What if...?

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.

The list keeps getting bigger...

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.

What do I come back to?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The trick is to keep going...

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!!

New Year's Resolutions - 2008

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!

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...

A wonderful holiday - shame it had to end

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.

If I wanted to get revenge...

...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.

Remembering

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

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!

What if I packed it all in?

"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

"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?

I don't do tours...

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.