all cynicism aside

Last night, I officially lost my back-up plan.

And by that I mean that my best-friend, who, coincidentally, is also my first kiss, first "boyfriend," first love, first guy I ever received a gift from (a pepsi can when I was 8) and first boy I ever gave a Valentine's to (a red heart-shaped cardboard with heart-shaped pasta glued on it, when I was 10), has officially proposed to his girlfriend of 5+ years. In our late teens, we had said that if we were both single at 28 (which seemed like centuries away at the time), then we would be each other's back-up plans. But he beat me to it! A few months ago we had dinner and he told me "I'm giving you 3 months notice." That was code for: I'm going to propose.

And so last night, at around 11pm, I get a phone call saying he did it. And the best part? He was so excited! In a matter of minutes, I was gathered with my boys and the latest addition to our circle, his lovely fiancee. And for one night, as they told us the tale of the big proposal, and as we watched him tell us the details with his eyes beaming with joy, we were all so genuinely happy for him.

Same was that feeling on Sunday night, when we partied until the wee hours of the morning, celebrating my beautiful cousin's engagement. Her smile and excitement made me forget all about my fears of eternal commitment, my criticism of modern day marriage, my statistics about divorce rates and my theories about love in the 21st century. It was just a happy moment, and it was as genuine as they get.

All and all, it was a good week for love. And, all cynicism aside, whatever we each choose for our lives, I hope we all get that moment of happiness. 

the next best thing

Yesterday was mother's day and for the first time in eleven years, I wasn't sad. Of course I miss my mother, like I miss her every day. But I was so much closer to her yesterday than any other year I spent curled up in my corner afraid to look at all those people buying flowers for their mothers. I always thought the only time I would ever enjoy mother's day again would be when I would become a mother. Turns out I just had to change perspectives. 

I woke up drowned in kisses from my Parisian which immediately put a smile on my face. Then I went to the spa to enjoy an hour-long facial something where they put cream after cream on your face and massage your head and all you have to do is lie there and close your eyes and enjoy it --if I can't send my mother to the spa, why don't I just treat myself to it? 

Then I called my sister, and unfortunately, she was not in the same mood as me, so I decided to take her out to lunch. There's this adorable new diner in Mar Mikhael I knew she would love and we stuffed ourselves with burgers and fries and I spotted her smile. If I can't take my mother out to lunch in a place named after the diner in Grease (one of her favorite movies) then taking my sister is the next best thing.

She then took me to a place called Karout, where you buy anything you can think of for very reasonable prices and we spent two hours there buying things for this crazy brunch I'm throwing on Sunday. It was fun because it was the kind of outing I would love to do with my mom and it just so happens that it's also great to do with my sis. When we left, we got sort of lost and had no idea where we were, got stuck in terrible traffic, and I started getting worried that we would never make it on time to visit my mother at the cemetary. And sure enough... three minutes later, we find ourselves across the street from it!

Later that day, we drove up, my brother, my sister and I, to Baadat, where my aunt lives. You see, she lost her husband about three months ago and so we decided together with her 3 daughters that we would do something special for her. We got there before she came back home and prepared a nice dinner for her, put her favorite flowers (Mimosas) all over the house, and waited to surprise her. And when she saw us, she cried of happiness. If I can't celebrate my mother and shower her with dinner and flowers, then I can do it for the only other woman who has known me my whole life and loves me unconditionally.

And now I'm sitting here and writing this and all I can do is smile because I know that through everything I did yesterday, through everything I do every day, I celebrate my mother. I don't need to be sad or cry to miss her. I can just channel it in a positive way. I can enjoy the next best thing.

it's a wrap!

I can't believe it's that time of the year again.

The lights are shining on every street in the country --it's not just green and red anymore, now it's purple, blue, yellow and pink. The songs are overtaking every FM station I have a hard time listening to on a normal day. We did the tree at home like we do every year, my sister, my brother and me, with the cheesiest Christmas Carols in the background because it's our tradition and it reminds me that even though the years go by, we always find ourselves once a year to do this together. Christmas had different meanings for me in the course of my relatively short life and I am surprised to discover a whole new feeling this year.

When I was a child Christmas was about presents and Santa. For the last ten Christmases, it's been about missing loved ones. But suddenly I feel like I might have grasped a new meaning to what this holiday is about, at least for me.

I feel profoundly lucky. I was just thinking that on Sunday, driving down from Bikfaya where I had a 48hour shoot this weekend. We barely got any sleep, were up on our feet in the freezing cold since 5.30AM and were shooting all day with our heels digging in the mud and our fingers turning blue. Yet this weekend was magical. The energy of people coming together to create something fun, even if it's hard work, and to smile and laugh and freeze while doing it made me realize that the single goal I had set for myself this year, I've actually reached: I found passion.

I smiled as I had that thought, driving down in the fog without my eyeglasses and with smudges on my windshield, feeling completely blinded. I smiled because I realized I am not waiting for anything to happen to me anymore: it's around me, all the time, and I feel it. I wake up in the morning and I can't wait to get started with my day because I have so many things that I want to do and people that I want to see and I know that I am lucky to feel that way. It didn't used to be like that. It used to be: I believe that I will do something fulfilling one day, and in the mean time I was filling the gaps. Now the days and the weeks and the months are all converging in one giant bubble of time. I don't stop and do nothing anymore, and when I do, I actually appreciate every second of nothingness, making it a special activity in and of itself.  I've learned how to appreciate time.

When I was younger, 10 or 11, I didn't really have friends to hang out with in school. I was bit shy, I didn't know how to impose myself, so I would hide out in the school library during recess, always finding comfort in my books. Then things changed, and I met the group of people I have been friends with ever since. I've always felt lucky to have them, and I thought I didn't really need other friends. I never really made an effort being social --who needs a million acquaintances anyway? Turns out I was wrong to be so closed-up to people for so many years. This year, I met new people every week, made a dozen of new friends, each of them unique in his own way and all of them important. And I've learned that everyone I meet can bring something good to my life.

And as family goes, I've never felt closer to them. It's true, we've had another loss this year, this month actually. But Saturday morning, as my aunt enters her third week as a widow, she will still get up and make "Shorbet el Eid," stuff the turkey and set-up the table. The Christmas tree will still be lit and the presents will still come, and the magic of Christmas will have to find us despite the sadness. This is what this holiday is about for me now: last year, I had a thought for all those who passed. All those who are gone and are around us in the form of memories and pictures --and I can't believe that another face is now behind a glass frame. But this year, I'm having a thought for the living. Spending our energy on ourselves and on our loved ones who are right here in front of us, because that is the way to go on, stay strong, and make those above us proud.

So here's a Xmas thought, for the living: Go do a random act of kindness. Be spontaneous, do something big, something small, to someone you know or a perfect stranger.

Rhapsodian guest blogger: Out of the Rathole

 For the first time on Beirut Rhapsodies, my guest blogger is a fellow Rhapsodian. Now let me put her in context for you: she's my one friend of whom I can truly say, without hesitating, is super happy in love right now. Which is why I think her advice is worthwhile. I mean, she's had her share of tears: she has cried more than anyone else I know over guys so she didn't always have it right... but she's on the other side of spectrum right now, and I thought it would be good for us to get a different perspective. 

The last couple of blogs have made me realize that my favorite Rhapsodian needs a helping hand…She has given up on love and I cannot bear seeing  this happening! So I’ve decided to share my 2-cents with her, and with all the girls out there who mumble, not too loud (so that it doesn’t come true!), but once too often, those absolutely atrocious and silly words: “’I’m gonna die alone”.

By no means am I claiming to be wise enough to become a love doctor, nor am I a Vietnam veteran to claim years of experience, but I did have enough bad experiences with a wide spectrum of rats to be able to tell from a distance if one is a plague- carrier or a pure-breed worth taming. Here is a sample of bad experiences that I’m sure are as cliché as it gets but enriching nonetheless:

So there was the first love, that endless relationship I wonder how it ever lasted so long. He was my college sweetheart. He was anything you would want in a guy when you’re 17…but after 5 years, all I wanted was freedom.  The stars must have misunderstood what I meant by freedom, because what I cashed-in instead was an egocentric brat who occasionally cheated and frequently lied and who owned the only phone ever created (I guess it was a prototype) that vanishes  and reappears at the owner’s convenience, meaning he could not always answer my texts and could never call me back.  The phone was designed in such a way that one could only text back should one need a booty call. Of course I was crazy about him because when he wasn’t busy touching his Blackberry or other girls, he would tell me the most wonderful words  that I would foolishly believe. One day he told me it was over by using the infamous “it’s not you it’s me” line, and he hurt me so much that my tears could have filled the Atlantic, back and forth 8 times… Then there was the guy whom I was never good enough for, and who destroyed what was left of my ego: “you’ve put on 300g, I’ve noticed them around your elbow”. Then came the possessive-obsessive-paranoid guy who was jealous of his own shadow…and a few other mice here and there (yes, not even qualified to be called rats) but I won’t dwell more on them…

And then the revelation. The decision. Yes this wonderful resolution we all take after a nauseous succession of plague-carrying rats: NO MORE BOYS I AM GOING TO FOCUS ON ME.

And so I did. Of course I cried sometimes, I missed the attention and the drama that came along with the boyfriends. But I used that time to finally get to know myself. I read more, I spent more time with the girls, reconnected with old friends, did Yoga, ran a marathon, worked harder, bought cooking books, started loving those extra 300g around my elbow, and slowly but surely regained my self confidence. I was finally happy.

 And one day, when I expected it the least, the most amazing charming loving kind funny cultured gentle, did I mention amazing… man came out from a hidden rathole and straight into my heart, and I hope to stay forever.  Today, when I ask myself what good wind brought him my way, I realize there were just a few things that I unconsciously had changed in my behavior that made me more attractive to that better breed of rats. So here are my 2-cents, or 8:

1)     Stop looking: a girl who is constantly hunting is a turn-off. Genuinely enjoy your single self, and one day, when you’re in your sweat pants with the almighty pimple on your left cheek,  thinking you’re looking your worst but actually looking your absolute best natural self,   he will find you.

2)    Know yourself: know what makes you happy and what you will never compromise on, and let no one stop you from getting it: If you need your yoga or your cooking or your time with the girls, make sure you get it.

3)    Know your flaws and make him love you for them: If you are the type that has 5-minute- a-month PMS bitchiness (give or take a few minutes) he should be manly enough to accept it and to love you for it. You’re never going to change, so find a man mature enough to love you “for better or for worse”.

4)    If they want, they can: so if they don’t…they don’t want. Simple equation. Read it 5 times and make it your new 1+1=2. If he wants to be with you, the things he would be willing to do for you would surprise you. So unless you see that type of behavior, don’t waste your time…

5)    Do no settle for less: and that means settle only for MORE. More attention, more care more respect. You were dad’s little princess remember? Now you have to be Rat’s little princess. Let him treat you the way you would treat him, and better, or nothing.

6)    Don’t be a nag: the weeping willow only goes one way: down. When you think nothing could go worse in your life, just switch on the news and put things in perspective. Be grateful for what you have, and someone will be grateful to have you.

7)    Forget the games: when the right guy comes along, you won’t need those “don’t text him back before 109 minutes” rules. If he wants to play, give him an X-box and bid him farewell and tell your little brother you have a pal to spare.

8)    Last but not least: Believe in yourself. You will NOT die alone. Keep this in mind: if Sarah Palin found someone to marry her once, so will you…

when the good stuff comes out

I know I spend a lot of time nit-picking on relationship imbalances, blaming guys for all sorts of devilish attitudes and sometimes it seems like I'm portraying women as victims. The truth is I only talk about themes that appear in my life or in my friends' lives, and it so happens that these are the stories I get. But this week I got a lot of time to look at everything from a different perspective, and I saw something in men that I hadn't seen in a long time.

I was at a wedding in Larnaca on Saturday, the only one I've been to this summer, and it was the sort of wedding where everything was about their love and nothing else. It was so simple --no fluff, no fuss, no one cared about the flower center piece or a big light show or fireworks or whatever it is they do at weddings. Yet there was nothing simple about the way these two felt about each other, how happy they were, and how happy we were to be really sharing this moment. There were 100 guests, so it was intimate, you see. When we danced, the entire party was on the dance floor. The bride was beautiful because of the sheer glow in her eyes and the groom looked at her adoringly and it made us all believe in love. Not one person was sitting there criticizing the dress or the decoration or the choice of entertainment. No one cared and everyone had a wonderful time. A genuine moment, if you know what I mean.

Now in the same week, two of my girls met guys that for once had a very genuine, very healthy approach to flirting. And their first reactions, both of them, was surprise. A guy who actually calls when he says he will, really? A guy who actually stays when you refuse to "go back to his place"? A guy who compliments you for being interesting and fun and "amazing" and is actually listening to the things you say? We kind of forgot they existed. And at first, it's almost boring --because we're not used to liking a guy that doesn't shift our emotions seventy times per minute. But then we realize what it is: the no fluff, no fuss, simple "getting to know each other," when the goal is not to have sex tonight. It still happens, we just forgot.

Even the Rats... they haven't been quoted much lately because, guess what: almost every one of them is in a relationship, and to be honest, they are all amazingly good boyfriends --as far as I can tell. Even though they can be the biggest Rats when they are single, they all have a loverboy side to them and they enjoy it. And it's all wonderful, but it doesn't make for great blog material because who wants to hear about perfect happiness in Lalaland?

So I had a good week, so full of love that I decided I couldn't be cynical and I was just going to mention the good stuff. Maybe it's not the stuff that make a good blog, but it's the stuff that make the good life.

one year of rhapsodies

Last year like today I wrote my first blog post, venting out my frustrations over 21st century relationships and how hard they were becoming. This is how started my year of rhapsodies. Three weeks after the first post, my boyfriend told me he realized that he would probably be happier without me. How ironic for me who was trying to "solve" the enigma of serious relationships, not realizing that if my relationship was going sour it was probably time to breakup. I'm glad he noticed though. Because otherwise I wouldn't have had the wonderful amazing life changing year that I did have from that moment on. Yes I started by crying every tear in my body, analyzed and over-analyzed every second of the previous six months to understand what I did wrong, how I could've saved it, blaming myself for letting him take me for granted, for not loosing weight, for getting too comfortable, until I finally realized that it wasn't just me who didn't make him happy anymore, that I too had been miserable for months. And that realization saved me. So I stopped with the blame game and finally moved on to the next level which was to focus on myself and what I wanted, for me. Yes I had a pile a self-help books before that and the pile tripled over the course of the next few months, because that's what I do, I read books and they make me feel like I'm going to change my life. The good news is, it worked.

I started the blog, friends began to read and share it, debate it around drinks, Rats inspired me to wiesel them in, I was motivated to write again --something I hadn't done in years. Then there was the Breakup, the depression phase, the best-friend moving to Canada, the constant hammering of the Rats for their help on how to get over it, the hours on the phone with Classy who was going through the same thing, the going through about seven dozen used and confused boxes of tissues. Went to Yoga class, took Italian lessons, traveled to Istanbul with friends. Fell in love with a city full of life and history and beauty and rhythm, realized the world was a lot bigger than me and that the possibilities were endless, started smiling again, had the best massage on the face of the earth and it felt better than sex. Reconnected with my childhood friend Rebellious, whom I hadn't seen a lot in the last few years, enjoyed going out again, enjoyed drinking, enjoyed my friends' company more. Wrote a blog-post about my parents which got 900 views. Liked a guy, flirted, kissed him, felt good to be in the "beginning" phase again. Liked other guys, enjoyed being hit on, piled up stories that the Rats laughed about and fed my blog. Went skiing for the first time in four years. Organized a cooking competition that lasted all winter, came in last place but had lots of fun getting there. Made a new friend, a girl, which is very unlikely of me. Asked a friend if I could act in her new TV series [Beirut, I love you] just for the fun of it, spent a day on set, fell in love with everyone, wanted to come back, started helping with anything and everything, spent every weekend on set and many evenings brainstorming scripts, did the makeup, helped with anything I could, made some amazing new friends, felt like I was 19 again, drank beers on the street sitting on the hood of a car, kissed a guy who fell, got obsessed with the shoots, was passionate again. Realized my oldest dream had come true. Marked the ten-year anniversary of my mother's death. Saw my ex for the first time since we broke-up, realized that I wasn't angry anymore and that I didn't miss him even though it was awkward and weird but how could it not be. Turned 26 in Los Angeles, walked into the Kodak Theater where the Oscars take place, went to Vegas and then San Francisco with my best friend, ate the best brunch in the world --felt like I cheated on New York. Took part in the 48hr film project in Beirut and won Best Film, felt like we had just won Cannes, smiled from ear to ear jumped up and down was overly excited. Saw my ex kiss his new girlfriend felt like throwing up in my mouth a litte but then finally felt free. Had the most overwhelming kiss of my life. Read 17 books, took an acting class, jumped from a rock 3 meters high into the sea, went camping, saw the Cedars, got a tattoo, acted a main part in a short film, discovered "The Healing Code" (everyone should read it by the way), cried of laughter until my abs were killing me and I almost couldn't breathe and got the best compliment of my life from a gay friend of mine who said to me: "Women like you make me wish I was straight."

Nothing about this year was as expected. Three-hundred and sixty-five days ago, I lived in a safe routine that I didn't realize was killing every ounce of creativity and passion I had. When writing scripts, we always look for a "catalyst," something that pushes the protagonist forward. This blog was my catalyst. I thought it would help me write a book --and I still hope it will. But now I know that I needed this time to really discover myself, and this is what got the ball rolling. This year I felt alive.

So thanks. To everyone who played a part in this snowball effect of amazingly random events. And to all of you who have been reading Beirut Rhapsodies, inspiring and motivating me.

there are no love stories like in the movies

I have a friend who still believes in love like in the movies. She dreams of passion that would last through decades, that would survive routine and babies and boredom and age, that would awaken sparkles in her eyes even ten, twenty, fifty years down the line. She believes in the happily ever after and she doesn't want to settle for less. Afterall, she's seen it happen. In "The Notebook."

Now last week, I acted in a short film. And it was a love story --like in the movies. I met the actor who I had to fall in love with at 7am Sunday morning and by Sunday afternoon he was proposing on a beach with the sunset in the background. And the truth is when we were acting it out we kept laughing at how weird the whole situation was and how we felt like in a Mexican TV Series, but on screen it just looks like we're happy in love. I saw the footage and it looked so amazing that even I believed it for a second. And the entire film is condensed quick-shots of the evolution of a love that is born, grows, flickers and dies. It travels through time, skips through the boring parts, only shows the audience what they want to see. Think about all the moments of love you've had in you life. If you just edit them and add some amazing soundtrack and tie everything together, you've got your own film.

But there are no love stories like in the movies. In real life, love stories are only felt in glimpses, in moments captured in a sort of capsule that only last in our memories. Love is not perfect. It is not gentle, it is not kind, it is not forgiving. Love is a mess of passionate turns that leave you hanging on the edge of a cliff. It's a roller-coaster that goes up and down and sideways turns your life around and scares the shit out of you all the while giving you the greatest rush of your life.  

This year that I spent out of love was the best way for me to finally understand it. I recognize it now better than ever, and I've learned to appreciate it as what it is: discontinued and rough around the edges. Many a times, it doesn't come inside a wrapped-up package with a pretty bow. And I had a glimpse of it, I think. There's someone was in my life for years and every time I saw him my heart skipped a beat, but it was never good timing for us. And the truth is, I know deep down that if we had gone for it and tried being together, I wouldn't have been happy. But when I was with him for a glimpse of time, I know we had something special. If we had turned this glimpse into a relationship, then I'm afraid it would've spoiled it. So I chose to keep it special: Even now, I can close my eyes and always smile when I think of him, and I just appreciate it for what it is: a love story that could've been. 

last night

Last night, I went to a blues concert. I didn't really know what I was going to watch but ended up happily surprised I was really enjoying it. It was an homage to Dinah Washington, but I admit I had no clue who that was... and the songs were from the 40s and 50s. All very bluesy, very jazzy, very sexy. And most of the stories behind the songs where, of course, about love. The woman who waits for the phone to ring. The one who wonders if the guy is going to decide if they are together, or not. The other who wants her man to decide between her and getting drunk with the boys. The woman who loves a man she really isn't supposed to love. Sounds familiar?

How many times have I called my best friend to say oh my god, I have to tell you what happened last night. I met this guy and we hit off and he took my number and I'm sure he's gonna call don't you think he's going to call? Or she calls me to tell me that last night, she saw her ex, and she knows she shouldn't have but they ended up going back to his place and now she doesn't know where they're at. Oh the drama. So much fun.

Last night I met a boy and it was love at first sight. Last night he said I love you. Last night we had a fight. Last night he broke up with me. Last night I saw my ex for the first time.

Last night I was very tipsy. And I openly talked (and at one point, shouted) about my sex life with the Rats --and it's not entirely impossible that the other twelve people who were in the bar all got a very detailed report about it too.

Last night, I kissed a boy and he fell.  Literally, fell, in the middle of the street, as we were kissing, with about three dozen people watching in astonishment. I have that effect on boys sometimes.

Last night, I was with four couples. And it only felt weird for a second, when I realized I was the odd one out. But then I also realized that I didn't care at all. I felt genuinely happy for them and genuinely happy for myself. They have each other. I have my stories. For now.

happiness

I have these flashes of memories that make me smile when I close my eyes.

When I was little, my dad used to travel for months at a time. It was during the war, and sometimes he had to come back by boat. My mom and I would go pick him up from the seaport in Jounieh. I was three or four at the time, but I have this vivid image of me spotting him from afar, coming towards us with his luggage in both hands. And I couldn't wait one more second for him; so I'd crawl beneath the wires, and I would run. I still see it now, and it looks like something out of a corny movie, a slow motion moment with some insanely cheesy soundtrack, of a three year old girl running and running towards her father, arms wide open, in tears, screaming "papa!"

There is a story my mother used to tell me all the time. When she and my dad were still dating, and she lived in "gharbieh" and he lived in "char'ieh" and sometimes, crossing from one part of town to another was the most dangerous thing you could do. The bridge we take hundreds of times now, the one that takes us from both sides of Beirut in a matter of seconds, used to bear the worst of the fighting. But all it took was a crescent moon to help you cross over it. You know when the moon is so thin you can barely see it? It was my mother's favorite thing in the world. And every time the moon was that thin, she kissed the people she loved, for good luck. And so one night, she saw the moon, and she wanted to kiss my dad. So she got in her car, and took the long way. Up the mountains and down again, so she could cross over to his side. It took hours, but she didn't care. When she finally arrived, she rang on the intercom (how they survived without mobile phones and internet is beyond me) and she told him to meet her downstairs, so they could look at the moon together. And kiss.

This might be the cheesiest story you've ever heard. I think it's the cheesiest one I've ever told. But it made her happy. Anytime, anywhere, if she closed her eyes and remembered that moment, it made her smile.

So many times we forget. We get wrapped up in the cloudiness of everyday nagging, tears and problems that seem beyond our capacity to deal with. But the truth is, if you close your eyes, it's full of happy moments to pick and choose from. That day at the beach with your friends, when you got tipsy and laughed your heart out. That time you got a phone call telling you you got that scholarship; you got that job; you got into that school. That second the stick turned blue and you wanted it to be blue. The first time he said "I love you;" the first time you stepped onto a stage; the first time you went out past curfew. That compliment that made you feel like a million bucks. I close my eyes and see Sunday Brunch with my best friend making piles of food for a bunch of hungover fools. I see my brother and my sister around the Christmas tree, with sappy Christmas songs in the background as we are putting up the lights and the ornaments. I close my eyes and there are so many pictures to choose from, I feel unbelievably lucky.


Today, I'm happy. I'm writing, I'm acting, I'm doing the things I love again. I wake up early and I can't wait for the day to start. And the best part is, it has nothing to do with anyone but myself. And I can smile without closing my eyes.

shared happiness

This weekend, my friend had a down that completely resonated with me. "I need a change" she said. And I knew exactly what she meant. Sometimes we really feel like we need a change --if only we knew what it was. The problem is that for most of us women, we get caught up in collective-living and completely forget to live for ourselves. So once we are left alone to embrace the freedom and joy of being utterly selfish, independent, and free to be whoever we want to be... we have no idea what to do.
I could be wrong, but it feels like men have a better grip on being themselves. Whether they are single or attached, they pretty much live their lives the way they want to, following that job in Costa Rica if that's what their career calls for, or climbing the seven summits if that's what their heart calls for.
Women do that too, but to a lesser extend... and with a lot more difficulty when they are attached. We tend to prioritize our relationship, because we think, after all, what is more important? To get that amazing job, or to be with the person you love? For my part, I tend to put more value on relationships (not just romantic) because I think at the end of the day, if I die tomorrow, it won't matter that I won an oscar or made the bestseller list --the only thing that will matter is what the people I love remember me for.
But I also think we need balance. Because we only live once, and life is short, we should enjoy it and do as many things we like as possible. And the truth is, even with all the love in the world, it's not smart to put all your eggs in one basket. Mothers who live for nothing but their children often feel useless and completely lonely once the kids are all grown up and have a life of their own. Women who spend their time making sure they are the perfect wife, get dumped, or their spouse dies, and suddenly they end up all alone. People you love are what is most important, but you need to love yourself as well, and we tend to forget that. We make sure everyone else get what they want but we neglect our own needs. And soon enough, we forget what those are.
My friend and I want to go on a great adventure. We want to do something we've never done before, be far away from everything we know, take a leap of faith and see where we land. It'll be good for us, and we won't be neglecting anyone in the process. Waiting for change will do nothing, we need to make change happen. There's an inspiring story called "Eat, Pray, Love" (read the book, don't see the movie) where a woman decides she needs a change, and embarks on a year of travel to rediscover herself. She lived the last few years of her life in a bad marriage where she totally lost her passion for life, and she needed to find it again. She goes to Italy to do nothing but enjoy the pleasures of food, then she goes to India to meditate and connect with her spirituality, and finally she ends the year in Bali, where she falls in love. I love that story because I relate to her completely. Waking up and realizing you have no passion is scary. Passion makes you feel alive, and that's how I want to feel.
But in that search, there is one thing we should always remember: "happiness is only worth it, if shared." (Christopher McCandless)