الذاكرة مرض

   "مرض غريب اصيب به شعب كامل مرض جعلكم تتخيلون الاشياء، و تبنون حياتكم في خيال الذاكرة” ― الياس خوري   

[ahududulugazoz]

[pangur-and-grim]

I feel so insane about ai. I've had face-to-face conversations with people who use it for therapy, who use it to calculate the safety of pill interactions, who use it for all their emails and grant applications and legal documents and academic papers and finance sheets and for every single question they have about the world, and if you tell them about the ecological costs they just laugh and say "I guess I've used a lot of water." and I've been in multiple gatherings of 10+ people where I'm THE ONLY PERSON who doesn't use chatgpt. it's turning me into a ranting raving pariah, because how don't you people see??? why don't you understand??????? this bullshit didn't exist five years ago, you absolutely do not need it, and it is destroying everything

[theunfortunate-author]

my daily affirmation as an author

[zakiyeh]

Not only is the grandmother’s apartment nowfeels like soulless airbnb without any personality or memories, but my own anxities about death are coming strong what a start to 2026

[shamebats]

Most of those iPad babies you're seeing are probably sick of that fucking tablet too.

[shamebats]

A lot of parents are very bad at parenting and don't like their children. They don't want to talk to them, be around them or do anything with them. You know, the things kids need and will remember the most once they're grown.

So they train them from an early age that they should always be distracting themselves with something as to not be in the way or annoying the adults.

For me it was books and TV when I was little, and computers later on. That's all I did because it was all I could do without getting yelled at, and it was the closest to human interaction I could get most of the time.

[shamebats]

Everyone loves to make fun of & complain about iPad kids but nobody thinks about the struggle of navigating life as an adult when you were forced to spend your entire childhood keeping yourself distracted so your parents didn't have to acknowledge your existence.

[lemonylemus]

This was reposted to YouTube shorts and I would like to point out some comments in the video

[flip-this-table]

Please give your children some damn playdoh and crayons and oversized bits of craft paper to color on. They need something more concrete and tactile than smooth glass.

[themainspoon]

Maybe they do need something tactile, but you've missed the point of the post. It's not the Ipad itself that's bad, it's the fact that the children are being neglected. You could hand a kid a whole library of books, several kilograms of play dough, a mountain of crayons, and all the craft paper in the world. But, if you don't spend time with them and you simply expect them to use those things to keep themselves busy so you don't have to deal with them, you're still neglecting the kid, and they're gonna end up with the same issues.

[angstandhappiness]

IMPORTANT

[thebiscuiteternal]

Running across this post almost immediately after reading the article about how some parents are letting fucking ChatGPT tell their kids bedtime stories now feels serendipitous in a way.

[sorrrowfull]

[paradoksadam]

[minervaasworld]

[zakiyeh]

That's enough, you need to die now.

She told my grandfather on his death bed.

I understand now. I am married now. I cannot fully imagine the the type of hell she lived through, but I know what's to expect of a partnership and how the comfort of disagreeing and making a mistake without physical or verbal repercussions is not a luxury but a basic need.

[zakiyeh]

they were both welcome death in their own ways. hassibah by living as if she were to die the next day; no planning, living and eating whatever is around, everything is an inshaAllah or Allah kareem.

Labibah did not even permit God's permission to invade her thoughts. She lived as as one and adopted the temperament of the ancient gods. So contradictory and hedonistic and she wouldn't consider an experience lived until she drove it to the extremes. She skirted around death for years and years, multiple operating tables. With her one boob she lived a fuller life than I could dream of living, but then again, this was life after 53. after her liberation via jeddou henhen's death.

[zakiyeh]

hassibah was always shrouded in black and ready to die at a moments notice. labibah was always ready to kick mourning in the balls and rejoice at any instance, how happy she was at even funerals of friends because she got to connect with the remaining living ones.

one sought death, one sought life. how funny that the eldest sister survived the younger. that she survived a year after labibah was amazing.

i will soon revisit the recordings.

[zakiyeh]

bibi hassibah on our last ever meetings, but i didnt know that then, told me about how she remembers her father scolding her for improperly cooking a baby lamb, the fetus of the bigger lamb she was expected to butcher at 9 years old. nobody taught her, her mother went and left with one of her brothers on their teaching assignments in another village as was customary back then.

he called her ghabiyah, he called her zmala. the pain in her eyes was that of a 9 year old still replaying this words out of her 92 year old body.

i just calculated.

i just realised she was 92, she died months later.

how can words survive for 83 years?

[zakiyeh]

it's an intervention. this going back to tumblr is an intervention on my behalf by myself so that i don't spiral further in the identity loss motherhood brings.

i had no idea motherhood meant overcoming such obstacles. it;s like I replaced Allah of my youth with my child, instead of 'Allah is watching over this' I ask 'what if nuni is witnessing this, what would he learn? about me or how to interact with others?'

i am forced to be kind to myself. i am forced to let go of the negative self talk. i remember how i played with mama's junk paperwork and sigh because that's what she did. nobody taught me, i saw and mimicked, first as play, then as habit, as a personality trait. play imitates life. there is nothing fictional. everything is non-fiction if we only looked hard enough. but we didn't, now we do.

[zakiyeh]

maybe in iraq we called pomelo sindhi because it's from sindh?

[zakiyeh]

tomatoes forming. goliath beans leaning into gravity's pull. i don't even know if these are roma or cherry tomatoes. i just cannot believe my laissez-faire gardening is reaping anything.

like nuni, the plants are not abiding by growth timelines listed on seed packet. they do their best and after fallen flowers and overwatering correction, and despite that their leaves are diseased, but they still produce.

[zakiyeh]

parenting is gardening but maybe gardening is parenting.

I started gardening to slow myself personally but now that I see how much small lessons it gives me I realise that patience and blind faith that my four hours of sun will yield anything is nothing but a metaphor for how I ought to tend to and cultivate nuni's childhood.

okay so here's that.

[zakiyeh]

It was a quiet horrific moment when I realised my voice sounds exactly like my mother's. The small things I lost patience on were not necessarily acts that annoyed me, but it annoyed somebody in my life and before I had a moment to process them I am mirroring their reaction to my child frame by frame.

It's funny how difficult it is to retrain your body and mind. Habit is a terrifying force, I never understood how someone could slip into repeating generational curses until I connected how the body has a mind of its own, a dance they've been perfecting for decades, but alas, theorization only gets us this far and the point of the history is to change it like uncle Marx said. The battle between the brain and how its thoughts are translated into action is indeed a battle, but we have a war to win and it's for my amazing head of curls to grow as kind, confident and at ease with life and nature as possible with himself before the gaze of society invades his space.