Can you go crazy from too much ideas?

Can you go crazy from having so many ideas, or does it open your eyes?

This is the question that resonated in my head during my morning walk while I rolled the ball with my feet; a practice I use to increase my concentration, which was not as it used to be because even when I walk with a football rolling between my legs I notice the shadows on the ground in the periphery of my vision, and my hyper imaginative mind couldn’t help but imagine an assassin’s shadow about to jump on me, and how I might roll on the ground like the ball between my legs to avoid death. And after a while of me living in the imaginary world I conjured with my mind, where I was initiating a new member in my organization by testing him, I came back to my world by the sounds of Car horns in the distance. I looked around, realizing I was operating on autopilot while my imagination was sustaining the world I created. I looked at the trees, the bricks, and the people around me, and they all felt strange to me, as if the world around me was not the one I knew my whole life. Why am I seeing colors that I don’t recognize? Why, at that moment, do I hear birds like I never heard their melodies before? As the, now strange wind, brushed through my hair and stimulate my neurons, a revelation came to me. The way we see the world, as proven, is through illusion. There is no orange color, it’s our eyes that see it this way because that’s how our brain translate them, the same way the world is translated to a bat or to a spider. All creatures see the world differently, we don’t know what the world actually looks like. Maybe there is no world and we just imagining it and you and me are assuming that we imagine the same thing and hear the same color when we describe a shirt.

My isolation from life through my imaginary adventure made the world look different to me when I came back to it. I felt as if I came to a realization at that moment, and I hope that one day I can see the world as it is, in its true form, its true sounds and its true taste. I pray that I can receive the right brain that reveals the reality of my illusion.

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My moderately sever problem: part 2

  • A fantastical fear of everything

  • In a previous post I talked about how I had a very strong chest pain where I was sent to the hospital and had a panic attack on my way there. My hands got stiff at the hospital door and they wheeled me in. I went there twice after that, but to no avail. They kept saying the same thing. “There is nothing physically wrong with you. It must be psychological” I didn’t know what to say, but I believed them eventually… for a while. I stayed in bed, I wasn’t able to move a lot, I couldn’t sit upright for a long time. There was something wrong with me… I know it. I mean yes, I have problems, who doesn’t? My dental career was at halt, I didn’t have money at the time, and my fiancé is still far from being here with me because of the first two issues. But why would I feel like that? Why would I have this strong chest pain that I can’t control.

    One day, I had this chest pain a day after they told me I have nothing for the second time, and at that moment, my parents were arguing about some money issues with my relatives, and as I was starting to have a panic attack, they kept talking about their problems while I was in sever pain on the floor. That’s when I felt the injustice of the whole world on me. I was left with two choices, either keep breathing, or Cry…. I chose the latter. I chose to cry instead of breathing…. and that’s when I started to feel the pain go away. The less I breathed the better I felt. My parents who I stayed with them to recover calmed me down. But I knew deep down that this is something only I can deal with. A month later, I got the call, I had a job offer. I started working, finally! But my chest pain is still there. I couldn’t tell them I have chest problems when I finally and after 7 months of paper works, interviews and exams tell them I need more time. I pushed myself. When I felt chest pain I just massaged my chest area. But that only lasted for a while because one of my co-workers notice it and he pointed it out. So I just said no I’m fine. He had a loud voice, he attracted everyone with his questions and they all looked at me with concerned eyes. That’s when the panic started again. I felt my chest becoming tighter. I told them I haven’t been sleeping lately and that I’m exhausted. That’s why I need to excuse myself. I had my brother come to pick me up and I left my car there. I hardly slept that night, and when I woke up, I was still in pain. Two months have passed and I’m still in pain. Something was wrong with me… I know it. So I finally called my brother. But this time he took me to someone he knows, a doctor Richard from Lebanon. He asked me a couple of questions, and that’s when all things were revealed to me.

    Two questions from his questioner rang in my head. Do I have suicidal thoughts? Do I take pleasure in doing things I used to like doing?

    The first question was hard at first, because even though I have those thoughts sometimes, I dismiss them, but it made me think that lately I was very afraid of death. Not afraid of dying, but afraid from the injustice of it, because my life had just started to be better, and now I have this thing in my chest and I was afraid that it was killing me. This fear made me obsessed and I imagined dying in many ways that I hesitate before I climb the stairs.

    The second question was about my interests. I was… less reactive to the things I loved doing than I used to be. I told myself it’s because I was busy trying to find a job. I gave myself excuses but in fact, I was sad. I wanted to write like I used to write, with enthusiasm and love. But whenever I thought about myself being an Iraqi guy who lives in Kuwait I start thinking that this writing path is useless, that my voice will not be heard. So why I do a lot of research for my books, why I read Identity theory, books about Mesopotamia, philosophy books and many other books and articles as research for my books to eventually be forgotten after I finally finish them. I was writing on sand and the tide kept wiping my words.

    When doctor Richard finished his examination, he revealed the questioner result. The five words he told me had set me free. “You have moderately sever depression”. A couple of seconds of silence passed before I wanted to reply in denial, but I just cried instead. “It’s ok” Dr. Richard said “Let it out”.

    I was tired, that was it, just tired of working for so long to accomplish so little.

    I left, started my medication and became better, my mind became clearer and I started to realize that I in fact accomplished a lot. I remember a friend of mine telling me that his sister’s first book to ever read was my book Psychs, and because of that she started reading a lot of books. The fact that I made this young woman think that reading is an interesting activity is a great accomplishment, and if I didn’t get to change more people, then I’m fine with that. If I could change the life of one person to be better, then that’s enough for me. You don’t have to be a messiah, just be a person of good values.

    Split Personality Me

    On the set of Callous

    When I was a kid, there was a repeated question my father used to ask and it came to my mind today. When I was 10 years old I took piano lessons, a hobby my father supported, but at the same time I was having Taekwondo Classes, an activity my dad really disapproved of, though he gave me the freedom to pursue it. He always repeatedly say :”You are an artist, you should be a sensitive guy, why are you doing Taekwondo?”. That question, in its essence, describes me, and the reason why I am thinking about it is because of my works.

    To be honest, I was the one surprised from how my father thought about it. Even though I was a kid, I found it strange that many people are surprised when someone has an interest in things that might appear to be dissimilar, and now as a 33 year old grownup-ish kid, I realize that my way of thinking is a base for the ideas that I created throughout and in the coming years. Examples that might shed some light on my obscured topic is the contrast that can be palpate between my first two books; Psychs is a thriller with ghosts… yes, as weird as it might sound, that story has all the characteristics of an action thriller with some scary elements that ended to be a fine blend. So when my next book, Kima, came out some readers expected to taste the same dish. Instead, the folklore story That both appealed to kids and adults tasted sweeter. Another example is the independent movie which I wrote and directed, Callous. Callous is a horror story, and when you hear what podcasters say about it, you would be surprised when you learned about my next work, The Last Mile.

    So how can I explain that split personality in my writing? Let me try.

    I think it could be traced back to my upbringing. I am by, nationality, Iraqi, but I was not born in Iraq, no, I was born in Kuwait. Now I know what you are thinking; “So you have a Kuwaiti Passport and a couple of oil fields?”. Well, the passport point would be true if I was born in Europe or the Americans or perhaps any place in the world. I couldn’t get a Kuwaiti Passport, so I was born as an expatriate and that’s how I lived my entire life. I traveled and experienced different lives and cultures, made friends from all over the world. Experienced happiness, sadness and melancholy, most probably the latter made me a writer. So that heterogenous combination split my story genres and made them more diverse. I write when I feel excited about an idea that I have, no matter what genre they are in, and I don’t like to stay committed to one genre. Also, every story I write is a combination of genres where I like to play with different emotions, because that’s life, and I like to make my reader relate to anything to their lives, in hopes that it might add something important to theirs’.

    Where do I go from here?

    It took me two months to get back to writing my thoughts. Usually I write what my characters are thinking or how they feel in the books that I’m writing, so I might be rusty when it comes to writing about someone you starting to feel you don’t know anymore. For example, I never thought that I would be diagnosed with moderately sever depression. I always thought I was immune to something like that, especially since I’m the kind of person who lives an adventurous life. But that’s a post for another day. I’m here to talk about how 2018 had treated me, and to be honest, it was the best year of my life. I know… weird… one minute I’m mister Blue and now I’m talking about coming out from a magnificent year. Life is strange that way, I guess.

    Every year I write about what have I accomplished in the year and post it at new year’s eve, except this year I was sent to the hospital thinking I was having a heart attack, and on my way to the hospital I had my first ever panic attack. My fingers became so stiff I thought my whole body was going to become stiff too. My fingers loosened eventually when the doctor calmly told me to breath normally. My fingers became loose, but I couldn’t type on my keyboard what happened to me throughout the year 2018. So here I am today to do just that; to share what happy events that happened to me, and to remind myself of them.

    Here goes.

     

    I have written, produced, filmed and directed my first movie ever. Oh and I also composed the music for the film… special effects… did I mention that I did the special effects too?? So yeah maybe you’re all starting to get why I might be depressed. 😀

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    Got my masters in Orthodontics

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    Traveled through China from West to east

    WeChat Image_20190225122139

    I walked on a glass bridge between buildings. Also known as a Sky Walk

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    Stood under the world’s oldest known archway

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    Saw my book, The Remnant, on bookshelves in Kuwait

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    My movie got selected in many film festivals

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    Started a new comic book about a superhero with autism

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    Won an award for best feature film

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    My most important even of 2018… hearing the word “Yes” from her

    Where will I go from there? We will see. So far we will be going through the first quarter of 2019, and I hope it will be a great year, at least I hope to get well soon. Peace and love to all.

    When it hits you…

    I was born on July 1985, so when my brothers asked me today what do I want for  my birthday, my mind splat into two… a part ran on auto pilot and went with the conversation, while the other half screamed at the realization that this is the year where I turn 30. Now I know what most of you think… 30 is not that bad, it’s not 60 or 50. Well, here’s where you are wrong.

    The reason why I started to view my coming decade in a darker scope is because I no longer have the energy I had when I was 20… and I lack the wisdom I should acquire at the age of 40. So this is the decade I am bound to face my obstacles, my trials and right of passage. I already miss the days where my biggest problems was this picture right here, where a simple solution would be a stick or a taller hand of an older brother.

    I miss the days where my biggest problems was this.

    I miss the days where my biggest problems was this.

    The two parts of my brain merged back together and reason was born from both the optimist and the cynical. My mind reminded me of the many hardship I won against. My record is relatively good. So for now… I guess I’m going to ask for something expensive from my siblings… I guess some things won’t change… my family will be there to make things easier for me.

    Here’s a song that I heard recently I’d like to share. How can a song about a negative future be so positive? I’ll never know… I guess I can relate… or maybe I will on my 40th birthday.

    A Citizen of The World…

    This post was originally intended to be titled “Being Iraqi”. But since I was born as an expatriate, and the only connections I have to that place are the relatives that I love and a piece of paper that says I am originally from there. I wouldn’t be the best man to know what it’s really like to be a real Iraqi. I honestly used to have days where I didn’t know what to be and from where I should pretend I am.

    I don’t know how many of you recognizes from where I am. Some of my old readers have seen my older posts when I was visiting Ur ruins, among other places too in Iraq. I have been raised abroad, although I lived in many places. I have almost spent half of my life away from loved ones. I started this blog, and my writing quest, with the policy to never mention from where I was, unless someone asked me of course. Even my author name is an abbreviation from my true birth and family name. But, and due to recent events that have happened, I decided to share my story, and I hope everyone will listen. So… gather around this shimmering screen, join me in a tale of sadness, laughter, hardship and naughtiness. This is the story of a citizen of the world.creative-ideas-are-all-around-us18

    I was born as an expatriate, with no real country, but I was never homeless. The home my parents have come from was suffering from a dictatorship. The last straw was the time in jail my mother had to spend because they suspected her being from a rival political party. She was a math teacher, and she made me fall in love with numbers. She told me “To understand the universe, learn physics, to understand the soul of the universe, learn math.” I nodded like an idiot at the time, thinking. “Gosh, lady! just let me get back to playing football.”

    For those hailing from the American continents… football = soccer.

    It is a hard thing being a kid from another country… but it was twice, even thrice as much difficult to be from a country and studying in a country yours just came out from a war against only months ago… needless to say, kids were tough on me and I had little friends. This, however, forced my imagination to go through a spurt growth, and I managed to forge portals to new worlds. I’ve never been alone; in my yard, I would be the only one using the slides and swings in a way they were not made for, to try and find a way through the walls and pretend to be escaping, and trying not to fall on the lava below me that I imagined from grass and sand, I remembered my walks back home from school; I pretend to be following someone… I was six and probably never watched or understood a thing named a spy… but I was doing it, hiding from one tree to another… gosh I was a dork.

    I grew up, and my talents grew with me, separately… I became somewhat a musician… even though everyone I know listens to music; most of them frown at the knowledge that I play the piano as if I am committing a sin. My writing burst out of its shell one day when I was in Emirates, after I mentioned ideas that I have in my head. And recently, I started to use a different form of story-telling, drawing.

    I mentioned something about Comic Con Dubai and how I am a guest artist. Well, I’ve never written about it here because it never happened… the thing is, they refused to let me in because of my passport. They said I need a whole month before I can issue a new visa. I don’t know in what world we live in, but when you are invited to be a guest artist and you get an official invitation, you should be able to go… but then again… being Iraqi is something out of this world.

    At the time, it hurt… it was a thing I was working for for almost three months, issuing two comic books… a combination of 430 colored drawings I might add, and I have only learned how to draw digitally recently… oh… plus I was studying for my MFDS exam and I drew this as a gift for Comic Con, as a tribute to the recently demised Leonard Nimoy.

    Nimoy tribute

     

    Life took all the lemons and I had nothing to squeeze. But… my art… writing, drawing and music… are my passion… They are the only thing I have in me that worth to fight for. I never stopped, I moved on, spread my words around locally.

    It is said that when you really want something the universe conspire in your favor… and the universe did. I landed a publisher. Yes… I no longer pay to publish anymore. I got lucky and met a person who was looking for a new publisher to publish in more than one language. I got accepted. And ever since, I promised to never question anything that happens to me… because it is all part of the creator’s plan.

    sklled sailor

     

    Here are the books I am going to publish with them by the coming months… one in my native language, and the other is in English… Don’t worry, I’ll translate it one day.

    سلسلة نور

    Short detective series. The first book is called “Suppressed Hatred”

    the remnant cover

    Renamed it… again 😀

    Goodbyes are the worst part when I write to you all… so instead… I’ll leave you with my recent drawings that I made for four special people for me… Cheers everyone.

    My older brother got promoted to head department at the Australian university of Kuwait... I drew this for him as a gift. He's a big fan of Game of Thrones... I'm not.

    My older brother got promoted to head department at the Australian university of Kuwait… I drew this for him as a gift. He’s a big fan of Game of Thrones… I’m not.

     

    For my brother in law's  birthday. I had a severe lung infection ad he saved my life. He's a chest radiologist.

    For my brother in law’s birthday. I had a severe lung infection ad he saved my life. He’s a chest radiologist.

    My oldest two nephews just got accepted into Murdoch university in Australia. I'm sure they'll be better engineers than what I drew.

    My oldest two nephews just got accepted into Murdoch university in Australia. I’m sure they’ll be better engineers than what I drew.