Since I came back to Jordan IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ve met a lot of people that read the Black Iris and most of them always have some feedback for me; the main one being that I donÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t have enough personal Ã¢â‚¬Å“lifeÃ¢â‚¬Â posts.
So here we goÃ¢â‚¬Â¦
…Coming back to Jordan after university means having to live with your parents. If youÃ¢â‚¬â„¢re not married then youÃ¢â‚¬â„¢re living with your parents. ThatÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s just the way it is. ThatÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s our environment and thatÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s our society. Of course the older you are the more embarrassing it becomes, but if youÃ¢â‚¬â„¢re still in your 20Ã¢â‚¬â„¢s and unmarried then youÃ¢â‚¬â„¢re pretty much safe.
At first itÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s weird. You come back to your old room, in your old bed, amidst the debris of posters and all the trappings of high school; of another life you once forgot. And at first itÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s weird.
But the room finds a way to become yours again.
Which leaves us with one thing: the parents.
Let me get one thing straight and out of the way from the get go: I love my parents dearly. But as all sons and daughters, loving thy parents can never take away from the fact that they have the potential to drive you crazy. And if youÃ¢â‚¬â„¢re in your 20Ã¢â‚¬â„¢s and unmarried and living with them, well, that potential becomes even greater.
My mother for instance forgets that I lived several years on my own and managed to survive. Nevertheless she will always be there to provide her superb nagging abilities. Either the room is not clean enough, or IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ve taken too many showers, or I havenÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t showered enough, or I put the towel in the wrong place, or my shoes are all over the place, or I forgot to put gas in the car, or my snoring is too loud, or my bedroom windows are too dirty, or there are not enough satellite channels and thatÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s somehow my fault, or my breathing is too loud, or IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m consuming too much caffeine. And those are just a myriad of the micro issues.
The macro issues are those topics that deserve the wrath of her nagging such as marriage, work, education, health, et cetera.
My father is more laid back. I usually feel like he has an understanding that IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m no longer a 16 year-old even if IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m living in a 16 year-oldÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s bedroom. There are times when IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m positive that heÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s reminded my mother of that fact.
For example, during my first two months back my mother would insistently nag about me going out with friends so late at night and coming back late. Then she stopped. Not all together, but the nagging generally died down, slowly.
My mother however still has that motherly habit of having to know where IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m going and with whom, as well as their passport numbers. When and if I tell her, sheÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ll give me a disappointed look like I could be doing so much more with this valuable gift of time IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m about to waste.
My room is generally messy. In fact, messy is not a qualified enough adjective to accurately describe the situation. IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m one of those people whose environment looks chaotic but manages to memorize where everything is within the mess. If someone moves something around, IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ll know. My mother will journey into this room of mine every so often, when the build-up is bad, and sheÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ll give up. Instead sheÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ll give me a tough lecture thatÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s more of a complaint, and sheÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ll choose the absolute worst time to give it to me. Such times include the final week of the month when IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m working an average of 12 hours a day and my hairline recedes half an inch.
What I miss about my undergraduate life is the independence.
I miss staying up late with the TV in the background while IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m reading or writing or surfing the web.
I miss getting on my bike at any hour of the night and just going for a ride.
I miss not having to worry if coming home, unlocking and locking the front door, making my way to my bedroom, and falling asleep is a process that will wake my sensitive-sleeping parents two rooms down.
ItÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s not all bad.
There are the home cooked meals.
ThereÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s the company. Even though most of the time IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m in my room or at work, thereÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s always that Ã¢â‚¬Å“presenceÃ¢â‚¬Â; the feeling of a Ã¢â‚¬Å“full houseÃ¢â‚¬Â so to speak.
I donÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t have to pay bills so thatÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s always a plus.
And in truth, living with oneÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s parents during his or her 20 something years, can always help in getting a leg up on future plans. You donÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t have to worry about the small things and instead focus on the bigger picture.
I havenÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t figured out which life I prefer but I know that nothingÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s perfect.
Not completely anyways.
And that’s just the way it goes.