Cupid has flown the co-op!

A seemingly easy topic to tackle, yet it took me several attempts to merely start this post, so many angles!
I have no feuds with celebrating love or even that little brat Cupid and it has nothing to do with the fact that I am single, so let’s make that clear.

My issue is more with the hundreds of couples that seem to have formed overnight, walking around town with a smug look on their faces, playing tonsil tennis on the streets, flaunting their “love” and their “in a couple” status. And when you cross their paths you have to wait for them to walk first because the pavement is not big enough for them and their love and you’re only a single person, you are nothing to them, a pest, and a waste of space. Today they do not envy your freedom.

This “couple” status that seems to give them the permission to take over the place with their balloons, chocolates, cards and public displays of affection, flowers everywhere, on the train, in the office, it’s their day, if you’re single (have flower allergies) It’s best if you stay home and out of their way, you’re merely an inconvenience, the town belongs to them, life belongs to them today.

Have you tried booking a table for dinner? IF you get through the busy line and manage to get a table for 10pm near the toilets, you’ll have to eat the Valentines set menu with heart shaped deserts and love potion chicken soup and other sappy romantic whatnots.

I give up – Chinese takeaway tonight it is.

Cupid did not strike this year, maybe he misfired his arrow and got himself in the ass! Or one would hope, but from all the love that seems to be spreading around the world, I’d say well done Marketing geniuses, you have truly done it.

How can people readily fall into these obvious traps and go ahead purchasing millions of pounds worth of perishable rubbish to commemorate a day (and presumably their love for each other) invented by marketers to help their clients craft targeted campaigns to take full advantage of the gift-buying frenzy, making it second to Christmas spending-wise.

I understand why there is no “I am single and loving it day”, single people are more cynical and think more clearly, their judgments are not clouded by love fumes etc, where’s the business genius in that! hmmmm
Actually…..that’s not a bad idea! I call dibs!

Oscar Wilde said “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance”
so before pretending to love someone else and showering them with confectioneries and material possessions because of an ancient roman religious man called Valentine who may or may not have been gay or because of a couple of TV adverts brainwashing you into conditional loving, learn to love yourself (not in that way you pervs) and spend the evening with friends or yourself doing something fun or interesting but do not engage any couple you may pass on the street or the bar, do not wish anyone a happy Valentines day and for gods’ sake don’t cry about being single, because today is actually your day not theirs, they are the clowns who are being bled, pressured into spending their hard earned cash in silly chocolate boxes, silly red cards and lingerie, you’re single and in control of your cash, time and feelings, all year long.

Dz-chick…bring on the 15th Feb!

Smile-it-forward

Another dreadful journey on London underground this morning, amidst all the armpits, newspapers cutting into my cheek and stale beer stench, something strange and wonderful happened, someone smiled at me, it was puzzling at first, then uncontrollably my facial muscles contracted and produced a smile (a beautiful smile at that) and we both acknowledged eachothers’ wretched position, from that point on, I forgot the smelly armpit, the leftover curry and the bad cologne and just wore a faint smile on my face that relaxed my tense muscles and I thought: it’s not that bad

So I went on about my interminable journey to work, my facial muscles relaxed and poised, I smiled at the next person who held my gaze, she smiled too and then it hit me…

It’s infections, you can catch it like the flu, it spreads like it was airborne and changes the atmosphere. It reminded me of a movie I watched once that made me weep like a child “paying it forward” based on the novel by the same title by Catherine Ryan Hyde starring that little cutie pie of a boy who started a movement called pay-it-forward, whereby he does one act of random kindness to three people and instead of having them pay him back, he asked them to 'pay it forward' by helping three other people, who would then each 'pay it forward' by helping three other people, who then go on to do the same in the hope of changing the world, of course the little boy died and it was all very sad and Hollywood like. 

I started reading on smiling, the physiological and emotional side of it and I became fascinated with smiling, in Islam, it is said that a smile in the face of others is considered charity or a good deed, and I thought that was so beautiful and I can see how a small facial contraction as it were can have huge effects on a whole group of people, a bit like a butterfly effect.

So I take it upon myself to always smile and smile back when people smile at me and sometimes you don’t know why you smile at some and not others and no it has nothing to do with being attracted to that person, notice how it is always women who initiate the smiling, old people smile, children smile and sometimes they stare at you in fascination (in my case it must be due to my striking beauty), don’t get me wrong, I am not walking around like a smiling moron flashing my teeth, the wrinkles are just not worth it, I endeavour to draw the line at a faint smile but certain people you cross on the train or the shop insist on sharing a thought or a joke with you, so again you smile (showing teeth this time) and nod in agreement but secretly hope it'll be the end of this chapter, but it usually never is!

Notice how it’s always women who smile at other women, children or older people, never at men, a women smiling at a man could be perceived as an open invitation or forward flirting and vice versa thus people of the opposite sex seem to refrain from this odd behaviour, unless there is an actual attraction but seeing that we live in England and males behaviour is fuelled by beer, women will continue to smile and support each other, I don’t want to hear anyone whinge about what a waste it is a lot of beautiful women are lesbians though.

In Graph 1.1 above, I have demonstrated clearly and with obvious elegance and skill, how this is going to work for the recently lobotomised and the ones who don’t’ speak English (no correlation between the two).

I smile at three people a day, in turn these same people, will each smile at three other people and so on and so forth and we watch the wrinkles grow and good mood spread…maybe this will shift the energy around us and ……(insert more Anthony robins crap here)…making our worlds better.

Are you cringing yet? Well you should be.

The point I am trying to make is: smile it really isn’t that bad.

Despite all your cynicism, frustrations and hormonal imbalances, smiling is the only thing that is consistent and can alter all the negative feelings you may have and it really is an inexpensive way to change your looks, I mean have you ever seen a smiling face that was not beautiful?

See? Beautiful

Dz-Chick…smiling always :-) but with good anti-wrinkle cream 

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NB: Do not attempt to psychoanalyse me through the handwriting - you don't know it's me.
Also, the last picture gives me the icks!

Appraise THIS!

Appraisal week is underway; most of the team members have had theirs and came out looking less pleased! I too have had mine and luckily for my line manager I happened to “meet expectations” nothing more, nothing less! Fucking jobs worths!

Other people have not been so lucky including those who have had two maternity leaves in one financial year (gestation of a monkey) and moonlight as a part-time grass.

For those of you not from the investment banking/Finance industry; the game goes something like this;
They work you hard all year (they block your blog, they give you a phone then record your conversations, they talk to you about objectives, motivation and assessments – none of my favourite words), then close to the end of the year they announce results, point some fingers, fire a few people and announce further bad news and budget cuts like no Christmas party and bonus pool to be reduced by 30%.
When appraisal time comes, they score you based on the last time you came in at 8.05 instead of 8.00 and on the last time you didn’t pay attention on a certain meeting, or where you could have made more efforts and have been more pro-active! So they mark you down to “below expectations”, which of course will be reflected on your already diminished bonus and you can forget about the pay rise.

Below expectations?? How about you kiss my ass?

Outrage and resignation reign, Patrick wants to change profession, he reckons opening a funeral parlour will be a sound investment, people will never fail to die he said, Marie vouched to become a call girl, “at least I’ll get laid” she said, Laurence dreams of owning his own catering business, to poison bankers he laughs but I know it’s because he loves to decorate cupcakes, of course I (wa a3oudou bellahi min kalimat I) just want to fly with the fairies and sing lalalalalaaaaaa denial!

Most people work for their monthly salaries, weekly wages, some work for tips, some for a commission, some for fame, we work for the yearly bonus.
When the situation gets to you’re lucky to even get one this year , then it’s time to rethink your career, unless you can swim upstream like a salmon.

Dz-chick….a very strong swimmer, I’ll have you know!

What I wouldn't do for London!

This morning on the train journey to work, standing in between two armpits, dandruffed shoulders and someone who forgot to brush his teeth,  I stood breathing cautiously suppressing my gag reflex and waiting for the train to move after what seemed like an endless stop between stations, caused by some signal failure, fatality or severe weather conditions or whatever bullshit they feed us on a daily basis (I lost interest), my mind wondered from my interminable book which failed to grip my attention four weeks in, I thought about the upcoming summer Olympics and how many more armpits I could be under and uncontrollably mouthed under my breath “ well that’s gonna be something” causing some nervous shifting amongst passengers and some dandruff to snow on me – GAG!

The Capital has been gearing up for the most awaited (and dreaded) event of the year, undergoing a very costly makeover ever since the bid was won in 2005, major works were undertaken on Olympic and non-Olympic infrastructure such as the London underground, travel links, bridges, sewage, cycle highway (God bless Boris and his love for biking) etc... amounting to a colossal figure estimated at over £9.3 billion (in 2007) which kept going up every quarter, arguably, we cannot blame poor forecasting, budgeting, or bad management, in view of the Market situation and inflation in the building industry, with steel and cement prices going up etc…

And this is as far I would go to argue the London Olympics side.

London will be heaving this summer, millions of people are expected to flood the capital, driving Londoners away, most employers have issued new Olympic related policies, allowing holidays during the fortnight or working from home as a solution.

People with a business mind and flare for opportunity are busy finding ways to generate income and making the most of this long-awaited opportunity, whilst others like me are thinking of ways to escape the London underground and its sweaty armpits.  It is disappointing to see how an avid Olympic supporter like myself and many others are put off and are planning their escapes, leaving our athletes with less supporters, especially Algerian athletes who I hope will spot a couple of DZ flags flying about the stadiums IF anyone can get tickets or indeed be bothered to queue up to get into the arena.

Of course we are fed the Olympic legacy bullshit; Olympics leave a major sports legacy for the community etc..., let me tell you about the legacy we’ll be left with; Debts, Debts and white elephants, ladies and gentlemen.

I can’t exactly say “there’s always next year” can I? We may never get to host the games again and let’s face it Algeria is not the best candidate out there to host the event, so for a HUGE Olympics buff like myself, I am going to grin and bare it, because I love London and having the Olympics at my doorstep makes me proud to be a Londoner.

But here’s a thought: Anyone knows where the Olympic flame is and if still burning? And If yes, who’s paying for the fuel?

Dz-Chick….Get your Union Jacks and your Sandjaks!

http://www.londonolympics2012.com/

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Sandjak  =  Old Ottoman name for Flag = used in Dz dialect to refer to the Algerian flag (anyone has a name for the DZ flag?)

Normal!

When you have two weeks holiday and you’re broke, where do you go?
To the bank of mum and dad.

My old room no longer exists; I had to sleep in the spare room!! I was woken up by someone snoring on the bed next to me, assuming it was my sister; I ignored it until come morning I found the next bed empty! When I told my mum she smiled and told me it was nothing to worry about! Spooky!

Ghosts apart, I planned to have two uneventful weeks in Algeria, just sleep, eat, relax and try not to pile on the weight.

My friend Reda and his friend Fifi (short for Malika – whaaa?) suggested we watch a movie, aired by the Chrysalide Ciné Club, entitled Normal by Merzak Allouache, it talks about the disillusion of the Algerian people, exposes corruption and bureaucracy, and it was playing at the local cinema in Ryad el Feth, happy days!

Weather was nice, sun was shining, dust flying, my black shoes look now beige, Fifi is driving, quick introductions, Fifi talks fast and non stop, she drives without really looking at the road, she incessantly touches her hair and doesn’t seem to have a care in the world, I envy her happiness, lightness and non-OCD behaviour!

The old banger (the car not the girl) looks like it belongs in the museum, yet Fifi is talking about buying an AUDI A3, she doesn’t stop, rants, cries, the equivalent of £23,000 in cash are ready for the transaction she says, we can’t get hold of the lady selling it, the girl brakes down in tears “I am so unlucky, why is my luck so shit”, she doesn’t fail to mention that she lives on her own and what she does for a living to remind me that she’s not totally vacuous…
Whatever made you think I am interested honey, I am only here for the weather.

Traffic is heavy, after what felt like an eternity of inhaling fumes, we make it to the origin of the problem, I felt privileged, how many times do you ever get to the origin of traffic congestion?
Riots break out in the neighbourhood!
Inhabitants of the popular area of Salembier are rising up against the social re-housing procedures and the shortages of social housing, the social estate of Salembier was being moved somewhere else to make room for more business centres with glass facades presumably and revenue making commercial properties, but the future-ex-tenants are the last to know, I feel sorry for them, “yes but they’re getting properties for free” Reda notes but they riot because they want a three bedroom not a two, because they have seven children and no jobs! Fifi baffled “what the hell are you doing making seven children when you don’t have a job?” but she quickly remembers her own problems “I am so unlucky” she says, “why does everything happen to me”.

Roads are barricaded with tyres and bricks, riot police stopped traffic, we’re in it, Fifi driving and still moaning about her bad luck, she can’t get the car she wants, her mattress is uncomfortable from so much dosh stashed in it, she touches her hair every other sentence, she hits a motorbike, the biker and his passenger get stuck between the old banger and another older banger (Algeria is the open air museum of automobile antiquities), he punctures her freaking tyre with his something or rather, he apologised, huh? Yeah apparently it was his fault! Whatever, I don’t care whose’ fault it is, I just want to get off the death mobile.
Traffic comes to a halt, people get off their cars and start trying to entangle the motorbike from the old banger, the motobike drivers’ leg is stuck, he’s screaming, the old banger is worried about her car, she’s screaming at him; she almost slaps his leg because it’s in the way of her life! by now five cars in each direction are empty, they’re all around us trying to shift the car with me still in it.
We manage to free the leg (big thighs), the tyre is sliced open, I am scared of Fifi and make myself scarce in the back of the old banger (not an easy job I tell you), we hobble to the nearest vulcanisator, she’s still ranting about her damn Audi A3, “I am so unlucky” she cries, of course all I cared about was not missing the movie.
“When the tyre is fixed, we’re going to get my Audi”

Movie cancelled, no one can get through to the cinema, but Reda promises we’ll watch it before I leave…
When your tyre is fixed, I want to go home please and thanks, as for the movie, frankly, Merzak Allouache eat your heart out, you might have filmed it, but I just lived it.

Dz-Chick…can’t wait to move back to Algeria!

Movie and Cine Club info:
http://forumdesdemocrates.over-blog.com/article-normal-de-merzak-allouache-95916286.html
http://www.dna-algerie.com/culture/normal-de-merzak-allouache-prix-du-meilleur-long-metrage-arabe-au-festival-doha-tribeca