The end of the curfew means Hassan Hassan has no excuse to not do stuff anymore. Besides, the city that never sleeps could really do with some more beauty sleep, don't you think?
It has been a while since I have written. I don’t really have much to say. A week ago – two weeks? – I was all like, I have so much to say about freedom of speech, Imma write about Bassem Youssef. But I didn’t have a point except that I like when people shut up but, at the same time, people shouldn’t have to shut up, especially when they’re just being funny. Then I was all like, I’m going to write about family because I went on vacation in Eid with my mum, sister and best friend from Dubai. But still, what was my point? That I liked them? Who cares?
I had nothing to say. First, I decided it was because I was happy. But then I was like, that’s impossible. I mean, this can’t be happy. But I wasn’t sad. I definitely wasn’t sad. Then I decided it was because I was getting older and wiser. It was like I’m finally growing into my own. This is good. Then suddenly Tamarai was advertising an all-night party. What? Tea Dance on Friday but if the curfew isn’t lifted it will be on Saturday? What does that mean? What curfew being lifted? What was Dara on about? They couldn’t possibly…
The curfew has done wonders for my psyche, my skin and my skinniness. I make it to work at 9:30 and I leave at 6. I wasn’t ordering McDonalds or Pizza Hut at midnight. I wasn’t out until god knows when. My favourite time was when the curfew began 11PM, because at 9:30/10, you would give a little shrug and be like, “we have to leave.” I was suddenly efficient because stores closed at a certain time (except for Quick which is basically my kitchen and I would have starved without my Betty Crocker frosting). This was nice. This is how civilised people live. This sleeping at midnight business is so pleasant. How nice it is to have McDonalds in a car at 8PM rather than in bed at midnight? How refreshing. Is this America?
Set times to do things in is exactly what Egypt needs. Inshallah is void because you have to be home at a certain point. It’s not like inshallah I’ll be home at 7/9/11/12/1; it was like I’m going to have to be home then or sleep in my car. Discipline. That’s what’s always been missing from this country. And if nothing else, the Army seems pretty good at discipline. Aside from the fact that I would be losing the handiest excuse (“I mean, by the time you want to do anything it’s going to take me two hours to get there and then I’d just have to leave because I wouldn’t be able to make it back in time before curfew. Oh well…”), we were just getting a little taste of civilisation. We’re going to go back to the city that never sleeps, when the city could really use some beauty sleep.
Fuck, I’d probably have to go to a party. No I don’t. I’ll just be like… wait… it’s not like there haven’t been parties. I just haven’t been going. Ummm…. So technically I don’t think much is going to change. Hopefully, I’m not the only one who learnt that. Maybe some of the habits will stick. Mine definitely will. I’m going to tell the grand total of three people I talk to I don’t feel like doing anything and then text about Naomi Campbell. Then go on Tumblr and stare at GIFs of her.
So I guess, yet again, I am left without a point. What the fuck do happy people do? Do they just sit and not talk or do things? Am I getting old? I’ve definitely gotten less offended the older I’ve got. Do old people just sit and not talk or do things? Am I meditating? Is not having a point, the point? Nothing is worse than a bitch with a point to prove. What? So yeah… where were we? Curfew… oh… fuck… I have to go, I’ll never make it back home in time for curfew. Oh… fuck.