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"He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it"

- Douglas Adams

Nine

"I see trees of green, red roses too, I see them bloom for me and you and I think to myself.. What a wonderful world"

9 years ago, I lost my father. It feels surreal saying that number. Next year it will be a double digit. Every year that passes though, I feel I've had the chance to know him better than the last. I've learnt about who he was, what his story was and what he did. Whether it's my mum telling me of the time he was getting ready to hit a man with a cricket bat, but made him pee in his pants instead, or my grandfather telling me of how my dad was as a child. I feel he's a whole person now, not just my father, but a man associated to multiple roles - each he manifested with humility, humour and heart.

I wish I knew these sides to him - actually having to witness them first hand. But I guess these are memories and stories that are told in memory of someone. If he were around now, I'd probably still be incredibly scared of him, of making him angry. I don't however remember him angry. I remember him imitating 'Jailhouse rock' in a busy Pizza hut restaurant, complete with an air guitar solo.

Every year that passes by, my idea of the person he was gets stronger, missing him becomes second nature and trying to remember his voice gets a little harder. If you had asked me 9 years ago, if I thought I'd be sane enough to get myself through A-levels, a degree and work full time - I would say that somebody was pulling an awful joke on me. I had little if no faith at all in believing that the pain would get easier to deal with and missing him would be a part of my existence, something I would not delve on.

Its been a long process, getting to where we are today. We keep him alive in everything we do, and sometimes feel his presence in the most needing and yearning of times. There are many moments where I suddenly stop and realise 'I don't have a father' - especially during big and happy occasions. Its wishing he was there to witness these events and the lack of his presence which makes it hard. There are still tough times where I find myself clenching my teeth in tears, hoping he would magically appear with a bag full of goodies and the smell of Sculpture in the air. Those moments pass too eventually and I realise that I am fortunate enough to be surrounded with those who represent him the best.

So when people ask me how I got through 'it' and how I'm still 'alive'.. I just let them know that in the end, it was how amazing he was that inspired me to move on, and get to where I am today.

In fear of tomorrow

Growing up I had a lot of fears - I was afraid of thunder and lightening (and I still am sadly), of someone breaking in to my house (still have that one too), and of earthquakes (oh.. and this one too).

If I sat down to list my fears - they would be never ending. I have a lot of things to fear. It's only when I sit down to think about what exactly I'm fearing, the rationale behind that fear and why it exists - do I realise that most often it is useless. A complete and utter waste of energy and thoughts on things that "could happen"..

Over the last few weeks, I've been busy - mentally and physically. Life has kept me on the go with several plans and things to do on a daily basis - be it at work or my personal life. I'm understanding that life is moving on at this crazy pace and I am yet to make my way through things I want to and probably should do. Instead, I've spent time analysing my irrational fears and stressing myself out for no reason.

We all get so locked behind our fears all the time, and it stops us from doing so many great things. I mean, we all gotta die one day - why not make each day count and do awesome things until then? Sombre thought, I know - but from where I stand, I want people to remember me as a person who lived and tried everything at least once.

Another Bon Iver song - I hope you're all falling in love with them.

So all - who cares what the future holds, we're not there yet. Let's get through today and do something awesome until then.

Note

I'm alive! I've been busy. More to come soon.

Until then - enjoy this song.

I was only for your very space

There comes a point where you can't get your head out of the clouds. It's like they describe in the books, when the girl "falls in love" and she feels like she's walking on air. Except I'm not in love, and I'm not walking on air. I've just moved my head space to another universe for a short while.

I've always been a bit of a day dreamer. I've day dreamed my way through primary school, secondary school, GCSE's, A-levels and my degree. There were times when people were talking to me, but I was miles away, in another place. There's an odd sense of comfort that lies in day dreaming, you can think up things, you can replay memories - alter them, you can be 10 stone lighter (and invisible) or you can just simply be content.

I usually drift away when there's too much going on around me - I don't mean bad things or stressful things, just a lot of things - there may be many chores to do, or work piling up on my desk - whatever it may be, I used to just float off for a few short moments, in attempt to recover my full self from all the tiny places I left them during the day.

Lately I've been in another world - and it shows in my lack of updating my blog. I generally come home after work to shower, have dinner, relax and eventually fall asleep. In this work-weekday routine, I find that I have less time for myself, less time to find space in my head and think - think about meaningless and serious things. I'm not complaining, I am very happy to be this busy, but I've always been the type of person who drifts away effortlessly into another realm, and it feels almost missed now that I have a thousand things on my mind every day.

It felt good to be elsewhere for a while. I had more time to focus on things that were important, and just find a good balance of work life and personal life. I think I'm becoming more comfortable with things, myself and just this space I've created. Although it wouldn't hurt to be walking on clouds with some company, right?

Finally - listen to the new song by Bon Iver. I think I love them more than I did before. This was on repeat for the last week, and I have to say, for 4 minutes and 13 seconds every hour, I was in another world. Click here.

Twenty Three

So a few days ago I turned 23. It feels weird saying it.

I usually don't care much for birthdays - at least not mine. I just think it's another day in the year, but whilst at university I used it as an excuse to celebrate, go out with friends or do something very awesome - like visiting Thorpe Park. Although these celebrations always took place after my actual "birthday".

I generally take that day to look back on how I've changed, or what I've achieved in the months before me.

Suffice to say, this year I was happy with how things have panned out.

When I was younger, I remember thinking 23 was an age that was so far away. I believe both my sisters were 23 when they were married - but back then, 23 was so different. It's like what 30 is now. Not to say I'm not mature or have a clear head (sometimes) but it's funny how it's all viewed now.

I feel like I'm supposed to be a certain way by now, you know?

Anyway here's a song I've fallen madly in love with.

Forgotten

There are times when I'm by myself and trying hard to remember something - usually a specific memory, perhaps due to a dream I've had or a particular event that's taken place, although mostly I find myself trying hard to remember certain memories from my childhood or teenager years which just seem to be forgotten or lost in transition.

Although I've learnt about the human memory in Psychology quite a bit, I can't help but wonder what happened to those memories I once had and remembered so well but suddenly became patchy. The weird thing is, I remember remembering them (if that makes any sense). There are moments that I can track back to and see myself thinking about those things I now cannot recall clearly. It's strange. I don't know if it's a case of neglecting memories or just simply having forgotten them.

There's this picture that keeps appearing in my mind. It's of me as a baby, at the crawling-stage, climbing the stairs whilst the house was dim lighted and reaching the top of the stairs and I know, nay, I am very sure that something happens after that yet I can't seem to recall it accurately. It's frustrating.

On a completely different spectrum of thought.. I think it's useful when somebody forgets something. It can actually work to their benefit. Although, more on this later.

Quote

'I think,' she said, 'that you and I could make each other terribly unhappy.'
And as she spoke, something deep inside him keeled over a little, as if in defeat. 'I think,' he said slowly, 'that I'd like that very much.'

Conversations

I spend approximately 2 hours a day commuting to and from work. In this time I mostly read a newspaper or my book (which by the way, I am in love with), but whilst reading I can't help but overhear conversations, laughter and various other human oriented sounds. I am not really the type to eavesdrop or sit and stare at other commuters, in fact I try to get as much space away from them as possible so I don't smell their awful morning breath or unwashed clothes, I do however pass smiles to friendly people. I'm not a grumpy commuter, I think I'm a curious and excited commuter (well at least for the time being).

I find it very interesting sitting across people whom I have never seen before and hear them talk about things with their tones increasing or decreasing depending on the level of secrecy or gossip they are talking about. You hear some strange things on the tube - some very intimate secrets to some extremely bizarre and eccentric conversations. I've sat across lovers, elderly couples, friends, siblings, parents, grand parents, great grand parents and kids. Each journey I have taken has been different and I'm not trying to romanticise a 45 minutes underground journey on the less than romantic Central Line, but it's true. There are some unpleasant journeys when the tube hits peak times and you're squashed underneath someone's armpit across the cheek of an unshaven man with a suitcase that weighs a tonne on your feet whilst a woman loses balances on thin pencil heels in front of you and falls on you. But during all journeys the only thing that stays constant is my fascination with how people interact and communicate with one another.

The other day, there were two friends who seemed to have many stories to tell one another. They were barely breathing and talking and laughing as fast as possible before they had to get off and travel on to their destinations. Just in the middle of their conversation a bunch of people got off the train, and they managed to locate two seats together. One of the girls sat down but before the other could sit a man ran into the train and sat there instead. I had space next to me and the girl sat down across her friend. They managed to talk and laugh for ages, and I could hear everything even though I tried to drown out their voices so I could concentrate on the chapter I was reading, but it was impossible. They found ways to talk to one another whilst the train became increasingly full with people standing in their ways. They started to shuffle around and find spaces between people's bodies and legs and carry on their conversations. It was actually really funny to see. They were vibrant and full of energy and managed to talk non-stop until I left the train.

A few days before this, I was reading my book and this man constantly drew closer to me until I turned and saw his cheek was touching my shoulder - he was trying to read my book. When he saw me look at him and move away, he realised how close he was to me and smiled and said "I've been trying to remember the title of this book for ages." We both laughed it off and had a conversation about the book. It was so uncalculated, and that's what I like most about London. You meet the most eccentric people have the most unexpected conversation with them that makes you feel so unusually happy for the rest of the day (if it's a good conversation).

I know it can be boring and irritating, moving back and forth on a fast train with polluted air hitting your face, but with so much time spent on the same journey every day, you have to try and find little things that make the journey a little less bothersome.

A song. A very sweet song.

Remedy

In the current age of awful music (Rebecca Black and Justin Bieber), even worse lyrics and absolutely ridiculous excuse for songs - I find it important to stay rooted in my music, specifically the stuff I grew up listening. Some of you may cringe or groan when I say Phil Collins or UB40, but those are some of the greatest artists out there who actually made sense in their songs, and had substance to not only the lyrics but the music as well, where the highs and lows of the songs would make your heart race. That is what I call good music - bands like the Beatles and the Who, and now Coldplay who produce(d) brilliant music should be the only people allowed to sing, compose or make music in general.

I mean, songs like Hotel California, Let it Be, Three Little Birds, That's life and a bunch of music from amazing, talented people bought to life what music really was. And I try to think, where did it all go so wrong? When did music like rap, hip-hop and r & b become the "norm" and when did teenagers become the face of "pop"? It's all too depressing to think about. I mean, everytime I hear ridiculous songs from Bieber or Hannah Montanna, I laugh at the sheer stupidity of the concept of their so called music and songs.

For those who still have good taste in music - here's a fantastic song.

"We're only young and naive still"

Travelling on the Central Line is never pleasant. It's usually a game of musical chairs in the morning and evening when I travel to and from work. People are not friendly on the central line. They don't understand simple human etiquettes, like giving up their seat to a pregnant woman or an elderly person. It's always about them and how tired they are, or how miserable they are. In fact, this morning, I smiled at this lady next to me and she turned around and her massive back pack almost killed me (it was really hard!), after which she hit my newspaper (literally!) as though she had a vendetta against me. This is why so many Londoners have anger problems, twits like these ruin your mornings! And don't get me started on the lack of hygiene some of these people have, and the disgusting colour the seats have turned into from over the years of underground and human filth. So disgusting. I actually have a phobia now of touching anything to do with train stations - even if it is for my own safety. I'm actually going to wear gloves during the summer, I've decided, so that I can cover my hands when holding on to any slimy metallic bars. [Rant Over].

Today marks the end of the first official week I have spent at my new job. It still feels surreal and I wake up every morning with a rush of excitement of having some purpose to my day, as opposed to dread of looking through pages of various job websites.

So I think this year is the year I will sky dive finally, after years of pondering about it. This is the summer, most definitely. Now, to convince my mother to watch me do it. I've decided to actually go ahead and do all the insane things I've wanted to do before I become too old and boring. This list also includes bungee jumping, white water rafting and a bunch of other awesome things. Must get a move on! I really don't want to turn in to one of those London commuters that I described above, so I'm definitely going to start making my way through my list of "things to do once you have money and are no longer in a shameful financial position, enough to make you want to sell various organs which no one will buy anyway due to the various abuse it's endured over the years."

I've also decided to be less serious. I think the last few months was a humbling experience, but I spent a large amount of my time in deep thoughts, my brain actually hurts when I read back to some of my posts. Although they all make sense and every single word I wrote still resonates with me. I just believe it's time that I worried less, enjoyed the various changes in my existence and switch off for a while (hopefully not to the point where I am fired!). Plus Summer is approaching, and everyone knows - you can't be serious in the summer. It's just way to gorgeous.

Lastly, I have fallen in love with Kings of Leon all over again. I know I keep saying this, but yesterday I had their song "The Face" on repeat on my journey home, and I literally just phased out for the longest time and before I knew it, I had walked home and could still hear the song after I switched off my iPod. They do something to me. Something wonderful.

And of course, here is the link to the song. 

5 Years Time

If someone asked me 5 years ago what they think I would be doing in 5 years time, I think my reaction would pretty much be a shoulder shrug and possibly a sentence or two about how I'd hope to have graduated and possibly be travelling. Although that was a generic response for most things, I actually never had one direction. I was pretty much confused and unsure of what I wanted to have achieved by this point.

I look back now, and wonder what I was actually doing around 2006/7 and I see how unhappy I was with everything. Yes, I know I've mentioned it before, so I won't repeat it again, but from that point until the middle of university I was still very unsure with what I wanted to do in terms of employment and career choices. I was adamant in staying within Psychology, such as working within Mental Health Services or Forensics (I know, two different routes unless I wanted to do Forensics and Mental health together, which is pretty interesting). But as time went on, I realised that, in order to succeed in either fields I would need more education and definitely specific experiences, as it is with any kind of field in Psychology. Although this aspect of my so called "career decision" remains just an idea, it may be something I'd like to pursue later in the future when the recession hasn't ruined the planet as it has, and when the UK Government decides to ease the Education cuts/increases.

It dawned on me over the last year of my degree that I enjoyed working with students. Both the roles I had whilst working at University, were very student-oriented. With that in mind, post-graduation I went into an application frenzy. I applied for everything. Anything. Something. Every day. Non-stop. So now that I do have a job, (I thought I would throw that in there by the way!) and it does involve student interaction I am pretty happy. Although I have to say, I find I use my mac much less now. I guess he needed a break too. It feels so weird not going to the same websites every day to look for new jobs, and post applications one after the other continuously like a robot. Its a good weird though, which I am certainly not complaining about.

So, to carry on my thoughts about this whole "in 5 years time where would you like to be" idea, I think I am pleasantly surprised to where I am currently. I think it's good to have a rough idea as to where you'd like to be by a certain age or time in terms of careers/education and life plans, but to set an actual target is a little too presumptuous. I guess it could work with some people, but I know for sure that I don't work well with long-term plans, as I've always found circumstances and life to be far to uncertain and ever-changing to actually set anything in stone. Hah, perhaps it is sceptical. You can judge.

The only constant hope I have for my future is that I am happy and content with whatever I am doing and wherever I may be. I don't want to look back in 5 years time and shake my head in dismay at how foolish I was not to have taken more chances, leaps of faith and all that fancy stuff. I'd hate to turn in to the "shoulda woulda coulda" person.

My new favourite song. Here it is. Absolutely perfect.