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.

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.

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.

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. 

Life after Books

” but there is this unwritten contract between author and reader and I think not ending your book kind of violates that contract.”
                                        John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

I recently read a book by John Green Fault in Our Stars and it was definitely an interesting read. Now I am not going to write a review on this story because I have my opinion and that is mine only. However, it made some interesting points about characters and endings of stories, and it made me question my own thoughts.


When a story is placed upon paper, characters and situations are born. They may not be real in existence, but they are real on the page. They are given a background, a life, a history, upon which they evolve into deeper beings. Simply immortalized in words. They are brought to life through their personalities. We learn their likes, dislikes, their ability to bond with other characters. No being is created from thin air. Even those that maybe only mentioned once or twice, they still play a part. It is this creation that poses a problem. As a reader you form your own opinion of each character, you seem to bond with them, learn to love or hate them. Yet when the problem of the story has been solved and the book comes to a close, you face a problem. Does that story really end there? What happens afterwards? Is the light turned off for good? Are these characters thrown in to a disposal bin of endings?

It was this thought that puzzled me the most. Do we really need to know what happens after that last page has ended, after that last period? If a story ends in a happen ending, is it really necessary to think about them more? The answer is no. They are simply words on a page that have been written for our enjoyment only. They are not biographies of life. They are not real people. It is not realistic to end all stories with a happy ending, the characters living a perfect life with everything resolved and dying peacefully in their sleep. That itself would pose more questions than answers.

 So what if a story ends in the middle, not completing the story. Take Hazel for example, the reader learns everything, if not more, that we need to know as if she was a real being beside us. Yet as the story progresses, so does our attachment to the character. This is our downfall. When the story dramatically ends, with no explanation, we are left with disappointment. What happened next? Did she live happily? Was she cured? The only person who knows is the character herself. Even her creator doesn't know. It is in this ending that we are able to write our own endings. Each one unique as the person next to us. Yes we may still be left with that question , what happened, burning our curiosity bit by bit, but stories life this imitate life perfectly. Just as 'stories end in the middle of a sentence' with no reason, our life can end at any second, without reason and those around will be left asking questions.

It is simply our nature to question everything and not to take it at face value. It is what it is. This is why I think John Green has hit the proverbial nail on the head. I would leave this post in the middle of a sentence, but I do not have the will power to do so.

So I will leave it with this conclusion. Forming your own answers in your mind is more appropriate than reading a solid ending in a story. You can create your own world for these characters, and no one will question it.

Sparks of a Thought

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”
― Oscar Wilde


Life is a funny thing. We spend all our time trying to survive in the world that we forget how to really live. Not the 'breathe, eat, sleep, repeat' routine that we have all mastered - but the real type of living. We are not immortal. We know our time can be up at any point. The hands on a clock can stop and the beating of our hearts can too;  yet why do we act like we are invincible? Why do we believe that nothing can get in the way of our superior lives? Anything can happen, yet we still take our lives for granted. 

It seems that we have a selfish desire for life, to see how far we can push it either by rising above others no matter the consequences or spending the days doing the bare minimum. Is that really a life worth living?

On the other hand, some people live to make themselves happy; mothers and fathers, or husbands and wives. In the process they sacrifice a part of them and forget who they are as a person. Perhaps they still have their own life to live but have to compromise to reach their dreams. Is it that hard to be happy?

One's definition of happy is always different to another. A singer in a band could be happy because he spends his days doing what he loves; but is that all he lives for? A mother seeing her child succeed in life could also be happy, but has she fulfilled all her dreams and wishes? We take it for granted that tomorrow will arrive, that the sun will set for another day. But what happens if it doesn't? What happens if it was to be your last day? Would you be happy with how you lived your life? Have you completed all the things that you set out to achieve?

If I were to answer that question, it would be a no. Yours would be too. No-one can be satisfied. As humans we are always wanting more than we can have; whether it's that holiday you were planning for next year, or the M.A course you decided to enrol in. The truth is, none of us will ever be truly happy. It's ok though - we only have this life to live so why take unnecessary risks, to not achieve something you wanted so deeply? Why set yourself up for heartache when you are comfortable with the position you are in now?

As a consequence we will always be riddled with the question - What if?

What if?
 

Write like no-one's watching...

Contrariwise…if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be but as it isn’t, it ain’t. That’s logic.

In the ten months I have been here in the UAE, I have spent the majority of my Saturday evenings writing. Sometimes it is a simple ramble like this, other perhaps inspired by the weekly events that have occurred. Some mould themselves around the people I meet. Some may be created from a deep emotion stirred within me. They all have something in common; they are my masterpiece.  I may not as poetic as Shakespeare or dramatic as Tolkien, but to me they are my prized possessions. My life written on paper; they are words scrambled across the field of lines.  Occasionally they make sense, the rest evolve as an organised mess.  

It is not a case of how I write, the techniques used, or the formation of the words – it is what I write that matters most. I write what I know. To me, nobody is a literary genius; anyone can write. In the same breathe no-one can criticise the way you express yourself. There is no right or wrong.  Every word you put into a sentence is unique. It is your snowflake. There may be a moment in time were someone will be jealous or angry at your words, but you will learn to deal with that.

Whether it is the pen scratching paper or your fingers pressing the keys, the letters appear creating words that shape the sentences to come. They shine for you. They show your strengths, your weaknesses – but more importantly – your story. Your story is your own. No-one can speak any different.

This is my story. I write because I can. It’s my form of escapism (besides reading that is). I write whatever forms into my head. I remember someone asking me back in December “Why do you write so much?” 

Well if I were not to write, all the thoughts in my head have nowhere to go. They need to be released in to the physical world.  Scratch that; I would actually end up insane (if that were possible since I fell down the rabbit-hole a long time ago).  

Speaking of rabbit-holes, I think some people tonight have fell down them and have yet to escape. Everyone seems to be wilder than usual. With that in mind, this post shall take its’ leave and bid you farewell.

The further off from England the nearer is to France –

Then turn not pale, beloved snail but come and join the dance.

                Will you, wo’n’t you, will you, w’o’nt, will you join the dance?

                Will you, wo’n’t you, will you, w’o’nt, wont you join the dance?