Ever wondered where the lost things go?

"We all get lost once in a while, sometimes by choice, sometimes due to forces beyond our control. When we learn what it is our soul needs to learn, the path presents itself. Sometimes we see the way out but wander further and deeper despite ourselves; the fear, the anger or the sadness preventing us returning. Sometimes we prefer to be lost and wandering, sometimes it's easier. Sometimes we find our own way out. But regardless, always, we are found." ~ A quote from my current read, 'A Place Called Here' by Cecelia Ahern.
There's something about this type of fiction, the plot's a bit bizarre but the haunting question on the cover says it all:

Ever wondered where the lost things go?
Within the lines of the novel, you'll question many things. And even though the events might not be exactly realistic, there's a hint of truth in them. You'll fall in love with the concept of having found the answers to everything you've always asked about. You'll be happy to know that things don't just get lost like that, there's a reason. "Here", according to the book, is where all the missing things end up in.

P.S. Check out my review of For One More Day by Mitch Albom on Omani Book Mania, and I'll review the one I'm currently reading as soon as I'm done inshAllah. What are you reading these days?

[Guest Book Review] ولدت هناك، ولدت هنا

Remember the Arabic book I posted about here sometimes back? It's the same novel that I kept quoting and tweeting about. And finally, just on Tuesday, I've finished reading it and immediately bought my own copy from the book fair.

The novel got emotional at parts; made me realize the great struggle Palestinans go through while watching their country being taken away from them day by day knowing that someday they'd have it back. Only question is, when?

I knew I wouldn't do the book justice if I began reviewing it so without even thinking to try, I asked my good friend, Blogger and above all, an awesome tweep with informative tweets spamming (in a good way of course) my timeline: Salma to write a review and she kindly did so;

كيف لما كتب كسيرة مختصرة أن يختصر واقع شعب دون أن يغفل عن تفاصيل الأرض والسماء والشجر والزيتون؟
وُلدتُ هناك، وُلدت هنا.. كتاب يعطي الجواب.

يسرد الأب مريد زيارة إبنه تميم الأولى لفلسطين.. يحكي جهد السفر وشوق الزيارة والمعابر.. يعود حينا لماضيه في مدارس دير غسانة، ليرحل في المستقبل ليحكي عن إبنه تميم طالب الجامعة.. بوصف شاعري، عاطفي بسيط وصادق مؤثر.

الكتاب مزيج من قصص فردية ووقائع تاريخية وإنسانية.. مزيج يحكي واقع إنسان.. مريد وهو فلسطيني تزوج رضوى المصرية ليمنع النظام في مصر إبوته لتميم، ومن وجوده لجانب رضوى زوجته، الأديبة المصرية.

اروع ما في الكتاب هو إنسانية محتواه:

تكون اسرة فلسطينية مصرية..
كيف يعيد لإبنه "فلسطينيته" وكيف يعيد "فلسطين" لإبنه..
أسرة فلسطينية في زوبعة الشتات

رجوع خطوات في التاريخ مرة اخرى.. لحكاية التهجير سنة ١٩٤٨
وأخيرا.. النهاية.. التي كانت هي البداية..
كيف ضاع العمر؟ كيف ضاعت فلسطين؟
بعد أن كنت اجتزت شوطا كبيرا في قراءة هذه الرواية، قررت أن تجربة قرائتها ستكون أحلى، لو تعرفت على مريد، ورضوى، وتميم.. ولكم أن تجربوا هذا أيضا..

Reading & I These Days...

I did not quit. Not yet.

The thought of my permanent loss of interest in reading frightens me beyond belief. I may go overboard with it when I say that I have more than 5 books on my night-stand in order to remind me to read again. I would pick one, read from where I left and close it, then pick up the next and the circle goes on with the other novels. This started by the beginning of my two-weeks-long holiday. Maybe it was the effect of watching TV. I've been reading few pages of a certain novel and stopping. Then picking another one and stopping all over again. Why, if you may ask?

Well, I've duelled much on how to answer this between myself and I and I've came up with the only sane reason I could master to find: It's hard to find something that would grab my attention from the first page itself. If not the writing style then it's the plot or vice versa. Thinking back, I've never felt this way before: That I cannot find a worthy novel to spend my time on. Maybe I'm getting old? Or my attention-span is so short that I get bored easily? I don't know.

Bottom line, got any interesting titles you recommend? Or more specifically (if you're willing to help me and got the time to) check my online bookshelves of the books I own and decide which is worthy of time. CLICK HERE.

On another-yet-relevant note, mom wants to get me this when we move to our new house in a couple of months from now, says she'll customize a bed to suit it. Guess I don't need it now, eh? Or do I?

[Excerpt] ولدت هناك، ولدت هنا

I've never been interested in reading in Arabic since 06 when I read more than 100 stories for an international competition and won (then headed to Dubai for the awarding ceremony. It was fantastic!) . I guess I didn't because I hated being forced to by my teacher although she apparently did for my own benefit. Aside from the that, English speaks loud and clear to me. Arabic, on the other hand, have never kept my interest.

After having started reading ولدت هناك، ولدت هنا by مريد البرغوثي I can take back all my previous assumptions back. Even though I haven't even reached halfway through, I can assure you that I'm hooked already.

Here's a little spoiler for you guys;

"أقول هذه الأشجار قتلى. وهناك، في مكانين مختلفين، في اللحظة ذاتها، فلاح فارغ الكفين وجندي ممتلئ زهوا. وهناك في غرفة الليل ذاته، فلاح فلسطيني يحدق في السقف، وجندي إسرائيلي يحتفل"

"بقعة في الهواء المعلق التي نتأرجج فيها الآن هي غربتنا نحن السبعة عن هذه الأرض. إنها إرادتنا المعطلة، وهي محاولتنا المشوبة بالشجاعة والخوف معا لفرض إرادتنا بالتحايل والمكر. فقاعة الهواء هذه هي الاحتلال الصلب ذاته. هي التشرد الفلسطيني في هواء بلاد الآخرين. نلجأ من أرضنا إلى هواء الدنيا. نحن نغرق في الأعالي. نغرق إلى فوق. رحم الله سلفادور دالي الذي لن تخطر له هذه الصورة بعد موته. وهذه البقعة الهوائية العبثية هي أسلوب محمود في أن لا يهزمه أي أمر أو يرغمه أي عائق على إعادتنا فاشلين. هنا يصبح بالانخفاض أمنية من يعلو كما علونا في تلك اللحظة. بريئة جدتي وهي تدعو لي في طفولتي وشبابي، "روح يا مريد يا ابن سكينة بنتي الله يعلي مراتبك" أو "الله يعلي مقامك بين الناس"، لم يصبح لي مقام "عال" بين الناس يا جدتي ولم ترتفع مراتبي في بلادي إلا بفضل هذا الوحش المعدني الأخرس. ألكثرة ما دعوت لي بالعلو استجابت لك السماء هكذا ساخرة منك ومني؟ أريد أن يهبط بي مقامي يا جدتي، أن أنزل عن "سموي" هذا ، أن ألامس الطين والتراب مرة أخرى لأسترد صفة المسافر العادي. الاحتلال هو لحظات الوحشة هذه بين أرض البشر وسمائهم"

[Book Review] Daddy-Long-Legs

Daddy-Long-Legs, largely known to us as صاحب الظل الطويل . When I knew it was an actual novel, I borrowed it from my friend the same day because who can miss such a chance? Turned out, it's a famous classic written by Jean Webbster back in 1912.

Back in the days, I used to ADORE the cartoon show so much that I had many dreams revolving the mystery identity that is Daddy-Long-Legs. And in each time, someone from real life appeared to be him. I was forever indulged in finding who this mysterious long man was. Because, apparently Judy was in love with him as much as I was myself.

However, the book is a bit different. It is divided into two part, the first is of a narration of the incident when a trustee of the orphanage that Judy was in, came forward and offered to send her specifically to college. The second part, which is the whole half of the story is a bunch of letters sent from Judy to the trustee whom she calls Daddy-Long-Legs. She saw his long shadow when she was asked to have a word with her teacher about her future. The trustee's condition was that she writes to him, telling about her academical progress, without expecting a reply back. That she write him once every month without the knowledge of him real name, etc.

Even though she was asked not to, she still required about his real name in most of her letters, his descriptions but there was no answer back. Although there was some good gestures here and there when he sent flowers or have his secretary reply or give her permission to do several things. Meanwhile, she met Jervis, her friend Julie's uncle repeatedly. All along, she wrote to Daddy explaining every encounter and confessing about her love. It grew frustrating at times because I already know Jervis is Daddy himself and it was kind of awkward.

Either ways, at the end, Daddy agreed to meet her when he was sick and it turned out he was Jervis himself all along. The book came to an end at this point which made me curious to know more in the sequel, Dear Enemy.

Keeping the fact that it's a classic, an easy language was used to provide a high-schooler flowing way of talking and some humorous parts were added. This was a total bonus in making it a fast and enjoyable read. My rating: 8.5/10

[FanFiction] A Walk To Remember: Epilogue

A/N: After reading 'A walk To Remember' I desperately wanted to know what had happened at the end, or, at Jamie's end, to be exact. I had watched the movie a very long time ago that I can't recall how the ending was so I made one up.

The book ended with these lines:

It is now forty years later, and I can still remember everything from that day. I may be older and wiser, I may have lived another life since then, but I know that when my time eventually comes, the memories of that day will be the final images that float through my mind. I still love her, you see, and I've never removed my ring. In all these years I've never felt the desire to do so.

I breathe deeply, taking in the fresh spring air. Though Beaufort has changed, the air itself has not. It's still in the air of my childhood, the air of my seventeenth year, and when I finally exhale, I'm fifty-seven once more. But this is okay. I smile slightly, looking toward the sky, knowing there's one thing I still haven't told you: I now believe, by the way, that miracles can happen.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or the main plot. They're Sparks' as featured in the original work of 'A Walk To Remember', the novel and later, the movie. This is merely a fan-made fiction based on the book: My perception of the ending.

A Walk To Remember
FanFiction: Epilogue

Landon Carter
I'd be lying if I said that memories of that particular day doesn't come back chasing me. You see, after all these years, I still remember the first and last love of my life: Jamie. As I also remember the day when I flipped open the yearbook, looking for a candidate to ask for the homecoming dance and wonder: What if I had chosen someone else? Would I have never gotten to know her?

After she passed away, I couldn't keep myself from blaming and regretting both at the same time. Blaming myself for not noticing the reason behind the spirit and the beautiful smiles Jamie used to spread wherever she went. I thought her good heartedness was over-rated that I didn't fathom it.

The regret part then comes in for not spending the remaining moments of her life with her before our marriage: Of course, I couldn't, with Hegbert breathing down my neck even after our love for each other was no secret. I regret the days I wasted in trying to get rid of her and the fact that I always hated to have to make the 'right thing' around her.

She was a thief, a sweet and angelic one at that who stole away my bad behaviours, thoughts and misconceptions about everything. Without her, I wouldn't have forgiven my father and moved on to focus on starting all over again which I didn't think I'd be able to.

Jamie made me fall in love and know the incredible meaning of it. Love is, I learned, when you prefer to live the rest of your life with your beloved, in good and bad times.

Watching her suffer because of Leukemia on her final days on bed broke my heart every time I had looked at her; pale-faced, sleepy-eyed yet the stunning smile never failed to linger there, no matter what. The realization of having no power to protect her of the pain made me weak to the point that I'd sink in my chair, wishing I was the one in bed instead. But when I had gone through the Bible she gave me, I'd suddenly recall her words about the Lord's Plan.

The day she walked through the aisle, against our protests, to meet me right there on the altar, I saw the angel again. Jamie was wearing the same white dress she wore at the Playhouse and I couldn't have been more grateful. That day, when I first caught a glimpse of her behind the curtains I knew I was in love as I did at our wedding night. The wedding, she told me later, was just like her dream.

As surreal as the wedding was for her, the day Jamie passed away was the most painstaking day ever, for both of us, but I am sure for me, the most.

I took a nap that day and out of habit, woke up an hour and a half later to check on Jamie. As I turned around to face her, she was staring blankly at the ceiling, as if she'd never seen it there before. I let my hand rest on hers and she gave me a little squeeze while turning her head to face me.

'What are you thinking?' I asked.

'Of us' she answered breathlessly 'of you', she added.

Pulling myself up, I squeezed next to her and gently took the weight of her body onto my chest. Taking a strand of her hair in my finger, I said 'I love you, do you know that?' She rested her head near to my heart and I wanted the moment to last for eternity.

'I think it's time', she whispered soundlessly that I thought I'd imagined it.

With that, my tears started rolling down my cheeks and falling right into her milky-brown hair. She slowly raised her head to look at me up-side down and kissing her forehead, I wiped away my tears with the hem of my sleeves and helped her lay on the bed once more.

Smiling faintly at me, 'I love you more' she breathed for the last time.

There are certain moments when you feel like you're in space, and after a while, the oxygen which is keeping you alive cuts down. When life was sucked out of Jamie, it did for me, at the same time.

[Book Review] Ten Out Of Ten

Ever since 08 I was looking for the final installment of the series and while being at the book fair this year, I found it and decided to get it over with already. The next day was a holiday so I sat down and finished it in a one-sitting.

I kept wondering why the hell I wasted my time in following the whole series but the answer was perfectly clear: I was an ignorant, childish teenager who loved this type of girly-stupid books.

Turned out, J.P wasn’t Mia’s Mr.Right and that she had to go through all of this to realize that Micheal was ‘the one’ and J.P wanted to get all the fame by dating a princess.

So ridiculous, right? Yes, but I had to know what would happen as I chose to start it.

Still, the idea of people getting lots of $$$$ out of writing utter bull$hit is beyond me. And dear Meg Cabot, I give you my full approval of changing your name to Meg Babble, because you really know how to waste good 700 pages of paper in repeating the same dramatic lines zillions of time.

Ten out of ten you call it? More like -10/10, if you ask me.

[Book Review] The Time Traveler's Wife

A story of a man who suffers from a disease where he goes back to the past or to the present and future. He’s trapped in the battle of time, trying to stay put as much as he can so he could hang out with his wife, Clare.

At the beginning, he struggles to go back and meet Clare, the young version of Clare (starting from 5 years old). Henry emphasizes on how the force of love brought them together, and that nothing, not even the dislocation of time that occurs to him unexpectedly can tore them apart, but I did not think that was exactly true. Clare got to meet a man at the age of five, who claims to know every single detail about her and was obliged to be-friend him…till she was sane enough to fall in love with the older version of Henry, probably at the age of 40. It was an unusual kind of relationship between Clare and Henry considering the huge age difference in Henry’s past and Clare’s present, almost gave Henry the pedophilia impression.

Writing style wise, it was a new one. Audrey has this bold type of writing that forces you to read and blinds your eyes on the many flaws of the story plot.

A time traveler seemed like a good story as a science fiction but ruining it with a wild type of love relationship between two people was too much for me. 4/10.

I wouldn't waste my time in watching its movie because...well, just take a look at the stupid trailer.

Dreaming Big

I dream of graduating with top grades…I picture myself at the graduation ceremony…my name being called out loud for everyone to hear and I have a deja-vu of walking to the stage, the only different is, I leave the rest behind me this time, for it became history from this moment onwards.

The scene dissolves and here I am, acing my third driving trial with such proud and confidence, overwhelmed by an euphoric feeling of independence.

5:30, the clock reads. This is it, I say out loud to make it sound official and surreal. My head feels heavy even though I had a little amount of sleep the night before…I take a quick bath and change into my suit, the same one I bought a month ago for the day I have only witnessed in my most beautiful dreams. Within less than an hour, I step into my own library. The secretary greets me and my employees scream ‘congraaaaaats!’ together and I am the happiest and luckiest girl in the entire world.

“Could you please…erm…dedicate this to my daughter? You are her only inspiration”, I nod, satisfied and give the mother a broad smile one that says it all. I sign on the book and stare at it till I realize that it is her copy but I am the one who has her name on the cover and this pleases me to no end.

“I dream my painting, and then I paint my dream’’ ~ Vincent van Gogh.

My wishes revolve around achieving what I have in mind of ambitious ideas. The world is only waiting for me to get out there and make a move, take a stand and announce that I am here to paint it with bright, beautiful colours.

“A man is but the product of his thoughts. What he thinks, he becomes’’ ~ Mahatma Gandi

Visualizing is part of getting what you want in life. There is no shame in dreaming big, aiming for the best and setting noble goals. The shame lies in being pessimistic, excepting everything to easily come to where you are. Who tells you life is easy is insane. You cannot possibly expect to have a fairy god mother to change your status once you are desperate, nor a tall bean tree to give you gold whenever.

“We are the music-makes, and we are the dreamers of dreams” ~ Arthur O’Shaughnessy

These stuffs do not exist. Fairytales where created by great minds that chose to act, to write it all down for us but they did not stop there, did they? No, to those who could not visualize it, movies were made. They made it easier for you to get its content. Again, things did not end up here: You get to play video games based on your favourite character...the part where you get so engrossed in it that you almost forget about your reality.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but you should get out of the comfort zone once in a while. Go out there and do what you’re good at, prove your existence by doing what you love with the people you love.

Note: A lot of this talk was inspired by The Secret, and reviewing the book needs a post of its own.

Enjoy the rest of your week because I am sure as hell that I am going to enjoy mine.

Muscat Book Fair Overview

Muscat Book Fair is an annual event that is said to be one of the most anticipated events of the year. Students can’t wait to go to the fair with their peers as school trips arranged every year. When you see the great number of people gathered around the place you’d notice how concerned they’re all are in buying books in order to develop their habit of reading. I personally find it amusing that kids urge their classmates to buy this or that book especially if it had an attractive, coloured cover!

Talking about this year’s fair, I immediately rushed to the English section to explore what it had in store for me, what types of fictional stories that waited for me to grab and start reading from the moment I reached back home it self. What I felt after that was plain disappointment. There were less quality and more quantity which is directly proportional to my last year’s observation, although, I could not help but notice the amount of educational books at the fair. College students swarmed around these areas and were glad to find such valuable materials that are related to their studies in one way or the other.

As I am an avid reader, I would prefer if there were more novels directed to the teenage group. Providing a different variety of genres through selling novels can defiantly encourage and boost the passion for reading in youngsters. And extending the length of the fair’s duration would be useful as well, since some schools and colleges are undergoing midterm’s exams and/or 3rd terms. Over all, Book Fairs are a total success in a city like Muscat that lacks of bookshops. So if you have not been to the fair yet, you should think of paying a visit as Friday is the last day!