It Was The Most Blissful Confusion

I remember waking up feeling unsure and confused. My vision was still blurred and I struggled to focus, only to find myself in unfamiliar surroundings that I couldn't recognize at first. Looking around some more, I looked up and saw my brother's panicked face. At first I asked myself what he was even doing there. Then it eventually occurred to me I was in his apartment, that unfamiliar surrounding and soft yellow lights belonged to him. I smiled at him while trying to figure out what had just happened, trying to figure out what country I was in or how I even got there. I felt blank and utterly confused. The look of panic not fading off his face I asked "What's wrong??". He asked me how I felt and I said aside from confused, alright I guess. And then it started coming back. I remember walking in, saying I felt dizzy, and that was the last thing I remembered. I asked him what happened and he told me I had a seizure after saying I felt dizzy. I had blacked out and after a few moments went into a fit, he said he held my arms apart to stop me from hurting myself. There seemed to be no reason for it... I was totally sober, perhaps a bit tired and jet lagged but we were hardly doing anything difficult or stressful, chilling and watching The Office (he really wanted me to see the British version of it, and he was right, the American version doesn't hold a candle...). It had only been my first or second night there, hence why I woke up confused as to what country I was even in and why I was with my brother. So there I was at that point, in England, back in Cheltenham once more. After getting everything straight in my head, I started to focus more on the present moment, and realized the scared vibe wasn't fading from my brother, he told me I scared the shit out of him... Which started to scare me too. And we started talking about why it happened, given the fact that nothing like that had ever happened to me before. He said it could have been the overwhelmed feeling of being able to fully relax, without the parental judgment breathing down my neck after 2 whole months of it- from having lived alone from such a young age, the most amount of time I spent with that feeling on a daily basis was 3 weeks a year during the summer visit. I thought about it... And started to think about why I had gone there in the first place. And looking back now a year later, it's still difficult to pin point my reasoning, but I think it was necessary. When a tree is torn out from the roots, it could be re-rooted somewhere else and survive, but it will never be as strong as it was from it's original roots. I guess I was looking for my roots...

Keeping that event in mind for the rest of my stay there, that feeling that things could go so wrong so fast without me even being aware of it, I started to feel like I should do absolutely everything that I want to in the moment. And that is how I've lived since then... And granted, that philosophy has bit me in the ass a couple of times, but it's certainly left me with some stories to tell.

2 weeks of utter freedom in a different country and still with no belongings but my suitcase, sleeping on couches while having more fun than I ever did there before resulted in me skipping my flight home. Said to have become "truly English" after I apparently decided to steal pylons from a construction site and turn them into houses for frogs after a drunken night... Drinking cocktails from teapots, stealing backstage stamps to concerts, getting kicked out of pubs, telling the band at the next one they truly sucked, daring someone to take the pin off the DJ's record and doing my utmost best to get my brother and his friend to stand up off the floor outside the pub after attacking them with a pen so the security guy would leave us alone, stumbling around a park that had an uncanny resemblance to the park next to my old university in Toronto, and taking pictures of friends doing handstands on garbage cans (and falling off them), dancing in the street with strangers, staying up all night to watch the sunrise talking about art and life, taking a long walk while the town is still sleeping and the fog was clearing up, smell of morning dew in the air... Graffiti covered houses and urinals that rise from the ground in the middle of a town centre, meeting lovely people at a folk concert in a gallery in Camden- London ordering drinks from a horse stable turned into a bar, train rides accompanied by the music of Edit Piaf to visit family I lost touch with, jumping on a trampoline like I could touch the sky feeling like the beautiful children I was with and am so grateful to call my niece and nephews, visiting my old dog who had spent years watching me cry, catching up with long lost friends and drinking until the pub closed, meeting new ones and doing the exact same thing... Making decisions I am perhaps not so proud of in the long run... All this and more are what my life consisted of for that month. And it was beautiful, I felt lost, I felt free, I felt nostalgic yet not sad. I felt I had gotten rid of an old stigma I associated with that region of the world due to bad past experiences. But it had to end, I had to go back and deal with the uncertain life I had left behind in Toronto. So I didn't skip the next flight, I took it, unsure of what I was going back to. Unsure of all the things I had felt so certain of before having gone there.

So I landed back home, back in Toronto, and I sighed as the CN tower came into view... The events that happened since are for another post. And for the record I am not typing this now from Toronto. I am typing this from being back in Dubai once more... though it has now been 4 months I have been here. But we will get to that point later, how I got here again, and why I'm still here now.

To those of you who sent me messages over the past year asking me to write more posts, I'm sorry it's taken so long. It will become more frequent.

Until the next one, take care out there!

Beginning of what?

I managed to find and log into this again (thanks to a certain someone who reminded me it existed) and I've been thinking about writing about all my updates since my last post, just about a year ago, maybe a tad more. My dilemma has been on where to even begin. The simplicity I felt since my last post pretty much disappeared in the blink of an eye since I last wrote. So where to begin again? I guess the beginning would be a good place to start. Not sure the beginning of what... Perhaps the beginning of life as I know it now.

Perhaps a bit more contemplation though. Perhaps I need to grasp it all first. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

On my pillow I will contemplate in a world away from this one.
Goodnight world, hello dreams.

Cloud Number.....?

Gutten Morgen Frankfurt!
Well yesterday when I woke up in my parent’s apartment still in Dubai, Mum exclaimed “Look Em! Our building is amongst a cloud!” From the top of the window you could see into clear skies, and from the bottom of the winder, you could see clearly down to the ground (from the 18th floor). However in the middle, was a hazy cloud, lazily floating around, similar to what I was doing really after a few (too many) drinks the night prior. The day went by and my flight to Germany was that night at 2am.

So this morning, I woke up on a plane (despite the person next to me who had no concept of personal space, or personal hygiene for that matter) once more, amongst clouds. It’s difficult to consider having to go back to real life at some stage in the near future, where I will not spend most my time in the clouds. Note key word NEAR future though, nothing mentioned about immediacy! So for now, I will remain in cloud number….? I won’t say number 9, because I think my cloud 9 spent so long growing it had to turn grey and disappear into rain over the past year, you know, in order for a new fresh one to start, from a tiny ickle bitty cloud.

As I eat the sandwich Mum just HAD to make for me to take with me (or else she just wouldn’t be Mum) I must say the food is something I will strongly miss in Dubai. Not that it’s all that different from food elsewhere (aside from the specialty Arabic items that I am in love with, such as Basbousa! Which also got packed for me to take with me… Teehee) but it’s all about presentation there, and not to mention when eating at home, a Mother’s touch! The little pastries you get with a simple cup of coffee, the perfectly floated cream on the coffee, the fresh bread with olive oil and balsamic that comes with every meal… It’s all in the details!

It has been in discussion during my time there that I should consider a more permanent move there, secure employment and such. Not to say I have disregarded the idea, it just seems there is so much tension in that whole area of the world and I am not sure I want to be amidst it more than I have been already. It definitely takes a tole on ones psychological health to know how close it is, and to not hear about anything else all day. Although it is definitely an area of history in the making, there are many other factors I must consider. Thoughts and input would be much appreciated guys! All I know is I cannot go through another year of being on the wrong side of the bar! So really, my options are as wide as the globe. And due to that exact point, perhaps a different area of the globe would be wiser for me to make a more permanent move to…. Not to mention funner! I am not one for the nightlife in clubs, million dollar cars and wearing dresses that run halfway up your snatch despite being a country wherein this attire is frowned upon by the locals… Which is what Dubai is all about at it’s best really. I want somewhere with big forests, old buildings, human people who do not look like mannequins (and in turn make me look like a hobo), character, humbleness… Things you just cannot find in Dubai despite how impressive and grand it is. I got offered a job in Georgia (Europe) teaching English but… A hunch tells me no, and I tend to follow my intuition. I know something better is out there for me. I just need to find it. So I will be spending my time in UK searching by any means possible, for my next step beyond these travels that will end in a month. My heart reaches out to Italy, Germany and UK for employment. So these are the first places I will hunt in. This next step will flourish into much more than just employment. And of course finally getting to teach and inspire on a full time and permanent basis…. It seems like a breath of fresh air.
Well, of course my start date for post-grad would affect all of this as well, including its location obviously. So that is what I must first find out so I can know my time frame.

As I got to Deutschland, I was told at the transfer check-in that the lovely lady in Dubai checked my luggage through to the wrong flight, meaning the wrong country. Yay for intelligence and basic reading! I was told this was fixed but I won’t know until I get to UK….

Umm… At this stage I must point out that the lady who just marched past me in hysterical tears makes me feel better…

Must keep the positive thoughts going!

Oh… She’s back again.

Positive thoughts!

Besides, even in the case of it going to another country, I would get it back eventually… Eventually.

I shall now run for a much needed coffee and bury myself in my book for an hour.
Sending out some global love!

Steps

As my time here approaches its end, and I start to consider the next stretch of my travels, I cannot believe how fast time has past me by. But when I consider my own progress, it is accurate to the time elapsed, and I achieved what I came here to do.

I attained closure within myself on silly demons that have been playing my mind like a puppet show for years. Issues of childhood have been swallowed and digested.

I have managed to achieve a solid and concrete state in a relationship that has equally played my heart like a puppet show. This taught me so many things about myself and my strength, that actually made me reconsider my approaches, attainments, and hopes in my life. You are and always will remain my best friend, my soulmate, and I thank you for being my lesson. I will always have an infinite amount of love for you. That I will never deny.

I have reached a definite outline in terms of my priorities and goals for the near future up to the next 5 years or so. I am a master of being aware that plans never go according to plan. However it's better than waiting for something to fall out of the sky. If I want something, I will get it with my own two hands, on my own two feet, and anyone in my way can pull their lips over their own heads and swallow. End of.

I have realized that clouding ones mind does not enable it or help it to wonder. Would you wonder around in a hazy forest? How would you ever know what is waiting for you around the corner? Clarity is key. And in my clarity, I rediscovered my utter joy and love for art, it's basic materials and processes of creation, as well as the effect it has on me once I complete a piece. For me, the completed piece brings inner peace. I am in love. Creativity has carried me under her wings once more. And I am exhilarated at having my feet swept off the ground by her!

My previously mentioned daily project is to commence upon my return to Canada.

I have attained a physical appearance in which I do not feel that any aspect of myself is deceiving or misleading, and I am at total ease with myself and who I am. What you see is exactly who I am, whatever word you choose to define that with, that is who I am in your eyes. And I will not apologize for that :) In terms of physicalities, I do have one permanent change to be made, and that is one of my tattoos. A good friend of mine told me that associations are very important to our personal psychology, which got me thinking. If you see something that you associate to a negative aspect of your life, change it. I do not feel negativity in the association of this tattoo, but it does bring a particular person to my mind, and a particular time of our relationship. Whilst I cherish every moment we spent together, I want to look down at my foot and see something that I associate to love and stability in my roots, because it's what I stand on. I want this association to be my Mother. The title of my blog "Petit a petit, l'oiseau fait son nid" is something my mother has been saying to me since I was child, at any time of uncertainty, hurt, or self-doubt. This will be reflected in my transformation of this tattoo. I will be leaving hints of what it is at the moment, because as per association, I would be lying through my teeth if I ever tried to claim that the person I currently associate it to had not had permanent effects of who I am in my own evolution. He showed my sides to life and myself I never would have discovered otherwise. Again, thank you. Changes in the ink soon to come!


I cannot wait, at this stage, for the next part of my travels! The last time I went to UK, I returned inspired and brand new minded. And this trip will be so much longer, during which time I will have so much more time alone, of self reflection in a place wherein I grew up, wherein I nearly lost my mind, wherein I felt things I never want to feel again. In this trip I will have a very difficult visit to a grave I never could bring myself to see, my Papa. This trip will also comprise of more concerts! New people! Old friends! My wonderful and talented brother! And for the first time in my life, my cousin!

Let the love, light and healing pour in!
<3

Fresh Bread

Today, I am contemplating beginning a new daily project.

This came about from attempting to walk with Mum to the Marina Mall (my parents apartment is on the marina, and we had no car today) in order to pick up my reading glasses so I can actually see life out of a non-crooked frame. I started noticing people tilting their heads the same way my glasses tilted as they looked at me with my old frames on. I guess thats what I get for having wooden frames, wood warps.

Well our first attempt to go and pick them up failed, as it was far too hot to walk there, so before getting too far, we decided not to carry on and stopped at a restaurant for a cold salad on the patio instead. There was a lovely breeze to ease the heat, and it turned out to be a much better idea. After walking back up to the apartment, we flopped around for a while unsure of what to do next. Went back down to the grocery store to get some fresh fruit (and waste time), came back up again, lounged around some more... As I was flipping through the channels on TV, I saw Julie and Julia was JUST starting. Perfect, one of our favourites. This movie however makes me crave freshly baked bread and churned silky butter. A la Francaise! So back down I went, to the bakery section for fresh bread. I ran back up (probably looking like a starved crazy lady) and started thinking of the commitment this girl had, despite a really boring government job, to do something, everyday, that is just for her. 500 odd recipes, 365 days. Now seemingly I already do this because I paint and draw anyway. But the idea to set a deadline with a goal seems to be something that is calling to me, while creating something that at the end of it would relate to each other (not just independent pieces of work). My dilemma now however lies in the subject matter. 365 days is a good time frame to create something daily, with a really strong outcome at the end. I attempted the recipe thing, but when you live alone, everyday can be an adventure in terms of cooking, and it usually is anyway, so the challenge in it was out the window. I want to create something visual.

I am considering a visual diary (to be posted as a blog online as well) of myself, everyday, for 365 days. This may seem rather narcissistic, but for the non-artists who are reading this, I promise you it is a very tedious process staring at yourself for self-portraits for hours at a time. OCADU demanded endless self-portraits, and my last one consisted of words, I was too sick of looking at myself to make another one. Not to mention the idea of having to truly face myself on a daily basis, where I cannot hide from whatever it is I am feeling, as I tend to do. I will have to fully digest my thoughts at that time, and really embrace my feelings, emotions, and thoughts to create an accurate image. I will have to consider the colour of my soul on that day, the colour of my aura, including my health.

The question is, When do I begin?

Lights. Camera. Asshole.

Need I say more? I think not.

So my time here seems to be flying faster than I realized. Tonight, Madame Adrienne was supposed to be arriving already, but it seems she might not be coming because politicians are bickering and are screwing over Canadians with visas... Thank God I travel British. And a week after she was supposed to leave, on March 27th I will be on my next flight to UK via Frankfurt. We also have some family friends who will be coming to stay with us for the next week. As I anticipate the trip, the same vision keeps coming into my mind everytime I shut my eyes. When I sleep, in a day dream, seemingly even when I merely blink at times...

The big old tree by the river where we used to meet. But the establishment by it which my parents used to run, is grey, abandoned, dead. I know this vision of the building itself would be quite accurate to it's current actual state, because the people who bought it off my parents ran it into the ground, and took all the stuff we built with them. In my vision of it all, I am walking down the path towards the river, and I can see myself sitting alone, waiting for you. The me I am walking up to however seems much more simple. I imagine it is the me I would have turned into had I not moved to Canada. As I approach myself, we morph together, and I become the simpler me. I sit. Staring at the water, swinging my feet like I did in this same spot, 9 years before. And I hear your footsteps behind me. As I turn around I see you in the distance but your image is hazy. Partly because I don't know what you look like now, and partly because my eyes are not very good. You keep walking but you never reach me, and as I keep staring the day suddenly turns to night. That last night. The building is full of life again, the children are on the swings, the music is blaring from inside, and the summer breeze set the perfect mood. In an instant, I am in that moment on the old benches where we used to sit. As I turn my head to look next to me where you would have been, you fade. And the whole vision fades away, back to grey with you, as I turn my head back around to face the long wide set of stairs up to the old building, where the music had once been playing years before. Leaving me back in the present, under the tree, back to my current me, on a grey day, in an abandoned memory, swinging my feet back forth on top of the water.

I have to wonder why I keep seeing this. Will I ever see you again? And if so, will you see right through me the way you did then?

Why do I keep seeing this. What is my memory trying to tell me.

Especially after everything that happened beyond that night.

Am I supposed to see you again?

Lights. Camera. ........
Where are you now?

"Its better to do nothing and know why, than to do something and not know why you're doing it"

I saw or heard this somewhere recently, and it really put things into perspective. It stuck in my mind and keeps popping into my head with every decision I need to make. My fickle little self can't seem to make a decision on much recently though, and life is just staring at me in the face, waiting.

Last night I had a lucid dream, I could smell it, I could almost reach out and touch it. My old bedroom in Israel, crystal clear details. My old cupboard that was in my parents room in Egypt, my old rug, the high ceilings where I used to watch the cute harmless little lizards that lived all over the country, wiggling around the ceilings that we couldn't even reach. I was fighting for it, consciously in my dream trying to find answers. But they carried on like I wasn't even there. My mother, and some girl in her late teens whom I have never even met before. But she knew me, and she knew my questions, but she just kept saying "I am too young, I could be arrested for telling you. It's illegal for me to know". I remember feeling so frustrated in the dream. No matter how loud I screamed, fully aware in my mind of my screaming, I was silent. In my mind, as I slept, I prayed sleep would stay with me, in order to resolve this mysterious conversation. As I do in most situations of desperation since I was a child, I laid down on the floor between between the bed and the closet, opening and closing the closet doors, and I could physically smell the fresh laundry, the detergent my mother used to use in Israel. I could presently smell it in my sleep. As the girl switched off the light, my mother stood above my head, staring down at me she said "Stop asking. You have to learn to let go of the physical, the material". Right at that moment, Mum opened the door and woke me up singing. I woke up with tears on my face. I miss the life I had there more than anything, and no material will ever replace the love I felt, living in that country. I pray for it's turmoil to end everyday.

My dreams have been speaking to me recently, and God has been reaching out to me in my dreams. Perhaps this is why I am understanding a bit better, why I am taking a pause in life. Knowing why I am stopping, rather than continuously and blindly chasing more, running after what will make more money, all the while running away from what I am trying to distract myself from. Myself.

Drawing. Painting. Writing. Reading. Music. That is who I am, and that makes me a person who will never have much in material things. And I am proud of that. No matter what anyone has to say about it. Not even you. Not even me, my other me, the me who only tries to please social expectations.

Hey me, please me for once <3