I'm Sick Of Everybody Knowing Me Better Than I Know Myself...

I always claim to know myself really well, and I stand by that. This year, however, I had to learn that other people seem to know me just as well, and in some instances even better. The amounts of time somebody told me last year "No, you will not leave Egypt!", and "Come on, your relationship is dead!" and I responded "No, you're wrong!" is mortifying! Because they weren't wrong. Weeks later I had to do some serious facepalming because I couldn't believe how ridiculous I had been for thinking I'd know better. In some cases, I just effing failed! If there was anyone wrong about my assessment skills it was only one person, and it's this girl *points at herself*.

Yes, yes, it's embarrassing to keep getting busted trying to fool people. Only that I never was. In these moments I am truly convinced I believe what I'm saying, only I shouldn't be. When I left Egypt last year I probably knew I'd be back, or I would have actually taken my things with me, but I was doing all my goodbyes and even planned to be moving to an entirely different country over the summer. I was taking all the necessary steps to fool myself into thinking Egypt was no more. Nobody was buying it though, and I shouldn't be surprised. One of my best friends told me I'd be back in Egypt in no time and would stay, and two months later I came back for a visit, got a high paying job right away, and that's exactly what happened. Apparently, all the "whatever, Sina"-people knew me better than I know myself, and it annoys me a hell of a lot...

I am not a transparent person to many, which puzzles me. I share almost everything I do on this blog or social media, articulate my feelings more often than most depressives and can't keep my own secret, yet few people have been able to really make a judgement on me that I actually thought fit. I refuse to believe this is because I either don't know myself at all or am one of these hard to read people. It doesn't take a genius to figure me out, and yet almost nobody ever bothered to do it. So in the end I am a mystery to people because they didn't try very hard. As a result, I have become wary of people "reading" me and am actually stunned when they do. Everyone likes to be mysterious, so I dislike when I'm not. Part of knowing myself though, I guess, means accepting I'm just not a g-d-mystery.

Last year I had a conversation with a very good friend of mine considering my behavior towards my ex-boyfriend. I tried to tell him that I felt like I sometimes deserved to be treated badly because I treated him badly, too. "You don't actually believe that, Sina", he said. Of course I didn't. I don't actually believe anyone deserves being treated badly, even if they suck. I was merely trying to fool people into thinking that my actions were coming from a place other than love, and only fools would be blind enough not to see that. Said friend then used his inception techniques on me and had me cut the guy out of my life and made me believe it was my idea. Self-assessment skills: failed! I cracked again mere weeks later, and dated said boy for another few months. Ouch!

It's embarrassing to consider how many times I dated someone because I thought I was "over the ex". Please, Sina! Nobody actually believed that. Yet, I did! And naturally, I was way off. I also successfully convinced myself I didn't like people I was clearly head over heels in love with. I even thought I'd found the "One" before with no rational reason leading me to believe that. Why am I doing that? It's pretty evident that my self-assessment skills that are on point in my professional game are lacking some serious magic when making romantic decisions. How do I not know what kind of feelings I have for some people? There are boys I've known for decades and still can't really decide if I like them as friends or lovers. Only thing sure is that once I crash and burn these relationships because I miscalculated, people are gonna come out and say "I told you so!".

This whole knowing oneself business is stressing me out. I like to say that part of one's strengths is knowing one's weaknesses, and when it comes to anything not related to the male human being I have impressive accuracy in knowing what I can and cannot do. I spent decades taking notes about myself only to be truly clueless about what to do or not when we're talking romance. Hell, I can't even successfully identify what I feel for people. I've regretted almost all of my break ups even when it was my decision to end things. Come to think of it, I don't think I ever actually followed through with my decision to break up (no, I do know: I didn't!). Consequently, disasters are in the making. I need to at least be able to figure myself out as much as people with no prior knowledge of me can. Or I could just start listening to people... 

Football & Politics Meet At The Euro 2016

As a simple person, my simple pleasures are known to everyone. I'd go as far as saying that politics and football are my only hobbies, and clearly I love to see them both inter-whined. As one can guess, a competition that is featuring representatives of a certain nation, united (or not united) under a flag, politics are easy to spot in the Euros. And yes, this year, we've had a few wonderful moments as well where my political heart was able to beat for nations like usually only referendums can... Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself...

#1 Brexit 2.0

I like to emphasize how much psychology affects the happenings on the field, and who is surprised that the British exited the tournament the way they did after the unceremoniously exited the EU just a few days earlier like a bunch of drunk, skinhead hooligans. The entire world probably failed to feel bad for that embarrassment after the English (and Welch, I guess) have become a flagship of xenophobia and making ridiculously detrimental political decisions. I myself usually regarded the English with favor, yet their self-pronounced status as a favorite of the tournament has made me chuckle since 1966, or at least since I had to actually listen to it. My favorite political joke came after their demise as well, celebrating Roy Hodgson as the only man in Britain ballsy enough to enact Article 50. Now that Walesand England let the UK down, it's on Andy's shoulders once more to bring honor to the country. Maybe the last time he will be a "British" champ... 

#2 Hail Sigthorsson!

That's right, the guy scoring the final goal for Iceland in their game past the group stage was called Sieg-Tor-Sohn, which basically means the son of the victory goal in German, no joke. Quite opposite of the English popularity, everyone was cheering for these guys. And when I can't decide who to root for in an international match, I usually choose politics. In that respect, Iceland thoroughly deserved that win over the old, racist English folk who will now die in large numbers not being a winner at anything. Iceland, this year, impeached its prime minister and made the Panama Papers one of the most transparent media investigations to ever influence politics. They also own equal rights. And now they are one of Europe's best 8 teams. Oh, those wonderful football moments... 

#3 Should we just hand it to France?

France really needs some cheery times, don't they? Mass protest and terrorism seem to have a favorite holiday destination and it seems to be France. And that's where the tournament takes place. Now France can't really win unless they play at home, so it's their once in a lifetime chance (again!) to make it or break it. And in fact, if I had a dime for every time someone said to me that they are supporting France because "they deserve it after all those terror attacks" I'd be rich. I would also like to smash their heads in but it only really goes to show that politics and football are indeed affecting the same brain region. So, I guess, in two years we'll all be backing Afghanistan to become the world champion, right?

#4 Neighborhood Feuds
Germany and Poland or Hungary and Austria, there's so many games that could be played with neighbors. As a citizen of Germany who lives less that three minutes walking from two other countries, a neighborhood duel is always fun. At the same time, you get dickhead Dutch guys come across the border to cheer for our opponents, and vice versa. The Dutch don't like us, and therefore they want us to lose. Again, and vice versa. This is a hereditary hatred, and not the bitterness that resulted in the Germans hating the Italians. They used to beat us at football, so we hated their game, but we still liked to vacation at Lake Como. I couldn't care less if Italians played nice football, I will always want them to lose. But sometimes, one's hate for a country actually affects who you root for. And that is so not a matter of who plays well... 

The Pain That Stays: Leaving A Country You Called "Home" Never Leaves YOU!

Last week, the Brexit was still the content of 80% of the Internet or TV. Yesterday, it was the Fourth of July and my Facebook was littered with fireworks. Today is the last day of Ramadan and it will undoubtedly be everywhere. If I ever tried to forget about the years I spent in the UK, the US and Egypt, where I was "home" for a good few years of my life, it would be virtually impossible. Your actual home, in my case Germany, is the one I thought I wouldn't get rid of; coming home for summer or Christmas, I thought, would always be the case. But now I am back in the Fatherland, and I'm remembering all this time I was away. And while the current position is most likely the smartest choice, those other places don't ever leave you.

It's been 10 years since I lived in California and six since I last saw all my friends there (touché, not many left, but still!). However, Hanford was the first place I ever felt home away from home: I had more than one family taking me in because I didn't have any biological parents around and a nice life there. I felt comfortable and saw myself staying in that life for good. Over the past ten years I always planned a return, then this year I realized it would never happen again. The US became the past, with no possible future. This is when the pain kicked in. Having to realize that all these little girl dreams I had of a life with summer BBQs, front porches and Christmas enthusiasm I can share are not coming true was challenging. I held on for too long, and letting anything go after 10 years is hard, even if it is, like in this case and many others, simply the right choice.

My biggest benefit in this is time: it's passed so much I have little to no memory about living in Hanford. Last week I met up with a girl from Californian high school and we reminisced about how ridiculous and lame we were being exchange students there. I also watched a video I made back then, cringing almost the entire way through. I'm not that person anymore; I wouldn't find hanging out at church a good past time anymore; I'd want to be surrounded by super-liberal people. All these things speak the obvious language that I no longer fit in my old home as much as I did then. And still, letting go of the memory of feeling accepted, planning a future, and crushing on some boys there is still bittersweet: sweet, because those memories are wonderful, bitter, because they are a misconception.

But this doesn't apply to all "my countries": living in Egypt wasn't a long time ago and it also never made me feel any of these things. Egypt is the place that taught me that even horrible places that I have nothing in common with can be home. And it really was that: I had no time for almost all aspects of Egyptian life, earning me to be called ignorant, although it wasn't for the lack of trying. I simply didn't find oriental architecture nice, hated Egyptian music, couldn't accept most of the norms that were required as part of a patriarchy and, aside from the few people I met and the boy I loved, didn't think Egyptians "are the best people in the world, so friendly and awesome". Nothing about living in Egypt except my job and said boy I loved really do feel like a huge loss, however, knowing his life goes on there without me is, well, weird!

Egypt definitely left its mark on me. Now that I live in a society again that seems to be accepting all of my former "home" countries, but this one, it has become a job to defend Islam, Egyptian people and a repressive government on a daily basis to people that think I was being bombed every day for the past two years. Even though I also don't consider Egypt a good place and have a hard time defending it for a number of other offenses, I have become Egypt's biggest fan in public. After two incredible years, I guess I owe Egypt that. And despite my relief I don't have to deal with Egyptian life anymore, the opening scene of the new X-Men movie totally did make me tear up. While I am not desperate enough to actually forget that most of the nice memories of Egypt came with at least one or two really bad by-tastes, I will never be able to forget about those two years. Seeing the Pyramids on TV will continue to give me the feeling of "wait, what, they're not down the street anymore?". But I guess that's ok...

The hardest one, by far, is saying goodbye to the reality of living in the UK. Since the Brexit vote I realized that subconsciously I always thought I'd be back there, too. No country has ever just made me feel as happy by just giving me a ground to stand on like Scotland, and I just have to admit that I spent the best years of my life there. Other than the US, I didn't fit in right away, but learned to, and other than Egypt, I didn't mind trying to do that. To this day I obviously don't find British humor funny, don't like the climate and think a paycheck of 22k in London is unreasonable, but when your head is full of such great memories it's hard to consider the fact that it's the past, and not the future. I continue to watch Graham Norton, like British boys as much as Taylor Swift does and make myself a nice wee plate of Chilli Beef Nachos once in a while. My interpretation of the British life continues even without Britain. The impression it made is just too deep...

Not all of my chosen homes actually rocked, and still they just shaped me so much it's hard to deny their influences on my life. To know that two years out of a life were spent in a country I thoroughly felt indifferent, verging on bad, about, does little to make it less special. Those ugly fangs of Egypt got hold of my heart, and I will spent the next 80 years (for sure) as a person who once lived in the Middle East. I don't even know how that happened, but now that is me. Seeing the Thames on TV, watching National Treasure or listen to my sister's stories from the Pyramids will forever mean that I will remember walking those streets myself. At one point, that was my life just like sitting here and applying for jobs is now (and has been, God, too many times). And just like every memory it is sentimental and sad sometimes, especially if that country is no longer a part of you. But such is life, especially mine...