The Happy Place

When people say 'find your happy place' they usually refer to 2 things. Occasionally it's used as a joke - a wind up for an aggravated person. But more often than not, it refers to a state of mind. A place of complete serenity where worries and stress no longer jar your every thought.

So it never really occurred to me that you might actually be able to find your happy place ... And go to visit. 

The other day I read a post on a blog I follow called Absolutely Lucy. It was all about how she remained happy and about finding your happy place. She said a 'happy place' is a place that you've been to which holds some fundamental importance for you. Your 'happy place' could be a park, a beach, a house. Anything that makes you happy and holds happy memories. It's so simple and I don't know why it never occurred to me before. 

I was having a bit of a dip earlier on last week when I happened to read Lucy's post. I began to wonder about my happy place because I needed to get there. It's hard to start to think of somewhere happy when you're not in the mood. But I still tried. 

Lucy's happy place was an island off Malta called Comino. I went there with my family some years back too so I retraced the holiday through my mind, remembering the beautiful turquoise of sea and the spare rocky expanse. We had literally just been dropped off the boat on a baron land in the sea. I remember worrying that the boat would not come back to collect us and that we were sold our death in the package of a 'pleasant day trip to a popular tourist island'. 

It was a good holiday, but this wasn't my happy place. I went through the catalogue of my other recent holidays. This year we went to Borneo - it was my childhood dream come true and, even though it ticked off number 1 of my bucket list, this still wasn't my happy place. Not because I was ungrateful or because I didn't have an amazing time but because the time we spent on the island was so jam packed that there wasn't a lot of thinking time. 

Thinking time. Where had I had a lot pf that recently? Then I found it. My happy place. An island near Bali: Lombok.

We've been there 2 years in a row now to the same hotel. It's an absolutely beautiful place. It's set right on the beach with its own infinity pool that looks out onto the sun setting behind the mountains of Bali. The water is clear and pickled with colourful tropical fish. When you walk the length of the beach: a walk that takes a leisurely 15 minutes, you get to a bend where large boulders block your entrance. The waves crash over these boulders as though trying to break them and there are fish that stick themselves to the rocks and advance with each breaking wave. 

This year, we sat atop these rocks and meditated: a method that James had learnt from his recent trip to Cambodia. We sat and tried to clear our minds. We thought of nothing and listened. There were no people on this stretch of the beach. It was ours. 

Thinking about this place; remembering the warmth of the sun, the stillness of the sound, the erratic push of the sea, the sticky smell of salt, puts a smile on my face. This was the place that immediately took me away from my low spell and gave me drive and motivation. I clung onto a menory that I loved. Something that I wanted to repeat. 

I remember visiting those rocks a couple of times over the weeks and coming with pen and paper. I wrote poems, I wrote feelings, I wrote prose. It worked wonders for my creativity. 

In the light of reflecting upon that holiday, I now have a new determination. Something I've wanted to do for ages was travel, especially travelling solo. Lombok is my happy place, but I wonder how many more happy places there are out there. It is my plan to start out to find my happiest place on earth! Perhaps a bi ambitious, yes, but there's no time for ambition like when you're alive! 

Send Me On My Way

To go anywhere, you always have to leave the place before. That's the hardest part for me. 

I'm a bit of a baby. I cry pretty easily and think that my life (and the world) is ending way before its time and at the smallest of situations. 

Every time I leave Dubai I can't help myself from crying and every time I go back to Dubai from England, I am hit with a wave of sadness at leaving. It probably doesn't help that I listen to songs like Let me love you by Mario (which used to make me upset as a child) and then a repeat of the Titanic theme song will resound without my calling on it. 

But I hope this time that some Pharell Williams will get stuck in my head this time!! :D

I didn't expect to be as upset about leaving my job as I was today. I had already been reeling of letters of appreciation in my head for weeks and finally putting into action my earlier preparation was sad. 

To be truthful, I didn't think that I warranted a leaving do or even a card. I had only been working there since March and viewed myself as a bit of a rusty spoon in the grand scheme of things; I had the potential to be useful but I probably wasn't the first choice implement for dinner service. 

So when I got hugs and loads of little letter written in a card, I was over the moon. 

Cards are some of my favourite things. 

I often think of places that it would be nice to be homeless in, as though they exist! When I walk round town or visit a new place and see a dry, cosy place , I make a mental note. 

If I'm ever homeless, that's where I'll go.

I pack for this unfortunate journey in my head, thinking of what things I would take. As well as a haversack stuffed with all my money and warn clothes and blankets, the other things getting shoved in there are my favourite selection of cards that others have written to me. I'd take my 16th and 18th birthday cards from my parents and brothers, leaving cards and my mini books of notes from college in Dubai when I graduated last year. (Is it weird that I've planned this so thoroughly?) 

                                *

A couple of days ago, I spat out the most spontaneously philosophical sentence that I've ever thought of. To be honest somebody most probably had already got there before me but the concept was still novel to me and I prided myself on the fact that I had thought of it. 

I am a huge fan of the Humans of New York blog. I check it twice daily and especially in the morning to get some inspiration to kick start the day. One of the distinct photos I remember was a little girl posing in the street. She was asked: 

"What do you want to be when you're older?" 

To which she replied: 

"A person." 

Such a spontaneous nugget of her mind held such philosophical connotations for the entire human race. It encapsulated me. What is it, I thought, to be a person? Does anyone actually want to be what we now see as a person? 

It's such a conundrum! 

My auntie took me to Wimbledon last week. Everything was all a bit easy going and so when we came out the wrong exit we were unfazed to go back and correct our error. We were heading for Wimbledon station - not the one we had arrived from - and it was taking a while to walk up this hill and all through the town. 

After a while, my auntie said: 

"I hope we're going the right way." 

I replied: 

"I don't think it matters where you're going, as long as you know where you've come from."

Bam!!

I meant it as a comforting thought that f we did get lost, we could always retrace our steps and go back the way we were meant to go. 

As long as you know where you've come from. How clever of me! Ahaha! 

As I walked out of work today, my last ever shift, nothing rang more true than this statement. It didn't matter where I was going. I ought to remind myself of that. 

I know this statement isn't always true. Career-wise it's nice to know how high you can go, and probably for life, having some kind of plan is desirable. 

I have no idea where I am going now. I'm going back to Dubai, that's a given. But I what's next? I could do anything, go anywhere without another thought. I know what I've got in my back pocket: the experiences that I've learnt from work. I have the knowledge of where I've been. 

Unemployment is a scary limbo. Almost as scary as living under a bridge outside Macdonald's with your 16th birthday cards. 

I quite like spontaneity, it stops you from hindering yourself. If you have no plans, then you can accept everything. But not knowing when the next pay slip will come in when your running up a tally in rent and bills isn't something that I want to really think about. 

 

For me, it now doesn't matter where I'm going, so long as I go somewhere. I've come from a lack of experience to being accepted in a company that believed in me more so than I believed in myself. 

Nothing describes my time at work like the word: "lovely" - a word that I use all to often but that can do justice to the passion of happiness and delight. That or "sterling". 

So, no, when I find myself in a panicky rut (which I do quite often) I'll remember my own little quote: it doesn't matter where you're going, so long as you remember exactly where you came from. :D 

 

Ain't never had sun like this!

The Isle of Wight is just one of the most BEAUTIFUL places in the sun. And it's been a while since I've been here and it's actually been sunny!

I usually bring the rain. But not everywhere. It seems I only ever bring it to the Isle of Wight! But finally the spell has been broken and we've been able to enjoy uninterrupted days of sunshine and it's been absolutely fabulous! I even got tanned!

My camera hasn't seen daylight like this in positively AGES! It's usually substituted for my iPod but it's been so lovely for all the sunny shots!

So, as I leave the island and all the excitement of the festival behind, I thought it would be a perfect time to show case my snaps of my few days here!

NEWTOWN CREEK:

The bridge over the salt marsh

The salt marshes

Life ring in the harbour

The sun setting on a beautiful walk 

OSBOURNE HOUSE:

*Driving* my nan's car

Lillies!!!

Inside the green house 

Outside the house!

BEMBRIDGE: 

The new lifeboat station 

It didn't go very far, but nevertheless is was a skimmer!

Tide's out

Oooh! 

#100happymoments

You can probably almost predict what's coming. Yes, I have to (once more) admit that I'm not the greatest at keeping routine.

When I started my list of 50 things to do in summer, I wanted everything that I wrote to be achievable. There's nothing like reading a list of things to do that ask you to take a wee at the top of Mount Everest or become a celebrity overnight. And so, when I wrote "Begin your #100daysofhappiness" I was under the impression that it wasn't too hard.

But, like a true geek, I researched the movement and saw that so many people were dropping out of the challenge due to lack of motivation and ability to post every single day. I actually have a friend at the moment who has solidly managed to get through over half of the challenge ... and, he's still going!

"So," I thought in all my naivety. "It can't be that hard!"

So I started and came across a couple of problems. My camera wasn't great and so all the pictures came out grainy. I stayed in various places without access to internet within the first week. And sometimes I was just happy and I couldn't explain why.

I started once. And then I started again before something made me think differently.

"What if," I mused. "What if it was 100 moments of happiness."

Well, you might be thinking,  that takes away the difficulty. 

And, yes, you would be right. But isn't it so much more rewarding to document 100 moments that make you happy rather than desperately trying to find something that could make you happy on this one day because there are some days when 500 things will make you happy! Plus, it gives me a chance to see how quickly I can complete the challenge.

So here I go ...

Moment 1: Sunshine!!!

#100happymoments

The Sun Has Got His Hat On!

The sun is shining, the weather is mild and my flowers are out!

I like a bargain as much as the next tight person and (get your purses ready) when I saw the £1 mini daffodil deal in Marks and Spencer, I just had to get them!

One thing I absolutely LOVE is growing things on my windowsill. Not mould or dust but plants and flowers. My windowsill at uni is no exception. It's actually been the place where I've been able to harvest my dream of having an inside allotment when I grow up. It's been home to some little crocuses, a basil plant and now my 'Tete a Tete' daffodils.

With each new addition, I get better at looking after the plants. I always over water them or leave them for days neglected. I push them against the window so that they wilt with the condensation from my hot shower. But, my daffodils are the best ones yet!

I've got 3 that have already flowered and 2 coming through. I don't know why but I find it so exciting! And if I'm this excited over some little flowers, what will I be like when I have kids?!

It Girl

Being 'that person' gives you so much to live up to. Boots to fill. Being someone the generics of the role imply.

But there are exceptions. If someone tells you that you look like Michael Jackson, you don't have to produce a fantastic moonwalk, although it might help. And when someone tells you that you're the spitting image of your mother, you don't have to head to the 90s and pick up all the clothes she left behind in a previous life.

I, finally, got a job!

The hunt for it really was as treacherous and time-consuming as the word "hunt" implies. Suddenly I am that girl. And when someone asks me: 'Do you work here?' I can finally admit that 'yes, yes I do' then get over the pride and act as though I actually know what I'm talking about. 

I reckon I'm naturally shy - a molehill I try to scooch over every day. And so, whilst the prospect of having a job was an exciting one, I couldn't help (for some reason) being afraid of actually having to work. Don't get me wrong: it was by no means because I was lazy and was looking for a way for easy money. I want - on either account. Simply, I suddenly had something to do. 

Someone recently told me the meaning of the expression "FOMO" - Fear Of Missing Out. 

It had never occurred to me that I might be the epitome of this phrase. At least not openly. I knew that there were things that I wanted to do and didn't want to have to give up though. And pre-planned freedom was one of them. 

For the first few weeks of uni, I sat resolutely in my room not daring to be out past 6 if it had anything to do with uni. School finished at 3 - 3:30 at the latest - so adding an extra 2:30 learning hours to my day was a push. I wasn't used to having my quiet time sacrificed. And weekends I reserved strictly for myself. 

I wasn't a social creature by any measure of the word. I seldom went out and barely engaged in an form of conversation that wasn't absolutely necessary or didnt merit my input. I was more than content to eat my lunch and state at the ceiling fixtures or something equally as interesting. 

But as the months progressed through uni, I slipped out later into the night. I decided that chilling out time could include other people rather than just myself and that books would have to wait until I was alone, like on the train. Eventually, though it took a while; I was comfortable surrendering a little bit of myself to the wider world. 

When I started looking through job ads at first, I half prayed that I wouldn't be successful just to keep what I knew. But when, in February, I got my first and only interview, I was happy (more than) to have something to do. And as I travel back home on this Sunday evening, I feel far from having lost anything at all. It's all gain. Everything I have myself for today was in the interest of taking advantage of opportunity. So I can keep myself and what I love and add little things every time!! 

Obsession 7

My 7th obsession is something I love to think about and something that can change my mood in an instant: the sun.

Living in Dubai did me good. It gave me charming photos like this:

But most of all it helped me see each day as a horizon filled with opportunities to do things that would make other people happy. The warmth on your skin and the brightness in your eyes has the most wonderful effect! When I could come home after school and just sit out in the sun until it went down! It really helped me highlight what it was that was important in my life and how lucky I was to have what I had. 

Excuse my rude!

It's probably about time that I say this:

Thank you sooooooo much!!!

I want to let everyone who has supported me in reading my blog that the comments that you give me are one of the most precious things to me! I am absolutely thrilled that you guys love reading what I have to say and I'm so happy to be able to share what I have with you!

It really makes my mornings and days and weeks when people send me really positive feedback. I keep all the nice messages that I have in a folder on my computer because they mean so much to me! They really boost my morale and continue to give me the drive to pursue what I really love doing.

I once read that writers need readers and you really are that important to me. The more you read, the more I want to write.

Perhaps this sounds cheesy but I really can't say it any other way:

Without everyone who takes the time to plow through my thoughts, my writing would have no purpose. I would probably have returned to this inverted version of myself looking for the use that I could be.

So thank you, thank you, thank you!!! I know this is only a shade of the kind of happiness you make me feel but I hope that, by understanding how much I value your support, I have made your morning, day and/or week.

Thank you :D xx

Obsession 5

In case you haven't noticed, I love to smile!! :D

One of my favourite photos from my baby albums is this one: 

But, if you poured through my photo album, I didn't always smile nor know how. 

After I got braces it took an incredibly long time to smile, especially through the horribly condescending meetings with the orthodontist and the fact that the wires meant that every time I laughed my lip got caught on the top. I had to pull my lip down over the brace just to close my mouth. 

There was a time in secondary school when I didn't smile much. I felt as though, being moody helped me fit in. Somehow I got to the equation that more people would speak to me if I was 'normal'. 

But after a while, I figured that my version of normal - which was smiling and laughing stupidly - made me happier. I didn't need to worry about infiltrating the 'cool' group or having a boyfriend. I smiled my days through, reminding myself to do it everyday and soon the cheesy show of teeth broke into  routine. 

The only tolerable type of pain is when you've been laughing too much and when you think you're going to be sick from laughing too much!

And with multiple mantras, including the words 'laugh', 'smile' and 'love', I have this very simple one to share: 

Just keep smiling!!!

Oh...Rainy Days

Rain, rather than symbolising depression and having striking connections with it's synonyms; woe, melancholy and gloom, now signifies healthiness - for me at least. The past 2 years in Dubai have left much want of change and, though I previously despised the rain like the devil, I am comforted by its forced coziness.

My favourite sensation - and; yes, I do have one - is the tingling of a body warming up. Feet frozen from ice feeling the blood rush. A nose, just about ready to drop off, restored to full colour. Hands that, at first, couldn't feel the radiator, now being burned by the warmth.

If 80% of the people of England had their wish, it would rain no more and the earth would be baked by sun rays. And what would ensue would be toilet brush trees, scraggy for want of leaves. Brown rugs of grass targeted by youths for their potential as fire starters. And girls walking the streets in all but a bikini. Green wouldn't feature in our colour range.

Imagine an England without green. Imagine the country without the single colour that epitomises it besides grey. Where would the appeal lie?

For most tourists, if they're not besotted with London, they are with the countryside.

I find England works rather well. Throughout the year, the country is nourished by rain and it's beauty is saved for those glorious summer afternoons where we can appreciate it all.

So, I no longer hold a grinding antagonism for rain. You can pray for the sun, but that won't stop the rain.

Finding your sanctuary

University leaves so much unlocked potential for the individual. Societies, clubs, clubbing, new faces, lectures. The increased freedom and focus on self can lead, either, to a slow but sure regression or - in the majority of cases - a bountiful exertion of one's happiness and ambition.

With a routine, that I have now had to plan myself, the importance of management is evermore crucial. This morning I set off to rekindle my love of the church. It was a small affair; not many in the way of congregation numbers - well, certainly fewer than I had previously known. But what was lacking in individuals was made up in general happiness, ambiance and devotion.

I sat as far from the altar as could be. Not for dislike of being new, but for the simple reason of losing my voice when the hymns began. Singing, largely, was never a quality I admitted owning, despite the 'pop star' phase of year 3 - a career move I took very seriously.

So I sat and stood to sing when the time came, all the while, during organisational pauses, taking in the peachy coloured walls, the static of the chairs, the decked flooring. It certainly wasn't the image of a typical church, save for the religious memorabilia decorating the hall and the willing congregation, amongst whom sat the formally dressed family and friends of a toddler who was to be baptised.

I got thinking in those moments; what is a church? This building didn't have the age-old, stained glass, musty smelling character of what is usually taken as a church. But did that make it an less of a church than an 17th century stoned work of architecture? It was, however informal, by definition, still a church.

Religion in general is an idea of concept. There is very little concrete about a service and other particulars. Of course, there are the formalities; holy scriptures and communions, declarations of faith and pilgrimages but those aren't the things that necessarily underpin religion and, more specifically to this case, a church. So, if it is only a matter of conception that creates religion and Gods, might we all go to church in some form or another regardless of whether we are religious or not?

In its simplest terms, a church is a place of worship. A more close-fitting definition would be a common place of worship. Is this then applicable to a commodity such as a bed?

Who doesn't like bed? Or sleep for that matter? A minority of the human race. The bed is a place of common love.

In church, our reason for being is God. In bed our reason for being, mostly, is sleep. In such circumstances, therefore, our beds are like our own personal churches. My bed will not be the same as yours. Though it may look the same, the meaning of it will be different. Yet, you and I are commonly joined in the notion of going to bed and sleeping. Similarly, my notion of God will not be the same as yours. Perhaps, you don't even believe in God. Or you may not believe in just one but many. Still, whatever your values, we are joined in thinking and evaluating the world through our own dynamic system of beliefs.

When you're welcomed into a Parish, such as I was this morning, you are given a wider appreciation and room to think. You don't have to agree with the conventions of service or practice because every worship is different.

I suppose, in the end, what is important, however, is that you, eventually, find your own sanctuary and church whether it be in the actual building, with you family and friends, or in that bowl of warm buttered popcorn sitting beside you.

Dear Ol' England

Why is it that everyone walks with a stern brow? A pouted mouth? A chip on their shoulder that's big enough to make them waddle? 

  I agree; cleaning the bins in front of Morrisons isn't any fun. Talking people through banking accounts, having to pay 10p for a bag at the Hospice shop, seeing the sun eclipsed by the clouds, advising people on the best SIM card at Phones4U aren't all that fun or exciting either - but they could be. 

  For me, there's a fundamental difference between living in Dubai and living in England; the amount of people who seem to want to live. There was but one man, a kind gentleman in Nationwide, who seemed happy. He was interested to hear about the perks of Dubai and was forever questioning, happy to answer and polite. 

It's a generalisation I know but I'd forgotten. This sadness. This glum. This stubborn detest for everything. A smile, dare I say it, seldom seems acceptable here but is such a desperate necessity. 

A frown won't stop you hating your job. Moaning won't make a sun appear. Berating the driver in front of you because they're driving too slowly won't persuade them otherwise. But neither will a smile - but it might do. And even if it doesn't, it will make the day alot better. 

Preparing for uni

I've learnt, university doesn't have to be daunting. Undoubtedly, they will be the best years of your life, everyone says - its a theory I've yet to try. 

When I started year 13 this year I didn't want to begin. As far as I was concerned it was the beginning of the end. Everything if ever known about life was about to change. I was about to be exposed to another side of it. Don't get me wrong - I LOVE surprises. But this surprise want something I wanted to deal with. I know how to cook - so that's fine - and I'm more than OK navigating the bus route - but give me any other map and I'm as useful as a broken compass. 

What's the problem? I kept asking myself. It was an answer I couldn't give. I didn't even know if there was an answer. 

I mulled on the prospect.

I tried to convince myself; 

Everyone does it. Lie number one. 

Your parents aren't far away. Lie number two (my parents live in Dubai - 7 hours from England).

This is what you've always been waiting for. Lie number three. 

This definitely wasn't what I had been waiting for. Whenever I thought of my life I kind of skipped uni out. I knew I would go but when I thought of getting older I thought of getting a job, being a mum and wife. Them being a grandma. Life races ahead of me and, although I always assumed I would have a degree under my belt, getting it was never something I'd ever thought about. 

Then here I was; 17 and in my last year of college, with university in the horizon. 

How daunting! 

After a while though, I came to terms with it. 

This is your life, I thought. You can't chill with mum and dad forever. You need this. 

True - I still have those wobbly days when I don't want to go. But they pass and I try my hardest not to bring them up. 

The most important thing I need to go into university with is an optimistic mind. 

So I've started having fun: planning my room design, buying tools - maybe not your idea of fun. But it took my mind away from the day I leave the sand and trade it in for concrete. 

One of the tasks I've been waiting to do since I started packing is create a photo collage. And now I've finally got it done. 

I imagine it will be very useful. Reminding me of where I've been and how I've come may one day help me write those essays and complete the degree. 

Things are looking up and I can't wait. Especially as I've found out that they have a cake decorating society!!! Who ate all the pies?