A little eulogy to my 22nd year.

So I am in the final hours of being 22 years old. My last palindromic age for 11 years. That's literally half of my life at this point.

I'm kind of numb and overwhelmed with feelings at the same.Also I'm really tired from yesterday's hard labour - moving stuff (LIKE WARDROBES) from one house to the other. I have muscle-ache in places I didn't know muscles existed. 

The last year has been a brilliant one, and in so many ways. I loved uni, the change of atmosphere, learning so many things (most of which revolve on how little I know, and the insipidity of 18 year old kids), meeting so many awesome people, and figuring out my life bit by bit. I'm learning to be more proactive, to dream big and take pride and joy in what I'm learning and doing every single day. All in all, 22 has been a great year.

Of course, everything is rosy in hindsight - there were several weeks in which I didn't sleep and could hardly breathe, with assignments and essays and such. But as cliched as it sounds, it's all a part of the journey. Good things are only good because there are bad things with which you can compare them. And who can say no to a bit of adrenaline?

Okay, the pizza's here. I'm going to gorge myself and then regret it, and plan my day for tomorrow. I'm looking forward to hanging out with myself, meandering around and looking at pretty things. At the end of the day, all you are is you, and while other people come and go, you are still you. And that doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Peace and love,

S.

To Remind You

The thunder 
In every heartbeat
Rumbles
And gushes
Like a tidal wave
Of Life
And when it
Stops
Death
Is come
And gone
And the rain
And the sun
No longer
Are
But the thunder
The echo
The distant shudder
Of mountains
And stones
Grainy and hard
In blended softness
Stays behind

S.

A Conversation.

He said,
'I want to live in your world with you
The little boy in me
Wants to know the little girl in you
My heart wants to beat
With the rhythm in you
And my hands want to hold together
The best and the worst in you.'

I said,
'My world is in my head
And nowhere else
I have no comrade and no leader
I'm alive and yet
My pulse doesn't dance
And my fire and my rain never quite meet.'

He said,
'I want to be on your mind always
Like you are on mine
I want to be your playmate and your companion
And you can be mine
I want to listen to your breath
And for you to hear mine
And I want to warm by your heart
And you can calm by mine.'

I said,
'You're expecting too much of my thoughts
With their chaos and their order
How can you be friends with the friendless - 
What will become of this loner?
What happens when I want peace
And can't silence the drum?
What if the tidal waves never quell
And we're all tossed out to sea?'

And he said,
'I've seen your world
And I want to be your friend
I want to take the loner into my soul
And make it okay
I want to stand at your shoulder
And between and within each hurricane and firestorm
I want to say to you as we get older
That you live in my heart
And I by your side
That I hear you thoughts
And speak your language
That we are kindred spirits
Like two pearls from two oceans
That I can hold your vastness and give you mine
If you let me into your world.'

And I said,
'Okay, then.'


S.

The secret's out.

Words unspoken
Truths unsaid
Best kept so,
Perhaps,
Or maybe...
Just...
Too late -
They're out!

Take back every thought
Undo every verb
And unmake every noun
Unsee and unhear
But it's
Too late - 

Unspeak! Quick!
Unsay these things!
Too late - 
The atoms and waves
Have collided
And formed a new world
In the open.

The secret's out.


S.

Trust and other issues.

Over the past couple of years I have learned a lot about friendship, politics, loyalty, and most of all, about trust. I am passive, weak, naive and gullible, so of course my instincts are to trust anyone and everyone. Thankfully life has taught me some key lessons in this area. Except I'm afraid these lessons have turned me into a cynical disaggregate instead. I find myself second-guessing my relationships with people, the goodness I see in others, and ultimately, the goodness I myself should be showing.

The way you treat others is a massive reflection on how you think and the sort of person you are. When I told everyone that I would be doing Arts this year, a lot of people were really sceptical that this was the truth, and thought I was lying to cover up doing medicine or something. Yes, this is a reflection of how they think, that expecting others to lie just shows how they themselves would lie. But I think I'm turning into one of these people. In some ways, it is a step forward - I am starting to no longer take words at face value - but at the same time, I am losing something of myself, like, sort of innocence and good will. And if I'm secretly accusing people of being false, what does it say about me? Is it better to be naive and taken advantage of, or to be on par with the bigots and know their game?

Ultimately, if they're going to give me the evil eye or make my life harder or whatever, it is Allah's will. No burden is given without you having the strength to carry it. Every test and downfall and success and brightness in your life is an opportunity to learn, or to see for yourself how strong you are and where you need to improve. So that's not a problem.

But in insisting on being naive, am I making life harder for myself? And in anticipating people's greed and lies am I making my Hereafter harder for myself?

I have so many moments when I want to share something, some good in my life, or some thought, with someone else, only to remember that that person doesn't trust me, and lies to me - because really, if someone's lying to you about something, it really means that they don't trust you. And it's sad, knowing that the people who are closest to you think this, especially when you know you have never given them a reason to do so. 

People talk. It's what they do best, apart from judging. Everyone does it and if you say you don't you are lying to yourself. I'm going to give an example of how people use this knowledge and turn bad themselves, now. So in my family, all the aunts and uncles compete and show off and talk down about the achievements of others. When our ENTER scores came out, everyone wanted to know everything -and not in the genuinely curious way, but in this really sickeningly busy-body way. I, obviously, straight-out told everyone my marks - it was a miracle that I had passed, and I wasn't about to hide God's miracles. Other people weren't so keen on relating their marks/good news/success in something else/whatever, even though they were only making it harder for themselves by creating something for others to talk about and playing on their bus-body-ness. They kept going on about how other people talk even though they themselves talk just as much. I didn't realise the double-standards, as such, until very recently. You know when someone asks you for help and you do your utmost to help them and they go all coy and hide stuff and it's like um what. Why would you feel the need to lie to the one person who has kept every secret of yours and never lied to you about their own?

Anyway, after learning about this quality - in so many people it nearly makes me want to cry - I realised that those who are supposed to be closest to you will turn on you for no good reason. And I don't understand why. What it is that drives people to be so sh*tty? Like, I get it if you have to lie for a reason, but what is it with all of this? And why would you go on about how others have big mouths if yours is the biggest of all? Is it really that hard to see the truth? Why? I just don't get it. 

I mean, I understand accidentally doing stuff, or having reasons that might be hard for others to understand, but intentionally doing sh*t things, I just don't get it. And then going to these same people to whom you lie and whatever, and asking for their sympathy or friendship or help in something - it just beggars belief. I just don't get it. 

And this realisation of how awful people can be  - I don't like it, I wish I didn't know about it, and I really, really just don't get it. I don't know who trust and with what, and I don't understand what friendship and loyalty and family and brotherhood is anymore.

But one good thing has come of this: I read this  hadith or ayah from the Quran or something that says that Allah (swt) takes away everyone from the one who He wants to turn back to Him alone. And I think this is my sign. I feel alienated from the people around me because I've lost touch with my God. Good things happen when He is in my heart and on my mind, and it brings out the best in me and in others. I need to go back to my faith and thank God properly for all that is in my life.

Peace and love, 

S. 

Feelings and chains.

I blog because I need an outlet, a distraction, something to break up the monotony of life and to serve as a reminder of who I was and what I was doing at a certain point in time. 

I don't often have anything worthy of saying. I have realised that I tend to blog more when I am in a heightened state of emotions, mainly angry or stressed or sad. I guess I don't have much to say when I'm happy because how many times can you write 'I'm happy' before someone shoots you for being so peppy? I don't really know why I feel this peace and oneness and joy sometimes. I don't know what brings it on or how to make it stay, except that it is usually when I realise and remember how awesome God is, and that patience is peace and there are reasons and He has plans that are beyond my immediate comprehension. And it has always worked out. Every time I have found myself in a bad situation, and turned to God for peace, the situation has passed and been replaced by a lesson learned and new opportunity for growth and happiness.

Sometimes I feel old and weary to my bones. I feel my insides ossifying, and my skeleton crystalising and and stiffening every joint. My heart feels heavy with the weight of unrealised dreams. But then I catch myself. What am I doing, perpetuating my own misery? What am I sad about? What is wrong in my life, what would I exchange for something different? And in trying to see reality, a strange happiness takes me. And then I feel like my insides are made of glitter and my heart is a pounding boombox beating out the rhythm of happiness. And then I catch myself again. Why am I so happy? And so on and on.

Anyway. I have two essays to write by Wednesday.

Peace and love,

S. 

Changes, changes, all of these changes...

I don't know why I panic about things. Everything that happens to you, and that you face, is an experience. Every experience is an opportunity to learn. Only an idiot passes up the opportunity to learn, and I'm no idiot - my ego is far to big to be satisfied with this. 

After a year in Arts, I truly hope I have changed. It's a sad thing to let a day go by where something in you isn't affected or altered, let alone a year. Sometimes I am afraid to admit that I have changed - it's scary, knowing that you are not this solid block of things that are familiar and easy to recognise as 'self'. Moreover, the prospect of being patronised by people who think they know better - my God, these people make me twitch like a madman. Why do people have to put you down for learning something after they have already learned it? Does it make you a better person, for life to put you in a certain situation before someone else has the same chance?

On the whole, I hope I have changed for the better, a step closer to the perfection I see in my dreams and the light that brings me out of the dark places in my mind and in the world. I am becoming a little more mellow - but I'm worried I'll lose myself completely. But then again, I have always been mellow, and certain parts of your personality come out in certain situations. Thus far, the mellowness has been for me and me alone, so everyone who knows me thinks I'm suddenly a different person now that it's leaking out into reality.

The truth of it is, the older you get, the less you care about other people's opinions and expectations, unless they align with what you truly want. I don't care if people don't like how I dress, or how loud or opinionated or shallow or boring I am. I am glad it has only taken me 22 years to acknowledge this and that I know now that I am not afraid of who I am, and am proud to say that I am changing and will continue to do so. Other people - mainly your peers, who think they have the right to judge to you and that this judgement is the only reality allowed - mostly project their fears onto you. People who constantly feel the need to tell me not to conform are the ones who have conformed most of all and want to take me down with them as a comfort, a sign that they have some control over something. It's sad and it's true and sometimes, that's life. 

Pace and love,

S.

Gaps

We are the ethers,

You find us

in the spaces

between your words,

And in the pause

between each breath.

We are naught,

And yet,

we hold you together,

Bind you,

And in our absence,

You fall apart - 

A jumble,

And naught but mess

- S.

Something about life and time.

I can feel myself aging in fast motion. I had my mid-life crisis at age 14, so I expect I will be dead before I'm 30. I am not sure if I ever resolved said crisis. Not that anything actually happened to cause it or anything. But there was this weird sense of being lost and bewildered. It's like I woke up one day and completely forgot how spell to simple words like 'naughty' and 'receive'. Nowadays I have to consciously think of how to spell the 'i' before 'e' except after 'c' words and the exceptions to the rule. It was like I'd forgotten how to add and multiply. And how to function 'normally'. What am I supposed to do in my spare time? I used to read and write and draw and make things, and then suddenly I forgot I'd ever done these things.

Of course, it could have be just a weird teenage-phase-thing that everyone goes through. But no one else has spoken of it to me. So maybe I just freaked out for a while because after 14 years on this planet I still hadn't done anything substantial, nothing to get me closer to my dreams or where I wanted to be.

Looking back at it now, I was so young. Like, SO YOUNG. My second-youngest sibling is 15 now, and I still see them as tiny. Of course, this could be because I remember helping to change their nappies like it was just yesterday. They used to be the cotton-fluffy-towel-like ones, the disposable ones weren't so big back then.

Anyway, over the last few years, I have realised that time doesn't exist to be used to freak out about how little time there is. That is, worrying about the shortness of life is just another way of wasting time and leaving you with even more stress and even less achievement.

But still. Doesn't it sometimes just hit you, that you only breathe for so long? People younger than me have achieved more, because they are go-getters and proactive. People older than me have achieved less, because they are passive and put things off and make excuses.

All in all, despite knowing that my little over two decades of life on Earth has flown by, and the next two decades will fly by even quicker (should I survive that long), life is still pretty good. It helps to have a brief plan of what you'd like to achieve each day. Each set back has a role to play in your development and your path. An ayat of the Qur'an that I keep seeing everywhere, which loosely translates as 'Allah (swt) does not give you a burden you aren't able to bear', has hit home and reminds me of why I wake up happy each day. And if the day is terrible, at least night will come and it will be over.

Peace and love,

S.

Things I have learned from the people I have met.

In my third year of uni, I met a master manipulator - so much so that when I realised this and then saw said person again over a year later, I totally forgot anything I had deduced about their character other than the warm and bubbly person they presented themselves to be. Not that this person committed heinous crimes  - but they are really good at lying and that is the scariest quality of all. It's the smile of the psychopathic sweet-looking old lady. 

Carrying on with the manipulation scene, there were the many people who made my Honours' year the hell that it was. Of course I know that not all people are there to be my friends, but that doesn't mean that I'm only there to be used and then thrown away like an old doll.

I have also learned a fair bit about loyalty from the people I have had the pleasure (or otherwise) to know. One standout example is a girl I met in high school. Ergh. Lack of loyalty masked as 'being laid back'. And the lies! I am of the firm opinion that friendship is based on mutual respect and honesty, and accepting each other's flaws. Not lying, telling people they need to change, and setting yourself up as the golden standard. If someone is attacking you, you don't expect your friends to join them.

Then there are the people you are always trying to catch up with and keep up friendships, and they just don't care. Obviously sometimes life gets in the way and all, but after a point - especially when they're making the time to see other people going on about how they have nothing to do - you just want to give up. Then they message you and are cheery and friendly tell you how much they miss you, and all you can think of is a perfectly-worded insult that ends the friendship and causes maximal damage to the other person. But as an adult you can't function like that, especially if you want to be a decent person. You can't just cut the rubbish bits out of your life, unfortunately. People get catty and don't realise it's because they are so awful and not because you are a judgmental b*tch. And people are so good at believing the worst in people and being nasty about it, so if you're not adequately equipped in the snarky remarks and general doggishness department, you don't stand a chance.

At this point, I would like to thank the many loyal and lovely people in my life, the ones who make me a better person and who give me faith in humanity. But this post is mostly about the ones who don't.

My many good and bad experiences with people have also taught me soemthing about myself - I am too willing to think and bleieve well of people, I ignore people's faults until one day I explod and people think I'm just being petty, and I'm incredibly gullible. I also get really close to people really quickly, and I feel like I've found a kindred spirit, and then they disappoint me.

These experiences have also highlighted a flaw of mine character - I am passive and live too much in the moment without analysing the bigger picture until it is too late. But seeing as this is my flaw, I won't dwell on it too much.

This is by no means an exhaustive list of everyone I have met and everything I have learned. But I think it's enough of a start.

Peace and love,

S.

The middle-aged white man.

Don't read this if you are super sensitive or acutely opposed to statements of generalisation or susceptible to depression about the plight of the world.

---------------------

Any time in my life that I have expressed my (grandiose) dreams and plans for the future, the only person who has knocked me down is the middle-aged white man - not the proverbial person, but the actual.

In high school I had an English teacher who, in year 11, called me over to his desk during class and told me that I'm a very bright girl and I just need to keep up the good work and I'll get far. This went on for about 10 minutes. I in turn shared my dreams of studying at an Oxbridge university, whereby he laughed and said, "You can't do that!"

My orthodontist was also one of these. He asked me what I wanted to do and again, I shared the Oxbridge dream. He responded with several reasons why this might be unreasonable, including that the universities are tied to the Church, and given that I'm Muslim, how would I deal with that? Except, um, some of Oxford's most famous scholars include Benazir Bhutto (Muslim), Indira Gandhi (Hindu) and Stephen Hawking (atheist).

More recently, and what really triggered this post, was my Honour's supervisor. In our first meeting he asked me what I wanted to do with my life, and I told him I wanted to learn everything about everything, and he, predictably, responded with a derisive laugh and, "You can't do that!" Literally. And throughout the year he insisted on repeating his mantra of "You can't get full marks, you can never get full marks, it's never going to be perfect, you can never make it perfect". Um, DUH, if I've lost 2% in the first assignment I'm obviously not going to get 100% at the end of the year. And why can't I make it perfect? Just because it's hard doesn't mean it's impossible, or that I shouldn't try.

Clearly, the middle-aged white man, as characterised above, is the bane of our success, the killer of our dreams and just plain mean. (Apart from all the really awesome middle-aged white men, obviously cf. Ian Hislop, Paul Merton, Jon Stuart, Norm Eizenberg, etc. etc.). 

Peace and love,

S.

Just wanted to share a bit of my soul with you.

Now that I'm an Arts student I know my observations and commentaries on life and existence don't hold the same weight, but don't you hate it when the frozen vegetable mix doesn't have enough corn? It really brings me down.

Keep.

Keep me in your heart,
Even when I'm not dear - 
Still, then, your voice is
The last thing I want to hear...


S.

Dream.

I had the strangest dream last night. I was rushing, falling, down a dark tunnel towards a light. I was dying, and I told myself I was excited to be meeting my Maker. It made me feel better. I was trying to smile and it felt weak. When I woke up I was scared, and glad, and didn't know whether to take it as a positive sign or as a warning, and tried to frantically to fall asleep again, so I'd forget. 

A Fortnight in Arts.

This post will be a recount of my first two weeks in Arts. I wish I had more to say, some insight into the human condition, an ounce of wisdom. But I don't.


Starting a new degree is super exciting. New place, new subjects, new people. But it's also a little scary. My first day was tiring but exciting, and also really awkward. I got soaked to the skin (literally). Had to go to  female toilets at Melbourne Central to dry off under the hand-dryers. Really awkward. Also got lost. A lot. Couldn't take out my map of campus in case I was mistaken for one of the other newbies. I met some new people, saw some others again. It's all a bit of a blur.

Also, within the first week, I established myself as the stereotypical eager mature-age student. Emailed one lecturer to ask if notes could be made available online before the lecture, and the another to ask if recordings would be made available online. I FEEL NO SHAME!! Well, okay, I do a little bit. But still. My last uni wasn't this slack. Seriously, this uni is technologically challenged. Pretty sure a monkey with a typewriter could have designed a better webpage. It is a massive struggle waiting for the student portal to load. 


Other than that, my Latin tutor looks like Jesus and always wears blue. He's pretty cool. I think he knows like eight languages. Amazing. My French tutor is also really cool. Very French. I love it. 


I did have a moment in the middle of my second week when I questioned what on earth I was doing. I'd just hung out with some really cool girls from the Islamic society, and then had a tutorial in which I met my first stereotypically know-it-all Arts student. It made me furious, but in hindsight, I think I'd just had too much caffeine. I keep forgetting that I've had a lot longer to adjust to and learn about the real world. 


But things are okay. I'm usually tired or running late (consecutive classes at opposite ends of campus) or bewildered. But it's okay. I'm pretty sure I'm headed in the right direction. If nothing else, at least I'm learning something every day. Also, week 1 readings for one of my units introduced me to Slavoj Zizek. He's awe-inspiring. So enthusiastic and animated and funny. I think I want to be him when I grow up. His rant about flowers being disgusting because they are sexual organs inviting all the bugs and insects (obviously a joke) reminded me of a thought I had a few years ago about fruit. Fruit is part of a plant's reproductive tract. And we eat it. And it's delicious. This thought is slightly disturbing.


Peace and love,


S.

Given I have done Arts for a whole week now, I feel the need to post something insightful and politically and morally motivating. But I got nothing.

I was going to call my autobiography (coming to a store near you sometime in the distant future) "Dear Fatty" but then I realised Dawn French has already beaten me to it. Darn her wittiness. And her timeliness.

Stop stealing my ideas before I've had them, world!

You know when you find out that someone smokes and you just think "EWW"? Smoking is stupid and gross. Stupid people do stupid things, and gross people do gross things, and smokers are both of these things together. Sadface.

So much of the cuteness. I tie a little bow, yes?

From here.

Success.

See, the thing I have learnt is that success comes to people who snatch candy from babies and then blame it on the puppy - essentially, people who are not nice.

So why am I not successful? I'm not nice. I'm as not-nice as can be. So what's the matter?

I'll tell you what - it's because I'm passive. I am the puppy who cops the flack in the above mentioned metaphor. I have the thoughts and plans and then I fail to execute. If I were the hangman I'd have been relegated to putting down the straw and feeding the pigs. 


You have to be willing to take success, in whatever form, from whoever has it. You can't just sit around waiting. People don't hand things to you, even if it's their job. 


So, boldly and beyond!

...Once I get some sleep.


Peace and love,

S.

Blood boiling.

Sometimes, people make me really angry.

Okay, I know what you're thinking - "Did you just say SOMETIMES? Because it seems like you're ALWAYS angry!"


Allow me to correct you. People OFTEN annoy me. They don't always make my blood boil. Apart from Honours and the people involved in that year, and what I am about to divulge, and crimes against humanity, I can't really think of anything that makes my blood boil. I'm not perpetually angry, I'm just constantly annoyed because people don't shut up. Seriously, if people could zip it every now and again, half of the world's problems would be gone, with the other half being stupidity. 

So. Now that's cleared up, I will discuss the other thing that makes my blood boil on a fairly regular basis.


I am the eldest of five siblings. After myself, there are two girls, and then two boys. The boys are great (totes love the youngest), and I would count the middle sister as one of my best friends. But the youngest sister? You can't imagine how many times I've asked God to give me strength, because I swear I will end up stabbing her one day.


How many times do you have to keep extending the hand of friendship? How consistently nice do you have to be someone before they learn to be a little considerate? Today, as has been the case for the last week or so, she has been literally yelling at the parentals because she wants a cat. She has found a list of reasons online - having pets helps with depression, fitness, etc. But how can she care for another animal if she's incapable of keeping her own space clean and smell-free? Last year was only her first year at uni and she not only failed SEVERAL units, she also missed the sub-exams because as usual, she was up all night watching dvds and then slept in.


That's another thing. She's always complaining that she has no clothes, and every time there's a wedding or event we have to lend her ours, and then she spends all of her money on useless crap. She complains that no one takes her shopping but when we do she wanders off for hours looking at comic books and dvds and stuff she doesn't need. 

And then she complains about being broke. GOD!


It'd be okay if she kept it all to herself, but no, she has to scream and yell and bully until she gets her own way. She has no concept of responsibility or consideration. She literally stomps when she's walking around the house. In the middle of the night, a loud banging noise wakes you up, and that's her stomping and banging her way to the toilet, like opening doors violently makes her cool or important.


So basically, what makes my blood boil - apart from the mess, the things that go missing and turn up in her room, the lack of contribution to chores, being an inconsiderate *****, distracting the boys from homework and sleep and bullying and bribing them, the fact that she can't share or do a favour for someone without extorting something massive from them - is the fact that she doesn't shut up. 


This in turn is basically what annoys me about other people. If you're not invited into a conversation, why butt in? If you want to say something, why do you have to yell? If someone says no, why can't you zip your mouth? Why do you have to yell? And most of all, why can't you leave me alone?


I'm having trouble explaining what she's like and why it makes my blood boil. You'd have to live with her for a day, an hour, anything. 


I have, for the most part, controlled myself. Sometimes I swear and sometimes I sing loudly and in a high pitch to drown her out. But I'm pretty sure that one day I will stab and burn her. And I won't regret it.

And here's a bit of contrast:

Peace and love,

S.

I just pulled out my 10 year old brother's wobbly tooth.

I am majorly badass. 

I moustache you a question but I will shave it for later.

From Love is my weapon - This is an awesome theme. Totes loving the moustache cushion and sofa-bed thing.