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Esperanza and Summer Course

3 Aug

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I admit it has been a while since I wrote anything. Hell, I don’t even remember when was the last time and what did I write about. I would have to check in order to remember. All I can recall is that I was complaining to my friend when i just had started summer course about how I wasn’t writing as I would like to. Anyway I wasn’t away and that means I am not back. I was just in a hold mood until I was done from summer course.
Speaking of summer course I feel the need to elaborate on this subject a bit. You see this is my first time to ever take a summer course and as it is I never expected myself to be this lazy I mean, aside from not writing, I really had gotten lazy. It is like the almost five days between the ending of the second semester and the starting of summer course was not the tad bit enough to regenerate my brain cells. I just attend the three subjects I’ve taken, try as much as I can to concentrate, think I understand something, and go home not doing anything as if the classes I attended didn’t happen. And then I just ended up the course with grades I am not that satisfied with. Thinking of it now I came up with a few conclusions why did I become that lazy person in this course:
1. It’s summer hence it is very very very very very hot, that it stopped my brain cells from working the way it should work properly. I’m sweating bad more like a guy (and in a not cool gym way but the disgusting you don’t want to speak of way. TMI I know!!) The heat makes me think all the day of going home and classes from 9:00 am to 2:00 pm is a long run from going home. (Did I say VERY hot?)
2. Due to the fact that becoming an semi- A student did not happen until I became deeply involved with literature it made sense that I was not interested in the mandatory but awful subjects that did not include any sort of literature. I preferred to leave the literature subjects for the long courses so I could enjoy my classes to the max. ( A literature nerd you say?)
3. I know that I have mentioned before ( here) that I hate vacations and I still do. But it turned out (and I mentioned that as well) that five days is not a vacation or a breather. I needed two weeks at least to reboot myself.
4. Subjects I took were lame. Extremely lame. One was Kuwait history (that I repeated) and the other one even though it is in the English field but it’s the linguistics side and I just … hate linguistics. Why should a literature student take five courses in that field? .. meh.
Even though I when I was done from summer course I said that I wouldn’t be taking it again because the lack of effort I gave I figured out that I will be taking it again and here is why:
1. When calculated how many subjects I had left it turned out with a summer course and a year and a course (that is 3 courses and a summer course) I would be graduating not this year but next year the first half. I can’t believe I’m this close I thought I still had two years. But because I’m planning to take twelve subjects this year ( that is six subjects per course), three in the summer course, and seven in the remaining course this is manageable. I wasn’t even aware of that!!! Yes I know this a lot of stress but I know I could do it (inshAllah) plus I need to graduate first half of the year so I could complete my masters the next year. Turns out for masters if you graduate the first half the following September you could complete but if you graduate the second half you have to wait for the next year to join (weird I know). So yeah if I want my plan to go well I have to take a summer course.
2. See what I said about vacations? Well yeah a three months vacation is a lot for me that is when I hate vacation. At least I made something useful with my life (even though it is not that useful) instead of sitting at home.
For now I am enjoying my Ramadan and what is remaining from my vacation until next course. I will beginning with my new minor (Comparative Literature) which by the way I’m from the very first students who is minoring in this field in Kuwait University (YAAAY!! I’m excited). It is going to be a course loaded with literature subjects (four literature, one linguistics :( , and one philosophy). Let us see how things go on the way inshAllah all to the best.
I feel like shouting another YAAY for finally writing something YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!

-Esperanza Writes

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Little People (Short Story)

3 Jul

There is a small city, so far way and hidden. In it lives little people working and being hyper active. However, because they are little tiny itsy people in a tiny little itsy city nobody knows of this place. The only creatures who know of its existence are flying birds that pass above it and rest in it while immigrating.  In this city a natural cycle runs. Newborn babies come into life everyday and old folks die as their journey in life ends.

And yet they were different. Different not only in the sense that they were so tiny (much like a journey in Gulliver’s travels to the tiny people) but in their way of fueling. They, not like regular people fuel on food on water, but have their own way of fueling with a weird kind of way. They fuel on letters, inspiration, and moving forward of the normal people. Whenever normal people thinks of words that are combined with multiple letters, or endorses a new kind of knowledge those tiny citizens would be all energized up. Talking a lot and being the fireworks to normal people. Without the normal people knowing.

Unfortunately, if they are not fueled over time those little people loses their power and slack off. And little by little they lose their souls, and this city become without citizens to count.

All those little people’s pleas are that they keep being fueled. To keep the city going. They are afraid to vanish.

-Esperanza Writes

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Beg Me My Forgiveness (short story) [Past Post]

24 Jun
(Some people are better off Solo. -Esperanzish Proverb)

It all started with a look, then a touch, then a ring. I was deceived with his words. Promises upon promises was presented to me and I believed. I lived a fairy tale that every girl dreamed of. I was a princess in other words.
We settled in together, got married and I lived the time of my life. I loved him so dearly, I grew so attached to him. I would stand up against a bullet for him, after all he is the husband I have chosen. The husband that I fell in love with him in the first sight.
Things seemed beautiful at first I am a middle-school teacher and he is, well he is searching for a job, he wanted to be a huge investor, he had those wild dreams and I respected his dreams. In fact I encourage him to go after his dreams. I was his motivator.
He worked hard the first couple of months on trying to find his dreams, but then he just quitted didn’t try anymore. He started to just stop and do nothing. He would be going out in the night amusing himself, then he would sleep all morning. Being a useless drag. The only equation that I was in was being the source of money.
I thought at first it was a phase, depression maybe so I let him alone to deal with it. This didn’t seem to workout so I tried to talk to him, it didn’t go well. Our voices grew louder until we were practically shouting. Any neighbor with in ten feet away could’ve heard us. And then the most unexpected thing happened, he slapped me so hard I could feel my cheek going numb. I was in shock how could this happen? How could he dare do so?
Our shouts grew louder and louder until I could feel myself blackout from the repetitive beating.
They told me I lost too much blood and that the child made it.. what child?
They told me that I am with child, I’m pregnant in my fourth month.
He came with tears apologizing, that he lost his temper and he would never do such a thing again. He begged my forgiveness. And I accepted it.
It only lasted two days then things went back to normal. Until it became a routine he wouldn’t do anything, we fight, I get beaten, and he would apologize and swear upon his grave that this won’t happen again.
Until I was due. I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl and she become ecstasy of my life. But that did not make a difference to him. He still was him. The guy that I become to loathe. It’s a wonder of wonders how deep love and affection would turn into hate and detest. The only reasons that kept me with him is because of two things: I didn’t want my daughter to be lost in a world without a father, and what will the society think if I got divorced. This society didn’t mercy the woman not at all. I would be a taboo if I was divorced even if I was the person who didn’t do this relationship wrong.
Things got worse and my daughter is two years old now. My life became without any taste. It became a living hell. Until that day when I was to tired to function, I had just came from work. He just woke up he asked for something to eat, “Go get yourself something. I’m going to rest.”
“What did you say?” he replied with an angry temper in his voice.
“I’m too tired to say anything. Do yourself some good and fitch your own food.”
And that what triggered everything. It started a fight he was shouting and I was so tired to even argue I ignored him and started to head to my room, then I heard something break over my head. The bastard threw a plate towards me. “FOR GOD SAKE ACT MATURE FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!!” I screamed.
“Mommy!” I heard a faint scary voice behind me.
“Oh darling come here.” He screamed some more. “You are scaring the girl!! Shut up!!”
And then another plate came flying landing on my beloved daughter. Blood was streaming down her face. I panicked, I screamed! My daughter! My daughter!! She is going to die!!!! I shook her to get a respond but she was unconscious!
I quickly held her up and drove her to the ER as fast as I can. And all that time I kept thinking that I am going to lose her. I’m going to lose my only reason for living in this life.
The next thing that happened was almost a blur they took her from me and told me to wait, and all the time I was crying blaming it on myself for not providing a safe environment for my child. It is all my fault right?
Until thirty minutes later the doctor came assuring me that they removed glass particles from her body and she is fine now with a couple of stitches. She is now asleep. She has gone lucky that is.
I slept by her side that night, until I felt her hand touching my head “Mommy.”
Finally she woke up! My tears just couldn’t stop itself.
“Why you crying mommy?” she asked with her broken childish english. I didn’t answer. “Mommy everything hurts. Make it go away.”
“I’m sorry honey, I’m sorry I wont let this happen to you again. No one will lay a finger on you ever again.”
And I made an oath to give her a better life. I filed for a restraining order for my child from her useless, cruel father. He begged me my forgiveness. He wants me to drop the lawsuit. To me this sounded like a broken record. And I proceeded with what I was doing.
Today I hold the papers of the court agreeing to my request. I have gained my child’s full custody. I’m starting a new life for both of us we are breaking free. We are better off alone and much happier.
Let him beg me my forgiveness and I won’t forgive.
Life is better without him.
P.S: The characters and events of the story are all fictional.
-Esperanza Writes

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[Past Post] Blue Rose

17 Jun

I’ve been having trouble figuring out what to write. So this is a past post called “Blue Rose”, from my ex-blog, expressing the reason why blue rose is my favorite flower and why do I feel that why about it. Until I regain my words I’ll leave you to this. Enjoy:

A delicate sign to hope trembling and crumbling, trying her best to make something out of herself. She looked up and reached out to this world thinking would she rather be like everybody else? or Would she show herself no matter how different she is, no matter what made her this way?
She was identified as not being real genetically changed and made to this… but she had to prove herself.. Prove herself right that she existed!!
She was thrown in a snowy windy day on the ground waiting, anticipating for a life saver.. and there a blue rose as lonely, as lost as her… she picked her up, inhaled a deep soothing breath, dropped to her knees and looked up…. and the soft lyrics of a song came along:

Blue as the crying sky
With no thorn, AND no THISTLE
Only AN open face
Staring at the waking worldMaybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine

Her arms stretch wide
To receive a life
And her ROOTS go deep into the BLACK EARTH for strength
And she blooms and

Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine

She blooms while the people sleep
Only the TRAVELERS SEE HER
To those who RISE with the noon day Sun
She is a closed mystery

AND Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
OH, Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
Lost in a tangle of vine
Lost in a tangle of vine*


The girl walked with the blue rose clutched between her hands…she whispered ” I’ll not hide anymore” She decided not to hide anymore, no more for being lost and show her beauty no matter what is being told or said about her… She will stand whether was it out or in as long as she becomes herself….
She is a Blue Rose … She is a rose that is been made… and yet she’ll bloom to this life.. and not give up.. strong and independent… A Blue Rose she is.
I’d like to thank MJ-Al-Feeli  for shooting this photo exclusively for this post.
* “Blue Rose”, Lizz Wright.
-Esperanza Writes

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Why Write?

12 Jun

Do you know yourself? Do I know myself? I mean other than the usual description or knowing oneself height, weight, what we like and don’t like, how do we act, who do we like to be with.. etc. Other than that do you we know ourselves? When we go deep, deep, deep, like way deep like going deep into the ocean and I choose the word ocean not sea, even though I do not know what is the difference and I am too lazy to look up the difference, but I choose ocean because it has more letters than sea and more letters are deeper in it sense and also because it starts with an O. Oblivious also starts with an O and that is who we are when we speak about the deep, deep, deep ocean.

When you go deep, like way deep in the ocean in the darkest depth we do not know how it is. We lack knowing how it is. Because when we are down there we are too busy swimming back up to inhale the air, we can’t live without Oxygen (another O). And even if we try to back up ourselves with oxygen tanks so we could breathe underwater, we are not trained to do it so it is difficult. Even if we are trained to do it we cannot handle the pressure because down there the pressure is massive. You cannot tolerate this enough to stay a long time down there. Even though if you are trained well enough you eventually want to get out. It is so much pressure and it is not safe because the sharks and whales could hurt you.

You take the safest form there is to go down there. In a submarine. A really small one that can barely fit two. But you cannot take another person with you even though you don’t know how to work it, because it is too private to let anyone else in this deep place of yours. So you learn how to work this stupid machine and go down there. Even though it’s a dangerous state is still there, but you are willing to risk it.

You risk it so you can know what is down there. The submarine could explode any minute, and could not handle the pressure. But you risk it, you’ve got your oxygen tank to back you up so you could escape this.

I risk it because I do not know myself. Like deep, deep down there in the ocean I am oblivious to this matter. That is why I write. Writing is like going down in this submarine. I am risking it true  So I could see the beauty and ugliness that is down there. So I could see the sharks and the whales even though they are dangerous. So I could see creatures that you have never thought of seeing before and awe at it. So I could no longer be oblivious and know what is there.

Even though it is risky but it is worth it.

-Esperanza Writes

p.s.: A huge advice. Read “The Fault in Our Stars” by John Green.

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Unreal

9 Jun

As I drove down the highway,

Reality clashed it senses and dissolved into the unreal,

Everything around seemed false, fake, and fugitive.

I was afraid that the unreal that I felt is real,

What if the real is unreal and the unreal is real?

I drove faster and I became afraid of the indistinguishably I stored,

If I drove with this shortage of knowledge I might crash.

If I crash and it’s real I’ll be gone,

But what if this is unreal?

I grew dizzy… “think, me, think!!” I commended.

But everything is unreal, I’m just … cold.

Then I arrived, snapping into reality..

I broke a puddle of sweat,

I could no longer stand still and collapsed,

because everything was … real.

Exhaustion has overwhelmed me.

Today I am alive, but what about the next time,

When I mix between unreal and real?

And I doze off into a deep sleep.

-Esperanza Writes

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Reality Stage (Short Story)

24 May

I have always been known to be the multimillionaire in town. The twenty-five year old, self-made multimillionaire young man who everyone felt in awe of. My wits and intelligence made me that man, made me into this well-known person who escalated himself from nothing to well… something. Born an orphan I made sure that I will be that man and here I am today a man who has a lot of money in his hands yet no person in hand. A rich lonely fellow that was it.

This loneliness made me depressed more often than the usual basis. The idea of going to a therapist aroused my thoughts sometimes but my ego did not allow me to do so. I had a business to run and I must not show my weakness to others. So that is how my life is summed up to. I would mask happiness yet nothing about me was happy. I spent lots and lots of money on things I did not need or want for that matter and never did I stop. I showed people how I was a happy, content man that everyone envied. And so did I live a false life at such a young age.

Therefore, my story begins with those reasons. It always happens in a certain day. Everything new or sudden comes within a day. To me it was that day. That day where I was at the peak of my depression mood, throwing my money around, walking around with suicidal thoughts. I then decided that I need to end this. To end my life which I cannot handle.

I went to a drug store trying to compete with my thoughts “should I do that or should I not?” It echoed in my thoughts while I went to one of the shelves. I picked up any pack of pills that my hand could reach and I went on my way to the cashier. He gives me a knowing nod and I nod back. He takes the pills, checks it in, and I hand him a  bunch of bills motioning to him to keep the change. I wait for him to put it in a bag for me, while I am at that I notice fliers on the desk. I do not know why but I reach my hand out picking one up along with my bag of purchased pills and I head out.

The flyer is for a monodrama play. I remember thinking what is a monodrama play? It was my first time I hear of such kind of play. I decide right there to go. The flyer said it is staged the same day in an hour. So I go. I go to see what this is about. At least, I think, when I die I would have learned something new. At least when I die I would die fulfilling some certain kind of thing. I’m not sure how important that thing since I’m going to die anyway and it won’t be important when I am no longer alive; but it is more like a death wish. Like when a person is sentenced to death he has one last wish to be fulfilled. The same thing is with me. Except the difference is that their life is taken reluctantly and mines is with my own will.

I see a one man stage show. A one actor performing his emotions and his inner thoughts in such an effecting way. The performer acts for more than an hour alone without any minor actors or majors. Just him showing an inner conflict in his life. Showing us the character’s deep secrets, fears, moments of sadness and about everything a solo person is afraid to tell out loud. An hour of that made me thinking. I am much fascinated by what I have seen. And a wacky idea rose into my  head. I should do this. I should make a monodrama play. I do not only should do this but I need to do this. And I get determined. I’ve set my mind. I’m going to do it. Continue reading →

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Dear You,

21 May

Dear You,

I have been hesitating whether to write this letter or not. Words unsaid is better than words said in a way, where there is no faults to retrieve or to apologize for.  It is easier to be safe but within all this being safe does not keep you going forward. I write this letter with indifferent matter to being objective. In the case of you I could never be objective I only could be a part of the whole thing and that is a fact rather than opinion.

Allow me to share with you what I wrote in my previous letter, just a small part of it:

I’m not sure if I should write this letter to someone specific or not. I’m not even sure what to write about.

During the past weeks my heart experienced some new kind of reluctant emotions. It grew  weaker than stronger, then weaker, then stronger. Much confused of its choice. Things are undecided and a coward soul comes in. I’m not making sense am I?

This is where I feel I repeat myself. I know that but how can I make sense when I’m afraid of all that is to come? How can I when all I allow myself to speak with is bunch of coded words?

Here is when I’m asking you to decode those words. It is all up to you.

I end that letter with:

Today I came across this riddle:

“I’m the part of the bird that’s not in the sky. I can swim in the ocean and yet remain dry. What am I?’

Even though the answer is simply “A shadow” to me the answer and the question means more.

With my tranquil heart,

Me

-Esperanza Writes

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رفرفت حول عنقي فراشة

16 May

رفرفت حول عنقي فراشة ,

ثم رست على أذني,

و همست بكلماتٍ أسطوريه,

بلغة هليغروفيه,

قالت “سيدتي إنني أحمل رسالة,

رسالة كتبت بحروف من ماء المشاعر,

تقول: إنني مشتاق, و عذرا لاشتياقي,

عذرا أقولها بوجع, عذرا,

عذرا لأني أشتاق لرؤية شعاع وجهك,

عذرا لأني أحن لكلمة “نحن”,

عذرا لأني أحتضن ذكراك,

عذرا لأني أريد ملامسة أناملك,

عذرا… عذرا… لم أقصد الاعتذار,

لِمَ أعتذر لمشاعر تبث  من الجوف البعيد,

تحمل صدا الصارخ “مشتاق… مشتاق… مشتاق!”,

عذرا… لكنني, و أقولها بحرقةٍ, مشتاق”.”

و سكتت الفراشة, و رفرفت بعييييدا… بعيدا,

تاركة ً خلفها … رسالة.

 -أسبيرنزا رايتس

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Mannequin

14 May

In order to proceed with this post I have to tell you the story behind why I chose mannequin. The other day I was walking in the mall and I saw a beautiful dress on a mannequin outside a store I went inside and asked to see it. The thing is it was not that good, my comment was like this looks different not good enough as the one on the mannequin. Then I realized of course it must be good on a mannequin because it is perfect. Later that day I decided not only to write a post but sketch a mannequin to accompanies the post. However you could see I not really patient with sketching I prefer oil/acrylic over sketching, but so far the picture (above) was what I came with and it is still unfinished.

Anyway Mannequin:

Mannequin outside the store

Standing so sure, so beautiful no one can compete

Everything on you looks pretty glamorous

My heart-felt envious, if only I was you

“Mannequin!” I cried. “What fortune do you have? How lucky you are!”

“To be looked upon and be praised! To be the center of every glare!”

“If only I was you.”

“No.” Replied the Mannequin, “there is no fortune in myself.”

“There is no luck in the praise towards me.”

“For all I am is a mannequin from wood and plastic.”

“No heart to feel. No life to seek.”

“No glory to look forward to. No heart that feels neither the good nor the bad.”

“No tears to shed, no senses that work.”

“Only a good fitting for some dress.”

“A mannequin that is moved around and around with no tongue to yell ‘STOP!’”

“For the fortune is given to the soul.”

“And me, my dear, am only given clothes to be wore.”

-Esperanza Writes

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