I am not worried that we're on the eve of the long promised Armageddon-esque national unity cabinet meeting; it's probably over-hyped. I'm not worried about the speeding traps around our highways; au contraire I really hope they outlast the short lived red light cameras experiment. I'm not worried about the sweeping republican victory in the U.S. mid-term elections and what that might bring our way; it's not like change was sweeping Washington. I'm not worried about the alarming drought indicators and the whole water security issue that suddenly became fashionable this week; I probably won't live to see it. I'm not worried about a power vacuum, although I do need a vacuum cleaner for my apartment.
I am not worried about Hassan Nasrallah's speech on Thursday, or about the three thousand counter speeches on Friday. I'm not worried that the Resistance is more worried about chauvinistic pride than it is about clear acts of spying. I'm not worried about the truth. This whole rhetoric is beyond passé.
I am not worried about the rising gas prices since most of my commuting is on foot. I'm not worried about the rising price of bread because frankly I should cut down on carbs.
I am not worried about the stockpiling of weapons, since I'm not naive to think that ever stops. I'm not worried about a certain $60 billion purchase of weapons, although I do wonder what will be the return on investment when it's sold as scrap metal.
There is this one thing though that has me a bit uneasy. The recent increase in security measures on May Ziadeh street in Clemenceau scare the crap out of me. If Walid Jumblat is worried, I worry.