Getting organised

I’ve been staring at beautiful bullet journals with green eyes. The motivational side quotes, the habit tracker, memories, blog ideas pages… And I very almost bought my very own but restrained myself just in time. For one thing, I have plenty of empty journals that I just needed to buy that would suffice – even if they’re not dotted. For another, neither my handwriting nor doodling skills are slick enough to give me the gratification I am seeking.

So for now I will keep using my post-it notes and satisfyingly crunching them up once I am done, or towering them up on the side of my laptop.

And as for the lists tracker and quotes I will need to start using my ideas journal. It has some handy squared pages and some speech boxes for my fav quotes. One of my recent additions:

Sometimes your light attracts moths and your warmth attracts parasites. Protect your space and energy – Warsan Shire

And as for journaling, I spent some time this morning rearranging my posts with new categories:

  • Being active: activism, racism, sexism, political think pieces
  • Being creative: short stories, poems and crafting
  • Being thoughtful: reminiscing of the past, personal and emotional pieces
  • Being here: daily or random posts about my daily life or work

Damn that took a while and I’m pretty sure no one cares besides me. But going back to when I started writing, it was a collection of my own thoughts for me so it was worth the time. Reading back was a nice trip down memory lane.

I’ve had this blog for just over a year now. I wrote about my first 10 followers and there are now over 250. Never did I think, with no advertisement, I could achieve that. But here I am. And here I stay.  So thank you to everyone who reads, comments and likes. In a world full of so many we can feel so alone with some thoughts so it’s comforting to know you’re all here.

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Daily alarms

When I started this blog I had intended to write daily. I had a 47 day run. Then I ran out of steam that dramatically dropped.

mm_pete

My style of writing has also changed. My earlier pieces were chockablock full with gifs and memes – made possible by my laptop. Now I write most of my posts on my phone. Except this one – because I am meant to be working … procrastination is a massive blogging motivator!

procrastination

Well in the spirit of new year (and with the help of that methodological restart button) – I will once again attempt to write everyday – except weekends because I need to do more non-computer activities (like crafting, knitting and reading – things I have not done since starting my new job!). Writing on here keeps me sane and I feel like I’m being productive even though I am not – but feeling productive is step 1 of being productive so I’m on my way. & on days I am unable to write full on feels (because some days are just not inspiration) I’ll just post a quote summarising my day. For example, this one:

My sister *applying for job*: What can I write for initiative thinking and problem solving skills… how about spraying air-freshner before going to the toilet?

3585541-ummmm-no

Don’t worry – my blog will not turn into a toilet humour filled space. Unless everyday is filled with that kind of thing. And it won’t be because the world is not that funny and is filled with actual shit worth writing about.

How often do you plan to write – do you even have a “how often” or do you just write when you can/feel like it?

Sometimes it works 

Sometimes I can write what I mean, how I feel, the way I want. Other times – like today – it is forced and fake.

It’s not working.

Have you tried switching it off and turning it back on again?

On that note, those thinking of upgrading to Windows 10 – I just spent an entire morning bashing my keyboard because it was stuck in some funky mode – and it suddenly started working but I have no idea why or whether it will mess up again. Don’t do it – they’re not ready.

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

53 days of summer 

This morning I woke up knowing I have nowhere I must be and nothing I must do. Today I am a free women – for 53 days. 53 days of summer (roll credits).

I start my graduate scheme in September, leaving me with 53 glorious days to myself. This is the first year in six years when I am in this position. Since college I have filled my summers with internships, volunteering roles, holidays abroad and/or work. But this year I have enough money saved up to last me two months of being purely idle – pure bliss.

That is until I realise this is the first year in six years when I am in this position. And I remember why that is the case. I do not enjoy doing nothing. Through all the stress of overworking and taking on more than I can handle, my mind is at peace. I have a purpose and I feel like I am moving forward. I need to feel like I am moving forward. Continue reading

The ordinary girl

She wakes up an ordinary girl. Gets ready for work, works, relaxes, goes to bed. Her life like clockwork, ordinary.

But as her head hits her pillow and she closes her eyes, her mind fills with extraordinary things: creatures and whole worlds, revolutions and solutions, hopes and dreams. She flicks through the channels, what will she explore today? Ideas for stories and plays or perhaps art she’d like to create. They all rushed to the front of her mind – pick me, pick me”, they say –, finally released from the dark corner she stores them, allowing her to go in with her ordinary day.

Her existence transforms whilst she lies on her bed, under her duvet, in her small room, eyes tightly shut. Her mind bursts with colour and action, whilst her room sits still and dark.

One by one she plays with them, develops them and makes them grow stronger. Each thought filled with passion, determination and risk. Till she is sure today will be the day she wakes up an extraordinary girl. Jogs with the sunrise, pitches her ideas, makes new friends, develops her relationships, creates, discovers, explores, goes to bed. Her life like a circuit, lighting up and making connections.

Yet whilst deep in her slumber, her insecurities and fears turn into riot control. They lock shields and circle, drawing closer and closer, shoving all her extraordinary thoughts back into their dark corner. “Go back, she’s not ready” they say – forcing all the colour to seep away.

She wakes up an ordinary girl. Gets ready for work, works, relaxes, goes to bed. Her life like clockwork, ordinary. 

Perfection consists not in doing extraordinary things, but in doing ordinary things extraordinarily well – Angelique Arnauld

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