Are you looking for a guiltless break from exams? Do you want to satisfy your pasta-eating cravings which must have cropped up at some time during the last few weeks? Would you like to help others and feel good about yourself while doing so?
Then join us on the 11th June for a Pasta Night in our lovely University Quadrangle! You’ll even get to play Tombla!
Have you ever lost something in your life and wondered whether you would ever get to see that loved object again?
Have you ever come across a particular object and wondered who it might have belonged to?
Have you ever thought of how convenient it would be to have a common space in which we could all share our losses and findings?
Your search is now over!
He Who Shall Be Named In This Blog (HWSBNITB) has given you an opportunity to join this group on facebook where your lost things may now be found and your found things may be returned to those who lost them!
So what are you waiting for? Just click the like button!
This morning, I had my first Psychology of Adjustment lecture since before the Easter Holidays. Apparently, the lecturer was stuck in some country far far away and had to make it back to Malta by train because of the Iceland volcanic ash which cancelled an extensive number of flights. These latest events have definitely been inspiring to anyone wishing to disrupt daily life - if it’s in Europe make sure a volcano erupts, if it’s in Malta just drive under the Marsa bridge with a truck that’s bigger than the bridge.
Anyway, after he was finished recounting his journeys across Europe, the lecturer started talking to us about adjustment, and eventually we began discussing happiness. He put up a slide with the question “Which would make you more happy - winning the national lottery or being asked out by your dream date?” and asked us to give our opinions. Since my dissertation tutor assigned me a number of books on happiness to read (although I have no idea how they are directly linked to doing voluntary work in Egypt) I started explaining how through research it has been found out that external situations such as being asked out or winning the lottery only influences 10% of your happiness, as 50% is determined by your genetic set-point while the other 40% is totally controllable by yourself. So therefore it didn’t really matter whichever you choose, since after all it was only going to be affecting 10% of your total happiness and neither would ascertain happiness indefinitely. The lecturer stared at me for a few seconds, gave me his usual sadistic smile and replied “That’s… interesting… so which would you rather choose?” And I wonder why I feel SO underappreciated by my lecturers.
A few days ago, my mother informed me that this summer we’re going to be visiting Scotland, England and Wales. She gave me a brochure with a description of the tour, and I discovered that we were going to be seeing places like Stratford Upon Avon and Gretna Green(!!!!!!!!!). I’ve always wanted to go there, especially after reading novel after novel in which a girl falls in love with the one guy whom her family does not approve of and they end up going to Gretna Green to elope. And even though most of the time one of her family members runs after her to stop her from committing the biggest mistake of her life and she does realise in time that the guy she was about to marry did not really love her, Gretna Green still remains persistantly one of the most romantic places across the world in my head. When I was discussing this with my brother, we mentioned how great it would be to find someone from there to temporarily marry and divorce after a couple of days, just so that we could say that we were married in Gretna Green. Only we kind of changed our minds when our mother seemed so close to having a heart attack on hearing this.
Earlier today, I was walking in the ringroad with a couple of friends from my Psychology course, and one of them felt compelled to start singing the dreaded “Baby baby baby OOOOH” which Justin Beiber felt necessary to inflict upon the world. We began discussing his age, and one of my friends informed me that he was just 12 years old, which made mistaking him for a girl whenever I heard him singing suddenly understandable. (Later I googled him and discovered he was actually 16 years old, so that particular mystery has yet to be solved). But while I was still with the delusion that a 12 year old was singing about his first love having broken his heart, I was reminded of how the Disney Channel seemed to persist in portraying kids who have barely reached puberty going out on dates and proclaiming they know everything about love. When I was 12 years old, the only person I was possibly in love with was Sirius Black from Harry Potter. And the only way my heart was broken was when I discovered that he was DEAD (rather than accepting that he was just a fictional character). You know, if 12 year olds really start dating, people are going to start getting married at 16 or 17 again. And maybe more Gretna Greens will have to be created.
It’s 2.30am. The empty road looms up ahead of me, and I absent-mindedly push the gas pedal and feel the wind rushing by through my car window. The night is dark, the road barely lit, and suddenly a flash lights up the area behind me. I glimpse a dark grey figure from my rear-view mirror - straight, still, almost mocking me. Nothing good ever happens after 2am.
Yesterday evening, as I was sitting on my bed and staring into space, I realised that not having a laptop leaves you with a LOT of free time before going to sleep. I started searching for something good to read, and stumbled upon the diary I used to keep when I was in India last summer. Since some parts of it are so amusing, I decided to include some excerpts from it here:
Saturday, 8th August, 2009
9.30pm
I’m finally in bed and free to continue writing. I wish I could describe clearly every emotion I feel here. The euphoria of being on a motorcycle, the amusement at all the people staring at me, the slight embarassment of passing by children who break out laughing, the disbelief at how the entire village tries to crowd into one room just to look at me because they’ve never seen a white person before. I wish I could write down the millions of thoughts which pass through my mind when I’m visiting a village. My daydreaming about what it will be like to be back in Malta in less than 6 weeks… my wondering at whether I’m behaving inappropriately and offending my hosts, the sudden images of me catching malaria which helplessly flock into my mind as a glass of water is trust into my hand, the feeling of inadequecy as I realise that I’m supposed to drink tea out of a saucer, followed by wonder at its amazingly good taste as I start drinking it.
Monday, 10th August, 2009
9.17pm
Yesterday I woke up early and read a bit until it was time for mass. As it was the feast of St Dominic, mass took even longer than usual, so I had an hour and a half sitting cross-legged and thinking about life. At first I started trying to understand exactly how I was feeling about being here. I realised how often I appreciate things only after they have passed me by. Just like having a really good night, and only truly enjoying it the following morning as I’m lying in bed thinking about it. I could remember clearly that the same had happened in Egypt. When I was there, I was always too busy, too worried, too tired to appreciate what I have. I realised I had to change that here.
….
After the museum we went to the Don Bosco school in Choota Udeipur. There, we met a brother who had once come to Kawant for a feast, who showed us around the place. He spent ages touring us around the farm, showing us the cows (with whom he had extensive conversations), the goats, the hens and the hatchery, where he had chickens which were just 1 day old! When we asked him about the caste system he started laughing and said “Who are we to say that you are better than me or I better than you? We all have 2 eyes… 2 ears… 1 nose… 1 mouth… why should you be any different just because your skin colour is lighter or darker?” He then proceeded to recount the creation joke, which explains how God was baking the human form and let the white people out too early so that they were undercooked, and the black people too late so that they were overcooked.
Monday, 17th August, 2009
11.30am
This morning we continued working on the library, and this time I kept thinking about the conversation we had with Fr Greg yesterday during dinner. I mentioned “Discover Your Destiny” to him and told him that I was finding it really interesting, and he explained about a 10 day course which you can carry out to help you obtain a sense of happiness and contentment. He told me how one can carry out breathing exercises to control the mind and body, how one can learn to transcend pain. I commented on how ideal that would be but how we’re often blocked by emotions such as anger and frustration. He told me that emotions are a result of attachment. He said we have to learn not to be attached to anything or anyone, so that in that way emotions will not hinder our contentment. I disagreed with him, because I felt that friendships and relationships are almost necessary in our life, even though they can bring so much misery and pain. I told him that a life with no emotions is no life after all. He then said that if I want a life with love, I should opt for unconditional love, but that’s almost impossible to find and almost always develops when you’re older. Most of the relationships we have are based on beauty, intelligence, attractiveness, and once that disappears we find that we no longer love the person, so we love them conditionally. I stopped to think about this and realised he was right. He continued explaining how when we become attached to something, we always desire more. If we have a bike, we want a car. If we have a car, we want a house. He continued explaining how hardly anyone lives in the present, accepts and appreciates the now, but rather remains stuck in the past or dreams of the future. He told us that the most successful people were those who lived in the present and could understand the ways of nature. We had a short discussion about miracles, as I told him the quote I had recently read: “Synchronicity is God’s way of remaining anonymous”. He said that we cannot always find scientific reasons for everything, even though they do make sense. He described this as someone pointing to the moon, instead of looking at the moon, we look at the finger.
Thursday, 20th August, 2009
10pm
I have just been lying on my bed, thinking about life, the way I used to do every Sunday morning back home. I used to spend ages going through my emotions, trying to find reasons as to why I acted in specific ways. A few days ago, Fr Greg had told me that when I feel very strong emotions which block out my inner calm and placidity, I should choose to “do nothing, and simply observe them as you watch them pass by”. He said they are similar to feeling pain. When you have a scab full of pus, it’s extremely painful to take out all the pus. But only when the pus is out can the wound begin to heal. It’s the same with emotions- you cannot block them. You have to experience them, to let them pass through, because only then can you achieve the innter placidity once more.
….
Today during dinner Fr Greg suddenly stated “You must be feeling really tired after all that work in the library today.” I was feeling perfectly fine, but I knew he wouldn’t be happy if I told him so, so I replied: “A little bit, yes.” He solemnly thought about this for a moment, and then turned to us and said “Would you like some beer?” as if this was the perfect remedy for feeling a little bit tired. I almost choked on my food, but he continued: “There is, however, a small problem. It is not chilled.”
Friday, 21st August, 2009
9.20pm
Exactly after medical we had class again. This was supposed to be Bamil’s group, only he wasn’t there (and I hadn’t seen him anywhere all day). About 15 minutes after class started, suddenly the door opened and he walked in, looking as if he’s survived war and resisted ice and fire. He swaggered towards the medical cabinet, looked at me, put a hand on his head and stated: “Duque, diddy” (which translates to “Pain, sister”). I promplty gave him 2 paracetamol, and looked at him as he swaggered out again, wearing the same expression I usually wear when I am rudely woken up from my sleep early in the morning. I hope he gets well soon.
Monday, 24th August, 2009
7.47pm
During breakfast we had another life discussion with Fr Greg. He told us that he had felt a sudden pain and asked us what were the symptoms of a heart attack. When we finally assured him that by celebrating his 40th birthday the next day he was not going to suffer from a heart attack any time soon, we started talking about fears, and how they are instilled within us by other human beings. I told him about how a rat had come into our room on Friday night and how I had felt so scared even though I knew it was such a small creature. At this point he forgot his previous assertion that all creatures are harmless and exclaimed “A rat! Where did it come from? Next time tell the boys to come and remove it!”
….
On Sunday I was supposed to wake up early to put on my sari. I woke up at 7.30am and somehow managed to finish in time. As I entered the hall, everyone turned round to look at me, and immediately I became conscious of how I had probably put it on wrongly. At one point Fr Province looked at me and said “You look better Indian”, which I suppose was the closest thing to a compliment I could get from him. I spent the rest of mass trying to appear inconspicuous. I was relieved when it was finally over, and was wondering whether it was time to go and put on normal clothes. Then suddenly, a couple of women from the village came over, shook my hand and started pointing at my sari and talking rapidly in Gujrati. I couldn’t understand a word, so I replied back in English, making up answers to their imaginary questions. Obviously they didn’t udnerstand anything either, so they stopped talking and smiled at me. The wife of one of the men who work at the school came over and demanded: “Who helped you put on sari?” I said “Erm… I put it on myself” and she said “Come” and started walking towards my room, leaving me with no choice but to follow her. I had hardly walked in when she started taking it off, and began putting it on again from the beginning. I meekly allowed her to have fun with it for about 10 minutes, till she stepped back, smiled and said “Yes”. I smiled back and wondered whether this should be my opportune moment to escape from her clutches, and she suddenly pointed to my face and said “Make-up!”, put her thumbs up and flounced out the door. I considered briefly the last time I had put make-up on, when Brother Ashwin said that I looked dangerous (of all things)… and decided that it was time to pick up my camera and follow her outside. I momentarily tried to persuade her to take a picture with me, but instead she took a photo of me using her mobile phone and promptly attacked me once more with safety pins. When she was finally finished, she made me pose for an endless amount of photos, and eventually I managed to thank her and excuse myself to go for breakfast. Only then I realised that breakfast was upstairs. Which meant that I had to go up the stairs for it. I tried lifting the sari up, hoping I would not fall but still managing to almost trip four or five times.
Wednesday, 26th August, 2009
12.10am
As our medical supplies for the kids had decreased drastically, we left for the market, and stopped by at the sisters to check whether they had anything available at their dispensary. Sr Mary met us, and we spent some time talking to her about our experience and the culture we found here. She told us how difficult it was for them sometimes here, because they felt as if they were in a place far away from the rest of the world. She explained how when they first came here, the villagers would be walking around almost naked. She also described how they were shown that they were unwelcome - and in fact once after putting on a Christmas show with the kids at one of the villages they were attacked - a father was almost killed and Br Ramish lost his two fingers on that day.
….
Eventually a gigantic grasshopper entered Fr Greg’s office, and I decided that I would be safer with the grasshopper locked inside his office while I was in bed in a room on the other side of the hall. This morning after breakfast I checked that Fr Greg had not been attacked by the gigantic grasshoper, only when I was in our bathroom Chris informed me that the grasshopper was in our room. So much for being safe. I then decided to start making a list of all the permanent and non-permanent residents in our room:
- 2 birds, who are working towards the aim of building a nest on our fan
- 1 lizard, who lives in the bathroom
- 1 frog
- 1 cockroach-like insect which was the ugliest thing we have ever seen
- 1 rat (which spent the night under our cupbaord and left the next morning)
- 1 cockroach
- 1 grasshopper
- several Spanish flies
- several ants
- our own resident spiders
- a number of boys living on the raft, who take videos of themselves using our mp3player and reading my diary
I have this habit of going out in my balcony at night, usually just before I go to sleep. I spend a few moments staring out at the sky, thinking about my day and planning out the following one. Sometimes I design study schedules which I occasionally keep to. Other times I get new ideas to write about when I’m writing fiction. Today, however, I was thinking about a theory which a lecturer had once mentioned last year, called the I’m Ok, You’re Ok.
A simplistic description of this would include the four life positions which people may hold at various times in their lives:
I’m Ok, You’re Ok
I’m Ok, You’re not Ok
I’m not Ok, You’re Ok
I’m not Ok, You’re not Ok.
These seem pretty self explanatory, but this somehow got me thinking about something which we were discussing earlier this week in Psychology of Adjustment. Apart from randomly saying phrases such as “Thank God for exams!” accompanied with a sarcastic, evil smile, our lecturer was speaking about how often we depend on others for approval, and we end up viewing ourselves in the way we think other people view us, even though this may not be necessarily correct. The image we form of ourselves in turn influences our behaviour with others, and their response conditions us to influence our self-perception once more.
So it’s almost like a vicious cycle (think of an infinite loop in programming language). If things really worked like this, possibly everyone could alter their behaviour in one tiny step to improve their self perception drastically. Think of it this way:
Person X wakes up one fine morning, and decides that for that particular day he is going to make an extra effort at being sociable, fun and outgoing (assuming that Person X is a male). Person X heads out to school, university or work. He greets the people he usually barely acknowledges with a smile and possibly passes some random comment on the weather. When he’s hanging out with his friends or life partner later on in the day, he makes sure that he is positive in everything he says, tries to pass on funny comments and brings up interesting conversations. Before he goes to sleep that night, he will believe that most of his social encounters were hopefully successful, and that the people he met during that day saw him in a favourable light. As the way others perceive him should influence his self perception, he will start thinking of himself as an extroverted, funny person, so he continues acting that way the following day as well. In the end, even if his coworkers see him as the annoying person who is always commenting on the weather or as the unbearably positive person who seems happy even with the worst situations, what really counts is how he thinks others perceive him.
Speaking of psychology in my blog is probably an effect of having finally finished watching all the How I Met Your Mother episodes which have come out so far. I miss Barney and his awesomeness.
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