Category Archives: Digressions

I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about myself. Call me self-centered, egocentric, vain, but not conceited. Generally, “thinking of oneself” means that one does not take into account other people’s feelings or interests. That is not my case. By “thinking of myself”, I mean that I am constanly contemplating my “self” and engaging in self-psychoanalysis. I analyze why I think a certain way, what makes me happy or sad, and why something upsets me. It is a process that is automatic, like a reflex that I cannot control. It is an ongoing internal dialogue, often times an absurd debate.

Last night prior to falling asleep, I was listing those subtle and less obvious things, the simple pleasures, that I most enjoy in life. These are a few of the “My Favorite Things” (other than WiFi everywhere) that I came up with: Continue reading →

There is nothing like fresh water.

As I mentioned on Friday, I had wanted to write a post about Thursday night’s rain. I had wanted to describe the wonderful feeling of getting into bed, under the covers to the sound of rain on my window sill. It is such a welcoming and comforting melody. For about 10 days straight it had been raining off and on in Madrid, and the constancy of the rain had washed away all of the filthiness of the previous arid weeks. So, I decided to open my balcony and let in the clean freshness of the rain.

Then today, I had to leave a little earlier from work than normal and the sun was still out. As a matter of fact, it was a very sunny day. While I came around the corner and passed, of all things, a Harley Davidson store, the air was filled with the smell of brand new motorcycle tires. Out of nowhere, I recalled the innocent joy of being a little boy in a bicycle store. Ironically, I have very little interest in either motorcycles or bikes today, but the scent brought back the feeling of comfort similar to that of childhood. I had almost completely forgotten about rain. Continue reading →

Majnun Layla, not to be confused with layla saida was the name attributed to Qays Ibn al-Mullawah for he was “driven mad by Layla”. While “layla” means “night” in both Arabic and Hebrew, Layla was the woman that Qays feel in love with in the classic Middle Eastern love story of Layla and Majnun. When Layla’s father refused to let Qays marry her, he went mad — hence, Manjun Layla. Now, read the link and have a “layla saida”.

The return from Semana Santa, for a few reasons (all of them positive), has altered my sleep patterns, and now I am working to regain my tedious schedule of work and reading. As a matter of fact, I am now reading a very entertaining book by Elif Shafak called The Bastard of Istambul. When I am done, I will give my final verdict.

In any event, to help me sleep last night, I put on Deb by the Algerian signer Souad Massi which I had not listened to in quite a long time. Maybe through osmosis, I will learn some Arabic. I wonder whether Brad Pitt, allegedly a big fan of Marrakech after having filmed Babel in Morocco, would be as successful.

Regardless of my spring time allergies that are slowing me down these days, you can see from my past two posts that I am very Pro-Flower.