Category Archives: Daily Prompts :)

The words I couldn’t say.

In a book -in a box-  in the closet
In a line- in a song I once heard
In a moment on a front porch late one june,
In a breath inside a whisper beneath the moon.

There it was at the tip of my fingers
There it was on the tip of my tongue.
There you were and I had never been that far
There it was the whole world wrapped inside my arms
And I let it all slip away.

What do I do now that you’re gone?
No back up plan, no second chance
And no one else to blame.
All I can hear in the silence that remains
Are the words I couldn’t say.

– Rascal Flatts “The Words I Couldn’t Say”

I remember having this song on repeat on my iPod Nano when I was about 15 maybe. I never really read the lyrics or concentrated on the words enough to understand, until I was 18, and heard it again. I’ve never loved lyrics more than these. It’s unusual and detailed and just [long sigh].

In response to “You’re asked to recite a poem (or song lyrics) from memory — what’s the first one that comes to mind? Does it have a special meaning, or is there another reason it has stayed, intact, in your mind?”



Oh if I had a set of wings right about now. That’s all I need! I’d be anything with wings because; well I would say my head is usually very much in the clouds, so why not physically fly amongst the stars too?

In response to today’s Daily Prompt:

We’re less than a week away from Halloween! If you had to design a costume that channeled your true, innermost self, what would that costume look like?

A “Zaffeh” in Beirut

“Think about the town where you currently live: its local customs, traditions, and hangouts, its slang. What would be the strangest thing about this place for a first-time visitor?”

You’re quietly sitting in the corner of your couch watching the TV talk to you and you suddenly hear really loud repetitive bangs.




As your heart bounces out of your chest to dive back in, you bravely but cautiously step foot after foot out your door to get a better look at what’s going down.

Another line of Booms follow each other as you exit your realm of security to find six men, mostly bald, wearing long white cloaks and grey-ish twenty-centimeter-wide belts around their waists, in the middle of the street. At their hips, large drums attached with ropes and sticks slightly ticking at the back of the drums. The main man holds the biggest tambour in the middle but you can hear the fierce derbakkeh in the background practically holding the spectacle together. The trumpet man with his team of drum-men play their instruments as loud as they can at 7pm, waking up a street that is already awake and excited. Everyone who has ever seen you walk down the street for the past twenty-something years are all on their balconies, some dancing on the second floor, most gossiping about the bride and the pre-wedding preparations, but all watching as the show goes down, throwing un-wanted rice at the bride to signify good wishes and many children to her, others critical about a few fashion faux-pas seen on relatives and friends of the couple.

Little girls runway down the dirty street with the second most expensive little heeled shoes, and big red Spanish-like dresses chatting with their little friends about meaningful little things.

The “zaffeh” is a traditional pre-wedding ceremony in Lebanon where a group of “professional zaffeh people” accompany the groom to the bride’s parent’s home/and during the wedding, whilst drumming and doing the “dabké”, also a traditional linear dance enjoyed pretty much everywhere in Lebanon, with different variations to the steps depending on the area in the country.

So as all the brouhaha goes up and down, the bride walks down the stairs dressed in an overwhelmingly puffy white dress, dances a little in the middle of the street with her cousins, half-brothers and sisters, future in-laws and father’s friends’ kids.

Some of the women neighbors will be so taken by the big display of celebration on the streets that they decide to proceed in something called the “zalghouta”. It’s a mix of little screams and fast tongue movement, creating an eternal sound of lightning at night, and while the rest clap and throw even bigger grasps of rice, the bride squeezes her way into her white ride, followed by honking cars and laughter, down the path of ongoing gossip and three-cheek-kisses to relatives you’ve never seen/spoke to/heard of in your life but gathered around with, for this very Lebanese wedding.

Moved to tears

In response to: Do movies, songs, or other forms of artistic expression easily make you cry? Tell us about a recent tear-jerking experience!

Oh my God I I whale and cry in every shape and sense of the term. Tears just happen and I’ll be lying to you if I said it didn’t feel good sometimes. I remember weeping when I watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. By the end of the film I felt like I had lost weight. and Yes I also watched Titanic and weeped like I’ve never weeped before with no shame. I was a wet mess. I remember my brother looking at me like “it was not that bad come on” and i just went on and on. What triggers everything is probably seeing people cry. Funny enough it’s as contagious as a laugh and I catch it every time.

I also cried when I read the twilight books. Very much. Sew me.  My mom walked in the room shocked by my constant cries and red face extravaganza.

As for songs I can’t help the tears when listening to How to save a life by The Fray where I just imagine everything and how he’s feeling and all that ball of emotions starts rolling down my cheeks. The piano hits me hardest, then come the vocals and one thing leads to another as I grab my tissue.


Letter to the archeologist of 2500 from the girl in 2014.

So here’s another one.

“500 years from now, an archaeologist accidentally stumbles on the ruins of your home, long buried underground. What will she learn about early-21st-century humans by going through (what remains of) your stuff?”

Letter to the archeologist of 2500 from a girl in 2014.

The long four walls that have housed me all my years ended up being ruins for you to find. Everything I’ve known is now almost non-existent, so to clarify, here’s what I hope you will find.

You will discover different sized lines on my bedroom door keeping up with my height but you won’t really know how I grew up and how exactly tall I was.

You’ll probably find pencils and papers all over and under my room but I wish you could’ve seen how many essays I’ve handed in over the years and feel the sweat still marked on the pen from my palms.

You might still be able to find the flower I taped in my diary when I was thirteen because I never wanted to throw away a long awaited act of puppy love given to me, but sadly you missed my skipped heartbeat at the sight of it. Oh and I hope you don’t find the rest of my diaries/later on called journals because I could not stand people’s sarcastic faces at the thought of the word. You’ll find immaturity and grammatically misspelled awkwardness on a 14x11cm strawberry scenting hello kitty paper.

I do hope you find my mother’s drawings, much more sophisticated and artistically challenging than my cartoon network doodles. I hope you find her big painting of dancing women in colored dresses. She never sold it or showcased it to anyone but I always saw it live enough to speak to and dance with.

I hope you find my earphones because I lost them about a year ago.

You’ll probably find my bed but will never really discover the comfort it enveloped me with when I was sick in its sheets. You’ll find clothes that used to fit me and pictures of people who used to know me, and I them, but not the conversations and bonds we’ve shared. I hope you listen closely enough to the pictures to hear what we were talking about.

So in conclusion, archeologist of the future, I regret to inform you that the photo frames you will find are the closest reflections of the comfort and love that would flow around our three-bedroom house. I do hope I’ve shed some light on how things were back here, and I hope they haven’t changed much later on.

The daily news: 3 September 2501

“500 years from now, an archaeologist accidentally stumbles on the ruins of your home, long buried underground. What will she learn about early-21st-century humans by going through (what remains of) your stuff?”

Ever since memories developed in my brain, I remember moving quite a lot. I’m in my late teenage-hood (yes I called it teenage hood) and still remember living in different houses in different countries. So to make this easier on our beloved archeologist whom I’m sure will have a mental breakdown if he had to go through all the ruins of my past, I’ve decided to collect all his findings in a futuristic news article. I’ve even given the archeologists names  because I simply cannot do anything normally.

Washington, 3 September 2501

Archeologist Allstars  Brandon and Lisa Stillmane, best known for uncovering the first traces of the iPhone 7 back in 2471, were off on another exhilarating journey to the Middle East, in search for any traces dating back to the twenty first century.

After years of theories and diggings their first breakthrough would uncover the details of a lost era. They’ve had their hopes answered when old ruins of a house in Lebanon were finally discovered. Traces of a hard dark brown substance were found. The archeologists confirmed the material to be “Wood”, earlier used to make doors and housing furniture. The “Wood” is now showcased in the Museum of the 21st Century in Washington DC.

According to the search team, the house had belonged to a family of four in the year 2005, a Lebanese man and his wife, along with two children, a girl and a boy.  The archeologist found a lot of pictures and drawings on a light and thin substance previously called “Paper”. The astonishing discovery of the material is the first of its kind to shed a more clarifying light onto the past.

The 500 year old family was said to have moved elsewhere in 2006 after a war broke out in Lebanon. All that’s left of the house are videotapes of Walt Disney movies and pictures of two happy children.  Reports also say the archeologists found a big green rectangular shaped box filled with colored broken plastic that was used for toys. One of the only items that appeared to still be in the best of conditions was a golden pin and brochure with a blue colored gem. According to the archeologists, the golden pin was a traditional gift usually offered at the birth of a child during that time. The blue gem is said to be a “nazar”, a blue eye shaped amulet that is said to protect its wearers from the “evil eye”. The evil eye was a curse believed to be cast by a malevolent glare, usually given to a person when they are unaware. Many cultures believed that receiving the evil eye will cause misfortune or injury. The golden pin along with the blue “nazar” gem belonged to the daughter of the household. The items were given to her at her birth by an elder, said to be a two generations older, possibly a grandparent. 

Another item in almost-perfect condition was a very hard box containing fourteen differently-sized snow globes of many different places around the world, two hard cover books with almost the same substance of “Paper” found in pictures, and a heart shaped box made out of metal. It’s hard to understand the stories behind the ruins but this discovery has concretized researcher’s imagination about an entire century.

Tune in at 9 o’ clock for more news about this ground-shattering discovery.

On Bees and Efs- Main People

My mom always told me that there were no such things as best friends. In her own way she made sure I understood that no one truly clearly unconditionally cared, except for her.

I was one of those girls that would jump at the opportunity of a possible best friend-ship. I literally thought things happen exactly like they did in the movies (yes, very original), and if a boy stares at you that way for that long it would inevitably mean it’s true love and it will last forever and ever and hand-holding a fierce kissing under stormy weathers, and your best friend would be your soul sister and crime partner and all that jazz.

Thing is when you’re a teenager, it does feel exactly like that, where you get your first kiss and you’re not as tall as he is and he’s got a lot of facial hair but you still feel like he’s your Channing Tatum and he’ll prove he loves you the right way forever in less than 1 hour and 45 minutes the way all the movies go, and you start repeating to yourself and trying to process that oh my God was that my first kiss and is that how lips really feel like?

Jumping off the overly emotional slow moving train, on to the fast-track of the girl I met in seventh grade. She wasn’t in my school but “fate” introduced us one night as all the Drama Comedies go and it went on for years after that. She was as fearless as I would have loved to imagine myself being at that time. She would lead and speak out and say things I didn’t understand but learned along the way. We were partners in crimes she mostly committed, but I would enjoy the ride the way you enjoy a fast car drive in a convertible, our hair was messy and we didn’t know where we were going but we couldn’t care less about the road or the hair. I learned what adrenaline meant and how it felt when I used to sneak out my parents’ house to go to the mall or hide the truth about meaningless things. This might have seemed like nothing but it colored my days and now it sums up my tweens. I experienced late night 90210s on MBC4 along with crunched hot Cheetos, a little secret sharing, some face-to-face bashing, a lot of Marble slab and occasional runaways. She was like no other friend I had ever met, my parents’ “bad influence” and my personal yesokayI’llsayit Bestie.

Either way we parted after years of infinite facebook chats and heart to hearts although our best friendship was very rocky at times. We weren’t inseparable but we always found each other every other day of the week, probably because her house was less than two blocks away from mine. We don’t keep in touch much now and I don’t believe in best friendship, but I believe in main friends. Basically the few people that sum up multiple years of your life. They’re kind of a reflection of who you were or who you wanted to be at that time.

Like the first friend that I’ve made, back when homework was coloring in my drawing book. We met and it was like a pan found its lid. She was my best friend before we even knew what best friends were. We never called each other that but we always knew we were the amazing. Year after year we were always in the same classes for another “fate” reason, where our parents got along and my brother was her brother’s friend. She was the first person that had ever slept over for a girl’s night in, and the first I had ever travelled with and got to be my true it’s-okay-to-burp-and-to-make-weird jokes-along-the-way self with. Then we parted countries and grew apart, but every time I go back all that changes is her hair. Her voice is still the same and her house still looks the same and we still laugh at the same things and remember the photographs because we don’t need to share secrets or gossip about anything except each other.

You’ve got another kind of best friend in another time lapse where you always have lunch together until you figure out how much she brings out the wild in you, and the other so talented-and-true kind of person that you want to showcase to the world, and the one you stood up for in front of everyone in class and the one with the endless skype sessions and the one that’s holding onto all your secrets over the phone and that doesn’t judge even if 99% of the rest are. They are main people that sum up little parts of your life, and out of all the people you’ve met, you’ll remember their names and yes, phone numbers even if they don’t live here anymore because they used to be number 1 on your speed dial at one point.