Inspired by Lulus' comment,
I feel exactly the same, seeing how someone else paints, draws or writes allows viewers a view of their minds, that's a privilege. All human experiences are unique and worthy of sharing. Things can still be beautiful even when they don't appeal to us. We must learn to appreciate all things. Especially here in Amman where classes are gaping further and concepts are evolving.
Think of a local female, veiled and poor living in the Balad (downtown) and falls in love with a man selling gum down the street, it is a love story, its just as good as any another. See the beauty in it. See how her own definition of seduction and creation of temptation is; think about her waking up looking at the mirror dumping on loads of different shades of red and green makeup to look more beautiful, to her, to him, this is how a female impresses a guy.
Instead of the lame comments many make about how far she is from the civil western world, or how a veiled girl (most likely forced) wears makeup! People should become appreciative of our locals, think about the gum selling lad, he sees her every now and then, he shows off to his friends about knowing her. He fantasizes about her in those cloths and this make up, and prays her father allow that they marry. To him she is beauty, to me that's beauty as well.
Many people here in Amman have come to only intercept one standard of beauty. Beauty and art are diverse; they are in everything even in those they label as"7afartaly". Those using such terms are should be suffocated for they suffocate me. (Someone please translate the term). Noura commented beautifully on a photo I took of “Fashion in Madaba” I recommend you read.
Appreciate Jordanian culture, this is what I try to do, this is what I try to understand, and this is what makes visits to different places in Jordan more enjoyable and rewarding. Photographing beauty in the eye of the beautiful. People should seek beauty in everything to appreciate this country and culture; after all it is not the culture of the upper class that makes this country beautiful.
Paulo Coelho is not my favorite author, but in his book the Alchemist, in the introduction, he spoke about how the most genuine alchemists are those that do not know recognize they were, beauty can implied on locals in a similar way.
Beauty is in the door mans un-matching winter clothing, in the loads of gel on a paper boys hair, in the fonts of Arabic love letters have, in golden teeth, in the Ja3ed on Taxis, in the gangsters tone of car maintenance personals, in Ridaky ya Oumy stickers, in how people mix the pronunciations of B and P.
What do you think?
I leave you with this picture now It was meant for another post, but I thought it serverd here a higher purpose.
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lets play with gray carbons and break expensive chairs, lets ruin seating arrangements, lets dance to create anger and appear rebellious, while chucking bricks possessing catastrophic thoughts, I want to strike governments and systematic progression of governments and be afraid, I want to become dangerous and feared, I need affection like a flower from a bee, I want to be different and wear black and present cliché, to dream and be awakened in a dream like world, blurry and without temperature, I am able to smell liquor and breath differentiated fragrances from different skin tones, I see the curls of hair and the different ways you can dress a body, to walk and keep walking in crowds and inner crowds creating minor destruction of conversations, a little bad boy is trapped within me, evil he smiles and crooked he sees, creating an off balanced buzz in the upper chest area, I'm sleepy, I feel like Henry the 2nd on his fourth day of ruling, like a worthy king, happy and very cheery, like a fish in large aquarium, I'm a rabbit with a golden tooth, I want the teeth of a slim shark to chew on soft green beans…
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I get to work 10 minutes early so I decide to go for a 10 min ride. I hate the gardens street, I hate seeing people yawn when I want to, I hate wanting to turn back home, I hate wandering off so early. 5 minutes later, an old man approached the window of my car, dressed in blue, had a white beard and torn apart slippers on, held Al-Dostoor Newspaper “Read about the American who pointed a gun at kids” he says, I peaked at the picture trying to avoid direct sunlight, had a few flash backs of yesterdays series Hour il 3een and Tareek il Wa3er, smiled at him, he smiles back with the 6 of his remaining teeth. Goddamn telecommunications, digital broadcasting, foreign policy, the UN, the conspiracy theories, the US dollar and globalization they’ve just ruined my morning.
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Ramadan, The month of worship and Mosalsalat (T.V. Series), it's the month of Orbit, the month of Khiam Ramadan with tormos and Bingo, month of tabooleh and magloobe, month of fool and homos, maftool and, i dont know maybe Zahra.
For me, I plan on doing a Kitmeh (reading the Holy Quran), planning to quit smoking after 40,000 cigarates in last 10 years, I'm planning to drink a lot of Amar il Deen and to Watch Hoor il 3een. I have too much on my mind to make this into a poem.
Happy Ramadan to you all.
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Laying on my recliner under a cool breeze of air from the back window, smoking a perfect Marlboro Light (Amreeky) while sipping on my blood orange juice, watching 24 season 4. Jack shoots, Jack is shot, life goes on. It was as perfect as it gets on 4AM, I hoped the sun would sleep in. Then like all stories I heard a noise, I live on the 4th floor noise could only be made from an obese neighbor having trouble sleeping, at 4 AM all noises should be distinct, I muted the TV and slightly moved my neck to the left while half blinking my right eye, It sounded like a cat was in a plastic bag and wanted to get out, but from miles away, I got up, looked outside the window, there were no cars no people, the rays of the orange street lights were disturbing yet not enough to distract me from hearing the sound, I looked around and saw something fidgeting next to the garbage. More than 150 feet away, I thought it was a cat at first, then it turns out it's man, tearing up every bag that was in that garbage can as if he was looking for doze of a drug he had gotten addicted to, only thought rushing through my mind was terrorists on 24 saying Allah Akbar before attempting any murder. he wore a black pants, black shirt, black cap and at 4 am, it was clear he didn’t want to be seen, I looked back inside the room and saw remains of snacks and fruits on the table for the maid to clean up, I grabbed my camera took a few shots and thought about how far away our worlds were, if only a sperm and egg met else where I could be there fighting him for a crushed Pepsi can. 
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I need a laptop and a calculator,
I want to make use of technology,
I want to color my teeth blue and be seen in red,
I'll utilize technology and become self sufficient and expressive,
I need either kind of nets, cards, a Microsoft waterproof chip
And some creative sounds to join millions,
Let me have initiative and build a site,
Using my hands and over-used mussels, ill sweat bleed and feel back pain building it,
Ill carry pixel's on my shoulder while I drag wagons of codes and designs,
So at night I can feel masculinity knowing I built something of architectural value presenting part of my modernized wisdom.
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