The beginning

It’s strange how a second can be the difference between a whole new period. How I can now say next year I will be 25 when just a few hours ago I would be 25 in two years time.

I know the seconds don’t change us. I am the same person now as I was then, in the same position and living the same life. But time has a funny way of working. We can feel different. We can feel stronger, braver, taller. An illusion of change is just as motivating as change itself.

Make this year everything last year could not be.

Happy New Year!

“The people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones that do” – Apple’s advert, 1997

 

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I write

I write.

I write because the words I want to say remain jumbled in my mind, the voices repeating themselves again and again – so loudly yet remaining silent. Taunting me with the “you should have said this” and “you could have responded with that”. Hindsight. I want to feel the joy when I say it like I meant it and you get it like I intended it and we connect – even just for a little while.

I write so my heart aches less and to fill the void in my soul. To release build up of pain and bottling of frustration. I want to feed the juices that run through me, feel the buzz, rejoice in the energy.

I write to hide from my world. The judging eyes and piercing lips that with just a few sounds can crush my spirit. I want to feel unchained and winged. To say what I want without the fear of politics or religion or love getting in the way.

I write to be the many sides of me. To be more than my big brain or small body. I want to be multi-dimensional and fluid. The happy, the angry, the strong, the lonely.

I write because I can. Because I can’t say. Because you don’t see. Because we don’t listen.

Sisters before misters

The lovely Becky from Becky vs The World nominated me for the sisterhood of world bloggers award. Becky writes about her awesome adventures, living life to the full. I often feel inspired to get up and actually do something – anything but nothing – after reading one of her posts. So do check her out.

Here are my answers to her questions:

1. What is your dream job?

If you had asked me just a year ago I would have said consultancy as part of a large firm – which is what I will be starting soon. It requires plenty of travelling, communicating with people, the projects vary and it’s super well paid.

But my previous job had warped my outlook in the type of environment I want to work in and the sort of people I want to associate myself with. I don’t know what my dream job is anymore.  Continue reading

High Expectations

Here’s the thing. I have so many things I want to say. I want to talk about the politics of hair, counter-terrorism strategies, my ex, my trips abroad, jealousy amongst friends, “Muslim/Black/Asian timing”, being too passionate, people not being who you thought they were, “broken” families, people of colour being seen as aggressive versus confident, resistance of power…

Yes, I do have so many things I want to talk about. But I haven’t found the words to talk about them yet. They don’t read how they sound in my head, the passion I feel muddled and unclear. Or others have just said them way better than me already – funnier, smarter, just better. Continue reading

Being heard 

Me when I get some inspiration

As a child I kept many private journals, using obvious code names to describe other people and talking about my daily doings. Unfortunately my family do not consider privacy to be one of our most important values and my siblings would often sneak into my room and take a peak. This of course meant I had to be very careful about what I revealed. I never talked about my sexual abuse, never talked about any crushes, never talked about my family – it was always about school and friends.

Now this may sound boring at best and pointless at worst but I did not write just because I wanted all my thoughts recorded down for a future me to chuckle and reminisce. In fact, I don’t even know where I’ve put any of these journals and I believe I’ve chucked all the ones from my recent years away (too pained by what I had written about my ex). No. The reason why I wrote is because I loved writing.  Continue reading