I remember posting a picture on my profile making fun of those very people (I can’t post the picture here because I’ve been Facebook-less pretty much ever since.) Yes, a new year meant new opportunities, renewed hope and all that, but life will not simply change itself just like that. Not so obviously and not only because the number on the calendar has changed.

I’m very sorry to say I was wrong. In any way I look at it, 2011 was the worst year I’ve ever, ever been through. And granted, the bad things did not start happening the second 2010 left, but I swear it feels like it. I think it was someone’s way of showing me that a year is not only a way of measuring the time going by, but that each year was an entity of its own and it wanted to make its presence felt and remembered forever. Which it will be (for all the wrong reasons.)

So as this year comes to an end, I think I’m gonna be one of those people I made fun of last year, and hope that by the time the clock strikes 00:00, 2011 won’t only leave our calendars, it will also take with it all the horrible things it had brought to make room for some good memories.

Happy New Year.

M

Seventeen years ago, she felt a small lump on her chest; it was persistent and did not go away. From what I could gather, she knew from the start it was something that had to be checked, but she decided to keep it hidden (both under her clothes and from her family) until she got her youngest kid married.

When did he actually get married? Last year. Yes, that means SIXTEEN years after she first felt the lump. She lived with a small ‘thing’ growing on her chest for sixteen.straight.years without notifying anyone, not even one of her 12 children.

Now, by last year, the small lump wasn’t so small anymore. It had grown to become larger than a tennis ball, and it had also metastasized to her lungs. Her granddaughter (who was sitting next to her when she was telling the story while getting her chemotherapy) said it looked so bad that some of her aunts and uncles actually fainted when their mother finally showed them the tumor.

What I don’t understand is this: what could she have possibly gained from not getting herself checked 17 years ago? 12 years ago? Five years ago? Who/what was she protecting? What has her now-married son gained now if her ‘sacrifice (I thinks sees it that way)’ might very well end her life? I honestly don’t understand, and I’m not sure I want to.

Cancer is not something to be trifled with. Life is not something to be trifled with. Get yourself educated, and get yourself checked.

M

Last night was probably one of the best nights of my life (no exaggeration present.) I’ve been a Mashrou’ Leila fan for the past couple of years, but I turned into nothing less than a groupie last night when they performed live at Citadel-Amman. I just couldn’t get myself to go home after it ended (which I kept repeating over and over again to anyone who would listen hoping they’d take pity on me and take me with them back to Beirut.)

They were just so genuine and unpretentious and heartwarming that my heart broke a little when the music finally stopped. Trust me, you DO NOT want to miss the second concert tonight. They sound even better live somehow (Hamed Sinno did things with his voice I did not think were humanly possible, and all the members played beautifully,) all that combined with the beauty of the Citadel and you have yourself a night to remember.

Even if you’ve never heard of them before (shame on you for that,) by the time the concert ends you’ll feel you’ve been Leila’s friend for years. You can check their facebook page for fan-posted videos and pictures of last night.

M

Cheers,

Faris Ayyoub

So its been a while since my last music cover, but med school seems to take alot more of my time that I would like it to. I end up with barely enough time to eat, sleep and try my best to maintain a social life! Anyhow, without too much blabber, I finally found some time to record a new video, and this time a few of my friends suggested I do something for Adele, and that is exactly what I did. This is my cover for Adele’s magnificent ‘Someone Like You’. I would honestly appreciate it if you took a couple of minutes of your time to listen, and if you end up liking this, please drop me a comment, or share the video with your friends!

Faris Ayyoub

These were all taken in and around Chicago, IL. Using my Canon T2i DSLR.

I’d love to hear your comments, or any photo that you might have liked in specific.

Faris Ayyoub

Little did I know, however, that last year’s Ramadan couldn’t even begin to compare to this year’s, even before the latter had even started. See, because even with all that change, at least all my family had been around me last year, while this year my parents will be gone for at 20 (probably more) days of the month. So now, not only has Ramadan ‘changed’ for reasons beyond me, I have to go through it without the people who have always been there.

And yet, I’m still beyond happy the Holy month is upon us (sans the heat, of course.) I have this renewed faith in..faith, and Ramadan is still the Holy month, so there really isn’t any better time for anyone to turn to God. So do not despair, the Holy month might have changed ‘socially’ and otherwise, but its religious benefits are still very much the same.

Ramadan Mubarak everybody!

M

A little over two weeks ago, everything changed. It wasn’t even 9 a.m. when I received the news that one of my closest friends’ brother had passed away. He was 22, and honestly one of the most amiable people out there. He was not sick or even tired, nor was he in a car accident.

I’m still in shock and at a loss for words, but this article explains what happened to him.

A young man was stolen from his family because his coach played with his mind and convinced him to take an injection that would presumably help him build more muscles, insisting it had no side effects and would only help him achieve a nice body in less time. Someone has to be held accountable.

Please spread it as much as you can, to make the issue known and to stop this from happening to another family.

إنا لله وإنا إليه راجعون

M

Its not cosy. And its not comfortable. I’ve been trying to sleep for hours, to no avail. I’m tired, my eyes are burning me but my mind is heavy with thought. I wonder if this is what insomnia sufferers go through every night.

Every thought imaginable is zipping through my mind, and with each thought I feel heavier.

I’m thinking of my day tomorrow. How I’ll force myself to wake up to the alarm clock. Put on my nicest clothes and my fakest smile and head to school. How I’ll drive through morning traffic asking myself the same questions I ask everyday: why are they driving so offensively? Why are they even allowed to drive? Don’t they know how to use lanes?

I’m thinking of how I’ll pass through Al Jam3a Street, looking at the empty lanes prepared for the now-cancelled ‘Mashroo3 el bus el saree3′. And how I’ll feel the very same tide of anger I feel everyday rush through me, for the many times I was late for class because of construction works for this now-failed project.

I’m thinking of how I’m going to park my car in the same spot I’ve parked in everyday for the past year, on a dusty piece of land right in front of the faculty of medicine, and look at the torn down power line, wondering if it’ll ever be fixed?

I’m thinking of how I’m going to pass by the very same orange-dressed garbage man “3amel wa6an”, and say good morning to him with the most sincere tone I have and watch him raise his head from his broom and give me the purest smile of gratitude, like I have given him a million dinars. How I’ll wonder how many people pass by him in the morning, ignoring his very presence. How I’ll wonder why he has to wear the same thick, long-sleeved, orange uniform he wears in the winter under the burning summer sun and heat of the asphalt on the streets of Amman.

I’m thinking of how I’ll walk up the same pedestrian bridge ‘jesr el zera3a’ I’ve walked up everyday for the past year, and how I’m going to find the same 70 year old man sitting on the side of the walkway with his head pointed to the ground, going through his ‘masba7a’ saying ‘Al hamdolellah’ for every bead he goes through, while waiting for the eager college students passing the bridge to give him some of the change in their pockets. How I’ll wonder what his name is, and why he’s there? What his story might be?

I’m thinking of how I’ll pass the same young child who sells soft tissues, right next to the university gate and wonder why he’s smiling all the time? Wonder if he ever wanted to go to school like everyone else around him?

I’m thinking of how I’m going to sit through three hours of lectures, wondering if the professors ever had passion for what they do, because they have none now. Wondering about how I come to school everyday and leave without learning anything new.

I’m thinking of how, like every other day, I’ll walk into the university cafeteria, and look at the cashier and find only anger in his eyes. Of how I’ll give him a JD for a bottle of water just to hear him complain that he has no change, even though I can see the change in his cash drawer.

I’m thinking of how I’ll look at the people around me during breaks and notice how empty some of them are. Of how some, like me, wear fake smiles and force fake laughs just to go through the day’s routine. Of how others come to school looking for a new experience and end up leaving empty handed. Of how some think school is the best matchmaking experience they will ever have and how they, too, will leave empty handed. Of how I’ll see the same not-so-good-looking girl sitting, alone, in the very same spot, fumbling with her mobile phone because she wants to look busy.

*to be continued*

Written by: Faris Ayyoub – the other contributer of the joint blog.