I am a blogger and will stay a blogger – Follow up post


During the weekend, and reflecting on my last post “I am a blogger and will stay a blogger“, I came to realize that what I said isn’t totally true. I mean, when I wrote it, I felt that yeah, this is how I feel, and it sounds good, and it is right! But then thinking about it, I guess that it was tainted by my previous post where I mentioned “aging”, and I suppose that, unconsciously, my 40 years voice took over.

You know, they tell us that in our 20s we are haste, we are energetic, and we have big dreams. We believe that we can change the world and we are fearless about it. But then in our 40s, when we reach our defined “middle age” (I don’t think 40 is my middle, but anyway), we become more mature, more reasonable, we face reality and come to realize that it is easier to change ourselves, or adapt to the world than changing it.

That’s wisdom, isn’t it? But it also spells “giving up”. Like I am frustrated enough and I no longer bother. I don’t have the energy for this anymore. And I don’t care!

This is not me. It is not going to be in my 40s and hopefully not in the following decades. I still want to change the world. It was the reason I started blogging 13 years back and will continue a major drive for me to write. And while I do enjoy blogging for the sake of blogging, I still want to talk about what I feel unjust around me. I still want to champion sexual freedoms and body rights. And I still want everyone to believe that there is hope and that science is capable of defeating aging. I want to see everyone onboard, supporting scientific advances in biotechnology. And I secretly hope to have the chance to study bio-chemistry myself and contribute to the actual research (maybe in a parallel universe).

Having said that, negating the first point in my previous post. I will go ahead and do the same for the other points. I claimed that I no longer care about blog traffic and exposure. Mmmm, of-course I’d say that since I haven’t been blogging for so long, but then again, after every post, I find myself checking the stats! Who read my blog? How many people read it? where did they come from? How many Facebook shares? Any Twitter shares? I should admit this. I want people to read what I write, and I want you guys to enjoy reading it and share it with your friends and followers.

Same applies to “the heated discussions”. I claimed that “I don’t enjoy it anymore”. Which isn’t true. I love discussing what I am passionate about. I can go on forever. And while I admit that I have been avoiding getting into such debates on Facebook, I know that this avoidance has to do with the person I discuss with, not the topic itself. You just know that the person is hopeless and no matter what you say will not get you anywhere.

And in my last point in the post, I claimed that I don’t want to be a “fashionista” or an “Instagram Influencer”. The truth is that I don’t think I have it in me what it take to be a fashionista, and I don’t know how to become an Instagram Influencer. You know how much such people make these days? It is insane, wallahi. And if it was as easy as dressing weirdly to set trends, than I wouldn’t mind exploring that path. But it is certainly no easy, and I don’t know how these people have done it. Respect and power to them!

So yes, I blog because I enjoy blogging, because it is a learning tool and a meditation to me, but it is also because I wish to change the world, to communicate my ideas and discuss them, and also to gain exposure and maybe one day get the reach of an Instagram mega influencer!

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I am a blogger and will stay a blogger


I love blogging! I haven’t been doing that much in the past few years and I have always rationalized that it is due to the lack of time or ideas to talk about. But suddenly, this week, a fresh new energy popped up, and I found myself blogging, almost every day. And today is my second blog post too!

And I just realized that it is the act of blogging itself that I really enjoy. It is the act of talking to myself, and putting my thoughts into words. Yes, I can see now that contrary to what I partially used to think:

  1. I no longer blog to change the world. I have my novels for that.
  2. I don’t blog to get good traffic and exposure. I used to care about this 13 years back when I started blogging. Not anymore.
  3. I don’t blog to start heated discussions. I used to enjoy this a lot, but not sure I do anymore.
  4. I don’t want to be a fashionista or Instagram influencer. I am a blogger and will stay a blogger (slash novelist :P).

I blog because it feels good and I enjoy it. I blog because it is a learning tool, a creative act and a creation platform. It is like meditation to me. Listening to my internal voice, my honest self, brining it up and shaping it into written words.

I simply love it!

Don’t confuse this as a sign of aging


So.. every morning I wake up, I go to the toilet, have my breakfast, my shower, prepare my gym bag, get dressed and leave. That’s the regular schedule during week.

I close the door, get into the elevator, go 12 floors down, get into my car and drive to the office.

I suddenly stop.

I stop when I remember that I forgot one or more of the following items:

  1. My phone
  2. My wallet
  3. My gym bag
  4. My office laptop
  5. My food bag
  6. My eyeglasses (new item to worry about)

I pause for a moment to assess the situation, before I turn around, retract, and head back to the house. And that usually depends on the moment at which this sudden revelation comes to me. I mean, sometimes it happens when I am in the elevator, so it is easy, I tell myself “yalla Fadi press 12 and go up and get it”. But in other times, it happens when I reach my car and start driving and get out of the parking. I’d be lucky if it happens when I am still in business bay area close to my building, but it usually strikes me when I am in a good mood, enjoying Elissa’s voice coming out of the radio, and ready to do the final u-turn towards the office, 20 minutes away from home! And for a reason that is beyond my capacity to understand, this latter scenario in particular insist to happen when it is the office laptop that I forget. Maybe it hit me when I get close to the office and see the building? Probably! Bu thanks God that doesn’t happen often as I rare take my office laptop home. Nevertheless, these are a set of 6 different items, and they alternate in slipping off my memory when I leave home. And to be honest they are not all of same importance. I mean if it is the gym bag, and if I have been going regularly to the gym, then hurray, I’d be more than happy to skip it for the day and get back after work to nap! Same for the food bag, I’d tell myself, lets break the diet and enjoy the day, it is out of my hand anyway! The wallet? mmmm, I can live without it for the day. Eyeglasses, who needs them? But hold on, the phone? hell no. I think you all know me better. That is when the real panic strike and no matter how far I get, even if the office is on the moon, I drive back and get it.

Please don’t confuse the above as a sign of aging, or early Alzheimer. I am sure it happens to you too. Don’t say no. And to be honest, it doesn’t really happen often, just from time to time, I mean something like e v e r y d a y! No I am joking. Maybe once a month. But it is annoying when it happens.

I remember a good old friend of mine 20 years back. He figured it out back then and had a special technique where he gives numbers to all items and keep on counting before he leaves home. I used to find this funny and never got into the habit, but now I see it smart, isn’t it? Does anyone of you use the same technique? If not, give it a try and let me know how it works!

My last day in Brighton


Brighton's beach

Brighton’s beach

It is my last day  in Brighton. When I first arrived, a year ago, I was kind of excited about doing my MA. Few days after my arrival, I was homesick and crying in my room. I don’t know why, but I was very stressed out back then. There were several things that I had to take care of but couldn’t figure out immediately. I had to complete my registration, open a bank account, figure out my classes schedule, figure out transportations to the city, buy a new laptop, get a phone card, and configure the internet connection on my phone and ipad. Everything felt so damn difficult, and not knowing anyone, I felt very lonely.

I thought that things would get better once I start attending my classes, but it actually got worse. I was there, sitting in a class of psychoanalysis with around another 14 students. They all looked young, European, and smart! They all had a bachelor degree in English Literature whereas mine was computer science (from Jordan’s university long long time ago). I never studied Literature, and had no idea what ‘critical thinking’ means. I was excited about the creative, wanted to read and write fiction and improve my writing skills. I didn’t really understand the nature of the course before joining, and I take full blame of that. It is split between the creative and the critical. Now I see the importance of it. But at that time, when I started reading different critical essays, I used to understand little, and in class, I used to stay silent, trying to understand the course of discussion and the different accents of the students. The fact that they could read different dimensions of a text which I could barely understand its meaning used to scare me out. Even the silent ones, whom I initially thought were less smart (like me), felt to be brilliant once they spoke up!

Two to three weeks down the line, I remember sitting there thinking to myself. I left my family, my friends and all the people who I love. I left my comfortable life, the sense of achievement I had back then after the success of Aroos Amman, and my well paying job. I left all of that to become a student again, at the age of 34 walking down the campus around 18-22 students and some postgraduates in their early twenties! I thought that I left everything for nothing as I became convinced that I am not getting much of the course and that there is no way that I could make it and pass. The thought of withdrawing from the course and the scholarship crossed my mind.

I was wrong. I learnt a lot. I had to endure several months till the end of the first term to gain back some confidence in my ability to make it. I enjoyed reading psychoanalysis and utopian/dystopian novels. I enjoyed the discussions that took place in classes even though I remained shy from participating in them. I thought that I had done a good job for the term papers and was happy to pass. On the personal side, I started to develop some friendships and became less lonely. I figured out everything I needed to live here and felt less stressed. Still, for few months, I used to open up my eyes at night hoping to see myself back in my room in Amman.

My visits to Jordan helped a lot. I went back for few days in late October to participate in Seven’s play. I went back for a month on Christmas holidays and another month for the Easter holidays. Those were refreshing times where you realise that things are still the same back home and that I haven’t lost anything. Though now it feels the year has passed very fast, the first couple of weeks felt like years for me.

I am usually a happy person and I don’t indulge myself in stressful thoughts. That’s why I couldn’t understand the way I felt at the beginning of my arrival here. I fought for this scholarship for many years. I dreamt about doing my MA in the UK. I was bored after many years of working and needed a break. I loved reading and writing and was looking forward to a year full of it. It was everything that I wanted. But it also turned into ‘be careful what you wish for’, and all I wished for was going back home.

Fast forward, I am going back home tomorrow, and I am happy about it. Things have gotten much better here for me. I developed some good friendships that would last for life. I met some amazing people whom I’d always love and remember. I learned many things; I could feel an improvement in the way I think, talk and write. I am not sure if I could say that Brighton became to feel like a second home, I do love this place now and I know that I am going to miss it. But what I am pretty sure about, and can say it in a full mouth: there is nothing like home 🙂

I am happy for getting done with my MA and returning back home. I am gonna miss so many people here, but excited to see lots of other waiting for me.

A short Story: The Table


7005252-chips-and-ace-king-hand-on-a-gambling-tableOn new year’s eve, it was okay to gamble. As a child, I have never connected the dots, didn’t know what gambling really means, and didn’t reflect on its connection with the grown-ups table that shows some seriousness and tension and attracts lots of attention at the extended-family end of year, longest night, party. The music was usually up, family members chat chat chat all over the place, kids get to catch up and lern better about their second cousins. TV was usually on, out loud, specially at the moment where the year ends and another year comes into play. Cheers, screams, countdown, hugs, kisses, congratulations, love, but the silent table stays out of this world. Wives, run to hug their table husbands, and kids rush to wish their dads a happy new year.

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Does reading Freud make you mental?


Beyond The Pleasure Principle

Although, as my friend in class stated, reading psychoanalysis does have an effect on the reader in a sense where s/he starts reading more into her/his own daily choices in ways that s/he never thought about before.  It has to do with the realisation of the power of the unconscious and its relationships with the psyche internal different drives.

Two days ago, I was reading “Beyond The Pleasure Principle” chapter of Freud’s Reader before going to bed. Later on, I had this dream that really annoyed me, woke me up feeling bad about myself and immediately trying to find a link that connects it to what I read. In the back of my mind, and not sure if this is true, I think that I had a similar dream few days ago, also after reading another Freud text.

The annoyance in the dream came out of the moral failure highlight of it. Now, thinking about it, it is the ending of it that defines the dream in much the same way Freud tries to argue about “death drive” in that chapter “The goal of all life is death”.

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The fruit of the Spirit


I believe that the meaning of a name does indeed have a certain effect on his/her carrier. For me, Fadi, which means the savior, has always translated into a need that grew inside of me to help other people. While being lazy has always prevented me of doing any help the requires “movement”, helping through talking to people and easing their pain through words has become something that I love to do.

Yesterday I have received a wonderful birthday gift from a wonderful person who have been very supportive for me lately. She put it in a touching story..

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