Sunday, December 30, 2018

Leaving Thoughts: See Ya Never, 2018!

Another year, another blog post about the year that has passed. After 2017, the year of endless happiness, this year took a different approach. It all kicked off week one with my two best friends leaving the country. My favorite colleague and the only one I ever spoke to after work (or should I say "spoke at") left to Australia, leaving me with an empty chair to my left. I used to call that a bad start to a year, now I know it was just a taste of what was to come. Just a few months later, I left my chair as well. What followed was antagonizing boredom and the quest to not go crazy. Oh, and a lot of new insights into, like, who I am. Just in time for my big birthday in January, I had to once again ask myself: what do I want to do with my life? Where do I want to live? What have I learned from the good times and the bad? On the last day of 2018, I can call the year a success, though. Because I know the answers.

When I look back at my year, it's hard to remember most things. Up to May when the end of my Amazon time became apparent, the only feeling I remember was "I think the end of my Amazon time is nigh". There was also the normal mix of being upset about men treating me badly and utter bliss about how much fun I was having with my friends. Yep, that's really it. That's all I remember. As leaving the job was by far the hardest thing to do in 2018, I tried to make a new plan. My friends who had helped me through any bad times in the last two years were planning their departures from Cambridge as well. In fact, even when I was still at Amazon, so was I. So, therefore, as soon as there was time and opportunity to make the first change, I knew what it was.

After another month on our Cambridge patio, my two best friends in the house and I decided to clear our rooms in our loved-up house. Jesus went to Miami, Rocio and I to London. This move was the first big step towards the new direction. I knew it had to be London. The ship has sailed on Germany, and after two glorious years in England I was sure it is now home. Going to London had been teenage Sina's dream so it seemed like a no-brainer. Best. Decision. Ever. I moved in temporarily with my friend Katie in West London. I went running along the river Thames. I meditated every day. I started dating again (oh, how I hate that expression). You could say, I was back. I just needed a job.

What was it gonna be? I took some time to get aquatinted to writing a book, a lifelong dream. After two months, I was way too bored to do it full-time. It seemed more like a hobby if paired with a versatile job. But what should it be? This cluelessness that is quite common in your 20s was back again, only now I was 29 and knew it would fade. But I did become impatient at times; I just wanted to get up with a purpose in the morning. Most available jobs bored me and I had some really crappy moments where I thought it was hopeless. It was probably the meditation that helped me to stay positive but I knew, I just knew, that I was waiting. I wasn't being lazy or defeated, I was waiting for the day that would bring me a job ad that would make me feel the tingles. And I was right, the day did come.

2018 made me an esoteric woman; I went deeper into my own personality and found stuff I didn't want to. I became aware of insecurity and structures of thinking that definitely didn't have to see the light of day. And throughout it all, I managed to stay positive which I am very proud of. A lot of people pitied me this year, I could feel it. It was a horrible feeling. But as of this year, I no longer know if that is because they are only feeling sorry for me now or because I never noticed it before. Awareness really is the key to all change, isn't it? I had to realize I wanted to live in London before I could make that awesome change. And I became aware that me leaving Amazon was not a mistake early on without having a better deal lined up.

Best year, worst year? I don't know. I think we can all agree that it wasn't a good year. In a good year, your friends do not feel like they have to make you a video with all the good things that happened to you in the year you lived with them to cheer you up a week before you're leaving a job you love. But they did that, and along with the week we all stayed in a villa in Spain to watch two of us get married, it is my highlight 2018. I would be nothing, absolutely nothing, without the people I have befriended over the years. That is also awareness at work in 2018. I would literally be homeless right now if I didn't have friends. And so despite some pretty crap events, those who pity me should probably envy me. Dark times bring out what really matters, and I know what it is. And in any case, I start a new job next week, move hopefully the following week, so there is no better moment to say "suck it 2018, bring it on, new year!"

Tuesday, December 11, 2018

What Made 2018 Awesome?

Oh dear, thank God that's over. My years seem to take turns: one year life is amazing, the next one, not so much! 2018 was a bit of a downer. Lots of unfortunate events that would manifest in my writing as "learning experiences". Except for the World Cup, that stuff was just baaad. I really don't mind bad years so much; I definitely learned more in 2018 than I did in 2017, the year of Awesome! The silver lining is easy: 2019 is going to be fantastic. For many reasons: 1. It can almost only get better, and 2. I got that feeling! It's nice to have the experiences of this year in the bag to make a bigger impact next year.

And of course, I love a look back. The year was full of stories, people, and impressions. Despite what I just said, I had some of the best moments of my life this year. Since this is highly personal, I thought I'd make my own look back of the best moments of 2018.

#1
All of the women 
I would like to think the world is changing... 
Last year, as my colleague Philipp and I were walking to the Munich Christmas Market, he told me that "2018 is going to be the year of the woman". Of course, I'd read it a hundred times. To hear that from the mouth of a man made me feel something all the other stuff that had already happened, namely #MeToo, failed to make me feel: hopeful it might actually be true. I personally don't need a year to be the year of the woman. I don't need things to be amazing for women. What I did need, and what I got, was women starting to believe in themselves and men supporting them. I'm talking Serena Williams who got a pretty great coverage when calling out the referee at the US Open. Although pointless in the truest sense of the word by sheer fact that she is now a member of a pointless family, Meghan Markle was celebrated for being strong, working for a greater good and, well, anything other than just being super f***ing good-looking (which she also is). Would Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez have won in 2017? We will never know, but it was a big story that made me feel empowered to reach high.

#2
The World Cup
When I took this video, I was still a World Champion!
I know, if a tournament that you had tickets for is featured in a year, it must be a highlight. As many know, I had tickets for the final of the World Cup which, given the circumstances, was unfortunate. I never saw my boys in the final, never mind in any of the final rounds, and altogether this World Cup was a shitshow from a Germans perspective. Sure, I still had England, the country I lived in but I failed to get excited with every performance because, frankly, why were they there? It seems unfair that a team like England went on to semis while Spain had to go home. But, I went to Russia for the last week of the tournament, and what I experienced there, I will never forget. To have positive moments in July 2018 when the job I loved was coming to an end was not an easy feat. Thanks to some international friends I made there, it was achieved though. Seeing people from everywhere in one place (not on the internet, but with your own eyes) was tremendous. And, as the previous point, a true source of hope for a better world.

#3
Seattle
View from "Day 1" in Seattle
Visiting the Amazon Headquarters in April was a great experience. Looking back, I really don't think I had that great of a time. There were some weird moments, professionally and personally, I cannot really talk about. It wasn't a big fest of people finally meeting and creating great stuff together. But it was at the "mothership". Being part of any mothership is a wonderful feeling, and knowing that my mothership was changing the future made me feel very proud. I also enjoyed experiencing actual human exchange with people I worked with and realized it is quite hard for me to not want to befriend colleagues because we obviously have a lot in common (at least 8 hours of our daily schedules, that's quite a bit!). My time at Amazon is now over but it makes me feel good that I am able to claim I made an impact at something as massive as the eight-block office complex in Seattle, WA.

#4
No Rain for four months
A little gathering at ours for just the closest friends... :/
This year, my hobbies took a beating. I have many, many interests (although most of them are available to explore in books or on the internet, and almost none of them in Cambridge, UK) but the four months of no rain in this country were spent almost entirely on the patio. When you live with seven people, seven of whom are your best friends and you love them, there is no better place than home. Throughout all the struggles of 2018, I always had a patio to sit on with at least one of them. We also worked out, setting up the computer and a YouTube workout in the garden, kept chickens and sat in circles with guitars, like a f***ing cult. In fact, I never felt, throughout all my achievements in life, big or small, like people had more reason to envy me that in those days.

#5
London
I have no intention of ever being too "London" to love WW!
I moved to London, finally. A lifelong goal became reality and I was not disappointed. I moved in with my friend Katie which ended up being pretty special and I had a lot of time to explore my new home. After a couple of months, I already understand how some of my friends could sometimes tell me which Tube line to take without checking the map; I can do that now. I already figured out that I am not a Hackney person and that I enjoy hanging out at Blues Kitchen (mainly because it is possibly the only place that plays music I actually know). I spent four nights in two weeks at the Winter Wonderland, each visit better than the last, and if I wasn't leaving for the holidays, I'd consider a visit on Christmas Day (of course, as a fan I know WW is closed then). I know this doesn't make me a Londoner; it actually makes me the opposite. But I love it here, and it's my favorite move since the last one... 

Friday, November 30, 2018

How I Became "Liberal"

"Liberal", "moderate", "conservative": Those are the choices I got to pick for my political views on a dating app. Sure, many people know exactly where they stand. While I have absolutely no problem picking my sexual orientation, this one was harder. That got me thinking. Immediately, I had an explanation for the confusion. We are born with one; the other one is a result of upbringing, background, or nurture, you could say. The generational divide in politics is a testament to that being true. All the baby boomers and grandmas voting for Brexit were not "born this way", they just formed their opinions in a different environment than the majority of my generation. So I was raised to be a gay-loving, refugee-accepting feminist, it seems. But was I?

Of the three choices I had on the app, I went with "liberal". I definitely identify with many, many moderate and some conservative ideas, but since these are labels, I picked one. I was imagining three groups of people, each standing under a banner that spelled out each word. I asked myself which of these groups I would rather stand with, and the liberals often are the most diverse group which, to me, is an attractive feature. They are, like me, seldom the product of a wealthy upbringing and seem to emphasize people over profits. At 16, I had not seen this yet. I asked my best friend's father, a former US military man, what the difference is between "Democrats" and "Republicans". "Sina", he said, "do you believe that you should be able to harvest the fruits of your own labor yourself?" I said yes! "Then you are a Republican", he answered. I believed that for a good while.

Unlike my sexual orientation I was born with, what group I saw myself standing with was obviously a very fluid decision. Political views can be easily swayed and influenced and for a long time, I believed my strong faith would automatically mean I need to be conservative. So when did I become "liberal"? Was it a time that I realized that my friend's father had fed me a very narrow-minded idea of Conservatism? No. Was it my four years studying politics at university that taught me what ends there are in the political spectrum? No. Was it evaluating what history had taught me and that one direction was worse than the other? No. Looking back, I am almost confident it started with my mother.

I have very few memories of my childhood, but I do remember kindergarten. I grew up in a village in Germany, most of the kids were white. At around age 5, a black family from Nigeria moved in next door. They were loud and had a lot of children. Their skin color was not the only thing that was different from all the other families in the street. But my mother never commented on that. They were just another family. That is normal, you could argue, but unfortunately, it is not. When the mother of the children next door was calling them for dinner, she was walking outside calling out their names loudly, almost crying like the kid was gone for good. None of the white parents did anything similar. Instead of complaining, my mother laughed. She found it amusing, not annoying. Other mothers would possibly have made a noise complaint. Instead, my mother celebrated we had someone different living next door.

Although I didn't want to, my mother made me play with the kids. I do not believe my mother did that to teach me to play with black kids. I do believe, however, that my mother taught me to accept everyone, even if they are perceived as different. I was 5 so I probably didn't even know that the color of a skin could even be considered a difference between people, yet as I grew older that is what I witnessed: kids not wanting to play with someone different-looking. My mother also celebrated Freddie Mercury, giving me my very first CD: "Living on my own", saying how exceptional and talented this man on the CD was. I also recall that it was in this context I first heard about homosexuality. The lesson my mother told me about loving people of the same sex must have worked as I do not remember fearing it, like many. A few years later, I chose to go to an all-girls Catholic private school that had a reputation for "creating lesbians" which was made fun of a lot. My judgment of homosexuality came much later, age 16, when I was taking my father's friends advice and thought my pastor had the answer.

It wasn't until I went to uni that I was actually living the life of those who, today, cross out the box "liberal". There I was, in a classroom in Scotland, one of not too many white girls with classmates from countries I never heard of. My roommate and best friend was from Angola, my Volleyball team used chants in a number of languages. Exchange with people from other countries doesn't make one "liberal" but it sure as hell broadens the horizon. I did not start believing in government subsidies because I talked to Chinese exchange students but because I realized how similar all these different people were. I was living the EU dream, having my government with all their "liberal" programmes pay for my education which would never have been possible without them. I was able to get information about things from people who knew about them, not from TV or Facebook. It was an education you do not need books for... 

As a result, I consider myself liberal today because I am a liberal success story. My life has been a testament that one cannot "go it alone"; this principle works for both life in general and politics. I looked for good examples of conservatives sharing my belief for years, without success. My personal beliefs of needing to help each other out, making sacrifices for those less fortunate and accepting everybody the way they are flow seamlessly into my political views. Of course, there are limits to the feasibility of these ideas. But the reason us young, educated millennials are often liberals is probably that we lived a different life from the elders; we already saw different, it doesn't scare us anymore. We can no longer do things alone, we have to cooperate. And we have had enough privilege to know there is enough for the many, not the few. It's a different nurture, but it will one day become nature. 

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

And The "Word Of The Year" Is...

As the year comes to an end, some incredible people who work with words are crowning a "word of the year". Online platforms and dictionaries look at the year and evaluate which word has changed the most, gotten new meanings or just captured the signs of the time the best. As a writer myself, I asked myself the same question: what is my word of the year? I am not choosing for the public but for myself. Funnily enough, I realized, I would have shortlisted the same words. Let's start with the Oxford Dictionary Word of the Year: "Toxic". While the crowd of the Oxford Dictionary is probably referring to the bullshit discussed in pubs about "politics", the blatant hatred between groups on- and offline, and pretty much any piece of information pertaining to Britains future after Brexit, I'm referring to my relationship with the man who shat on my year. Moving on to Dictionary.com which chose "misinformation". Oh look, another reference to Mister Toxic. Words are just amazing!

"Toxic" really is the perfect word to choose for this year. It's not a new word at all, only that before 2018 it was mostly used in Elite Daily or Huff Post articles along the line of "10 Reasons You Should Dump Him, Like, Now". This past year has graduated it from the vocabulary of a dramatic people on Facebook talking about people they simply do not get on with to the wider vocabulary of almost everyone. "Toxic" can be said about people, situations and conversations; even the freaking atmosphere of this planet seems to become it. So all that has changed is how people relate to it. "Toxic" is no longer just a hit song but a word everyone can suddenly relate to.

Including myself. I believed this word to be a dramatization of calling a person a negative word for being negative. Until I met that guy. In 2017, I had two very unhealthy liaisons, and their effects were so unhealthy they could be referred to as poison; poison for my self-esteem, poison for my future, poison for my surroundings. You know, just really bad. One of these two went on to become the trainwreck that was 2018. At least in 2017, there was an element of fun and caring involved in that relationship but anything beyond the first week of 2018 was manipulation and mindfucking. You guessed it, the relationship went from bad to worse, from worse to toxic. It culminated in deep unhappiness on both sides as a result of something that was never working and never could. Like poison, I had been drinking, making myself sick. Weirdly enough, poison is addictive; maybe that's why it's so toxic.

And then we have "misinformation" which also resonates with my year. What does it even mean? Is it just another word for lying? No, not quite. It's not the legendary Kellyanne Conway's "alternative facts" either. Now, "misinformation" is not a new term or word, it has always been there. But today, its meaning is harder to understand than ever. Because when you encounter the entity this word describes, you don't even know its misinformation. When I was hit with some serious misinformation this year in May, I did not realize I was being fed completely incorrect facts that had no foundation in the truth. I was receiving "news" from a trusted source at work, unaware it was completely made up to fit a narrative. It wasn't lying (yet), it was just making facts align to work for the narrator. So I experienced this word and the drastic effects it can have on a life. To think the whole world has to battle it online every day is a sad reality of 2018.

It is almost comical that we also find "gaslighting" on the Oxford Dictionary shortlist. So, gaslighting apparently means "the action of manipulating someone by psychological means into accepting a false depiction of reality or doubting their sanity". Oh wow! As for me, both the aforementioned experiences were wonderful examples of gaslighting. It is so closely related to my toxic friend, the difference between the words "toxic" and "gaslighting" for me is only marginal, one obviously being the result of the other. However, "gaslighting" also indicates that the recipient of such toxic or misinformed behavior seeks the fault within themselves which is sadly what I decided to do. Furthermore, we find "orbiting" on the shortlist which means the action of stopping communication with someone while still following them on social media or public platforms. The person making that shortlist must have been with some toxic guy who then gaslighted her. I feel ya sister, call me. Me, too!

Overall, one could say that according to the dictionaries of the world, I had a classic year 2018. I was misinformed, gaslighted, and orbited by some toxic males. These being the editors' choices makes me feel better about the amount of shit I felt due to these words being realities rather than lingo. But neither of these words would be my word of the year. That could only be "awareness". Awareness, as many words of the year, has been in vocabularies for years, only this year I started using it. Through all of these experiences, I became aware, woke, enlightened. I realized I had many bad traits I always condemned, such as a problem with insecurity, being prone to be exploited and a competitive nature that was stopping me to be happy. But awareness is the first step towards change of these characteristics; without seeing a problem, one cannot hope to resolve it. Much meditation helped me see terms like "toxic" and "misinformation" for what they are: a word, nothing more. Not a feeling or permanent stamp. And certainly not the future. 

Friday, November 16, 2018

Do I Finally Love Egypt? How A Job Interview Changed My Views

This was written November 1 but then I lost the file... Good thing things find me!

Anyone who has been here before will have read my attempts to go back in time. On certain dates, it's easier to look back than others. When I remember where I was on a certain date, one or two years ago, it helps me asses what I have achieved in that year. Today, for example. On November 1 last year, I shaved all of my male co-workers at Amazon, including a senior visiting director, for Movember. That set off the best month I had at Amazon, for many reasons. The night before, I remember vividly, I was dressed up as the corpse bride to scare the children of Victoria Road with absolutely zero success. I was living a settled life, trying to spread the love I had experienced to few people at work, in my street, in my circle. It was a simple time with few things putting my brain to work. Today - yeah, a little different. I'm writing this from a plane, looking down at my former home, Cairo, as I finish what is definitely the most impulsive week of my life you and that's saying something.

Three years ago, almost exactly, I did something that was so spontaneous that I surprised myself. My boss called me and said he would fly me out to a vacation in Dubai if I could be at the airport in an hour and a half, which was close to impossible. Not for mamma, it tuned out. With nothing but a bikini and a book I rocked up at a five-star suite on the Palm and just enjoyed myself. But, you may say, who wouldn't for a free vacation? Sacrifices are easily made that way, eh? Last Thursday, it was a little different. I went to a job interview for which I had very, very little information. I knew the employer needed someone to travel with him and altogether the opportunity sounded too interesting not to at least hear out. So with almost no information, I went to the interview. I was impressed by the man I was speaking to and wanted to ask him a million questions. He allowed me one, and I asked where he was off to next. "Egypt", he said, "wanna come?" My following "yes" made him giggle. "If you're serious", he said, "meet me at my plane in two hours." There wouldn't be a story here if I had just laughed and walked out.

I'm spontaneous and love crazy, yes, but this was a new height. I asked the assistant on my way home for how long I'd be packing and she said 10 days. Before I had actual time to ponder my decision, I was on this man's jet, taking off to Cairo. I didn't know why I was there or what I'd be doing but who knows, ever? Opportunities come and go, and my biggest fear is not taking one. This way I was maximizing the chances of not regretting. To me, this didn't seem like a hard decision and yet, everyone I told was questioning my sanity. I realized that not a lot of people would have done it because uncertainty is scary to people. But what made me proudest was everyone's reaction. "This kind of stuff only happens to you", they said. Every single one of them. And I knew they were right; I'm one of these people. And I'm pretty proud of that.

So suddenly I was back in Cairo, a place I vowed not to come back to. One should never do that, lesson learned. And I always knew that was a stupid vow. Yet, as the plane came down, I started being nervous. Cairo is the place I became a grown up. It is, to this day, probably the chapter of my life that was hardest for me. And as I was considering it had been two and a half years since my departure, my achievements visualized. I thought back to this day a year ago, being a settled little corporate girl trying to make my miserable coworkers a little happier. I looked back to that day three years ago, thick-skinned after a year in Cairo. And finally, I saw this day four years ago, a girl, not woman, in Cairo trying to make a future happen. Whatever decisions I made, I thought, I did it: I grew up and made an incredible life happen. I arrived on a flipping private jet, for crying out loud. Egypt hadn't failed me; it had set the path to extraordinary. Suddenly, I loved it.

Soil that changed you becomes good soil. This country is harsh and threatened to break me sometimes. But I didn't. Quite the contrary: I came out a positive person, deeply appreciative of everything I had. I never felt home in Egypt, and yet here I was watching the life I used to live: buying snacks at the kushk, enjoying the tranquility of a Friday morning and the simplicity of a three-lane street comfortably featuring five rows of cars and one for motorcycles. Its a part of me now and for two years, it was reality. The memory of that makes the grass in Holland Park, where I run, greener, my nights out in a Soho pub surrounded by queer folk more liberating and the work I do, or will do, in the future more profound. But all of that wouldn't be there if Egypt hadn't taught me to fight, appreciate and believe

It's not my life but I understand it now. This super different life is familiar because of the time I spent there and familiarity causes comfort. I feel connected to those who have made the same experience and can, today, look back on these two years and feel gratitude. Overwhelming gratitude. Having had the chance to learn to love something so hard to love is a great lesson. I don't love Egypt and I never will just like I will never love cucumbers, but they are still green and have a great effect on tired eyes. And for that, I can love them although they're not my taste. That's Egypt, too. And it took this quick and crazy visit to realize that. Time doesn't change most places but it changed me. The last year, the days since I left Egypt and the months since I arrived there. Sometimes a gentle reminder such as a visit can remind us how far we've come. 

Spot the Pyramids in the center-left

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

The Ultimate Flaws: Watching Sex and the City in 2018

Have you ever watched your favorite show from the 90s back? Like Friends or Charmed? Watching the Gilmore Girls in 2018 is a vastly different experience than watching it back in 2000, even, when I first did. The themes in there make a 2018 feminist cringe sometimes. I decided a few weeks ago to dive deep and try to rewatch Sex and the City for two reasons: Firstly: I was a child when I first watched it, being 13 when it concluded. In other words, I had no idea what these chicks were talking about when I first saw the show. And secondly, I remember how much of a breakthrough this show was, and I couldn't help but wonder: would Sex and the City still invoke a sexual liberation within me today as it did to women my age in 1998?

The answer was astonishing. I still dislike Carrie, however, this time know why. And I saw some other things that made me realize that progress had actually happened - because some of Michael Patrick Kings advanced, feminist revelations from then are super effing outdated now. And altogether, Sex and the City has some ultimate flaws that might be even more drastic in 2018 than they were then.

Do men really ask for someone's number after seeing an eccentrically dressed woman run through the rain?

Carrie gets a lot of men to ask her for her number - and then they actually call her. Miranda gets a date from meeting someone queuing for coffee. Sorry, no way! I don't know the 90s too well to know if it was really like that. Nowadays experiences are certainly very, very different. I have been asked for my number by a stranger three times in 30 years of this life - and I met a lot of men. A lot. I went out for a living in the first decade of this millennium and the only guy to ever call me was my church friend turned love interest after we had gone from friendship to romance. It was such a milestone that I remember saying to my friends that it was the first time someone had called me. And sure, this is the age of the internet, and Mr. Big didn't have the iPhone but men simply do not take charge and speak, maybe anymore. The existence of a dating app called Bumble, where women HAVE TO make the first step, says it all. Why would it be necessary to have this app if we were still in the 90s where the man calls the woman? Or text because who speaks these days…?

Which brings me to the next biggest flaw: what do some of these men see in Carrie?

Carrie is cool, the writers of the show like to show her as successful but writing a weekly column in a tabloid paper is not success and certainly doesn't pay for her lifestyle, and she doesn't care about much more than shoes. There is no problem with that, everyone can be what they wanna be. But please, Alexandr Petrovsky, the world-renowned artist thinks it's refreshing that Carrie thinks his craft is a waste of time she “just doesn't get”? Why would he? Aidan, the outdoorsy, down-to-earth neighborhood guy likes a woman who is not passionate about his dog or any of his hobbies but a 400 dollar pair of shoes? Then he gets cheated on, in the worst way, and he cannot live without Carrie. I mean, nothing's impossible but at the very least it's a little bit ridiculous. Sure, it could be desperation; but it's more likely Michael Patrick King just chose his plot in the same way he placed products in Sex and the City - The Movie.

Now that we're talking about Aidan, can someone explain his behavior to me?

If a chick cheated on me, she would be a goner. But good for him for reconciling with her despite having absolutely nothing in common with her and being very visibly not loved back. He then wants to share his life with her, builds her a new wall in the apartment, invites her to his countryside abode. And Carrie goes there and does two things: hate on everything he likes about it and invites the guy she cheated with. No self-respecting man would allow that, nevermind really cares about rescuing the relationship. He has a baby as soon as Carrie is gone so he must have had a hunch he wanted a family girl who likes the subs. So why Carrie? It makes very little sense.

And Carrie isn't just a dick to Aidan, she's a golddigger.

The show makes a very poor effort at portraying Carrie as a self-made woman which I would argue is why feminists have a problem with the portrayal. She is a columnist in NYC so like in any other show, her apartment would be completely unaffordable to her in real life. But her taste, yeah her taste, is something else. Manolo Blahniks are not attainable for writers, period. And in one episode we find out Carrie spent 40,000 bucks on shoes but has 200 in her savings account. That's bullshit - and very stupid. But of course, Carrie only hangs out with three super-rich chicks that make anything happen, and when she moves in with Mr. Big it has to be a Park Avenue Penthouse. Her writer boyfriend Jack Berger has to wear Prada. Carrie has no problem having her lifestyle being paid for by her rich boyfriends which, again, is an okay attitude to have. To portray her as a feminist hero, however, just isn't right then. I like the good life, too, yo, but I plan to earn it myself and I would like the chance to do so. Glorifying Carries gold-digging ways does not really send the right message.

Last but not least, why exactly are the four girls friends?

So yeah, Carrie is or should be, poor, the other three are not. The vast differences in wealth have an effect on real-life friends because, when Samantha wants to go to a VIP club, a real Carrie (or Charlotte before the wedding for money) would not be able to afford that. Charlotte is a judgemental conservative, Samantha certainly is not. Maybe Samatha is very tolerant but would anyone like to be friends with people who judge them? Miranda disagrees with almost all they're saying which makes me love her because she isn't a dreamer. Yet, her best friend is Carrie who has a huge poster reading “Love” next to her front door at the age of 40. Friendship, like partnerships, need things that connect people. What connects these girls?

So much for my realistic flaws about Sex and the City. Of course, if we talked about artistic problems, trivializing actual problems, glorifying clothes over human quality, I would have more to say. I would criticize that Carrie goes to work for Vogue, gets harassed by the editor, and the show makes that a funny incident rather than a critique of the existing status quo. Of course, in the post-Weinstein world, that episode would be off the air, thank God. It does show me that we have come some way since 1998 when it was okay for men to treat those four women the way they did sometimes and it being a funny turn in a TV episode. Today, we talk about it. We don't laugh about men dropping their pants at a work meeting, we accept women like Samantha. That was not the case when I watched the show the first time around. I wasn't the same, either, and I don't mean my lack of age, but my lack of different perspective.

Sunday, October 21, 2018

The Problem With The Law Of Attraction

Before the year is over, I know what its central idea will be for me. I've had to learn many lessons but there was one that I embraced more than others: my thoughts make a difference. You won't hear me say it very much outside of this blog but it's been a tough year. It started traumatizing and I felt like my positive attitude towards life was under attack. And as soon as I thought that, more bad things happened. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? It's the basis of the saying "evil travels in twos". It's easy: if you think positively, positive things happen. When you feel the world is coming to get you, it will get you eventually. These simple truths are not new to anyone, yet I found it super, super hard to execute what people simply call the law of attraction. And outside of the reality of keeping a positive mind when things simply are not going well, I have found one thing especially wrong with it: pressure.

When you surround yourself with THIS, love comes naturally!
The law of attraction says that what you think of, you attract. I know this law isn't a lie. I got my last job this way, last week's interview and someone to text me recently. Much bigger than that, the last person who loved me only did so because he met me when my mind was pure, I was exuding love and, therefore, attracted him into my life, cheesily speaking. My best friends were the results of myself making a conscious effort to practice kindness, be good to everyone and really care, so life gave me kind, good people, one of them literally called Jesus as if his personality wasn't enough to make him feel like a blessing. I was receiving signs that things were the results of my thinking in bold letters and I continued with the response to them the law of attraction suggested: gratitude.

With other things, it wasn't that easy. I would say the beginning of the mind change that brought me 2018, all of it, was returning from my trip to New York over NYE where I had been trying to come to terms with what had happened in the summer of 2017. Some bad experiences had not yet caught up with me, but I was waiting for my mind to get the memo and not bury my feelings about these events in a pile of distractions. Because that is exactly what I did. I spent a large amount of time with someone I know now wasn't very good for me and also attracted the opposite of goodness. But of course, when you only spent time with someone because you need distraction, although subconsciously, and that person doesn't really appreciate you and makes you feel more insecure, the law of attraction is already at work; it's giving you more of what you actually didn't want: insecurity, connections completely devoid of a human or kind spirit and continuous burying of feelings.

As a result, I wanted to change the thoughts. According to all the books, it only takes a moment to change the attitude and then, there you go, all your heart's desires are there on a silver platter. With my move to London, all that seemed possible. I was positive, getting responses from jobs, hung out with the people I really love and who love me back and I stopped drinking, went running almost every day and meditated myself to bliss. It was working. It brought me joy and I knew that things would be ok, for the first time in a while. I was starting to feel better after this dreadful year because I had space from the experiences. Meditation and gratitude showed me that deep inside, I am happy although circumstances aren't golden.

Of course, positivity gets a down day. While I was trying to become a kinder person, I realized just how much I cared about some people. And I saw they were not well. My positivity couldn't shake it. It's human, you'd think, but I started to freak out. Within minutes I was anxious, felt helpless and was scared that I wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Which, of course, would only bring exactly this into my life, if the law of attraction does work. I worried and so that frequency changed again. I worried more because I felt the pressure that I, myself, was manifesting negative things into my life. The pressure made me more miserable, feeling the urge to change my thinking now and not a minute later. The very thing I believe in making my life better was making me feel bad about when I was just a tad too human to just be positive all the time. So I started to ask myself: why is positivity harder than negativity?

When something bad happens, it's easy to be sad. When good things happen, people tend to take them for granted. I suppose it's natural, having a survival instinct and responding to danger more drastically than safety. This outline for life has made bad times or just a tiny negative thought more complicated though. As soon as negativity creeps up now, I feel I need to contain my brain which I cannot, at least not yet. It seems like I force myself to be positive when I should just give some space to negativity. And then suddenly it hit me: that's exactly what I'm supposed to do. I shall not give negativity room. Yes, it's not just about me and I cannot make people better but I can try to eliminate bad feelings. For everyone. When I think positive, I choose to believe it is powerful. Not just for me. For others, too. Maybe even the world. So yes, bury the negativity. Do not give it space. It doesn't deserve it.

That, however, does take practice. I guess the law of attraction does not just work express.

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

4 Reasons Why Paddington Is The Best Movie Ever!

OMG, so adorable! 
Yesterday, my life changed. After years and years of never wanting to rewatch a movie I saw, I discovered my new favorite movie: Paddington. Or Paddington 2 - I don't even care which one, what a movie. My criteria for movies has always been the same: if it makes me feel like I am jealous of those who were involved in making it, it's really good. Beforehand, I wish I had written A Beautiful Mind, and now I also wish I wrote, directed, produced and stared in Paddington. Literally, the perfect film. It has everything. Let me break it down for you: Here are four reasons why I love Paddington.

Damn, Paddington is so cute!
Paddington is sooo cute, it makes my heart go all happy inside. He looks like a real bear, and I love bears. They even gave him that blue jacket and the hat because he is trying to fit in. What this cuteness achieves is a lot of "Aww"-moments in which I just really want to squeeze him. Loneliness has always made me so sad and I tear up when I think about people being lonely. So that cute, adorable little bear having watery eyes because he is looking for a home or because he thinks the Browns have forgotten about him is too much. It's too much!!! I'm done...

Paddington has such good manners and is always polite
"Paddington is the essence of being English", I once read. I agree: he is a polite little bear, trying his best to make everyone happy. But of course, not everyone is like that. He isn't polite because he's hiding something or because he wants anything in return, he's just a thoroughly nice bear. Other people's fortune makes him smile, not jealous. Christ, he draws happiness from Aunt Lucy getting her 500-pound pop-up book. Who's like that? He's a great example of altruism and should prompt us to actually question our own behavior. What do we do for others? We should all be more like Paddington. Funnily enough, if we were we'd all be happier.

The movie teaches acceptance - of everything
The original author of Paddington wrote the story inspired by children in the Second World War, arriving in the country with only a suitcase and no possessions, merely looking for a place to call home. Sound familiar??? Oh, how times have NOT changed. We live in a world where people use the city depicted in the movie as a haven of hope; they, too, hope that London will open its heart to them and allow them to "fit in". Of course, nobody does - and nobody else is actually a bear. But people are afraid of the unknown, we reject it and we think ill of it. Now if you think about real life examples, those the people in this country have rejected (in, let's say, some sort of referendum) could be a treasure like Paddington. At the end of the movie, nobody rejects Paddington, for good reason. Every other "anormaly" is the same; unique and worth loving. Like, you guessed it, Paddington.

London: a city, a promise
Last but not least, watching this movie right now, two weeks into my own move to London, is a huge factor why I spent all day googling "Paddington 3": it is the perfect depiction of arriving in the greatest city in the world. I have been many places and I never felt the acceptance, diversity, and willingness to be different as much as in London. It has been a dream of mine since I was Paddington's age to call this city home, and my fears about it are similar to those of his. I am promised opportunity, a colorful body of people and wonder at every corner but sometimes, it can appear that the city is too harsh and we sit in our attic rooms feeling we do not "fit". That is nonsense of course; everyone fits in here, even a fucking adorable bear. Damn, I wish he was real. At least I can walk down the road and across Portobello Road in Notting Hill where most of this movie was shot. Thankfully, that part is real, including the weird old shop that is, today, a popular #InstaAttraction. And thankfully, that is now my home.

Fuck, I love Paddington!

Friday, October 12, 2018

Happy Birthday, Papa: What My Father Taught Me About Mental Health


Today, for the 72nd time, it's my fathers birthday. 12 of them, he wasn't alive to celebrate. All the other 59, he wasn't happy enough to celebrate. My father always said he didn't want any presents, he had everything he needed; one of his biggest lies. My father did not close his eyes at 59 to die because he was fulfilled and happy with what he did in his 59 years of life. Quite the contrary: although I was only 17 when he died, I got to know my father as an adult. He was a thoroughly unhappy man, stricken by the mistakes he made early and later in life and he had absolutely no emotional capabilities to ensure these feelings were not going to kill him at a young age. I know all that could have been prevented. It is time the world acknowledges that, too.

This week it was World Mental Health Day and a lot of my friends reached out to an invisible somebody on their news feeds to express support for whatever is going on "inside of them". Companies underlined their support for employees struggling with something. While all these efforts are a great step in the right direction, making people, like my father, hear over and over again that "being strong" should not be the number one priority in life does little in practice. I am not going to talk about stigmas because we will never see anyone consciously admitting that they perceive mental health issues as a proper weakness; talking about it, therefore, does nothing. You cannot change a person's mind, thoughts or attitude on someone else's mind, thoughts and attitude without them acknowledging they have subconscious bias first.

I am not one of these people. I have, in my time on this Earth, met a lot of people struggling with depression and other issues, mostly men. At the same time, I feel that support usually comes from those who have been affected themselves. While I do not consider myself depressed, I do know depression. I watched my father, my mother, numerous friends and loved ones struggle to extents hardly imaginable; some of them lost the fight, culminating their experience in suicide. This all sounds very sad but it really is not sad; it's unnecessary, entirely pointless and unfair. It should not be an issue for someone to speak their mind, keeping up a front and pretending they do not want presents because they have everything they need. Of course, that is a trivial example. But the question remains: Why is it so hard to admit we are not feeling so great?

The answer is: Because of us. The world, all its people, everything is completely different from what a mind can see. People with a mental health issue are, like every other person, only used to their own thoughts and feelings. Their individual brains cannot differentiate between what is their personality, what is their feeling, what will change one day and what won't. If the brain was capable of regulating love, care, appreciation and gratitude, wouldn't we just all be the same, with no feelings? When you put a device in someone's head that can make people happy, that device will inevitably also enable unhappiness. And devices sometimes work in different ways. The problem arises when a specific brand of brain is labeled the Samsung brand, while its owner feels like everyone else has a new Apple-brand brain and only theirs isn't working. But everyone knows, the new Samsung phone can do exactly the same as the iPhone. People still pay double for the iPhone.

This lame analogy is truth though. There is nothing wrong with any brain, it is just a brain. I can't work an iPhone, nevermind my own brain. When my father and I were alive at the same time, I didn't know his brain was different from what he let me see. He was not well, and yet it was harder for him to show that than it was to express his love for us although both emotions have the same origin. Nothing was wrong with him, he just - had a brain. And that brain generated things he did not welcome. Why do we judge one emotion but celebrate the other? It all sounds like nature to me. Without knowing, my father taught me to accept the brain: my own, those of others, "healthy" or "nuts". Feelings are feelings, only concealing them makes them worse because you are not supposed to do that. I will forever be an advocate for people being exactly who they want to be to me, even if they think it is wrong. If my father had done that, we would maybe be celebrating today. 

Thursday, October 4, 2018

"This Is Us" or "This is Me"? We Cannot Be Sure Anymore


I've described why I love "This Is Us". In fact, I don't love it, I deeply hate it. It makes me feel like I am not doing the right thing with the pain and joy I have inside of me. It makes me want to create a show, a movie, or if all else fails, a blog post. It makes me relive parts of my past that I am clearly not revisiting often. No episode finishes without me thinking: "is this them or is it me?" Surely, writer Dan Fogelman did a good job because I know I'm not the only one thinking that. Yet, "This Is Us" hits so close to home, it's almost too close.

My dad didn't inhale smoke from a fire but just like Jack Pearson, he died completely out of the blue when I was 17, at the same age as the Pearson kids when Jack passed. My mother was not like Rebecca: she could not contain her grieve. Within weeks, she was barely there in terms of body weight. I did not leave my room for six weeks, never eating more than a dry slice of bread every day. My mother tried to make us do things we used to enjoy, like going to the beach, but it was physically impossible to feel happiness or joy. I can't be sure how much weight I lost altogether but I am assuming about 25 pounds in three months, the same amount Kate gained after her father's death. "Everyone grieves differently", they said. And I know that to be true.

At the end of the summer he died, I had plans to go back to the States and go to college. Like Randall. Instead, I went back to school in Germany to stay close to home. I had to do 12th grade over just in order to stay close. With the condition my family was in, leaving would have been a goodbye forever. And of course, I couldn't do that. I put my dreams on hold to be with those who needed me. Of course, I was 17, I didn't know what I know today: that sooner or later, everything will be alright. "This Is Us" helps to see that. Yes, it is fiction, but it is also true. Randall did go to college in the end. He got more than he probably ever imagined to have. Just like me. This person unwilling to stop crying eventually went to college, for free, traveled the world, and would have made her father, if he was alive, pretty proud.

The Pearson children struggle with the relationship with their parents. I cannot understand the desire to make a parent proud that is dead but I understand all too well what pressure comes with wanting to do the right thing. I am hard on myself because I want to be understood. Like Kevin. A person like me, bubbly and blonde, knows what it's like to be discarded. In uni, I wore fake glasses for my first month at Glasgow just so I wouldn't be "the pretty girl" again. I was one of the best in my class in my undergrad, yet, because I was also into sports, went out to party a lot and got a decent amount of male attention, my professional success was something people did not accept easily. I believe that nobody, except my mother maybe, ever truly believed in me; they certainly did not support me. And that's why getting a job at Amazon felt as good as it felt for Kevin to get a job with Ron Howard: Because it proved everyone wrong.

Somewhere out there, you will find a black blogger who wrote this same piece, describing how this show made them feel understood about the day they entered a white school or being the "first black person" to do anything. I wouldn't know anything about that. I also have no emotional connection to loving someone the way Jack and Rebecca loved each other, or how Rebecca was able to find new love. However, there are many people that do. And they feel like me when they watch this show, too. In the end, it makes me change nothing about myself, it just corroborates my desire to turn feelings into pictures and words like the makers of this show do. I want to work for this show or dedicate my free time to making something this beautiful. In this relatively short life, I have felt so much it is sometimes too much. But then I watch the show and I see that everyone has. Maybe not around me but this struggle is simply called "life". It isn't meant to be easy and we are increasingly getting better at it. 

Saturday, September 29, 2018

Cambridge: The Last Goodbye


It is done: the boxes are packed and in a new apartment. Cambridge is history. And with it most things that have made that experience. The job I came there for is no longer reality, the friends that became family in my house have also left and I said a final goodbye to some people who couldn't move on with me. Everything is changing. And once again, it couldn't happen fast enough. I am on a plane to Spain to celebrate the wedding of two of my best friends. The whole week, everyone that means anything to me in Cambridge will share a villa with me in honor of our friends' marriage, and then all of them embark on a new journey. Mine goes to London. And away from the person Cambridge made me.

My first day in Cambridge, I was filled to the brink with confidence, pride and fulfillment. Without indulging again in how these reserves were depleted by the beginning of this year I knew my time in Cambridge was limited. Today, I know that the feeling I had that day initiated the path that now leads me to leave the Shire. "This is a lovely place but I don't really see myself staying here", I said. I abandoned my plan to buy a flat there within three weeks. I did not see myself stay any longer than "two summers". As I sit on this plane to enjoy the last sun rays of summer 2018, the second one since moving to England, I cannot believe how accurate I was. I ended up leaving, on the dot, at the end of my second summer - as if I had always known.

By the end of this experience, I was no longer the person that arrived. The bright sky that was the first few weeks in Cambridge was overshadowed with thick clouds and at some points, the rain became so strong it felt like it was washing away everything that I loved and cared about there. The single best thing that happened to me at this time was 220 Victoria Road, my home. The luck I experienced living there exceeds the one necessary to win the lottery. I won the human lottery that brought individuals into my life that saved it. Maybe I would never have realized the significance of friendship if those clouds hadn't tried to drown me. There I was, in a hospital, having my friends throw out a life vest for me. Simply because they wanted to. My years of genuinely throwing my friendship, care and love at people who didn't appreciate it were done. Care for people who didn't care about me at all started feeling bad, yes, but it had to so that today I can see how much of a blessing it is to give love to those who love you back and how much of a ridiculous waste of time it is to wait for everyone else.

Out of that family that formed in the walls of my house, we are all facing change. This is our last hoorah before we acknowledge that the amazing time we had together is now coming to an end. This is Friends, season 10, episode 22, "The Last One". Two of us moved to opposite ends of London, one is departing to Miami the day after the wedding, two people will now be married to each other and Antonio is moving into my room because his girlfriend from the States moved in. Each and every one of us is facing a monumental change and I refuse to believe that it's a coincidence that it's happening for all of us within the same week. It's fucking serendipity. This wedding is our finale. And then, for the tenth time, there is nothing but a fresh start left after.

Leaving the good is harder than the bad but old habits die hard. There are goodbyes in Cambridge I didn't want to say. Others took a while to muster up the courage to utter. I have no interest in continuing to invest another second of my time into some people who used to dominate my everyday life. Cambridge was full of those who I should have never invested in. So while it introduced me to possibly some of the best friends I'll ever have, it taught me the most valuable lesson that I have to be more selective in who I allow into my life. There's been a colossal amount of disappointment in this one and a half year chapter and the fact there was also tremendous gain does not compensate that. Cambridge truly was the best and worst chapter of my life. Now that I am looking at it from the distance I see even more clearly how destructive it was. But since it's history, I am now free to only remember what I see worthy. And hopefully in time that will be the love I felt, the lessons I learned and the transformation it allowed in my career. And not the clouds.

Bye, bye, Cambridge!

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Soundtrack Of My Life, Volume One

“Where words fail, music speaks.” 
― Hans Christian Andersen


I know, I know, I'm a writer and not a musician. I can't write music and my sophomoric writing on a blog or a journal does not equal the raw emotion that is coming from a song. I am not that artist. I am a talker, an expressionist, a storyteller. But I seldom make art. Yet, it is art that speaks to me most these days. The majority of the things that have affected my life in the last year, I am not free to talk about. And I struggle with that. So hearing songs that speak to me is like a horoscope: it gives you the feeling of there being someone on this huge planet that would, maybe, understand. You might hear a different thing than me right now but these songs are playing in my mind while I am abiding by the bar of metal in front of my mouth. It makes my relatively challenging emotions these days easier to bear and I am confident that is why these artists chose to make this music.

After the Storm - Mumford & Sons
This song has accompanied me through a lot of bad times. Right now is such a time. Not in a conventional way because everything that's happening is exciting and positive. But the year played host to some pretty traumatic experiences. Its fine, it happens, and I know there will be a time where I wear "flowers in my hair" to look back to it but, right now, I am scared of what's coming because of what happened. This song finds the perfect combination of words and tunes to teach the only life lesson worth learning in bad times: nothing is infinite! Not this, not the love that cannot be replaced, not happiness and, fortunately, not despair.



A Change Is Gonna Come - Sam Cooke
Oh, Sam Cooke. Even his songs about being a black man in the 60s strike a chord with me, even though I can obviously not relate. But I can to this one. I was on a lovely date about a month ago and the guy played this for me. WINNER! It's a reassuring feeling that there is music that expresses what I want to say but never would. I am not one to complain about how much running I had to do in my life. I am aware of my miseries and challenges so far but I like to look forward. With this song, I can. Because it doesn't matter how much I've run, change is and always has come. The essence of this song is preventing my freak out these days. Of course, I speak about my current challenges a lot, acknowledge this isn't the easiest time of my life but the prevalent feeling is that of hope. For change. And mine is only eight days away.



Wisely & Slow - The Staves
What I currently feel will last for a long time. It's easy to assume my feelings will last since nothing has changed about how I feel about the person I think of in this song in the last year or so, except my life. I already know that the day I stop mourning that loss will never come. I accept it and don't regret what I have done for this person. But "the song" and the question at the end of this one will never change: why is it you whispered when you needed to yell? I am thinking of a person that I know is not themselves and watching that has been hard. At the same time, I have also pretended and refrained from yelling when I probably should have. But the person on my mind needs to yell and stop whispering, express what is really going on. I guess I just want to know why they don't. Sucks to know I'll never know.



New Slang - The Shins
Another one of my all-time favorite songs has given me a new meaning these past few months. In relation to Cambridge, where I live, I have come to see how it is the manifestation of all of my feelings: super pretty and appearing to be a paradise but a trap, a curse, and my personal hell. I love this place but it has destroyed many things in me, first and foremost my self-esteem. Places can become tainted by what happened there and while it introduced me to the best friends I ever had it also truly turned me away from lots of good things inside of me. I need to leave it and look forward to severing the ties I have to this place in hopes it will sever the power the events still have over me.



Better - Regina Spektor
When dealing with "whatever", it is important to be true to oneself. I am trying to make myself do that by meditation and, of course, writing. But there are people around me that are not in touch with what they feel. In some cases I get it: they're, like me, scared to feel what they're feeling because it comes with consequences. I can relate to Regina Spektor when she wonders if any action I take can actually make someone feel better. Not if they're not ready to really face feelings, right? At least that's what I believe. I understand why it's easier to run away from feelings but this song at least makes me realize there's nothing I can do to wake people up. I can only stop running myself and I guess I'm not ready to do that either. 



Chicago - Sufjan Stevens
So, Sufjan Stevens has said this song is about running away. Sooo, does it work? I am living proof it does. Yo, Sufjan and I should have a beer sometime. I changed cities so many times, went on some crazy adventure like him, and usually fell in love immediately. All of my places have one man associated to them and it is fortunate that my move is coming up at a time when I am continuing to let Cambridge love pass. I made a lot of mistakes here. There are situations I can't move on from continuously walking past the venues of them happening. Maybe it's not the most efficient way to get over someone or something. Then again, I don't think I would have ever been able to move on from my Cairo love if I hadn't left Cairo. Moving on from people and cities have been the same experience for me. And I hope it works again next week.


Meditation: Do I NEED To Control the Mind?

When I started meditation, I didn't really know why. It was a principle I heard and read about mucho, and I was keen to learn how to be mindful. The idea of understanding feelings and moods better was appealing to me. In the end, thoughts are what have made and broke my life in the past; control over them could only be a good thing. I believe in what they call the Law of Attraction in which it is possible to make things happen in your life by thinking about them. That is how I landed my last job, how I fell in love with the last person and, frankly, why I sit here, in England, today. I wanted to get better at making good thoughts become the good life. But just by sitting down and meditating, that stuff did not manifest.

Meditating in Macedonia in 2015 without knowing it. 
I first started meditating in February after I was experiencing the repercussions of a traumatic event, a sort of a break-up and very unhealthy relationships with some people I saw every day. January had seen three very significant departures from my life, all heavily represented in my work and social life. My best friend at work left the office (and the Northern hemisphere), my best friend left London (and the continent) and the man associated with some rough times left my life but not my vision. It was a hard time. It was very hard. Overall, I still had my job, my purpose and all the other things that made my life full so the emotional implications of these departures were drowned out by overall happiness. Until I meditated. 

One day, when I was focusing on my breath, I experienced my first panic attack. It arose as my mind wandered to one of these people and the thought of them being gone from my life, me no longer seeing or hearing or feeling them, and I simply panicked. This reality was not a new thought; they already had been "gone". However, it obviously hadn't sunk in. I couldn't focus and I couldn't catch my breath. I experienced fear that they were gone. It was the first time in my life I experienced fear altogether. "Anxiety" was a term I never understood before. Until that day. Needless to say, it was a negative experience. I realized only weeks later, that it was a necessary one.

What had happened was a reaction in the brain; the same brain I had been trying to trick for months. Since almost exactly when I arrived in Cambridge, I had gotten addicted to a feeling of happiness and control which was an illusion. The absence of happiness and control is not necessarily unhappiness and chaos - a lesson I only learned now. Throughout my traumatic experiences of the last year, I had not allowed my brain to touch on the feelings that came with them: sadness, disappointment, the feeling of failure and, most importantly, shame. Until meditation actively tried to explore my brain and found those feelings. The meditation actively encouraged me to notice them. More so than just noting, I actually started feeling them. 

What followed was the awareness that I had failed one more thing: my thoughts. I hadn't been honest with myself and now I had gone on a quest to "really explore myself" - such foolishness. When you're trying to hide some bad experiences in your brain, or in other words, attempt to be English about your emotional qualities, meditation is not the right thing. It will surface that stuff. Because all it is is an awareness of what is present AND hidden, in the mind, in the body. That is the reason guided meditations remind us of why other people could be affected by this voluntary blindfold. They certainly were in my case. After initially having an easy time shutting my mind off (because I had been doing it non-stop since July), I realized it was this exact motion that would bring about the change.

Now I am actively seeking change in my meditation. I am trying to learn about emotions before they arise - and consequently, how to direct them into a narrative I actually share. My thoughts have taken over in the last few months which I am not surprised about. Analyzing what feelings are present is not a pleasant experience when those feelings are part of recovering from shock and trauma. I have been making the same mistakes in my life over and over again so I fear that my thoughts not changing will have the same effect as my actions not changing. With more fear comes more of a challenge. In fact, I only realized now that I am in fact scared: not of heights, failure or loss (wellll, but ya know) but of failing to find my potential. I know it is there but knowledge is useless to the mind. The mind needs strength, not facts.

In the end, I still feel powerless because I still do not know how to control my emotions and thoughts. I have to rely on other people to point out the right decisions for me because I am not able to make an informed calculation between prudence and emotions. The struggle is to differentiate between when to listen to the mind and when to shut it up. And that, I have not learned. I have a 29-year-old habit of living in my head which has been a good home for me until this summer when my reluctance to acknowledge that I am traumatized manifested in the physical life. I, by no means, have to control the mind, both my head and my life are in no danger, but I owe it to myself to stop lying and confront what is happening which I have watched many people deny themselves. I cannot guarantee that my behavior will never become a problem for me so I want to fix it now before it becomes one. So no, we don't HAVE TO change, work on ourselves and improve our conditions but we cannot guarantee that life won't do it for us. At least I think I am now better prepared if it does. 

Tuesday, August 28, 2018

"Life's A Journey!": Why My Life's The Train From Cambridge To London

Train times are my favorite. There is the spot in the train to London with a table right by the window. Behind a closed door that doesn't open very often, you'll find the bathroom so refreshment is always close. While you are tenderly rocked in the moving train, the English countryside passes by. Summer or winter, that's a sight for lovers although East Anglia has three hills, if that. To top it all off, the table has a plug so you can literally bring your laptop along to do essential work - all while casually checking out the weirdest little places in the suburbs. In other words, this time on the trains is the perfect time to actually watch the journey, not just be on one. And when I say journey, I mean realizing the purpose, the tasks at hand, and possibly act upon them.

For me, that's writing time. I wrote my last letter to the guy who broke my heart from here and drafted my book outline on this very table. Sometimes, when the train isn't full, it's the perfect spot for meditation. Most people on this train to Liverpool Street are quite quiet. They're not going to the City because they want to. They come from places such as Bishop's Shortford and Cheshunt (yes, those are names of English places). They likely made their money in London and then sought a more simple life in the English countryside. That was my plan, too. Passing these villages reminds me of my exchange program in eighth grade when I spent time in Royal Tunbridge Wells, again a name of a British "city", and a few days in London. I marveled at the beauty, size, and excitement of the City. I knew then one day it'd be home. But what I wanted, in the long run, was the villages. The green. The quiet. So all I ever really wanted was the life of the people on this train.

This journey takes me along a lot of memories. I only got off at the first stop, Whittlesford Parkway, once. That night Richard and I went to a very fancy pub in the middle of nowhere. Considering the size of Whittlesford, this is the only memory to be made there. I had a very nice time that day and enjoyed a dose of Richard's terrible English chat before he would leave a couple of weeks after. And although I saw him every day for a year, I usually think of this pub when I think of Richard. It's nice to have that kind of memory. I would probably have enjoyed that fancy pub with another friend as well but I live well with passing Whittlesford on this train and remembering that fool. He was a big part of my Cambridge time anyways so it only makes sense...

Next stop is Audley End which I also remember well. On February 25, 2017, I passed it the first time. I had just landed at Stansted Airport with one suitcase containing everything I owned. The Stansted Express stopped at Audley End on its way to Cambridge, my new home. I took a picture of the sign, hoping I would never forget that the first town in England I ever saw had a name that could be taken straight out of a Harry Potter book. Audley End... Really? The greenery around it is amazing and not too far along the journey, there is a golf course. That, of course, is an entirely different memory. On my very first days in Cambridge, I developed the desire to go play golf. Not too long after, someone actually took me. Not too long after that, the dream of playing golf had become the dream of playing golf with him. An unattainable dream but something an above-average amount of time was spent thinking about. And just like the previous memory, going past it on this train journey and reflecting is maybe a little bit painful but also the ink in my pen.

After much more green, dozens more villages and a changing scenery from rural to urban, the train slowly runs into London Liverpool Street. I used to work five minutes away from there and was always excited to get off of the train to walk into that office. As a result, the surrounding area has become a place of excitement. Work, yes, but other than one individual I liked everything about my job. It was a life I never imagined but it filled me with pride to see the Gherkin and the Shard come closer from the train like I had in many a music video as a teenager. Only, now it was not a music video anymore; now that was my life. The Liverpool Street area this train now directs to is what my final destination is right now: a place of work, a new career, a comfortable place to make big things happen. Big things are easier made when surrounded by grandeur.

Maybe in the future, it won't be Liverpool Street but that feeling is still there: Getting closer to the city that has been my constant for over a decade. I have seen London come closer to me on trains, buses and planes. Only a month ago my plane was flying so low over Hyde Park I could see the art installations in it. The view never gets old as I look at my favorite city in the world. To call this train approaching the Skyline a dream come true is cheesy but it is true; this train materializes my current dream: taking me out of Cambridge, away from these memories, to realize what the English countryside cannot. I'm not bitter about the past; it brought me here and that's a good thing. But my positivity will have an end if I continue passing the places in which attempts were made to destroy this dream for me. One day soon I'm getting off this train without a ticket back. And then that's my life. Right now, it's this train.