'Hey there, Delilah don't you worry about the distance, I'm right there if you get lonely, give this song another listen...' Plain White T's
Songs are a strange concept; a particular set of words put to a tune to tell a story. Some songs are just strings of catchiness with no particular meaning, or you can relate to them. After listening to 'Hey there Delilah' a series of flashbacks unfolded and it inspired me to think of other songs that hold particularly fond memories.
1. Dakota - Stereophonic. My first love destroyed this song for me. That may have been a tad dramatic but at the age of 14, life was all about the drama. 'You made me feel like the one' was an all true a line to the guy who broke my heart because he had to focus on his GCSE'S and didn't have time for a girlfriend. I even remember he was the reason MSN was banned in the house. Soon as my mom spoke these words the song no longer hurt my heart when it was played: "it's your first love but it won't be your last."
2. Las Ketchup song. A song that was all the craze with its strange but repetitive dance moves. My dad never lets me forget the fact I know said dance. I have no idea who taught me the dance but it was one of those things, like Pringles, once you pop you can't stop. Gran Canaria and the family's annual visit bore witness to that. Soon as the song was played, Bash (my dad) demanded I "show the moves". The first hundred times of dancing to it was a novelty, now I only bust out the moves when extremely intoxicated.
3. Don't cry/Patience/November Rain -Guns n Roses. All these songs hold dear memories. A girl confused by her hormones and life, and a cute messed up boy. These two would be toxic for each other but no mater how hard they would stay apart, something would bring them back together. Confusion, ignorance and lust would be the basis of their friendship for 2 years. In between that there would be cheating, stolen kisses, long 'walks' etc. It worked for them. These songs serve as a reminder of the little world they were in.
4. I'm not okay -My Chemical Romance. Yes the most stereotypical song of my generation but this song opened up a whole new world. I wasn't ok with who I was as a person. Overnight I changed quite literally: hair cut and dyed, new clothes, new friends and a new outlook on life. That song made me who I am today.
Sure there are more songs that hold memories, too many too fit it in this post.
Time to bust out the old cds and play lists to see what I can recover.
Otherwordly
Tuesday, 29 December 2015
Saturday, 14 November 2015
Muse, Music, Magic
Writing does not come easy to me. Many a time it's random thoughts put
together, hoping that they make sense. For me, writing is more of a
catharsis than a profession; the thoughts occupying the mind need to be
released before insanity is formed. Sometimes words blend together,
others not so much. Sitting here, in the bar, in my not so usual spot, it came to me that my motivation for writing has returned.I had finally found the reason for my influx of writing, a kind of muse; the music, the magic of
rhythm. Feeling the vibration of the Bass, Guitar and Drum run through my body, I can feel it fill with contentedness. It has taken a long time for this to happen, as I have been much too stubborn. I didn't want to tarnish my memories of my last muse, yet being in this room listening to the new ensemble, I realised how petty I was being. A new riddle had to be unraveled.
Now I am not a musician, or a professional critic, but I do listen to my heart, the way my body responds to the sounds produced on stage - produced by a beautiful group that couldn't fit more perfectly together if they had tried. They blend so wholly that it's almost magical.
Hearing such hypnotizing and alluring resonance, shivers are constantly sent down my spine. Looking around the room, I can tell I am not the only one captivated by the scene; fingers are tapping and bodies are swaying to the rhythm. It's like you have been trapped by their music. Time passes by so quickly, you barely realise it. You are too busy enjoying the moment, the atmosphere, their presence.
Who are they? With a name that matches their persona its too perfect to change - 'Fire'. Yet why does it match them so? Just like the growth of a fire, the beginning of their set is the start, the ignition - the slow burn into the atmosphere. But as the night progresses, the lit fuse intensifies and merges into a glorious flame of sounds and passion.
As a group they present a showstopping experience every time they are placed into the spotlight. Each night is never the same, never a repeat - which is great as it doesn't allow me to predict correct the upcoming track on their playlist.
Without such pleasure to my being, I would not be writing, but a thank you would not be enough. I wish to write a review of such about this band, but it would not simply do it justice. Until I feel like my words truly describe the band, I shall simply write until it's perfect.
And with that I bid goodnight.
Now I am not a musician, or a professional critic, but I do listen to my heart, the way my body responds to the sounds produced on stage - produced by a beautiful group that couldn't fit more perfectly together if they had tried. They blend so wholly that it's almost magical.
Hearing such hypnotizing and alluring resonance, shivers are constantly sent down my spine. Looking around the room, I can tell I am not the only one captivated by the scene; fingers are tapping and bodies are swaying to the rhythm. It's like you have been trapped by their music. Time passes by so quickly, you barely realise it. You are too busy enjoying the moment, the atmosphere, their presence.
Who are they? With a name that matches their persona its too perfect to change - 'Fire'. Yet why does it match them so? Just like the growth of a fire, the beginning of their set is the start, the ignition - the slow burn into the atmosphere. But as the night progresses, the lit fuse intensifies and merges into a glorious flame of sounds and passion.
As a group they present a showstopping experience every time they are placed into the spotlight. Each night is never the same, never a repeat - which is great as it doesn't allow me to predict correct the upcoming track on their playlist.
Without such pleasure to my being, I would not be writing, but a thank you would not be enough. I wish to write a review of such about this band, but it would not simply do it justice. Until I feel like my words truly describe the band, I shall simply write until it's perfect.
And with that I bid goodnight.
Thursday, 12 November 2015
Sonder, Monachopsis, Anemoia - Words of Being.
How do you know that your perceptions of life are real? How do you know that this life is 'real' and not a dream created by something or someone else?
It's easy to get lost in your own little world, a microcosm of sorts, but then you suddenly realise that the people around you, near or far, have a life that is as vivid and as complex as your own. Yet it's easy to consume yourself wondering about how others perceive life. Do they see life the same as you? How valid is one's life?
Many a time, the thought has been based around the notion of being the only person alive, and each day is simply but a scenario projected by your subconcious. Perhaps there maybe a reason for the subtle yet persistent feeling of being out of place - the feeling of not fitting in with the world around you. It's such a strange feeling to be aware of. Imagine that every day when your brain is close to switching off, it gives you one last question to ponder - why are you here? Why can you only feel your motion of time? It makes you want to know more about your life beforehand - if there ever was one of course. What makes the realisation of your life more important than anyone else?
It's amazing in the sense that these questions can never be fully answered, that we are simply just dreaming and when your dream ends, so does your life. This one thought creates more questions than it was intended to, so this post will finish on one final thought:
Is that all there is - a notion of your own existance that can never be fulfilled with a blankness to follow?
It's easy to get lost in your own little world, a microcosm of sorts, but then you suddenly realise that the people around you, near or far, have a life that is as vivid and as complex as your own. Yet it's easy to consume yourself wondering about how others perceive life. Do they see life the same as you? How valid is one's life?
Many a time, the thought has been based around the notion of being the only person alive, and each day is simply but a scenario projected by your subconcious. Perhaps there maybe a reason for the subtle yet persistent feeling of being out of place - the feeling of not fitting in with the world around you. It's such a strange feeling to be aware of. Imagine that every day when your brain is close to switching off, it gives you one last question to ponder - why are you here? Why can you only feel your motion of time? It makes you want to know more about your life beforehand - if there ever was one of course. What makes the realisation of your life more important than anyone else?
It's amazing in the sense that these questions can never be fully answered, that we are simply just dreaming and when your dream ends, so does your life. This one thought creates more questions than it was intended to, so this post will finish on one final thought:
Is that all there is - a notion of your own existance that can never be fulfilled with a blankness to follow?
Wednesday, 4 November 2015
The Killer Dream
The last post I had written was also on the topic of dreams, but this one takes a different direction altogether.
Dreams. What are they? Are dreams our subconscious unloading the day's events in a weird visual representation? Are they a mixture of memories and wishes combined into a nonsensical way to help pass time while you sleep? No-one really knows the truth about dreams, only you. It is only you that lives to recall the dream as they are but a product of your imagination. Yet if that statement is true as such, then why do you have nightmares? Why would you wish to wake up with a sense of fear? Can you not control what images you view each night? Dreams are indeed peculiar.
Instead of feeling refreshed from a good night's sleep, you spend your waking moments trying to decode the happenings of your sleep. Though the question begs to be asked; what happens when your dreams are simply but a result from stress? Stress can do strange things to your body and it can dangerously affect your mental state. Sleep finds it hard to escape from. Instead, it unleashes a hellish variety of sleep disorders ranging from insomnia to sleep apnoea, RLS to narcolepsy. It is mixed into these disorders a strange act can be found - sleep paralysis. Have you ever woken suddenly, filled with dread and fear? Have you noticed something or someone in your room but you can't move from your spot in bed? Have you tried to scream? Did you notice that trying to blink proved futile. Quite literally you are paralysed. Science suggests that your brain has 'woken up' before REM (rapid eye movement - the time in which you dream) has finished and that the signal to your body to release itself from the 'switched off' mode has been delayed. Due to this delay, you can experience hallucinations, fear and even the feeling of death. Yet a simple solution to unparalyse yourself its to convince your body its still dreaming and within a few seconds, body movement can be restored. It is said that each person will experience this at least once in their lifetime. But what happens when your dream is a lot more sinister than waking up before REM?
Imagine the feeling of someone that is trying to kill you in your sleep. You will simply 'wake up' and everything would be fine. But what if that doesn't happen? As much as you try to jerk yourself awake, the dream deepens. A ghostly figure, or even a face you recognise, seems to take pleasure in your struggle. They wrap their hands around your neck, apply a force to your chest that restricts your breathing. You can feel your ribs aching under the pressure. You know it's a dream but everything you have been taught to do, doesn't work. You try to move more, screaming till you are at the point of tears, but no sound comes out. It's too late to calm down now and work out a logical way to escape the nightmare. You have passed the point of no return. What feels like hours, is simply minutes or even seconds, you finally break free from the gripping hold. However, the terror does not end there. You finally awaken to soaked bed sheets from your on sweat and tears. Your hands are still grasped tightly into your duvet. You are still paralysed with fear. Every noise in your room triggers more panic. You are afraid to stay awake, yet you dare not to close your eyes in case the evilness returns. You know it will. It always does. Instead you lay perfectly still, as though you were dead, waiting for the dread to pass. You wait until the moment you feel safe to sleep again, though that wait may take up to an hour or two. Finally, you take the risk and fall into a restless sleep. The memory of that dream never fades. You will remember that dream ten years from now. On thing for sure, your next attack won't come as a shock. It's still an horrible experience though, but your body knows how to respond.
If you're like me, then you do expect more to come. It becomes a natural event, a simple reoccurring dream, like the rest. What you don't expect though, is to have two episodes in one night. You manage to break from from one but are then pulled straight into the next. Reality becomes distorted. You become afraid that you will never free the cycle. Your chest feels like it's being crushed. You can feel your tears run down your cheeks, yet its impossible to wipe them away. You are being held captive by your own body and mind. You wonder if you are going to survive the night. Reality slips away even further when another figure joins in on your torture. Just when you feel like giving up, a last final jolt brings you back to life. Did you just die? It sure felt like it. There would be no point in sleeping now as another dream would surely kill you. That's a definite.
This is all but a vicious cycle; being frightened of sleeping, the tired you become, which then produces these terrors. The lack of sleep and the stress of life may prove too much.
Dreams. What are they? Are dreams our subconscious unloading the day's events in a weird visual representation? Are they a mixture of memories and wishes combined into a nonsensical way to help pass time while you sleep? No-one really knows the truth about dreams, only you. It is only you that lives to recall the dream as they are but a product of your imagination. Yet if that statement is true as such, then why do you have nightmares? Why would you wish to wake up with a sense of fear? Can you not control what images you view each night? Dreams are indeed peculiar.
Instead of feeling refreshed from a good night's sleep, you spend your waking moments trying to decode the happenings of your sleep. Though the question begs to be asked; what happens when your dreams are simply but a result from stress? Stress can do strange things to your body and it can dangerously affect your mental state. Sleep finds it hard to escape from. Instead, it unleashes a hellish variety of sleep disorders ranging from insomnia to sleep apnoea, RLS to narcolepsy. It is mixed into these disorders a strange act can be found - sleep paralysis. Have you ever woken suddenly, filled with dread and fear? Have you noticed something or someone in your room but you can't move from your spot in bed? Have you tried to scream? Did you notice that trying to blink proved futile. Quite literally you are paralysed. Science suggests that your brain has 'woken up' before REM (rapid eye movement - the time in which you dream) has finished and that the signal to your body to release itself from the 'switched off' mode has been delayed. Due to this delay, you can experience hallucinations, fear and even the feeling of death. Yet a simple solution to unparalyse yourself its to convince your body its still dreaming and within a few seconds, body movement can be restored. It is said that each person will experience this at least once in their lifetime. But what happens when your dream is a lot more sinister than waking up before REM?
Imagine the feeling of someone that is trying to kill you in your sleep. You will simply 'wake up' and everything would be fine. But what if that doesn't happen? As much as you try to jerk yourself awake, the dream deepens. A ghostly figure, or even a face you recognise, seems to take pleasure in your struggle. They wrap their hands around your neck, apply a force to your chest that restricts your breathing. You can feel your ribs aching under the pressure. You know it's a dream but everything you have been taught to do, doesn't work. You try to move more, screaming till you are at the point of tears, but no sound comes out. It's too late to calm down now and work out a logical way to escape the nightmare. You have passed the point of no return. What feels like hours, is simply minutes or even seconds, you finally break free from the gripping hold. However, the terror does not end there. You finally awaken to soaked bed sheets from your on sweat and tears. Your hands are still grasped tightly into your duvet. You are still paralysed with fear. Every noise in your room triggers more panic. You are afraid to stay awake, yet you dare not to close your eyes in case the evilness returns. You know it will. It always does. Instead you lay perfectly still, as though you were dead, waiting for the dread to pass. You wait until the moment you feel safe to sleep again, though that wait may take up to an hour or two. Finally, you take the risk and fall into a restless sleep. The memory of that dream never fades. You will remember that dream ten years from now. On thing for sure, your next attack won't come as a shock. It's still an horrible experience though, but your body knows how to respond.
If you're like me, then you do expect more to come. It becomes a natural event, a simple reoccurring dream, like the rest. What you don't expect though, is to have two episodes in one night. You manage to break from from one but are then pulled straight into the next. Reality becomes distorted. You become afraid that you will never free the cycle. Your chest feels like it's being crushed. You can feel your tears run down your cheeks, yet its impossible to wipe them away. You are being held captive by your own body and mind. You wonder if you are going to survive the night. Reality slips away even further when another figure joins in on your torture. Just when you feel like giving up, a last final jolt brings you back to life. Did you just die? It sure felt like it. There would be no point in sleeping now as another dream would surely kill you. That's a definite.
This is all but a vicious cycle; being frightened of sleeping, the tired you become, which then produces these terrors. The lack of sleep and the stress of life may prove too much.
Thursday, 6 August 2015
What's In a Dream?
"Not all dreaming is the same. Dreaming runs the gamut of human
experience (and sometimes beyond), incorporating a dizzying range of
emotions and events, often with elements of the bizarre."
-Michael J. Breus, PhD
Understanding a dream is difficult - was it a dream, or was it your mind telling you to be aware of something? Was it an accumulation of the day (or week's) events built up in and released at that particular moment in time? Dreams often don't tell of anything, just the release of those pent up emotions.
The reason for this post is, one dream has been particularly upsetting. I do not feel the need to describe my actual dream, but perhaps find out why I am dreaming of it. For two weeks, give or take a few days, I dream of a particular event that always ends up with a bad outcome. I'm left alone, everyone else with their loves, their friends, their family. Now normally that wouldn't bother me as I am naturally a person who prefers the solitude, her own company, however this dream felt too real, almost like I was no longer part of the Earth. It was so real, I almost thought it was to be true; that I would soon departing my life.
It wasn't until I decided to distance myself from the people I talk to the most, that I realised what the dream meant to me. It wasn't that I was coming to the end of my time, it was more of the opposite - closing the door on my old life. Looking at the people around me, I could see that they were a mixture of old friends and new friends, past and maybe future loved, my fears and hopes all balled into a reoccurring dream. It was a dream to help me decide what I wanted in my future, almost a warning. Did I really want to sabotage my own happiness? Did I want to stress over events that were most unlikely to happen? If I continued down the path I was currently on I would.
So what if I'm scared of failing at work? It wouldn't be the worst thing that would have happened. So what if the next flight I go on ends up being a disaster? I can't let the fear of the unknown stopping me from living my life. My dream was simply happening to tell me to let go, stop over-analyzing things. Let things fall where they may and cross that bridge when I get to it. Yes, life is full of cliches and mottoes to help you through your life, but only you can control what you want to get out of it .
Dreams are simply but that, dreams.
-Michael J. Breus, PhD
Understanding a dream is difficult - was it a dream, or was it your mind telling you to be aware of something? Was it an accumulation of the day (or week's) events built up in and released at that particular moment in time? Dreams often don't tell of anything, just the release of those pent up emotions.
The reason for this post is, one dream has been particularly upsetting. I do not feel the need to describe my actual dream, but perhaps find out why I am dreaming of it. For two weeks, give or take a few days, I dream of a particular event that always ends up with a bad outcome. I'm left alone, everyone else with their loves, their friends, their family. Now normally that wouldn't bother me as I am naturally a person who prefers the solitude, her own company, however this dream felt too real, almost like I was no longer part of the Earth. It was so real, I almost thought it was to be true; that I would soon departing my life.
It wasn't until I decided to distance myself from the people I talk to the most, that I realised what the dream meant to me. It wasn't that I was coming to the end of my time, it was more of the opposite - closing the door on my old life. Looking at the people around me, I could see that they were a mixture of old friends and new friends, past and maybe future loved, my fears and hopes all balled into a reoccurring dream. It was a dream to help me decide what I wanted in my future, almost a warning. Did I really want to sabotage my own happiness? Did I want to stress over events that were most unlikely to happen? If I continued down the path I was currently on I would.
So what if I'm scared of failing at work? It wouldn't be the worst thing that would have happened. So what if the next flight I go on ends up being a disaster? I can't let the fear of the unknown stopping me from living my life. My dream was simply happening to tell me to let go, stop over-analyzing things. Let things fall where they may and cross that bridge when I get to it. Yes, life is full of cliches and mottoes to help you through your life, but only you can control what you want to get out of it .
Dreams are simply but that, dreams.
Sunday, 12 July 2015
A Nostalgic Whimsy May One Day Come
Life has been rather weird lately, and I can't tell if its positive or negative. My last post mentioned about an upcoming change, discussing how I didn't feel ready. Well now I am. I realized life is too short to worry about the what-ifs and enjoy the little moments instead. It is within these little moments I decided to edit my old Bucket-List and make it more sensible. I will keep reposting this once I cross something off.
- See the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis)
- Visit Italy, Pompeii, Sweden, Hungary, Denmark, Finland
- Sleep under the stars
- Learn to Ice Skate
- Send a message in a bottle
- See a Cirque du Soleil show
- Learn a foreign language
- See a Broadway Musical
- Skydive
See the sun set in a foreign country- Visit London
- Fall in love
- Adopt a shelter animal
Sunday, 7 June 2015
What is in a name?
What is in a change?
What?
Why?
I do not know much about much these days, but for some reason I wish to change. Or more precisely, wish for a change. That change began with a new title for my blog. Why? I am not sure. Perhaps, I am becoming more muchier than I once was, and that my love for Alice will still be around, but I do need to grow up into an adult. To some people, living on their own, finding a new place to live may not be a big deal to them; to me it is. A new job, a new apartment, everything is new. A change. I have never had to pay for bills, bar a phone bill. I have never had to depend solely upon myself. Yes I am independent, but that is different. I now have become an adult. I no longer have the opportunity to act like a brat within reason. I have to be responsible.
Is that the change I wish for? No not really.
I'm not particularly sure what change I want. All I know is that the upcoming academic year will either make me or break me. I hope it is the former, I have no back up plan to rely on if my world falls down around me.
What?
Why?
I do not know much about much these days, but for some reason I wish to change. Or more precisely, wish for a change. That change began with a new title for my blog. Why? I am not sure. Perhaps, I am becoming more muchier than I once was, and that my love for Alice will still be around, but I do need to grow up into an adult. To some people, living on their own, finding a new place to live may not be a big deal to them; to me it is. A new job, a new apartment, everything is new. A change. I have never had to pay for bills, bar a phone bill. I have never had to depend solely upon myself. Yes I am independent, but that is different. I now have become an adult. I no longer have the opportunity to act like a brat within reason. I have to be responsible.
Is that the change I wish for? No not really.
I'm not particularly sure what change I want. All I know is that the upcoming academic year will either make me or break me. I hope it is the former, I have no back up plan to rely on if my world falls down around me.
Friday, 22 May 2015
The Resignation
“Resignation requires will, and will requires decision, and decision
requires belief, and belief requires that there is something to believe
in!”
― Anne Rice
I never planned on quitting my job; it sort of happened by chance. For what seemed like a solid decision to stay for a third year at my current school, I was easily persuaded by a different future. A future that would allow me to be part of a British Curriculum, to belong to a school that valued its' staff and to show what I can do as a teacher.
Realistically, there is nothing wrong with my current position, being a Lead Teacher of some sort. But it came at a price. The price of my mental state. It wasn't about the money either; pay me what I am worth and that was what mattered to me. It was the constant battle between instinct and duty. It was the constant rejection of improvement that closed the deal. How could I improve myself and my team if I wasn't given the chance? There was no opportunity for change no matter how much they argued for it.
I had many sleepless nights; stressing, worrying over what the next day would bring. So I decided to look down another path, another direction to take. It was that decision that led me straight into a different learning environment. How was I easily persuaded? Well when you think an interview had sucked so bad but you were given an offer of acceptance within 6 hours surely that was a sign.
I am aware that the grass is not always greener on the other side, but maybe this will work out for the best.
― Anne Rice
I never planned on quitting my job; it sort of happened by chance. For what seemed like a solid decision to stay for a third year at my current school, I was easily persuaded by a different future. A future that would allow me to be part of a British Curriculum, to belong to a school that valued its' staff and to show what I can do as a teacher.
Realistically, there is nothing wrong with my current position, being a Lead Teacher of some sort. But it came at a price. The price of my mental state. It wasn't about the money either; pay me what I am worth and that was what mattered to me. It was the constant battle between instinct and duty. It was the constant rejection of improvement that closed the deal. How could I improve myself and my team if I wasn't given the chance? There was no opportunity for change no matter how much they argued for it.
I had many sleepless nights; stressing, worrying over what the next day would bring. So I decided to look down another path, another direction to take. It was that decision that led me straight into a different learning environment. How was I easily persuaded? Well when you think an interview had sucked so bad but you were given an offer of acceptance within 6 hours surely that was a sign.
I am aware that the grass is not always greener on the other side, but maybe this will work out for the best.
Saturday, 25 April 2015
The career
“Mr. Franz, I think careers are a 20th century invention and I don't want one.”
― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild
Right now that's how I feel. I don't want to work. I don't want to be tied in a position that I will have to live in for the rest of my life. I don't want to be backed into a corner, explaining all my decisions to someone in a higher positon. To someone who doesn't see me at my best, only my worst.
This past week has had me all distracted. I recently got a promotion at work and now it's left me all dazed. I am no longer in my zone; I don't have the energy to teach anymore. There's no laughter in my voice. Every little thing a child does angers or upsets me. Other teachers have noticed this too. No appetite, loss of weight, clumsiness and being unaware of objects/people around me. Many thought it was because of a boy. I did too. That was until I saw my new job description lying on my apartment floor. Performance will be reviewed. That was it. It was those words that send my mind into a whirlwind of panic. No not panic, more like numbness.
I keep thinking to myself, I am too young for this. 2 years teaching experience is not enough to lead a team. How can anyone take me serious? How can I support a group of teachers if I can barely support myself?
Apparently I can, as I am constantly reminded. You wouldn't have this opportunity if you couldn't do it. Actually I realised the reason why I have this position; it's not because I can help others around me, lead and inspire, but because I helped complete a few administrative tasks - something anybody could do. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. There are other teachers better suited for the position and I am constantly reminded of that when I see their face, the change in atmosphere when I enter the room or even the comments to the line manager.
It's unfair of me to be ungrateful for this role and I simply must give it time, people time to adjust, and time for me to realise how I can handle this.
The question is: how much time?
Saturday, 21 March 2015
The Illness
“No disease suffered by a live man can be known, for every living person has his own peculiarities and always has his own peculiar, personal, novel, complicated disease, unknown to medicine -- not a disease of the lungs, liver, skin, heart, nerves, and so on mentioned in medical books, but a disease consisting of one of the innumerable combinations of the maladies of those organs."
Lee Tolstoy
Every day is an ongoing battle with different problems to overcome. An individual’s ailment will be different from the next; mental, physical and so on. Her battle was supposed to disappear, to be hidden from the world but as luck would have it, the world knew within moments. Strangers would stop and ask how she was and she would respond the same each time – “I’m ok. Still alive”. Not many found that as humorous as she did. Humor was all she had. Without it she would fall deep underground into a world of sadness.
What is her illness you may be asking yourself right now. Well it is hard to explain. How do you possibly tell someone that you are ill but your are not sure what is wrong? There is something wrong, the doctors, some, and her closest friends know something is amiss. Others gossip about ‘sympathy’ and ‘attention seeking’. Most doctors mutter the word neurological, perhaps cerebral without offering a reason to help understand. All she knows is that a stroke like episode happened and has turned her world upside down.
Body numbness, loss of motor control, tingling, tiredness, stress, the list is endless. The suggested diagnoses are not much help either: cerebral vascular accident, multiple sclerosis, dyspepsia, presentation confusion and so on.
With no sign of a correct diagnosis all she can do is pray she lives to see another day.
Lee Tolstoy
Every day is an ongoing battle with different problems to overcome. An individual’s ailment will be different from the next; mental, physical and so on. Her battle was supposed to disappear, to be hidden from the world but as luck would have it, the world knew within moments. Strangers would stop and ask how she was and she would respond the same each time – “I’m ok. Still alive”. Not many found that as humorous as she did. Humor was all she had. Without it she would fall deep underground into a world of sadness.
What is her illness you may be asking yourself right now. Well it is hard to explain. How do you possibly tell someone that you are ill but your are not sure what is wrong? There is something wrong, the doctors, some, and her closest friends know something is amiss. Others gossip about ‘sympathy’ and ‘attention seeking’. Most doctors mutter the word neurological, perhaps cerebral without offering a reason to help understand. All she knows is that a stroke like episode happened and has turned her world upside down.
Body numbness, loss of motor control, tingling, tiredness, stress, the list is endless. The suggested diagnoses are not much help either: cerebral vascular accident, multiple sclerosis, dyspepsia, presentation confusion and so on.
With no sign of a correct diagnosis all she can do is pray she lives to see another day.
Saturday, 28 February 2015
The heart
The heart was made to be broken.
― Oscar Wilde
Love is a funny thing. You have young love, lost love, old love, wrong love yet they all end up having the same type of consequence -the broken heart.
Young love. You learn a valuable lesson from this, you learn to love again. young love occurs during the years spent at school. You build your first true relationship with someone and everything you do revolves around them. You can't eat, sleep, think without your other half creeping into your brain. You become obsessed by the person. It's a given that it will not last and that a heart will be broken Yet it's ok, you move on, start again.
The same goes for old love. This type of love is when you come across your love from many years ago and you remember why you fell in love with them. You don't feel attracted to them but all the good memories arise, and by default the broken-hearted feeling reappears.
The lost love. This type has two meanings; the one that got away and the one that left for a better place, both equally as painful in some respect. The former leaves you wondering what if. What if I changed? What if he wasn't such a complete tool? Either way, you will never know. You can never look at that person without dying a little inside. The latter of the two loves is painful. You spent as much time as you could with each other, but somehow it was their time to go. You can never create new memories and the old memories are to painful to remember. You will never see that person, you will never grow old together. You will never see that person's face again.
Is that all life and love is meant to be. Broken hearts and painful memories. Old age can't even stop this process.
Those baffling creatures
Black as night, sweet as sin.”
― Neil Gaiman, Anansi Boys
If I could bleach my eyes without them being damaged, I would. If I could have spent the night drunk, then I would have. If I could forget the night, I would. Being sober in a Testosterone filled room was not the ideal night I planned to have. I think I described it as a scene from a zombie apocalypse; girls absolutely wasted beyond the point of no return, guys grabbing them like a toy they don't want to share. Guys slapping their appendages as a way to attract the females. Well that didn't go to we'll with me, I ended up threatening to punch a guy in his sensitive areas if he pulled that peacock thing on me again. I think I was about to slap the hell out of a lot of guys.
If that wasn't bad enough, a guy I was fairly intimate with last year decided he would talk to me again, after he ignored me for 6 months. Something as definitely in the air last night. Maybe it was because of the home team rugby win but something was wrong.
― Neil Gaiman, Anansi Boys
If I could bleach my eyes without them being damaged, I would. If I could have spent the night drunk, then I would have. If I could forget the night, I would. Being sober in a Testosterone filled room was not the ideal night I planned to have. I think I described it as a scene from a zombie apocalypse; girls absolutely wasted beyond the point of no return, guys grabbing them like a toy they don't want to share. Guys slapping their appendages as a way to attract the females. Well that didn't go to we'll with me, I ended up threatening to punch a guy in his sensitive areas if he pulled that peacock thing on me again. I think I was about to slap the hell out of a lot of guys.
If that wasn't bad enough, a guy I was fairly intimate with last year decided he would talk to me again, after he ignored me for 6 months. Something as definitely in the air last night. Maybe it was because of the home team rugby win but something was wrong.
Saturday, 21 February 2015
That Girl
That girl you see at the bar isn't always drunk, just lacking in confidence. She isn't intimidating, just shy. She isn't quiet, just unsure of how to talk to people. She prefers to listen and admire the people around her. When she does talk, please don't mistake it as flirting as many people do. She doesn't flirt, she just smiles with her eyes. She sits alone writing, she isn't a weirdo. She does her own thing regardless of what others think. That doesn't mean she is snobby and thinks you are beneath her, she likes being in her own bubble.
That girl doesn't like it when you accuse her of being ignorant. Nine time out of ten you are annoyingly creepy and stating the obvious. Yes she is writing in a bar, yes she is alone. She prefers to stay away from your kind, the kind that makes her stomach roll. She has a reason to ignore your advances. You don't understand being told 'no' for the umpteenth time. You insult her speech, her fashion style. That girl has her eyes set on someone else.
That guy. The guy who appears to be a walking cliche; his smile lights up the room, his eyes sparkling with mischief with a hint of playfulness. His hold makes you feel protected. His touch makes you feel warm inside. An accent that rivals the stereotypical Irish charm. An international crush. Almost perfect. That guy happens to be someone untouchable, out of her league, her friend's crush as it seems too. one could guess it's due to his ability to charm ant woman he comes across.
For now that girl will dream instead.
That girl doesn't like it when you accuse her of being ignorant. Nine time out of ten you are annoyingly creepy and stating the obvious. Yes she is writing in a bar, yes she is alone. She prefers to stay away from your kind, the kind that makes her stomach roll. She has a reason to ignore your advances. You don't understand being told 'no' for the umpteenth time. You insult her speech, her fashion style. That girl has her eyes set on someone else.
That guy. The guy who appears to be a walking cliche; his smile lights up the room, his eyes sparkling with mischief with a hint of playfulness. His hold makes you feel protected. His touch makes you feel warm inside. An accent that rivals the stereotypical Irish charm. An international crush. Almost perfect. That guy happens to be someone untouchable, out of her league, her friend's crush as it seems too. one could guess it's due to his ability to charm ant woman he comes across.
For now that girl will dream instead.
My choices
So after a down-the-drain interview that never happened, partly due to the school, my choices that led me there haven't been the best according to some. Apparently my life is to be lived by other people and not me, though I am pretty sure it is me doing the actual walking.
Take my desicison to apply for a new job as an example; most responses were of the following nature "that's great" or "good, see the world. You are too young to settle". Now that was nice to hear, however, once they learn of where I want to work,it's a whole other story for instance take my job opportunity in Kuwait, the following reasons for me not to work there were due to the fact there is no alcohol. No alcohol. That's right. I'm pretty sure I'm going to Kuwait to teach, and not to be a party animal. The second reason was that it's very close to Saudi Arabia. Now I know my geography isn't particularly great, but I'm certain that the UAE borders Saudi too. Pitiful excuses. It seems as though where ever I go to work no one shall be happy. It is my life. If I want to work in Saudi I will, if I want to visit Afghanistan I will. It is of my choice, not yours. I can tell you one hang for definite though - it shall be a long long time before I live back in the UK again.
Take my desicison to apply for a new job as an example; most responses were of the following nature "that's great" or "good, see the world. You are too young to settle". Now that was nice to hear, however, once they learn of where I want to work,it's a whole other story for instance take my job opportunity in Kuwait, the following reasons for me not to work there were due to the fact there is no alcohol. No alcohol. That's right. I'm pretty sure I'm going to Kuwait to teach, and not to be a party animal. The second reason was that it's very close to Saudi Arabia. Now I know my geography isn't particularly great, but I'm certain that the UAE borders Saudi too. Pitiful excuses. It seems as though where ever I go to work no one shall be happy. It is my life. If I want to work in Saudi I will, if I want to visit Afghanistan I will. It is of my choice, not yours. I can tell you one hang for definite though - it shall be a long long time before I live back in the UK again.
Monday, 9 February 2015
Almost Comfortably Numb
Not sure that the title of this post actually matches my current mood. I'm probably just numb. Today probably has been added to one of the worst days in my life. Normally I get the sense of how bad a day is going to be soon as I wake up; I normally sleep in or fall out of the bed (quite literally), but today started of like any other.
I don't particularly want to revisit my memories of today as I am simply happy enough that it is over. Yet I need to somehow justify my feelings, or lack of. After today's events, the Middle East has finally won and has tipped me over the edge. Who knows if normality will return? Maybe it won't.
Everything and everyone here is crazy, and that is putting it lightly. Sure you do get some wonderful people, but for the most part, life here sucks. I know that tomorrow will be a different story, so I have to live it out till then. As I always say; let's see what happens.
I don't particularly want to revisit my memories of today as I am simply happy enough that it is over. Yet I need to somehow justify my feelings, or lack of. After today's events, the Middle East has finally won and has tipped me over the edge. Who knows if normality will return? Maybe it won't.
Everything and everyone here is crazy, and that is putting it lightly. Sure you do get some wonderful people, but for the most part, life here sucks. I know that tomorrow will be a different story, so I have to live it out till then. As I always say; let's see what happens.
Wednesday, 4 February 2015
Double noted
Post 1
She wanted to apologise for anything she might have said last drunken Friday. She felt like she had something out of place; though everything said was true - he was cute, funny, and seemed like a genuine person.
She knows that a compliment was made to another gentleman, and again that was the truth. When it came to Guns 'n' Roses, she was a huge critic. For the record, the guitar solos he played were exceptional. Not one noticeable mistake was made, well not a mistake that she could here in her drunken state.
Still, as embarrassing as she was, nothing mean was said. She had fun dancing crazy with her shoes off and adventures at 4.30 to McDonald's. It was rather lucky that she didn't send any drunken texts - that would have been a disaster.
Post 2
There it is. The inspiration to write had finally returned. Not sure what happened exactly as it's hard to describe but it's back. I was sat at my usual Saturday night table writing meaningless words when a musical note vibrates through my entire body almost like it's trying to hit my soul. A warm sensation fills me and I know I'm home. As I said, it's difficult to put such a feeling into words. All I can do is send a thank you to the band.
Speaking of which, I owe them a decent review. Maybe next week I can write one for them.
Thursday, 22 January 2015
I have a flesh coloured tattoo..
"I drew it myself. You should see it sometime, if only you could see it (it’s invisible)."
I am a ghost, no word of a lie. I'm not a ghost in the typical sense since I am alive,but I do appear to be invisible. The reason for this, let me explain. You see, there have been times when I spend my Thursday or Friday nights out socializing with staff or friends and they have all accused me the day after for not being there. They could have a full blown conversation, but would not remember it the next day.
A similar thing had happened recently. Now I'm not sure how I feel about it. Yes, I laughed it off and was dubbed the 'ghost' but it's starting to wear me down. Am I really that bad at company that I don't make a lasting impression on anyone? All I know is, that besides this little setback, I am still having fun. Last week had been a blast though; accidentally spilling drinks, getting wasted and dancing the night away. I even found a small gap in my schedule to write something. It was during my writing night out that I had been asked if I had written anything on the local band and it got my brain working over-time. Why had I not wrote anything about them? I normally write about every local band I listen to. Was I that scared to erase the memory of the last band? Was I refusing to write a piece in the hope that they would never be as good as the previous? Whatever the reason, I feel as though I need to do a segment now.
Bolt. My initial reaction was that of shock. I hear about them during my summer vacation period. All that was running through my mind when I heard their name was the Miley Cyrus movie with the superstar dog of the same name. Clearly, I had been hanging around children for too long. Yes I was being judgmental; I was yet to here them play and I was still getting used to the idea of a band change. As I have said before, I don't do particularly well with change unless I have control over the situation. I wasn't that nice in my thoughts either. However, once I heard them play the first night I was back in Al Ain, it was nice having that change in music. I became accustomed to listening to the same playlist every Thursday night. I even knew what song would come next. What really surprised me was the change in instruments! I had been told it would be a fun set but I never really expected it to be so. One change was the removal of the Bassist and the introduction of a keyboard player. That was better for me personally. Another, was the saxophone - rather refreshing if I'm honest!
The track-listing had changed too! I heard through the grapevine that they had been told not to play certain songs. It was rather nice to sing a particular song that you hadn't listened to in a while. The band members themselves came from all corners of the globe and brought with them their own personality.
The band members have now changed. A new line up for the new year. In all honesty they seem to fit better together now.
I would like to write more about this band but I simply do not have the inspiration anymore. Even my Saturday night routine has flown out of the window and would rather spend the night sleeping. I guess I lack my muse; the banter and distractions must have provided me with some ability to override the writers block I currently have.
On that note, I will try to write something again soon. My mind is not used to storing all this useless drabble.
I am a ghost, no word of a lie. I'm not a ghost in the typical sense since I am alive,but I do appear to be invisible. The reason for this, let me explain. You see, there have been times when I spend my Thursday or Friday nights out socializing with staff or friends and they have all accused me the day after for not being there. They could have a full blown conversation, but would not remember it the next day.
A similar thing had happened recently. Now I'm not sure how I feel about it. Yes, I laughed it off and was dubbed the 'ghost' but it's starting to wear me down. Am I really that bad at company that I don't make a lasting impression on anyone? All I know is, that besides this little setback, I am still having fun. Last week had been a blast though; accidentally spilling drinks, getting wasted and dancing the night away. I even found a small gap in my schedule to write something. It was during my writing night out that I had been asked if I had written anything on the local band and it got my brain working over-time. Why had I not wrote anything about them? I normally write about every local band I listen to. Was I that scared to erase the memory of the last band? Was I refusing to write a piece in the hope that they would never be as good as the previous? Whatever the reason, I feel as though I need to do a segment now.
Bolt. My initial reaction was that of shock. I hear about them during my summer vacation period. All that was running through my mind when I heard their name was the Miley Cyrus movie with the superstar dog of the same name. Clearly, I had been hanging around children for too long. Yes I was being judgmental; I was yet to here them play and I was still getting used to the idea of a band change. As I have said before, I don't do particularly well with change unless I have control over the situation. I wasn't that nice in my thoughts either. However, once I heard them play the first night I was back in Al Ain, it was nice having that change in music. I became accustomed to listening to the same playlist every Thursday night. I even knew what song would come next. What really surprised me was the change in instruments! I had been told it would be a fun set but I never really expected it to be so. One change was the removal of the Bassist and the introduction of a keyboard player. That was better for me personally. Another, was the saxophone - rather refreshing if I'm honest!
The track-listing had changed too! I heard through the grapevine that they had been told not to play certain songs. It was rather nice to sing a particular song that you hadn't listened to in a while. The band members themselves came from all corners of the globe and brought with them their own personality.
The band members have now changed. A new line up for the new year. In all honesty they seem to fit better together now.
I would like to write more about this band but I simply do not have the inspiration anymore. Even my Saturday night routine has flown out of the window and would rather spend the night sleeping. I guess I lack my muse; the banter and distractions must have provided me with some ability to override the writers block I currently have.
On that note, I will try to write something again soon. My mind is not used to storing all this useless drabble.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)