Green doors, podcasts, and traffic

I realize nowadays that it is hard to write when you are tired. The desire to write is present, but a 9 to 5 with social responsibilities and the commute, which is a totally new concept to me, a person that couldn’t wait to learn to drive just so that I can put on my favourit play list and hit the road, but if I were to estimate the total time I have spent on the road from and to work and several other things in the past month it would accumulate to a total of 88 hours, that is 3.6 days, totally stolen from my month, bare in mind this is just the commutes relating to work, anything else takes even more time usually, especially on weekends, which is when most of my personal outings place.

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So I spend 88 hours holed up in my small car listening to what is either Aaron Mahnke’s Lore Podcast, Malcolm Gladwell’s revisionist History, Ira Glass’s This American life, or Deborah Francis White’s The Guilty Feminist (all podcasts I HIGHLIY recommend for anyone looking for quality auditory content). So I have been taking in tons of information, content, reading, podcasts, articles, and books but I find myself too exhausted to analyze the content I am consuming, which I realized doesn’t come naturally to me, analyzing is not automatic for me, it is a bulb I switch on, a magnifying glass I have to take out and shine and point towards whatever it is I want to look at, something which I don’t have much time for unfortunately.

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And while I have had no time to process, analyze, or write, I had the opportunity to go out to the downtown area a couple of weeks ago and while you may think I must have seen it all already, I surprisingly found a few corners I haven’t seen before nor photographed, and so with my newfound confidence  (or Se77et wajeh, if you ask a Libyan) to walk around with my camera and just take photographs, I present to you these few decent ones I managed to edit for your viewing pleasure.

 

I am working on being able to write while being on the  verge of a physical and mental breakdown but until then, I hope you like the photographs.

Sara Bilghasim

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P.S. If you have never heard the podcasts I mentioned above, I recommend you do, because you will definitely fall in love with at least one of them, and I really hope its Deborah Francis White’s the guilty feminist because god knows we need all the feminists we could…

 

 

 

 

The way we’re born

 

You are born a clean slate, and that is how you will live the first few years of life, bound only by your imagination. Not realizing how vital  it is that you take full advantage of that time, however, there is only so much you can do at such a young age. Which is why you will climb trees, consume an insane amount of cartoons, and sing out loud with your head hanging outside a window, any window, remember, there are no limits.

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Slowly, the canvas becomes a target, they all want to leave their imprint on, whether small or big. They begin telling you to do things a specific way, say specific things, expect things of you, and that is how you become, you are not to blame, it is not an easy chain to break out of, nor is it easy to live outside. With time, you become a pattern of words, customs, and traditions, painted in the colours of the “good old days” where everything was simple and clear cut. Where we didn’t have to be careful of the words we used, or the way we treated those who were different, because ultimately, they weren’t our people, and therefore they didn’t matter.

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You will try to add some colour to the pattern, a piercing pink, a gloomy grey, or a rocket red, and they will allow it thinking it temporary but will express their displeasure every chance they get, no one can blame you for caving in,  painting was never meant to be such a struggle after all. And so you go back to the palette originally assigned, and you try to find yourself within it, because its easier finding yourself within a frame already set.

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This was an accidental mini-Photo-series that I managed to get during a walk throughout the Old City. In the first photo the girl reminds me of the girl in the redcoat in Schindler’s list, grim, I know, but the hair and the sweater were very similar. I have been reading a lot of Nietzsche and Simone De Beauvoir, plus I recently discovered Adrienne Rich’s poetry and Essays which I have not stopped reading since last night. That should explain why what I wrote sounds more like a train of thoughts than an actual structured post. Enjoy ❤ 

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