who knew.

how have i waited all the way until october to write something up in hurrrr?

because i've been absolutely PILED ON with stuff to do this year, it is unbelievable. and yet, strangely wonderful. i feel like i'll never be on top of things, keeping everything in check, and i am thoroughly enjoying it. not gonna lie, still stressed out to an absolute max but that's okay. but it's making time move far too quickly for my liking.

not a day has passed since i arrived here just three weeks ago in which i did not get upset thinking i would have to leave it all soon. how did this happen? i could not sound any different from two years ago when i thought coming here was the biggest mistake of my life. who knew everything would be okay? who knew.

i should have known.

this is such a disoriented blabbing of words. i should stop getting crackpot ideas to blog at half one in the morning and make it a habit of being asleep by now instead.

well this is odd.

currently: bundled up in two jumpers, picking broken bugles out of a crumpled crisps bag.

i’ve left behind my spanish radio station and long drives to myself. left behind my momma and my fluffy kitty. my paints and my paint-stained carpet. the grapefruit lotion that smells like summer. my bookshelves. my cloud of a bed. all my endless sunshine.. to start my third and final year of university, which is promising to be a death race, to an empty flat in a hall that’s not exactly my fave and in which the heating system has not yet been turned on.

but i’m feeling surprisingly giddy, which is probably part honest excitement and part delirious jetlag. although the situation could be severely improved if i wasn’t wearing moccasins, gloves up to my elbows, and a fleece sweater over a jumper to keep warm. welcome back to england, huh?

how is it summer again already?

Home, chilling in the living room, watching N Korea hold its own against Brazil. I'm excited. It's N Korea's first World Cup since 1966 and one of the players actually cried during their national anthem. I'm rooting for them.

I already feel rushed though, like this summer is going to be another hit-the-ground-running escapade. It's getting quite exhausting, living each epoch in my life hitting the ground running. Seriously, I only just got here. But I'd rather be rushed at home with things like reading, painting, friends, family and food than with coursework and exams. How are exams a distant memory already even though I only just finished last Monday? Membranes & Signalling went alright, I hope. Motor Systems went disgustingly and I've gradually gotten more and more worried that I haven't passed the more I think about it. Neuropharmacology was promising to be one of the most stressful exams of my life (120+ drugs, their mechanisms, side effects, uses etc fully memorised and resourced at my -- aw, Brazil just scored. Hm. I want to hug the N Korean keeper. Anyways. Yeah, a lot of drugs and little brain space) but it went quite well, considering. And lastly, 2.5 days to learn the craziest amount of information on Genetic Engineering, which I found quite interesting as a whole but really, really would have preferred not to be examined on it. But that went surprisingly better than anticipated as well, ie I didn't think I'd be able to answer a single question and in fact, could answer more than that PLUS write a three page essay on creating a gene knockout mouse line. Yeah, good stuff.

So, there went a second year. One year to go. What. It was whilst revising Neuropharm and Genetic Eng that made me realise that I do really enjoy all these topics, even though I say I hate them throughout the semester. They're not that difficult to understand, mostly, and are rather interesting for the most part. Getting them into my brain is a different story, but when I think about it, it worries me that I spend a good deal of the year wasting my energy on whining about how gross Neuropharm is or what the heck these lab results are supposed to tell me that I completely forget to enjoy myself. That this is all I have, whether I spend it negatively or happily and I think we all know which most people would rather choose.

"The life of faith is lived one day at a time, and it has to be lived -- not always looked forward to as though the "real" living were around the next corner."

-- Elisabeth Elliot

I think that's how I've spent a good deal of my time at Manchester, having constant expectations for what uni should have been like, being disappointed and then sticking it out by having expectations of post-uni and depending on those to kick off my real living. Like I'm always in the hold between what I'd hoped and those hopes being realised. (Brazil just scored again. :( ) I sit here in the waiting, forgetting that what's happening right now is my real life, whether it's fulfilled my expectations or not. All that waiting makes for wasted years. Here I am with one year left of university, promising to be my busiest and most exhausting and I realise NOW that I need to make the most of it? Sigh. I have such a delayed reaction to life.

What else, what else?

I went to see Pemberley! It's called Lyme Park in Disley/Derbyshire. aka the house of Mr Darcy in the 1995 Pride and Prejudice (the only adaptation worth mentioning...). It was beautiful and fun and sunny and country and pretty and duckful.

(NORTH KOREA GOALLLLLLLLLLLL!!!)

self-timer take one: amina falls in a log

self-timer take two: the band photo

a fine prospect :)

We also had a pretty fantastic fundraiser for Action Palestine, my sole reason for living most of the time. Everyone in that society makes me happy and glad to be in Manchester. I'm so thankful for its existence. And it upsets me that we get so close to some of the members in such a short span of time only to say goodbye for (what seems like) good at the end of the year. I wish they would stay in my life forever. It really distresses me that there are people I know now who I might never see again, ever. How do human beings function like this, quickly flitting in and out of each other's lives? The end of next year is not going to be pretty.

In other news, I'm hired at the Faculty of Life Sciences as a student ambassador :). I get to show around all the potential freshers next year and get paid for it, wearing a bright red hoodie so that everyone who wants to direct their attention on a specific moving target will always find me to satisfy their staring needs. Good stuff.

Now, summer. See you in September.

life lesson #287

Don't henna your hair and hands simultaneously. It's bad enough attempting contortionism to wash it out in the sink but to do so one-handedly will be simply beyond your capabilities.

Particularly at 2am. Definitely not.

afterthought

Or maybe my influx of future planning and itching to demolish all feelings of immobility is in opposition to my move to Manc. Maybe it's all those pent up thoughts of being stuck in a rut, expressing themselves in endless hopes of tomorrow. That being here doesn't evoke possibilities and wide-eyed ambition, but rather suffocation and a desperation to get out.

/melodramatic. It's exam season, don't judge. Update on that front: Absolutely nothing is sticking in my head. I can't wait to be done but at the same time dread impending doom and failure and don't want to deal with those either. 11 days till home.

"A person is not old until regrets take the place of dreams."

-- John Barrymore

I feel old.

2/4

I think in my intentions to make this a diary-like record all about my time in England, studying abroad, I forgot who I was. I mean, I forgot in the way that I neglected my habit of not being a narrow-minded, focused individual who would get here and do nothing but be wide-eyed, drinking in English culture. I have been that, of course, but being here, as most experiences do in my life, has opened my mind up wider, pushing borders further and further into nonexistence. By coming here, I don't feel like I just moved to Manchester, England; I feel like I moved into the rest of the world. The world has always been big and full of possibilities but I don't think I've ever made so many plans for the future as I have since I arrived. My own world feels so small and inexperienced. I'm so impatient waiting till I can BUST A MOVE.

Right.

memory smell #8:

Any and all Herbal Essences products. I just spent five minutes sniffing my curl gel thing because it smells like home. It smells like aftershowers, wet hair and cool breezes, wafting down the corridor. Some of the shampoo and conditioner scents can even evoke specific seasons -- the blue one feels like winter, for example.

Have you discovered any memory smells lately?

currently reading: Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

currently listening: last.fm

shake that flavours shaken: 6

What would you attempt if you knew that you could not fail?

I would quit university and take a whirlwind trip around the world to develop my skills as a painter and master all sorts of media and live out my life as a prolific artist. Ithinkicanithinkicanithinkican.

'Sup, Figgy?

thetempertrap

are absolute magic. Go see them. Do it. Don't think twice about it. And go without expectations, because they will blow you away. Except, I just gave you expectations. Ignore that bit.

Also, their support Sarah Blasko - quaint and soft and heartful and such a good beat.

Bombay Bicycle Club a couple weeks ago was less satisfactory. Their support Jonquil was IMMENSE though I think they're the type of band that is crazy better live than they are on record (see: Mr Hudson).

Ah, music. Love.

PS Exams? What exams?

definition of home #2

Home is where I actually get to eat the source of the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen.

memory smell #7

Searching through piles of shirts on the top shelf of my closet, I freeze. It smells just like the closets and drawers in Kuwait, the ones my grandmother empties every time we come to visit. When we arrive, she pulls open each and every one to show us where we can put our things even though we used to live there and have come back to visit several times since. It smells like the times my brother and I used to tumble ourselves into the back behind suits and shoes during games of hide-and-seek. Or when we would go through all the random VHSs and boxes of useless stuff my uncles have collected over the years and left in the dark. It smells like summer and family and vacation and familiarity.

roma, italy

I'm trying hard not to keep repeating that Lady Gaga reference everytime I hear the word Roma. You know, that one that doesn't really but kind of includes it? It makes me kind of sad that that's what comes to my head when I hear the word Roma, as just a word. Anyways.

I find it hard to describe my travels to you, as everyone and their mother wants to hear, because I don't see a point in blow by blow accounting my roaming of Rome. I don't know how to do it without sounding like a boring newsfeed of events right now. It's such a jumbled mix of touristy sites and pizza and gelato and strangers yelling at us and inside jokes and just hanging out; it's hard to sort through, really. I have 589 pictures to go through as it is so I better get on that.

But, points of interest:

1. My stuff didn't arrive in Rome. So they sent it on a flight to arrive the next afternoon, which it did, at the Fiumicino Airport. And I called to ask where it was at the next morning and they said it sent to the delivery company so I should have it within 24 hours or even by that night. Which I did not. So there I was in Rome, calling every day and night to see where my luggage was, hearing that it was slowly making its way back to me, using my finger as a toothbrush because, it was only 24 more hours right? Wearing the same clothes, sharing Saphia's tops, Vicky's pyjamas. One night, the night before my birthday, we all went out on the town and I think the only things on me that were mine were my shoes and glasses. Good times. Finally, Sunday morning, my birthday, I had Vicky call up again to yell at some people in Italian, which she did, and soon discovered that my bag had never in fact been sent to any courier at all. It was sitting in the airport lost luggage storage waiting to be picked up. Happy birthday to me.

It seems strange to start off on a bad note like that but it turned into a running joke really. It's just one of those things ... Remember that time in Rome? When Noor had no clothes and her phone didn't pick up signal and she had to borrow all sorts just to avoid smelling like a laundry hamper ...?

3. Saphia's head got searched in Amsterdam. Just her head. Because she wears a headscarf. She didn't even beep through the security thing but they searched her head anyways. Can we all just take a moment to appreciate the hilarious ridiculousness of that situation? JUST. HER. HEAD. I love stereotyping. (Otherwise, we were highly impressed by what we deemed the grandness of Amsterdam airport. It's changed a lot since I was a kid and is just so damn cool! We approve.)

2. We hit up all the touristy sites, of course. Except I didn't get good shots of the Ancient Forum and the Coloseum because we didn't spend time there during the day and I didn't get to actually go inside but save that for another trip, no? We went to all the Piazzas and Plazas and the Vatican, a few Basilicas, the Pantheon, many many ancient ruins, some fountains, several churches, etc etc but the best parts were always the ones when we stepped down some side street to forage for food (pizza & gelato) and sat down just to soak it all up. Just to see the city as it is, like we lived there not like we just dropped in as observers. It was so great that we stayed with a friend who actually lives in Rome because we got such a fantastic balance of trekking the sites, burrowing through hordes of tourists, and actually experiencing the city as home. Plus, we got all the inside scoop on the grand touristy sites, background info, controversy, narrated to us by Vicky and her knowledgeable self.

3. I will always and forever attest that the best possible way of knowing a city is simply to walk it and walk it we did. Saphia and I strolled what felt like the entirety of Rome, just spending hours figuring out how to get from one place to the next on foot (we were too broke for day metro tickets). We saw bits that most people see rushing past or on an open bus tour, but consider rather the path from point A to point B as opposed to a site in itself. You get me? It's so amazing when you're just ambling along a little boutique-y street and turning the corner, you find yourself facing ancient ruins, the leftovers of the Roman Empire just sitting there behind a cafe. Just being all, oh hey ancient ruins, what's going down?

3.5 And let's not forget that it was like walking through my AP Euro or Ancient History textbook. I was actually standing in the Sistine Chapel. And where Michelangelo actually painted the ceiling. And if I closed my eyes, keeping the picture of the Forum in my mind, I could see it, the Roman Empire, bustling through the columns and stones and bricks. There, right there, Caesar was stabbed. What? Mind-blowing.

4. I'm going through the pictures now and a lot of the ones from inside places have come out blurry :( I don't understand how I missed this. I'm annoyed.

5. Speaking of boutique-y streets, Saph and I have vowed to go back (we even tossed a twopence into the Trevi Fountain) with money and just go shopping. We've seen the sites, we just want to go back and be able to buy all the things we kept wishing we could. And all the homemade pasta in the world. We went to a market on Sunday morning/noonish and every thing was SO DAMN CHEAP and yet cute and interesting and trinket-y and colourful and just so great. I wish we had a market like that in Manchester. This place was MASSIVE and lined with anything you can imagine, even bed sheets which I'm sure is where your imagination jumped to first. A nice guy at one of the food stands cut us a deal on two packs of handmade Italian pasta with some chili/herb mix. I gave one of the bags to my cousin in London and it was SO DELICIOUS. I looked a right weirdo carrying around a bag of pasta through airports and London underground. The guy at security in Amsterdam gave me the weirdest look as it moved down the conveyor belt before asking, "Italiano?" You know it.

6. Because Saphia has darker skin and wears a hijab and looks Arab, something at which I fail miserably, random Arabs or people who knew an Arabic word or two (eg habibi, salaam) would just start yelling whatever at us in the streets, thinking they could get us to buy stuff or take their leaflets if only we were attracted to their apparent grand knowledge of our heritage. Actually, the first encounter with a foreign language we had, the first morning we went for pizza, the lady didn't speak English and we needed to figure out which pizzas were veggie and out comes this Arab chef and starts chitchatting in Arabic! Saphia's not even Arab! The whole trip was basically me being ignored because I looked Italian / European and Saphia being called out at every opportunity -- "Miss India? Iran Iran! Where you from? Ohh, no this ice cream has alcohol, I know you girls, you don't like that!" Some of the things people knew about Muslims, particularly Muslim women astounded us. We were so impressed, particularly Saphia who was worried that the attentions might be more negative, heading towards the racist end of the stick. She needn't have worried at all, really; I was the one feeling slighted the whole time. One guy at a restaurant asked me were I was from and when I said Palestine, he gave me SUCH a suspicious look, like really now? Your white features are telling me otherwise. So he asked what city and even though I immediately responded, he still seemed dubious. Another guy walked right past us on the way to the Vatican and yelled, Assalamualaikum, ya bint baladi! Which means, Peace, girl of my country. At which I responded in Arabic, girlS, GIRLS, IT'S PLURAL DAMMIT.

7. I've written everything down in short word references, day by day, in my planner and looking at it now, so much of it is little events that would be so insignificant to anyone but me, Saph and Vicky. That to me is the mark of a really really great trip. It was seriously wonderful. We are determined to go back and live there. New favourite city to add to the list? I think so.

8. My birthday, which started as a late night out venture into the clubs and bars of Rome which are packed in behind little alleyways and streets and I love Europe. Saph got harassed by some guy who walked by and just kept asking for UN PHOTO and how bella she was and how she was like a museum and he wanted to take a photo and wow it was hilarious. You had to be there. We got back in around 4.30am? 5? That makes it sound like we did some hardcore club hopping but really, we went out at like midnight/1am and got denied from two or three places because they were full and just walked into a random place and chilled out talking about current teen drinking culture and other morally centered subjects with Vicky's sweet roommate (from California! word up). We had about two or three hours of sleep, woke up to harass the airport people, finally found where my stuff is, went off in search of that massive market, where we spent the whole morning/early afternoon. On the way back we passed this Roman pyramid and the non-Catholic cemetery which is gorgeous and the Ghetto, up the Vittorio Emmanuele memorial steps to eat at the cafe, overlooking the Forum and half of Rome. To Termini, the main train station to catch a train to the airport -- we almost missed the train, something Saph and I seem to be very good at. When I saw that we actually had 1 minute to go instead of 5, we sprinted down the platform, Saph ran for the doors to keep them open and I actually slid the last 3 feet yelling NOOOO (yes, people stared) and ripped the tickets into and out of the validation stamper thing (the validation is actually curving off the ticket) and jaws-of-lifed myself into the train. Went to the airport, found my stuff just waiting on a shelf and then got the train back. It was a very chipped train ride back, it felt like we were going home. ♥. Oh and earlier that day, I'd mentioned to Saphia how she used the word gobsmacked a lot and how I always noticed it because it was such a strange word to use so commonly and she'd used it like 3 times in a span of 5 minutes. She didn't believe me. She fully did not believe that she used that word AT ALL and thought I was completely making it up. And then she used it on the way back and I just yelled THERE THERE YOU SAID IT and she was gobsmacked at her use of gobsmacked. Five minutes later, she was about to use it AGAIN. You don't care. See what I mean? This kind of thing was crucial to me but to someone who wasn't there, you're thinking, she was in ROME and all she had to write was that her friend oddly used the word GOBSMACKED? Yes, got a problem? Anyways. A rainstorm started up on our way back and it was absolutely pouring as we ran from the metro to the flat. I got in, had a lovely warm shower and put on MY OWN PYJAMAS!! Then we had a birthday feast, homecooked just for me, with delightful pastries from the downstairs shop for dessert. We just sat at the table chitchatting, relaxin' maxin' all cool, sharing bidet stories and anecdotes from Vicky and her flatmates' experiences in Rome and laughing and being happy. And then reading loads and loads and loads of facebook birthday messages. Ahhhh, it was such a grand birthday.

9. Vicky and her Italian flatmates are incredible. Most perfect flat to be a part of. And breakfast on the balcony, soaking up the Italian mornings? Mmmmm.

10. On gelato tasting--

Saphia: Which ones are nice?

Gelato man, creepily: I think I'm nice.

11. The food. Oh my goodness the food. The pastry shops, the gelato parlors, the sandwich places, the pizza places, OH MY GOD THE TIRAMISU. I wish I'd taken more pictures of the food places, seriously. Ohohoh and the greatest candy shop ever called Jolly Pop, between the Spanish Steps and Piazza de Popolo. I'm telling you these details so you can find it yourselves. Find the Spanish caramel chewies, I have no idea what they are called but they are HEAVENLY.

12. We were at a really crowded and delicious Roman pizza place for dinner once (I say Roman because Roman food is different from the stereotypical Italian food) and as we were sat there chilling with our dinner, a waiter came by and put down a huge plate of beans on our table. Vicky looked up and said we hadn't ordered them, they weren't ours. The waiter responded, just wait. Behind him, a middle-aged guy in a business suit walked up and told us how impressed he was that we all seemed such nice and educated (polite) ladies and that he wanted to gift us these beans, which he paid for. Beans. He gave us a free plate of beans. You should have seen our faces.

13. The guy at the crepe place who thought I was insane because he misheard me and thought I wanted banana, strawberries AND nutella on my crepe and looked at me with eyes that said simultaneously "crazy" and "fatass." The fact that we kept seeing random tourists from our trip over and over -- how likely is that in a city like Rome? The Dutch couple on the train into the city showed up at the Vatican two days later. The guy eavesdropping on our storytelling in the Roman pizza place was at the train station the night after. One day this lady was seriously following us on our trek through Rome; she just kept showing up at places or on the way to places even though we weren't on some standard tourist path. How Saphia kept sending priceless toffees flying out of their wrappers, one of which I had to dive after to save it. That drunk guy on the metro who sang the entire 15 minute trip to Vicky's cousin's blonde friend, serenading her with a warble-y I LOVE YOU BAAYYYYBAAAAY.

14. And lastly, ITALIANS ARE SO BEAUTIFUL. ALL OF THEM. I think Saphia and I saw our husbands several times over. We just needed a few more days..

Good flippin' times.

definition of home #1

Home is where I can shower without flip-flops on.

i feel like it's been a while

Finally. Easter break, how I've craved you since January.

It's been a tumultuous semester. No time to breathe, think, read, rest, stay put even for a moment. And last week just took the cake for worst weeks ever. Thankfully, in its rushing, it rushed head-on into a holiday and here I am, nonchalantly typing away, reading not one but TWO books, getting ready to settle in and watch 'An Education.' It's not like everything's suddenly good again -- my life is still subdued -- but it's so much easier to sort it all out when I have absolutely nothing cramming itself into my head.

I feel like the Universe pressed the restart button today and with that ta-da! welcome tone, I got out of bed with the last 8 weeks seemingly a vague memory. They haven't been, obviously. I'm still smarting from some of the hits, still being dragged down by others but at least I'm standing, right?

I finished my dissertation! Eight whole pages on the olfactory learning and memory mechanisms of mammals and fruit flies and how this contributes to the formation of odour-evoked autobiographical memories. I am now a self-certified expert; ask me anything.

In all this mad rush, I never had the time to be excited about some things. Like this thing I've been avoiding talking about because it was gonna work out, then it wasn't, then it really was, then it might not have, then it definitely wasn't, and then within 48 hours, it heck of was. And I didn't want to get my hopes up by setting it into concrete words before I had official proof. Proof that I'm going to Rome, Italy next week with a friend to stay with a mutual friend and spend 5 days (wait for it) roaming the ancient city. It still seems a hazy potential even though I've booked tickets and unless something really horrible happens in the next week, I'm definitely going. What.

In other news, I just got back from London which was, as always, beautiful and perfect. And my cousin, who was a bit ill this weekend, felt bad that we didn't do anything special together which is fine by me but she wanted to make my stay a bit more holiday-ish. So she invited me back after my return from Italy, since I'll be arriving in London and can just hop a train back to her place. She says we'll have to celebrate my birthday (the big two oh) then. I love family.

I got to see my dad in London too, even more wonderful, since I saw him last for 3 days in december and before that in september. and the next in june for a couple weeks. This move is taking its toll. Hhhhh.

currently reading: into the wild by jon krakauer, the calligrapher's daughter by eugenia kim

currently listening: this mix, get shaky by the ian carey project

screw the week, i need this whole year to be over.

I don't even want everything to be going right or anything good to happen -- I just need everything to stop going so wrong.

OH MY GOD.

You know that random reference I made about being a phoenix rising from the ashes or something like that? But I cut myself off because I was being delusional? You probably don't since you don't keep tabs on every word I ever post or remember such inconsequential details about my life BUT OH MY GOD.

I am watching episode 14, season 3 of 30 Rock and Liz Lemon just acted out that sentence, including the getting cut off part. I think it's a sign. I don't know what -- probably that 30 Rock is the greatest thing to have been placed in my awareness since forever and that we were meant to be and we didn't even know it and it's so nice to be united with such an obviously integral part of my existence.

PS This is me taking a break from lab reporting and dissertationing to eat my chinese takeout feast and enjoy some good times. ♥

on my mind:

1. Dissertationdissertationdissertation. 28 36 articles/books to read and take notes and turn into my own 9 page piece of coherence ... in a week.

2. Labreportlabreportlabreport. Which is 85% done bar the most important bits of which I understand and can conclude absolutely nothing, hence the leaving it to the end.

3. Sleepsleepsleep. Everything seems to be in a hurry these days, all except my ability to fall asleep which takes simply far too long.

4. Why is everything in a hurry these days? When did it turn into the last two weeks of term? What? Why?

5. Hi. I miss you all.

formspring.me

How do you define a home?

That is a concept I have been struggling with for the last half a year. So. I don't. I don't define home at all.

'Sup, Figgy?

my eyes are drooping

I cannot believe how busy I am this week. I can't wait till I can sleep on Friday night. But then I'll have to wake up Saturday bright and early to be productive and get work done and be a good person. And all that jazz.

I'm just warning you / informing you of my absence from the world over the next few weeks. I feel quite absent from a lot of things lately. Like I only exist in typed words on a page or a screen name or a Facebook post, kind of troddling (is that a word? I just made it up in my head to describe the feeling I imagine this to be) along whilst everyone else lives and I watch on, occasionally commenting but passed over. Woah, emo. So tired, please forgive.

In the middle of my lab assessment, I decided to restart my French education and teach myself French. So that was useful. À bientôt!

and if it takes forever, forever it'll be

a) I am quite liking the new(ish) sound of OK Go's new album Of the Blue Colour of the Sky (Damien Kulash's beautiful voice still feels like home, check out This Too Shall Pass, Needing/Getting, Skyscrapers, White Knuckles, End Love, Last Leaf, aaaand While You Were Asleep. No, that was not just a track listing of the album, hush). It's all I've been listening to for that last three days.

b) I am focusing on working through this semester like a crazy person and it's going to be so damn hard but there's nothing better I can do, right? Right.

c) Sigh, life.

d) Yesterday, Aamna came for a surprise visit and she bought me flowers. ♥ And after a short night out, she left. :(

e) Instead of paying a pound to dry my stuff in the dryer, I brought it all back to my room to set on the radiator so that my room would smell of clean laundry for the next few days because that's one of my favourite smells in the whole wide world. And I saved a pound.