I have two weeks off from work. Today is day 1. 

I had leftover kunafah from this Yemeni restaurant with tea, and it was so good. Morning was made. I don't have a lot on my to do list today. Don't know if that's good or bad. Oh crap. I have to call mom. So I'll do that before I forget. Okay did that. My mom cries every now and then, when we video call. She says she misses me. 'Kahan chali gyi ho?/Where have you gone?' And I say it's okay, and I make light it of it. And it's not my style to do that. Usually I would just cry with her. But somehow I don't. Somehow, I act okay and it works. Fake it till you make it I guess.

I've been a little homesick lately. It comes in waves. I try not to think about it, because what else am i going to do? 

I went to explore the nearby library today. 

The other day me and work colleagues went out for pizza. Stayed out for 3-4 hours, after which my jaws hurt from laughing and my voice cracked from talking so much. What a wonderful feeling. I inundate them with stories of pakistan. Social culture, language, slang, mannerisms, food, cricket. I find my self talking about home so much. That's comes as a bit of a surprise to me, but I'm glad to represent. 

It's day 6 or 7 today. Its raining this morning. The view from my window is dreamy. Trees, houses, a grey sky. And rain so imperceptible, you have to stare at tiny puddles on rooftops to notice the micro splashes, to know it's really raining. 

If i think about it. Success to me, is connection and fulfillment. Knowing you are good, are able to do good, and have enough money to live comfortably which is of course subjective. But peak success I think, is having, forming, sustaining genuine connections. Being loved, being understood, seen, supported. Laughing, crying, sharing, feeling that golden rush of emotion, the spark that lights your soul as it flows through you. The other day, I was thinking about what would be a good reason for me to bring a child into this world. And I thought for me, it could be a way to experience a love that transcends most other types of love. The ability to expand, not just physically but emotionally and mentally to make room for...more.. of everything. I think that would be reason enough.

Damn, this post has been sitting in my drafts for some time. I better post it. 

Look at us now.

 I've been an emotional soup for the past two weeks I think. Last week, a co-worker that i knew for barely three months, left. And i cried in front of everyone. At work. My tears love to betray me. But s1 later said not to worry, cuz its your style. I'm not sure I love my style, but its true, it really is my style. To cry in non ideal circumstances with -1000 control over my tears. Then I cried for two days over a really sad thing, and it broke my heart all over again. Some days, i was just a vegetable at home. I don't know what it is exactly. But. Man, these emotions. The other day I had a patient with something called Reactive anxiety. Halfway through her testing, she started to cry. She kept apologizing profusely for her tears. I wanted to hold her hand, and reassure her over and over. I did try. I told her i was a crier too and that it was completely okay. But she said she was mortified, and I felt so sad. 

Life is beautiful and achy. All the bloody time. 

I had the day off today. I woke up early. Made some phone calls. Talked to parents as well. Dad made jokes again, after a long time. My heart smiled. Mom told the same recipes over and over. I watched Daisy Jones and The six. Made myelf a paratha. Had lots of chai and half a slice of cheesecake. Took a long shower, sang songs from Smallville and One tree hill. And then cleaned the entire apartment. Did four loads of laundry. And made food. I'm waiting for A to get home, so we can have dinner. He will bring naan. Oh btw, we are moving into a new apartment at the end of this month. 

I've been writing so many posts on this blog. It's just that they stay in my mind, and never make it to the keyboard. Today i decided, I will write anything and just post. I don't want to stop writing. I always tell myself I will write more, but then don't. But. There's another thing. More and more, it almost doesn't feel safe, to put my thoughts out here. On the internet. Not that many people are reading it, its just that, many people can. I have thoughts from 10 years ago on here. I don't know. Feels kind of exposed. Oh well.

Sometimes, I am so proud of myself. Sometimes, I wish that was enough for me. 

Hmm. Its friday night today. I will try to write in here all weekend. Let's see what I come up with. 

Guess what it is today. Friday again. Ha ha. I wrote nothing all week, but here i am next friday, writing again. This week was nice. Had a bunch of half days at work, and I am off work again today. Wow. I'm about to make maggie and watch bridgerton. But what i am really doing, is running away from important things that I have to do. I just dont know okay? I don't know what to do. Maybe i do know what to do but i don't want to do it. I don't want to finish that research paper. I don't want to live in unceratinty anymore. YUCK. Sometimes I feel so resigned. You know how they say not making a choice is also a choice. Maybe that's what Im doing. 

I've been having anxiety dreams lately. A ton of them. 

The truth is, despite everything, life remains beautiful. What can I say. No one's going to have everything.

 Lately, I've had this feeling, over and over again. That. The connections, bonds and relationships you build over your lifetime are the most precious things in life. To meet people, old and new, to laugh with them, complain about how sucky adulting is, reminisce, offer support and get back some - it's beyond beautiful. Family, friendships, kind words. That's the stuff of life. I often think of how when we die, no one will talk about our grades, our designation or that paper we tried to publish or the job we couldn't get. They won't talk about that time you were having a bad hair day or your outfit wasn't on trend. They will talk about how well you listened, the advice you gave, the stories you shared and the laughter. They will remember that you made them feel at ease, you didn't judge, you made their day, perhaps their life, better. Me and s1 were talking the other day and I told her that I feel that I have been well loved. To be able to say that, to have witnessed love in its multitude, to have lived in people's hearts, to continue to do so - what else can one want? 

Fever dreams.

 A perfect time to write. 

It's 3:50 pm. Monday afternoon. Late afternoon? It's been raining non stop. Snowed a little while i was sleeping. While A was getting ready for work and I was dreaming up a murder mystery with an ensemble cast. Where I was the murder victim and right before the end, when the killer was looking for me and I was trying to call out for help, I lost my voice. No matter what I did, I couldn't shout for help. But then a stoned asian family sort of saved me. And then I woke up. It was 12. Noon. I had a two day old leftover falafel wrap for breakfast. And tried a new flavor of coffee. Both were great. The living room is cosy, the white buttery soft cardigan I'm wearing is cozy and so are my dog printed pyjamas. I'm watching that movie, Good grief on netflix. That is very cozy as well. 

You know what I miss? I miss friends. I miss the proximity of relations, friendships. The sillyness and laughter of friendships. The variety. That version of you that comes out with that person. Different people, different versions. But more or less the same. I spoke to V on the phone a while ago, and we talked about the royal family and then a little bit about our own families. THAT was very cozy as well. A warm heart, a light heart. Full, but not heavy. What else can one need?

If I could paint, I would paint portraits of people and fill the background with colours and images of what I imagine their subconscious would look like. I also feel that a lot of art lives inside me. An excess of emotion and imagination. What do I do with it? I think I would thrive in rooms with similar minds. But those rooms evade me. Those conversations evade me. Why please?

A great thing about cooking, other than eating delicious food, is boxing up some for your friends and giving it to them. I really love doing that. 

Another thing that I have realized about myself is that my personal style in terms of fashion, is very basic. Toned down, practical. Severe casual leaning. Not always. But it's what comes naturally to me. 

Its 9:54 pm now. It's still raining. I went to the gym. I ran. The endorphins did me some good. It snowed and rained at the same time, while i ran on the treadmill, listening to boyz in paris. Haha. Before that I went up to give our friends/neighbours the food I made last night. She gave me some pizza dough and a jacket. Sat with them for some chitchat. That was cozy too. It gave me joy. I've had dinner, I'm showered and scrubbed, smelling nice and finishing up Good Grief. 

This weekend, I'm flying. To meet s1 and to stay with her for a few weeks after which I fly back home. Since when is this my life, where I fly here and there. Who am I? A lot of things have worked out this year. I checked all the boxes, except for the main one, the one I worked all year for. Life is tricksy that way. I think I'm dealing with it better than I thought i would. Kudos to me. At the gym, I saw a Sean Bean doppleganger. Maybe it was him. I guess we will never know.