Collecting the pieces: Looking for the writer

Today I found my self thinking extremely harsh; why am I not writing anymore?

I don’t think I can ever give a complete answer about this, but meanwhile cleaning my old room, found some old pieces. Grabbed page number one: ‘Dear Sinner’ and in that moment something crashed at me. My old book. The promise I made to myself and the characters, that even when nothing is going to be valuated, I would still write.

The thing is that I am definitely not doing it.  I am just simply not keeping my promise.

Honestly, I have never considered myself talented, or gifted, but is that feeling of emptiness that captures me when I want to put something in paper and awkwardly doesn’t happen.

While my mum was waiting for me at the door, read only a page and a half in 2  minutes and that was enough to remember it all the travel and wonderland I went through writing it. I am not sure if I can say that had ever existed another ‘most happy’ period of time. And I swear, in that moment, something started to move inside of me, something familiar but also strange. Got goosebumps all over my body, crashing my mum’s starry eyes.

The same look as years ago while Dear Sinner came to life. Hopefully I am not wrong, was the year 2015, me and her in the supermarket trying to buy special French Essences’ as she refers to the perfumes. While walking between the biggest Perfume Creators names, a small bottle grabs my attention weirdly.  Immediately putted some to test it, and smelled the tester in a second like I was trying to remember someone. Well, the strange thing, is that that person doesn’t exist. Yeah, like you just read, because that smell remembered me in a second the connection I have always had in my mind of the name and the image for Max, the main character. I felt his existence in my mind, he was still alive, still searching for that one reason to continue living. It was exactly in that moment, when I promised that I would always keep on writing. Also my reaction while my mother was looking at me made her think that I am crazy.

“Don’t tell me you are still in your wonderland..” – she said. I couldn’t say any word because I felt that probably is true. Was ever anything of this real? Did all the writers feel the characters like this?

She was still talking while my mind flew back to Spain, where Max used to live…back at the time where he was touched by love, doubt, secrets, darkness, surrounded by a huge mansion full of old scary paintings that looked like they moved, hearing all the time the whisper of his parent’s soul. I can still see him walking through the hall with his heart and mind burning and blue eyes full of water. Few seconds later I find him entering at his room and lying in the bed keeping that Fetus Position for hours. I could still feel his fear and the need to keep his eyes closed like he was trying to avoid something.

My mother calling me woke me up. Closed the book, putted in my bag and walked away from my room, still thinking if everything was worth it. Thinking that every story holds something bigger inside and between the lines. One day I dream of the World reading about Max. In fact, he will feel less alone.

Max is the world and the World is Max. If none of us can find themselves talking in the real life, let’s do it with some book pages. Let that person who just lost everything, to find out that there is always a way out, that there is no need to be afraid, that maybe crying is good. Maybe we should let that person learn how to not drown, by teaching his inner demons how to swim. That person one day, will wake up in the morning and will open the curtains by letting the sun in, and not let them closed like he always does.

You see the light? Please, believe that there is still some hope, and nobody will steal that from you. 

 

Heanna Malaj 2017

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Looking 4 the Recovery: Blank Space.

FOR THE ONES WHO COULD NEVER SUBSTITUTE ME.

(the words I’ve never said: part 1)

When I woke up today, I was hoping desperately for him to be thinking about me. Is it strange how a human being can be this confused. I felt this crazy need to know if he was ever thinking about me, if he ever missed me, if he wanted to touch me..but in the other hand, I pray to never listen his voice or see his face again. All these thoughts, are caused by his hypocrite and honest face, in the same time.

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Strangely, today, I was thinking about those. About cheating, about all the bitches who were actually praying to have something with him, about their disgusting smells, about the noises and the moaning at his car. About all the hidden looks on my back. I was thinking about his torture, every time he realized that she, wasn’t me.

But I knew it really well that this was driving him crazy. This made me asking him one day, about the reason why was he doing this to me. When actually those, never could enter into his mind, soul and his heart.

Did I forget myself, only because I found someone?

Well, I should admit, that these questions were flying in my head for a long time.

I am sure you are asking how did I found the answers. Actually I never did. I just know, that In my mind, those, are only ugly silhouettes, without feelings, able to give everything they have, only for pleasure and the next day, pretend like nothing ever happened.  

Guys, he is a male. Of course this is not an excuse, but I call it Theoretical Explanation, with a detail included: he was seeking me. In their stupid, empty eyes, he searched me. Needed to find my presence, in my missing.

(you know, men always have a back up seat girl; he tried to do the same) after those adventures, he always started to come and find me. Probably, I was writing on my lap top, sited in  French Coffee, holding the mug in my hands. I know he would sit next to me, pick up his phone and starting to surf on it.  But, thinking about me. He would’ve waited for a word from me, forgiveness or regret. By looking at me, he would understand (trying to say it in a girlish way) that he lost the moon while counting the stars.

To be continued..if he is still worth to be written about. 

 

 

Looking 4 that 1950’s love: Grandfather’s confession

The best stress therapy is spending some time with your grandparents. Trust me, been there done that. 

Yesterday, I was smoking a cigarette with my Grandpa and suddenly he starting to sing a Russian song about  girl named Tamara Kurnikova. Of course I felt curios to know who is she. So obviously I asked him.

– Grandpa, who is Tamara? Or is just a traditional Russian song?

Actually I don’t know why I asked him anyway. Never wanted to know anything about anyone. Maybe this made me a good listener. As my friend says: “A good listener never asks.” I just skipped the topic right? I apologize :p

Now that I am thinking maybe I felt the need to ask him because I saw something special in his eyes when he was singing. An empty look and his hands were shaking softly.

He smiled and said to me:

-Darling, are you ready to hear my Russian love story?

I confirmed by shaking my head twice and smoked another Marlboro Gold.

******

Moscow 1958. I went there because of work. Was really difficult for me living in a place where I didn’t know anyone considering that I didn’t speak Russian language at all.  I joined the army because I was obligated to. In the end, nobody wants to go 1000 miles away from his family, alone and scared about his life right? Whatever, I want to get straight to the point. 

Two weeks after my arrival  there I went into a small party organised at the Admiral’s home. The silence there was growing as a cancer and everything was too awkward. Till her eyes met mine. 

 

Soldiers Kiss Women Goodbye

A blonde curly thin girl, with big turquoise eyes and the most pure skin I have ever seen in my whole life. She smiled softly. 

I was in love only with that look. I couldn’t do anything. Things in that time weren’t that easy darling. Do you know how she seemed? She seemed like an angel who went through hell and nothing could break her. I saw in her eyes strength, power and serenity in the same time. 

He hold his breath once, closed his eyes and stopped talking. I understood that he didn’t want to talk no more.

But you know what? Maybe they are right. Maybe I did get my hopes up too high. She was too much for me. 

TO BE CONTINUED…

H.M

Awakening the real you – Looking 4 my soulmate

” A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys and keys that fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are not for who we’re pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that person we are safe in our own paradise. Our soulmate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we are two balloons, and our direction is up, chances are we have found the right person. Our soulmate is the one who makes life come to life.”

– Richard Bach

Some people consider soulmates as Guardian Angels and some others think that finding your soulmate is finding your perfect match. Both are right. But something changes on these point of views. The first one thinks  is impossible that this relationship whatever it is, lasts forever and the other one finds it eternal.

My question is: How can two people who think, act and share same concept of life can live forever together? Isn’t gonna be boring and consumed? Well this is what I was thinking till yesterday when someone was helping me structure my thoughts about this topic. He asked me to improve a situation like for example; they both like traveling. Is better traveling together considering that they share the same hobby or traveling alone if the other person doesn’t really like traveling?

Trust me guys in that moment I really didn’t know what kind of answer was I supposed to give. Because he was right.

But how do you know that the person in front of you is your soulmate?

When you find the perfect match you feel comfortable being vulnerable and find it easy talking and sharing your secrets connecting so, into a different level. You can talk about your desires, fantasies, fears and way of thinking without any doubt.

When you’re around the person you were meant to be with, the inner parts of you react. The connection is undeniable and every muscle in your body responds in agreement. It’s more than just a passing feeling, it’s a physical reaction that you can’t seem to control. When you’re around each other, your body can’t help but respond automatically. Been there done that so we define this as true as hell.

A certain look  can tell you all you need to know. Your non-verbal communication is so powerful, there are times when there’s no need to speak at all. You can relay feelings of longing, love, trust, and playfulness effortlessly.

If you have a strong attraction, trust me soulmate’s alarm is gonna ring. And I am not just talking about the physical one but also emotional attraction. If I have to define it in one sentence it’s a meeting of the mind, body, and soul.

You can laugh easily which is the most important part of all. This is how Hara Estroff explains it: “It’s a safe bet that most of the laughs married couples get come from TV laugh tracks, not from each other. They don’t emanate from the relationship. More important, they don’t feed it. And if the jokes that make the rounds by email are any gauge, often they are at the expense of it. But homegrown laughter may be what ailing couples need most. Uniquely human, laughter is, first and foremost, a social signal — it disappears when there is no audience, which may be as small as one other person–and it binds people together. It synchronizes the brains of speaker and listener so that they are emotionally attuned,” said Hara Estroff Marano, Psychology Today editor.

When all these factors are in harmony, you just know it’s right. When you’ve found the one, don’t let anything get in your way.  I don’t think anymore that soulmates are not supposed to be forever together, but everyone should take it easy and enjoy it. This is how it  works.

Do as much as you can to try to be together. Life is too short to wonder “what if.” Life let your paths cross for a reason, so take your chance while you still have it.

 

H.M

 

For any question send me an email:

heannamalajbomer9@gmail.com

 

 

“Dogs never bite me. Just humans.”

“Too often they don’t realize what they have until it’s gone.
…they’re too stubborn to say, ‘Sorry, I was wrong’
they hurt the ones closest to their hearts,
and we let the most foolish things tear us apart”
Marilyn Monroe

Marilyn-Monroe-pics6

What does woman really want? Everything and in the same time nothing. When a guy says – baby let’s have a break because I am sure you need it too” and she agrees smiling like she doesn’t care at all. One hour later you find her crying and screaming, being angry and disappointed. Women are strange, a volcano ready to explode, they keep inside anger, love hate, hope, love, loneliness and power. Just like Marilyn.

She said that dogs never bite her, just humans. I think you all understand the analogy. 

Monroe was raised without love, thinking that there is no love lost, also technically no love found. The American Icon, turned herself into a depressive women, taking pills, drugs and drinking alcohol during all day, thinking that she deserved no love, because in the end if she didn’t love herself, how could she love someone else. Her soul was screaming and her body was burning. Why? Just because she wanted to give everything even without taking nothing back.

Marilyn Monroe had only thought: – Too young to know about forever and to old to die young.

 

“Keep smiling, because life is a beautiful thing and there’s so much to smile about.”

This quote sums up life in a very optimistic way, and even though Monroe had many challenges and plenty of reasons not to smile, it shows she was always looking for the beautiful things in the world, and choosing happiness over sadness. Whenever you’re feeling blue you can remember this quote and look around for things to smile about. According to her there’s plenty to smile about, as long as you’re looking for them.

Look around you today for something to smile about. Tomorrow it might be something different, but there will always be many things available to put your attention on.

 

“It’s better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone.”

Take it from a woman that was thrice divorced, she didn’t stay long in a relationship if she wasn’t happy with the way it was going. Notice how she didn’t say it’s better to be happy and alone than unhappy with someone, since that’s too easy of a thing to wrap your head around. She’s saying that it’s a better choice to be alone, even if you’re unhappy while you’re alone, than it is to be with someone and be unhappy just because you don’t want to be alone. This is for those that find themselves in a relationship because it’s preferable to being alone, even if it isn’t very good.

 

Ref: brightdrops.com

 

H.M

Looking 4 Umberto Eco’s DNA

 

“Show not what has been done, but what can be. How beautiful the world would be if there were a procedure for moving through labyrinths.”
Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose

 

February 18 2016.

I started reading Umberto Eco’s books when I was 14 years old. Always in touch with his life and his literature projects, I felt so close to him, considering that he was always my role model.

umbertoeco[1]

Umberto Eco  – 5 January 1932 – 19 February 2016 was an Italian novelist, essayist, literary critic,philosopher and semiotician. He is best known for his groundbreaking 1980 historical mystery novel Il nome della rosa (The Name of the Rose), an intellectual mystery combining semiotics in fiction, biblical analysis, medieval studies and literary theory. He later wrote other novels, including Il pendolo di Foucault (Foucault’s Pendulum) and L’isola del giorno prima (The Island of the Day Before). His novel Il cimitero di Praga (The Prague Cemetery), released in 2010, was a best-seller.

Eco was born in the city of Alessandria, in Piedmont in northern Italy. His father, Giulio, one of thirteen children, was an accountant before the government called him to serve in three wars. During World War II, Umberto and his mother, Giovanna (Bisio), moved to a small village in the Piedmontese mountainside. Eco received a Salesian education and made references to the order and its founder in his works and interviews. His family name is supposedly an acronym of ex caelis oblatus (from Latin: a gift from the heavens), which was given to his grandfather (a foundling) by a city official.

HOW IT FEELS TO BE A WRITER’S WIFE:

I am a writer so I know how difficult it is to deal with an artist, a writer in this case. Wanting to have a personal space, a soul room where we can show all our imagination, being stressed and not inspired, forgetting the world around us and not feeling the need to eat, drink or sleep.

When I started to read Umberto Eco’s masterpieces I was in the worst emotional period of my life. His intellectual fiction novels saved my life that’s why I always thought Eco was immortal.

When my mum told me about what happened (about his death) I was definitely shocked and lost.  The only thing I wanted to do in that moment was too touch his books thinking I was touching his soul.

I imagine the pain that Dorothy (his wife) felt in that moment.

Umberto-Eco-and-Dorothea-Bromberg

Guys have you ever seen deeply in his eyes? I did once. And definitely I was flattered also enlighten by his wisdom and the perfect world he created for himself, his family and all of us.

Umberto, I don’t know why you died but I can surely say that a wonderful human being like you cannot be completely destroyed and disappeared. The world should create you from the beginning because your DNA cannot be lost.

Always in our heart.

“A book is a fragile creature, it suffers the wear of time, it fears rodents, the elements and clumsy hands. so the librarian protects the books not only against mankind but also against nature and devotes his life to this war with the forces of oblivion.”
Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose

H.M

heannamalajbomer9@gmail.com

 

Where she might be?

DRAWING. 

 

During all this time hosting my blog I’ve been really looking 4 heanna, looking 4 my self. I was lost in my city’s streets, his lights and darkness. My spirit was distracted and I was physically present, but never mentally. Sometimes I really thought of ending all this pain and never look back, never seek 4 what I needed, never follow my passions also never see my self in the mirror, ever again.

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But one day I saw the most beautiful face that I’ve ever seen. Felt the griddy need to draw it so I could always take it with me..(not the face in the picture). In that moment I started thinking why I loved it so much? Why do we paint/draw? Is it because we really love it and need it, or is just one side dominance of brain?

On February 14th 2014 I realized what my true love was.  (WELL, ONE OF THEM). So Happy Valentine’s day to my drawing skills 🙂 

 

DANCING

Proved and tested scientifically when a person dances, feels 23 kind of feelings. I felt them all. Being a freestyle dancer till a young age and realizing that those moments were the only way out of that labyrinth I mentioned before, made me feel happy.

“When we watch dance what do we “see”? Do we just see moving bodies, shapes and a constantly changing visual scene or do we also interpret these things based on our previous knowledge and our expectations?” I definitely chose the second one. Is more than just a physical exercise. Watching someone dance or even your self is like seeing his/your soul moving. Not long ago, I joined Last Shoot Crew (a hip hop dance crew).

It was the biggest responsibility I’ve ever had- making my teacher proud of me, making my self feel good about my achievements and also not regretting for what I chose.

mirror

(this picture was captured while I was dancing so sorry about the quality)

I might call it form of meditation because connects to my artistic self and acts as an escape from my daily life or as some kind of therapy. Maybe the fact of you knowing that you’re talented makes your passion and determination grow …honestly I don’t know if exists something better than this.

Once I heard someone saying to me exactly these words: “There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost.” I never blocked it. So Happy Valentine’s day to my dancing skills and to my crew.

 

WRITING

(Last but not least)

Now I would like to go back 7 years ago. When I found the original copies of Dostoevsky’s masterpieces on my desk, I must say that something changed inside of me. I am not pretty sure if everyone knows that kind of love growing inside but I am gonna try explain it. It was like I wasn’t living all those years of non-reading and finally I got air. 

And so it goes…reading everything and every kind of book till I got my own world. Trust me, nobody couldn’t survive one night in that scary little mysterious world I created for my self. This was killing me, a lot of thoughts, feelings, imagination, fantasy and need to express the world what was going through my mind during all that time. And than…I started writing. My first try of writing a book was a failure until I felt ready to structure my thoughts and feelings in the best technical way.

On October 7 2015 Looking 4 Heanna came to life. My home and the perfect space for my soul. The idea of that lost girl in her hometown’s labyrinth was completely real and I wanted to show my way of thinking about my self. About what I lost, what I forgot, who and what I loved but the most important thing about the illusion of someone that actually wasn’t me. About that fake happiness I was trying to convince my self that existed…well in a few words, I didn’t know who I was. WordPress and this blog saved my existence. Happy Valentine’s day to my writing skills and to WordPress. 

looking4heanna

To conclude I must say I’m still looking 4 Heanna. But when I dance, write or draw, Heanna gives me a clue of where she might be. 

 

Thank you.

H.M

 

Write on my email for everything you wanna say: Feel free

heannamalajbomer9@gmail.com

 

 

Mr.and Mrs Blind’s Mask

 

Mr. Blind

There was a time when Mr.Blind was happy. He knew what he wanted and why started living. Mr.Blind knew the reason of his first cry, his first smile and his first dream. 

He never understood what a fake smile can hide. Now that he knows, Mr.Blind feels scared. Other people think the same. A smile and the beauty are a curse, they keep us from realizing who the real monsters are.

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Till he met her.  When his eyes met the most beautiful woman that he could ever dream of, he started questioning everything that 4 him was clear, why he cried, why he smiled and why he dreamed.

He has learned to get really good at this – say one thing when Mr.Blind was thinking about something else, act like he is listening when he is not, pretend to be calm and happy when is really freaking out. It’s one of the skills you perfect as you get older.

Mr.Blind deserved the world. 

 

Mrs Blind

She was so beautiful even that she never believed that. Admired by everyone, Mrs.Blind got all the attention. But she never cared that much.

She kept hoping something would change, but she knew she’d lost him to a world she could never be part of. So instead she pretended.
Pretended to be strong.
Pretended everything was alright. Cause nothing lasts forever. 

Pretended, pretended, pretended. This was a new skill she’d acquired, the ability to look, to the outside world, utterly serene and even cheerful, while, in her skull, all was chaos.

She knew that nothing is like it looks like..I mean even salt looks like sugar.

They couldn’t have known that even this was a lie—that we never really choose, not entirely. We are always being pushed and squeezed down one road or another. We have no choice but to step forward, and then step forward again, and then step forward again; suddenly we find ourselves on a road we haven’t chosen at all.
But maybe happiness isn’t in the choosing. Maybe it’s in the fiction, in the pretending: that wherever we have ended up is where we intended to be all along.

So tell me: better fake and happy or real and miserable?

 

Heanna H Malaj

heannamalajbomer9@gmail.com

 

 

 

Looking 4 the Soul of Hip Hop: Battling

Made in America!

hip hop culture

Today I read an article about Hip Hop Culture and I can honestly say that it surprised me a lot.

Hip-Hop is a cultural movement that emerged from the dilapidated South Bronx, New York in the early 1970’s. The area’s mostly African American and Puerto Rican residents originated this uniquely American musical genre and culture that over the past four decades has developed into a global sensation impacting the formation of youth culture around the world. The South Bronx was a whirlpool of political, social, and economic upheaval in the years leading up to the inception of Hip-Hop. The early part of the 1970’s found many African American and Hispanic communities desperately seeking relief from the poverty, drug, and crime epidemics engulfing the gang dominated neighborhoods. Hip-Hop proved to be successful as both a creative outlet for expressing the struggles of life amidst the prevailing crime and violence as well as an enjoyable and cheap form of recreation.

The longevity of Hip-Hop as a cultural movement can most directly be attributed to its humble roots. For multiple generations of young people, Hip-Hop has directly reflected the political, economic, and social area.

BUT HOW DID THE HIP HOP BATTLING START?

Music screeching through the room, crowds going wild, and anticipation growing inside while holding a b-boy stance in the South Bronx. A young boy holds his ground as his peers dance to the music, but as the break segment of the song awakens, the young boy rushes to the middle of the dance floor. As few people know, this is established the start of a worldwide phenomenon and lifestyle. Hip hop is a misunderstood culture that has been driven out from its roots by media and the new generation. Society knows little behind the birth of hip hop, but as for the dance portion of hip hop, b-boying is the true art form. Clive “Kool Herc”Campbell, an African American DJ known to hip hop pioneers as the father of hip hop, gave the name “b-boy” to the young African American and Puertorican dancers who danced to the break of the song. The word “b-boy” itself refers to “break boy”, “beat boy” and “Bronx boy”. This represents who they were and were they came from. From what began in the bureaus of the Bronx, leaked and spread through the world since its massive exposure in the 1980’s film Flashdan.

 

 

All Hip Hop lovers I guess wanna know what is the future of Hip Hop Future.

From its conception in the 1970’s and throughout the 1980’s, hip hop was a self-contained entity within the community that created it. This means that all the parameters set for the expression came from within the community and that it was meant for consumption by the community. Today, the audience is from outside of the community and doesn’t share the same experiences that drive the music. An artists’ success hinges on pleasing consumers, not the community. In today’s world, it isn’t about music that rings true for those who share the artists’ experiences, but instead, music that provides a dramatic illusion for those who will never share the experiences conveyed. This has radically changed the creative process of artists and the diversity of available music. Most notably, it has called in to question the future of hip hop.
In Total Chaos, Jeff Chang references Harry Allen, a hip hop critic and self-proclaimed hip hop activist. Harry Allen compares the hip hop movement to the Big Bang and poses this complex question: “whether hip-hop is, in fact a closed universe-bound.

 

H.M