Cinnamon Zone

As much as I enjoyed the sun this morning, I couldn't wait to find a taxi before I froze over. So, I stopped that taxi and the driver pulled over. I noticed there was a little girl in the passenger seat. I told him my destination and he said that he must drop his daughter at school first; I thought it was okay and got in.

I couldn't see the girl's face, only her smooth brown hair worn down and the sleeve of her jeans jacket with a patch of fur on the cuff. She kept asking her father questions and he answered her with a smile. Her soft cheerful voice made everything she said seem like the cutest thing eve. At last, we reached the school. As the car pulled up, he kissed her on the cheek and she said "bye baba", then she turned to open the car's door, turned her head sideward so I could see her cute little face with all the tiny features, her soft brown hair pulled back and draped over her shoulders. She had that smile that made her sparkling eyes look as though they were laughing, the kind of smile that makes you smile no matter what. With that very face she looked at me and said: "bye auntie", then hopped out of the car briskly and wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulders as they walked away together…

Just what are the odds that you'll witness such mind-blowing cuteness in a taxi first thing in the morning? She utterly made my day!

Date: Saturday, 5/1/2007

Time: right after the prolonged lunch break (since we spend the lunch break hanging out and bringing food, we need to eat afterwards)

Place: In a closed office somewhere in Shmeisani

Battled parties: Ola (Yours truly) and Ruba (new on the block)

Circumstances:

- The following misfortunate event took place right after having a maliciously delicious chicken philly, since both parties involved enjoy crappy unhealthy food and not ashamed to admit it. Mind you that this could have a serious toll on the brain function.

- It was Saturday and we were like the only ones working among the people we know, so everyone was either sleeping, going out or whatever but not working. So, we needed to do something to forget that reality.

- It was rainy, rainy days makes you feel you want to go out or stay under a heavy blanket at home watching a nice movie… whatever! That’s a lame excuse anyway

- Ruba haven’t had her after-lunch coffee yet, and I am on allergy medication, which you know can have side effects. Another lame excuse…

- She was bored, and that was one of the rare times I felt like working. Clash of wills, a battle was bound to ensue.

Prelude:

Ruba went around going from desk to desk whining about how bored she was and how she didn’t feel like working at all. Then, all of a sudden, she’s standing by my office, dropping things deliberately on the ground. I tried to be patient by picking things up and telling her to buzz off because I was trying to work, which hasn’t happened in a while, but there was no stopping her.

The Last Straw:

Ruba grabbed the calendar that was on my office and held it up, threatening to drop it on the ground. It wasn’t much about the calendar, but well, I blew a gasket anyway and threatened her that if she did, I’d do something she wouldn’t like.

Zero Hour:

As I had no idea what I was threatening to do, I grabbed the first thing I could lay hand on, which happened to be the seemingly harmless mouse pad. After some hesitation, she went suicidal by taking the very unwise decision of dropping the calendar. The next thing I knew I was sweeping my arm back and tossing the mouse pad as if it was a Frisbee, forgetting the fact that I took lessons at school in tossing something like the frisbee, but a lot heavier. For a fraction of a second, my heart sank within me because then it hit me that we might need to buy her an eye patch after the perfectly horizontally tossed “Frisbee” snatched her eyeball away. Thankfully though, she managed a maneuver that made her left side of the head take the blow.

Aftermath:

Thankfully as well, there was no aftermath. Ruba is the kind of girl who takes those fights with more than a grain of salt. She only looked up with a look that says: “Oh my God!” and a grin that says: “Wasn’t this whole thing ridiculously funny?” Later on she would take me by surprise and throw a rubber pencil holder at my back. Ah, she also said: I hate you, to which I replied: Get in the line.

Conclusion:

- Never underestimate the power of a girl working on Saturday.

- Never mess with a moody klutz, especially if she has some seemingly harmeless objects at hand.

- We should do this more often, just without any hard objects.

An earlier scene to set the record straight:

Girls leaving the building…

Ola: A lady does this… [and then kicks the big glass gate open]

Ruba: Yeah! way to go...

You know what I’m talking about now?

Over the years my friends have found different ways in pointing out how heartless they think I am. One of them would say that the first time she saw me crying, and perhaps the only time, was just two years ago when my grandfather died, although I could swear she saw me crying years before that. Others would be more explicit, like what my friend told me bluntly today as she said: “I can never imagine you being in love with someone”. Usually I wouldn’t respond to that, but for what it’s worth, I found myself telling her that, well, at this point in my life I happily have no crushes, but that doesn’t mean that I have never or will never have feelings for anyone.

I don’t remember being annoyed by that until recently, when I realized that it’s becoming hard for some people to believe that I’m capable of that very basic and intuitive human feeling. Doesn’t just kill you to be underestimated?

Perhaps the time I was bugged the most was when my 17 year-old cousin casually made a very daring assumption. We were talking about different things and we happened to mention something about relations, and I think I said something about how life doesn’t stop because of one person and how you should not let a guy be the center of your universe. So, all of a sudden, she confidently says to me: Oh, that’s because you don’t know what it feels like to be in love…

At that moment I felt like my brain was going to explode. I mean seriously, my teenage cousin assumes she knows better than me what it feels to be in love. I don’t know what would you say about that, but I felt deeply insulted. Not that I don’t believe you can always learn from the youngster, but when it comes to this specific issue, I so don’t trust teenagers, not with all the pubescent hormones rushing through.

Ever since those words came out of her, I’ve been rambling in my thoughts, trying to jump on any opportunity to tell her that, in my humble personal cold stiff-neck adult opinion, I think that she only thinks she knows what love is like, and that those experiences she calls “love” are probably nothing but teenage crushes, a mixture of curiosity, excitement, attraction and again, hormone rush. I’m dying to tell her that this which she calls love lacks the most important element of love, the one thing that makes it real, that makes it endure, which is maturity. It’s like the glue that sticks the pieces together. I’m dying to tell her that if she really knew what love is, she should know that it could be very dangerous, and since sometimes the best thing is to run away, you better use your mind before the feelings kick in, because if they did, you might be getting yourself into a life-size trouble.

P.S: This post doesn’t mean in any way that December has made me go soft. I haven’t gone soft, I’m still tough as a rock, just a little bit… whatever!

It is said that depression rates tend to soar high on holidays, or so I heard. Maybe because it’s a time to reflect on what’s gone and what’s yet to come, or not to come. Or, maybe because it’s the time of the year when the lonely become more aware of their loneliness. However, when I announced this time of the year to be my depression season, I had my own different reasons.

I can’t remember the exact moment when W and I became not only cousins, but also best friends, but I know it was very, very long time ago. We grew up together, she told me her secrets, her crushes, her dreams, basically everything she could tell to anybody. However we disagreed with each other on many things over the years, we never really fought. Once she told me that when we were kids she tried over and over to pick a fight with me, but it never worked.

I remember how we used to sleep over at Grandpa’s house, how we spent hours on end talking and laughing and dreaming. I remember our little adventures, how once we tried to hide from the other kids in the driving training center next to Grandpa’s house just to end up with a third degree reproof by our uncle. That was one of the days we cried together, just to laugh about it in the years to come.

I remember how we used to lock ourselves up in our Grandpa’s guest room to share some “secrets”, secrets that turned out to be common knowledge we shared openly with everyone as we jumped out of adolescence.

I remember one night last year, just around this time of the year, when she was the first person to whom I spilled my most intimate secret that I once thought I would take with me to the grave. I told her I want to speak with the lights off, without having to see her. It was a big step for me to talk out, and she fully understood it. She listened and listened for hours, and when I was done, she made sure I didn’t regret it.

I remember clearly one evening few years back when I was sitting with W in our grandpa’s house. There was nobody in the living room, and we sat beside the wide window overlooking Jordan street. We were visualizing the future, imagining what may become of us as we grow up and each of us takes a different path in life. We promised that we’ll stay friends as we are now, and that our children, should they ever materialize, will be friends too. We promised to visit each other all the time and never drift apart. We dreamed, we imagined and we made promises, but it didn’t occur to us that we hadn’t examined all possibilities.

It’s really ironic how happy occasions can be a source of distress sometimes. Something you can see in the tears of parents at weddings, and friends waving goodbye in airports. A tear that says: I love you, I’ll miss you, and I wish you all the best.