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"!

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.

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.

about time

There's something about Dubai that's constantly making me think about time.

Maybe it's the fact that the seasons are shuffled and that I can run into the sea on a random February day. Well maybe not run, more like slowly step into and gasp every time the water gets higher.

Or it's that days of the week blend-in and get blurry. That Sundays no longer mean lazy day on the blue couch watching a marathon of bad TV and eating hangover food. Here, Sunday means Monday, early mornings and at your desk by 9.

Could also be that the correlation between distance and time makes no sense to me here: like it takes 3 minutes for me to go from work to my hotel by car, but it takes 30 minutes for me to walk it. 

And then there's punching in and out of work on time (welcome to the corporate world, me!) and staying at the office until midnight (I know it's not that weird, most people have done it, but it's a little weird for me...) Apparently, that's what having a grown-up job feels like.

The fact is, for so long I was used to my time being mine. I was especially good at wasting it, atrociously, and procrastination is a particular skill of mine. But here, you just can't waste time, even if you try. It goes by so quickly, it feels like it's running on a different clock then the rest of the world. The day flies by, the week is over in a blink. Suddenly, I've been here a month already.

In a way, it feels energizing. So much to do and so much getting done. But it's also a little scary, time going by so fast. There are so many things I thought I'd accomplish before turning 30 (did I mention I'm turning 30? I expect it to come up a lot). So before I actually do turn 30, maybe I should try to accomplish some (most? all?) of these things. I'll do what I usually do, I'll make a list. And then I'll have exactly 4 months to tick all the boxes.

Maybe like that, I can use time to my advantage. The fact that I feel it so strongly here, it could be just what I need: like having a fire lit under my ass --to use a French expression that I can't find the proper equivalent for.

I have to go now, time is ticking.

But I'll keep you posted on that list.

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.