Apr 9, 2014

Gibberish, Barber Shop.

I just had another anger crisis yesterday, described by not wanting to contact any person anymore, and has developed into becoming furious in front of most people who reach out for me. It’s kind of disappointing since I don’t intend to do that, and the person on the other side wouldn't understand a bit, except for what they are receiving – the frustration. I became an adult at a very little age, I was responsible for a fatherless family at the age of 9. I still remember not being able to cross the street until my mom, bending over our balcony – 5 floors up, would signal me to cross. I still remember the amount of times I hesitated before entering a barber shop only for the fact that I wouldn't know what to say.


What's behind the mask? - Taken at the Clown Walk 2014
I got used to not speaking out for myself. In fact, I was praised for that. I was the all-the-time silent kid who usually is overly-accepting. I used to wait for my older aunt to come over because she took me out to Qalamoun, a 20KM away town by the sea, for ice cream on the beach at sunset. It was like a prayer to me, the thing that my parents hadn't done at that time, and I was only 2. I was constantly praised for abiding by the law, I was even given credit, lots of it, for the ability to withstand the system, go with the flow, get the highest grades and be on top of my class.

I was an older brother, a father, a husband and an adult at the age of 12, yet I was never myself. I was always boxed in a way that my outcome would absolutely be predictable. Therefore, a numerous amount of insecurities and issues have developed so complicated I can only wait for my next crisis, hide away for a couple days and then be able to mingle in all over again.

A note on the side, this post was inspired by Renno’s latest blogpost, a mighty character in the making and probably one of this life’s unknown soldiers.

I never received any professional help, guidance, the thing I need the most at the time, yet I know I wouldn’t be as cooperative as I should be. Knowing that, I began working constantly on myself, defining my character, monitoring my deeds and mistakes, being the supervisor I always needed, ever since I went to college. I’m proud to say I have taken a HUGE leap into hiding away the sides that I hated about me. I can now easily enter a barber shop and ask to cut my hair the way I feel comfortable.
- Have you ever gone to the moon and gazed upon yourself?
- I do it all the time.
- Weren’t you shocked?
- Yes, the first time. Yet afterwards, I started feeling disappointed, the kind that has yielded into a newer, better, and sharper Natheer.
Things started getting serious the moment I had become whole, or so I thought. Just recently I escaped the system for once in my life, I proudly left my job having the decision being made a long time ago, and started working on my own niche – photography. I never felt as happy, and to add to the fuzzy feeling, happiness meter would jump sky-high whenever I see any of my friends complaining about a Monday or suffering from a short weekend. There were no more Sundays ever since all days have become whatever I wanted them to be. I controlled my income and money was of value ever since. I felt, and still do feel, like an emperor.
- I would burst in laugh only on the inside, no sound would come out though, I wonder why.
- Same here, a long time ago I had no clue how to laugh, until that day I taught myself several ways of laughter. I stayed with the one I liked the most, my current one. But between us? It’s fake, all laughs are fake. It makes me sad to know I was way wiser than I am now, but I didn’t like it and insisted on becoming like everybody else, to fit in most probably.
I get a client every now and then, some are quite decent and respectable, they let me do my work properly, they appreciate how I work and allow me to feel comfortable enough to reveal my happy side, and hence, a wonderful outcome. They pay on time with no delays and are outrageously fantastic people. Some, on the other hand, are quite the nagger type of people, especially when it comes to women.

“Nah, I wished you had took the other side of my nose”

I pity this kind of people, for the amount of curses they would hear from me, in a parallel universe. There’s also the type of clients that have their own way of finalizing the work, they either become experts in photography or feel like not wanting to pay the full amount for some reason, or ever worse, both. And this is only the tip of the iceberg.

In order to spread my name around, a couple of my clients/friends are receiving my photos completely for free, for the sake of promoting my name here and there and I have to be honest here, it’s quite good. I’m getting what other people are begging for. But the last incident was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I felt a huge portion of frustration and disappointment kicking-in, it seemed to me as if I was thrown all the way back to square one. A client so demanding can end up becoming – unknowingly – a burden, all while not noticing and not even being careful for I hadn’t spoken a word.

All at the same time, my prominently bad history with mom and family, the kind of history that remains unspoken mostly, is taking its toll on me. A close friend of mine had once driven me to a secluded place and suggested I scream. “But why would I”, my answer was. She realized way more than I did how much anger I was repressing at the time, after a certain incident.

At times like these, I would usually feel like staying at home doing nothing at all except for curling up to my pillow and reflect on stuff. Yet this time was different, my anger has got to a point where I can’t control it anymore. Yesterday was the first time I yell at mom in the street, no matter how awful that may sound, it was totally explicable at the moment. Yet, It felt horrible afterwards, the feeling that had led to even more anger the moment I went back to my place. Not knowing what to do, I saw myself going physical. For a split second I slapped my soul and told myself this shit needs to stop, somehow.

I can’t honestly tell if there were another way (that I know of, at least) to help me along the way other than writing about them, for talking to other people have come to be irrelevant. I wouldn't stand both people’s endless requests to explain and me hurting them at the same time. It’s a no at the moment, I just want to stay alone.

However, I've come to realize one thing during the course of all this. I totally didn't see coming the fact that some of friends were surprised to see me confessing about my anger, thinking that I (most probably) was an all-time happy positive kind of guy, who has all the reasons to be satisfied, and they were right. Just as I came across a lot of people who seem to me well-off and happy to their guts, yet it is becoming clear the cost they had to pay in order to come to that. I can’t but respect people’s pains and scars, for they were the bridge they chose to cross in order to draw that charming smile and tell a numerous amount of jokes here and there. Those who seem happy to us, are most probably the most desperate of all, if not at present then could be somewhere in their past. Let’s all respect that.

I come to look back at what I had written here, I admit it belongs mostly to my diary rather than a public post on my blog. But it doesn't change the fact all this could be of use to others, hopefully.

As a friend of mine had suggested, “I feel happy, oh so happy”. Fuck no :p here’s a clip to help you smile, just like it helped me.





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