What do I come back to?

So I've been back for a little over a month now, and my sanity is still in tact. In fact, I'm a lot more mellow than I thought I would be, which is a good thing. I think it's because I have my research to distract me that allows me to keep that balance in my brain, and that when I want to relax, I really can. I've seen a few friends, but I'm not as antsy as last time I was here to see everyone because at this point it's my research that's getting in the way. However those who I have seen have told me the same thing (bar one). When they ask me how I'm doing in England and if I'm enjoying my PhD. When I tell them that I'm really happy there, they all then put a loving hand on my arm or shoulder and say, "stay there." That's not meant as an insult, it's meant as loving advice from one woman to another. They've known freedom, they've tasted independance and then had to come back to a life where everything is boiled down to whether you can get a man to do it for you because you sure as hell can't. To a place where there is no life other than work (if you're lucky enough to even like your job), going out shopping, going out to restaurants or going out to see friends/socialise.

Each friend/cousin/aunt who's seen me asks me what my life is like these days. It's almost as if they're asking me about a true love that I just adore, my face lights up, a smile spreads and I tilt my head to the side. Just by that look people can tell just how happy I am to be in London. I'll tell them that I'm happy and that life there is just how I've always wanted it to be, that although it's expensive, it's sometimes cold and dreary, there's always something to do and something to love. I don't go into too much detail into life in London because I'd hate for them to gossip or think I've gone mad living there away from my dad, but they can see how different things are for me and how content I am with life there.

And each time I'm done, they will always ask me, "Will you come back after you've finished your studies?" And each time I'll shrug and reply, "If there's a job here for me, then we'll see. For now I'll just see who wants me or picks up my CV." But they can see the glint in my eye and the corners of my mouth twitch, and they know that I secretly do not want to come back. They know that I cannot let on that I have no real intention of coming back, but that I'm not going to start rumours by flat out refusing to come back.

And each time I politely answer, they will lovingly warn me not to come back. If I value my sanity and happiness, I should not come back. To come back would turn me into one of them, a drone in a society where everything is superficial and progress is at a snail's pace. An aunt, who I have to admit is one of my favourites, told me not to come back. "What would you come back to? A job you hate? Marriage? Your dad? Trust me, stay in England, be happy, don't come back." It's funny how all the women (again, bar one) feel the same way. It's like getting a verbal, loving hug.

However, like this single woman who does not agree with the other women, the men have a different opinion of what I should do. They, of course, think I should come back once I'm done. I ask them why. They all say, "Because you're one of us and you need to start your life here again. You'll get a great paying job, be pampered at home and then you can settle down at get married." That last line always sticks in my craw. It makes me dig my heels into the ground and scowl at them. My favourite cousin and closest friend actually said that. When he came to see me in England, and he could see just how happy I was, his main concern was "and what happens when you want to get married?" I couldn't believe that was his main concern about my life - my life, as a woman would not be complete or fulfilled if I did not get married. How sexist can you get?

I look at life here and I realise that to come back here, to make my roots again, would be the hardest ever. When I was 12 and moved here, it took me 8 years to settle and become happy. Now that I'm 27, I think I'm too old for that. I'm already settled, I'm already happy with what I have. I'm tired of moving and I don't have the energy - physically and emotionally to do it anymore.

So maybe London is my true love, something that I can't bare the thought of being parted from. It took me 10 years to get back, it was my goal for a whole decade, do they really think I'd want to give that up?

*Song of the moment: "In The Waiting Line" Zero 7

And so I return to...

So I'm back in the land of sand... the novelty wore off very quickly. My father is enjoying having one of his kids back home so he can boss them around/control their outings/who they see. I can't scratch my head without wondering if he'd be ok about it. Then he sent me a forward about dads - it basically made it OK for a dad to be as difficult as possible because it'll do me good later on... let the screaming commence!

Data collection is OK, as long as my dad doesn't have a conversation with the people in the middle of a REACTION TIME test, and he wonders why I hate him interferring. I'm currently getting frustrated with my data entry, computer chair and monthly back pains. The pains aren't anything horrific, they're just a lower back discomfort which make me cranky... something a G&T would easily fix - not that I ever needed one because I'd walk off my back pain.

Talked to mum about T-shirtman, and finally, someone got upset about the same thing that pissed me off - without me having to point it out. When I told her what he did, she said the same things I did and I thought "thank you!" All this time I thought I was being immature about it, when really it WAS something that wasn't right. Mum finally honed it in that I deserve better, but because she was pissed off at the same things as I was, I realised that I was very pissed off with him myself and he's such a COWARD. I don't know if I'll be as civil when I see him, or if I'll just scream "wanker" the moment I see him.

It's nice to be back in my big bed... one that allows me to sleep in the middle. I've missed that... and hopefully I won't be too used to it as I sleep in a single bed in England.

Sandman proved to be a compulsive liar - weird how you meet these kind of people.

This country is not the same without my Marydoda.

This could have been such a nice trip - but thanks to my dad that's just completely fucked. If I never come back here, he'll only have himself to blame - and yet he'll NEVER see it that way.