daily prompt

Dinosaurs: Bring Back or Send Over

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If you could bring back one dinosaur, which one would it be?

I don’t know why, but I’ve never been interested in dinosaurs—perhaps because of their scientific names, with their long, complicated spellings and pronunciations, which could give one nightmares.


Thank God they went extinct millions of years ago, for we literally have such an abundance in human clothing across the world.

Don’t you believe me?

But of course you should.

Haven’t you heard of the most  advanced cloned versions of dinosaurs?

The Powersaurs, Moneysaurs, Scienceosaus, Mediasaurs, Idiotosaurs, and others from the Humanosaur family. Actually, the Justosaur is also part of the family, but unfortunately, it seems quite powerless and alienated.

See, it doesn’t make much sense to bring a dinosaur back. But… maybe a sample of the cloned version could travel back in a time adventure set millions of years ago. Back then, they might learn the truth—the scientific lesson they seemed to have missed at school: dinosaurs and humans didn’t co-exist.

Now, which is better: to bring one back or send one over?



With hope and peace,

Nahla

memories

July 1999—More shocks

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As it’s the holiday season, I’ve found it a bit hard to write like usual. Are you having the same challenge?

Anyway,  I remembered that I had planned to complete my last post—so here it is, finally! Today, I’m writing it, crumpling  all my other first shocks from Jully 1999 into this one.

Have you read my previous post? I hope you have, but don’t worry if you haven’t. It was just about some funny memories — which you might not find funny at all.

So, the second shock was the rain—not just normal rain. No. It was torrential downpours that welcomed us on our first night in the UK.

Imagine leaving the blue sky in Cairo with its boiling 40°C heat, only to land in semi-sunny weather—and just before going to bed, hearing the symphony of heavy showers outside. There, in that dark night, fat drops of rain started smashing against the windows of our room. That night, I thought it would never stop.

Being a bit imaginative, I exaggerated and turned the typical English weather into an unexpected phenomenon— with yellow warning alerts. I wove scary tales about myself walking through a hurricane with a useless umbrella. My tales seeped into my dreams and turned them into nightmares. That night, sleep was hard to find or even to invite. I wept buckets all night.

The next morning, the sun shone and reigned over the sky, proud to have melted all the puffy grey clouds from the face of the earth. The day was so warm that I wondered whether the heavy showers from last night had been just a dream.

Can you guess what my third shock was?

It was the quiet nights.

Since there was no availability in student accommodation, we ended up renting a flat in a good area that was a bit expensive but so quiet. Not that there were no humans around. Of course, there were! But the thing is, they rarely crossed your path.

When night fell, life seemed to pause.
No open shops.
No family outings.
No dogs barking in streets.
No fighting cats.
No neighbours yelling out of balconies.
No children chasing each other on the road.
Nothing but quiet, dark roads stretching out into the night.

And then, one night, out of that dead quietness, our doorbell rang at midnight. Our friends were too far away to pay us a visit. And midnight visits? That was impossible.

My husband was studying, and when he saw me standing before him, my eyes wide open, staring at him. He told me it was a drunk man who had mistaken our flat for his own and had probably found his by now. But then… we heard keys jingling and turning into our door lock.

‘He’s going to break into our flat,’ I gasped.
‘No, he’s going away soon,’ my husband said, just as the drunk man began signing and laughing.

Soon, he disappeared.

These first shocks turned into funny memories later on, and whenever it is July again, I remember those first days in England back in 1999.



With hope and peace,

Nahla

 

memories

July 1999 — First Adventure, First Shock

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It was in July 1999 when a young couple boarded a plane for the first time —full of hopes, dreams, and a touch of fears. That was me, accompanying my husband, flying to England for an academic adventure.

Those first few days after landing safe and sound on British soil were so dramatic and unexpectedly funny.

Our first shock was the heavy burden we had to handle once we left Heathrow Airport. It wasn’t homesickness— of course, we were emotional before, during, and after embarking on the journey. But, it was another kind of burden that pushed our emotional drama aside: our two heavy pieces of luggage. That was the worst action drama one might experience while travelling. Shocked, my husband and I stared at them, couldn’t believe how and when we packed these two big beasts, and managed to get them onto the flight.

Oh my… May God forgive our families for stuffing our suitcases as if we were flying to Antarctica. And, we just let them—how we could not? The most common and “sincerest” advice we had received from my husband’s colleagues abroad was to pack as much as we could because “life was incredibly expensive in the UK.” By the way, that was a bit of exaggeration.

But, there’s a funny bit after every shock, right?

From London, we travelled to Manchester, and after a short stay there, we headed to Birmingham. The train journeys across these parts of England were hilarious—mainly because of our two bulky companions.

It was a miracle not just to get our two pieces of luggage onto the train but to find enough space for them. Actually, the two bags, lying in a straight line, were like a massive crocodile that swallowed most of the space in the carriage. My husband did the whole job; pushing and lifting. I was blessed to be excused from taking part in that embarrassing show, for I had just discovered I was pregnant.

Looking around at the cute suitcases and backpacks, we couldn’t help but wonder: why on earth had we packed so much? I did my best not to laugh, but I couldn’t. It seemed that my pregnancy hormones were getting the best of me. Thank God they were pressing on my sunny side.

So, whenever my eyes fell on our luggage, I burst out laughing. My husband wished we could push them off the train. ‘Let’s pretend we forgot them somewhere,’ he whispered, and my tears rolled down my face from laughing.

To be continued…

With hope and peace,

Nahla










daily prompt

When to Bother Becomes Why Bother?

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What bothers you and why?


Ignoring—that’s one of the most bothering things.

Ignoring others, whether in preson or online, through physical interaction or unansewred messages and calls— that’s one of the most annoying experiences.

One can differentiate shyness from rudeness, right? And what I am talking about is rudeness—the art of ignoring others on purpose.

Years ago, when I was ignored, I would become upset, emotional, and even depressed. But things change— and we change too.

So, nowadays, when things happen, I whisper to myself, “Why bother?” But… I don’t actually say “why bother” nonchalantly. I mean … in the past, I would burst out crying at home. Now, I’ve made up my mind; if someone ignores me once, I will ignore them ten times. That’s not all.

Sometimes, I explode— out loud at home or within in my head. I will call that person every name my anger dictionary dictates, from every book I’ve read. Then I  breathe and repeat: “Why bother?”
(Please don’t reference me as a guide in similar cases.)

On the other hand, it happens when your mind, sometimes, plays back some unpleasant memories from the past—a misunderstanding, a loss, missed opportunities, unfulfilled dreams, a hurt, etc.

Other times, your mind recalls good memories that make you wonder how time flies and how much you wish you could relive them.

In the first case, I say, “Why bother”—let bygones be bygones.

In the second, I smile and pray that what’s coming will be much, much better.



With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

The Heat Wave

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It has been scorching and dry for more than two weeks across the UK. We had been waiting for summer to grace us with its warmth once more— it does, with more than enough. But it seems that rain’s patience has worn thin. Rains have already started gathering mountains of grey clouds, ready to have full control over English weather again.

But that’s normal—I mean the summer’s heat wave and its rain-showers successor. What isn’t normal is the maddness wave that seems to be spreading like weeds all over the world. It seems to be having the worst influence on people’s mentality— from the most powerful to the common, the wealthiest to the poorest, the highly educated to basic learners.

Sometimes, one wonders whether the heatwave is behind the phenomenon of the maddness wave that’s been eating humans’ brains. Probably. But unfortunately, it seems that rains can not find their way to some people—just like Mr. Mad.

Have you ever heard the story of Mr. Mad?

Well, it’s a long fictional tale that began on one of those boiling days. It’s basically about a wealthy great- grandfather living on the top floor of a skyscraper somewhere in the world, who decided to take charge of the whole building—apartments and residents—from the hightest floors to the basement.

Well… I usually don’t give any spoilers in my reviews, but I will just say that Mr. Mad’s days bring the worst heat waves and know no rain at all.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

Passions vs Affections

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Does it ever happen to you that, while reading, you pause at certain words and wonder not about their meaning but about their differences? In other words, you know which word to use,  but you still wonder why another can’t fit in this context or that situation.

Am I getting a bit philosophical?
Of course not… I’m just getting a bit speculative.

Let’s consider, for example, the words: passions and affections— the cousins from the sensitive emotions family. These two cousins are close in blood, though distant in behaviour. Isn’t their difference obvious, even in the very sound of their names?

Try and voice the two words.

Do you notice the difference?

Do you feel the strength of passions and the delicacy of affections?

By the way, both are healthy and important feelings for the well-being of humanity. However, each follows its own path.

Do you know why?

Affections are mostly hidden—quiet and deep— within the heart. Kindness, tenderness, and warmth are just a few examples of how affections work. They are private, gently whispering to awaken what’s good and pure inside us.

Passions, on the other hand, are strong, fiery, and bold. Excitement, temper, and recklessness are some examples of how passions work. They scream, shout, and might even fight to arouse and fuel the fiery emotions within us. Lust, in its many forms, is fed by the reinless passions— isn’t it?

Perhaps this is why affections live long and strong, while passions, in most cases, are extinguishable and short-lived.

And at the end of a long day, when eyes are tired and heavy with sleep, it’s the whisper of a genuine prayer, a kind gesture, or a gentle touch that weaves our happy dreams.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

What is the Art of Waiting?

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It’s the highly esteemed virtue—

the companion of wisdom,

the friend of perseverance,

the key to peace,

the first rule of trust,

the fuel for success,

the road to love,

and the gate to happiness.



Am I missing something?

Oh yes—

it’s the prayer we repeat,
believing it’s been heard
and will be answered
at its perfect time.

Now, do you know what the art of waiting is?

It’s patience.
And it is really hard to master this highest form of art.

But, sometimes, people test your patience until you can’t hold the horses anymore. You won’t just let the horses go wild, but you might burn the bridges or, like Samson, destroy the temple.

Perhaps that’s why patience can’t thrive without faith.

Aren’t the patient the most blessed?



With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

Can We Foretell the Future?

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“…it is impossible to foretell the future with any degree of accuracy, that it is impossible to rehearse life.”

This post is inspired by this quote from A Room with a View by E. M. Forster—a book I finished reading a few days ago.

There’s an interesting irony woven naturally into the story. It’s about life, reminding us that it isn’t a script to be read, memorised, or rehearsed. Instead, it flows and surprises us in unexpected ways.

Strange, how others, unintenionally, play a role in paving our path to happiness without being a part of it.

Strange, how those who wish us ill end up helping us grow and live better lives.

Strange, how annoying, boring delays save lives.

Strange, how the rush—that nagging impulse—is just an urgent call to fulfil something before it’s too late.

And isn’t it strange how we make plans, rehearse good speeches, feel things under control…, and then life surprises us in the most miraculous ways.

Isn’t that just life?

Isn’t that why God reminds us: it’s temporary?


With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

That’s hurt

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It’s so painful.


Have you ever asked yourself these whys?



Why did I make that decision?

Why with a smile and a nod I say, Yes, I want to?

Why do I head there straightaway, on time, to keep my word?



Now it hurts, no… it’s so painful, more painful than the ache I felt before making that decision.



“You’re doing well,” they encouraged

“Well done,” they praised.

“All done,” they congratulated.



And there it is—your wisdom tooth, resting on the dentist’s super hygienic tray, glaring and laughing at you: “Farewell my friend, but don’t blame me for the extra, obnoxious pain you’ll be getting today.”



It’s not wise to extract your wisdom tooth, is it?

After all, wisdom doesn’t only cost a fortune, but it also has deep, stubborn roots that are too painful to yield.



With hope and peace,

Nahla

daily prompt

How could you give up this treasure?

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What are you most worried about for the future?

Privacy. That’s the most valubale thing I believe we should all worry about.

Privacy. A precious virtue that was once treasured— before the madness of social media, before having cameras on smartphones, before homes became more glass than brick, before fashion meant wearing less than more, before movies and dramas with different ratings became not that different at all, before crude language and obscenity were regarded as comedy and entertainment. The list of “before” can go on and on, and it is really scary.

No boundaries mean no privacy, and no privacy means no morality, and that all leads to chaos and madness—just like our today world. The more you expose, the more popular and ‘normal’ you become.

But, don’t we feel sorry and sympathise with the insane because of their mental deficiency?

Of course we do. We would never blame, judge, sue them for their wrongdoings?  They are pardoned by both divine and human laws because they can not differentiate right from wrong, private from common.

Isn’t it strange how sane humans feel pity for the insane, yet behave the same— and even worse, expect the same pardon?

You know what? This kind of contradiction doesn’t even exist in the animal kingdom.

Isn’t your privacy something to value, to protect, and to worry about in this all-open, all-permissible digital world?

Without privacy, you are just like anyone, but with privacy, you are yourself.

With hope and peace,

Nahla