Soho lovin' Chick

Getting cold feet

2009-03-25T21:34:00.004Z

What has life come to when you spend most of your time sitting around waiting for something terrible to happen in order for you to hopefully experience a little bit of your own happiness. I have spent the last week waiting for The Designer to call me to tell me that he has dumped his girlfriend, that she have moved out of his apartment and that we can start dating. What has happened to me that I have stooped so low as to do this to another woman? Granted he's been telling everyone that he's not sure he wants to be with her. Granted he's been telling people that he doesn't think they're right together. Granted he only made a move on me when they finally agreed that she should leave. Granted I haven't been helping the situation by being the friend who secretly hopes that the girlfriend gets dumped so that I can have him to myself.

Selfishly now, I am worried. I'm starting to get cold feet. For the first time in a very long time, I actually fear that karma will come back to bite me square in the ass for it's share of payback. I seriously pray that I won't get my comeuppance simply because I don't see myself as the vixen who takes but the girl who gets left behind. I'm not victimising myself, but merely stating a fact. It does not excuse how I've felt about him, but in all honesty, I did nothing to encourage him or entice him. I showed up looking smart, or chic, and a couple of times, I looked scruffy. I did not lead him on and we were usually up front with each other.

I still don't wholly understand why he's changed his mind about me (I mentioned once to him that I was interested in us dating again, he turned me down as he didn't think we'd make a good couple or work out). At first I was happy, incredibly confused, angry and annoyed, but happy. Now, I'm wondering if this is really a good idea. I see what he means when he says that he may end up hurting me, which makes me wonder if I'll be able to get in there first so that I can walk away with minimal damage. But why should I feel like I'm walking through a mindfield and not just enjoy it all? Why must I feel like I'm treading on egg shells??

I honestly don't know anymore. What's even better is that this morning I received a text from him, "Greetings from Jeddah!" The bastard left without telling me and is away for a week. It will give me the time I need to catch up with my research and really contemplate whether I want to go through with this or not.

What if...?

2008-06-25T12:37:00.005+01:00

Carrie Bradshaw sits at the table, with her three best friends, and tearfully asks, "I woke up this morning and thought, 'What if I hadn't had met you?'". The scene chokes me up everytime. Then it got me to thinking, there are probably 3 major points in my life where I think, if fate had not thrown these in my path, as fate had allowed Carrie to meet her 3 soulmates, what would have happened to my life? Here goes:

1. What if I had never done a masters? For me, that was a huge turning point in my life. I was 24 and had finished a contract with an up and coming women's college back home. My father had given me the opportunity to come to England to further my education. At that point in my life I had reached a stage where I was incredibly content with the way my life was. I had a great job, that was trying to entice me renew my contract, I had (and still do) wonderful friends and a great social life, and I had a good relationship with my father as he allowed me to have freedom. I was actually in a great place in life that I was incredibly lucky to be in. So why did I jump at the opportunity to go to England to continue my studies? Simple, I would have been kicking myself for the rest of my life if I didn't. I would have thrown away a chance that most girls back home dream of and would have been branded foolish for the rest of my life.

2. What if I had stayed engaged? I don't know a single (Arab/semi Arab) girl who has not been engaged or been set up in an arranged marriage at some point or another. No matter how independent they are or how 'open minded' and Westernised they consider themselves to be, at one point or another they WILL contemplate an arranged marriage, and at some point they will give in. In my case it was the fact that I trusted my mother and because I'd heard so many 'good' things said about this particular guy. He wasn't my type at all, but I wanted to give him a chance because he was apparently your typical 'good' guy who was just looking to settle down. I know I say this to everyone, but it doesn't make it any less true when I say that there was nothing wrong with him. He never treated me badly or unkind. He was generous, sweet and very well mannered. What was worse was that his mother was (and still is) a wonderful person, who I got on with incredibly well (still do). The problem was with me. My heart wasn't completely in it and I wasn't ready to settle down. I liked him, he was a good person, he would have done everything to make me happy, I know, but I just didn't feel enough for him to think I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. My family and friends told me that the love would 'come afterwards'. I'd be told the different stories of how someone's friend had gotten married to a guy she couldn't stand to look at on her wedding day, but they now have 3 kids and she's incredibly happy she stuck with him. Stuck with him? Are you kidding?

I actually do have a cousin who kind of went through that. When I went to see her we spoke about how I felt about things. She said to me that she gave her husband a chance because she'd been told he was a good guy. But she said that she didn't feel that kind of spark or excitment during their engagement. She said that things blossomed after they got married and she told me just how wonderful he was. She said that if you're willing to take the risk, then you could be happy. Although I appreciated her honesty, I also had to appreciate just how lucky she was as well. It was a GAMBLE she had taken. What if the love never came? What if one day she woke up and decided she'd had enough and just wanted to smother him? How could she sleep with a guy who she wasn't completely heartfelt about? What about those annoying habits he must have had? How much jarring on her nerves could she take before she'd want to take a cleaver to his head? I wasn't ready to gamble the rest of my life, to promise a commitment to someone I wasn't sure I wanted to be with. To promise someone I would love and cherish them even though there was a possibility that that might not have been true.

After almost two years of being together, I did the honorable thing and told my fiance it was off. He was heartbroken, and he tried many times to convince me to give him another chance. But I told him he was better of without me and should be with someone who would truly appreciate him. Now though, I wonder what it would have been like. I don't think things would have grown. I would have numbed myself from everything and just fallen into the role of dutiful wife. I don't think I want to contemplate how I'd be if I'd had kids, for some reason that just doesn't compute. It wouldn't have killed my spirit, but it would have dulled me.

3. What if my brother hadn't passed away? It's painful and sinful to ask God why my brother died so young. It's even worse to think back on how for a whole month, as you watch his illness take over, you asked yourself, was this going to be terminal? Then chastise yourself for thinking something so stupid. I tell everyone, 'You would have loved my brother.' Everyone did. He was outgoing, funny, clownish and used his gangly features to get a laugh out of people. He had a temper on him, but he had such a soft and vulnerable side that makes me wish I hugged him more. I can't talk about him without mentioning a funny story of some sort. Although I don't know how my life would have turned out if he was still alive, but I know that half the things that happened would never have been. I would never have been engaged, I would never have met people who I thought were friends who ended up being my worst nightmare, I wouldn't have come to England, I wouldn't have done a masters or PhD. I wouldn't have met T-shirt man, Bus Driver, Architect. Would I ever have met Iris, Lulwa or Seroo? I honestly don't know how life would have turned out.

All I know is, everything happens for a reason. You are tested in many ways. It all just depends on how you handle them and how you react afterwards. Fate is not throwing yourself to the lions and saying there was nothing you could do about it.

Retail therapy: bad for the wallet, good for the soul

2008-06-22T16:53:00.004+01:00

So basically GBL and I spent one incredible night together. I wore a fitted black dress (so fitted it looked painted on) with diamante heels and gradually through the evening his arm was getting more comfortable around his waist. We had an amazing time, I loved it, I didn't do the typical chick thing and fire 100 questions a minute, I just enjoyed the moment (and so glad I did now).

Two days later I get a call from him, being evasive and talking trivialities. I couldn't bare his tip-toeing any longer and just decided to get to the point in the kindest way possible. So I gently asked him, "What's on your mind?" I don't think he was quite expecting this, but I'm hoping that at this point he realises that I don't act like most girls as I hate to do the norm. He became profusely apologetic and took all the blame for what had happened the night before. He apologised for his behaviour and for leading me on. It DID knock the wind out of me and because of the shock I really couldn't respond, which probably worked to both our favours as I saved him from the potential abuse I could have hurled at him, which would have soured our friendship. Instead I injected humour into the situation and tried to make little quips when I found my voice. I'm guessing at this point he really could not believe his luck that he could have been let off so easily. If I'm to be truly honest at this point it was because I'd left quite a bit of money with him and I didn't want to lose it!

After the phone call had ended, I was incredibly angry and upset. How could he have been sorry for what had happened? I treasured that moment, then he came and p!$ed all over it in spectacular fashion! No, I wouldn't let him do this. I'd make him sorry that he'd done this to me... and so forth. In all honesty, I realised the only thing hurt was my pride. GBL was someone who I had fancied - past tense - but I realised I still liked him as a friend, I really did. The fact that he wanted us to still continue to be friends, for me to not stop calling or talking to him, to not cut him out of my life, hopefully (and I really do mean that because otherwise I'll sound incredibly naive) meant that he felt the same way I did.

I also realised, he wasn't the one I really wanted, and therefore, not a loss to be mourned, but to turn into a friend to treasure. I woke up feeling much better, happier and of course in the mood to leave the house. So I did. However, whether it was down to some sort of deep, repressed anger or sadness, I found that my recently cleared credit card was going to resurface. I found myself walking to the Topshop flagstore on Oxford Street. Now normally I only walk into that place to buy earrings as I never find their clothes to be flattering or reasonably priced. Today, however, I walked in with an open mind and a brand new card, which brought about a brand new respect for the high street giant.

I could not believe that considering it was a Sunday, how comfortable it was to roam around the store and find some little treasures tucked away in the racks, how their bags were actually truly elegant and how their silky mini skirts looked so feminine. As I passed the Fairtrade section of the store my eye caught the sight of something truly brilliant. In the t-shirt section was the perfect garment that should be used as a 'pick-me-up' for all girls whose hearts have been broken, whose self-confidence has taken a hit, or who in general want to show their sentiments to the world. The t-shirt read "I recycle boys". It was love at first sight. That was the last item I put in my basket, and I think the best buy of the lot (I got a silk, mini skirt from the Kate Moss selection which puts it in a close second as everyone knows you need to be tiny to fit into that stuff - ego boost points galore with that one!). When I got to the counter, I realised that my poor little account was going to take quite a beating for this unscheduled bit of retail therapy, but I walked the high streets of London (and Soho) feeling incredibly proud and empowered. I knew that tomorrow I was going to wear this t-shirt proudly to university, to my meeting with my supervisor and of course through the streets of London.

If there is one thing I believe a girl must have in her wardrobe, it must be an attitude enhancing garment or confidence boosting one - ladies, I believe I've found mine!

PS. I'm posting that picture on my facebook profile... let's hope he has as much of a sense of humour as I do.

I watch, I don't play...

2008-06-13T13:59:00.003+01:00

What did I do to deserve this? Someone I used to date (let's call him 'The Designer') popped back into my life. We've always kind of kept up contact because although he kind of got on my nerves for different reasons, we still got on and I liked him - for some strange and unapparent reason. Since I got back from my travels we've been trying to organise a night out together to catch up. He's canceled on me 3 times and I canceled the last one because I was suffering from a horrific cold. But he still kept trying to make new appointments we could keep, so I figured he actually wanted to see me. I'd never make new arrangements, I'd always leave it up to him because of HIS hectic schedule (although things for some reason became truly busy since I came back - I've never been home late so often and mainly weekdays!).

So today, while going through the tedious task of data entry (highlight, copy, move, paste, recode, highlight, copy...), I got a phone call from Designer. I put on my 'pleasant' greeting voice because I didn't want to sound like I was suffering from the reminents of a cold. Oh how foolish I was. He basically tried to use my good humour to harangue me into a football game. He basically used my 'love' of football to get me to take part in his company's grouping exercise. I knew it would come back to bite me in the ass one day.

One of the girls basically dropped out and they needed someone to fill in for her, and as he was going through his phone book to find someone else, he remembered that he was 'meeting' me this weekend, so why not join them? I was not a happy bunny. I told him that although I support a football team, it does not mean that I like playing the game. I told him I hated playing since I was a kid when my crush put me as a goalie and I let every goal in because I basically froze in my place for the entire game. That was not helpful. I don't think he took it on board because he began to ply me shamelessly with compliments that didn't necessarily make me feel any better (they worked like a regular Arab mother, guilting me into it), and I basically gave in.

So tomorrow, I will have to wake up early, which means I cannot stay out late to enjoy some birthday drinks. I will be running around in what I hope is a strong sports bra. I will be making a complete fool of myself in front of a guy who I normally look calm and collected in front of - even though I have a sneaky feeling he tries to be goofy in hopes that it'll rub off on me. I am not looking forward tomorrow. I just hope there are proper and private showers for after the game to allow me to revert to my regular self, or at least look presentable for when I get away afterwards...

The list keeps getting bigger...

2008-06-01T15:22:00.004+01:00

I've done yet another stupid thing, the list just doesn't seem to end.

Friday I was having a wonderful time dancing round to music I really couldn't pick a beat to - Drum'n'bass. I was chatting to people I hadn't seen in months, and basically having a good time. I felt pretty, flighty and flirty. For most of the evening there had been something I'd wanted to say to one person in particular, and for some reason I felt that this was the night that I'd allow myself to be a little more flirtatious.

He has been, for a long time, someone who I found very attractive. Softly spoken, sweet, funny, witty and very good looking in a Gerard Butler way (so maybe we'll call him GBL? Gerard Butler Lookalike). Since the time I first knicked his chip, or even earlier than that (three years ago? Maybe earlier?) I've always had a soft spot for him. I'd sneakily ask for a hug, or just try to make him laugh (I don't know why he always had such a bright smile). Whenever I was around his friends, I'd always find myself asking after him. When he'd allow his hair to grow a little, I'd always found that it softened him and made him look so good. And those green eyes, so serene, quite peaceful really. What always got me a little worried was his ability to keep me talking. Sure it doesn't take much for me to get talking, but he was always the type to keep very quiet and allow people to talk. When we'd met up one evening for him to help me out with my research, we'd stayed for a couple of drinks and I found myself gabbing on about things that I didn't tell most people, and I couldn't believe it. Yes, you could say I've been fond of him for some time.

So Friday, in between dances and moving between floors I found myself keeping an eye out to see what his dance moves were like. He wasn't that bad, but very 'white man kinda has skills'. It was drum and bass, what could I expect? In between tunes and shifting of floors, we'd catch each other and tease one another. It wasn't until we were getting refreshments that I turned to him and said, "You're looking good out there, and may I add, in general." He gave a nod, slight smile and replied, "Why thank you, and so are you." The dancing continued, but I was getting quite tired and asked if I was taking people home. I ordered my cab and decided to give my ear drums a rest and sat on the couches in the lobby. GBL found me as he walked up the stairs and took up my invite (the whole tapping the spot next to me on the couch). We chatted for a bit until I got a call which I took outside. When I came back, I snuggled next to him and continued talking.

I then quietly said that there was something that I'd wanted to tell him, then changed my mind and said I couldn't. His arm came round me and he said in his sexy, deep, soft spoken voice, "Of course you can tell me." Now for most of the night I'd been rehearsing in my head a ditzy, cute but flirtatious line I thought I could get away with - because I know I can do that so well (sadly enough). Unfortunately, my head wasn't wired properly and instead I leaned forward, away from him and said "If there weren't complications, I'd fancy him like hell." I then paused, realised what I'd said and thought to hell with it, and said, "No, things are complicated, I fancy you like hell." I let it sink in, continuing to look ahead, until I heard his voice. I turned to him as he agreed with me that things were a little complicated, and he waited until I leaned back a little and was looking straight at him to say, "I feel the same way." I could feel the corners of my mouth twitching slightly into a smile. He then leaned in and added, "I mean, you're stunning." I don't know why, but my face just distorted into a confused look. I never thought he found me attractive in any way. I always found an excuse to touch him, hug him, play with his hair, wrap my arms around his neck, peck his cheek. In his cool laid back manner, I just never got the impression that he may have had the slightest interest in me. And here we were, sitting on a leather couch in a club very quietly telling the other that yes there was an attraction and no, we couldn't do anything about it.

For a few moments we sat there and stared at each other. And for a second I knew that he was thinking the same thing I was "Could we get away with a sneaky kiss?" Oh how I wanted to kiss him, I was so curious. I know we would have slowly leaned into each other, closed our eyes and held our breathe until our lips touched. I know he would have had lovely, soft lips. I know it would have started off gently and slow, and possibly would escalate into a more passionate link. I cupped his right cheek with my hand and brought myself closer, leaning my head slightly. My lips met his cheek and there the rested. I then whispered, "Happy birthday GBL." We looked at each other and quietly smiled.

Our moment didn't last as a couple of his friends, one of whom was involved in our set of 'complications' came to sit with us and say their goodbyes. My cab finally arrived and I went to grab my things. As I said my goodbyes to everyone, I walked to GBL and as I went to give him his usual peck, he wrapped his arms around me. I was slightly taken aback as he always held back and never gave me a proper hug, or from what I could see from the one he was giving me. His arms kept hold of me and as I felt them closing in more, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my face against his. As we pulled away, his arms very slowly came away from my waist, his fingers lingering on my waist, before giving it a cheeky pinch. I giggled and left.

I knew I had just done something very foolish, and there was so much I had wanted to say. I had managed to say that I'd didn't have completely innocent intentions when we met up for my testing, which he said he'd enjoyed. But I wanted to tell him that I had been wanting him for so long. I wanted to kiss him! I wanted him. I messed things up. Now I just added more to it................. but who am I kidding? If I really didn't want it to happen, I would do the sensible thing and avoid it completely.

.....................which may explain why we didn't kiss that night.

Love or lust...?

2008-05-26T11:17:00.000+01:00

According to my horoscope I should be careful about confusing lust for love and the other way round, that I should look deep into my feeling to know which I'm truly feeling. I thought I did know. I thought I had it sorted and that I knew which was which, I think I've got it sussed to a certain degree.

On a superficial level, I find him to be sexy, gorgeous, tasty and I just want to rip the clothes of his body and do terrible things to it – lust. On a deeper level, I find him to be wonderful, sweet, charming, funny, kind, old fashioned, considerate and sexy – love? I can't help but watch his pouty lips when he talks, when his green eyes light up, when his cheeks touch his eyes as he smiles or laugh. I can't help but watch his hands as he gestures or rests them somewhere, wondering if they'll ever rest on me. Is it wrong to wish that his arms would find their way around my shoulders instead of the back of his chair to rest on? Is it wrong to wish that I could rest my head on his shoulders or wrap my arms around his neck?

Friday night at Fabric, as he stood there in his t-shirt and jeans, I just couldn't help but feel fat. Looking at his t-shirt stretch over his fit and trim body, how as he raised his arms I got a peak of his trim and solid stomach, how his jeans hung a couple of inches under his navel. Could there be a sexier image? The teasing image of what lies beneath? Knowing that there's more hidden under a flimsy bit of cotton material that could be ripped of or slowly unbuttoned? How I wanted to reach out, allow my fingertips to stroke his hip bones, letting my fingers wrap around his waist, hooking my thumbs in his shirt and slowly lift it up to...

Ok, so that entire paragraph screams lust. So I have the intentions, I have every intention of doing nasty things to this man. I've had every possibility to pull his face to mine and show him just how passionately I feel about him. And yet I just can never bring myself to carry out the act – not even the simple act of gently brushing his face with my hand. Something holds me back. I finally realised what it was, I am not in a rush to push him into it. He is not ready to start something and this time around I realise I'm not to spoil it by being my usual self. I always initiate things, rush in, or doing something truly foolish to make the first move. This time it's different. This time I will wait until he is ready. If I'm not the person for him, at least I'd be able to rest in the knowledge that I didn't push him into something he didn't want or wasn't ready for. He needs time and that's what I'll give him. During that time, I'll sit on my hands, I'll continue to adore him from afar and wonder what it would be like to wear that shirt of his one day...

Old habits, talking about the future

2008-04-01T09:24:00.004+01:00

Another day, another latte, another chicken sandwich, this has now become my routine, and I'm quite liking it. It's helping me to relax, although my mind is racing at 120mph. I'm thinking of a number of things simultaneously and the only way to pick them apart and organise them is to keep endless lists - things to remember, things to do, things to sort through, and so on. I have 3 notepads and a diary in my bag that I carry in and out of the college I'm testing. Sitting here freezing my buns off in this a/c'ed building, people would never be able to survive in the heat if the air conditioning ever broke down. It's funny, at the end of the day when my dad comes to pick me up after he's done at the office, I go out five minutes early, just so that I can stand in the sun. I'm wearing my headscarf and abaya, but being able to thaw out and slowly get toasty under the sun in the 34 degree heat.

Yesterday, my mother came home from in the afternoon, and as per usual we made a pot of tea and sat on the couch and got talking. Yesterday's theme was about housing and what I planned to do about it in future.* We spoke about buying and renting places in London, how when I finally get comfortable with my (hopefully) stable career in either academics or publishing that I wouldn't mind moving further into the city. I'd either move in on my own (which I'm not sure I really want to do at this point) or move in with a friend/housemate.

I've never known what it was like to live on my own. That week I spent at home on my own while my grandmother went away for a week is not what I consider living on my own. I never felt that I was alone because I knew it was for only a short period of time and that my grandmother was only on holiday. Then travelling for conferences and staying on my own isn't the same thing either. I would like to know what it is like to be a grown up at some point, a responsible, truly independant grown up, and really know what life is like. Although I have to admit, I'm very happy the way it's working now - how I'm being eased into it slowly, that works for me. One stress and possible break down at a time.

"It won't be lattes every day and buying Lancome mascara all the time." my mother said. I smiled at her and said, "I know, that's what I'm looking forward to, learning to grow up." She admitted that she'd never be completely happy with the idea of me moving in with someone, even if it was another girl, but at the same time, she also knew that it may happen at some point if my career required it. But I think the fact that I knew I wouldn't be ready to do that as soon as I graduate was something that gave her some reassurance.

For the time being, I'm happy with how my life is... in fact I'm very comfortable with the way my life is. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared about how my life will be after I graduate (oh gosh, and then that's ANOTHER worry). Wondering what will happen when I finish my PhD - the exciting possibilities are probably what help balance out the realistic worries and anxieties that it may just all come crashing down. Thankfully I know that I have my mother to depend on should the latter ever happen (God willing it doesn't).

*My train of thought was greatly disturbed when my sister decided to pull an (admittedly incredibly good) prank as part of April Fool's. Because she did it 3 minutes to noon, I did not have time or chance to get her back. But one day, I shall.... ooooh and it shall be good.

What do I come back to?

2008-03-31T07:59:00.005+01:00

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...

2008-03-01T12:33:00.002Z

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.

The trick is to keep going...

2008-01-27T10:59:00.000Z

Resolution recap:

resolution #2: So far I have tickets to 2 shows before I travel for my data collection. I have tickets to see Avenue Q (birthday present for a girlfriend) and tickets to see The Mikado (taking my grandmama). I've seen Avenue Q and always promise myself that I'd go and see it again, but in better seats. When I found that my student discount card could be used for just that with better price tags, I jumped at the opportunity and bought two tickets in the Royal Circle. As for the Mikado? Well, it's one of those ones that you always hear made fun of or talked about, and I wouldn't mind seeing exactly why.

However, on seeing how my plans with my data collection are slowly changing I'm wondering if it's possible to cancel all my plans that week to run around the rest of England to get everything done. We'll see.

resolution #4: An image came to me the other day while I was washing my face. It was the last time I sat on my best friend's couch and I was going to start my PhD. I had spent 3 months back home and although I didn't see her as often as I could (complications with my dad), we were still as close as ever. She was my best friend through uni, one of the teachers in my department and had tried (unsuccessfully) to set me up with her adorable brother. We sat on the couch that night talking about a number of things, everything. Suddenly it hit us that we were going to be apart for a long time, and both of us burst into tears. We'd spent nearly a year apart when I was doing my masters, but this was different. We'd grown so close working together, and this was heartbreaking for both of us. This wonderful, kind, caring, funny person was not going to be around to cheer me up or take care of me when I felt down. I loved her so much, to the point where I felt I could cry freely in her presence. We sat there hugging each other and crying into each other's shoulder.

I hadn't thought of that evening for so long - I hadn't thought of my friend! I sent her a text immediately. I'd felt awful that I hadn't contacted her in over a year (since she started applying to do her masters). I felt like a terrible friend for forgetting one of the most precious people in my life. I sent her a text telling her exactly how I felt and how much I missed her. I immediately got a call back. She sounded sombre and quiet, something I wasn't used to from such a loud, vivacious character and it kind of threw me off. She said she was boarding a plane to Dubai, "I'm doing my masters there." I congratulated her and didn't hide my excitment even though it sounded like she was telling me that she was ordering a pizza. She'd just finished her first term and would be there for another year and a half as they worked according to the American system. Her husband and daughter moved with her and the transition had been easier than they thought. I promised her (and myself) that I'd make sure we'd stay in touch, at least through small emails and texts if nothing else.

When I put the phone down, I was petrified I'd done some irrepairable damage. Hopefully I'll be more careful with my friends.

resolution #7: Although I spent yesterday bowling with the girls, and with the token male friend, I walked home thinking "I should be out stomping down a dance floor." I texted a friend to ask her if she was free next Saturday night. Apparently she was also in the mood for dancing, and much like me found that work was a better excuse to stay in this weekend (no trains are running today and so I've decided to start editing my writing). However, next weekend we have picked a place to go dancing and intend of looking glamourous doing it!

Now to crack on with the others and keep it up!!

A good start to the resolutions.

2008-01-16T14:43:00.000Z

T-shirt is not out of my life, he's still in it, just not in a romantic way anymore. Things got squared off and for the better. - resolution #1 sorted.

New Year's Resolutions - 2008

2008-01-02T01:10:00.000Z

I've never really made resolutions before, so here goes:

1. Stop thinking and pining for T-shirt man: I need to stop. The man clearly does not share the same feelings as I do. He does not meet up when I want to, but he will reply to texts or forwards I send. If I come to the games, I now just wave to the lads or we just say hello. No, he comes over to me, sometimes from the other side of the pitch to come over and give me a peck on the cheek. When we say goodbye, he makes sure we say goodbye to one another. No more! My horoscope said that I was in torment over a relationship I had with someone, and how that person is still in my life. However, I'm not sure if I want to keep that person in my life or not - but I should weigh my options carefully and really think whether I can live without this person or not. Twenty minutes later I received a text from him wishing me a Happy Christmas. I need to end my torment. I haven't wished him a Happy New Year - it pains me but it's for the best.

2. Get more culture: I need to go to more galleries, more theatre shows, watch more interesting cinema. My research cannot be used as the excuse as to why I don't add more culture to my life.

3. Make more girlfriends: Making the guest list for my birthday this week was shocking. I found the ratio of men to women was appalling. It's true that because I support the football team it kind of throws the balance a little, but it is no excuse. I have four girlfriends who I consider to be truly close, but that's not good enough. I need to make more effort! It's true that I find it so much easier to make male friends than it is to make female friends and that I befriend my male friend's girlfriends very easily (yes that's quite a brain twister), but that doesn't make them my girlfriends. No, I need to make more girlfriends and open myself up more.

4. Keep better contact with old friends: I'm going home for two months from February. I plan on spending at least two weeks catching up with all my friends. I've spent over a year away from them and I'm going back for research - but I'm also treating it as a holiday. Although I need to make more friends, I should not lose the ones I already have, especially those who have stuck with me at my worst times. But that goes the same for the ones here in England. There are so many friends that I've lost touch with and it's sad because they are people who I don't want to lose. No, I need to move my arse more and keep better contact with as many people as possible (I need to be realistic, I can't just change my laziness over night!).

5. Do more housework: I don't know how to iron, I hardly help around the house - it's disgusting. If I end up living on my own, which I really hope happens once I finish my degree and start working, I do NOT want to end up living in a pig sty. No, I want to be able to look after myself and basic housework skills are what I really need. So I will hopefully be more helpful around the house.

6. Don't always say 'yes' to dates: I was asked out to dinner by someone in the lab I was doing my research in. I didn't think he was my type at all, but thought because of his polite and friendly manner I would give his personality a chance. Not only was I let down greatly, but thanks to his friends I was humiliated in front of a lab when his absence was explained to another friend of his as his avoidance of meeting me! The next time I'm asked out on a date, I'll only say yes to those I'm actually attracted to - to hell with giving the 'good personality' ones chances.

7. Go dancing with the girls more: The nights when I've gone out in mixed groups, I've always had a good time. I love dancing as I can never contain myself around good music. When I went out with only my girlfriends for a night of salsa music I was truly in heaven. Never had I had as much fun with friends as I did that night. I loved just bring with a group of girls dancing, chatting and enjoying ourselves with some good, clean fun. A night I hope to repeat many times over.

8. Go to the cinema with a friend once a month: A girlfriend that is. I had more fun going out with my girlfriend to watch a movie and have dinner, than I did on any date I've ever had. The company was amazing, the movie was funny and the food was delish. I had the best night ever and managed to get home in time to watch my favourite program. A resolution I should keep at least once a month.

There are probably other resolutions I should make, ones that would improve me to a better degree, ones that would truly shape me into a better human being.

Happy New Year to all and may this year best one of the best that each of us has!

How the non-date went

2007-12-31T12:20:00.000Z

Oh gosh, how evenings change and how perceptions really do turn around when you're in warmer surroundings. My evening out turned out to be a lot better than I had originally anticipated. The butterflies melted away when I stood at the station waiting for him. As I saw the tall, dark figure walking towards me, I couldn't help but smile. The Cuban restaurant we were going to was closed and so we walked to the South Bank to go to a new restaurant, Iguanas.

We sat at the bar and thankfully he did most of the talking. I found him to be such an interesting and entertaining character. He had some interesting stories to tell and used such enthusiasm that made me giggle. He wasn't out to charm me, which I really liked (I'm not comfortable with open flirtation when it's one sided). He definitely made me laugh and we nearly had an embarrassing incident when I was taking a sip from my drink and he'd said something rather silly. Thankfully I've mastered the ability to hold my mouthful before the laugh comes out.

Looking at his mutton chops (thick side burns and beard, with a bridge moustache), I realised he's very good looking. He had thick, black hair in a length that I really find sexy. His eyes were a gorgeous dark brown, and although the moustache was slightly hiding his upper lip, he had such a friendly and warm smile. His 6'5 frame was very slim, with long limbs, but he never seemed awkward or gawky, but very comfortable. He'd had a long time to get used to them, and he was, he wasn't going to apologise for his frame. He had a certain confidence which I liked, a person who's happy with himself in a quiet manner. It occurred to me that the mutton chops were his way of experimenting. The man knows he's not ugly and can afford to play with his looks. He has nothing to prove.

Somewhere in the evening during our conversation it occurred to us that we both had different views of the evening. I hadn't thought of it as a date and apparently he was under the impression that it was! I was flattered, I was under the strict impression that I wasn't his type and was happy to think that I'd made a new and interesting friend. It wasn't until when place closed and we were outside standing on the steps proving how many I needed to meet his eye level, that we were both curious as to how the other kissed...

Non-Date Jitters

2007-12-29T17:23:00.000Z

Ok, this is truly unusual. I'm sitting at my desk, my hair is done, my make up is finished and my nails are dry. My only worry at this point is whether I should put another coat onto my black nails. I've been sitting at home fretting, semi-waiting by the phone, wondering if I'd get that dreaded call of cancelation. Would I end up sprucing myself up for nothing? Sitting at home, all dressed up and no place to go (I'm sure I would have found myself wandering over to Guanbara later on). My mind wandering a little as to how the evening would go - would we get along? Would there be a lot of awkward silences? Would the evening be a complete let down? Would the music not be to my taste? Or the company even?

How should I dress? Should I take an extra pair of flat shoes for my walk home in? Should I wear my silky flower top with black lace trim on the bottom? Or should I go for a dress? Or should I just go for my black tank top and jeans? Either way, I'll be wearing my black satin heels with black bows... I have to if I want to be seen by a man who's 6'5. Should I have put my hair up? Maybe put a couple of rollers in? Should I tie my hair back with a black ribbon?

Should I wear my usual long gold chain? Should I wear my fan or chain earrings? How many bangles should I wear? Should I even bother with a bag? Especially if I expect to dance in a place that may not even have a cloakroom? I'll leave my lips natural, put some glistening balm, I prefer my lips nude when I have darkly made eyes. Maybe I should add a little blush... don't want to look so goth.

We're going to a Cuban restaurant I've been to for lunch before. I've never been to it at night, so it should be an interesting experience, although at this point I'd much prefer going to Guanabara...

All this does help the fact that I feel slightly jittery, I have those little butterflies - something I haven't felt for a long time, unusual. I'm looking forward to the evening and yet at the same time I'm dreading it. I'm not looking forward to the possibility that it may be a complete disaster. That we may be completely unimpressed by the other... I'd be so embaressed if I found that he didn't like me...

The worst part is, this isn't a date! It was never intended to be one! It's just two people who met randomly, got talking, swapped numbers and decided to stay in touch. I was looking for someone to come out with me for a few drinks and then we made plans to meet tonight instead. I didn't intend for it to be a date just spending the evening out with company - so why on earth am I so bloody well nervous?!

As her mind drifts...

2007-12-12T16:29:00.000Z

She sits in the lab looking blankly at lists of reaction times in her testing. She knows it's meant to mean something, and that at some point she'll be able to look at it with some sort of significance. It will all mean something at some point. She knows that she'll be able to make means and stats out of it, using ANOVAS and such to compare groups and factors, to compare dominance and age of acquisition, compare geographical state and language. But for now, she is willing to stare blankly at it and not make any sense of the lists of numbers before her. For now she is willing to allow her mind to wander.

Winter has set upon London with its biting, gale-force winds, and although it is dogged by its rainy days, the spectacular sunny days more than make up for it, especially when walking over one of the many bridges that cross the Thames. The sun hitting her face in such a gentle fashion that it warms her only slightly even though she is rather toasty in her black drummer boy coat. It's days like these that make her wish she had cropped hair to feel the chilling wind through it and brush against her scalp. She recoils slightly when she remembers the terrible gales she had to endure when she walked through Regents Park one gloomy Sunday. She'd fastened her coat so high up, that all could be seen was the crown of her head. Being a tiny frame she was walking almost horizontal as she tried to make her way to the Hub, walking against the force of the wind.

Her eyes glaze over more as she remember the long walk she had along the South Bank one wonderful Sunday in the summer. It was a sunny summer's day, a rare one that year, and particularly pleasant walking along the Thames with an even more pleasant Scotsman who had such an affection for art and life. Walking through the crowds that had gathered round the Cuban festival that was taking place that day, finding the Banksy jewels that were strewn across the walls of the Tower Hamlets, as they walked to Embankment. She remembered how much she loved listening to his stories, holding his hand and watching the crowds bustle by.

Suddenly, in her mind's eye she sees a ray of light hitting a green, grassy hill, with apple and pear trees strewn around. Fruits ripening on the trees and so tempting to pick as she watches her neighbours walking their dogs or taking in the breathtaking scenery of the rest of the city from their quiet neighbouring forest. She climbs higher still on the hill and a dark cloud looms over her. She very foolishly begins to take pictures of the landscape before her, and slowly makes her way down the hill when she hears an omnimous sound behind her. She turns to see a blanket of pouring rain gradually making its way towards her and she begins to run. She is alone in the open field and makes for the forest of trees. Before she is completely drenched, she manages to turn her phone off, and take the only protection she has from the rain, her pashmina scarf, and wrap it around her head and camera. She doesn't outrun the elements and is completely soaked in her t-shirt and jeans. She wonders if she should wait under a tree until the rain subsides, and just as she tries to find shelter, lightening strikes above her head and in a spot very close to her. Her question is answered and she runs home for dear life, only to reach her front door when the rain finally stops.

Her mind then hits another image, an afternoon spring sun hitting a cherry tree in full bloom. A gentle breeze hits the tree and a spray of petals rains down onto the pavement. As she walks down the street there are rows of cherry trees and the pavements are covered in the delicate, pink petals, almost snow like without the cold. But nothing seems more magnificent than the deafening silence of a street covered in real snow. The muted life that exists when it is enveloped by this powdery magnificance. The sensation of lying in the snow and listening to nothing is truly awesome. Then being able to look up from her backgarden to find a fox jumping up and down in the field behind her, looking for prey makes her feel truly connected to nature.

She sits there with a curious smile on her face as her eyes remain glazed over. Being drawn into memories that she would never want to part with. She is finally home.

2007-11-29T13:21:00.000Z

It's 1:30pm, and I've basically been out of the house to catch a train, find out mid-journey that the person I was meeting for lunch is cancelling (after I asked if we were still meeting - so I wouldn't have known if it was cancelled until I got there) and make my way home to pick up my camera. I was going to kill some time before I got and meet someone else to help me with my research, take some pictures on this beautiful sunny autumn/wintery day. Only to get a call a half hour after I got home from a friend to tell me that the person cannot meet me as they have the flu. I wasn't upset, but I am now disappointed because I realised I had no real reason to go out.

I'm past the days when I walked out for a pointless walk - just to be able to tour around London. It's now gotten to the point where I have to discipline myself that on the days that I'm not running my test is a day I can sit at my desk at home and get on with other things like reading, emailing other schools/universities/social groups to take part in my study. I'm looking at my daily to-do lists (a much better exercise that really boosts my morale as it shows me how much I get accomplished on my slightly slower days - loads of little tasks to do and if they get done it helps) and thinking there's so many meagre things to get done. All things that I really don't want to do because it requires me to interact with people, which I really can't stand to do.

All the while, I'm sitting at my desk and thinking, nay, PRAYING that another day like this comes along. One that is beautiful and sunny so that I can take pictures... go back to enjoying taking pictures of people and graffitti - would love to visit Commerical Street, so much interesting stuff there, like Shepherd Fairy's work! Have to get there soon before it goes...

The pain of being a research student...

2007-11-26T15:51:00.000Z

I'm looking out the window, and it's the end of another day. My research is trickling down the drain at such as speed that it is now worrying me. I am meant to have 60 people take part in my research and I have only managed to get four people to come in to take my test. 4 out of 60... it is frightening because I could have done more to recruit people, but I am just so lazy.

It has now hit me though just how important my research really is to me - it isn't. If it was, I'm sure I'd show a lot more passion, and lot more enthusiasm and worry for my research, and yet here I am, just feeling a little worried and concerned that those people who said they'd come haven't shown up. I have 3 weeks to go before I give up my right to keep hold of the computer lab for my research. I actually DO have time, but I'm thinking of this in realistic terms, and I realise that come December people will not be bothered to come in because they will have assignments and exams to contend with. I then realise that it's not a matter of I should have done more to recruit people, because I did everything to the letter and I did everything in the time frame I said I would.

Thankfully, during the times I've sat in this rather bleak computer lab I have been able to write more in my thesis and complete a couple of abstracts to submit to conferences about my non-existant data. Writing those abstracts really are a mockery of my work. I'm writing about data I'll have and analyse, then show to the world, when I don't have that data to begin with. People have not come in to submit that information yet for me to analyse just yet! It's so sad because I've been appealing to friends and family, and all I can do is wait. It's frustrating and depressing, and if it weren't for the great supervisor I have ("recruitment is slow and depressing, but please hang in there"), I think I'd just give up.

However though the other day I sat in the research room, and munched on a hot chicken wrap, while I spoke to my sisters in pain. We sat there discussing what our days off were like and I realised that I really wasn't the only one to feel or to go through what I was going through. On your days off, if they can be really called that, you are racked with guilt because you think of what you should be doing and how much work you could be finishing. You never walk around with a small bag because you'll stick at least ONE journal article in there to read on the train or during lunch or something, so that you feel you've done one thing constructive. But the article never leaves the bag and you end up just carrying it around ALL THE TIME. You sit at your desk all day, hoping to write something, or do some work, and nothing comes to you. You sit there thinking that you could go out to get the paper or a coffee, or just for a quick walk and get some fresh air, but you think "NO, I've got to get some work done." but you spend the whole day like that and NEVER get anything done. Nothing gets done that day, and that's how you'll spend it. It would be a blessing if it was just one day that was like that, but you can have a whole week that will be like that. If you read an article, nothing goes in and you wonder just how stupid you are. Or worse, you see others around you are reading books and articles, just charging right through them, and you're just trying to get through one measely article that just about hits 20 pages and you wonder how much you scored on your last IQ test. You constantly question just why you are doing this shit and just who the hell would be interested in what you've got to say. Who is going to read your work again - and then you hear that your friend has finished their PhD and has been encouraged (and actually acheived) to turn their thesis into (not one, but) two books.

Whoever said the life of a PhD student was easy was obviously never a PhD student... especially not one who has to run an experiment. So next time you see a lonely nerd, BE KIND.

A wonderful holiday - shame it had to end

2007-11-21T10:47:00.000Z

Yesterday I dropped my mother, sister and nephew at the airport. I had had an amazing time with them, and of course I left them feeling that I didn't spend enough time with them. I loved looking after my nephew (although it certainly sobered me up on ANY broody intentions I MAY have had), and I had a great time showing my sister the sights and highlights of London life. And of course I got to spend a (albeit marginally) little quality time with my mum. My sister was here for 3 weeks and my mother was here for 2. It was a wonderful time and it of course ended all too soon.

For some reason though it was extremely painful for my sister to leave. For the first time in our lives, my sister went out as adults and enjoyed a healthy social and night life. We went out to a gig, went out with friends, went dancing, and she enjoyed dinners out with people she hadn't seen in a while. She had had a wonderful holiday, everyone made sure of it. It was wonderful, and at the same time, understandably hard for her.

Let's put it this way, she had had 3 weeks where she could enjoy herself, leave her little boy at home with one of us (and he was very happy to stay with us) and do what she wanted. She met old friends and made new ones. Then she'd have to jump on a plane and go back to being a prim and proper wife and mum back in a country where there's diddle to do. I went ahead with my mum and the luggage in the car and my sister had to take the train with my nephew (there was no room and no baby seat) and as she phoned me to let me know she was on the train I could hear her voice cracking. I could hear her tears as she said, "I don't want to go." I knew that pain. She asked me not to tell our mum, but I knew how much it was hurting her to leave.

It's the same pain that I am absolutely terrified of feeling, tearing yourself away from a life you truly love and enjoy. She now knew what she was missing, and I'd been the one to give her a taste of it. I should have been more sensitive to it all, as I know what it's like when someone lets you know exactly what you're missing. But she had wanted a holiday she wouldn't forget - so I gave it to her.

Finding that balance of knowing how much fun to have is always tricky. It really depends on the person to find that balance, or learn to be able to cut off from it all. Maybe I'm talking nonsense - maybe I'm bullshitting about it all. How is anyone supposed to be able to cut themselves off from a good thing. I could hardly manage that when it came to some of the men in my life (t-shirt man). It's the tired cliche of "that's what makes us human." but really what else can it be? Responsibility is a bitch, and growing up is part of that. It's a painful process that forces us to make choices that we know we don't like or want to make (again another cliche).

I really wonder sometimes if I've done the right thing for myself by allowing myself to live here and lead this wonderful life. I've spoilt myself and can never go back to my old ways or home. I would not be able to fit in and I'd only be further depressed. I knew when I was 12 that I would have a horrible time moving back, I was right. For six years after that I was miserable, depressed and withdrawn from everyone and everything. I wasn't as social or as open as some and I know sometimes I gave my parents hell. Goodness only knows what I'd do this time around if I had to move back. Shave my head? Keep it constantly short and pixie like? Never get married and constantly go out with friends? Wear a dog collar with "Superior bitch" written on it? Get a tattoo - nah, too permanent and I'd change my mind straight after it.

For my sister, she goes back to a hubby (she took her son along for the holiday), for me it would be worse. I'd be moving back in with my parents. It wouldn't be terrible as I'd have my mother, who I love dearly, my problem would be my dad - how I dread that.

Ho hum

2007-11-16T11:52:00.000Z

Another day, another empty computer lab. My earphones are not working and so I'm sitting here in silence, opening up my documents and writing up my notes saying what I have and haven't done in my research - whoop dee do. I've planned a big night out for my sister and me in London, and at this point I realise just how many times I've told people that "I don't care how many people show up, I just want a fun time." that I realise that the truth is I secretly hope that certain people show up. I look at the number of people I've invited and mentally list the number of people who've said they'd come and think the numbers just don't balance out.

I'm currently semi-seeing someone at the moment. When I told my girlfriend that he wasn't from the team, she cried, "thank f*ck for that!" I'm broadening my horizons I guess. He's 32, 6'2 (my true weakness) and has a great smile. We don't see much of each other because he's constantly traveling for work. He's a lovely guy and is very sweet. I have no problems with him traveling a lot or being extremely busy with work as that allows me my time to do my own work and research without feeling guilty. I just find myself wondering if we are actually a 'good fit'. He's lovely, he's good looking, he's fun (although sometimes I wonder if his idea of fun matches mine) and he's quite the gentleman. I get the little butterflies when I see a message from him and know I'm going to meet him. But at the same time I can't help but wonder just how 'into each other' we really are...

Then something else happens which illustrates just how I really feel about it all, I start thinking about t-shirt man all over again. I've been missing him again and realise that I'm not seeing this new guy to fill in a gap. It's something else. The problem is I'm in a bit of a dilemma. I'm traveling abroad for 3 months as part of my research. This will probably help me to sort my head out as I'll be away from everything and will basically spend my time either relaxing (I haven't visited my family in over a year). I need to distance myself from my London life for a while, take a step back and sort my head out a bit.

This week I thought about it, and finally formed the words to tell someone my idea. When I come back from data collection I'll talk to t-shirt man and see how he feels about giving things another go. He always said to me that when I knew what I wanted to come back to him and we'd see how things would go. Now that I think of it, I wonder if he'd want to. I just don't know if I'd want to go through that humiliation of being turned down and all. But if we do, I also know I run the risk of getting hurt again and even worse. But isn't that the whole point? If you really want that person you'd be willing to risk that?

I guess it all boils down to, do I know what I want and do I want it enough?

Where is everyone?

2007-11-14T14:54:00.000Z

So basically I've spent the last 6 months of my life constructing a language test that would prove the complexity of my research. I developed 12 sets of the same test - just different versions and orders to counter any priming that may have affected participants' reactions during the tasks. I stayed up nights in front of my computer to know why certain lines were working and others were not. I wrote to the programmers how many times to ask them just why the programming wasn't functioning even though I was using EXACTLY the same jargon as they were with their examples. I ran the test by 6 people to make sure it ran smoothly. I've given my girlfriend headaches, and probably migraines from the number of times I've phoned her to translate things and translate them ASAP. I've been a pain in the ass to my brother in law to type up whatever has been translated, asap. I reserved a lab for 2 months so that I could test people three days a week from 10am to 4:30pm. I sent out maps, directions and listed a work phone number in case they got lost. I rushed paying my school fees to make sure that there were no hiccups in the procedure. I stayed up until 1am this morning to make sure all 12 programs were running smoothly in two languages. I woke up at 6am to get ready and get to campus early, and to fight off all the other vultures that would use the computer lab if they didn't find anyone else using it after 9am. I spent 30mins on a packed train, looking complete disheveled with my face stuck to a glass screen to make sure I got here on time. I skipped breakfast and got tea from a vending machine because I didn't want any excuses of being late.

It is now 3pm, nobody is here - what is wrong with this picture? Maybe it's just today - I really hope so.

Looking up for directions

2007-10-31T23:27:00.000Z

There are times when you sit on your own and you just feel isolated. You picture what the outside world looks like. It hasn't been that long since you last went out, but because you haven't been out regularly or have had that habitual contact with the same people, everything becomes a blur and does not count.

I never thought it would happen to me, but I've reached a point where everything is repetitive. It's scary when you finally understand just what American Psycho (the BOOK) was all about. The repetition, the people, the faces, the rituals... everything becomes routine. You try to break away and yet the thing you do to take a break become the same thing. I used to think walking from Wardour Street to Liverpool Street station was a nice break, listening to the music on my iPod, possibly snapping a few pictures on my camera. But things have become the same. It's scary how you realise that your life has a routine that you thought you were once happy with, but now become lifeless in.

I sit here going through my mobile, looking through the numbers, and with each name I come across there is an excuse not to phone them. They'll be too busy. They will wonder what I want. They'll be asleep at this time of the night. They won't be in the country. Then you realise that you don't want conversation, but just to listen to someone else's voice, because you're tired of hearing your own. It is your voice inside your head and you just want to open it up to someone else, listen to another person. The one or two people you try to reach out to are not available, and that's when it hits you... just how alone you really are.

I am still not sure how to take that. I.am.alone. I'm not sure if that is a bad or a good thing. Is it bad that I don't feel particularly affected by it? Is it good that I feel indifferent to it? Should I be depressed that I'm this apathetic to it all? Should I end it all? Jump off a building and see what happens? Whether I'll hit the ground or fly?

"God gave me style and grace,
"God put a smile upon my face."

I don't know what my goal is in life anymore. I lack true inspiration and I wonder if it has dried up. When I was fighting for my dreams I needed release and wrote. Now, I sit here and wonder, just what happens next? Will I ever snap out of it? Or am I just going to drift along?

I'm not looking for someone to save me, I'm looking for...

Under the street lamp is...

2007-10-11T23:27:00.000+01:00

I wish I wasn't 26.
I wish I wasn't addicted to men.
I wish I didn't have a weakness for men who have sweet smiles, but even sexier voices.
I wish I didn't have a weakness for men who are 6'+.

Dr. Pete Finch tells Adison that he's going to kiss her, and kiss her with tongue so she can feel it. My mind drifts to that night, standing under the street lamp, staring into each other's eyes, our respective hands in our pockets. He stands there looking down at me with such a sexy smile. "I was just wondering if I could kiss you." It was probably from the sambuca I had minutes earlier which probably made me bug my eyes. I started babbling, but that didn't put him off. He leaned in and I could feel a pair of lips press against mine. I was quiet and I was lifted away...

I love that feeling. Those 'lamp light' moments where you can feel the tension, your heart flutters, your skin tingles. You may close your eyes but you can see what's coming. Your lips part in slight anticipation. Your curiosity reaches its peak, wondering how they'll kiss you, will it be good? Will it be earth shattering? Will it be like two slugs meeting in the night? Will he smell good or will he stink of garlic? Or worse, are you going to get hooked on him?

My hands never left my pockets that night, but they didn't need to. My lips were tingling and I honestly couldn't think of anything. I was lost in that moment. I want more of those moments. I will one day meet someone who will always give me those moments. Moments where my breath is caught in my throat. Moments where I cannot feel my toes because all the blood is rushing to my head. Moments where my hands want to be everywhere but can't because I only have two of them. Moments where I don't want them to end. I will meet someone like that, I just have to get past all the frogs first...

A Well Needed Distraction

2007-08-26T12:45:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I spent the evening at the Jazz Cafe in Camden. Although I didn't need to spend the last bit of this week's buget and a bit of next week's one on a night out, I think it did me some good. Recently my work has dwindled to almost a halt and the men in my life have been causing havoc with my mind. I needed to get out of the mess of my head and my room and just enjoy myself. I was sent messages from different people all wondering what I wanted to do on a Saturday night, and only two of them actually had an idea of what to do. I quickly did my hair and make up, put on a sleeveless black top and trousers and ran out in my black satin, peep-toe heels.

I didn't know quite what to expect from the performance of Bugz in the Attic, but I just needed to be around something different. The company were an interesting mix of people who I knew and people who I was bound to meet at some point (not sure if they liked me really - hmmm). Ended up getting my tickets at the door for half-price thanks to a woman giving out flyers for it, and got in the first round. Like I said, I wasn't expecting much, what I got was well worth it. I spent the next four hours forgetting my problems and swaying to the live music around me. At times I'd swap funny stories with my friends and little comments, but most of the time I just forgot about how much I needed to let out what was in my head. One of the boys needed some "fresh air" and so I joined him. We spoke about different musics and people, and because of the lack of deafening beats my head seemed to be unplugged and slowly returning to that mist of what had happened on Thursday night (DAMN THAT MAN!). I stood there with my soft spoken friend, and after he was done with his first cigarette, I asked for a hug. For some strange and unapparent reason, I always ask this particular friend to hug me when we're at parties. There is always something so strangely comforting about them. Although it didn't last long, it was still quite a good one. It was then I realised that there was someone out there who's hugs I preferred a whole lot more and for the time being I just didn't want to think about him.

He finished a second cigarette and we made our way inside. The band had stopped before we left, but now most people were dancing and jigging to the records being played. I felt slightly alien and sorry I didn't order my cab while I was outside. I grabbed my jacket, called a cab and said goodbye to my friends. As I made my way home, my thoughts went back to Thursday night. Unfortunately, they were slightly blurred, but my feelings had also changed. Before I was resolute on a fact and a course of action. Now, although my thoughts were slightly misty with fatigue, I wasn't sure.

Now in the bright light of a beautiful midday in late August I realise just how I feel. I knew how I felt yesterday and how things change. Taking stock of my feelings at this point, I just don't know what I'm feeling. I know what I should do, but then I'm not sure I want to do it. Listening to Kate Nash singing about the rocky parts of her relationship and the crumbling foundations. It makes me wonder if I really need more drama... even if I've been wanting this for so long.

Who knows eh?

*I have a feeling I should have posted the previous post, but I know I'd be giving too much away before the time is right. But then an end point won't be found until I talk things through next weekend... I need to resolve this now that I have my closure.

If I wanted to get revenge...

2007-07-06T20:59:00.000+01:00

...on all my exes to show I was over them, then God has given me the best opportunities this week.

A couple of days ago, I went to my gym for the first time and came out looking ok, I'd managed to blow dry my hair and get my face on before leaving. As I walked home and chatted on the phone to my aunt a handsome Spanish man drove past who looked familiar. It wasn't until we realised we were both staring at each other that we recognised one another. However, neither of us acknowledged the other (I was not in my gym clothes, but 'go to gym' clothes which weren't hideous, but weren't great either). I didn't care much about him, but I'd always hoped that I'd look effortlessly stunning when I'd see him next. Either way, I didn't think about him too much.

Once I got home I changed into better clothes (skinny jeans and long loose fitting black tee that looks cute) and ran out to do some errands. When I made my way home, another ex was on my bus home. Now THAT one I didn't mind seeing me, especially since I looked quite cute. We smiled said hello and I went home feeling pretty good that at how much he was grinning at me.

Today, I went to the hairdressers. I was slightly dubious as I wasn't sure what to expect with this new place and was half expecting to walk out with a mullet. The woman listened to what I tried to describe and I showed her what my hair used to be like and that I wanted to grow it back to that. I couldn't believe my luck when she actually listened to me and managed to make me look good. I walked out feeling confident and happier. I didn't bother changing (except for my scarf and bag with some work in it) and ran out.

I went down to Soho for a coffee and texted a girlfriend to see if she was in town. I sat at my usual haunt and decided to finish some much needed work. I looked at my watch every so often and realised that she must have been in the library. I finished my work and walked to campus with my coffee in my hand. I could feel a slight bounce in my step and didn't feel the need to plug my ears into my music. I'd smudged some black kohl to give me a more rock chick look and felt so glam. I was walking towards Charing Cross Road when I saw a familiar figure in a faded red t-shirt and jeans. The last guy to dump me, t-shirt man. He was deep in conversation with someone and was going to cross the road. I called out to him and he turned to me. At first he didn't really recognise me, but as he walked over a broad grin spread across his face. I felt great, I looked relaxed, cute and he finally got to see the laidback/student-y look I'd been hiding and he said he wanted to see. Although I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks I tried to act natural and was introduced to his friend. We didn't chat for long and I invited him to the party my friend and I are throwing next week. I'd already invited him, but I asked him again as he didn't seem to have gotten my invitation.

I went to see my girlfriend on campus, sure enough she was in the library. We chatted a bit and I told her about who I'd been running into. We giggled to ourselves when I felt a buzz in my pocket. T-shirt man had sent me a text, he liked my new hairdo. "When did you see him today?" My friend asked. "Half an hour before I saw you maybe?" I said. She grinned, "So that's 2 and a half hours he's been thinking about you."

I swear if I wanted to seek revenge on these guys on purpose, I'm sure the chances wouldn't have struck quite so naturally. I can't help but feel smug. I sent an invitation to t-shirt man again, he will try his best to make it and says I look well. I should get a t-shirt saying, "Cat that got the cream."

Let's see what happens at the party.

Is it right to miss him?

2007-06-30T21:11:00.000+01:00

Is it ok that I miss him? What I'd like to know is why I do? I know why. It was because of that last time I spent with him.

Good grief! What is wrong with me? I'll tell you what is wrong with me. It was the fact that he made it a night never to forget. It was indeed an amazing night and what he did to me I'll never forget, nor will I forgive, because it left me wanting more. Which makes me wonder, if he orchestrated it to have that effect? His words haunt my thoughts, "Come back to me when you know what you want." Those blue eyes looking at me, watching me as his lips are pressed against my fingers and I'm begging him to stop.

I know what I want, I also know what my life is like and I realise that he's not necessarily comfortable with that. So why did he makes things so damn hard for me that night? "Because I want you to give in!" He knew what he was doing. And what's worse, is that I let it happen and worse... why? Because I couldn't help myself. I just sat there relishing in the last moments of the wonderful time we were having. There in front of me was a man who I had just ruined things with, even thought it was inevitable.

The worst part was what he said "You know what? You'll never forget me, because I'll never forget you." I knew he was right. He is right. I can still feel his arms around me, his breath against my face, the way he stretches those limbs of his, his slim frame and his gorgeous black hair. As I dried up dishes tonight I realised just how much I miss him, and I really shouldn't. It was only 3 dates (well, four if we're really counting that breakup as a date). I don't know if I really mourned my loss because there wasn't meant to be one. It was only a handful of dates and yet I can't help but think, shit, I got attached. As I put plates away I realised that I needed to cry or let go. All I know is that according to him, we'll definitely be seeing each other again. Whether he means in the sense that it'll be at events we both know we'll be at, or something resembling our dates I don't know... but I honestly don't know how ok I'd be if I saw him again.

I can't hate him... even though I want to.

Sad but beautiful...

2007-06-28T15:20:00.000+01:00

Just how attached can you get after 3 dates with someone? In this case, very. I knew this was coming, I knew things were going to go downhill, I knew it was going to be hard, but I didn't know why he wanted to end things in person. Actually, I did, he felt I deserved at least that. Initially I was slightly bitter that he'd be that selfish to seem the bigger person, for not doing it over the phone. When he asked me to say something, I asked him just why he felt he had to do this in person. He was completely taken aback and wondered why I'd not want to do it in person. I said, "Because then when I don't respond and don't know what to say, it's ok." The moment I said it, I knew it was true.

"But I want to know what is going through your head..." he said. I looked out the window, at the rain hitting the garden patio outside. My mouth opened, and that was it. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't worried about what a guy would think of me, I wasn't worried about what he'd say. The flood gates had been opened, and that was it. I told him everything, about my past, my family, the bad things that had happened, why I'd lost trust in men and not for one moment did he judge me. He held my hand and listened. I realised now why I liked him so much, because he made me feel safe. I realised just how comfortable I was with him. I didn't have to worry about my appearance or how I acted because he was above all that. It was at that moment that I realised how much I appreciated him doing this all in person, and how glad I was that I made the effort to come out and see him.

Neither of us had intended to stay longer than one drink, but when he decided he needed another, I realised I did too. It was truly strange, but we'd both felt suddenly liberated and really enjoyed ourselves. It was the strangest and best breakup. We talked, laughed and poked fun at each other. It was like we were on a great date and that there were no boundaries.

We knew it couldn't last forever, but neither of us wanted it to end. As we stood in the station, looking into each other's eyes, we both knew that we wouldn't be able to forget each other. When I felt his lips against my forehead I realised that although I knew this was coming, and although I knew I wasn't going to cry, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of sadness. This beautiful person was leaving me, and we were both leaving it to fate to see what our future had in store for us. As his lips lingered against my skin, I didn't want to let go and yet I didn't want to hold onto him any longer. As we turned our seperate ways, I tried not to look back, until I saw his head turn away as he walked off. I felt a lump in my throat, but the tears never came. I hope they never do.

Jazz and romance...

2007-06-24T14:16:00.000+01:00

I'm sitting here with a cup of coffee, looking at his picture. Yes, I finally got his picture as I asked for it in a roundabout way (said that it wasn't right he had pictures of me from presentation night to show his friends/work pals and I didn't have any). So this is what it's like to be romanced... taking things so slow. It's an odd feeling, I don't think I've been properly romanced like this. As sad as that sounds, it's so true. Only because I now realise that I tend to rush things.

Apparently he has the tendancy too, but this time, unspokenly, we both are taking it slow, and I like it. Dating, such a romantic concept. Sitting in a jazz restaurant, both dressed up, spending the evening dining on fine food, listening to great music and wrapped up in each other and great conversation. Learning about each other, building your profile of that person gradually. Learning what you have in common, understanding your differences. I can't help but blush everytime I think of how his eyes trace my lips, then my cheeks and then rest on my eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes.

Somehow, I already trust him. I know that he doesn't want to hurt me. But I also know that there is that potential that I will. I know I will get attached to him and I know that there IS that possibility of getting hurt. But when you are in any relationship there is always that potential, so why allow yourself to become consumed with that worry? I did in my last relationship and I could never enjoy it. But then so was he and he constantly reminded me of it, so why did either of us hold on?

No, this one, this one seems to have a slightly more mature approach to life. Yes, we had a discussion about relationship, yes he poured a jug of ice cold water on me about what he thought of my opinions/beliefs. But he did not poo-poo them which I was greatful for, he was just a little more realistic about it. He made me feel better about it by pulling me close, kissing me on the lips ever so gently and stating that he would definitely see me again.

I like him, and hopefully I'll be able to pace myself a little more. I think we both want to, which can only be a good thing...

You know, I don't remember!

2007-06-18T23:07:00.000+01:00

I forget what he looks like. I keep forgetting what he looks like and it's a sign that I really like him. That's why I always find a way of getting pictures of those I crush on, because if I really like them, I will forget what they look like.

It sounds absurd, but it's so true.

I know he's 6', with wavy black hair and peircing blue eyes. I know he has a slim nose and very soft, kissable lips. I know just how sharp his gaze is when he looks up at me as he takes a bite out of his sandwich. I know he has a slim build that looks good in just jeans and a t-shirt. I know when he pulls away and smiles, it's only to me, and for his own self-satisfaction. I know when I'm tucking into my danish he watches as I slice it into lady-like mouthfuls. I know his eyes light up when I start talking about comics and graphic novels. I also know his body wants to kick its heels when I say I've seen his work... and actually paid to see it. I know he doubles over when something really tickles him, even when he's walking. I know how solid his slim frame feels when he pulls me close, how my hand fits his perfectly when I take it.

There are moments during the day when something will happen and I'll get a flash of one of his expressions and it all comes flooding back. I sit back and let myself bask in them because I've learnt that if I try too hard, they will never come back to me or they'll be distorted. But I'll hear something or smell his cologne and remember how he makes me smile. Or how I look up and I see a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking back at me. I just don't know how he does it... and I don't know why I let him either...

Damn, I like this one... oh well.

Remembering

2007-05-28T10:37:00.000+01:00

My sister called me the other day for a quick chat. My 3 year old nephew recently asked my sister (his mum) when he was going to meet his uncle Mo. My sister said that he would one day. She let him busy himself with his new birthday present before going into her bedroom and cry. When she told me what he said, I couldn't help but cry myself. It broke my heart.

My brother passed away 8 years ago, he was 15 and the youngest. He died of pneumonia and heart failure. I don't think any of us have gotten over him, and we keep pictures everywhere and talk about him. It was only natural that my little nephew would ask about this person who exists around him in pictures and stories, he's going to be curious. My sister's friend said she should have explained to him that his uncle Mo was in heaven. But how do you explain that to a 3 year old?

I think it broke everyone's heart because I got an email from my mum. A friend of ours recently lost a sister, and her mother was still in a bad way about it. The mother apparently talks about the sister all the time, and really it's the best thing. People always seem to not talk about these things in case it offends the person, they don't ask questions. But what people don't understand is that you never want to forget. Yes, the memory of losing someone you love is painful. Yes, it is tough to relive those moments and those feelings, but you just don't want to let go of even those memories.

I remember sitting on the couch with my sister one afternoon, talking about my brother. It hit us that we were both scared we'd forget him. "It's like we imagined the last 15 years." we both said. It scares the hell out of you. You cling onto every memory and hope that you don't just depend on photos to remind you of who they were and what they were like. I still remember wonderful, sad and silly things about him. I remember how he used to make me laugh, annoy me and make me smile. I also remember seeing him walking around the house, bent over in pain and looking tired. I remember seeing him in that hospital bed, looking so thin and fragile, turning away from him to look out the window and cry, hoping he wouldn't see me.

I remember that wonderful last summer we were in England. How I warned him about the girls who hung around here. How we'd all walk about the neighbourhood. How we had a big party in our house back home, opening the back garden and setting it up so his friends could have fun playing video games and stuff. Him knocking on my door at night to see if I was sleeping, and not to go to bed until he slept first because he'd watched a creepy movie or played a spooky game. How he threatened a friend of ours that if she didn't stop annoying him he'd marry her, and then going on bended knee and proposing to her. Watching him laugh afterwards when she screamed and ran away crying. His naturally skinny frame. His deep voice at 15 - a smooth transition into it. His phase of having extremely long hair. His annoyed look when he saw my billboard of pictures and asking why he wasn't on it. How I made him pose against my wall in my room so I could take it (everyone had a copy of that picture now).

This wonderful person who people will no longer be able to meet. My nephew will never know just how cool and funny his uncle was. My new friends will not laugh at how much my brother will tease and annoy me. My new boyfriend/fiance/husband will not get to know how charming and friendly my brother was, or how protective he was. My children will not laugh as hard at the stories I tell of him because they were not touched by his humour like the people closest to him.

Before my brother died, he wrote a letter to his loved ones. We didn't find it until we mourned in his room. He knew he was dying and never told anyone. In it he wrote, "Live your life. Live and enjoy your life. Be good to those around you and remember God is there." Such beautiful words. to this day I always think, 15 years was not long enough. But no matter how long it is, it is never enough. I don't regret anything though. My brother knew we loved him. You just can't help but wish.

(God bless and rest his soul)

The friends that you have and keep

2007-04-29T09:37:00.001+01:00

It's 9:30am, I'm ready to have a shower (to start my day), I should do my bed and wash my breakfast dishes. My family have gone to take my great aunt to the airport, she was visiting us for a few days. I'm supposed to be at a football game, cheering on my team at a friendly, but I stayed at home because 1) I thought it was going to rain and I'm not going to support them in the rain like I did last year, 2) I needed to wake up at 6am to get ready and go, 3) I REALLY need to do some work for my research otherwise I'll be just incredibly lazy and a pointless student.

1) Turns out, it didn't rain, 2) I woke up at 6am to have my elderly aunt shouting down the stairs but was really woken up by my grandmother shushing her loudly, 3) I've been awake for 3 and a half hours and still haven't gotten any work done. Oh well!

I should have started working yesterday, but I felt like leaving the house and doing other things that didn't entail work, like meeting friends, taking pictures, having a relaxing day in the sun, walking from Wardour Street to Liverpool Street Station. I'd spent three weeks inside my house working my ass off. Everyone I knew or would talk to on a regular basis was not in the country or was busy with their own projects. Those three weeks were quite lonely. It's not because I split from BD. But it was because while everyone was away I took stock of the friends that I have here in London. The cold hard fact was, still is, I have more male friends than I do girlfriends. There is only one person who I keep up with religiously and that's it. All my girlfriends are in other places in the world, and it occured to me that my studies are also isolating me.

I know for a fact that's not the real excuse *ehem* I mean reason! I just can't always keep up with people. I'm lazy, I'm not one to be popular. Back home I had two main girlfriends who I would keep up with, and one of the reasons is because I worked with them. But I loved them, and still do. We didn't need to go out and party all the time, we'd go out for dinner, go to each other's houses, go for a coffee and bitch about work. I loved them. They were laid back and sorted. I knew that if I didn't talk to them for a few weeks, that I could pick up where I left off when I came back. I could trust them implicitly about everything in my life. I knew no matter what I did or said they would never judge me. Actually I know 5 people like that, and really those are the kind of people I like. That's the type of person I am. I don't phone people all the time. People don't know what's going on in my life at every second unless they live in my house, or in my pocket (on speed dial)!

When I first came to England, I have to admit. I had a large group of friends. But they weren't really mine, and you can't always have loyalties with friends that come as a package. I realised that they were not the kind of people who I was and that their demeanor was making me slightly paranoid. It wasn't until something terrible happened that I decided to change things. My phone contract had ended and I decided to start afresh. I changed my number and changed my friends. I ended up having three true friends by the time that I finished my MA, but when I handed it my dissertation and celebrated with my class I also realised I was saying goodbye to some really great people who I wanted to keep as friends.

Maybe that's it. I keep up with people who are within reach and those people who I can trust. Those people who I feel comfortable with. I have few friends because it's less people to keep track of and less people to worry about gossiping about you. It's not that I'm unfriendly, I just know who I like to be friends with, I know who I like and enjoy hanging out with, I know who I can trust and I know who I could turn to when I need help or someone to talk to. So what if I'm not popular? I know who my real friends are!

Heartbroken

2007-03-31T00:23:00.000+01:00

It's happened, again. I allowed myself to like another person, to be with someone who makes my heart glow, puts a smile on my face, and makes me melt when they wrap their arms around me. BD and I ended things. I knew it was going to happen. It wasn't a fight, it wasn't an argument or frustration with each other, it was just us, hitting a brick wall.

I'm sitting here, telling myself I'll live. I probably will. I'll probably get a lot more work done. I'll be able to attend a lot more football games. I won't feel so bad wanting to go to parties, or wanting to take a girlfriend with me. I'll wake up tomorrow morning, get changed and go out to spend the day with a friend (although I'm actually wondering if that may fall through too). I'll go shopping anytime I want. One less birthday to think about. One less person to fuss over.

But I don't fuss over many people. He wasn't just anyone. He was someone who wanted to be let in, so I let him in. I'm not sleepy. I'm not tired. I know I won't sleep anytime soon. Why did he ask for a second chance? Why did he tell me that he wants to be friends? I don't hate him. But I know tomorrow, I'll feel hollow. I'll need to cry a little more. I'll need to hurt for a while. I knew this would happen, and I knew it was only a matter of time, but why did he ask for a second chance? Why couldn't he just have let me slip away before?

Why did I have to like this one? Why did I want to take care of him? Why did I want to craddle his head and tell him things would be ok? I didn't need to be strong on the phone, my voice never cracked as the tears ran down my cheeks.

And now... I have that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes me wonder, should I have fought for him? Should I have been a little more adament and fought for him? To show him just how much I wanted him?

I don't think he understands just how heartbroken I really am about it all. He thinks he's the only one hurting, but he just doesn't realise how much I don't want to think about him right now. He sent me a message later on, telling me how he felt, and how he was proud to call me his girlfriend. I wish he didn't send it. I didn't want to know. We ended things best on the phone, I didn't want to know the last part.

I know of three people who will be happy about this, and they are three people I do not want to talk to at all these days... Well back to being my cynical, cold self - shouldn't be too hard. Right after I stop thinking about him and welling up all the time, feeling that lump rising.

Thinking of you...

2007-03-26T11:11:00.000+01:00

Norah Jones "Thinking of You" plays on my iTunes... I've become one of them. One of those people who gets soppy. I'm happy. I sit at my desk and smile broadly when I remember little things they do, and can still smell their skin.

Yesterday I woke up after allowing myself 7 hours of sleep, I needed it. Clocks had changed and I had seen an hour of my life disappear right before my eyes. I'd worked until 3:30am (or what would have been 2:30am the night before). I jumped into the shower, had breakfast and turned on my computer. I did bit of reading before getting a phone call from a familiar number. I heard a slightly groggy, but other normal voice. "I want to see you." I could imagine him lying there, rubbing his eyes and stretching as I said that I wanted to see him too. I smiled widely into my king sized mug of tea. He had a lovely quiet, deep voice. I sat there thinking of what I could wear, I hadn't been out for two days and wanted to treat myself to dressing up a little.

** It wasn't what we did, it was what he said. **

He picked me up and we went through photos, a movie, adobe photoshop and hours of just cuddling. All I needed was a bit of tenderness. I sat there on the couch, his arms around me, inhaling his scent. I couldn't keep my eyes open as I just kept drifting off, his heart beat sending me into a lull. This is what I needed. Just someone to stroke my hair, hold me and make me forget about life for a while. Just wanted someone to make me feel what it was like to let go. Someone to remind me what being cared for and wanting to be cared for was about.

We sat on the couch, hugging his arm, his hand on my leg, our cups of tea getting cold in their places and a packet of digestives resting in my lap. "Are you only having one?" he'd ask incredulously. I'd nod and grin like a little girl because I knew it would make him smile. The kind of smile where you know he thinks you're cute when you do that.

** It wasn't what we did, it was what he said. **

Tunes played in the background we were in each other's arms. I looked into those gorgeous blue eyes as I stroked his face. For once I didn't look away when he looked back at me. I wanted to look into those eyes, those eyes that look right into me. Watch them open and close when my fingers traced the lines of his face. Close my eyes everytime he brushed my hair away from my face and let his fingers run through my hair. I felt safe. When he hugged me, I didn't want to let go. I felt safe in those big arms of his, his broad shoulders, my face in the nook of his neck.

** It wasn't what we did, it was what he said. **

It soon came time to go home and neither of us wanted me to leave. But I'm high maintanence and I wasn't ready for him to see how much effort it took for me to look passable. As we drove home, he asked me, "Last week, you asked me if I was happy, and I never asked you. Are you happy?" This was my chance. My opportunity to give him my answer and tell him what he had to hear. So I said,

I am happy. Sure we have some limits to our relationship, but you know what, I don't care, I'm happy. I'm happy with what I have and you know what I'm enjoying this. For the first time in a long time I get excited to see someone. I look forward to seeing you. I know we say that there is a shelf life to this, but you know what, I don't care. For once, I'm allowing myself to be selfish and you know what? I like it. I am happy.

He smiled, he was happy and then he said something that made it all better. "Let's not say that there's a shelf-life. Let's just enjoy it together." Some people may think we'd then be in denial about this relationship, but I don't care. For the first time since we started seeing each other I didn't feel that pang of sadness, I didn't feel that horrible twinge of guilt that it would all end so soon, I could finally feel happy and optimistic.

It had nothing to do with what we did that day, it was because of what he said.

Food...

2007-03-23T12:38:00.000Z

One of my favourite blogs is Kyoto Daily Photo, I love looking at the various pictures Macky has up on different parts of Kyoto, there is always something new and there is always something beautiful. Today as I scrolling through I found this KyotoDailyPhoto: Mixed food and it just made me crave food from back home. Now it's not because I'm hungry, because I had a gorgeous breakfast of a bagel with brie oozing out of it, and a rather large cup of tea, but because I miss what home cooking is all about. I get home cooked meals living with my grandmother which I truly appreciate. But nothing quite compares to the love and comfort that comes from a home cooked meal from your mother. Which is why I'm putting a picture of one of my favourite dishes my mother makes:

Steamed meet dumplings. They're gorgeous and they're a typical Bukhari dish (my mother is Italian) and I love them. What we usually do is steam them, and when you serve them you pour vinegar over them. Yes, it pickles them a bit, but you do the same to pie and mash anyway! They are delicious and when they're served straight from the stove they're just amazing. I know when I'm home when my mother cooks these because only she knows how to make them just the way I like them.

(Someone tucking into it - I'm sure it was me because my father was getting annoyed that I was taking pictures and not 'respecting the food' and just eating it. If I said "because I miss it when I'm in London" he'd have turned and said to me, "Learn how to make it to do it while you're there or just come back and settle here")

Going through some home movies, really cracking up on some of them because my sister is just hilarious and feeling just a little homesick. But must put that aside to finish this one last chapter (don't say it like that or you'll have to really push yourself and there's still so much to write about!!).

Why did I...?

2007-03-19T21:11:00.000Z

For a while now, I've taken to using a self-defense mechanism to save myself the danger of getting sorely disappointed, heart-broken and adding yet another problem to my list: Just don't date people who I (really) like. The last boyfriend I had was someone who a nice enough guy, but I kind of knew I wouldn't get attached to. It's sad to say that, but it was true.

I realised recently I haven't dated anyone who I really liked (with one exception - I was gutted when he wouldn't allow me to be selfish and see how far I could go with it *sigh* shame). I'd been dating people to 'fill in the gaps' or because they asked me. They were people who I knew I wasn't going to get attached to. Sounds like there was quite a list, but now that I count them, I've been on 4 first dates, one of them turning out to be a boyfriend. And now, the man I've been fancying from a distance for two years has found a way into my heart. After just one clumsy date, he's managed to get in. Maybe I didn't keep my defences up with this one. All I know is, I liked this one from the first moment I heard his voice, with the whole "well then...". I just know I look forward to my weekends again. I know that when I look up, he's looking down. He has a smile waiting for me. He reaches out to hold my hand. He wants me close all the time.

And the worst part is, this time, I don't just cling to the fingers, I actually hold his hand. I love holding his hand. It feels natural. I don't worry about who's going to see us. I don't care that it looks soppy. I like holding his hand. I like curling up to him. I like to watch him eat. I like it when he smacks his lips when he enjoys something. I like how he gives me sideway glances and flashes a cheesy grin when he catches my eye. I like how he does little boyish things. I like tickling his stomach. I like how he closes his eyes when we're relaxed. I like our silences. I don't recoil when he kisses my hand. But most importantly, I don't pull away when he holds my hand.

I'm going to get so hurt. How can you tie someone to you until you know when you'll be completely free? How could you tie something so beautiful to you with the promise that you don't know will come true? I know I'm going to get hurt. I know it'll truly be crushing. I'm waiting for that guilitine to fall, and it kills me because I can't truly enjoy this. But maybe that's a good thing, that way I'll be able to reign my feelings and it'll save me from having my heart truly broken.

I sit here now and I've just been told by someone that he loves me, "truly, madly, deeply" and that he worships me. It's the most beautiful thing I've heard, but I can't accept it because 1)he has a girlfriend, 2)I'm with BD. Truth is, I think my heart is just a little tired. From wanting one person who doesn't give me an answer of any kind, to wanting a person I have but not wholly, to holding back all that I really want to do and settling for that 'inch' that I was given.

I told BD, as the sun set on our fun day out, that I didn't want to fall in love. I don't think I could take that risk. I'm not a risk taker. I don't think I could take the pain of when it goes wrong. I just don't think I'd want to willingly put myself through that. He looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes and said, "Why would you want to go through life being dead?"

I'm just so scared - to feel that despair, that heartbreak, that darkness, the feeling that you're falling and no one is there to catch you. Wondering afterwards just why did you do this to yourself?

...why would you let anyone in?

It's bugging him more than he thinks...

2007-03-18T21:21:00.000Z

Today I spent the day with BD (which is what I shall call him from now on). He picked me up and we drove to Kent. The weather was gorgeous and the drive was amazing (I just wished I took my camera with me to take some photos of the scenery - I will not listen to him next time!). I was armed with my saved paycheck, a mental list of what I wanted, and a tall strong man to carry whatever I managed to get my hands on or stretch my budget to get (I'm good at that!). As long as I managed to get him something to eat (good practice with my dad, as long as I know where you can get something to eat then he's happy), he has happy just to tag along and put up with me. However, there were times when he dragged me into shops to look for stuff for him, which I loved because it felt like we were shopping for him too. We stayed until the shopping mall closed.

Since it was still early, we decided to go for dinner in the other huge shopping mall in the area. So we drove and got stuck in the traffic, which I didn't mind as I was just spending time with him. That is until his thoughts wandered... I know our situation isn't the most ideal, nor is it the most comfortable for him. In the time it took to drive between the two malls (it was only half an hour - if that, but it certainly felt a lot more once he started talking about how he felt about the situation) I realised my mood was darker than the clouds gathering above our heads. However, he had his chance to get out, and yet he dragged us both back in. He had his chance to walk away, to allow the both of us to think that nothing would happen and I would have been ok. Now we're slowly getting attached and have given each other labels, it makes it a little harder to just walk away. We had agreed after the first date to end things, and yet he asked me the next day for another chance.

Now, I see that it's causing more problems than he's willing to admit. The way he talked about the situation and how he saw it, just made me realise that even though I could be ok with this, he couldn't be. Somehow I feel that he feels that this is my fault and that he's having to suffer. Maybe suffer is too severe a word, but I just feel like he's feeling a little resentment.

The problem is, I like this one. I'm finally seeing someone that I like, and not just because he's the one who's around at the time. This is someone who I can see myself getting really attached to. It's dangerous and I could end up being incredibly hurt. Sitting in the car park, waiting to go inside to the restaurant, I turned to look at him, and asked him, "Are you happy?" He wasn't sure what I meant, so I said, "Are you happy with us? Our 'dating thing'? Because I don't know what to call it." even though we call each other girl/boyfriend, so we are in a relationship. I knew what his answer would be, and I realised we had two choices, end it now once and for all, or just continue the way we are and I would have to endure his tormented soul and mind.

This is why I don't date people I like - I drag them along for a terrible and bumpy ride which is my life.

2007-03-16T23:28:00.000Z

Oh my good grief, will I never be rid of this? If he doesn't torment in person, then it's in my mind. I dreamt of him the other night. Nothing sexy, nothing to get the heart rate going. It was just a dream. He was sitting in a pub, with someone we know, and two blondes. They were laughing, drinking and basically getting merry. I woke up the next morning and realised that there is just no getting away from him. I think I need closure, or some kind of ending. Oh I don't know.

Why is this happening? I'm happy. I'm seeing someone. A lovely someone. He's quiet, normal and best of all, doesn't keep me guessing. So why does he pop into my head? *groan*

Oh well... here's something I played about with earlier...

Meant to be...?

2007-03-12T21:49:00.000Z

When you know something isn’t meant to be, why do people go for it? You’ve seen that person so many times, you’ve smiled and been just that close to wanting to say something to them, and you bottle it. There are times when you’ve just missed them, and your heart feels a slight pang knowing that you’re not going to see them for those few minutes. Or they’re going the other way, and you see them go past you. You feel that spark of excitement for seeing them those few minutes and your smile holds on for just a little while longer.

What would you do if you finally met, finally got to know each other and you find that person to be so much better than you expected. That their smile makes you blush and want to reach out and stroke their face. When they look concerned you want to know what’s going through their mind and make them feel better. When they laugh, you act silly or tell a silly joke just to listen to them chuckle because it makes your heart melt. Your lip quivers when you watch them close their eyes as you stroke their face. When your arm is free you reach out to them, just to touch them, wrap your arm around them, or just stroke their body reassuringly, but it’s only reassuringly for you, because you know that they like you. You’re able to understand their crispy dry humour, and start loving the way they tell a small, quiet joke or one liner. You enjoy watching them walk around a kitchen and look at you wondering what you’re thinking. You get into the habit of wrapping your arms around them from behind whenever they’re sitting down. You just want to touch them because they feel nicer under your finger tips.

Your heart melts when you watch them close their eyes under your touch.
Your heart skips a beat when they bring your fingertips to their lips and lightly kiss them.
When by the fourth/fifth date (because we’re still not sure if we’re going to call our first proper conversation a first date) you are just content to sit together and listen to mellow music and allow time to pass – even though it passes way too quickly and you wish it would just stop because you just don’t want that bliss to end. You close your eyes and for those 8 hours the world disappears.

What would you do? Would you hold onto that bliss for as long as you could? How long would you hold onto it? You know it isn’t going to hang around forever. If you knew that your heart would be broken in the end and that you’d be hurt, would you still put yourself through it? Would you still want to see what would happen when you both know that it can’t really be a happy ending for either of you?

Everything becomes just that much more painfully beautiful because each moment you spend together could be your last. As melodramatic as that sounds, it’s so true. You know it’s a slow death and you’d rather a swift execution. One of you is going to be the stronger one and end it, do the sensible thing and save the other from a greater pain. I’ve been told to control my feelings, to not allow myself to get too involved, but how can you do that? You can only do that with people who you don’t really like that much… but....... I finally meet a person who doesn't play with my mind. I don't have to 'try and read', I know what I see, it's there. I don't have to guess at what he's thinking or what he thinks of me because it's there.

He never cared for anything until I came along. Two years we had been watching each other and wanting one another. I turned it around for him. He says I’ll be sorry for that, he may be joking, but we both know how true those words will be in future.

Question is, do I break both our hearts now and save us from a greater heartache?

What if I packed it all in?

2007-03-10T16:33:00.000Z

"What's the alternative?" he asked me.
"That I pack up and go home." I said.
"That's right. You just do what you've got to do." he said.

I've been rolling it around in my head, am I doing this for all the right reasons? Am I really happy? There's just no clear cut definition to it. I'm counting more low days than high ones. If I do pack up and go home, what would happen?

1) I'd be saying goodbye to the life I now know. No male friends, no boyfriends, no dates, no parties where you'd be dancing and feeling gorgeous. No going out when I feel like it, or just to get a cup of coffee because I just need to stretch my legs. No going out unless I've let my father know I'm going out and asked him. Can't see my friends unless my father knows about it. CON

2) I'd be in a job for life at a university working as a lecturer. I wouldn't pay tax on my pay. I'd be able to save because I'm living with my parents (which isn't a bad thing as I love that house). I'd be working minimal hours and not be hounded to do research all the time. Come and go as I please at my job. PRO

3) Friends - I'd be with all my old girlfriends and not worry about who knows me or who I'm socialising with if I went back because they're most people who I trust implicitly anyway and they're the people who were there for me at my lowest times, they sat around me as my heart broke and I cried. They were there when I laughed and smiled. They're the people who know how my life is and what could happen to me. PRO. I'd lose a lot of friends in London. I wouldn't be able to see half or over half of them again. I'd be forced to cut out a lot of people, which is something I've never done (only willingly or necessity). I'd lose a of people who've seen me in my good times and those who have made me laugh, shown me what life is like when you're an adult. The cheeky people who I'll cradle and hold close to my heart. CON.

4) I'd be a lot more relaxed and mellow. I'd be incredibly laid back and slowly become lazy again. My mind will wander more and I'll be less inclined to read again. My head will be empty of all stresses and good times will flow through it. My work will only occupy my mind during the working hours and never on the weekend. CON.

5) My parents will arrange my marriage. CON - but I trust them and know that they would only want the best for me.

6) It will be until the summer until I come back to London, and even then my dad will only let me go out if he's with me and I'd have to be back at a certain time. I would never be able to roam the street of London, or Soho on my own. CON.

7) Every time I listen to certain bits of music, my heart will break for what I've given up. CON.

8) I would never forgive myself for being so weak... CON.

I need a hug.

...comfort of the familiar

2007-02-16T12:47:00.000Z

"This World" by Zero 7 is playing, again it makes me feel homesick - for London. An odd sensation, still not feeling settled.

On Sunday, I sat with a friend in a room, just the two of us, watching each other. I hadn't seen him for so long, I didn't expect him to change, but on some level it felt different. He's the kind of person you meet where you pick up where you left off, but each time you meet something has changed between you, not necessarily in a bad way, but... I looked away and quietly said, "I still feel lost. Like I lose my balance. There are times when I listen to something and feel a little dizzy." He looked concerned and held my hand - his enormous palm engulfing my child-like fingers. "But you're doing your PhD, I thought that would stop." he said softly, in that lovely deep baritone voice of his. I shook my head. I need to find my feet. He squeezed my hand a little and I smiled.

There are those friends who you miss, there are those friends who you cannot live without and there are those friends who you will never lose. He falls in the last category. We're an odd couple. I never quite understood why he spoke to me to begin with. We were two very different people, we still are on some level, except now, I've learnt to truly trust what he says, really believe. "I'm only friends with those girls I 'click' with mentally, you're one of them. I feel free talking to you because you get me and I get you. The only time I get annoyed with you is when I don't understand what goes on in that little head of yours." he taps my temple. "Like last week, what was all that about? Although now, I understand."

Do I love him? Perhaps. Am I in love with him? Not anymore, thank goodness. He's arrogant, cocky, rude - but he's also one of those people I know who wouldn't judge me. He'll make fun of me, he'll tease me mercilessly about things, but deep down I know he'll be there for me, should I need him. There's just something so addictive about him that if I didn't have him in my life, I know I'd be missing something.

Wonder why "Sinnerman" is playing... what are you trying to tell me Nina?

A 'missing' feeling...

2007-02-03T22:39:00.000Z

I just don't know what it is, I'm sitting at my desk as I have been all day, it was a truly beautiful day that I spent inside, at my desk. I was brainstorming and managed to get a few thoughts down, doubt my own study and the participants I was including. I managed to pour my thoughts out to a friend who I sometimes wonder if he just says that I sound weird so that he can be the person to make me feel better? I wrote two long emails to my mum about my work and thoughts, then got chatting to both my parents online at the end of the day. I've had all three meals and contemplating on whether to make myself a cup of tea and see how long I can stay up to work on my chapter.

Then a song comes on, "Melt" by Leftfield. I only heard it once in my 'other home' and straight away it makes me homesick. This feeling of me missing something. I.just.don't.know.what.it.is. This feeling takes over me and for a second I don't know where I am. It didn't last as long as it does sometimes. A couple of seconds and I reminded myself I was in England. But there are times when it lasts for minutes, I sit there in a slight panic, confused as to where I am and what I'm doing.

It's worse when I'm sleeping and I dream that I'm back there, in my big bed, large room and glorious balcony windows. My cat sleeps at the end of my bed and things are how they were. As I slowly wake up, I start to panic as to where I am and it takes me a while to realise that I'm in my much smaller bed, my cat has passed away and things are how they are.

I just feel so lost and I don't know what to do. I thought this was what I wanted. I've never felt so disoriented in my life. During the masters I had even more bouts like these, and a friend said that I didn't feel settled, but that if I were to do my PhD I'd feel more settled and make my roots. It's been two years now... and I still feel as though I'm missing something. I miss my mum, I miss my old life, I miss my cat and I miss my job. I miss my friends, I miss being able to afford things, I miss going out and enjoying my independance. I miss my best friend, I miss my sister, I miss those nights where I'd get calls from friends at 1 or 2am because they just felt the need to talk. I miss how my cousin and I used to talk, before he got married, before we fell out with each other, when we used to be truly close. I miss how I used to go to Jiji's house and just help myself to her fridge. I miss how I'd pick my mum up from work and we'd go shopping, or out for a meal and just talk. I miss how at the end of each working day, while my dad was napping and my mum was at work, I'd boil the kettle, make a pot of tea and wait for my mum to come home and my dad to wake up. We'd drink tea together and just sit and talk, or watch tv. I miss how my cat used to wait for me when I'd come home from work, sitting outside my bedroom, and meow loudly when she'd see me come up the stairs, running to me to give me a cuddle.

I am truly blessed for the experience I'm getting now. But I can't help but wonder, will I ever get over this feeling of being disoriented? Will I ever get my bearings? I'm sitting at my desk, and I feel dizzy. I think I need to finish my PhD, and then we'll see where I land.

Close to tears...

2007-02-01T14:56:00.000Z

You realise it's not that you've taken on too much, but that you haven't organised your time well. If you did you wouldn't:

1) Be feeling the stress of everything over your head.
2) Be feeling guilty for not spending enough time with your family, even though they travelled to see you.
3) Be feeling so very close to tears again... even though you had a good cry the month before.
4) Be trying to fit everything in, including exercise which even your grandmother is telling you to do.

I've turned 26, my eye sight is now going and my knees are starting to act up. My posture is looking more and more like a hobbit. My supervisor has told me that this weekend I am to take my laptop, my outline and go somewhere that I'm comfortable in and just write whatever comes to me. She's asked me to leave my notes behind and just write. She can't stress enough how important it is that I write, I don't think anyone knows how important that I get this upgrade. I'm facing the one problem I didn't think I had - writer's block. I see how my unbelievable procrastination is coming to bite me in the ass.

It's my own fault, and I just pray I survive this one this time.

Who's a pretty bird?

2007-01-16T22:55:00.000Z

It's been a while since I've sat at my fish tank and really watched the world for a while. Today, however, was not going to be one of those days when I could. I wanted to kill time before I met a friend after work, and decided that I could also do some marking for my supervisor. I walked in with a familiar air and hugged one of my favourite baristas, an Italian girl with my kind of hint of chic about her (I just love her eyes, perfectly ott without looking awful). We chatted a bit before I got my coffee and took up a seat in front of the window. I pulled out an essay and started reading through it.

I was halfway through this rather awful piece of work (I saw my former self in it quite a bit, which made me cringe quite a bit - and hopefully I'll never go back there), when I looked up I saw a somewhat odd thing. As I've said before, the best thing about Soho is that it is open to anything, and you are bound to see everything there. It was a woman crossing the street with a grey parrot perched on her shoulder. I think it was the non-chalant way this woman was going about her business, or perhaps the fact that only ONE person actually turned to watch this person walk by (other than myself), everyone else walked passed her, on their own business. Nobody took the time to look at this woman with a parrot on her shoulder. How many people had passed her and muttered "argh!" as they saw her? How many people looked on in wonder as they watched the bird sit there calmly as it was being given a free ride? How many people wondered why it wouldn't fly off her shoulder? Or perhaps, how many of its feathers had been clipped to present it from flying off?

It struck me that although this woman and her bird were probably not the most peculiar things you'd come across in London, it was still one of those moments that caught you off guard. And one of those moments that brought a strange smile to your face...

** There's going to come a time when I'm not going to be tormented by him, or the memory of his smile. There's going to come a day when I don't show a side that I thought didn't exist. There's going to come a day when I'm actually going to be in control of my feelings, thoughts and concentration. For now though, I'll let my mind wander as my eyes scroll over the words on the page... **

Tea pot head

2007-01-11T14:17:00.000Z

I have gone back to my old ways, and damn have they come back with a vengeance (f*** the spelling, I'm in no mood to check it). I've locked myself in my room, and thankfully it is for all the right reasons. My work is spread out before me, to my right (all over my bed) and behind me (on the floor). I have finally started writing. It's baby steps at the moment as I'm writing my first draft, 5 pages handwritten and when I type it up, I panic over how juvenile it sounds and wonder just how I could tweak it so that my supervisor won't tell me once again that it's "not at that standard yet".

I've gone through two mugs of tea (it holds about 300ml?) and I'm still feeling the urge to make myself another mug (God bless Tetley's for making those drawstring tea bags). People think I'm mad for having so much caffiene, but in all honesty that's not why I drink it. For some strange and unapparent reason I need a hot beverage as I work. Whether it's reading or writing, I need something like tea or coffee to be around me while I work. I think it serves as some kind of relief or break as I pause for thought or something. My dad tried to make me stop once as he didn't think it was right that someone so young should be drinking so much tea. It wasn't bad in the beginning, until the mugs started getting bigger. When I got my last mug he just flipped and said I was becoming ridiculous in trying to find a bigger mug. So I reasoned with him that it was to make up for my tiny size. He didn't find that cute, and forbade me to find a bigger mug.

Once friends found out how big my mugs were and how much tea I was drinking, I happily earned the nickname 'Teapot head'. I loved it. When I moved to London and couldn't bring my crockery, I went out to find myself a mug. It wasn't exactly the same, but I managed to find my size and proudly showed it off to my gran. She was shocked that I felt I needed a mug of that size, but my little cousin burst out with "awww! I want one!" Well child, when you hit your 20's and find the superficial need for caffiene and hot drinks, you can have one. For now, (while you're 8) you can have those titchy ones!

In all honesty, it's probably the reason why I love the Starbucks on Wardour Street, why I loved studying there. It was a comfort zone for working as I'd sit by the window sill with a big mug of coffee and just get on with a bit of work. My favourite library in Chancery Lane does not allow food or drink inside, but while I was finishing off my MA dissertation I got in the habit of filling up my thermos at the local Starbucks and slipping it into my bag as I went passed security. When I used to spread my work out at my cubicle nobody said anything as they saw the steaming thermos sitting on my desk.

Ugh, I've ranted again. Or maybe I haven't? Another reason why I love the winter is because I can have my hot drinks all the time... lovely!

Obssessive Compulsive Distractions...

2006-12-19T23:40:00.000Z

I realise more and more that I don't necessarily fall in love with men, I just move from one obssession to the next. Something to take up all my energy and concentration, just a huge distraction and really it's killing me. I'm not just lonely, but I realise I'm not here for the right reasons and I really have to start getting my priorities straight. My work is failing and almost non-existant even though I smile and say everything is ok, but the truth is, I haven't done a lot and it's starting to worry me. I'll read a paper, or a book, scan the words on the page and nothing sinks in. I'll look at numbers, figures, graphs, statistics, and none of it will make sense. I realise that I'm slowly sinking away from my work and really it's something that I used to enjoy.

I loved sitting in the library and spreading my work before me on the table as I went through books and journals, articles and chapters of numerous research, works, definitions, findings, experiments, theories, models... I loved it. I loved searching for things and finding some really interesting bits of info and following those leads a little. I was able to generate ideas and hypotheses like mad, my 'thinking journal' constantly open so that I could jot down any ideas within it. I was good!

Now? My brain wanders, unattended and unsupervised, and I don't know when it comes back. I get distracted so easily and over stupid things. But I also thinking about the wrong things...

For now, it's really only one thing that's on my mind... well, one person. He's there, at the back of my mind at different times of the day. I'll walk around London and think "where is he today?" I'll remember something he's said, something he's done, a look he'll have on his face. His hugs, his scent, his grin, the way his eyes light up when he talks... I feel stupid around him, realise that I've done so little in life compared to him and yet I don't know a lot about him. Yet when he grins you just know how much he's seen. I don't need to close my eyes to think of him. He's there the moment I drop my guard.

My sister thinks I'm foolish for liking someone like that. I know it's more than just looks. But I also can't help but think, "what are you waiting for? What's stopping you? I'm right here." I hate games. I hate fuss. I hate when people can't be straight with me. And I'm not patient enough to play hard to get. You either like me or you don't, allow me to move on.

I know why I get obsessive... if I can't figure it out, if I don't have the answer, I need to know what it is. And if I'm truly interested, I'll keep at it until I get what I want. That's my problem. Now to transfer that to my work...

The 'Fish Tank'

2006-11-17T21:00:00.000Z

I wasn't honest with a certain Pink Pigeon I know, I've been going down to Soho a lot more often than I should, which is taking time away from my research, but at the same time, something I've been needing. Today I recieved some disappointing news and phoned a girlfriend, I was out buying printer paper, had high heels on and just wanted to sit down. I wanted to go home, or had a snap judgement made, I got impatient and decided to go home, where it's warm and I don't have to worry about moving.

I realised, I go to Soho whenever I need to feel better. I'll get a girlfriend to meet me there, or if we've had lunch, that's the first place we'll think of to go and have a coffee. Whenever one of us is feeling bad or in need of some love, everyone knows I'll most probably be in Starbucks in Wardour Street (well last year I was there nearly all the time, now that I've started my PhD, not so much). But there are quieter times when I sit in that Starbucks and just watch the world go by. It's like sitting in a fish tank and watching life go on, it's so relaxing. I usually sit on one of those high stools in the front windows. I'll have a book, note pad or article to work on while I'm there, but every so often I'll look up and see what people pass by. One time I sat there, with only a cup of coffee in front of me. I ended up just watching the crowd pass by the window.

You'd have those regular people who would just walk past and never look in, going on about their lives, getting on with what they have to do, going through their mental lists, or just singing their theme song in their heads. Then there are those who will briefly look at the people in the front window, like you're a puppy wanting to be bought and panting against the window. Those people will give sly sideways glances to wonder if you are looking at them. When they make eye contact they quickly look away and get embarrassed. Then there are those who will look inside but look passed you, to see how packed/empty the place is, or just because they've made eye contact but move on to see what else is around. Finally there are those who will look at you and brighten your face. They are those who try to connect with you for those few seconds, and will either smile or wink, or even blow you a kiss. It's really their way of tapping the glass to get a reaction. At times I have really had a giggle at how some people will do anything to make you smile, others it's just plain weird. I have to admit though, none brings a smile bigger to my face than seeing a friend walking past the window, to come and meet me.

Everytime I walk to that Starbucks I get a sense of cosiness. It's friendly, it constantly buzzing with life and no matter what, the most interesting looking people walk past, and if you're lucky, they'll also walk in.

Summer Breeze...

2006-11-09T14:58:00.000Z

Everytime I listen to that song, I get homesick, especially if I hear it in the afternoon or sunsets. On a day like this, a beautiful autumn day like this with a clear sky and bright sun. It reminds me of back home, afternoons in the kitchen watching my parents, or rather my mother watering the plants in the garden. Going around the different patches of basil, rocket salad, bell and chili peppers, watering the jasmins and the gardenias. Checking that the tortoises have plenty of water and veggies to nibble on. Or sitting in the kitchen while my mother makes lunch for the family, chatting to her about my life, telling a few jokes and smiling at how I make her laugh.

I don't know why that song reminds me of her, maybe it's because it's one of her favourites. It's a lovely song, of beautiful afternoons driving around parks and trees. Or just a laid back feeling that you don't want to do anything except enjoy the company of those you are in. Same way I find it hard to listen to Sade, reminds me so much of my mum, one of my most favourite people in this world.

*sigh* I always seem to get like this when it's getting close to me seeing her, be it me going over to her or she coming to see me. She comes in 43 days (God willing), for three weeks. My mum is staying for 3 weeks, hopefully without my dad. I can't wait. She'll be here for Christmas, New Year and most importantly, my birthday. The fabulous woman who I love to make laugh, the person who makes me feel better about myself no matter what, the person I carry around with me every where I go.

Mortification

2006-11-07T23:05:00.000Z

Defn: The act of embarrassing oneself through clumsy, and almost fatal, accidents or incidents. For example, crossing a road and almost getting hit by a black cab that is using the road to make a 3 point turn because you're too busy watching a beautiful man walking towards you so your head is turned away from said cab and you're busy listening to The Rapture screaming about getting "out of the races and onto the tracks".

And to think, I was trying to look graceful, cool even with my cup of coffee and preppy look before class. What's worse? I managed to spill said coffee a little on my coat, thankfully though, coffee doesn't seem to show on my coat. However, my preppy look got a view looks from a group of school kids obviously out on a field trip, and therefore in their cool gear. Each and every single child (they're teens, but I'm allowed to refer to them as CHILDREN) I passed gave me the once over, especially the girls. Each one of them judging me in my fitted blouse, navy jumper, skinny jeans and sneakers, a cup of coffee and a huge bag filled with my crap (well, books, papers, pencils, pens, but they don't know that). Yet each of them watched me, and all I could think of was, "don't you dare judge me you BRAT!"

Why on earth did I start caring about looking good? Caring about whether I make a complete idiot of myself? Or care about whether I am judged or not? Surely in a place as cosmopolitan and varied as London, I should not have to worry about being judged or having to put on a show. Or maybe that's just it. Because I live in London it's expected of me? All I know is, the day I started wearing make up, the day I started taking care of my appearance, that was the end of me. I was never self-conscious, or at least, not to this degree. Maybe that's what my parents were worried about, and on that fateful day, when I was 17 and woke up with the urge to go to class and put a dab of eyeshadow, my mother's sigh of relief was genuine? That she was truly relieved that I was going to take care of my appearance a little more? Maybe try a little harder to look good?

But that's the problem isn't it? You are then in the habit of always having to look good, be it in appearance or in the actions you take. You set a standard that you kind of feel is hard to break, or am I being a little neurotic here? I don't know what it is, but there is always that little something at the back of my head that constantly wonders what other people think, and I'm constantly analysing and predicting what people might think. It's TERRIBLE! I can't believe how self-conscious I've become. And what's worse is that I get easily embarrassed over the silliest things (I'm sure my spelling in this entry will be one of them). But in all honest I realise that I allow things to get to me (in that way) and for some terrible reason, my mind won't let me forget.

*sigh* I digress and therefore have lost my point... if I had one to begin with.

Winter is coming!

2006-11-04T00:09:00.000Z

Stayed in today. Winter has hit London now, and honestly, I'm lovin' it! I'm such a winter baby it's not even funny. I LOVE cold weather, I'm no good in hot weather. In cold weather you get to wear scarves and boots, gorgeous coats and lovely gloves. When you drink a hot beverage it's wonderful. When you cuddle up to someone, it's absolutely necessary! *Mind drifts off at this point to a certain cuddle I got in the wee hours of a weekend*

However I stayed in today, and will most probably stay in tomorrow. I have to get some work done. I've been falling behind with my writing and my reading. The pages are in front of me and there are times when I get into it, until I get distracted. Actually Wednesday was my fault. I took work with me while I did some errands, and sat in Soho killing time before I had to go and meet my gran to watch The Da Vinci Code at the Prince Charles cinema. However, as I read I realised that I didn't have to sit here alone, and wondered if a certain person who worked in the area would be interested in joining me for a quick cup of coffee. I got a bit of a surprise when I got a reply from that person saying they wouldn't mind having that coffee... I was told that they'd be done with work after 6 which was good for me as I didn't have to make a move until 7. Now I'm a pain in the ass about punctuality (even though at times I seem to have a minor problem with it), but I'm usually on time to things and I expect people to be on time too. It was 6:50 when I decided to send a text to tell them not to worry about meeting up as I needed to make a move. I was quite sure that the person had forgotten me actually and had left to go home. However, I was pleasantly surprised when they phoned to tell me that they were on their way.

We didn't chat long, but it was still nice to see them. I ran to Leicester Square and caught up with my gran. We had a quick chomp on some Chinese before almost missing out movie (damn those slow waiters! Good thing the food is so good). On the train home I realised that I was lucky to have gloves because it was too cold to be in just a jacket and scarf. As the chilly night time breeze came rushing through those doors of the train, I closed my eyes and realised, another year, another winter, and how lucky I am to be here to experience it again.

What's your theme song?

2006-10-31T22:29:00.000Z

Your Theme Song is Back in Black by AC/DC

"Back in black, I hit the sack,I've been too long, I'm glad to be back"
Things sometimes get really crazy for you, and sometimes you have to get away from all the chaos.But each time you stage your comeback, it's even better than the last!

What's" Your Theme Song?

Older actors killing my brain...

2006-10-27T22:49:00.000+01:00

Why is it, whenever I meet an actor of truly fine quality, I can never remember any GOOD piece of work they've done! Today I met Jeremy Irons on Wardour Street, very much by chance as these meetings usually are. He was walking along, obviously looking for somewhere, with two little dogs following him. As nobody looked like they were doing anything, I turned myself around and walked as fast as I could to try and catch up with him. Before he could cross the road I quickly trotted after him and stood behind him timidly asking if he could give me an autograph. I finally had a note pad with me, however, it was filled, to the brim with research notes! It was embaressing when he asked what I do (had to say I was a research student to explain all the papers and notes). He was very sweet and oh-so-darlingly handsome, it was lovely to hear his voice, if only I recorded the whole "and who should I make this to?" I've always loved his voice.

But could you believe it? During the time it took for him to find a page to the time it took for him to finish writing the note, I could not find a single movie I could use to compliment him with, noting him on his skill as an actor. I could only remember "Die Hard 3" which I don't think he'd consider his greatest work. I felt foolish, popcornish and completely airheaded. I felt even worse after he squeezed my hand and walked away when I remembered "Man in the Iron Mask", why couldn't I remember him as Aramis? I think I felt even worse when I looked his profile up on IMDb, "Merchant of Venice", *sigh* I loved him in that. Such a shame!

I had an even worse case was when I bumped into Terence Stamp. I was stopped in my tracks when I took one look at those beautiful, piercing blue eyes. I stopped him and asked him for an autograph, the first thing I said was, "it's odd I was browsing your profile on IMDb!" The quizzical look on his face was priceless! Or in my case, mortifying. So I had to explain what it was, but for the life of me, I couldn't think of any other movie to compliment him on other than his role as General Zod in Superman 2. However, I didn't help my case by saying he looked "fabulous" in "Prisilla Queen of the Desert"...

There's got to be a way of my brain kicking in when meeting handsome older actors...

I don't do tours...

2006-10-26T13:35:00.000+01:00

There lies a lazy force within me which kicks in as soon as an overseas friend comes to town. I'm not like this with all my overseas friends, just the ones who expect me to "show them around". I'm sorry, I don't work that way. I'm lazy and low maintenance. If you do not know London, do not come up to me, unless you want directions. I simply do not work like that. When I see friends it's usually in places that they will know or are familiar with or are familiar with the area around it.

Last night a friend of mine wanted to see me to show her London at night. There were so many things wrong with that sentence, the first being that it was a Wednesday night where most places close at 6pm. However, being true to my name, I took her to Soho because that's the place that is awake all night, every night. My friend is from the Middle East, and although she grew up a diplomat's daughter and travelled the world, she's never quite seen something like Soho before.

We got out at Piccadilly Circus station to walk up the Windmill, where her eyes were enlarged to saucers. We turned into Brewer Street to see various sex shops and bars on either side of the street. I could see my friend start to get excited when she snuck a peak at what was inside a couple of these shops. She couldn't contain herself when we passed a gay porn shop with a couple of posters and manequins inside. As we entered into Old Crompton Road I told her THIS was the place to have fun. This was the place to bring your girlfriends for a quiet coffee and a chat, while spectating the beautiful men that would stroll pass you. She nodded and took it all in as I told her what each place did and represented (how Paul's is to die for, how Moaz has amazing falafel and how Nero has the best view but Costa had the best coffee).

Since she had bought me a gift and she was a guest in my city, I took her out to dinner. We ended up dining in Balans where the scene in mainly in black and the waiters are so good looking that you don't even want to bother wishing they were straight. I ordered my usual cosmopolitan and a bottle of water (she doesn't drink), while we started with some bread and olives, and then moved onto lemon and herb chicken. She loved the atmosphere in there. Her eyes darted around the room as she looked upon the gorgeous gay couple next to us bitching about their ex's and who was doing who, to the girls next to us to who dined on fries and a bottle of rose, to the happening group behind us who consisted of three men in suits and a girl with a stylish pair of glasses (couldn't have gone to spec savers). She soaked it all in, including the gorgeous waiter who couldn't stop smiling. I couldn't help but smile to myself as she was completely drowned in a world she was fascinated with and I'm sure would tell loads of people back home about.

After dinner we decided to skip dessert and head off to a Morrocan place that I knew was close for some shisha and tea. Zaytouna wasn't packed, but it had some interesting (yawn) people in there. We took a couch and ordered an apple shisha with some tea. I had initially wanted to have my birthday party in Zaytouna but I realised that first, it was over priced for very little, second it didn't look like it could hold the number of people I had in mind, and third, I had read a couple of reviews on the place, and other than the belly dancing and shisha, it didn't get a good review. However, my friend and I just sat there like the good old days, talking, sipping tea and listening to some really good music. Here she knew where she was and slipped into her prime, sitting back and watching the world go by while listening to some random bits of news I had. Whether or not this was the kind of sightseeing she expected, I didn't know, but all I knew was we were both very comfortable. I'm not the best tour guide and I don't do tourist attractions and landmarks, but I do meals and laidback settings where you can sit and chat without worrying.

After we had our fill of the shisha thing, I decided to do a bit of the tourist-y thing and showed her Chinatown, and then meandering to my favourite S&M lingerie shop which was still open, and then off to Carnebie Street for a quick stroll before we decided to call it a night. It was a great night as she is just as low maintenance as I, however I don't think I could have been more laidback about it all. It's terrible really because it's not as if I was running around all day, it was only that I was going out to meet her. However, friends should know by now that I'm not one to show the sights, I'm the one they call when they want someone with the bitchy one-liners.

First post

2006-10-25T12:23:00.000+01:00

I'm hoping it won't be my last and that I will keep up with it... even if it's not to get other people to read it but to keep my sanity...