Being Homeless

In the last post, I had stated that I had an argument and wished not to return to my parents house but I did. I suppose some of you were wondering how and why I ended up homeless.

It was around 4am. I slept for a few hours in my mother's bed. I didn't move a thing. I wanted it to remain as it were before she had left. I opened her dressing cupboard and sniffed her clothes whilst crying. Later that day, my father was sorting out the funerary arangements. I just remained in her room, lying down on her bed. I didn't eat anything. I heard a lot of people downstairs. A number of my friends rang me to offer their condolences. I burst into tears with each phone call. I remember saying to each of them that my mother had

"...left me. She wasn't supposed to leave me".

I did not know a lot of these people who were downstairs. Some came up and were telling me to eat but when I'm extremely upset, I tend not to. Quite the opposite to my mother since she used to comfort eat. Some of these women also told me that I should see them as a motherly figure. I felt angered. No one can replace the position of your mother regardless of what they say. I thought to myself that do they think I'm stupid. I'm well aware of what they're trying to do. It was just to calm me down but in reality, no one will look after you. I'd be on my own from now on.

I feel that I'm too young to have lost my mother. But looking at the world as it is, some lose their mothers at an early age. Some have never felt a mother's love. Some are fortunate to have their mothers live till they are mid-point in their lives or even older. I felt robbed that she was taken away from me and I still do. Why is it that all the good people tend to die sooner and unexpected and that those who have committed heinous crimes get to live to a ripe old age. It's just not fair. Life is just not fair.

My father wanted her funerary services to run at a mosque in Canton. It is a place I personally vowed never to go again in my lifetime. When I was very young, I was bullied there quite often and not many of the kids from the Asian community would talk to me. Why? Because at that age, I was meeting and making friends with kids who had a different religious/cultural background. I became isolated from the Pakistani community. That was my reason why I did not want my mother's funeral to take place there. We were both alienated pretty much. When I told my father that, he informed me that there was no room for negotiations. He stated that mosque is where "our people go. We have to have it done there". I wanted no arguments and for the sake of the bigger picture and what was more important, I accepted.

Her funeral took place two days after her death on the 1st of May which was a Tuesday. I still was not eating properly but I got dressed and took with me an English version of the Quran. I had learnt it in Arabic years ago but it seems that I've forgotten to read in it and therefore my mother wanted me to understand the religion she was so passionate about. Some friends of mine even travelled from London  just to attend her funeral despite it being exam period at universities across the country.

It was raining heavily that day. After prayers, we headed to the graveyard. I sat in the hearse with my hand on my mother's coffin. I was told by a person not to cry and that I had to be brave. For some reason, I managed not to cry throughout the whole process. When we arrived at the graveyard, the sun had come out and you could see the blue sky. I looked in the dug out grave that her coffin was going to be placed in. I realised that we are not immortal and that death will come to all of us. In Islam, there is an arabic saying but here is the english translation. It is 'From Him we come, and to Him we all return.'

Reality hit me hard at that point. We lowered the coffin into the grave. I was told that I had to go in and sort something out as no one else was able to. I felt at peace being in that rectangular hole with her coffin there. I was then told to get out but I would have just been happy if they had burried me alive with her. At least I'd be with her. Once I came out, I had to be the one who would have to start shoveling earth over her coffin. From that, I recieved a cut and it has turned into a scar. A scar that I now look at and brings back unpleasant memories of her burial.

I thought it was strange that I did not cry or I was not upset at that point. I remained like that for a few days and thought whether it was closure. I was wrong. My father sat down on a chair which had my Beats by Dre headphones placed upon. They were already damaged but it turned out that he had damaged the good side. I lost control. I told him he would have to compensate and at first he stated no but then agreed. I started to get worse and worse till I told him that he needed '...to get out of my sight before I do something'. He left along with two other people who were there. There was also a child present. I left the house soon after and went for a walk. By the time I returned, I had calmed down and was willing to appologise. It was midnight and there was no sight of him so I decided to get some rest. As I started to go to sleep, I heard a loud knock on the door. I came downstairs and found out that it was none other than the police. Two police women. I told them upfront about everything and even my past dealings with them. I'm very honest. Perhaps too honest for my own good. They told me that I had to leave the house. I replied "I have no where else to go. Who do you think will accomodate me at 1am in the morning?". Due to my earlier loss of temper, I had hit some things off the kitchen table but nothing was damaged. I had already cleaned up the mess. It turned out that the police wanted to arrest me for criminal damage. That would be fine although there was no damage in the first place so I doubt they had any evidence to back their case for that allegation.

I packed my bag. All I had it in was a box of cereal and a cereal bowl. They then allowed me to stay for the night but would come back the next morning to escort me out of the house. After everything, I realised something which came to quite a shock to me. 25 years of living and all I had were two bags of clothes. That's all I had to show for my life up till the present day. As I left the house, police officers were sitting in the car with the window down. I looked at them and couldn't help but say

"You're a bunch of f*****g c***s. All of you."

I walked off and headed towards Swansea where some of my friends were still studying  at university. I stayed there for a day or two and then headed back to Cardiff to stay with another friend. I found myself hopping from one person's house to another, not knowing until rather late whether I had a place to sleep or not. I would always make some food and pack up enough just in case I wasn't able to prepare food anywhere else. Despite things looking bad, I enjoyed the sense of freedom and being away from that house. Afterall, I no longer have a house. A few months prior to all this, I went and stayed with a friend of mine who was squatting in London, near Oval. I had a blast. I thought it may be ok to head back there but that was not possible at the time. After stuggling for some time, I came back to the house I did not really want to be in. My father wanted me back and at first I was reluctant. We both have different ideologies/philosophies on how one should live. Again, that did not last and I ended up nearly hurting someone. It was again 1am and I decided myself that I should not remain there. I needed a fresh start. I took a gamble and headed for my friend's dad's house in Riverside. He took me in and then I was allowed to stay at my friend's mum's house to which I am very grateful. That is where I am now.

It's strange how I once walked around the city centre of Cardiff in Hugo Boss suits. Some women would look and smile at me. Now the position is rather different. Now people tend to avoid you. I bumped into another friend who is studying law and when I called out his name, he couldn't recognise me. He told me that he would have walked straight past. I guess it must be the beard and the state of my unwashed clothes. I found myself walking around a lot since all this has happened. I usually did walk a lot when my mother was alive but perhaps adding 5 miles more adding it upto 20 miles daily. I would be sitting on a bench in city centre even if it started to rain. To be honest, I did not hardly realise that it was raining. I was so deep in thought. I sat by a pub called O' Neals the other day. It was raining. I saw a disabled young asian boy walk past. There were two guys who had come out to smoke. I was observing them. They started to make fun of the young boy as he walked past tauting him with

"You'll get there. Don't worry"

They were laughing. I looked at the boy and even though he did not look back, he looked at me and smiled. He was extrmely brave to take that. So I sat there and I thought to myself which one should I punch first. I'm not big headed and usually, I dislike fighting as I just want some peace but I would have given those two a good beating. Then I thought to myself that would it be worth it. Would beating them make them realise that what they had done was cruel. I had already been having run-ins with the police now for the past month as it's clear that I'm unable to cope with my mother's passing. I saw a police women then walk past and I called her over. Despite knowing law, I asked her what should I do. I told her that those two men were mocking a disabled person and that I feel they should be punished so would she do anything if I beat them to a pulp. She answered saying that karma will do its thing and they'll suffer. So I left it at that.

I've seen quite a few homeless people. It's gotten to the point that they are starting to acknowledge me. I walked into an arcade and saw two of them. One sat on the floor and the other standing by a bin. The one by the bin looked around to see if anyone else was looking. He saw me but to see if anyone else was watching him. He put his hand in and took out a Mcdonalds drink that hadn't been finished. He then proceeded to walk off drinking it. We have to do what we can in order to survive. At least for me, I've been fortunate in some ways that I've been able to afford some food such as a tin of tuna and some bread. I've been unemployed for quite some time now. Even after applying for jobs that are in other sectors and not just limiting myself to the legal sector as a lawyer or paralegal, I am struggling.

To me, money means nothing. It's a shame that we need it to survive but people are willing to do all sorts of acts just in order to get by. Some people rob and kill for a few pounds/dollars worth of items. I learned a long time ago that money does not bring you happiness. No amount of money I have now can bring my mother back, even if I were to have billions. What one needs are good friends and someone who truly cares for you and loves you. As I sit there on benches and see couples smiling and laughing whilst holding hands, my heart aches. I've always been a loner. I spend a lot of my time by myself doing what I wanted to do. When I was younger, I used to love making money and seeing my bank balance grow. Now I couldn't care whether I had £2 in the bank or £200,000. As long as I'm happy that's what matters but as things stand, that's not likely to happen any time soon.

My Mother

It has been one month, two weeks, and six days since my mother passed away. She died on the 29th April at 11:20am in the University Hospital of Wales, Cardiff (Heath hospital). Still grieving from her death, I feel I should write about her to let others know what a amazing, kind woman she was and how she went from independent new-age thinker to dominated housewife.

She was born on the 10th October, 1942 in Amritsar, India  (historically known as Rāmdāspur). The city famously known to have the Golden Temple (also known as Harmandir Sahib), a holy site to those who follow Skikhism. At the time, it was part of British India which had begun circa 17th Century from activities led by and expansion of the East India Trading Company. From what I've read, the Company's shares were owned by wealthy merchants. The Government had no ownership until legislation was passed and the areas that the Company ruled was held on trust to the British Crown. India's citizens followed a number of religions such as Islam, Sikhism, Christianity, Hinduism and had a diverse population.

Her family were Kakazai. A tribe that orginally came from the Laghman Province of Afghanistan. Thinking back, I remember when a Sikh friend of mine used to call me 'Afghan' in high school despite telling him that I wasn't. I found it strange when I eventually found out that some of my ancestors do actually originate from there. The tribe invaded parts of South Asia and as with all conquests, settled at various spots.

In 1946, the Labour government at the time decided to end its control of India. World War II had depleted a lot of resources and as a result, Britain was exhausted. It was therefore unrealistic to maintain control of a relentless India as its people were striving for independence. There were many political parties at the time like the Muslim League led by Mohammed Ali Jinnah who attempted to form a Hindu-Muslim alliance. However, this failed some years prior to 1946. A two-nation theory became a popular idea amongst the Indian muslims by Mohammed Iqbal in the 1930s. The idea somewhat remained despite Jinnah becoming leader of the All India Muslim League again in the 1940s. It therefore meant that Muslims will have their own land and vice versa for Hindus.

As Britain prepared to relinquish control of India and partition it, violence amongst the population increased, fueled by religious differences. My mother was four years old at the time. I remember her telling me stories of how they owned a very nice property and were failry well off. She had a two sisters. Tension between the political factions grew as time came closer to independence as mentioned above. Since my mother's family were muslim, they were told they would have to relocate along with  hundreds of other families. During this process, my mother told me that her that one of her sisters had died. Many people, young and old, were unable to survive the relocation process due to starvation and illness as well as fighting. It has been reported that there was much bloodshed due to the violence and that somewhat 250,000 - 500,000 died.

On thr 14th of August 1947, the dominion of Pakistan was formed. My mother's parents settled in the northern suburb called Shahdara Bagh. She took me once back in 2000 as her father was unwell. We stayed there for three months. The area is poverty stricken with an open sewage system in place. Being born in the UK and brought up here, I did not like what I saw. It was a huge jump for me. At times, when the temperature was above 40 degrees celsius, the electricity would go out for hours. To provide you with a visual description, it has a resemblance to the Brazilian favelas. Most of the residents there belong to the same Kakazai tribe so I can see why they decided to settle down.

In regard to academia, she was bright and a hard worker. She told me how she used to compete with her friends to see who would get the highest score. She;d also regularly tuition local kids in the area. I've always known her to be good at mathematics and later went to the University of the Punjab, situated in Lahore. Mum obtained a degree in History. I personally loved History at high school and still do to this day. This love led me to enrol on a degree course to study Ancient History and Egyptology. I was happy that my mum and I were so alike. Throughout her education, she also learned to speak Farsi or Persian as well as having learnt English and able to speak Hindi, Urdu, and Punjabi.

Her parents did not have a son which made a big impact cultrually/socially. If you did not have a son, then life would be a lot more difficult. When I asked her at a young age, why didn't she get married in her 20s, she told me that she had decided to look after her parents/sister and adopt the role of a son. In those days, having a woman in the office was a rare sight. She was perhaps one of the earliest examples of the 'modern woman' you see today worldwide. She earned money, helped her family and enjoyed herself. Life was good for her. Although it wouldn't remain like that. During these times, if a woman was not married past a certain age, no one was going to marry her which is something that still remains within the Asian culture/community. It was also the time when looking for a husband/wife was done via arranged marriage. An offer had come from my dads family who lived quite a distance away. My Dad at the time being 50 and she was in her early 40s. They wed but I don't know when. My mum clearly knew. He was uneducated and she was the opposite. My dad had been in the UK since he was 18 so they arrived here in the early 80s.

She described times as tough. My dad in all fairness is not a good man. He may think he is but there is always an alterior motive to what he does. He loved to drink which is forbidden in the religion of Islam. She told me that it was the first time she'd ever seen a drunk person and was so scared, she locked the bedroom door and would not come out. He'd be shouting his head off saying  "I'm going to die this way". As she had been independent for most of her life, she wanted to earn some money since my father did not really work due to back problems. He stopped her. He would not let her as to him, it would make it seem like he was unable to look after her. Basically, he'd be ashamed that she would become the main earner. He beat her and tried his best to 'domesticate' her but she would never give up. On the 26th November 1986, I was born. She always wanted a son. Her mother died a year before and mum was upset that she could not see me but nonetheless, I guess I was her pride and joy.

A bond that can never be broken.

I remember when I was roughly 4/5, sitting on the sofa watching TV. I heard a scream and looked to my left. There I saw my father beating her. Blood running down her face. She said "Shiraz! Call the police!" but my father said "Just watch the TV!". I ended up turning my head and watched cartoons. If I could go back in time and change events, I would call the police. Again, one of the regrets I have in my life. She tried so hard to make things easier for me. We lived at first in a flat in Pentwyn. I can't remember where my mum and dad stayed before I was born. We then moved into Canton at 4 South Morgan Place which again was another one bedroom flat. All my childhood memories are there, good and bad. She used to dress me in really nice clothes even though we didn't have much money. What annoyed me and I did tell her that she should treat herself and buy herself some nice pair of shoes or clothes but she always put me before herself. That was the kind of mother she was.

Causing trouble for my mum as always

It was difficult for her to see me not have a good childhood. I guess it'd be like that for any mother. Walking to places such a theme parks was impossible so she decided to do some creche work and gained the necessary qualifications. She worked for Barnardos, Riverside Warehouse and Riverside Community Centre until she saved enough money to buy a car and driving lessons for it. I remember her leaving me once in the flat. I was so upset that I didn't want her to go but she said she'd be back in an hour. I looked out the window as she drove off. She must have had a few lessons. But unfortunately she was not able to get a driving licence. My father took the car without her permission and gave it in part-exchange. That is the type of man he is. I also remember my mum telling me that her jewelry was gone. Long after, I was helping my mum clean my father's room. I noticed something hidden underneath the carpets and told my mum. It was her jewelry. I have my reasons as to why I don't get along with him to which I'll leave for another time but he did everything in his power to stop her from being independent. He also forced her to give up the life insurance policy and stated that if she didn't, he'd give her a divorce. On that note, I must have been 7ish and walking down Cowbridge Road, Canton with my mum going to school. I distinctly remember asking her why didn't she get a divorce. If she did, she'd be happy and we could be happy together. But her reply was that she wanted me to grow up in a household with both parents present. She said that it wasn't nice to have seperated parents and sometimes children are often affected by it. Mum didn't always want to live in a flat. She wanted a nice home. My parents sold the flat and we lived in Riverside for a few months. It was there where I began to play in the streets. I'd never done so before. It was fun. It was also there were I met some good childhood friends that I still see today. After sturggling, we moved into a newly built property but the area at first seemed nice but turned out to be terrible. There were either pensioners/old retired folk or those on benefits and pretty much 'scum of society'.

When the time came to go into high school, my mum sent me to some private schools. I had to do some tests and depending on the results, I'd get in or not. She was happy that I had recieved offers. I'd been to a number of private schools. All the kids wore blazers and were mainly from upper class families. I felt odd there. I told her I didn't want to go there and I wanted to go where my friends were. She still enrolled to to a Catholic school despite us being Muslim but again, I did not fit in. I look back now and wish that I'd accepted those offers made from private schools. Had I done so, life may have been different.

She never caused trouble for anyone. She wasn't the type of person to do that. All my friends who visited the house found her warm and kind. She loved celebrating my birthdays. It was a really big day for her. But growing up, on big days such as that, there would always be a big argument. At 13 years of age, I decided to stop celebrating my birthday. I decided in fact to not celebrate anything. The environment I grew up in was very tense. Even when I turned 18, she wanted to hire out a venue and call people from all over to celebrate but I said no. The same for when I turned 21. But last year I turned 25. It was just the both of us as my father was in Pakistan. So I asked her,

"Mum, what do you want to do on my birthday? Shall I get cake?"

She looked at me, smiled and replied

"Ok. Let's eat cake"

I walked down to ASDA and bought a small chocolate cake. We sat down, spent some quality time together and ate it. We always said that we'd be together and fight whatever comes our way. Just the two of us and no one else, supporting each other. Before that, it was her birthday. She always used to come up to me and say

"Do you know what day today is?"

 And I always answered back saying

"No. Not really?"

But I knew. My gym membership at the athletic stadium was 10 10 82 so how could I forget. I'd always pop out then and buy her a card and some chocolates. Then she used to get annoyed with me as I always teased her for being fat and saying she should live a healthier lifestyle yet I bought her chocolates. Last year however, it was a friend's wedding. I walked past the gudwara in Riverside and saw another friend. They asked me to come but I informed them that I'd rather spend the day with my mum. In her card, I put £10. When I handed it to her, she smiled and hugged me. I didn't have much money so it was all I could do but she was happy and I would do anything to see her smile again.

Even though we had a strong bond, I was not the best son. I had and still have my own problems fighting with depression. As a child, it was apparent that I required some sort of anger management as I was getting out of hand but my mother didn't want me to have a 'record'. I have made huge mistakes in the past. Terrible ones. I have done things that not many people would imagine doing. Being involved in gangs and associating myself with other troubled youths is what happened in my later years of high school despite being in the top classes of the year throughout most of it. Even if it were raining heavily, we would be out doing all sorts of things. It got to a stage where in the end, I decided I could not see a future for myself if I carried on this way. It changed when one of the youths I was with smashed a car window to steal something. Police were informed and everybody ran. We hid in someones garden and at that point it hit me. I left, went home, told my mother and father what had happened and vowed I wouldn't hang with crowds like that again. I spent the next few years in solitude. No one had heard from me, and I did not socialise with any other groups. It was a bit extreme. On top of that, I had depression. All I did was play video games.That worried her a little. Taking this measure of solitude still affects me to this very day. I'm not socialble. I don't go out and do things which others of my age enjoy. To put it in another way, I don't have a 'normal' life. I've never been in a relationship and I often find it tiring when I'm with a large crowd of people. I do not drink or smoke which is something my mother was always pleased with. She'd used to say

"Apart from your temper, you're as good as gold"

I spent most of my university days either at uni or working. I chose to commute as the institution I was enrolled at was 40 miles away. The decision was based on the fact that I did not want to get into any debt. It was a wise move. I used to get up at 6am, get ready and catch the bus at 7:35am, stay there till lectures finished at 5pm somedays and then head to work as soon as I got home for a quick snack till 3am the next morning; I knew early on the life was not easy but at least I was not a burden on anyone as I was able to buy things I wanted. My regret from this is that I never really bought her anything. She did so much for me yet I became a bit too selfish.

On 10th June 2010, I suffered a horrific knee injury. One that left me severely disabled. I tore my ACL, MCL, PCL, Medial Meniscus and cartilage of my right knee whilst playing football near my university at the time. I was unable to walk. My mother stood by me the whole time. At one stage, I started to suffer horrific pains. It was pain that I can't quite describe. I was screaming every minute for a period of three days. She asked me that we should go to the hospital but I stated that it must be part of the injury and we should wait. I was so bad during the whole time that I was unable to even get out of bed and go to the toilet to urinate. I'd have to pee in a empty milk bottle. Since I already had depression, I got even worse. I wanted to kill myself. From being super fit and healthy with 12.5 stone of lean muscle to being bed ridden was a traumatic experience for me. She helped me pull through. I was so down that I was unsure of whether I wanted to enrol on a postgraduate course that we discussed about. But in the end, after two operations and a lot of frustration, I learned to walk again with encouragement from my mum. It turned out that the pain I was sufferering in those three days was scepticemia and I was close to death since it started to spread through my whole body. Only one friend of mine saw me in that state and was in the hospital with me. He came down from London for the weekend to hang out but I guess we didn't plan to be in the hospital on a saturday night. There were another two who saw me bed-ridden as well. I also remember asking the doctor about my leg before the operation. I asked him whether will it'll be ok and that what will happen to my leg. He told me that there was a chance they'd have to amputate it. I was shocked. I looked at my mum and cried. She told me not to worry but I knew she was just as upset as I was. She worried about me too much. I slept over a friends house once when I was 13 and she rang after I'd been out of the house for two hours asking if I was ok and that was I missing her.

What has been eating away my heart most of all is the sunday prior to her passing. I was at home, teasing her as I did. Seeing her unwell sometimes made me frustrated. I didn't like seeing her cough all the time. So then I got a big angry. I had arranged to play football with some friends and rang my father to come home as I didn't want to leave her on her own. I had no idea that whilst I was at the park, she had a panic attack and was rushed to hospital immedietely. I came home and no one was around. When my father arived, he started crying. I knew something was wrong and I rushed down to the hospital straight away. I saw her and I told her how sorry I was. She forgave me like always. I spent some time with her and I did not want to leave but she told me I should go home and come back the next morning. That night, I was unable to sleep. At around 2:30-3am, I had bad chest pains. It was as if something was pulling my heart from my body. When I arrived at the hospital the next morning, she was in critical care. The nurses told me that at around 2:30-3am, her condition had worsened. I spent most of the day with her and holding her hand. She was on a breathing machine but able to communicate by writing on a pad. Once they took the mask off, she was coughing. It meant that she was unable to eat or drink water. I went in again on tuesday but by wednesday, I was so run down that I was ill. I'd caught a cold and I could not visit her as I'd jepardise everyone else's health in the unit. I went back on thursday and saw her asleep. I thought to myself that I'm glad she's getting some rest. Although, that was not the case. As she was unable to get enough oxygen into her system, her heart was pumping twice as fast. If the heart is unable to pump oxygenated blood throughout the body then the other organs will be affected such as the kidneys.

I asked an old classmate of mine who is now a doctor to check up on her. At one point we were caught looking at her papers but I informed the nurse that I had put him upto it and not to give him a disiplinary. I'd bought her a card and wrote this message inside hoping that she'd be able to read it. I wrote

"Mum, I need you to be strong. You can beat this. I know you can. I love you. I always have and I always will. You are all that is good in my life. My raison d'etre is so that I can fulfil your dreams whilst you're alive. I know I've made mistake. I know I;ve disapointed you at times. I know I never fulfiled my true potential but you were always there for me. Please get better so that you can come home. Who am I going to play, annoy for fun and joke around with. That's why I need you. I still need you right now. There are so many people who want you to get better. I told you so many times not to do things which you were incapable of doing but you still did them. I won't be able to live if you're gone. You have to remember OUR PROMISE. You can't break it. You've been getting better slowly so you need to fight this. Hopefully everything will be fine inshallah. I've promised you that I will become the son and man you wanted me to become. That I will be successful, get married and have kids. You need to be around so that you can see your grandkids and spoil them. So stay with me ok, I'm not ready for you to go."

 But she was so doped up that she didn't know what was happening around her. We spoke to the doctor after he called for us and he said that she has no chance of getting through this. My heart sank. I couldn't quite process it. I wasn't a praying man but I started praying from that day hoping that a miracle would happen. It did not. On the 29th April, a sunday, I was looking through all my baby albums and childhood photos. At one point, my heart sank again. I felt my chest being extremely heavy. My mobile started ringing and I answered. It was the nurse looking after her that day. Her name was Nicci. She told me I had to come down straight away. I put on my clothes and rushed to the hospital as quickly as I could. Looking at the monitor, her stats were dropping. Blood pressure kept falling. Once it got past 50, her hands were cold. I was crying but I kept talking to her till there were no signals being recieved. It was 11:20. Since then, I've been lost. My mother was the one who would always point me in the right direction. No one will now care if I've eaten. No one will now be worried about me as she was. No one can replace her.

On sunday evening/early hours of monday morning, I got into an argument with my father. He wanted to smoke in the house. I've always been against smoking. We've had many arguments regarding this. He'd always say "I don't give two fucks" when I'd tell him that there were other people living in the house and that he should take our views and health into consideration, especially since my mother had lung disease. When I'd left for Stockholm, my mother told me that he was smoking in the house. I was very annoyed and angered but said nothing. All of his friends were telling me that it's his house and he can do whatever he wants but I had my counter-arguments. It's what I've been trained to do as a lawyer. I told them that have they ever seen someone gasping for air like how my mother was gasping to survive during her final days. They remained quiet. I then told them that you may think it's fine now but when the time comes and you have been diagnosed with lung cancer or something which is caused by smoking, you will be regretting it. I left the house at 1am on that monday. It was pouring with rain. I walked the streets and got soaked. I did not want to go back to that house so I sat down in Cardiff Bay and wished my mother was still around and that my father should have been the one to have died. I would have preferred it that way. Even though I say/write that, my mum would say that the man is still my father but to me, my father and mother died that day.

Couples That Look Alike

I'm ill. I seem to have caught a cold when recently the weather in the UK has been amazing. Nice sunny warm weather and I've been stuck at home spending most of my time in bed. So I thought to myself that I should do something and then it hit me.

Ever seen a couple walking down the street holding hands? Of course you have. Ever seen two people walking together and you think to yourself "Why is that guy holding his sister's hand?". You've probably seen and thought that too and then you find out that isn't his sister. There is an explanation into why these couples resemble each other so strongly that many people like myself think they are siblings. It's kind of like dog owners resembling their dogs.

When people generally think of love, a few quotes float through their minds such as 'opposites attract'. But is that exactly true? Clearly these couples are evidence contrary to this quote. I suppose it's not as simple as that.

The first study I will briefly discuss was led by Robert Zajonic (http://zajonc.socialpsychology.org/) who is no longer with us. He died from cancer in 2008. Couples had photographs taken when they just got married and then had photographs taken 25 years later (that's if the marriage lasted that long). These were then compared. In simple terms, the results were that over time the couples facial features resembled each other. If they were a happy couple, then the physical similarity was at a higher rate. Zajonic concluded that this may be because they were always in close contact with each other and they probably shared the same habits i.e. they slept at the same time, ate the same food and did the same kind of physical activities.

In 2006, the University of Liverpool conducted a study and asked volunteers to study photographs taken of couples. The volunteers were unaware whom was married to whom. It would have been pointless if they did. The results obtained were that couples who had been together the longest were percieved to have similar appearances and their personalities were matched together by the volunteers. Researchers stated that by possessing certain personality traits may be a factor in making an individual of the opposite gender's facial features attractive.

A study published in Evolutionary Psychology Journal asked questions to 750 members of a dating website regrading their personality traits. They were then asked what traits they looked for in their ideal partner and whether they wanted their parnter to complement their personality or resemble them. The data they collected was processed and showed that members had a preference for someone with the same sort of personality (which included neuroticism, extraversion, openness, agreeableness, and conscientiousness). The University of Iowa supported this finding in 2005 by stating that similarity in personality was more important than similarities in attitude, religion, and values in forming a happy marriage. Like-minded people validate each other's beliefs and views, and there tend to be fewer conflicts as a result.

Here's another article I've found that was published in Evolutionary Psyhcology Journal back in 2004 entitled: Narcissism guides mate selection: Humans mate assortatively, as revealed by facial resemblance, following an algorithm of “self seeking like”. It is only 14 pages long and is a good read. http://www.epjournal.net/wp-content/uploads/ep02177194.pdf

Below are some photographs of couples that strongly resemble each other.

It's a bit freaky right. Especially the last one. They really do look like brother and sister. There could be another reason why women sought men who resemble them. It's a well known fact that has been backed up by science that women who are 'daddy's girls' were more likely to find men who shared facial similarities with their fathers as attractive. That's a bit fucked up considering they get half their DNA from their father but that's one of the weird things in this world.

There is a website called Find Your FaceMate.com (www.findyourfacemate.com). It analyses your facial features from key areas and finds the best matches on its database. Perhaps you should try it just as an experiment. I'm quite curious myself but I may not like the end result. Haha. Who knows, if you have a girlfriend/boyfriend, they may not be the love of your life.

Here is a youtube video of two couples who used the site. Again, quite freaky.



So taking all this information in, I guess my girlfriend is going to be a Victoria's Secret Model, no? Haha.

Girls and Mirror Photos

I have to say, I'm usually confused with what women do most of the time but nothing confuses me more when they decide to take photos of themselves in the mirror. What is the point in doing this? Being my usual analytical self, they know they have a pretty face or a great figure yet they take a photo, post it up on social networking sites such as Facebook in the hopes that tons of guys will 'like' and be the envy of some of their girl friends. They'll also have a pout/duck face.

I mean look at her to the left. Yes, she is gorgeous and yes that is an amazing asset she has there but like I mentioned in the above paragraph, she clearly knows this. The fact that I have said she is gorgeous has also boosted her ego by reinforcing her belief that 'she's all that'. It is like most of these women want to be models and self-obsession in my opnion, should be considered more like a disease.

You are all aware of Sigmund Freud or I hope you are. Bit worrying if you've never heard of him but I shall continue. He mentions in his work that narcissism was not only a natural part of the human psyche but also a characteristic that if taken to an extreme level would prevent an individual from having meaningful relationships with others. A guy will look at a girl like this and say "yeh, I'd have sex with her but she isn't exactly wifey material". A girl who does this, really does not have much respect for herself so there is no point in taking her seriously.

These girls are excessively preoccupied with issues of personal adequacy, power, prestige and vanity. If you've met me, you'll know I'm always moaning at how vain society is. It's a fact that most of these girls will probably go for the douchebag type which is just fucked up but nevermind.

I've been at this new gym since the end of last year and I've met some cool people. One guy is signed up to an online dating site and has an app on his phone.It's called Plenty of Fish. There are quite a lot of women on there who do this kind of stuff. All profiles basically saying they're looking for 'Mr. Right'. To be honest, it's filled with horney women wanting some action. So going forward a little bit, he messages them and they reciprocate. Next thing you know, these girls end up sending some naked pics to him. I don't quite understand how he does it. If you read their profiles, they specifically say

Don't send me dirty messages. I won't reply back.

If that was me, I'd be like "Ok. No dirty messages. Got it!" and then I'd send a meaningful message to which I won't even get a reply. He'd do it and BAM! There you go. Naked pics. So the lesson learned is that if a woman says one thing, do the opposite. Besides, it's not the kind of quality I find attractive in a woman who I'd like to date but at least once in my life I'd like this to happen to me for just the experience... haha.

This is a reply from some girl who does this kind of thing often on FB.

Well I do take pictures of myself for fun. Sometimes I want to see how a new style or makeup or hairdo looks. Sometimes I am just bored and I find photography fun. Sometimes I want to see how other people can see me.

I laughed at the"...find photography fun". Do you really? Go and do some actual photography then. Go for a walk with your camera and take photos of nature or a busy street and not photos of yourself in the mirror jeeeeeez. Some women want to know why men don't treat them right and give them the respect they deserve. The first step is to have respect for yourself. Only then will others give you some sort of respect and not treat you like some object. By taking photos of yourself like that, people are not going to take you seriously. I believe that FB and other social networking sites are helping produce more narcissistic individuals.

Seductive Eyes

One of the things I find most attractive about women are their eyes. I personally like all shades of blue, green, grey, or hazel. Eyes which I can get lost in and disrupt my thought process.

When it comes to women, I've learnt that eye contact is important when communicating but I guess you knew that right? A crucial section of the piece of legislation known as the 'laws of attraction'. I read somewhere that if a woman maintains eye contact with you for a period longer than 3 seconds then she's interested. I haven't tried this out. To be honest, I don't have the balls to do it. In my mind, I believe it could go horribly wrong but then again I have nothing to lose right? or so that's what my friends tell me but it's harder to do and easier to say.

Still, I'm well aware that if a girl stares at you for a prolonged period of time, that indicates her interest in you. What's better is that if you notice her looking at you and she smiles then she's pretty much inviting you over to talk to her and it'll probably be up to you to maintain that interest she has. My experience with this is that if I saw a girl looking at me and she smiles, I immedietly think she's making fun of me. I'm serious. Yes, I have low self-esteem. This has happened a few times whilst my time at university and what did I do? I packed my stuff up and sat somewhere else. However, there was that one time when I fell asleep in a 24 hour computer room and woke up with paper stuck to my face but I clearly knew they were laughing about that. Anyhow, it is weird that I can't tell if this is happening to me at the time but I can clearly tell if it happens to my friends. Still oblivious to such signs so I haven't changed that much. On the other hand, if she isn't interested in you then she may quickly glance once or twice and then probably not look at you again thinking "What's he looking at?" or she may be really shy herself. It's a tricky situation.

Most guys I know tend to find approaching the girl the most diffiuclt thing but if she's smiled at you then as I've said before, you should go up to her because she's now made it easier for you. That's about the only thing they find hard. They're able to maintain conversation and escalate things further whereas I do not. I don't think I have the neccessary social skills to maintain conversation unless they're my friends and to be honest, I don't really do anything about it so I can't really moan.

Have you ever heard of something called 'bedroom eyes'? It's a term for seductive eyes. Some women have naturally seductive eyes but others have to work on some kind of seductive look to inform a male that she wants something more tonight. Some tilt their head back and still have their eyes locked on. In my opinion,  she just looks crazy and creepy and I kind of get scared.
Talking about seductive eyes, last year women in Saudi Arabia who had 'sexy eyes' were told they would have to cover them up. I don't really mock culture and religion that much as it causes unnessassary trouble but I just found that hillarious. That was probably they only part of their body that was not covered and now their told that they'd have to cover their eyes up too. They'd just end up wearing black cloaks or whatever other colour they choose that'd ressemble the KKK.

The government of Saudi Arabia has decided that its men would do better without the "tempting eyes" of attractive Saudi women in public places.

Apparently, women in Saudi are required by law to wear the 'Abaya' which as I've mentioned previously covers all parts of their bodies. Those who wonder in public places without it will be executed...nah, they'll just get fined. The idea is that Saudi men should not get tempted and look at women lustfully. Well, I guess Saudi isn't the best place for me to live. No wonder why nearly most of the Arab students that come into the UK are so horney and they try to get chicks over here. Mind you, they also drink since they are far away from home and are temporarily living the western way of life. I'm just wondering though, have they banned porn in Saudi? Guess it must suck to live there huh.

So there you have it. Don't really know what else to say. If you've got any thoughts you'd like to share then please comment.

Abercrombie Douchebags

One company which I'm starting to dislike is Abercrombie & Fitch, the Parent Company of Holister and Gilly Hicks.

Now I can't tell a person what to wear and what not to wear. It is up to him/her to wear what suits their personality. The Company's employment policy in my opinion however is just wrong. It is also used by it's subsidiaries. I was having a discussion on Facebook with one of the girls who works at Holister. She was an ex-housemate and a very nice person. I asked her:

"ok. ok. so if a guy who was overweight and another guy who was in good physical condition were to apply for the same position, who'd you think would get it at one of these stores (Gilly Hicks or Holister)? bare in mind that the overweight guy had extremely good communication skills and was able to sell quite a lot of stock where as the other had no such qualities"

 Her reply was:

"yeah but he wouldn't be able to fit in their clothes and you have to wear their clothes. silly! :P"

I have no idea whether they produced XL or XXL clothing so I just searched it up and found out they do. I'd be surprised if they didn't because all other desginers produce these sizes such as Ralph Lauren, Armani, Hugo Boss etc. But even so, from that I gather that despite the overweight guy being more suited for the job, he probably wouldn't 'look good' which clearly does not fit the image the Company's marketting style and would therefore lose out to the other guy.

I've only been in that store once and that was because an old school friend went in there. We hadn't met for a very long time. He told me that the main reason why he wears such clothing is because his girlfriend wants him to wear it. So essentially, his girlfriend wants him to be 'hip' and clothing from Holister is 'hip'. When I went in with him, it was dark with hardly any lighting. Clever trick to use on consumers as they can't see the exact detail on the clothing but they'll still buy it. Everyone seems to be following this craze of purchasing their clothes from these stores. People even on Facebook have put in their job description 'Works at Holister' even though they actually don't. It's appears that if you work there, then society has accepted that you are good looking. I along with a few others seem like the only ones who haven't sucumbed to this so-called Abercrombie indoctrination for which I am glad. I'd rather be unique than follow the crowd.

Here is a MAD TV skit on Abercrombie employees. What I like about it is that it's a true representation. Enjoy.

The Art of Movement - Part 1

 When one refers to the 'art of movement', what springs to your mind? For many youngsters, parkour or freerunning would be one mentioned.

In essence, parkour is simple in concept and difficult in practice. Precision is everything and like everything else, the beginner will need to start small and develop his reflexes by performing a range of exercises. These are designed to incorporate flexibility and strength. It is easy in a few ways. However, if you want to do it right with speed and efficiency then you must practice one exercise sometimes for days or weeks, maybe months at a time. And again, like everything else, you need to continue pracitcing. You can never truly know parkour, it's infinite.

There is something about it that is calming. The fluidity of movement as I would call it brings my mind to peace. You don't think too much about what you are about to do. If you think about it too much then is it not fluid? you just do it whilst expressing yourself at the same time. Of course, you must be aware of the environment and the obstacles it holds but for me that is about it.

It has been 'established' that the concept of parkour was developed in France by David Belle and those who were close to him. I.e. his father and his friends. I have emphasised on the word established because in my mind and basing this on common sense, surely this form of movement has existed long before by the likes of say, primitive humans. Take civilisations that primarilly existed within the numerous jungles of the world such as the Aztecs or Mayans. In order to catch prey which would have most likely been faster than man, every movement they made in the chase had to count. One slip and most probably they would have lost their dinner for the day. The same would apply if one were running away from someone or something.You may be familiar with the popular japanese ninja and shinobi. They used very unorthodox methods to gain entry into enemy strongholds.

Unbeknownst to me before I typed the above were Sebastian Foucan's words.  He mentioned on the Channel 4 documentary which a lot of you may have seen called 'JUMP London' that

"...parkour has always existed. Free running has always been there. The thing is that no one gave it a name. We didn't put it in the box"

This supports my thoughts that they didn't actually 'create' it, but more like 'adapted' it to the modern concrete jungles that are now spread across the world. Like all inventors, someone before them had to have built the groundwork and they were the ones forunate to complete it to put it in one way i.e. the well known Thomas Edison and the light bulb.Foucan (along with Belle and others) was a member of the The Yamakasi, the group that first exposed me to parkour. All members have pretty much said the same thing in relation to the origins of the concept. It has always been there. As soceity became advanced and a system of movement (by that I mean, pavements and road etc) is now in place, is there any need for parkour? But parkour isn't totally just about getting around efficiently. It's an essential tool for survival. I believe that as a species, man now depends too much on what they have created. Technology and science which have helped ensure 'survival of the masses' are being depended on too much. Why drive to a supermarket which is literally 10 minutes away to do small amount of shopping when you can perfectly walk there? But the main factor is that we no longer need to hunt for our food. This changed everything. But if there were to be a catastrophic event and we were forced to live in a harsh environment with no modern food supply system working and hunting was clearly required, how many 'normal' people would be able to survive? I don't think many will but then again survival is not all physical, you need to be tough mentally which is why the Yamakasi stand for "Strong Body. Strong Mind. Strong Spirit". I therefore think that perhaps man has physically regressed in certain ways. One thing is for sure is that we are lucky to be alive. Our ancestors were perhaps the fittest and strongest 30-40,000 years ago who had lived in extreme conditions. I don't think many of us could live through what they did now with all the facilities we take for granted.