#inanutshell

When things in your life seem, almost too much to handle,
When 24 Hours in a day is not enough,
Remember the mayonnaise jar and 2 cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him.
When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls.

He then asked the students if the jar was full.
They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured
them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly.
The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.

He then asked the students again if the jar was full. 
They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.
Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous ‘yes.’

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

‘Now,’ said the professor, as the laughter subsided, ‘I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.’ 

The golf balls are the important things - family,
children, health, Friends, and Favorite passions – 
Things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, house, and car.

The sand is everything else —The small stuff.

‘If you put the sand into the jar first,’ He continued, ‘there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.’

The same goes for life.

If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

So…

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
Play with your children.
Take time to get medical checkups.
Take your partner out to dinner.

There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal.

‘Take care of the golf balls first —
The things that really matter.
Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.’

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.

The professor smiled, ‘I’m glad you asked’, he said.

‘It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem,
There’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.’

could the world make any more sense

Late last night, I was having breakfast at McDonalds with some friends. They were having fries, I sneaked in a box of waffles (I don't know if I ever told you about my craving waffles phase: a couple of years back all I ever wanted to eat for days in a row were waffles; i mean, i went out, I ate waffles, I went to the supermarket, I bought waffles, I saw a brick, I thought of waffles; well, it's all coming back to me now, apparently). Anyway, when I sat down, directly opposite at another table was this guy glancing at me- he wasn't creeping, we were just sitting opposite of each other. For a moment I thought "This guy looks awfully familiar, hmmm", but I brushed the idea off and went back to my waffles.
After we finished eating, the guy came up to me and asked whether I was on insert summer school that we both attended when we were 9 and Wham! I replied insert name and things began to unravel. We both went to this lame summer school slash camp for bored kids back in 95. He was this shy Indian boy who liked cats and Mario and I was this shy Romanian Girl who was scared of feathers and mice (there were a lot of those over there), so we naturally clicked, as much as you can click when you're nine. We never kept in touch.
Who knew that 17 years later we'd meet again sitting opposite each other, late at night, at McDonalds? Story of a lifetime much? Maybe the world does go round.

Georgy Girl.

Who doesn't love a story about an underdog overcoming adversary? Actually, I'm not sure if not being able to get a date or get laid would be seen as adversary, but let's just go with it to make Georgy's story seem more thrilling. Not that it needs it, mind you. Hanging out with Georgy while drinking wine from a box, which actually tasted like a mixture of green tea and red beans, was actually more entertaining than previously expected. I know, it doesn't sound like it, but that first scene with the little girls dancing while Georgy was cheering, being all goofy and lovely about it got me hooked.
Long before Molly Ringwald's Sixteen Candles, John Hughes gave us Georgy: a funny girl who is unlucky in love. This, of course, is made more obvious by her glamorous and coquettish roommate Meredith, who has more parties and suitors than she can keep up with. Some girls have all the luck.
Anyway, one day, something changes. Not in Georgy, but in everyone else. Men that never noticed her before are now on their knees, crying for a bit of attention from her, which of course is overwhelming for the poor jolie fille. She gets not just one guy but two! Ok, the dudes aren't exactly Jean Paul Belmondo or Guillaume Canet but still, the girl gets her man.
Of course she also learns life lessons and grows up a little along the way too. Isn't this what always happens in these kind of movies? And isn't it great? Yes and yes.

Anyway, these overly dramatic comedies that are actually tragedies if you care to look closer, these movies where everyone seems to, like, speak in proverbs and do amazing (read quirky) dance routines that you shouldn't try at home, trust me, i speak from experience, really hit base sometimes. Amongst my attempts to not do the aww thing I hate so much sometimes, i understood something and it really stuck out. I think Georgy mentioned it at some point, in a really reflective, philosophical, deep, I have a beard and I'm a hundred and fifty years old way: there are two kinds of people in this world, people who create stories, and people who witness them. I keep thinking about it. That and the dream I had this morning. I was best buddies with wong kar wai, we were splitting rent and all and he was taking care of me and my random asian kid. at some point it turned into a nightmare because we were being evicted from our house and the only person that could save us was penelope cruz but she was at the gym and you needed a special ID to get in. I jumped the barrier on a staircase leading to the gym but got chased and they didn't believe me when I said I lost my ID card. I then decided to jump onto one of the letter O's in yahoo.com so I could swing over to the gym (through presumably a portal). Then I woke up.

state of mind

When I put my hand on the back of my neck I can still feel the Syrian sun. It's red, dry and feverishly hot. Maybe I was sunburnt and that's my only souvenir. I took my camera out just a few times during my nine-days stay in Syria, and that's probably one of my biggest regrets. That and wearing a bohemian dress in the desert of Latakia, which stopped me from climbing on top of my camel. *Yes, there was a camel with my name on it. *Yes, my logic is astounding. 

During my climb to the Citadel of Alepp, where tourists gathered around to look at the locals looking at them, I met this adorable little boy (in a purple t-shirt and cheeky smile) who completely stole my heart. We talked in minimal English and French (I think at some point I was so excited I even said something in Portuguese. some things are better said in Portuguese, you know), which is why I still don't know whether he said he was from France or Ireland. I think he said he was seven. The only piece of knowledge I could pass on to him was that the place we were in was considered to be the oldest, largest castle in the world. His inquisitive eyes seemed to be waiting for more, but I started whistling instead. I figured little boys dig that. He did, because at some point he reached and grabbed my hand while we were climbing the stairs. my heart pretty much melted. 

Damascus is full of people and travelers, and the food is delicious and cheap. I really liked bread rolls with fillings of egg, rice, and olives and onions, and their coffee, in their tiny cups, and the cheap wine and the extra cheap cigarettes. Breakfast was amazing every morning and I really can't begin to describe what I ate every morning because I might break down and cry at its awesomeness. *People that know my love/hate (mostly hate) relationship with food might question this. Maybe I was just happy. There were also these stands by the streets that sold the thickest smoothies, blended from lots of fruit and little milk. They would come in huge, dirty jugs, but no one minded, because they were the yummiest things everyone had ever tasted and almost for no money at all. 

I guess that's it, you can tell these people live on very little, but their hearts are far from small. That's what I loved most about this place. other's happiness became my own and everything seemed to have this sort of ethereal calming effect on me. 

On my last night, we took a bus and went to mount Quasiun, the "lovers mountain" that overlooks the whole city of Damascus. We nestled ourselves on the chairs, under the open air. It was dark and starry. In the distance, the Umayyad Mosque shone discretely, while the lights from the Four Seasons Hotel blanketed everything in a thin layer of golden light. I wanted to freeze time in this ancient red city. I was so far away from all I knew, I began forgetting things. As if life had only begun in this new place. Priorities began to shuffle unconsciously, and the easeness with which I was ready to let it happen captivated me. 

But I couldn't freeze time. The moon soon pushed in and we headed back to the hotel. And then we left. 

And now it's all just a warm memory in my mind. That of a sunburn, but on the heart. I hope dearly it never washes away.