The Was-A-While-Time-Coming Post

Happyday stain. On the street today I saw a guy wearing a bright red turban and said to myself:  ‘Hey there, thanks, you sure brighten this place up!’ A head-sized bright blot of colour on a sunny but still rather bleak, low-contrast street. Photoshop low levels (dust). It was 32C today. The weather isn’t formidable or overbearing or soul-crushing anymore! We have started to leave the windows open at home! Wonders!

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In my recent abundant days off I went back to deliberating what I’m going to do with my life next. I’m continuing on here, absolutely. I at least want to try working in the premium zones, and could never leave before having layovers in Nagoya and Tokyo. It’s only that I like to try and organize some lilly pads on the pond ahead of me. To step on, see..?

What I like about it here: Free gym, free accommodation, no utility bills, tax-free salary, unadulterated year-round sunshine, layovers, bring paid to travel, being paid to sit on my bee-hind doing nothing (hotel or standby), shaken-and stirred irregular routine, constant flow of new people (pax and crew), the opportunity for promotion, people deliver groceries to you, personal development (helping me grow-up,or at least apply make-up better), free transport to and from the airport on a crazy swerving minibus, the Abu Dhabi 2030 plan, free medical insurance, ID50s, ID90s, ZED tickets, the lifestyle fits me, the uniform, a secret industry language above and beyond Alpha-Bravo-Charlie, access to terminals and aircraft and hangars and the password for crew bunks, free stays in hotels the world over, that I can remain an expatbaby, global in-person shopping (the internet cannot compete!), new destinations. All-round growth. In the airline, and in the city. Of course if I had it my way I would have new things launching all over the top of each other, break-neck, richocheting like stittles. But.. I do respect stability and security.

And you’re curious, and the answer is: yes. Yes, it’s well possible to go to London then Geneva then Munich (tomorrow) and achieve zilch. Someone installed a dimmer switch to the stars. It’s called having no money.

Private airlines / excecutive cabin crew. This is something I’ve looked into a few times haphazardly, mostly via PPRuNe or the websites of the companies.. e.g. Qatar Excecutive, Royal Jet, Amiri Flight, Kalair, NetJets. Some of them sound a little unstable. And in general, in the private airlines there’s no roster, it’s more like a perpeptual standby affair. As for the rest of it, I’m not really interested in hearsay; would much rather try it for myself. I like the idea of it, or seeing what it’d be like. A whole lot more personal, given that you’re only probably working with a few other crew on a small aircraft. Much more spontenous too, like if the Sheike’s wife decidedon a whim that she’d like to fly to LA or the Carribean or somewhere else for a little exotic sun or a spot of shopping. Glam glam!

Sad bear. Weight training. The day before yesterday I was sobbing, heavy heaving-like sobbing.. scrubbing my bathroom, especially the toilet, just so I had something to focus my hysterics on. Tettering on the edge of being completely incapacitated. I couldn’t cry for along time and then I finally did, and it was wonderfully cleansing. Like a great workout. And the whole guttural-theme of it is quite poetic, don’t you think? Like I said, it was a long time coming, and I know exactly what set me off. Today though, I feel whatever the next level up to superb is. Watch me while I found a new religion based on the wonders of physical exercise, or more specifically, exercise coupled with music. I am going to write a thank-you email or letter to management to let them know how much I appreciate the facilities they provide. Though, I probably won’t mention that the gym probably saved my mental health.

Also: blogging is therapy.

It makes me to giggle to see people continually checking themselves out in the mirrors. Forgot what you looked like for a minute there did you, you sweaty mess? But I dance on the treadmill.. sing (in silence), bop my head around and jiggle my fingers on the treadmill to beat of my BlackBerry. What’s worse then?

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The lilly pad progressions of other people. Jon emailed a handful of people today, requesting that we send a postcard to a bunch of sixth-graders in Missouri, as they’re collecting cards from different countries. And he’s going home next week! The Asian persuasion has faltered. I couldn’t imagine him making such a sweet request like that a few years ago. People change, then (me saying that like the thought only came to me a moment ago). Melody is moving to Virginia in a few weeks, as far as I know (haven’t heard from her). Nourhan is taking her boyfriend to Egypt to meet the parents, which sounds straightforward enough, but there’s a whole lotta conversational debate behind this. Olivia wason my Geneva flight. She’s getting married in a few months to an American chap.

My ancestry. My uncle emailed me some scans a few weeks ago regarding my family history, which up until this point was a topic I knew nothing about, apart from some crypic stones comments from my Mum that my grandfather was maybe nuts, or a killer, or both. My ancestor, John Mayne, was an “idle youth” who arrived in Van Diemen’s Land in 1837.. “after he stole some potatoes, money and a watch” (the standard Australian convict, then). He received his Certificate of Freedom in 1845… “Since John and his wife were illiterate, the surnames of their children were registered as Mayne, Maine, Main and Mayon”. Greeeat. Where’s 23andme when you need it?

Paperweight. I need to mention the best book that’s crossed my path so far (as far as memory serves me), about the building of a medieval cathedral. Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett. I’m disgustingly grateful that I found it (in terminal three, of all places) – a sizeable storybook that allowed to fall in lust with language and stories all over again. I don’t ever want to not be in the process of reading anything anymore. Every beautiful phrase or sentence or word-in-delicious-context in something you read, kind of lays a little tiny piece of character onto you.

Playing card. There’s one main thing on my mind that I won’t be mentioning because I’m silly and there’s too much about myself that’d cringeworthy! The plan is go out with Nour and Ilham in a few hours and and regain/lay some groundwork in normality by socialising in my city (this is my city). And wait for an sms and have a few drinks. Update: scrap that, they changed their minds. :\ Instead I’m going to sit on the couch and watch a movie. Hurrah. And fly to Munich tomorrow. And try to find a postcard, a stamp and a postbox for a bunch of kids I’ve never met.