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dawoco

Nostalgia

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dawoco   

Everything I experience nowadays seems to have a glossy coating of memories attached to it. That song I once love that came on the radio again after five years, my sister getting a take away kebab that tastes exactly like something I had while surrounded by good friends chattering away, the way each day seemed remarkable poignant. All that seems to be gone, and rather than creating new memories, dwelling on all things past seems preferable.

 

Education was a sideline of life and school was attended to catch up with friends and discuss the programme that was on the night before. Indulging in teenage tendencies, talking on the phone for hrs on end with people I had seen just an hour ago was a must. And of course, the class room consensus. We were a horrible bunch. Our poor first year French teacher was very sweet and looked like a wood nymph, with long her down her lower back waving around her as if to protect her from the taunts. She always tried so hard, but with her pleasing ways she never had a chance. She left before the year was done, of course.

 

The first year came and went in the midst of camping trips, disco nights and get togethers. It was so wonderful, getting to know everyone and feeling at home. Though it makes me embarrassed to remember my behaviour on hindsight, there was the deluded sense of popularity. How easy it came and how fast it changed. It happened unconsciously that from a group of friends I became best friends with another girl and everyone else was on the outer circle. She was fun and we would do the craziest things and were always laughing. Though I doubt I would befriend her now, at that time in my life it was such an exhilarating feeling, just being and acting mad. Others always surrounded us; oh how it irritated us. How horrible we were to those who got on our nerves, and how bad I could feel about it now.

 

There were two girls in particular who were told that even though we liked hanging around with them, they were lingering around for too long and should find other sources of entertainment. At the time it was justified, but it must have made them feel bad. Maturity was lacked and sophistication took back seat to fun.

 

At the beginning though, there was a third member of my “groupâ€. She and I would always meet up at weekends and go to the cinema together. She wanted to be just as fun loving as us, but felt left behind by the other girl and I. She started to change, her father storming into one of the school events and taking her home because he wasn’t happy with her. She was Turkish and blamed me for her father seeing her talking to a guy. Very unreasonable considering the fact that I was no way near her, but we were friends, forgiveness came easy first time around.

 

Not long after I started hearing stories from my other friend how the first was gossiping about me and ended up having many arguments with her. It was sad, but soon enough everyone started to dislike her because of her moody ways. Still, it didn’t help her that we dubbed her “aangespoelde walvis†meaning beach stranded whale.

 

In those days everything was less serious and had less consequence. There were no grey areas just bright pink and bright green. Now everything is serious. Making decisions is hard and there are so many things that need to be taken under consideration. And in the midst of this, I end up remembering million minutes like the ones I have shared with you today. At the time they were so fleeting, but now they are frozen in time and out of my reach. Every little thing can be connected to them. The report card I got, the old school newspaper, even the cup with the school logo on it. Everything is drenched with memories. It is infuriating to realise how serious I am now, though I can’t determine whether there was a time when I wasn’t serious. The truth of the matter is that those little incidents have formed me as a person, and I didn’t even know it at the time. So now I know, I keep dwelling on the memory of it.

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nafta   

Aangespoelde walvis :D ...wat een gemene wijf was jij he

zorgelose jaren waren dat, rond rennen met marrokanen en turken...die beroemde vecht partijen op het school plein...valentijn disco's ;) ...kamperen samen met je brugklas...zucht...ik mis het allemaal :(

 

* shakes herself back to reality *

 

I can relate to what you wrote meid, as we grow older it seems that old memories is all we've got. the new ones never seem to measure up (or stay long enough).

I often catch myself thinking about my childhood, the good moments and the bad ones. Although i don't regret anything, i do wish that i went about some things a different way. But hey that's the past, and the future does seem bright from where i am sitting now.

So I wouldn't want to trade my memories for the all the dahab from dubai smile.gif

 

P.S. this is a minor confession so don't hold it against me people...during my first year at college (and this is wayyy back)...there was this girl in my class...she was a bit of a loner...anyway...for some particular reason i took a dislike to her....and um...one time the teacher caught me and some other girl writing letters to eachother about her....the rest you can figure out

Till now i wish i wasn't such a snob back then...i even thought of going to this programme "Het spijt me" (a dutch talkshow, where u say sorry to whoever)...

I went back this year to Holland for a holiday, and i saw her, i pretended i didnt recognise her redface.gif ...and just walked straight ahead....i mean what ws i supposed to do

 

(why do i feel i'm gonna regret confessing to this)

 

Ciao

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Faheema.   

Ooh how I remember those days so vividly… smile.gif Not a care in the world…cab ..cun…seexo…ciyaar…sheekayso…all the things you barely have the time for these days… :(

 

I never thought I would say this but in my days in High School we were never like the kids today, my goodness the things I hear kids doing nowadays is absolutely diabolical… They get away with so much. :eek: :mad:

 

and before you start…I am talking about the 90’s icon_razz.gif

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OG Moti   

Ala, Dawaco is saying millions of moments, millions of moments? how old are you girl? so young yet so experienced, Alla west word caruutii bey naga waaleen, they are going too fast, movies at weekends, seriousness and maturity at that age? walahi cajiib, when were your age dawaco we were simple, go out for shaahi and canjeero, talk under tree, play football, go home at 6:00 PM and at 8:00PM we were on bed to wake up 4:00 AM for the fresh air.. when was the last time you smelled fresh air, now days our kids have made the first sun as an enemy, not many kids can say i saw the sun rise.. they wake up 12:00 noon and say aah i woke up so early, they never look above and say look at the stars, they are so busy in what to eat and where to eat, entertainment has taken control in their lives, Dawaco my dear, i feel your pain, Allah kariim

PEace

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Dawaco,

 

Am NOT gonna make fun/mock you as Ngonge and Og-moti did, for i know that they went through the exact same or similiar things while growing up, despite thier protective shields.Every one goes through this, and it's what defines you to who you are or who you have become.

 

At times when you get free times to your self and reminisce at old times, and you say to yourself "what was i thinking" and you laugh it off, it's honestly an awesame feeling, it's times of these likes that one should always cherish and embrace for a life time....

 

Ps: you are now 100% a complete women! :D:D

 

 

asxantu

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Good piece. Your statements were, more or less, an articulation of my sentiments.

 

Our memories, in reality, form our persons. What makes you "Dawaco" is not your name or your appearance, but your memories. If your name were Fatima, you would still be the same "person". In other words, what makes you, "you", is the aggregate memories in your mind.

 

In fact, if I reckon aright, it was Liebniez, the seventh century Mathematician (the co-founder of Calculus) and Philosopher, who posed the question: If you were told that after you die today, someone that is you, will be born tomorrow; however, that person will not have any of your memories. Would you understand what that means?

 

With Salaams

PK

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Tuujiye   

Dawaco kaalay Ilcapo aaba ka dartee..lol..

Sheeko waxaa soo qortay macaan oo aniga xitaa xasuus igeesay...

 

laakiin xasuus markaan galay aniga dhan neerafooso aa igu kacay maxaa dhacay, aniga waqtigii qaxootiga aan soo xasuustay nooh...Ciyaal Utaango aan iska ahaa nooh.. birta biyaha iyo musqulihii Utaango aan soo xasuustay..haba sheegin dhuudhi kii ahaa..kaas asoo igu qoslaayo wijigiisa aan soo xasuustay.

 

waxaan soo xasuustay gabartii ugu horeysay oo jac igu dhajisay..it was in Utaango. She said I was too young and too shaxaari for her.

 

Waxaan soo xasuustay inta mar ee Jokorayda neirobe ee idileen oo lacagta caanaha la iigu diray iga soo xoogeen ama iga xoogeen baakada caanaha (KC).

 

waxaan soo xasuustay maalintii ugu horeysay aan class la fadhiistay wax wada cad cad oo indho kala nooc nooc leh sidii mukulaalaha.

 

waxaad isoo xasuusisay waxyaalo badan oo dhanaan iyo macaan iskugu jira. Ilaaheey ajar iyo xasanaad hakaa siiyo.

 

wareer badanaa!!!

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dawoco   

Thanks to all that replied, the good, bad and funny ;)

 

Garab tuujiye lol, I’m not in Il capo’s league as I can’t develop fiction like that, but u have had such a colourful life. maybe our esteemed creative team can turn it into a soap opera icon_razz.gif

 

Nafta, in die tijd was nl nog leuk en alles zo gezelig en in orde, maar nu is er teveel waantrouw tussen de mensen :(

 

Mutakalim you have hit the nail on its head. It takes a long while to realize how these things have created a character. And perhaps the unwise decisions made go on to create the weaker aspects of our personalities.

 

If Fatima died and was reborn she would in essence be the same person, i.e. have the same personal qualities and react the same on situations. But if Fatima had to recreat memories and was surrounded by people she has never encountered before, she would be faced with new prospects, new challenges and new experiences.

 

This would naturally produce new memories and Fatima would be shaped into a new individual due to the people she has been exposed to and the different situations she had to deal with. This Fatima, though still an extension of her former self, wouldn’t identify herself with the same things she once did, because she has developed in a different way. It is nature versus nurture I think, nurture overriding nature.

 

I hope my ramblings made sense. My mind is dulled by the Friday afternoon laziness, so do bear with me.

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