Thursday, March 27, 2008

Revelation Strikes

I've just signed on to my blogsite (is that what these pages are called?) after over a year of absence... why today of all days I can't be too sure but my fingers, which are a little sore from grasping my tennis racket too tight, which have been aching to type non-work related thoughts, non- "official documents", to pour out from the heart instead of from the brain if that makes sense... these fingers are ready to start typing again. I've said this before today, so why today of all days I can't be too sure. But I get this inkling of a hunch that I'm on to something. I'll announce it now at 9:06AM on this Thursday morning after an impulsive 7AM game of tennis, before heading to work to write more "official documents."

To everyone in both the singles and families sections of the public spaces in my fair country and to those in the "mixed" environments abroad: My fingers are about to resume their blogging. and it's not because i treated them to a pretty french manicure last night (ok maybe that's added some incentive).

A couple of days ago my boss said something to me that might have been the trigger. She was reading a draft of an article I was preparing for an international publication, just a 750- word essay on Saudi women in the Economy, no big deal. She read the first paragraph and smiled "You write like a reporter" she said. Luckily that's what the article required. But it struck me. And today, well I guess that explains why today of all days is the day... today I discovered the reason for my mental block. I had forgotten the beauty of words for words' sake. forget pu.nc.tuatio'n and spellinng. forget well-crafted arguments. those are for newspaper articles, dissertations, and books. I was so caught up in trying to convey what are almost always convoluted and often blasphemous thoughts about contradictions and challenges and obstacles. (Did Noura just admit she has blasphemous thoughts? Yes she did my friends, yes she did, but when I say 'blasphemous' I mean it by Saudi standards so that's not saying much is it) But today... REVELATION strikes. Of course I've having mental constipation.(sorry) I'm trying to write articles, meant for publication. meant to be critiqued. meant to be edited, and proof read for typos.

But after 8 hours at the office and an hour of tennis and a few hours of vegging on the couch with my parents and a few hours of brainstorming for the recycling campaign and all the others things i love to fill my life with.....aaaahhhh... i also want to write articles summarizing world conflicts and bridging ideological gaps? No no no no no. This shall not pass.

So to my once loyal readers and to my constant life gurus. I'll try to win you all back. But before I do such a thing I must make a comment about my last blog entry, Zahra's "short-lived happiness." Her story does not end there because it turns out (go figure) that in life we can't decide where to put the punctuation marks or when the story ends... if it's 'short-lived' or not... After that entry, Zahra got her divorce, she got her house back, she got an 'empowering' life experience defending her rights in court in an ironic twist of events stemming from a pleasant eye opener. yes our courts are patriarchal (or is it patriarchical?? no that looks wrong)but women are not turned away even in Jizan. And yes the judges are patriarchcicicial but they still can judge fairly.

So Zahra's biggest challenge now is to learn to manage her money better: to stand up to her children and tell them "NO you can't have a car because I need that money to pay for electricity and food. YES I know our house looks run down but let me pay off our debts and then I can tile the kitchen floor."

There should be a conclusion but this isn't an article and if I don't press "publish post" now I'll be late for the office.

IT began as a field diary for my summer in Jizan (2006) under the title "Watch Out Bubba Gump." Now I'm not sure what it is... but I do know it's time for me to start writing again.