Cairo, the 18th November, 2009

"Are all artists crazy?!"

My assistant arrived to my home in a hurry carrying a arm full of props and two new dresses I designed for myself. She also brought a bag full of groceries and "halawa" to repeat the ancient depilatory ritual performed by billions of arab women all over the world.

Having my groceries delivered at home by someone I trust is a small luxury that can make a huge difference in my daily life's quality. I am working constantly and in no mood to wander the streets and supermarkets shopping and suffering from men's sexual comments. I still like to choose my fresh fruits and vegetables (another rare luxury in Cairo where all raw food seems to be as old as the Middle Ages) and pick my favourite tea brand but, honestly, the harassment in the streets is getting too umbearable for me.

The exposure of the stage and the classes are more than enough for me. I am a shy person, otherwise. I hate being observed and harassed out of my work sphere and, therefore, walking around for shopping purposes in Cairo is as pleasant as having a fat scorpion bitting my arse.

Between dresses and groceries checking, she asked me why all artists are crazy.

I suppose she was meaning "Why are you so crazy?!" but she didn't have the nerve to say it directly to me. Egyptian diplomacy forces people to rarely say what they mean. Hearing an unpleasant answer from an egyptian is something hard to find. Everybody will smile and tell you nice words and then go on with their lives, even if they didn't mean a single word they told you and that smile was just a fake landscape to save them from trouble.

It's still hard for me - being a very straightforward person a bit of a heavy truck - to deal with arab and egyptian way of comunicating. If I don't like someone or something, that thing/person/animal/alien/whatever will know it in a second and directly from me. If the opposite is the case, I also manifest my true thoughts and feelings. This attitude which I consider honest can be seen as a sign of rudeness by people in the Arab World.

Like in so many aspects, no one is really right or wrong, but different from each other.

And here we are back to my assistant's question.

Yes, every artist is a bit crazy for many reasons.

Artists live in their own world full of imagination, out of this world thoughts and ideas (that's why they create new visions and transform ugliness into beauty). Like in everything in life, this "living ahead and always on the moon" kind of person is also a potential "crazy person", as my assistant put it. There are always two sides in a coin.

More often than I would like to admit, great Artists are also poor human beings with very ugly treats about them.

As far as I'm concerned and knowing myself all too well, I assume myself as a wise crazy person (if that mix can ever be possible!). I am egoistic, I live in my own world and think about music, dance, acting, literature, painting, BEAUTY and SOUL ALL THE TIME.

I am oversensitive, moody and have explosions of happiness, rage, sadness and, sometimes, all of this together at the same time.I am extremely independent but equally emotional. I am cold as an ice cube and hot as high burning FLAME. I am impossible to understand and qualify.

So I guess this can be classified as being a bit "crazy". What I don't ever want to be is a low quality human being. I can deal with being crazy, not an ugly person.

READING NOTE OUT OF THE BLUE:

Currently digging into "The White Tiger" from indian author Aravind Adiga and LOVING IT.

I read for pleasure and education. This book is JUST for pure pleasure and preparation of the magnificent treap I will do to India on the next month of February. Inshah Allah!

Indian authors have a specific kind of sensuality - scorpionic one - that really attracts me. It's dark and fleshy, crude and yet subtle. Extremely intelligent and unusual. Totally recommend this book to India lovers (like me) or to reading lovers.

OUT OF THE BLUE IMAGES (ME, DOING WHAT I DO BEST...):