Birthday Bash...uh. Not.

So it was my birthday a couple of days ago - the 17th of October. It's when I finally hit 19. It's kind of weird, but at the same time, kind of not.


The weird part is that, in my head, I've never really thought of myself after 18. I mean, yeah, I know I want to get married and have kids someday. I know I want to have a well-paying job that, in conjunction with my husband, pushes us to the higher echelons of society. I know that I'd love to have a part-time job doing something I love that also makes money (yes, I am a firm believer of money being one of several keys to that locked door of happiness), outside of my main career. I know that I want to be remembered long after I'm gone, because life really is a short thing. Right now, you're breathing, aware that you're reading this. One day, you won't even know that you're dead. 


But I've never really thought about it all that much. In my head, I know what I want...I just never really pictured reaching it, you know? 18 seemed like the age to reach, when everything would be at my fingertips. Now that I'm here, past it, I feel off balance.


What's not weird is that I kind of feel, of course I'm here. Where else would I be?


So yeah. 


The birthday itself was... well, there's no other way to describe it. It was nice. It was just a nice day. Family friends came over, some for lunch, some for dinner. The food itself was mind-blowing, but it was nice. The cake wasn't amazing, but it was nice. The people weren't my friends from school or anything, since we'd decided to keep it fairly simple, but they were nice company.


So really, the only thing I can say is that my birthday was nice.


We're planning to go to Sri Lanka on the 1st of November, in time for Kake's 40th alms-giving. We'll stay there for a week, be back on the 7th, Insha Allah. I'm planning on buying one of those Sri Lankan cricket shirts, because apparently they're playing in Dubai soon and we're going for the matches. 


God, I hope they win when we're there. I went for a cricket match in Abu Dhabi, Sri Lanka against Pakistan, and it was terrible. We lost the match, but what was worse was the sportsmanship of the spectators, the majority of which were Pakistanis. For some reason, they decided to start beating up all the Sri Lankans in sight. Due to the fact that we were there as family (the majority of us were female), our folks quickly hustled us out of there before it got too rowdy. But I was not impressed. I decided right there not to sit next to any of them at any future sporting matches, if only due to fear for the safety of my person.


Anyway. I'm off.


Ja ne.

Just Wash Your Cares Away

I haven't blogged about it because it seemed too final. I didn't want it to be set in stone yet.

The time has come (oh wow. I didn't realize how dramatic it would sound until I wrote it out.)


Basically, I couldn't get my visa in time. The last date to join the university was apparently the 26th of Sept. Since we applied late for the visa (Dad switched jobs, meaning a whole new residence visa, meaning having to wait to apply, meaning I didn't get it in time), it is entirely our fault. But, things happen for the best, I guess. If Mum had been with me in Scotland, chances are she wouldn't have been able to get to Sri Lanka in time for her father's funeral.


So I'm taking a gap year and applying to Dundee for the 2012 term. I was so massively disappointed, but oh well. I suppose it'll be nice to be stress-free for a year. Plus dad feels so guilty about the whole thing, he's promising me gifts left right and center. It's quite nice. I doubt I'll ever quit being Daddy's Darling, really, but this is lavish even for him. Not that I'm not taking advantage of it. Because I was seriously upset.


Mum got back yesterday from Lanka. She's much better now, disregarding the increase in headaches she's apparently suffering from. 


This entire week, I've had to take care of the house. My god, you never quite realize what you have until it's gone. I swept the entire house the other day (not the entire house. Not the third floor, because no one ever goes up there), and I'm telling you now, there is no exercise like a sweeping exercise. I was sweating so much! I can't believe that Mum does this on a regular basis. Given that I positively hate any sort of weight-reduction exercise that isn't fun (oh how I loathe the gym. Give me dancing any day), it was just awful. Mum must be in much better shape than me, really. I am never challenging her to a race again - not that she ever accepts. I think she hates running as much as I do. We're quite lazy people, really.


At first, I relished the thought that I had the keys to Mum's BMW and could go out whenever I liked. But oh my god, it turns into such a pain. I had to pick Aehshaan up from the metro station every single day, and then go to the mall and do the grocery shopping and buy lunch. I had no idea that eggs ran out so fast. Or bread. Lord, the bread.


And Shamiana is a COMPLETE AND UTTER rip-off. 38 Dhs for just two curries! One small butter chicken curry and one daal (dhal? dal?) curry! Dad wanted curry, so we went there, but holy cow, such a waste of money.


Never going there again. Ever. 


And then there was the fact that I had to take care of the dog. We delegated the tasks of taking him out to morning and night sessions. I got the night sessions, since Aehshaan is deaf to everything once his head hits the pillow. I don't think I've got a full night's sleep this entire bloody week. And then I had to wake up at 7:30 in the morning to give him his breakfast. The one time I thought it would be okay to just give it to him at 9:00 a.m, I discovered that my dog thinks that he is royalty and will not eat his food unless given at the proper time.


He was as happy as I was to see my mother, though. It was quite cute. His ears and head went down and he went snuffling around her legs, around and around, jumping onto her and trying to give her face a good lick. He did that weird shivering thing with his fur that he does when he gets super happy to see someone.


Which is only ever someone from the four of us, seeing as he's a bit mad.


Since I've lost my house key (again) and Aehshaan kept forgetting to leave his before he went to school, I couldn't leave through the front door when I had to go and pick him up and all. I had to go through the kitchen, lock the door from the inside, and then take the backdoor out. The first time I did that and came back in through the kitchen, Bruno was standing out there with his head tilted to the side as if to say, "Well. Alright then, if that's where you want to live now."


My best friend Adnan's birthday is tomorrow, but he has family coming over so we hung out yesterday instead. I was going absolutely mad looking for a present for him. I asked him what his favourite thing in the world was at the moment (I meant material goods. Clearly.) and he said, I kid you not, "Boobies and titties."


So then I remembered that he'd been asking for a Canon Mug for literally over a year, and I saw one at MOE the other day, so I decided to get that for him. But then while we were on the phone, I zoned out (he talks a lot) and suddenly when I got back he just kept saying, "Canon Mug. Canon Mug. Canon Mug." And I was like, in absolute horror, How did you know?! And then it turns out he didn't know what I was getting him, but he was asking for it. So that was that.


In the end, I got him a t-shirt that said Parkour Man on the front (a long-running joke between us) and Shimali's Best Friend on the back. I thought it was a pretty damned good gift, meself.


Someone asked me the other day if Adnan really could Parkour. And I said, "No, but he thinks he can. He falls a lot." 


That's it for now, this post is long enough.

Ja.

Better to have loved and lost, than have never loved at all.

31st of January 2011, Shadow, my first ever dog, and thus the one I've loved longest, passed away.
16th of February 2011, Prince, my beloved GSD-Belgium-Shepherd mix puppy passed away.
26th of September 2011, both my grandfather and my favourite grand uncle passed away.


Basically, 2011 is a year I'll want to forget, and never will.

It's the year I graduated. It's the year I said goodbye to an era of my life that will always remain a part of me, and goodbye to so many loved ones, both temporarily and forever. Some, I didn't even get to say goodbye.


I'm the sort of person that cries loud, but short. My grief happens in little bursts, but these could happen at literally any time. I cried for my grandfather on my Dad's side, who died years ago, just last month out of the blue. When I say I'm loud, I mean the sort of keening sobs you only see in movies. But I'm quick to calm down (these days, anyway. I think I'm getting used to losing people - I wasn't so easy to console a few months back. Mentioning my puppies would set me off.)


My brother is the same as me, although his cries are maybe not so high-pitched. He huddles in corners, his eyes covered, trying very hard to get a grip on himself. He hates people seeing him that way - what man would? 


One interesting thing about me - I can stay silent and not grieve for a very long time. Bottle it all up. However, if anyone asks how I'm holding up, or if I'm doing okay, or makes any sort of reference to the incident and how it relates to me, I will break down. And when I break down, I break. It's a bit embarrassing in retrospect, but I couldn't give a damn at the time. And that's perfectly alright.


When I found out about my grandfather's death (he's on my mother's side), I'd been in my room listening to music. I heard my father shouting for me, so I hurried into the master bedroom - his tone was a bit panicky. When I entered, I saw my mother standing on her side of the bed (she'd probably been trying to walk to her cupboard or the dresser), the phone clutched tightly in one hand, the other folded at the elbow over her eyes. She was crying out so loudly, with so much grief, so much anguish, I couldn't help but freeze in horror. Her head was thrown back, baring her throat to any force that wished to take her. And my father quickly said, "Kake just died." Kake (pronounced Kah-Kay) had testicular cancer, diabetes, no right foot, and other problems to add to that. 


I ran to my mother, hugging her tightly, cradling her head, trying to make her stop the sobs. It was heartbreaking. She hadn't thought it would happen. Kake was taken ill with similar symptoms to those he had today a few years ago - we all flew in, expecting the worst, but it turned out he was just dehydrated. So when she got the call in the afternoon saying he'd been rushed to the hospital, she'd assumed it was another false alarm. My Uncle Joy had just died that morning too (favourite grand uncle, related to us by marriage to my grandmother's oldest sister), at the ripe old age of 92. She didn't think there'd be another death in the family.


Who would?


Mum's at the airport now. She and her older sister, Yolany's mum. I wanted to go - she didn't let me. She said I had to stay and take care of my father and brother. Aehshaan can't afford to miss anymore school (he missed the first 2 weeks), and my dad needed to stay and work. I needed to stay behind and look after them, and Bruno. 


Writing actually helps a lot. Writing how I feel, and what happened. Puts things in perspective, reading it all through again. Reminds me of the rawness of the emotions of the time. 


It's wonderful, awe-inspiring how people come together in a crisis. I'd called Adnan almost immediately, sobbed the news over the phone, so that was me taken care of. Aehshaan and I both called our cousins to make sure they were alright - Yolany was taking it better than Yoan, apparently. Aunty Michelle and Aunt Fathi came right over, immediately. Much hugging and taking care of Mum took place, while the rest of us ran about the house making sure everything was packed and that the tickets were taken care of. At the airport, Uncle Rajesh, Aunty Rochelle, Gillian and Joann were all there to help Mum and Yolany's mum through everything. They checked them in, handled the luggage, made sure everything went smooth.


I am so, so grateful for the people in my life. These people that come at a moment's notice, drop everything when their friends need them. They're so rare. Sure, there are disagreements along the way - but all families fight. And we're all family, really. Our friends are the family we chose. The family we chose to love.


Thank you, to all those people that came. Thank you, to all those people who keep us in their prayers. Thank you, to all those people who have ever, no matter how briefly, loved us.


Peace.