I'm Lazy, I Know

But better late than never, right? 

Also, I figured I should give you all some time to submit questions, but apparently I have even FEWER readers than I thought! 

So, since they're only two questions, I'll be thorough for a decent post to make up for my absence. 

First up is the mighty Fesh's question:

"Can you elaborate more on the crying kid in the plane back to elCairo?"

Sigh, alright Fesh. Only because you asked so nicely. However, if I end up screaming in the middle of the night because of the nightmares you've brought back, I will seriously come up to elCold Country and hunt you down. I pack a mean left. Trust. 

First, we must visualize the seating arrangements. At the front of the economy cabin area, where the dingy baby bassinets are placed, sat a youngish couple with their maybe 4 or 5-year-old son, and a 6-ish month old baby. I could not tell if it was a boy or a girl. However, my gut says it was a boy. So let's humour it for efficiency's sake. 

Roonies was seated to their immediate right, one row back, separated by the aisle. I was seated about 4 rows behind her. Yes, we do not sit together on planes. That would be catastrophic. 

The elder child was very well behaved, colouring or watching Kung Fu Panda for the duration of the flight. That is the only point I will concede to the parents. 

Those torturous, evil, malevolent parents. The poor baby was obviously uncomfortable flying. Who wouldn't be uneasy being in a strangely shaped tin filled with smelly, grumpy strangers? Worse still, who wouldn't despise being placed in a dirty, smelly, lumpy bassinet? I sure as hell would have thrown an identical - if not more vociferous - tantrum if I were placed in that thing. 

Basically, the baby would scream his poor little head off every time his parents would place it in that sorry excuse for a bassinet. The moment he is placed on one of their laps, he shuts up. He even smiled on occasion. But for some inexplicable reason (apart from it being an obvious and successful form of psychological terrorism), the parents found it imperative that this be the ideal time and place to teach their 6-month-old to sit/lie where he is placed. Because an unfamiliar tin filled with menacing strangers is exactly where an infant will willingly learn a new social skill. 

A 4-hour flight of persistent wailing and screaming proves that theory WRONG WRONG WRONG. 

***

Our second questioner is an individual simply known as Anonymous. Anonymous asked two perfectly good, if somewhat awkward (for me) questions. Seeing as I willingly brought this upon myself, I will be a good sport and answer honestly. 

a) "Why are you so afraid of commitment?" 

Very good question, Anonymous. One I have asked myself repeatedly during my relationship-lifespan. One that requires deep and profound heart things inside my chest to take place. Such things are difficult to envision, let alone achieve. 

But, for you, I will try. 

I think the reasons are three-fold. 

1. Having witnessed several difficult and unhappy (at best) marriages in my immediate family, I am adamantly opposed to putting myself in the same situation. However, rather than channel my experiences towards finding someone who would make me happy (which is the positive thing to do), I have instead built a psychological wall between myself and the very concept of intimacy. This is a defense mechanism to protect myself from an unhappy future. 

2. I have been raised to think very highly of myself. This is in some ways great, and in others a curse. The most obvious curse is that I don't think anyone is good enough for me. This leads to the third reason, 

3. My mother is also insanely difficult to please as she is the original believer of there being no one good enough for me. I am a textbook Mummy-devotee, one of those Freudian complexes I am somewhat aware of but tend to mislabel (kindly inform me of the name if you know it), so I am a blind follower of my mother's beliefs and advice. What she says, goes. Without thought. The few times I have gone against her in any decision have resulted in her being completely right, and I being either hurt or humiliated. So Mummy knows best. Always. 

Your second question was: b) "[Are you] satisfied with your job or not? We keep hearing about Mr. Boss Man but we never heard your verdict on the job you have."

Once again, a good question. In some respects I love my job. I love the people, the prestige factor (big shiny companies are good), and the boost in self-esteem I get from knowing that although I have absolutely no previous background in finance, I'm doing a very good job and have proven myself to be an asset. I also love to learn new things, and I couldn't have been given a bigger challenge in which to learn in. 

However, the number-crunching in and of itself tends to get boring. And the company's bureaucracy and general lack of appreciation of its employees is an annoyance, to say the least (BIG company is bad). But, after a recent conversation with one of the Big Bosses, this is likely to change. Once I know more, you'll be the first people to hear it! 

Anonymous, I hope these answers have been satisfactory. I haven't figured out if i know you or not. Don't worry, I won't chase up on your identity if you don't provide any clues :) 

Fesh, sorry for the late story. Hope I don't end up killing you! 

Happy Eid to those of you celebrating Eid El Adha. And thank you for the three-day break!