5/10 for effort - please see me...

And so the new term begins and the university is buzzing with students. I have already managed to mix up the timetables and send all of the students to the wrong classes, so the term is starting well. I love the beginning of term and I get very excited about meeting all of the new students. I love the challenges they give me in the classroom from their inquiring minds, as well as their enthusiasm. This age group is lovely to teach. They are desperate to be independent and yet they are still vulnerable  They rely on you to coax and provide the positive reinforcement they seek.

Inevitably, the term brings with it that dirty word: assessment. I can only look forward to the marking of 140 persectives on a single subject with the enthusiam I usually reserve for colonic irrigation, or the funeral of a close family member. So, to maintain my levels of motivation for the long days ahead, plowing through the drivel that is the modern essay, I have developed my own language to be used on students essays. Below is a small example, along with translations:

Phrased Used	Academic Translation
This is an interesting piece	This is a load of drivel
You have made good use of sources	Most of this has been copied from text books so that you don’t get caught out on the plagiarism software by copying off the internet
You should try to write in paragraphs at all times	How long have I been teaching you and you still can’t write in paragraphs??
I have given you a bare pass for this essay....	I would really like to fail you but I can’t think of a good enough reason to...
You need to pay close attention to the essay question...	I don’t know which question you are answering but it is not the one you were asked Seriously! Can’t you read!

The stuff of Nightmares

Insomnia and I are long acquainted. He sat, perched on the edge of my bed until after 1am this morning. 'So, too much coffee today honey?' he asks. 'I don't think so', I reply, 'I only had a couple of cups and that was over 12 hours ago'. 'Must be an overactive mind, would you like to talk about it?' he enquires. And so, for the next few hours we discuss my worries, and my excited expectations for the beginning of term today. Despite his soothing approach, and its catharthic effect, sleep is afraid to intrude and so I have no choice but to resort to chemicals. Two paracetamol and a little light reading later, and I'm finally drifting into oblivion.

Insomnia is an adult domain. Nightmares, I have always believed, belong to childhood. But as usual, I am wrong. The thing with adult nightmares is that they don't feature monsters or serial killers but confusion, loneliness, abandonment and crisis. Freud would have a field day with my imagination. In these filmlike narratives, I have been to hell (where in fact, I was a child and had to survive for 9 days in order to be allowed to enter whatever the alternative to hell was), I have faced death (my own and that of those I love), isolation or disruption in my work environment, and my particular favourite, revisits to my childhood with a distinctly Tim Burton feel to them. In literature, sleep represents peace, the place to which we can escape the day's troubles. But when nightmares intrude, we are stuck in that overheated room in Sartre's disturbing play 'Huis Clos'.

And, what prompts these disturbances in my psyche? Well, as I've got older I have discovered that very little at all is needed. An argument, a worry over something small, a particularly nasty television programme or movie. With age comes experience, but also the ready ability to return to places of darkness in an instant. What twenty years ago I would have brushed off definantly, now hovers around me like a bad smell. Meditation and yoga take on a new appreciative air as a defence against these 'dark arts'. Eventually, the nightmares will retreat, as will the insomnia, and my equilibrium will be restored. For now.

Friends

I have never been that good at making friends really. I can do the chit chat that you do when you meet someone for the first time, the starting of a conversation with a stranger, but after that I get a bit lost. I'm not very good at inviting people over for dinner, or organising play dates for the kids. I envy those people who seem to have reams of good friends, and manage to keep up with them all despite the chaos of their own lives. Having a large circle of friends has always begged the question for me, of how you define a friend.

The advent of social networking sites adds to this inquisition. Some people claim to have hundreds of friends; but these are just people you know. To me, that's not a friend. A friend is someone close, someone you don't mind telling your secrets to, someone you can call at 2am and ask them to fetch you from A&E. A friend is someone you want to call when it feels like your world is falling apart; or when you have the most unbelievably good news. Think about it for a minute: count up how many people you would call if you just found out your partner has been having an affair; or if you just got made redundant. Who would you call if you just won 50000 pounds?

The other night I went to the first meeting of a reading group that I have just set up. It was lovely: there were people there I knew from work, and a few people who I haven't met before. My best friend came with me and afterwards she said, 'you work with some lovely people'. And it struck me that these aren't just people I work with, these are my friends. I like these people, and they like me: they like me enough to come out on a hot and sticky night and drive to a cafe to support a reading group I have set up. Perhaps, we are often surrounded by friends without quite realising it, and those 140 people we have as friends on facebook, we should keep in touch with, cultivate their friendship - you never know - you may want to ring them next week with some news!

Uncertainty

Uncertain: indefinite, indeterminate, untrustworthy, dubious, doubtful

These are not words I want in my life. I don't want my diagnosis to be dubious; or the doctors word that Lasek surgery is safe, to be untrustworthy, or the length of a stay overseas to be indeterminate. I don't like uncertainty.

Life as an expat is uncertain. We came out here knowing that the contract was initially for three years; that the effort of getting to know a new country, a new culture, new people and their rules would be worth it. We knew that it would end. The uncertainty arises about when it will end, and whether we will want it to end. I thought that the uncertainty, the indeterminacy of not knowing what the future holds would be exciting; like reading a novel for the first time and being surprised by the direction the author takes. Life is only exciting when it is unpredictable, or is it? Unpredictable lifestyles are what we read about, what we watch in films but as I said in a previous post, life isn't like its portrayal in the media.

I am reading a novel called Eat, Pray, Love at the moment (it's just been made into a film). It's a true account of a journalist who throws off her predictable lifestyle to travel; first to Italy, then to India and finally to Indonesia. She floats freely amongst the people of these countries, learning their ways, and learning more about herself. But even in this freewheeling lifestyle, there is certainty. She plans the amount of time she spends in each country, knowing that she will move onto the next at a fixed time.

Uncertain: indefinite, indeterminate, untrustworthy, dubious, doubtful

For some people these words are synonymous with freedom, excitement, liberation, independence, and I can see their point, but for me these words also bring anxiety, worry, agitation and uneasiness. Does it then follow, that if planning for the future is uncertain, I should simply live for today? In today, I can either maintain a level of predictability I am comfortable with or inject spontaneity and unpredictaility at will. So, here begineth today...

Teenage Poetry

We tidied my daughter's bedroom today and I discovered that she is a budding poet. Here is one her contributions:

I hate You

I hate the way you laugh at me,
I hate it when you stare,
I hate the way you kick me,
I hate it when you pull my hair.

I hate the way you talk about me,
When I'm not around,
I hate the way you laugh at me,
When I'm looking for something I haven't found.

I hate the way you fight with me
Then make me apologise,
I hate the way you laugh at me
Because everyone's on your side.

I hate the way you're so unpredictable,
And that I never know what you're going to do
I hate the way you pretend to be so perfect,
I'm so glad that I hate you.

And here's another that is unfinished...

The Wind

Through the tidy streets of London
Past the people who seem to meet,
Rustling leaves as it goes by
Quickly it creeps down through the street.

Busy shoppers strolling by
Lively children in a school
Beeping cars queuing up ahead
Even children in a swimming pool.

I love it! What it is to be young and passionate!

Things that Make us frightened

Today I was frightened. I sat in an opthalmologist's chair whilst he explained the merits of LASEK eye surgery, and I wanted to believe in every word he said, but I was frightened. I want to have this surgery, but there is something unnerving about elective surgery, as if you are tempting fate. I have worn glasses since I was 17, so I have contributed to the Britsh economy and to the furtherance of scientific endeavour in opthalmology, by purchasing large quantities of spectacles, contact lenses and associated paraphenalia. I deserve this surgery (I could say 'I'm worth it' but that is far too crass).  So, why am I frightened?

A few months ago, I was invited to an information evening about the Betaferon medication that I inject. I didn't go.  I told myself this was because I couldn't be bothered to drive through heavy traffic to the Intercontinental Hotel, on a Thursday night. I told myself that I have had no problems with the medication, so why did I need an information evening? But, the reason I didn't go was because I was frightened. I was frightened of sitting in a room with other people who have MS, and having to face its possibilities. I don't view the discussion forum on the MS Society website for the same reason. I know it's coming - I don't need to face it now.

So, the LASEK surgery feels like I'm courting disaster. That's why I'm frightened. I have no doubt that it will correct my sight, as it has done for thousands of others, but there's that tiny possibility that I could be worse off. The future isn't all that bright as it is, so is it worth the risk? 

The Loss of a great British Institution

I am in an ecstatic mood today - the meeting with Dr Death yesterday couldn't have gone better. I have no new lesions showing on my MRI, no current activity, and some of the lesions that appeared on the MRI last year have disappeared completely. Couldn't have asked for a better result. It appears that I have beaten the illness into retreat for now. My flight or fight response has always been to fight - so MS, you come and have a go if you think you are hard enough!

But, today, as I drove back from breakfast with a friend, my exuberance was tainted by the lack of one of my favourite of the great British institutions - the rude hand gesture whilst driving. A well positioned middle finger, two fingers, or a gesture resembling the movement a man might make when alone, in the bathroom naked, can be exactly what is called for on the odd occasion. But, in the UAE, any form of rude hand gesture is strictly forbidden. We have an American expat to thank for a recent reminder of said rule. Driving here is hectic, and frustrating and this poor guy clearly couldn't take it anymore and gave the other driver the finger. Unfortunately, he picked the wrong person to gesture to, and for his trouble he got a month in prison and deportation. Hmmm.

I'm not really sure what their motivations are for banning the gesture. Perhaps they think it will distract you from your driving (yeah, right). So for now, the mirror, signal, gesture, manoeuvre has to become mirror-signal-manoeuvre (although of course, if you took your driving test in Dubai, you skip the first two!). Safe driving!