We're Capable

Today I thought, human beings are capable of so much more.

I thought, for instance, of our capacity to love. We're a reservoir of passion, compassion. You think, at some points if not most, that you're at your limit for loving. Your lover. Your family. That special friend. You think, How could I possibly love another as much as this? How could I possibly be able to love another as much as this?

But you do. It's infinite, this power of ours to care for those that eventually walk into and embed, buries themselves so firmly in our lives, and does it so expertly that we never notice the push when they do. 

It's not all roses and butterflies, though, is it? As much as we love, we hate. We loathe. We despise. It poisons us. Thinking, lingering over bad thoughts about someone else will cause it to grow - you're feeding your hatred, aren't you, when you're thinking about it? I think that's where the old adage, Forgive and Forget, comes in. Don't think about it. Forgive. Forget. Let bygones be bygones, leave your past behind you.

And yet, we don't.

It's a bit of a difficult topic, this. Your past makes up who you are. So maybe, when they say forgive and forget, they don't actually mean you should forgive and forget. Forgive, yes. Hatred will poison you. Maybe they mean that bit wholeheartedly. 

Forget, on the other hand. It's a different kind of forget. You have to remember it in order to not make the same mistakes with someone else, maybe, or you should remember it for the sake of the memory for someone else. You have to remember it, I think. But I think they mean for you to forget enough that you don't want to hurt anyone, least of all yourself. Forget the hurt it may have caused, but remember how to deal with that hurt. Forget the bad times, but remember how to charge right through. Forget the person you turned into, and remember the person you want to be.

Just thinking, is all.

Ja.

Halloween and Cheesy Bits

Last year, Halloween, we didn't do much. In fact, I think we just forgot completely that it WAS Halloween.


THIS year, however, we're proper gearing up. I ran around yesterday last minute gathering up the last supplies for my costume (basically the entire thing) at the mall, and called up Joann to get me some stuff that wasn't available. Mum went and bought candy to hand out to the trick-or-treaters. Since I hate candy anyway (I'm just going for the novelty of trick-or-treating), I figure I'll come home, dump the candy on Mum, and she can hand out even more.


Or possibly I'll give it to a passing kid, I don't know. Unless someone gives me Bounty. I love Bounty. I know a lot of people hate coconut-filled chocolates and all, but hey, I'm Sri Lankan. My countrymen grew coconuts for a living.


I'll put pictures up later. Of the costume and stuff, I mean, not the coconuts.


I'm not sure what's happening later, actually. What I know for certain is that Gillian and Joann are coming over to trick-or-treat, and then spending the night for a horror movie marathon. They may bring their little cousin Gabby with them, and maybe another friend, Aamna. And my cousin may come along too, but she's still deciding. So yeah, not sure how it's all going to happen in the end.


Oh, and I did the silliest thing yesterday. I decided that we'd have nachos and homemade nacho cheese dip during the marathon, so I bought the ingredients yesterday at Geant, Ibn Battuta (henceforth, in this and future posts, known simply as Ibn). I now have all the ingredients for nacho cheese, including a large two-pack of processed cheese slices, and no nachos. 


Genius, I tell you.


Luckily, though, most anything can be dipped in cheese and taste good. Some people, like my cousin, would disagree with me just because they hate cheese. HOWEVER. Cheese on earth is like heavenly stuff in heaven (What do you get in heaven, other than eternal wishes? I know that there's some sort of magical river or something, plus pomegranates [this is upsetting, actually, because I don't even like pomegranates. I'm just going to wish for cheese, if I end up there]).


So I'll fry up some sausages, maybe toast bread, add some jalapenos or something. Grilled chicken works too. We're all going to die of a coronary, I know it.


Only to end up in heaven and wish for more cheese. Ah, irony.


Anyhoo.

Ciao.

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie.

I haven't exactly liked myself recently.

Have you ever had those moments where you know you're being completely irrational, but go ahead and blow up at people anyway, just because it's convenient and there's  no one else around? Ever thought you weren't irrational, just upset, and the whole world was conspiring against you because it's having fun with it? Have you thought that the day was going to be sunny, only to discover clouds when you push the curtains out of the way?

So basically, I've been acting a bit pregnant.


Take, for instance, a few weeks ago when I was convinced that my family hated me. Like, not just that they're mad at me or anything, but genuinely hated me. I was so upset that I rang up my best friend to tell him about it, only I ended up bawling and sobbing over the phone and he was (I'm fairly sure) trying not to laugh. And then I started acting completely depressed, which was a bit stupid, and then finally Adnan got mad and scolded me (no, really, proper chastised, I felt ashamed and everything) for being retarded. Not that I resent him or anything - I mean, looking back, I was a wee bit more emotional than warranted about an idiotic matter that doesn't seem so big in hindsight.


And then there was today, when I randomly started crying again at the kitchen table because I was just sad. I don't even know why, but I was sad. It started out a normal dinner. I was quiet, but without meaning to be. I was just listening to conversation. And then my dad gives me a funny look and asks if I'm alright, and I'm surprised, and I say that I am. A few minutes later, Mum pipes up and asks the same, and I reiterate, I'm fine. 


Only then, when they'd left the table, I started tearing up out of nowhere. I got up, and by the time I'd reached my room, all the emotion had subsided.


I wish I knew why I teared up though. I mean, there weren't any onions nearby. I just felt sad.


I think I'm hormonal. Maybe I'm just sad I've hit nineteen? 


Also, I've been wrestling with the fact that a friend recently decided to cut me out of his life. Without telling me. No warning. I randomly found out a couple of days ago, and now I can't decide if I should confront him or just let it be.


I'll probably let it be. This may surprise people, but I'm not really a confrontational sort of person. Seriously. Unless you're hurting someone else, I won't make an issue out of it. I really should man up a bit - why should I fight for others, not myself? Well, partly because I know it's not a big deal. I suppose I'll fight if it really meant something to me. 


Let sleeping dogs lie.


Peace.

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.

Packing Up Your Life

Right, so I've decided not to mention the visa again until I actually have it. I'm not a whiny person by nature (and I greatly dislike people who are), so this is the last you'll hear of it until I actually am ready to leave to Dundee.


In the meantime, I'm going to whine (shut up) about my lack of luggage allowance.


If my family's visa comes at the same time as mine, then I don't think this will be an issue. I'll just use up their luggage space - they'll only stick around for a week, it's not like they'll need much. My brother is actually notorious among our relatives for his extremely light packing.


But if I have to pack for just 30 kilos (or God forbid: less), I don't know what I'm going to do.


For one thing, my clothes will not be able to fit that criteria. My shoes take up an entire suitcase by themselves, and I personally don't think I have that many. Although I bought these gorgeous suede boots yesterday from New Look (219 Dhs! But so worth it). I literally couldn't resist. Those boots spoke to me. I took my brother with me ("Never again," he moaned later when I drove home) and had a bit of a dilemma deciding between the black and grey, but settled on black finally. They're heeled and come up to my knees, and I absolutely love them. My Mum gasped in awe when I pulled them out of the bag to show her, but gasped in horror when she saw the price tag. 


Parents. *shakes head* I justified by saying it's cold in Scotland, I should spend on boots. Which is true.


I randomly strutted around my room at like 3 in the morning in those boots. Which is a very good indication that my love for them will probably never die.


But I'm drifting off topic.


I have a massive stuffed toy that I sleep with. His name is Leonard. I'm not entirely sure what he is - some sort of giant ladybug, monkey mix. He's brown, with the most adorable face, squishy, and I love him. I take him with me everywhere, including different countries. I had to carry him as hand luggage once, and the stares I got at the airport were embarrassing, but did I care? Well, yes, I did, but I'll never see those people again, whatever. The problem that arises now is that I don't think he'll fit in the suitcase. I really hope I can take him. He's my Leonard. I would rather not leave him behind.

Leonard

Leonard: Mug Shot

Taking Leonard will remind me of home. Oh lord, imagine if they decide at security to open up my suitcase, find Leonard, and then discover that it is impossible to stuff him back in. Because sure as Hell, if I'm taking him with me, I'll need to sit on the suitcase first.


There's loads of guides on what to bring with you to uni on the main Dundee website, plus on the individual residence pages. I've got most of the stuff - but again, luggage space. No way am I going to be able to take a duvet with me. Absolutely no chance of that fitting in the suitcase. I suppose sheets and stuff are all well and good, but I'll have to buy the actual pillows and duvet there. Mum actually bought one of those puff-up pillow things - they're flat, so you can pack it, but when you take off the wrapping they plump up to an ordinary size. She also bought a duvet she thought would fit.


Neither do.


I'm just leaving it all behind.


In other news, Adnan gave me a letter that he says I have to read only when I'm on the plane. He says I will be amazed, awe-struck, angry. I'm dying to know what he wrote on the bloody thing, but I'm keeping to my promise - partially because I'll spoil the fun if I open it early. Also, I have a feeling he's over-hyped the content of it. 


Man, I'm going to miss him.


At any rate, I'm off now.


Ja.