Denial
Hassan Hassan’s Definitive Guide to Not Caring. You're welcome.
I have written in detail about how I am numb, how everything has become one big blur. How time means very little to me. I have complained about suddenly being stupid. I have admitted to watching shows such as Devious Maids and Teen Mom 3. I have linked you to various things on the internet that get me through dark times. I have written and tweeted intensely about not giving a fuck. Denial is a big part of my life. This has been established (you know this because I have linked all of the articles I have ever written).
My denial, however, has never been as intense and finely tuned as it is now. You could even call me an expert. I’m trying to think about the last time I remotely cared about something and it’s been a whole three days. Three days and I can’t even remember what it was I even cared about. I think it was because I was broke (the second I heard about my raise at work, I literally spent all of my money). But I have since been paid so things are easy again. Money is of course important – nay, imperative – to denial (ok I’ll stop). Anyway, what I’m saying is 2013 has been pretty good to me (mashallah, mom read that sura about the evil eye… Just do it) and this is due largely to not giving a fuck.
So, always the giving person, I have decided to help you guys guide with Hassan Hassan’s Definitive Guide to Not Caring. It looks like it’s going to be a tough couple of weeks in Egypt. What with everything going on – people defining what exactly a desert means. Crazy opinions on Facebook and everybody pretending they know what the World Expo is (I really hope I’m dead by 2020) – you’re going to need a huge dose of denial. Yes, yes, it’s not just a river, we all live in Egypt. Chuckle, chuckle.
You will need the following:
Painkillers.
A duvet.
Headphones.
A super-fast internet connection.
One friend you occasionally fight with.
A dog.
One friend who bitches incessantly every couple of months on Facebook chat/Whatsapp.
One friend who doesn’t live here and has first world problems.
A credit card.
One friend who can buy me these boots (I’m still looking).
An intern.
A job. Preferably a corporate one where you can focus on things like being on time.
An Instagram account.
A project. One that involves furniture and a colour wheel.
A trip to IKEA (when is the best time to go? Should I wait a month? I can’t. Let’s go Saturday. What we need to do is go in the morning… oh shit. Job. Hmmmm.)
A neverending quest to locate your carpenter.
A strict shower regimen. There is no point in getting OCD about your environment. Cairo is fucking nasty. Your antibacterial gel is moot. You shouldn’t care about getting dirty, but you should care about getting clean. This includes your feet. It doesn’t matter if no one sees them. Look after that shit. I personally appreciate really long showers and lounging in a bathrobe. That is far better than going to any party.
A tan.
A penchant for sweaters.
False hope.
Things you’ll have to let go of:
Your social life.
Your will to live.
A car. I do not understand why anyone would want to own a car in this country. Everything delivers and if it doesn’t, it can wait. I get that some people have to work in places that are far away, but almost no jobs are worth driving more than 20 minutes for. Also it involves so much money and looking for parking spots. Never going to happen. I’m sorry but it’s true.
A fun hobby that involves staying at home. Like reality television or YouTube videos.
Books. I know this is super sad. I love a good book, but I have not been able to read. All those feelings and words. Your mental stimulation will come from things like GIFs and Buzzfeed articles about the nineties. You will be greatly amused by these. They will also make you very sad. You will start 50 books and end up watching marathons of shows like Revenge.
Your taste in television.
A relationship.
Rational thinking. You will think things like I love Egypt. Especially when you are not in Cairo. Cairo fucking blows man. But this summer I was like, I’m going to have fun, come hell or high water. And hell and high water did come, but I was tanned so I didn’t give a fuck.
Your standards.
On occasion, your pride. Now, I don’t know sometimes you do really humiliating things so everyone can just stop talking and you can go home.
Weight.
Food. Starving is super fun. So is the occasional binge. My strategy is not eating till the weekend. What I mean by not eating is ordering cucumbers for breakfast and always not finishing my food. You can occupy a lot of thinking time telling yourself to be hungry. Reward yourself with a Big Tasty. You will inhale it. Probably barely taste it. You will love how juicy and full of flavour it is. The sensation will leave you numb for the rest of the night. You will also have a fantastic shit the next day. Win, win.
Being cool.
Memory. Forgetting things is crucial. Nobody cares what you wore on Sunday. Seriously, these things should not occupy your thinking. You should care what you are wearing now.
The news.
Television.
Thinking in general. Thoughts should never be taken too seriously. Nine times out of ten literally the only person that cares is you, so if no one cares why should you? No one cares what you think of a remote independent French film but you. So why do you care? Think about it.
The Kardashians. I can’t anymore. That video Kim. Your breasts. It’s obscene. As is James Franco making out with Seth Rogan. It’s all far too much and I want nothing to do with it. Does she think that no one knows that she was photoshopped. Videoshopped?!?! HOW DO THEY DO THAT? Her breasts. They have a daughter. Jesus, Allah and Buddha, what is going on? I can’t, Kim. I can’t.
Actual hope.
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