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.

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!

As her mind drifts...

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.

You know, I don't remember!

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

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!

A 'missing' feeling...

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.