We don’t ignite

‘Hmmm,’ she wonders, her fingers hovering over the trackpad of her brand new, photogenic rose gold Macbook. In front of her, to the right, are three pots of succulents, carefully placed next to a photo frame with nothing but the words ‘Carpe Diem’ in a curly font. She studies the mason jar on her left, filled halfway with a strawberry milkshake, carefully mixed to the exact shade of millennial pink, to complement the walls of her room, dotted with various edgy photographs in white frames.

She hesitates as she skims through the tabs open on safari.

‘5 favourite drugstore products’

‘Makeup Revolution: Naked dupe?’

‘Living with anxiety’

’10 Lipsticks every girl needs in her makeup bag’

‘What’s in my handbag?’

‘Screw it,’ she thinks out loud. Oozing with confidence and determination, she clicks on the tab that reads “Write new post”.

10 beauty hacks

She sighs out loud, relief and pride exiting her black-choker adorned throat.


Ahem. Sorry, that was a little rude.

Continue reading

I’ll be me [Mental Health – Part 1]

Here’s a long post, read it if you have time. Like 5 minutes, realistically.

Also: If you can figure out what’s written on that notepad, I’ll dedicate a post to you.

So.

What am I doing these days.

Well.

First of all, I’m going to try my hardest not to incorporate my infamous self depreciating humour into this post, even though that is my biggest coping mechanism.

These days I’m reading, writing, researching, and listening to a lot of James Bay.

And I’m thinking.

I’m doing a lot of thinking, but I’m also doing a lot of …just … not thinking.

In other words: I’m keeping myself as busy as I can.

I try not to write about mental health, even though I should, because almost every blog I visit has posts about ‘dealing with depression’ or ‘dealing with anxiety’ or just ‘mental health’. And it makes me wonder how many of these people really do suffer from these issues, or if they’re just self diagnosed. As someone who has doctors referring them to therapists and pestering them to take anti-depressants, it’s a bit … I don’t know. Annoying. It’s the reason I don’t enjoy speaking about my own mental health. I think I’m fine, but I’ll never deny that anxiety is my biggest enemy.

Continue reading

To do and not to do – Ramadan

I’m salivating in my misery too.

Oh yeah, in said misery, I forgot to say it’s Ramadan…

I’ve noticed a few people have been reading this old Ramadan post that I wrote last year, so I should really come back with another one. The problem is, I don’t really have much to add to that post. So, er… Isn’t it weird and beautiful how the weather suddenly took a turn for the cooler/windier/rainier as soon as Ramadan began?

I do have some questions. Why are girls posting snaps of themselves half naked, and snaps from weeks ago from when they were in the club? Wherefore? I don’t know what guys are doing but I’m guessing taking videos of themselves driving in their car with music on? I say that because girls are doing it and guys are even more douchey.

I digress. I’m supposed to be trying to stay positive.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m very lethargic this year. I’m finding it difficult, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the acceptability of snacking at 1am. Once again, I’m losing muscle and fat in the wrong places.

Anyway enough about me, shut up, here are some dos and don’ts:

Continue reading

Shoot a hole in the sky [June Journal – top priorities]

9/06/2017

Today’s prompt: Your top priorities

Today is a shit day. So God’s work is here, telling me that my next prompt means I have to focus on my priorities right now. I don’t have the will to write an interesting introduction either, so let’s get straight to it because life is shit, life is shit.

Physical health
I want to get my sleeping pattern back in check, I want to eat properly and I want to train even more and even harder than I used to. Once you’ve passed your teens it is vital to look after your health – you can’t keep staying up late snacking and drinking energy drinks. And once you’ve passed a certain age, your metabolism slows down dramatically and you get fat and lazy. Basically. So why wait for that age to begin (which is harder to do), when you can get the ball rolling years beforehand?

Financial stability
I’m graduating next month. These past two weeks were supposed to be used for writing cover letters and applying for jobs, but Ramadan has me so lethargic and unless you’re looking for a standard part-time job, you need to focus. I haven’t really decided what I’m doing yet. I had to quit my job and I’ve been a student without income for the past few months, which means for the first time ever I am worried about money and will be struggling for fucks fucking sake.  You have bills to pay and no way to pay them. But it was my own fault. Even though I’m in a shit place and I’m months behind, I guess now I have my degree behind me. On the one hand, I want to kickstart a career. But on the bigger hand I don’t want to kickstart a career. I kinda do want a part time job so that I can get some income to pay for my outgoings whilst I work on something I enjoy. A life in an office isn’t something I want. Continue reading

Your best ain’t good enough [June Journal]

8/06/2017

Today’s prompt: Your best qualities

Oh dang. Time to toot my own horn.

Okay

Let’s do this in list form because it feels more uniform and factual and not like I’m trying to show off.

1] I voted labour
I care. Even if I was a millionaire, I would vote labour. Even if I didn’t care about other people, even if I didn’t need the NHS, even if I didn’t want to be heavily taxed in order to help the poor. I would never want a person like Theresa May making the decisions of this country. And I just wanna say, before this list really begins, if Corbyn doesn’t win, I WILL cry myself to sleep tomorrow night.

2] I’m realist
But I can also be a hopeless romantic. I can be positive in the right situations, but overall I’m a realist. That way I’m never too disappointed. I can be passionate but I can also think logically. And I think that’s the best combination to be. I think I give good advice. I give good advice, right?

Continue reading

You will never love me again

I’m just trying to find a friend that I can kick back with.

Maybe listen to Fleetwood Mac for hours whilst getting shit done. Write music. Sing songs with so much passion at the top of our lungs and convince ourselves we wrote them.

Or take some mescaline (thanks, Kurt) and see who can come up with the wildest stories (whilst listening to Jeff Buckley) and draw. Stare at the ceiling and talk about literally everything. Rant and talk shit about the people we hate. Tell them my struggles and not be judged or ridiculed or ignored. Someone who will be there whether it’s 4pm or 4am.

I want to be high as hell when I tell them something that’s bothering me, and they’ll be high as yike defending me to the death and coming up, in the utmost seriousness, with an elaborate plan to kill whoever pissed me off. And we’ll both believe it’ll happen even though later on we’ll laugh about it. But they weren’t joking and I’d have to stop them from doing something insane.

Reserve Sundays for formula 1, obviously.

It’s me. I’m describing myself.

Continue reading

Hey Assbutt: Men who tell women how to dress

I want to start this by clarifying that I still don’t identify as a feminist. I don’t agree with so many aspects of modern feminism. I believe a woman can cover up and that it is NOT oppression. In some cases, however, it is. I’m drawing attention to that.

Before I wore the abaya, and even the hijab, someone once tried to convince me that women must cover up because we must be responsible for attracting men. That men and women are inherently different, and that men are more likely to be attracted to physical aspects of a woman than vice versa. Because men are dogs.

The only part of that I agreed to was the fact that we are inherently different, to an extent. And that has largely been the basis for me urging women to continue to be modest for their own sake; men, however, piss me off. Really, I don’t think all men are dogs. I think many men are respectful, particularly in light of how many men support the right of a woman to do whatever the heck she wants. It’s only the mentality of Muslim men that made me think ‘yep. Dogs’. Nonetheless, I agreed to that explanation and kept quiet. Because what could I say? Well today is the day I step up and say that this is fucking bullshit.

Continue reading

Taking off my hijab?

Sorry, that was kinda clickbait. I wrote this post a couple of weeks ago, and watching Dina Tokio’s video reminded me that I need to post it. Get some popcorn, because this is gonna be long.

No, I’m not taking it off. I admit, though, that it’s just getting harder every single day and I have no Muslim friends to whom I can turn. SO I’m doing what I do best.

In a few months, I will have reached 3 years wearing the hijab. And honestly, no matter what I say to defend it, I don’t enjoy it. I really don’t. I feel like I’ve lost who I am. That is the truth, and I feel so conflicted. Trying to practice and walking around looking very Muslim is so difficult when you have nobody in your life doing the same thing, and especially when how Muslim you look doesn’t match how Muslim you are. I don’t speak to anybody who wears hijab, I don’t speak to anybody who is overtly religious. I’m not overtly religious, either. If I could, I would take it off, and considering I’m still fairly new to it (2.5 years as opposed to the women who have been wearing it since they were pre-teens), I don’t think it’d be that big of a deal – I don’t feel attached to it yet. But of course, I’d be wrong. Because I’d be judged left right and centre – not even by other women who wear it. I’d be judged by men and girls who don’t wear it. Women in hijab are unfairly branded as ambassadors for the religion, so we must uphold the respect whilst men and non-hijab-wearing girls fuck about and do whatever they want. “But nobody knows I’m Muslim”.

I have, however, stopped wearing the abaya. And I have my reasons.

Continue reading

Hey Assbutt: ‘He/she can’t even speak English properly’

Sorry. After a long, long break following my dissertation deadline, I’m back and I’m pissed off.

I must have missed the memo.

Since when was the ability to speak English a marker of intelligence? Since when was it necessary for one to measure themselves against your bullshit standard of superiority in order to be validated? In my opinion, Germans do everything better, and Asians are some of the most driven people I’ve ever come across. So why don’t we measure intelligence based on how well we can speak German, or Korean?

‘Because English is an international language’, I hear you cry. SO????

Say it with me: YOUR ABILITY TO SPEAK ENGLISH SHOWS NOTHING EXCEPT YOUR ABILITY TO SPEAK ENGLISH!!!! LITERALLY JUST THAT!!! Not your intelligence, not your character, not your worth, literally nothing else!!!!! And then say it louder for the uncultured folk at the back.

English is not pre-wired into our brains. You have to learn it. You, a native English speaker, had to learn it. Whilst it may be hard for you to realise, those of you who say ‘lol you can’t even speak English properly’ were pushed out of the vagina screaming and crapping yourself and not being able to speak a damn word of anything until your fed-up mother began cursing around you and your first word was ‘shit’. And then you went on the rest of your life being able to speak English, only English, and you even suck at that. Do you even know how to use a semicolon? Do you know in which situations you should use  ‘who’ and ‘whom’? Sit down.

Continue reading

Period period period period period

*hears whiny crying in the distance. Slowly but surely, this crying becomes louder and louder with every approaching footstep. Suddenly a wild male appears*

“Sister, please preserve your modesty. Your talk about menstruation is unnatural and dirty and you will go to hell. Do not talk about such things, keep this private. Is that a t-t-t-t–t…..that which cannot be named in your hand? Hide it, nobody needs to know you require such things and it offends me. Unnatural. Dirty. Filth.”

To which I signal for a whole shower of tampons “Go to hell gurl you make me sick.”

Upon contact with said tampon, the male fizzles away and dies. Good.

..

When I first hit puberty, I was one of the many girls  who hid tampons or pads or anything period-related. I used to ask my mum to buy them for me (well not tampons, because if you use tampons then it means you’re NOT A VIRGIN!!111!), and if I had no choice but to go and get them myself, I always bought something else big enough to sit over it and hide it in the shopping basket. I used to have a supply in my handbag and when my friends used to see it, they’d shove it far back down my bag and say ‘omg people are gonna see it’. I think I remember a story about a guy crying in school because a girl slipped a pad into his pocket and he was embarrassed. My mother says that tampons and pads shouldn’t be kept in the bathroom in case a male enters the bathroom and accidentally sees it. Guys are too embarrassed to buy tampons for their girlfriends as if someone is gonna think they’re for him instead of admiring how much he cares about her. They’ll probably postpone meeting her until her period is over, not just because they get no sex, but because it’s ‘gross’.

I don’t get it

Continue reading