الخروج من كوكب الأرض

ما يقربُ من العامين غبت فيهما عن هذه المدونة.. مساحتي الشخصية التي لا يعرف ولن يعرف عنها أحد، وكنتُ غارقًا في اللحاق بهوسٍ جديدٍ صاحبني فترةً طويلة من حياتي لكني أخيرًا وجدتُ سبيلًا إليه. هوس الذكاء الاصطناعي. في عام 2000 كنتُ مراهقًا لم يبلغ عامه السابع عشر بعد، وقد التحق لتوه بالجامعة، وقضى أيامه الأولى يهربُ من البيتِ ليلاحق هوسًا -كان محرَّمًا آنذاك- هو السينما.. فكنُت أنهي محاضراتي وأهرولُ إلى القاعة الواسعة المظلمة التي تسطعُ فيها لمحات من عالمٍ خياليّ لم يتواجد إلا في خيالات المهووسين المفارقين للواقع الغارقين في الأحلام. فتسطع الومضاتُ كسيوفٍ تقطعُ عباءة الواقع البغيض فتكشفُ العالم الرحب للخيال وراءها ممتدًا حتى وراء الأفق. كنتُ مراهقًا آنذاك، وبدلًا من أن أهرولُ وراء الفتياتِ أو أذعنُ لزملائي كي أرافقهم في جلسة حشيش، كنتُ أسعى وراء المستقبل وكل ما يخبئه لنا.. وعلى قلة أفلام الخيال العلمي التي كانت نوعي المفضل إلا أنني كنتُ أقضي مع الفيلم وقتًا يتجاوز مدَّة عرضِه، فأبحثُ عن موضوعاتِه وأتعلم منها، واستكشف الأفكار التي يتكلم عنها. أيام الانترنت الأولى كان الانترنت دخل لتوِّه إلى...

 "A Pursuit of Chaos" In our moments of absolute clarity, we often find ourselves standing right on the edge of the truth. We see so clearly what is right and what is wrong. And yet, almost inexplicably, we throw ourselves into the arms of our own mistakes. We see the sharp drop, we know the pain waiting at the bottom, and still, we let ourselves fall. Why is it that we, who pride ourselves on our reason, so willingly walk down paths we know will break us? Philosophy has always tried to make sense of this strange human flaw. The old thinkers, from Socrates to Nietzsche, wrestled with why we act so irrationally. Socrates, in his beautiful, endless search for light, believed that if you simply knew what was good, you would do it. But time and history have broken our hearts by proving that knowledge just isn't enough. Nietzsche looked deeper. He saw that we are driven by something darker, by will, by power, and by the storm of chaos living inside us. To him, we aren't ju...

 "A Round Trip Journey" "What makes us who we are? What is it that truly forms our essence?" This was the question that haunted my younger days, and to be honest, it still quietly troubles my heart today.  Who are we, really?  Who am I? What whispers these thoughts into my mind, and what invisible hand pushes me to do the things I do?  Why did I walk down certain paths and not others? Back then, I hadn't yet met Descartes or heard his famous words: "I think, therefore I am." But even if I had, I doubt it would have quenched my thirst. I wasn't doubting whether I existed; I was agonizing over what that existence meant. Deep down, in a blurry, teenage way, I felt that I was merely the sum of my circumstances. The town where I was born, the faces I woke up to, the heavy events that fell upon my days—I felt they were steering my mind. Even though I felt this so deeply, Jean-Paul Sartre was a puzzle I couldn't solve. When he said, "Hell is oth...

"The Eternal Quest for Meaning" I confess that I live more in my daydreams than in the waking world. Often, I find myself drifting away mid-conversation, slipping into a newly imagined fantasy that feels infinitely richer than the moment at hand. When caught, I pretend to be wrestling with a new story idea or a complex study. In truth, I am just making things up. I have tried to capture these daydreams on paper, but reality always intrudes, casting its heavy shadow over the page and breaking the spell. These waking dreams are built on simple, almost childlike desires: a craving for love, a wish to be admired by those I look up to, or the sudden urge to simply run away. I dream of retreating to quiet corners of the earth, armed only with books, nature, and the silent company of animals. It is a rebellion against the narrow, suffocating walls of reality. Yet, a daydream is not a novel. A novel demands conflict, growth, and philosophical weight. But what if my hero doesn’t want ...

" A Mocking Smile at the face of Titans" Ever since my eyes fell upon that image; a young Palestinian kid standing defiantly in front of an Israeli tank, hurling stones, I have been haunted by profound thoughts of freedom and independence.  Just pause and think about it: a fragile stone against a massive iron tank, a child against a trained soldier. It gives me goosebumps. This image stirs up every ounce of respect and admiration within me. It has become my sanctuary, the vision I turn to in my mind whenever I feel broken or defeated. To feel defeated is a choice, and the desire to resist is equally a choice, even if you are only hurling stones at a tank. But that second choice? That is the choice of a true victor. It is the choice of someone who has reached a deep, unshakeable sense of independence and forced the entire world to acknowledge it. Fast forward to today, and you can see how this generation, which once threw stones at their enemy, has grown up to shake the very f...

"A tale of time and value" "شبكة روايات التفاعلية- Riwayat Network Forum" Amidst the old belongings I'd shelved for ages, by pure chance, I found them. Buried in these ancient, neglected items, lay a weathered manuscript, stiffened by time. It was the first novel I ever attempted during my university days, when a personal computer was a curious creature, I barely understood. This tale spun a story of a young man who discovers that his family are extraterrestrial beings. Yet, he conceals this secret and grapples with the realization that he, too, might be an alien, but chooses to live as an earthly human, deciding his own destiny. Drafted at the dawn of the millennium on Microsoft Word, it was printed on A4 sheets, then hidden away in a blue folder, surrounded by mountains of books.   Among Forgotten Things I held the manuscript gently, opening it with caution. Memories flooded back of my first time writing it. I didn't own a computer back then. Instead...