Prove Everyone Right (and Happy Birthday)

On my 27th birthday I watched Drew Brees break the NFL all-time passing record on Monday Night Football in the Mercedes Benz Superdome in New Orleans Louisiana, taking his career total to 72,103 yards passing.

I had spent the last 2 years in limbo. The perils of migration (for the migrator) are known to many but spoken by few, as are the perils of temporary disablement. Why do I speak of peril and not of love, as though this is some crude thing that has never helped anyone all that much.

My wife of five years was (and still is) the best companion I could ever conceive of. The happiness and joy that fills my heart upon sighting her is so vast that even as my pain and depression increased, due to factors that were literally and with no exaggeration whatsoever 0% connected to her, I was left with a reality that was so positive (it included her) that I felt deeply ashamed to think that I could have problems worth considering. Its a similar feeling to the one I have felt about having the life and parents I have had. What can I say, I believe myself to be the most privileged man in existence, and I know it to be True. To have had the fortune of knowing the 3 souls to which I refer is a state of divine favour that warms the theists heart (sisters, you are also very loved, consider my brotherly mischief managed) . And in my darkest hours I wonder if my blessings have been undeserved and ultimately misplaced.

In limbo you have alot of time to think, fools call it planning. While planning I happened upon a dangerous stretch of road between melancholy dr. and insecure av.  wherein I became obsessed with the consequences of success, particularly in our digital age. One of those is the inability to control the narrative or opinion generated about you. And due to bullying in high-school, and my recently becoming minoritied and de-mobilised, I felt the same feeling of worthlessness that permeates the adolescent’s mind as he is being dragged through the playground by his tie. I began to fantasize about the critics and haters that would smite me down again with their Truths, should I even dare to dream of success. In order to combat these ethereal demons, I vowed to fight them, to strike them down where they stood, Prove Them WRONG.

How do you prove wrong that which is non existent? How do you stem the voices that scream their discontent at your actions (or lack thereof), however consequential. Moreover, how does one gain certainty of the outcome of his efforts, where can we find the solace that will bring us into port slowly, and with the gentlest of bumps against the pier, just in time for supper? I cannot say anything with much certainty, but I can say this: In moments of great desperation, better to speak to your Angels than your Demons.

Drew Brees has said that the reason he kept fighting through the shoulder injury that knocked him out of the NFL in his fourth year, an injury that some said lowered his chances of ever playing again to 25%, was to prove those that had always had faith in him Right. In the post game interview the night of his record breaking game (on my 27th birthday), one that cements him as one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever play the game (the same position I played in Cairo with a team I will love forever), Drew Brees reiterated his philosophy. He said two of the people he wanted to prove Right the most were ‘up in heaven’*, his mother and his grandfather. And although my tears were flowing earlier in the night, my empathy travelling from Glasgow to Louisiana through the quantum field of potential (my computer screen), to celebrate something beautiful with a beautiful man, they began to flow again. With one sentiment the all time Saint had reminded me of my greatest champions, those that have stood beside me and will do so for the rest of time, those that care not of my failures, and will always believe in my success. My family. My friends.

This my friends, is the lesson of the day. Too long have we spent doubting ourselves and fearing the opinion of others. Too long have we feared the trials and tribulations that strain our tenure upon this earth. It would seem that an oracle, nay, a Saint, has come out of the ether with an answer to the riddle of my mind at this stage of my being. Look to your Angels for motivation, friends, seek not the Demons of your mind.

Prove Everyone Right.

That I can do Drew, that I can do.

………………………………………………………………………..

On my 26th birthday I boarded a flight from Cairo, Egypt to Glasgow, Scotland. It seemed fitting to me that a reunion with my wife should be the gift of that day. I got on the plane and dreamt of the reunion, blissfully unaware of the nightmare that migration had already started preparing for me in my new home, and simultaneously suppressing the ever constant pain in my legs that was starting to become a problem worth considering. More on that tomorrow.

* A note to those who flinch at the mention of heaven, or roll their eyes, shift uncomfortably in their seats etc.

If you have never taken solace in something fantastical, perhaps you are devoid of imagination. If that is the case, please accept my apologies. You may carry on as you were.

For the rest of you, while I conceive of heaven as a place on earth, as the tune goes, and have forsaken for the most part any conception of a physical place that awaits my soul upon my death, I cannot in good conscience or good faith deride the souls who can conceive of such a place.

As a child, I thought often of my deceased grandfather, whom I was fortunate enough to meet, but not to perceive. My earliest memory is playing with my Spiderman action figure at his funeral at 6 years of age. Perhaps a vague shadow of him lying in bed in the weeks leading up to that day.

As a result of this, and all that was told to me about him, he became the ancestral figure I most respected, and who’s approval I most cherished. He became my metaphysical God/Father figure, and I carried him with me in my early years, wondering if he would approve of my actions, until that particular mechanism was unfortunately replaced by a guy with a book to back him up. I say unfortunately because, on balance, I would have preferred the guidance of my grandfather, as he did not have as many zealous followers. Its really all a numbers game.

My overall point here is that for me to have this conception of my grandfather , which by the way I found valuable and not at all as biblically serious as his pop star counterpart, I had to conceive of him in a place within my mind. A place that I could innately conceive of, not dissimilar to the place in my mind I’m reserving for any potential children of my own. It is this place that I want to argue is ‘Heaven’ as Drew Brees refers to it above.

I have three other surviving grandparents. Although they may grow jealous that their counterpart achieved such status in my mind (unlikely seeing as they have the luxury of life at present), they can find comfort in the knowledge that having them in my life has granted them the equal status of demi-gods, similar to Achilles, or Hercules before him, waiting only for death to achieve their ultimate status. They are beings around whom I cherish the time and space, for the Universe, or God, or Chaos will one day take them away. But they will remain in memory, in legend, in my heart and mind forever.

Should you have no use for Heaven as a metaphysical place for your loved ones to rest, I understand your annoyance with its continued use and reference. However it is becoming more and more clear to me that one of the great harms we can do to each other is belittle other beliefs for our own selfish, insecure reasons. And one of the greatest harms we can do to ourselves is to care about the beliefs of others too much.

And so I beseech you, stay steadfast in your beliefs, disregard heaven and place your loved ones (family or not) wherever your mind wishes to place them, but do not deny others the comfort of their fantasies, and do not let their fantasies distract you.

As for Hell, that will be addressed tomorrow. I know you cannot wait.

Modes of Morality

It’s time for the Lazy Sunday blog.

Today I read a blog post by Siderea called The Two Moral Modes. It proposes that there are two modes of morality that people seem to have. Mode 1 is the standard accepted mode in our modern societies, and is the functioning mode preached by Islam, Christianity and Judaism. In Mode 1, one’s moral standard of conduct  for interacting with other people by default,  applies to all other human beings, simply for the fact of their being human beings.

In Mode 2 one’s moral standard of conduct  for interacting with other people by default, only applies to a select section of human beings. There are the group of human beings to which you owe moral conduct, and then there are the rest. The people that function in this Mode, believe they are entitled to subjugate or eliminate other sections of humanity, because it seems like the logical move to further their comfort and survival. The reason why Europeans trafficked in African slaves by the millions, is not because they did not conceive of morality at the time, but rather that their morality simply excluded Africans from their code of conduct.

Siderea expands upon this topic quite brilliantly and in a way I will not attempt to replicate, instead I urge you to go read the excellent post yourself.

The reason I found this so interesting was because, in the wake of Trump’s win, I began attempting to define the ‘other’ in  some way. I asked myself, what is a republican? Is that simply another word for the angry? No that couldn’t be it. Republican is not a synonym for angry no more than Liberal is a synonym for happy. But I felt strongly that the Republican party had fostered a hateful voter base. using inflammatory rhetoric and pointing fingers at other sections of humanity, they had created the atmosphere that allowed Trump, the world’s most successful opportunist, to sweep in and become the fascist figure so much of white America craved. I didn’t understand this ideology however, it seemed so foreign to me, until this explanation by Siderea unlocked a critical piece of humanity’s puzzle.

A Liberal is defined as someone who is open to other people and beliefs. I suppose that definition will have to do, and as a Liberal myself, I can only operate on a Mode 1 basis (like most of the civilized, professional, political world). But herein comes the great paradox, because I do not accept Mode 2 and those who operate on that basis. I just don’t. I guess that means I’m not a liberal after all. Not that it matters for me to be defined as such, but I do not fit into that (admittedly broad) definition.

It is deeply engrained in the heart of White America, the Mode 2 morality. They fought a Civil war over it. The North and South were merely Mode 1 and Mode 2 morality coming head to head. It is clear that just because the North won the American civil war, does not mean that the South and its ideology was put to bed. It apparently has just returned and is stronger than ever.

What do we do therefore, with the large swathes of Mode 2 human beings of European descent, be they in America or Europe, who to this day believe themselves to be an entitled group, worthy of subjugating, eliminating, discriminating against others so that they can prosper in their place? Maybe we just make a new country, call it Hate-land or Fascism 24/7 or White Power. They can all go there and enjoy themselves, all us annoyingly passive Mode 1’s would be out of sight, out of mind.

I’m starting to sound like one of them aren’t I? Maybe there is no Mode 1. Maybe I just never found the subsection of Humanity that I chose to exclude from my code of conduct. Maybe now I have. I guess I’m just as bad as the rest of them. This my friends, is my Liberal Paradox.

How do I reckon with my own exclusion of those who exclude?  If I figure it out I will be sure to let you know.

Do not despair however, the results show that the majority of America’s youth and women, did not vote for Donald Trump. This means that once my generation is in power, Mode 1 will be the status quo once again. The question is, will our parent’s and grandparent’s generation allow us to reach that place.

Fidelity

I was up late yesterday finishing a script for one of the most promising projects I am working on. Just a small update and/or explanation as to why this blog is so late. I had absolutely no idea what to write, yet again, but woke up to the news that Fidel Castro died. It was not the fact that he died that was so shocking, but rather the manner in which that information was transmitted to me.

I was scrolling through twitter and this glorious peach of a tweet popped up on my timeline:

Jesus W. Christ Donald…every time I think you can’t possibly surprise me again, you pull of something like this. At this point I’m not even convinced that you even run this account yourself!  I mean that tweet is so perfect, it can’t possibly have been you right? This tweet accomplishes so many things at once:

1. It reaffirms you as being a soul-less fascist.
2. It demonstrates a complete lack of empathy.
3. It’s exactly what a President-Elect should NOT tweet!

When your business is basically getting people to talk about you as much as possible, there really is no better tweet out there, is there? Never mind the fact that you yourself are about to become the leader of the supposed free-world, and will probably have tweets like that written about you within the next 20 years. I mean, it’s the exclamation mark that seals the whole deal, and there is really no need for it. You could have ended with a full stop, all anyone would think then is :’ Thank you Donald, how informative of you! You know this guy might just be more In the loop than we thought!’
But no you just had to end in the most inappropriate way. The election is won Donald, you can tone down the ridiculousness.

But on to the deceased himself, and what can you really say about Fidel Castro? I don’t, know, please tell me, I have 665 words left. Well, since I DO have a degree in Political Science (lol) from the American University in Cairo (double lol), I’ll try and think of something.

Fidelity (do you see what I did there) is defined as a faithfulness to a person, cause or belief, demonstrated by continuing loyalty and support. I think at the end, this is the reason Castro will be remembered as one of the most important figures in our history. He was, and is, the ultimate symbol of revolution against the USA’s attempts to control the world. Despite the CIA’s attempts to assassinate him over 600 times (grow up btw), Castro remained loyal to his beliefs, which included that the USA has no say, and would continue to have no say, in the running of his country.

Sure, the fact that he toyed with them by instigating the Cuban missile crisis is really just the icing on top of the massive Fuck-off cake he built over the years. He didn’t have to allow the Soviets to transport nukes over the Atlantic and plant them in Cuban soil, but he did it because he wanted to see those gringo’s squirm. You have to admire that level of Fidelity. Those were different times though, those Cold War years, and you wonder what his legacy would have been if things had turned out differently. If he had actually sparked the end of days, would he be remembered so fondly? Probably not. But he would still be the bad-ass who brought it all down, so that’s something.

Another thing about which Castro was extremely faithful, was the elimination and subjugation of his enemies and detractors, even among his own people. And it is on this point that his place in history is shattered. This is something that is not foreign to most Middle-Eastern countries either by the way, but a side-effect of Castro’s determination was a brutal dictatorship, which resulted in the millions of Cuban-Americans in the USA today, who apparently do not remember him very fondly at all. And who can blame them? The guy was by all accounts a murderous dictator. But I wonder which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Did the CIA’s attempts on his life, starting with the now infamous Bay of Pigs invasion, foster the man’s paranoia, and consequently his brutality? Sadly I think we will only ever be able to wonder about this point, without achieving a real answer. The truth probably lies somewhere in the middle, the man had a tendency towards brutality, which was fostered and fueled by his paranoia in the years the USA so blatantly supported his enemies and tried to eliminate him. I mean, that can’t not affect your psyche, knowing that the next assassination attempt could be around the corner. 634 (which is apparently the actual number) assassination attempts is not a small figure. Did the CIA ever think about the psychological effect this would have on their target? And how this would in turn, effect his people?

Probably not. And they probably didn’t care either. That was the Cold War era, where the politics were built on realism, not liberalism (as is still the case in most of the world), and the CIA functioned purely as the US’s Machiavellian arm (and probably still does).

Some people will miss Castro, others will not. I stand somewhere in the middle, I deplore his actions towards his own people, but admire his stand against America, and his unwillingness to depart from his communist agenda. I do not think the young Castro aspired to be a murderous dictator. I am sure this was not in the ‘Pro’ column when envisioning revolution with Che Guevara. I think he was a man who attempted to do something great, and was a victim of circumstance. Unfortunately, like all of humanity, the man was deeply, deeply flawed.

More Tomorrow.

In Awe of The Neistat

Boy do I love the sun. After not seeing it for about a week it really gives you a boost getting a fresh hit of vitamin D in the morning. It’s something you really take for granted on the sunny streets of Cairo. Anyway, another day, another blog. I’m going to take a bit of a detour today and talk about Vlogs. Thats right, Vlogs, not blogs. Vlogs are one of the most popular types of video on YouTube, and they were something I was considering doing, and might do in the future. But this week is an important week in the history of Vloging, as arguably the greatest Vlog of all time just got shut down by its truly inspirational creator, Casey Neistat. If you have never heard of Casey Nesitat, you’re in luck, because you have over 2 years worth of Casey Vlogs and videos of the highest quality to enjoy. I myself only discovered Casey 2 months ago. My only other experience with Vlogs was ShayCarl about 3-4 years ago and I had not really followed a Vlogger since. Discovering Casey’s Vlog though, was a formative experience for me.

Casey Neistat’s Vlog was an example of a human being at the height of his productivity, at a level I could not understand. Every single vlog was, to me at least, immaculate. Why? Because it was the perfect representation of what a Human being (in this case a YouTuber) can achieve when they put everything they had into something, every single day. You may think I am exaggerating here, but let me break down to you the amount of work Casey has to put in, to shoot just ONE Vlog:

1. Grab a breathtaking Timelapse of New York City
2. Grab breathtaking drone footage of New York City
3. Shoot literally EVERYTHING throughout the day (while on your electric skateboard no less)
4. Set up shots that cover your entrances and exits. Then go back and get the camera/perform the action. (This means that you literally have to do everything twice.)
5. Seamlessly maintain your train of thought (and crucially, vocal inflections) between the numerous shot changes you make even while in your own studio.

And if you thought that was alot of work, this man also spends 4-7 hours in the evening just to EDIT this monster together. And it’s no surprise that it takes that long. He has to sift through ALL the footage he captured that day, find out how to piece everything together to give the Vlog the pacing and tone he wants, and manage the soundtrack. The soundtrack, which by the way, is always different and by a different artist. He manages to do all of this while simultaneously running an App startup called BEME. And having a wife and kids.

I became addicted to this Vlog, not just because Casey himself has possibly the most infectious energy I have ever seen, or because his shots are often mesmerizing. But because I was in awe at the amount of WORK that was put in to create this 10 minute video that so perfectly captured the previous day’s adventure. I think the reason I became addicted to watching Casey and his unbelievable grind, was because (as discussed before) productivity has been an issue for me in the last few years. Now admittedly this was due to circumstances out of my control, and I am much better now, but the difference between my energy levels at my worst and Casey’s at his best were at the same time startling and thrilling. Through his Vlog, Casey had shown me the extreme opposite end of the energy spectrum, and it gave my hope that I can one day reach his level of vitality, productivity and enthusiasm.

It came as no surprise to me that Casey Neistat decided to end his Vlog on November 20th 2016. It was, in Casey’s own words, becoming too easy for him to produce. It was not stimulating or challenging for him anymore, having mastered the art over the past 2 years, and he wanted to focus on making videos that took more time for him to produce and were more rewarding and challenging for him. And in a way, Casey was right, it was becoming too easy. He had developed an unbelievable rhythm, which while being very effective, made the blog take a more predictable structure. But this does not take away from his brilliance. In fact, him choosing to drop the mic at this time is another sign that his is a story of a true master of his craft, and it is only just beginning to unfold.

In a 2015 video entitled Fat and Lazy, a title that presumably put people (with thin skin) off because it has a very low 1.5 million views, Casey bares his productive soul, breaking down his daily routine and his 24 hour day, as well as his personal philosophy. You also get a great glimpse of his awesome studio and the neon sign at the entrance to his office that says ‘work harder’. A phrase also tattooed on his left wrist, just in case he forgets (and a pretty nice-tat that I will probably copy). You can start with this video, or go straight to anyone of his other Vlogs, you will not be disappointed.

Thanks Casey for doing what you do (and for stopping).

More tomorrow.

Trumpet

Good Morning everyone. I say that obviously knowing that for the majority of you reading this, it won’t be morning at all, but most likely somewhere in the afternoon/evening area. But it is morning for me, which is to say that it is the start of my day, regardless of the time. You may have noticed a distinct lack of blog yesterday and for anyone who is super perturbed by that I can assure you that If you check the end of the last blog, you will see that all is explained there. Go ahead and check, I’ll wait. Good, now that that is all cleared up we can move on. But what to move on to? My current plan for what to write today is to just bullshit my way through the next 1000 words. You see one of the problems with writing everyday is that some days will be quite good and others will be…well less good than that. And so with all the pressure that comes with having to bang out 1000 words first thing in the morning, I can’t really promise that all my posts will be the best quality, although I invite you all to stop reading now because there will most likely be nothing of substance below.

My favorite blog is actually an Arsenal blog called Arseblog. I have read it almost every day for the last 5 years. I realized though that good old Blogs over there has the advantage of talking about everything that might be going on at Arsenal every day, as well as filling up the blog with other randomness. But I unfortunately do not have a specific entity with which to refer and dedicate hundreds of word to, to make up the thousand. It now strikes me as an impossible task, to write a piece of that length every day, unless I mention something that’s happening to sort of help propel me forward. Well I guess I will have to pick something at random to talk about every day. The most interesting thing I read yesterday was the New York times full transcript of their meeting with Donald Trump. I won’t post the link here because most people don’t  click on links and also because you people need to learn how to search and find things for yourselves. Anyway, I’ll give you the 30 minutes you will need to find the transcript, read it and come back.

Wasn’t it just fascinating? Wait…I have to rethink this strategy…by making you read it I’ve given up the possible two full paragraphs of summary I could have written over here! FREE WORDS! NO STRINGS ATTACHED! Damn…well if you have read it by now my apologies, I’m going to have to discuss some of the finer points for the other 99% who definitely did not bother reading it. There are exactly 2 things in that transcript that to me, explain Donald Trump’s win in the election, and how in reality, it was not even close.

The first of these is Trump’s explanation of his campaign strategy, and especially how they felt they were going to win in the states that mattered. Hearing him say it makes it make much more sense, but he really was getting the types of crowds that Clinton just cannot muster, due to the fact the she is inherently unlikable. According to Trump, they were filling up stadiums, and had thousands of people standing outside who couldn’t get in, which was when they put up the monitors outside the stadium (something which the ‘liberal media’ found very funny). He describes their surprise at the amount of people they were drawing, and the fact that they just kept going back to the states they knew they had to win, and kept drawing big crowds. Trump also very rightly argues that the entire ‘Hilary won the popular vote’ narrative is a complete farce, because as he says, winning the popular vote is a different campaign altogether. Trump targeted the electoral college and hit the bulls-eye in every place that mattered. It’s true that he had more free media coverage, but it is also true, as we now know, that his campaign was just much better. He also spoke about the LA times poll that had him ahead due to the level of enthusiasm his supporters showed, something Clinton never had (but Bernie certainly did). I am 100% convinced that Bernie would have won the election if he were not forced out by Clinton’s corruption, and I am even more convinced after Trump laid down this bombshell: The USA have closed down 70,000 factories since 2008.

70,000 factories. What a number. Can you imagine the amount of pain and suffering caused across blue collar America caused by the loss of so many jobs? Suddenly this war against climate change makes sense as well. People don’t actually care whether or not climate change is happening. It’s the fact that climate-change initiatives took away all of their jobs that has Americans so  convinced it is a falsehood. And why wouldn’t they? They just want their jobs back, and this is something Trump makes clear will be one of his big initiatives, to restore America’s factories. In any case, I think Bernie would have thrived with his more socialist platform, although we will never know just how close that race would have been.

Another important part of this meeting was Trump categorically condemning the Nazi-esque  ‘Alt-right’ led by the deplorable Richard B.Spencer. This was, I think, an important stance for Trump to take. The fact that Steve Bannon is another Alt-right leader, and is in Trump’s team, is alarming. But Trump clearly states that if Bannon were to express any of these views, he would be fired. To assume that Trump himself is, or will become, some sort of Hitler figure is a bit too convenient in my opinion. Richard B. Spencer is one such figure, and he, thankfully, is not President of the United States. Nor should we be surprised that incidents of racism have increased across the US. For God’s sake, the white nationalist’s just had 8 years of a BLACK GUY (Much love Obama) as president of their country! It’s no wonder they feel emboldened and more confident to speak out in the wake of their ‘victory’. Let’s not forget however, that the majority of Americans are not ‘alt-right’ or outwardly racist. Those incidents simply travel farther and echo louder than the incidents of the reverse, which is nothing happening at all. Trump did not win because of race, he won because the American people felt, rightly, cheated and abused by their leadership, and because his campaign was extremely well run.

I expect these racist outbursts to die down, and for the good to triumph over the evil in the long-run. Although If I were living in the United states, I would have made sure I was living in a very, very blue state long before now.

More on something else tomorrow.

Don’t have Weddings.

Sometimes you just don’t have the juice. A lack of sunlight in the morning can be a real juice-sapper. In any case I struggled once again with what to write today, I guess I shouldn’t have been so quick to move on from talking about myself. I could have just let that story drag and drag and drag for weeks, giving you a daily play-by-play of literally everything that happened to me in the last 2 years. What a bloody bore that would have been. Nevermind all that then, I guess I will continue with my handbook on weathering the economic shit-storm that trust me, we have yet to feel.

Now, when I say don’t have Weddings, I don’t actually mean it. I just mean don’t have THOSE weddings. You know THOSE weddings…the ones where there are over 500 people and you spend a small fortune. Trust me folks, the fact that your seven hundredth cousin twice removed won’t be making the big day, is no big deal. The reason I really want us to tone these events down, is not just because they can become extremely expensive (although that is a big factor), it’s because the couple involved at the center of the whole thing gain little to no real-life advantages out of the damn thing. Don’t get me wrong, I had a wedding myself, and it was really nice, especially the fact that we had to change venues at the last minute, making the whole affair pretty spontaneous. I’m actually glad my wedding went very, very off-plan. I imagine the whole affair would have been extremely boring if literally everything went according to plan. This way it was filled with much more excitement, trepidation and ultimately happiness as it all worked out in the end. All that being said though, I’m sure you are all wondering how many people were at my wedding. It was 300 people, although if it were up to me it would have been much less. 300 though is considered a pretty small wedding in Egypt, and I would have personally been overwhelmed if it were any bigger than that.

What I originally wanted was a small wedding by the beach with maybe 100 people max, obviously that was not going to happen, because there is no stronger force in Egypt than the unrelenting locomotive that is the concept(!) of tradition. The reason why I say concept is because that is really what we believe in. We believe that we should follow tradition, but pay little to no regard as to what tradition actually means, or where it came from. Some traditions should be followed, some should be learnt from, but not repeated, and some should be forgotten. Tradition is nothing more than the supposed values of a previous era or generation. It has no real purpose in life, other than to show us what our ancestors or elders valued and what they found to be most important. Tradition does NOT dictate however, that you have to spend hundreds of thousands of pounds on a 6 hour event, because you simply have to invite everyone and put them all in the nicest ballroom in all the universe with the best food and the open bar tucked away in a corner, for all the young people and the cool old ones.

Now this is not to say that I do not value the importance of seeing ones family and friends during important periods in one’s life. I think that is long lasting tradition that is extremely important and is something that holds communities together. But if you have ever been married in Egypt you also know that all the people that matter will be visiting you in your new home (something I will also talk about later) after or before your wedding, rendering the custom of inviting all the humans who have ever heard of you, more than slightly pointless. Now, more than ever it is time for us to grow up, and start being smarter with our money. My proposed plan for everyone out there planning a wedding or who will be in the future is this:

1. Take the budget you have planned for the whole affair, and take out 75% of it.
2. Use the remaining 25% on a classy dinner/event for 50-100 people maximum.
3. Give the remaining 75% to the couple, who will use that money to start their new life.
4. The honeymoon also comes out of that 75%, and the couple plan it using whatever amount the deem appropriate (If they are smart it will not be much, and they will honeymoon somewhere in Egypt because going abroad is now frankly, ludicrous).

There is nothing at all shameful about the above plan is there? Does it anger our ancestors immeasurably? Will our great grandparents be rolling in their tombs (we use tombs in Egypt, how cool is that!) because the entire gene pool was not in one place at the same time for 6 hours. I don’t think so. This way the couple get a good start to their new life with the money you would have frankly wasted on your now very expensive tradition.

Most young couples like myself who I talk to want a small wedding, but it is their parents who force the huge affair. Well I am happy to inform the young generation, that with a full blown collapse on Egypt’s economic horizon, hopefully weddings are about to get a whole lot smaller.

Be smart. Don’t have (huge) weddings.

More (after)tomorrow.

Don’t buy Cars

I woke up this morning to the sound of pouring rain on the window above my bed. The sound had a trance-like effect which put me back to sleep for another 2 hours. It’s really very relaxing to feel nature trying to break into your house but failing at every attempt. In any case, in my lethargy I struggled to decide on a topic for the blog today, mostly because I was finally done talking about myself. From now on you can expect little to no chatter about myself and more of my general musings and thoughts on a variety of different things. I struggled today until I found my good friends over at PeaceCake had come out with another video for their Careem campaign. If you don’t know what Careem, it is a company similar to Uber, and In my opinion is much better. Their campaign is actually a very clever one and discusses a very important issue we have in Cairo, while also making a compelling case for using Careem. You can check out their video here:

Careem Campaign

The important issue the campaign addresses, and that I will be addressing now, is that of traffic. Cairo traffic is an absolute nightmare as I’m sure you all know. But what you might not have thought about it that the nightmare is actually just beginning. Thanks to our governments systematic incapability of doing anything right ever, we have been blessed with the deadly combination of having very expensive cars along with terrible roads, that pretty soon will not be able to accommodate us all. My only proposed solution to this is to ban auto sales for the next 5 years. No new cars for anyone. Want a car? Buy a used car. This proposed solution, along with a substantial increase in the amount of buses and bus lanes (as if) could potentially make life transiting Cairo’s streets alot easier. Unfortunately, due to the nature of capitalism, and the inherent corruption that is so rampant in our country, a measure like this or anything like it, will never happen. That’s why I want to ask for your help.

Don’t buy cars. And especially (and pay attention to this one) don’t buy your kid’s any cars either. Just FYI not buying cars is just the first on my list of the things you should NOT buy your kids, a list I will be expanding on in the next few days. My opinions on this were already well established before our government finally decided to step out of its denial/incompetence and regulate the economy properly, resulting in a dramatic drop in the EGP. Now this is especially more important, in order to weather this economic storm, we have to give up all (or most) of the luxuries that we have given ourselves, along with the traditions that our culture has created. This includes buying cars for you and your family. I want you to know that I am speaking as someone who was unfortunately given alot of things in life. Things that I didn’t really need to function as a happy, healthy human being, and yet tradition dictated that I must be given them. I will talk about these one by one in the coming days but the first of these was in fact a car. A car that I have every intention of selling very soon because at this point, I honesty prefer Careem. But also because I believe that we have to many cars on Cairo’s roads, and that in just 5 short years, this whole city will become a parking lot.

Don’t get me wrong though, the cars are not the only problem, it’s the amount of people as well. Cairo is grossly overpopulated and this has exacerbated the traffic problem. But we have not helped the traffic situation by compulsively buying cars for all the human beings our women happen to expel. It’s time we put a stop to all of that foolishness. Let your children buy their own god damn cars when they can afford them. And even then hopefully they will decide that it’s not worth their time, money and effort. In all likelihood though, with prices skyrocketing and the government still taxing cars for their own gain, they will never be able to afford cars and this problem will fix itself.

Another thing that is not helping the situation, is the fact that we have enabled all German cars to become our personal trophies. Those cars are too expensive as it is, and will now become even more obscene. If you must have your BMW, then for the love of all that is holy, do not keep upgrading to the newest model every year. It is a tragic consequence of capitalism, that companies are allowed to create more and more products without regard for the economic consequences. This addiction to constantly growing profits is both harmful to the psyche of our businessmen and the stability of the economy. It is a complete tragedy that our country has been run with the sole focus of increasing profits for a select few, instead of focusing on the needs of the many. But we are in possibly the worst kind of capitalist system. One that is rampant with corruption, incompetence, denial and little regard for economic stability.

On top of all that, imagine the financial ruin we would all be in if the city entered a phase of gridlock the likes of which we have never seen. In any case, we can all help by starting with a very small adjustment to our lives.

Don’t buy cars.

More tomorrow.

Dr.Strange

When my brain finally had the advantage of REM sleep to wipe out the cobwebs that had been built up over the preceding years, dreaming was not the only side effect. Far from it in fact, after all I did not go through surgery just to re-gain that ability. Although in a way I suppose I did, for with my dreams came the real benefit of REM sleep. My overall thinking and functioning and energy levels improved dramatically, and with it I felt a renewed sense of purpose, clarity and thought. In a rather hilarious moment, I remember having a conversation with my wife a month or so after my surgery, in which I finished 3 different conversations I had left unfinished over the preceding year. What I mean when I say that, is that in my exhaustion my mind would come to a point of stagnation, where new thoughts are not possible. The soil is simply not fertile enough to bloom. There were no more fish in the sea or birds in the sky. I covered all 3 types of land there so the metaphor should really stick. Point being that I would often have to sacrifice certain thoughts in favor of others. My brain could only handle a certain number of things a day, and even then it frequently let me down. The processing time and  hard disk space were at all time low. This, coupled with constant fatigue made things unpleasant. What developed in that time was a monthly cycle of depression. I would work myself up into a positive enough space to get out there and do as much work as I could, before collapsing at home for at least a week every month. As a result of this, there were a few conversations or issues I had to deal with, that I had pushed to the back of my mind, and waited for my subconscious to figure out. I was however blindsided by the fact that my subconsious was all backed up. It was not until a month after my surgery that the things I remembered I wanted to talk about with my wife came flooding back, complete with answers and conclusions I could not formulate before.

It was both alarming and amazing at the same time. Alarming because I realized just how low I must have been functioning before, and amazing because effective honest communication had been achieved again. Another moment that had a similar effect was at a Friday lunch with my family, where they all commented on how energetic and lively I seemed post-surgery. I didn’t register anything accept happiness at the time, that they saw a difference in me, it validated all the decisions I had made until that point. But afterword’s that happiness was replaced with a deep sense of sorrow. I wondered to myself, just how much had I fallen? How bad must it have been, that my whole family felt the effect, and subsequently the difference after the fact? It was a cathartic moment, as I felt intense pain and relief, for it was the second, and final justification, along with my dreams, that this was all real and not just a fantasy I created in my head. That, I’m glad to say, is where my sleep apnea story ends. And thank god for that.

It was in this vibrant post-surgical world that I fell in love with notebook’s for the first time. I had always had notebooks but my relationship with them was purely business. I usually used them for school or work and I hated the damn things, they were never where I expected them to be and never had anything in them I cared about. But after a few years of unfulfilled, unrealized thoughts, I took to the idea of writing my ideas down constantly. I never wanted to have a thought and not finish it ever again, and so I began the process of taking notes. Before I could begin that however I had to find the notebook in itself. And that did not take long as most stationary shops have this particular brand in stock, and I can I assure you all that there is no better notebook manufacturer on God’s mostly blue earth, than  RHODIA. God damn these things are beautiful, they open with grace and close with dignity. Their pages invite you to pour your words into them and you do, effortlessly. This is made even more effortless with the help of the best pen ever made. I am talking, of course, about the Uniball Eye Fine. What a piece of precision engineering that thing is. Seriously though, it is a marvelous pen if you write fast and want your hand to glide across the page like a seasoned wizard.

With these two tools at my disposal, I began chronicling my every thought, and still do to this day. Although occasionally I’ll use a note app on my phone if I happen to be out of the house or away from my notebooks. The reason being that I simply cannot stand the thought of having an idea and forgetting it. Especially not after what I had already experienced. I wanted to take advantage of my now fully functioning brain and make sure to keep track of everything I think about. The downside of this is that I now of course have way too many notes, and have to spend alot of time sifting through them. I am however very comfortable with the knowledge that all my very best (and worst) ideas they are at least within my grasp.

Finally a little update on what we did today. We woke up, had coffee, a muffin and a sandwich at Starbucks, and went to see Dr. Strange. I won’t spoil anything in the film, but if you want to see it without anyone else’s opinion going through your mind, stop reading now.

My initial reaction is that its good. They overdid that environmental kaleidoscope effect in my opinion, but I can forgive that. Solid performance by the Batch and the rest of the crew, and I have to say Dr. Strange himself instantly became one of the more intriguing marvel superheroes to me. Overall, I give this film a solid B+/A- depending on my mood.

That was the reason I kept you all waiting on the blog today, we woke up with just enough time to get a cup of coffee and make the 3pm show. I will still post on Sundays, just not in the wee hours of the morning (as if I’ve ever done that anyway).

More on other things tomorrow.

Surgery

3 days. In case you were wondering what the answer to the question: How long before this whole blog thing becomes more troublesome than you thought? Its 3 days. Why troublesome? Because suddenly your thoughts are out there and you have to keep adding to them like a deranged loon somewhat capable of coherent sentences. Jokes on you though I don’t actually think anything I write on here. That’s right, this is just a complete waste of my time and yours. It is Saturday though so I’m feeling Ultra-Crabby today. I should probably take the weekends off from blogging, I quite like the sound of that. But I signed off yesterdays with ‘More on that tomorrow’, so to not post today would make me less than honorable and I do not want that. On to our previous topic.

2 minutes. That’s the amount of time it takes to go from relief to have found the correct doctor and course of action, to absolute fear that you have to have surgery. In 2 minutes all the doubts I had about my needing surgery come flooding back. ‘You don’t actually have sleep apnea, you’re just really lazy’. ‘You made it all up, you’re crazy, you know this’. Suddenly it was all in my head again, every single part of me that was so sure I had a problem that needed fixing, evaporated. Gone. Just like that. That’s the power of fear. It can make you think the most ridiculous things, not matter how much evidence you have in front of you. Even my mother (a fantastic woman by the way #top5alltime) had to confirm with Dr. Ashraf that I actually need this surgery. To which he replied ‘yes’. Unfortunately for her, and me I suppose, there is still the possibility that he himself is a super demon with infinitely better acting skills than the one that preceded him. He could have realized the minute I walked through the door that he was going to play into my delusional sleep apnea narrative to make his money. I guess we will never know.

It was not the post-surgery process I was dreading, although that was very weird. And it wasn’t the amount of people who would undoubtedly see my penis under the flimsy hospital gown. Which was 2 by the way, I’m pretty sure my father and the nurse who was readying me before the operation got a look. It was all very awkward. But my fear came from the knowledge that I would be put under. Under with the possibility of staying there forever.

I’m not being melodramatic, it’s really how I think. Everything in life is down to probabilities. And I do NOT like increasing the risk of any harm to myself unless I really need to. And so the probability of dying during surgery is quite naturally higher than that probability when not undergoing surgery. That is a fact my brain does not and will not ever accept in a calm way. Even though I knew my chances of dying from the anesthetic or from sudden catastrophic nose trauma were pretty slim, they were still higher than 0%.

On top of all that, the thought of being made unconscious really did not sit well with me. By all means if you’re going to slice my nose open and break it apart just to put it back together again, put me under. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to like it. The anesthesia they gave me began to kick in just as I entered the surgery room, where a nurse flirted with me in some vague way, to which I replied ‘No, I’m married unfortunately‘.

After the surgery all the pain is in your throat. It’s basically all filled up with blood and mucus, which prompted me to start hurling up buckets of the stuff while my wife rushed to the bathroom to do more of the same. I don’t remember much of the post surgery period which lasted around 2/3 weeks. All I know is the first few days were the hardest on my wife especially. But she pulled me through and got through it herself god bless her.

The funniest moment after surgery was the first time I took the bandages off my nose and looked in the mirror. Dr. Ashraf was smiling and repeating the word swollen. I was barely registering that though and when I saw myself in the mirror it was quite a shock. I looked like a cartoon character because my face had no depth. My face was very swollen on either side of my nose so I looked like a character straight out of Bobs Burgers. Couple that with the psychological thunderstorm of suddenly having a different face and it all made for pretty fun times.

Thankfully though, I made it through the whole process and had a shiny new nose for all my troubles. Although my nose had been severely crooked for most of my life, it was now straight. A side effect that I was expecting, but was not as important as restoring its ability to inhale and exhale air at a relatively lively rate. And after taking off all the bandages and finally being able to breathe through both nostrils properly, I can tell you it was one of the best feelings I had ever had.

It was not nearly as good however, as that first night of REM sleep. Something I had not realized, or had forgotten, was that a side effect of my sleep apnea was a severe and constant lack of dreams. Every night was silent and every morning was anxious. The day I woke up feeling more rested than I can remember and with the first dream in years still fresh on my mind, is probably going to be in my top 10 days ever for the rest of my life. Right now it’s in my top 5 for sure, but I’m accounting for a whole lifetime here so I had to be realistic.

Anyway, that’s enough from me today. Time to watch Arsenal hopefully mutilate Man UTD (no jinx intended). Tomorrow is Sunday, which is still a weekend where I currently am. Still unsure if I will be blogging tomorrow. So I guess I’ll sign off like this:

More on that tomorrow?

Good Night’s Sleep

hhhrnph. Groggy. Very groggy. Where was I? Idiot Doctor that’s right. Let’s call him Idiot#1 (there are more idiots to come). After realizing that the surgeon who operated on me at 12 years of age had basically become a soul-less money guzzling super demon, I had to find someone else. And in that effort  I suppose the super-demon (I thought he was Idiot#1?) helped me establish a new focus. I decided that I would not choose my doctor based on anything other than my personal reading of him. Not what he tells me, not what sounds better, but what I honestly thought of him during our meetings.

In order to do that I would have to have a very high level of social and emotional awareness, or in easier terms, I would have to be really good at reading people. Thankfully this was a skill I had already acquired. Being a chubby geeky gamer and classic introvert I spent the majority of my life on the edge of rooms looking in. That meant that I have probably spent more time observing humans than interacting with them. I’m not entirely sure if that is a statement that is at all unique, this must be true for most people after a certain period of time. But I mean that growing up, I was the quiet thinker in the corner of the room, who occasionally became the class clown, usually during Arabic class.

In any case, you will just have to trust that I am a good judge of other people’s emotions and have a high level of social awareness. Except with my family, for some reason with loved ones your methods of deduction tend to go a little haywire and are replaced with confusion. This tends to become a fixable problem as you often re-calibrate and achieve proper social interaction after a brief period of overload. But this is about the doctor. The second doctor I visited was exceptionally younger than Idiot#1 (I now prefer super-demon :/) this gave me hope, because I knew that a younger doctor meant that he was more up to date with the latest medical practices. What I overlooked was that this guy was taught by the super demon himself. This doctor looked at my scans and told me that my septum was indeed deviated severely, and that my interior turbinates were too large. He argued that the turbinates were the real cause of my sleep apnea and breathing troubles (just like the super demon!). He said he didn’t recommend surgery on the septum because ‘it might damage the septum if it was operated on before’.

It wasn’t his argument that I called bullshit on (even though it was a classic Egyptian doctor tactic of suggesting possible danger to convince you of another course of action), it was the way he said it. Just like the super demon this man was not a great actor. When I asked him again why he only wanted to operate on the turbinates and not on the septum, he gave the reply above, but squinched (thats not a word) his face inwards and looked down and a little to the left. Averting his gaze. Brow furrowed because he knew he was being less than truthful. Not gonna fool me bro. In reality Idiot#2 wanted (you guessed it) MONEY!!! Surgery money!!! And what a beautiful thing money is, but he wasn’t getting mine.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was obviously lying, I also just didn’t like the odds he gave me. He said without operating on my septum he could restore my breathing to 60%.  What a pitiful number to throw at me. If he’s going to lie he should have at least bumped it up to 75% or 80%. It sounds better and I would never be able to argue malpractice over a presumably lost 20%. What a chump. That was that for Idiot#2. Unfortunately Doctor #3 ( I don’t want to call him and idiot because he’s the oldest one and he’s a nice man) was not much better, but he gave me breathing room. He argued that there was nothing wrong with the surgery performed on my septum, and that my problem was purely allergies. I begrudgingly decided to try his allergy medication, while simultaneously sending my scans to the good old USA to be examined, using a website called Second Opinions. Idiot#2 had already confirmed to me what Google had told me, that septum surgery at such a young age is wrong. The nose tends to keep growing and reverse itself back to being deviated. This was obviously what had happened to me over the last few years. When I told Doctor#3 this, he made the sort of sound you make when you’re not sure if you want a third(!) piece of cake. Something like a ‘eeh’.

But you see, I understood his predicament. He was old enough to have made that mistake hundreds of times before the medical community realized you shouldn’t operate on kids. He was probably so upset to learn that, he decided to refute it, to pretend as if those findings didn’t exist, or were at the very least debatable. I understood that kind of defense mechanism, I really did. But what worried me was the middle class family I saw waiting to go in after me. For them an error on their doctors part could cost them everything. They could spend all they have for something that doesn’t heal them at all. Most people in Egypt trust their doctor. If he wants to lead them away  from a certain procedure because  it doesn’t involve HIM doing the surgery, or making the money, he often succeeds. That was what was happening in my case, the Ear Nose Throat guys wanted to keep the business (ME) to themselves, instead of referring me to the proper surgeon for my condition.

When the scans came back from the USA they confirmed what I had been suspecting:

1: My nose was absolutely destroyed

2: It definitely was NOT allergies

3: I needed a plastic surgeon.

That’s right folks, I had to get a nose job. A Functional Rhinoplasty they call it. It was a procedure so complex that only a plastic surgeon could properly perform. I realized then that I was being duped. Definitely by the super-demon and Idiot#2. It was in their interest to operate on me, so they told me that’s what should happen. Instead of referring me to a plastic surgeon so I could get that 100% improvement.

In any case, long story short(?) I found a great plastic surgeon on a website called What Clinic (What an important website!). He had the highest ratings on the site and I trusted my gut. 5 stars is 5 stars. He gave me the same diagnosis as the folks in the USA without me telling him what they said. He was also very honest and clear with me, and once he passed those tests I knew he was the guy. His name is Dr. Ashraf AbolFotooh and you can see his clinic profile here:

Dr. Ashraf’s Clinic

That my friends, is the full story of how I successfully achieved my goal of finally having a good night’s sleep for the first time in years. But how did the surgery go? How did that process feel? How many people saw your penis under that flimsy hospital gown? How many nurses did you flirt with while drifting off under anesthesia?

More on that tomorrow.