Photoblog?

Well, this is a bit of an experiment. If this platform works out, who knows, this may be reinvented as a photoblog...

Momentary lapse

I thought it was about time that I wrote something either genuinely interesting or something positive.

I recently attended a conference in the US. I actually enjoyed it. Anyone who knows me must appreciate how strange this is. A few hundred people, thrown together at a hotel with the primary intention of networking – and I enjoyed it.

I was speaking to a friend’s husband recently about how he goes about these things. I asked for advice, reminding him that he probably knew me well enough to know my starting point. His advise was simple – among any given number of people there will always be a few that could be friends. The secret to making the whole thing bearable is, apparently, to focus on trying to meet people that you genuinely get on with. Every interaction that doesn’t work out is just a process by which hopefully, one can stumble across some kind of ‘connection.’

Well, in any case, I met an amazing four people with whom I genuinely think I could have been friends (and perhaps will be), and another few people whose company I rather enjoyed. There you have it – a positive experience.

I’ve been meaning to rant about networking for a while, but I guess most people will be too busy on Facebook to even read it, so I’ll leave it for another day.

I’ve recently been listening to Grinderman, The Jesus Years (cheers again Ambrose) and Death Cab for Cutie. Just so you know.

The drumming is coming along nicely too.

Trajectory

This was written a while ago. Like most of my recent ramblings, I haven't been in the mood for posting.

It’s strange to think that perhaps I have no excuses.

I’ve been sharing an office for the last couple of weeks, for the first time in a few years. It makes my daytimes much more stressful, as I share with someone with whom I share little in common, someone who is needlessly headstrong and someone who over-zealously conveys her superior understanding of our area of expertise. I shouldn’t really write about work on anything public, so suffice it to say that I’m having difficulty balancing a relationship with someone who is two years my junior. Rather pathetic really.

On other fronts, I have been feeling a little off recently.

I had a lovely chat with my biological father a few days ago.

My biological sister is having a tough time. Her husband is a waste of space and it only really struck me tonight how desperately lonely a life with three children and no partner to support you must be. I love her children dearly, and a part of me wishes they were my own. However fortunate I am, I find it difficult to move away from the notion of my life being difficult. My biological father actually asked me for advice. I realise now that the emotional acknowledgement I’ve sought all of my life comes at a price.

I wonder sometimes what would have happened if I had brushed this all under the carpet. If I didn’t have the welfare of my sister and her children to worry about, and the health of my biological father weighing on my shoulders. I mean seriously, what have I done, what will I do to make anything any better for them. I am too busy trying to build my own life, my own career to give them the time that they deserve. I kid myself with the notion that I somehow care and that I have somehow made provision for their well-being in my life. When the hard choices come, I know that I’ll look after myself every time. After all, how can I look after anyone else if I can’t look after myself? My excuses disgust me.

I want to do so many things and yet at the moment I seem to be struggling to hold everything together. Now that I’ve moved to London, life has settled and work has calmed down, I expected to finally feel something resembling a sense of control.

However, I seem to be in a bit of a muddle. I can’t follow abstract thought at work, I can’t help but feel like I am about to fall over, quite literally at the moment, I can’t judge distances, I can’t manage the simplest of interactions at work without making some cringe-worthy faux pas.

There’s always a difficulty in putting conditionality on one’s mental well-being. If only… well what happens when you get to where you want to get to and you realise that you’re only inches closer to where you want to be, and that you’ve lost your bearings once again. How many years is this going to take?

I am trying to tell myself at the moment that I must be a pretty intelligent and talented individual. Sometimes I even believe it, although this is mostly an over-compensatory mechanism, the functioning of which I understand far too well.

I think I’ll go shopping tomorrow. Spending money makes most people feel better.

I think I should get some sleep. I’ll re-read tomorrow morning and undoubtedly be disappointed with what I’ve written. It’s incredibly difficult to convey a frame of mind that one hasn’t really got to the bottom of.

I sometimes kid myself that my self-awareness is through the roof. I sometimes tell myself that I am better than most.

[Recess/semi-colon]

I’ve always suffered from a slight lack of confidence in my abilities, which I think, or at least I hope, has helped to keep me on the right side of the line between confidence and arrogance.

I recently bought a drum kit, some ten years after first wanting to buy one. I’ve treated myself to some Roland V-Drums, which are pretty damn amazing. Living in flats for the foreseeable future, an electronic drum kit was pretty much the only option. The challenge now is to make it worth the wait – I have to learn to play.

The last few months at work have been mentally tiring and intellectually gruelling. I feel like a fraud every time I use any derivation of the word intellectual, but I think it’s fair to say that my work is more intellectually demanding than that of most lawyers. Periodically, I sincerely lament the fact that I am not more intelligent. I see the ease and the speed with which people process information and new concepts and it makes me feel nauseous. I 'm not fishing.

My dear friend Patrick is going to start teaching me French soon. One of these days I will be fluent.

Close friends and family aside, I can’t help but feel occasionally under-appreciated. I seem to spend most of my life trying, and I’d like to spend more of it just living.

Wingspan, unbelievable

I’ve been writing quite a bit lately but I don’t really have the time to re-read and post things on here. A lot of things are only half-written and I really want to follow through on some of the thoughts I have started. For now though, I am content enough with the fact that I am writing anything at all. Every thought written down is a thought saved.

The final pieces of my transitional jigsaw are falling into place. I find myself telling mid-orbit friends how happy I am, with what must seem like an unnecessary and slightly exaggerated zeal. For the friends that know me a little better, I think it hardly needs to be mentioned. I think what I am trying to say is thank you.

Wasteful sidesteps

Once again in transit and this time it doesn’t feel so bad. I am heading home to see my new-born niece. I never thought I’d be so excited about meeting someone I can’t even have a conversation with.

One of the things on my mind recently is whether, nearly two decades after my first computer, I should change from a single space after full stops to a double space. I recall being reliably informed, although I don’t know when or by whom (it could be a figment of my imagination), that it was somewhat old-fashioned to double space after a full stop – a legacy from the days of typewriters or something of the like. But in any case, I am now working with people who insist on the double-space, one of them an old-fashioned type, and it’s becoming frustrating having to amend my style when working on their documents.

I’ve just been caught trying to work out whether the woman sat across the aisle from me is attractive or not. I got lost in a daydream first meeting while I was looking in her direction and forgot the fact that I hadn’t averted my gaze. It’s strange how people sense when they are being watched.

I guess there’s a lot that we can’t explain or understand, and the temptation to resort to superstition and supernatural beliefs can be compelling. In that sense, I suppose most people take the easy option. We should be grateful that there have been and are still people whose curiosity is not so easily sated. One of the things I have noticed on my recent visits to Pakistan (which I have yet to blog about I know, I’ll save them for the film), is how easily religion and superstition can be used to stifle thought. Questions are easily dismissed by referring to the Almighty.

I should pack up, nearly home. I can’t wait to see my parents, my sister, my niece and my biological mum. Not often you can say that.

Calm

I am the happiest I have been for months. I just thought I'd mention it that's all.

I'll have time to blog soon I hope. A lot of big decisions on the way - just thought I'd warn you guys - you know who you are.

Can't change it back again

I've got a feeling that this year is going to be good to me. I've always been too scared to externalise any optimistic thoughts that I may have, but this time I am determined to make the most of the decisions presented to me. Fuck- must I be so passive?

12 December 2006 - a drunken re-read.

Flight from Karachi to RYK (or "home" as I occasionally like to refer to it).

“Hey, let’s cross the sea and get some culture. Red wine with every meal, and absinthe after dinner.”

One of the few things I am grateful for is the fact that I regularly visited Pakistan when I was younger. Some people here, mainly those who don’t know me at all rather than those who know me a little, tend to adopt a rather patronising approach to my appreciation of what life is like here. As I sit here on my 50-seater plane heading to RYK typing away on my shiny new laptop, I can sort of understand why. Bizarre glances aside, this laptop really is one of my best friends. Ok – I am going to have to pause for a second as I use my laptop as a table for what looks like a home-cooked in-flight meal. There are things about this place that’s aren’t so bad. I am hoping to find one or two more positives this time around.

I’m back and I think my little silver friend feels a little abused. The food wasn’t quite as good as it looked either.

Anyway, I should probably mention some of the things that have been running through my mind before I started typing.

I have just stayed for a little over 24 hours with my biological aunt. I realise that the relative situation is going to get a little complicated over the next few weeks – there are only a handful of people who matter for the purposes of this indulgent rambling. I’ve stayed at my aunt's for a day or two from time to time, although the last time was well over ten years ago – it’s a little difficult to tell when as I haven’t managed to map all of my visits yet. In any case, my aunt seems lovely. The last time I visited Pakistan earlier in 2006, I was walking towards the biological home with my biological sister, my biological nephew and my biological aunt and my aunt stopped my in the street, stating bluntly that she had heard that I knew that she was my biological aunt. It was one of those moments, of the kind that I am sure will be heading my way over the next few weeks, that I will never forget. She gave me a big hug and told me that she was happy she could finally refer to me as her nephew.

Her four kids are brilliant, and her husband seems like an all round good guy who’s not exactly had the easiest recent past. I could write forever, but in any case I should remember that people are vying for my sympathy. I expect that within a few years I am going to carry quite a bit of weight in family affairs – bring it on I say, a welcome rush to head.

The one thing that made me feel more than a little awkward staying with this family was their humility. On a number of occasions her husband asked for forgiveness if anything he had said had offended or upset me. My aunt gave me some money just before I left. I triet my best to say no but I don’t know the social boundaries well enough to express how unnecessary the gesture was. I even tried to pay for the two taxis that they arranged for me to and from the airport but they were having none of it. Their humility is exacerbated by the fact that they have moved to what they consider to be an undesirable part of town. Having spent most of their family’s fortunes on caring for a close relative who didn't make it, life seems to have been pretty unfair to them, particularly as certain other relatives (in fact very close relatives of mine) have refused to contribute to the financial burden or looking after a dying relative. It’s difficult to remain impartial. So begins my holiday.

As I said, the kids are wonderful – I think it’s the only brown family I have ever come across where the default position is to have a laugh. The kids have had me stitches – even though most of the jokes have been on me and the girl I am being set up with again – people here just don’t take no for an answer. Note to self – avoid marriage. Ironic that I can’t wait to find someone to settle down with when I am back at home. Bollocks, got to figure out where home is.

Once again I’ve done a good job and not writing about anything that I really wanted to.

My biological Dad will be arriving shortly at the airport. I’d love to know what he is thinking. I wonder if he has any regrets – everyone seems to think that I turned out ok. Maybe this time we can have our third and fourth conversations ever. That’d be nice.

A letter to human resources department, you started a war so you’ll get what you started:

I’m only working here because I need your fucking money.

I guess that I am going to spend at least some time every year over here for the rest of my twenties at least. Sorry love, I’d love to travel around South America or have that beach holiday you’ve been talking about so that you can work on your cancer, but I’ve got a few family commitments this year.

I can’t wait to see my nephews and niece. I am glad that they are around, for pretty selfish reasons as well as the fact that they are the sweetest and most gorgeous kids ever. They can provide excuses to avoid any conversation at almost any time.

It’s 22 degrees today where I am landing. Freezing hey? I reckon that it’d be pretty quick getting a tan in summer.

There’s a lot of bitterness and its directed at pretty much everyone, individuals and groups.

Thank God for my laptop – at least I only spent the first few minutes on board this flight in tears.

10 December 2006

I've recently arrived back home (wherever that is) from my trip to Pakistan. For anyone who cares, this was my second attempt to get to know my biological parents, people I have thought about for each and every day of my 26 years of existence, and quite frankly people towards whom I have rather confused feelings.

I know that everything I write about my adoption could be written better, and at some point in my life I hope to have time for a rewrite. However, for now I am planning on posting edited excerpts from my day-to-day thoughts during my trip to a country I wish I could leave behind. As I've learned, there are some things that become more painful the more you run away from them.

10 December 2006 was the day I left London, a little less emotional and a little more prepared than the first time. My first stop, my biological aunt's place in Karachi. She's been good to me since the truth came out. I think she's my favourite biological aunt.

A healthy appetite

Yesterday lunchtime, I finally had time to have a meal away from my desk, the first time in well over a week (including lunch and dinner at the weekend). I was in a pretty good mood, the matter I was working on had come to an end, the client was pleased, my boss was pleased and I felt like a c lamp had been released from around my head.

I went upstairs to our canteen, confident of bumping into someone along the way or spotting a table that I could crash. After all, there is only one person left at work I feel comforatble suggesting lunch to and he wasn't at his desk.

I like to have a bit of everything from the salad counter, which also gives me enough time to glance over at the tables to find a welcoming face. I glanced at first and then I looked. Nothing.
As I approached the cashier it became obvious that the simplest thing to do would be to take my piece of bread, a splash of balsamic, and head on down to the warmth of my office.

Optimism is for those with a stronger stomach than mine. Lunctime today was much simpler.

Small doses

As I listened to Ebroglio I wondered how amazing it would be to go out with someone who's affection I didn't think I was worthy of. Now I realise that superficially seems to suggest that I have quite a high opinion of myself, but that's not really what I meant to suggest. I know and love many people who make me feel unworthy of their affection, in a good way I suppose, and it'd just be pretty damn amazing to go out with someone that I held in the same esteem.

But pedastals can always be toppled, and glueing the pieces back together can never return what you once had.

I've been meaning to blog for a while. I still have a lot to say but at the moment I don't have much time to say it.

I've just worked my longest week since I arrived here, but this time it didn't feel too bad because I was doing something on my own. It feels better to have some control.

Earlier today someone told me I had to be careful not to burn out. I work pretty hard but by no means as hard as many of the people around me. This morning, deprived of sleep for several nights on the row, I allowed myself to listen to one more track at the lounge window (for those of you who don't know it's possibly the greatest window I have ever had). I suddenly felt pretty damn lonely, and all in all things out here on the people front aren't going badly at the moment. The writing is on the wall, and it seems clear that my work is going to be the most important thing in my daily life for the immediate future. There's a part of me that is pretty damn happy with having the job that I do, and the rest of me that is disgusted with the direction my life is taking. After all, anyone given the chances I have been given could have made it here. Value added hey?

It wears me out

I had a friend who died
For something he really loved
I had a friend who stood
For none of the above
I had a friend whose experience
Was riddled with scars
Who got drunk one night
In the trunk of louie p.'s car
I had a friend who'd love to scare you
As was his affection
And tremble you did
'cause you weren't worthy of his friendship
I had a friend, but now
He's stranded on the mesa street exit
And sometimes i'm jealous
'cause i'm still at the intersection
I had a friend whose heart was too heavy to hold
Yes there's blood on the median
Like a boat without oars

Duct tape the cross on the brown colored box
Single file line on the unpaved road
They tipped their hats, respect for the dead
In juarez, mexico is where they buried my friend


There are no words to express
The loss i feel since you've been away
You made this typical sad song
A physical classroom
Where i learned nothing
Just flashes of your face

It's all a facade and nothing really matters now
He's stranded somewhere on the mesa street exit
And sometimes i'm jealous waiting at the intersection

I had a friend whose heart was too heavy to hold
Yes there's blood on the median like a boat without oars
It's all a facade, and nothing really matters now

Ebroglio - At the Drive-In

Wasting time, sitting still

I wrote this a few weeks ago.... If anyone knows how to backdate entries I'd be grateful if they could let me know. In an older version of blogger it just used to ask you to confirm the date of an entry at the bottom of the edit screen but at some point that option disappeared...

I should start by saying that I’ve been quite positive over the last week or so. There have been a number of reasons for this, but don’t worry, I’ll use non-sentimentalised bullets:

• For the first time since my outing, I spoke to all of biological family in one phone call. It felt like all of my Ramadan’s had come in one go. It feels like I am slowly being reintegrated back into the family. Even my biological Dad spoke to me, although I have to admit I find his accent quite difficult to understand. I don’t want to hope too much because I know that hope is a dangerous thing, but I look forward to a day when I can think of myself as having two families. I’ve always secretly felt like I already have two families, but maybe soon my feelings wil be reciprocated. I can now casually mention the fact that I am adopted to people I don’t even know that well, should an appropriate and relevant moment arise. This is what I believe people call progress. A year ago I wasn’t even ready to tell my closest friends;
• I’ve decided to return to the UK. Now everyone who knows me knows that this decision was pretty much made quite some time ago. It’s good to be able to vocalise it. I think it may be six months to a year before I return, but return I will. This makes me happy;
• I’ve met some new people. I’ve given out my phone number to about six or seven people in the last couple of weeks and I’ve even met up with one of them, a real life girl no less, for a coffee. I’ve been flirting quite a bit recently and it feels good. I’ve set myself the humble aim of going on something resembling a date before the end of the year. I wanted to accomplish this modest feat before reaching 25, but I failed;
• I feel like I am in control of my life, to a greater extent than any point at since I left England;
• I’ve discovered a lot of good music recently; and
• I’ve not been worrying about money recently.

It’s probably with no great surprise that I add that my good mood ended yesterday. Oh well, there’ll be others, of this I am sure.

The remarks do not express correct understanding of Islam

I have carefully avoided any political discussion on this blog. It seems like plenty of people have plenty to say in the blogosphere on the subject. Which I suppose is only a good thing. I’m not quite as political as I ought to be, but there’s only so much one has time for....

I have been reading quite a few blogs recently. Well, more accurately, I have browsed through a lot of blogs recently. I have to admit I have enjoyed reading a few of them. However, the more I browse, the more I realise that many of them are mono-themed. There are angry blogs, there are adoption blogs, there are being misunderstood blogs, there are religious blogs, there are anti-religious blogs and there are an awful lot of quirky blogs.

Today, I talked about my desperate and somewhat pathetic need to distinguish myself from others. Whether driven by cultural rejection, or a thinly disguised sense of superiority, there is no doubt that my life would be very different today were it not for this tendency to define myself in such a reactionary manner.

I told my last girlfriend that there was a part of me that would be disappointed if I fell whole-heartedly in love with her, married her, had a few children and lived happily ever after. After all, can’t anyone do that? Oh dear, how easily the words flow. She didn’t like that. The irony. I don’t think I have many reinterpretations left.

I’ve mentioned this before but it really irritates me when people can’t understand that truth, and emotions for that matter, are not absolute. It’s not unusual for people to take a phrase uttered, smudge the context and eliminate any interpretations out of line with their emotional mindset.

The more I think about it, and think about it I must, the more I realise that how we interpret things is the key to self-understanding. It’s not quite the ground-breaking epiphany it seemed to be a moment ago, but how we react to interactions says as much about us as it does about the external source of the interaction. A lot of our daily speech is littered with references to other interactions.

I am pretty bored, in case any of you didn’t gather.

Communities have a tendency to externalise blame. I have long bemoaned that family friends and relatives are hasty to blame the infidels, the English, the West…. Just about anyone who isn’t from a poor, Muslim, semi-literate background.

There is a part of me that wants to be liked. There is even a part of me that wants to be popular. It’s not exactly as if I am unpopular – I hate being stuck in the middle.

I remember the first country I lived in after leaving England with a certain fondness, although at times I was lonely. This is largely down to one person who I felt understood me. That’s not to say that there weren’t other people who were incredibly patient and caring, people I am glad to consider as friends, but I can’t help but focus on the one relationship that bridged the divide.

That’s all it would take to make this country home. Well ok, home is a bit ambitious, I haven’t thought of anywhere as home since I left my parents.

Time to stop writing and start living. Well, ok I mean listening to music and dancing on my own. Still it’s a start…. Of sorts.