It was the final stretch... the last few days of my twenties, which I spent back home. And sometime during that week, I realized I couldn't wait to finally be thirty.
But first I had to finish off my thirty challenges... To start off the week, there was my father's. He asked for thirty kisses for the thirty years he's been my dad --he's always in need of an extra dose of daughterly affection. Once upon a time I was little girl who wanted to marry her daddy, and the safest place on earth was on his lap and wrapped inside his abaya. I think most days he looks at me and wishes I was still that little girl.
The rest of the week perfect vacation mode challenges... I "threw myself a big birthday party"(#29) and basically celebrated for three days (it was like an ongoing birthday festival... and I loved it!). I watched "La Meglio Gioventu" by Marco Giordana (#23) one of three directors my friend M. wanted me to discover before 30... I spent 3 days working on a "self portrait"(#24) drawing from a picture and then painting, the kind of activity that turns my brain off for hours. I also did "random acts of kindness"(#25) all week long, and it made me wonder why I don't do random acts of kindness every day... it's so easy to do someone a favor, to carry an elderly person's groceries or pay someone a compliment... A good thing to keep in mind, which I wrote as part of another challenge "write a life lesson learnt every day"(#27).
There was also a very important, powerful and difficult challenge: "finish the first draft of your book"(#28). And I tried... I put in the hours; as many as I could over the last few weeks. But writing a book is a complicated thing that doesn't always happen on demand, though the pressure of a deadline did make me work a lot harder and make a lot of progress. The challenge did help me get over that hump and push through, so now, at least I can see the end.
My favorite challenge of all is the one I dreaded doing most. Three people told me to "wakeboard or waterski"(#26) and their goal was not only to get me to try a water sport, but to connect with something my late mother used to do (she was a champion waterskier.) I however am not friends with the sea: I don't like boats, I get really bad sea-sickness and I was really being a baby about the whole thing... kept trying to find excuses not to do it. When the teacher told me to throw myself in the water, I did it very reluctantly. I was convinced I was going to be one of those people who never gets out of the water. I followed the instructions and waited for the boat to pull me up so I could fall on my face, say I tried, and that would be the end of it. But when the boat moved, I actually got up. And out. And all of sudden I saw myself wake-boarding. And there is nothing like seeing yourself do something you never thought you could do.
This little game I created for myself... maybe it was just me doing a bunch of silly things for distraction, but it honestly shifted my perspective entirely. I was dreading turning 30 because I kept thinking that I'm not where I thought I would be. Or should be. But then I played this game. And I pushed myself, even on the days I didn't want to. And I realized there are still so many things I want to do and try and I'm just happy and excited to explore a new decade. Also, getting asked for my ID at a club a week ago may have helped boost my ego...
As for the last challenge (#30) it's one I give myself: Everyone keeps telling the thirties are better because in your twenties you're still looking for yourself and in your thirties, you know who you are... so my challenge is to write down what I know about myself, and to keep it for comparison for when I turn 40...
Showing posts with label almost thirty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label almost thirty. Show all posts
June 23, 2015
June 12, 2015
The Almost Thirty Project --Week 3
With eight days to go and twenty-one challenges down, I have to say that this whole project has been one of my better ideas: I've done more things in 3 weeks than I have in the last 5 months, and it feels amazing to be reminded that there are always new things to try and to do. I've honestly wanted to quit it more than once, just because planning and making sure I do one thing every day is really challenging... but then I remember something my mother always told me "don't start something you can't finish" --and so that's how I got my ass up yesterday morning at 7 (if there is one thing I hate in this life it's waking up before my body tells me to) and dragged myself to the beach to "meditate before work"(#19). Once I sat down on the sand crossed-legged, closed my eyes and started breathing, I felt at peace. It is such a beautiful way to start the day, it completely trumps my need for an extra one hour of sleep.
And apart from this more spiritual moment, most of the challenges this week seemed to focus around my body and feeling sexy... There was the "buy very sexy lingerie" (#14) and the half hour I spent in the Victoria's Secret dressing room trying on all sorts of random underwear was a huge ego boost --it's all about the lighting and they have it down perfectly because you just look gorgeous in everything. There was the "no underwear day" (#15) which weirdly enough was given to me by not one but two people... and was the most uncomfortable day ever, which is all I'll say about it! Then there was the "skinny dipping" (#16) which was absolutely amazing and which I will definitely, for sure do again and again! It was midnight and I was with a couple of friends --we swam into the sea a little far from shore and when we were sure no one could see, I duly removed my bathing suit. Giggles ensued... but then the most wonderful feeling of liberation. And finally to finish off the list of sexy "to-dos," I went to a "pole dancing class"(#20)... which is a LOT harder than it looks. I mean, the teacher looks absolutely fantastic and climbs that pole like it's the easiest thing in the world... But it's not. I couldn't even do one of the moves... and I'm pretty sure I'm going to see bruises appear all over my body.
I also got to experience one of Dubai's famous "Ladies Night" (#18) where they basically give you free drinks (seriously like 3 free drinks each...!) and you'd think the place would be filled with, well, ladies... but it's mostly filled with guys who each come up to you with different cheesy lines. One I particularly liked was "You see all these guys? They're my friends and I don't feel like talking to them anymore" and my friend A. beautifully responded "Maybe you should get new friends." The look on his face was priceless.
As for the most difficult challenge yet "Apply for your dream job" (#17) It was really difficult for me to decide what that job would be... because my real dream is to be a full time writer, writing novels on my own time and that's not a job I can apply to. So I applied for the next best thing --something I always thought was fascinating: working as a journalist for National Geographic. Travelling and telling stories from the four corners of the world. That's a good dream.
June 3, 2015
The Almost 30 project - Week 2
As I'm finishing off week 2 of my "Almost 30" project, I'm sharing a summary of my daily challenges here on the blog...
- Day 7 - "Take an acting class in Dubai": Far from being my first acting class, it was my first in a very long time. But it brought me back to a world in which I always felt happy in --a world where I can pretend to be anyone but myself. When I was younger, all I wanted was to be an actress. I filled my head with dreams and fantasies of one day conquering Hollywood and winning an Oscar. I hadn't acted in more than 3 years before that class, and being in an environment where I could just play felt fantastic.
- Day 8 - "Write the 10 biggest achievements of you twenties": I wrote those in details in a previous post... But I will say one thing about this challenge... putting these achievements down on paper really surprised me. It's easy to forget how many things you should be proud of, and reminding myself was a huge boost. Now I'm looking forward to see what I'll do in my thirties...
- Day 9 - "Wear blue mascara": a challenge of beauty and make-up for someone who doesn't often wear any... It was fun to get out of my comfort box of black eye-liner and bronzer and try something a little more daring. Maybe it'll make me spice things up in the makeup department...
- Day 10 - "Do something that makes you feel like a child": Colors, brushes, paints... being surrounded by 6 and 7 year olds. Spending hours coloring on a ceramic mug on a saturday afternoon... just the type of thing I loved to do, back in the day when weekends were all about gathering around something creative. My mom always had an idea to keep us occupied: making chandeliers out of coca cola bottles, playing with salt dough clay, creating dolls out of buttons... it feels good to know we can still play like children as we grow into adulthood.
- Day 11 - "Wear high-heels at the office": This may seem like a curious one... considering that most people don't wear anything but heels at the office... but I had never done it in my entire professional life. I don't even wear heels when I go out at night, only very rarely. I have to admit though, there is something about spending a day in high-heels: It made me feel like I was in an episode of The Good Wife -like a sexy powerful professional woman... Not a bad thing to feel... And I think I may where more heels in my thirties!
- Day 12 - "Witness a moment of pure happiness": when I got this "to-do", I had no idea how or when I could get it done... it's not like you can predict a moment like that. And then my best friend got engaged... On Monday night, we went to celebrate, and I have never seen her that happy in fifteen years of friendship. It's a blessing to see someone you love so happy. And in that moment, I let go of all the fears and insecurities of my own life, and felt happy too. Not just "happy for her," but happy because she was happy. It's feels nice to tell the difference.
- Day 13 - "Go to an audition": I've been acting since I was 12 years old and I've done dozens of plays, a few short films and even a TV series but I had never gone to a real audition before. I was a little nervous but I decided to give it my all --my big chance to see if I can really nail an audition or not. I learnt the text by heart in the 3 minutes I got to prepare, and went in to impress... let's see what happens! Maybe the career I dreamt of as a child will finally come to me in my thirties!
Today, as I write this, I still have no idea which "to-do" I'm going to do... it's getting harder and harder as the list gets shorter! And there are some scary things coming up on that list, including skinny dipping (I might get kicked out of Dubai for that one), apply for your dream job (which I still haven't figured out) and go for a 5k run (very, very optimistic...). Tune in next week for the next episode of "Almost 30"!
May 30, 2015
remembering the best stuff
So I'm doing this "Almost 30" project (see previous post) and one of my challenges was this: C. told me to write the 10 things I'm most proud of/ the best things about my twenties. And J. asked me to write down the things I am blessed to have or have achieved until now, and then frame it and read it every day... Both mentioned it was to "get positive" (apparently, they are trying to tell me something...). Anyway, I merged the two challenges and this is the list I came up with.
- Publishing a book I wrote when I was 13 and selling 5-thousand copies to the full profit of the Children Cancer Center. I wrote "I Believe in Angels", a novel about friendship between a boy and a girl, cancer, teen-pregnancy, and a whole lot of other themes you would never expect a 13 year old girl to write about... In 2006, it was published and sold in bookstores all over Lebanon. Thousands of people got to read me --every writer's dream.
- Getting a Fulbright Scholarship... I was never one of those bright straight A students with amazing grades... I was always average, had ok grades, nothing to write home about. But I knew how to write, and I nailed those essays in my application. Went straight to their emotions, and it worked. I got a full scholarship to a university in the US for my Masters Degree; my first fully independent achievement. Got it all on my own, none of that nepotism BS we're all used to in Lebanon.
- Going to the Journalism School at Columbia University... An Ivy League school, and one of the best journalism schools in the world --created by Pulitzer himself... and I met some amazing people including one of my best-friends.
- Living in New York City... Growing up, all I ever wanted to do was live in the US. I was one of those people who had "the American dream". And the first time I went to New York, I was 17 years old and told my father: "How can anyone live anywhere else in the world?" I wanted to live there one day, and I did.
- Being a news presenter on live TV... and the head of English News as my very first job. I was in a little over my head, they just sort of thrust me into presenting the news bulletin after just two screen-tests and voila... at 23 it was pretty cool.
- Being one of the founding members of an NGO for children... and then working there for two years, helping improve different children's programs in NGOs across Lebanon.
- Acting in the TV/Web Series "Beirut I Love You"... Actually, not just the acting, being a part of it in general was one of the best times of my life. It was an incredible experience to be part of a group of young, passionate people who just loved working on this for no other reason then the pleasure of doing it. The only time in my life when waking up at 5am was exciting!
- Writing my blog, Beirut Rhapsodies... For two years, it was a weekly piece of writing that kept me going. And it has reached over 80-thousand views, which in the age of social media may not mean much, but it means a lot to me. Because in between those views, there are people who took the time to write me and tell me how much my writing meant to them. And that is priceless. Again, every writer's dream.
- Getting my own apartment... after years and years of sharing, couch surfing, living with boyfriends and going back and forth from my father's house, I finally have a place that is just my own, on my own.
- Writing a novel... Last year I quit my job and moved to New York to start writing a book. And I will be a lot happier/prouder/relieved when it's actually finished, but creativity works in mysterious ways and time isn't always on my side. Still, the writing of this book, the work I've put in it, the research and what it's made me discover has been a fascinating journey so far.
As for one thing that I'd like to mention and end with, as something I'm extremely blessed to have, it would be my friends. I have the luxury of having not one, not two, but a whole family of amazing friends, some of them who've been there my entire life. I remember a time, when I was 11 years old --I didn't really have any friends, and I'd spend the entire recess time hiding in the school library, behind a book. It was the loneliest I'd ever been. One of my greatest fears in life is being alone. But when you have good friends, you just never are.
May 27, 2015
the "Almost 30" project
I'm almost thirty. Well, precisely 29 years old and 11 months. And for some inexplicable reason, I've been completely PETRIFIED of my thirtieth birthday. So to distract myself from the inevitable, I've given myself a challenge. Thirty challenges, to be exact. In the last 30 days before my birthday, I have to do one new thing every day.
I asked the people in my life to each give me something "to-do" and I've added a few things to the list myself... And I got a little bit of everything, from "go wakeboarding" to "cook me dinner" and "spend a day without underwear"... a long list of thirty things that I have to fit in my life, with work and everything else...
The project kicked off last week, and will go on until my birthday on JUNE 20... I've been documenting it daily on instagram (@yashatem) and tumblr (http://thirtytothirtyinthirty.tumblr.com/)
But for Rhapsodies readers, I'll summarize it week by week...
- Day 1 - "Get interviewed on the radio" : I randomly received a message a couple of weeks ago inviting me to Light FM to talk about my blog and my book... and I got a lot more nervous than I thought I would! I used to do live TV once upon a time so I didn't think a little microphone with two super cool ladies could intimidate me! But I guess it's different when the roles are inverted; when you're not the one asking all the questions. I'm used to opening myself up in writing but saying things out loud is a different story! Made me realize: if there's one thing I really need to do in my thirties is to stop asking so many questions.
- Day 2 - "Do a sexy photo shoot": I found myself sitting in a beautiful garden, wearing a straw hat and a flower robe, and nothing else. That was my challenge: To let go long enough to be able to be taken a picture of, nude. It’s not an easy thing to do… to be that comfortable in your body. It takes a lot to let go of all the years of constant dieting, always comparing to other girls... and showing your body without anything to hide behind. At first I couldn’t stop laughing and wanted to hide every part. Then one picture after the other, I relaxed. I started loosening up. And it’s an incredible thing, to let go of all your insecurities for a moment and just feel sexy. To forget to push in your stomach and turn more towards your good side and tilt your nose up to avoid a double chin --to actually feel a little cocky staring into the camera. It was freeing.
- Day 3 - "Go somewhere you've never been" : It wasn't easy to keep the challenge going as I was on my first weekend trip home in 4 months… But I persevered and despite the (harsh) hangover, I went along on a drive south: an afternoon in the Chouf, in a place I’d never seen before: Bkersay. Beautiful green mountains all around me after four months in the desert was like a vacation for my soul.
- Day 4 - “Read The Prophet (Gibran Khalil Gibran)”: I am embarrassed to admit that at almost 30 I had never read the most famous literary work to come out of my country. So I attacked the book as I caught an overnight flight back to Dubai. I read the book, some parts more than once. And the truth is, I felt like it was the perfect time to read it, as I'm feeling lost in transition between my different lives and different choices. I don't think I would have ever understood or appreciated this book if I had read it before. One of my favorite parts: "But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. "
- Day 5 - “Watch a classic you've never seen" : A couple of weeks ago a friend was dumbfounded that I had never seen "Back to the Future" --so I decided this would be the classic I'd watch. Plus it turns out it came out the same year I did --1985. So we're both celebrating 30... I made a little bit of pop corn (because what's a movie without pop corn?) and I illegally made my way to a streaming of the film (probably not the way anyone watched it in 1985). But I loved it. It felt serendipititiously appropriate too! Here was Marty McFly going 30 years back and forth and reinforcing the idea in my head that everything happens for a reason and that I might understand it, 30 years from now.
- Day 6 - "Reconnect with a childhood friend" : Truth be told, the challenge was to “track down” a childhood friend but I honestly have already tracked down all of my childhood friends in the last few years –it's something I actually enjoy. Whether through Facebook, or knocking on a door in Paris 20 years on, or trying to figure out the name of that girl I was best-friends with when I was four years old (got my dad to play detective...) I have long run out of friends to track down... So for the sake of this challenge, I decided to reconnect with a friend that I haven’t spoken to since I was a teenager. It turns out we live in the same city, and we spoke on the phone earlier today and I’ll be visiting her and her newborn baby very soon!
April 7, 2015
Between a Carrie and a Bridget
"It's so Sex and the City! I can imagine you like Carrie sitting on the bed tummy down, legs in the air, writing your blog!"
(My friend Sara B., Whatsapp conversation, commenting on the picture I sent her of my new studio apartment)
Last week, I moved into my very own apartment. Granted, it's a studio (but a big one!) and it's in Dubai (they say Dubai is the new New York, no?) but whatever it is, it is my own. And it's the first time I actually live alone. Now that came with two, distinct feelings: one of amazing excitement at finally having MY space, my bed, my freedom to dance around naked with Lana Del Ray blasting if that's what I choose to do. And then there was this inexplicable ball of knots in my stomach. Something telling me that settling on my own like that could mean I am setting myself up to being alone. Forever.
And so came flooding in the usual comparisons for single women in their 30s who live alone. Our "role models" throughout the latter part of the 90s and onwards. The Carrie and Bridget generation.
I guess I've always felt a sort of affinity towards the Carrie character. She's a writer who lives alone, in New York City --she wears her heart on her sleeve, writes to the world about her dating life which is constantly going up and down, and she tries to water down her innate romanticism to fit into the realm of "I've got my feet on the ground"... I'm basically her, if you remove the shoe obsession and the fabulous fashion sense.
And then there's Bridget, who lately I've been feeling oddly similar to. She's also a writer (or she works in publishing and writes a diary) who becomes a reporter (been there, done that) who is single and lives alone even though she's past 30. She struggles to get to the gym and lose those extra 4 kilos. She gets her heart broken and then sings "All by myself" with a brush in her hand. She gets invited to dinner with four other couples (and she's the only odd one out). She gets asked why she's still single (as if there's a good answer to that question) and is met with a round of "we need to find you a good man" as if she hasn't tried.
A few weeks ago, I was invited to dinner with three couples. One couple who just got engaged and were telling us all about the proposal. One couple who was just about to get married and were telling us all about the wedding preparations. And the third who are expecting a baby and who were telling us way more then I ever wanted to know about being pregnant. To say that I felt like an alien from another planet is an understatement. I thought to myself: this is it. The Bridget Jones syndrome. Somehow, I've reached it.
I read that book when I was 14 years-old and back then, Bridget was just a fun, quirky, lovable character who was just so desperately unlucky --but it was cute and acceptable, because it was a story, and a good story always ends with the love factor. I never thought of her as a desperate 30-something, in love with a asshole, who has to change careers and start all her life over. And I never imagined I would be in her shoes.
But here's what I've noticed: It's really the ending that makes it all okay. It's not the fact that she gets her act together, starts loving her job and goes to the gym a couple of times like she's finally taking control. No. That's only what helps her get her MAN.
Because in the end, whatever the story is... however feminist, however avant-garde, it almost, always ends with something love.
And so from my little apartment in Dubai, tummy down and feet up in the air, I keep writing my story; one faced-fear after the other.... and as far as the ending goes --I guess we'll see.
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March 25, 2015
almost home
These last few weeks have really been a testament to how I've been living my life for the past year, the past few years, the whole of my twenties actually.
I stayed in 6 different apartments in the past month (including 3 in the past week), slept in 6 different beds including one in a baby's room, and carried my suitcase in and out of the office so many times my coworkers are very confused. They keep thinking I'm going on a trip, I keep explaining I'm only going from one guest-room to the other. At least it's an upgrade from the couch.
And when I think about it, this is exactly how I've lived my life throughout my twenties. In eight years, I lived in 11 apartments in 3 countries, had 5 different jobs, 2 "serious" relationships (and 2 shitty breakups). So basically the only thing that defines me for sure is that I am all over the place. Literally. And for the longest time, that's just the way I liked it. I like the idea of being that free. Of never knowing where I might end up.
But lately, I've been craving a home.
And by home, I don't mean my father's house, where I shared a bedroom with my little sister no longer than 3 months ago. There comes a point in your life where you feel the need to have your own space. My own home, one that I pay with my hard-working earned money, with furniture that I own and most importantly: a bed that's mine. Adulthood, I guess you call it.
I'm almost there. The past ten days were hell; it was all paperwork, loans, checks, contracts, agents, electricity and water, credit cards, appliances. All words I was pretty unfamiliar with until now. I went to see an apartment and I forgot to check if it had a built-in wardrobe or a bathroom cabinet or even AC for that matter. I just liked it because it was bigger than everything else I saw.
I had a brief moment of anger when the agent told me "you're married, yes?" like he just looking for confirmation and when I said I wasn't, he said he needed to take it up with the landlord because he doesn't usually "accept" unmarried women. A brief moment of anger.
Then I had many, many moments of anxiety, signing on all these forms and all these checks. Still anxious right now just thinking about it. And I felt completely overwhelmed at Ikea for four hours, and all I did was buy a bed-frame and a mattress. But then I had a moment of pride pushing that huge cart around all by myself. All by myself! Not in a tragic, "all by myself" Bridget Jones moment on the couch with a brush (although I foresee myself having that moment quite often in the next year...). More like I'm doing it all by myself like a big girl and despite the anger, anxieties and overwhelming everything, mostly I'm left with pride and excitement. Because I'm almost there. Just a few more days, and I'll be home.
I stayed in 6 different apartments in the past month (including 3 in the past week), slept in 6 different beds including one in a baby's room, and carried my suitcase in and out of the office so many times my coworkers are very confused. They keep thinking I'm going on a trip, I keep explaining I'm only going from one guest-room to the other. At least it's an upgrade from the couch.
And when I think about it, this is exactly how I've lived my life throughout my twenties. In eight years, I lived in 11 apartments in 3 countries, had 5 different jobs, 2 "serious" relationships (and 2 shitty breakups). So basically the only thing that defines me for sure is that I am all over the place. Literally. And for the longest time, that's just the way I liked it. I like the idea of being that free. Of never knowing where I might end up.
But lately, I've been craving a home.
And by home, I don't mean my father's house, where I shared a bedroom with my little sister no longer than 3 months ago. There comes a point in your life where you feel the need to have your own space. My own home, one that I pay with my hard-working earned money, with furniture that I own and most importantly: a bed that's mine. Adulthood, I guess you call it.
I'm almost there. The past ten days were hell; it was all paperwork, loans, checks, contracts, agents, electricity and water, credit cards, appliances. All words I was pretty unfamiliar with until now. I went to see an apartment and I forgot to check if it had a built-in wardrobe or a bathroom cabinet or even AC for that matter. I just liked it because it was bigger than everything else I saw.
I had a brief moment of anger when the agent told me "you're married, yes?" like he just looking for confirmation and when I said I wasn't, he said he needed to take it up with the landlord because he doesn't usually "accept" unmarried women. A brief moment of anger.
Then I had many, many moments of anxiety, signing on all these forms and all these checks. Still anxious right now just thinking about it. And I felt completely overwhelmed at Ikea for four hours, and all I did was buy a bed-frame and a mattress. But then I had a moment of pride pushing that huge cart around all by myself. All by myself! Not in a tragic, "all by myself" Bridget Jones moment on the couch with a brush (although I foresee myself having that moment quite often in the next year...). More like I'm doing it all by myself like a big girl and despite the anger, anxieties and overwhelming everything, mostly I'm left with pride and excitement. Because I'm almost there. Just a few more days, and I'll be home.
March 9, 2015
everything is okay
Monday morning no longer feels like it has for the past 29 years. It's not the first day of the week anymore; it doesn't hold that same power, the pressure, that sense of dread. It's just a day of the week now. Here, I start my week on a Sunday.
I woke up this morning and decided that everything is okay. Everything is okay, everything will be okay. I just need to let go. For the longest time, I've tried to control everything. Even things I can't control, I try to plan for. I make lists --that's how I feel better about things. To be prepared and avoid surprises. I guess this is what became of me after a series of unexpected events that came and punched me in the face, so, surprise surprise, my reaction is to be controlling. Was to be. I'm letting go now.
Actually, the truth is, the unexpected events probably exacerbated my anxieties but I'd always been naturally anxious. Even as a little girl, I always asked the "what if?" questions. I remember my mother pointing this out to me one day when we were on the Corniche, the beach walk in my hometown of Beirut. My baby brother was running around, and I kept worrying he'd fall over the edge. "What if he trips?" I asked. "What if he's holding onto the barrier and it breaks?" "What if he passes under the barrier because he's so small?"
"Why do you always have to think of all the bad possible things that could happen?" my mother asked me. "Relax. You don't need to worry. I'm here, let me worry about it, ok?"
Ok. If she was going to worry about it, then maybe I didn't have to. And I think it worked for a while. But then she died. And there was no one left to worry about all the things that needed to be worried about; no one but me. And I could not be unprepared again. I couldn't just let things happen to me, without accounting for every possibility.
But then something strange happened: unexpected things kept on happening; despite my lists, despite my whatifs, despite my preparations. Sometimes they were good unexpected things, sometimes they weren't so good. But they happened anyway.
And now... well now, I've realized that even though I do all my worrying, go through all my anxieties, make all my lists --nothing is going as planned. I am absolutely not where I expected to be. And maybe that's okay.
Monday morning is still Monday morning; it has the same name, it still comes at the same time and in the same order. It just acts as a Tuesday now. And the world hasn't collapsed. And everything is okay.
I woke up this morning and decided that everything is okay. Everything is okay, everything will be okay. I just need to let go. For the longest time, I've tried to control everything. Even things I can't control, I try to plan for. I make lists --that's how I feel better about things. To be prepared and avoid surprises. I guess this is what became of me after a series of unexpected events that came and punched me in the face, so, surprise surprise, my reaction is to be controlling. Was to be. I'm letting go now.
Actually, the truth is, the unexpected events probably exacerbated my anxieties but I'd always been naturally anxious. Even as a little girl, I always asked the "what if?" questions. I remember my mother pointing this out to me one day when we were on the Corniche, the beach walk in my hometown of Beirut. My baby brother was running around, and I kept worrying he'd fall over the edge. "What if he trips?" I asked. "What if he's holding onto the barrier and it breaks?" "What if he passes under the barrier because he's so small?"
"Why do you always have to think of all the bad possible things that could happen?" my mother asked me. "Relax. You don't need to worry. I'm here, let me worry about it, ok?"
Ok. If she was going to worry about it, then maybe I didn't have to. And I think it worked for a while. But then she died. And there was no one left to worry about all the things that needed to be worried about; no one but me. And I could not be unprepared again. I couldn't just let things happen to me, without accounting for every possibility.
But then something strange happened: unexpected things kept on happening; despite my lists, despite my whatifs, despite my preparations. Sometimes they were good unexpected things, sometimes they weren't so good. But they happened anyway.
And now... well now, I've realized that even though I do all my worrying, go through all my anxieties, make all my lists --nothing is going as planned. I am absolutely not where I expected to be. And maybe that's okay.
Monday morning is still Monday morning; it has the same name, it still comes at the same time and in the same order. It just acts as a Tuesday now. And the world hasn't collapsed. And everything is okay.
February 26, 2015
expectations redefined
From the very beginning of this blog (Beirut Rhapsodies) from the very first post I wrote, I chose a topic: I chose to talk about a generation of women entering the 21st and the trying to make sense of our place in this new world, whether it be in career, family, love and all three. As I put it back then, over four years ago: "It's the story about women in their twenties, struggling to find their balance." I wanted to write a novel, but didn't know what about. I started the blog just to get back into writing mode.
So it's funny to realize that years later, I am in fact writing a book about exactly that: women in their twenties, through different generations and different periods of time. I guess somehow I was already onto to something without even realizing it.
The reason I mention this, is because of what I want to talk about today. A conversation I have had again and again, with so many girls around me, and I really believe that it's the essence of understanding relationships in our time. Expectations need to be redefined.
It feels unimaginable, impossible even, that we should expect to have the same kinds of relationships that they had 60 years ago, or even 30 years ago. Yet we do.
Technology alone has redefined the way we communicate, the way one might connect with someone. Take long distance relationships for example. For my grandparents, their courtship was a time of letters exchanged between Beirut and Cairo. My grandmother would send a letter, and then she would count: if it took 8 days to reach Cairo, and if he wrote back that very same day and sent the letter the next, then she would receive her answer 17 days later at the earliest. I have friends in long distance relationships right now, and they can't go 17 hours without speaking to each other through at least one of the dozen available apps.
Imagine waiting 17 days for someone to reply to your love letter. We can't imagine it. When we see the "last seen" stamp on Whatsapp (or the wonderful new addition of the blue ticks), we can't even wait 17 minutes. The other day my friend P. panicked because her boyfriend was "last seen" at 8pm and it was 11pm and she didn't understand how he could go three hours without checking his Whatsapp (what the hell was he doing?)... turns out he was sleeping.
And that's just one example. We've lost so many fundamental pillars to our inter-human connections --patience, privacy, freedom... Yesterday, T. told me her boyfriend sometimes goes an entire day without calling her, because he needs his space and she just doesn't get it. Now if T. lived in 1949 like my grandmother, getting one phone call a month would be magic. Not the norm. Not the minimum requirement. But maybe not all of us are wired to keep up with the demands of technology. Maybe some of us need to disappear for a day, or two, because that's how we were wired to start with. And if we'd just readjust our expectations --if we were able to understand that people weren't created to keep up and (dis)function in perfect tune with technology-- we'd all be so much happier, wouldn't we?
So it's funny to realize that years later, I am in fact writing a book about exactly that: women in their twenties, through different generations and different periods of time. I guess somehow I was already onto to something without even realizing it.
The reason I mention this, is because of what I want to talk about today. A conversation I have had again and again, with so many girls around me, and I really believe that it's the essence of understanding relationships in our time. Expectations need to be redefined.
It feels unimaginable, impossible even, that we should expect to have the same kinds of relationships that they had 60 years ago, or even 30 years ago. Yet we do.
Technology alone has redefined the way we communicate, the way one might connect with someone. Take long distance relationships for example. For my grandparents, their courtship was a time of letters exchanged between Beirut and Cairo. My grandmother would send a letter, and then she would count: if it took 8 days to reach Cairo, and if he wrote back that very same day and sent the letter the next, then she would receive her answer 17 days later at the earliest. I have friends in long distance relationships right now, and they can't go 17 hours without speaking to each other through at least one of the dozen available apps.
Imagine waiting 17 days for someone to reply to your love letter. We can't imagine it. When we see the "last seen" stamp on Whatsapp (or the wonderful new addition of the blue ticks), we can't even wait 17 minutes. The other day my friend P. panicked because her boyfriend was "last seen" at 8pm and it was 11pm and she didn't understand how he could go three hours without checking his Whatsapp (what the hell was he doing?)... turns out he was sleeping.
And that's just one example. We've lost so many fundamental pillars to our inter-human connections --patience, privacy, freedom... Yesterday, T. told me her boyfriend sometimes goes an entire day without calling her, because he needs his space and she just doesn't get it. Now if T. lived in 1949 like my grandmother, getting one phone call a month would be magic. Not the norm. Not the minimum requirement. But maybe not all of us are wired to keep up with the demands of technology. Maybe some of us need to disappear for a day, or two, because that's how we were wired to start with. And if we'd just readjust our expectations --if we were able to understand that people weren't created to keep up and (dis)function in perfect tune with technology-- we'd all be so much happier, wouldn't we?
February 10, 2015
like a grownup
This last year has been eventful, to say the least, so let me catch you up. I know, it's been a while.
Beirut - New York - Beirut - Dubai
Three moves in 11 months, that's a record for me. Not that I'm not used to moving, back and forth from my childhood bedroom onto the next new experience --and back.
When I moved to New York last January, it was the cool move: girl gets dumped, quits her job, takes all her savings, crashes on her best friend's couch and starts writing a book. It was a good story, so everyone cheered me on and told me how brave I was and I thought, for sure, it's all going to work out. It was like a scene in a movie, and of course, if it had been a movie, I would've found a job, gotten a work permit, finished the book, found a publisher, met the man of my dreams and all that. But it was real life and none of that happened. So after eight months of living in my parallel universe, where I refused to conform because I'm just not the kind of girl who wants to be stuck in another 9 to 5 job in the boring corporate world making money like normal people (who wants to be normal?) --I came back to Beirut with my tail between my legs, not a cent left and an unfinished manuscript.
I came back to Beirut and there I found myself, once again, in the bedroom I grew up in. The yellow walls I painted myself closing in on me. And everywhere around me, all the questions that I really didn't need.
"Oh so you're back from New York?" Yes... (Look of pity.)
"Did you finish your book?" Not exactly, it does take a little more than few months to write a book you know. (Nod of pretend-understanding.)
"Did you meet someone?" Yes, I met lots of people... but no, not in the way you mean. (Nod of extreme pity, then an encouraging "don't worry you'll meet someone when the time is right".)
"So you're back for good?" No. I'm never back for good. What does that even mean?
What I really wanted to say? At least I tried.
And I'm not afraid to try again.
When I decided to move to Dubai, it was the safe move; nothing cool about it. Girl finds herself banging her head against the wall because she's almost thirty and still gets paid peanuts to write, so she gives in to the corporate 9 to 5, accepts the fact that getting a salary is unfortunately necessary sometimes and tries to make the best out of it. I wouldn't write this one into a movie scene --doesn't sound too exciting. And it was unsurprisingly met with a lot of "You went from New York to Dubai...? Wow..." (and then the look of disappointment, which is almost worse than look of pity.) Like it wasn't already hard enough for me.
The thing is, the truth is, I'm not exactly ecstatic about moving to Dubai. Everything I was running away from is all here in one place on a silver platter with a silver spoon that I don't want and don't care about. But I finally realized that what I need right now, to do what it is that I really want to do and need to do, is some stability. Maybe act like a grownup. At least for a little while.
So just in case you had any doubts, I'm not going to stop. Not the moving, not the dreaming, and definitely not the writing.
Beirut - New York - Beirut - Dubai
Three moves in 11 months, that's a record for me. Not that I'm not used to moving, back and forth from my childhood bedroom onto the next new experience --and back.
When I moved to New York last January, it was the cool move: girl gets dumped, quits her job, takes all her savings, crashes on her best friend's couch and starts writing a book. It was a good story, so everyone cheered me on and told me how brave I was and I thought, for sure, it's all going to work out. It was like a scene in a movie, and of course, if it had been a movie, I would've found a job, gotten a work permit, finished the book, found a publisher, met the man of my dreams and all that. But it was real life and none of that happened. So after eight months of living in my parallel universe, where I refused to conform because I'm just not the kind of girl who wants to be stuck in another 9 to 5 job in the boring corporate world making money like normal people (who wants to be normal?) --I came back to Beirut with my tail between my legs, not a cent left and an unfinished manuscript.
I came back to Beirut and there I found myself, once again, in the bedroom I grew up in. The yellow walls I painted myself closing in on me. And everywhere around me, all the questions that I really didn't need.
"Oh so you're back from New York?" Yes... (Look of pity.)
"Did you finish your book?" Not exactly, it does take a little more than few months to write a book you know. (Nod of pretend-understanding.)
"Did you meet someone?" Yes, I met lots of people... but no, not in the way you mean. (Nod of extreme pity, then an encouraging "don't worry you'll meet someone when the time is right".)
"So you're back for good?" No. I'm never back for good. What does that even mean?
What I really wanted to say? At least I tried.
And I'm not afraid to try again.
When I decided to move to Dubai, it was the safe move; nothing cool about it. Girl finds herself banging her head against the wall because she's almost thirty and still gets paid peanuts to write, so she gives in to the corporate 9 to 5, accepts the fact that getting a salary is unfortunately necessary sometimes and tries to make the best out of it. I wouldn't write this one into a movie scene --doesn't sound too exciting. And it was unsurprisingly met with a lot of "You went from New York to Dubai...? Wow..." (and then the look of disappointment, which is almost worse than look of pity.) Like it wasn't already hard enough for me.
The thing is, the truth is, I'm not exactly ecstatic about moving to Dubai. Everything I was running away from is all here in one place on a silver platter with a silver spoon that I don't want and don't care about. But I finally realized that what I need right now, to do what it is that I really want to do and need to do, is some stability. Maybe act like a grownup. At least for a little while.
So just in case you had any doubts, I'm not going to stop. Not the moving, not the dreaming, and definitely not the writing.
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