Flat Search DAY 2/3 and THE END

October the 31th, Sunday... There were 3 appointments noted in my little notebook. The first thing on Sunday morning was texting to the 11:30 appointment human being to push it to some time in between the rest . I deserved a big Sunday breakfast after celebrating Halloween in the cinema watching some paranormal activities, didn't I? :)

First stop Texas, I mean Dalston. It is a four floored massive house with two English guys living together. Their 3 kids come and visit them every now and then. Two bicycles welcome you in the entrance one of which has a little baby chair on the back. Barbie houses, craved pumpkins, paintings, toys, little clothes were spread in EVERY INCH of the house. After starting the conversation in a very English way (either weather or weekend plans) - if you stuck always talk about weather or ask how their weekend was :) I rocked the day with my very straight forward question:

- Are you guys married?
Silence...

The one who is a computer animator (or should i say the geek number 1) said that they both had their wives lived closeby, they separated around same time and decided to live together. Two weirdos!Then the geek number 2 who does some IT job passed me my tea in a mug. We headed to see the house upstairs (with me still holding the mug by the way:)
It's a massive, giant double or say quadruple room with two massive windows and wardrobes, shelves, everything I would need for my shoes, mountain of clothes, bits and pieces, books, toys etc etc.

Price was fantastic as well, then I recovered from my astonishment and thought that was "too good to be true Kubra". Bless my naiveness!

- Who was living in this room before?
- There was another girl, she left... (Silence) You may meet her one day, maybe...(Silence again)

God! I may well be getting myself into trouble voluntarily, what does it mean I may be meeting her? In the Hell or Heaven? In mental hospital? What the fuck did they do to the other girl!? (I was still under the influence of last night's horror movie and was still holding the mug) I ended the conversation with my polite wording of "I can't decide right now since I'll see few more places but I'll let you know asap". RUN KUBRA RUN!

Second and third stops were both in Whitechapel. Chapel, yeah right word to define. No one told me that there was a MASSIVE MUSLIM community lived in that area! I thought I ended up in Baghdat or Tehran or Riyadh etc. The afternoon pray started in the East London mosque HERE WE GO: guys with long breads, women wrapped up so well that you could only see the pupils! No offence but if you were born in a Muslim country as a woman, you kind of hate Middle Eastern stuff inevitably! If I lived here they would give me a "recm" punishment for my Ruby Woo lipstick in the first place! :)

The both rooms were awful, they are called ironing rooms in Turkey as I said before. The second one was in a one bedroom flat and the guy was renting the bedroom and invading the living room so it's like imprisoning me in the ironing room! I couldn't see any proper wardrobe, there was 3 (THREE) shirts hanged up on the rail. YES THREE!
He said:

- Yeah.. I'm weird...

I can see that you are weird man, how can you have only 3 shirts in total to wear all through your life?!? And no jumpers or shorts, raincoats, or jackets, or cardigans, coats, ties... Blimey! Will I pay to stay here? Actually they should be paying me for giving them this honour of living with me! :))

Next day, after my first hit on the phone with sleepy eyes I forced myself to jump into the shower to wake up properly so that I could make it to my 10:30 appointment in Caledonian Road, slightly Northern quiet neighbourhood. Lovely modern room by a Russian girl. We Turks all have a weakness for Russian girls. But come on! I'm a girl even though I don't sound too straight when I comment on other women still I'm a girl not a Turkish man!!! I can't excuse them easily.I turned up to the station and called her as we agreed last night, she picked up in a rush and said:

"Please call me in 5 ohh no in 10 minutes" Klink!

5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes... I got carried away with setting up apps in my new Blackberry... Then I phoned her, no answer. Again... no answer. Again... no answer! ARGHHHH!!! I was going write what she deserved something like you BITCH! But saved this for facebook status update and wrote that her behavior was very amateur and she should have let me know about any change beforehand, I worked and had limited time... "London is not a city of amateurs!" I ended my text.

1 hour later when I was at work my telephone rang, a strange number. Compared to the one of hers, nope a different one.
- Hello, I do apologize for this, I'm really sorry Kubra but something went wrong and couldn't get back to you. I lost your number and you were already gone when I came around... Blahh blahh blah...

She was carrying on, I said yeah it's OK and hanged up!

Lessons to Learn:
- East London is over for me, cool kids can live there happily ever after WITHOUT knowing me!
- Sharing a flat is not a way of socializing it's actually torturing your social and cultural limits for the sake of nothing!
- Plus you would never meet the man of your life in a shared flat! Or in a Rynair flight, or in a 3star hotel!
Forget about it!
- Be a normal person and go to an agency and rent a studio flat in the North or centre.
- London is not a city of amateurs! ( still holding the mug)

Flat Search DAY 1

After making countless phone calls and crossing most items on my flat/room list finally I managed to make two appointments. The first one was in Hoxton, no one told me how horrendous place it was!!!
No offence to any Turk but all the ugly Turks must have chosen this area to settle down! Well... we Caucasians are the best looking minorities in Turkey (as well as the ones from the Balkans) ;)
After asking so many passer-bys and calling the guy two-hundred times I finally found the place. A heavy smell of weed welcomed me in the building! Someone must be smoking very cheap stuff... I hesitated to go through, but no! I have to have an idea about London housing, what they call "a room" to evaluate and appreciate the other places.

- Hi Kubra!, a skinny guy opened the door. I spoke to him in last 2 hours more than I spoke to my dad in last two months!

He was so skinny that his legs were the same size as my arms! My mum must see this guy before calling me "skinny"!
He showed me the room which had the same size as our room in Istanbul that we used to put our ironing board and wrinkled shirts to be ironed. Huge flats are inherited from the Ottoman Empire palace traditions in Istanbul. What a massive difference between life standards in Istanbul and London! Living in the poshest area just by the lovely Bosphorus and now searching for a room in Hoxton!

When he was gazing at my dark pink Estee Lauder lipstick with a mesmerised face, I was counting the grey socks hanged-up to guess how many guys should be living in this rundown place.

- Would you like to have a cup of tea?, he pressed the kettle's button.
- No thanks, I'm in a hurry. I have to see as many flats as possible before December. (which meant I have to run away from you as far as possible! lol!)
- You have loads of time!
- Yeah but I won't be here after next week and a very busy week is coming up.
- Where are you going?
- To Germany.
- Are you German?
- ?!?
He must be quite high to think that I was German.

- No I'm Turkish.
- You don't look Turkish.

I gave him a quick vain look...

If a guy tells you that you don't look Turkish that means he is chatting up with you in the cheapest way possible.

My second stop was in Old Bethnal Green street. Without google map and internet I felt like someone from 1990s! I asked a Brit who was selling not-very-fresh vegetables on the street.

- Ya going to Liverpool street direction or Dalston?
- Ermm... Dalston. ( Not because I knew where I was going but I liked the name Dalston :)
- Where are you goin ixactly luv?
- To Old Bethnal Green Road.

I walked on and on and on... Then I must have ended up in Turkey! Pelin supermarket, Irmak off-licence... And a mosque called "SULEYMANIYE"! Whaaa?! I was definitely in the WRONG place! Or it was a nightmare.

I looked ahead and I saw the PENIS of London city in the horizon (Gherkin building) !
YAY! CIVILISATION!!!
I had never felt happier to see a penis in my life :))

Not long after, the Shoreditch kids wearing the uniform of SHOREDITCH FOOTBALL CLUB have started to mushroom on the road. Skinny jeans, funky hair cuts, trainers, tartan slim fit shirts... It's like a uniform isn't it?I can wear the same uniform to fit in, can't I?

Eventually I gave up seeing the second flat and stopped my fight against technology and ended up in a mobile shop to get a Blackberry.

Lessons to learn:
- you can't fight against technology!
- asking address trend is over!
- if you dump your bf who adores you and knows London very well, you have to deal with everything on your own!
- Day 1 of flat searching can fail.

My hilarious job interview

At 08:10 miss London correspondent, miss financial princess is in central London searching for a bloody address, market place number 13. Where the hell is this market place? Is it like a market place really? Like Broadway market, local food, amateur singers on the street? Not very West London type though...

Who told me to sell my lovely iphone? I miss you my iphone... I miss lots of things lately... I miss him, and him and him and the other one, and the one before that one... All the good things in my life have left me behind and gone with the wind... The wind of change, my favourite one. (by Scorpions)

Market place number 13. Mmmmmmmarket place numberrrr... All the annoying things in this world begin with M. Don't they? M's usually become annoying if you repeat them too often.
Hey I heard a whistle!... From "the wind of change" playing inside me? Not really. This one was from the cleaner man behind me. The thing is when I get lost, there is always an African origin cleaner is up there to help me. A girl with widened Mediterranean eyes with plenty of question marks in it. How bad to be that transparent in the eyes, they always know how much I hate people, or how much I love them or care for them just by looking into my eyes...

- Good morning Kuu--(silence)Qbra! (Yes bitch it is my name, cooler than yours :)
- We have another task for you today, you have 40mins please help yourself with the laptop and word processor and email it back. Good luck!

Another idiotic member of this place is landing NYC in 40 minutes, he needs a good restaurant for Friday evening, equivalent to Scott's, Ciprioni and Hakkasa in London. Scott's? He has money but no soul then!?

After 40 boring minutes and HR interview which I had 1,000 of them in Istanbul when I was only 22 and eventually time for the actual presentation that I prepared the night before with sleepy eyes...

The manager lady: All right Kubra, would you like to start from Rome mission?
Me : Errm.. Yes. (Sipped my English tea with milk to wet my lips)

The story is : There is a member who wants to take his girlfriend to Rome for a romantic weekend and he is planing to propose her. He is asking for suggestion where and how to propose, what restaurants to take her etc. BEST PERSON TO ASK ABOUT ROMANCE LOL!

After acting 10 minutes (acting is my job), drawing philosophical conclusions about romance, Rome and love and importance of customer services bloody blah blah... I noticed that I was driving myself crazy with my acting. And finally Q&A:

The manager lady: What if he loses the bag that he put the ring in it in the airport?
Me: The ring, you mean the engagement ring?
The manager lady mumbles: Errm.. yes.
Me: He has to buy a new one!
The bloody manager: How would you help him? How is he going to distract the girlfriend?

I lost my temper here.

Me: Well it is his problem, isn't it?

The manager lady: !?!

What a loser, isn't he?
He doesn't know how to treat his girlfriend, asking for suggestions to propose her, he is ACTUALLY paying for this service! Get an iphone man! And moreover he is bloody losing the engagement ring and calling me to help him!

Is he going to ask for help in bed too!?!

Miliband kids

There are scenes in life that you can never forget like black-and-white pictures from 50s. It was one of them when David was clapping his younger brother Ed Miliband on the front line of the crowd at the first leadership speech.

Has anyone noticed the coctail of feelings of pride, envy, grief, defeat on David's face? It was clear as a cathedral bell though. He was a bit like Railway Children seeing their father off to jail. He seemed to me that he shut his eyes and tried to summon reserves of patience at the end of that day on his return home.

Two men; young, bright and charismatic holding the same surname and having the same blood wandering in their veins. Blood... This word becomes a fat word when it is pronounced in politics. David seemed to have a lot in mind, he was as amazed as I was at the cheap discourse of so-called socialist movement of Ed. I think using Iraq war as your main discourse stinks badly. Ed was not an MP when Labour ruled by Blair (or B-liar) voted the Iraq war. He has never been opposed to Iraq war openly until the leadership contest. At least he has never expressed his standing against the war.

How about Harriet Harman, the Miss deputy Labour leader? She was clapping Ed with passion as well. Hasn't she voted for Iraq war in Blair's cabinet? This is what exactly David asked her on the spot!

I believe making politics out of war is as cheap as making politics out of religion- just like in Turkey...

Are politicians NOT allowed to be GAY?!?

This question flashes through my mind when I read and also reported the story of William Hague today. Foreign Secretary of United Kingdom is snowed under allegations such as he is in a relationship with his aide. He shared the hotel room with him in abroad... he... blah blah blah...
I understand that he is a married man with no kids. And he has a very decent position in the Commons. But he has RIGHT to be a gay!? No? As well as he has RIGHT not to disclose it so far!? No? Why?

Why gayness is acceptable when Ricky Martin poses next to his boyfriend? Or Lady Gaga sings about her muffin in her songs? But when it comes to certain job titles it is NOT acceptable at all? Is politics something meant to be masculine? And gayness ruins this "FATHER" image? Well... I'm speechless about the country I live in honestly. I thought my country, Turkey has some stereotypes like that. It is simply because we are male-dominant society and the state is a "father" figure. The father rules the motherland in my country. Gays are usually among the artists, media industry and so. Gayness is pronounced as a swear word that we call the refree in football matches who is believed to make biased decisions. It represents a type of character which means HYPOCRISY!!! NOThing to do with sexuality.

But here in the UK, sexuality can be expressed freely (at least as far as I'm aware of). So why is this pressure on politicians? A gay cannot rule a state? What is the reason behind this? Is this because of Conservatives are in power? And they represent the values and traditions? Just like spending scandal came to light when the Labour were in power?

Well... Even where I work there are more gays then straight guys! I do not hesitate to write this because they are all express gays except one of them.

Mr Hague is married and have a lovely wife, please do not let anyone disturb him any more. He may or may not be a gay or may be bisexual, it is his privacy. Even though there is no such thing as a bisexual. Scientists say that bisexuals are on their way to gayness. But anyway, this will be a topic for another writing. What I was saying?

Hmm... So gays are everywhere, deal with it!

I love London when it's raining. Oh really?

Rain makes most cities dreadfully romantic except London...

Because London is not a city to hide. It's a stage with no holes to lurk. It has a powdered story, a made up face with lots of matte foundation on it. Its song is the noise of shoes... Shoes, shoes... Sea of shoes; every town has its own pairs. For example East London has few options: babets and hills for women and leather shoes for men. All signed by Threadneedle Street dust on their corners.
If there is nothing to hide then there is nothing to love? Certainly not. Everything has a price in this city some are written on the etiquette some are not pronounced but known by all.

First of all love and London come from the same directions however they absolutely go to opposite poles. Love is fed by probabilities just like London. London likes probabilities, forecasts and estimates... Nevertheless this city does not have any patient, it expects a result in twenty-four hours. In contrast, love is eternal, less complicated but not simple.

Second of all love is uncountable whereas London is countless. Too many options, things to worry about. Love is away from worries, it is to give happiness with or without you.

Lastly, London does not require you to have a gender. You can be something or someone tonight and wake up as another one tomorrow morning. But love traditionally emerges from two-sided male/female energy- like a two-sided sword that no one can win the game.

And I love London when it's raining because the rain removes its make-up and makes its people disperse to find a hole to hide themselves...

How to Live Your Life to the Fullest?

We are clueless about how long we will live in this world. The question is "Does it really matter how long? Or how good? How happily we live our lives?"

Time is priceless, not to steal your time here is a little test for you to check if you need to read this article till the end. If you say YES to at least one of them YES you need to read this:

- Are you watching your clock during the day?
- Do you feel exhausted, helpless, frustrated when you hear your alarm goes off in mornings?
- You don't have energy to do simple things like laundry, feeding yourself, ironing, doing your hair etc?
- You think today is a very similar day to yesterday?
- You don't feel like picking up your phone most of the time?
- Is your skin looking dull and pale?

Well if so you DO NOT enjoy your life!
Here are some tips:

- Love your job, or love someone from work this will keep you going until Friday.

- Always plan something for weekends.

- Do not stay too long in one city, plan trips- long or short trips, just TRAVEL!

- Try new things. New places mean new faces, listen different types of music, wear different style of clothes, different hair etc.

- Always smile to people whoever they are, whatever happened between you and them in the past!

- Always be the one who says Hi, always be the one who starts the conversation.

- Find a way of expressing yourself, paint, sing, dance, write... If you feel seriosly bad, cry, vomit :)) What I mean is you need to be decharged somehow.

- Whatever your job is watch daily news this will keep your mind updated.

- Always be a student. Learn a new language etc. This will give you a little goal and a challenge in life.

- Love your self, your body.

- Not always but time to time look at old photos.

- Always remember people's birthdays, always use sweet words to other people.

- Try to be away from arrogant people do NOT let them to feed their egos with your energy.

- Eat well, sleep well, dress well. But don't limit yourself, if you think that junk food will make you feel better on that day go ahead!

Enigma

I wish we could speak the richest language in this world so that I could tell you how much you mean to me... Now I have to put wings to the words to fly them higher or deeper than they actually can ever do.

No no... this is NOT another boring love letter that any boring shallow girl can write to a loved one. This is just a rain drop to wet my lips before I start to move my mouth to talk about you... You... My magnificent self. The reflection of me and my dreams. You... Tu... Sen...

You are my missing years... my teen energy... my wasted dreams, thrown away, cast away, far away...

Your enigmatic smile invaded my eyes with a victory gained unintentionally. You conquered my existence, got a life inside me, blossomed like a little primrose. You were dead before I discovered your distant self. Remember you did not have a heart to live, lungs to inhale, any tears to cry...

I don't love you at all! In the first place I made you alive, I created your self in the castles of my imagination. I lighted the candles in your jewish-asian eyes to give me pain in the most masochist way. Yes I created you to give me pain... Ignore me to the fullest with all your neglected heart!.. Please do it more. This is what I need: pain of you.

I will keep on desiring you with passion, love and hate as I did for hundred years. Because your hate is like a poison ivy feeding my love to death. My love is reborn every time you look at me pointlessly, unexpectedly, unpredictably... No wonder you enjoy so much mesmerising me and looking at my puzzled face for a while. I am puzzled with looking at my reflection on the lake! I see myself not you. My pearl... my beauty spot... good bye...

Facebook Embarrassment

Once upon a time, I used to use facebook for my evil plans to check the facebook page of my ex-boyfriend who's younger than me and who were somehow triggering my jealousy in an obsession level. It is time to confess so that it can be inspiring for other obsessed copy cats.

This idea seriously woke up the little devil who has been living inside me, my zombified self! Here is my evil plan:

Firstly, I openned a fake facebook account and put up a sexy (but not porn-like)profile picture of a latina chica. Then I started to add his friends one by one to have friends in common. If I can have friends in common he wouldn't get suspicious about this unknown girl and would add her without hesitation. I joined some groups, night club pages so that more people could add me by the time. I needed my fake account to look as natural as possible. Then, I turned this latina chica to a good-looking hot man's facebook account. I changed the profile picture and name. I put a former Mr.Turkey's pictures (somehow I managed to find his daily pictures not professional ones) and started to send friend requests to his female friends. They were so cool with adding a random guy on facebook though... The plan worked.

Then I turned it to the hot girl's account again (I was in psychosis now with a split personality!) And finally added my dear victim poor boyfriend. Time to lie in ambush :) He then accepted my friend request from this unknown girl who has 18 friends in common! Goddammit! The victory invaded my jealous self!!! He is a bastard adding random hot girls on a social networking site for God knows what!

Well he deleted this fake friend few times by guessing it was me messing with his account afterwards. I promised him not to act like a teenager(!) anymore, apologised him, deleted this account blah blah blah...

As Gaga says: "Trust is like a mirror you can fix it but you can still see the crack on motherfucker reflection!"

Months later on his birthday I wanted to check his wall from my fake account to see if he is hiding anything from me. (I can't even remember the exact reason) Then I left my fake account logged in. Some time later wanted to wish happy birthday to him and wrote a nice poetry on his wall. Two minutes later I noticed that Mr.Turkey with his hot profile picture wrote these birthday wishes on his wall!!! Because I forgot to change the account to mine lol

What the fuck I was going to do now?!? Everything messed up like a spaghetti!!! I deleted them all. And wrote a simple happy birthday message from my own account. But I missed a fact that whatever the hell you write on facebook people receive an email notification.

On next day my man was being so sarcastic about my fake facebook accounts.
He said: "I thought you deleted this stupid account ages ago."

Me: "WHAT?"

He: "I got your birthday wishes thank you"

Me (still resisting): "What are you talking about?"

He smiled then we started to burst out laughing for hours... at the fun, embarrassment, passion, innocence and jealousy of this big hearted little girl living inside me...

"you deserve a cookie!"

I'm very good at sucking at speaking English sometimes... Luckily I'm a foreigner so that people in professional environments excuse my innocent comments :)

Here is an example:

Last day I told one of the managers at work "then you deserve a cookie!" to let him try nice candies from France as he told a colleague that the company made profit in the first quarter of the year!!!

People say "good boy, you deserve a cookie" to their dogs or little boys in this country NOT to their bosses!..

However I can interpret stupid things with a massive tolerance as a joke!

My colleague sent me an mail "i love u" in the middle of the day. I thought this was a Brit joke not to take seriously then I replied as "r u sure? i don't support Arsenal!". Well then it turn out to be someone used his account to mess with him. So what am I? Object of all jokes? Obviously, I work in a kindergarden!

Media world is a bit like this, cheesiness can be acceptable to a certain extent. Even sexist comments! An old school Brit journalist was on his way to up North with a freelance cameraman then he turned to me: "I wish you could come with us and I wish I was 20!!"

Such a pervert! I wish I could slap him on the spot but I didn't. He would have died with my Ottoman slap since he is too old...

Back...

Well.. I decided to come back writing. Even though I sound horrifically bad in English writing, I won't give up! :) One day I'll be more entertaining in English I promise...

I'm changing the format of the blog (I chose this blog among five of my blogs swinging on the internet) and this will be a bit like a diary, quick posts, funny bits and pieces... Enjoy!

The Lost Identity

Something is missing on her face...

As if she will have no face when she removes the make-up... Water will not purify it anymore, will erase it instead. Her face is like porcelain. She will never go red; never feel embarrassed because it has been a long time since she lost her respect.

She lost her feminine voice, delicate smile, her womanly smell which is hidden behind Burberry’s. When I look at her claws, I hardly ever can see her natural pinkness of her nails which are dying under the nail extension.

Oh is it her hair that I caress or an e-bay user’s who sold it to her for ten pieces of fiver last night?

She has a top not a skirt anymore, with hills having no contact with the dance floor.

And her eyes... These eyes can see but can not look at you. They have the deepest look like a fire without a single real flame, freezing effect with no hail because she lost the soul inside her eyes...

All she need is looking and being sexy to as many as possible.

She is looking for something inside bottles of beer, glasses of wine, in bedrooms and under blankets...

She is looking for her identity which she lost ages ago.

“Women used to have time to make pies and had to fake orgasms. Now they can manage orgasms, but they have to fake the pies.

And they call this progress”... a progress without an identity.