When one asks for a life...

... One ends up the emergency ward of a hospital, amongst lots of other things.

So I started having the semblance of a life, since my last post. I have a casual job - Star's aunty hired us to be office hands every now and again - and I've got two clients to tutor. I went to a couple of friends' houses. On the Friday - I think it was last Friday, I finally got to get together with Lindy-lou. We've been trying to hang out for ayyyges, but she's the polar opposite of me - she has this crazy life that's packed with... lifey stuff. So on the Friday, she had this one break, and BAM, we decided to chill.

We watched Lars and the Real Girl. I think it's a good movie, but we were in the mood to just take the mickey out of everything, so we couldn't take it seriously. Also, she has this adorable kitty who was just so distracting... and yeah. The movie became a background feature. Then we played games - this block tower-y one, Uno, and some brain teasers on her laptop. Her grandmother made us pizza, and I got to introduce her to the wonderful world of Fear of a Brown Planet. It was nice and relaxing and fun, but the whole time, my feet were just freezing. I had my good ol' purple tinged fingernail/toenail thing going on, and no matter how much I tried to tuck them away, I couldn't get the cold out of them. Also, Lindy just giving me cold Coke, and I drank it because I felt obligated to, and it was so hard to swallow... and I knew I was coming down with something.

When I walked home, I sat down, and it was just a downward spiral. My voice was all stuffy, my head was all hot, but the rest of me was freezing, and although I made it through one tutoring session, I missed out on class because I tried to go to sleep - I use 'tried', because it was just this awful haze of tossing and turning, freezing and sweating, and... gosh, it was terrible.

But I think it looked a lot worse, because when my mother was getting me to go to my own bed (I'd settled into hers), I had tears running down my face. I was not crying; it was more like the hay-fever kind of tears, uncontrollable, but not like you're actually sobbing and weeping. But I couldn't tell her it was okay, because, as I said, my voice was stuffy.

So I was forced to go to the doctor the next day, and he said it was tonsillitis. He didn't explain much, like how you get it or anything, he just prescribed some tablets that I was supposed to take for ten days. I thought 'cool', although I had a slight worry here:

A week ago, on the Wednesday, my Islamic teacher asked me if I'd do a speech for the Jewish Christian Muslim Association (JCMA) Women's Conference. I was figuring out the most polite way to decline, because honestly, speeches, though I can do them, if I have a choice, I prefer not to. Also, I need time, and a certain mood to build up some passion for the topic, you know? (The topic was how I (in a religious context) help 'repair the world'). But before I could say no, my charming older sister said YESOFCOURSESHE'LLDOIT, and my mother heard and insisted that there was no point asking me about such things, the key is just to order me to do it. (To be fair, she's right. But still.) So I was roped into doing this speech, and although I sent my teacher a rough draft, the day before the speech she still hadn't sent me the edited version, and I had some nasty tonsillitis.

So it had to get worse, right? At night (my teacher still hadn't sent me the speech), my ... illness... just exploded. I donno, I couldn't breathe, basically - like my nose was stuffed up, breathing through my mouth (i.e. tonsils) just killed, and so as I heaved and choked and those tears just kept pouring (I was not crying), my mother called my daddy and said I had to go to the emergency ward.

First time for everything.

Uhm... basically, it was a lot of waiting. Waiting at the receptionist, so she could fill out details and stuff. Waiting in the emergency ward for the nurse, and then for the doctor. The hours just ticked by. They asked me the same questions, I gave them the same answers, and honestly, between all the waiting, the can't-breathe sensation just died. I could've gone home, but the doctor said I should hang around for the night just in case. I wanted to be all grown up - and okay, I was a little embarrassed, too - so I told my dad he could just go home. It was really hard to sleep, because the hospital was just ... always alive, I guess. I mean, it makes sense. But the lights were on and people were constantly pacing and it felt like day time, and I don't really sleep during the day. This nurse was also constantly checking my blood pressure, and the cannula they had jabbed into my arm was irritating, and... and the lady in the bed next to me - I couldn't see her - but throughout the night, at various intervals, this nurse kept asking her to pee... "Scarlett, I need you to do a wee for me. Scarlett, hon, please get up and wee. Scarlett, you have to wee for me, in this cup. No - Scarlett, you have to wee, you can wee after I get you the drink then. Scarlett, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Not the perfect soundtrack to fall asleep to.

Anyhow, at 6am, they jabbed some kind of medicine into me (after giving me a lemony icy pole), and kind of fast tracked the tonsillitis curing process, so that I was good to go after. I mean, my voice was still weird, and I think I had a cold still, but the tonsillitis was gone, for sure.

So about 9am, I get home. I had to tutor my other client at 10am. In between, I had to get ready to leave about 11am (though we ended up leaving at like 11:30am.) And I had about two or three chances to read my speech and try to learn what I could.

The conference... was full of old people. I expected more younger girls, so I had an informal kind of speech, with a lot of colloquialisms thrown in. But I think I was the youngest there... and it was awkward. Apparently I did okay (they kind of sold me as some kind of hero, like, oh my, did you know she was in hospital last night and she just got out this morning?), which is fun, I guess, but I hate it when they do it when you're around, you know? I don't do compliments really well, so it was just a whole lot of 'yeah, uhm, thanks'. 

Oh, we met out first Jewish person, this girl called Moriya, and she was so sweet and smiley and she had beautiful eyes. I know that's a bit random, and I feel like I just objectified Jews, but... seriously. I have never personally met Jews before the conference. It was kinda cool :)

So Sunday simmered down and ended well, and on Monday, I had my medical/fitness test. Lemme just say I killed it well and good. I was a little iffy because I didn't feel at the prime of my health, and I always have that typical worry that OMGI'mprobablyoverweightI'msooofat. I, uhm, don't share that with a lot of people, but when the scales come out, it's always at the back of my mind. But when I hopped on the scales, turns out I've actually lost weight since the last time I checked, and regardless, I was fine. Heck, the fitness dude, who was explaining to me when I have to go through this again when I officially start the job, as long as I maintain my 'slender figure', I'll be fine. I mean, I'm pretty sure it's an exaggeration, but I'll take it. I passed the medical stuff fine. The fitness stuff turned out to be okay too - a variety of different sit ups, and push ups, a stretch thing, and - the best part - cycling. Cycling. I do it every morning. 

Basically, for each task, you earn a point, and there are 24 points up for grabs, but 13 is all you need to pass. I got 22, and he said I was one of the highest (it was either I was one of the highest of all, or just between the girls, or officially the highest of the girls. I'm not entirely sure). So that was one off my checklist.

Then... Thursday. University orientation.

I screwed up pretty darn bad. See, I'm going to the Peninsula campus of Monash, but my sister and my cousin and basically everyone goes to the Clayton campus. Hence, when I was on the Orientation planner thing, my automatic inclination was to click 'Clayton', and hence, I ended up getting the wrong date for the general welcome. Thank God I didn't actually miss anything important, but it did mean that on Thursday, I spent a good two hours alone and cold at the Peninsula campus, pretty darn early in the morning (I had to get up at 5:50am). When I did get the one part I did right, it was only a half hour talk by one lady, and she was funny and fun and I like her and she got me all excited all over again. I mean, I still have screwed up some other stuff, which is just thumping on the back of my mind, but I won't write about that because I've come to the stage where I know that talking and whinging or even thinking about it isn't going to change anything -_-'

 I also kind of made a friend. Between all the tall, beautiful white people, I spotted an ethnic and introduced myself, and yep, she's from good ol' Dandenong, where I live. Perfect, right? ^_^ 

Then I took a bus back to Clayton, where my sister and my cousin were hanging about for the club day I think (where all the uni clubs are basically put on show as they try to recruit you). I made another kind of friend - well, she made friends with me. She basically introduced herself, and eventually figured out that we have a whole lot of mutual friends, and I was just like how the heck did you know it was me? because I have never met her before. But she was really vibrant and cute, so yeah, I can put aside the creepyness of our meeting. I got some henna done, got my face painted (brought out my inner fairy, it did), and... it was another nice day.

And throughout, I've made cookies, I've read books, and life is looking up. Things are getting busy again, and I feel like I can stop singing this

 

 AND. My cat had kittens again :') Five more. I WILL POST PHOTOS, of the last litter and the new ones, I'm just waiting on my new laptop, which I'll get sometime in March...

That is all.

Peace in,

Laila

These are the things that Laila misses

Stones and bones;
snow and frost;
seeds and beans and polliwogs.
Paths and twigs, assorted kisses,
We all know who Susie misses...

- The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold

I miss having a purpose. I don't really miss school as it is - I wouldn't go back to the classes, the stress of SACs and exams, the pressure of expectations, not only because others want you to do well but because you want to do well, and 'well' had to be an exceptional score. But I miss the routine, the going, the knowing what I had to do in order to achieve something. I miss the nudges to stick to the path, I miss the short-term goals that led up to the long-term one, and there was always that impending feeling... it's coming... closer and closer... we're almost there. My routine now is wake up around 8am, feed my cats, go for a bike ride, and... a question mark. Nothing. A wait. I read a bit, I talk to my cousins and sister, we go a-walking, we go places, or we don't, and it just feels like circles. 

It's not that I don't have anything to do. I already mentioned that to-do list that I'm sort of working my way through. University stuff... cat stuff (still have to find two homes, prepare for the second litter, and then organise the desexing :/ )... bank/work stuff... learning to drive... artsy stuff... But there's no drive. It's gone. It's not that I don't want to go to university, or I'm not that excited. I'm just... distracted by the Nothing that's going on.

I miss the effect of prayer. Back in the day, when I had things to do, and prayer was neatly fitted into my timetable, it had an effect. Sure, as the average human, I'd get distracted every now and then. Despite that, having these goals, having a purpose, knowing what I wanted specifically, I had this need to concentrate. I know that sounds so superficial - you want something from God, you pay attention, but when you don't, you forget Him - but I was motivated, and I'd put in everything into concentrating, into knowing what I was saying rather than mindlessly rambling away in Arabic, and there was always this feeling of fulfillment afters. Of satisfaction. Maybe the feeling of being purified or something. But in this weird haze that I'm living in, as I said... I'm distracted by the nothing. I forget to concentrate, and only when I'm finished I curl up in a ball and pray to have it back. 

I miss being a kid. Cheesy, I know. The other day we went to my cousins' house, and I took the littlies to the park. I don't think I ever stopped swinging, but since I've 'grown up', I haven't done the monkey bars. I had a go at them that afternoon, and owwww, it killed, but damn it felt good. I did them twice over, because for once they were high enough so that my feet couldn't touch the ground anyway. I remember in the early years of primary school, how agile we were, how flexible, how much energy we had, as we fearlessly climbed onto the top, flipped over, shamelessly showing off our cute little potbellies. I remember running my fingers over the hardened ridge of blisters on the underside of our hands. We were so tough. And now my hands feel so soft, and it makes me sad. 

I miss singing at the top of my lungs. When I use the word 'singing', of course, I'm using it rather loosely based on what I intend to do, because you know, realistically I can't actually sing. At the beach the other day, I encouraged my little sister to sing 'Let it Go' from Frozen as loudly as she could from the bathroom, and I joined in of course, because I was shielded from the 'audience' in my little shower stall. We ended up starting a sing-a-long with some random little girls that I never got to meet, because they left by the time we got out. But it was a great feeling, until my cousin mentioned that they could hear us outside the bathroom. I used to do it at home, vacuuming, as I once mentioned before, but apparently people can hear me when I do. I'm embarrassed to do it around my cousins, or maybe I just want to spare them the agony, and so I can't do it anymore. But the urge to just let it rip, let it go (see what I did there?), is always there. Just waiting.

I miss the way my family used to be, before the financial crisis. Sure, we weren't exactly Full House warm and fuzzy, but the fights used to be the exception, and it wasn't always so dismal. It goes like this: my father, when we're driving, or just chilling at home, will start lecturing on something to do with using too much electricity or water or just the cost of living in general, and how everything is very bad right now, we need to be careful. When I need something to be bought, I'll mention it to my mother. She'll ask my why I don't ask my dad, and I'll say that I don't want to stress him out. So, because she loves us, she'll go tell him to tone down the lectures because clearly they stress all of us out. Lo and behold: explosion. Tears. My dad will turn on us and start on the appreciation/gratitude speech: Don't I buy everything you need? Have I ever denied you anything? Are you stressed? Why is she saying you're stressed? We're okay, okay? I'm just reminding you not to be wasteful. Nobody is grateful in this house, blah, blah, blah... We robotically agree with him. Finit.

What makes me sad is that for so long we have wanted extended family. For so. Damn. Long. And after all the years of prayer, God, as He does, grants our dua like a backhanded compliment. Sure, you can have your cousins, but I'm going to send them over at the worst possible time, when you're in the deepest of ditches. Because Allah tests those He loves the most, and He never gives you a burden you can't bear. Without those two bits of gold... so help me, I don't know where I'd be.

But my cousins will eventually move out, and I'm stuck because I selfishly want them to stay, but I know it's hard for them to stay because they have to deal with a lot of crap in our house, and so even I think they should go, but then I don't want them to because I want them here and I want it to be Full House.

I miss writing stories. I miss the brief glimpses of ideas that'd flit through my mind, that I'd latch onto, and think and think and think, and come up with something that I'd love for a while and hate later. The many empty notebooks that pervade my desk mock me.

And I miss people. I miss the people at school that I never really spoke to, that I don't even really want to speak to, that I probably never will speak to. I miss their presence, their predictability, their familiarity. Until university starts, I have no established social life, and it feels... lonely. I miss seeing my friends regularly at school, and somehow we always had things to talk about, but now, in all the nothing, even though Star doesn't live so far away, I can't bear to always see her, because sometimes I just don't know what to say. And I don't like texting people. I'm sick of texting my other friends. I want to see them in person, and I want to do things, but everyone's so busy or they have strict families or it's just too hard so all we have is texting and I hate it. I miss my extended family. I haven't Skyped with my favourite cousin or aunt in ages, and I know they're busy, they have kids, my cousin's brother is joining her in Dubai, they too have lives, but I wish I was a part of their lives too. I've upgraded to Whatsapp, because a few more of my cousins and nieces have that, and it's great because they spam me with their photos, but I miss the conversations, where we actually exchange meaningful words and sentences, but they just don't do that over text, and they're so far away, and they're growing up, and there's more of them, and I'm not there and once again, I'm not a part of their lives, and I don't know how to be. I miss my online friends, our superdy long conversations, always random and funny, but also with a lot of soul. My soul, anyhow. I miss Sam, I miss Arvie... I worry for Arvie, because I haven't heard from her since the typhoon in the Philippines, and I'm only taking solace in that it's a question mark too. I miss Meli, I miss Ali, I miss that world.

I realise I may have come across as depressed, but honestly, I'm not really. A lot of this is just whinging, isn't it? I mentioned I have things to do, and some other stuff is just cliché and nostalgia that makes an appearance every now and then. So if you feel the need to console, don't worry about it ^_^ It's what happens when you have too much time. C'est la vie, this too shall pass, life goes on.

This song breaks my heart. I love it so much, I play it on repeat, and I don't know why, because it's not like I've ever experienced 'love'. But I wonder, when it comes to a relationship, whether I'd be the giving tree, or the person who cuts it down to a stump. I don't want to be a stump, nor do I want to be the person who sits on it. 

I wonder if it has to be that way. But then I think of good ol' Jodi Picoult's quote about a relationship never being 50-50, how there's always someone who loves the person a leetle bit more. I wonder...

... too much time -_-'

Peace in,
Laila