But... Why?

We all do things that we don't agree with or want to do for the sake of our loved ones. They can be tiny things, but we all do them to keep relationships running: it's called 'compromise'.

A friend challenged me the other day about one everyday compromise I make. It's a cultural/ religious dietary rule I follow without believing with it or really agreeing with it, but I follow it because 1) it's very important to my immediate close family and would deeply upset them if I don't follow it and 2) it doesn't harm myself or anyone else around me. My friend challenged me because I admitted that I wished I could eat some stuff, being a natural foodie, but I had long ago decided to respect my family's wishes. The conversation more or less went like this:

"But why?"

"Because it would really upset my family if I didn't do it."

"Why does it matter?"

"It matters because I don't want to hurt my family."

"Why are you willing to compromise your own beliefs?"

"I'm not as such, just keeping one of the precious few things that link my identity to my family's."

"But why do you need to follow someone else's way of identifying themselves for your own identity?"

This is one of the reasons I really respect my friend, who's not afraid to ask the tough questions. However I was also annoyed- the question 'why' can be used an infinite amount of times and a final root answer never found. And besides, why did I have to justify my actions, anyway? My friend was satisfied in my lack a sensible or logical answer to the final question. I did have a response in my mind though: how do we identify ourselves without other people to identify with? But I didn't carry on the debate,not wanting to answer a question with rhetoric that would lead to even more debate. Also, my friend is religious and I am not- a huge difference in mindset that puts all similar debates about the human condition at a stalemate.

It's a good practice to have though, if ever you are in a personal bind. Ask yourself why, and what your motives are. Or better yet, find a friend who isn't afraid to ask the tough questions. Just be sure that you're ready to face them!

A Friendly DFL in Brighton

I spent the day in Brighton yesterday visiting my friend Vicky (the same Vicky I visited in Berlin during her time teaching there). The subject of what Brighton thinks of London came up when I mentioned that I liked how many of the streets shared the same name as famous streets and places in London (Bond Street, Trafalgar Street, Kensington Street etc).

DFL. Down From London. It's not generally something that's said in a positive light when uttered by Brightonians- wealthy, rude, arrogant Londoners buy up holiday homes and drive property prices up, make an almighty mess during raucous hen parties and stag nights, and generally clutter up the streets as clueless tourists during weekends. However, since I fit into none of those categories- especially not the 'wealthy' part- I'd classify myself as Mostly Harmless, like the entry on humans in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

I love Brighton. I love London as my home and territory and have no illusions of leaving, but I love Brighton as its own separate entity, with its own separate personality. It's something I never felt about Birmingham for example, despite having lived there for five years. It does have some similarities to Central London (particularly Camden Town in some areas, and Camden Town is one of my favourite places in the entire world), in terms of diversity and wonderful quirkiness. However it embraces these sides much more heartily than London rather than being politely embarrassed by them. As for the atmosphere, it's simply more pleasant. People joke about having to be a certain kind of person to be able to bear London: big, bustling, hectic, shiny, dangerous, brilliant London. Well, it's true: you do have to be a certain type of person to survive my city. I say this with a unique and exquisite mix of pride and shame.

I think you do have to have a small, bitter, hardened kernel at the centre of your heart to stand a city where millions of people are crammed into one small place, always in a rush and not allowed to look each other in the eye- or worse, smile at each other. I am definitely a Londoner: I can phase seamlessly through a solid wall of bodies on Oxford Street, mentally shut myself out on a Spam-packed tube carriage and never feel safe while feeling like it's normal to never feel safe. However, I also notice strangers that need a hand and help them, chat to sales assistants like they're human beings and, horror of horrors, smile. I think this small, alien part of me belongs in Brighton, even though the rest of me is and always will be organically Londoner. I'm not saying Brighton is without its own problems, but in any case, it's nice to know that that little part of me has somewhere to feel at home in for a while when it feels like an outsider the rest of the time.

Also, you can see the sea!!

More Portioned Up than a Children's Birthday Cake

"Wow that's... really unusual for you. A whole weekend free! It'll be nice for you to actually relax for once."

"Yeah... you and I both know it won't last."

"Probably not, no."

This was a conversation I had with my friend Siu Yen a couple of nights ago, when she asked me what I'd be doing next weekend: we were also planning when out next meeting would be.

 My diary is often more or less totally booked out for two months into the future. Every weekend I'm doing at least one thing: meeting up with these friends, seeing a movie with those friends, baking a cake for these guys, having lunch with those guys, and so on. Sometimes I'll have more than one thing going on in the same day, and have to limit my time with one group of people before meeting up with the second group of people (I call this 'speed friending': this doesn't happen often though as it doesn't make for quality get-together times). Now it's started to bleed into my evenings after work, not to mention I have my evening Mandarin classes on Wednesday nights. This pretty much makes me constantly exhausted.

It also makes me very happy.

Back in my school days, I was quite the loner. I was always awkward, quiet, nerdy- just not really able to fit in. When I did have friends, it was only one or two close ones at a time, which were sometimes intense and destructive (as is common when insecure people become too focused and reliant on each other). However, as time went on I got better at the whole making friends thing, and gradually discovered more and more amazing people that I cared about and wanted to keep in my life. The only things that changed were my attitude to myself and life in general.

This fast-paced lifestyle I've gained from hyper-socialising also seems to mean I've gained a weird, restless energy. This weekend one of the things I did was to visit my friend Vicky in Brighton (a fellow efficiently busy person), and at one point she tried to make me sit back into my chair instead of perching on the end of it. I physically managed it, but my efforts only made my friend laugh because apparently I still looked really stiff and awkward. In fact I felt really relaxed in Brighton, away from the shoving elbows and selfishness of London- but apparently my muscles were still tensed for immediate action.

Still, I wouldn't have it any other way. I remember what it's like to feel isolated, and now that I'm lucky enough to know so many amazing people, I'm more than happy to make the effort to give as many people as much of my time as I can. For some people it's not as much as I'd like, but then again there are only so many hours in the day!

A bit of wisdom from Brighton

 I came back from Lady Dinah's Cat Emporium at around half past midnight last night, having visited for the first time as a guest rather than a volunteer since it's official opening on Saturday (it is, by the way, amazing). Once I'd finished posting a few pictures on Facebook, I was just about to go to bed when a message popped up from a friend I haven't seen in a while.

"Are you still in London? It'd be great to meet up again."

And some of my friends still wonder why I try to arrange things so far in advance.

The Phone Call that Made My Month

I was always a little afraid of what my reaction would be the first time I received this sort of news from a close friend. I mean my real, inside reaction: I knew that my outer reaction would always be one of genuine joy, but I've always been scared that, inside, a selfish part of me would feel sad that an era has come to an end and that everything would be about to drastically changed- and maybe even a little jealous that I'm nowhere near that point in my life. I think I was the most afraid of feeling jealous, because I honestly didn't know if those sorts of feelings were brewing in me and I'd been ignoring them- as we sometimes do when we don't want to think about things.

So this evening when one pair of my friends told me they were expecting a baby, I was very pleasantly taken aback by how astonishingly FULL OF GLEE I was, both inside and out. In fact I felt so warm and fuzzy and happy I failed to stop myself from actually physically jumping around the room!

I'm so happy! Yes things will change, but things are always constantly changing anyway- we are no longer the children, the teenagers or even the youths we once were. Plus I can't wait to be Auntie Tash and help my friends out wherever I can and make a fuss over the baby.

What amazing news to receive at the end of winter, when the days are growing longer and the weather warms up. I wish both of my friends health and that everything goes smoothly. In the meantime, I'll keep my baking skills finely honed and start looking at tiny clothes for tiny people... and start wondering if I'll be the cool aunt or the weird aunt!

Best Valentine's Day Ever

"Geeeek!" A girl called out, pointing dramatically at the guy who had answered a particularly tough question correctly. The rest of the room laughed raucously. It was the right place for it: after all, it was Geek Quiz Night.

I have never done anything in particular for Valentine's day, even when I was in a relationship. I don't have anything particularly against it, but I don't see the point of it either- why do we need one official day to tell a special someone we love them, much less throw money at heart-shaped tat? Needless to say, my casual stance on the whole thing has me both celebrating neither the original Valentine's day nor anti-Valentine's day nor even 'singles awareness day'.

This year, in the spirit of embracing my new more sociable self and also to cheer up one of my friends who's special someone is serving in the force at the moment, three of us ventured out into Central London to grab food and see the new Lego movie.

After dinner, we still had almost two hours to go until the movie, so I dragged my two friends to MADD, a hipster geek-chic dessert bar that styles itself on serving its desserts with fresh mango while offering retro arcade games, newer Playstation and Xbox games and a huge selection of card and board games to play with- not to mention a great variety of retro video game-themed cocktails. The three of us being pretty geeky, we felt right at home.

A large group had gathered in the middle of the room, and we caught snippets of conversation about a geek quiz being held. That sounded awesome! Just as my friends and I were debating on asking if we could join in, the organiser stopped by our table and asked if we'd like to join in. Yes please!

The Lego movie now abandoned for some spontaneous geekery, we ended up having a slightly bonkers and entirely great fun night. During the charity raffle in the middle of the quiz one of my friends won a homemade nail polish, and I won a big, gorgeous copy of The Adventures and Memoires of Sherlock Holmes, which I spent the remaining duration of the quiz hugging (and which I am now currently devouring at terrifying speed).

What a great group of people it was, too: sometimes I'm wary about proclaiming myself to be a geek, especially as a girl, because sometimes people can get quite competitive and weirdly aggressive about it. The room last night was full of TV geeks, film geeks, book geeks, gamer geeks, baking geeks- all different kinds.

The night was full of good food, good experiences and good company, and out of all of the Valentine's days that have snuck past me, this one was definitely my favourite so far.

Adventures in Iceland: Notes from the Nose

The organist hammered out the final chord and let go with a flourish. We visitors sat in spellbound silence as the notes ascended and then evaporated into the arches of Hallgrímskirkja. All was still.

The moment was shattered when my friend Siu Yen suddenly convulsed violently and let out an explosive sneeze. The sneeze bounced joyfully off of the church pillars and upwards, as if chasing the last notes of the organ. A second, heavier silence.

“Well... that was embarrassing.” My friend muttered.

Actually, I Rather Like People After All

Yesterday evening I met up with some of my fellow ex-contestants from the karaoke contest I took part in, just for a fun Japanese (and English, in my case) karaoke session together. I had great fun, and in the process got to know some new people a little better. I think my favourite moment was when I was chatting to the eldest member of the group on the way to the bar afterwards- a small, not-old-yet Japanese lady with a mischievous smile- and laughing about the sex shops we were walking past in Soho. She even quite knowingly asked me if I knew one particular shop in London aimed at ladies (to which I was just a tiny bit embarrassed and rather a lot more impressed!) She had up and left Japan at a young age, taking no friends or family with her, to start fresh in London: in fact a few others in the group had done similar, one even having lived in four different countries so far.

Recently I've been making an effort to go out and meet new people, and in the recent months I have met some awesome people and made some new friends along the way. It's occasions like this where I re-think the thing I have been telling myself pretty much all my life, which is:

'I hate people.'

Well? what does that actually mean? When I dissect it, it isn't a very nice way to go about life. I like lots of people- love them to bits, in fact. So when I used to say 'I hate people', I was directing this at the general public. In general.

But just who are the general public?

Potential friends. Potential enemies. Potential awkward but friendly chats in the queue or dirty looks after bumping into one another. A huge mix of human beings that are capable of doing the most wonderful and the most terrible things you can imagine, and every one as complex as the other.

There is a lot of cruelty in the world that I can't understand and that makes me sick, sad and angry. These things deserve hate, yes- but I believe that I've realised that it's not right to go about life hating the general public as a default. I'll try to be more open.

(Having said that, I hope I never have to work as a waitress or in customer services ever again.)

I Did It! The Nodojiman Karaoke Contest at Japan Matsuri London

On Saturday I got up there in front of thousands of people and danced and sung Tsukema Tsukeru ('putting on false eyelashes').

It was EPIC.

Even though nerves made my voice go horribly strained and wobbly from trying to escape my throat, I danced by butt off and felt pretty epic. I had an amazing bunch of friends cheering me on, my mum and dad looking on in pride and amusement, and the other amazing contestants lined up behind me cheering and clapping along too. Sadly my voice let me down too much to be in the running for a prize, but I didn't mind at all. The winners were incredible (the winner of the first prize had a truly jaw-dropping voice), and I felt like I had leveled up in life. I got a lot of attention outside the competitions regarding how I'd done my makeup too, which was funny (falsies- of course, rhinestones around my eyes and lots of pink and glitter).

When I posted the video on my Facebook, my friend Ruthie- who I've known since I was at school- commented:

'Wow. had strange moments of remembering how shy you were when we met...and watching this... amazing xxx'

I replied:

'This caterpillar sure turned into one crazy-ass butterfly, huh? xxx'

Honestly, if you'd have known me those thirteen years ago- hell, even as little as three years ago- I'd have never dreamed of getting up on stage in the middle of London and potentially making an utter arse of myself in front of thousands of strangers. Sure I performed all the time on the piano at school concerts all the time and one or two other things, but I always felt secure behind a piano- but even after years of singing, I never liked singing in front of people. But you know what? Saturday felt fantastic. I'm definitely going to practise so I can do a better job next year, if I'm lucky enough to be accepted a second time.

In the meantime, I feel like I'm ready to venture back into music again- I do have a dipABRSM in performance and two additional Grade 8's after all and it would be a shame to let them go to waste... if only I could find a way to squeeze it in between baking, writing and the Mandarin course and Google Analytics course I've recently taken up.

In any case, I turn 26 next weekend. Bring it on, bitches. I'm ready.

Worst Attempted Pick-Up Ever

After Siu Yen's birthday meal and the live comedy show after, we all headed down to a bar for cocktails. As we descended the stairs into the bar, some random guy caught up with me and walks beside me on the stairs.

"They say walking down the stairs by someone's side is bad luck, did you know?" He shouted over the din of the music and crowd.

"Huh?" I turned around as I walked on, at first not entirely sure that this question was directed at me.

"Yeah," he said seriously, "But I reckon tonight it's pretty lucky for me!"

I blinked, and laughed while quirking a single eyebrow.

"Really?" I couldn't hide the ironic disbelief in my voice. The poor guy fell back as my group carried onwards.

B+ for effort.

When Was the Last Time...

... that you were proud of yourself? Properly 'wow, I'm actually pretty awesome aren't I?' proud.

I'd typed out a message to my friend Vicky (whom I visited in Berlin not too long ago), bemoaning all the stuff I've gotten myself into and how relentlessly busy I've become- partially to block out my fear of the future, partially because of the 'just say yes' policy I've come to loosely adopt in order to stop myself from being the social recluse I once was. I was just internally reflecting upon how I must be some kind of idiot to take on so much, when Vicky's reply popped up.

'I know you don't mean it but .... stop making me feel bad! I feel so lazy...'

I blinked. Lazy? Vicky? 'Mate', I thought to myself, 'You up and went to Germany for two years just like that to teach English, having known no-one in the country beforehand, became really proficient at German as a language itself, you're teaching yourself Russian now- successfully for such a difficult language, too- and you're also about to go to Peru to learn Spanish and travel!'

It's funny isn't it, the way we perceive ourselves? It made me realise how I'm just as guilty of ignoring my good points as anyone else (except for maybe two of my friends, who are unusually exceptional- especially for a couple of fellow Brits- at recognising their own amazingness; I say this with no guile).

I, like anyone else, suffer from that horrible, mean little thing called Envy. I envy Vicky, for doing what I've always wanted to do and travelling by herself to discover the world, carving out her own path by her own terms, whereas I'm too cowardly. I envy Lucia, who goes on trips away with their friendship groups in Birmingham that are too awkward for me to join in on, being in a different city. I envy Toria, who makes friends so easily, and keeps them. I envy all my friends who have their own houses while I'm a City Statistic still living with my parents, trying to save for an elusive place in London. And let's not even go into the envy I feel for people I don't even know.

If, up until just now, you'd have asked me when the last time I felt proud of myself was, I'd probably have replied '2006.' Now I know how ridiculous this is.

This isn't a brag post; I won't list the things I've found to be proud of for myself. But I have found some, all the same. The thing to remember is not to be the best of everything- that's impossible, and few even get to be the best at anything- but to be the best at being yourself. Cliché, but no less true now than when you were told this in nursery.

It's pretty much impossible to see ourselves the way other people do. The best guide we can have is to try and understand the way our friends see us: after all, surely they wouldn't be our friends if we were as ineffective and silly as we thought we were, right? I know I'm proud of my friends, and know that they're all amazing people with their own amazing qualities. Logically, it stands to reason that the feeling is mutual.

So if ever any of you have a 'God, why am I so useless?' moment (as we all have, sometimes), remember how your friends see you, and know that even if you can't understand it yourself, your friends admire and respect you for a reason.

Moments with Friends- Part 2

This is also actually a supplement story to the Romantically Challenged entry I wrote last year (the one where I tried to start a conversation with a nice-looking guy who worked in a chocolate shop by more or less asking him if he liked chocolate... yes, yes I know).

On that same day Lucia and I were perusing all the different flavours in that shop when another man who worked there came to educate us about chocolate.

"Chocolate is a journey", he said almost reverently at one point as he handed us a sample. Lucia and I stole a glance at each other, neither one of us sure if he was being serious or pulling our legs.

"Yes, you can really pick out different types of flavours," Lucia said bravely, subtly turning to me to give a half-shrug as I quirked an eyebrow back.

"It's interesting how chocolate from different origins works with different flavours: for example the truffles over there all work well with fillings, whereas this sort of chocolate is good enjoyed flat." He held out a bar of chocolate to indicate.

"What do you mean, 'flat?'" I asked, still in the world of flavours. Now both Lucia and the store assistant turned to look at me.

"...Flat?" The store assistant repeated slowly.

"Er- yes," I began, the feeling of realising I'd misunderstood something obvious- but still not knowing what it was- making my face slowly flush.

"It's a flat chocolate," he said, just as flatly.

"Yes. Um. Yes, but what does 'flat' mean?"

I saw Lucia grin out of the corner of my eye, realising that I wasn't actually asking about what the word itself meant, as the shop assistant looked at me like I was some kind of buffoon.

"It's flat. The chocolate is flat. See?" He held it out in the palm of his hand.

Flat. It had a flat shape.

The penny dropped.

"Ohhh I see! Haha, I thought you were talking about flavour or texture, like when a soft drink is fizzy or flat, and I was wondering if there was a chocolate equivalent of a flat drink, or..." I tailed off, embarrassed.

"No." He said, and simply walked off. I felt my face grow hotter and hoped that the other nice-looking guy hadn't overheard.

~Fin~

'What does flat mean?' Hah. In my defence, it's not that I'm stupid: it's just that I'm so clever that sometimes my tangled brain overcomplicates things unnecessarily- this has actually been said about me many times.

Funnily enough, this often ends up having exactly the same effect as being stupid.

Moments with Friends- Part 1

I wish I could write down every single special (in every sense of the word) moment I share with each of my friends to keep for ever and ever- it's possibly a bit late to start now, since so many have already been all but forgotten.

Like the time Ruthie and I bought some snacks and were deciding who's bag to put them in, and a total stranger (a guy, for the record) walking past quipped to Ruth 'Put it in yours, totally.'

Or another time when Siu Yen, Josh and I were attempting a trio self-photo when a guy suddenly jumped over the fence behind us, exclaiming 'Yeeeah picture time guys, this is great!', got his phone out and self-photo-ed himself with the three of us before disappearing. (All three of us assumed that the other two of us knew this guy. No-one knew this guy.)

Or the time Toria and I were at Sidmouth folk music festival and she pulled me out of being run into when I blindly walked into a circle of Morris men weilding sticks about to start dancing.

Or even the time Lucia and I spent a good amount of time hand-making dryad costumes for a 'The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe' costume party, painting on our faces and putting streamers in our hair and everything, when everyone else turned up looking normal (save for one rather half-arsed Lion and one guy who wore a box marked 'Wardrobe').

 I think I need to start capturing more of these, starting from now.

Today, Siu Yen and I went on an afternoon tea cruise on the Thames. (Tea and cake on a boat- what's not to like?) We had about half an hour of a guided tour down the river just before food was served, and although a lot of other people were just talking through it, Siu Yen and I were paying attention. Mostly, anyway.

"Where's the dog?" Asked my friend.

"What dog?" I asked, frowning.

"He (the tour guide) just said: 'And on the right you'll see a wet dog.'"

"Siu Yen, I think he said 'wet dock'."

"Ohh! I did think that was a weird thing to point out."

Later on, we were trying to decide who wanted which macaron (there was a chocolate one, a vanilla one and a strawberry one): I find this sort of uneven rationing of food slightly irritating, and usually solve it with a game, wager or a song depending on the situation. Since neither of us particularly wanted one over the other, I went for a song. I pointed my finger at the closest morsel, and sang under my breath 'My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean', jabbing at each macaron with each syllable until the song had finished and I landed on the one that I'd end up eating.

As I landed on the final one ('Oh bring back my bonnie to ME') and plucked it from the tray, I caught my friend staring warily at me.

"Er... what?"

"What on Earth was that?" Asked my friend.

"What?" I asked again, macaron still hovering in mid-air halfway to my mouth.

"That song, what was it? It was a little creepy!"

"You've never heard of My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean? Old folk song, men going off to war, the women sing about it and the like?"

"Nope. But I'm glad it's 'Bonnie'. I thought you said 'Body'."

~Fin~