Shahd Alshammari's Blog, page 9

Voiceless

I drove my car for an hour, I am not sure, time had become too confusing. I finally parked it, turned off the engine, as though I was turning off my thoughts. But your voice wouldn’t leave me alone. It was starting to kill me, the thoughts, and I couldn’t speak. You had taken my voice, and as I waited for you, waited to see you, to ask you to Return it, I was stunned by the sight of you walking out, walking as you always did, as though you stepped out of a Victorian novel. It was you, it was the same walk, the same sunglassss, the same bounce in your stride, the calmness that threatened to leave people breathless, it was you. 

But you didn’t recognize me, and the sight of you split me in two. Just like the moon, there you were, a full moon, and I was split in half- voiceless, wanting my voice back, my spirit, and you. 

   

 

From ‘My Mind Made you Beautiful.’

From ‘My Mind Made you Beautiful.’  

 

Beautifully written: This Is How I’ll Date You

Beautifully written: 

This Is How I’ll Date You

I had a bad habit of mumbling through my words, and lower...

I had a bad habit of mumbling through my words, and lowering my head when I was embarrassed or guilty. You had a habit of placing a finger underneath my chin, telling me to look up, like a child, addressing the habit gently. Chin up, darling. 

Everything in life goes back to our childhood, our traumas, our fears. We both realized this early on, and I tried to give you a sense of security, while you said I reminded you of someone you loved and lost, to life, to its cruelty, taking those we love from us, those that continue to run through our veins, a blood line that you can’t sever. 

I was that blood line. And perhaps, you preferred to murder yourself than have me pulsating through your veins. 

Simple and yet powerful: عجبي على حرفين قد سلبا وقاريحا...

Simple and yet powerful: 

عجبي على حرفين قد سلبا وقاري

حاء حريق وباء بت في ناري

ماذا جرى لي؟؟

نحول .. غيرة.. قلق.. سهر.. عذاب 

جنون هزّ أفكــاري

That’s probably the worst thing you really can do. Don’t ...

That’s probably the worst thing you really can do. Don’t say words you don’t mean, don’t make promises you can’t keep, don’t promise the world if you know you can’t offer a neighborhood, don’t make grand gestures and claim you’ll be someone’s forever, when you aren’t even being true to yourself, let alone others. Words have the power to make or break someone. And time- don’t waste people’s time. Don’t waste mine, when it’s all I have. You can’t get that back. 

 

I posted the original post on: http://www.drshahd.org/?p=...

I posted the original post on: http://www.drshahd.org/?p=841/#comment-136

and the comments just flooded in… completely overwhelmed.

   

       

Semester Over

I have been teaching at the Arab Open University (Kuwait Branch) for about two years. I was also teaching there while I was a PhD candidate. It was more like an internship at the time, I was doing it mainly for the experience, and I learned so much during that time. I am extremely grateful to those who believed in me, especially Dr. Chekra Allani, the Head of the English Department at the time. When I was first interviewed for the job, Dr. Chekra was very supportive. She said that she had found a “star” in the field, and all I wanted was to make her proud. I was finalizing my PhD thesis at the time, teaching Shakespeare to undergraduates who struggled with Shakespeare’s inaccessibility, and attempting to do a good job, leave a mark somehow. And I think I did. I have resigned from AOU, moving elsewhere, starting a new chapter.

But before I “move on”, and I don’t believe we ever really move on, I have to write this post. Over the last few days, I let my students know that I was leaving. As always, it is difficult to say goodbye to them, to end this chapter. This week, during one of my lectures, I lost my voice. We tend to overdo it when we lecture, as the material is dense, and should be covered within a limited time. By the end of the day, I was completely exhausted, essentially dead, and left voiceless. As some of my friends and colleagues know, I struggle with a chronic disability, Multiple Sclerosis (MS), and in general, my energy levels aren’t that great. Fatigue kicks in during the summer and heat aggravates my body, affecting even my ability to speak, to lecture. So on that particular day, I was exhausted, put my head down on my desk, and shed a tear or two. I felt like giving up, like I couldn’t keep doing this to myself, that it was too difficult to maintain a full-time job teaching. At the end of the semester, I am usually more than ready to hibernate forever.

And yet, it was only a day later, where my students sent me emails, tweets, messages, cards, everything you can think of – in which they expressed their gratitude, their appreciation, and how they have enjoyed the semester. I will always be grateful for this experience, this beautiful experience of working with amazing colleagues, and students who come to class because they really want an education, a second shot, a second chance at learning. A few students in particular will always stand out in my memory, and they were the ones who beautifully expressed these sentiments:

   

              

 

This writer really says it well:“I can’t figure out what...

This writer really says it well:

“I can’t figure out what it is about you that keeps me around, either. I put 120 percent into the relationship, while you put in a mere 40 to 50 percent, on a good day. But I still stay hanging around.

I keep holding on. I keep telling myself things will get better, that you do care about me. I tell myself that you have a hard time showing affection. I tell myself that you show you care about me in different ways, even though I’m not entirely sure what those ways are. I keep twisting things in my head because I didn’t want to accept not having you in my life.” 

And that’s the worst part. When we make excuses for people who don’t trouble themselves to excuse their own behavior to us. The minute we start making excuses is the minute you have to stop and question what is happening, and whether this is the same person you valued so much. 

The sound of the clock ticking, reminding her that this i...

The sound of the clock ticking, reminding her that this is yet another morning she should get up. The white covers against her even whiter skin reminds her that she hasn’t tanned in awhile. The phone lights up, and she knows it’s that time of the day, this will be any second now. She stretches her body, gracefully, like a cat. Feline movement in itself is an art. It comes naturally to her, just like her independence, her desire to stay distant from people, always watching, observing. 

I read the news on my phone, scroll down, look for something interesting on Twitter. The sunlight from the squared window is enough, and I notice that the light accentuates her golden strands. The sunlight pushes me to start the day, and the cat comes near me, asking for a treat. Big eyes look up at me, impatiently. I am caught between two worlds, reality and imagination. The distance between both is immeasurable. 

There are five ways to say I am still alive. But only one way to feel it. The words fail, and the body knows best.