the seventh wheel

I should've guessed that writing a blog about being single in my twenties wouldn't make me much of a relationship expert --but rather an expert at being single, at going on bad/weird/okay dates, and collecting stories for the ages. It's a good thing I'm writer, at least the stories have somewhere to go.

Which is basically why I find myself back here. To the blog that started a little over five years ago, just as a relationship was ending; like an ominous sign that I was about to lose a part of my life and I needed to reconnect with my words to survive it.

There's been a lot of ups and downs and trips sideways since then. Not just in love, but in life. And somewhere along the way, I turned thirty. And writing a blog about dating and relationships and life in your thirties is a little different. I no longer have a rat-pack of guys feeding me their latest conquests stories. Almost all the rats are married. Or engaged. The girls that used inspire me with broken hearts and awful dates are now talking wedding arrangements, house decor and baby feedings. But I'm not ready to write about any of those things.

Because I'm still stuck in another phase. The one where you're supposed to be a grownup, supposed to have your life together, a real apartment (but you have a really cute studio!), a boyfriend who is marriage material, money on the side... and you don't.

So I'm here, writing. What else am I gonna do? My words, they keep me company. They keep me from driving myself insane. When I write them down, it stops them from growing fangs in my brain. When I put them out there, I know that someone might relate.

You joke about being the Bridget Jones amongst your friends. You laugh about being the seventh wheel every Friday night at dinner because everyone else comes in pairs and you just come with a new hairdo. You smile when the one-hundredth person asks you if you've "met someone yet" when you go home for the holidays.

Until one day, the joke doesn't make you laugh, it makes you cry. You feel a little lonely in your world and you're tired of hiding behind your feelings, because they'll think you're being a drama queen. Or a martyr. God forbid you should actually admit that you're lonely sometimes. That being single isn't easy.

But it's not all drama. The truth is, I'm just having a bad day. A lot of the times, I'm happy I'm still free. That anything can happen, that my life could turn upside down and that the possibilities are endless. That age, despite how much society defines it, is just a number and if people think I still look 23, well then I must be.

I'm going now, it's all very real

About a month and a half ago, I came back from New York City after having spent 5 weeks there, on pause. No work, no obligations, the city that never sleeps and a good friend was just what I needed to get my shit back together. I realise that I often lose my own path and find myself wondering again and again what I want to do, really. That trip made me realise many important things: first that I need to leave Beirut, at least for a while. Second that when I'm far away (i.e. 5,600 miles) I feel free from the family-related responsibilities that take up so much of my energy when I'm around. That my dream is still to write a book, and that I should just sit down and write it already. And that my life isn't going to change if I don't change it myself [basically, if I sit back and wait for change, well, it's never going to happen.]

So armed with all this new and wise information I've processed about my current situation, I decided to try my luck and move to New York. Note that I'm doing that with no real plan in sight, except for the hope to pitch some good stories and make some money working freelance, no money (well, that's a lie, a bit of money that could last me a month I guess) and no work permit (don't even get me started on that). Am I scared? I'm terrified. And absolutely excited about it.

Before I left New York at the end of November, I promised myself I was coming back. Even left a few sweaters at my friend's apartment (because they just wouldn't fit in my suitcase) and told everyone (and I mean everyone) that I was planning on moving back to New York in January. I told everyone so it would make it harder for me to back out on this decision. Because, as it happens, the more time I spend in this country, the more anxious I become about making the move.

Truth is, it's not that big of a risk. Worse comes to worst, I'll just pack it all up in a few months and fly my ass back here, at ground zero, where I suspect things will still be the same.

So two days ago, I received a payment which I had promised myself I would use to buy my ticket to New York. I didn't let myself spend a penny of it, I just immediately went online and picked a flight, return date back at the end of May. There we go. Paid. Done. I'm going now, it's all very real.

I should maybe have a farewell party, but I know I'll be back soon enough, we always do. Maybe I'll start a new blog when I get there, New York Rhapsodies or Rhapsodies in New York, don't know yet. The topic: Late 20s Lebanese writer decides to change her life and buys a ticket to New York with no plan and just enough savings to survive a month. She will crash on her gay best-friend's couch (for a little while, I promise!) and they will have lots of fun adventures to share with the world (I hope).

Writing this and posting it, just like telling everyone I was planning to move before I bought my ticket, also makes it more real for me. I'm doing it, even though I'm scared. I'm usually a planner, you see --my friends make fun of me because I need to make a list about everything and anything; it comforts me to know what's coming. Yet I also like adventure, and this is one I'm jumping at with both feet. Whatever happens, I hope I get good stories out of it. That's all that matters in the end.

time to say goodbye

All good things come to an end. And this is just one of those things.

There are a lot of good things I've watched come to an end that I never wanted to see, but it's taught me to recognize when it's time to cut the cord.

You see, when I started this blog, I was unhappy. I was in a relationship that wasn't working, I couldn't remember any of the things I liked to do, I had no direction in which to pursue my career, I hadn't written in years and I didn't know what to do. And things evolved the way they should: A breakup, which taught me everything I needed to know about myself, my strengths, my expectations of a good relationship. Months of celibacy which helped me have fun again. Peaking my interest in different directions, like charity work, acting, film-making, writing for the screen. Traveling to the four corners of the world, visiting wonderful places from San Francisco to Thailand. Finding out who I am, what I am and how I want to live.

Last year like today, I met the boy who I've come to refer to as my Parisian... and as unexpected as my falling for him was, I have to say I am a really lucky gal. I'm won't overstretch on this, otherwise he'll get a big head, but in fewer words: it's been a full year now, and I am happier than ever. Because not only am I happy in love, I can now confidently say that I know what I want from my life.

So here I am, finally setting off to be what I've always wanted to be: a writer. I have decided to take a year off, move to Paris --because what better place to write than in the city that inspired the greatest writers in the world?

And so it is time to start a new chapter of my life. I am writing the closing lines to what has been an amazing experience and I am so excited to see what is ahead.  It is all thanks to the readers I've had following me through every post, hugging me on street (I swear, it's happened), telling me that what I write means so much to them, and giving me faith in my words. And now I'm ready to put those words on real pages.

So this isn't the last you'll hear from me, that's a promise.

do a great deal of it

"You do get to a certain point in life where you have to realistically, I think, understand that the days are getting shorter, and you can't put things off thinking you'll get to them someday. If you really want to do them, you better do them. There are simply too many people getting sick, and sooner or later you will. So I'm very much a believer in knowing what it is that you love doing so you can do a great deal of it." Nora Ephron


Today Nora Ephron has died and you might not know who she is but you most definitely have seen her work. She wrote "When Harry met Sally" --need I say more? I, for one, admire this woman who is everything I want to be: a writer, a screenwriter, a journalist, an editor, a director... the only I would add to the list, for myself, would be actor. Otherwise, she had that life policy that I try to remember and apply, even though many a times I fail: know what you love doing so you can do a great deal of it. And if you love a lot things then you should do all of them. 


I find that even if we know that's the way we should live our lives, we tend to get caught up in the midst of bills and day-jobs and routines that sometimes make us forget. I know I forget to write all the time and when I remember, I'm too exhausted to do it. In the mean time though, life happens. Days pass by and there is no way we will ever get them back. So the only thing to do is get on that wheel and try, even if we fail. Even if we're scared. 


In her memory, here are some of my favorite quotes of her:

• "What failure of imagination had caused me to forget that life was full of other possibilities, including the possibility that eventually I would fall in love again" [Nora Ephron, I feel bad about my neck]

• "It’s always hard to remember love -years pass and you say to yourself, Was I really in love, or was I just kidding myself? Was I really in love, or was I just pretending he was the man of my dreams? Was I really in love, or was I just desperate?" [Nora Ephron, I feel bad about my neck]

• "Everybody dies. There's nothing you can do about it. Whether you eat six almonds a day. Whether or not you believe in God. (I Remember Nothing: And Other Reflections)

• "You can't retrieve your life (unless you're on Wikipedia, in which case you can retrieve an inaccurate version of it).” [I Remember Nothing: and Other Reflections]

• "Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim." — '96 Wellesley commencement address

looking for my mojo

Last week I panicked when I realized I couldn't write. I could barely come up with one paragraph to tell you all that I can't write... And I thought of taking a long break, get my thoughts together, maybe get some real inspiration brewing... but then I realized that I might never come back from that lengthy break, so I'd rather try all sorts of stuff to get my mojo back...

So the first thing I did, of course, is google "writer's block." It's funny how the first thing we do in any situation now is go to google. And here's how Wikipedia defines it: Writer's block is a condition, primarily associated with writing as a profession, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work. The condition varies widely in intensity. It can be trivial, a temporary difficulty in dealing with the task at hand. At the other extreme, some "blocked" writers have been unable to work for years on end, and some have even abandoned their careers. So it's a condition. And here I thought it was just one of those things writers used as an excuse when they had nothing to write about!


So now that I know I have a condition I feel the need to treat it. I found all sorts of articles on how to overcome writer's block... And there were some very strange ideas, like "talk to a monkey or a stuffed animal." No comment.  Another was "take a shower, change clothes." Seriously. Like that's something you should do only if you're really desperate to write. And my ultimate favorite: "Find God." I don't know about you, but if I find God, I won't give a shit about writing anymore.


Anyway apparently there's a serious lack of good tips when it comes to getting yourself out of writer's block. My suspicion is it's because anyone who's ever attempted to write these tips were trying to overcome writer's block themselves, and just ended up by listing a bunch of crap. 


I've been trying to write a long time, so I've tried my fair share of crap before. Do not go isolate yourself for three days in Faraya when the weather is gloomy and your hotel room barely fits a bed. Ordering crappy room service while watching fuzzy TV and feeling lonely will not get you inspired. You'll just end up leaving by the end of day 2, even if it's dark outside and the fog is thick and you're afraid for your life while you drive back down. You'll just be out of three hundred bucks. 


Oh and do not buy five different books from Amazon.com that all promise to help you write the world's next best-selling novel. They take too long to arrive, you pay three times their worth on shipping and handling (what is "handling" anyway?) and when they actually get here and you take all five of them on your isolation retreat in Faraya, you're probably only gonna read the first three pages of each and decide that no one can tell you how to write, it's an inner talent that everyone works with differently. 


Here's what I'm willing to try to see if I can get my mojo back: I'm going to come up with a list of 8 things to do in the next month [February]. And we'll see what happens for each... if nothing else, there will be pictures to prove my efforts.

1. Shock a complete stranger. I don't know how yet
2. Be blond for a day... and a night
3. Call in sick, and see where the day goes
4. Rats night out: convince the Rats to leave their belles at home one night and give me some oh so needed Rattitude
5. Go on a road-trip: somewhere I've never been
6. Give someone something for V day even though I hate it and it's corny and whatever
7. Read the letters my grandparents wrote each other before they were married
8. Look for God, obviously 

So... wish me luck.