2BnzYSGO39WeMahJGZWsdoHvVvFbTwGhY-JL3low3xxPxMUE_hCbVeTANvT7ehtM6tiQqz3hBIeTp3e/s1600-h/SyrianPrestige.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425247834779666098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDb3br5xStCToiYoAJXvgcRWPINKQEbOC7fUOdPiaCNx2-vBqjeZ2xeI9gloAx2BnzYSGO39WeMahJGZWsdoHvVvFbTwGhY-JL3low3xxPxMUE_hCbVeTANvT7ehtM6tiQqz3hBIeTp3e/s320/SyrianPrestige.jpg" /></a></p><br /><p align="center">It's " BrsteeG for BARTYS & WEDEING" </p><br /><p align="center">What a prestigious name</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMg5m2_1J6AkXvjdcCekIhNc1XXrPfTcUL-SerTovB1Yuo-E1fDeAJzJb-M3D135EuSOIpVsTbSpELjoKlSMp6_HTBEHDPI12yoP-gccPDdTKY8Qeax27uaVCW98jrIsSyknl7oR5f1Yg/s1600-h/vist.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 201px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425249021526783986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMg5m2_1J6AkXvjdcCekIhNc1XXrPfTcUL-SerTovB1Yuo-E1fDeAJzJb-M3D135EuSOIpVsTbSpELjoKlSMp6_HTBEHDPI12yoP-gccPDdTKY8Qeax27uaVCW98jrIsSyknl7oR5f1Yg/s320/vist.jpg" /></a></p><p align="center">24 Hour instant coffee?</p><p align="justify"> </p>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-45936545506446984272009-12-09T21:57:00.007-05:002009-12-24T21:48:50.250-05:00Remembering you<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ27xlO1UPxK9Aje1J9lIwK10QjQb-P3X_Wgby16Ia4fUhH3AufRAC7GGNzDAl49KUVnFCvfPHGav_6Ldg9DT2hc3NqEGxqOVe9xctxpVnrXjORwz6YGHOC1o-plZcpJLaYXW-lco_3fQY/s1600-h/love.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 174px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 257px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413436829184480322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ27xlO1UPxK9Aje1J9lIwK10QjQb-P3X_Wgby16Ia4fUhH3AufRAC7GGNzDAl49KUVnFCvfPHGav_6Ldg9DT2hc3NqEGxqOVe9xctxpVnrXjORwz6YGHOC1o-plZcpJLaYXW-lco_3fQY/s320/love.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/SyBgM1xFzEI/AAAAAAAAAnM/7-G-qw7otBo/s1600-h/love.jpg"></a>On a cool mid summer night</div><div>under the moonless skies</div><div>I sit outside and wonder </div><div>If you were ever my prize </div><br /><div></div><div>You used to be my endless joy </div><div>I loved you in every fashion </div><div>your embrace was heaven to this boy </div><div>you were his only passion </div><div></div><br /><div>We shed many skins and layers </div><div>We shared fights and prayers </div><div>We lived and loved, we kissed </div><div>Our beautiful times together, I dearly missed </div><br /><div></div><div>Times changed, but my love never did </div><div>I stood by you in every bid </div><div>You had me wrapped around your finger </div><div>Good or bad, I'd still linger </div><div></div><br /><div>Your face still shines in my dreams </div><div>many years passed, many states apart </div><div>Your memory is one that never leaves </div><div>your sweet love will forever fill my heart </div><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-size:78%;">*To El, wherever you are</span> </div><div></div><br /><object width="300" height="225"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qz9fpQrlrAY&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="false"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qz9fpQrlrAY&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="false" width="300" height="225"></embed></object>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-86138528258642373252009-12-06T00:26:00.014-05:002009-12-07T23:57:29.358-05:00Let it Snow<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEpKRdUG6MVWEBXbYmSa1gKFjLY5hOjOFVURur5DGaI2_KZYYbRVm-42rlGiJQoiEQ7FRBAMLDXcBeAxvwY1mnKmc9o-nq6-HvArGnlbGuEmnHg_doILgAgs0hqsWTBssC3T2-cmiVV0IO/s1600-h/snow.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412717647087365058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEpKRdUG6MVWEBXbYmSa1gKFjLY5hOjOFVURur5DGaI2_KZYYbRVm-42rlGiJQoiEQ7FRBAMLDXcBeAxvwY1mnKmc9o-nq6-HvArGnlbGuEmnHg_doILgAgs0hqsWTBssC3T2-cmiVV0IO/s320/snow.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div>Six weeks after settling down in Maryland, the Wahington DC metro area, I saw my first snow storm in 6 years. Since childhood, this white fluffy substance had the most wonderful effect on me. Everything looks so peaceful and toned while covered with layers of snow. Except for the noise of some cars spalshing melted snow to the side of the road, it seemed someone hit the mute button on all the other sounds and chose to redraw the world as we know it in plain white. Such a picturesque scene sends quiet waves of calmness over most people. Everything starts to move slowly, and we seem to forget the never ending rush we're always in.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ9eNqR1MbzX7kbI_pcFf-bASwxo0IPUUFeJ6gDRTTpsMbKv7JdB4Wzgtj5RCkO6naQ311BKL_lru7xmOBTr5pHoniEyEOI3Ggub9sWXDBHmfMlvoOg9Yur9UGArUqfOXa3jfHcO-71UL6/s1600-h/snow1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 244px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412717455064473506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ9eNqR1MbzX7kbI_pcFf-bASwxo0IPUUFeJ6gDRTTpsMbKv7JdB4Wzgtj5RCkO6naQ311BKL_lru7xmOBTr5pHoniEyEOI3Ggub9sWXDBHmfMlvoOg9Yur9UGArUqfOXa3jfHcO-71UL6/s320/snow1.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><div>It used to snow in Damascus at least once or twice a year when I was a kid. The happiest days were the ones I woke up with snow blanketing the streets outside. Deressed heavily and ready for battle, we used to go outside and play with the snow. Those white tender balls flowing out of our hands onto each other and unsuspecting passers. Such innocent joy came upon us when one of our balls hit an intended target and we instantly see the sometimes angry, other times pleasantly surprised expressions of our victims. Heavy snow days meant an instant day off from school and all other activities. They meant play and pleasure all day long.</div><br /><div></div><div>Following my teens, I moved to Boston. Although snow was and still is plentiful there, it always brought me back to those happy days as a kid. An american girl I used to date got me into the art of snow man making, and donuts. Making donuts refers to driving a car fast in circles during a snow storm in the parking lot of a mall or a big shopping centers, and leaving marks all over that look like donuts. We just looked for empty parking lots, hit the gas, turned the wheel all the way, and skid around in circles. I even tried skiing a few times in the mountains of New Hampshire. Mountain skiing is the ultimate sport. If you think you're going to just slide and skid on the snow without any effort, you're in for a shock. Skiing takes alot of effort and athletic ability, and it drains your energy quicker than any sport. It's pure fun.</div><br /><div></div><div>Living in the south for the past six years, I rarely saw any traces of snow. Maybe less than an inch once. Despite the fact I'm not a kid, neither a teenager anymore, I still get that childish, innocent, and fun feeling everytime the snow man drops by for a visit. </div></div></div></div><br /><object width="340" height="285"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mN7LW0Y00kE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="false"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mN7LW0Y00kE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="false" width="340" height="285"></embed></object>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-41283119089188291932009-11-28T23:51:00.007-05:002009-12-03T23:16:16.228-05:00مسبّات<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGKlIH3ngVh_SKGUAJZAAvavOl2FPvoutM9W3kJUPbBQEjfo7TRD03h-YzTxIveLOlfcyASEVTJmdz9BP3qj_SESDqOu1BYhWLMirk1EY11hu9DGQcdnWCzV-gOFrS0OEYeSi-i9JwBVQ/s1600/taxi.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 231px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 174px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409385761430761682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGKlIH3ngVh_SKGUAJZAAvavOl2FPvoutM9W3kJUPbBQEjfo7TRD03h-YzTxIveLOlfcyASEVTJmdz9BP3qj_SESDqOu1BYhWLMirk1EY11hu9DGQcdnWCzV-gOFrS0OEYeSi-i9JwBVQ/s320/taxi.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">أشّرت للتاكسي بإيدي، شحط فرام، سيارتين وراه لح يفوتو فيه<br />أكلنا أول مسبتين<br />إستأجرت سيارة بالبلد بس ماكنت إستعملها كتير لسببين: خايف يروح محل الصفة قدّام بيتنا،<br />وبعرف مالح لاقي محل صف مطرح مو رايح<br />على سوق الهال لو سمحت<br />زورني وبدا يسوق.... أكيد أكلت مسبة تالتة<br />مبيّن عليه مهزوز بدنو<br />شباك أخي، شايفك متدايق، الله يعينك، السواقة ببلدنا مو سهلة<br />بدا يشكيلي همّو<br />طلع معي قبلك واحد مغترب معفّن....طلع عدّادو ٣٠ ليرة<br />ناولني خمسين قلتللو والله ما معي كمالة<br />قام مارضي يترك لحتّا لقيت حدا يصرفلي الخمسين<br />أخدها ومشي وهو عم يتزوّرني<br />البغل مغترب ساكن بأمريكا<br />يعني عشرين ليرة ما بيطلعو نص دولار لهل أنجاس الأميركان<br />والله نسيت العد، كم مسبة صارو؟<br />بسيطة أخي، طوّل بالك، هدول بيصير طبعون متل أهل البلد اللي سكنو فيها، بتكترمصاريهون وبيزيد بخلهون<br />العما... فوق كل هالمسبّات زدتهون مسبّة ذاتية<br />وصلنا... طلع العدّاد ٢٦ ليرة... مدّييت إيدي على جيبتي...العما، فاضية... نسيان جزداني بالبيت<br />ولي.. لح يلحق كلهالمسبّات قتلة كمان ...مدّييت إيدي على جيبتي التانية...نسيان فيها دولارات... كم ميّة وعشرين وقطعة واحدة تبع الخمس دولارات<br />مسكت ورقة خمس دولارات... ناولتو ياها وإيدي عم ترجف.. خايف من مسبات بالجملة<br />مشان الله لا تواخذني أخي... نسيان جزداني بالبيت... ما صرلي يومين بالبلد ومعي هدول... بيطلعو شي ٢٥٠ ليرة. مسامح بالباقي... أصابيعك مو متل بعضها يا إبن الحلال<br />إنت مغترب بهديك البلاد كمان؟ لك ولي على هاليوم، وين بدّي إصرفها هي؟<br />أي بنك بيصرفلك ياها<br />أنو بنك وأنو صخام؟ شوأنا فاضي وقّف على بنك؟ وين بدّي صف السيارة؟<br />يللا سيدي بيعينك الله على غلاظتنا..سامحنا..فتحت الباب وبس بدّي إمشي<br />ولله كلامي مظبوط على هالأميركان المعفنين... تضربو تضربو شو مقرفين<br />فتحت باب التكسي وطلعت... بنفس اللحظة في بنت مارقة... إجا الباب بطريقها<br />العما بقلبك... مو شايف قدّامك؟<br />لا تآخذيه إختي... هادا مغترب معفّن... طعجت باب التكسي الله لايوفقك<br />لك أخ منكون يا ولاد بلدي... حتّى ببلدي ساويتوني غريب؟</span> </div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-27603351086551766552009-11-22T19:13:00.014-05:002009-11-26T11:39:48.717-05:00On Pain, the internet, and other things<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxrpemZRWcAQFMDlc5Z2aExIMapLdfaI7U29qK08ZhwPjMdxvkWeDDkorxohwBluyvgArO3TexdvmW2Y2EPKkPu9TmHIIu-BFUcjzdScaeR-mhCbFBqSl0ECAZ2zF6sRv5Mt41meu3_Qt1/s1600/pain-2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407131501373846626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 251px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxrpemZRWcAQFMDlc5Z2aExIMapLdfaI7U29qK08ZhwPjMdxvkWeDDkorxohwBluyvgArO3TexdvmW2Y2EPKkPu9TmHIIu-BFUcjzdScaeR-mhCbFBqSl0ECAZ2zF6sRv5Mt41meu3_Qt1/s320/pain-2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Pain....that four letter word that makes most of us grin. That awful sensation in one or more of our body parts that makes us lose sleep and renders us unable to perform some simple daily functions we are used to take for granted. We, humans that is, are arrogant creatures. When we are healthy, feeling no pain or illness, we think we are invincible, untouchable, and indestructable. Pain hits, as simple as a toothache, and we succumb and get tossed out of the invisible fortresses we thought we lived in. Pain is the most humbling experience a human can go through. It serves as a reminder of how vulnerable we are. It hits humans indiscriminately with no regard to age, wealth, gender, race, or any other artificial status we created for ourselves.<br /><br />I've been mostly pain free most of my life. With the exception of the usual headaches, muscle aches, toothaches, and maybe some stomach discomforts, I haven't suffered much at all. Towards the end of my long vacation back home, I felt a little bit of pain in my right arm. After I came back, the pain got worse. Sharp shooting pain that runs from my shoulder all the way to my finger tips. It got so bad that I wouldn't sleep for more than two hours at night, and I couldn't move my right arm without feeling that stabbing sensation. For weeks on weeks, I endured the pain hoping it will go away on its own. I'm the kind of person that hates waiting in doctors' offices and hospitals, and even before I decide to visit one, I try to diagnose any illness on my own, through the internet. I found out that the most likely cause for my pain would be a <a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/pinched-nerve/DS00879" target="'_">pinched nerve</a>. One of the bones in my neck is pressuring the nerve that runs to my right arm and causing all that pain. It gets worse when I try to go to sleep as the mind has nothing to do except for dealing with that pain. I tried cold and hot patches, ointments and pain relievers, but they all failed. Finally, I gathered the courage to walk to a clinic. After a long wait, I was let in. The nurse had me fill out a medical history form, and asked me a million questions about my bad habits. They put me in a small room to wait for the doctor. An attractive middle aged lady finally walked in and started talking to me about my illness. I told her what I was experiencing and added what I thought I had, my own diagnosis that is. She sent me in for X-rays, and an hour later the results came back. The same diagnosis I predicted was thrown at me. Okay, now please give me a solution. Oh, I'm going to perscribe some muscle relaxer and pain medication, but there's nothing else we can do for you. You have to go to a physical therapy clinic or wear a neck brace. It's not a chronic or a dangerous illness, and it usually ends up going away on it's own with rest and therapy. I was also told to take some time off, stay away from spending too much time henched at my computer or laptop. What? Most of my work is done online....Most of my personal life is handled online.... I buy most of my stuff online.... I meet people online.... I blog.... I stay in touch with my family and friends online..... I can't watch باب الحارة or الحصرم الشامي online anymore? Nope, I had to cut all that crap out and start acting like a cave man, yeah, like that primitive me that lived before I bought my first PC in 1995. I had to stop blogging for now. I had to drive to a store before I checked out what they had online, and I had to use the phone to call my friends and family instead of writing emails. My digital life was over untill I took care of my pain.<br /><br />Ahhh, why do we have to feel pain? Why do we need that rude awakening? Why can't we have a life without pain? Well, some people do, and they rarely live past the age of 25. They are people with what doctors call <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Congenital_insensitivity_to_pain" target="_new">Congenital Insensitivity to Pain</a>, or CIP in short. Kids who are born with this disorder do not feel any physical pain. They end up with rotting teeth, broken skulls, and untreated infections without being alerted by that pain. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I am thankful for that pain that told me I need to take care of myself although I want it gone. I am thankful for those of you who missed me, and even those who did not. I am thankful to experience how beautiful it is to hear a relative or a good friend over the phone and have a normal conversation. </div><br /><div>It feels good to find out there still is a life out there without computers and the internet, but I still want to get better and enjoy my life the way I choose to. </div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-16291676487074789172009-09-18T16:27:00.006-04:002009-09-19T23:29:32.010-04:00عيد<div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">عيد بأية حـال عـدت يـا عيـد</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">بما مضى أم لأمـر فيـك تجديـد</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">أمـا الأحبـة فالبيـداء دونـهـم</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">فليـت دونـك بيـداً دونهـا بيـد</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">لم يترك الدهر من قلبي ولا كبـدي</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">شيئـاً تتيمـه عيـن ولا جـيـد</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ماذا لقيت مـن الدنيـا وأعجبـه</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">أني بما أنا شـاك منـه محسـود</span></div><br /><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">مع الإعتذار للمتنبي</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">وكل عام وإنتو بألف خير</span> </div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-90708454332070986382009-09-17T23:28:00.002-04:002009-09-17T23:30:45.023-04:00Blogging week against taking Ramadan off إسبوع التدوين ضد وقف الشغل خلال شهر رمضانThe author of this post took the whole month of Ramadan off.<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">معطّل.... الدنية رمضان... كل العالم بالبلد بتبطّل تشتغل... كمان بدكون ياني إكتب؟</span></strong>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-27239809602110310932009-09-13T16:21:00.018-04:002009-09-17T00:11:17.538-04:00On being a Moderate ConservativeWell.... that's who I am. Although this post might seem like I owe someone an explanation, I sure don't. I wanted to do it for myself. I wanted to define who I am for my own sanity, morals, and believes. I will not mention any particular bloggs or bloggers. Living in Syria for the first half of my life made me a conservative, and spending the second half in the USA added the moderate tag to it. I do believe and practice my religion, not as good as I should, but my believes are firm. God knows, I had my shares of mistakes and sins. When you live in a foreign country for more than 20 years, you can't help sometimes but try to adjust and avoid being left alone or left out. This is in now way a justification for my mistakes. It's just an acknowledgement that I had my fair share of many. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAQE_ZR5GmOgeOK_DEFgvLNy12QCowt7e7wLNqzyPN2nGmasjIZxHsu7Xx1D8PFpyvYfK_Thp7FP1X_oOQ8wUioEFiF_Z-k__qkekSUUv-De4zAoUKr8bgxrrrVQu52jzvafGJLiLnoWr/s1600-h/peace.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382268782221574114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAQE_ZR5GmOgeOK_DEFgvLNy12QCowt7e7wLNqzyPN2nGmasjIZxHsu7Xx1D8PFpyvYfK_Thp7FP1X_oOQ8wUioEFiF_Z-k__qkekSUUv-De4zAoUKr8bgxrrrVQu52jzvafGJLiLnoWr/s320/peace.jpg" /></a><br /><br />It's only logical for one to believe there's a higher power that controls everything. I look at the universe and how it's setup, and I'm constantly amazed at the perfection of our creator. How can anyone believe that this whole system started on it's own? The perfection of our bodies and minds, the perfection of our beautiful planet, and the amazingly vast skies and distant planets are enough clues. Walk to any beach, and stare far away at the endless sea, and think for a minute that despite all our technological advances we still haven't even discovered 1% of what goes on in the deep bottom of the oceans.<br /><br />Where is the moderate part then? That part comes in play in accepting the fact that others think differently, dealing with those people in a normal and civilized way, and having a constructive relationship with them. Tolerance and acceptance are the keywords. God created us equal, and yet we all differ in many ways. I do accept the fact that many people have different religions and believes than mine. I respect all religions that make sense, specially the major three, Islam, Christianity, and Judism. These three main religions should always co-exist in peace and harmony. Unfortunately, this is never the case nowadays. Extremists from those three religions make life much more difficult for the majority of us, and they are destroying our world as we know it. Think of the world before September of 2001, and see how different it is now. Follow what goes on in the occupied palestinian land and how the palestinian children grow up looking at tanks destroying their houses, and machine guns killing their families, and imagine how they'll grow up and what mentality they'll have. All these acts are comitted against them by the only state ever founded on the basis of a religion. Acceptance also means respect. I think these religions should respect each other, specially the holidays and sacred days. When I was a kid I used to tag along with my father to his work sometimes. He had a Christian friend who worked in the same office. During Ramadan, that friend never ate or smoked in front of his muslim coworkers. This is the respect we need to give and expect. It's sad that some Syrian and Arab bloggers show no respect for this holy month and fill their blogs with offensive posts and statements. If you don't believe in some view, you can at least abstain from offending those who do. If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing.<br /><br />My tolerence has no limits, yet my acceptance does not extend to everyone and everything. I do tolerate homosexuals. I have worked with, and still personally know some. I have no problem engaging in work or a friendly conversation or even an exchange of educated ideas and issues with them, but I will never accept their lifestyle as the norm. Nor will I accept it when they flaunt this lifestyle in my face in the purpose of trying to make our socities accept it in all its shapes and forms. How can we accept that two males or two females can start up up a normal family? Other than adopting from a product of a normal relationship, how can they ever have kids? Our human specis will seize to exist if this lifestyle was ever a norm or a majority. Even the most tolerating of parents are usually disappointed or shocked if they find out one of their kids is a homosexual. The "don't ask, don't tell" policy that president Clinton started concerning gays in the American military is the perfect solution for that institution. It just tells gays and lesbians that they will not be asked about their sexual orientation, and they shouldn't admit or flaunt their lifestyle among their fellow soldiers. I think this policy can apply to civil life too. Do not flaunt this in my face and expect me to take it for granted. I've seen Arab bloggers who loaded their bloggs with gay adjectives and even some disgusting pictures of semi-nude gay kissing and males holding <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dildo" target="_blank">dildos</a> in their hands. Why talk about "Gay Pride"? Just be proud of who you are as a human being, and what good you do to your society and others. Ever heard of a straight person talking about "Straight Pride". It just makes no sense. Why throw your sexual orientation and preferences in the middle of every cause? Why wouldn't I just shut up and say nothing like I stated in my last paragraph? It's because those acts offend me and many others deeply, and I'm not being offensive or promoting any hatred campaign.<br /><br />Saying all that, I will not hate. Hate is a very strong word that I don't use lightly.<br /><br />Just live and let live.<br /><br />That's all.أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-83533157105701226372009-09-11T11:46:00.030-04:002009-09-11T17:18:58.495-04:00Blogging week against Consumption of all Beans مدوّن ضد إستهلاك الحمّص والفول<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/SqqRMAczczI/AAAAAAAAAkc/K1TbfwKuZoE/s1600-h/fart4.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 195px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380272340312748850" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/SqqRMAczczI/AAAAAAAAAkc/K1TbfwKuZoE/s200/fart4.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div>As per an agreement made with <a href="http://abufares.net/" target="_blank">Abu Fares </a>last week,I'm fulfilling my part by starting a blogging week against the consumption of all beans, Chickpeas and Fava beans in particular, in our beloved part of the world. We all know the popularity of such toxic elements in our daily diets. This popularity passed through all environmental, dietic, and morality censors in our society. We are a nation whose daily life is controlled by Fava beans and chick peas. In this twenty first century, it's about time someone raised a flag and protested this infiltration. In the next few paragraphs, I'll prove my point against this poison.</div><div><br />1. While beans might be a cheap and essential source of vitamins and calories, their side effects outweigh any potential benefits we might gain. Gases and the emission of toxic waste are a major headache caused by these elements. We have enough pollution as is in our skies from automobiles to add more to the mix. If you can think of the thousands of tons of those beans consumed daily on our tables, you <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/SqqRUzvkzDI/AAAAAAAAAkk/QjZT8ne7XMc/s1600-h/fart1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 138px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380272491520642098" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pCk5pwu8uDk/SqqRUzvkzDI/AAAAAAAAAkk/QjZT8ne7XMc/s200/fart1.jpg" /></a>can imagine the tons of bad air emitted as a result. Add a spark to these fumes, and you'll have an outrageous fire that will consume a large area because of the endless supply of fuel around it. I have no doubt some of the major arsens, like the last one in Damascus that consumed the ministry of tourism, was at least partially caused by these fumes. </div></div><div></div><div><div><br /></div><div>2. These beans are in no way or shape a good dietary source. We all know about the weight problems our society faces, and chickpeas and fava beans, are a major cause. The calorie count in each dish is outrageous, and reaches as high as thousands of calories, well more than we need on a daily basis. We sure <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXPlyn2yNg1MjgX1nER9GqQa1uHvpJDuJhPlk61CDIiBVO3sI7CZ_71KxJfo0LCbzlVUgcFQ6tyNJExhOO67mv2bstIwhF8YZ-5fx6j6rPvRutn3kzfj3fJHdZ92nG4knNRJJlIN6EgDG/s1600-h/fart.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 189px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380261037582266786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXPlyn2yNg1MjgX1nER9GqQa1uHvpJDuJhPlk61CDIiBVO3sI7CZ_71KxJfo0LCbzlVUgcFQ6tyNJExhOO67mv2bstIwhF8YZ-5fx6j6rPvRutn3kzfj3fJHdZ92nG4knNRJJlIN6EgDG/s200/fart.jpg" /></a>don't want our kids to wear adult size clothes while they're still in their teens. This causes them social embarrassment and adds to our financial burdens as well.</div><div><br />3. The social embarrassment and anti-social behavior caused after consuming these beans are humungous. All bean consumers seem to shy away from public outings. Gases trapped inside a human body without the ability to release cause great discomfort and withdrawl from common physical and social activities. Many people ignore the warning signs and still participate in social gatherings, which would result in a blame game and arguments and a weird atmosphere when emmissions are finally released into thin, and already polluted atmosphere. After a sad episode or two of these social mishaps, one tends to stay away from such gatherings, which can <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_08I2O6RpyreozYbb3T9rlDucb4ddO34UBNXi_GOlepzA16bdmZfz-RBTopYs9OMNk7NQHKqzUxZ4g7HW7wQJdNbAVTbFqu21Xg-T-KKPGtGxE7OXezjmKXwoNAX6C6_0QmVLYgpQr63v/s1600-h/fart2.gif"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 140px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380270942034042626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_08I2O6RpyreozYbb3T9rlDucb4ddO34UBNXi_GOlepzA16bdmZfz-RBTopYs9OMNk7NQHKqzUxZ4g7HW7wQJdNbAVTbFqu21Xg-T-KKPGtGxE7OXezjmKXwoNAX6C6_0QmVLYgpQr63v/s200/fart2.gif" /></a>lead to lonliness and even suicide in some cases.</div><div><br />4. Holding those gases inside without a realease leads them to travel up all the way inside the human body to the brain. This trip and the final destination are reasons for catastrphic results. Shi**y ideas and outrageous trains of thoughts are results of these gases residing in the brain. This post was the result of such fumes journey to the brain. The author consumed a large dish of fava beans mixed with chickpeas, olive oil, lemon, and garlic. You are being subjected to reading the sad results in this case. I'm sure many politicians, planners, and executives come up with ideas after such consumption. This is the major source of wars, bad economies, and bankruptcy in our part of the world.</div><div><br />I'm sure there are many other problems and results that will never be tackled. Rememeber the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0102926/" target="_blank">The Silence of the Lambs</a>? Dr. Hannibal <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qMhUjeEVY69U0lnW8GixC0Ze_ac1sXjO509BYrz7D8VnBoyWS4NxkodbCW2WLxlGWgcU9sD5JD58ar09_-8Tu9YBRRNoNVk5pa5cyRjv9oMVAI5C3oP7YANiPfiAHIPZfMaZyiOjMQya/s1600-h/fart3.jpg"></a>Lecter told Clarice that he ate one of his victims liver with some fava beans. Could the beans have caused his canibalism in that case? We may never know. </div><div><br />Please join me in boycotting these ingredients and finding a safer alternative.</div></div></div></div></div></div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-12042587694277033092009-09-04T23:22:00.025-04:002009-09-05T00:17:08.581-04:00Let's not forget<img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 222px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 315px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377821246609890786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiPTligAUZAGS5hWOFXiQJIvjz8szLzn8AaNB4wmlkK8duYFS0UfsbWGnTKhZXgp52ufaXU9Pd0ukgQW7Q3WTaEug0BB8rRMPfihspVNdKok5tvbvuMhqtH8qshTMPWSFA0EzzkftJK3yi/s320/famine.png" /><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 158px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377819100573439474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0stK7uQ526t_vt43i3A-5mG6oguUpqS5PzvOYWVFBnE2YXsIW97qc0muW_l_XQvVENP7xiq6bTZf9tdb9SwMy8LUlYGhyphenhyphen5a6UPIjPpUVvv779PaIy9EwV0KwdZxuDZEDi9-JBCuS16Kf6/s320/famine1.png" /><br /><br />Let us not forget that while we sit around our daily Ramadan tables there are still people suffering and dying of famine.<br /><br /><br /><p align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TIt7tMthBx1vCwgQM92IhpvPeHyPYGIKFkvGgAaIEZtuP28qDAb3skSukO2xcNZicn9a6Jr0sFpUXR5v9QhzsA137VF3grWLhwmOOQucZDkSfTeYrdfDfTKe-Qu00x_buXt2yn3Higrt/s1600-h/hawk.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 185px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377828941501410050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TIt7tMthBx1vCwgQM92IhpvPeHyPYGIKFkvGgAaIEZtuP28qDAb3skSukO2xcNZicn9a6Jr0sFpUXR5v9QhzsA137VF3grWLhwmOOQucZDkSfTeYrdfDfTKe-Qu00x_buXt2yn3Higrt/s320/hawk.jpg" /></a></p><br />This picture above of a vulture waiting for a child to die of hunger was taken in Southern Sudan in 1994. It won the Pulitzer prize for that year.<br />While this feast in the picture below was taking place at the other side of the Red Sea.<br />How many children do you think this dish would've fed?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfv09CLBFGpRvh2jp1pvx0wgthxDQ2d0h3D0P-ZJPb7KTD6jsl-QIybxCiAWbai51Veagc58RIXkycY4ppqTfzyfiCBVlKZr1warQlXMZqJry8BmkWtt4IS6rSP-Xm02-t_0eWRbvFSqyP/s1600-h/feast.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377820548904295506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfv09CLBFGpRvh2jp1pvx0wgthxDQ2d0h3D0P-ZJPb7KTD6jsl-QIybxCiAWbai51Veagc58RIXkycY4ppqTfzyfiCBVlKZr1warQlXMZqJry8BmkWtt4IS6rSP-Xm02-t_0eWRbvFSqyP/s320/feast.jpg" /></a>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-27746439128408717532009-08-29T12:53:00.010-04:002009-08-31T14:42:03.466-04:00مطر<div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">المطر هون بتنزل كل يوم. خير وشجر وزرع وخضار على مد النظر. طول النهار بتشوّب و بتعبّق، بعد الظهر بتنفتح أبواب السما وبيقول الكريم خدو. مطر غزير مامنشوفو بعز الشتاء بسوريا. بيوم واحد بالصيف بينزل مطر أكتر من اللي بينزل بشهر كامل عنّا. إذا مابتصدقو تفرّجو عالفيديو</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">طيّب مابيكفّي الفقر المدقع</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">وتلوّث البيئة</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ووساخة الشوارع</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والفساد المتفشّي</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والرشاوي</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والغش</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">و الأكل الفاسد</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">و الخضرة المسقية بمياه المجاري</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ونبع الفيجة ونهر بردى النشفانين</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والشوب الحرّاقي</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والعراقيين المشرّدين</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والدّعارة</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والموبايلات</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والحكي عالعالم</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والأسعار</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والدخنة بسما مدنّنا</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والسيّارات و الباصات والزمامير</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والحوادث</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">وأزمة المرور</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والكهربة المقطوعة</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والأطفال المساكين</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والمدارس وهم البكالوريا؟</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">بقول يارب لاإعتراض على حكمك بس ليش مابيجينا متل هالخير؟</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">برجع بتذكّر قوله تعالى</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">“لا يصلح الله ما بقوم حتى يصلحوا ما بأنفسهم”</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">الله يهدينا ويصلح حالنا</span> </div><br /><br /><object width="400" height="300"><param name="movie" value="http://www.ireport.com/themes/custom/resources/swfplayer/mediaplayer.swf"><param name="wmode" value=""><param name="menu" value="true"><param name="flashvars" 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flashvars="height=370&width=448&autostart=false&autoscroll=false&showstop=false&showicons=false&showdigits=total&controlbar=34&backcolor=0xFFFFFF&screencolor=0x000000&frontcolor=0xDEDEDE&lightcolor=0x00A2FF&logo=http%3A//www.ireport.com/themes/custom/resources/swfplayer/data/images/ireport_wm1.gif&file=http%3A//ht.cdn.turner.com/ireport/big/prod/2009/08/21/WE00316126/1044310/MOV02516mpg-1044310_web_flv.flv&image=http%3A//i.cdn.turner.com/ireport/sm/prod/2009/08/21/WE00316126/1044310/MOV02516mpg-1044310_lg.jpg"></embed></object>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-75494895038894444262009-08-27T13:28:00.013-04:002009-08-27T23:27:38.125-04:00I fall To Pieces<div align="left">Patsy Cline is an American icon. She was a fantastic singer with an unforgettable voice. She passed away, long before most of us were born, in a plane crash on March 5th, 1963.</div><div align="left">I'm here to share with you one of the best songs she ever made. </div><div align="left">Enjoy:</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div>I fall to pieces,<br />Each time I see you again.<br /><div align="left">I fall to pieces.</div><div align="left">How can I be just your friend? </div><div align="left">You want me to act like we've never kissed.</div><div align="left">You want me to forget, pretend we've never met.</div><div align="left">And I've tried and I've tried, but I haven't yet.</div><div align="left">You walk by and I fall to pieces.</div><div align="left">I fall to pieces,Each time someone speaks your name.</div><div align="left">I fall to pieces.</div><div align="left">Time only adds to the flame.</div><div align="left">You tell me to find someone else to love,</div><div align="left">Someone who'll love me too, </div><div align="left">the way you used to do.</div><div align="left">But each time I go out with some one new,</div><div align="left">You walk by and I fall to pieces.</div><div align="left">You walk by and I fall to pieces.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iuZTk1hdpMs&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iuZTk1hdpMs&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="false" width="300" height="200"></embed></object></div><div align="left"><br /><a href="http://www.4shared.com/file/128244830/a0406fae/Patsy_Cline_-_I_Fall_To_Pieces.html" target="_blank">Download I fall to pieces</a></div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3059702633077150344.post-15242013309421252532009-08-26T22:46:00.007-04:002009-08-27T17:24:21.516-04:00وحدة<div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">من عشرين سنة وأنا وحيد</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">منأوّل ما تركت و سافرت </span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">عندي أصدقاء كتير هون </span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">عرب و كل الجنسيات</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">بدي أعمل فرع للأمم المتحدة لحالي</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">تجوّزت وطلّقت</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ورجعت خطبت وفسخت</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">بس شعور الوحدة مافارقني</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">حتى لو كنت بغرفة مليانة</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">أو حفلة</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">الوحدة بتضل واقفة بوشّي</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">الغربة صارت وطني</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">والأمل رفيقي الدائم</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">انزلت عالبلد</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">بالمطار عطيتن جوازي الأميركي</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ختمو وزورني وأشّرلي إنو فوت</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">فقت الصبح، ريحة الدخان و زمامير السيارات</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">الكهربا مقطوعة وميّة الحمّام عم تنزل بالقطرة</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">غريبة، لسّا حاسس بالوحدة</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">أخدت أهلي عالمطعم، لطشوني بالفاتورة</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">مبيّن علييّ غريب </span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ووحيد</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">طلعتلي الوحدة عم تتمهزأ</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">فكرك هربت منّي؟</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">وراك و الزمن طويل</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">أهلك و رفقاتك يا أجدب معتبرينك غريب</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">عرفانين زيارتك قصيرة</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ورجعتك إلي</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">خلصت إجازتي</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">وصلت عالمطار بأمريكا</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">ناولتها الجواز، تطلّعت عليّي وتبسّمت</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">وين كنت؟ بإجازة</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">باتمنّى تكون إنبسطت بإجازتك</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">تفضّل، welcome back home</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">لقيت الوحدة عم تستنّاني </span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">حاملة لوحة عليها إسمي</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;">طوّلتها، إشتقنالك</span></div><div align="right"></div>أنا سوريhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06048406444294823581noreply@blogger.com5