Happiness is truly a strange feeling. I had a very strange conversation with my mom last night, where she was kept asking me if I am happy. I kept telling her inno yes mama, for the first time in my life I truly happy. I am healthy, my friends and family are around me, I love Amman-to a certain extent-my PhD is in it's final stages, and I will either find a job here, or go somewhere else-preferable Cairo or New York. The strange thing about the conversation is that she didn't realise that, I reminded her how many times I used to call her from Edinburgh and cry because I was so unhappy, and that here I had not done that. But really do any of us go around saying that we are happy? I sure don't, I know that I am make it unbelievably obvious when I am miserable-to everyone around me-but when I am happy I just get on with life. Isn't that the point of happiness, that you just move along in your life and not have to constantly be thinking about it, reanalysing it, worrying about it? You are just happy. No? As Milan Kundera says: Happiness is the longing for repetition.
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