So here i am, in Bahrain...i spent the first days tiptoing around, along the walls like a cat in a new home...hoping that i could get my bearings without making a left and running into a wall or turning right and walking into the closet instead of the kitchen. The apartment is lovely, and its good to be spending the Ramadan with my familly which would be the first time in like 6 years. I miss my old life though, although im told that i should scrap and restart..i miss my cranky cat, my friends, my beautiful boy...walking in the streets although i can honestly say that im through with Beirut. I did my time. 9 years..9 YEARS... felt like forever and then snap it was over. Its always easier to look at things in retrospect but i have been trying to work my way out for years...accepted by stellar art institutes only to have my visa rejected because of an incomplete a prof gave me...9/11...and then the WAR..nothing like a war to make you reevaluate your priorities...and truelly appreciate your friends and familly and what God gave you. I was dreaming of coming here..it was my mental reward for being good. They all said "why didnt you evac?" well i could have..but then i thought about my aunt, who doesnt hold a privaledged passport like mine..and what kind of person leaves family behind? So i stayed. Through the sleepless nights of thunder where they pounded the south so badly you would see the smoke in the morning, that left a haze for a month of the assault. Where everywaking moment was spent flipping through channels tuned to the carnage and the children dead or orphaned...to the massacre and the bravery of the people who had lost EVERYTHING..and then turned to thank God for what they were spared for. Faith. Without Faith in times of absolute uncertainty to anchor to, you can drift into a sea of endless bitter darkness and cynicism for the cast of the die. I did what i could for the ppl of Lebanon, gave my blood, gave 2/3rds of my clothes, and teddy bears, and money..did my part. I spent the Hell out in the tower of madness at my aunts apartment in Beit Meri, wishing i were down with my friends who didnt run...with my cats..away from the warped dimension and the endless verbal abuse of my aunt who treated me like a whipping post. And when with the blessing of my travel broker who is an Angel in times of crisis i found a flight out, after the war was over i waited a week for the news to settle in with my aunt..then i fled with two suitcases to Bahrain...dreaming of windsurfing again, dinners at resteraunts with my father and hugging him again..laughing and shopping with my sister and the smell of the sea. I arrived disoriented...and lonely..and crumbling. All the composure that held me up through the crisis disintigrated and i went from being solid as a rock to a statue of ash...and i started to fall. I arrived on the 16th of September...and have been feeling like im running in quicksand, spinning my wheels and not going anywhere...drowning in my fast realisation that the ones i love have moved on where i have stagnated..frustrated that for all my talent i lack training and experience, and that for my intelligence i lack knowledge. William Shakespear was right..the world is a stage..and everyones life a three ringed circus. Some are clowns who cry in the shadows of thier rambling homes and wake paint a smile on thier faces and make fun of themselves for a living, some are lion tamers whipping an animal kept in chains to give the impression of courage where violence is cowardice..some fly through the air from timed opportunity to another swinging from partner to partner in flashy clothes and living high on adrenaline and dare...others jump through hoops, hop and balance and prance and juggle objects as they are juggled and hopped from town to town to jump more hoops..some are illusionists and mesmerise you with false preceptions whey they themselves are bored of the secret to thier magic and laugh at the facination and wonder of others manipulators of reality, and complusive liars...and some like me hope to cross the straight line in mid air without a net..all eyes on you, secretly hoping for the thrill of a near fall...and relieved when they see you cross the end..holding thier breath as you walk your walk alone. I have painted smiles on my face till i believed and joked at my own expense for a few laughs, and felt the whip of injustice by the men not man enough to admit thier failings, and compensate with inflicting pain on others, dated men who swung from life to life, woman to woman focusing on the next leap, never stopping for fear of falling...i have jumped through hoops for those i love and juggled my life to please and perform, exhuasted my patience under the captivity of long dead stars of illusions..and walked that line..that deciding factor between failure and sucess everytime i moved towns. Here i am..preacticing to walk the line...showtime and smiles are on. The show is never the reality of the situation, no matter how glitz glammed or together it seems...behind the curtains is chaos..anxiety, and times performaces lining up. Here im new to town....and im not complaining ..i have my familly and my life of luxury that some would kill to have. But I have no new acts..no new skills and im out of sync with the whole show. Dad and sis are both in the rythem of established running..each at a pace of an adept jogger, and so i find myself at home, scrabbling at my books to learn new computer programs in a month...find the time to tan and enjoy the beach, and make myself useful at home to prepare iftar. My sister is the chef of her kitchen and is as possesive of the menu as a MotherTiger is of her cubs... Dad is running the wheels of work and comes home exhausted..Me I bounce aimlessly between them when they are home...and life seems to fast forward and float as i try to gain ground or find it at least so that i can be productive. Loneliness is a shadow that haunts you when you see your reflection in the window rather than the scenery... its the whisper of doubt that scrapes its tiny nails into your demeanor when you lose track of a conversation...its the ache that swallows your heart when you go to bed with nothing to show for the work of the day...and its the deja vu that mesmerises you when you realise that you arent alone and still...and yet still lonely. The chaffing of apology for things that you didnt realise where wrong, or worse..the sicking dawning that you were doing things wrong the whole time...Its the dull resounding thudd that is so painfull that tears well up in your eyes uncontrolably when you realise that your self image and thier perception are in conflict...Its the failure to impress and the sucess in predictable disappointment...consistant. I am the puzzle peice who has lost the puzzle.