The lack of control feeling is overwhelming for a person such as myself. If you know me, met me or even worked with me you'll know for sure I can't live in an uncontrolled chaotic environment; one of my worst nightmares to say the least !!!
But here I am in what could be my last night of freedom, living and trying things out just like my sister suggested "live like me for once, why don't you" she said ...Back then I answered "NO...Hell No, U can't". So I find myself now today without any family scrutiny, especially form my mother. Another obsessed control freak... get now how I become one?! It's genetic.
I am sitting alone as usual lately but in an unusual place where you would almost never find me; a bar which says Restaurant and Bar on the Sign outside though not much restaurant features are found inside.
The bartender gives me a smile and a nod as I'm walking up the stairs, surprisingly I actually nod back for whatever reason with a girly grin and a smile! He walks up to me asking for my order... right after he said "Wow lady ,you sure have a lot of stuff" As if I didn't notice and needed his remark on the subject. I wanted to make some rhetorical mark or comment instead I nodded, sighed and smiled in defeat against a huge chair pilled with my stuff which reminded me of the stressful, emotional, dramatic and difficult day I had.
My regular choice of small Taybeh Golden beer accompanies me on my glass table along with all the totes and equipment that seem to never leave my hands and shoulders. e.g. huge purse, food, coat, clothes, other crap and cameras that were left in my custody for the next day (volunteered really to drop them off for someone which almost always happens thanks to my stupid giving gold star craving nature) on top of all that heap a beautiful Apple green Cashmere scarf that made my day for a few minutes every time I took a glimpse down to see it.
I drink and write for the first time in a long time, somehow in this old terribly decorated place I find inspiration. the cute bartender asks me if I'm OK with writing with all the noise? ... "yeah sure" I tell him confident of my feeling, he turns leaving and the first idea to mind...is he cute or is it my lack of judgment caused by beer, exhaustion, dim lights and sleepiness?!
Second idea and way more important, was he watching me or observing?! cause his actions are kind of scary and comforting at the same time. Is he judging me for writing in a bar instead of flirting and drinking?! Am I that girl who brings a book to a bar?! Is he doing his usual business of checking in on customers or does he like the way I look?! ... Ah well No..I think not.
Popcorn and sliced cucumber were placed on the table and taken away just as I started nibbling on them. How rude and bizarre?! why would he take the popcorn.. I was not finished... a small oval shaped weird looking smelly orange chips was placed instead... I didn't even touch it and decided to make some moral stand.
A small sneeze tickles my noise but decides to leave me tortured by it's nonexistence finished presence. I wipe my nose, the cute bartender comes again this time asking If I was crying? and if I am saddened by something or someone?!.. the creepy feeling returns... I shook my head in denial and he left. On the inside I laugh and giggle.
I call Yazan a -notorious or he would like to think he is- friend to meet me but he does not show, later found out he was filming the chaos and commotion in Ramallah, and how couldn't he... with all the celebrations outside of the UN voting of changing the Palestinian recognition of a state.
Finally I went to bed after a long story that maybe one day I will write... without celebrating or discussing what happened tonight with anyone... oh how much I craved the call of an intellectual nature to provoke me into talking and not leave me be in old city of Ramallah ....
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