A fine balancing act…
…I live alone and have done so for the last 9 years. I work in a small office and have done so for the last 15 years. So there could be hours and hours in a day that I won't utter a single word...not to any other human anyway (I do occasionally speak to myself, and more frequently - though only to say good morning and to enquire after their health - with my six pots of African violets)...OK, more seriously, some days I don’t feel like saying even hello and others I can’t stop talking…When I am on form, I don’t think I am a bad talker…but am I good conversationalist?
In the December 23rd, 2006 issue, The Economist ran an article on the art of conversation. I want to reproduce a few quotes from that article for everyone’s benefit.
Diderot’s conversation was “enlivened by absolute sincerity, subtle without obscurity, varied in its forms, dazzling in its flights of imagination, fertile in its ideas and in its capacity to inspire ideas in others. One let oneself drift along with it for hours at a time, as if one were gliding down a fresh and limpid river, whose banks were adorned with rich estates and beautiful houses” (“by one account” says the article). [How wonderful….most conversations are unfortunately like letting oneself stuck among other tired and bored commuters in a tube train stuck in between two stations]
Cicero’s rules for good conversation are: speak clearly, speak easily but not too much, especially when others want their turn; do not interrupt; be courteous; deal seriously with serious matters and gracefully with lighter ones; never criticise people behind their backs; stick to subjects of general interest; do not talk about yourself; and, above all, never lose your temper. [Wow, a tall order, but how true…it’s worth repeating to one’s self on a daily basis]
Dale Carnegie’s six ways to make people like you: remember people’s names, be a good listener, become genuinely interested in other people, smile, talk in terms of the other person’s interests, and make the other person feel important. [And presumably do this with sincerity, otherwise there is no point!]
Definition of conversation: the equal distribution of speaker rights; mutual respect among speakers; spontaneity and informality; and a non-businesslike ambience. Johnson said: “talk beyond that which is necessary to the purposes of actual business”. [What a succinct and beautiful description]
Margaret Shephard says: “Never speak uninterrupted for more than four minutes at a time” and “If you are the only person who still has a plate full of food, stop talking”. [When I succeed in not talking about myself but fail to be interested in other people, I know it’s time to move on…]
All interesting, don’t you think?
I don’t think blogging is a good way to practice good conversation – unless one wants to perfect the art of talking to one’s self. But keeping a personal blog hopefully helps with reducing the time spent talking about one’s self in person…Wishful thinking perhaps but I do hope so….
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Purposeless questions
Everything and everyone has a purpose.
We are born for a reason.
Things happen to us for a reason.
We meet others for a reason.
Let the reason be love?
Everything is supposed to be connected.
Universe is supposed to help us - not necessarily get what we want but learn what we are here to learn.
Learn to love and communicate?
Some believe this anyway. And I want to believe it.
But...
What is the purpose of me being in the tropics but in an office bitten to buggery by vicious mosquitoes who are fighting a winning battle against humanity?
What is the purpose of me writing personal moments, not just thoughts I think, but also moments I share, on this public blog and by doing so blow them out of proportion?
What is the purpose of living a dream only to wake up and not remember why it was dreamt in the first place?
Then again, what is the purpose of not dreaming at all? Not taking any risks, leading a comfortable and quiet life? Not rocking the boat but forever going in circles around the anchor?
As usual...lots of questions but no answers from me....but then if I were to start with the answers (let's assume I have them!) that would exceed my allocated 4 minutes of personal time (see the entry “A fine balancing act…”)!
Everything and everyone has a purpose.
We are born for a reason.
Things happen to us for a reason.
We meet others for a reason.
Let the reason be love?
Everything is supposed to be connected.
Universe is supposed to help us - not necessarily get what we want but learn what we are here to learn.
Learn to love and communicate?
Some believe this anyway. And I want to believe it.
But...
What is the purpose of me being in the tropics but in an office bitten to buggery by vicious mosquitoes who are fighting a winning battle against humanity?
What is the purpose of me writing personal moments, not just thoughts I think, but also moments I share, on this public blog and by doing so blow them out of proportion?
What is the purpose of living a dream only to wake up and not remember why it was dreamt in the first place?
Then again, what is the purpose of not dreaming at all? Not taking any risks, leading a comfortable and quiet life? Not rocking the boat but forever going in circles around the anchor?
As usual...lots of questions but no answers from me....but then if I were to start with the answers (let's assume I have them!) that would exceed my allocated 4 minutes of personal time (see the entry “A fine balancing act…”)!
Sunday, January 07, 2007
I’ve been away too long…
There was work which exhausted me. There was visiting family around the globe which tried to turn me into a referee between the young and the old, and the old and the older but I doubt I did a good job of it. There was saying goodbye to my best mate, M, who went back to his home country leaving me with yet more longing for yet another loved one and increased doubts about continuing to live in London.
There was also fun times….I’ve been getting better at improvisation and there is more theatrical work in store, my work has so far been awarded, I’ve rested well over the Christmas holidays, I’ve gone back to the gym to shed the pounds that piled up over the last few months. Perhaps most importantly, an old friend and I got in touch again and this has made me very happy indeed…There is uncertainty surrounding lots of things in my life at the moment. I realised that the change I thought will happen has indeed been happening for a long time and will continue to do so. It started with relatively small things like writing this blog, but will get bigger in time as I am not as afraid of change as I was before.
I was in Turkey over Christmas and this made me think even more about the past, present and the future – about where I’ve come from, how I changed – change that was instigated by being here, change that would have happened anyway, and what happens next.
Amidst all this, thoughts, memories and dreams have been flying around in my head like a tornado. I didn’t have the time, energy or the will to calm them down and put them down on paper.
It’s not been all work and self-discovery and failed attempts to write. I’ll write about the trip to Turkey and others soon, but for now, I want to write about a couple of films I saw over the last two months…it’s late to be writing about them but I just want to have a bit of fun on the eve of the first proper work week of 2007…oh, yes, before it’s too late to say it: HAPPY NEW YEAR all.
Bond, James Bond
Daniel Craig is a much rougher but altogether a more satisfying Bond. He has a huge face, which is so rough that borders ugly at times…or at least scary. His body is to die for, and so is his well disguised vulnerability.
Dialog is, in all the wrong places, laughable…but sometimes in the best places too…sorry to spoil it for the few who haven’t seen the film yet but I can’t help it…’Shaken or stirred sir?’ ‘Do I look like I give a damn?’…
He runs, climbs, almost flies, plays poker, and all that…But he is a different Bond. He kills with his hands and we watch how and how they affect him. He makes mistakes and he loses. He lowers his guard and falls in love. We now know why he is so ruthless with women who follow. If it’s not the betrayal that disillusioned him, it would have been the death.
And to show all that he can act. I’d never seen Daniel Craig in a film before, now I can’t wait for the next Bond…in fact, I think I’ll watch this again as soon as possible.
Devil Wears Prada
A silly film, no doubt, but also great fun…especially if seen in the comfort of a plane seat. I saw it on the way back from visiting family in the Caribbean and upon arrival went, almost straight, to the shops! Back in the early 1990s, I was the Ann Hathaway character with my nice skirts and nice jumpers…’the immigrant’ look as M used to put it. So I sympathised with her. But those coats, bags and dresses one sees Meryl Streep character come to office day in day out…wow, they are something else…We all have an external persona that hides, depending on our disposition, a little or a lot about what goes on in the inside. Clothes like that are that good are so much more helpful to augment an external persona that not only it becomes capable of standing on its own but also uplifts the inner goings on.
Am I becoming a fashionista? Nope, I am too lazy for that, fashion changes far too fast for me to follow closely. But when the film finished, my first and only thought – hmm, only thought? What does that tell you about the cinematic quality of the film? Well, exactly! – was that ‘I am 36 and it’s time I’ve become stylish!’…Fine thought, and I was quick to execute it by as I said going shopping upon arrival…but shopping where?…ASDA! That was before the 10 cents an hour wage rate Asda pays Bangladeshi women become the news….but I have a couple of very nice tops and a pair of not so nice trousers out of it.
There was work which exhausted me. There was visiting family around the globe which tried to turn me into a referee between the young and the old, and the old and the older but I doubt I did a good job of it. There was saying goodbye to my best mate, M, who went back to his home country leaving me with yet more longing for yet another loved one and increased doubts about continuing to live in London.
There was also fun times….I’ve been getting better at improvisation and there is more theatrical work in store, my work has so far been awarded, I’ve rested well over the Christmas holidays, I’ve gone back to the gym to shed the pounds that piled up over the last few months. Perhaps most importantly, an old friend and I got in touch again and this has made me very happy indeed…There is uncertainty surrounding lots of things in my life at the moment. I realised that the change I thought will happen has indeed been happening for a long time and will continue to do so. It started with relatively small things like writing this blog, but will get bigger in time as I am not as afraid of change as I was before.
I was in Turkey over Christmas and this made me think even more about the past, present and the future – about where I’ve come from, how I changed – change that was instigated by being here, change that would have happened anyway, and what happens next.
Amidst all this, thoughts, memories and dreams have been flying around in my head like a tornado. I didn’t have the time, energy or the will to calm them down and put them down on paper.
It’s not been all work and self-discovery and failed attempts to write. I’ll write about the trip to Turkey and others soon, but for now, I want to write about a couple of films I saw over the last two months…it’s late to be writing about them but I just want to have a bit of fun on the eve of the first proper work week of 2007…oh, yes, before it’s too late to say it: HAPPY NEW YEAR all.
Bond, James Bond
Daniel Craig is a much rougher but altogether a more satisfying Bond. He has a huge face, which is so rough that borders ugly at times…or at least scary. His body is to die for, and so is his well disguised vulnerability.
Dialog is, in all the wrong places, laughable…but sometimes in the best places too…sorry to spoil it for the few who haven’t seen the film yet but I can’t help it…’Shaken or stirred sir?’ ‘Do I look like I give a damn?’…
He runs, climbs, almost flies, plays poker, and all that…But he is a different Bond. He kills with his hands and we watch how and how they affect him. He makes mistakes and he loses. He lowers his guard and falls in love. We now know why he is so ruthless with women who follow. If it’s not the betrayal that disillusioned him, it would have been the death.
And to show all that he can act. I’d never seen Daniel Craig in a film before, now I can’t wait for the next Bond…in fact, I think I’ll watch this again as soon as possible.
Devil Wears Prada
A silly film, no doubt, but also great fun…especially if seen in the comfort of a plane seat. I saw it on the way back from visiting family in the Caribbean and upon arrival went, almost straight, to the shops! Back in the early 1990s, I was the Ann Hathaway character with my nice skirts and nice jumpers…’the immigrant’ look as M used to put it. So I sympathised with her. But those coats, bags and dresses one sees Meryl Streep character come to office day in day out…wow, they are something else…We all have an external persona that hides, depending on our disposition, a little or a lot about what goes on in the inside. Clothes like that are that good are so much more helpful to augment an external persona that not only it becomes capable of standing on its own but also uplifts the inner goings on.
Am I becoming a fashionista? Nope, I am too lazy for that, fashion changes far too fast for me to follow closely. But when the film finished, my first and only thought – hmm, only thought? What does that tell you about the cinematic quality of the film? Well, exactly! – was that ‘I am 36 and it’s time I’ve become stylish!’…Fine thought, and I was quick to execute it by as I said going shopping upon arrival…but shopping where?…ASDA! That was before the 10 cents an hour wage rate Asda pays Bangladeshi women become the news….but I have a couple of very nice tops and a pair of not so nice trousers out of it.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Is this normal?
Tiring week full of long nights of work, and one night of great fun…We will belittle it as fun, we will belittle it as something that had to be done, we will not speak of it again in any way, and we may or may not have another chance…but now after the fact, in my own time and space, and with my own ‘port and lemon’ in me I can call it what it deserves to be called…a great moment of human contact…I don’t mean sex. Life is short and, at times, lonely so when there is someone to share a moment of intimacy, even if (or perhaps because) that word is not uttered, one should celebrate it. Rejoice in the glory of being able to share a touch, a feeling, an unnamed purpose…and that’s what this paragraph is about, no games, no script, no past nor a future…just the present…a present from which you wake up and wonder if it ever happened.
Went to my local pub tonight…The Palm Tree…an East End gem…where on Friday and Saturday nights East End old geezers and birds sing Rat Pack and Cole Porter. It was marvellous. A quite night by Palm Tree standards but wonderful soundtrack to two friends struggling to hear what the other is saying…’The man I love’ sang my favourite local singer, a woman of an advanced age and walking stick, with short hair and long earrings, huge boobs and deep man’s voice courtesy of years of smoking…
At one point as my friend was talking, I drifted away from what she was saying and started wondering how is it that the air that trembles through her vocal chords and travels through the air reaches my ears and then to my brain and gets converted into understanding. Those few seconds when I wondered about that there was nothing more important in the world. Is this normal?
Then I came home, sitting on my sofa, I heard a bus stop at the bus stop nearby, open doors, close doors and pull away. I could not see the bus but I sat here wondering about the people who must be in it. Who are they? Where are they coming from? Where are they going? Did they have a good night out or have they just been made redundant or dumped? Are they awake thinking about thinks or have they fallen asleep? I sat here wondering all this and feeling almost physically there on the bus. Is this normal?
I see planes approaching to land at City Airport and circling above London to land at Heathrow. I’ve lived in the same flat more than 10 years. But only recently I’ve begun to look and wonder who are in them? I began to feel transported into the plane, seeing the stewardess walking the aisles making sure everyone has their seat belt on. I began to see the faces of each and every passenger, wondered where they are coming from and why and who they are. Is this normal?
I’ve been doing this a lot lately…living the present to a fuller degree than I’ve ever done before yet wondering about the countless lives that pass me by in that very present, lives that I will never know. What stories do they hold? What is it that makes them get up every morning, get dressed and go out and go very far out at times? What is it that makes my mind extend like a telescope and transport me to where they are? What is it that makes me wonder all this?
Is this normal?
Feels like it’s not.
Feels like it’s the start of some psychosomatic situation.
Feels good.
Is this normal?
Tiring week full of long nights of work, and one night of great fun…We will belittle it as fun, we will belittle it as something that had to be done, we will not speak of it again in any way, and we may or may not have another chance…but now after the fact, in my own time and space, and with my own ‘port and lemon’ in me I can call it what it deserves to be called…a great moment of human contact…I don’t mean sex. Life is short and, at times, lonely so when there is someone to share a moment of intimacy, even if (or perhaps because) that word is not uttered, one should celebrate it. Rejoice in the glory of being able to share a touch, a feeling, an unnamed purpose…and that’s what this paragraph is about, no games, no script, no past nor a future…just the present…a present from which you wake up and wonder if it ever happened.
Went to my local pub tonight…The Palm Tree…an East End gem…where on Friday and Saturday nights East End old geezers and birds sing Rat Pack and Cole Porter. It was marvellous. A quite night by Palm Tree standards but wonderful soundtrack to two friends struggling to hear what the other is saying…’The man I love’ sang my favourite local singer, a woman of an advanced age and walking stick, with short hair and long earrings, huge boobs and deep man’s voice courtesy of years of smoking…
At one point as my friend was talking, I drifted away from what she was saying and started wondering how is it that the air that trembles through her vocal chords and travels through the air reaches my ears and then to my brain and gets converted into understanding. Those few seconds when I wondered about that there was nothing more important in the world. Is this normal?
Then I came home, sitting on my sofa, I heard a bus stop at the bus stop nearby, open doors, close doors and pull away. I could not see the bus but I sat here wondering about the people who must be in it. Who are they? Where are they coming from? Where are they going? Did they have a good night out or have they just been made redundant or dumped? Are they awake thinking about thinks or have they fallen asleep? I sat here wondering all this and feeling almost physically there on the bus. Is this normal?
I see planes approaching to land at City Airport and circling above London to land at Heathrow. I’ve lived in the same flat more than 10 years. But only recently I’ve begun to look and wonder who are in them? I began to feel transported into the plane, seeing the stewardess walking the aisles making sure everyone has their seat belt on. I began to see the faces of each and every passenger, wondered where they are coming from and why and who they are. Is this normal?
I’ve been doing this a lot lately…living the present to a fuller degree than I’ve ever done before yet wondering about the countless lives that pass me by in that very present, lives that I will never know. What stories do they hold? What is it that makes them get up every morning, get dressed and go out and go very far out at times? What is it that makes my mind extend like a telescope and transport me to where they are? What is it that makes me wonder all this?
Is this normal?
Feels like it’s not.
Feels like it’s the start of some psychosomatic situation.
Feels good.
Is this normal?
Sunday, October 22, 2006
My name is…
I’ve been so busy lately that I almost missed the news that Orhan Pamuk has been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. It’s a personal honour to be writing about it. I love his books.
Not always I have to admit. It seems I like his books in rotation. For example I couldn’t get my head around Black Book. But I know of Turkish people of the generation one before mine who found themselves in it. New Life I loved. They didn’t.
I loved New Life not because I was searching for a new life or the book offered a new life but because it offered an adventure. I read the book in my 20s when I was leading a conventional life by all accounts but I had hopes for a new life: a life spent in pursuit of a dream even if it is impossible to fulfil. The idea of an impossible dream appealed at the time. How can you not like a book the first sentence of which is “I read a book one day and my life was changed”?
Those were the days when life seemed to offer more possibilities. While the hero of that book was after a dream that would end his life, the dream I was after was a loose notion of a better life. What matters is that I shared the dream of a life that’s possible to change. It didn’t matter that what the hero wanted and what I wanted (not that I knew what that was) were two different things. I identified with the desire for change.
Then there is My Name is Red. Possibly the best book I read. I of course remember the overall story. But what I remember most is the pleasure I had reading that book. It took me a long time to finish because I kept going back to sentences, paragraphs to read them again and again, they were so beautiful.
I also liked his very clever idea to juxtapose what is happening in Turkey now with a murder mystery in the 16th century. Murder mystery is simply a tool to tell the story of a quest for an individual identity. Do we carry on as a part of the community and follow the rules instead of what we wish to do or do we make our individual mark on the world? Community offers love and support. But it seems only if you follow the rules unconditionally. Individual identity gives you freedom but at the price of loneliness, at least at times. I think my thirst for freedom is what keeps me in London and what keeps me single but as I grow older loneliness that comes from being an outsider – no matter how well I fit here – and being alone – no matter how many so-called boyfriends I may have - becomes a bigger price to pay. Still I continue.
There seems to be a debate in Turkey whether he would have won the Nobel prize if he didn’t make that infamous political speech about the Armenians and Kurds. I can write loads about this point but I want to believe that he won because he is a great author so I will not honour the doubt by discussing it. In fact, if there is a universal anti-Turkish wave, then the best way to confront it is not to have debates about what someone said or meant, but by trusting ourselves as a nation. I repeat I think he is a great author and like any great author of any nation he deserves this award. End of story.
Pamuk explained this best in an interview he gave to The Guardian a few years ago. He said “when an English language author writes a love story, it’s a universal love story but when I write a love story it’s a Turkish love story”. Here is a great author, undoubtly a product of his culture but global in his appeal and message. Congratulations. I am proud of you. Not just because you are a Turk but because you are an author whose ability to take me into new worlds I admire.
I’ve been so busy lately that I almost missed the news that Orhan Pamuk has been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. It’s a personal honour to be writing about it. I love his books.
Not always I have to admit. It seems I like his books in rotation. For example I couldn’t get my head around Black Book. But I know of Turkish people of the generation one before mine who found themselves in it. New Life I loved. They didn’t.
I loved New Life not because I was searching for a new life or the book offered a new life but because it offered an adventure. I read the book in my 20s when I was leading a conventional life by all accounts but I had hopes for a new life: a life spent in pursuit of a dream even if it is impossible to fulfil. The idea of an impossible dream appealed at the time. How can you not like a book the first sentence of which is “I read a book one day and my life was changed”?
Those were the days when life seemed to offer more possibilities. While the hero of that book was after a dream that would end his life, the dream I was after was a loose notion of a better life. What matters is that I shared the dream of a life that’s possible to change. It didn’t matter that what the hero wanted and what I wanted (not that I knew what that was) were two different things. I identified with the desire for change.
Then there is My Name is Red. Possibly the best book I read. I of course remember the overall story. But what I remember most is the pleasure I had reading that book. It took me a long time to finish because I kept going back to sentences, paragraphs to read them again and again, they were so beautiful.
I also liked his very clever idea to juxtapose what is happening in Turkey now with a murder mystery in the 16th century. Murder mystery is simply a tool to tell the story of a quest for an individual identity. Do we carry on as a part of the community and follow the rules instead of what we wish to do or do we make our individual mark on the world? Community offers love and support. But it seems only if you follow the rules unconditionally. Individual identity gives you freedom but at the price of loneliness, at least at times. I think my thirst for freedom is what keeps me in London and what keeps me single but as I grow older loneliness that comes from being an outsider – no matter how well I fit here – and being alone – no matter how many so-called boyfriends I may have - becomes a bigger price to pay. Still I continue.
There seems to be a debate in Turkey whether he would have won the Nobel prize if he didn’t make that infamous political speech about the Armenians and Kurds. I can write loads about this point but I want to believe that he won because he is a great author so I will not honour the doubt by discussing it. In fact, if there is a universal anti-Turkish wave, then the best way to confront it is not to have debates about what someone said or meant, but by trusting ourselves as a nation. I repeat I think he is a great author and like any great author of any nation he deserves this award. End of story.
Pamuk explained this best in an interview he gave to The Guardian a few years ago. He said “when an English language author writes a love story, it’s a universal love story but when I write a love story it’s a Turkish love story”. Here is a great author, undoubtly a product of his culture but global in his appeal and message. Congratulations. I am proud of you. Not just because you are a Turk but because you are an author whose ability to take me into new worlds I admire.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Happiness…
I’ve been having a bit of a difficult time lately. Nothing objectively bad mind you, just too much to deal with: a lot of work (good), tiredness (changing seasons, burning candles); friends leaving town; family issues; many things I talk and think about but can’t do at the moment for various reasons – some but not all within my power.
So, after another long day at work and saying goodbye to M who is off to his Tanzanian adventure; and having bored myself with the last couple of entries and inspired by I-D magazine’s cover story this month (never read this magazine before but am enjoying this issue so far), I’ve decided to make a list of happiness (in no particular order). So here it goes…
· That moment before falling asleep;
· Comfortable silences;
· A hot bath on a cold day;
· ‘urban moments’ like catching a stranger’s eye on the tube and smiling;
· No holds bared free flowing conversations;
· A big, long hug;
· Smiling;
· Making others laugh;
· Happiness of those near and dear;
· Daydreaming;
· Clean and ironed sheets;
· To be woken up by sunrise;
· Colours of the sunset;
· The sound of light rain on the roof of a tent;
· Swimming in the sea first thing in the morning;
· Receiving unexpected calls, post, emails from good friends and family (with good news of course);
· Watching the excited concentration on the faces of small children when they are learning something new and fun;
· Learning;
· I love you;
· Reading, watching, listening to something that opens new avenues for my mind;
· Chocolate for about two days once a month;
· Foodstuff associated with Turkey and childhood;
· Memories (good or bad for different reasons);
· Dancing;
· Letting go;
· ‘Yes’;
· Quirky shoes;
· My red leather jacket;
· Blue and yellow;
· Fresh flowers;
· Achieving goals;
· Travelling;
· My hair being stroked;
· …
· …
Just realised, some of the above makes you happy, some you can only appreciate if you are already happy and some both...Go figure!
I’ve been having a bit of a difficult time lately. Nothing objectively bad mind you, just too much to deal with: a lot of work (good), tiredness (changing seasons, burning candles); friends leaving town; family issues; many things I talk and think about but can’t do at the moment for various reasons – some but not all within my power.
So, after another long day at work and saying goodbye to M who is off to his Tanzanian adventure; and having bored myself with the last couple of entries and inspired by I-D magazine’s cover story this month (never read this magazine before but am enjoying this issue so far), I’ve decided to make a list of happiness (in no particular order). So here it goes…
· That moment before falling asleep;
· Comfortable silences;
· A hot bath on a cold day;
· ‘urban moments’ like catching a stranger’s eye on the tube and smiling;
· No holds bared free flowing conversations;
· A big, long hug;
· Smiling;
· Making others laugh;
· Happiness of those near and dear;
· Daydreaming;
· Clean and ironed sheets;
· To be woken up by sunrise;
· Colours of the sunset;
· The sound of light rain on the roof of a tent;
· Swimming in the sea first thing in the morning;
· Receiving unexpected calls, post, emails from good friends and family (with good news of course);
· Watching the excited concentration on the faces of small children when they are learning something new and fun;
· Learning;
· I love you;
· Reading, watching, listening to something that opens new avenues for my mind;
· Chocolate for about two days once a month;
· Foodstuff associated with Turkey and childhood;
· Memories (good or bad for different reasons);
· Dancing;
· Letting go;
· ‘Yes’;
· Quirky shoes;
· My red leather jacket;
· Blue and yellow;
· Fresh flowers;
· Achieving goals;
· Travelling;
· My hair being stroked;
· …
· …
Just realised, some of the above makes you happy, some you can only appreciate if you are already happy and some both...Go figure!
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
No more!
Take another piece of me
I’ll give
Pull me in all directions
I’ll stretch
Crash
I’ll restart
Give up
I’ll hope
Run out of breath
I’ll wait
Talk and talk and talk
I’ll listen
Lie
I’ll believe
Cry
I’ll console
Ignore me
I’ll persevere
Disappoint me
I’ll forget
Be desperate
I’ll help
Be selfish
I’ll understand
Be ruthless
I’ll give up
Ask for forgiveness
I’ll forgive
Until I can no more
And I will no more
Take another piece of me
I’ll give
Pull me in all directions
I’ll stretch
Crash
I’ll restart
Give up
I’ll hope
Run out of breath
I’ll wait
Talk and talk and talk
I’ll listen
Lie
I’ll believe
Cry
I’ll console
Ignore me
I’ll persevere
Disappoint me
I’ll forget
Be desperate
I’ll help
Be selfish
I’ll understand
Be ruthless
I’ll give up
Ask for forgiveness
I’ll forgive
Until I can no more
And I will no more
Sunday, September 24, 2006
A bit down…
After the relatively relaxed time in August during which I was able to think and write, September so far has been total chaos. I have so much work on at the moment that I guess less frequent rants will be more likely than some slightly more thought through arguments (that is if, at least, some of the previous ones were).
It’s not just work either (or is it ‘neither’ I never know). Two of my non-Brit friends are leaving London. J, an American, is going back to the States after about 10 years. We went on short breaks several times with mutual friends and solved the world’s problems several times over...though unfortunately the ideas left with the first signs of hangover. J is a bit of a pop-psychologist and loves to hear others’ conundrums. I hope email and telephone will suffice until he comes back. There are no plans for a return journey but I am sure he’ll be back!
M is a Pole. He might as well be my third brother (I already have two blood brothers you see). At first meeting, M is not the easiest person to get on with: he comes across cold and stubborn and can be far too straight with words. But all this is because he is honest and strong enough not to take any sh*t from people. But if one manages to get through (and only a few do), he is one of the most loyal and caring people I know. Perhaps the fact that we are rather similar (though am much weaker than him) makes me love him so much.
M may also be leaving. It’s not certain yet but he is seriously thinking of going back to Poland after 12 years in London. I am in denial still. I don’t even want to think about not having M in London. Sure, we’ll stay in touch, and our friendship will continue. But it’s never the same. And after a few months or at most years, the ties do get weaker, they get replaced by others that are more immediate. I am really sad about this.
I hate goodbyes. And I am not just saying that. My life has been full of goodbyes. From parents at an early age to aunty when I came over here, several friends who came and went through my life over the years…and here I am spending the day entirely on my own on an exceptionally warm September Sunday.
Another foreigner leaving London is annoying in a less personal way too: you can’t help but ask ‘what the hell am I still doing here?’. No family here, best mate is thinking of leaving…just the work and some, admittedly, very good friends. But where to go? What to do? I think some ideas are forming in my head but far too vague at the moment to share…and they are not plans for the near future anyway…just some exercises of visioning the future…but better not lose track of present between too much work and too much future-planning.
***
M was complaining the other day that most people we know are continuously talking about themselves these days. It’s either how terrible their life is or, and surprisingly more often, how great it is. The problem with the latter is that they seem to say this to convince them and justify their choices to themselves more than to the listener. I can hardly judge…I have a blog after all! But I wonder if this is one of the first symptoms of mid-life crisis.
We are mostly in our mid to late 30s, with some achievements under our belts but some mistakes and disappointments too. And the inevitable finality of life is becoming more and more clearer. As we are mostly lazy and scared of taking risks, if we are not entirely happy with life (and who is?), the best option is to convince ourselves we are entirely happy with life. There is genuine merit in this of course. But I wonder whether the best way is to loudly announce to whoever cares to listen (or pretend to do so)…there is something fake about that.
Cynical? I am not naturally cynical; neither am I naturally down. But with friends leaving, me being physically and mentally tired, having had an upset stomach since yesterday; despite the wonderful sunshine outside…this is as profound as I can be at the moment. Life is a simple matter after all…and, at times like this, an early night is the best answer.
After the relatively relaxed time in August during which I was able to think and write, September so far has been total chaos. I have so much work on at the moment that I guess less frequent rants will be more likely than some slightly more thought through arguments (that is if, at least, some of the previous ones were).
It’s not just work either (or is it ‘neither’ I never know). Two of my non-Brit friends are leaving London. J, an American, is going back to the States after about 10 years. We went on short breaks several times with mutual friends and solved the world’s problems several times over...though unfortunately the ideas left with the first signs of hangover. J is a bit of a pop-psychologist and loves to hear others’ conundrums. I hope email and telephone will suffice until he comes back. There are no plans for a return journey but I am sure he’ll be back!
M is a Pole. He might as well be my third brother (I already have two blood brothers you see). At first meeting, M is not the easiest person to get on with: he comes across cold and stubborn and can be far too straight with words. But all this is because he is honest and strong enough not to take any sh*t from people. But if one manages to get through (and only a few do), he is one of the most loyal and caring people I know. Perhaps the fact that we are rather similar (though am much weaker than him) makes me love him so much.
M may also be leaving. It’s not certain yet but he is seriously thinking of going back to Poland after 12 years in London. I am in denial still. I don’t even want to think about not having M in London. Sure, we’ll stay in touch, and our friendship will continue. But it’s never the same. And after a few months or at most years, the ties do get weaker, they get replaced by others that are more immediate. I am really sad about this.
I hate goodbyes. And I am not just saying that. My life has been full of goodbyes. From parents at an early age to aunty when I came over here, several friends who came and went through my life over the years…and here I am spending the day entirely on my own on an exceptionally warm September Sunday.
Another foreigner leaving London is annoying in a less personal way too: you can’t help but ask ‘what the hell am I still doing here?’. No family here, best mate is thinking of leaving…just the work and some, admittedly, very good friends. But where to go? What to do? I think some ideas are forming in my head but far too vague at the moment to share…and they are not plans for the near future anyway…just some exercises of visioning the future…but better not lose track of present between too much work and too much future-planning.
***
M was complaining the other day that most people we know are continuously talking about themselves these days. It’s either how terrible their life is or, and surprisingly more often, how great it is. The problem with the latter is that they seem to say this to convince them and justify their choices to themselves more than to the listener. I can hardly judge…I have a blog after all! But I wonder if this is one of the first symptoms of mid-life crisis.
We are mostly in our mid to late 30s, with some achievements under our belts but some mistakes and disappointments too. And the inevitable finality of life is becoming more and more clearer. As we are mostly lazy and scared of taking risks, if we are not entirely happy with life (and who is?), the best option is to convince ourselves we are entirely happy with life. There is genuine merit in this of course. But I wonder whether the best way is to loudly announce to whoever cares to listen (or pretend to do so)…there is something fake about that.
Cynical? I am not naturally cynical; neither am I naturally down. But with friends leaving, me being physically and mentally tired, having had an upset stomach since yesterday; despite the wonderful sunshine outside…this is as profound as I can be at the moment. Life is a simple matter after all…and, at times like this, an early night is the best answer.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Intervals...
I went to a seminar by Prof Daniel Kahneman, Nobel laureate in economics on Friday. He is in fact a psychologist but since he investigates the aspects of human behaviour that relate to the fundamental assumptions underlying economic theory, his Nobel award in economics is justified.
I won’t bore you with the details of the fundamental assumptions of economics. But, in short, they are that people are rational, selfish and their tastes don’t change. In my humble opinion, rationality assumption is exaggerated. Unlike what’s implied, rationality does not require all decisions to be correct – whatever that means and whoever could achieve it?! They just need to be consistent with the conditions at the time and the desired outcomes. Rationality also does not assume uniformity: what is rational for me can easily be irrational for others. Selfishness assumption is also generally misunderstood: we are selfish and seek happiness but that does not exclude the possibility of other people’s happiness making us happy. In fact, if it did, no ‘rational’ person would ever have children!
Prof Kahneman says people’s rationality and selfishness are bounded (basically they are not always rational or selfish), they have limited self-control and they change their minds. Yeap, this is why he got the Nobel…And it’s not surprising…both economists and psychologists spend their entire careers searching for ‘proofs’ for the most obvious. But for those who try to understand human behaviour (theirs or others’), is there any other choice than exploring the obvious?
Anyway, this is not a piece about economics or my cunning plan about getting a Nobel on the easy! It’s about another obvious – what would make life better…should I ever worry myself with such a question.
Prof Kahneman said “Think of life as a succession of moments. People think of it [life] as a story, a narrative. They want it to be meaningful. They want to improve it. All our intuitions favour life satisfaction. We live in the present but we don’t get to keep the present. We keep the memories…and our memories are selective. [In our memories] routine is not important.” This is from my notes so apologies if I got anything wrong.
It was really exciting to hear him say these words because they were a confirmation of my little way of making my life better. About three years ago, I suddenly came to the realisation that I lived my life as if I was in a theatre. All my excitement was about the ‘Acts’ and all my happiness came from them. The trouble was, I also realised, Acts were rather short and infrequent and most of my time was spent in the intervals. And there was only so much chocolate ice cream one could eat!
I promised myself that I would make the intervals more interesting. That’s when I pushed myself into things that I’d shied away from before, like learning to act by going to an improvisation course; travelling to Australia after 20 years of dreaming about it; staying away from people with negative energy who were bringing me down; starting this blog, taking photographs again and so on and so forth.
As I was listening to Prof Kahneman, it became clear that this realisation I had upon waking up one workday morning had been a life-changing moment. I am going to bed now, if I am lucky there will be another revelation tomorrow morning…but more likely I’ll rush out of the house…I have a deadline tomorrow!
P.S. Dating update update – I’ve thought about this more. I have no right or need to be annoyed. Anyway, bygones... Text received from the non-date; not responded, no need. All I say is that this ‘Act’ of my life has flopped until a better leading man shows up :)
I went to a seminar by Prof Daniel Kahneman, Nobel laureate in economics on Friday. He is in fact a psychologist but since he investigates the aspects of human behaviour that relate to the fundamental assumptions underlying economic theory, his Nobel award in economics is justified.
I won’t bore you with the details of the fundamental assumptions of economics. But, in short, they are that people are rational, selfish and their tastes don’t change. In my humble opinion, rationality assumption is exaggerated. Unlike what’s implied, rationality does not require all decisions to be correct – whatever that means and whoever could achieve it?! They just need to be consistent with the conditions at the time and the desired outcomes. Rationality also does not assume uniformity: what is rational for me can easily be irrational for others. Selfishness assumption is also generally misunderstood: we are selfish and seek happiness but that does not exclude the possibility of other people’s happiness making us happy. In fact, if it did, no ‘rational’ person would ever have children!
Prof Kahneman says people’s rationality and selfishness are bounded (basically they are not always rational or selfish), they have limited self-control and they change their minds. Yeap, this is why he got the Nobel…And it’s not surprising…both economists and psychologists spend their entire careers searching for ‘proofs’ for the most obvious. But for those who try to understand human behaviour (theirs or others’), is there any other choice than exploring the obvious?
Anyway, this is not a piece about economics or my cunning plan about getting a Nobel on the easy! It’s about another obvious – what would make life better…should I ever worry myself with such a question.
Prof Kahneman said “Think of life as a succession of moments. People think of it [life] as a story, a narrative. They want it to be meaningful. They want to improve it. All our intuitions favour life satisfaction. We live in the present but we don’t get to keep the present. We keep the memories…and our memories are selective. [In our memories] routine is not important.” This is from my notes so apologies if I got anything wrong.
It was really exciting to hear him say these words because they were a confirmation of my little way of making my life better. About three years ago, I suddenly came to the realisation that I lived my life as if I was in a theatre. All my excitement was about the ‘Acts’ and all my happiness came from them. The trouble was, I also realised, Acts were rather short and infrequent and most of my time was spent in the intervals. And there was only so much chocolate ice cream one could eat!
I promised myself that I would make the intervals more interesting. That’s when I pushed myself into things that I’d shied away from before, like learning to act by going to an improvisation course; travelling to Australia after 20 years of dreaming about it; staying away from people with negative energy who were bringing me down; starting this blog, taking photographs again and so on and so forth.
As I was listening to Prof Kahneman, it became clear that this realisation I had upon waking up one workday morning had been a life-changing moment. I am going to bed now, if I am lucky there will be another revelation tomorrow morning…but more likely I’ll rush out of the house…I have a deadline tomorrow!
P.S. Dating update update – I’ve thought about this more. I have no right or need to be annoyed. Anyway, bygones... Text received from the non-date; not responded, no need. All I say is that this ‘Act’ of my life has flopped until a better leading man shows up :)
Monday, August 21, 2006
Dating follow-up
For those of you who read my views about speed dating, don’t get excited, I haven’t yet changed them (but perhaps I should!). The follow up is not about a date from that event.
About 10 days ago I met someone through ‘natural ways’…started talking at a bar, got on really well and all that, exchanged numbers, texted each other a few times and spoke on the phone on Friday arranging tentatively to meet up tonight, his only night off these days.
Come 6pm, I’d finished my work for the day but he still hadn’t called. So, I called, to give him a piece of my mind. Series of supposed excuses about how he’d worked a 16 hour shift the night before, how tired he was, he had to wait for a new flat mate to come that night blah blah blah. Who is that busy to not find a few seconds to at least send a text?! I can’t believe any of it. He called back later in the evening begging forgiveness. I did give him a hard time of course. But why?
Why? Because, to be honest, I liked him. I am not having a self-loathing trip like ‘oh dear, I am not worthy, he doesn’t like me’. I’ve gone over that stage in my life. But I do feel like a small child whose new toy has been taken away before she got bored with it.
So, maybe, I deserve this. Maybe people only treat you the way you feel about them: like a toy in this case. A toy that they get bored before you do!
What gets me is the lack of honesty. Why can’t people say they don’t want to see you again? Why can’t they just not pick up the phone when you call or not reply to your text? Why can’t they just not call back when they say they will? So that you at least know that they are, for sure, not interested. Why bother give me all that story.
I am angry with him for not respecting me enough even to ignore me. I am angry with myself for investing energy and time in the possibility of meeting up tonight – I had to pass on one arrangement and cancel another! How weak am I? Why do I need human toys so much?
I called a friend who simply said ‘forget him’. I will. Of course, I will. People who don’t want to spend time on you are not worth wasting your time on. I know that. But this lack of honesty, this lack of courage, this lack of balls even by men who are fully endowed is disappointing me. It is making me feel despair about the (possibly eternal) state of humanity. Why am I so bloody transparent? Why am I so honest? Why, when the world functions in implied words and actions rather than explicit showing of cards, do I waste my energy trying to stand up and remain honest? When am I going to grow up and stop this stupid belief that honesty isn’t that difficult?
Any answers? No? Don’t worry. I feel better for writing it already. I just hope my Dad is not reading this!
For those of you who read my views about speed dating, don’t get excited, I haven’t yet changed them (but perhaps I should!). The follow up is not about a date from that event.
About 10 days ago I met someone through ‘natural ways’…started talking at a bar, got on really well and all that, exchanged numbers, texted each other a few times and spoke on the phone on Friday arranging tentatively to meet up tonight, his only night off these days.
Come 6pm, I’d finished my work for the day but he still hadn’t called. So, I called, to give him a piece of my mind. Series of supposed excuses about how he’d worked a 16 hour shift the night before, how tired he was, he had to wait for a new flat mate to come that night blah blah blah. Who is that busy to not find a few seconds to at least send a text?! I can’t believe any of it. He called back later in the evening begging forgiveness. I did give him a hard time of course. But why?
Why? Because, to be honest, I liked him. I am not having a self-loathing trip like ‘oh dear, I am not worthy, he doesn’t like me’. I’ve gone over that stage in my life. But I do feel like a small child whose new toy has been taken away before she got bored with it.
So, maybe, I deserve this. Maybe people only treat you the way you feel about them: like a toy in this case. A toy that they get bored before you do!
What gets me is the lack of honesty. Why can’t people say they don’t want to see you again? Why can’t they just not pick up the phone when you call or not reply to your text? Why can’t they just not call back when they say they will? So that you at least know that they are, for sure, not interested. Why bother give me all that story.
I am angry with him for not respecting me enough even to ignore me. I am angry with myself for investing energy and time in the possibility of meeting up tonight – I had to pass on one arrangement and cancel another! How weak am I? Why do I need human toys so much?
I called a friend who simply said ‘forget him’. I will. Of course, I will. People who don’t want to spend time on you are not worth wasting your time on. I know that. But this lack of honesty, this lack of courage, this lack of balls even by men who are fully endowed is disappointing me. It is making me feel despair about the (possibly eternal) state of humanity. Why am I so bloody transparent? Why am I so honest? Why, when the world functions in implied words and actions rather than explicit showing of cards, do I waste my energy trying to stand up and remain honest? When am I going to grow up and stop this stupid belief that honesty isn’t that difficult?
Any answers? No? Don’t worry. I feel better for writing it already. I just hope my Dad is not reading this!
Saturday, August 19, 2006
This entry is inspired by Stevie’s comment to the entry on ‘appreciation’ (01 August 2006)…
First of all, thank you for your very kind comment. I do hope you’ll come back and bore me with the details of how what I wrote resonates with your life!
Stevie says he was looking at the blog while at work. This reminded of a favourite poem from one of my favourite poets: John S Hall (http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=96884) Although I only have one of his books, it’s enough to declare him a favourite…he is that good!
So here is the poem Stevie’s comment reminded me:
TAKE STUFF FROM WORK
Take stuff from work. It’s the best way to feel better about your job. Never buy pens or pencils or paper. Take ‘em from work. Rubber bands, paper clips, memo pads, folders – take ‘em from work. It’s the best way to feel better about your low pay and appalling working conditions.
Take an ashtray – they got plenty. Take coat hangers. Take a – take a trash can. Why buy a file cabinet? Why buy a phone? Why buy a personal computer or word processor? Take ‘em from work.
I took a whole desk from the last place I worked. They never noticed and it looks great in my apartment. Take an electric pencil sharpener. Take a case of white-out; you might need it one day. It’s your duty as an oppressed worker to steal from your exploiters. Take stuff from work. And fuck off on the company time. I wrote this at work. They’re paying me to write about stuff I steal from them. Life is good.
First of all, thank you for your very kind comment. I do hope you’ll come back and bore me with the details of how what I wrote resonates with your life!
Stevie says he was looking at the blog while at work. This reminded of a favourite poem from one of my favourite poets: John S Hall (http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=96884) Although I only have one of his books, it’s enough to declare him a favourite…he is that good!
So here is the poem Stevie’s comment reminded me:
TAKE STUFF FROM WORK
Take stuff from work. It’s the best way to feel better about your job. Never buy pens or pencils or paper. Take ‘em from work. Rubber bands, paper clips, memo pads, folders – take ‘em from work. It’s the best way to feel better about your low pay and appalling working conditions.
Take an ashtray – they got plenty. Take coat hangers. Take a – take a trash can. Why buy a file cabinet? Why buy a phone? Why buy a personal computer or word processor? Take ‘em from work.
I took a whole desk from the last place I worked. They never noticed and it looks great in my apartment. Take an electric pencil sharpener. Take a case of white-out; you might need it one day. It’s your duty as an oppressed worker to steal from your exploiters. Take stuff from work. And fuck off on the company time. I wrote this at work. They’re paying me to write about stuff I steal from them. Life is good.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
“There is no turkey in you, you are one hot chick!”
Was what one of the judges said to Meliz, the contestant at the ‘How do you solve a problem like Maria?’: the new talent show on BBC1 aiming to find the star of The Sound of Music planned for the West End.
Meliz is 23, studied music and is from a Turkish-Cypriot family (http://www.bbc.co.uk/maria/marias/meliz.shtml): The first from the community to make to a prime time show for her talent. I emphasise ‘talent’ since not only she seems to have heaps of it but also Sezer who was in Big Brother earlier this year and Kemal who was in last year are not in the same league.
Before the show, I thought it was my duty as a Turk-Brit to vote for her. As the show started, I hesitated between being fair and voting for the best and being loyal to my community in its largest definition. But once she started singing, there was no hesitation. She was absolutely amazing. She is not only extremely beautiful but also really humble and sweet. Her reaction upon hearing that she was through was the loveliest response: just a huge smile and squeezed shut eyes; none of the extravert reactions of some of the others. Although they announced her as ‘sexy Maria’, she showed that she is also humble and sweet like Maria should be.
And what a choice of song it was! Son of a Preacher Man – sung by so many strong vocals, not least Dusty Springfield and Aretha Franklin. Andrew Lloyd Webber said it best: “You out Dusty'd Dusty Springfield," adding, "You acted the song brilliantly."
On the website of the show, she says Rizzo from Grease (played by Stockhard Channing) is one of her favourite characters because she is gutsy. She is probably my the favourite character in fact. Grease was the first film I saw in a cinema when I was about 10. I watched the film countless times since and like her more and more every time because she knows who she is even though she doesn’t fit in with the norm. Meliz would be brilliant as Rizzo. So I finish by writing the lyrics of her best song of the film ‘There are worse things I could do’ as this is the song for all independent women. Oh, and of course, I wish Meliz all the best. Even if they don’t choose you as Maria, dear Meliz, you certainly are a STAR!
There are worse things I could do,
Than go with a boy or two.
Even though the neighborhood thinks I'm trashy,
And no good,
I suppose it could be true,
But there are worse things I could do.
I could flirt with all the guys,
Smile at them and bat my eyes.
Press against them when we dance,
Make them think they stand a chance,
Then refuse to see it through.
That's a thing I'd never do.
I could stay home every night,
Wait around for Mr. Right.
Take cold showers every day,
And throw my life away,
On a dream that won't come true.
I could hurt someone like me,
Out of spite or jealousy.
I don’t steal and I don’t lie,
But I can feel and I can cry.
A fact I'll bet you never knew.
But to cry in front of you,
That's the worse thing I could do
Was what one of the judges said to Meliz, the contestant at the ‘How do you solve a problem like Maria?’: the new talent show on BBC1 aiming to find the star of The Sound of Music planned for the West End.
Meliz is 23, studied music and is from a Turkish-Cypriot family (http://www.bbc.co.uk/maria/marias/meliz.shtml): The first from the community to make to a prime time show for her talent. I emphasise ‘talent’ since not only she seems to have heaps of it but also Sezer who was in Big Brother earlier this year and Kemal who was in last year are not in the same league.
Before the show, I thought it was my duty as a Turk-Brit to vote for her. As the show started, I hesitated between being fair and voting for the best and being loyal to my community in its largest definition. But once she started singing, there was no hesitation. She was absolutely amazing. She is not only extremely beautiful but also really humble and sweet. Her reaction upon hearing that she was through was the loveliest response: just a huge smile and squeezed shut eyes; none of the extravert reactions of some of the others. Although they announced her as ‘sexy Maria’, she showed that she is also humble and sweet like Maria should be.
And what a choice of song it was! Son of a Preacher Man – sung by so many strong vocals, not least Dusty Springfield and Aretha Franklin. Andrew Lloyd Webber said it best: “You out Dusty'd Dusty Springfield," adding, "You acted the song brilliantly."
On the website of the show, she says Rizzo from Grease (played by Stockhard Channing) is one of her favourite characters because she is gutsy. She is probably my the favourite character in fact. Grease was the first film I saw in a cinema when I was about 10. I watched the film countless times since and like her more and more every time because she knows who she is even though she doesn’t fit in with the norm. Meliz would be brilliant as Rizzo. So I finish by writing the lyrics of her best song of the film ‘There are worse things I could do’ as this is the song for all independent women. Oh, and of course, I wish Meliz all the best. Even if they don’t choose you as Maria, dear Meliz, you certainly are a STAR!
There are worse things I could do,
Than go with a boy or two.
Even though the neighborhood thinks I'm trashy,
And no good,
I suppose it could be true,
But there are worse things I could do.
I could flirt with all the guys,
Smile at them and bat my eyes.
Press against them when we dance,
Make them think they stand a chance,
Then refuse to see it through.
That's a thing I'd never do.
I could stay home every night,
Wait around for Mr. Right.
Take cold showers every day,
And throw my life away,
On a dream that won't come true.
I could hurt someone like me,
Out of spite or jealousy.
I don’t steal and I don’t lie,
But I can feel and I can cry.
A fact I'll bet you never knew.
But to cry in front of you,
That's the worse thing I could do
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Should we trust our instinct?
Asked the woman sitting at the next table…’but isn’t instinct just about fancying someone?’ she added without waiting for my answer.
It was at a speed dating event.
I walked in, met up with my friend, got a drink and surveyed the room. There was no one of interest. Terrible to be so quick to form a judgement perhaps, but isn’t that the basis of the entire speed dating industry?
You must have heard about, if not been to one of, these events. Everyone gets a number as they arrive. Women take the table of their number, and men circulate spending three minutes at each. At the end of each ‘date’ you are meant to score everyone: yes, no, friend.
It’s efficient for the first round of screening. You get to meet tens of potentials in one evening. Three minutes per date are enough to know if you definitely don’t want to see the person again. But then if you like anyone you meet, you still have to spend at least a couple of hours trying to look interested and be nice even if you both know there will never be a second date.
All participants are potentially good catches: bankers, architects, graphic designers, mathematicians, doctors and so on.
They are not desperate. They just know how easy it is to be young(ish) with a lot to offer but not meet someone to offer anything to, despite living with 8 million other people in this city and no matter how outgoing and socially busy you are.
But, it’s not natural, again as the woman at the next table said. It’s scripted, careographed and staged…even if the script writers and actors are the same, the dates are by no means spontaneous which takes the joy out of them. Smiles hide the anxiety to look attractive enough and judge the other person all within three minutes.
But the natural is difficult. The odds of meeting someone worth your offerings are very low and that’s why the industry is so successful.
Should we continue with, what seems in bad times, near impossible odds? Should we wait for our fate even if it means accepting the possibility that there’ll be no one for us? NO, screams a voice inside. You are of a generation of women who are truly beginning to be free, to determine their own lives and defy fate others used to decide for them. So, sacrifice an evening, see beyond the staged 3-minutes and give everyone a chance.
There is another voice inside, though, one who says don’t let go of the dream of chance meetings. If it’s meant to be, it will be no matter how hard you try to make it happen or stop it. In fact, do we even really need a significant other to enjoy life? Can we enjoy life with a significant other, if we can’t enjoy it on our own? So, don’t sacrifice an evening, go see some art, dance, sing, enjoy the life that you have!
When it comes to meeting people: perhaps the question is not about how you meet someone but what you look for when you do. Should we trust our instinct or should we judge whether the man / woman opposite is good husband / wife material? Are they two different things as the woman at the next table implied? Can there be happy dating, let alone marriage, without a good dose of desire?! I seriously doubt it.
My initial instinct was right on this occasion. No one was interesting enough. I don’t mean attractive but genuinely interesting. The first three questions of all of them (and there was not time for a fourth one) were how my name is pronounced, where it and/or my accent is from and what I do for a living. Fair enough I guess but boring nonetheless…What did I ask? Not much…the same questions back – minus the one about pronunciation. So I was as much to blame, and as I guessed at the time, I only got two ‘friend’ ticks afterwards…Thank you, guys, but I have enough friends, as I am sure you do.
Thanks also to H – who has been an excellent source of potential answers as always.
Asked the woman sitting at the next table…’but isn’t instinct just about fancying someone?’ she added without waiting for my answer.
It was at a speed dating event.
I walked in, met up with my friend, got a drink and surveyed the room. There was no one of interest. Terrible to be so quick to form a judgement perhaps, but isn’t that the basis of the entire speed dating industry?
You must have heard about, if not been to one of, these events. Everyone gets a number as they arrive. Women take the table of their number, and men circulate spending three minutes at each. At the end of each ‘date’ you are meant to score everyone: yes, no, friend.
It’s efficient for the first round of screening. You get to meet tens of potentials in one evening. Three minutes per date are enough to know if you definitely don’t want to see the person again. But then if you like anyone you meet, you still have to spend at least a couple of hours trying to look interested and be nice even if you both know there will never be a second date.
All participants are potentially good catches: bankers, architects, graphic designers, mathematicians, doctors and so on.
They are not desperate. They just know how easy it is to be young(ish) with a lot to offer but not meet someone to offer anything to, despite living with 8 million other people in this city and no matter how outgoing and socially busy you are.
But, it’s not natural, again as the woman at the next table said. It’s scripted, careographed and staged…even if the script writers and actors are the same, the dates are by no means spontaneous which takes the joy out of them. Smiles hide the anxiety to look attractive enough and judge the other person all within three minutes.
But the natural is difficult. The odds of meeting someone worth your offerings are very low and that’s why the industry is so successful.
Should we continue with, what seems in bad times, near impossible odds? Should we wait for our fate even if it means accepting the possibility that there’ll be no one for us? NO, screams a voice inside. You are of a generation of women who are truly beginning to be free, to determine their own lives and defy fate others used to decide for them. So, sacrifice an evening, see beyond the staged 3-minutes and give everyone a chance.
There is another voice inside, though, one who says don’t let go of the dream of chance meetings. If it’s meant to be, it will be no matter how hard you try to make it happen or stop it. In fact, do we even really need a significant other to enjoy life? Can we enjoy life with a significant other, if we can’t enjoy it on our own? So, don’t sacrifice an evening, go see some art, dance, sing, enjoy the life that you have!
When it comes to meeting people: perhaps the question is not about how you meet someone but what you look for when you do. Should we trust our instinct or should we judge whether the man / woman opposite is good husband / wife material? Are they two different things as the woman at the next table implied? Can there be happy dating, let alone marriage, without a good dose of desire?! I seriously doubt it.
My initial instinct was right on this occasion. No one was interesting enough. I don’t mean attractive but genuinely interesting. The first three questions of all of them (and there was not time for a fourth one) were how my name is pronounced, where it and/or my accent is from and what I do for a living. Fair enough I guess but boring nonetheless…What did I ask? Not much…the same questions back – minus the one about pronunciation. So I was as much to blame, and as I guessed at the time, I only got two ‘friend’ ticks afterwards…Thank you, guys, but I have enough friends, as I am sure you do.
Thanks also to H – who has been an excellent source of potential answers as always.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Fuerzabruta at the Roundhouse
Hurry, go, see it.
See the Roundhouse in Chalk Farm for a start. Great venue with a long and varied past. As a quote from Tempest says “What is past is prologue” (from the poster on the Level 1 wall).
Fuerzabruta is something else altogether. If not in the Roundhouse, you must, I repeat, you must see it if and when it comes to where you are. That is if you can take the force, yes, the ‘brute force’ which I think the title means in Spanish. I don’t want to give anything away. No, I can’t give anything away anyway…words, however better they are than I can master could give away the show that will startle all your senses all at once.
A man walks, runs
Gets shot, blood.
Picks himself up, continues,
Gets shot again;
Passes by chairs, people, who look but don’t connect,
Rips through doors that explode in confetti, in boxes, in blasts
Runs through a diner amidst furniture in havoc,
Settles on a bed,
Dreams about a water fair up in the sky, kisses her and more,
Then it’s all a blur:
Girls running on walls,
Man and woman hovering on vertical trampolines in their finest,
Bouncing away as they try to get closer, missing, missing.
Parties, confetti, cardboard.
Huge wave out of foil passing over our heads,
Steam, rain, water, water,
At last the water fairies of our dreams,
One, then, two, three, four
The most beautiful bodies, small, delicate feet,
Wet legs, torsos, hair
Coming closer, closer, closer
We touch their faces, ankles, toes, bottoms
They look in bewilderment, my mouth still open
Again, again and again
Then rain, steam, thunder, water, water
A man walks, runs
Rips through a door that explodes two others
Up the stairs, a door beyond which there is nothing but running
Running, running, running…
F said it was about the relentless pace of modern life; ripping through, destroying everything; plastic, artificial, detached, but yearning to return to something that’s fluid, natural, caring, peaceful. I thought it was about life, death, the promised but undeliverable, unknowable beauty of afterlife. I think she is right, though.
Their website says “[Fuerzabruta] does not invent anything; does not have a purpose; it is”. I think they are right, too. They also say it does not repeat itself. So, hopefully, I haven’t spoilt anything. Hurry, go, see it and make up your mind, or just let go and enjoy.
www.fuerzabruta.net/website/fuerza_eng.html
Hurry, go, see it.
See the Roundhouse in Chalk Farm for a start. Great venue with a long and varied past. As a quote from Tempest says “What is past is prologue” (from the poster on the Level 1 wall).
Fuerzabruta is something else altogether. If not in the Roundhouse, you must, I repeat, you must see it if and when it comes to where you are. That is if you can take the force, yes, the ‘brute force’ which I think the title means in Spanish. I don’t want to give anything away. No, I can’t give anything away anyway…words, however better they are than I can master could give away the show that will startle all your senses all at once.
A man walks, runs
Gets shot, blood.
Picks himself up, continues,
Gets shot again;
Passes by chairs, people, who look but don’t connect,
Rips through doors that explode in confetti, in boxes, in blasts
Runs through a diner amidst furniture in havoc,
Settles on a bed,
Dreams about a water fair up in the sky, kisses her and more,
Then it’s all a blur:
Girls running on walls,
Man and woman hovering on vertical trampolines in their finest,
Bouncing away as they try to get closer, missing, missing.
Parties, confetti, cardboard.
Huge wave out of foil passing over our heads,
Steam, rain, water, water,
At last the water fairies of our dreams,
One, then, two, three, four
The most beautiful bodies, small, delicate feet,
Wet legs, torsos, hair
Coming closer, closer, closer
We touch their faces, ankles, toes, bottoms
They look in bewilderment, my mouth still open
Again, again and again
Then rain, steam, thunder, water, water
A man walks, runs
Rips through a door that explodes two others
Up the stairs, a door beyond which there is nothing but running
Running, running, running…
F said it was about the relentless pace of modern life; ripping through, destroying everything; plastic, artificial, detached, but yearning to return to something that’s fluid, natural, caring, peaceful. I thought it was about life, death, the promised but undeliverable, unknowable beauty of afterlife. I think she is right, though.
Their website says “[Fuerzabruta] does not invent anything; does not have a purpose; it is”. I think they are right, too. They also say it does not repeat itself. So, hopefully, I haven’t spoilt anything. Hurry, go, see it and make up your mind, or just let go and enjoy.
www.fuerzabruta.net/website/fuerza_eng.html
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Appreciation is not just a difficult word to spell!
Whenever I am down, I count all the things in life I am lucky about…I have all my sensory faculties, limbs and organs in good working order; have a job; have a flat; am not rich but not wanting for money; have a few creative hobbies, a scattered but good family, and good friends etc. etc. An annoying habit this, counting one’s blessings, at least for those who mock me for being such a Polyanna.
Despite appearances, until recently I didn’t truly mean any of it. It was all like Mary Poppins says ‘a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down’. I never forgot how bitter the medicine was. So much so that I’ve come to believe that the Robbie Williams lyrics “I don’t wanna die but I ain't keen on living either” were the best description of my life if I ever allowed myself to admit it.
But what I’ve, only recently, allowed myself to admit is something else: that there really is nothing to complain about my life. Not only that I am healthy and have enough money but I don’t live in a war zone afraid of my life. I have control over my destiny in more ways than one.
And as soon as I allowed myself to feel this, lots of good things began to happen as if my wishing alone was enough to make them happen.
I think it started a few weeks ago, when I spent a weekend with the extended family of my goddaughter, S. We played with the kids during the day and spent the night sitting under a tree, sipping wine and talking about all sorts of things while being bitten to buggery by gigantic mosquitoes (and that’s in Surrey!). But I felt part of that family and the love we shared. We even saw our first glow worm together…a good sign.
Weekend before last, I went to Ibiza to visit my friend, H, out of sheer desperation to get away. I expected a friendly home and a good host but she exceeded all my expectations. Not only she was a good host, but also a much better friend towards me than I had hoped. We spent four days sleeping (deepest sleeps I had in years), eating (only a little I must add), drinking (with moderation), dancing (with no bounds at least one of the nights), playing chess (H taught me), swimming as the sun set and talking about life and love.
It’s not an easy thing to talk about love with other people. They either get bored or anxious either because the conversation can truly be boring and repetitive or because you tell truths that they cannot admit even to themselves. H made it possible for me to say thinks (intentional misspelling) I didn’t even realise I was thinking – thinks that got me thinking even more. Even when she didn’t agree, instead of disagreeing she said ‘hmm, interesting, there is something here I shall think about’…the rare trait of a great listener…thank you H!
I came back to London far too soon…as the fox must return to the fur shop (a Turkish saying). A couple of days later I received an email from Easy Jet informing me that my flight to Budapest in a couple of weeks’ time was cancelled and offering me a full refund for the entire journey. I snapped the offer since even though I wanted to go and see the city and attend the music festival, my heart was not in it. I didn’t really want to go and couldn’t have wished for more than a full refund!
When someone wishes something and it happens, they say (at least in Turkey), I wish I wished something else! Why?! Imagine someone giving you a present and you telling them “hmmm nice and it was in my birthday list and all, but I wish you got me something else”. Imagine how that person must feel. That’s how God, energy, universe whatever you call it, must feel. No wonder not many of our wishes come true….we ungrateful gits don’t deserve them, that’s why!
Friday night, I went to a sufi music concert. It was very moving and the amateur group that was playing and singing had improved immensely since I last saw them two years ago. They announced that they would finish the night with a hymn (or ilahi which is the Muslim equivalent). I am not religious…or rather I don’t practice. But there is this one ilahi about a conversation between the musician and a yellow flower which my grandmother had taught me when I was a little girl and which I still remember. I thought ‘I wish they sang Sari Cicek’….law and behold, that’s what they sang which made me happier than I would have if this had happened a few weeks ago…so happy that I didn’t mind going to a restaurant and having dinner by myself…in the middle of Islington, all on my own, on a Friday night, surrounded by groups of friends, families and dates. I would have done it anytime anyway but would have had a bitter sweet taste in my mouth. This time, I experienced a calm happiness about sitting there on my own, making notes for myself about lucky things in life as I watched others with a hidden smile on my face.
The weekend was spent at a wedding, that of F and R who’d met on holiday in a Central American country five years ago; then spent most of the time since living in their respective countries, only meeting for a few weeks every few months. The groom said he was so lucky to have met the bride who changed his life and opened up all sorts of possibilities for him that he never thought possible. There is love after all, so long as one has faith in it. I didn’t feel left out, lonely…despite dining at the table with two of the siblings of the groom and one ex boyfriend. Considering I am the ex of one of the groom's brothers, I felt joy and luck having met these people and not only having been invited to share their joy but also be sitting in a still-close-to-family table.
Even this morning when I turned up at work the first thought in my head was not ‘oh, damn, it’s Monday morning and I am still tired’, even though I was still tired, but ‘how lucky I am to be able to come to work as late as 10.30’!
What’s happening to me? More importantly where is this entry going? Nowhere particular. I just wanted to share how lucky I’ve been feeling. It’s as if I write, this feeling will become even more real.
I do have these pangs of doubt every now and then: like if I allow myself to feel happiness and luck for any prolonged time, i.e. more than a few moments, it will either be taken away from me or I will be forgoing something better. But who, why should it go away? And if it did, wouldn’t it come back again? What could be better? Yes, I could have more material goods, I could travel more, not have to work, I could have a family, a loving husbands, kids. But would having these suddenly make me appreciate them truly, or would I still be either afraid or unsatisfied?
Yes, I guess that’s the key word: appreciate. That’s the change, that’s the difference. It’s not that my life has changed significantly. It’s not that I was granted my wishes by a gene or found a four-leaved clover. It’s just that something changed in me to make me see my life, myself differently. And finally, I begin to appreciate myself; not because I am special but just because I simply am. Maybe this was the change I’ve been waiting for a long time. I just hope I’ll now get over the fear that I jinxed it all by announcing it through this entry. Please, please, let me wallow in this appreciation for a while.
Whenever I am down, I count all the things in life I am lucky about…I have all my sensory faculties, limbs and organs in good working order; have a job; have a flat; am not rich but not wanting for money; have a few creative hobbies, a scattered but good family, and good friends etc. etc. An annoying habit this, counting one’s blessings, at least for those who mock me for being such a Polyanna.
Despite appearances, until recently I didn’t truly mean any of it. It was all like Mary Poppins says ‘a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down’. I never forgot how bitter the medicine was. So much so that I’ve come to believe that the Robbie Williams lyrics “I don’t wanna die but I ain't keen on living either” were the best description of my life if I ever allowed myself to admit it.
But what I’ve, only recently, allowed myself to admit is something else: that there really is nothing to complain about my life. Not only that I am healthy and have enough money but I don’t live in a war zone afraid of my life. I have control over my destiny in more ways than one.
And as soon as I allowed myself to feel this, lots of good things began to happen as if my wishing alone was enough to make them happen.
I think it started a few weeks ago, when I spent a weekend with the extended family of my goddaughter, S. We played with the kids during the day and spent the night sitting under a tree, sipping wine and talking about all sorts of things while being bitten to buggery by gigantic mosquitoes (and that’s in Surrey!). But I felt part of that family and the love we shared. We even saw our first glow worm together…a good sign.
Weekend before last, I went to Ibiza to visit my friend, H, out of sheer desperation to get away. I expected a friendly home and a good host but she exceeded all my expectations. Not only she was a good host, but also a much better friend towards me than I had hoped. We spent four days sleeping (deepest sleeps I had in years), eating (only a little I must add), drinking (with moderation), dancing (with no bounds at least one of the nights), playing chess (H taught me), swimming as the sun set and talking about life and love.
It’s not an easy thing to talk about love with other people. They either get bored or anxious either because the conversation can truly be boring and repetitive or because you tell truths that they cannot admit even to themselves. H made it possible for me to say thinks (intentional misspelling) I didn’t even realise I was thinking – thinks that got me thinking even more. Even when she didn’t agree, instead of disagreeing she said ‘hmm, interesting, there is something here I shall think about’…the rare trait of a great listener…thank you H!
I came back to London far too soon…as the fox must return to the fur shop (a Turkish saying). A couple of days later I received an email from Easy Jet informing me that my flight to Budapest in a couple of weeks’ time was cancelled and offering me a full refund for the entire journey. I snapped the offer since even though I wanted to go and see the city and attend the music festival, my heart was not in it. I didn’t really want to go and couldn’t have wished for more than a full refund!
When someone wishes something and it happens, they say (at least in Turkey), I wish I wished something else! Why?! Imagine someone giving you a present and you telling them “hmmm nice and it was in my birthday list and all, but I wish you got me something else”. Imagine how that person must feel. That’s how God, energy, universe whatever you call it, must feel. No wonder not many of our wishes come true….we ungrateful gits don’t deserve them, that’s why!
Friday night, I went to a sufi music concert. It was very moving and the amateur group that was playing and singing had improved immensely since I last saw them two years ago. They announced that they would finish the night with a hymn (or ilahi which is the Muslim equivalent). I am not religious…or rather I don’t practice. But there is this one ilahi about a conversation between the musician and a yellow flower which my grandmother had taught me when I was a little girl and which I still remember. I thought ‘I wish they sang Sari Cicek’….law and behold, that’s what they sang which made me happier than I would have if this had happened a few weeks ago…so happy that I didn’t mind going to a restaurant and having dinner by myself…in the middle of Islington, all on my own, on a Friday night, surrounded by groups of friends, families and dates. I would have done it anytime anyway but would have had a bitter sweet taste in my mouth. This time, I experienced a calm happiness about sitting there on my own, making notes for myself about lucky things in life as I watched others with a hidden smile on my face.
The weekend was spent at a wedding, that of F and R who’d met on holiday in a Central American country five years ago; then spent most of the time since living in their respective countries, only meeting for a few weeks every few months. The groom said he was so lucky to have met the bride who changed his life and opened up all sorts of possibilities for him that he never thought possible. There is love after all, so long as one has faith in it. I didn’t feel left out, lonely…despite dining at the table with two of the siblings of the groom and one ex boyfriend. Considering I am the ex of one of the groom's brothers, I felt joy and luck having met these people and not only having been invited to share their joy but also be sitting in a still-close-to-family table.
Even this morning when I turned up at work the first thought in my head was not ‘oh, damn, it’s Monday morning and I am still tired’, even though I was still tired, but ‘how lucky I am to be able to come to work as late as 10.30’!
What’s happening to me? More importantly where is this entry going? Nowhere particular. I just wanted to share how lucky I’ve been feeling. It’s as if I write, this feeling will become even more real.
I do have these pangs of doubt every now and then: like if I allow myself to feel happiness and luck for any prolonged time, i.e. more than a few moments, it will either be taken away from me or I will be forgoing something better. But who, why should it go away? And if it did, wouldn’t it come back again? What could be better? Yes, I could have more material goods, I could travel more, not have to work, I could have a family, a loving husbands, kids. But would having these suddenly make me appreciate them truly, or would I still be either afraid or unsatisfied?
Yes, I guess that’s the key word: appreciate. That’s the change, that’s the difference. It’s not that my life has changed significantly. It’s not that I was granted my wishes by a gene or found a four-leaved clover. It’s just that something changed in me to make me see my life, myself differently. And finally, I begin to appreciate myself; not because I am special but just because I simply am. Maybe this was the change I’ve been waiting for a long time. I just hope I’ll now get over the fear that I jinxed it all by announcing it through this entry. Please, please, let me wallow in this appreciation for a while.
Monday, July 17, 2006
A little cut & paste hasn’t hurt anyone!
I don’t want to make a habit of this, but it’s been too hot lately to write something (though I have a review of the Kandinsky exhibition at the Tate Modern brewing), so here is something that moved me. It was sent to me by my dear step mum (oh, how we love the phrase J). So, as it says:
Read Each One Carefully and Think About It a Second or Two
I don’t want to make a habit of this, but it’s been too hot lately to write something (though I have a review of the Kandinsky exhibition at the Tate Modern brewing), so here is something that moved me. It was sent to me by my dear step mum (oh, how we love the phrase J). So, as it says:
Read Each One Carefully and Think About It a Second or Two
- I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you.
- No man or woman is worth your tears, and the one who is, won't make you cry.
- Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
- A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.
- The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them knowing you can't have them.
- Never frown, even when you are sad, because you never know who is falling in love with your smile.
- To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.
- Don't waste your time on a man/woman, who isn't willing to waste their time on you.
- Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one, so that when we finally meet the person, we will know how to be grateful.
- There's always going to be people that hurt you so what you have to do is keep on trusting and just be more careful about who you trust next time around.
- Make yourself a better person and know who you are, before you try and know someone else and expect them to know you.
- Don't try so hard, the best things come when you least expect them to.
REMEMBER: WHATEVER HAPPENS, HAPPENS FOR A REASON.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Oh, this London town…
…was like The South of Tennessee Williams (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tennessee_Williams) today:
muggy and grey…that stifling heat, that promise of rain which is late in delivery and disappointingly short and dry upon arrival; which leaves sins and streets unwashed.
I felt like a character from A Streetcar Named Desire or The Night of the Iguana. Like Blanche DuBois or Maxine Faulk. Having seen both plays (the former on film, the latter on stage), I think I’d like to play Maxine for now (am too young for Blanche). She, unsuccessfully, hides behind laughter, flirtation, sex and bottle. She has a nice hotel, hot weather, gorgeous young lover – steps up to a good life for most but down to a pool of quick sand for her. My steps are different but I understand her position. And that’s why, and especially if it meant sharing the stage with Woody Harrelson (who played Rev T Lawrence Shannon in the West End production I saw in December last year), I would definitely take up this role!
Alas (or 'luckily' depending on your stance), London ain’t no Southern town…rain did come: it was short but wet enough, followed by brilliant sun shine.
…was like The South of Tennessee Williams (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tennessee_Williams) today:
muggy and grey…that stifling heat, that promise of rain which is late in delivery and disappointingly short and dry upon arrival; which leaves sins and streets unwashed.
I felt like a character from A Streetcar Named Desire or The Night of the Iguana. Like Blanche DuBois or Maxine Faulk. Having seen both plays (the former on film, the latter on stage), I think I’d like to play Maxine for now (am too young for Blanche). She, unsuccessfully, hides behind laughter, flirtation, sex and bottle. She has a nice hotel, hot weather, gorgeous young lover – steps up to a good life for most but down to a pool of quick sand for her. My steps are different but I understand her position. And that’s why, and especially if it meant sharing the stage with Woody Harrelson (who played Rev T Lawrence Shannon in the West End production I saw in December last year), I would definitely take up this role!
Alas (or 'luckily' depending on your stance), London ain’t no Southern town…rain did come: it was short but wet enough, followed by brilliant sun shine.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
History repeats itself…
…they say and it’s true for individuals, families as much as it is true for nations and the world. But why is it that it’s always the bad, stupid stuff that gets repeated and the good stuff has to be built anew over and over again?!
Why is it that everyone knows this and no one does anything?
Why is it that we don’t learn from our and others’ mistakes?
Why is it that even though we fail over and over again, we still think we know the best?
In fact, how is it that, some of us all the time, and all of us some of the time, have the total conviction that we know what’s best for everyone even if we have absolutely no proof of it?
How is it that we learn everything but we never learn to let others speak and to truly listen to them when they do?
Why is it that most mistakes are made and repeated because we can’t talk to each other?
Why is it that despite learning that we don’t really have to be afraid for ourselves or for others (of whatever), we still are and that fear is what locks our lips and closes our ears?
Why is it that we sometimes make the life most difficult for those we love the most and that our life is made difficult by those who love us the most?
Why is it that we assume our title entitles us to automatic respect, when we should full well know the respect needs to be earned?
Why is it that we continue to try to speak to deaf ears?
Why is it that instead of writing this, I can’t just pick up the phone and talk the person who needs to ask these questions to himself before making yet more mistakes of the same kind – the kind that made me / us sad so long and continues to make others sad, too?!
What’s the answer to all this?
…they say and it’s true for individuals, families as much as it is true for nations and the world. But why is it that it’s always the bad, stupid stuff that gets repeated and the good stuff has to be built anew over and over again?!
Why is it that everyone knows this and no one does anything?
Why is it that we don’t learn from our and others’ mistakes?
Why is it that even though we fail over and over again, we still think we know the best?
In fact, how is it that, some of us all the time, and all of us some of the time, have the total conviction that we know what’s best for everyone even if we have absolutely no proof of it?
How is it that we learn everything but we never learn to let others speak and to truly listen to them when they do?
Why is it that most mistakes are made and repeated because we can’t talk to each other?
Why is it that despite learning that we don’t really have to be afraid for ourselves or for others (of whatever), we still are and that fear is what locks our lips and closes our ears?
Why is it that we sometimes make the life most difficult for those we love the most and that our life is made difficult by those who love us the most?
Why is it that we assume our title entitles us to automatic respect, when we should full well know the respect needs to be earned?
Why is it that we continue to try to speak to deaf ears?
Why is it that instead of writing this, I can’t just pick up the phone and talk the person who needs to ask these questions to himself before making yet more mistakes of the same kind – the kind that made me / us sad so long and continues to make others sad, too?!
What’s the answer to all this?
Thursday, June 15, 2006
It’s all too fast…
It’s only been a little over 2 weeks since the last entry…but so much happnened that it felt like an age…My new year resolution was to slow down / diminish....oh, yea...
I haven’t got anything good / interesting to write right now, but wanted to write something anyway…So, what’s happened since?
I was creative (two improv shows, three more articles in the Turkish woman’s magazine);
I met all but one work deadlines (this is the first time I missed a deadline by this much - at least 6 weeks!….but the Client was fine about it which is great…learnt (once again) that missing a deadline is not the end of the world and that I should trust myself a little more);
I did what I preached (see the review of Big Stone Gap, from May 16th) – I was honest even if that meant I made myself vulnerable and, yes, surprise, surprise, I am still standing… I am much more confident in myself than I’ve ever been before…someone’s hesitation is never going to be rejection of me ever again! (especially not when I told them I wasn’t sure I wanted their heart in the first place….who is rejecting who, I ask you!)
Oh, yes, and I helped organise a friend’s 40th birthday…music, comedy, cabaret, DJs, slide shows, the lot….he worked a lot too of course and it was great fun…it was last Friday, we went to bed about 7 am…am still recovering…
The only bad thing is that I’ve put even more weight on…but have been ‘salad’ing since Monday and will hit the gym again (after a year of paying but not going) so I’ll get thinner again I am sure…
Oh dear, it's all me, me, me....but, hey, it's MY blog so it's OK for me to be self-indulgent every now and again!
OK, bye till I can find something more interesting to say….I’ve been reading the next two books after Big Stone Gap – will review them shortly…
By the way, 23rd June is my birthday… If I can't write before then, any goodwill wishes would be much appreciated :)
It’s only been a little over 2 weeks since the last entry…but so much happnened that it felt like an age…My new year resolution was to slow down / diminish....oh, yea...
I haven’t got anything good / interesting to write right now, but wanted to write something anyway…So, what’s happened since?
I was creative (two improv shows, three more articles in the Turkish woman’s magazine);
I met all but one work deadlines (this is the first time I missed a deadline by this much - at least 6 weeks!….but the Client was fine about it which is great…learnt (once again) that missing a deadline is not the end of the world and that I should trust myself a little more);
I did what I preached (see the review of Big Stone Gap, from May 16th) – I was honest even if that meant I made myself vulnerable and, yes, surprise, surprise, I am still standing… I am much more confident in myself than I’ve ever been before…someone’s hesitation is never going to be rejection of me ever again! (especially not when I told them I wasn’t sure I wanted their heart in the first place….who is rejecting who, I ask you!)
Oh, yes, and I helped organise a friend’s 40th birthday…music, comedy, cabaret, DJs, slide shows, the lot….he worked a lot too of course and it was great fun…it was last Friday, we went to bed about 7 am…am still recovering…
The only bad thing is that I’ve put even more weight on…but have been ‘salad’ing since Monday and will hit the gym again (after a year of paying but not going) so I’ll get thinner again I am sure…
Oh dear, it's all me, me, me....but, hey, it's MY blog so it's OK for me to be self-indulgent every now and again!
OK, bye till I can find something more interesting to say….I’ve been reading the next two books after Big Stone Gap – will review them shortly…
By the way, 23rd June is my birthday… If I can't write before then, any goodwill wishes would be much appreciated :)
Sunday, May 28, 2006
A commercial break…
I have no intention of advertising any product on this website but SAQI books sent me an announcement about a book ages ago which has been sitting on my desk for ages and it’s bugging me. So, here it goes.
Turkish Cookery by Sally Mustoe (ed) – see www.saqibooks.com. It features favourite recipes from Nigella Lawson, Gary Rhodes, Ainsley Harriott, Antony Worrall-Thompson, Anton Mosimann, Caludia Roden, Nevin Halici and other renowned chefs.
Recipes include that for hummous, meat pies, lamb tagine, yoghurt soup, Turkish delight, aubergine pate and dolma. Turkish chefs offer recipies for sweets, wedding banquets, street food, market food, coffee, olive oil, wines, breakfast, mese and raki and many others.
So, a great book for cooks with international taste – or for those like me who don’t really cook, a good present idea. Most importantly, the proceeds from sales will go toards providing further education for children orphaned by recent earthquakes in Turkey.
I have no intention of advertising any product on this website but SAQI books sent me an announcement about a book ages ago which has been sitting on my desk for ages and it’s bugging me. So, here it goes.
Turkish Cookery by Sally Mustoe (ed) – see www.saqibooks.com. It features favourite recipes from Nigella Lawson, Gary Rhodes, Ainsley Harriott, Antony Worrall-Thompson, Anton Mosimann, Caludia Roden, Nevin Halici and other renowned chefs.
Recipes include that for hummous, meat pies, lamb tagine, yoghurt soup, Turkish delight, aubergine pate and dolma. Turkish chefs offer recipies for sweets, wedding banquets, street food, market food, coffee, olive oil, wines, breakfast, mese and raki and many others.
So, a great book for cooks with international taste – or for those like me who don’t really cook, a good present idea. Most importantly, the proceeds from sales will go toards providing further education for children orphaned by recent earthquakes in Turkey.
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